Brian Jacques - Redwall #07 - Mariel of Redwall

By unanimous decision the plan was voted a good one.

Joseph stood to have a final word with the occupants of the cavern. Gray-furred as he was, the bellmaker stood tall in their eyes, the suffering and indignities he had put up with etching his strong face, righteous vengeance ringing out from his voice like the sound of his own great bell.

"Hear me. This is the time I have waited for; we will rid the earth of searats for all seasons to come. No more are you slaves, you are the fighters of Trag. If victory is ours tomorrow, we have ships to sail away from this accursed island. Let us leave this place deserted, as a monument to the death and misery it has caused to creatures everywhere!"

When the wild cheering had died down, the two small hedgehogs Barty and Dorcas called out. "We're going to Redwall Abbey to live!"

Rawnblade picked them both up, one in each huge paw. "If I know the good creatures of that place . . . you're all going there!"

The cavern echoed and re-echoed to the wild applause of Trag warriors, none of them knowing what

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the morrow would bring, but each one fervently wishing his or her desire to go and live in the fabled Redwall.

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Graypatch and his band were lost.

They stumbled about in the vastnesses of Mossflower Woods, not knowing which direction to take next. Each place they arrived at looked the same as the spot they had started from.

Oak Tom sat high in a chestnut tree, watching them. He tested the point of his lance and shook his head. "Wouldn't leave 'em in charge of a Dibbuns' spring outin', any of 'em!"

Deadglim slumped wearily on the ground. "Belay, Cap'n, you sure you know the right course fer Darkqueen?"

Graypatch turned on him and vented his temper. "I did when we started out, but you wetnosed idiots a-wanderin' here an' yon scroungin' fer vittles have set me off course. I'm as lost as the rest o' yer, an' it's your fault, not mine!"

Dripnose threw himself down beside Lardgutt. "Yah, what's the use? I'm stayin' 'ere until somebeast finds the right way!"

Graypatch sat down with him, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Oh, you are, are yer? So be it. I am too, matey. This way nobeast'll find the Darkqueen an' we'll all sit right 'ere an' rot!"

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Fishgill came up with a suggestion. "Cap'n, why don't we split into three groups? We could each set course a different way, mark the trees as we go an' all make our way back 'ere when somerat finds Darkqueen."

Graypatch thought about this for a moment, then stood up. "Fishgill, matey, that's the first decent idea to come out o' this load of lunkheads. Right, you take five an' go thataways. Dripnose, up on yer claws, take five an' head the other way, over there. I'll take the other five an' go straight ahead. Don't ferget an' use your blades to mark the trees, otherwise you'll be lost forever in this hellridden forest. Right, let's get goin'."

Oak Tom watched them go before leaping down to scar false routes widespread on the treebark with his lancepoint. The squirrel carefully noted the direction taken by Graypatch and his party, then set out after the five led by Deadglim. Pushing through the brambles and tripping over tree roots, Deadglim and his rats unwittingly made their course south, back the way they had come, completely lost and in their confusion taking a bumbling path toward Redwall Abbey.

"Turn round and follow Fishgill!"

Lardgutt pointed into the leafy canopy. "It's a voice from up there."

Deadglim clawed nervously at his sword. "What d'yer want from us?"

"I'm from the Abbey," the mystery voice called back to him. "We don't want you attacking us again. You're headed for Redwall if you keep on in this direction. Turn round and follow Fishgill. He's traveling in the direction of your ship Darkqueenl"

Lardgutt carried on south, calling up in a sneering voice, "Aaahh, you could be trickin' us. I think this way's the right way!"

The javelin hissed down from the branches, slaying him on the spot.

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This time the voice was loud and menacing. "Take my word for it, fools die! There are many of us up here. Turn round and follow Fishgill, if you value my advice!"

Deadglim did a swift about-turn. "We're going, look, we're going! Leave us alone and we won't be back!"

A mocking laugh rang out through the trees. "Go then. Quickly!"

Oak Tom plucked the javelin from Lardgutt's carcass as the pounding paws of Deadglim's party receded into the distance. Before nightfall they would join Fishgill's party, in the Flitchaye territory. Oak Tom took one look back to the south, where his friends Rufe Brush and Treerose would be giving Clary and Thyme a decent burial at the deserted searat camp. Setting his jaw grimly, he took off through the woodlands on the trail of Graypatch and the remaining five.

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The searat Captain did not know whether to be delighted or disappointed. He stepped out of the foliage and onto the path, leading north with his companions, having traveled in a huge semicircle.

"Well, at least we're clear of all that tangle fer a while, mateys. Maybe now we can get some proper bearin's."

A rat named Stumpclaw strained his eyes northward up the path. "Ahoy, Cap'n. There's a ford up ahead. I can see the sunlight on its waters!"

Relief flooded through Graypatch's body. He sat down by the side of the path, a tear forming in his single eye.

"If it's water it'll run to the sea, mateys, an' it'll take us to Darkqueen if it's the right stream. Stumpclaw, take these buckos an' scout the lay o' the water, will yer, matey. Ole Graypatch is weary, I'll be restin' me bones 'ere awhile till you get back."

On a spruce bough not too far distant, Oak Tom sat watching.

Graypatch let the summer sun play on his face as

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he lay back and relaxed. The stream must lead up to Darkqueen, and then down to the sea. Maybe a few more dawns would see him in command of his own ship once more, running south before the breeze, away from Mossflower and the seas where Gabool's vessels hunted.

Sleep was just about to embrace Graypatch when loud screams rent the still air. Silently Oak Tom trailed him as he made his way cautiously to the ford. Using the trees to the side of the path as cover, Graypatch sneaked up to within a short distance of the water.

Iraktaan stood over the carcass of Stumpclaw, his vicious beak dripping red. "Iraktaan kill. Kraaaaak!"

Behind him in the swift-running weed-streaked waters of the ford, the bodies of the three who had made it to the water bounced and bobbed in a grotesque parody of life, though it was only the ripping jaws of the pike shoal which moved them.

Graypatch cut east into the woodlands, avoiding the killer heron and following the course of the stream, voicing his thoughts aloud as he went.

"I'll find the Darkqueen, sure as eggs is eggs. Foller the streamthat's all ye do, matey, foller the stream. Haharr, I'll sit aboard me ol' ship an' wait fer the others. No chance Graypatch is goin' t' get lost amid all that forest agin. No sir!"

As the sun grew hotter Graypatch knelt to drink from the stream. He sucked long and noisily, feeling the cool flow of fresh water crossing his chin. Suddenly lifting his face clear of the stream, the searat Captain felt his neck hairs rising. Without turning he knew there was somebeast behind him. A vague blur showed on the surface of the swift-running water, masking the stranger's identity.

Instinctively the searat's claw reached for his sword. "Who are yer?"

The stranger's voice was as cold as north wind on

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wet stones. "My name would mean nothing to you, rat!"

Graypatch played for time, slowly inching the sword from his belt. "What d'ye want with me, then? I mean yer no harm."

A blow from a lance butt sent him sprawling into the stream. He stood up in the shallows, spluttering. His face was a mask of vengeance. Oak Tom stood on the bank, lance held loose but ready.