Outcast Of Redwall

by Brian Jacques

  Inside on the lawn, Bella and the Abbess held Bryony close between them as she pleaded, wept and begged for them to give Veil one last chance – Veil, the ferret she had reared and loved from a babe, despite all his evil ways.

  BOOK THREE

  * * *

  The Warrior’s Reckoning

  * * *

  31

  The absolute size and majesty of Salamandastron staggered Swartt Sixclaw when he first saw the mountain. From behind a rocky groyne which stretched lengthwise across the shore, the Warlord sat in counsel with his Captains, whilst the horde sprawled across the sands, eating, relaxing and readying their weapons. Zigu could not resist sneering at Swartt’s strategy, which was to take the mountain from behind in a pincer movement. The Corsair ferret lolled indolently against the rocks, making parries and thrusts at mid-air, practising with his long, basket-hilted rapier.

  ‘Zounds! Listen to him – attack the mountain from behind. Methinks I’ve heard some halfwitted schemes in me time, but strewth, this’n takes the biscuit!’

  Swartt faced the sardonic Corsair, holding his temper level. ‘Well, you were clever enough t’lose yer ship on the rocks, let’s ’ear yore plan if’n you don’t like mine, Cap’n Zigu.’

  Stung by the barb about the loss of his ship, Zigu sketched a swift plan on the sand with his rapier point. ‘Right you are, Warlord, here’s my scheme. The sea at our back is a natural ally; wait until the last of ebb tide, then form the whole horde up in ranks below the tideline. Obviously the defenders of yon mountain have nothing like the numbers we possess, and mayhap Salamandastron will fall to us by a mere show of power. When they see the might of our horde advancing up the beach, perhaps their nerve will fail.’

  A murmur of approval rose from the Captains, but Swartt drew a line through Zigu’s plan with the tip of his curved sword. ‘What was wrong with my plan, why’s yores any better?’ he said.

  Zigu was enjoying his verbal victory over Swartt, whom he considered a savage clod. ‘The fault with your strategy, my good Warlord,’ he said condescendingly, ‘is that we leave our backs unguarded. Who can tell what lies in the hills behind the mountain – we could be attacked by those who are friendly neighbours to the Badger Lord. However, if you take my way it is a two-edged blade: first, we have nothing to lose by a show of strength; secondly, it will put fear into the hearts of our enemy.’

  The horde Captains nodded vigorously; they liked Zigu’s idea. Swartt gestured at the mountain with his chainmailed paw. ‘Fair enough, but what if they ain’t scared of us, what do we do then, march up’n’down on the shore lookin’ fierce? That ain’t goin’ to conquer no mountain. Yore plan ain’t bad, Zigu, but it needs a bit of work doin’ on it.’

  The Corsair sheathed his rapier and performed a flourishing bow in Swartt’s direction. ‘Be my guest, Sirrah, by all means. Plan away!’

  Playing him at his own game, Swartt bowed back. ‘Righto! If’n they don’t come flockin’ out terrified an’ surrenderin’ like you say they should, then ’ere’s wot we do. Split up an’ attack, usin’ the pincer movement I was goin’ to use from the back, this time at the front, but wid a difference. This time we mount a charge, straightforward at the front entrance, same time as the pincers hit both sides. Now, it’ll need a clever an’ fearless beast t’lead that frontal charge. Captains, who d’you say it should be?’

  The Captains replied en masse without hesitation, ‘Zigu!’

  The Corsair smiled and saluted them with his rapier, inwardly seething that he had allowed himself to be outwitted by Swartt.

  The midday sun was at its zenith. Sunflash the Mace stood at his bedchamber window with Colonel Sandgall, Sundew and Sabretache. Together, they watched the seemingly endless ranks of hordebeasts marching out to line up below the tideline. Wardrums pounded relentlessly and conch shell trumpets brayed aloud, over the barbaric banners streaming high over glinting spearheads.

  Colonel Sandgall watched them coolly through his monocle. ‘D’you know, I do believe the blighters’ve brought enough troops along t’make a decent scrap of it, eh, ’Tache?’

  Sabretache the swordhare tutted indifferently. ‘Tchah! Let’s hope they fight better’n they drill, sloppy lot, no right markers, no proper dressin’ from the right. I’d smarten ’em up if I were their Captain, believe you me!’

  Sunflash smiled at Sundew. ‘Afraid, missie?’ he asked.

  She looked up at the Badger Lord, his golden stripe showing through the open vizor of a high black war helmet, massive chest covered by a fine chainmail tunic, and the great mace balanced easily over his broad shoulder.

  ‘Not while you’re around, Sire!’ she said.

  Now the horde was fully marshalled with the neap tide protecting their rear, and a forest of spears and lances pointing skyward. Hordebeasts stood shoulder to shoulder, covering the whole lower beach, so that not even the sand below the tideline was visible. Swartt came to the forefront, flanked by Zigu and the stoat Captain Aggal. The Warlord’s face and teeth were freshly stained with bright plant dyes, a multicoloured cloak swirled about him, and his heavily chainmailed sixclaw glittered brighter than the long curved sword thrust into his snakeskin belt. He drew his blade and pointed at Salamandastron. That was the signal. The horde began marching slowly forward, splitting into three groups as it did, Swartt leading the left, Aggal the right and Zigu the centre.

  Sunflash had sighted his lifelong foe. He hurried from the chamber, threading his way through the mountain passages to the left side, where he knew Swartt was heading. Back in the chamber, Colonel Sandgall took a whistle from his tunic and blew three sharp blasts. The hares of the Long Patrol went into action.

  Zigu’s command were hardly upon the soft sand above the tideline, when the ground rose up in front of them. Thirty hares leaped from a shallow trench covered by sand spread over the top of rush mats – these were the Sleepers that Sandgall had spoken of. They sprang up from hiding when the front line of vermin was less than twenty paces away. A wild cry went up as they launched javelins into the front marchers.

  ‘Eeulaliaaaaa!’

  Completely taken by surprise, half the front rank were slain. Hedgepaw and her Sleepers fled back to the mountain, taking care to leap over the disguised trench which contained the sharpened stakes. Zigu flung himself to one side, avoiding the rain of javelins, then, leaping upright, he drew his rapier.

  ‘After them. Charge!’

  The words had scarcely left his mouth, when the sand another score of paces away heaved upward. Bradberry spat out grit as he called to his two dozen archers, ‘Quickfire, chaps!’

  Again Zigu’s lightning reactions saved him. Flinging himself flat, he heard the screams and felt the thudding weight of two horde soldiers, as they fell dead on top of him. Pushing the bodies roughly aside the Corsair sprang up and, grabbing a spear from one of the slain vermin, he hurled it at the fleeing backs of the retreating Sleepers. It was a lucky throw. Fordpetal, the young female hare with the fluttering eyelashes, went down with a scream, the spear sticking out of her back.

  Zigu looked around for another spear to throw as the hordebeasts charged past him. Fifty paces further on they vanished into the covered stakepits; agonized yells rent the hot air as vermin soldiers plunged onto the sharpened stakes.

  Zigu roared at those still alive, ‘Back! Back, you fools, can’t you see it’s a trap?’

  As they retreated, the Corsair ran to where Fordpetal lay groaning. His face tight with rage, Zigu lashed at her with the long blade of his rapier.

  ‘Hit and run, eh, hare! Well, I’m hitting now, let’s see you run!’

  She screamed as he lashed her mercilessly with the thin blade.

  ‘Hey, filthface, why doncha try doin’ that to somebeast who can hit back!’

  Zigu looked up to see the Long Patrol Captain Sabretache striding purposefully towards him. The Corsair grinned evilly, calling to his hordebeasts, ‘Leave this one to me, he carries a blade!’

  Ignoring the gaping ho
rdebeasts, Sabretache leapt the stakepit. Drawing his sabre he confronted Zigu.

  Nobeast had ever bested the Corsair in swordfight. Flexing the long steel blade between his paws, he stared contemptuously at the hare, who stood alone before him, and said, ‘Zounds, you’re a bold bunny and no mistake. Come and be spitted!’

  The hare shot forward, his narrow curving sabre striking the rapier blade with a force that sent shockwaves tingling through his opponent’s paw. He smiled recklessly. ‘Defend y’self, ferret!’

  Balancing lightly on their footpaws both beasts took up the en garde position, swordpoints flickering like snaketongues as each sought an opening. Momentarily the frontshore of Salamandastron grew silent. Hordebeasts on the sand and defenders from the mountain stood stock still, watching the two swordbeasts battle to the death.

  Zigu pressed forward, step, step, step, his rapier seeking the elusive foe. Sabretache backed and went sideways, the sabre a bright blur as it slashed and took the ferret’s ear. Scarcely believing what had just happened, Zigu clapped a paw to the side of his head, glaring venomously at the hare. One paw behind his back, Sabretache stood with his legs bowed, sabre in the salute position as he kissed its hilt. ‘Can y’still hear me, old chap, hard luck, wot?’

  With a roar of rage, Zigu charged, flailing the rapier in front of him. The two blades met, and sand flew about their nimble footpaws as they locked in a dance of death. Blade clashed upon blade as they battled across the beach. Zigu managed to grab Sabretache’s swordpaw with his free one, and as the hare pulled away the Corsair struck a downward slash at his head, hissing triumphantly.

  ‘Sssssdeath!’

  Sabretache flicked his head to one side, avoiding the blade slicing at his throat. He came up smiling, running a paw along the fine scar tracing his cheek.

  ‘Not quite, old lad, try again, eh!’

  Zigu plunged forward once more, but the hare was ready. Locking hilts with the ferret, he wrenched down and gave a powerful twist upward. The rapier described a glittering arc in the noon sun as it left Zigu’s paw, then a swift kick to the stomach left the Corsair sprawling, unarmed. Sabretache leaned on his sabre as if it were a walking stick, and he nodded towards the rapier as the horrified ferret scrambled to get out of blade range. ‘Pick it up, vermin!’

  Zigu was scared, he knew he was facing a swordmaster, but the Corsair still had a trick or two in him. Reaching down to retrieve his blade, he snatched up a pawful of sand and hurled it in his opponent’s face. As Sabretache’s paw shot up to his eyes Zigu bulled forward, throwing himself upon his foe, and they went down together. However, the hare was not finished. His long legs shot out like two pistons, catching the ferret in his stomach and sending him flying over Sabretache’s head. He landed with a bump that winded him. The hare was up; pawing sand from his eyes he went for the ferret. Zigu staggered upright in time to raise his blade, but not to stop the lightning attack. He staggered backward, blade clashed upon blade as thrusting, hacking and swinging the hare drove his foe skilfully around the stakepit, manoeuvring the ferret until he was backed up to a rock. Then both blades locked, sabreguard against basket hilt. Eye to eye, whisker to whisker and jaw to jaw they swayed.

  Panic glistened in Zigu’s eyes; he had met his match. Gasping for breath he pleaded for his life, ‘Sirrah, a boon, a boon, spare me!’

  There was no mercy in the face of the Long Patrol Captain. He knocked the rapier to one side and thrust forward with the curving sabretip. ‘You ask for mercy, ferret? You who moments ago whipped a wounded creature with your blade! Tchah! You have lived the life of a coward, now learn t’die like a soldier, sir!’

  Zigu slid lifeless to the sand. Sabretache tucked the sword beneath his elbow like a pace stick and marched boldly off Whilst the fight had been in progress Bradberry and Bloggwood had sneaked out and retrieved Fordpetal’s body.

  Aggal and his band came marching around to the sloping right side of the mountain. It was completely deserted. The stoat Captain had expected to meet some resistance, but there was nothing, just a solid rock face soaring upward with no sign of entry visible. A weasel called Bandril shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment, and said, ‘Well, we’re ’ere! Wot d’we do now, Cap’n?’

  Aggal cuffed the hapless weasel a quick clip over his ear. ‘Do, what d’yer think we do, peabrain? We climb up an’ try t’find a way in o’ course. Now git climbin’, all of yeh!’

  Encumbered by spears, shields and various weapons, the hordebeasts began clambering, not too enthusiastically, up the rockface. Aggal was well ahead of the rest, energetically scaling upward and calling back in a loud whisper, ‘If we kin find us a window or some way in we’ll battle our way down t’the main entrance an’ unblock it fer Cap’n Zigu.’

  Bandril lagged at the back of the climbers, waiting for an even tardier rat to catch up with him. ‘C’mon yew, move yerself,’ he called down. ‘Keep yer eyes peeled fer entrances!’

  The rat gave him a withering glance and climbed slower. ‘Entrances, y’must be daft as a bat if you think I’m goin’ to climb inside o’ there, the place is fulla badgers an’ ’ares!’

  Bandril sat down on a grass-covered ledge. ‘Yore like meself, mate, not soft!’

  * * *

  32

  High up and hidden from view, Porty and an old campaigner called Floke risked a quick peep over the edge at the vermin climbing upward.

  Floke squinted. ‘Do yer think they’re sufficiently far enough h’up, master Porty? Yore h’ossifer material, h’it’s yore decision.’

  Porty scratched his chubby stomach reflectively, and looked up from the climbing vermin to the huge pile of boulders artfully held in position by one long aspenwood wedge. ‘Hard t’say really, actually I think it’s a bit thick layin’ decisions on my doorstep, old chap. I mean, you’re supposed to be senior wallah round here.’

  Floke placed his footpaw against the wedge. ‘Well, yore a right young corker, you are, master Porty. Colonel Sandgall said you was trainee h’ossifer in charge o’ this h’operation, yore supposed t’give the blinkin’ orders!’

  Porty pulled a face. He felt hungry and peeved. ‘Oh, right ho then, it’s jolly hot out here an’ I’m starvin’. Away wedge, Floke, an’ that’s an orders!’

  The older hare chuckled. Thaf s wot h’l likes ter see, a young h’ossifer in command.’

  One swift kick from Floke’s footpaw sent the wedge sailing into space, closely followed by a great shower of boulders.

  Aggal pawed sweat from his eyes as he shielded them and peered upward. ‘Bound ter be a openin’ up there . . . Yaaaaaarrrrgh!’

  Had not the boulders bounced out from the face there would have been total slaughter among the climbers, but as it was nearly half their number were wiped out by the falling rocks, Aggal being the first to go.

  Floke watched the scene from his high perch, shaking his head and muttering, ‘Serve youse right for attackin’ us in the first place, ain’t that right, master Porty. Master Porty, sir?’

  But the hungry young hare had gone inside, never having once missed afternoon tea since his hero, Lord Sunflash, had introduced it a couple of seasons back.

  Sunflash was down and waiting in the shelter of the base at the mountain’s left side. He watched as the hordebeasts rounded a bend in the rock. Suddenly he saw Swartt, as usual, letting the others go in front of him. All the Badger Lord’s previous plans deserted him at the sight of his hated enemy; Sunflash felt the bloodwrath rise within his brain. Throwing caution to the four winds he swung his club and came charging out of cover.

  ‘Eeulaliaaaaaaa!’

  It was a frightening sight to the foebeasts; a giant badger clad in chainmail, helm, and wielding a mace the like of which few of them had ever seen. They turned and ran, Swartt with them. Roaring his warcry, Sunflash pursued them recklessly.

  Sabretache was back up at the chamber window with Colonel Sandgall and Sundew, all of them watching the progress of the battle on the shore below. Zigu’s command had been
taken over by a weasel called Bleeknose, an active quick thinker. He had led his troops into the staketrench, where they had smashed the wooden spikes, piling them with the carcasses of the slain on the edge of the trench and covering them with sand. The result was a good trench fronted by earthworks, from which the horde could send arrows, spears or slingstones against the mountain defenders.

  Colonel Sandgall sent a despatch runner to the lower windows and openings. ‘Tell the squads t’come up here, perfect spot for shootin’ down into that trench, wot. All the harder for the bally vermin to send blinkin’ missiles this far up. What d’you say, ’Tache, old lad?’

  Sabretache groaned aloud at what he saw below. ‘Oh my giddy aunt, take a look at this, sah!’

  There was Sunflash, alone and unprotected out on the shore, roaring his defiance in the face of the enemy. Swartt had fled almost to the sea, leaving most of the horde as a barrier between himself and his foe.

  Sandgall squinched his brow down hard on his monocle. ‘Instant calamity, wot! Lordship’s goin’ t’get himself massacred, there’s enough vermin down there t’kill ten badgers! Bloodwrath or no blinkin’ bloodwrath, they’ll have ’im. Calls for swift action, ’Tache, jump to it!’

  Sundew stared anxiously at the lone figure down on the shore. ‘They’re shootin’ arrows at him!’ she cried.

  Swartt was angry with himself. He had come all this way for vengeance, only to turn tail and run at the sight of Sunflash. Breathlessly he splashed through the shallows to the line of rocks that stretched from shore to sea.