Outcast Of Redwall

by Brian Jacques

  Though Balefur’s eyes shone covetously at the thought of such riches, still he asked the question, ‘An’ what’ll ye be doin’ whilst ah’m gettin’ yon booty?’

  The vixen nodded approvingly. ‘Good, I thought you’d ask that! I’ll be convincing Swartt that you’ve deserted with a couple of your mates; meanwhile I’ll be slipping a potion in his food that’ll weaken him a bit. No sense in taking stupid risks, then when you challenge him for the leadership you’ll be sure to win. Now get going, take two of your foxes with you, if you leave now you’ll set paws on the treasure a full day before we arrive at the river. I’ll meet you at the cave to split the spoils.’

  Balefur called back as he ran off towards the moving horde, ‘Ah’m glad tae have ye as a friend an’ not a foe, Nightshade!’

  The vixen smiled and waved, knowing she was linked by destiny to serve only one. The Warlord Swartt Sixclaw!

  Balefur chose two dogfoxes, young and completely in awe and admiration of him. Without telling them too much he shepherded them away from the marching horde, and they slipped off south and slightly east, away from the main body.

  Swartt was joined by the vixen as they forded a small brook. ‘Well, did our big-mouthed fish take the bait?’ he asked.

  The vixen scooped up a pawful of water and sipped lightly. ‘Hook, line and sinker, Lord; it was like telling a hungry ratbabe where cook hid the apple pie.’

  There was no breeze that night. It started to rain, with a slight rumble of thunder from the west getting closer. Balefur had travelled hard and fast, the two foxes panting to keep up with him. Completely drenched, they halted on a hill of shale and scree overlooking the quarry. Lightning crackled from the sky, illuminating the huge pit scooped out of the earth. Wiping rainwater from his eyes, one of the foxes stood back a bit from the edge, saying, ‘It looks too scary, I don’t like it!’

  One hard prod from the battleaxe haft left him sprawling and nursing aching ribs. The big fox snarled contemptuously. ‘Ah’m no bothered whether ye like et or no, laddie buck, up on yer paws now. Look down yonder, ye two, when lightnin’ flashes again, then tell me if ye see a big hole in the quarryside.’

  Thunder boomed and a bolt of lightning cut the wet night sky.

  ‘Aye, there it is, just off t’the left, see!’

  It was clear enough; all three saw it at once. There was a series of small holes, but one larger than the rest stood out like a great dark mouth, gaping wide. Balefur pushed the two young foxes ahead of him. ‘Shift yersel’s, mates, that’s where we’re bound!’

  Still rubbing his ribs, the young fox protested, ‘We could do with a lighted torch to see the way . . .’

  Balefur’s claws dug into neckscruff as he shook the protestor. ‘Are ye daft, laddie, where’s dry wood tae be found? Ah’ve flint an’ tinder wi’ me, d’ye want me tae dry yer tail out an’ set a light to et, eh? Now move yersel’s!’

  The lightning became more frequent and their descent to the quarry floor was unpleasantly rapid as they skidded and slipped over rainslicked stone and through patches of wet clay. Muzzle over brush they landed, soaked and dizzy on the quarry floor. Suddenly lit by lightning the whole place looked unreal, a crater of banded pink and red stone enveloped by lancing rain. Balefur shouldered his axe, saying, ‘Keep those wide daggers close, ye’ll be needin’ em to dig.’

  ‘To dig? What for, Balefur?’

  ‘Ach, never ye mind. Come on – we haven’t all night!’

  The hole entrance loomed dark and forbidding, but before either of the foxes could hesitate Balefur had pushed them inside with his axeshaft. Once in, it was surprisingly dry and silent, and they took a moment to shake and wipe rainwater from their faces and paws.

  ‘Och well, at least ’tis warm an’ dry,’ the big fox remarked cheerfully. ‘If ye feel anythin’ around that’ll do fer a torch let me know an’ we’ll light one.’

  One of the two foxes sniffed the air and shuddered. ‘Ugh! What’s that smell, it’s awful!’

  Balefur sniffed several times before pronouncing. ‘Ah don’t know what et is, but mind, laddie, anyplace searats have been is bound tae stink a bit. Right, hang on to mah tail, yer pal can hang on to yours. Follow me.’

  The moment Balefur began to suspect that all was not right was when the tunnel took several twists and turns. Attempting to find his way back through the total darkness to their original entrance, he found himself caught up in a maze of chambers, cross tunnels and dead ends. The two young foxes began whimpering.

  ‘L . . . let’s get out of here, I’m scared!’

  ‘Aye, we should never have left the horde!’

  Using his free paw, the big fox cuffed about in the darkness until he had soundly buffeted them both. ‘Shuttit! D’ye hear me, belt up yer snivellin’ gobs!’

  They went quiet. Balefur squatted in the darkness, trying to get his bearings, then he heard the noise.

  Plip . . . Plop . . . Plip . . . Plop!

  ‘Hear that, et might be the rain’s stopped an’ ’tis drippin’ from the rocks. Sounds like et’s up ahead, right, let’s go!’

  As they groped their way further along the passage one of the foxes yelled joyfully, ‘Light ahead, look!’

  Sure enough, there was a pale light to be seen dimly ahead. They dashed towards it, tripping, stumbling and shouting, ‘It must be moonlight, I’ll bet the rain’s stopped!’

  It was a cavern, a vast, high-ceilinged chamber in the natural rock. Limestone stalactites and stalagmites could be seen everywhere, some of them reflected in the pale green luminous light given off by a massive pond in the centre of the cavern. The three foxes stood disappointed but spellbound at the glowing scene before them. The smell grew stronger – sweet, dry, cloying. Balefur had caught that odour before on the battlegrounds of the northlands. It was the scent of death!

  Sssssssssssssssttttttt!

  It started gradually until the whole chamber echoed to the sinister hissing noise. Then they saw the snakes. Every exit from that dreaded place was blocked by them: adders, writhing and hissing, baring fangs as they slithered forward. Scaly, cold-eyed, olive and black-chevroned reptiles; long, short, thick, fat, poisontoothed and sinuously evil. Rearing, bunching and swaying, they came. Balefur had never witnessed anything like it, not even in his worst nightmare. The battleaxe slid from his nerveless paws as he felt himself fixed by a thousand hypnotic eyes. One of the foxes at his side screamed and threw himself into the pool.

  ‘Eeeeyaaaaagh!’

  There were only ripples on top of the bottomless pool to show where he had broken the icy surface, and a dark shape could be traced for several moments going down . . . Down . . . Down!

  Then, without a sound, their faces frozen masks of terror, eyes and mouths wide open, Balefur and the remaining fox slid silently into the rustling, many-coiled embrace of the serpents of the cavern.

  * * *

  16

  As the metal point broke the skin under Sunflash’s chin, he felt its holder knocked aside and the weapon wrenched away. Then a gruff older voice growled, ‘Let it be, Gring, this is too big for a searat. Musko, make a light and bring it here. Let’s see what we’ve caught!’

  Flint struck metal and a torch was lit. A raggy-furred shrew wearing a coloured headband pointed his small rapier at Sunflash. ‘This ain’t no searat, comrades, this’s a badger, a big un too!’

  Sunflash began pawing the net aside, angry at being caught napping. The fixing stakes flew from the ground as he stood. ‘Huh! I thought you lot were the searats. If you’ve harmed those two otters I’ll make you sorry you were born!’

  A young shrew ran forward threateningly, sword drawn. ‘I don’t trust this one, he could be with the searats, kill him!’

  The older shrew neatly tripped the young one, then, relieving him of his sword, he thwacked him smartly across the rump with the flat of the blade. ‘That’s enough out of you, Gring. I’m Log a Log round here. I’ll say who gets slain and who gets spared. Now behave yourself!’


  Turning to Sunflash, the shrew leader made a brief salute with the sword. ‘Sorry about that, friend. Hi, Munga, how are those otters?’

  The reply came back with a deep bass chuckle. ‘Comin’ round fine, Chief. It’s those two thick-skulled uglies Folrig an’ Ruddle – good job we only sandbagged ’em!’

  A small fire was lit on the lee side of a protruding rock. The otters rubbed their heads as they sat around with Sunflash, Log a Log and some older shrews.

  Ruddle introduced Sunflash to the shrews, wincing as he touched a bump between his ears. ‘It’s a season or two since our paths crossed, matey. What’re you shrews doin’ up in these high hills?’

  Log a Log pointed in the seaward direction. ‘Taking a short cut to head Warpclaw an’ his searats off. We were off clearin’ a dam from the broadstream, few days back, and when we got home to our camp that villain Warpclaw had sailed his ship Gutprow clean up our river from the sea an’ carried the liddle ones off for galley slaves. The old ones managed to run off an’ hide – what else could they do?’

  Sunflash thought of the Lingl and Dubbo babes, and a wave of anger swept over him against the searats for stealing little ones.

  ‘How many babes were taken, Log a Log?’ he asked.

  ‘Thirty an’ four t’be exact.’ Log a Log stopped mid-sentence. For a moment his eyes filled with pain. ‘And that includes my own little daughter, barely more than a season old.’

  Sunflash picked up his mace. ‘Come on then, there’s no time to be lost. We’re with you!’

  The shrews gaped open-mouthed as the huge badger went pounding off down the steep slopes towards the distant shore. They were amazed at his agility and strength. Where he could not climb he took great leaps, where it was too steep to walk he threw himself into a roll, and any rock or hindrance that barred his way was pulverized beneath the mighty mace.

  Folrig and Ruddle bounded after him calling to the shrews in their wake, ‘Sunflash’ll get yore liddle ugly mugs back if anybeast will! Hoho, bet yore glad t’be on the same side as this badger!’

  They made the beach an hour after dawn. Sunflash gathered them behind a rocky outcrop from where they could see the broadstream flow across the shore and into the sea. Folding a leaf he began blowing a high-pitched signal.

  Log a Log looked at him strangely. ‘What’re you doing, friend?’

  Sunflash stopped blowing. ‘Just a chance a friend of mine might be around. Right, we need a plan. You otters, swim upstream and see if you can sight the searat ship coming this way. Log a Log, have you got any ideas how we can slow them up or stop them reaching the sea?’

  The shrew Chieftain scratched his scrubby chin as he gazed out over the beach, then he pointed to one spot. ‘See there, that’s where the sand forms in a bump on the tideline. The river flows shallowest over that part. Musko, Floom, go an’ check it out for depth.’

  The two shrews dashed out to the spot and plunged into the water. A moment later they were out and running back dripping. ‘Neck high, Chief, just about neck high!’

  Log a Log turned to Sunflash. ‘That should be enough. How strong are you, friend?’

  Sunflash shrugged. ‘Strong enough. Tell me what you want me to do and we’ll see how strong I am.’

  Captain Warpclaw of the slaveship Gutprow was a true Corsair searat, tattooed from face to claws, decked out in tattered silks and brass earrings, with a broad scimitar thrust in his waistband. He stood perched on the stern behind the tiller rat, leering down at the huddle of terrified shrewbabes crowding together around the mastpole in the shade of Gutprow’s huge single green sail. The dull-eyed slaves chained at the oarbanks pulled steadily, keeping their faces down. They pitied the young captives, who would be condemned, like them, to a life at the oars of some piratical galley, but they were afraid to offer them any comfort.

  Warpclaw ducked his head and, breaking a green twig from an alder tree as it brushed the ship’s side, he fanned himself with the leafy twig, breathing deep of the good morning air. He was in a rare good mood, happy to be sailing seaward after a successful raid that had netted him a good cargo of young ones from the shrew settlement upstream. Warpclaw called up to the lookout high on the masthead, ‘Ahoy, Bilgesnout, any sign o’ blue water yet?’

  ‘Not yet, Cap’n, may’ap we’ll catch a glim o’ the sea round the next bend – can’t be far now!’

  Warpclaw stalked down the steps from the stern into the midship well. Turning to a fat-bellied stoat who wore a broad leather belt and carried a braided sinew whip, he said, ‘Too fair a mornin’ t’be dawdlin’, Bulgorn! Tickle yer rowers up a bit, let’s see a turn o’ speed out of this craft.’

  Grinning cheerfully through a mouthful of blackened and broken teeth, the stoat cracked his long whip across the naked backs of the rowers. Painfully they increased their oar strokes under the vicious swish and crack of Bulgorn’s lash. The shrewbabes had to crouch low to avoid being hit by the whip’s backlash; they whimpered and squeaked with fear.

  Warpclaw was having fun. He leapt down among them and, thrusting his face forward, he snarled cruelly, ‘Yahaharr, me liddle beauties, I’ll ’ave yer guts for ratlines if I ’ears one more moan out of ye!’

  The little shrews went into a terrified silence, clinging pitifully to each other. They were still not fully aware of the horrors that awaited them on the open seas.

  Bellowing orders, the searat Captain livened his crew up as the ship rounded a bend in the broadstream. ‘Haul in them fenders! Make fast yer mainsail ends! Lookout, where away the sea now!’

  The rat lookout leant out from his perch, shading his eyes with a paw as he called back smartly, ‘Main dead ahead, Cap’n, I kin see the sun on the water atwixt these rocks’n’trees now!’

  Folrig and Ruddle had been watching the slaveship from a safe distance for some time. Shooting ahead like twin arrows through the broadstream waters, the two otters outswam even the small fish as they sped towards the shore. Sleek and shining from the water, they arrived safely at the hideaway behind the rocks at the beach edge.

  ‘Hearken, mates, the searat vessel ain’t far behind us,’ said Ruddle. ‘What’ve you been up to, ole goldie nose?’

  Log a Log shook his head as if in disbelief as he patted the badger’s sturdy shoulder. ‘This beast has carried two great boulders that a score of shrews couldn’t budge. See over there where the sand humps up at the tideline? Sunflash dumped those boulders in the water right at that spot. I tell you, no ship’ll be able to pass them an’ make it to the open sea.’

  Sunflash took out his split leaf and blew one last loud call with it. He shrugged as the shrews and otters stared at him curiously. ‘It’s worth one last try, though I can’t risk that noise again. Maybe he heard it; then again, he might’ve been too far away.’

  Log a Log shook his head; he was not about to start asking silly questions at a time like this. The big badger’s business was his own, no explanations asked.

  Cool shrewbeer, oatbread and cheese were passed around, and they ate as swords were given a last edge upon the rock surfaces, and slings were loaded with flat heavy pebbles. Sunflash tightened the mace cord around his paw, and all was ready.

  As the Gutprow came clear of the rocks to the open shore the broadstream ran slightly more shallow. The oarslaves were made to stand and punt with their long paddles, digging them into the sandy shallows to push the vessel along. Warpclaw was jubilant at the prospect of the high seas in front of him after a trouble-free raid. A fair breeze from the east bellied the big single mainsail, hurrying the ship across the shoreline towards the white-flecked main.

  The searat Captain ran for’ard and, standing with his back to the bowsprit, he faced the crew. He waved his scimitar and roared, ‘Ahoy, buckoes, who’s the best Cap’n on land or sea?’

  They cheered and shouted his name. ‘Cap’n Warpclaw!’

  Sunlight glittered and twinkled on his brass ornaments and shining scimitar as Warpclaw threw wide his paws triumphantly.

&nb
sp; Whump!

  The searat was thrown flat on his back as the ship stopped dead. Two crewrats sitting on the after gallery were shot backwards into the water and the oarslaves fell sidewards like a load of tenpins. A stricken-faced lookout came sliding down a rope and shot past Warpclaw, who was staggering upright and rubbing at the back of his skull with both paws.

  The lookout hung over the bows yelling, ‘She’s trapped ’ead on atwixt two dirty great rocks! They wasn’t ’ere when we sailed up this way! Eeeeyyaaarrgg!’

  With a hefty kick from Warpclaw, the lookout went straight over into the water. Still massaging his aching head, the Corsair looked over at the spluttering rat in the water. ‘Guts’n’tripes! Who stuck them there?’ he snarled.

  ‘Give the babes back, Seascum!’

  Warpclaw whirled around. Sunflash was striding across the beach, flanked by the two otters and backed by sixty shrews. The badger’s voice was like thunder as he hefted his mace.

  ‘I won’t tell you twice, rat! Deliver those little ones back. Now!’

  Warpclaw was a quick thinker. Forgetting his throbbing head, he leapt down amidships and came up with a shrewbabe, then, holding the tiny creature upside down by a single footpaw, the searat pulled out his scimitar and swung it aloft.

  ‘Stop right there or I’ll slay this’n!’ he bellowed.

  Sunflash and the rescuers ground to an immediate halt. The badger pointed with his mace at the wriggling, weeping babe. ‘I warn you, rat, touch one hair of him and you’ll die!’