Brian Jacques - Redwall #07 - Mariel of Redwall

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Dawn was peeping over the treetops to a loud chorus of birdsong when Graypatch chose an inlet far upriver. With no proper anchorage on the pebbly riverbed, he ordered Darkqueen made fast by stem, stern and midship ropes to a sycamore and two elms. Graypatch felt a real sense of triumph as he gave orders.

"Frink, Deadglim, take Ringtail, Lardgutt, Ranzo an' Dripnose. Patrol this forest awhile, see what y'can see. There must be life hereaboutswe crossed a path that was forded by the river durin' the night. There's always somebeast around to tread that pathmight be a settlement of some sort. Anyhow, get your carcasses movin' an' report back to me at noon. Kybo, Bigfang, Fishgill, you stay on deck an' keep a weather eye out hereabouts. I'm off t' me bunk for some rest after steerin' all night. The rest of you, keep your heads down below decks until we know what sort of country this is."

oo

Pakatugg tracked the six searats as they patrolled northward through far Mossflower Woods. He could tell they were raw and inexperienced in woodland matters. Frink, who was leading the party, walked straight into a bed of stinging nettles, tripping on an exposed treeroot and falling headlong.

"Yaagh! Owouch, help me, mates. Ow, oo! These things are alive!"

Lardgutt and Ranzo pulled him out. He sat nursing a rapidly swelling face and cursing.

"Chahah! Me noselook, it's blowin' up like a balloon. Garr! I hate this placetrees everywhere. A rat can't even take a decent breath. Give me the open sea anytime."

"Ahoy, Frink. Over here! Ringtail's been stung by one o' those wasp things."

Deadglim pulled the dart from Ringtail's paw, catching a glimpse of Pakatugg dodging behind a tree with his blowpipe as he did. Deadglim inspected the dart and flung it away.

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"So that's what a wasp looks like, huh. We've got some learnin' t' do before we're proper landlubbers. I'm goin' back to the Darkqueen. You lot carry on with your patrollin'."

Pakatugg missed the wink which passed between Deadglim and the other five. The squirrel followed the remainder of the patrol, sniggering quietly at their ignorance of woodland lore.

"Hey, Frink, what d'you suppose these are strawberries?"

"No, they're blackberries or raspberries or somethin'. Anyhow, why ask me? I don't knowdon't wanna know either."

"Haha, why don't you try eatin' one, Lardgutt? Are yer scared mate?"

"Who, me? 'Course I'm not. Here, watch this."

"How does it taste, Lardy, me old shipmate?"

"Mmmm, tastes nice. Wonder what they're called?"

"Deadly nightshade or somethin' they're probably poison."

"Yarghphutt!"

"Garn, what'd you spit 'em out for? If you ate some an' didn't die, then we'd know they'd be all right to eat. Proper mean to your mates you are, Lardgutt. Betcher Kybo wouldn't 'ave spat 'em out."

Pakatugg decided it was time for a wasp sting again. He was chuckling silently to himself and loading his blowpipe when a tattooed arm circled his neck and a swordblade pressed against his throat.

"One move an' yer fishbait, squirrel. We might not know much about forests, but a searat can sniff the enemy a mile away. Ahoy, lads, lookit what I got!"

They flocked around; Deadglim, licking his knife-blade and smiling evilly at Pakatugg. Frink snapped the blowpipe and threw it aside.

"So it's our wasp, eh. What's yer name, wasp?"

Pakatugg swallowed hard and tried to stop trembling. "Pakatugg's my name."

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Frink twitched his tender nose. "Pakatugg, eh. What'd you call 'im, Ranzo?"

"Hah! I'd call him Deadsquirrel, or maybe Nopaws. Then again, Slittongue might be an 'andsome title fer a squirrel who follers searats round a-firin' darts at 'em."

They bound Pakatugg's paws tightly. Dripnose threw a noose about his neck and gave it a sharp tug.

"Move lively, matey. We'll see what name Cap'n Graypatch can think up for yeh."

cxo

Clary, Thyme and Hon Rosie stood to attention in the armory at Salamandastron. Lord Rawnblade paced up and down, a worried frown creasing his broad brow.

"Longeyes has reported a smoldering wreck of a shipGreenfang, it's one of Gabool's. There may have been trouble farther north up the coast. Clary, I want you to take your patrol up there, fully provisioned and well armed. Find out what's been going on and report back to me. But if you are needed up there by any good creatures, then stay and help out as best you can. Understood?"

Clary made an elegant salute with his lance. "Leave it to us, sah!"

Rawnblade allowed himself a fleeting smile. "Thank you, Clary. Move your patrol out whenever you wish."

oo

The badger Lord watched them go from his high window. The three hares swiftly bounded across the beach, sometimes skipping in and out of the small wavelets at the water's edge. Rawnblade turned back to his forge and quenched a red-hot spearhead in water. He remembered, long seasons back, three similar hares, young carefree fighters, their bodies washed up on the tideline after Gabool's searats had finished with them.

Rawnblade set the spearhead on the anvil and began beating it with mighty blows. His heavy hammer rose and fell; sweat mixed with tears and sizzled into the

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embers of the forges as the ruler of the fire mountain renewed his vow.

"I cannot leave my mountain and these shores undefended, but one day, Gabool, one day you will sail back to here and I will be waiting. Oho, Gabool, all the seas of the world cannot keep us apart it is written that we will meet again. We will meet! We will meet! We will meet!"

Rawnblade repeated the phrase over and over with each hammer blow upon the spearhead, releasing his pent-up frustrations. When he finally stopped, the spearblade had been battered to four times its size and

was thin as a leaf!

oo

From the western flatlands fronting the Abbey, a chorus of larks wakened Mariel. She stood stretching and rubbing her eyes for a brief moment until realization hit herit was almost an hour after dawn. The mousemaid slung Gullwhacker around her neck and opened the door carefully, listening for familiar sounds of Abbey bustle. Thankfully she noted silence from outside and inside the building. Stealing quietly down the corridor, Mariel could not help a slight sense of bewilderment. Usually Redwall was alive and humming by this time. Tip-pawing through Great Hall, she retrieved the knapsack of supplies she had hidden behind a column before supper. Thanking her lucky stars, she dashed across the lawn toward a small wicker gate in the north wall and unbolted it. Taking one last backward look at the sleeping Abbey, the mousemaid sniffed, wiped her eyes, took a deep breath and left Redwall with its happy memories behind her.

Flatlands to the left, woodlands to the right, Mariel strode the brown dusty path that wound northward. Early dew was drying from the lea already; it was going to be a hot day. She stayed on the side of the path where Mossflower provided treeshade. Strange that the Redwallers should sleep so late, she thought. Still, it

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was far better, in a way. Mariel had been dreading any long tearful farewells; it would be far easier this way, even though she felt rather guilty, stealing off like a thief in the early dawn. "I, Mariel," the mousemaid called aloud to Mossflower country, "swear by this honorable weapon known as the Gullwhacker that one day I will return to Redwall Abbey and all my true friends and dear companions I leave there. Always providing that I live through the dangers of the task ahead of me, that is. Oh, and providing of course that I can find the way back. No, that's nonsenseI'd find my way back if I had only one leg and the snows were as high as the treetops. But what if I'm slain or I fail in my quest? Well, in that case I solemnly swear that my spirit will find its way back to Redwall Abbey. There! That's that. I feel much better now, even hungry enough for a spot of breakfast."