Eulalia!

Stringle replied promptly, "Yooleeyayleeyer!"

The Brownrat chieftain jiggled a grimy claw in one ear, staring-hard at Stringle. "Yoolerwot? Say that agin."

Throwing back his head, and cupping both paws around his mouth for maximum effect, Stringle bellowed, " Yoooooleeeeyayleeeyaaaaaar!"

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Gruntan winced at the volume of the piercing sound. "Wot's it supposed t'mean?"

One of Stringle's command ventured a reply. "Some kinda war cry, prob'ly."

Gruntan stared directly at the speaker. "War cry eh, an' wot size d'ye say this stripe'ound was?"

The Brownrat soldier, who wished he had never spoken, echoed Stringle's original words. "'E was a giant, Boss, wirra great, big fork!"

Gruntan addressed his next remark to all the vermin. "Bigger'n me, was 'e?" It was common knowledge that the Brownrat leader could not stand the thought of anybeast being bigger than him. He was exceedingly vain about his size.

The horde hesitated, but Stringle shook his head. "Nah, nobeast's bigger'n the great Gruntan Kurdly!"

Swelling out his enormous stomach proudly, Gruntan pronounced, "Hah, then that must make me a giant. That don't make yore stripe'ound sound so big, do it?"

Stringle shook his head miserably, knowing he had fallen into the trap. "No, Boss, 'e ain't so big."

"Shame on youse all fer runnin' away from 'im then. Take 'em back out agin, Stringle, find the stripe'ound, bring me back 'is big fork, an' 'is skull, or 'is skin'n'bones, I don't care which, as long as ye slays the beast. Huh, Gruntan Kurdly ain't havin' giant stripe'ounds runnin' round 'is territory!"

Disobedience was out of the question. Stringle marched out at the head of his dispirited troop, back to the ditchbed.

Having dismissed them, Gruntan turned his attention to what he viewed as more important matters. "Now, about those eggs I mentioned, Laggle, where are they? Stir yore stumps, ye ole bat!"

The more Abbot Daucus saw of the Tabura, the more he was glad that the old badger had professed a wish to stay at Redwall as a healer and dispenser of wisdom. Even the

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Abbey Dibbuns had fallen under the spell of the charismatic Tabura. At the moment, he was seated by the pond, surrounded by young ones, and quite a few elders. Daucus joined them, listening intently as the wise badger held forth on the merits of simplicity. He took a russet apple, snapping it into two halves with a twist of his powerful paws. The Tabura sniffed the peach-hued flesh of the russet and sighed. "Ah, the scent of quiet autumn afternoon!" Dibbuns crowded around to smell the apple, as the Tabura continued. "And the taste, my friends, it is different to all other apples, try it." He smiled as the Abbeybabes lined up to take a nibble, each one pronouncing an opinion.

"Umyum, tasters very nice an' sweet!"

"Bo urr, oi do loikes a gudd h'apple, zurr!"

The Tabura passed them the other half. "There are many ways that your Friar and his cooks can use a russet apple, in sauces, pies, crumbles, fruit salads, or baked in honey and spices. Each of these ways produces a delicious new taste for us. But, if you are really hungry, there's only one way to really enjoy a good russet apple."

Dawbil the molebabe wrinkled her little snout. "Ho aye, an' wot way bee's that, gurt zurr?"

The Tabura allowed Dawbil to scramble onto his lap as he explained. "Just pick the apple from the tree, take a crust of newbaked bread and a wedge of ripe cheese, then eat them all, a bite from each at a time. Apple, crusty bread and cheese."

Abbot Daucus nodded. "Right, Tabura, I've done it myself, many a time. There's no taste quite like it!"

The old badger looked around at his audience. "Father Abbot is right, life's greatest pleasures are the simple ones. A drink of cold, clear streamwater when you're hot and thirsty, or apple, cheese and bread when you feel the need of plain, homely food."

Granspike Niblo stood up, straightening her apron. "By golly, sir, you've made me feel quite 'ungry, a-talkin' like that. Those russets in the orchard ain't ready yet, but Friar

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Chondrus has a big barrel of 'em, from last autumn, in his kitchen. I'm sure he could spare us some bread an' cheese. Would you little 'uns like t'come with me?"

There was an immediate clamour from the Dibbuns. As they set off in Granspike's wake for the kitchens, a Guosim sentry came running from the west wall. Osbil had been part of the Tabura's audience, the sentry hurried to his side, muttering urgently, "Come t'the walltop, Chief, we've just spotted vermin!"

Keeping low along with the other wallguards, the Guosim chieftain peered between the battlements following the sentry's directions.

"See there, just to the north, crossin' the path from the ditch, 'tis the Brownrats!"

Osbil watched. Stringle, Kurdly's second in command, was herding scores of Brownrats across the path and into the cover of Mossflower Woods.

The sentry shrew whispered, "Wot d'ye suppose those scum-faced murderers are up to?"

Osbil's teeth ground together audibly. "I don't care wot they're up to, we're goin' to be on them like wasps on honey, mate. Now's our chance. Rigril, Teagle, gather our Guosim. I want 'em armed t'the teeth and silent as pike in a midnight stream. Move lively now, we don't want to lose those villains!"

On hearing what had taken place, the Tabura, the Abbot and Skipper made their way to the north wallgate. The Guosim chieftain was marshalling the few late arrivals before setting forth.

Daucus, whilst not barring the shrew's way, tried reasoning with Osbil. "Think first, Log a Log Osbil, you haven't got the numbers to face the Brownrat horde."

Osbil smiled coldly. "We ain't goin' to face 'em, Father, this is goin t'be an ambush, hit and run, my Guosim'U defeat the vermin in any way we can."

Barbowla placed a paw on the Guosim chieftain's shoulder. "Me'n Kachooch started this journey with you and we

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would be proud to come along. Skipper here will take charge of my otters, my band will stay as defenders at Redwall."

Osbil grasped Barbowla's paw. "Thank you, friend."

The Tabura stared levelly at Osbil. "Your friends are giving you good advice, young one. It is a dangerous course you are bound on."

Osbil had his paw on the wallgate latch. "But it is one that I must follow. This sword at my side, it was my father's blade. He was murdered by Brownrats. I am now Log a Log, as he was. It is Guosim law that he must be avenged, we have sung our Bladechant, yet his killers still live. Such a thing brings shame to me and my tribe. Can you understand, Tabura?"

The old badger clamped his paw over that of the shrew. He gave one swift tug, and the wallgate stood open wide. "I understand you completely, my young friend. Go now, exact the price of your father's blood from his killers! Banish shame and live on in honour. But remember this, do not let the enemy get behind you, sleep with one eye open and your blade drawn. May fortune go with you!"

Osbil saluted with his father's rapier. "And may wisdom attend your words always, Tabura, sir!"

A moment later the shrews and otters vanished into the fastnesses of the vast woodland.

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BOOK THREE The Battle of the Plateau

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The great sword of Martin the Warrior sheared through the bonds which held Maudie, Rangval and Orkwil suspended from the tree. They were immediately surrounded by the Blugullet's crew.

Vizka Longtooth snapped out orders. "Chop dat branch down an' yoke dem by dere necks to it!" The branch was promptly hacked down. Vizka spoke to his captives as they were roughly bound neck and paws to it. "T'ought ya was goin' ter die, didn't ya?"

Maudie could not resist a cool reply. "Actually, some-thin' like that did speed through my agile, young brain, old thing. Rangval, d'you think our friend's savin' us for some fairly dreadful jape, wot?"

The rogue squirrel sighed. "Sure an' why wouldn't he, him bein' a double-dyed villain. I wouldn't put anythin' like that past him."

They were now standing shoulder to shoulder, with their paws and necks tied tightly to the branch.

The golden fox showed his long fangs in a sinister grin. "Ya won't be talkin' so fancy when I'm finished wid ya. We're takin' ya back to de Abbey, we'll see wot good friends ye've got dere. If'n dey don't open d'gates an' let us in fer a visit--"

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Maudie interrupted. "Wait, don't tell me, you'll stamp your paws a lot, an' never speak to them again. Right?"

Vizka shook his head, still grinning. "Wrong, 'cos iffen dey don't open der gates, I'll roast an' skin ya. Right in front o' dem same gates." Brandishing his new sword in a flashing arc, Vizka signalled his crew. "Bring 'em along, we're bound for de Abbey. Steer clear o' dat ditch an' stay to der woodlands. March!"

Orkwil had to march almost tip-paw, even though both his friends crouched slightly to assist him. The young hedgehog had been warned not to mention the sword, but he could not take his eyes off Martin's blade. He strained his neck to one side, muttering to Maudie, "We've got to get the sword, an' make a break for it!"

Keeping her gaze straight ahead, the haremaid replied, "Certainly, old scout, but not right away. That foxy cad's a bit too taken with the sword, watch the way he swings it about. He'd probably chop us into fishbait if we tried anything too soon. Give it a little while yet, then we'll see what we can jolly well do, wot!"

A surly looking weasel slammed his spearbutt into Maudie's back. "Shut ya gabblin' an git marchin', rabbet!"

Despite the pain from the cruel blow, the haremaid managed to wink cheerily at him. "Right you are, sah, this rabbit's marchin', wot! But before our little jaunt's over, I'd like a word with you. Just the two of us, in private, eh."

Some distance to the south, the two badgers sat down near a sandstone outcrop. Salixa produced a flask of penny-cloud cordial, passing it to Gorath. "Would you like something to eat?" Her companion seemed somewhat preoccupied, he merely took a gulp from the flask, returning it with a nod of thanks. The young badgermaid tried not to stare at Gorath. He turned, facing the way they had come. His eyes roved restlessly as he touched the deep crimson scar on his brow. Salixa glanced anxiously at him. "Is your

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wound hurting you? It always looks so red and sore. If you like, I'll go and find some herbs to treat it."

Gorath gave her one of his quick rare smiles. "No thank you, the wound hardly ever hurts me now. Sometimes it will itch slightly, when I feel uneasy."

The slender badgermaid's voice sounded sad. "Is it me? I'm sorry if I make you feel uneasy...."

Gorath's mighty paw covered hers, gently. "Oh no, you could never make me feel uneasy, in fact I've never felt so happy as when I'm with you. Salixa, look at me, I'm uneasy because we're being watched. No, don't look where I'm looking, just keep holding my paw and walk with me."

Salixa kept her gaze trustingly on Gorath. "Where are we going, are we still being watched?"

As they walked he nodded, answering her as if keeping up some trivial chat. "We're going to climb these sandstone ledges, all the way to the top. I've seen who is on our trail, it's those Brownrats. By the way the bushes are moving there's a lot of them, but I can defend our position from the top of those rocks."

As he helped her onto the ledges, Salixa replied, "Gorath, are you going to take the Bloodwrath?"

He swung her effortlessly up to the next level. "I can feel it beginning to press down on me, but it would be a mistake to give in to Bloodwrath. If anything happened to me, then what would become of you?"

The badgermaid clasped her big friend's paw tightly. "The Tabura has given you wise advice, Gorath."

Using his pitchfork, Tung, he vaulted onto a higher ledge. Salixa held onto the fork handle as he hauled her up. Gorath nodded. "Aye, the Tabura is wisdom itself, I wish I had met him long ago. Only a short way to climb now. We'd best hurry, I think they're coming."

Slingstones and a few arrows bounced off the ledges. Stringle stayed among the bushes, urging his Brownrats

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forward, starting up a warchant as they charged the ledges. "Kurdly! Kurdly! Kill kill kill! Yeeeeaaaaahhh!"

Gorath pushed Salixa onto the plateau, leaping up beside her. "Keep your head down, they're shooting stones and shafts at us!"

Salixa immediately proved she was no helpless maid. Unwinding a slingshot from her slender waist, she gathered up a few of the hard streambed pebbles which had been thrown by the Brownrats and began retaliating vigorously. Gorath ranged the surface of the plateau, checking that there was no easy way up.

Stringle had not relished the idea of meeting up with the giant stripehound, more so when he saw there were now two of them. Admittedly, the female was much smaller and slimmer, but who could tell with stripehounds, maybe they were all berserk warriors. However, the moment he saw both beasts running off to safety, instead of turning to the attack, Stringle rapidly gained confidence. Still holding his position in the bushes, he worked himself into a fine old battle rage, just as he had seen Gruntan Kurdly do. "Ya-haaarr! Gerrup them rocks an' toss 'em both down 'ere t'me. I'll git two spearpoints ready t'stick their 'eads on. Go on, buckoes, go on, up ye go!"

The rat who had led the charge, Bladj, came running back into the bushes, clutching his mouth.

Stringle prodded him with his dagger. "Wot are yew doin' back 'ere? I thought yew was leadin' the charge. Git back out there, ye worm!"

Bladj pulled back his lip angrily, exposing a bleeding gap. "See that? I jus' got two teeth belted out by a flamin' sling-stone. Who are yew callin' a worm, why don't you lead a charge, instead of 'idin' back 'ere an' givin' yore orders!"

Stringle exerted his authority with high bad temper. Whacking the dagger handle hard against the uninjured side of Bladj's jaw, he covered the unfortunate in spittle as he roared into his face. "There, I 'ope ye've lost two teeth on the other side now. I'm in command 'ere, yew don't talk

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t'me like that! Lookit that 'ill, there's gangs of 'em tryin' t'get up t'the top, an' wot's stoppin' 'em, eh?" He struck Bladj on the nosetip with the dagger hilt. "One skinny stripedog wirra sling, chuckin' stones, that's wot! Now yew get back out dere, or it'll be yore 'ead I'll be takin' back to Kurdly on a spearpoint. Go on, show 'em yore not a worm, let's 'ear yew yellin' loud enough t'put the fear of 'ellgates inter those stripe'ounds. There's enough of us to eat 'em both!"

As the savage war cries rose in intensity, Gorath came hurrying back to Salixa's aid. He was holding a huge sandstone boulder above his head. Bladj had regained his position at the head of the charge, he was about two thirds up the slopes. Gorath roared out like thunder. "Eulaliiiiaaaaa!"

The boulder slew Bladj, plus the two Brownrats either side of him, who, following his example, had raced forward yelling lustily. Several more rodents were struck by the bodies, and the boulder, as they hurtled downward.

Salixa shot off another stone from her sling. She gazed keenly at her big friend, with his livid scar. "Gorath the Flame, how are you doing?"

He knelt on the edge of the plateau, watching the Brownrats retreat, fearing another boulder assault. "I'm coping, I think. I keep telling myself that I'm a Tabura, do I look wise to you, Salixa?"

She hid a smile, keeping her voice level. "You look so wise that for a moment I thought you were the Tabura himself. One thing your wisdom has accomplished, it's halted their charge, see?"

Gorath dusted off his paws. "Good!" He hurried off in search of another boulder.

Vizka Longtooth had heard the noise, but only faintly, as he stood waiting the arrival of his two forward scouts, the stoats, Dogleg and Patchy. They came stumbling along, pointing back over their shoulders.

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Patchy called out excitedly, "Alorra shoutin' up for'ard, Cap'n!"

Vizka was trying to contain his impatience. "I know, we 'eard it. Did ye go an' see worrit was?"

Dogleg shook his head and scratched his stomach. "Er, no, Cap'n, sounded like sum sorta fightin' I t'ink."

Vizka stuck his wondrous swordpoint into the ground. He seized the two stoats, each by an ear. As he banged their heads together, he chided them like children. "You t'ink? Youse 'aven't got enuff brains between ya to t'ink. Scouts are supposed to scout, not t'ink!" He dropped both stoats and retrieved his sword. "Fall in wid der crew, we'll go an' see wot all der shoutin' an' yellin's about. Keep ya paws on dose blades, an' keep yer eyes skinned, all of ya!"

Rangval whispered to Maudie, "This could be a grand ould chance for us to part company with these rascals."

As if he had heard the remark, Vizka smirked at the captives. "Youse ain't goin' anywhere. Ruglat, Saltear, Undril, yew stay 'ere an' guard 'em. Lash dat branch off to a tree, an' see dey don't make no funny moves, an' don't take any lip off dem!" He signalled the Bludgullet's crew with his sword.

When the main party had left, Maudie sized up their three guards. Ruglat was the surly weasel who had struck her with a spearbutt. Saltear was a fat, slovenly stoat, and Undril was a young weasel, fit and sly-faced.

Orkwil murmured to his two friends, "What d'ye think, could we handle 'em?"

Rangval winked at the young hedgehog. "Sure, I think we could cope with these three puddens, providin' we can deal with the ropes."

Saltear, who had commandeered Rangval's three daggers, drew one of them threateningly, glaring at the squirrel. "Ahoy, big gob, shut ya mouth, or I'll cut ya tongue off!"

Ruglat interrupted him. "Let's git dis branch tied off so

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dey can't wander away." He pointed to a pair of small oaks growing close together. "Tie off de ends o' der branch atween dem trees."

Dragging the prisoners across to the oaks, they bound both ends of the branch to either trunk.

Maudie enquired politely, "Permission to speak, sah, if y'please."

Saltear scowled. "Wotja want, rabbet?"

Maudie smiled coyly. "I suppose a drink of water's out the question...." She saw Saltear's scowl deepen, and continued. "I don't suppose you'd consider loosening off these confounded ropes, jolly uncomfortable on the old neck'n'paws, doncha know."

Ruglat thrust Saltear roughly aside. Springing forward, he punched Maudie on the cheek, hard. Ruglat bellowed, "Sharraaaaap! One more werd outta yew, rabbet, an' yer dead meat, do ya 'ear me?"

The haremaid's head was lolling loosely over the branch. Rangval answered for her. "Ah, faith, sir, ye've knocked her out cold, she won't be hearin' anybeast for awhile, I'm thinkin'."

Ruglat spat on his clenched paw, puffing out his chest. "Hah, dat should keep 'er quiet. Jus' one word out o' yew two an' I'll give ye der same, now sharrap!"

The three vermin retired a short distance away. They began building a fire, to roast some roots they had found along the way.

The branch bounced slightly, quivering under Orkwil's chin. He whispered urgently, "Maudie, are you alright?"

Contrary to the vermin's expectations, Maudie had not been knocked cold, she was wide awake. "I'm fine, thank you. Now then, you chaps, here's the flippin' plan, wot!"

Rangval chuckled quietly. "I knew 'twould take more'n some snotty-snouted ould vermin to knock ye out, Maudie me darlin'. We're all ears, wot's yore grand scheme, eh?"

Staying in her unconscious position, Maudie communicated

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her ruse in hushed tones. "Actually, I've been testing this bally branch, an' I don't think it'll stand up to much. Now, here's what we do, chaps. Keep an eye on those clods while y'do this. Move together slowly, so as we're hunched together, like three peas in a bloomin' pod. Good, that's the ticket!"

Orkwil whispered eagerly, "What d'you plan on doin'?"

Rangval kicked the young hedgehog's paw lightly. "Give over now, an' lissen to the brainy beauty. Go on, marm, ye've got the floor, or should I say the branch."

The haremaid continued, "Righto, grip the branch tightly now, get your chins well settled on it. Good, when I count to three, give a great leap upward, an' lean down hard on the branch as you come down. I think this confounded branch will break under our combined weight."

With his chin anchored firmly on the branch, Rangval spoke through his clenched teeth. "Ye'll pardon me askin', marm, but wot happens if it don't?"

Orkwil growled. "Then we'll just bounce up'n'down 'til it does. Wot then, miss?"

"Then you two take the broken ends an' set about 'em. Rangval, you take the stoat, Orkwil, you tackle the smallest of the two weasels. Leave the one they call Ruglat to me, I owe him one or two good 'uns! Ready? Right chaps, here goes. One ... two ... three. Jump!"

The vermin heard the crack, and saw the three prisoners leap in the air again. Ruglat grabbed his spear, bounding upright. "Ahoy, wot's goin' on dere?" He and his fellow guards came running. There was another crack as Maudie shouted exultantly.

"One more'll do it, buckoes! One, two, three, jump!"

This time the branch snapped, right through the centre. The three friends sat down hard on the ground with the impact. Scrabbling furiously, they rid themselves of their bonds, leaping up to meet their foes.

Saltear had a dagger in either paw, he dashed toward

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the trio, but was stopped in his tracks by Rangval. The rogue squirrel swung his half of the branch, catching the stoat a terrific blow to the side of his neck. Saltear died with an expression of shock on his face, with his neck tilted at an odd angle.

Undril dodged Orkwil's first attempt, he dragged a small cutlass out so forcefully that it severed his belt on leaving, which caused his pantaloons to fall down around his footpaws. He tripped and fell. That was all Orkwil needed, and he took full advantage.

Whack! Splat! Thud! Smack!

Orkwil battered away like a madbeast in a frenzy, screaming and yelling as he belaboured his fallen enemy.

Maudie dodged Ruglat's first three spear thrusts with contemptuous grace. On his fourth try at slaying her, she winded him, with a swift left to the gut. Knocking the spear from the big weasel's grasp, she challenged him. "C'mon, barrelbottom, let's see what you're made of, wot!"

Ruglat stayed down a moment, gaining his breath, then he jumped up, grinning viciously as he charged her with clenched paws and bared teeth. "Yew asked fer dis, rabbet!"

She merely swayed to one side, pummelling his head as he blundered by her. Maudie booted his rump, sending him sprawling. She stood over him, waiting. "Rabbit yourself, you overblown sloptub. C'mon, up you come, I'm not jolly well finished with you yet, laddie buck, you've got a lesson to learn, wot, wot!"

Ruglat threw himself at her, screeching with rage. Maudie feinted with a left, then delivered three rights, one to each eye, and a real stinger to the snout. Dropping into a crouch, she punished the weasel's stomach and ribs with a veritable tattoo.

Suddenly Ruglat could take no more, he lurched off to one side and grabbed his spear, snarling through battered lips, "Stay back, back! Foller me an' I'll gut ye!" He turned

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and ran, but Orkwil's outstretched footpaw stopped his headlong flight, quite by accident. The weasel tripped, and fell onto his own spearpoint.

Rangval threw a paw to his brow in amazement. "Ah, now haven't we got a grand ould warrior here? Shure he's polished off two vermin without even tryin'!"

Orkwil had sat down, dropping his piece of branch. Never having slain a living creature before, he was obviously in shock, hardly listening as Rangval carried on joking about the fight with the vermin.

"One vermin apiece, that was Miss Maudie's plan, but you had to have two. Haharr, you greedy liddle hog, where'd you learn to trip a vermin, at the same time ye were pulverisin' his pal, eh?"

Shaking her head, Maudie silenced the rogue squirrel with a severe glance. She had witnessed battle shock in several young Long Patrol hares, during their first encounter with the foebeast. It was not a thing to joke about. The sympathetic haremaid sat down beside her young hedgehog friend, giving him the benefit of her experience, he was younger than both she and Rangval. "Well, you're a warrior now, Orkwil, how does it feel, pretty awful I expect, havin' to kill or be killed, wot?"

Orkwil stared at her, a mixture of bewilderment and guilt in his eyes. "I feel terrible, did you feel like that when it first happened to you, marm?"

Maudie felt older, at being addressed as "marm," but she merely nodded, and patted his paw. "Blubbed my eyes out, actually, but old Sergeant Brassjaw soon straightened me out. Told me that if I were a mother with a few babes, or an old 'un, who was too weak to defend himself, I'd be thankin' the warriors. Aye, those who made the land safe for them to sleep in their beds, without fear of bein' left murdered in a blazin' homestead. You just think of what those vermin were plannin' for us, laddie buck!"

Orkwil stared at both dead Sea Raiders for a moment, then he spoke out indignantly. "Aye, they were goin' to

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roast an' skin us, right in front of the Abbey gates. Well, there's three vermin won't be doin' any more roastin' an' skinnin'!"

Retrieving his daggers, Rangval joined the pair. "Come on, mates, we don't want to be found hangin' about here if'n the ould fox comes back. Now, the second part of our plan has been thought up by meself. So, let's get ourselves rigged out in those vermins' rags."

Maudie and Orkwil spoke in unison. "What for?"

The rogue squirrel sheathed his daggers. "By me grannie's moustache, I can see you two wouldn't be much good as rogues. Suppose we runs into that vermin crew agin, eh, or the other mob, the Brownrats? Wouldn't it be far better if'n we looked as though we were villains like them? A spot o' disguise an' cammyflage never hurt anybeast, right?"

Maudie began divesting the carcass of Ruglat of its tatty finery, baggy blouse, ragged breeches, and a grubby turban. "Super wheeze, old lad. Come on, young Orkwil, get y'self geared up. We've got to go and see what all the hullabaloo over yonder's about, wot. Much better t'go in mufti. Well, how do I look, just call me maraudin' Maudie, chaps!"

Orkwil took a fit of giggling at the sight. Maudie had bound her long ears into the turban, and was rubbing mud over her face. She scowled at him.

"Haharr, one more titter out o' yew, landlubber, an' I'll gut yore mainstays an' keelwallop yore vitals, or whatever it is those seagoin' chaps say!"

Rangval had tied up his bushy tail into the back of Saltear's tawdry frock coat. He donned the stoat's floppy seaboots and slouch hat, then danced a comic jig. "Shiver me drawers an' drop me anchor, 'tis meself, ould Rangval the Rover. Hoho, an' who's this bully?"

Getting into the spirit of things, Orkwil had put on Un-dril's broad, brass-buckled belt, canvas kilt, striped waistcoat and fringed headband. He brandished the weasel's

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long knife, snarling. "Ahoy, I'm Orkwil the 'Orrible Outlaw! Rot me timbers, mateys, where are we bound? Haharr, hoho an' heehee!"

Rangval suddenly went serious. "Enough o' this foolin' about, now. We keep our heads down, an' keep ourselves to ourselves. Stick together an' look out for one another. Right, let's march!"

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Evening shades were lengthening the shadows, the sun was washing the western horizon in scarlet as the three friends arrived at their destination. Sounds of warfare marred the closing of the summer day as Maudie surveyed the high sandstone plateau from the bushes some distance away.

Orkwil was behind the haremaid, jumping up and down. "I can't see properly from here, what's goin' on?"

Maudie stood on tip-paw, straining to find out. "I'm not sure, 'fraid I can't see all I'd like to. Mayhaps we'd do better if we got a bit closer, wot."

Rangval kicked off his floppy seaboots. "No sense in runnin' right into trouble. Stay here, mates, I'll climb that ould beech over yonder. From the top o' there I should get a fair view o' things." The rogue squirrel was an expert climber, he scaled up into the top heights of the beech. Perching among the swaying foliage, he called down to his friends, who were at the base of the wide trunk, "Maudie, it's yore badger, the bigbeast, Gorath, an' another badger I ain't seen afore, smaller, could be a maid, they're defendin' the top o' those rocks alone."

Maudie wished she could climb the tree to see properly

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what was taking place. She called back to Rangval, "I can hear lots of noise, who is it they're fighting?"

Rangval climbed even higher before answering. "Shure, I can't see, but whoever it is, they're on the far side of those rocks. But I can hear a bit better up here, sounds like Kurdly's horde t'me. Oh no, they're really in trouble now, I can see the fox an' his crew, they're sneakin' up the back slopes o' the rocks. If'n they reaches the top they'll come up behind the badgers. Somebeast needs to warn 'em, quick!"

Maudie shot off toward the scene. Stopping short of the rocks, she looked up and saw Vizka and his vermin, almost halfway up. Throwing back her head, she sucked in a deep breath and gave out full blast with the Salamandastron war cry, several times. "Eulaliiiaaaa! Eula-liiiiaaaa! Eulaliiiiiaaaaa!"

From his vantage point, Rangval saw the big badger turn and run to the rear of the plateau. The warning had reached him in time. He began hurling rocks down at the Bludgullet crew. Vizka's vermin were spread out too wide for the missiles to wreak much damage, but they had the effect of stopping them in their upward climb.

Rangval came bounding down to earth, where Orkwil was awaiting him. Seizing the young hedgehog's paw, the squirrel raced off, panting as he explained. "Those badgers are bein' attacked from both sides, they ain't goin' to last long unless somebeast gets up to that flat hilltop an' helps 'em!"

As they neared the base of the rocks, Maudie signalled them from her cover in the bushes. "Over here, chaps!"

They joined her speedily, but there was no time for talking. Maudie held up her paw for silence. Rustling among the bushes and the sounds of vermin voices warned them that the area was being searched.

"Why ain't we serposed ta kill 'em?"

" 'Cos der cap'n wants ta see who it was dat shouted der warnin' to dem stripe'ounds."

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"Garr, we should be able ta jus' gut 'em!"

"Yew do dat, an der cap'n'll gut yew, now belt up an' git lookin'!"

The searchers were almost upon them, when Maudie had an idea. She whispered to her two companions, "I've just thought of a wheeze, chaps, follow me an' play along, we're sea vermin, remember." She began thrashing the bushes with her spear, giving a passable imitation as one of the Bludgullet's crew. "Nah, I don't see nobeast round 'ere, 'ave yew spotted 'em yet, Grubsnout?"

Catching on quickly, Rangval snarled, "Dis is daft, bucko, dey wuddent 'ang around 'ere after shoutin out a warnin'. Woddya t'ink, Bloogle?"

Realising the remark was aimed at him, Orkwil acquitted himself well as he replied, "We ain't supposed ter t'ink, dat's Cap'n Vizka's job. Cap'n sez search, so we search. I says we try annuder place, mebbe up dere."

The stoat Bilger joined them. "Duh, I'll come wid ya, mates!"

Even though the night had fallen, Rangval caught Orkwil's look of alarm, as Bilger threw a paw about the young hedgehog's shoulders. He was about to act when Maudie stepped in. She tapped the stoat's back, warning him. "Watch out fer dat branch, bucko!"

The stoat turned, presenting the side of his jaw as a perfect target. "Duh, wot branch is dat?"

The haremaid's clenched right paw shot out. "Dat one! Huh, don't say I diddent warn ya!"

The weasel, Jungo, who was as dull-witted as Bilger, saw him fall. He hurried over to Bilger's side. "Bilge, are ya 'urted, mate?"

Emboldened by Maudie's swift solution, Orkwil scoffed at Jungo. "Walked inter a branch an' knocked hisself out cold. Huh, fancy sendin' dat t'ickhead out ta look fer somebeast, 'e cuddent find 'is tail iffen it wasn't anchored to 'is be'ind!"

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Jungo found the remark quite hilarious. "Hahaw-hawhaw! Dat's a good 'un, tail anchored to 'is be'ind. Hawhawahaw! I must remember dat 'un!"

Trying not to draw further attention to themselves, the three friends ducked off, making their way uphill. Rangval went slightly ahead of the other two, being a swift and skilled climber, he soon made his way to the lip of the plateau. The rogue squirrel was halfway over the edge, when he saw Gorath striding toward him, brandishing his huge pitchfork, Tung.

Whipping off his floppy hat, Rangval hastily identified himself. "Go easy with that thing, sir, me'n me pals have come from Redwall Abbey to help ye. My name's Rangval." He shook off the tawdry frock coat, displaying his bushy tail.

Reversing the fork, Gorath proffered the handle. Rangval grasped it and was hauled up alongside the big, young badger.

Maudie's voice rang out from below. "I say, old sport, could you lend me a paw, too, wot?" In an instant she, too, was pulled up onto the plateau.

A moment of silence went by, then Rangval looked at her. "Where's Orkwil?"

The haremaid shrugged uneasily. "He's with you, isn't he?"

The rogue squirrel shook his head. "No, I thought he was with you?"

"Gorath! Heeeelp!" It was Salixa, the Brownrats had got past her, there were nearly a score of them on the plateau. The three defenders were forced to forget Orkwil for that moment. They charged headlong at the Brownrats, who were trying to hem Salixa in, and cut her off from Gorath.

Throughout his pursuit of Gorath, Stringle had been constantly sending runners back, these were to report the horde's progress, keeping Gruntan Kurdly up-to-date on the hunt. The Brownrat chief took these messages one of

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two ways, either with bored disinterest or bad-tempered criticism. Gruntan was, as per usual, more concerned with his desire for food, specifically eggs. The hulking Brownrat leader considered himself to be a connoisseur, and an expert on the subject.

The latest messenger, a large, sleek-limbed female named Skruttle, was forced to stand and wait before submitting her report. Nobeast talked whilst Gruntan was speaking. At that moment he had an audience of young rats, and was holding forth to them on his favourite topic.

"Oh, aye, mates, I've et 'em all, every kind of egg knowed to bird or beast. From gooses to wrens, an' everyone atween. Seagulls, plovers, pigeons, thrush, starlin's, sparrers, rooks or cuckoos, you name 'em, I've boiled 'em!"

Gruntan could see Skruttle waiting, but he ignored her in favour of a young Brownrat, who piped up, "Do ye always boil yore eggs, Chief?"

Gruntan's formidable stomach wobbled as he chuckled. "Thud'n'blunder, wot other way is there, young 'un? Ye can take it from me, once an egg's boiled it's perfect. The only way it can be spoilt is by a lousy peeler, some dumble-pawed idjit who can't take the shell off'n an 'ard-boiled egg proper!" He scowled darkly at the older Brownrats, his servants. "Aye, an' there's enough of those round

'ere----" He turned his attention to the runner. "Haharr, an'

wot sorta bad news is Stringle sendin' me? Don't stan' there like a slug in a slopbasin, make yore report!"

Skruttle narrated the message. "Cap'n Stringle sez to tell you that he's got the giant stripe'ound surrounded, atop of a stone 'ill. But 'e sez there's two stripe'ounds now, the big 'un an' a smaller one, prob'ly a maid." She paused awkwardly, shuffling her paws. "So that's wot Cap'n Stringle told me to tell ye, Boss, we've got the stripe'ounds surrounded."

Gruntan cut in on the messenger. "Where's this stone 'ill where they're at?"

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Skruttle gestured with her tail. "Up north in the woodlands, 'bout a quarter day's march. Cap'n Stringle's waitin' on yore orders, Boss."

Gruntan heaved a snort of irritation. "Don't tell me, the great Cap'n Stringle's waitin' on me to come an' do the job for 'im. Well, ain't 'e?"

Skruttle nodded dumbly.

Gruntan climbed laboriously onto his litter seat, calling orders to his bearers. "Up off'n yore hunkers, ye layabouts! Break camp, we're movin' north. Stay outta that ditch, cut off around the Abbey an' go that way. Ahoy, you young 'uns, d'ye want a job?"

The young Brownrats stood to attention eagerly.

Gruntan called his old ratwife healer, Laggle. "Keep an eye on them, stay ahead o' me litter. See if'n ye can scout out any fresh eggs, there's none left in this neighbour'ood. Mind, I only wants good, big eggs, don't go bringin' me no wren or robin eggs. Go on, off with ye, I'll be folio win', keep goin' north."

Back in the woodlands around the sandstone plateau, Stringle's fortunes had changed for the worse. Instead of being the hunter, he now found that his horde was being attacked by a tribe of vengeful Guosim. Log a Log Osbil's shrew warriors came hurtling out of the trees, yelling their battle cries as they hit the Brownrats' rear ranks. Stringle was forced to turn and fight, leaving those attacking the plateau to their own devices. The Guosim fought like mad-beasts, any Brownrat they seized was shown no quarter. Within a very short time they slew more than a score of the vermin. Guosim rapiers flashed in the dawnlight as Osbil and his tribe sent fear into the hearts of the foe while they started up a Bladechant.

"Hi hey Log a Log ho

Guosim lay the foebeast low,

Ho hey Log a Log hi

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vermin 'tis the day ye die!

Logga Logga Logloglog!

Oh my blade is thirsting hard

not for ale or water it will drink the vermin blood

brewed amid the slaughter!

Logga Logga Logloglog!

Ye who laid our chieftain low

Guosim wrath will feel, take this payment of our debt

given with cold steel!

Logga Logga Logloglog!

Hi hey Log a Log ho

vengeance is a blood-red tide

Ho hey Log a Log hi

throw the Hellgates open wide!

Logga Logga Logloglog!"

On top of the plateau, Gorath and his three compatriots had repelled the Brownrats who had come over the edge. Working together, they beat the vermin back, though it was the young badger, armed with Tung, his weapon, who was carrying the fight. He was indeed an awesome sight, roaring forth his battlecry, swinging the pitchfork like a mighty flail.

Maudie was in top form. Avoiding spears and crude blades, she was lashing out with all paws, sending foebeasts skittling over the rim, though several times the haremaid was almost struck by Gorath sweeping his weapon in wide arcs. Ducking Tung repeatedly, Maudie found herself appealing to Salixa, who was swinging a loaded sling further along. "Er, I hope you don't mind me sayin', old gel, but couldn't you have a blinkin' word with your chum? He'll sweep us all over the edge if he ain't careful. Oh, beg pardon a tick--" She broke off to deliver a walloping left to a Brownrat, sending him hurtling into space. Another came dashing up, wielding a spear. Before

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he could use it, the vermin was felled by one of Rangval's daggers. Maudie waggled her ears at the rogue squirrel. "Thanks terribly, I can't abide spear thrusters."

Rangval grinned as he bent to retrieve his blade. "Sure, think nothin' of it, miss--" As he stood upright the stock of Gorath's pitchfork swung too close, felling the squirrel.

Maudie wagged a paw at Salixa. "You see, I told you he was going to jolly well hurt one of us, swingin' that thing about!" Maudie helped Rangval up, rubbing the back of his head. "I say, old lad, are you alright? Still with us, wot?"

The rogue squirrel smiled crookedly. "Oh, I think I'll live, as long as the big feller doesn't give me another swipe!"

Salixa ducked and dodged until she was at Gorath's side. "You're not feeling an attack of Bloodwrath, are you?"

The young badger looked a bit pink about the eyes, but he stopped swinging briefly. "No, I've got it under control, Salixa, why, is anything wrong?"

She squeezed his paw reassuringly. "No, but watch out for your friends when you swing Tung around, you just hit poor Rangval."

Gorath was about to apologise to the squirrel, when a shout from the other side of the plateau alerted him. A gang of the Bludgullet'% crew Came stampeding over the far rim, yelling madly.

Maudie picked up a fallen vermin spear and followed both badgers to repel the invaders. Rangval joined her, twirling a dagger in either paw. "Ah, miss, if only me dear ould mother could see me now, I know just what she'd say."

Maudie singled out a ferret, muttering as she went for him, "What would your dear old mater say?"

The rogue squirrel shrugged as he imitated his mother. "Here we go again, me son, what've I told ye about all this fightin', ye rascal!"

There were far too many Brownrats for Osbil and his

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shrews to defeat, but they achieved a certain purpose with their fierce attack. One of the Guosim scouts, who had been ranging around the base of the plateau, reported back to his Log a Log. "Chief, there's a crew o' those seavermin at-tackin' the plateau from the rear!"

This was worrying information, requiring some quick thinking from the Guosim chieftain. Osbil cast a glance up at the rim, summing up his thoughts aloud. "Hmm, there's only the two badgers, Maudie an' Rangval defendin' up there, as far as I can see."

The scout interrupted. "There should be five, wot's happened to the young hog, Orkwil? There's no sign of him?"

Osbil shook his head. "Who knows, mate, he might be dead, or lyin' wounded somewhere. We can't stop every-thin' t'go searchin' for him. One thing's certain, we can't leave goodbeasts up there to perish. Gather the tribe, we'll make a charge, stampede through the middle of Kurdly's rats an' carry on until we reach the plateau. That way we can join our friends an' make a proper stand!"

The Brownrats had now recovered from the initial Guosim assault. Under Stringle's command they were beginning to turn the tide against the smaller shrew force. However, they were not prepared for what came next. The Guosim warriors grouped into a mass behind Osbil and charged headlong at the Brownrats, roaring, "Logalogalog-alooooog!"

They went like a gale through a wheatfield, whipping through the trees and shrubbery, with Brownrats being bulled and bowled in all directions. Straight through the centre, and onto the base sandstone ledges, Log a Log Osbil led his fighters, whooping and yelling like madbeasts.

Furious at being taken by surprise, Stringle, who had viewed the incident from safe cover, came dashing out to berate his Brownrats. "Why didn't ye stand firm, ye poltroons? We're bigger'n those liddle shrews, aye, an'

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we've got five times their number. Get after 'em, ye lily-livered layabouts. Form up an' charge, come on. Charge!"

"Why charge, my friend? Let dem carry on to der top, dey got noplace to go once dey're up dere, don't ya see!"

Stringle whirled around, coming face-to-face with Vizka Longtooth and half a score of the Bludgullet's crew.

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Gruntan Kurdly was in no hurry to join Stringle, the reason being that he was under the impression there was only one badger in the Mossflower region. Whilst passing around the back of Redwall Abbey on a northerly course, he sat back in his litter, gazing covetously at the east wall. The Brownrat warlord wondered if the time would ever arrive when he would be on the other side of that wall, master of all he surveyed. That was when he saw the badger.

The Tabura was being shown around Redwall, he strode the eastern rampart slowly, in company with Abbot Daucus and Foremole Burff, admiring the tranquil immensity of his surroundings. Stopping for a moment, the Tabura gazed out over the dense woodlands. He was about to turn away when a movement amid the trees caught his attention. The badger found himself looking straight into the eyes of a huge, overweight rat, being carried along, sprawled on a litter. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, then the rat was lost to view, being borne off midst the greenery.

Gruntan Kurdly furrowed his brutish brow, assessing the situation. Doubtless Stringle had been telling him a pack of lies. The minions of Kurdly often resorted to untruths, mostly to save themselves being exposed to his

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wrath, which often proved fatal. Every Brownrat knew what a dose of the Kurdlys meant. The Warlord dozed off, reflecting on how he would punish Stringle. The warm summer day, chirping insects, buzzing bees and silent butterflies winging their errant path amid the patches of shade and sunlight, lulled Kurdly into a comfortable doze for awhile.

He was rudely wakened by the cries of the young Brownrats, coming out of the woodlands. In a customary sour mood, which often followed his nap, Gruntan waved a grubby paw at the closest rat. "Gimme summat t'drink, me gob's like a sandpit!" He slopped grog down, casting a jaundiced eye over the young ones. "Wot d'yer mean, wakin' me with all yore shoutin', eh?"

A Brownrat maid came forward, holding out a nest for his inspection. "We found eggs for ye, Boss."

Poking about in the structure of woven vegetation, Gruntan pawed the two fawn-hued, brown-blotched eggs. "Moorhens, where'd ye get these?"

Laggle, the old healer, pointed off east. "They found a watermeadow over yonder."

Gruntan Kurdly immediately perked up, watermead-ows were a prime source of eggs. He hid his pleasure, curling a lip at Laggle and the young rats. "Huh, an' that's all ye got, jus' two eggs atwixt the lot of ye? Aye, an' I'll wager these are addled an' rotten. Right, steer a course for these watermedders, we'll camp there, an' I'll take a look fer meself."

Noggo, who was one of the bearers, piped up. "But worrabout the giant stripe'ound, wot Stringle's got surrounded, Boss?"

Noggo was close enough, so Gruntan grabbed him, and broke both the eggs over his head. Gruntan gave a gap-toothed smile of vindication. "See, I told ye they was rotten. Never you mind about Stringle, I'll deal with that 'un. Durty great fibber, he ain't got no giant stripe'ound surrounded!"

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Laggle made sure she was out of his reach. "An' how d'ye know that, eh?"

Gruntan smirked knowingly. "'Cos I just saw the stripe'ound on top o' Redwall, that's 'ow. I've seen the beast fer meself, so 'ow can Stringle've seen 'im, tell me that, clever whiskers!"

Laggle put forward her explanation. "Well, there might be three stripe'ounds, have ye thought of that?"

Gruntan shot her his meanest scowl. "Don't talk stupid, unless ye want to get a bad attack o' the Kurdlys. Now, where's that watermedder!"

It was a beautiful sight, a watermeadow in a woodland setting. Bulrushes and reeds flourished along the margins. Large dragonflies, mayflies and damselflies flittered and hovered amid widespread waterlilies, golden crowfoot, white flowering cottongrass and blue-starred brooklime.

All nature's splendour was lost on Gruntan Kurdly as his litter was carefully lowered onto the firm ground of the border. "Haharr, this is the place fer eggs, buckoes. Now if'n ye'd caught up with those sh'ews awhile back, I'd 'ave me a nice liddle logboat t'sail round 'ere in. Well, let's see if'n ye can make yoreselves useful now. Laggle, get some 'elp an' light a fire, git that water cauldron filled an' bubblin', ready for me eggs. Youse young 'uns, cast about an' see if'n ye can hunt up some decent nests, with lots of eggs in 'em. Go quiet an' easy now. If'n ye kills any birds, then ye can keep 'em to roast an' eat. But remember, the eggs are mine, off ye go now, an' don't dare come back empty-pawed, or I'll boil the lot of ye in this cauldron!"

The young Brownrats stole silently off to their duties. Gruntan amused himself awhile, swatting at any winged insect which came within range. Within a short time he was snoozing again.

Noontide shadows were lengthening over the tranquil watermeadows when Gruntan was gently shaken into

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wakefulness by Laggle, who whispered in his ear, "Ye'd better wake up, Boss, they've found a swan's nest!"

Gruntan sat bolt upright, grubbing at his eyes. He breathed reverently, "A swan's nest!"

The one egg he had never tasted, a swan's egg. To the Brownrat chieftain the nest of a swan was his ultimate dream. The swan was the largest of all birds! Gruntan had never seen its egg, but he imagined it would be a thing of legendary proportions. He shuddered with unconcealed delight. All thoughts of Stringle, his lies and stripehounds were banished from his mind as he whispered orders to his Brownrats.

"Who was it wot found the swan's nest, which one of ye?"

A young male rat came hesitantly forward. "Me, Boss."

Gruntan gazed at him fondly. "Wot's yore name, mate?"

The young rat did not know whether to be proud or afraid. "Duggerlo, Boss, me name's Duggerlo." He blinked each time Gruntan patted his head.

"Duggerlo, eh, an 'andsome name for a clever young 'un. So yore the bright spark wot found the swan's nest, d'ye think ye could take me to it, Duggerlo?"

Feeling more confident, Duggerlo nodded vigorously. "Aye, Boss, 'tis over yon, where those willows are. There's a little stream runs through them into the meadows. The nest is right there, I saw it."

Gruntan turned to the other Brownrats. "Youse lot stay 'ere, keep the fire goin' an' the cauldron bubblin' 'til me'n Duggerlo returns."

At the far side of the watermeadow, Gruntan and Duggerlo stood waist-deep in the water, the willows were some distance away. It was not going to be as easy as the Brownrat chief first thought. He questioned the youngster. "Tell me, 'ow did ye make yore way across?"

"I waded most o' the way, an' swimmed a bit, Boss."

Gruntan scratched his stomach underwater. "Hmm, an' yore certain the nest is over there?"

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Duggerlo pointed. "Ye can't miss it, Boss, right in the stream mouth, 'tween those far two willows."

After a few moments' thought, Gruntan reached a decision. "Right, young 'un, you stay 'ere, an' keep quiet, I'll go over there by meself. If'n I needs ye I'll shout."

Being much taller than Duggerlo, Gruntan figured he would not need to swim. Keeping his gaze fixed on the willows, he began wading. The going was slow, but steady; he squelched onward, feeling the ooze, old tree roots and vegetation beneath his footpaws. So obsessed was he with his quest for the fabled swan's egg, the Brownrat chieftain did not want any otherbeast sharing his discovery.

Wading closer, he could make out the nest now, a sprawling, unwieldy construction, probably based on some underwater willow roots. Gruntan could mentally picture the egg, lying there in solitary splendour, white as the driven snow, and big as a seaside boulder. His paws trembled with desire and anxiety as he pushed himself faster through the water, which was now lapping about his chin. He was spitting water by the time he reached the nest, but his footpaws found a hold on the underwater roots. Grabbing the outside of the huge nest, he hauled himself upward, gurgling with happiness.

Under the weight of the Brownrat's bulk, the entire nest came toppling sideways on him, in a hideous cacophony of sound. Two gangling cygnets and a fully grown female mute swan fell upon Gruntan. The young swans scrabbled back onto the half-capsized nest, trumpeting weakly, whilst their mother set about punishing the unwelcome trespasser.

Defending its nest and family, the mute swan was an awesome sight. It towered over the unfortunate Brownrat, hissing and snorting, thrashing him with both webbed limbs, beating him with wings like windmill sails. Then it pounded away at his head with its fearsome orange beak, which was backed by a hard, black protrusion at the base.

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Once, twice, thrice the swan struck, each blow powered by its long, powerful neck. Gruntan Kurdly sank limply beneath the waters, with a fractured spine, and a cracked skull. Still hissing and snorting its wrath, the mute swan shepherded its two cygnets away to safety.

Duggerlo stood clinging to a clump of bulrushes, still waist-deep in the watermeadow. Shocked by what he had witnessed, his gaze was still rooted to the scene of the attack, watching the spot where Gruntan had sunk, expecting him to reappear, roaring orders to slay the swan. Duggerlo stayed quite awhile, until it finally dawned on him that only a fish could stay underwater so long.

The young Brownrat staggered into camp dripping wet. He had to impart the story three times, in full detail, before anybeast began believing him. Though there were a few cynics.

"Garn, Kurdly slayed, no bird could do that!"

"Hah, shows 'ow much you know, you've never seen a swan close up. One o' them things is even bigger'n a stripe'ound. It could finish off the boss, an' three like 'im. Swans is bigger'n giants!"

"Well, I don't believe the boss is dead, so there!"

Duggerlo lost his patience with the speaker. "Well, why don't ye go over there, an' swim under the water an' ask 'im?"

That ended the argument. They sat around the fire, boiling the few eggs that had been collected for the departed. Laggle, the old female Brownrat, made Duggerlo recite the tale once more, then she composed a dirge for the slain chieftain. Laggle considered herself an accomplished Dirger, a highly respected position in the Brownrat horde.

That night, by the light of the fire, she sang unaccompanied in a flat monotone the words she had put together for her former boss. The others wolfed hard-boiled eggs, some for the first time, as they listened to the dirge.

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"O come listen, ye Brownrats, take heed o' my words, all about Gruntan Kurdly our chief, for he stood fat an' tall, well respected by all, as a murderin', plunderin' thief!

Kurdly rose through the ranks, with his foul, wicked pranks, but his stomach grew greater than he, an' his awful downfall, I'll relate to youse all, was he loved hard-boiled eggs for his tea!

He had every bird flappin' round, lookin' scared, as he hunted for eggs without rest, an' against every wish, he would never eat fish,

Gruntan Kurdly craved eggs from the nest!

'Til one fatal day, O it grieves me to say, that his greed got the better of him, he set his sights on the fine egg of a swan, that he thought had gone out for a swim!

Thinkin' that he knew best, Kurdly swam to the nest, where the bird sat with its family,

'There's a rat at the door, Ma,' the little 'uns cried,

'an' he's after some eggs for his tea!'

Mrs. Swan in a huff, lookin' rowdy an' tough, honked, 'Come here now, ye fat, thievin' rat!'

An' with many a blow, she laid pore Kurdly low, just by usin' her beak like a bat!

Now against Kurdly's wishes, he's feedin' the fishes, they're nibblin' his ears, snout an' legs, but his ghost's at Hellgates, where I'm tellin' ye, mates,

'tis a place where they don't serve boiled eggs!"

In the silence which followed the dirge, the Brownrats sat gazing into the fire. Noggo, who was forced to sit apart from the rest, owing to the stench of rotten eggs which clung to his fur, sniffed brokenly. "We'll never get anudder boss like ole Gruntan."

Laggle cackled. "Not if'n we're lucky we won't!"

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Noggo's companion Biklo, the other scout, spread his paws in bewilderment. "But without the boss, wot are we goin' t'do about Stringle an' all the others?"

Laggle tossed more wood on the fire, she stared around at the company in disbelief. "Look at ye all, are ye dull, daft or just dozy? Who needs a boss anymore, or did ye enjoy carryin' Kurdly everywhere on yore backs! The great, bullyin' lard barrel, he's gone now, an' good riddance, sez I. Hah, as for Stringle an' the rest, let 'em get on with it. If'n they likes fightin' an' warrin', then I'll be the lastbeast to stop 'em, aye, or join 'em!"

The leaderless Brownrats sat openmouthed, taken aback by the old ratwife's attitude.

Noggo rose, pacing about in agitation. "But... but... wot are we goin' to do?"

Young Duggerlo suddenly blurted out, "Anythin' we wants to, that's wot!"

Laggle rocked back and forth, cackling wildly. "Heehee-heehee! There's a rat with more brains than the lot of ye. Lissen to 'im, ye thick'eaded clods! Ye don't 'ave t'do any-thin' fer Gruntan fatty gut Kurdly no more, he's deader'n a fried frog. Ye can please yoreselves wot ye do, yore free!"

Biklo scratched his head hard. "An' wot are you goin' t'do, old 'un?"

Laggle snuggled down by the fire. "Me? I'm goin' to sleep late in the mornin'. An' I ain't movin' from 'ere. I likes these watermeadows, there's everythin' I needs right 'ere. Water, vittles, long, sunny days an' nobeast to give me orders!"

Duggerlo smiled. "I'm with ye, granny!"

The rest of the company were quick to agree.

"Aye, me, too, no giant stripe'ound's gonna slay me!"

"Right, mate, we can boil eggs for ourselves from now on!"

"Haharr, I'm goin' to break Kurdly's litter up, an' make a nice liddle shelter out of it!"

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"You do that, mate, I'm sure ole Gruntan won't object."

"Aye, Kurdly's boss o' the fishes now, wonder wot they think of 'im?"

Laggle replied between cackles, "Heeheehee, they prob'ly think the boss tastes a bit eggy. Heeheeheehee!"

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34

Stringle backed nervously away from the band of Bludgullet vermin, as their captain, Vizka, advanced, his long fangs showing in a broad smile.

"Don't be frightened, friend, I only wants ta talk."

Stringle blustered to hide his fear. "I ain't frightened of ye, fox, I'm cap'n of Gruntan Kurdly's Brownrats, we chased you up the ditch, remember?"

The golden fox continued smiling. "Aye, but it was us who chased yew down der ditch first." He shoved the magnificent sword he was carrying into his waist sash, and hung the mace and chain, which he was also armed with, across his shoulders. "Don't worry, I ain't here ta harm ye. We both wants ta put an end to dose creatures up dere on de rocks. So why don't me'n'yew join forces, we'd stan' a better chance together, don't ya t'ink?"

Stringle backed off farther, holding up a paw. "Wait." Grabbing a nearby Brownrat, he muttered furiously to him, "Get back to the boss, quick as ye can. Tell 'im I needs 'im 'ere, urgent!" Stringle turned back to the fox, who was lounging casually against a poplar. "Er, 'ow many warriors do ye have, we've got an 'orde."

Vizka chuckled, enjoying the Brownrat's discomfort. "A

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horde, eh, dat could mean any number. I got enough to 'elp out 'ere. Wot d'ya say, Cap'n?"

Stringle hesitated. "Er, I dunno.... I mean, I'll 'ave to wait an' see wot Gruntan Kurdly sez."

Welcome paws reached out, helping the Guosim up onto the plateau. Osbil dispensed with greetings, joining Maudie and Rangval in a parrying movement against the Bludgullet vermin who were scaling the rim behind them.

"Drive those scum back, mates. Logalogalogaloooog!" Half the Guosim joined the charge, the remainder staying with the two badgers to defend the front edge of the plateau. The Sea Raiders were taken off guard by the wild sally, it was not long before the defenders had full control of the table-shaped sandstone top.

Introductions were made until Salixa was acquainted with everybeast. Gorath clasped Osbil's paw. "That was a brave charge you made, those Brownrats had you well outnumbered, you did well to break through."

The Guosim Log a Log sheathed his rapier. "What happened to young Orkwil?"

Maudie shrugged ruefully. "Can't say, old lad, one moment he was with me'n'Rangval, next thing he was gone. We're tryin' not to think the worst about him."

Rangval let his tail droop mournfully. "Ah, there's only one reason a pore creature goes missin' in the midst of a fight. Orkwil was a good little feller, I'll miss him, so I will!"

Maudie chaffed the rogue squirrel. "Come on, you old misery, tails up, wot! Look on the bright side, Orkwil might be fine an' well!"

Salixa turned in a slow arc, taking in the whole plateau. "Yes, let's hope he is. Meanwhile, we have other things to consider before this affair is over."

Osbil looked up from sharpening his rapier. "Wot sort o' things, miz?"

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One of the Guosim, a gruff-mannered old shrew, snorted. "We ain't 'ere t'think, missy, us Guosim are 'ere to fight!"

Gorath silenced him with a severe glance. "Listen to what Salixa has to say, she has learned much from the Tabura, and does not talk just to hear the sound of her own voice."

Osbil tested the edge of his blade by licking it. "Aye, be quiet an' let's hear wot she has t'say."

The slender badgermaid did not have to raise her voice. There was a calmness about her as she spoke. "The one good thing to come out of this is that the Abbey need not fear attack. The enemies of Redwall are surrounding us at the moment, they cannot turn their backs on our force, small as it is. However, we are cut off up here, and outnumbered by Brownrats and the sea vermin. So, I think our main concern for the moment is, how do we defend our position?" By Salixa's tone, she was obviously looking for suggestions.

Rangval peered over the sandstone rim. "Sure, 'twas a charge that got these shrews up here, couldn't we make a grand ould stampede back down agin?"

There were murmurs of agreement from the Guosim, who were always headstrong, and ready for a fight.

Maudie shook her head. "Bad idea, old chap, not good form!"

The rogue squirrel deferred to the haremaid. "Well, it's the best I can do for ye, me darlin'. Though bein' a member o' that Long Patrol from Salamandastron, I suppose ye'll know a thing or two about warfare. So, Maudie me gel, wot's yore plan?"

Smiling ruefully, the haremaid scratched one ear. "Actually, I haven't got a single bloomin' idea. But let's see if I can't think this thing out, the way Major Mullein would. Right, how are we in the jolly old weapons department? Osbil?"

The Guosim chieftain gave his estimate. "Slings'n'stones

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aplenty, an' everybeast's carryin' a blade. There's a few spears we picked up from the vermin, an' few spare pikes an' axes. Oh, an' we've got almost a score o' bows, but not so many arrows. Apart from Gorath's great pitchfork, that's about it!"

Maudie began pacing slowly, back and forth. "More important right now, what's the position on food an' drink?"

Salixa interrupted. "Food and drink, why is that more important than weapons?"

Maudie was back into thinking like a Long Patrol hare now, she gave Salixa a quick salute. "Stan' corrected, miz, I should've said food'n'drink is as important as weapons, allow me to explain myself. Never underestimate the foe-beast, y'see. Vermin are crafty blighters, wot! They're down below, where they can jolly well forage for vittles in the woodlands, and of course there's always water, streams an' such, down there. Meanwhile, here's poor old us, stuck on flippin' top of a stretch o' bare rock. Osbil, old scout, have ye sorted out how much fodder we've got, eh?"

Osbil beckoned to one of the Guosim cooks, who answered glumly. "Nothin' much, a few apples, two wheat-loaves, a hunk o' hard cheese, an' three canteens, two of water, an' one o' shrewbeer. That's all. I didn't think we was goin' t'be away from the Abbey for too long."

Maudie carried on with her summary to Salixa. "So there you have it, miz, virtually no rations at all. If those vermin cads down there happen t'make an educated guess, we're deadbeasts. They can lay siege to this plateau, which means do nothin' really, just lay about, eatin' an' drinkin'. They'll fire off the odd stone, or arrow, to keep our heads low. But in the end they'll starve us down. Either that, or wait'll we're too weak to fight back, then we'll be overrun an' slaughtered by the bounders. Pretty grim, wot?"

Rangval rubbed his stomach. "Grim, y'say, it sounds awful. Shure, I'm startin' t'feel hungry right now, an' I could do with an ould drop to wet me lips. 'Tis goin' t'get hot up here!"

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Salixa tweaked the rogue squirrel's ear lightly. "Well, that sort of talk isn't doing anybeast a bit of good. The more we forget food, the less hungry we're likely to be!"

Rangval was forced to agree. "The very thought that just leapt into me own foolish ould mind, miz. But wot in the name o' seasons do we do, just sit up here an' wait t'get starved or slayed t'death? I'm not the one t'be doin' that in a hurry!"

Maudie knew she was clutching at straws, but a faint idea had formed in her mind. "I say, chaps, suppose we take the battle to the vermin from up here? What I mean is, we keep our heads well down, whilst keepin' a strong eye peeled on the villains, an' pick 'em off one by flippin' one, wot!"

Osbil unwound the sling from about his waist. "Let's do that, 'tis better'n sittin' up here twiddlin' our paws. Guosim, split up into four groups. Rigril, take yours to the rear. Teagle an' Frenna, you take your crews either side, t'the north an' south. I'll stay here at the front with my lot. HowTl that do for ye, Maudie?"

Lying down flat, the haremaid peered over the rim to the woodlands below. "Aye, mate, let's see how much damage we can cause. Use slingstones an' bows, but go easy with the arrows, we're a bit short of shafts."

Lying alongside Maudie, Osbil shielded his eyes, peering intently at the scene below. "Wot's goin' on down there, between those two black poplars? Looks like some sort o' meetin', can't see 'em properly. You take a peek."

Maudie watched carefully, though her view, like Osbil's, was obscured by the dense poplar foliage. "Hmm, looks like Brownrats an' some o' the other vermin t'me. Let's wait an' see if they show their scruffy faces a bit clearer, wot!"

Vizka Longtooth was still silently enjoying Stringle's embarrassment, though he hid it well. Crouching down with

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his back to the poplar trunk, he feigned a yawn. "Where's dis boss o' yores gotten to, huh? I'm growin' old, hangin' round waitin' fer 'im."

Stringle paced back and forth, wracked by indecision. "Well, there ain't nothin' for it, Cap'n Longtooth, I've got me orders from Gruntan Kurdly 'isself, an' I've got t'wait on 'is word for any change in plans."

Vizka toyed with the pommel stone of his beautiful sword. "Well said, Cap'n Stringle, but I can't wait ferever. Wot were dese orders Kurdly gave ya?"

Stringle explained. "To slay those stripe'ounds, an' bring their 'eads back to the boss, on spearpoints."

The golden fox replied in a cheery tone, "Der very t'ing I wuz plannin' t'do! Lissen, mate, t'wouldn't do no harm fer us t'join forces an' get der job done. I'm sure ya boss'd be pleased, eh?"

However, Stringle continued hesitating, walking to and fro, trying to put Vizka off until the arrival of Kurdly.

On the rim of the plateau, Osbil peered down, his voice rising with excitement. "That's the Brownrat's officer, Stringle. Look, there he is now, wanderin' in an' out o' the poplars!"

Maudie could see the Brownrat down below, moving in and out of the covering foliage. "Indeed, that'll be the very blighter. But why's he so jolly important?"

Osbil gritted his teeth. "'Cos he's the one who was leadin' the gang wot chased ye that night, you'n liddle Yik, an' our ole Log a Log. That scum must be the one who was responsible for my father's death. My Guosim told me Gruntan Kurdly didn't arrive at the south wall 'til long after you'n Yik made it inside the Abbey. Aye, he's the one who has to pay, gimme a bow, somebeast, an' a good, straight shaft!"

An older shrew passed Osbil his bow. "Try mine, Chief, 'tis the best bow in our tribe. Wait whilst I find ye a decent

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arrow." Sorting through his quiver, he selected one. Holding it to his eye, the older shrew sighted along the shaft, checking it. "Aye, this is a good 'un, straight'n'true. I made it meself out o' sessile oak, fletched it with a white gull feather, tipped it with best flint."

As Osbil set the shaft on the bowstring, Salixa joined him and Maudie, judging the target. "If you don't mind me saying, that will be a very hard shot to make. I know a little archery, would you like me to try?"

Osbil shook his head stubbornly. "No, miz, I won't be indebted to anybeast, 'tis my shot!"

Maudie whispered to Salixa, "Family honour an' all that, y'know, touchy types, these Guosim chaps, wot!"

They held their breath as Osbil hauled back on his bowstring. He sighted a moment, then dropped his paws with a snort of frustration. "Blood'n'fur, he's moved back into the trees. I'll have to wait for him to show himself agin!"

Salixa knelt by Osbil's side, advising him calmly, "Loosen up a little, you're too tense. That's better! Now, don't wait until the rat's right out in the open. Wait until you see him show, then fire your shaft slightly ahead of his position, aim at the spot where his next pace will place him. Now, pull back your bowstring in one movement, smoothly. That's right.... Fire!"

Vizka was beginning to lose patience with Stringle, who was still dithering over a decision, afraid to commit himself. "If'n 'twas up to me, I'd join ye right away, Cap'n Longtooth, but I've got to wait fer Grunt..." The Brownrat gave a strange gurgle and sat down. He swayed for a moment, then slumped forward, still in the sitting position.

Vizka had witnessed sudden death many times, he immediately dropped flat, calling to his crew, who were waiting nearby. "Git down, we're bein' fired on!"

Everybeast hugged the ground, waiting. After awhile it became apparent that no attack was being mounted. On his

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captain's command, the stoat, Patchy, crawled across to inspect Stringle.

"Deader'n a cold stone, Cap'n, de arrer went right atwixt 'is eyes. Dat's a fair birra shootin' from atop o' dose rocks!"

The golden fox spat at Stringle's carcass. "Saved me a job, I was gonna slay 'im meself. Dat fool was holdin' t'ings up. Right, Patchy, Dogleg, Ragchin an' Jungo! Git round to dose Brownrats, tell 'em Cap'n Stringle wants a werd wid dem."

Jungo looked at Stringle's slumped form. "But Cap'n, dat 'un can't say a werd to anybeast no more."

Vizka fixed the dull-witted weasel with a deadly smile. "Aye, an' yew won't either if'n ya don't do like I says!"

Rangval pounded Osbil's back. "I knew ye could do it, mate, shure it was a grand shot, so 'twas, clean as a whistle!"

Maudie shook her shrew friend by his paw. "Well done, sah! That's one rascal whose murderin' days are over, wot! So, how does it feel, bucko? You've done what you wished, put paid to your dear old dad's killer."

Osbil passed the bow back to its owner, commenting, "Too far off t'feel anything, miz. Wish I could've met the rat face-to-face, an' paw-to-paw, made him beg for mercy afore I slayed him!"

Surprised by his vehemence, Maudie shook her head. "Golly, you're a savage young feller, Osbil."

The Guosim Log a Log nodded. "I'm a Guosim an' I am wot I am. Tell me, miz, would you feel the same about some vermin who'd killed yore father?"

The haremaid was forced to concur with his logic. "You can bet your bally boots I would, bucko!" To change the subject, Maudie took stock of the scene, staring down at the woodlands. "Seems to have gone jolly quiet down there, wot? Nobeast chargin' or retaliatin', wonder what's goin' on?"

Gorath leaned on his pitchfork, watching the land below

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the plateau. "Mayhaps they're getting ready for an all-out effort. What do you think, Salixa?"

The badgermaid summed up her outlook on the situation. "I don't think they'll be mounting any major attack, we're in too strong a position at the moment. If the fox is in command, he'll lay siege to us. Without supplies or reinforcements, time isn't on our side. The vermin still have us far outnumbered, I think they'll play the waiting game. It's the sensible thing to do, and it will save them losing more creatures on their side."

Rangval winked at Gorath, remarking quietly, "Ah now, there's a pretty maid who's as brainy as she's beautiful. Ye couldn't do much better'n to stick with her, if'n I say so meself!"

Gorath winked back at the rogue squirrel. "I intend to!"

The day rolled onward, with the sun mounting high on the shadeless sandstone plateau. Together with Salixa and Kachooch, Maudie helped to apportion and distribute their scant ration of food and drink. Like most hares, Maudie had always been blessed with a healthy appetite. She viewed her miserable ration gloomily, a slice of apple, a small piece of hard cheese, a tiny crust of bread and half a beaker of watered-down shrewbeer.

It was the same for everybeast. The normally cheerful Rangval scowled at his portion in disbelief. "In the name of pity, is this all we're gettin'? Shure, there's not enough nourishment here to keep fur'n'bone t'gether!"

Gorath caught the disapproving glance which Salixa shot at the rogue squirrel. Shielding Rangval from the Guosim with his huge bulk, Gorath lectured him tersely. "I know it's little enough, friend, but don't start complaining. You'll not only upset the Guosim, but should any of the vermin hear you, they'll know what a bad fix we're in, d'you understand?"

Rangval saluted smartly several times. "Ah, shure yore right, sir, aren't I the pudden-headed ould grouser. Now

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don't you go frettin' yore grand self, leave it t'me, I'll soon put things right."

Gorath watched him as he sat on the rim of the plateau, dangling his footpaws. Salixa also watched Rangval.

"What's he up to now?"

Gorath shrugged his mighty shoulders. "I'm sure we'll soon find out, one way or another."

They did, as did everybeast on both sides, a moment later. The rogue squirrel began yelling at the top of his voice. His plan was to fool the vermin into thinking that there was no shortage of food or drink on top of the plateau.

"Ah, cook darlin', will ye take those mushroom an' gravy pasties out o' me sight. If'n I eats one more I'll burst. Just pass me a flagon of that grand ould October Ale ye've got coolin' in the shade, if y'please."

Rangval continued as though he were conversing with some imaginary cook. "What's that? No, no, I couldn't manage another crumb of that plum'n'apple pudden. No, I'm sorry, cooky, cheese'n'leek turnover, I've already had two. Are ye tryin' t'stuff me to death with yore fine vittles! Lissen, t'me, for pity's sake. I don't want any more to eat! No fresh-baked bread an' soft cheese, no summer veggible soup, meadowcream scones, strawberry preserve, fruit cake, elderberry jelly or cold mint tea. Just a drop of the October Ale, to settle me pore, groanin' ould stummick. Yowch!"

A well-aimed slingstone hit Rangval's bushy eartip. Wincing and rubbing his stinging ear, he grunted. "Ah, I'm gettin' through t'the scummy ould vermin at last!" He turned in time to see a Guosim shrew launch another pebble at him. Leaping to one side smartly, the rogue squirrel complained bitterly. "Cease fire, ye eejit, are ye tryin' to kill me?"

Osbil signalled the warrior to stay his paw. The shrew chieftain glared angrily at Rangval. "I'll do the job for him if'n ye don't shut up goin' on an' on about vittles!"

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"Aye, matey, belay that talk!"

The squirrel countered indignantly, "Wasn't I only tauntin' the villains, to make 'em think we're not short o' a bite to eat up here?"

Both beasts were in a fine temper, threatening one another as they came nose to nose.

Maudie forced her way between the irate pair. "Steady on, chaps, there's no blinkin' need for all this shoutin' an' arguin', eh, wot!"

Osbil seethed, "Then tell that fool to shuttup about vittles!"

Rangval gritted his teeth aloud. "You tell that dimwit I was only doin' it to tease the enemy!"

Maudie felt herself drawn into the quarrel, she wagged a paw under Rangval's nose, raising her voice. "It's you who's the dimwit. Teasin' the enemy, if y'please, did it occur to you that it might jolly well be your own side who are bein' teased twice as bad, eh?"

It was Salixa's calm demeanour that halted the row. "What Maudie means is that we're the ones who have no food or water. Down there the foebeast can forage for their needs, and there's probably a stream close by. I'm sorry, Rangval, but yelling about delicious food is only upsetting your own comrades."

The sun beat down mercilessly on the bare rock plateau as the three creatures stopped their argument. There was an awkward silence, which was broken by Gorath as he peered down to the bushy shade, where Stringle's carcass still lay. "It's gone very quiet down there. I wonder what's going on?"

Rangval tried to get in the closing remark. "Maybe I made 'em hungry, an' they've toddled off to lunch somewhere, aye, that'll be it!"

Gorath's level stare silenced the rogue squirrel. Salixa patted the big badger's paw comfortingly. "Whatever's going on down there is nothing we can't take care of together."

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Things were going better for Vizka Longtooth than he imagined they would. Suddenly the golden fox had more beasts under his command than ever before in his infamous career. He had two things to thank for this stroke of fortune, the death of Stringle and his own powers of eloquence. That, plus the fact that Brownrats were not the smartest of vermin. Without a leader, the Brownrat horde were fish out of water. Once the word got around that Stringle had been slain, the Brownrats did what they had always done, sat and waited for somebeast (usually Gruntan Kurdly) to galvanise them back into action. Stringle had been Kurdly's sole leading officer. Now that he was gone, the Brownrats were waiting for somebeast to tell them what to do.

Vizka was quick to realise this. He delegated each of his crew to act as group leaders. As tawdry as they were, the seafaring vermin looked superior to Brownrats, who were little better than primitive savages with their paint-daubed fur and stone-tipped clubs or spears. Vizka sent his crew among the horde, to order (not invite) all Brownrats to a meeting with him, in a clearing, west of the plateau.

Wielding the sword of Martin in one paw, and carrying his mace and chain in the other, he watched them file silently into the woodland clearing, they outnumbered his crew by at least six to one. The Brownrats seated themselves on the sward, whilst the Bludgullet's crew stood around behind them on the fringe of the gathering. The golden fox took the floor, smiling as he made his address, his quick eyes watching everybeast closely.

"I'm Vizka Longtooth, cap'n o' der Sea Raiders. I just seen yore cap'n, Stringle, killed by dat lot up dere. Bunch o' cowards, wouldn't come down an' fight proper, slayed pore Stringle wid an arrer from far off. Jus' when we'd reached an agreement!"

Vizka paced up and down, eyeing the silent rats, waiting for a reaction. They stared dumbly back at him. He put a

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paw to the side of his mouth, as if imparting a secret. "Aye, an agreement, an' ya know worrit was?" There was still no reaction, so he continued dramatically. "Dat we all join t'gedder in one big 'orde to defeat dat lot up dere. Me'n Stringle woulda commanded t'gether, but now dat yore cap'n's been merdered, youse'll have ta take orders from me. Unless ye've got anudder cap'n?" Sticking the sword point down into the soil, Vizka draped the mace and chain around his neck, allowing his gaze to range over the assembly.

A voice spoke out. "Worrabout Gruntan Kurdly, 'e's our chief, Stringle always waited fer him afore doin' anythin'." The speaker was a big, lean, tough-looking rat.

Vizka began moving through the seated throng toward him. "Wot's yore name, mate?"

The Brownrat met the fox's stare. "Gurba, me name's Gurba."

Vizka stopped in front of him. "Well, let me tell ya sumthin', Gurba. Yore Cap'n Stringle was waitin' on der big chief. Aye, waitin', while youse Brownrats was gettin' slayed by dose stripe'ounds an' shrews atop o' dat rock. But Stringle couldn't stand ter lose no more mates, 'e got tired o' waitin' fer Kurdly. Dat's why me'n 'im made de agreement, see!"

Something about the twist of the Brownrat's lip warned Vizka. He took a pace back as Gurba stood, holding his big, flint-tipped spear loosely, but ready for action. There was open defiance in his tone as he told Vizka, "I ain't agreed to nothin', neither 'ave the rest o' my mates. We'll wait for Gruntan Kurdly, an' see wot 'e sez!"

Vizka seemed to wilt in front of the bold, lean rat. He turned away shrugging his shoulders. "Fair enuff, if'n dat's 'ow ya feel...." He spun around without warning, Gurba was taken by surprise. A clank of chain and the whirr of the steel-spiked ball was the last thing the Brownrat heard. There was a sickening crack of metal on bone, and Gurba lay dead on the ground with a smashed skull.

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The golden fox stood smiling, his overlong fangs exposed as he toyed with the mace, flicking it with one paw, and catching the ball in the other. His tone was almost playful as he addressed his dumbfounded audience.

"We'll leave Gurba 'ere, to wait fer Kurdly. Jus' put ya paw up if'n ya wants ter join 'im ... anybeast?" Not a single paw moved, the Brownrat horde sat in shocked silence, staring in awe at their new leader.

Vizka nodded, then got down to serious business. Retrieving his sword, he pointed to the plateau. "Wot's up dere, a coupla score o' liddle shrews, one rabbet, a squirrel an' two stripe'ounds. Dat's all wot stands atween us an vict'ry. An' look at us, mates. A fine crew o' Sea Raiders, an' a full 'orde 'o fightin' Brownrat warriors. One good charge'd wipe all our foes out, a force our size couldn't lose. Nobeast but a few ole cooks an' a pack o' toddlin' babes would be left in dat Abbey. Jus' picture it, you'n'me an' Gruntan Kurdly, marchin' through der gates o' Red-wall t'gether, wotja say, eh?"

The Bludgullet's crew knew what to do, they took up the cry. "Aye, Cap'n, we're wid ya! Yaaaahaaarrr!"

Caught in the wild moment, Brownrats leapt upright, waving spears, clubs and slings as they roared. "Kurdly, Kurdly! Kill kill kill!"

Vizka let them carry on awhile, even encouraging them by waving both sword and mace. He allowed them to carry on until they began to sound hoarse, then he stood on a boulder, calling for silence. "Enough, all of ye, I knows yer all good beasts an' true!" He glanced toward the westering sun. "We'll camp 'ere for der night. Glurma, get some 'elp an' feed dis lot, git some cookin' fires lit. Rest now, me buckoes, look to ya weppins, eat'n'sleep, 'cos at dawnlight tamorra we got some slayin' ta do!"

Vizka wandered about, quietly contacting several from his crew vermin. "Ragchin, Dogleg, Patchy, Bilger, Firty. Set up a fire, away from dose Brownrats, I wants werds wid ya!"

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35

It was the end of a hot, dry, dusty day on the high plateau. Osbil and Barbowla walked around the rim checking on the sentries. They paused at the western edge to see the scarlet orb of the sun descending amid strata of purple and gray clouds, some with gold-tipped underbellies.

Barbowla sighed, "A pretty picture, Log a Log, but I'd much sooner be seein' it from the doorstep of my holt up-river."

"Aye, me, too, mate, but we're up 'ere 'til the party ends for better or worse."

Barbowla pointed to a glow some distance off. "That clearin' in the trees yonder, I think the vermin are campin' there, that light looks like their fires."

Osbil studied the glow. "About six, maybe seven fires by the look of it."

"Ah well, we might get a bit of peace seein' as the foe's camped down for the night. I'll warn the sentries to keep their eyes peeled in case any vermin tries an ambush in the dark."

Osbil and Barbowla reported back to Gorath, who was sitting with Salixa, Maudie and Rangval around a small, boulder-ringed fire.

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The big badger yawned. "I think you're right, those not on guard can rest tonight. Vizka will probably be having his supper and planning his next move."

A moan came from Rangval. Barbowla turned to him. "What's the matter with your face, rogue?"

Rangval stirred the flames with his dagger tip. "Ah, 'twas just the mention of supper ..."

Maudie prodded him. "Don't even think about it, sah, we don't want you goin' off into vittles raptures again, wot."

The rogue squirrel looked injured by her attitude. "Ye've a harsh tongue, me beauty, but 'twas Gorath who mentioned vittles, not meself. Ah well, seein' as me freedom of speech is forbidden, I'll just have to give ye a bit of an ould song, eh?"

Maudie smiled. "You warble away to your heart's content, old lad, a jolly good ditty might cheer us up, wot!"

Rangval sat up straight, making ready to launch into song. "Thank ye kindly, miz. I'd like to start with a little thing entitled, 'Please pass the plate of peach'n'pear pudden.'"

Osbil waved a clenched paw. "Oh, no you won't!"

Rangval swiftly changed his selection. "Oh, right y'are, sir. Well, how about, 'Don't chomp cheese while yore mother's chewin' chestnuts'?" Rangval saw several Guosim shrews glaring at him and toying with their rapiers. He took the hint. "Er, as me third choice I'll give ye a rendition of me ould auntie's favourite. It's called 'The battle of the boiled beetroot an' how d'ye slice strawberry soup.'"

Maudie dived at the rogue and got him in a headlock. "Righto, you bushtailed bounder, now you've got two blinkin' options. You'll either hear me sing one called 'How to strangle a senseless squirrel,' with actions to suit the words, of course. Or you can simply belt up an' go t'sleep. Take your pick, sah!"

Rangval wailed as the haremaid's hold tightened.

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"Mercy, marm, if'n ye throttle me ye'll never forgive yore-self. Desist from squeezin' me ould windpipe, an' I'll take me rest with sealed lips, so I will!"

After that, silence fell over the plateau for awhile as some slept, and others lay there, thinking of what the dawn would bring. Gorath sat alongside Salixa, letting the little fire burn low. They both lay back, gazing up at the star-spangled wilderness of dark night skies.

Salixa chaffed her big friend quietly. "I thought you were going to sing for a moment back there."

Gorath gave a deep chuckle at the thought. "Who, me, sing? No thank you, I only ever sang to myself as I worked on the land in the Northern Isles. Sometimes it was just to break the silence and loneliness. I think I've got a pretty awful singing voice, I'd never break into song whilst oth-erbeasts are listening."

The slender, young badgermaid turned toward him, she saw the starlight reflected in his huge, dark eyes. "It must have been very hard for you. Did you ever get angry about your lot, stranded there with your aged grandparents? Tell me, were you aware of the Bloodwrath?"

Gorath passed a paw over the scarlet wound on his brow. "Not really, but looking back on things, I know that my grandfather could see the Bloodwrath in me. He never spoke of it, but he knew, I realise that now."

Salixa frowned thoughtfully. "How so?"

Gorath explained, "When Grandfather was still able to work, we toiled side by side, getting the earth ready to plant crops. Often we would come across a big boulder, or an old tree, barring our progress. We'd try together to move the boulder, or uproot the tree. When we failed, Grandfather would stop work and sit down, then he'd say, 'It's too much for a young one and an oldster, but your father could have done it alone. Aye, he'd get into a temper with that boulder, or that tree, he'd shout Eulalia at it, and kick the thing with his paws. Go on, young one, give it a try' So I did."

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The badgermaid continued questioning. "What happened?"

The big, young badger flexed his mighty paws as he recalled the incident. "The first time it was a rock, a huge granite boulder, half-buried in the frozen earth. I shouted Eulalia at it until I was roaring, I struck the bare rock with my clenched paws. I didn't feel any pain, just a mighty surge of power building within me. My chest was heaving as I sucked in huge gasps of air. Suddenly I was yelling, panting and seeing the boulder through a red mist. I flung myself upon it, thrusting both paws deep into the soil either side of the stone. Grandfather told me later that I plucked that rock from the earth, as easy as if I were lifting a babe from its cradle. I lifted it and flung it from me. Either I passed out after that, or fell asleep, but I couldn't remember anything, except what Grandfather told me. I uprooted trees in the same way. I became bigger and stronger, my muscles grew hard."

Salixa picked up one of his hefty paws, she studied the tracery of old scars crisscrossing the pad. "So your grandfather goaded you into Bloodwrath to get the heavy work done. That was so unfair."

Gorath smiled. "That's what Grandma used to say to him, she said he was making me into a Berserker, who would die just as my father had. But it never bothered me then, I did the work of three badgers. Often I enjoyed the feeling, the rage and power, the knowledge that nothing could withstand my wild strength."

Gorath could see Salixa beginning to wince, he had unconsciously tightened his grip on her paw. Embarrassed, he quickly released her, changing the subject. "Enough about me. What about you? I'll wager you can sing."

She nodded. "I like to sing, but quietly, to myself. Sometimes I have sung for the Tabura, he enjoys my voice. Would you like me to sing for you?"

Gorath closed his eyes, afraid to look her way. "I could think of nothing I'd like better."

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Everybeast heard the plaintive sweet voice, which, though gentle, seemed to radiate around the plateau.

"Let me wander here forever, through the glades where once I played,

Long ago in carefree seasons, mid the noontide sun and shade.

I will see again before me, all those smiling friends I knew, gone alas to memory's keeping, faithful comrades good and true.

Oh, those days of youth and splendour, when we dreamed of glorious war, vows were made to keep forever, and return back here once more.

Then the clouds began to gather, winter came, we marched away, singing songs of love and valour, off we went into the fray.

Comes a warrior returning, to old autumn's gold-clad trees, where the leaves do fall like teardrops, on the gently sighing breeze.

Casting sword and shield aside now, I stand weary and forlorn, in the silence of the woodlands, I will rest until the dawn.

Let me sleep and dream forever, of the golden days of yore, and those friends who marched off with me, who'll return alas no more."

Gorath opened his eyes. Gazing into the embers of the fire, he murmured, "I've never heard a song so sad and beautiful, where did you learn it?"

Drawing her cloak closer, Salixa lay down to rest. "The

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Tabura taught it to me, he said it was something he had written a long time ago."

Gorath closed his eyes again. "Your Tabura is a wise and wonderful creature. I would like to spend some time with him--say, a few seasons. I'm sure he would have much to teach me."

The badgermaid paused before speaking again. "He was only my Tabura for a certain time. Now I will never see him again, and nor will you, friend."

Gorath was mystified. "How do you know this?"

Salixa replied, "Because he told me that the parting of our ways would come when we reached Redwall Abbey. I was sad at first, but the Tabura explained. He said that he had taught me many things, now it was my turn to go out into the world, to teach and help others. He also knew you and I would meet on the western plain, not far from Red-wall, because we were destined to travel together, while he lived out his days at the Abbey. Now I know what he meant, I am sad no longer. I have you to look after. Sleep now, Gorath the Flame."

Gorath obeyed her. He did not know what to think, he was happy, quite puzzled, but certain he would never leave Salixa's side. They both slept then, the badgermaid to her own dreams and Gorath to his. Visions of heroic and wise warriors visited them both as they dwelt in the Halls of Slumber. Martin the Redwall Abbey Warrior, the Tabura, Lord Asheye and one whom Gorath recognised as his long-dead father. Each had their own special message to impart to the young badgers, each had a different instruction for Salixa and Gorath.

Maudie found she could not sleep, the feeling of impending battle on the morrow hung over her. Also, sleep was out of the question with Rangval close by, snoring like two wild hogs guzzling soup. She went and relieved a couple of Guosim sentries at the plateau rim, where she was

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joined by Barbowla's sturdy wife, Kachooch. The otterwife winked at her knowingly.

"For somebeasts like us, sleep's hard t'come by on a night like this, Miz Maudie."

The haremaid nodded. "Indeed it is, marm, an' twice as hard with a rogue squirrel snorin' nearby."

Kachooch chuckled quietly. "Aye, an' maybe thrice as hard bein' surrounded by shrews with growly stummicks. I thought the battle had already started with all the noise that gang was makin'. Have ye been in many battles afore, Maudie?"

Keeping her gaze on the glow from the distant camp-fires, Maudie answered, "Oh, one or two y'know, pretty difficult to avoid skirmishin' bein' a fightin' hare o' the Long Patrol. Tell me, marm, d'you think those vermin fires are beginnin' to die down, or are they still as bright?"

The otterwife peered hard at the distant glow. "I'd say they've died down a mite, why d'ye ask?"

Maudie explained, "If the fires are allowed t'burn low, that usually means the vermin are sleepin'. But if they burn fresh'n'bright, that means they're jolly well up to some mischief."

Kachooch scratched her rudder. "What sort o' mischief?"

It was the haremaid's turn to wink at the otterwife. "It's an old trick, marm, pretty stupid one if you ask me. If the rascals want to sneak up an' ambush us in the dark, they always leave a couple of vermin behind, to keep the fires burnin' bright. Just so we'll think they're still in camp."

The otterwife was puzzled. "Doesn't sound too stupid t'me."

Maudie tapped the side of her head. "Think. Who'd stay awake on a summer night, to pile wood on fires? Wouldn't it be more sensible to sleep before the battle, like our chaps are doin' right now?"

Kachooch grinned. "Yore right, of course, but if'n 'tis more sensible t'sleep, why are we sittin' here wide awake?"

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Maudie shrugged. "I suppose because the most highly sensible of us has to stay alert, to watch the foe."

Kachooch shook with silent mirth as she cast an eye over the snoring plateau defenders. "Don't say much for that lot, do it?"

Maudie smiled. "Indeed it doesn't. Let's hope the blinkin' vermin types are snorin' their thick heads off twice as flippin' hard, wot!"

At the vermin camp, the Brownrats were complying with Maudie's wish. However, Vizka and his cohorts were wide awake, the golden fox was explaining his plans for the battle. "Lissen, mateys, we've got der Brownrats on our side now. If'n we kin get dem up on dat rock tommorer dey'll slaughter dem Abbeybeasts, der Brownrats'll 'ave 'em far outnumbered."

Ragchin ventured an opinion. "I was t'inkin', Cap'n, wot if'n dis Gruntin' Kurly shows up before de attack, wot then?"

"Gudd question, bucko, 'ere's wot ya do. Yew keep Kurly talkin' 'til I gets be'ind 'im ..." Vizka brandished his mace and Martin's sword under Ragchin's scruffy beard. "Den jus' leave 'im t'me!"

The small crewrat Firty wanted to know more about his role in the coming fray. "Wot ja want us t'do, Cap'n, lead der charge?"

Vizka beckoned them closer, dropping his voice. "No, Firty, mate, I wants youse, dat's yerself, Dogleg, Ragchin, Patchy an' Bilger, ta stick close t'me. I've told de other crewbeasts ta go up the rock wid der Brownrats, dey should be able ta do der job." He looked from one to the other of the chosen five. "But jus' in case dey don't, or if'n everythin' goes wrong, youse are de ones I trusts, ter get me away safe, see!"

Bilger, who was the slowest witted, enquired, "Er, getcha away, Cap'n, where to?"

Vizka looked as if he were going to strike Bilger for his

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stupidity, but he smiled, patting the stoat's cheek good-naturedly. "Off through dese trees, to dat path we came down. Back up it dis time, to the BludgulletV

Bilger chuckled. "Oh, d'ship, I'd fergot about dat!"

Patchy nudged him roughly. "But der cap'n 'ad'nt."

Vizka winked at Patchy. "Right, mate. A good cap'n always takes care of 'is trusty crew, yore d'ones I chose ta go wid me. Now lissen, youse all keep t'der rear wid me, we'll take care of any backsliders wot doesn't join in der charge. Like I said, we should win 'cos we've got der numbers on our side. But, if'n somethin' does go wrong, ye'll 'ear me shout dis. 'Fight on, me brave buckoes!' Dat's der signal, we leaves 'em to it an' makes for der ship. Hah, dere's plenty of other ways to de easy life, we'll sail off to der far south t'see wot der pickin's are like, eh, mates?"

The five vermin agreed readily, happy they would not have to fight, and maybe die, with the rest.

Ragchin spoke for them all. "We're wid ya, Cap'n!"

Vizka nodded. "Right, we'll set off for der rock just afore dawn. One good chargeTl catch 'em still nappin'. Firty, tell Glurma to keep two Brownrats back. Dey can keep der fires goin' so 'twill look like we're layin' about eatin' brekkist."

Firty went off to find old Glurma, shaking his head in admiration at Vizka. The golden fox had thought of everything, he was a smartbeast sure enough.

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36

Dawn broke in a gray haze, without a single ray of sunlight, or wisp of breeze. It was like an autumn day instead of late summer. Swathes of fine drizzle dampened the woodlands, causing heavy mist to rise amid the trees. Maudie stood at the edge of the plateau with Rangval and Osbil, surveying the scene below, the rogue squirrel spoke in hushed tones.

"Shure, will ye look at it? I'll wager ye couldn't see yore paw behind ye in all that fog!"

Maudie reprimanded him smartly. "Yes sah, but we're not lookin' for that. If we're not jolly well wide awake an' alert, 'tis quite likely we'll find ourselves ambushed an' overrun by the bally enemy, wot. So keep those eyes peeled!"

Kachooch came hurrying over, from where she had been standing with the haremaid during the night. "Miz Maud, I can see the campfires glowin' bright, even through this mist!"

Osbil scowled sourly as his stomach rumbled. "Aye, that's 'cos that scum down there ain't short o' vittles, they're prob'ly cookin' brekkist."

Maudie licked at the drizzling rain which clung to her lips. "No such thing, bucko, this is it, stand fast the buffs,

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'tis death before dinner. Right, now, you chaps have a word with our badger chums, then put the word about quietly. Muster to the edges in full fightin' order. Let's see if we can't turn the ambush on the confounded vermin, wot!"

Vizka Longtooth drew his cloak close, against the prevailing drizzle. He sheltered in the bushes, surrounded by his chosen aides. Raindrops glistened on his fangs. "Dis is perfect for der surprise attack, no wind, rain, fog. Dey won't know wot hit 'em. Dogleg, Patchy, go an' tell 'em t'start the first wave climbin'. Once dey're outta sight, send der second lot up. Don't fergit, tell 'em ta keep silent. Now go!"

With ten of the Bludgullet's crew to lead them, and another ten at the rear to urge them on, half of the Brownrat horde began scrambling up toward the plateau. They were a barbaric sight, daubed with plant dyes, armed with primitive spears and clubs, escorted by the vermin Sea Raiders. Once they were about a third of the way up, the second wave came in their wake, with the remainder of Vizka's crew shepherding them.

The going was not easy, with rocks made slippery by the drizzle, and any patches of earth rendered slick and muddy. The Sea Raiders, fearing their captain's wrath, urged the Brownrats on. Trying not to betray their position by shouting, they swiped out with the flats of their blades, muttering, "Git movin', ya big, dumb savages, c'mon, shift yer paws!" and "Ahoy there, bucko, no back-slidin', up y'go!"

Gorath patrolled the defenders on the plateau rim, checking that their weapons were at the ready. He was accompanied by Salixa and Maudie, both of whom had armed themselves with slings. The haremaid could see that the Guosim were eager for action, so she constantly cautioned them.

"Don't go hurlin' stones, spears or arrows until you can

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actually see the blighters. All this fog an' mist can create false impressions, y'know."

A young shrew twirled his sling restlessly. "I know, marm, I keep thinkin' I kin see their ugly mugs comin' at me through the mist, but it ain't nothin'. Plays tricks wid the eyes, all this fog."

Maudie patted the young warrior's shoulder. "You'll be alright, just trust your own best judgement. Don't worry, we're all a bit edgy, wot!"

Rangval loomed up chuckling. "Ah well, 'tis no surprise we're edgy. Sure, aren't we standin' on the edge here?"

The haremaid half-grinned. "Oh, very droll indeed, sah ..." At the sight of a painted Brownrat face materialising out of the fog behind Rangval, she whirled her sling.

However, Gorath the Flame was even quicker. Leaping forward he thrust his pitchfork, catching the Brownrat in the throat. The vermin vanished with a horrible gurgle.

Like lightning, the war cries of the defenders rang out. "Eulaliiiiaaaaa! Logalogalogaloooooog!"

They were echoed by the advancing horde. "Kurdly Kurdly kill kill kill! Blood'n'bones! Hahaaaarr!"

The battle was on.

Maudie was everywhere at once, swinging a loaded sling at vermin heads, stamping and kicking at paws that came over the top, yelling like a wildbeast. "Yaaarrr! Blood'n'vinegar, chaps!"

Rangval, with a dagger in either paw, scuttled, crouching crablike as he circled the rim, stabbing out left and right. "Arrah, step up, ye villains, an' meet the rogue!"

Osbil saw a shrew take a spear through his heart, the Guosim chieftain ran to fill the gap as his comrade fell. His rapier weaved a flashing pattern in the ceaseless drizzle as he carved and thrust, howling aloud. "S'death to ye, vermin, an' I'm the beast to bring it! Logalogalooooog!"

Salixa tried to keep at Gorath's side, fearing that he might take the Bloodwrath and fling himself over at the

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enemy. The huge, young badger was a fearsome sight, often he would cast Tung, his pitchfork, to one side, and grab a vermin from the edge. Lifting the foebeast high above his head, he would hurl him, screaming, into the mist-filled void. Salixa felt the rain driving on one side of her face, she called out in her excitement, "A wind is springing up!"

Maudie whooped. "Eulaliiiaaaa! That'll shift this bloomin' mist, wot! Come on, you vermin, let's see your foul faces. Come and face us!"

Like a magical spell, the driving wind cleared the air. Rangval groaned. "I wish ye hadn't said that, me darlin', just look at this mob comin' up at us!"

Brownrats and crew vermin could be clearly seen now, swarming up the cliffsides in their masses. There was enough of the enemy to swamp the plateau twice over. Maudie was beyond reason in her mad fury. She battered away with a captured Brownrat spear, roaring, "Yaaahaaar, let's see how many of 'em we can take with us, make 'em pay a dear price for this rock!"

Vizka Longtooth stepped out from the brush cover, his teeth bared in a triumphal grin as he turned to look at the plateau, where vermin were starting to clamber up onto the flat summit. "Guts'n' 'ellsteeth, dey've made it!"

Almost half of the first wave were on top, the second wave were only a short distance from joining them. Ragchin performed a little dance of delight. "Ya did it, Cap'n, we're winnin'. Yeeehoooo!"

A crew member, who was leaping up onto the plateau, heard Ragchin's shout. He turned, waving his blade, roaring back down to his shipmate, "Yeeeeh--"

Vizka saw him topple forward, with an arrow through him. The golden fox stared at Ragchin. "Wot's goin' on up dere?"

From behind him a bloodcurdling war cry rang out. "Redwaaaaaaaalllllll!"

It was Orkwil Prink and Abbot Daucus, heading the

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largest, most motley crowd of creatures ever assembled outside of Redwall Abbey. Scores of squirrel archers were sending flights of arrows zipping into the climbing vermin. These squirrels stayed in the upper treetops, moving neither backward or forward. In serried ranks upon the boughs they kept a constant shower of shafts, winging like angry wasps, dealing death widespread into the enemy. Moles, hedgehogs, mice, otters and more shrews, wielding a staggering array of makeshift weapons, came bulling through bush and shrub, howling fiercely. "Red-waaaaaaalllllll! Redwaaaaaaaallllll!"

Some crewbeasts and Brownrats came hurrying back to where Vizka was standing with his aides. The weasel named Jungo was clearly perplexed. He stared dully at the golden fox.

"We was up dere, Cap'n, I t'ink we was winnin', den arrows started bringin' our beasts down. Who is it, Cap'n, wot's all der shoutin' about?"

Vizka laughed, he shook Jungo by the paw, and moved among the others patting backs and nodding. "It ain't nothin', friends, I'll take care of it!" He gave a significant wink to Ragchin and the others. Gesturing Jungo to go back to attacking the plateau, Vizka called aloud, "Fight on! Fight on, me brave buckoes!" As Jungo and the Brownrats charged off to do his bidding, Vizka whispered to his five crewbeasts, "Time ta get outta dis place, take me ta the BludgulletV

The tide had turned on top of the plateau, now there were not so many vermin about. Maudie glanced down at those who were about halfway up. They had retreated from being a hairsbreadth from their goal, they seemed bewildered. Vizka Longtooth's shouts urged them to go forward, he was waving sword and mace as he called for them to fight on. However, the victory cries of vengeful Guosim shrews, and the carcasses of vermin hurtling down on them, swiftly decided their course of action. They

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turned and fled in retreat, attempting to avoid their new-assailants. The shouts of the Redwall supporters were everywhere. It was retribution time for Sea Raiders and the once-feared Brownrats of Gruntan Kurdly.

The fire of battle was in the blood of Mad Maudie (the Hon.) Mugsberry Thropple. She feinted with a right uppercut, and dealt a double flying footpaw kick to a large, fat Brownrat, who shot off into empty space with a despairing wail.

Rangval shook her paw cheerily. "We're saved, me darlin', look at 'em, the grand ould gang, an' wid our Orkwil leadin' the charge like the hero he is!"

The pair were almost knocked flat by a rush of Guosim, headed by Osbil, waving two rapiers like windmill sails. "We'll be singin' a Bladechant tonight, mates, c'mon, let's get 'em. Logalogalogalooooooog!"

Caught up in the moment, Maudie and Rangval scrambled over the rim, and went sliding downhill in the mire, chasing the remnants of their enemies. Gorath and Salixa stood watching the pursuit for a moment, then the big badger went and retrieved his pitchfork from where it lay nearby. He turned to Salixa. "I must go now, swiftly, I had a dream...."

The badgermaid silenced him with a upraised paw. "Go then, I will follow you as my dream told me to."

Without another word, he touched Tung to his flamelike scar, in salute to her, and vanished down the opposite side of the rim. A moment later the plateau was deserted, apart from the bodies of the slain. Salixa had followed the trail of Maudie and the rest. She, too, had a dream to fulfill.

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37

By midmorning the rain had ceased and the wind became a mere whisper of breeze. Mossflower came back under the spell of halcyon summer. Watching the back trail, to see they were not being followed, Vizka and his five cohorts emerged from the woodlands. Dripping with dew and drizzle from the foliage, they halted on the path, panting as they got their bearings. Redwall Abbey's bell tower was visible to the south, the golden fox turned to face north. "Dat way to der ford an' d'ship."

Firty cocked an ear at a sound from the woodlands. "Somebeast comin', Cap'n, we been follered."

Vizka ran across the path. "In der ditch, quick!"

They leapt into the ditch, which separated the path from the flatlands. It was full of mud and nettles, and was a sticky and uncomfortable landing, but nobeast made a sound. Crouched on the ditchbed, the crew vermin held their breath as Vizka risked a speedy glance over the bank. He uttered a sigh of relief as a familiar cackle sounded from the underbrush.

It was Glurma, the fat, old cook of the Bludgullet. She waddled across and peered into the ditch, treating her shipmates to a snaggletoothed grin. "Heehee, ya wuddent t'ink o' sneakin' off widout ole Glurma, now, would ye?"

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Vizka scowled. "Anyone else follerin' us?"

Glurma sat down on the path. "Only me, Cap'n, jus' ole Glurma. Der rest of ya fine crew's prob'ly waitin' at 'ell-gates right now, pore fools."

The golden fox glared at her. "Alright, ya better git down 'ere wid de others."

Glurma twitched her snout at the rank odour of mud and wet loam. She shook her head. "Nah, I'm too long in me seasons t'be wadin' round in dat lot. I'll jus' walk on der path alongside ya."

Vizka beckoned, as though he had something secret to impart. The fat cook bent, so he could whisper in her ear. She did not even see the spiked metal mace, which snuffed out her life in the wink of an eye. Vizka stepped back disdainfully. "Stupid ole fool, she'd give us away walkin' along in clear view. Stow 'er down 'ere, Glurma ain't goin' nowheres!"

Shocked into silence by the swift and callous murder, the crewbeasts obeyed their captain's order. Vizka thrust the sword of Martin through his waist sash, he shouldered the mace without a backward glance at his victim. "Git goin', 'tis safer down 'ere where we can't be seen!"

Back amid the woodlands near the plateau, Orkwil was being reunited with his friends. Rangval ruffled the young hedgehog's headspikes fondly.

"We thought ye were a goner when ye went astray. Where did ye go, mate?"

Orkwil related his story. "I was climbin' up to the top o' that rock, with you an' Maudie, in the dark. Then I tripped an' fell, right down the hill. Must've banged my head agin a rock, 'cos I blacked out for awhile. Then I came around a bit, an' went wanderin' off. I was still only half-conscious, an' there was vermin all over the place, Brownrats an' Sea Raiders, far too many of 'em, I thought. So I made me way back to Redwall, an' reported everythin' to the Abbot an' that good ole badger, Tabura I think ye call him."

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Abbot Daucus took up the tale. "We knew you had to be rescued, so the Tabura and I took a chance. I marched from the Abbey, taking every able-bodied beast with me. The Tabura, with only the Dibbuns and old ones, stayed back to guard Redwall. He sounded out an alarm on both our Abbey bells. Such a din! I wonder you didn't hear it back here. The Tabura made those bells ring! They never have been so powerfully tolled.

"As our friends arrived to answer the call, from all over Mossflower, they were sent to join with us. We arrived in sight of the plateau, surrounded by a veritable army. Kin-beasts, tribal relatives, some we had helped or befriended in bygone seasons, even a bunch of Riverdogs and some roving Guosim. It made my heart soar to see so many who love Redwall!"

Maudie came running to congratulate Orkwil. "By the left, right, front'n'centre, you've done us proud, young Orkers. What a show, hoorah to you, sah!" She threw a paw around Rangval's shoulders. "Well, well, what d'ye think, Rangee, isn't our little pal the absolute bloomin' bees' knees, wot?"

The rogue squirrel agreed heartily. "Ah, t'be shure he is, miz, but yore only lookin' at half the crowd him an' the good Father Abbot fetched with 'em. Hah! The other half of yore warriors are chasin' the tails off Brownrats an' vermin all over the woodlands, aye, an' I'll stake me tail they won't be takin' many o' the bad ould scum prisoners. I think by nightfall that Mossflower won't be bothered by invaders an' plunderers no more!"

Maudie chuckled. "Especially if friend Gorath is huntin' 'em, wot wot! By the bye, has anybeast seen him of late? He's partially my responsibility y'know."

Osbil pointed with his rapier. "Here comes Salixa, she'll know if anybeast does!"

Abbot Daucus took the badgermaid's paw. "That was a brave show you put on up there at the plateau, miz, and your friend Gorath. Where is he?"

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Salixa explained in a word. "Gone!"

Maudie's ears stood up like pikestaffs. "Gone? Where's he flippin' well gone to, who's gone with him, is he on his own, why didn't you stop him? Gone, is that all you've got to bloomin' say, marm, gone?"

The Abbot stared Maudie into silence before turning to Salixa. "I can tell by your eyes that you know where Gorath has gone. Pray, would you enlighten us?"

The badgermaid explained, as briefly as she could. "Gorath has gone to fulfill a dream he had last night. I, too, had a dream, I must follow him. Orkwil, if you wish to regain Martin's sword you'll come with me. Maudie, you must come, too, if Gorath is to realise his destiny. Now we must go quickly."

Benjo Tipps enquired, "Who sent your dream, miss?"

Salixa replied tersely, "My Tabura and your Martin."

The Abbot settled any further comment. "Then you must go right now. Good fortune attend you!"

Rangval grasped his dagger hilts. "I'm with ye, missy, if'n ye'll have me along?"

Skipper Rorc nodded to his cousin Barbowla. "I've been out the action too long, I'm comin', too, are ye with me, Barb?"

As Barbowla picked up his javelin, Osbil spoke out. "Looks like ye be needin' a few Guosim to round the feast off, we're with ye!"

The slender badgermaid bowed gracefully. "My thanks, friends. Follow me!"

Gorath the Flame was following his fate. The big badger's footpaws pounded the earth like triphammers as voices echoed through his head, directing him. North through the vast tract of Mossflower he raced, with a speed which was surprising for one of his size. Pictures raced through his mind, the flicker of firelight and shadow, a smiling fox swinging a spiked metal ball at his head. Once! Twice! As he lay helpless on the floor of a little farmhouse.

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Gorath the Flame was following his fate. Like a runaway juggernaut, smashing through bushes which barred his path, plunging through streams in a welter of icy spray. The coarse laughter of Sea Raiders rang in his ears; branch, twig, plant and thorn were crushed in his headlong flight through the silent woodlands. Mingled with the laughter, he could hear the anguished screams of two ancient badgers, his blood kin, struggling feebly in the locked and burning building.

Gorath the Flame was following his fate, still directed by unseen forces. Nausea, an iron chain, a padlocked waist manacle. The ship plunging wildly over the cold Nothern Seas. Starvation, a flailing rope's end, the pain lancing through his head. More laughter, the glitter of a golden fox's long fangs, the taunts and insults he was forced to bear in silence.

Weaving around the moss-clad trunks of mighty forest trees. Breath rising like a bellows in his cavernous chest. His paw grasping the pitchfork like a vise. Sunlight and shadow racing by, fernbeds that his footpaws bulled a swathe through. Startled birds flapping skywards, to avoid this giant, heading onward to the river, like a coming storm. Aye, Gorath the Flame was following his fate!

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When he was confident that they were not being pursued, Vizka Longtooth slowed his pace. The fact that his ambitions of conquering Redwall, plus the cowardly, cut-and-run retreat he had been forced to make, rankled him deeply. Now he had to reestablish his authority over what was left of his once-numerous crew. The stretch of ditchbed they were travelling now was nettle-free, and drying out nicely in the late summer sunlight. The golden fox seated himself on a stone, allowing the crewbeasts to continue onward before he called to them.

"Where are ya runnin' to, dere ain't no 'urry. Sit ya down an' rest awhile, mates."

Sheepishly the five vermin came back to sit with him.

He stared pityingly at them, there was contempt in his tone. "Hah, wot are ya all dashin' off like frightened liddle insects for, eh?"

Jungo, who was not the brightest of weasels, said by way of explanation, "Yew said ya wanted t'get away quick, Cap'n. Prob'ly 'cos ya was scared o' dat big stripe'ound follerin' ya."

There was a sickening thud as the mace smote Jungo. He crumpled, lifeless, to the drying mud. The golden fox

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did not even rise, he grinned as he turned Jungo facedown, with a shove of his footpaw.

"Wot's dat ya said, scared? Me, Vizka Longtooth, de greatest o' Sea Raider cap'ns, scared! Ahoy, speak up now, anymore o' yew mis'rable scum wants ta call me scared?"

Knowing there would be no response, Vizka put aside his mace and drew Martin's wondrous sword. He waved it, making the blade flash in the sunlight, then thrust it, point first, into the ditchbed. Watching the weapon quiver, he ignored the four remaining crew, speaking to Jungo, whose lifeless eyes stared up at the sun. "Dis is der greatest sword I ever seen, but I ain't slayed anybeast wid it yet. Haha, mebbe I shoulda tried it out on yew, eh? Nah, a pretty blade like dis is too good fer a fool weasel. But der next one who strokes me d'wrong way, dat'll be der beast who'll taste der sword, right, shipmates?"

There was, however, no reply. Whilst Vizka had been admiring the sword, and addressing the dead Jungo, the four vermin had crept away and climbed out of the ditch.

The golden fox stood on the stone, which had served him as a seat, and peered over the ditchtop. They were not on the path, or in the woodland fringe. Turning, he saw them, running off over the flatlands to the west. The golden fox would have traded either of his weapons for a longbow and quiver of arrows at that moment. Instead he was reduced to shouting after them.

"Git back 'ere, ya cowards, I'm yer cap'n, an' dat's an' order. Git back 'ere right now!"

But they had a head start and they kept going. All but one, the small rat, Firty. He halted and yelled aloud, "We ain't comin' back, Longtooth, let's see 'ow far ye'll get wid-out a crew, go an' sail yer own ship!"

Vizka waved the sword and mace aloft. "Git back 'ere, ya gutless worms, or I'll slay youse all!"

Firty scoffed. "Hah, ya don't stan' a chance o' catchin' us! C'mon, try it, stupid!"

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Firty took off after his shipmates. Enraged by the impertinent little rat, Vizka scrambled out onto the plain and gave chase.

It was pointless. Fear lent speed to the crewbeasts' paws, beside which they began to split up, fanning out as they went. With the handicap of sword and mace weighing on him, Vizka soon gave up. He stood panting, tongue lolloping out over his two long fangs.

Firty halted, too, nimbly he skipped back a few paces, mocking his former captain. "Yore on yer own now, ya dirty murderer!"

For the first time, there was a whine of self-pity in Vizka's reply. "Firty, mate, wot did I ever do to harm ya?"

The little rat picked up a stone and slung it. He stood gritting his teeth as it fell far short of the target. Firty gave vent to all his stifled feelings as he replied to the golden fox. "Ya never did nothin' to 'arm me, apart from the kicks an' insults I put up wid from ya. But worrabout the ones ya killed ... ole Glurma, an' pore Jungo who never 'armed anybeast. Yer no good, Longtooth! Wot sorta cap'n sneaks off an' leaves all but five of 'is crew t'be slain by de enemy? An' yore a coward, too, ya ran 'cos yer frightened o' d'big stripe'ound. Well, yer on yer own now, ya murderer. An' I 'opes I never sees yer ugly mug agin!" Firty turned and bounded off without a backward glance, leaving Vizka completely deserted.

Vizka reviewed his position aloud. "Let der maggots run, dey was never any use t'me, ungrateful blaggards, leavin' dere cap'n widout a crew to sail 'is ship, how'm I supposed t'do dat?" Venting his rage on the earth, he stabbed at the ditchbed with Martin's sword, thinking back upon the Bludgullet's ill-starred voyage, and his subsequent failure to possess Redwall Abbey.

At the thought of his ship, it suddenly occurred to Vizka that he had left two of the crew to guard it. He could not recall their names, but that did not bother him unduly.

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Fortune had taken yet another turn for the golden fox. With himself and a pair of able-bodied vermin, he would manage to sail the Bludgullet.

Considerably cheered, Vizka briskly continued his journey, with a jumble of future plans revolving in his fertile imagination. Crewbeasts would not be difficult to recruit as his ship skirted the coastlands on its southern voyage. Vizka had two ways of bringing stray vermin into his service, the first of which was eminently simple: join my crew or die! The second method was for those he judged to be valuable as Sea Raiders. These he could flatter, offering them plunder, the good life and promotion aboard ship.

Vizka Longtooth could not resist laughing aloud, where were they now, his former crew, either dead alongside a horde of Brownrats, or deserters, running for their lives. He marvelled aloud at his own cunning and resilience. "I gotta fine ship, a good mace an' chain, aye, an' a sword like no other beast alive owns. Hah, a new crew? I kin pick dem up anyplace, me, Vizka Longtooth, der boldest sea raidin' cap'n dat ever strode a deck!"

Maudie trotted up front with Orkwil, Salixa, Osbil and Skipper Rorc. They had skirted the base of the plateau, and were now following Gorath's well-defined trail, northward through the woodlands. The haremaid observed wryly, "There's one jolly good thing, chaps, we don't need any blinkin' expert tracker, t'sniff the breeze an' look for bent blades of grass. Friend Gorath left a trail like a bloomin' pack o' stampedin' wolves, wot!"

Salixa nodded as she viewed the trampled and broken vegetation ahead of them. "I think he's back to his former strength. How far is it to the ford, Osbil?"

The young shrew was not sure. "Couldn't say for sure, bein' in the woodlands an' not on the path, miss. Wot d'you reckon, Skip?"

Skipper Rorc glanced up at the position of the sun. "Oh,

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if'n we keep goin' at this rate, we should see the ford come early evenin'. But why d'ye think the big feller's makin' for River Moss?"

Orkwil leapt over a half-flattened bush." 'Cos if'n Gorath's after the fox an' his crew, they're bound to get to their ship. Once they can make it t'the sea there'll be no catchin' the villains, right, miss?"

The badgermaid kept her eyes on the trail. "I only know what my dream told me, my fate is intertwined with that of Gorath, it's my duty to follow him."

Maudie merely shrugged. "As for me, I'm only doin' my duty under orders from a Badger Lord an' my commandin' officer. If I return to Salamandastron minus a blinkin' badger, good golly, one shudders t'think of it, wot, I'd be on a fizzer for the rest o' my bloomin' life!"

Rangval winked at her. "Don't you go frettin', me bold beauty, shure we'll find Gorath for ye."

Maudie sniffed indignantly. "Huh, these confounded heroic types, you'd think instead o' rushin' off to face their fate, they'd jolly well sit still an' let the Fate come to them, wot!"

Salixa smiled grimly. "A pleasant thought, but let's save our breath and step up the pace. There's no telling what we may find, if and when we catch up with Gorath."

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Just short of the actual ford, the Bludgullet lay at anchor in the tranquil waters of the River Moss. The two ferrets who had been left to guard the ship, Baul and Widge, had become accustomed to their life of happy idleness. Both beasts lay on the stern deck, sharing a flagon of ship's grog. Attached to their footpaws were fishing lines, Widge watched his float moodily, urging it to move.

"Bob up'n'down why don't ye, we ain't 'ad a bite all day."

His companion had fashioned himself a sun hat, from a large dock leaf. He pulled it down, shading his eyes. "I t'ink dose fish are like us, mate, too lazy t'move."

Widge yawned. "Go'n git another flagon o' grog, mate, dis one's empty, lookit." Sticking out his tongue, he upended the flagon, a single drop trickled out, landing on his nose. He tossed the empty flagon into the river.

His companion, Baul, closed both eyes, mimicking a snore. "Can't 'ear ya, mate, I'm asleep, git it yerself."

Widge halfheartedly threw the flagon cork at him and missed. " 'Tis yore turn t'go, I went last time."

Baul sniggered. "Aye, so ya did, but I can't go 'cos I'm der laziest beast aboard dis ship."

Widge decided to play the game, he shut his eyes. "No

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ya ain't, I am. If'n dis ship started t'sink right now, I wouldn't move. Dat's wot ya call real lazy."

Baul thought for a moment before replying. "Ya call dat lazy? Lissen, mate, I wouldn't even budge if'n dis ole ship went afire!"

A cavernous rumble sounded out, almost above their heads. Before they could stir, both vermin were pinned to the deck by the stout wooden handle of a pitchfork, which pressed down on their chests. Gorath the Flame leaned on the shaft, his deep, growling voice turning the blood in their veins to ice water.

"My kinbeasts weren't lazy, they were old and weak, so they couldn't better their way out of a burning dwelling, after sea-raiding vermin locked them in!"

Baul and Widge found themselves staring up into a pair of burning, bloodshot eyes, surmounted by a flamelike crimson scar. Panicked words tumbled from the ferrets' mouths.

"It wasn't us, lord, on me oath it wasn't!"

"We knew nothin' about it, sir, honest!"

"Aye, we're alius left be'ind ter guard der ship!"

"Cap'n Vizka ain't let us ashore fer seasons, ya gotta believe us, sir, please!"

The huge, young badger pushed down harder upon the pitchfork shaft. "Has Longtooth returned here yet?"

Grunting and wheezing as the breath was crushed from them, the crewbeasts gasped painfully.

"No, lord ... 'e ain't returned ... yet."

"We d-don't know when ta expect 'im ... uuuunnhh!"

Gorath released the pressure from their bodies. "Get up, quickly!"

They staggered upright, tenderly holding cracked ribs. As the pitchfork, Tung, was levelled at them, both vermin wept brokenly. "Aw, sir, ya ain't gonna slay us are ye, 'ave mercy!"

"We ain't nothin' but pore shipwatchers, 'tis Cap'n Vizka ya wants, but watch yoreself, 'e's an evil fox."

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With a massive effort, Gorath fought to shake off the Bloodwrath, which threatened to engulf him. Whump! He slammed the tines of Tung deep into the deck timbers. Grabbing the two ferrets by the scruffs of their necks, he lifted them up bodily. They screeched in terror as he shook them like rag dolls.

"Yeeeeeek! Oh mercy, sir, mercy!"

The young badger's chest expanded as he sucked in a huge gulp of air. He threw them from him, clear over the stern rail into the River Moss. Leaning over the rail, he bared his teeth at Widge and Baul. "Go! That way, north. Go now before I change my mind and kill you both. Go while you still have your lives!" Gorath turned his back on them, knowing that when he looked again, all he would see was the muddied water they had churned up in their mad flight.

Retrieving his weapon, Gorath stood there shaking, forcing himself to calm down. Making his way to the galley, he went in and sat down. Overcome by thirst, he drank a full pitcher of water. Then he sat still, awaiting the arrival of the fox.

Shimmering calm had settled over the ford as noontide softened to early evening. Blue damselflies hovered over the River Moss, tiny, winged insects flitted about in myriad patterns, whilst a trout made a halfhearted jump at a mayfly, which skimmed gracefully out of harm's way. A meadowbrown butterfly stretched its dun-hued wings, settling close to the golden fox's footpaw.

Vizka was oblivious to the tranquil charms of the summer's day. Shielded by clumps of knotweed and hemlock, he lay watching the Bludgullet from a short distance. There was no sign of movement from on board the vessel. Had he brought crewbeasts with him, he would have sent them to investigate his apparently deserted ship. Several times since his arrival, he had flicked pebbles at the side of the craft, with no result. He rose slowly. There was

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nothing for it, he would have to board her and see for himself.

Placing one paw cautiously in front of the other, he approached. Still no sound from the ship. Gripping one of the midship mooring lines, he pulled gently on it. The Bludgullet drifted smoothly to the bank until it scraped bottom. Martin's swordblade clattered against the rail as he boarded. Vizka held his breath a moment, waiting for any reaction to the sound. There was none. Drawing the blade, he unhitched the mace and chain from about his shoulders, calling in a voice barely above a whisper, "Ahoy dere, guards, show yerselves!"

Silently cursing himself that he could not recall the names of the two vermin he had left to watch his ship, he called out again, this time in a normal tone. "Ya slab-sided idlers, where are ya?"

A startled wren darted off from the bowrope. Vizka whirled to face forward. He thought he saw a shadow flitting somewhere near the galley. The old smile, which had given him his name, Longtooth, appeared on his face. It was the usual tale with crew vermin, leave them alone for awhile, and all they were interested in was sleeping, and feeding their faces with grog and vittles. He tip-pawed toward the galley. The two guards, whatever their names were, would have to learn a harsh lesson, for disobeying Captain's orders.

He was about to place his paw on the door latch, when some inner instinct made him stop. If the ship's guards were in there, why had they not responded when he called? Perhaps they were asleep, but then why were there no sounds of snoring or ragged breathing from within? There was a tiny crack in the door planking, the golden fox squinted his eye against it, peering in.

Gorath had heard Vizka come aboard, The young badger stood facing the galley door, his pitchfork aiming squarely at it. He thought he heard his enemy's footpads approaching, and readied himself. Then there was complete silence

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from outside, nothing but a thin sliver of sunlight from a crack in the door, playing on the floor in front of Gorath. Then it vanished.

Alarm bells began ringing in the badger's head, he knew the fox was watching him through the crack. Without giving a second thought to the consequences, Gorath put all his muscle behind Tung, giving the pitchfork a ramming thrust as he roared, "Eulaliiiiiaaaaa!"

Vizka leapt to one side, he saw the twin metal prongs of the weapon come thundering through the shuddering timbers, almost to their full length. The golden fox was an expert fighter, the most feared among the sea raiding brethren, he saw the immediate chance and took it. Avoiding the prongs, he threw himself hard against the galley door, slamming it wide open. Gorath was thrown against the bulkhead, still gripping the pitchfork haft tight as it snapped, leaving him holding only the end piece.

Vizka bounded in, flailing his mace, and brandishing the sword. The advantage was all his in this battle to the death, he grinned wolfishly. "I'll finish ya dis time, stripe'ound! Haharr!" He held Gorath against the bulkhead, swinging the mace and hacking away with the sword in a frenzied attack.

With his back to the wall, armed with just a broken piece of wood, Gorath could only try to weather the vicious onslaught. Splinters flew as the spiked ball struck the bulkhead timbers, he ducked and swayed, trying to avoid the whirring mace and flashing blade.

Vizka found himself imbued with a new confidence, this was no seasoned warrior he was facing, merely a big, young beast, armed with only a bit of stick. Moreover, the stripehound's eyes were not blood red, as he had seen them before. Had he lost the power to go into one of his berserk rages?

The golden fox slowed his assault, laughing as his victim tried to wriggle out of harm's way. Vizka performed a clever maneuvre with the mace, grazing the side of

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Gorath's head. "Ya want me ta give ya another fancy mark on yer skull? Mebbe I'll knock one of ya eyes out dis time!"

Now that he had the upper paw, the old Vizka returned, swaggering as he taunted the young badger cruelly. What he did not realise was that as he mocked and toyed away, Gorath had been gradually edging round the galley until he was close to the door, still trying to parry his foe's random sallies with the battered little section of wood. Almost chopping Gorath's paw, Vizka hacked a chunk from the broken haft, he waved the sword of Martin proudly in Gorath's face, as the badger tried to parry it away. Vizka was really enjoying himself now.

"D'ya like me new blade, ain't it a beauty? I tell ya, I could take yer 'ead off wid one swipe. Dat'd be nice'n'quick, wouldn't it? Stan' still, stripe'ound, an' I'll show ya--"He swung the sword back as far as he could.

That was when Gorath made his move. Throwing himself out of the open doorway in a sidelong roll, he grabbed at his pitchfork, which had pierced the door through, to the length of its prongs. The handle snapped, right at the socket where it joined the metal fork.

It was at that point the tracking party arrived alongside the Bludgullet. Rangval seized a pair of his daggers, but was halted from boarding by Salixa.

"Leave Gorath, this is his fight, he wouldn't thank you for helping him!"

Maudie was aghast. "I say, that's a bit thick, ain't it? The other rascal's armed to the bloomin' teeth!"

The badgermaid warned the others, holding her paws wide, "My friend is facing his fate, we cannot alter what's about to take place. Have faith in him. Watch!"

The combatants faced each other on the deck. Vizka did not seem unduly put out by his quarry's escape. "Ya had yer chance t'die quick, stripe'ound, now I'm goin' to carve ya up nice'n'slow!"

Gorath swung the long part of the haft like lightning.

Crack!

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It struck his adversary's paw as he slashed out with the sword. Vizka screeched with pain and shock, his paw totally numbed, and broken, by the blow. The sword of Martin arced through the air, ending up point down in the shallows. Gorath's eyes were calm, he stood waiting until his opponent came at him again. This time it was with a long, flailing swing of the mace. The young badger switched his hold; seizing the wooden haft in both paws, he held it forth horizontally. The iron chain of the mace wrapped thrice around it, the spiked metal ball dangling useless in the tangle. One wrench from Gorath tugged the weapon's handle out of the fox's grasp. Vizka watched, horrified, as Gorath tossed the shaft and the mace into the river.

A cheer went up from those on the bank. Gorath the Flame hardly noticed it as he wrapped a mighty paw about Vizka. His other paw clamped around the fox's muzzle. Lifting Vizka until their eyes met, Gorath growled, "I was never your slave, and I am no longer the slave of Bloodwrath, that is my fate, fox. Now here is yours!"

Maudie winced, as did everybeast. The sound of Vizka Longtooth's spine snapping sounded like a dry twig. There was a splash as Gorath tossed his enemy's limp carcass into the River Moss.

Salixa allowed her friend to assist her aboard the ship, she clasped his paw tightly. "You defeated him without resorting to Bloodwrath. Though I had my doubts when I heard you calling the war cry."

Gorath smiled. "Oh, I only shouted that cry because I like the sound of it. Also because I knew that I was in full control of myself."

On the bank, Orkwil Prink was waving a hefty staff of yew wood, which he had garnered with the sword of Martin the Warrior. "I found ye a new fork handle. Permission t'come aboard, Cap'n Gorath!"

The young badger shook his head. "You'd best ask my first mate."

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Salixa laughed. "Permission granted, but only if you can shout out the password. Maudie, coming from Salamandastron, you should know it well."

Mad Maudie (the Hon.) Mugsberry Thropple threw back her head, bellowing the time-honoured cry in a most un-maidenly manner. "Eulaliiiiiaaaaaa!" She bounded aboard, followed by the rest of the company.

Orkwil was beside himself with happiness, he waved the sword of Martin in the air, yelling. "Friends, I've just thought of a new name for this ship, guess what it is?"

The answer came in a deafening roar from everybeast. "Eulaliiiiiaaaaaa!"

The young hedgehog looked slightly crestfallen, but a moment later he was joining in the general laughter and backslapping.

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As evening shadows gathered, a meeting was held on the deck. By unanimous decision they voted to sail the newly named vessel on a voyage that would fulfill Maudie's mission. Both Gorath and Salixa were enthralled at the thought of seeing Salamandastron, that fortress of legendary Badger Lords. There was no lack of volunteers for the trip, everybeast wanted to go.

The next three days were spent profitably. Foraging parties scoured the woodlands for food supplies, whilst Guosim shrews and otters cleaned the ship from stem to stern, eradicating all trace of vermin habitation, and making Eulalia shipshape for the coming adventure. Rangval proved to be quite artistic, obliterating the name Bludgullet, and installing the new title skillfully.

Many suggestions were put forward, as to who should captain the Eulalia. Skipper Rorc, Barbowla and Log a Log Osbil were all well-favoured, capable beasts. However, it was Salixa who settled the matter, both she and Gorath nominated Orkwil Prink. This was enthusiastically seconded by Maudie and Rangval.

On the evening before they sailed, Rangval whispered to Maudie, as he watched Orkwil swaggering around the

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deck, "Shure, an' will ye look at the bold, liddle hog there. Faith, ye'd think he was a cap'n born t'the command. I wonder where he found those floppy, ould seaboots an' big, feathery hat?"

Maudie stifled a giggle, saluting the young hedgehog as he strode by. "Good evenin', Cap'n Orkwil, lookin' forward t'the jolly old morrow, wot wot?"

Orkwil waved a paw nonchalantly. "Oh, one voyage is much like another y'know...." The floppy hat fell over his eyes, and he tripped as the sword came loose, dangling between his outrageous boots. He stumbled, fell and bounced back upright, all in the one movement. Orkwil glared at both of his friends, as if daring them to laugh. "Ahem, river's a bit choppy tonight, watch how ye go!"

Rangval stared over the side at the River Moss, which was as still as a millpond. He nodded. "Yore right, Cap'n. I'll take first watch in case those waves come a-washin' o'er the sides an' sink us!"

The young hedgehog nodded officiously. "Right, Mister Rangval, I'll be in me cabin if'n ye need me. Good night to ye both!" Trying to control the sword, boots and hat, he staggered off to the stern.

Salixa and Gorath joined Maudie and Rangval, watching their new captain's progress. Gorath smiled fondly.

"I owe my freedom to that one, he's learned a lot since we first met."

The gentle badgermaid clasped her big companion's paw. "I think we've all learned a lot, don't you?"

Maudie interrupted. "Aye, friend, we have, an' we're all young enough to learn more, wot!"

Afternoon sunlight flooded the forge room at Salamandastron, softening the rough, rock walls. Old Lord Asheye sat on the broad stone windowledge, enjoying the late summer warmth. Blindness did not stop the ancient badger from appreciating the day, he could even judge the time by the position of the sun upon his face. The outgoing

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or incoming tides, he knew by the sounds of the sea, the cries of seabirds and, often, the feel of wind or breeze. The familiar sound of Major Mullein's swagger stick beat its brief tattoo on the chamber door. Lord Asheye's response was correspondingly brief. "Come!"

The Major entered, shepherding Furps and Tringle. Both young hares were in charge of the afternoon tea trolley. Mullein cautioned the pair as they negotiated the rock floor. "Steady as y'go now. Furps, slow down, laddie buck, you ain't in a race. Now, what dainties have we here, wot?"

Tringle fluttered her long eyelashes. "Hot mint or chamomile tea, sah, a selection of sandwiches, some of Cook's dark fruit cake, an' the usual scones an' whatnot, sah. With the jolly old trimmin's of course."

Lord Asheye nodded approvingly. "Very nice. I hear you passed your Running Scouts test yesterday. Congratulations t'you both!"

Furps and his sister saluted smartly. "Thank ye, sah, it was jolly hard, but we passed with flyin' colours, didn't we, Tring!"

"Oh rather, we're both wearin' green pawbands at the moment, new uniforms ain't ready yet, m'Lord!"

Asheye reached out and ruffled their ears. "I'm sure you'll both be a credit to the Long Patrol. But remember the old saying, It ain't the uniform that counts, 'tis the warrior who wears it, eh!"

Major Mullein took charge of the trolley. "C'mon now, chaps, back down to the Mess Hall, you'll only tire Lord Asheye out with all this chatter."

Furps and Tringle saluted, but before they dashed off, the Badger Lord spoke out.

"Leave them, Major, I enjoy their company. Sit down here and take afternoon tea with me, young 'uns. Mull, you can be mother, pour for us, please."

Honoured and delighted to be invited thusly by their Badger Lord, Furps and Tringle smiled cheekily at the Major. "Two spoons of honey in my tea, Mother!"

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"Me, too, an' could you pass the cucumber sandwiches, mum?"

Mullein fixed them with a comical glare. "I'll mother you two when I get you out on the parade ground, it'll be tails for tea an' drill for dinner!"

Asheye chuckled. "Young ripscallions, here, come and be my eyes for awhile. How d'you see the sea today?"

"Blue as usual I suppose, sah."

"No, it's a sort of greeny blue."

"Don't y'mean bluey green?"

"Well, alright, it's a kind of light bluey pale green, with tiny white flecks here an' there."

Asheye spread a huge old paw to indicate the expanse. "Oh come on, you can do better than that. Are there no patterns of breeze ripples on the surface? How big are the waves as they break on the shore? Any gulls or cormorants diving out there? Use your eyes, describe!"

Furps took a try. "Lots o' jolly big waves comin' ashore, sah, makin' that swishy noise they always make. Some of that seaweed gettin' washed up also, long, dark, green stuff. Er, some seabirds, too, gulls I think--"

Mullein interrupted him. "You think, laddie buck? Are they guillemots, geese or gulls, have ye been taught nothin' at nature study, wot?"

Tringle cut in, attempting to help her brother. "Actually there's some puffins an' guillemots, ordinary gulls, an' a few kittiwakes, sah. Oh, there's also that small thing, right out there, could that be a ship?"

Lord Asheye stood bolt upright, his head turning this way and that. "A ship ... Where?"

Leaving the tea trolley, Mullein hurried to the broad window space. He peered hard, following the direction of Tringle's paw as she explained.

"Over there, sah, away to the far west, comin' from the north. I think it is a ship, eh, Furps?"

Her brother, who had the keenest sight of those in the forge room, climbed up onto the sill, taking hold of Major

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Mullein's paw as he leaned out. Shading his brow with his free paw, Furps stared intently at the object. His shout echoed around the forge chamber. "It is! It's a bally ship alright, sah, an' it's headin' this bloomin' way, straight t'the blinkin' mountain, if'n y'flippin' ask me!"

Major Mullein lifted him from the sill, with a stern note in his voice. "Less of the barrack room lingo young 'un, Badger Lord present, y'know!"

Furps held a paw to his mouth. "Oops, my 'pologies, sah!"

The ancient Badger Lord seized his walking staff, issuing orders urgently. "Major, gather all officers immediately, tell them to turn out the Long Patrol, full complement, well armed!"

Mullein saluted with his swagger stick. "Right y'are, Lord. I'll have 'em linin' the west shore in full fig, armed t'the eartips. Will ye be attendin'?"

Asheye nodded vigorously. "Send old Ecrea up, tell him to attend the lord's wardrobe, I want to be dressed in full regalia. Oh, I'll need to be bearing some kind of arms, a sword do you think?"

Tringle spoke out boldly, before the Major could answer. "Beg pardon, Lord, but a battleaxe might be better. It looks fearsome, but you can use it to feel your way, just like the staff you have to help you along."

The haremaid winced as Asheye's big paw descended thankfully on her shoulder. "Good idea, young 'un! You and your brother stay here. When I'm ready you can both walk me down to the shore."

Major Mullein did an about turn in the doorway. He beckoned Tringle and Furps to him, whispering to them. "This is your first assignment as Scout Runners. Lord Asheye is under your protection. Guard him with your lives, your very lives, d'ye hear?"

Mullein turned and marched off, leaving behind him two young hares almost bursting with pride.

Drums thundered and bugles blared as Salamandastron roused itself to meet the newcomers.

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The Eulalia dipped its prow to the heaving sea, bucking playfully as it rose, dropping to meet the next wave. Every scrap of sail canvas was taut as the breeze whistled through the rigging. Gorath the Flame stood in the bows with Salixa, watching the majestic mountain growing larger with every moment. Gorath wiped a big paw across his eyes. "Salamandastron, it's like a dream. If only my old grandparents could have lived to see it."

The slender badgermaid patted his shoulder. "They did their best for you, and you lived to see it for them. That would have made them happy."

Orkwil trundled by holding the sword of Martin over his shoulder so that he would not trip. The young hedgehog swept off his floppy hat in an elaborate bow. "Good day, friends. The weather's holdin' fair I trust!"

Salixa smiled at him. "It is indeed, Captain, and how are you today pray tell?"

Reveling in his role as Shipsmaster, Orkwil replied. "Well, marm, exceedin' well, as is all me gallant crew, 'ceptin' ole Rangval, who swears he ain't long for this world. Still y'know wot us saltwater beasts say,

He's far better on land, be it soil, rock or sand, an' quite good up a tree, but he don't like the sea!"

Rangval the Rogue was the only beast aboard to be seasick. The wretched squirrel lay on the af terdeck swathed in a mass of blankets.

Maudie brought him a beaker of fresh water. "Golly, you look like bloomin' death, mate. Try a sip o' this, 'tis only water, but it might help, wot!"

He pushed the beaker away with a plaintive groan. "Water, d'ye say, get it outta me sight, darlin'. Sure an' wasn't it water that's got me this way? Water, goin' up

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an' down, back an' for'ard, side t'side, rollin' an' sloppin', an' never stoppin'. Me ould body'll be dead by the time we make land. No need t'dig me a grave, no, just toss me ould remains anywhere, up in a tree, or down on the grass. Sure, there's not a beast that'll notice me. Bein' so green I'll blend right in!"

Osbil was passing by, he shook his head sorrowfully. "It's been a pleasure knowin' ye, Rangval, me ole mate. Would ye like to do me a partin' favour, seein' as yore dyin'?"

The rogue squirrel managed a weak smile.

"Anythin' fer you, me ould Guosim messmate, name it."

Osbil replied promptly. "Those good daggers ye always carry, could ye let me have them now, just to save us all arguin' over 'em when yore gone."

Salixa arrived in the nick of time, she helped Maudie to restrain Rangval as he tried to hurl the blades at Osbil, ranting furiously.

"Arr, let me at the villain, I'll give him me knives sure enough. One through his black heart, one through his fat-pot belly an' one more through his thievin' paws!" He appealed piteously to the young badgermaid. "It ain't bad enough, havin' to die of the seasickness, miss, but that blaggard wants to rob me lovely daggers!"

Salixa took a small flask from her beltpurse. "Die of seasickness? Nonsense, a good swig of my medicine should put paid to that. Open your mouth!"

Rangval had a horror of medicines. Shaking his head vigorously, he clamped his mouth tight. Salixa passed the flask to Maudie. "Give our friend a good dose when he opens his mouth." She pinched the squirrel's nose, cutting off his air. He struggled wildly to resist, but in the end he had to open his mouth to breathe. Maudie acted swiftly, pouring almost half the flask into Rangval.

The rogue squirrel's tail stood up like a flagpole. "Yooooaaaaarrrrgh! Ye murderers, ye've killed me!"

Amid the laughter he sprinted up the mast, where he sat quivering with rage as he glared down at them.

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Gorath called from his place in the bows as they drew closer to shore. "Look, there's almost tenscore hares in uniform waiting on the tideline for us. I take it they're the famous Long Patrol, Miz Maudie?"

The haremaid began brushing her tunic down and generally trying to look presentable as she answered. "By Jove, there's a sight t'do your jolly old heart good. They've turned the full complement out t'greet us. Stap me scut, there's Major Mull, Corporal Thwurl, Biffy Bigelow, Lanky Lockben, Stinky Scarbuttle an' Big Beau Sullagan. Colour Sarn't O'Flugg an' Colonel Cragglow. Oh look, there's young thingummy an' his sister wotsername, see who they're escortin', it's Lord Asheye himself, wot! Halloooo, milord, ahoy!"

The ancient badger raised his battleaxe to the incoming vessel. Wild cheering broke out on the shoreline. Not to be outdone, the crew of Eulalia added to the din with their joyous shouts. As soon as it was possible, mooring lines were hurled to the vessel from the shore. Scores of willing paws hauled the ship to land. Osbil and his Guosim furled sail, slacking off all rigging. The prow nosed up through the shallows until the entire craft lay heeled onshore.

Maudie leapt down onto the beach, closely followed by Gorath and Salixa. The ranks of warrior hares parted as Lord Asheye and Major Mullein walked to meet them. The haremaid threw a smart salute.

"Hon. Maudie Mugsberry Thropple reportin' back as ordered, sah! Mission accomplished, found Gorath the Flame, er, an' one other, Salixa, very pretty maid. Hopin' you approve. Sah!"

Major Mullein returned the salute. "Well done, Miss Thropple, you're to be commended on an exemplary completion of a difficult assignment."

The ancient Badger Lord confronted the two young badgers. Reaching out, he found the badgermaid's face, smiling as he ran his paw gently across her features. "Salixa, the slender willow tree. At times like this I would wish

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to have my sight for a moment. Truly I can tell you are as beautiful as your name implies. Salamandastron bids you welcome, young one, it is your home for as long as you wish it to be."

Salixa placed her brow against the lord's paw. "Thank you, sire, I will never leave this place as long as I can stand at Gorath's side."

Both the Badger Lord's paws now found Gorath's face. He stood silent as the blind one inspected his features thoroughly. Asheye nodded as if in confirmation. "So, you are Gorath the Flame, I have seen you in my dreams many times. Though now you stand before me I feel you are bigger than in the visions, taller. Truly you are marked deep by the flame, the forge of life branded you thus. Let me touch the weapon you call Tung."

Gorath placed Asheye's paw on the pitchfork, he familiarised himself with it from butt to tines. "A stout and honest implement, Gorath, it can be used either in combat, or to tend growing crops. Which do you prefer?"

The young badger thought for a moment. "I would sooner grow food from the land than dig graves for our enemies. But I can do both if need be, sire."

Asheye gave him back the pitchfork. "Welcome to your mountain, Lord Gorath!"

The crimson westering sun cast long shadows on the three badgers. Gorath and Salixa took Asheye's paws, allowing him to lead them into the mountain fortress of Salamandastron. Maudie borrowed Martin's sword from Orkwil, it flashed scarlet in the last rays as the shores resounded to the mass roar of a single word ...

"Eulaliaaaaaaaaaaa!"

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Epilogue

"Extract from the writings of a badgermaid."

Fourteen seasons is no great length of time to most elders, but to me it is the sum of my entire life so far. A few days ago I finished reading the Family Chronicle, which was written by my mother, Lady Salixa of Salamandastron. Maybe I have not lived through the adventures of my parents and their friends, but I have a lifetime ahead. So this morning I started to write my own Chronicle. Who knows, mayhaps I have inherited some writing skill from my mother.

However, with all the goings on around here, it is hard to concentrate. Did I tell you, tonight is the Great Midsummer Eve Feast. The shore in front of our mountain will be decked with lanterns, and garlanded with blossoms. It's going to be a time for wonderful food, happy music and great entertainment. Then guess what? Tomorrow afternoon I will be boarding the good ship Eulalia, bound on a voyage to Redwall Abbey. Such excitement!

But let me tell you how all this came to be, back to my Chronicle. You must remember that being young, I rely on family and friends for certain information about events that occurred when I was a mere babe, or even farther back, before I was born. I have a few to thank for their time

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and patience in assisting me. My mother, Salixa, and my father, Gorath, Lord of Salamandastron. My Grand Uncle, General Mull; Aunt Maudie, the regimental Colonel Cook and Caterer; and rascally old Uncle Rangval, unofficial Scout in Charge to the Long Patrol. Also the various Guosim shrews, otters and Redwallers I have encountered when the Eulalia makes her annual voyage from the River Moss, which they tell me is not far from the Abbey.

Well, it seems that when Eulalia first came to our mountain, in the final days of that long-gone summer, there was widespread rejoicing. A feast, which lasted four days, took place. It was during the final evening of the celebrations, everybeast was seated around a fire on the shore, singing, feasting and enjoying those last warm days of the season. A young hedgehog, Orkwil Prink, made the remark that soon the falling leaves of autumn would be sticking to his headspikes. This seemed to affect Old Lord Asheye greatly, his jovial mood deserted him, and he sat there in a state of deep depression. Everybeast present thought the ancient badger had merely fallen asleep, because he was very old, and it was getting quite late. Not wishing to waken Lord Asheye, the Long Patrol hares stopped roaring out rowdy barrack room ditties. My father turned to my mother, who had not sung thus far. Knowing she possessed a sweet, gentle voice, he persuaded her to give a rendition of the little ballad she had performed for him that night beneath the stars on the plateau. Obligingly, she began singing.

"Let me wander here forever, through the glades where once I played.

Long ago in carefree seasons, mid the noontide sun and shade.

I will see again before me, all those smiling friends I knew.

Gone alas to memory's keeping, faithful comrades good and true--"

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She was interrupted by Lord Asheye, who rose up calling, "I know that song, Melutar composed it! How do you know it, lady, tell me, please?"

My mother was startled, but she answered readily. "Lord, I learned it from a good and wise old badger, but his name was not Melutar, they call him the Tabura."

Asheye clutched my mother's paws and wept. "Did you know this Tabura, does he still live?"

Gorath my father answered for her. "Aye, Lord, like you he is heavy with seasons, but he is alive and well at Red-wall Abbey. Why do you ask?"

A hush fell over the assembly as Asheye began speaking. "Long ago in another life, there were two brothers, Melutar and Ferlon. They were like the sun and moon. Ferlon, the eldest, was big and strong, silver-coated, hot-tempered and wild. Melutar, the younger, was of medium size, dark-coated and placid. He was a dreamer, a seeker of knowledge, a writer of poems and songs. They were destined to walk different paths. Melutar stayed home, caring for their aged parents, and growing in wisdom. Ferlon followed the drums of war, his road took him to Salamandastron, and his savage reputation grew by the seasons. Vermin foe-beast feared Ferlon, wherever he cast his wild gray eyes, death and destruction came like a roaring fire, leaving only ashes. That badger was me, I became known as Lord Asheye, the beast cursed by Bloodwrath. Melutar was my younger brother, I thought he had long gone to the land beyond the seasons. Something told me that soon I would be joining him."

Asheye turned his face toward the recently promoted General Mullein, his constant companion. "Remember I told you of the voices that haunted my dreams? They said that never again would I be seen at Salamandastron, once the autumn leaves fall. Well, old friend, it looks like the shadow of fate has finally fallen upon me."

Mullein nodded sadly. "Aye, sah, who can escape it?"

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That was when my father said his piece. "When I was taken captive I thought many times that I would die never having seen Redwall, or Salamandastron. But I was mistaken, as I believe you are, Lord. There is a ship lying in the bay, it will take you to be united with your long-lost brother, whom you thought dead. When autumn leaves fall, you will be far from this mountain, bound for the Abbey of Redwall. I think that is what your voices were trying to tell you, sir. The fates are being kind to you!"

Mullein helped the ancient badger to stand upright. "Well, stap me, sah, I believe Lord Gorath's right. I'll jolly well wager your brother, the Tabowot'sisname, will be over the blinkin' moon t'see ye, wot!"

Lord Asheye clasped his friend's paw. "It would be a pleasure if you were to accompany me, Mull."

The General saluted gallantly with his free paw. "Hah, t'would be an honour to travel at y'side, sah!"

I have heard that story many times from my father, he calls it the happy fate of Lord Asheye. My mother also related how Asheye, and Mullein, sailed away on the Eulalia, bound on a rosy dawn tide for Redwall, to meet again his brother, the Tabura.

I think this is a fitting start to my Chronicle. Redwall Abbey is a place of my dreams, many times I have pleaded to visit there. However, my father always said I was too young, until this season, my fourteenth. With the aid of Aunt Maudie, Rangval and my mother, he was finally persuaded. I am to spend four seasons at the Abbey. Can you imagine it, four whole seasons! Mother has given me to understand that I will spend time being educated by my two adopted grandfathers, Asheye and the Tabura. Father says that education is the key to both happiness and wisdom, I am sure this is true.

But Auntie Maudie and Uncle Rangval told me there is lots of fun to be found at Redwall, and lots of new friends to be made. There'll be feasting, singing, sporting,

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log-boating with Guosim, ranging the streams with Barbowla and his otters.... And I'm actually sailing tomorrow at noon, I'll be lucky if I sleep a wink tonight!

I know I'm repeating myself, but Redwall really is the place of my dreams. They say that there is always a welcome there for those who are good of heart, and true to their friends. Who knows, perhaps we'll meet there one sunny day?

Rowanbloom, daughter of Lady Salixa and Lord Gorath of Salamandastron

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