Brian Jacques - Mossflower

Argulor, he listened to the eagle talking in its sleep.

"Hmm, pine marten, one little pine marten, that's all, maybe they taste like

pine, hmmmmmm."

35

258

Despite the feeling of awe, Gonff could not help smiling to himself. After

watching Salamandastron from afar, seeing the •column of fire that spouted

from its top, and recalling the very name meant "mountain of the fire lizard,"

the little mousethief immediately saw it was a trick worthy of some mind as

clever and resourceful as his own. There were no fire-breathing dragons here,

but there was something equally as impressive in this great cave.

It was more than a cave, he decided. It was a huge mountain hall. At the its

center was a mighty furnacelike forge. A towering column of rockwork took it

up to the ceiling, away out of sight. Surrounded by hares, there stood the

father of badgers. He was pure silver from tip to tail with a double broad

creamy white stripe on either side of his forehead. Above the thickly muscled

limbs and barrel chest, a pair of wild eyes surveyed the newcomers. Giving the

mighty bellows handle a powerful downward swing, he tossed a red-hot

spearpoint with a quick flick of his bare paws. It landed in a water trough

with a boiling hiss of bubbles.

As the badger stumped across to them, Martin could almost feel the

reverberations through the rock floor. He towered above them, extending a

calloused paw that resembled a chunk of rock.

"Welcome to Salamandastron, friends. I am Boar the Fighter," the big voice

boomed and echoed about the hall.

259

His paw enveloped by Boar's, Martin felt very tiny. Now the full impact of

Bella's words came to him. Here indeed was one to save Mossflower; the silver

badger looked as if he could tear Kotir to pieces with his paws.

"I am Martin the Warrior. This is Young Dinny, and these two are Gonff and

Log-a-Log. I have traveled from Moss-flower with my friends to bring a message

from your daughter, Bella of Brockhall."

Boar unfastened his apron and shed it.

"All this I know. Come, let us go to my cave. It is more comfortable there. My

hares will bring you food and drink, and you can clean yourselves up.'*

As they followed Boar, Gonff whispered to Martin.

"How does he know, matey? Is he a magic badger?"

"Sshh," Martin silenced the mousethief. "Watch your manners. We'll get to know

soon enough."

Boar's cave was indeed comfortable. There were ledges to sit or lie upon

covered in velvety moss, plants grew around the walls and hung from the

ceiling. There was a rough rock table and a pool in one corner with steam

rising from its surface.

"The pool is heated from my forge," Boar said, noticing their surprise. "You

may bathe there later. You will observe that it is never cold here, again

thanks to the forge. But please be seated. Here comes the food."

The hares brought in new bread, fresh salad, baked fish, mint water and a

selection of last autumn's fruits crystallized in honey. After the frugal

seashore meals, the four travelers ate like a regiment many times their

number.

Boar watched them with something approaching amusement on his gigantic face.

Gonff gave him a friendly wink. "So, the flames of the forge carry up that

rock flue and shoot out the top of Sala-mandastron, eh?"

Boar winked back at Gonff. "You are a very perceptive little fellow, Gonff the

thief."

"Prince of Mousethieves, matey," Gonff corrected him.

"But how did you know he was a thief?" Martin interrupted.

Boar leaned his chin on muscular paws, bringing his eyes

260

level with Martin. "I know many things, little mouse. Later I will show you

how. Now, is that young Dinny, grandson of my childhood friend Dinny the

mole?"

"Hurr, Zur Bowar, that oi be. You'm know moi granfer Owd Dinny?" . "Of course

I do. Is that old rascal still going strong?"

"Ho urr, 'ee be fitter'n a flea an' owder'n twenny 'ogs," Dinny laughed.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. And what about you, Log-a-Log?"

"Sir Boar, I am a boat builder, one-time leader of the Northwest Shrew Tribe."

"Oh? Why one-time leader?"

"Because I'm all that's left of my tribe in freedom," Log-a-Log explained. "We

were captured by sea rats. I was the only one to escape the galleys."

Boar's eyes hardened to a burning ferocity and the bones in his paws cracked

audibly as he ground them together.

"Sea rats! Dirty, treacherous, murdering scum!"

Martin was shocked at the deep hatred in Boar's voice, he listened intently as

the badger continued.

"Not only do they burn and plunder among honest creatures, but they are savage

to their own kind. Sinking each other's ships, murdering dieir own companions

for an extra pawful of loot."

"Log-a-Log has told me of a sea rat called Ripfang of the Bloodwake," Martin

interrupted. "Do you know him?"

Boar pointed seaward. "That one, he's out there now—my spies have been

watching him all spring—sailing from north to south of here, waiting his

chance to attack Salamandas-tron. Ripfang is the most evil of all sea rats. He

has fought and sunk all others who sail in these waters, pressing their crews

as slaves in his service. He is also the cleverest and most cunning of them

all."

"In what way is he clever and cunning?" Gonff asked, noting the concern on

Boar's face.

"Well, he has never feared Salamandastron, or the legends that surround this

place. Ripfang is very daring, too. He has personally been here and knows that

it is only myself and a few hares who keep the myth of the mountain alive.

Others

261

we can scare off, but not Ripfang. It is written that soon he will mount a

major war against Salamandastron."

This was the second time that Boar had spoken of things that had not yet

happened. Martin was curious.

"You say it is written, Boar?"

The badger stood tall, pointing at Martin. "What is that broken weapon you

wear about your neck like a medal?" he asked.

The warrior mouse took it off and gave it to Boar, who inspected it closely as

Martin explained.

"That was once the sword of my father. He was a warrior. How it came to be

broken I will tell you, because your daughter Bella asked me to inform you

about all that is going on in Mossflower."

As they ate and rested, Martin told Boar how he came to Kotir, the plight of

the woodlanders, and Bella's plea for Boar to return to his birthright and

free the land. Throughout the narrative, Boar the Fighter said nothing. He

paced the room, turning the broken sword hilt over in his paws, looking at it

as if it carried some message for him.

Martin finished his recitation of the events. "So you see, Mossflower has need

of its son, Boar," he concluded. "You must come back with us."

There was silence. When the silver badger spoke, he did not answer the plea.

"This is a very ancient sword hilt, a good one. I can make it into a new

weapon. I must give it a blade that will not be broken again by anything."

Martin saw that Boar would not be pressed for answers; he decided to comply

until the badger's mood changed.

"Thank you, Boar. I would dearly like to see my father's old sword forged into

a new weapon. Since it was broken I have felt like half a warrior carrying

half a sword."

Boar shook his massive head. "Your mistake, Martin. You are a real warrior, a

full and true one. You have the heart— I can see it in you. But when I make

this sword anew, you must always remember that it is not the weapon but the