Brian Jacques - Redwall #09 - Salamandastron

"Ach, yer a bonnie wee mousie, Dumblebringin' yer auld pal MacPhearsome tae sich a gran' blow-oot. I'll remember ye fer aye an a', ye wonderfu' bairn."

Abbess Vale wiped Dumble's cream-caked mouth. "What is your friend saying, Dumble?"

The infant chortled. '""The heagle says to feed me plumcake so I'll grow all bigga an' strong, wiv cream too."

Tudd Spinney and Droony, his new cellar apprentice, rolled out a keg of elderberry wine.

Foremole removed the head from the keg and bowed graciously. "Yurr, zurr, heagle, dip'n 'ee beak into this woin, hurr hurr!"

Thrugg strode down through the foothills, accompanied by Rocangus. Tammbeak and two other able-looking falcons circled overhead as they began the trek back to Redwall. The Laird Mactalon stood waving goodbye with both wings.

"Mind how ye go, lads. Rocangus, ye young rip, watch yer manners an' be civil tae other beasties. Guid luck walk with ye, Sir Thrugg. Yer a braw riverdog an' Ah'm proud tae call ye fren'."

"Och, man faither's no' a bad auld stick," Rocangus whispered to Thrugg. "Just o'er fussy."

Thrugg chuckled as he swung his sling. "Listen, matey, d'you think by chance we could drop in on them crows an' whack the features off 'em? Make the journey back to Red-wall a bit more interestin', eh?"

292

Brian Jacques

Rocangus flexed his good wing. "Ach, yer a wicked riv-erdog, Thrugg, but et's a braw idea!"

The two logboats were about to be lowered from the cliffs in the early dawn when a scream from the rock ledge below cut the still summer air.

"Eeeeyaaahhh! It's the Deepcoiler!"

Log-a-log's face was ashen. "That's Nordo down on the ledge!"

Urthwyte and Loambudd tore into action. Shoving Mara and Pikkle aside, they grabbed the lowering ropes and scrambled down to the ledge, Mara and Log-a-log following them as soon as the ropes were clear.

Like some grotesquely twisted tree trunk, the reptile lay half in and half out of the water, its tail trailing off into the take depths and its monstrous head laid flat on the rock ledge.

"Stay clear! It'll kill you all!" Ashnin yelled down after

them.

Mara ventured forward cautiously, staring into the wide-open eyes that were glazed over with a milky film.' 'It's dead!''

Pikkle stood pressed against the rock face with Nordo. "Dead? I wonder what killed the dreadful old blighter?"

Mara moved around the lifeless head until she could touch the cold steel that stood out from the center of the skull. "This is what slew the Deepcoiler. Urthwyte, Loambudd, lend a paw herewe'll get the head on its side and open the mouth."

Between the three of them the badgers managed to push the wet scaly head on its side. It was a repulsive dead weight, and foul-smelling water gushed from the mouth as they prised it open. Urthwyte propped the jaws apart with his club as Mara reached in with both paws. She began tugging. The steel that protruded from the skull waggled back and forth. Loambudd struck the pointed steel with a rock, driving it downward as Mara pulled and tugged with both paws, setting her foot-paws against the sides of the fearsome rows of teeth framing the mouth. Finally the object came loose and the badger maid fell backwards onto the rock ledge with a beautiful sword in her paws.

Safamandastran

293

A cry of wonder went up from the shrews crowding the clifftop. Loambudd inspected the head, speculating as Mara washed the fabulous weapon in the lake, "Somebeast stabbed it in the roof of its mouth. The thing must have swum off then and tried to close its jaws. The brain was pierced, because as it forced its mouth shut it drove the sword right up through its head, killing itself. The storm must have washed it up here last night sometime."

Mara held the sword aloft. It glittered and shone in the sunlight, completely undamaged and sharp as any razor's edge. "What do you think, Loambudd? It's too small for a badger, but slightly too large for a shrew to wield. But what a weapon!"

The older badger inspected it. "The beast who carried this must have been a famous warrior. This sword was made by badger skillI know, I have heard of weapons like thisand nothing can turn or damage the blade."

Pikkle plucked a hair from his tail and split it across the blade. He gave a whistle of amazement. "Well, chaps, I think we should all be grateful to the warrior who slew this horror. Now the lake is safe to sail on!"

The Guosssom raised a mighty cheer and began preparing for the voyage. Urthwyte scaled the cliff and lowered both boats down to the ledge, then supplies were packed on board the vessels. With light hearts the Guosssom took up their paddles. The boats were riding low in the water because of their extra passengers, but two more badgers added considerably to the paddle power as they shot out across the wide lake.

"From lake to the river and down to the sea, Paddling, paddling, onward go we. The sun on the water does shine merrily As away go the logboats like birds wild and free. So paddle, my brother, I'll sit next to you, A fine handsome creature, a bold Guosssom shrew. High sky and deep water are both colored blue. Our boats like our friends are all solid and true."

294

Brian Jacques

Salamandastron

295

The weather stayed fine, and they pushed onward until the island was a mere dot on the horizon behind them. Log-a-log noted the position of the sun and set a further course. Mara could not help noticing the admiring glances everybeast cast at her sword; as she paddled, it lay beside her, sparkling in the sunlight, its beautiful red pommel stone shining above the black bound hilt with its flaring silver crosstrees, the mirrored steel of the blade clear ice-blue, deep blood-channeled, and keenly double-edged down to the awesomely dangerous tip. It was a true warrior's weapon with no unnecessary fancy bits and no sign of weakness in its design; the swordmaker had forged and tempered it with one thing in mind; a stout blade that would serve its owner well in battle. She stared at it hard until a dizziness came over her. Shaking her head, the young badger maid blinked and rubbed her eyes as she glanced out over the lake, then back to the sword. She gave a start. Pikkle noticed her strange behavior.

"What ho, old gel. Are you all right?"

Mara picked up the sword. Bringing it close to her face,

she peered at the blade until her breath misted it. "Can you

see anything in this blade, Pikkle?"

The young hare took a look and shook his head. "No, not

a bally thing. Why d'you ask?"

"I saw the face of a mouse looking at me from the blade,

a warrior mouse, fiercer than any fighting badger." Mara kept

her voice low so that only he could hear.

Pikkle let one ear droop comically. "You didn't eat any

strange fruit or plants on that island, did you? I remember one

time I scoffed an old preserved damson I was sick as a frog

for a day, and you wouldn't believe the things I saw when I

tried shuttin' me eyes ..."

Mara jabbed him with the end of her paddle. "Don't talk

silly, it was nothing like that. I tell you, I'd swear I saw this

warrior mouse looking straight at me from the blade of that

sword!"

Log-a-log had overheard Mara. He offered an explanation. "What you saw was probably the face of the shrew sitting behind you; the blade was lying at an angle where it caught

his reflection and distorted it, what with the sunlight and the movement of the boat. It couldn't be anything else, Mara, believe me."

Mara thought about it for a moment then nodded. "Aye, you're probably right, Log-a-log."

As she resumed paddling she glanced back at the shrew behind her. He was an old Guosssom member with a thin face, one good eye and a flowing gray beardnothing remotely like the fierce hot-eyed warrior she had seen reflected in the mirrored blade.