Brian Jacques - Redwall #09 - Salamandastron

She blinked and looked about her. "Oh dear, have I done it again? Goodness only knows what I've been saying. Was it something dreadful?"

Thrugann placed a protective paw about her shoulders. "No, no, 'twas only some o!' poetry, Sisternothin' for you to get upset over. You look tired. Come on, it's bed for you. In fact, it's bed for all you young uns too, otherwise you'll sleep right through Nameday tomorrow an' miss it!"

That night Samkim fell immediately into a deep sleep and dreamed a strange dream. In the dream he was walking into Great Hall. He went up to the huge tapestry hanging from the wall. The likeness of Martin the Warrior seemed to stand out from the rest of the skillful weave; he was clad in his armor, holding his sword lightly, and a friendly smile lit up his brave features. Without warning he tossed the sword. It twirled once

58

Brian Jacques

in the air and sped from the tapestry, burying its point in a crack between the stones at Samkim's side. The young squirrel felt no fear. Without knowing why, he withdrew the sword from the floor and held it out, offering it back to the Warrior of Redwall. Martin took it. Though his lips did not move, Samkim could hear his voice:

"Squirrel, mouseit makes no difference, you are a Red-waller, Samkim. Be brave and courageous, true to your friends. One day you will return my sword again and give this Abbey another guardian. Beware the vermin, seek out the White One."

Thrugg crept up from the kitchens. Sleep did not come easily to the burly otter, particularly with the knowledge that there was a huge pot of shrimp and bulrush soup, flavored with watercress and hotroot pepper, simmering gently on the embers of the kitchen fire. Thrugg could not rest until he had sampled it. Slipping down to the kitchen in his voluminous white nightshirt, the big otter cut a curious figure. He consumed two bowls of his favorite soup, smacked his lips, yawned and added more hotroot pepper to the pot before stealing off back to his bed. Crossing Great Hall he was surprised to see Samkim. The young squirrel stood illuminated by a shaft of moonlight in front of the tapestry. Thrugg had seen sleepwalkers before and he knew what to do. Strolling up, he lifted Samkim easily in his strong paws.

The young squirrel opened his eyes and stared at Thrugg. "Are you the White One?"

Thrugg glanced at his long white nightshirt and grinned. "Aye, that's me matey, the White Un."

Samkim snuggled down in Thrugg's arms murmuring happily. "Oh, that's good. I was seeking you." He closed his eyes and went instantly into a deep sleep.

Back at the dormitory, Thrugg deposited him gently in his bed. "Strike me sails, he ain't no lightweight. All that carryin' has set me appetite off again. I'll just nip back down an' see if n that there soup tastes better with the pepper I added."

8

The moon over the dunes made hollows of darkness against the dun-colored sand, which stood out in stark relief, still radiating warmth from the hot day into the soft summer night.

At first Feadle thought his eyes were deceiving him, but as he peered into the moon-shadowed dunes he distinguished the smartly dressed figure of Klitch hurrying toward the camp. Filling his lungs with air, Feadle roared at the top of his voice. "Master, see, it's your son Klitch and he's alone!"

Roused rudely from his slumbers, the weasel Chieftain hissed upward at the hapless sentry, "Wormbrain! Couldn't you shout any louder to advertise our presence to the entire countryside?''

Sickear scrabbled for balance, wakened by the sudden shout.

Feadle steadied him as he whispered back in an exaggerated tone, "But, Master, you said to let you know"

A well-aimed pebble struck him stingingly on the eartip, followed by Ferahgo's voice, heavy with contempt: "Feadle, you useless toad, get down here. Sickear, you stay up there and keep your wits about you."

The Assassin sat with his son, apart from the rest and out of hearing. He nodded his head approvingly as Klitch made his

59

60

Brian Jacques

report, then commented, "I knew there was something to those tales of a hollow mountain and the badger's treasure. But you say you didn't see any of it. How d'you know it's there, you sly young fiend?"

Klitch's blue eyes twinkled in the darkness. "Hah! It's there all right, you old murderer. That badger, Mara, she let slip about it in conversation. She'd know where the treasure of Salamandastron is hidden, mark my words."

"Where is she now?"

"Back in the dunes there with her friend, a hare name Pik-kle. Goffa's keeping an eye on them while I'm away. No need to worry, they were sleeping like babies when I left them to come here."

"Well done, Klitch. Now we know exactly where the mountain is. The next question is how to get in there and grab the treasure."

Klitch toyed with the sword that hung by his side. "It won't be easy. I've told you, the place is a fortress, besides which there's more than twoscore of haresproper battle-trained fighters, not like the helpless creatures we're used to. But the main one is that badger, Lord Urthstripe. I've never seen a beast so big and fierce. He's a real warrior. I'd hate to have to go up against him!"

Ferahgo's long skinning knife appeared under Klitch's nose. "You leave him to me, I've dealt with big badgers before. Oh, they're fierce fighters, sure enough, but they lack cunning and suffer from silly little things, like honor and conscience. Now you get off back to your new comrades and guide them over this way, to me. There's more than one way of frying a frog. Off you go, you young backstabber!"

Klitch vanished amid the night-washed dunes, unaware of the two shadowy forms at the side of a hill. Sergeant Sapwood and Big Oxeye had followed him. Though they had not heard what passed between Klitch and Ferahgo, they were not slow in realizing that the large vermin horde camped in the foothills spelled death and destruction. The young weasel loped past the pair, not knowing they were within a hairsbreadth of him. Oxeye hefted the light throwing lance, feeling its balance as he eyed the receding Klitch.

Salamandastron

61

"D'you know, I could pin the filthy little blighter through his neck from here, even though the blinkin' light's bad, wot."

The Sergeant restrained his friend's throwing paw. "Steady in the ranks, you'd blow the gaff. Now there's dirty work apaw, we've got ter use our brainboxes. I reckons if one o' us reports back to Lord Urthstripe, the other c'n follow yonder weasel an' watch out for new ^intelligence. You go back ter the mountain, and I'll foller the weasel."

"That's what 1 like about you, Sarge," Oxeye chuckled good-humoredly, "always ready to vote on a democratic decision, wot?"

Big Oxeye held up his paws defensively as Sapwood crouched into a sparring position. "Pax! I was only jokin'. You're quite right, of course. I'll go back an' sound the jolly old alarm at Salamandastron, and you stick close to young Pikkle an' Mara. We both know this country like the backs of our paws; shouldn't be any bother trackin' one another if we need to make contact. OK?"

After a silent shake of paws they split up, going their separate ways into the night-shaded dunes.

An early fly landed on Mara's eyelid. She shooed it off with a dozy paw as she awakened to peachgold dawn stealing softly over the sleeping dunes. The land lay in a pool of calm serenity; the sand, now still and cool, awaited sun-warmed day. Somewhere a lark began trilling as it fluttered its morning ascent into the airy heights.

Pikkle opened one eye and swiftly closed it again. "It's no use tryin' ter wake me up, I'm fast a bally sleep."

The badger maid gathered a double pawful of sand and began trickling it onto the tip of her friend's nose. He sneezed and sat up straight, his long ears springing to attention. "Is it that late already, by the fur! My old tummyclock tells me there should be brekkers around. Hope it's something nice, wot!"