Mariel of Redwall

"Owow, leggo! We were keeping guard, that's all!"

"Eeeek, me ear! Somebeast's got to watch out for searats."

Mellus released them, shooing the delinquent pair down the steps to the Abbey lawn. "Run along now. Searats would eat two Dibbuns like you for tea."

"Ha, bet they wouldn't. We'd make 'em into searat pudden an' eat 'em!"

"No you wouldn't, they'd have your tails on toast. Then what would I tell the Abbot?"

The two small otters shuffled off disgruntled. Flagg the big otter called along from the west wall to Mellus, "The only tails on toast those scurvy rats'll have is their own tails, marm. You leave it t' me an' young Saxtus."

The badger gave a worried frown. "I hope you're right, Flagg. They're certain to be back. Searats like that lot don't give in easily."

Saxtus, who was on the east wall and within hearing range, called back at the same time as Flagg, "And neither do we!"

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21

Snidjer approached Mariel, brandishing the sword. Weighted down by Flitchaye, she was unable to move. Helplessly she watched him raise the glittering blade. . . . From nowhere a huge voice rang out:

"I was born on a dark night in a storm! I'm the roaring child of Heavywing McGurney! Shake in your fur, Flitchaye. Stonehead's arrived!"

A barn owl of awesome proportions swooped down and hurled Snidjer high in the air. With a noise somewhere between a hoot and a roar, he launched himself into the fray. Mariel had never seen anything like it. The weed-clad, bark-masked Flitchaye scattered everywhere like ninepins.

Stonehead was aptly named. He used his massive head like a battering ram, thudding and butting with the speed of a striking snake as he shouted aloud at the terrified Flitchaye tribe:

"Stand and fight, you forest weeds! Why, if I couldn't slay a dozen of you before breakfast I'd die of shame! I can drink a river dry and eat an orchard bare! I'm Stonehead McGurney, bravest of the brave!"

Mariel and her companions got the feeling they would offend the big barn owl by joining in the fight, so they stood to one side, watching as he enjoyed him-

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self to the full. The Flitchaye who were not laid out flat took to their holes and closed the lids. As Mariel retrieved her Gullwhacker and Dandin picked up the sword, Tarquin tuned his harolina and nudged Durry.

"I don't think I'd like to meet that chap when he's cross, do you?"

Durry kicked Snidjer on the bottom as he tried to rise. "Dearie me, he do 'ave a right ol' temper an' no mistake."

Six Flitchaye were backing off toward the woods. Stonehead spotted them and yelled, "Get back here! Down your pits and shut the lids! Run away and I'll follow you to the ends of the earth! You know I never lie! We McGurneys aren't the wisest owls anywhere, but by thunder we're the bravest!" He turned to the four travelers aggressively. "So you're Redwall creatures, eh! Should never let yourselves get caught by this lot! Flitchaye! Hah! I'll show you what they are! Come here, you!"

Snidjer came, but not quickly enough. Stonehead grabbed him in one powerful talon and ripped away the barkcloth mask and trailing weeds.

"There's a Flitchaye for you! Skinny little weasels dressed up, that's all they are! Here, do you want me to butt him right over the top of that hollow oak? I can do it easily, you know!"

Dandin interceded on Snidjer's behalf. "I think he's had enough, sir. Thank you for rescuing us. I am Dandin of Redwall these are my friends, Tarquin, Mariel and Durry."

The owl shook their paws with his talons until they ached, then he kicked open the lid of a Flitchaye hole and beckoned to Snidjer.

"In there, you, and look sharp about it!"

Snidjer obeyed with alacrity. Stonehead took a huge dead treelimb in his claws and tossed it on top of the lid, locking Snidjer inside.

"There, that's the way to treat them! Don't take any

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nonsense! You don't think I was too easy on them, do you? Sure you don't want me to throw a few over the treetops?"

"No no, old chap. You did splendidly. Do you live alone in these woods?"

Stonehead blinked his eyes at Tarquin and snorted. "Alone? I'll say not! We McGurneys have always lived here! Got the wife, Thunderbeak, and four little ones-two sons and two daughters! They're only chicks, but you should see them fight! Come home with me for supper, meet my family!"

The savage golden eyes glared at them. They did not

refuse.

oo

If at all possible, Stonehead's wife Thunderbeak was even fiercer than her belligerent husband. The four babies sat at the foot of a dead ash with them, fighting uproariously at every opportunity, much to the amusement of their parents. The food was surprisingly good. There was a white mushroom salad specially laid on for the travelers. The owls did not eat. Dandin decided that it would not be polite to ask them what their diet was, though the odd barkcloth and weeds in the bushes left him in little doubt.

After supper Tarquin sang and played his harolina, an impromptu song.

"If you're ever caught by the Flitchaye

And the situation looks grave,

Then call for a McGurney,

The bravest of the brave.

He'll fight all night

And battle all day

Until you hear those Flitchaye say,

'Have mercy, have mercy, have mercy on us all!' "

Mariel smiled fondly at the owlets. "Bless them, they've fallen asleep." Thunderbeak cuffed them roughly awake. "Where's

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your manners! Dozing off when the nice rabbit's singing you a song! Wake up this instant!"

Mariel wrapped her Gullwhacker into a pillow and lay down. "Oh, don't scold them, please. They need their sleep, the same as me. Actually, if that nice rabbit starts singing another song he'll feel the knot of my Gullwhacker between his big bunny ears."

oo

Tarquin sat up late, remembering the next lines of the poem and discussing their future route with Stonehead, though the owl did not appear to be a great deal of help. Tarquin racked his memory, whilst pretending to be attentive to Stonehead's advice.

"Let me see now, something or other about saving any fool at all, I think the last bit was. Oh, but that was you, wasn't it?"

Stonehead blinked fiercely. "What's that you say? I'm any fool at all! I think you could do with a lesson in politeness, rabbit! It's true we McGurneys aren't wise owls, but we're the bravest of the brave! Now defend yourself, or get kicked right over that tree!"

Tarquin held up his paws placalingly. "Sorry, old chap, I wasn't alluding to you, not a bit of it. The fools I was talking about is us, me and my jolly old friends. Point of fact, you may be able to help us with our route. I've remembered the lines, goes somethin' like this:

Beware the light that shows the way, Trust not the wart-skinned toad, In his realm no night or day. Fool, stay to the road.

That's it. Y'see it mentions us againfool! I don't suppose you happen to know what place the rhyme means, wot?"

Stonehead got up and paced about a bit. One of the babies gave his leg a drowsy bite as he passed, and he cuffed the sleeping infant affectionately.

"Wouldn't like to be a Flitchaye when she grows

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upwonderful little battler. Yes, of course I know the place your poem mentions! You and your friends want the swampdark! Never go there myselfrotten place! Take you there in the morning. Get some sleep now, rabbit! You're quite a good singer; never have time for such nonsense myself, sooner have a good clean fight! Must warn you, though, if you start warbling and wake my wife up she'll probably rip your leg clean off! She's not named Thunderbeak for nothing, you know! Sleep well. Good night!"

Tarquin put his harolina carefully aside and lay down, gazing around at the dark dripping forest and the six savage owls in slumber.

"Blow me! I'd never take Hon Rosie picnickin' to this

place."

"What's that, rabbit? Did you say something?"

"Er, no, old bean. Just good night."

"Good night! Now shut up and sleep! Or else . . . !"

oo

Gabool the Wild was not affected by sleep anymore. He was driven night and day by an insane nervous energy, roaming the rooms of Fort Bladegirt. The non-arrival of Graypatch was preying upon his mind, though he did not doubt that his traitorous Captain would show up sooner or later. The King of Searats now began hoping that Graypatch would be brought back alive. He descended a winding stairway, muttering and chuckling to himself.

"No, don't kill him, that's too quick for me old shipmate Graypatch. Gabool's got somethin' nice fer him, a surprise, aharrharrharr! Aye, GraypatchTl remember old Skrabblag. I was Cap'n of the Ratwake an' he was mate when we brought Skrabblag from the warm isles in the deep seas to the south. Haharr, good old Skrabblag. Let's see if you're still alive an' foul-tempered."

Still laughing to himself, the mad King reached the bottom of the steps. He entered a side room and took a spear from its wallhanger. At the center of the room

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was a circular stone with a thick iron ring attached. Gabool thrust the spear through the ring and levered the stone upward. Sliding it to one side, he took the spear and crouched over the hole in the floor.

"Skrabblag, matey, it's me, Gabool. Sing outare y'there?"

There was no reply. Gabool jabbed down into the inky darkness with the long spear. There was a dry, rustling sound, accompanied by an odd clicking noise. The searat grinned.

"Aharr, you murderous villain, I can hear yeh. What's it like down there, livin' on rotten fishheads an' scraps o' dead seabird?"

The rustling and clicking increased. Something caught the spear blade, but Gabool pulled it back quickly.

"Hoho, not so fast, bucko. I know you'd like to drag me down there, but you bide your time and old Gabool will give yer a little gift. Remember Graypatch? Aye, he was the one that helped catch you an' take you from your nice warm island to this cold dark berth, Well, you stop down there an' think what you'd like to do to Graypatch. Pretty soon now I'll let him drop in an' pay you a call. You'd like that, wouldn't yer?"

The clicking and rustling increased. Gabool laughed heartily as he slid the stone back into place with the spear.

Outside, the wind moaned around the rocks of Terra-mort and the stones of Bladegirt. The restless sea pounded coves and inlets as seabirds deserted the skies for nests and perches. Gabool sat once more in his banqueting hall, chin in claws as he slouched across the table and spoke to his bell.

"Hah! Yer gettin' dirty now since there's no slaves to spit an' polish yer shiny hide. An' that's the way it should be, big an' dirty with a brassy voice. One day the bell tower will be built, then I'll string you up there an' make you sing every time I tug the rope. I'll make

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yer sing or be quiet, just as I please. What've y'got to say to that, eh?"

The great bell remained silent, Gabool sat watching it until his weighted eyelids began drooping over weary blood-seared eyes. A ship in flames passed his vision, followed by another lying on its side in a creek, overgrown by trees, and yet a third ship washed up and holed upon a reef. Bluddrig, Garrtail, Saltar and Orgeye floated lifeless in the waves sweeping across his fevered dream, dead rats all. Through the shifting gray mists a huge armored badger strode. Raising his sword, he struck.

Gabool was awake once more, glaring his hatred across the table at the bell whose very presence haunted his every moment.

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22

"Haharr, me old shipmates, how was your voyage?"

Graypatch had his sight back now, though his eye was still quite swelled. He sat on a fallen log with Fishgill, watching his sheepish crew. Bigfang kept noticeably out of the way. Kybo, still the unofficially elected spokesrat, unfolded the unfortunate encounter with the hares and reported on the sorry state of the vessel Darkqueen. Graypatch listened to the woeful narrative as he sat sketching on the ground with his sword-point. When Kybo had finished, the other searats gathered around to hear what Graypatch had to say. He kept them waiting awhile before he spoke.

"A sad an' mis'rable tale, mateys, but what ship can last forever? Darkqueen was a good craft, but she'd be a floatin' death warrant for us against the might of Gabool. Leave 'er to rot in the creek, I say. Redwall Abbey's worth a hundred Darkqueens, we'll be Lords of this land, country gentlerats if y'please, instead of floatin' bilgeslops at the mercy of wind 'n' water, tryin' to grab a livin' with one claw while usin' the other to fend off that madrat Gabool. No more of that fer us, messmates. This is the warm soft country, and it can be all ours if yer willin' to follow me. Well, what d'yer say?"

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There was an immediate roar of approval. Many claws reached out to pat the searat Captain's back.

"We're with you, Skipper!"

"Aye, Graypatch always led us right!"

"You give the word, Cap'n, an' we'll follow yer to Hellgates an' back!"

Graypatch tapped his swordpoint at the drawing he had been working on. "Right then, buckos, here's me plan. This here's the Abbey. Now what we'll do is this: there's nigh on a hundred of us, closer to a hundred an' twenty countin' the oarslaves. Bigfang, here's yer chance, mate. Rush 'em an' burn the gates you said, as I recall. Well, that's exactly what you're goin' to do. Take Frink, Fishgill, 'ere, and five others. Keep the oarslaves so you'll look more like an army. Try burnin' those big Abbey gates down any way you can. Now then, I'll be in front on the flatland t'other side of the ditch with Ranzo, Dripnose an' a score or so others. We'll make a great show of firin' arrows an' slingin' stones; that way the attack will look like it's comin' from the front, but it won't. Kybo, you take the rest round the east side and sneak through the woodlands they're good 'n' thick there. Use ropes an' grapnels, just as if you were takin' a tall fat merchant ship. Ropes an' grapnels, lads, that's the key. Nice an' quiet like, slide over those walls. There's a little wallgate I've noticed on the north side. Get that open an' we'll be with yer in a trice. Bigfang should have the gates well ablaze by then. Do as I say an' we'll be takin' supper in Redwall Abbey tonight!"

Everyone cheered aloud, with the exception of Bigfang. Somehow he felt as if he had been tricked by Graypatch, though being in disgrace and having the whole crew against him left him in no position to complain.

CXO

Hot summer vegetable soup was being served with large flat oatcakes, there was fourseason plumcake and

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elderberry cup to follow. The sentries on the Abbey walls took theirs as they watched the surrounding countryside for signs of movement. The food was being served in the orchard. Sister Sage and Mother Mellus dished it out to the little ones, and each carried their portion to a corner of the orchard where the Abbot, assisted by Simeon and Foremole, stood ready to give them a lecture- Seated in a group beneath a gnarled apple tree, the Dibbuns began eating. Abbot Bernard cast a kindly eye over them, shook back his habit sleeves and began.

"Righto, my little friends. Carry on eating while I talk to you. Er, Grubb, stop dipping your oatcake into Baby Turgle's soup and listen to me, please."

Grubb did as he was told but immediately started complaining. "Yurr zurr Habbit, 'ee squirrel Turgle's a-drinken moi drink!"

The infant squirrel grinned over the top of Grubb's beaker and sucked noisily at his stolen elderberry cup. The Abbot turned his eyes skyward as if looking for patience. Foremole went among the Dibbuns and took charge of the situation.

"Gurr, you liddle terror, give 'ee drink back ter Grubb, an' yew, maister Grubb, touch yon Turgle's soup agin an' oi'll bite 'ee tail offen."

The Abbot took a deep breath and continued. "Now, as you may know, there are some very naughty creatures who've been hanging about outside our Abbey, but there's no need for you to worry or be frightened we'll take care of them. Meanwhile, I want all you Dibbuns to be very good little creatures. Do what you are told by those who look after you, Mother Mellus, Sister Sage, Sister Serena, Simeon, Brother Saxtus, myself ..."

"An' Bruvver Hoobit, too?"

"Yes, and Brother Hubert too."

"An' Foremole as well, Habbit?"

"Yes yes, Foremole as well."

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"An" Muvver Mell's too?"

"Yes, I've already said Mother Mellus. Now listen to me please ..."

"An' the fishes inna pond?"

"Now don't be silly, I said listen to wha -"

"An' a big red strawberry too?"

"Big red strawberry? What big red strawberry? Oh dear, Simeon, help me, please!"

The blind herbalist spread his paws wide and cried out, "The Grockledeeboo eats noisy Dibbuns!"

Immediately a silence fell; the little ones sat wide-eyed in fright. Simeon took the opportunity to finish the lecture.

"But we'll chase the Grockledeeboo away if you're all very good, so listen to me. You must obey all the grown-up creaturesdo as they say. If you are sent indoors, go straight in. Do not try to leave the Abbey; we don't want you going outside. Stay out of the way, eat all your food, keep yourselves clean and go to bed on time. Most important of all, stay away from the walltops. If there is fighting, you could be hurt, and we couldn't have that now, could we?"

"No, sir, Simeon, sir!" the chanted chorus came back at Simeon.

"Hurr, liddle goodbeasts, you'm eaten up all 'ee vit-tles naow an' run along ter play."

Foremole chuckled as he strolled off with Simeon and the Abbot. "Oi'm a-thinken they'm got the message,

zurrs.

0X0

Leaning against a battlement, Flagg twirled his sling idly, scanning the northward path. "All quiet this side, young Saxtus."

Saxtus licked plumcake from his paws before shouldering his spear. "This side too, Flagg. But I'm wondering for how long."

"Hmm, can you feel it too, mate? It's as if there's a sort of calm before the storm. I don't like it."

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Dandin and Mariel were anxious to be away, but half the morning was gone and still they had to wait about. Stonehead's wife, Thunderbeak, had insisted on repro-visioning their empty packs, and she was somewhere off in the woods. Stonehead and his four owlchicks put on several exhibitions of wrestling, butting and kicking. Tarquin and Durry had to keep avoiding being used as demonstration examples. Finally Thunderbeak arrived back with the knapsacks.

"Not much, I'm afraid, but it'll have to do! Plenty of apples, some white mushrooms, wild damsons, not too ripe, bit of celery, some other bits and bobs. Oh, there's some woodland scones, though they've been lying about a bitmy own make, very nourishing."

They thanked her, allowed themselves to be pecked and kicked one last time by the owlchicks, then struck westward, led by Stonehead.

oo

The strange forest grew dimmer and more gloomy until finally they were in a world of black shadow and green light. Trees were immensely tall, with long bare trunks crowded together like black columns, the foliage growing at their tops completely blocking daylight, turning it into sinister green shafts. Little or no shrubbery grew on the forest floor, which was composed of squishy dark leaf mold with massive tree roots crisscrossing like dark giant veins. Mariel noticed that the silence was total. Whenever they talked their voices echoed spectrally around the gaunt trees. To cheer things up a bit, Tarquin twanged his harolina and began a ditty.

"Old missus hedgehog, here's what she likes, A little fat husband with lots of spikes, And a quarrel with a squirrel Who wears flowers round his middle, And a chestnut for her supper on a winter's night ..."

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He came to a faltering halt as Stonehead turned his great golden eyes upon him.

"Do you have to make that silly noise, rabbit? One more song out of you and I'll wrap that hare-liner thing round your skull! This is bad country; we don't want to attract attention to ourselves, do you hear me?"

Tarquin walked behind Durry and Dandin, muttering under his breath, "Sure sign of a savage, no appreciation of good music. Huh, bet the bally feller wouldn't complain if it was a piece of boiled Flitchaye instead of a piece of beautiful music."

"Aye," Durry whispered back, "an' what's a poor lad t' do, wanderin' round like an ant lost in a dark well bottom? What I wouldn't give fer a flagon of my ol' nuncle's giggly juice right now."

Mariel watched the back of Stonehead's enormous figure, sometimes hopping before them, other times winging low between the trees. How he knew the way westward was a mystery to her. She had lost all sense of time and distance, tramping through this eerie world.

Quite suddenly, after what seemed an endless trek, Stonehead fluttered onto a fallen tree and turned to them. "This is it, Swampdark land! Never go any further than here myself! Not afraid of it, just don't like the place! Right, you're on your own now. I won't say good luck, because you'll end up dead or devoured, I'm sure of it! Always remember, though, if you ever get back to my part of the forest give me a call! We McGurneys aren't the wisest owls anywhere, but it's an acorn to an appletree we're the bravest!"

With that he was gone, winging away through the trees before they had a chance to thank him or say goodbye.

Dandin sat on the fallen tree and undid his knapsack. "Well, goodbye, Stonehead McGurney. I'm starving. Let's sit here awhile and have lunch in peace for a change. Golly, look at this!"

They climbed up onto the fallen trunk, staring in the

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direction they would be taking. It was practically pitch-black. Low-hanging trees with heavy weed trailing from them held out knotted and gnarled branches like predatory claws waiting to seize the unwary traveler. The ground was a greeny brown with odd clumps of blue and white flowers sticking up. Through it all ran several raised paths, humps of solid rocky earth which meandered off in various directions. The whole scene was one of complete depression; it weighed on their spirits like a millstone.

"Oh, corks, you chaps. The place is enough t' give a bod the complete pip just lookin' at it, wot?"

Mariel busied herself collecting twigs and dry bark. "Doesn't it just! Well, I'll tell you what I'm going to do light a fire and cook up something tasty. Who knows the next time we'll get a decent feed, roaming through that lot!"

The suggestion was wholeheartedly endorsed. With flint and tinder they soon had a merry blaze going. The gloom was dispelled temporarily as they delved through their packs.

"Let's toast some o' these liddle mushrooms an' wrap some apples in wet leaves to bake." Durry was toasting away even as he spoke. Dandin took a bite at one of Thunderbeak's scones. He winced and held the side of his jaw.

"Ouch! I wonder how many seasons ago these were baked!"

Tarquin chuckled. "We could always sling 'em at any enemies we meet."

Dandin rummaged farther down his knapsack. Suddenly he gave a cheer. "Look, it's my flute! I'd forgotten that I'd packed itmust've stuck in my pack lining. Thank goodness the Flitchaye never found it. Well well, can you beat that, ehthe flute of my ancestor Gonff the Thief. Let's see if it still sounds all right."

Trilling an old Abbey reel called "Otter in the Orchard," Dandin set his companions' paws to tapping

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as the music skirled and tootled around the lonely trees. Hot food, a glowing fire and merry music lifted the spirits of the travelers. Even the blinking eyes that watched them from the dark swamp stopped winking and stayed wide open with fascination as they awaited the travelers' next move into their miry world.

oo

Fleetleg, Shorebuck and Longeyes returned from the south beaches patrol to Salamandastron. They were first back. The hares found little welcome; the mountain chambers were deserted. Longeyes saw something at the doorway of the badger Lord's forge room: deep-scored marks in the solid rock. He groaned in despair. "Lord Rawnblade did this with his bare claws, gouged the rockface like this. I knew it would happen someday."

Shorebuck ran his paws across the scars in the solid rock. "The Bloodwrath has come upon Rawnblade Wide stripe!"

Fleetleg picked up his lance. "Come on. We must find him. No badger Lord has suffered the Bloodwrath since Boar the Fighter. But be careful. Rawnblade might kill anybeast foolish enough to stand in his way."

oo

The fog had long dispersed. Beneath the high bright sun on the tideline the three hares found the results of their Lord's terrible madness. Fully a hundred searat corpses drifted and rolled in the shallows around the reef, hewn, hacked or cleaved through. Blood spattered the stones and swirled in the water, broken swords and shattered spears decorated the rocks. Shorebuck slumped against the reef, his eyes shut to blot out the awful carnage.

"So this is why he got rid of us, sent out all the patrols. I've seen battlefields before, but never anything like this!"

Fleetleg leaned upon his lance. "It is written that a badger Lord can slay many when the Bloodwrath is

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upon him, but how did these searats come here? Where is their ship?"

Longeyes had been wading around the west side of the reef. He called out, "Here, round here. There's one still alive!"

The searat was mortally wounded. With his life ebbing fast he gasped out what he had witnessed.

"Ship . . . Waveblade, ran onto the reef in fog, stuck and holed. Cap'n Orgeye . . . waited until fog went. We fixed ship up, here on reef . . . waitin' for tide to lift us off ... Ohhhh . . . ohhhh . . . monster! Badger came rushing out of sea . . . Eulaliaaaaa!"

Longeye cradled the searat's head on his lap. "That was Rawnblade!"

"Rawn . . . blade ... I don't know. Giant . . . water rushin' off his armor, spikes, studs, silver metal . . . Like some wild beast out of the sea. Aaaaahhhh! That sword, like a great jib boom. We didn't stand a chance! D'ye hear me, mates? . . . Fivescore searat fighters an' we didn't stand a chance! Roarin', shoutin', 'Gorsepaw! Crocus! Sergeant Learunner! Killin', slayin' ... I tell yer, mates ..."

Longeye looked at Fleetleg. "Sergeant Learunner, wasn't he your father?"

Fleetleg stared out to sea. "Aye, Gorsepaw and Crocus were brother and sister toomy brother and sister. I was only a newborn infant then. Our mother never lasted more than a season after they died. Rawnblade reared me and when I was old enough he told me that he had found them floating on the tideline, delivered there by Gabool and his searats."

The injured searat lifted his head and stared at Fleetleg. "Screamin', shriekin' an' a-wailin' . . . An' dyin' . . . Dyin'!"

The searat's head lolled to one side. He died with eyes wide open, horror frozen on his face as his spirit sailed for Hellgates.

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Somewhere out on the blue deeps of the crested sea, the ship Waveblade ran before whichever course the wind chanced to take her. Summer breezes sent spray skimming over the decks, washing them clean of blood and battlestain. Stretched out on the forecastle, oblivious to all about him, Rawnblade Widestripe slept deeply, still fully armored, his great sword hanging loosely from one paw, unmindful of the stinging salt water which dewed his fresh scars. The awful Bloodwrath had left him; he knew not when it would visit him again. He slept on, as peaceful as any infant at its mother's side.

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Evening shadows began closing in on a cloudless sky as the sun reddened and began its descent into the west. The stones of Redwall took from it their dusky red brown hue; heat shimmer on the flatlands gave way to purplish twilight. Gabriel Quill had relieved Saxtus on the walltop. The fat cellarmaster yawned, looked north along the path, blinked and rubbed his eyes before calling across to the west ramparts:

"Sister Serena, marm. What d'you make of this 'ere?"

Serena hurried across. Shielding her eyes with a paw, she peered shortsightedly in the direction Gabe was pointing.

"Hmm, don't know, Mr. Quill. Very pretty, though. It looks like a lot of party lanterns bobbing along the path, little golden lights ..."

Rufe Brush came bounding up the steps. He caught the last phrase. "Little golden lights? Where? Oh, by the fur of my fathers! Sister, those little golden lights are fire! Torches, being carried toward the Abbey. I'll sound the alarm!"

In a twinkling Rufe was down from the ramparts, across the lawn and up in the half-finished bell tower. Grabbing the wooden cudgels, he began pounding on the hollow log.

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Thonkthonkathonkthonkathonkthonkathonkl

oo

As soon as the sound reached his ears, Graypatch sent the rope and grapnel brigade dashing into the woods on the east side of the path. Jumping across the ditch onto the flatlands with his own contingent, he stood with a thin smile playing on his lips, watching Bigfang.

"Rush 'em an' burn the gates, eh, shipmate. Well, it was your idea in the first place, so go to it, matey, go to it!"

Desperation and fear showed in Bigfang's face as the flickering torchlights illuminated it. He knew the element of surprise had gone with the sounding of the Abbey alarm. Furthermore there were only seven proper searats with him. Graypatch had sent them more to keep the oarslaves in line and watch his performance than to fight alongside Bigfang. Oarslaves and a frightened squirrelthat was all he had with him. Graypatch was trying to get him killed that much was obvious. Bigfang laughed, a half-hearty cackle that grated on his own ears. He tried to sound belligerent in his reply.

"I'll burn 'em out, matey, never fear. Just make sure you're there to back us up and rush in when we do!"

oo

Saxtus and three young otters stood with Flagg over the threshold. Piles of stones were heaped by them, ready for slinging. Friar Alder, with a mixed group of moles and mice, ranged the east and west walls, carrying spears in bundles. They were little more than sharpened yew stakes, but in the right place they could wreak considerable damage. Foremole headed a group that was in charge of large baskets of rock and rubble placed around the east and west walls so they could be conveniently tipped onto foebeast heads below. Sister Sage, Rufe Brush and Gabe Quill led a small contingent of archers. The Abbey was not a place of war; as a

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result the weapons were sadly piecemeal, ancient and few.

Mellus paced the walls slowly, her gruff homely voice reassuring the Redwallers, who were all first-time warriors. "Be calm now, don't panic. They're outside and we're safe within. Don't go firing or throwing anything. Let them make the first move. Besides, they may just want to parley."

Flagg could not help snorting a little. "Just like a fox parleys with a baby mouse, if you'll pardon me turn of phrase, marm."

Mellus nodded confidently. "They look more like a bunch of searats than hungry foxes, though I'm pretty sure they'll find we're not baby mice, by any means."

oo

Graypatch walked the far side of the ditch edge until he and his cohort were directly facing the threshold above Redwall's main gate. Bigfang faltered just short of the gate, and stood undecided amid the bearers of the blazing torches. There was an audible silence, finally broken by Saxtus as he called down to Gray-patch:

"What do you want this time, rat?"

Graypatch smiled as he looked from side to side at his searats. Savage, bloodthirsty and eager, each one a picture of barbarism, decked out in their tawdry finery, they displayed an array of the most fearsome-looking weapons.

"We want this Abbey. You might have known we'd come back. Why don't you just give up now while you're all still alive, save yourselves and us a great lot of trouble?"

Saxtus picked up a sharpened stake and held it ready to throw. "It's no trouble, rat. Why don't you turn your vermin round, go back the way you came and save yourselves the trouble."

The searat Captain decided the time for talking was

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over. He raised his sword, yelling at the top of his lungs:

"Attack! Kiiilll!"

Saxtus dropped to one side as an arrow sped by his head. Straightening up, he hurled the spear hard at Graypatch.

The searat saw it coming and ducked. Unfortunately there was another rat standing directly behind him who took the hurtling spear straight through his middle. He fell with an earsplitting scream.

The battle was joined!

Mellus watched as Bigfang and his gang of torch-bearers made a rush at the gates. Straightaway she countered the move.

"Foremole, rubble over here, quick! Aim it down onto them. Try not to kill the slaves!"

Foremole and his crew hurtled the baskets of mixed rock and rubble over the parapet wall. Bigfang was about to swing his torch at the gates when the first basket hit him, extinguishing the flames as it stunned him. He lay spread on the path. The oarslaves backed off, but Frink and Fishgill threw their torches. One hit the gates and bounced back, but the other fell just right, at the bottom of the woodwork. Flagg was about to see to it when he tripped over Saxtus. The young mouse was crouching down, head in paws, sobbing uncontrollably. The big otter grabbed hold of him.

"Saxtus, matey, are you all right? Have ye been wounded?"

Blinded by tears and hardly able to speak, Saxtus shook his head. "Oh, Flagg, I've just killed a living creature. It's horrible! One moment he was alive, and suddenly my spear hit him. Did you hear him scream? He's dead, Flagg. . , . Dead, and I killed him!"

Flagg turned to Mellus as she passed. "They've fired the gates. See what you can do, marm. I'll be with you in a moment."

Flagg raised Saxtus's tearstained face with a rough

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paw. "None of us wants to kill anybeast, matey, but this is a war! It's kill or be killed now. We're not just protectin' our own skins, there's the whole of Redwall an' what it stands for. What about that dormitory of Dibbuns do you want t' see them slain by searats? Make no mistake about it, young 'un, those rats'Il kill us all if they conquer our Abbey. Come on now, Saxtus, me old Cully. Let's see you up on your paws defendin' your home!"

Saxtus wiped away his tears. Grabbing his sling, he fitted a rock and sent it hurtling into the searats.

"Come on, fight, you dirty cowards. You won't conquer us!"

Rocks and spears, arrows and lances filled the air, zinging backwards and forwards between searat and Redwaller. Mother Mellus and three moles, Buxton, Drubber and Danty, rolled a barrel of water from the Abbey pond to damp down the back of the gates. Fore-mole and his crew hurled baskets of earth over the ramparts to smother the flames licking up the front of the gates.

Grubb the baby mole, together with the little twin otters Bagg and Runn, had escaped from the dormitory. Wakened by the noise and clangor of battle, they decided to take part and distinguish themselves as warriors. Wandering through the deserted kitchens inside the Abbey, they searched for suitable armament. Bagg gave a shout. "Whohoa! Looka these!"

Friar Alder's large vegetable chopping knives lay sharp and gleaming upon the worn worktable. They selected one each, dancing about and waving the dangerous blades.

"Heehee, let's make searat pies!"

"I'm goin' to chop their chief's head right off. Choppo!"

"Burrhurr, this hinfant'll skin 'ee a few. OiTl make they squeal!"

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Creeping out onto the Abbey lawn, they ducked behind some bushes as Mellus and the moles hurried by, trundling another big barrelful of water toward the main gate. Runn held a paw to his lips.

"Ssshh! Come on, this way."

They mastered the steps to the top of the north wall near the east end, helping each other to scramble up the big roughhewn stone stairs, pushing the knives ahead of them as they went. At the top an argument broke out over which knife belonged to whom.

"Hey, that's my knifethis one's yours!"

"No, Tain'tI had the pointy one with the brown handle."

"Yurr, give yon knoifer t' memoin were the big 'un."

As they were sorting out the weaponry, a three-hooked grapnel narrowly missed Bagg's head. It caught a crack in the stones, and the rope attached to it was pulled taut. Grubb patted Bagg's head.

"Boi 'okey, that were near a gudd shot. It nurly went roight daown you'm ear!"

The whirring and clanking of grapnels increased as all along the east wall metal hooks clamped into stonework cracks and ropes pulled twangingly tight. Runn climbed up on Grubb's head and peered down into the forest darkness.

"It's searats, lads. Climbin' up the ropes to get in here!"

Bagg glanced over to the west wall, where the battle was concentrated. "Huh, no good a-shoutin' f'r that lot, they got enough t' do. 'Sides, Ma Mellus'd tan our hides an' make us go back t' bed an' not give us no breakfast tomorrow an' keep us in our room all day an-"

Grubb placed a grimy paw over Bagg's mouth. "Oh, tell oi no more 'orrible stories, otter. Usn's cut 'ee ropes wi' our gurt knoifs. Hoa hoa! 'Ee rats'll fall bump on

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they bottems when 'ee ropes do be cutted. Oi'll start in 'ee middle, you two come frum both ends, hurr hurr!"

Kybo was nearly at the top of the wall. Holding his sword between his teeth, he looked back at the others swarming up the ropes, their eyes glinting triumphantly through the darkness as they hauled themselves upward, claw over claw. It was a great distance from the walltop to the woodland floor, and Kybo was not too fond of heights. He partially closed his eyes and tried not to look down, staring at the wallface in front as he pulled himself ever higher. The searat's claw was about to stretch up and grab the battlement at the walltop, when there was an ominous chuckle, a sawing noise and a discordant twang as the rope parted company with the metal grapnel it had been lashed to.

"Oh noooooooooo!"

Kybo sailed outward from the walltop and dropped like a stone.

Several searats looked up in amazement, their eyes following Kybo as he plunged to the dark floor far below. In a very short time ropes were popping and cracking as they were sliced through by the Redwall Friar's keen vegetable knives. The thud of bodies and the terrified screams of searats filled the night air. One rat plunged earthward without a sound, staring in puzzlement at the loose rope still firmly clenched in his claws.

Bagg, Runn and Grubb were truly having fun. It took only three slices to cut through the toughest rope, stretched taut as they were.

"A wunn, a two, an' a three, an' away 'ee do go, vermint!" Grubb chanted happily.

And away the "vermint" did go, with a loud wail of despair!

oo

Meanwhile, at the Abbey front Graypatch had drastically changed his opinion of the creatures he once called

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bumpkins; the accuracy of their stone-slinging had driven him and his searats off the flatlands and down into the ditch. Shaking with frustration, he ducked smartly as another salvo of rocks and homemade spears rattled overhead. The fire at the gates had been smothered under heaps of rubble. Bigfang was still lying senseless on the path; Frink, Fishgill and some others had their claws fully occupied trying to catch the little oarslaves, some of whom had crossed the ditch and were dodging about on the flatlands. Dripnose scrambled along the ditch bed to Gray patch. He was nursing a fractured limb, keeping his head well down as missiles rained in from above.

"Aagh! These creatures fight like mad things, Cap'n!"

"What did you expect them to do, weevilbrain throw flowers at us?"

"Maybe not, but we're out of spears an' arrows. The crew are havin' to make do with throwin' back the stuff that's been flung at us. Huh, they don't seem t' be short of arms atop o' that wall."

Graypatch spat contemptuously. "Homemade rubbish! There's not a proper sword or cutlass between the lot of 'em. Just wait till Kybo an' his buckos come over their precious wall we'll soon sort out the warriors from the wetnoses!"

Deadglim was nearby. He shook his head doubtfully.

"Well, where is Kybo an' the rest? They've been around there long enough to build a blasted wall, never mind climb one!"

A second later he regretted the outburst as Graypatch turned to him. "Avast there, smartmouth. Get yourself round to the back of the east wall an' see what's keepin' 'em. Look lively now. Dripnose, get Lardgutt an' see if you can drag that oaf Bigfang back down the ditch here. He's neither use nor ornament lyin' spark out on that

path."

oo

Mother Mellus seized a full basket of rubble and heaved

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it toward the ditch with a mighty effort. The screams and curses from below confirmed her accuracy. She winked at a group of enthusiastic slingthrowers. "That's the stuff to give 'em. Keep it up we've got them pinned down tight. How are you doing, Saxtus?"

The young mouse dodged a flying rock and slung one smartly back. "Fine, marm, just fine. Though it's all a bit puzzling; I've noticed that we only seem to be fighting about thirty or so searats, and they had nearly a hundred by Flagg's count. Where's the rest of 'em?"

The badger weighed a large chunk of rock in both paws as she pondered the question. "I don't know, really. I wasn't counting. Maybe we'd better check around the walls to see they're not laying some sort of trap. You take the south wall and I'll cover the eas Oh, thundering fur! The east wall, look, there's Dibbuns over there!"

The three small comrades in arms were looking for more ropes to cut when Mellus, Saxtus and Flagg descended upon them.

"You naughty little rascals! What are you doing out of your beds, eh?"

"Burr, us'n's oanly a-cutt "

"Give me those knives this instant! You could have cut the paws off yourselves, playing around with them. Oh, you scallywags!"

"But we was on'y savin' the Abbey!"

"Not another word, do you hear me! Wait until Friar Alder sees his best vegetable chopping knives. I wouldn't like to be in your fur!"

Flagg picked up a three-pronged grappling hook. "Hold on there, marm. Look at this there's lots of 'em lyin' about. I wonder where they came from."

Grubb shook his paw severely at Mother Mellus. "That's what oi be tryin' a-tell 'ee, missus. 'Twere us'n's who chopped 'ee ropes off'n they 'ooks."

"But we won't nex' time if you start a-shoutin' an' a-scoldin'. So there!"

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Saxtus was peering over the wall. "Golly! Look at this!"

Upward of half a dozen searats had been killed by the fall, impaled on broken branches or crushed by their falling comrades. The rest lay about in a pitiful state, moaning as they nursed broken and aching limbs. Flagg scratched his whiskers in disbelief.

"Well, give me fins an' call me a fish! So that's what the rest of the pesky vermin were up to ..."

Grubb shook his furry head. "Not oop, maister. Only arfways oop!"

Saxtus laughed loud at the joke, but his merriment withered under Mellus's icy stare. Flagg, however, was shaking paws, hugging and patting the three Dibbuns.

"Well done, fellers. Strike me, you saved the Abbey an' no mistake!"

Bagg and Runn sat against the wall, rubbing their eyes and yawning. The badger swept them up, one in each big paw. She tried to look stern but could not help smiling.

"Come on, heroes. Bed for you three, and stay there this time."

Grubb rode down the wallsteps piggyback upon Flagg's broad back. "Oim not afeared of nobeast. Mar-then 'ee Wurrier, that be oi!"

oo

Graypatch stood out on the path, his sword tight at Pakatugg's neck as he called up to the ramparts, "Truce, or I kill the squirrel!"

Rufe Brush slackened off his sling. "Truce then. Speak your piece, rat."

All along the west and north walls the defenders put aside their missiles to listen. Graypatch stood in a pool of moonlight and delivered his message:

"Stop throwing and let us withdraw."

Rufe chuckled scornfully. "Had enough, mangy chops?"

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Pakatugg squealed slightly as the sword pressed closer. Graypatch was in no mood to bandy insults.

"Aye, we've had enough . . . For one try. You may have won the battle but I'll win the war. Now let us walk away in peace, or this one dies."

Simeon appeared, leaning on his friend the Abbot. "Go then. You could have done that anytime without threatening the life of a helpless squirrel."

At a signal from Graypatch the defeated searats began their retreat north along the path. Graypatch could not resist a parting shot.

"Wait and wonder when we will return, mouse-then you will really see what a battle is like."

Simeon turned his head in the direction of Gray-patch's voice. "Alas, I will never see anything for I am blind; but I can sense a lot. I can feel you are both evil and desperate. They say you have only one eye. I am surprised at youeven a fool with half an eye could see that you will never triumph against good if you are evil."

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After their meal and a short rest, the four travelers struck off westward once more, into the gloomy dark swampland.

Mariel took the lead. Peering into the deceptive half-light, she chose a relatively straight path. The other three followed her in single file along the raised trail, avoiding smooth slippery rocks and testing each fraction of the way with hesitant paws. To both sides of them the overhanging trees grew out of stagnant-smelling smoothness, which occasionally threw up a liquid bubble, betraying the treacherous nature of its surface.

Durry sounded apprehensive. "Oh, nuncle, it wouldn't do a poor lad much good to fall in there."

Dandin brought up the rear of the file, his paw on Durry's shoulder. "Aye, be careful and take your time. I just wish it were a bit lighter in hereit's like trying to plow your way through pea soup, all muggy and dark green. What is it we have to beware in here? The wart-skinned toad?"

Second in line, Tarquin turned his head slightly as he spoke.

"Not a sign of the old wart-skinned blighter. I hope we're goin' the right way, trail leader old gel."

Mariel kept her eyes straight ahead. "As far as I can

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see, we are. I chose the longest and straightest of the paths. Aha! What's that up ahead? Stop a minute, please."

They halted. Directly ahead of them a light was shining in the gloom, a small flickering golden glow. It stopped, hovering farther up the path. When Mariel moved forward again, it moved also. Dandin recalled the rhyme.

"Beware the light that shows the way!"

"Right you are, Dandin old lad, wot? There's the very light we've jolly well got to watch out for."

Mariel halted once more. "Lie down and be still, you three."

They dropped down and lay perfectly still. Mariel flattened herself against the path and began inching forward. This time the light remained still, glowing a short way above the trail.

Durry lifted his head for a quick peep. "Where's she a-goin' to?"

Dandin stifled the hedgehog's mouth with his paw. "Ssshhh! Keep quiet and be still, Durry."

Mariel's crawling figure had now disappeared into the murky gloom. Ahead of them the light still glowed steadily. They waited with bated breath, pressing themselves flat to the earth. Suddenly from along the path a dismayed croak sounded, followed by a whoop from Mariel and the familiar thwack of Gullwhacker. Springing up, the three travelers made their way along the path as speedily as circumstances would allow.

The mousemaid stood over a stunned toad. It was an indescribably ugly specimen, completely covered in large wartlike growths. In one paw Mariel twirled her Gullwhacker, while in the other she held a curious contrivance. It was a lantern on a small carrying frame, wonderfully made from thin-cut rock crystal. Inside the lantern half a dozen fat fireflies buzzed, giving off a pale golden light.

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Mariel prodded the toad lightly. "Two puzzles solved with one Gullwhacker: the wart-skinned toad and the light that shows the way. Three, in facttake a look ahead."

By the light of the lantern, they saw that the path ended sharply a short distance from where they stood.

Durry shivered. "If we'd follered that 'orrible beast with his light we would've gone ploppo! Right into that swamp!"

Dandin prised a rock from the trail. "Aye, ploppo is the right word!" He threw the rock into the swamp. It disappeared, making a small hole which swiftly filled in, leaving the surface undisturbed.

The wart-skinned toad was beginning to recover, groaning pitifully and rubbing his head with slimy webbed paws. Mariel thumped the Gullwhacker down close to the repulsive creature.

"Want some more?" she inquired.

The toad recoiled in fear. "Muurraakk! No more. Rrrreb!"

Dandin unsheathed his sword and tickled the creature's nose. "Listen, I don't know what your game is but we want to get out of this place and you're going to lead us. Understood?"

Still rubbing its head, it nodded unhappily.

Dandin turned to Mariel. "Right, let's get going. Keep this creature in the lead."

" Kwirraawwwk!"

The wart-skinned toad took off with a sideward leap at the swamp. Dandin reacted swiftly, but not fast enough. He barely grabbed the toad's back leg as it sailed through the air. The toad flopped into the swamp, pulling Dandin off balance. With a squeak of dismay he toppled from the raised path, slithering on its sloping side for an instant before plunging bodily into the treacherous ooze. Spreading its bulk flat and extending its webs, the wart-skinned toad slithered off

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across the swamp surface, leaving behind Dandin, who was rapidly disappearing into the bottomless waste.

"Help, do something, I'm being sucked under!"

Holding Tarquin's paw, Mariel stretched out, flicking her Gullwhacker toward Dandin. "Here, catch on to this!"

Dandin struggled to reach the rope, without avail. The swamp had pulled him in up to his neck now. Tarquin threw his harolina to Dandin. "Here, old lad, put both y' paws on top of this. It might help to keep you up!"

Dandin did as he was told, but he could feel the tug of the swamp, and panic filled him completely.

"Help! Oh, help me, someone!"

An urgent voice was whispering to Mariel, "The tree! The tree!"

She looked up at the tree hanging low overhead and immediately understood. Clambering up into the tree, she edged out along a thick dipping bough. Below her she could see Dandin, ashen-faced as he hung on to the harolina, the swamp oozing around his chin and lips.

"Hold on, Dandin. Hold on!"

Knotting Gullwhacker tight to the end of the bough, she called out, "Tarquin, Durry, get up here and lean on this branch, belly down!"

Without questioning Mariel, they clambered up into the tree, scrambling out along the branch until they were close to her. Both Tarquin and Durry followed Mariel's example, straddling the bough stomachs down, jerking to exert more pressure on the limb.

The swamp had closed over Dandin's mouth. He took a final breath as it started to flood into his nostrils, fighting back the welling panic as it oozed around his eyes.

Mariel felt the branch bend lower. Grabbing Dandin's outstretched paws, she noosed the Gullwhacker tight

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around them, calling to her companions, "Back off now. Back along the branch. Quick!"

Following them with all speed, she managed to cry out as they hung over the path.

"Jump!"

The swamp had sucked Dandin under, his head disappeared from view.

Mariel, Durry and Tarquin jumped heavily from the tree to the path, falling in an awkward heap atop each other.

The bough straightened with a tremendous rush. Dandin was hauled clear of the swamp with a huge squelching plop\

He hung there, dangling above the swamp at the rope's end by both paws, covered from ears to tail in thick foul mud. Pulling the sword from where it stood quivering on the trailside where Dandin had dropped it, Tarquin leaned out, supported by Mariel and Durry. Holding the sword by its blade, he hooked the crosstree hilt into Dandin's belt and pulled him in. Mariel and Durry grabbed Dandin's limp body. Tarquin swung the sword upward with a mighty slash, severing the end of the bough that the Gulhvhacker was tied to. All four fell back in a heap on the pathside.

While Tarquin undid the knots to free Dandin's paws, Mariel poured water from their flasks over his face, washing away the ooze that caked it. Durry forced his mouth open whilst Mariel poured water into it. Dandin struggled feebly and coughed. Mariel sighed her relief. Her voice choking with emotion for her friend, she tried to sound busy and practical.

"Thank goodness for that. I thought he was gone for a moment there."

Tears were flowing down Durry Quill's homely face as he joked. "Our Dandin a goner? Naw, he'll be a'right, I 'member Father Abbot sayin' he use to eat mudpies when he were a Dibbun. Hahahaboohoo!"

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Laughing and crying at the same time, Durry hugged Dandin's paw.

A fire was lit, though only a small one with the limited supply of fuel in the swamp. Tarquin took a turn at making some mushroom and turnip broth while Mariel tended to Dandin. The young mouse had recovered sufficiently to sit up. He looked away from the darklands swamp and shuddered.

"Uuuuuuhhhhh! It filled my nose and eyes and sucked me under. Right under! It was horrible. I'll never forget it as long as I live!"

Mariel patted his back gently. "There, there, it's all right, you're safe now. Good job you thought of the tree, Durry."

The hedgehog looked at her oddly. "I didn't mention no tree, missy."

"Oh, it must have been Tarquin then. Thank you, Tarquin."

"Don't mention it, old thing, but y'don't mind me sayin', what tree?"

"You mean it wasn't you who said, 'the tree, the tree'?"

"Nope, sorry, must've bin some other beastie."

Dandin and Mariel looked at each other. Dandin smiled.

"Aye, the same one who told me to hold my paws up straight after I went under. Good old Martin the Warrior."

After a few hours they were able to resume their journey, backtracking until they found another path which looked fairly straight and safe. Mariel walked in front, holding the wart-skinned toad's lantern; it made the visibility slightly better. Tarquin followed at the rear, cleaning mud from his harolina.

"Supreme sacrifice, wot? Chap keepin' another chap afloat in a bally swamp with his harolina. Not many'd do that y'know. Bet Hon Rosie'd think it was a jolly

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noble effort on my partfact I'm sure she would!" He turned to the big frilled lizard that was following him. "I mean to say, a chap's harolina is a very personal possession, wot? Omigosh! Eulaliaaa!"

Tarquin suddenly brained the lizard with the harolina, knocking it flying into the swamp. Other lizards sinuously scaled up from the sloping pathsides where they had been following the travelers. There were at least twenty or thirty, an assortment of newts and frilled lizards, their reptilian tongues flickering in and out as they watched the four travelers through cold basilisk eyes.

Durry threw up his paws in despair. "Lackaday, what now? We've 'ad sticklegs, pikes, adders, Flit-chaye, mad owls, a warty toad, an' now this, dragons! My nuncle Gabe wouldn't believe a word iffen I told him. More like he'd say that I 'ad been a-drinkin' of his strong blackberry wine. Mariel, tell a poor lad who's far from home, what do we do now?"

It was a strange scene. They stood on the trail, holding a hasty conference/ watched by the silent unblinking lizards.

"We have two choices, Durry: stand and fight, or make a run for it."

Dandin drew his sword. "I'm with you, Mariel. Just say the word!"

"Now steady in the ranks there, chaps," Tarquin interrupted. "I've already cracked a valuable harolina on one blinkin' reptile's bonce. Hold fast a moment, will you. I could be mistaken, but just a moment ago I swear I felt a bit of a light zephyr."

Durry wrinkled his snout. "A what?"

"A light zephyr, me old scout. A vagrant breeze, a fortunate breath, a bally puff of wind, in fact. Just give me a moment, will you ..."

Tarquin walked back down the trail to a tree, brushing aside a newt. "Beg pardon, old lizard, 'scuse me."

With an agility which belied his awkward figure, the

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hare climbed the tree. He stood on a high branch, paw to forehead, gazing out, nodded with apparent satisfaction, then descended the trunk swiftly, pushing through the lizards.

"D'you fellows mind not hoggin' the trail? Bad form, y'know, idlin' about an' stickin' your flippin' tongues in an' out like that."

Returning through the dumbfounded lizards to his companions, Tarquin murmured under his breath to Mariel, "Tarquin L. Woodsorrel reportin' back, marm. Don't show too much excitement, but I could see the sea from up in that tree, about a couple of hours' good hike from where we are. Does that alter the situation? Just thought you ought t' know, bein' expedition leader an' all that."

Dandin gave a wriggle of suppressed joy. "The sea! Well, that does change things, but we've still got these lizards to contend with. Look, there's more coming out of the swamp."

The lizards from the mud joined their fellows upon the trail, waving long, prehensile tails and strutting about slowly with sinuous reptilian grace.

Mariel weighed the situation carefully. "Hmrn, they haven't made any move to attack us yet. Maybe it's just a display of strength in numbers, though if we made a run for it they could easily stop us. This is their territory, they know it better than we do, and we're outnumbered at least ten to one. Right, one thing's clear we can't stand here much longer or something's bound to happen. I've got an idea that might work. Hold my Gullwhacker and give me that sword, Dandin. Don't ask questions, just trust me."

Wordlessly Dandin gave her the sword. Turning from her companions, the mousemaid faced the gathering of reptiles crowding the path. "Which one of you is the leader?"

There was no reply. The lizards merely stood staring at her.

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"Don't you have a chief, some creature in command?"

Further silence. Mariel brandished the sword of Martin. She gave a great leap and yelled, "Redwaaaalll! I am Mariel the Warrior. I'll fight you all together or one at a time! Come on, send your best killer out here and I'll meet him in combat! Lizards don't bother me, buckos. I've ate lizard stew before today."

Behind her she could hear Durry and the others snorting to suppress a fit of laughing giggles.

"Sounds like Mariel Stonehead to me!"

"Lizard stew? Oh I say, that's goin' it a bit!"

"D'you reckon they can understand her? Teeheehee!"

Mariel ignored them. She approached a large crested lizard who stood half a head above the rest.

"What about you, sliptongue? You're big and lazy enough to be a chief. Do you fancy your chance against Mariel the Warrior?"

The lizard blinked, turned slowly and walked majestically away, with Mariel shaking the sword at it.

"So, you're not only dumb, but cowardly with it! Well, let me tell you, slimenose, if any of your tribe try attacking my friends, you're the first one I'm coming after. I'll chop off your tail and stuff it up your nose! We're leaving now. I hope you'll heed my warning!"

Swaggering outrageously, the mousemaid joined her companions, telling them from the side of her mouth, "Right. Get moving. I'll stay at the back. Don't run, keep it to a brisk walk. Off we go!"

Tarquin led the way, almost helpless with laughter. "Good egg, Dandin. Did y'see that swagger? Hohoho, I thought she was going to wriggle clear out of her skin. Never seen anythin' so funny in all me life, young mouse."

"Haha, and did you see the way that big lizard looked at her when she called him slimenose? Cawhaw! His face was a picture."

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"Chop off his tail 'n' stuff it up his nose!"

Mariel stifled a chuckle, picturing herself as the others saw her. "Don't laugh too much, pals they're still following us."

And sure enough they were. Still silent, tongues flickering, eyes fixed staringly on the travelers' backs, the pack of lizards followed at an even pace.

"Not to worry, chums," Tarquin called back. "I can feel that breeze quite clearly now. Hey, d'you suppose the big chappie'd give me a ride on his back if I asked him nicely? After all, we are going the same way, aren't

we

00

Two hours later the swamp thinned out, overhanging trees became few and far between, and the path petered off, giving way to firm ground and fragrant gorse-bushes. But the greatest joy to the four travelers was the clear blue summer sky overhead. After days of dark forest and swamp, the fresh air tasted like springwater to them. They halted and looked back to the darkland swamp. The lizards were gathered on its fringes, still silent, flickering-tongued and beady-eyed, though some of them were preening and stretching in the sudden warmth of the sun, settling themselves down languorously to bask.

Free now of the reptilian threat, Mariel and her friends could not resist shouting their humorous goodbyes.

"Cheerio, you baggy-skinned blighters. Don't get your noses too muddy in the jolly old swamp, wot wot!"

"Bye-bye, tonguepullers. Give our regards to the old warty-skinned toad!"

"Yes, goodbye, you great bunch of dumbos. By the way, I've never tasted lizard stew before it'd prob'ly make me sick. 'Bye now!"

"Ta-ta, vermints. D'you think you could make your

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way to our Abbey someday, just in case my nuncle Gabe don't believe me when I tell 'm about 'ee?"

Across the gorsefields they trekked, toward a range of high hills which fronted the westerly edge. Seabirds wheeled in the sky above while the irrepressible Tarquin strummed away on his cracked harolina.

"O, I wouldn't go through the swamps no more,

Not for an Abbot's feast.

Not even for a kiss from Rosie dear,

Though she's a lovely beast.

Give me the summer sunshine,

Don't mind a cloud or two,

Rather than that bally bog

And a pot of lizard stew!"

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Graypatch and his searats were back sooner than any creature at Redwall Abbey expected. Smarting from the ignominious defeat and with the crew beginning to mutter behind his back again, the searat Captain decided to turn the tide in his favor with a shock attack.

He camped his crew farther up the path for the remainder of the night, waking them at dawn light to explain his scheme.

"Fire-swingers! That's the thing, buckosthe old fire-swingers!"

Bigfang was feeling a bit cocky now Graypatch's first attack had failed. "Fire-swingers me tail! I already tried fire, an' it didn't work. What's so good about your plan?"

Graypatch ridiculed Bigfang. "I'll tell you, matey. My plan'll work because I've got a brain an' you haven't. Rush the gate an' set fire to ithuh, I could think of a better plan than that in a storm at sea with both claws tied behind me back. So you either shut up an' listen, or I'll cut you loose in this country to fend for yerself, unnerstand?"

Bigfang subsided into sullen silence while Graypatch continued.

"Cut up all those lengths of rope we used for grap-

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nels, tie rocks to the ends, all wrapped in dead grass an' soaked with lamp oil. That'll make good fire-swingers. Now, we sneaks along that there ditch so's those Redwallers don't see us a-comin'. Then we gets out on the flatland, lights up our fire-swingers an' twirls 'em an' hurls 'em. Think of it, matesa good fire-swinger has more range than any weapon, so they won't be able to touch us with bows or lances or spears. We can stand around all season flingin' fire into their precious Abbey, an' they can't do a thing about it. Sooner or later some part of the buildin' will take flame. Haharr, then they'll be ready to talk terms, or be roasted alive. Well, what d'ye say, shipmates?"

The scheme was not greeted too enthusiastically, but Graypatch worked upon them, painting pictures of the good life to come when they would be masters of Redwall. His eloquence finally won, and they set about making large numbers of fire-swingers.

oo

Midmorning at the Abbey found a repair crew clearing away the debris from the previous night's battle. The front gates had been made good and piles of green branches and rubble stacked in front to prevent them being set alight again. Because the normal Abbey routine had been disturbed, a large late breakfast was being served upon the southern wallsteps. Friar Alder and his young assistant, Cockleburr, had made crusty country pasties, and these were being served with melted yellow cheese and rough hazelnut bread. There was new cider, strawberry cordial and a number of latticed pear and redberry tarts to follow. Bagg, Runn and Grubb were the heroes of the hour, regaled with outsize portions of everything as they related their feats of derring-do, embroidering and expanding as they pleased.

"Hohurr, oi cloimed down 'ee roaps an' foighted with they'ns awhoil, then oi clambers back oop an' cuts a few more o' they roaps."

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"That's true, I let some of 'em climb right over the top, 'cos I'm not afeared o' searats, then I jabbed 'em in their bottoms with my big sharp knife, so they screamed an' jumped back over the wall. Eek! they went. I'll bet there's a few sore be'inds 'mongst 'em today!"

"As fer me, I went choppo choppo with my sharp knife, though I let some of 'em climb right up on the battlements so I could stand on Grubb's shoulders an' punch 'em in the nose. Puncho! Ain't that right, Grubb, me old warrior pal?"

"Aye 't were so. They was a-cryen an' a-wailen. Oh mercy me, spare oi, they was moanen. Hurhurr, we'ns spared they aroightmore like splattered they all over t' woodlands. Burrhurr, us'n's the boys aroight."

Friar Alder squinted vindictively at the heroic trio. "Yes, and you used my best vegetable knives to do it with. I think you must have been chopping stones with those knives. I've been up since an hour before dawn, trying to sharpen new edges on them."

Ignoring the caustic remarks, Bagg and Runn propounded new ideas.

"We could have a Dibbuns army, y'know."

"Good idea, mate. An' we could fight lots of battles an' all that."

"Aye, that'd show some o'these old fogies."

"Haha, we'd send them all t' bed early."

"Burr, wi' no supper or brakkist on the morrow."

"Heehee, I'd scrub 'em all be'ind their ears, twice a day."

"Hoo urr, oi'd spank a few o' they, just fer nuthin' 't all!"

They froze at the sound of Sister Serena's voice behind them.

"Personally I've never spanked any creature for nothing at all. But I hear there were three of our Dibbuns missing from their beds in the dormitory last night. Sister Sage said that they were out on the east

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walltop, playing with Friar Alder's sharp knives. Now, if I found out who they were I'd give them a real good hide-tanning for being naughty little creatures. But I don't suppose you three would know who they were, would you?"

"Us, er, phwaw, er, oh no, not us, Sister!"

"We were in bed fast asleep, all night!"

"Burr aye, a-snoren like hinfant 'ogs, us'n's wuz,

marm!"

oo

Saxtus was coming from the dormitory with a scroll he had been studying. As he crossed the Abbey lawn he witnessed a strange incident. A whooshing noise in the air caused him to look up. He saw what looked like a small comet of fire with a rope tail. It soared upward, mounting high into the blue, then dropped toward earth, plummeting like a stone. The young mouse mentally charted its course and yelled aloud:

"Sister Serena, look out!"

Saxtus was rushing toward the south steps as he shouted. Serena, not knowing what the alarm was, immediately did the thing closest to her dutiful instinct: she flung herself upon the three Dibbuns sitting on the lower step, shielding them with her body. Hurtling through the air, the blazing rock, bound around with oil-soaked grass, shattered on the step where Serena had been sitting. Friar Alder gasped with shock as a sliver of rock cut his face and a heap of burning material landed on his spotless white apron. Creatures disturbed from their meal dived for cover, beating at smoldering garments and ducking the flying shards of rock that ricocheted from the stone wallstairs.

Saxtus beat at Sister Serena's habit. Luckily it was only scorched, and the Dibbuns she had protected were shocked but unharmed. Farther over to the center of the Abbey grounds, another fire-swinger shot out of the sky and burst on the winding gravel path, showering splintered rock and flame across the lawn. Saxtus, Flagg

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and the Abbot dashed about, roaring out warnings at the top of their lungs.

"Under cover, everybeast. Quick!"

"Inside the Abbey. Hurry!"

"Get those Dibbuns inside!"

Saxtus and Flagg ran upstairs. Rufe Brush was already there. Notching an arrow to his bow, he aimed in the general direction of the grinning, jeering crew of searats standing on the flatlands around a fire. Rufe gritted his teeth, drawing the bowstring back to its limit.

"Scum, I'll wipe the smiles off your dirty faces!"

The arrow fell miserably short, causing further merriment among Graypatch and his crew. Saxtus, Flagg and Rufe stood watching as Deadglim dipped a fire-swinger into the fire; it flared up instantly. The searat began swinging it in clockwise circles alongside his body. Faster and faster it swung until it was like a blur of light. He let it go and off it sped like a rocket, out and upward.

Flagg could only stand and watch as it whooshed by overhead. He followed its course. Luckily it shot straight into the Abbey pond, extinguishing with a splash and a hiss. The big otter took the bow and arrows from Rufe.

"Here, matey. I'll put one across their bows!"

Flagg was a powerful fully grown male otter. He drew back the shaft to its point and let fly at Graypatch.

Again the arrow fell woefully short. Flagg grabbed a spear and hurled it with all his considerable strength. It did not even go as far as the arrow. Saxtus tried his slingshot. It went farther than either the spear or the arrow, but still not far enough. On the flatlands the searat crew howled their derision, dancing and jigging as they screamed out insults at the Redwallers.

"Yah country bumpkins, what's up? Can't y'throw?"

"Here, mousy, fire an arrow at me. Haharr!"

"Couldn't hit a crab in a pail. Hohoho!"

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The three defenders watched helplessly as another fire-swinger came roaring over. This one had been thrown by Bigfang. It hit the partially finished bell tower, setting light to the wooden-frame scaffolding.

Saxtus hurried from the wall. "We'll have to organize fire-fighting crews!"

"Aye/' Flagg agreed miserably. "Those things they're chuckin' have twice the range of any of our

weaponry."

oo

It was midafternoon. The Dibbuns would normally have been playing outside, racing around the orchard, paddling at the pond's edge, or frolicking on the lawns. Now they had to stay inside the Abbey building. It was a hot dusty afternoon and they were becoming fractious.

"Wanna go ou'side. Gonna play inna pond!" "You come back here this instant, young squirrel!" "Oi wants to sit in 'ee orchar'. 'Tis wurm in yurr!" "You'd be a lot warmer if one of those flaming things hit you. Now lie down and take a nap. That'll cool you off if you lie still."

"I'm lyin' down, an' I'm still roastin'. When's tea-time?"

"Not for a while yet. Now be good!" "Burr, oi wantser be naughty, oi loiks 'aven a liddle naughty now 'n' agin. 'Tis noice."

A fire-swinger hit the main Abbey door with a loud crash, and the Dibbuns broke into startled squeaking. Mellus distributed candied chestnuts as she reassured them.

"Hush now. It's nothing. Saxtus and Flagg will deal

with it."

oo

Graypatch tore at the roasted meat from the fire. Grinning wolfishly at Kybo, he winked.

"This is the life, eh, messmate! A whole Abbey at

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our mercy an' nobeast to stop us. Ahoy, Ranzo. Any more of these skylarks skylarkin' round?"

Ranzo fitted an arrow to his bow, squinting upward. "Leave it till evenin' Cap'n, they start to come down then."

The searat sprawled on the grass in the warm summer noon. "Aharr, this is a land of plenty, not like those cold northern isles." He stuck an apple on a stick and began toasting it.

Bigfang came to the fire to light another fire-swinger. Graypatch leaned close and whispered in his ear, "Brains, Bigfang. That's what it takesbrains. You leave the thinkin' to old Graypatch, matey. I'll guarantee they'll want to talk terms by this time tomorrow."

Bigfang held his silence, determined not to rise to Graypatch's bait. He would wait to settle their score.

oo

Evening brought no change in the situation. The fire-swingers poured in with perilous regularity, each one coming from a different angle to land in an unexpected place, according to the mood of the searat that hurled it. Tired and red-eyed from fighting conflagrations which had sprung up all over the Abbey grounds, Saxtus and Flagg with their fire crews sat drinking cold mint tea, awaiting the next fire-swinger attack. Rufe Brush and his sentries on the west wall shouted warnings at the approach of each missile.

"Hiyo the grounds, fire coming in high and north!"

They dashed over as the incendiary missile appeared at the north end, Sister Sage calling out, "It's hit the north wall wicker gate. Quick!" Stumbling and tripping in the dark, they reached the blaze and began beating the flames down with wet sacking and green boughs. It took a while to defeat the blaze as they were bone-weary and dog-tired.

"Hiyo the grounds," Rufe Brush's voice called out once more. "One coming in dead center, right over me!"

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The fire-fighters hitched up their habits and began dashing off in the direction of the main gateway. Saxtus tripped and fell flat. He rested a moment with his scorched face against the grass. A rapping sound caused the young mouse to look up. He gazed around in the darkness quizzically. There it was again. Saxtus stood up and investigated the noise further. It was coming from the wicker gate. Now there were voices.

"Y'don't suppose they've bally well gone to bed, wot?"

"Hardly, old chap. After all, they are under invasion, y'know."

"Imagine sleepin' through a fire-swinger attack. Whoohahahahooh!"

"Please, Rosie, don't laugh so close to me poor old ear, it's jolly well deafenin'. In fact, don't gurgle at all if y'can help it, old gel. Just think happy thoughts, eh."

"Oh come off it, Clary you old bodger. If I didn't have a good hoot now and again I'd prob'ly swell up an' burst!"

"Hmm, no such blinkin' luck, wot?"

"Oh, whoohahahahooh! You are a card, Brig Thyme."

Saxtus unbolted the wicker door. Searats didn't laugh like that!

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In the fading eventide light the four travelers breasted the big hills to find themselves confronted by a breathtaking sight. A long rocky beach lay beneath them. Lapping up to the shore, the rippling waves broke in a dark blue cascade, glittering red as the setting sun caught the sea, turning it to an iridescent green midway, which faded to purply black on the horizon. The huge crimson half-circle sank slowly in the west, throwing up gold and umber shadows on the undersides of long cloud layers with cream tops. Dandin and Durry had never seen the great waters before. They stared at the magnificent spectacle, awestruck by the immensity of sky and sea.

Durry sat down on the hilltop, spreading his arms wide. "I've seen the Abbey pond and that stream wi' the pikes a-swimmin' in it, but this . . . 'tis too much fer one poor lad's eyes to take all in."

Dandin could add nothing to the truth in his friend's simple words.

They descended to the shore and found that what looked like a rocky beach from above was a mass of tall stone outcrops which gave them the sensation of wandering through a mazelike canyon.

Tarquin glanced up at the huge blockform monoliths.

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"We'll camp somewhere hereabouts for the night, wot?"

"Ye'll be washed away by the night tides if ye do!"

A fat old dormouse had appeared from nowhere. He stood smiling at them over the top of his quaint square eyeglasses. "My name's Bobbo."

Tarquin bowed with the old-fashioned elegance common to hares. "Pleasant evenin', Bobbo. Allow me to introduce us ..."

As Tarquin went through the formalities, Mariel quietly assessed their new acquaintance. The dormouse was quite old and plump; he carried a knobbly stick which he leaned heavily upon; his garb consisted of a faded velveteen longcoat, tied about the middle with tough dried seaweed; all in all a curious character. His homely eyes twinkled behind the glasses as he wagged his stick up at a towering rock close by.

"Weary travelers all, come ye up to my abode. Follow Bobbo, if ye please."

He was such a friendly, harmless-looking old character that they followed, reeling instinctively that somehow they could trust him.

The dormouse's house was a sizable cave set high in the rock, and they made their way to it up natural ledges which formed a stairway in the stone.

oo

A cheerful sea-coal fire illuminated Bobbo's home; the walls were hung with homemade fishnets and odd-shaped pieces of driftwood sculpted by sand and tide; rush mats scattered about served as seats, and delicious odors wafted from a black stockpot set on a tripod over the fire. Bobbo took a ladle and stirred the contents of the pot.

"It's only shrimp-and-sea-cabbage stew with a few turnips thrown in, but ye be welcome to share it."

He issued them with deep scallop shells and bade them help themselves.

Durry nearly sat on a small yellow-throated newt,

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which scampered fearfully away to a ledge at the back of the cave. It sat watching them, eyes blinking, throat pulsating. Bobbo strained some of the cooked shrimp from the pot and placed it on the ledge beside the newt.

"Take ye no heed to him, wayfarers. He fell from yon hilltops at high tide and was washed here by the sea waters. I named him Fid. Though he never speaks to me, he's a grand listener, aren't ye, Firl?"

The small newt blinked and began eating. Bobbo drew them each a drink of cloudy liquid from a gourd he kept hanging near the entrance, where night breezes kept it cool.

"'Tis dandelion flower and wild-barley water. The plants grow plentiful on the hillside. Do ye like it?"

Durry took a long draught from his shell bowl. "By 'ecky! Most afreshin'. My old nuncle Gabe would dearly like t' know how you brew this, Mr. Bobbo. Would y'tell me how to make it?"

The dormouse added more sea-coal to his fire. "All in good time, Master Durry. 'Tis a long night and I've sat alone here many a season, longing for the sound of another voice. But first, let me tell you how I came to this place, then you can tell me all about yourselves and your long journeys from the good homes you left."

Outside, the tide washed in through the rock canyons, swishing and hissing as it threw spray against the walls of sea-scoured stone. The wind made a hollow moaning dirge of its night passage through the flooded maze. High in the safety of the dormouse's den the four travelers sat in comfort, listening to him. The high-toned singsong voice causing them to blink and nod around the fire as Bobbo's uncomplicated tale unfolded.

"Ah me, 'twas more seasons ago now than I do remember, a winter's night, and there was I, chained to a galley bench in a searat ship. They had taken me captive when I was very young, do you see. I had no memory of parents, home or even my name; the galley bench was all I knew. Well now, didn't an awful storm

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spring up, a fearful thing! Waves washed over the side and flooded the galleys where we poor wretches were chained to the oars, pulling until our backs were nigh broken, whipped, starved and ill-treated. Myself was chained next to a poor weak creature, a vole who just gave up life and died, right next to me, there on the galley bench. Listen now, for I tell you true, the master of this ship was a searat, the blackest-hearted scoundrel who ever stepped aboard shipGabool the Wild was his name!"

Mariel's eyes came wide open, but she did not interrupt Bobbo, who by now was in full flow.

"Ah well, there was I, chained to an oar and a dead creature, trying to pull my weight with the others as we battled against wave, storm and the slavedriver's lash. Gabool came down into the galleys.

" 'Why isn't that oar workin'?' says he. 'Because one of 'em's dead/ says the slavedriver. Then Gabool says; The way that oar isn't pullin', it looks like they're both dead. Throw 'em overboard an' get two more in their place!' Now before I could call out, the slavemaster bashes me over the head and I'm in the sea, chained to the poor dead vole. What took place next I cannot be telling you for I must have passed out. But the chains and the body of my dead oar partner saved my life, as I awoke next morning, high up on these rocks where the tide had thrown the two of us. The body of the vole was caught in a crevice. Without him I would have been washed back into the sea again, for I was hanging in my chains by both paws, high up on top of this very rock, with the shore far below me. When I could muster the strength, I climbed up to my dead partner. His paws were so thin and wasted that I found little difficulty slipping the manacles and chains from them. Do you know, I often wish that he had lived, for then I would have had some creature to talk with. Be that as it may, 'twas in climbing down these rocks that I found this cave.

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"So here am I, Bobbo. The vole lies buried on the green hillsideI think he would have liked that. When I had freed myself of the chains, I threw them far into the sea from the high rocks. Here I have lived a solitary peaceful life, though not without its perils. I did try to make my way inland but was lost in the swamps for many days. Lucky I was to find my way back here. 'Tis best that here I stay. Maybe one day I will teach little Firl to speak, then we can talk together."

Bobbo left off, staring into the fire.

"So then, there you have it all. Look now, I can see you are for sleeping. Lie down and rest; you can tell me about yourselves in the morning. It is warm and safe here. You will sleep well."

Tarquin, Dandin and Durry needed no second bidding, but Mariel was not tired. The mousemaid sat up far into the night, questioning Bobbo about Gabool, though the dormouse had little information to impart. He was, however, eager to hear about the travelers, so in return for his kindness Mariel did not keep him in suspense until the morrow. She related all their adventures as Bobbo sat keenly drinking in every word, with Firl making tiny snoring sounds on the ledge behind them.

The squeal of sea gulls wakened Dandin as rosy dawn banished the coverlet of night. He lay still, only his eyes moving about, taking in their new surroundings. The other three were still fast asleep. Dandin rose and stretched as Bobbo stumped in, followed by Firl, his faithful newt. The dormouse bore twigs and a full sack. "Dandin, it is a good morning I am bidding you. Look, dried applewood and sweet herbs to burnit makes my abode smell fresh in the mornings. Now, you will find a small rockpool outside to wash in, and I will prepare wild oatcakes, small fish and gorseflower honey to break your fast."

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The young mouse grinned. "That sounds excellent to me, Bobbo. Thank you."

He was back in a short while, splashing water over his sleeping friends. "Rise and shine! Wakey wakey! Oatcakes, honey and fish! Last one washed doesn't get any!"

Tarquin sprang up, shaking himself. "I say, you sly young cad, why didn't y'wake me earlier? By the pattern on me aunty's pinny, Bobbo, that smells good!"

oo

Morning sunlight was beginning to flood the cavern as they sat eating.

Mariel had a surprise to reveal. "You'll never guess what I learned last night while I was talking to Bobbo."

Durry licked honey from his paws and juggled with a hot oatcake. "No, marm, you're right. We'll never guess, so hurry up an' tell us."

The mousemaid recited the appropriate lines of the poem:

"Where the sea meets with the shore,

There the final clue is hid;

Rock stands sentinel evermore,

Find it as I did.

The swallow who cannot fly south,

The bird that only flies one way,

Lies deep beneath the monster's mouth,

Keep him with you night and day.

Do you remember that part of the rhyme? Well, last night while you were all snoring, I sat up telling Bobbo of our quest, and guess what?"

Tarquin dipped his oatcake in the amber honey impatiently. "Whatwhatwhat?"

Mariel smiled intriguingly from one to the other. "Bobbo knows where the swallow is!"

"I say, good egg! What a spiffin' old Bobbo you are, wot!"

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"Even more cleverer than my nuncle Gabe, an' that's

a fact!"

"Do you really know, Bobbo? Oh, tell us, please!" The dormouse stood up, brushing crumbs from his

longcoat. "Do you come with me and I will show it to

you."

00

Bobbo hobbled in front, with Firl at his heels. He led them on a southerly tack through the twisting winding canyons, keeping up a surprisingly lively pace, now disappearing into shadowed recesses and materializing into bright sunlight. Sometimes they crunched upon small pebbles, other times pattered across damp sand, occasionally splashing through sun-warmed shallow pools. Finally they arrived at their destination. Bobbo leaned against a monumental edifice.

"Well now, friends, here is the very place!"

This rock was much larger than any they had previously encountered. It was almost a small mountain set in the sands, giving the impression of some vast primeval monster squatting upon the shore with its back to the sea. The dormouse led them to the east side of the rock, where a huge overhang projected over a pool that was both wide and deep.

Dandin looked about, expecting to see a swallow perched somewhere close.

Bobbo pointed to the pool. "See, right at the bottom, lodged between two rocks."

Gathering around the rim, they peered into the underwater grotto. Through the clear limpid water, aided by lancing rays of sunlight, it could be dimly seen. No bigger than the size of a mouse's paw, a swallow fashioned from metal, its outspread wings partially obscured by the rocks which held it captive amid the brightly hued sea anemones and corals on the bed of the pool.

Dandin shook his head in amazement. "How did you ever find it, Bobbo?"

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"Fishing, young master. I was fishing for shrimp one day, sitting here staring down into the pool, when I saw it glint in the early sunlight."

"And didn't you try to get it out?"

"Ah well, I did try for nearly half a day with my hook and line, but it was too smooth and firmly lodged in the rocks. So I had to leave the little bird, do you see. Then after I found Firl I brought him along to this place to dive for it. Newts are excellent swimmers."

"Of course they are. Why didn't Firl get it?"

The small newt scampered down from the rock and cringed against Bobbo, eyes wide and throat palpitating madly.

"Ah well, do you see, it is not only the little bird who lives down at the bottom," the dormouse explained. "There is also a great shell creature, one with claws like vises, great eyes on stalks and long whiskers. Poor Firl lost his tail to the beast; it has only lately grown back. I would not let him go down there again, no not ever!"

Bobbo produced a piece of oatcake from his longcoat. Powdering it, he mixed it to a paste with some water and molded it around a small pebble.

"Watch now and see."

He dropped the coated pebble into the pool close by the edge. They gathered around and marked its progress as it sank rapidly to the bottom of the water. Near the part where the swallow lay, the pebble came to rest. It had no sooner landed than a gigantic blue-black lobster rushed out of a crevice, pounced on the stone and retreated swiftly with the object held tightly in its enormous pincered claws. It all happened so fast that the onlookers were stunned into momentary silence.

Bobbo shrugged. "So you see now, wayfarers. Is it not a dreadful monster?"

Durry blanched. "It's even too 'orrible to look at, Mr. Bobbo!"

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Mariel's jaw was set, firm and resolute. "But I've got to go down there and rescue the swallow!"

"If you go down, then I do too!" There was determination in Dandin's eyes.

"Er, er, oh, dash it, count me in as well, you chaps!"

Mariel shook her head. "No, Tarquin. You and Durry stay up here with Bobbo. We'll need you two to lower us down and pull us out quick. Now let me think awhile. I'll have to figure out the best way to do this ..."

Durry mopped his brow and blew out a sigh of relief. "Thank my stars! My old nuncle'd 'ave a fit if half a poor nephew walked back in on 'im one o' these days. Best we stay up 'ere, Mr. Woodsorrel. Just think what your Hon Rosie'd say if you turned up with no nose and on'y one ear. Bet she'd be rightly peeved."

"Peeved? Peeved ain't the word, young Durry. Rosie'd take a screamin' blue tizzy if she saw a magnificent specimen of harehood minus a hooter an' a lug. Good grief, I'd have to run off an' become a bally searat, or somethin' equally foul!"

oo

It was noontide before Mariel and Dandin came up with a workable solution. They went back to Bobbo's cave, where they gathered together what rope they could find, plus all the cooked shrimp and small fish they could lay paws upon. Back at the pool, Mariel explained her strategy to the others.

"The idea is to throw as much food to the lobster as possible. Let's start right now. Durry, Tarquin, chuck the shrimp and fish in. I want you to keep your eyes on the lobster. Once it stops coming out to get the food, let me know. Dandin, you and I will search about for two rocks. We need something to weight us down and make us sink to the bottom of the pool. While we're down there, you keep watch, with the sword ready. I'll get the swallow, then Durry and Tarquin can haul us up out of it."

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Soon the final preparations had been made. Mariel and Dandin sat on the rock lip of the pool with ropes tied about their waists. The mousemaid put aside her Gullwhacker; it would be useless underwater. Dandin took off his scabbard and held on to the sword. Durry and Tarquin were still dropping odd bits of food into the water.

"I think the old lobster villain's had enough. He's not botherin' to come out for any more tucker. The water's teemin' with jolly nice fish an' shrimp, but he seems to have had a tummyfulgreat glutton!"

Both mice picked up their rocks. Bobbo gave final instructions.

"Now then, do you go straight down and get the bird, tug on the ropes and we will haul you up fast. If we see the creature come out we will pull you up, whether you have the swallow or not. I wish you both luck and good fortune. Now take a slow deep breath."

Side by side Mariel and Dandin slid into the water, the coldness forcing them to take deep breaths, then the weight of the stones took over. With eyes wide open, the pool closed above their heads and they began their descent, into the silent aquamarine depths of the watery world.

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BOOK THREE

The Sound of a Bell!

The hare shook paws with Mother Mellus inside Great Hall as the fire-swingers roared outside on the lawns and in the orchard.

"Long patrol from Salamandastron at y'service, marm. Colonel Clary, Brigadier Thyme and Hon Rosie."

Mellus inspected Clary's paw. "You've been hurt. I'll get a proper dressing for that wound. Sister Sage! Bring a clean dressing and some salve, will you."

Clary winced slightly as the dressing was applied.

"Much obliged, marm. Only a scratch, really. Good healin' fur us Meadowclarys have, wot? The young mouse chappie, wotsisname, Saxtus, he's told us what the position is. Not to worry, we'll have the vermin sorted out by dawn for you dealt with their types before. Oh, by the way, marm, can I count on you to be on the west walltop in, say, two hours?"

Mellus nodded. "You can count on me for anything, as long as it gets those filthy searats away from Redwall Abbey, Colonel Clary."

Hon Rosie gawped around Great Hall in open admiration. "Oh, I say, what a super-dooper cottage y'have here. Whoohahahahooh!"

This time it was Mellus's turn to wince. "Colonel

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Clary, would it be possible for Hon Rosie to do her laughing outside? We have infants in the dormitories, trying to sleep."

Clary saluted. "Right you are, marm. Rosie! Put a lid on the giggles, old gel. Keepin' the babies awake, wot!"

"Oops! Silly old me, I'll go an' have a swift chortle in the shrubbery. Whooha Sorry!"

Thyme went about his business efficiently. Mounting the west wall, he introduced himself to Rule Brush and tested a bow and arrow.

"Hmm, this all the archery equipment you've got? Sadly lackin', old lad. Now let me see, range, trajectory, distance . . . Hmmm, yersss! Is there a wicker gate in your east wall leadin' out into the jolly old woodlands?"

Rufe nodded dumbly, slightly overawed by the militaristic hare.

"Good show! Next question: where'll I find your grub wallah y'know the cook chappie, the chef?"

"In the kitchens, gettin' tomorrow's breakfast set up, I s'pose. Inside the Abbey, one floor down below Great Hall."

"Top-hole! See y'later. Face front now, don't turn y'back on the bally enemy, old chap. They'll shoot you in the behind, wot!"

Rufe was left so bewildered he nearly forgot to duck as a low-flying fire-swinger sped overhead.

"Hiyo the grounds, fire-swinger come in over main gate!"

"Hurr, maister Brush," a mole cried out from below. "You'm a bit late, baint 'ee? Durned foir-s'inger near burned moi nose offen."

Friar Alder reluctantly parted with his three best vegetable knives again. "Take care of them please, Mr. Thyme."

"It's Brigadier, sah, Brigadier but you can call me Brig. Not to worry about the old frogstickers, we'll have 'em back good as new."

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Saxtus and Flagg sat with their backs to the Abbey building, taking a breather and a drink of cool dandelion and burdock cordial while Gabriel Quill and Friar Hubert took over the fire-fighting relief column. Flagg rubbed the cold stone beaker against his brow.

"Whew! I 'opes those hares c'n help us. Nice folk, though a little snooty in their manner o' talkin' like."

Saxtus took a long draught of his drink. "They're Salamandastron hares, Brother Hubert said, battle-trained and ready for anything. Leave it to them. They'll know what to do, Flagg."

oo

Out in the woodlands beyond the east wallgate, Clary trimmed shoots from a thick yewpole with Friar Alder's knife.

"There, that should be just the ticket, wot? Six long staves, good solid yew. How's the oak comin' along, Rosie old gel?"

"Capital, Clary. We found a big old one, quite dead an' ready to topple, but loads of sound branches on it, just the right length too. Hahahahooh."

Thyme looked up from his labors. "I noted lots of fishin' line in the kitchens. We can plait it together; should be ideal."

Clary smiled grimly. "Well done, Thyme. Come on, let's go!"

00

An hour before daybreak Deadglim shook Graypatch awake. He went to the fire and warmed himself.

"How's it goin', mateys?"

Swinging his arm around ever faster, Frink suddenly let a fire-swinger go. It roared off into the lightening sky like a shooting star,

"Great, Cap'n, though we're usin' green vines instead o' rope now there's loads of it growin' over yonder, plenty o' dead grass too. We could keep this up all season. It's bags o' fun."

Graypatch helped himself to roasted bird, tearing at

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it hungrily. "Haharr, so it is, shipmate. Get summat to eat now. I'll take over fer a while. Hoho, they must be run ragged inside those walls by now. Pretty soon they'll be too tired an' slow. Then a fire'll start that they won't be able to cope with. That's when we'll pay em a visit. Come on, me lucky bucks, keep a-slingin' those flames in!"

Bigfang stood up. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he stared toward the Abbey walls in the gathering daylight. He ran across to Graypatch.

"Cap'n, look! It's those three big rabbits who were aboard the Darkqueen. See 'em, large as life on the walltop!"

Graypatch spat out some burnt feathers and picked at his fangs. "Noddletop! Those ain't rabbits. Don't y'know a hare when y'see one? Any'ow, what difference does it make to us who they are? They'll burn same as the rest of 'em. Wake yerself up, addlebrain,

an' start throwin'."

C/D

They met on the walltop in front of the threshold, facing the plain from where Graypatch and his entire contingent could be seen around the large fire which provided ignition for the missilesColonel Clary, Brig Thyme, Hon Rosie, Mother Mellus and Flagg.

Saxtus stood to one side. He watched as Clary took command, all traces of jocularity and fun gone from the hare's normally quirky voice. There were six bows and a large stock of arrows on the threshold. Clary picked up a bow and a single shaft.

"I'm aware that you all know how to fire a bow, but I'll go over this once to refresh your memories. This bow, like the others we have made, is a longbow solid yew and more than twice the size of the ones you are used to. It is strung with a cord plaited from fishing lines to give it extra power. The arrows, as you can see, are far longer than normal arrows; thicker too. They are oak, fire-hardened tips and leaf flights. Now, I have

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chosen you because you are the biggest, strongest creatures in the Abbey, the very ones to fire these longbows. Let me demonstrate."

As Saxtus watched, Clary notched an arrow onto the bowstring.

"Stand side-on to the bow, keep it upright, draw back the string so that the shaft is fully occupied and the string taut. Bring the arrow up to the jawline, sight with one eye along the shaft, allowing for the arrow to take a curving course, mounting upwards and coming down right on the object aimed at. Right, now for a target."

Thyme pointed. "The rat dipping a swinger into the fireget him!"

Clary adjusted his eyeline, drew the arrow back to its limit and let fly. The taut longbow string twanged as the heavy oak shaft hissed off into the dawn light. Saxtus held his breath.

Ranzo was about to start whirling his fire-swinger when the arrow struck him. It knocked him backward, dead before he could blink, the fire-swinger dropping from his nerveless claws.

Saxtus was still a novice in the art of war, and the sudden death shocked him. "Y-you k-killed him! He's dead!" he stammered to the grim-faced hare.

Clary issued longbows to the others. "Aye, young mouse, it was a clean shot. Keep your head down and issue us with arrows as we call for them. In case you're feeling sorry for that wretch, let me tell you something: fire is the most dangerous thing to any living wood-lander. Once it takes a hold it means death and destruction to everyone and everything. Only a searat would use fire. Sometimes I think it is because they do not realize the danger, being creatures who live on the great waters. But most of the time I think it is because they are evil vermin. We at Salamandastron have battled against searats all our lives. I would not dare tell you some of the sights I have seen. Searats are complete

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enemies. They live only to kill and conquer; they are completely merciless."

Thyme notched an arrow to his bowstring. "Righty-ho, chaps. Give 'em vinegar, wot!"

Five more messengers of death hissed through the early morning.

It was then that Saxtus decided the hare's manner was merely a front, presented to others because they would forget the real purpose behind the guardians of the shores. The young mouse doled out arrows, knowing that he would never get used to warfareand be a jolly fellow one moment, and a ruthless fighter the

next.

oo

Pandemonium reigned in the searat camp. Graypatch ran hither and thither, trying to stop his searats retreating out of the range of the deadly longbows, exhorting them to carry on with his plan, which had worked quite well until the appearance of the hares.

"Come on, shipmates. Don't let a few arrows scare yer off! Lardgutt, Kybo, get back here. We were beatin' 'emwe still can!"

Bigfang sat well out of range, a smug expression on his face. "I told yer about those rabbits, Graypatch, but you wouldn't listen, would yer? Oh no, you knew best."

The searat Captain's temper broke completely. "You lily-livered, worm-hearted, bilge-scrapin's! Mutineers, deserters, the whole pack of yer! We had the battle nearly won, an' now you've turned tail an' slunk off like a load of sea slugs! Look at me. Am I afraid? Am I scared? Haharr ha ha ha! I laugh at 'em!"

Graypatch grabbed a fire-swinger. Putting light to it, he began swinging it furiously.

"I'll show yer, Abbeyscum, I'll bring yer Redwall down in flames!" He dodged, ducking a flying arrow. The fire-swinger lost momentum right at its peak and the burning section fell onto his footclaws.

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"Yaaheeeoooooh!"

Graypatch hopped about, beating at his burning limb, fur smoldering as he threw himself upon his back, screeching and thudding his scorched footclaws against the ground.

oo

Hon Rosie fell back, whooping hysterically. "Whoohah-ahahooh! Oh, I say, chaps, that was a real old hotfoot!"

oo

Down in the orchard, Gabriel Quill and Burgo Mole sat looking at each other.

"Yurr, they vermints baint chucken no more foir at us'n's?"

"Nor they aren't neither, Burgo. Hoho, your eyes are all red 'n' smoky!"

"Hurrhurr, talk about 'eeself, Gabe'l Quill. You'm gotten a sutty nose!"

Brother Hubert wandered wearily across. "Whew! Just look at the state of my pawsscorched, soiled and grubby. A fine state of affairs for an Abbey Recorder, I must say."

"Ho urr, scruffy old Hoobit. No more foirs now tho', zurr."

"Indeed. It's thanks to those hares splendid creatures."

"I'll drink t' that, Hubert. What d'you say we go to my cellars and have a small drop to drive away the heat an' dust of our night's work?"

"Burr, oi'm with 'ee, Gabe'l. Tis a tumble thurst come on oi."

"Marvelous idea. Count me in, Mr. Quill!"

The three old friends trundled off paw in paw.

oo

As Abbot Bernard watched them go, he felt Simeon pulling on his sleeve.

"I think there should be room for two more in Gabriel's cellar, Bernard."

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"Yes, they'll manage to squeeze us in somehow, -imeon."

Simeon.

Inside the Abbey, young Cockleburr had been given charge of Dibbuns' breakfast time. He mopped his brow as he chased Grubb about with a bowl of corn pudding.

"Oh, wanderin' woodpigeons, will you come an' eat this breakfast, you dreadful scoundrel!"

Grubb hid beneath the table with Bagg and Runn. "Nay, oi baint eaten no brekkist. Us'n's a-goen out t' play."

"Sister Serena said there's no more fire an' we can go out."

"I don't like corn pudden, wanna play inna orchard!"

"Fidgetin' frogs. Mother Mellus told me nobeast goes out without eatin' breakfast first, 'specially Dibbuns."

"Ho well, do 'ee sling it unner yurr an' us'n's will force et daown."

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28

Mariel and Dandin dropped silently to the bottom of the pool.

Dandin, with sword in one paw and weightstone in the other, immediately turned to face the lobster's den. He could see the big crustaceanit watched them as it lay unmoving, one great claw hanging in front, the other by its side. The lobster looked peaceful enough for the moment. Still, Dandin did not relax his vigilance for a single instant.

Mariel let go of her weightstone and tried to dislodge the tiny metal swallow, but it was lodged firmly between two slabs of rock. She chose the smaller of the two slabs and began wresting it out of the way. By this time both she and Dandin were longing for a breath of air. Struggling with the cumbersome rock, Mariel could feel the blood pounding round inside her head. She set her footpaws on the large rock and gave the smaller rock a mighty shove. Without warning it shifted, giving off an odd crumbling noise underwater. Clouds of silt and sand boiled up as it toppled to one side.

Disturbed by the noise and movement in its pool, the huge blue-black lobster came scurrying out. Dandin barely saw the monster come; he backed water, thrusting the swordpoint at its eyes. Mariel snatched at the

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swallow, but it slipped from her grasp and slid into the sand. In the confusion of disturbed cloudy water she realized that she had lost the precious object. Now the lobster had Dandin trapped up against the rock. Thinking quickly, he pushed forward, landing in between its claws. It was a clever move. He was stuck up against the hideous face of the creature, too close for it to use its cumbersome oversized nippers; they clacked across his back like giant shears, unable to bite him. But it was like being caught in a vise. Dandin was held fast in the embrace of the heavy-shelled joints. The sword was squeezed from his grip and fell to the bottom of the pool.

He shouted aloud in desperation, but the sound was only a boggle of noise, lost amid the air bubbles that escaped from his mouth. However, Mariel had heard it. Forgetting the swallow, she turned to the aid of her friend. Lungs bursting, she scrabbled about on the pool bed until her paw came in contact with the sword.

The lobster doubled up to rid itself of Dandin, and the hefty fanlike tail caught Mariel a swipe as she tried to get close. The air was now forcing itself out of the mousemaid's mouth in huge bubbles. She wondered why her friends on the surface were not attempting to haul them up. Her limbs felt like lead and her head was ringing. Blindly she struck out with the sword and pierced the lobster's back, down near its tail. Infuriated, the lobster turned, lashing out with one claw.

Instantly freed, Dandin felt himself being hauled quickly to the surface. The lobster locked on to the sword blade with its viselike pincer. Mariel felt herself being hauled up on the rope. She was now upside-down in the water, clinging grimly on to the sword, the lobster below her hanging on to the sword blade with one claw whilst trying to get at her with the other.

A large rock came splashing down onto the lobster, followed by another and another. It let go of the sword as it was battered to the pool bottom by yet more rocks.

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Mariel was pulled clear of the pool with a whoosh of spray and a rush of air, and she fell upon the sand, spitting out water and gasping for breath.

Tarquin sat her up, pushing her back and forward. Mariel's head was rising and falling as it nearly touched her footpaws, and the water gushed out as she coughed.

"Come on, old gel. Just like the village pump, wot!" Tarquin chuckled cheerfully.

Dandin was in slightly better shape, having been pulled out marginally sooner than Mariel. He sat with his back against the rocks in the sunlight as Durry fussed about him.

"Any more water t' come up, matey?"

"No, thank you, Durry. Just let me rest. I'll be all right."

They sat Mariel beside him. She wiggled a paw in her ear.

"Well, what about that little adventure, eh, and all for nothing!"

Bobbo squatted in front of her, smiling behind his glasses. "Well now, why do you say all for nothing, young mouse?"

Mariel scuffed the sand irritably. "Because we never got the swallow."

Bobbo pressed something into her paw. "Then tell me what this is!"

Mariel stared at the tiny metal bird she was holding. "But how . . . ?"

Bobbo chuckled and patted her paw. "It was Firl. I told you that the newts are very good at the swimming. He went in and got it while you and your friend Dandin battled with the creature. We could not risk pulling you up, you see. The water was too cloudy and disturbed, and we could not see what was happening. Then Firl dived in and I myself decided you needed air or you would both drown, so I said, 'Pull up, whatever is happening. Pull!' "

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Durry swelled his chest out proudly. "The rocks were my idea, missy. Me 'n' Tarquin hurtled 'em at the beas-tie as we pulled you out."

Mariel got slowly up and hugged them one by one. "What good friends you are, all of you."

Later, in the cave, they took a closer look at the little swallow. It was made of some shining blue metal which gave off strange glints in the sunlight, shaped like a fan-tailed swallow, wings spread wide as if it were flying. Dandin noticed a small hole bored through one of the wingtips.

"See this hole what d'you suppose it's for?"

"I don't know, maybe for something to fit into it."

"Hmm, it'd have to be pretty thin to fit through that tiny hole."

Bobbo pulled a thread from the lining of his velveteen longcoat. "Something as thin as this, are you thinking, wayfarers?"

Dandin nodded. "Yes, that's thin enough. Let's try it."

The swallow hung by the piece of thread. It dangled there, turning slowly, then stopped, facing the right wall of the cave. They watched it; the little bird remained still.

Tarquin took hold of the thread. "Here, let's see the bally old bird." He spun it on the thread. Round and round it went, finally coming to rest facing the same way again, the right wall of the cave. No matter how many times it was spun it still ended facing the same direction.

The wall on the right side of Bobbo's cave!

Durry shook his head in amazement. "Just like the poem says, The swallow who cannot fly south.' "

Mariel smiled. "Aye, it flies the opposite way: north!"

Dandin recited the last lines of the poem.

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"His flight is straight, norwest is true. Your fool's desire he'll show to you."

Bobbo held up the swallow on its thread, watching as each time it stopped turning it pointed due north.

"This is a thing of great magic. You could be going anywhere, in dark or fog, yet it would guide you, see. Northwest is at the point of the bird's neck, between its head and left wing. So you see, travelers, let the little swallow think he is flying north, but you take the northwest course. Truly a marvelous bird, my friends."

At supper they sat around the fire discussing their next move. Mariel knew well what it was.

"We need a boat."

Dandin left off polishing the sword. "How long would it take to build a boat? Where would we get the timber? We know nothing of boatbuilding."

A gloomy silence prevailed. The fire flickered warmly about the rock walls as they sat mentally wrestling with the problem. Bobbo looked from one to the other before speaking.

"Ah well now, it is sad and dreary your faces are. You are my friends, I would like you to stay here forever, but I know that your fate and search are elsewhere and you will leave sooner or later. So listen to what I must tell you. You want a boat; I do not have a boat, but I know where a ship lies ..."

Mariel sprang up. "Where? Please tell us where the ship is, Bobbo."

The old dormouse sat back, stroking Firl's head gently.

"I saw her a few days ago; she was drifting north round the headland. A curious ship, with not a living creature aboard her. So then I followed her along the shore. She had neither masts nor rigging. The tide sent her up into the cove on the other side of the headland, and I boarded her in the shallows. 'Twas a terrible sight

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to see, a searat ship, Greenfang she was named, burnt out in some battle, though not anyone aboard of her. There was no supplies, or things I could be using myself. Ah well then. I anchored her fast to some rocks and left her there. Now I warn you, she has neither sail nor masts, the cabins are all gutted by fire, but the hull is sound and she has steering and a rudder. She will take you where you want to go. I will show you her on the morrow and you can decide for yourselves, though I see by your faces that your minds are already set on it. Go you to sleep now, 'tis probably the last good rest you will be taking in many a perilous day ahead. As for myself, I will bide here with my friend Firl. I am too old for such wild adventures. Peace is all

I seek now."

oo

By midmorning of the next day they were riding the charred hulk of Greenfang out upon the tide, with scant supplies, no proper accommodation and an outward wind. Mariel held the long tiller, the metal swallow constantly pointing north under cover of a makeshift awning. Tarquin wiped a paw bravely across his eyes, Dandin sniffed copiously, Durry wept unashamedly, but Mariel smiled fondly at the two small figures growing dim in the distance as they waved from the shoreline. She would never forget Bobbo the quaint little dormouse, or his silent friend Firl the newt and their peaceful existence in the cave amid the tall rocks. Now the mousemaid turned to the open sea, and the unknown dangers that lay before them.

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Abbot Bernard realized the value of battle-trained hares. Accordingly he allowed the trio full rein in defending the Abbey, trusting to their military judgment.

Clary organized most things within Redwall whilst the threat of attack was still a possibility. He was very good at it. Sentries were posted upon the walls in a regular rosterwith the exception of Simeon, no creature was excluded. At least one longbow archer was posted at all times, night and day, fully armed and ready to shoot. Apart from that, the day-to-day routine was not interfered with; creatures got on with the business of living at the Abbey, carrying out their chores and taking their ease and pleasure when permitted. Tonight was such a night.

The Abbot had ordered a special supper in honor of the hares, Flagg offering to take Thyme's watch with the longbow. Cavern Hole was the venue, tables were laid around the walls with a splendid running buffet spread upon them. One thing the hares did not lack was appetite. The splendid fare offered by the famous Redwallers made the Salamandastron food seem spar-tan in comparison. Colonel Clary found himself ushered around, plate in paw, by Sister Serena.

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"Colonel, perhaps you would like to try some of this deeper 'n' ever pie?"

"Deeper 'n' wot, marm? Looks delicious, I must say. Jolly strange name."

"Yes, it's a great favorite of the moles, you know-full of turnip 'n' tater 'n' beetroot, to use the mole

language."

"I say, I rather like this red gravy stuff, very spicy!"

"Oh, that's otters' hotroot sauce. You know what they say?"

"No, marm. What do they say?"

Serena chuckled and adopted her otter voice. "Ain't nothin' 'otter for an otter!"

Brigadier Thyme was being entertained by Gabriel Quill. The hedgehog was pointing out to him the finer nuances of food with drink.

"Now lookit this, Brig, a nice sparkly strawberry cordial. You might think it'd go well with yonder damson shortcrust an' cream."

"Well, what d'you think, Gabe old scout? Does it?"

"Not on your aunty's washtub, it don't. 'Ere, you try a beaker of my cowslip an' parsley comfort wi' that damson shortcrust. Go on."

"Mmm, absolutely top-hole, old thing. My, it does make a difference. I say, what's that jolly brown stuff in the tankards?"

"Good October ale. Redwall's famous fer it, an' I'm the beast as brews it. Now, you want to sample some o' that with cheese an' mushroom pastiethat'd make yer tail curl a bit."

"Rather. I've always fancied m'self with a curly tail. Hi, Rosie, how are you gettin' on with the jolly old nosebag, wot?"

Hon Rosie waved a ladleful of summercream dip. "Whoohahahahooh! Look at these Dibbuns chaps doin' an impression of us, Thyme. Very droll. They're an absolute hoot. Whoohahahahooh!"

Bagg, Runn and Grubb had decided to take on newr

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roles as hares carrying longbows. They strutted about with their bows and arrows, mimicking all the mannerisms of Clary and his long patrol.

"I say, ol' boy, ol' thing, ol' top, pip pip an' all that!"

"Hurrhurr, wotwotwot? Us'n's gotten gurt bows 'n' arrers, ol' bean. You'm jolly well watch owt iffen you'm one o' they searattens, boi okey!"

"Rather, ol' scout. Wot an 'oot. Whoohoohoohoo!"

Thyme twirled his whiskers in a very offpaw manner. "Hmm, exceedingly comical, I'm sure." He seated himself next to a mole who was munching away at a large crusty pie and nodded at the fellow. "Pie looks jolly nice. What's in it?"

The mole, who was named Burgo, turned full face to the hare. "Woild garleck, zurr!"

Brigadier Thyme nearly fell off the bench as the mole's breath hit him. "Good grief, what a dreadful pong!"

Burgo nodded. "Tumble, baint et. Oi dearly loiks the taste, but oi can't aboid the smell moiself, zurr."

Treerose, the pretty young squirrel, sidled up to Rufe Brush. "Oh, Rufe, I've baked you a special cake of nutbread and I've iced it too, with clover honey."

Rufe stood on one paw then the other, his voice a mumble. "Oh er, very nice er, thank you er, Treerose, er, er."

Treerose blushed and smiled winningly. At last she was getting through to the strong silent Rufe. "Shall we take it out into the orchard and share it, Rufey Woofy?"

Rufe straightened up and planked the cake back into her paws. "Take it where y'like with Rufey Woofy. My name's Rufe Brush an' I'm due back on the walls for sentry duty!"

He stalked off, leaving Treerose holding the cake. She stamped her paw petulantly, her lip beginning to quiver. Grubb slipped in and took the cake from her.

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"Yurr, doant 'ee cry, missy. Iffen Rufe doant like they ol' cake, oi'll scoff et, of gel, wotwot, hurr hurr!"

oo

Mother Mellus sat with Simeon and the Abbot. Clary had joined them and was reassuring the Abbot.

"Not to worry, Father. We're well able for searats. If they bother Redwall again, we'll be ready for 'em. Though I don't think we're in any immediate danger from the blaggards."

"Couldn't we go out after them, Colonel Clary?"

The hare turned to Mellus, his eyebrows raised. "Marm, go after them?"

"Actually it's not the searats I'm thinking of, it's the oarslaves. It's pitiful reallywhat sort of a life must those poor creatures lead as slaves of the filthy searats. Couldn't we, I mean you, arrange to sort of release them and bring them back here?"

"Now now, Mellus," Abbot Bernard interrupted the badger. "Colonel Clary and his patrol have been more than kind to us already, driving the searats off. I'm sure they have other business at Salamandastron."

"Not at all, Father. Lord Rawnblade sent us up to Mossflower to help in any way we can against searats. We'd be failin' in our duty if we refused you anything, especially a request from another badger."

Mellus smiled gratefully. "You'll do it then, Colonel?"

"Well, marm, can't promise anythin', you understand, but I'll have a word with my troops and let you know."

Mellus knew that Clary was going to grant her request; still, that did not stop her reinforcing her plea.

"Every time I think of those twenty very young slaves, the hunger, beatings and hardship they must be enduringit's a wonder they're not lying out there in Mossflower dead from it all. Oh, there's your friend the squirrel too; the searats have taken him captive."

"Tcha! Old Pakatugg y'meanthat old reprobate

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prob'ly got himself captured through his own greed, doncha know. He's an unspeakable rogue really, sell his mother for two acorns and a loaf. Righty-ho, marm, you've made your point. Let me go and work out a plan with Thyme an' Rosie. We're pretty good at wheezes when we put our heads together."

Mellus sighed heavily and shook her great striped head. "Let's hope you and your friends do come up with some good wheezes, Colonel. As for myself, my brain is too full of other things to think of wheezes. There's Mariel and Dandin, Tarquin, young Durry Quill too. They've gone off to face goodness knows what perils, questing for a bell, searching for a strange island, determined to slay Gabool the Searat. Where will it all end? I hope those youngsters are safe, wherever they are. Sometimes I wish that little mousemaid would have stayed as Storm Gullwhacker instead of finding out her real name was Mariel."

Clary halted his assault on a nearby vegetable flan. "Stap me, young Storm Gullwhacker, eh! So that's what became of her. Mariel, much nicer name for a pretty young gel, wot? Don't you fret, marm. That one's well able for anything. Three good comrades with her, y'say? Stap me! What more could she want? Makes a chap wish he was out there questin' with 'em."

Mellus was about to enlarge upon the dangers that faced Mariel and her friends when Clary moved on to make new friends and sample fresh delicacies.

Simeon turned in the badger's direction. "You really are a shameless coaxer at times, Mother Mellus."

She bristled slightly. "I was deliberately being shameless to help those little slaves who are in a shameful position, Simeon. What would you have me do? Sit safe here in Redwall Abbey and not bother about it at all?"

The blind herbalist spread his paws. "Apologies, apologies! I did not realize you felt so strongly about the slaves. Being blind, I cannot see them, but I suppose

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if I had my sight I'd shout for their rescue as loudly as you."

In the small hours between midnight and dawn the three hares stole silently through Mossflower toward the searat encampment, armed only with their lances. Clary stopped the other two a short distance from the glow of the enemy campfires.

"Righty-ho, got it all clear now. Me 'n' Rosie do the decoyin'; Thyme, you're the jolly old rescuer. When you've got a couple of slaves, make straight back to Redwall. The south wallgate is only bolted with a couple of dead twigs one good shove an' it's open. We'll keep these villains chasin' their own tails for a while, then we'll get back to the Abbey just before dawn. Keep a lookout for us from the north walltop, be ready with a longbow in case we're followed an' it's nip an' tuck. Good luck, old scout. Come on, Rosie. Bob 'n' tack, duck 'n' weave. You know the drill, wot!"

oo

Foul tempers predominated around the searat camp-fires. Graypatch sat apart, disgusted with the rest after their rout by five longbows on the flatlands, just as his fire-swinger plan was beginning to look as if it might work. The searat Captain lashed out at any rat that came near him, giving vent to his contempt.

"Slimesloppin', mudsuckin' cowards! Haharr, 'tis a pity that those longbows never took care of more o' you mutinous deckscum, then I'd only have meself to think of, instead o' a pack of seascabbed poltroons!"

The crew lay about sulkily, not answering because they knew Graypatch was looking to pick a fight and slay somebeast to slake his spleen.

From over to Graypatch's left a voice called from the shadows, "Hoho, matey, you did a fine jig with your foot afire. Shove it in yonder flames an' do us another 'ornpipe. Go on!"

Graypatch whirled his sword, dashing toward the

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rats who were lounging in the area whence the insult had issued.

"Yer lily-livered maggot, stan' up an' say that to me face!"

Next instant a voice called from the other side of the camp, "Maggot yerself, stinkbreath. We're takin' no more orders from you!"

Graypatch veered, rushing in the direction of the second voice. "Belay, I'll rip the tongue out o' yer mouth. Show yerself!"

Another voice called from yet a third direction, "Flop-nose! You couldn't rip yer mother's apron!"

Graypatch hurled himself on Deadglim and began throttling the unfortunate searat as he pleaded his innocence.

"Gwaaark! It wasn't me, Cap'n, I swear it. Gyuuurgh! I never said a wuuurgh!"

Frink was Deadglim's mate. He ran across to prevent Graypatch choking his friend to death, but Bigfang tripped him with a spear.

"Leave them be, rat. Deadglim might show a bit of fight back!"

Fishgill leaned across. "Who asked you to interfere, fatmouth!"

He slapped Bigfang across the head with the flat of his cutlass. As he did, someone else kicked Fishgill from behind.

"You leave Bigfang alone, fleahead!"

Fishgill turned and punched Lardgutt in the eye. "Kick me would you, weeviltail. Take that!"

Lardgutt drew his dagger, screaming furiously, "I never kicked yer! But you'll pay for that punch, snot-face!"

Within a short time the entire camp was in uproar as fights broke out all over the place. Clary and Rosie flitted about like two fleeting moonshadows, belting heads and roaring out in imitation searat voices.

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"Bigfang fer Cap'n, Graypatch is on'y a deckwal-

loper!"

"Avast, get stuck in, buckos. Poor Deadglim's bein'

strangled!"

Rosie whacked a passing rat on the back of his head with her lancebutt. "Take that from Kybo, you scum. I never did like you!"

With a screech of rage the rat grabbed a corsair's hook and went after Kybo yelling, "An' all these seasons I thought you was my matey!"

The fight was going splendidly until Hon Rosie could no longer hold back her laughter.

"Haharr, you durty decksweepin', take that! Whoohahahahooh! Oh, I say, this is super fun, come on, chaps, scrag each other harder!"

Instantly the fighting ground to a halt.

"Corks, Rosie, you've torn it now, old gel. Y'need to gag that giggle," Clary could be heard muttering in the firelight shadows.

Graypatch left off throttling Deadglim. "We've been tricked, mates. It's those hares! Get 'em!"

But saying was far easier than doing. The hares were up and gone through the night-shaded woodlands before the searats could assemble themselves to give chase. Thyme had gone also, and with him two young shrews from the oarslave ranks, but this would not be discovered until daylight arrived.

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Captain Flogga of the ship Rathelm was a hard and seasoned searat. He had served Gabool long and well, but the old Gabool was vastly different from the one he faced now. Flogga had taken no chances, keeping his crew fully armed and tight about him when he landed at Terramort. They had marched straight up to Fort Bladegirt and trooped into the banqueting hall Flogga knew there was safety in numbers.

Now, sitting in front of the Searat King, he was shocked at the change that had come over the Warlord of the Waves. Gabool was gibbering mad! He was a truly terrifying sight, his fine silk gear all stained and torn, rings and bracelets tarnished and bent; the golden emerald-studded teeth still gleamed, though the eyes above them were blood-red, caked and running from many sleepless nights.

The searat Captain was frightened. Mad and disheveled as he was, Gabool looked doubly dangerous, and there was always the risk: was he really insane, or merely playing at it for some reason best known to himself? Gabool's mood could switch from good humor to evil temper, from friendly camaraderie to murderous enmity, at the blink of an eye. Not for nothing was he feared by all searats, captains and crews alike.

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Still, Flogga was completely taken aback at the way Gabool addressed him.

"Haharr, Graypatch, I knew you'd come back someday. Well well, me old shipmate Graypatch back at Bladegirt with a full crew about him!"

The searat Captain shook his head. "Gabool, don't ye know me? It's Flogga, Master of the Rathelml"

Smiling craftily, Gabool waggled a claw at him. "Haharr, so you say, matey, so you say. But you can't fool me, Graypatch. I know who you are. Where's my ship Darkqueen, eh?"

"Darkqueen, don't mention that craft t' me. You've 'ad us chasin' our tails across the waves high 'n' low lookin' fer Darkqueen. I'm beginnin' to think it's all some kind o' game, like that treasure she's supposed to have stowed in 'er hold."

Gabool cocked his head to one side, both eyes roving up and down oddly. "Treasure y'say. Have you been talkin' to Saltar, matey?" "Saltar! He's dead!" "Dead? Saltar? Who killed him?" "You did, right 'ere in your own banquetin' hall." "Haharr, so I did, Graypatch, so I did. Listen matey, ferget Darkqueen. It'll be me 'n' you agin, just like in the old days, eh?"

"But I keep tellin' ye, I'm Flogga, not Graypatch ..."

Gabool winked slyly. "Nah, you can't fool me. Listen, about that treasure: it was never in the Darkqueen, I only said that to 'ave you brought back 'ere."

Flogga blew out a long sigh. He decided to humor the mad King. "All right, Gabool. So I'm back 'ere.

Now what?"

Gabool leaned close, whispering confidentially. "Hearken t' me, Graypatch. The treasure is here, right here in Bladegirt. Only me knows where 'tis. D'ye want me to show it t' yer?"

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Flogga suddenly became interested. "Aye, I'd like that, shipmate."

"Haharr. Well, tell this lot to stay here, an' come with me."

"Oh no, Gabool. What d'yer want to separate me from me crew for, eh?"

"Graypatch, I thought you was a brainy one, mate. We don't want t' share all that booty with this useless load of flotsam, now do we?"

Flogga stared at Gabool, uncertain of what he should do, suspecting the Searat King might be leading him into a trap, yet eager to get his claws upon the treasure. In the end greed won.

"All right, Gabool. It'll be just like the old days, fifty-fifty. Lead me t' the booty, mate, but 'earkenplay me false an' my dagger'll find yer throat afore you're much older."

"Play ye false?" Gabool sounded indignant. "You're the one who played me false, Graypatchbut I'm givin' ye another chance, shipmate. Now get rid of these numbskulls an' follow me."

Flogga turned to his crew and gave them a "wait here" sign. He nodded and winked at them, outwardly confident, but inwardly apprehensive as he strode off

after the Searat King.

oo

Gabool fitted the spear through the iron ring and heaved. As the stone lifted he slid it to one side. Flogga stood in the doorway of the chamber, still wary of a trap. The Searat King pointed to the black hole in the center of the floor.

"Down there 'tis, me old matey. More booty than you could wink an eye at. Come an' get your half, Graypatchor are you afeared?"

Flogga remained in the doorway. "I don't know ..."

Gabool strode over and grasped his paw tightly. "Then we'll go down there together, eh? Tell you what,

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matey; we'll take a run an' jump in at the same time, both o' us. Haharr, just think, Gabool an' Graypatch, down there midst all that booty!"

Flogga gnawed at his lip. "Together at the same time, both of us?"

"Aye, matey. That's the way, come on. One t' be ready, two t' be steady, three t' be off!"

Clutching Flogga's claw, Gabool rushed him at the hole. Flogga, finding Gabool running eagerly alongside him, felt confident. They leaped together: Flogga down into the hole, Gabool right across it onto the other side, where he landed chuckling.

"Hoho, Skrabblag, I told yer I'd bring Graypatch 'ere for a visit!"

Flogga screamed with horror. Something was rustling and clicking in the darkness. As Gabool held a flaring walltorch over the pit, Flogga moaned in despair. A fully grown black scorpion was stalking him in the close confines of the pit. Claws clicking, armored hide rustling against the floor, it advanced upon him, the venomous needle-pointed sting in its tail held high, ready to strike. Gabool laughed insanely.

"You remember Skrabblag, don't yer, matey? Hahah-aharr!"

Thick fog had dropped upon the sea, and the waters ran smooth, almost waveless. From her point at the tiller, Mariel could not make out the other end of the ship. One thing became apparent: they were becalmed, lying on the unrippled waters in the midst of the heavy dripping mist.

Tarquin brought food to her side. "Absolutely dreadful this bally fog, wot? Shouldn't bother us though, old gel. As soon as we move again at least it'll be in the right directionthe jolly little swallow feller'll see to that."

"Right, Tarquin. Where's Dandin and Durry? I haven't seen them for a while."

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"For'ard I think that's the right nautical jargon. They've found some line an' fancy their paws as fish-erbeasts."

Mariel leaned on the tiller, gnawing at a cold oatcake as she stared about her into the blank whiteness. "Funny, isn't itthe fog seems to be ten times thicker at sea than on land. If you stare into it long enough you begin to see all sorts of odd shapes looming up on you."

"Hmm, quite eerie. I never liked it when I was at Salamandastron, y'know. Beastly stuff. It's like bein' surrounded by steam from a kettle, 'cept that it's all chilly an' clammy. Brrrr!"

"Hsst, Tarquin. Did you hear something?"

"No, unless it's those other two up at the front of the boatbeg pardon I mean the for'ard end."

"Yaaaaah look out!"

Crrrraaassshhh!!!

The burned-out hulk quivered as the high prow of the searat galley Seatalon rammed her amidships, heeling her high out of the water. The burnt timbers shattered under the impact as the hulk overturned and smashed completely in two pieces. Mariel grabbed the metal swallow before being hurled off into the fog. She hit the waters with a dull splash. All around she could hear shouting and confusion.

"Cap'n Catseyes, we've struck a vessel!"

"Then board 'er, you bilgeswillin's. See if there's any pickin's t' be had. Where away is she now?"

"We've rammed 'er in the fog, Cap'n. She's broke in two. Can't see a thing in this cursed fog!"

"Is Seatalon damaged, Fishtail?"

"No, Cap'n. We're all right. The other one broke right easy, though. Must've been some sort o' wreck, eh?"

"Aye, it'll be sunk by now."

"Cap'n Catseyes, there's two beasts in the sea!"

"Well, hook 'em out. Don't stand there dreamin'!"

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"Look, it's a mouse an' a hedgepig!"

"Haul 'em aboard, pump the water outta them an'

bring 'em t' my cabin."

oo

Mariel trod water, holding the swallow between her teeth, the Gullwhacker about her neck weighing heavily in the sea. Cries from the searat ship died away into the fog, and now she was alone on the deep, shrouded by the all-enveloping mists and without her companions. Suddenly something grabbed her footpaws and pulled her under. Kicking madly she wriggled and fought underwater. The mousemaid lashed out, connecting hard with something. Whatever it was had let go of her. Mariel fought her way to the surface, and emerged next to Tarquin, who was spitting water and gurgling.

"Gwaawhg! I must've gone right t' the bottom then. I say, was that your paws I grabbed hold of?"

Mariel was overjoyed to see her friend. "Tarquin, it's you!"

"I'll say it is. Who did you expect, a fish with fur an' ears?"

"It was a searat ship that rammed us. They've got Dandin and Durry aboard. I heard them call it the Seatalon."

"Oh, corks. Dandin 'n' Durry captured by searats! WhatTl we do?"

"What can we do?"

"Which way did this Seatalon go?"

"Over that way, I thinkthough it's hard to tell in this fog."

"Then there's only one thing for it, we'll have to swim after it and see if we can get our friends back. Come on."

They struck out into the fogged sea, swimming as hard and as fast as they could. After a while, Tarquin halted, treading water as he floated.

'"Sno use, Mariel. Whew, I'm out of breath!"

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"Me too. We could be going in circles in this fog."

"Then I vote we just float here until it clears. D'you want my harolina? It makes rather a good float."

"We'll both use it, then."

Together they rested their paws on the instrument. It buoyed them slightly, and they kicked their legs slowly to keep afloat.

"Well, this is a pretty mess we're in and no mistake."

"How far do you suppose we are from shore, Tarquin?"

"No idea, old scout. It's sink or swim from here on in. I say, I'm famished. You don't happen to have any tucker on you . . . ?"

"Sorry, all I had was that cold oatcake, and I lost that in the wreck."

"Ah well, at least we won't make a nice fat meal for any fishes that are feelin' peckish. I suppose there are fishes around here."

"Could be, might be one or two big ones with huge mouths and sharp teeth ..."

"Steady on, miss! You could scare a chap out of a season's growth, talkin' like that."

oo

Mariel and Tarquin lost all reckoning of distance or position as they floated for what seemed like endless hours. Gradually the fog began to thin, giving way to slightly choppy water and mists, which were soon dispelled by a stiff breeze. There was not much to see no sight of the searat galley, nor of land; they were completely surrounded by rising waves. Helping each other as best as they could, the two friends conserved their energy by floating, only swimming when the seas became too rough. Mariel looked up at the sky; evening was not far off.

"It gets cold on the sea at night."

"Hmm, y'don't say. It's blinkin' cold enough now. My paws have gone all dead an' shrivelled with the salt water."

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"Mine too. Tarquin, I'm sorry I got you into this. I should have traveled alone. Now Dandin and Durry are the prisoners of searats and we're not going to last long out here."

"Oh, nonsense, old miss mousy. I wouldn't have had it any other bally way. None of it was your fault. We'd have come along whether you liked it or not. Now stop that kind o' talk an' save your breath."

"You're a good friend Tarquin L. Woodsorrel. I won't forget you."

"Should jolly well hope not. Rosie too. Hope she thinks of old Tarkers feedin' the fish now an' then. Oh, Rosie, you'll never find another as devil-may-care an' handsome as me, poor old thing!"

Mariel draped her Gullwhacker across the harolina. Her limbs were beginning to tire; seawater lapped into her mouth and she spluttered.

"I say, why don't you take the swallow out of your mouth an' tie it round your neck?"

"Good idea, Tarquin. Thank you."

"Oh dear, there's the jolly old sun beginnin' to set."

"I'm so tired, I could lie back in the water and go to sleep."

"Steady on theredon't start talkin' like that. Here, I'll hold you up for a bit."

"No, Tarquin, you need all your energy to stay afloat yourself."

"Fiddle-de-dee! I've got energy I haven't even used yet. There, how's that, Mariel Gullwhacker?"

"That's fine, Tarquin. But you won't be able to keep us both up for long."

"S'pose not, but when that time comes we'll sink together, wot?"

Clinging to each other, they bobbed on the open sea, oblivious of the glory of the setting sun and the many-hued sky which reflected in the waters all round. Night closed in on the hare and the mousemaid.

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Two massive paws shot down into the water and grabbed them both, hauling them effortlessly out of the night sea and onto a heaving deck.

"Woodsorrel, I might have known it would be you!"

Semiconscious and shivering uncontrollably, Tarquin peered up into the huge striped face of Rawnblade.

"I s-s-say, m'Lord, d-d-didn't know you'd taken t' b-b-boatin', wot?"

"You young rogue, I suppose you've brought this poor mousemaid along with you just to get her drowned!"

"Quite the c-c-contrary, s-s-sir."

"Hmm, we'll discuss that later, after you're both fixed up."

When Mariel regained consciousness she was in the cabin of the Waveblade. A charcoal fire burned in the small stove, and she was clad in cast-off searat garments. Lord Rawnblade made her drink some heavy dark wine and eat a little dried fruit.

Tarquin was fully recovered. Mariel could not suppress a smile at the comical figure he cut, dressed in searat silks with a cloak of yellow chenille draped about him. Tarquin admired the daggers and swords he had stuffed into the wide-sashed belt of orange satin, and earrings and bangles jangled as he twirled about dramatically.

"Haharr, me booties, 'tis only I, Tarquin the Terrible!"

Rawnblade sniffed away a smile threatening to steal across his face. "I'd say awful was more appropriate than terrible."

The badger Lord turned to Mariel.

"So tell me, mousemaid, what were you doing bobbing about on the high seas in company with this addle-brained creature?"

Mariel sipped more of the wine, feeling its dark

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warmth comfort her. "Well, it's a long story, sir, but I'll start at the beginning."

Outside, wind keened the darkness, scouring the face of the sea as rain began to spatter the decks. Waveblade cut her course northward, her tiller lashed in position by the sodden Gullwhacker as the ship plowed on through the night, guided by a small metal swallow.

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Abbot Bernard watched the two young shrews as they attacked the Abbey breakfast board like hungry wolves, swigging pear cordial, stuffing plum and greengage tart and grabbing hot elderberry muffins dripping with honey.

"My word, Mother Mellus, those two young ones can put it away!"

"Aye, bless them, you'd think we were facing a ten-season famine."

Simeon checked the paw of one from reaching for acorn and rhubarb crumble. "How many more of you do the searats have?"

"Seventeen, I s'pose, or eighteenaye, eighteen countin' the squirrel."

Friar Alder turned his eyes upward, nudging young Cockleburr. "Dearie me, imagine another eighteen like that at breakfast!"

"Boilin' breadloaves, Friar. They'd eat us out o'

kitchen an' Abbey!"

oo

Clary sat in Gabe Quill's cellar, sampling the latest rosehip squash with Foremole as they nibbled cheese and beechmast bake to counteract the sweetness of the drink.

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"Ahurr, you'm say 'ee wants four of us'ns this comin' noight, zurr."

"Yes indeed, four stout mole chapsall good diggers, mind you."

"Hurrhurr, baint no crittur better at diggen than us'n molers. Oi'd say Dan'1, Buxton, Groaby an moiself. Aye, we'n's the ones."

"Righty-ho, Foremole sir. Meet us at the gatehouse two hours after dark."

"Doan't 'ee wurry, zurr. Us'll be thurr, boi 'okey us will."

"Good chap, knew I could count on you. Have some more of this rosehip stuff. Quite nice, but a trifle sweet, wot?"

"No sweeter'n rose'ips orter be, zurr. Fill 'er up iffen

'ee please."

Gabe Quill filled a jug from a polished cask. He set it on the table, sniffing righteously over the remarks being made about the sweetness of his rosehip squash.

"Try some o' this elderflower an' larkspur cordial iffen you likes a less sweeter drink. But while you're a-doin' that, tell me, Mr. Clary, why did you only free two slaves las' night?"

Clary sipped the new drink, raising his eyebrows appreciatively. "Well, Mr. Quill, it's quite simple really. More than two at a time would be rather awkward to cope with, seein' as how they've got to be helped every step of the way. After all, they are in chains, y'know; bein' oarslaves, they're still chained in twos, each creature to his galley bench partner. If we can manage more'n two, all well an' good. We'll see how many of the poor blighters we can bag tonight. Now, listen carefully, Foremole me old digger, here's the

plan ..."

oo

Graypatch had been all day making the searats' woodland camp secure against intruders. He sat on a log, checking out the new setup with Fishgill.

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"Tripwires hidden in the undergrowth all around the edges o' the camp, rope traps in the trees?"

"Aye, Cap'n. Me 'n' Frink an' Kybo rigged the rope traps. Anybeast sneakin' around out there at night'll find themselves suddenly hangin' upsidedown from a tree. The tripwires are all stretched tight an' well-hidden too."

"Good! Now these oarslaveswe'll hold 'em in the center of the camp, just to one side of the main fire. That way they'll be surrounded by the crew."

The evening fires had been lit. All around them, searats squatted, cooking whatever they had found during the day. Bigfang roasted dandelion roots and some small hard apples he and Lardgutt had come across, grumbling as he watched Kybo.

"Huh, what use is roots an' sour apples to me 'n' Lardgutt? We're searats; this woodland garbage wouldn't feed a sick maggot. Kybo, matey, how's about sharin' that great fat woodpigeon yer roastin', with a couple of old messmates?"

Kybo kept his eyes on the roasting meat, his claw straying to a long rusty dagger he kept nearby. "Get yer own rations, Bigfang. Me 'n' Fishgill an' Graypatch snared this one while we was layin' out tripwires an' you was lyin' round snorin' like a hog. You want meat, get out an' hunt it."

Lardgutt's eyes strayed to the roasting woodpigeon as he absently reached into the embers for a toasted apple, with the result that he scorched his claws. Bad-temperedly he flung the apple from him. "Yowch! That's it! I'll starve afore I eat that muck!"

Bigfang looked around at other searats who had not been fortunate enough to obtain meat. They were toasting, roasting and charring almost any kind of vegetation they could scavenge. Bigfang spat into the flames.

"Hah! Livin' off the fat o' the land, eh, buckos? Does this look like the berth we was promised? Landlords of Mossflowerlook at us! Grubbin' fer roots an' berries,

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scrapin' about an' fightin' with yer own shipmates fer anythin' growin' outta the soil! Why don't we attack Redwall agin, that's what I want ter know. Sittin' round protectin' some oarslaves like they was precious booty, where's that a-goin' to get us, eh?"

Murmurs of agreement arose around the camp. Graypatch strode over, carrying a heavy limb of dead oak. He threw it onto the fire, causing a shower of sparks. Bigfang and Lardgutt were forced to jump back, beating off the fiery splinters which landed on them, their apples and roots completely squashed and ruined beneath the wood Graypatch had thrown on the fire. The searat Captain prodded Bigfang viciously in the ribs with his curved sword.

"Always the thickhead an' the rabble-rouser, eh, Bigfang. I don't know why I keep yer alive. It's not for your brains, I can tell ye. Anybeast with half a grain o' sense would tell yer what I'm about. Last night taught me a lesson: if those Redwallers want to free the slaves, they've got to come an' try, see? Look at it this ways, they're goin' to no end o' trouble to rescue slaves who they don't even know. I've seen their type afore. Now, imagine how they'd feel if we captured some of their own? Haharr, that'd be somethin' now, wouldn't it! Us havin' Redwallers as hostages. It'd be like ownin' a ticket fer free entrance to their Abbey."

Bigfang rubbed his ribs where the sword had scraped his hide. "How do we know they're goin' to come

back?"

Graypatch shook his head as if despairing. "Short on brains an' long on mouth, that's you, matey. Of course they'll come back. They're noble creatures, they couldn't leave poor slaves in the claws of us cruel sea-rats! But this time we've laid the traps, this time we'll catch them, an' I'll parade 'em in chains outside their Abbey. You mark my words, those Redwallers won't be so high 'n' mighty then. They'll be ready to listen to old Graypatch's terms, mates. Aye, short on brains,

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Bigfang, just like I said. You stick with me, matey. Let me do the thinkin', and one day we could be rulers of a whole slave army of Redwallers, hahah! Imagine that, they could be mercenaries, spearfodderwith an army that size we could build ourselves another fleet an' conquer Terramort for ourselves, kill Gabool an' seize his island. Then we'd be rulers of Redwall an' Terramort, mates!"

oo

Hon Rosie lay on her back a short distance from the camp. She twanged upon a tripwire as she listened to Graypatch lecturing his crew. Clary and Thyme sat with the moles, holding a whispered conference.

"Super plan, y'knowtripwires, springropes an' hostages. I'd give the scurvy blaggard an 'A' for alertness, wot?"

Foremole extended his powerful digging claws. "Oi knows wot oi'd loik t' give 'im, pesky searatter!"

Clary was busy undoing a tripwire. "Good effort, all the same. Come on, hares, let's undo this little lot an' set it up in a new location. Thyme, can you manage those rope traps?"

"Certainly, Clary old chap. I say, these searats are rather good at tying knots and whatnot, must be with all that messin' about in boats."

"I 'spect so. How're you mole chaps feelin', fancy a spot of diggin'?"

"Hohurr zurr, we'm frisky as frogs an' fitter'n fleas. Whurr do 'ee want us a-start, gaffer?"

Foremole trundled about muttering calculations, glancing from certain spots on the ground toward the rat camp.

"Gurr'm, let oi see naow. Root crossens thurr, thurr an' yon. Stoans a-layen yurr an' thurr. Reckernin' fer a swift 'n' easy deep tunn'l, oi sez us'n's be hadvised to start diggen roight yurr!" He scratched a large X on the woodland floor with his digging claws.

Dan'1, Groaby and Buxton went to it with a will.

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Sentries were posted all around the fringes of the camp. Graypatch settled down close to the fire, his one good eye searching the woodland edge for signs of movement. Bigfang and Lardgutt fought briefly over possession of a ragged blanket before ripping it in half, then each lay down, trying to cover himself with the skimpy remnant. Gradually the searats' encampment quietened down for the night, the silence broken only by an odd crackle of burning branches on the fires. Sentries blinked their eyes to stay awake, heads drooping as they leaned heavily on pike and spear.