Triss: A Novel of Redwall

by Brian Jacques

  Kroova turned the tiller, sending the vessel shoreward. “Serious? You two shift yoreselves an’ git bailin’. It means we’ve sprung a leak an’ we’re sinkin’!”

  BOOK TWO

  Of Serpents

  and Paradoxes

  15

  Plugg Firetail sat studying the chart in his cabin aboard the Seascab, while Grubbage poured him a beaker of seaweed grog. “Put that over ’ere, where it won’t spill all over this chart. ’Tis the only one we’ve got wot shows the route.”

  Tazzin, the knife-throwing weasel, was hovering close by. She relieved Grubbage of the beaker and set it down carefully before she spoke. “Cap’n, beggin’ yer pardon, but when do we do away wid the Princess an’ that fatbellied Prince?”

  Plugg gave her a smack that set her sprawling. “Y’ain’t been lissenin’, Tazzin, yore like the rest o’ the numbskulls I’ve got fer a crew. Now ’earken t’me, an’ you, Grubbage, you, too, Slitfang. Clean the mud outta yore ears an’ pay attention. Right, ’ere’s the plan. We don’t kill nobeast until this ship’s ’omeward bound fer Riftgard. Agarnu promised me booty twice the value of anythin’ wot’s brought back from this Mossflower place.”

  Slitfang poured himself a beaker of Plugg’s best grog. “Oh did ’e now, an’ wot are we supposed t’be bringin’ back?”

  Plugg sneered. “Ole King Sarengo, or ’is bones if’n he’s dead, an’ a golden crown an’ a pawring. But I ain’t as green as I’m grass lookin’—there’s got t’be more to it than that, mates! So let’s not git too ’asty. We goes along wid everythin’, make ’em think they’re in charge, even that bossy Cap’n Riftun. Now, when we’re comin’ back from Mossflower, we gets rid of ’im an’ that score o’ Ratguards ’e brought with ’im, accidental-like.”

  Tazzin sniggered and licked at her knifeblade.

  “Heeheehee, I likes the sound o’ that, Cap’n darlin’. Could I be the one who makes Riftun ’ave an accident?”

  Plugg nodded. “Aye, when the time comes, but not afore then. When we reaches Riftgard, we delivers Kurda an’ Bladd back to their daddy, old Agarnu. Of course, Agarnu gives us our reward then, twice the booty we brought back. Now, ’ere’s the nice part. We slays Kurda, Bladd an’ Agarnu, all three of ’em. We takes the reward an’ wotever they brought back, be it crowns or pawrings or a good haul o’ treasure. Simple! We ends up wid the kingdom o’ Riftgard, a lot o’ booty, a throne fer me to sit on, an’ all those liddle slaves to build us a big fleet o’ ships. You lot can all be cap’ns!”

  Slitfang grinned in admiration as he poured another drink. “Yore a Freebooter born, Cap’n, the slyest beast as ever walked a deck. I drink to ye!”

  Plugg pointed his dagger toward the weasel. “Aye, an’ you’ll be the sorriest beast ever walked a deck, if’n you keeps ’elpin’ yoreself to my grog. Now, that’s the plan. ’Ave youse all got it in yore thick ’eads?”

  Grubbage looked indignant. “Why ’ave we gotta take to our sickbeds, Cap’n?”

  Plugg came from behind his table. Wordlessly he faced the deaf rat to the cabin door, pressing on the back of his head until he bent over. Taking a pace back, the Captain swung his seabooted footpaw and delivered a powerful kick to his bosun’s bottom. Grubbage shot forward, whooping. At that moment the cabin door opened and he careered out.

  Princess Kurda acted as if nothing odd had happened, as she strode in, sabre in paw, to face Plugg. “Vy you can’t make dis ship go faster? You be t’ree days out an’ ve don’t seem to be goink much far.”

  The silver fox regarded her sourly. “That’s ’cos the ship’ll only go as fast as the winds carry ’er, dearie. Or ain’t ye ever been t’sea afore?”

  Kurda did not like Plugg. She pointed the sabre at him. “I must catchen up mit der slaves who steal my boat. You vill make dis ship go faster. Dis is my vish an’ my order!”

  The Freebooter captain, ignoring the sabrepoint, grinned. “Ho right, ye ’igh royalness, I kin see yore used ter givin’ orders. But I’m only an ordinary ship’s cap’n, ye see. Why don’t ye go up on deck? Go on, missy. Wave yore sword round an’ give orders t’the wind an’ waves. Yore a princess. The sea’n’weather’ll ’ave to listen to you, ain’t that right, mates? Haharrharrharr!”

  Laughter froze on the crew’s lips as Kurda, with a murderous glint turning her eyes from pink to ruby, levelled the sabre blade a hairsbreadth from Plugg’s eye and hissed, “You are insolent, fox. Dis could make you lose de head, yarr?”

  The Freebooter continued grinning, as he reached beneath the table and brought his big double-edged battle-axe into view. “That there’s a pretty liddle sword ye’ve got, darlin’. We’ve all seen ye flourishin’ it round, real fancy-like. Now, git it outta me face afore I show ye wot a Freebooter cap’n can do with a proper weapon!”

  The grin had gone from the fox’s face, and his eyes were narrowed, icy slits, matching Kurda’s stare.

  Bladd blundered into the cabin, breaking the tension as he complained aloud, “De bed in my cabin, it is too hard! I vant a nice soft von!”

  Plugg’s grin returned. He brushed past Kurda, knocking her sabre aside, and threw a paw around Bladd’s shoulders.

  “Ahoy there, Slitfang, git a nice soft mattress for me shipmate, the Prince ’ere. Wot are ye thinkin’ of, eh? Lettin’ a royal ferret like ’im sleep on an ’ard bed?”

  Slitfang was chuckling as he bowed mockingly to Bladd. “Ho dearie me, wot a shame. You come wid old Slitty, yer royal princeness. We’ll soon get ye a decent bunk!”

  Kurda sheathed her sabre and stormed out of the cabin, followed by Slitfang and Bladd, who were chatting away like lifelong companions.

  “You make sure it be nice an’ soft, diss bedbunk, yarr?”

  “Why, bless yore ’eart, matey, you’ll think yore floatin’ on a cloud o’ feathers!”

  “Diss iz good, you are der fine fellow. I am likin’ you, Slitty. You vill be mine shipmatey, yarr!”

  As the cabin door closed behind them, Plugg turned to Tazzin. “When the time comes, you steer clear o’ Princess Kurda. She’s mine, d’ye ’ear? All mine!”

  With neither food nor water, the days at sea began to take their toll. Welfo had slipped into a deep sleep. She lay limp and unmoving on the bunk. Triss lay alongside the hogmaid, gaunt-faced and hollow-eyed, drifting in and out of listless slumber. Shogg sat draped across the tiller on the open deck, licking at cracked lips with a swollen tongue. He shaded a paw across his eyes, staring up at the beaming sun, which seemed to mock him out of a clear blue sky.

  The otter croaked despairingly, “Rain, why don’t ye! Rain, jus’ a liddle shower!”

  He fell asleep, his bowed head against the tiller, holding the vessel on course as his strength ebbed low.

  Alone, like a leaf on an eternal breeze-ruffled pond, the little craft bobbed along aimlessly. With all hope gone, the three friends lay, overcome by weariness and starvation.

  Triss was past caring. It might have been hours, days, or a full season that she languished in the cabin, alternately shivering and sweating. Then one day there was a soft radiance; the voice of that strange mouse warrior visited her clouded mind. She saw him advancing through a mist, carrying his splendid sword, calling to her. “Trisscar, Swordmaid, come with me, have no fear.” He reached out to her. Triss held forth her paw to him.

  Bump! The ship struck something, knocking her out of the bunk onto the cabin deck. Her eyelids fluttered. She was barely aware of a large, rough, prickly face filling her vision.

  “This ’un’s in better shape than yon pore liddle ’ ogmaid. Lend a paw ’ere, Urtica. Don’t fret ye, missy, thou’rt safe.”

  Triss felt strong paws lifting her, then she passed out.

  Unaware that it was the following dawn, Shogg opened his eyes slowly and looked about him. He was no longer at sea on the ship! The ground was still and firm. He tried to sit up, but a gentle paw pushed him back.

  “Lie thee still, riverdog, thou art with friends. Thou lookest hungered. Fear not
, we will be breaking fast soon now.”

  The otter stared up into the face of an enormous but kindly-looking hogwife. He tried to talk, but his tongue was so swollen that only a husky noise came forth. Dipping a gourd ladle into a pail, the hogwife supported his head and fed him some water. It was the coolest, sweetest thing Shogg had ever tasted. She checked him from gulping it greedily.

  “Nay, drink slow, ’tis not good taken fast. My name is Downyrose. My husband, Bistort, and our son Urtica found thy craft whilst we were gathering kelp. What is thy name?”

  The otter’s voice sounded strange to him as he spoke. “Name’s Shogg, marm. Where are me mates, Triss an’ Welfo?”

  Downyrose allowed Shogg to sit up, leaning his back against a rock wall. “They be safe, worry not. Here, sip now, I must be about my chores.”

  Shogg took the gourd ladle and did as she instructed. Whilst drinking, he took stock of his surroundings.

  He was seated on a ledge at the edge of a cave, overlooking a steep, terraced valley. It was like some huge inverted bowl, with high rocks surrounding the entire area. Other caves were dotted about the slopes. Families of hedgehogs could be seen, either breakfasting or tending the fertile green steppes. All manner of vegetables and fruit were flourishing in the soft, cool climate. A small waterfall threaded its way down the far slope, cascading over the rocky outcrops to end in a beautiful little forest situated on the valley bottom. One of the biggest hedgehogs Shogg had ever seen came ambling up to him. His facial quills were silvery, and he wore a rustic brown farmer’s smock.

  Sitting down next to the otter, the big fellow proffered his paw. “A good morn to ye, sir. I be called Bistort, Patriarch of Peace Island. ’Tis a fair an’ pleasant spot.”

  Shogg shook paws with Bistort. “Aye, mate, it is that. How long have ye lived ’ere?”

  Bistort moved his great head back and forth solemnly. “My clan an’ kin have been here since the days of my parents. They sailed here seeking peace and contentment away from all strife, slavery and war. I was the firstborn here, and have never been away from this isle.”

  The young otter nodded admiringly. “Can’t say I blame ye, Bistort. Do otherbeasts ever come to yore island?”

  The big hedgehog winked. “Nay, never. Thou art the first. Look ye at this rock. Strange, is it not?”

  Shogg inspected the rocks around him. They were a bluish-green colour. “Nice rocks, but what’ve they got t’do with it?”

  Bistort spread his paws to the valley beneath. “Outside of all this, our island is practically invisible, a mere smooth-sided lump of stone sticking up out of the sea. Freebooters, corsairs and pirates have all sailed right by us. They see neither beach nor anchorage, so they think this nought but a big piece of stone, if they chance to sight it at all. ’Twas once a fire mountain, though no more. The soil is fertile, and we have only one hidden cove—thy ship lies moored there.”

  Shogg chuckled. “A secret island, eh. I want to thank ye for savin’ our lives—we’d ’ave perished out there at sea. Me ’n’ Triss—that’s the squirrelmaid—we was worried about pore Welfo. She looked sure t’die soon. She ain’t dead, is she?”

  The hedgehog Patriarch nodded back toward the cave. “Thy friend lives. She is in there now, with our healer. But it will be some long time ere she is well again, methinks.”

  An apple came spinning through the air at Bistort. He ducked neatly and spiked it on his head quills. Another young hedgehog showed up. He was a jolly-looking creature, winking at Shogg as he called to Bistort, “See thee, old hog, my apples are ready before thine this season. Try that one for taste!”

  Bistort unspiked the apple from his head and munched on it. “Mmm, good an’ firm with sap aplenty. Shogg, this cheeky beast is my son Urtica—he helped to rescue thee.”

  The otter rose and shook Urtica’s paw. “Thankee, mate. ’Ere’s my paw an”ere’s my ’eart. I owe ye my life, an’ my friends’ lives too!”

  Urtica kept one paw behind his back as he shook paws. “Welcome to Peace Island, Shogg. Thou art recovering well.”

  Bistort craned his head to see what his son was hiding. “Art thou keeping something from thy father?”

  The young hedgehog scrunched his spines together, a sign of obvious embarrassment among his species. He produced a posy of brightly hued flowers, freshly gathered.

  “ ’Tis nought but some flowers for Welfo, the hogmaid we rescued. When she wakens ’twill be a welcome to her.” He hurried past them into the cave, his spines bunched tight.

  The big Patriarch took another bite of his apple. “My son seems greatly taken with thy friend. I have never seen him so attentive to another creature. Still, she is a pretty young maid. Would thou like to visit her, Shogg?”

  The otter patted Bistort’s paw and winked knowingly. “Oh, I’ll see ’er later, mate. Let Urtica keep ’er company awhile. We’ll visit Welfo after brekkist.”

  Triss emerged from the cave when Downyrose called their new acquaintances to eat. Shogg was pleased to see her up and about, even though she still looked a bit shaky.

  “Ahoy there, shipmate, yore lookin’ pawfresh an’ perky!”

  Triss sat beside Shogg as Downyrose and several other bustling hedgehogs served them a breakfast of fresh fruit, new baked bread and cool pale cider. “You don’t look too bad yourself, young seadog. My, this looks good! I’m famished. They have a wonderful old healer here—she’s treating Welfo with all kinds of herbs. I think she’ll be able to sit up soon. She was awake when I left her.”

  Shogg sunk his teeth into a farl of the crusty bread. “Sink me rudder, that’s good news. Mmm, this bread’s great. It’s full o’ hazelnuts an’ almonds. Tastes wunnerful!”

  They did the delicious breakfast full justice. Downyrose insisted on heaping their plates several times. “Lackaday, such skinny young things!”

  Bistort chuckled as he watched them tucking in. “Not for long, my dearie, not with the way thou’rt feeding ’em!”

  After breakfast they went into the cave for a visit with Welfo. Her eyes were open, and she was propped up on cushions, being fed fresh vegetable broth by Turna, the old healer. Welfo took the food without even glancing at the spoon as it was brought to her mouth; her eyes were fixed on Urtica. The young hedgehog sat staring silently back at her, the flowers still clutched in his paw. The visitors stood in silence for what seemed an age, as both Welfo and Urtica seemed unaware of their presence.

  Shogg interrupted, asking and answering his own questions. “Ahoy there, Welfo, me ole mate, ’ow are ye?” “Oh, Shogg, I’m fine, I’m much better, thank you!” “Ho that’s nice, now you git yoreself well, missie, an’ eat lots o’ good vittles.” “Oh, I will. Thank you for coming to see me!” “Aye, an’ thank ye for chattin’ t’me, mate. Nice talkin’ t’ye!”

  He nudged Triss and Bistort, indicating the outside. “We might as well be talkin’ t’the wall. Let’s go.”

  Turna followed them as they left the cave. “I’ll join thee. The little maid will recover, but poor Urtica looks stricken—he’ll never be the same again!”

  They left the pair still gazing into one another’s eyes.

  Bistort took Shogg and Triss up a long, winding path with many steps cut into it. Morning was well advanced when they reached the crater rim. Smooth and sheer, the bluey-green rockface plunged to the sea far, far below. It was a dizzying prospect. Triss sat with her footpaws dangling over the edge.

  “I feel as if my head is touching the clouds!”

  Bistort hitched his smock and sat down beside her. “See the crack in the wall o’er yonder?”

  Shogg was first to spot the fissure running from top to bottom, though he had to peer hard to find it. “Hah! I sees it, though it’s very ’ard to find.”

  Bistort pointed it out for Triss to see. “ ’Tis there where thy ship is secretly moored. Nobeast will ever see it from the sea. Thou art safe here, friends.”

  He took them along the rim and down again by another path. Cutting off th
e path momentarily, the big hedgehog showed them a cave, screened by bushes. He pulled the foliage aside and bade them enter. The interior was stacked with sturdy home-made weaponry. Shogg inspected the array, which consisted mainly of bows, arrows, slings, pikes and lances. All were tipped with razor-sharp shards of the natural bluegreen stone of the island.

  The Patriarch indicated them with a wave of his paw. “There are no swords here, as long blades cannot be made without metal. Most of our knives are made from stone. No weapons are allowed in our valley, but we made these, lest we ever had to defend ourselves from enemies. They have never been used, for we follow the ways of peace here.”

  Triss commented respectfully, “That’s because no vermin ever found their way to Peace Island. Fate forbid that they ever will. We came from a land that was conquered by evil ones. Our lives were nothing but war and slavery.”

  Bistort placed a gentle paw on her shoulder. “I was about to ask thee to stay here with us. But I see in thine eyes that this cannot be so.”

  The squirrelmaid touched one of the lances. “No sir, not while there are still slaves in Riftgard!”

  Bistort turned his gaze on Shogg. “Are ye of like mind?”

  The otter picked up a bag of sling pebbles, three pointed and sharp, every one knapped from the island rocks. “We made promises to our mates that we’d return someday an’ free them. We’re not beasts to break our vows.”

  The hedgehog Patriarch gave a long sigh and nodded. “So be it. Ye must do what ye are bound to. Thy ship will be stocked with some of these weapons when it sails. We will provision it with rations also. But ’twill not be for a while yet—thou are not ready to face the seas again so soon. Come, forget thy woes whilst ye are with us.”

  Hedgehogs throughout the valley ceased work on their crops for the remainder of that day. Everybeast gathered on a grassy plateau to feast and sport. Food was cooked in shallow trenches on fire-heated rocks. Broad, shiny, dark green leaves were wrapped around the various fruits and vegetables, causing aromatic steam to rise. Welfo, borne down to the plateau in a form of palanquin, was carried by eight stout beasts, with Urtica walking alongside holding her paw. Though most of the hedgehogs were great strong beasts, they did not indulge in spike tussling or wrestling—there were no displays of fighting skills. The competition was mainly prizes for the best grown fruits and vegetables, and each hedgehog stood beside carefully arranged tableaus of their own produce.