Brian Jacques - Redwall #09 - Salamandastron

"You bottlenosed rogue, I'll give yer tea. You'll get a taste of this when I catch up with ye!"

Later that day Abbess Vale watched fondly as Thrugg dandled Baby Dumble on his knee while he plowed his way through a buffet teatime meal, specially set up on the gatehouse steps for him and his four falcon guests. Baby Dumble told the most atrocious lies about his epic flight in the haversackhow he had rescued the eagle from some far bigger birds and how he had pushed MacPhearsome's wings up and down to keep him flying when he was weary. Thrugg and the four falcons tried their level best to keep straight faces.

Dumble glared suspiciously about at them. "Och, yer no laughin' at the bonny Dumble, are ye?" He had begun affecting a smattering of Northland into his speech.

The Wild King MacPhearsome, perched on his favorite log in the orchard, nodded his approval as the falcons circled above, dipping their wings in tribute to him.

"Aye, they're a grand bunch o'laddies, nae doot!"

As evening drew on, Dumble was carried off snoring to his bed by Thrugann. Thrugg sat relaxing with a flagon of October ale, glad to be back safe in his beloved Abbey. A dep-

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utation of Redwallers attended as Tudd Spinney presented the otter with a specially carved bowl and spoon of applewood. The old hedgehog twirled his stick awkwardly as he made the presentation speech.

"Er, oh dearie me, I'm not much at words, but this is a liddle gift from us all to you, Thrugg. Redwall owes its life to you. It's all carved pretty, like, wi' your name an* so on, an' Friar Bellows says as he'll fill it with shrimp an' bulrush 'otroot soup any time you pleases. So er, 'ere 'tis, an' thank ye!"

Three rousing cheers went up for Thrugg. He hid his head with embarrassment, placing the bowl over his blushing face. "Thank ye, mateys. Thank ye kindly, but 't weren't nothin', you'da did the same fer me, an' I knows it!"

Late that night they all sat together in the orchard around a small fire. The summer was drawing to a close and nights were getting chilly. Brother Hollyberry held out his mug for more hot spiced cider, and Foremole filled it from a big black kettle, eyeing the laden apple trees as he did.

"Burr, 'twill soon be toim fer' arvestin'. 'Ee arples do make a noice drop o' cider for next summertide."

Hollyberry blew on the steaming drink and sipped reflectively. "Aye, the seasons turn and the fruit ripens well, old friend. Oh dear me, I wish that young Samkim and Arula were back with us, I do miss those two scamps."

Foremole poured himself a mug of the hot spiced cider. "You'm roight thurr, zurr Berry'oily. 'Tis not fittin' furr a young moley maid t' be gone so long. Burr hurr, no taint."

Sister Nasturtium had been sitting staring long into the flames. In the silence that followed she sang:

"Bring me back a squirrel carrying my blade, Bring me back a little mole, a pretty fair young maid, Bring me back a speedy one with hunger and long

ears, And a Redwall Guardian to watch us through the

years."

Nasturtium shook herself and sat up straight. "My goodness, there I go again, singing silly songs that I know naught of. I am sorry!"

"Nay nay, Aspershum, doant 'ee 'pologize." Foremole patted her paw. "That wurr Marthen 'ee Wurrier."

Abbess Vale stirred the fire with a twig. Sparks drifted upward to dissolve in the night. "Thank the seasons for that! Now I can stop worrying over those two young ones. If Mar-.tin says they're coming back, that's good enough for me. I'll post lookouts on the ramparts tomorrow as soon as it's light."

High above Mossflower Woods the moon shone down over Redwall, and the fire burned to embers as everybeast about it dozed in drowsy contentment.

The sun burned through to the shores of Salamandastron, dispelling the wreaths of sea mist to reveal the Guosssom shrews standing side by side with the hares of the Long Patrol. All eyes were on the front entrance, and a hubbub arose as the boulder was rolled to one side, revealing Loambudd, her head garlanded in a wreath of wildflowers. She was clothed in a magnificent robe of blue. She stepped aside and silence fell as the procession emerged from the mountain.

As honored guests from far Redwall, Samkim and Arula led the line, the young squirrel holding aloft the sword of Martin, the molemaid bearing a shrew paddle wound about with ivy. Behind them walked the shrew leaders, Log-a-log and Alfoh, green cloaks about their shoulders, paws resting on sheathed rapiers. Then came Mara and Pikklethe badger maid in a decorated smock of rich autumn brown, carrying a large bouquet of late roses upon a lancetip. Pikkle in light sandy-yellow, bearing a hare longbow and a quiver of gray-flighted arrows. Ashnin walked behind them, wearing a splendid cloak adorned with sea shells. Urthwyte was flanked by Sapwood and Oxeye. They were the last to emerge.

Now that Urthstripe lay at rest clad in his best ceremonial armor, the great white badger was wearing his brother's old fighting armor. It had been retrieved from the shoreline where he fought his last great battle. The armor had been restored,

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rebeaten and burnished at Urthstripe's forge by Urthwyte himself.

He looked every inch the true warrior now, and it shone from his eyes and face, told in every movement of his giant limbs as he strode easily out in front of the assembly. The sun bounced and glimmered off snowwhite fur and glittering metal as Oxeye presented him with his own huge oaken club and Sapwood knelt and placed his head beneath Urthwyte1 s free paw.

"This is my grandson," Loambudd's voice rang out majestically. "His grandsire was Urthclaw, his father Urthound and his brother Urthstripe the Strong. He stands before you this day and for all the time until his seasons have run. Ruler of the mountain! Commander of the Long Patrols! Warrior Lord of Salamandastron! Salute Urthwyte the Mighty!"

Lances, bows, rapiers and paddles went up like a sea of weaponry.

' 'Eulaliaaaaaaaaaa!''

All creatures alike yelled the mountain war cry until the very rocks rang and the clear morning air was -filled with the swelling sound. Salamandastron had a new badger Lord.

After the ceremony there was a meal spread out upon the shore. It was good solid food, but quite plain. Salamandastron being a warriors' place, even the best of cooks there could never match the skills of Redwall creatures at preparing a festive board.

They sat among the rocks and sprawled on the sand, happily sharing the homely fare. Arula, Pikkle and Nordo were building a likeness of Salamandastron from the sea-damped sand. Alfoh and Ashnin perched on a low rock watching them.

The wise old shrew smiled wistfully. "Look at them playing at sandcastles like a proper bunch of young uns. Arula, what about a tunnel entrance?"

The young molemaid touched a heavy digging claw to her nose. "Thankee, zurr Alfoh. Oi'll do that straightways, hurr hurr."

Arula vanished in a spray of flying sand as Ashnin shook

her head in wonderment. "They bounce right back like springy little branches. That's a good thing, Alfoh. It helps them to forget all the hardships, warfare and slaying they've been through. Look at young Samkim sitting alone down there by the sea. I wonder what he's thinking of. He's been very quiet all morning."

Samkim was staring at the logboats moored above the tideline. The sword of Martin lay beside him. He made no move to join the others, staying alone and apart from everybeast.

Still clad in her new smock, Mara approached the solitary young squirrel. She sat beside him, gazing out at the sea pensively. Without looking at her, Samkim began to voice his thoughts. It soon developed into a conversation, though they both avoided each other's eyes.