Table of Contents
Cover
Copyright
About the Author
The Tales of Redwall
Dedication
Contents
Marlfoxs
Prologue
Act One: Enter the Players
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Act Two: Four Chieftains Going Forth
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Act Three: The Queen’s Island
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
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Epub ISBN: 9781407050102
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www.randomhouse.co.uk
MARLFOX
A RED FOX BOOK 978 1 862 30244 0
First published in Great Britain by Hutchinson, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, A Random House Group Company
Hutchinson edition published 1998
Red Fox edition published 1999
Red Fox edition reissued 2007
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Text copyright © The Redwall Abbey Company Ltd, 1998
Illustrations copyright © Fangorn, 1998
The right of Brian Jacques and Fangorn to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Red Fox Books are published by Random House Children’s Books,
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www.kidsatrandomhouse.co.uk
www.redwall.org
Addresses for companies within The Random House Group Limited can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk/offices.htm
THE RANDOM HOUSE GROUP Limited Reg. No. 954009
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Printed in the UK by CPI Bookmarque, Croydon, CR0 4TD
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Before he started writing books for children, Brian Jacques’ life was as full of adventure as the stories he creates. At the age of fifteen he went to sea and travelled the world, before returning to his home town of Liverpool, where he still lives today. He has worked as a stand-up comedian and playwright and now hosts his own programme, Jakestown, on BBC Radio Merseyside. For twenty years, his bestselling Redwall books have captured readers all over the world and won universal praise.
For more information about Brian Jacques and his work please visit his website www.redwall.org.
THE TALES OF REDWALL
Lord Brocktree
Martin the Warrior
Mossflower
The Legend of Luke
Outcast of Redwall
Mariel of Redwall
The Bellmaker
Salamandastron
Redwall
Mattimeo
The Pearls of Lutra
The Long Patrol
Marlfox
The Taggerung
Triss
Leamhedge
Rakkety Tam
High Rhulain
Click onto the Redwall website and find out more about your favourite characters from the legendary world of Redwall, and their creator, Brian Jacques!
www.redwall.org
To the memory of a true Redwall friend and talented illustrator, Allan Curless
Act One
Enter the Players
* * *
Act Two
Four Chieftains Going Forth
* * *
Act Three
The Queen’s Island
* * *
To where will they go,
This is a secret nobeast may know.
Marlfox!
Plundering murdering vulpine thieves,
Who blend with stone,
Or meld with leaves.
Marlfox!
See the pale eyes and swirling cloak,
Appear like nightmare,
Vanish like smoke.
Marlfox!
What steals upon the silent air,
Gleaming fangs, mottled fur,
A deadly axeblade lying there.
Marlfox!
Nobeast living can hide from thee,
O thou who treads invisibly,
Cross hill and vale, through woods and rocks.
Marlfox!
Marlfox!
Marlfox!
PROLOGUE
Who are we but strolling players,
Wand’ring through the long ago,
Joys and sadness, hopes and longings,
Keep us travelling onward though
The laughter and applause of others,
Who view the passing cavalcade,
Leave echoes hovering some far summer,
Floating round a woodland glade.
’Twas but a tale for your amusement,
Like my small unworthy rhyme,
Gone, alas, into those realms,
The land of once upon a time.
ACT ONE
* * *
Enter the Players
* * *
1
Eternally serene, the moon ruled over star-strewn vaults of cloudless sable night, like a round shield of flecked amber, casting pale light to the earth below. Vagrant breezes from the distant sea drifted idly through Mossflower Wood’s southwest margins, cooling the heavy warmth a bright summer day had left in its wake.
Janglur Swifteye sat at the edge of a well-worn trail, his back against the broad trunk of a fallen elm, savouring the calm summer night. He was an unusual squirrel, half as tall again as most of his species, with dark terracotta fur, untypically long and thick. A huge bush of tail added to the impression of his size. Beneath the fur Janglur’s limbs were hefty and robust, with a stomach of considerable girth, which his mother constantly chided him about. His eyes were hooded and long-lashed, giving the impression he was always half asleep. However, anybeast who knew Janglur Swifteye was careful not to be fooled by his air of easygoing idleness. He was renowned as a quick and dangerous warrior, immensely strong and wise in the ways of battle. But there was another side to him: he was also an obedient son, a dutiful husband and a fond father. In the woodlands behind him his family slept in their little travelling tent, his mother Ellayo, his wife Rimrose and Songbreeze, the daughter who was the apple of her father’s eye.
From beneath hal
f-closed lids Janglur Swifteye watched, missing nothing. Clusters of flowering dock nodded lightly against gnarled oak trunks, orange-berried arums and spiking flowered sedge swayed lazily between elder, chestnut and sycamore trees, nocturnal insects trundled or winged their various ways through the darkened forest. From somewhere deep in the thickets a nightingale warbled its short rich trill. Janglur whistled a reply to it on his reed flute, aware that somebeast was creeping up behind him. The only move he made was to blink away a midge from his eyelashes. He knew who the intruder was by the way she approached. Janglur chuckled.
‘I hear ye, missie. Couldn’t sleep, eh?’
His daughter Songbreeze climbed slowly over the elm trunk and slid down beside him.
‘Nobeast could ever surprise you, old Swifteye. Phew! It’s far too hot t’sleep and Grandma’s snoring like a score of hedgehogs after a feast.’
Janglur winked lazily at her. ‘Huh, listen who’s talkin’. Y’should hear yourself snorin’ some nights, drowns yore grandma’s poor efforts out completely.’
She shoved her father playfully. ‘I do not! Young squirrelmaids don’t snore, ask Mum.’
Janglur snorted softly. ‘Y’mother’s worse’n both of you put together.’
The nightingale warbled its short melody again. Janglur picked up his reed flute. ‘Listen t’that feller, thinks he can sing. Come on, Song, show him.’ No creature who knew the tall pretty squirrel ever used her full name.
Janglur played a brief introduction, then Song’s voice rang out with such sweetness and clarity that a tear coursed its way down her father’s cheek. Her voice never failed to move him.
‘Flow’rs of the forest
Are bright in the spring,
Wake with the dawn
Hear a lone skylark sing.
Brooks gaily babble
O’er hillsides so green,
Streams ripple secrets
Of what they have seen,
Small birds give voice
Mid the leaves of great trees,
Which rustle softly
In time with the breeze.
I’ll add my music
For what it is worth,
And sing just for you, love,
The song of the earth.’
As the last plaintive notes died away, Janglur put aside his flute and wiped a paw quickly across his eyes. Song nudged him gently.
‘Big tough warrior, eh, crying again.’
Her father sniffed aloud, looking away from her. ‘Don’t be silly. ’Twas just a midge went in me eye, but I couldn’t play for you an’ wipe it out at the same time, had to wait till you were finished singin’.’
In another part of the woodland two foxes ceased their prowl through the undergrowth and listened to the sweet, plaintive melody floating faintly on the night air. Both beasts were identical; apart from the fact they were brother and sister they were alike in every other aspect. Ascrod and his sister Vannan were Marlfoxes, pale-eyed, with strange silver-white coats heavily mottled with patches of black and bluey grey. They wore swirling cloaks of drab brown and green weave. Ascrod’s lips scarcely moved as he muttered to his sister: ‘That singer warbles more sweetly than any bird I ever heard!’
Vannan’s pale eyes glimmered in the moonlight. ‘Aye, brother, and would trill even better at the court of our mother Queen Silth. Come on!’
In the space of a breath both Marlfoxes were gone, melted back into the night-shaded forest like tendrils of smoke on the wind.
Song plucked a blade of grass and tickled her father’s eartip. ‘Big old softie. Come on, play a lively tune and I’ll put a smile back on your face, eh?’
But Janglur was not paying attention to her. He stiffened, both ears twitching as he sniffed the breeze. Song caught the urgency of his mood.
‘What is it? Can you hear something?’
Janglur’s hooded eyes flicked. He watched the trees on the opposite side of the path, talking quietly, not looking at his daughter as he continued scanning the woodlands. ‘Go quick t’yore mamma, Song, an’ tell ’em t’be silent. An’ stay put! Hurry now!’
Song had seen her father like this before. She knew better than to stop and argue with him. Wordlessly, she slipped away to the tent.
Janglur took a dangerous-looking thorn dart, tufted with dried grass, from his belt pouch. Placing the missile in his mouth, he tucked it against one cheek, then sat back against the elm trunk. Idly he began playing his reed flute. Outwardly the big squirrel appeared calm, but inside he was poised like lightning ready to strike. In a short while he made out the two foxes moving expertly from a patch of fern to the cover of some bushes, coming closer to him by the moment. Janglur took the flute from his lips, calling out sternly, ‘Quit sneakin’ about an’ walk on the path like decent creatures!’
Ascrod and Vannan had thought the squirrel was unaware of their approach. They hid their surprise by putting on a bold front, swaggering up to where Janglur sat. Ascrod kicked the squirrel’s footpaw, just hard enough to warn him that he and his sister were well in charge of the situation.
‘You there, who was that singing a short while ago?’
Janglur did not bother to look up at Ascrod, though his voice was menacingly low. ‘None o’ yore business, snipenose. Now get goin’, an’ take that other one with ye!’
Vannan winked at her brother and smiled nastily as her paw began to stray towards the single-bladed axe she carried beneath her cloak. Janglur appeared to ignore them, and went back to playing his flute. Ascrod leaned close to the squirrel, baring his teeth.
‘You’re very insolent for a fat lazy squirrel. Shall I show you what we do to beasts with insulting tongues?’
Pffutt!
Janglur Swifteye shot the dart from his flute, burying it deep in the tip of Ascrod’s nose. As the fox shrieked out in agony, Janglur sprang upright: Whipping forth a loaded sling from round his waist, he hurled himself upon Vannan, who had her axe halfway out. She went down in an unconscious heap as the hard oval river pebble in the sling’s tongue thwacked heavily across her skull. Ascrod was hopskipping about wildly, both paws clapped across his muzzle as he screeched with pain.
‘Yeeeeeeek! Yaaaaarreeeeek!’
‘Tails’n’scuts preserve us all! Who’s kickin’ up that awful din?’
Shaking with anger, Janglur turned to see his family dashing towards him, with Ellayo in the lead, brandishing a blackthorn stick.
Janglur stared accusingly at his daughter. ‘Song, I thought I told you to stay put an’ keep ’em quiet?’
Rimrose placed herself between them. “Tweren’t no fault o’ Song’s. You jus’ try stoppin’ that ole mamma of yours when she starts swingin’ that stick!’
Janglur’s paw shot out. He caught the tip of his mother’s stick and held it tight.
Heaving on the blackthorn and stumbling on her long apron hem, the old squirrelwife berated her son. ‘Leggo o’ me stick, y’great boulder-bellied tree-walloper, leggo or I’ll spank ten seasons’ daylights out of ye!’
Song giggled and clapped her paws. ‘That’s the stuff, Grandma. You give him a good spankin’!’
Rimrose wagged a paw at her daughter. ‘That’ll be quite enough o’ that, missie. Show some proper respect for yore elders!’ Then, unable to prevent herself, she fell against Song, laughing helplessly. ‘Oh, heeheehee! It’d be a funny sight to see yore grandma givin’ that great lump a spank or two! Heehee!’
Grandma Ellayo let go of the stick and turned on Song and Rimrose, attempting to look fierce as she hid a smile. ‘Hah! Don’t you two think I couldn’t tan his tail if’n I took a mind to do it. I’m still his mother, y’know!’
Janglur lifted his mother clear of the ground, hugging her fondly. ‘You can skelp the fur off’n me any time ye wants to, my lovely ole barkbelter. Why, I’ll bet y’could . . .’
Song interrupted suddenly. ‘Look! The foxes are gone.’
All that remained of the Marlfoxes’ visit was a few drops of blood from Ascrod’s muzzle,
glistening darkly amid the disturbed dust of the path. Janglur peered into the dark woodlands. ‘Aye, they’ve got away somehow. Won’t catch ’em now, they’ve vanished.’ He put a paw about his daughter’s shoulders. ‘Mark what I say, Song. They’re Marlfoxes, strange blood runs in their veins. They can disappear like no other livin’ creature.’
‘C’mon, ladies, we best break camp an’ get travellin’.’
Janglur’s family had been wanderers since he was in his infancy, and breaking camp was a simple affair to them. Once the canvas they used as a tent had been folded, their few cooking implements were rolled in it to form a backpack. In the pre-dawn light they breakfasted on clear streamwater and a travelling fruit and honey cake which Rimrose had baked two days before.
‘Grandma, what’s a Marlfox?’ asked Song, between mouthfuls.
Ellayo tried to explain. ‘The story goes back a long ways – ’tis far too long to tell in a short time. But I’ll tell ye this much, missie. Somewhere there’s a forgotten lake, a great stretch o’ deep water, almost an inland sea somebeasts say. That’s where the Marlfoxes live, an’ the most cunning of ’em all, if’n she still lives, is Queen Silth. Aye, they call her the most powerful magic creature alive. ‘Tis said her island is a place o’ great riches an’ beauty. I heard all this from a poor creature who was set upon by a bunch of magpies while fishing off the island.’
Ellayo fell silent, and Janglur said, ‘Don’t bother your grandma further, Song. If Marlfoxes are loose in the land y’may learn more than you bargained for. Pick up that linen now, we need t’be travellin’. North an’ east a touch, I reckon.’
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