Brian Jacques - Redwall #09 - Salamandastron

When they were gone the badger Lord folded his paws across his broad chest and faced Mara. "Young maid, have you nothing to say for yourself? Missing, without a word to any-beast for two whole nights. Now you return, bringing a ferret and a weasel here!"

Mara shook her head in bewilderment. "How could you be so rude to those two young creatures? They are my friends ..."

Urthstripe's paw crashed loud against the tabletop. "Friends? A ferret and a weasel, they are not friends, they are vermin! Have you no sense, Mara? Ferrets, weasels, stoats, rats and foxes have caused murder and warfare in Mossflower since before the days of my ancestors. Who are they with? Where is the rest of their band?''

Screwing up his courage, Pikkle chipped in. "I say, sir, steady on! Those two chaps were all alone when we met 'em. They traveled up from the Southwest. Actually, they're rather jolly"

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Salamandas tron

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Urthstripe's roar cut him short. "Silence, Ffolger! When I want your opinion I shall ask for it. Go to your room, this instant! It's time you learned to grow up and show some hare responsibility."

Pikkle vacated the dining room in haste, knowing it was useless to argue with a badger Lord of Urthstripe's temper. Huge tears welled from Mara's eyes to drip on to the table.

The badger Lord gave a deep sigh of helplessness and shook his great striped head. "Mara, little one, please don't cry. I'm sorry I lost my temper, but I thought you knew about our enemies."

The badger maid rubbed paws into her eyes, sniffing. "They're not all enemies, but you don't seem to care. You don't even want me having Pikkle as a friend. Sometimes I wish I was dead instead of being stuck inside this miserable o!d mountain!"

Urthstripe pulled a spotted kerchief from his forge apron and gently wiped her eyes, sadness and concern showing on his heavy features.

"Please don't say that, Mara. You are all I have, and someday when I am gone the duty may fall upon you to rule this mountain. I know it is a lonely and demanding life, but it is our solemn duty as badgers to protect Mossflower and its shores. Only then can good honest creatures, not as strong as we, live in peace and happiness. You must believe me, Browneye."

The sound of the pet name he had called her as an infant brought a flood of fresh tears. Mara dashed from the room, calling as she ran to her bedchamber. "I don't know what to believe anymore. I just want to be somewhere where I can be happy!"

Urthstripe sat at the dining table. Shutting his eyes tight, he gripped the table edge until his blunt claws scored deep gouges into the oak. When he looked up again, Sergeant Sap-wood was standing there. Quickly composing himself, Urthstripe asked in a gruff voice, "Are those vermin securely locked in their room for the night?"

The hare sat down beside him. "Aye, sir. 1 turned the key myself."

The badger Lord's eyes narrowed in a hard line. "Good! I'd hate to think that a ferret and a weasel were skulking about our mountain during the night."

Sapwood tapped a paw alongside his nose. "Haint much fear o' that, sir. I posted two sentries near their doorCatkin an' big Oxeye. If n they ever did manage to sneak out o' that room, those two would really find theirselves wi' problems. Big Oxeye don't like vermin, no sir!"

Urthstripe could not resist a small chuckle. "Almost makes you wish they'd try something, doesn't it? It's been a few seasons since I saw Oxeye chastise an enemy."

The Sergeant nodded wholehearted agreement. "Hoho,'e can chastise all right. I never did see anybeast return for a second 'elpin' off Big Oxeye!"

Soft summer night cast its shades over the mountain stronghold. The two friends sat up into the small hours, discussing and reliving old days of past seasons. Outside, the full moon beamed down upon the deserted shore, tipping countless small wavetips with a thread of pale silver light.

Perched high in the rocks of the lookout post, Feadle strove to keep awake. He spat on his paws, rubbing them hard into red-rimmed eyes. Blinking intently he peered among the moon-shadowed dunes, fearful lest he miss Klitch's return.

Ferahgo sat apart from the rest of his band, pawing thoughtfully at the gold badger medal about his neck and stirring the flames of a guttering fire. Keeping his voice low, the Assassin spoke to a small stringy water rat seated close by him.

"Tell me again, Sickear, how did you find out about the mountain?"

"I was a searat, and I saw the place a few times, Master, though only from a distance. They call it Salamandastron."

Ferahgo stroked the badger medal, repeating the name slowly as if it were a magic charm. "Salamandastron. I like the sound of it. Salamandastron. But tell me the rest, you know, the part I like to hear."

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Salamandastron

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Sickear repeated the tale, as he had done many times in secret to Ferahgo since joining his band last winter.

"The searat Captains said there was great treasure hidden inside the mountaintheir old legends are full of it. The fortress is guarded by tough fighting hares and ruled by a badger Lordalways has been, since anybeast could remember. The present ruler is called Urthstripe the Strong, a great and fearsome warrior."

Ferahgo moved closer to the speaker, his eyes shining blue in the firelight, aglitter with greed. "The treasuretell me about the treasure!"

Sickear swallowed hard as the Assassin's claws closed on his shoulder. He repeated what Ferahgo wanted to hear.

"It is said the great badgers never lacked riches. As each one lived out his seasons, or died in battle, so his possessions were added to the pile, hidden somewhere inside the mountain. Pearls from the sea, many-colored precious stones, armor wrought from silver, gold and copper, spears and other great weapons, all made by the badgers at their forge. Bright war axes that can cut through stone, shields that are wonderful to look upon, swords with blades that can slice armor like butter, red and green stones set into their handles, sheathed in cases of the finest... aaaarrghh!"

Ferahgo's claws had pierced the rat's shoulder. Sickear whimpered in pain, tears rolling down his narrow face. The weasel Chieftain freed his claws from the matted fur and flesh with a quick wrench. Slumping to one side, Sickear moaned piteously, trying to lick his injured shoulder. Ferahgo grinned, his strange blue eyes twinkling in the firelight like a happy infant.

"Oh, I'm sorry, friend. I must have got carried away. Never mind, it's only a scratch. The best thing for you is fresh air and something to take your mind off it. Listen now, you shin up those lookout rocks and keep Feadle company the rest of the night. It'll do you good. Stop weeping and groaning now. Come on, up you go!"

The Assassin's eyes smiled wide and innocent as he watched the injured Sickear hauling himself painfully up

among the rocks. With a note of deceptive concern he called softly up to the weary lookout, "Not sleepy yet, Feadle?"

The lookout stared down into the treacherous blue eyes smiling up at him. Straightening his back against the rock, he sang out in an alert manner. "No sign of your son or Goffa yet, Master. I'm wide awake!"

Feadle's heart sank at the cheerful reply.

"Good work! Stop up there and keep Sickear company. Keep your eyes open now, both of you. There's a fresh edge on my skinning knife that I haven't used yet."

Feadle stretched down. Grasping Sickear's paw, he helped him up to the lookout post. Below them Ferahgo lay fiat on his back, watching through half-closed eyes.

Rosy dawn light caressed the Abbey walls as Bremmun the squirrel climbed the stairs to the Infirmary. Knocking softly on the door, he entered. Brother Hollyberry never slept in a bed; he sat propped up by cushions in his armchair, watching the birth of another summer day rise over the windowsill. Arula and Samkim lay asleep in their beds. Bremmun nodded toward them, keeping his voice low.