Brian Jacques - Redwall #07 - Mariel of Redwall

"Down to the main cave, missy. That's where us Trag warriors meet."

"Trag, what's that supposed to mean?"

Durry Quill flourished a fearsome dagger, muttering darkly, "Terramort Resistance Against Gabool. Trag

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see, first letter o' each word. You'll like our Chief though, he knows you very well."

Mariel was mystified. "Knows me? How?" Durry smiled in the shadows as he answered, '"Cos he's your daddy, Joseph the Bellmaker!"

Dandin felt the torch snatched from his grasp as Mariel dashed past. She disappeared down the winding tunnel, leaving them groping in the darkness as the mousemaid's voice echoed about them at a screaming

pitch.

"Father! Fatheeeeerrr!"

cxo

It was an immense cavern, high above the tidemark on the sheer rock coast, facing the open sea and well lit by the summer sun. Free creatures, former oarslaves and Fort Bladegirt drudges, sat about on rocky ledges, cleaning and preparing weapons, cooking over fires and readying meals. All activity ground to an immediate halt as the mousemaid came hurtling down the tunnel into the cavern.

Heedlessly dropping the flaring torch, she threw herself into the paws of Joseph, hugging him fiercely as her tears flooded into the silver-gray fur of his broad

shoulder.

"Father! Oh, Father! I always knew I'd find you again

someday!"

Joseph the Bellmaker held his only child, the pain and anguish of many long days and nights turning to unbounded joy as a happy smile lit his strong face, banishing the glistening dew which threatened to spill from his proud eyes. "Mariel . . . Mariel my little maid, how you've grown! I never knew all this time whether you were alive, but in my heart I refused to believe that you were dead and I always knew you'd return somehow, my little Mariel!"

The others stumbled out of the tunnel, Durry Quill dabbing tenderly at his swelling snout, which he had banged against the rock walls in the darkness.

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"Well, wait'll I tell my ol' nuncle, dashin' off an' leavin' a young 'og in the dark like that. Ain't you got no feelin's, missy?"

oo

That night the fires blazed merrily in the cavern of the Trag warriors, huge platters of shrimp and shellfish were served, with wild oat and barley bread, hot from the rocks it had been baked on, casks of preserved fruits taken from searat ships were opened and a fine barrel of daisy and dandelion beer tapped. The friends sat around as Joseph related his story.

"Gabool pushed me from a high window of his banqueting room. Luckily for me I did not strike the rock-face on the way down. I hit the water hard and was knocked senseless; I was weak and ill from being starved and imprisoned, otherwise I might have stayed conscious. The sea must have washed me around the headland, and I came to jammed against a reef on a small inlet somewhere up the coast of Terramort. That's where I was found by that fellow." Joseph pointed to a vole who was seated on a rock ledge sharpening a sword. The vole stood up and bowed to them, introducing himself by name, "Tan Loc." He sat down and resumed sharpening the sword.

"Tan Loc is a fellow of few words," Joseph continued. "He broods a lot. His whole family were slain by searats when he was taken captive. He lives for only one thing: to meet the murderer, Hookfin, Master of the Blacksail. But back to my story. Tan Loc and I helped each other stay alive. We could not afford to be seen it would have meant certain death so we stayed on this side of the island, surviving as best we could. One day we discovered this place and its tunnelsI will show them to you in due course. The tunnels were a new lease of life to us. They led to places all over the island, so we could travel anywhere and remain unseen. Some nights we would steal supplies from the ships, weapons too, and other items which would be

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of use to us. We soon came across others, house slaves from Fort Bladegirt who had managed to escape, sometimes oarslaves, thrown on the beach because they were too sick and weak to pull an oar anymore. In time our numbers began to swell. That was when we decided to form Trag, Terramort Resistance Against Gabool. Soon now we will be strong enough to attack Bladegirt in force, though our numbers would never equal the searat horde up there at the moment. Still, we will fight them and try to rid the earth of Gabool the Wild. We may not have the numbers, but we have the courage and determination."

Lord Rawnblade stood up, both paws resting on the crosshilt of his destroyer Verminfate. "I am sworn to kill Gabool. He is mine!"

Joseph touched the long knife at the back of his belt. "Then you will have to be quick, Lord Widestripe. I made an oath to slay Gabool when the house slaves told me he had drowned my Mariel with a rock and a rope tied about her neck. That oath still holds!"

Mariel leaped up, the Gullwhacker swinging wide. "First there, first served! Gabool's life is mine to take. I am Mariel Gullwhacker, I claim the right!"

Tarquin leaned over to Dandin. "What about you,

old feller?"

Dandin drew the sword slowly. "This is the blade of Martin the Warrior. No creature that is evil can stand against it, least of all Gabool!"

Tarquin and Durry held a hasty whispered conference, then they both jumped up, issuing their separate

challenges.

"This 'ere is my scraggin' dagger, an' I'm goin' to scrag that scurvy Gabool good 'n' proper. I'm on'y a young lad, but I swear it by my ol" nuncle Gabe's best October ale!"

"Well, you'll have t' scrag away pretty fast, old chap, 'cos if Joseph has got the blighter with his long knife, Milord Rawnblade has paid the rotter a visit with that

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great log cleaver and our Mariel has been to see the scoundrel with her Gullwhacker, then along comes the bold Durry Quill with his scraggin' dagger, well, tell me this: what chance is an honest chap like meself goin' to get to brain the beggar with my jolly old harolina, wot? Listen, you lot, stop bein' so confounded greedy and let me be first to knock out a tune on the villain's noodle."

The sight of Tarquin striking a noble pose, harolina at the ready, caused the entire group to dissolve into helpless laughter.

oo

Gabool was in no mood for laughter. The maddened Searat King dashed furiously around his barred and bolted room, slashing at phantom badgers as they stole out of the shadows to confront his bloodshot eyes, shrieking and thrusting wildly at the specters created by his tormented brain.

"Haharr, I'll finish ye all. I'm Gabool the King of all Seas!"

Bongl Bongl Bongl Bong\ Bongl

He rent curtains and wallhangings; sparks showered from his sword as it clashed on the stone walls.

"Cursed noise, I'll send yer to Hellgates an' beyond!"

oo

Down below in the banqueting hall, Riptung, Hookfin and Grimtooth laughed drunkenly as they flung hard apples across the tables at the great tarnished bell in the center of the floor.

"Haharr! Listen, Yer Majesty, it's yer old matey the bell a-speakin' to yer. It wants t' know where you've hid the booty. Haharrharrharr!"

The crews joined in the laughter as they pelted the bell with apples.

Boom! Bongl Booml Bongl Booml Bongggggl

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A pale dawn sun high above Mossflower Woods watched impassively as the otter and badger searched for the searat camp, longbows at the ready.

Flagg strained his ears for sounds of movement. "It's no good, marm. We should've asked the squirrels which way t' go."

Mother Mellus sat down upon a fallen limb and rubbed her eyes. "Perhaps you're right, Flagg. My old senses aren't what they used to be. If we don't find it soon we'll have to change direction."

The otter joined her on the limb. "Tell you what, marm. We'll take a liddle rest and then try a different path anyway. By the fur, I'm tired. Missin' a full night's sleep never did me much good, even when I was a cub. Aaaahhhh! Sit down on the grass 'ere an' put yer back against this limb awhile. There now, ain't that a little better?"