Mariel of Redwall

"Weltskin, sire," the ragged searat said in a puzzled voice.

Gabool nodded. "Well, you pick up that fine blade, Weltskin. My sword belongs to you now. Go on, take it, matey."

The searat Weltskin picked up the sword, his eyes shining. No common crewrat had ever owned such a weapon.

Gabool faced the assembly. Throwing his arms wide, he appealed to them.

"Aaahh, shipmates, what's it all come to? Treachery, deceit an' lies, aye, that's the sad fact, mateys. A Cap'n who scorned me, Bludrigg, an' his brother Saltar out fer revenge, who tried to slay me when I was unarmed in me own home ..."

Gabool shook his head sadly. "Aharr, bad weather 'n' black days, lads, though I knew all the time those two searobbers was plottin' against me. Still an' all, I offered 'em welcome an' vittles in Fort Bladegirttheir crews too. Why, some of you was there an' ate the same food an' drank the same drink an' saw it all happen. Base traitors they were, messmates. I'd heard them whisperin' together; they wanted it allmy island an' your ships. You Cap'ns there, aharr, I wish you'd been here to see ityou would've sided with old Gabool, I know you would. Faithfulness always has its reward."

Gabool struck the side of the bell with a drinking cup. Twenty slaves bearing chests of plunder staggered in and turned out the glittering contents at Gabool's feet. Necklaces, stones, bracelets, goblets, silks and fine weapons cascaded out across the floor in a sparkling heap. Gabool's quick eyes noted the greedy glances the

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plunder attracted. He held out his claws to the seven Captains.

"Every bright star has seven true points. You, my shipmasters, my good an' trusty mates, come an' take what you want from this lot. What use is booty an' plunder if a rat ain't got friends he can trust?"

The Captains stumbled and tripped over other searats in their haste to grab what they could. Ripping silks and tossing all they could hold into makeshift carriers, the seven shipmasters bit, scratched and jostled silently as each strove to grab what he thought was more than his fair share. When they drew back, dragging their portions with them, there was still a large mound of loot upon the floor.

"Why, you greedy old plunderers," Gabool laughingly upbraided the Captains. "Snafflin' away without a thought for your crewrats. See if you can clear this lot away, lads. Come on, it's all yours!"

With a wild howl, the searat crews threw themselves upon the remainder of the booty. Scrabbling, kicking, screeching, clawing and ripping, they fought for baubles all over the hall. Gabool laughed madly as he plowed among them. He had won. The plan was working like a charm. Now he sowed the seeds of dissension as he roved among the crews, whispering, "Is that all you got, matey, a few earrings an' a dagger? If I was your Cap'n I would have give you first pick. Ah, but Cap'ns is Cap'nsthey was ever the greedy ones. Hoho, Halfnose, me ol' messmate, did you see that Cap'n Hookfin? He was a-shovin' an' a-pushin' your Cap'n Orgeye like he didn't want him to get his proper share. I'd tell Orgeye that if I was you, mate. 'Here, Shornear, what good is two earrings to you, eh? You 'ark t' me, shipmatethat Garrtail, he looked as if he were tryin' to grab everythin' for hisself, an' him only a new Cap'n. I'm sorry I chose him now. If I'd been thinkin' aright at the time, I'd have made you master

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of the Greenfang. Never mind, matey. There'll always be another day, eh?"

When the plunder had all been claimed, the searats threw themselves upon the food ravenously, each one mistrusting the other and all of them feeling more loyal to Gabool than to their own Captains.

The Warlord had yet to play his final card. He banged the bell for silence.

"Now, me lucky rats, I'm goin' to let you in on a secret, so cock yer lugs! There's another traitor, more black'earted than any, but he ain't here this day. What's his name? I 'ear you ask. . . . 'Tis Graypatchaye, Graypatch. There's a name for the Dark One's book. We sailed fair seas an' foul together since we was both liddle sloprats, an' now the foul blaggard has robbed the best craft in the fleet for hisself. Aye, the Darkqueen, Saltar's ship. Graypatch crewed her an' sailed off in Darkqueen behind me back, an' I trusted him like a brother. But here's the worst of it, ladsthat ship's carryin' three times the loot in her hold, on my affidavy it is, more plunder'n you could clap eyes on. . . . And I want Graypatch's scurvy head! You can do what you will with the bootyfirst one to it gets it allas long as you bring me back the Darkqueen with Graypatch's head nailed to the bowsprit. How's that fer an offer, you hellscrapin's?"

Tables were overturned, food scattered, furniture smashed as the Captains and their crews made a hasty exodus from the hall, jamming in the doorway, cursing and fighting in an effort to be first to weigh anchor and hunt down Graypatch and the Darkqueen.

"Hoist sail, Ledder. I'll be down straightways!" "Weigh anchor, Froat. We'll get 'im first!" "Get the crew aboard, Bullfang. Hurry!" "Come on, you wavescum. Stir yer stumpsthere's prize to be had!"

Weltskin was one of the last to leave, striding impor-

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tantly with Gabool's fine curved sword over his shoulder. Gabool called him back.

"Weltskin, matey, c'mere."

The searat marched back and saluted his King with the sword.

"D'you want somethin', sire?"

Gabool stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Let's see you swing that sword."

Weltskin swung the sword several times. Gabool looked worried.

"No, matey, no. That's no way to twirl a blade. Here, let me show yer how to use that sword."

Weltskin gave the sword to Gabool. He watched fascinated as the Warlord wove patterns in the air with the glittering weapon. Weltskin' s fascination suddenly turned to agonized shock as Gabool snicked the tip from his ear with the sword. Smiling wickedly, Gabool flashed the blade a little closer to Weltskin's throat.

"That's how t'do it, matey. Now do you want to lay about while I does another liddle trick with yer neck, or do yer want t'board ship an' leave this 'ere carver with ol' Gabool?"

A second later the Searat King was listening to the mad patter of Weltskin's paws as he dashed headlong for the harbor and the safety of the open sea. Thrusting his regained weapon into its waist sash, Gabool threw back his head and roared with laughter.

Redwallers gathered in the open doorway of the infirmary sickbay, anxiously peeping in at the still figure of Storm laid upon a truckle bed. Saxtus gnawed at his lip.

"It must have been something I said in that poem. Oh, I wish I hadn't recited the blinking thing now. In fact, I wish that I'd never seen it!"

Dandin patted his friend reassuringly. "Don't be silly. You weren't to know that the poem would have that effect upon her. It's not your fault. Though I must

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say, Storm is the last creature you'd expect to fall in a faint like that. I've never met a rougher, tougher mousemaid in my life."

Simeon turned from a corner table where he was concocting something from strange-looking herbs and roots.

"Rough and tough she is indeed. I think Storm has been through things that would have killed a lesser creature. She has tremendous spirit."

The Abbot agreed. "She has indeed, though I don't think her real name is Storm Gullwhacker. I wonder who she really is."

Simeon turned back to his bowl and pestle. "That's what we're about to find out if we can. Are you ready, Sister Sage?"

Sage went to the door. "Mother Mellus, Abbot and Brother Hubert, you'd better come in and watch. Saxtus and Dandin, you can come in also, and you too, Tarquin, but you'll have to be very quiet. Now the rest of you, please go to bed. It's only two hours until dawn. There are visitors' beds set up in Cavern Hole for the

woodlanders."

oo

Storm lay very still. Sister Sage placed a fresh damp cloth across her brow, noting the deep scar which ran across her skull. Sage lifted Storm's head slightly as Simeon administered a small dose of the mixture from a beaker. The mousemaid licked her lips, made a small noise of satisfaction, then settled back as if in a calm sleep.

Simeon took a seat near Storm's head and spoke gently into her ear.

"You are with friends, little onegood friends. I want you to tell us what happened to you. Go back to the beginning and tell us all. Can you hear me? Do you understand what I am saying?"

Storm's eyelids flickered. She sighed and then began talking as if she were telling a story to a friend. At his

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table in the corner, Brother Hubert wrote swiftly with quill on parchment, recording the strange tale.

The mousemaid called Storm Gullwhacker. Her story written down by Hubert, Brother Recorder of Redwall Abbey.

After moving about restlessly for a short while, the mousemaid appeared calm and spoke quite clearly.

We are half a season out from the deep coasts in the far south, my father Joseph and I. The ship we are sailing in is called Periwinkle. It is crewed by shrews. They are a bit scared because they have never sailed upon blue waters before, but Captain Ash is bold and adventurous. He says the only way we can get the great bell to Salamandastron is by sea. I have never sailed the deep waters before, nor has my father. Every day we see new wondersgreat fish, huge seabirds and wonderful sunsets.

The great bell is tied on deck; my father and I sit to watch the sun's dying rays reflected in its shining metal. I can hear the pride in his voice as he speaks to me.

"Mariel," he says. "Surely this is a bell fit for Rawnblade Widestripe, the great badger Lord. See how the sun sinking in the west turns it to a fiery color. That is the copper, brass and gold, Mariel; the silver I put in to make its voice sweet."

My father is strong and very wise; he is the cleverest bellrnaker in the world. When I tell him this he laughs and says, "No no, the nicest thing I ever made was your name Mariel. It sounds like a bell ringing clear across meadows on a soft spring morn. Can't you hear it ... Mariel! Mariel!"

Now we have had to stop hugging the coast and put out to sea because of the reefs inshore. All around me is nothing but waves and water. It is a bit frightening at times when the big billows ride high with the wind. The crew are not very happy now they

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have lost sight of land. My father says everything is shipshapehe learned that from Captain Ash. I like the Captain and I am sure he will deliver us safely to the mountain of the badger Lord.

Something is wrong. A great black ship with red sails has been following us since dawn. I heard Captain Ash whisper to my father the word "searats." My father has taken me below to a cabin. I have to lie on the deck underneath a bunk and hide behind some blankets. My father tells me to lie still and not move. I am not afraid now; I am angry. I do not think I will like searats. I want to come out and fight them if they try to harm us, but my father has forbidden me.

Crashing above on deck, screaming, yelling, paws pounding everywhere, harsh voices shouting bad things! Clashing of metal, splintering of wood, moaning, horrible cries. I must get out of this place to help against the searats. Silence now, just some cries of injured creatures and the creak of ropes. I am trying to lie still but I tremble and shake with rage. Why am I lying here doing nothing?

Pawsteps, banging, the cabin door crashes open! As I peep between the blankets, I can see three big rats fighting over some wine on the cabin table. One called Gripper snatches the wineflask, but the biggest one, called Saltar, kicks him hard and grabs the wine. Gripper falls to the floor. As the ship heaves he rolls under the bunk and bumps into me. I yell, he rips the blankets off and says, "Hellseyes, look what I founda pretty mousemaid!"

He tries to grab me but I bite him, kicking him hard in the neck. Gripper makes strange sounds and clutches at his throat where I kicked him. His eyes turn up and he is still. Saltar laughs and says to the other rat, "A warrior maid, eh, Ledder. She's slain old Gripper. What a wild one!"

They both pounce on me. I cannot fight back

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because the dead rat is in my way. Saltar and Ledder throw the blankets over me. I am bundled up, and they punch and kick at the blankets until I go still, but I am half conscious.

Now they have taken me on deck. I can see through a rip in the blanket that my father and Captain Ash are tied to the bell. They must have fought hard because they are both covered with cuts and bruises. The crew are all lying about, dead, wounded or tied up. Saltar is saying something to Ledder about feeding the fishes. Now they are ... Oh no! . . . No, please! . . . Noooooooooo!!!

Note by Brother Hubert. Here the mousemaid became very upset, thrashing about until Mother Mellus held her down and Simeon the herbalist administered more of his potion. The mousemaid lay calm for a while then started to speak again. I record her words as best as I can.

Cold winter, hungry, cold, oh so cold! My father is illI have seen him once when he was brought up to talk with Gabool the Wild. He will not build a bell tower for Gabool to hang the great bell in. Gabool is very angry. He sends my father away, back to the cells, where he must stay locked up until he agrees to build a bell tower. A rat named Graypatch says that I should be used to make my father obey. But Gabool says that he is King of Terramort Isle, he alone gives the orders. If hunger, cold and illness do not bend my father to his will then he might use me to force him, but that is his decision and not Graypatch's. I do not think Graypatch likes Gabool. I hate him. Gabool the Wild is the cruelest of all searats. He is a fearsome sightstrange wild eyes, golden greenstone-studded teeth and a long straggly beardevery beast on Terramort fears him. Gabool calls me Skiv. He makes me serve all his meals. If I am lucky he throws me the scraps from his plate; other times when he is in a cruel mood he will say,

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"Are you thirsty, Skiv?" Then he pours wine on the floor and makes me lick it up. Many times I have tried to escape, but there are too many guards; I am brought back and beaten. Gabool has threatened to kill my father if I try running away once more. But there must be a way, I've got to find a way . . .

Note by Brother Hubert: Here the mousemaid started weeping and grinding her teeth. Simeon said it was pure rage at her helpless position. He soothed her with a drop more of potion. She is resting now and beginning to relate another incident. I wish she would speak more slowly as I am unaccustomed to recording in this speedy manner.

I am serving at table, laying Gabool's food out. He likes roasted seabird and strong wine. Gabool is in a very bad temper and I know the reason. Our ship Periwinkle was renamed Crabclaw by Gabool. He made a rat named Skullgor Captain of it. But on the first day he sailed it from Terramort he was driven back onto the rocks by a sudden squall. The ship was holed and lost its rudder. Gabool has got Skullgor in front of him now and he is insulting him, goading him to fight, I think, though Gabool is unarmed. Gabool says, "Skullgor, a dead frog would be a better Captain than you. You are a blunderer and a fool. You let that ship run on to the rocks because you did not want to put to sea, you yellow-livered coward!"

Skullgor draws his sword. He is shouting, "King or no King, nobeast calls Skullgor a coward. Go and get your sword, Gabool. We'll see who's the coward then!"

Gabool reaches for a hidden sword he has stowed beneath the table. He draws it and makes a leap, surprising Skullgor. I am passing, laden with dishes, and I bump straight into Gabool by accident. Like a flash Skullgor is on him, but Gabool shouts out and a rat named Garrtail stabs Skullgor in the back with a dagger. Gabool jumps up and finishes Skullgor off,

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then he turns on me, yelling, "You've collected your last plate, Skiv. I saw your little gametrying to get me killed by Skullgor, eh? Then go and join him at Hellgates!"

Now Gabool is coming at me with his sword, I know he is determined to slay me. Suddenly I feel a great anger. I must live; he has no right to take my life. I must act fast. I snatch up Skullgor's sword and leap onto the table, kicking a jug of wine into Gabool's face. I slash at him with my sword but he has staggered close in, his eyes full of wine. The sword handle catches him on the skull, stunning him. He falls beneath the table, but as I jump down to slay him they are on me, Garrtail and a half-dozen others. They hit me with something, everything goes black . . .

Note by Brother Hubert: We thought the mousemaid needed calming down, bi4t she lay still momentarily then started to speak again.

Black darkness. . . . Wind, rain! I am bound with a rope, a heavy rope. Outside on the high cliffs; we are outside the fort. I can hear waves crashing against the rocks far below. My head aches. I am balanced tottering on the cliff edge. Gabool is with me. He is saying something. I can hardly hear it for the wind and storm. . . . Wait!

"A mousemaid bringing Gabool downwe can't have that, can we, little Skiv? Saltar said you were a warrior maid. He was right, you are a born fighter too much of a fighter for your own good. Let's see how good you are at battling with the sea!"

He pushes me. I am falling over the cliff! There is a large rock tied to the rope. It smashes to bits on another rock as I fall. . . . Father, Father, the water is cold as ice and high as mountains. But I won't die, I'll come back for you. See! The water has softened the rope and my paws are free. DriftwoodI'm cling-

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ing to it. Father, don't let me drown. . . . Oh, it's so cold, so dark, and the sea is like a huge wild animal. Father . . . Father . . . I'll come back.

"Enough!" The sight of one so young writhing in mental torment was pitiful. Mother Mellus could stand it no longer. Sweeping the mousemaid up in her paws, she carried her off, calling back to those in the sickbay room, "This little one has had enoughme too! I can't listen anymore to the sufferings of the poor child. We will sleep out in the orchard, beneath the trees, where it is cool and shadowed from the dawn; just Mariel and me."

The door slammed and they were left looking at each other, all save blind Simeon, who summed it up in a few phrases.

"She's right, y'know. I think we all got carried away listening to the tale of Sto er, Mariel. The poor maid needs rest, but at least we know who she is now."

Abbot Bernard stuffed his paws into wide habit sleeves and yawned. "Right you are, Simeon. I think we all need some rest. Aahhh, bed beckons."

Tarquin threw a dramatic paw to his brow. "Gads! How you can think of sleep at a time like this horrifies me, particularly when there's so much food left. Any of you chaps fancy sharing a bite with me? I'll tell you about the sweetest gel in the entire territory. Hon Rosie's her name, an absolute whackeroony of a filly, an' Tarquin L. Woodsorrel's the first to say it."

Dandin chuckled. "Sounds like a tale for a long winter's night. I'm off to the dormitories. G' night, or

is it good day?"

oo

Down in the orchard Tarquin sat stuffing dewberry and sugared apple cake, strumming his harolina mournfully.

"O Rosie, why did you leave me?

You're enough to give a bally chap the pip,

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Laughin' in my face, ha ha ha ha ha,

An' leavin' me in tears as off you trip. . . . Yowch!"

A hard green apple bounced off Tarquin's head as Mother Mellus's voice called out from the trees, "I'll leave you in tears if you don't quit your caterwauling and let us get some rest. I'll wrap that harolina round your head, see if I don't!"

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A stiff southerly breeze had sprung up, chasing the mist before it. The Darkqueen under full sail dipped her head as she cut the night sea. Bow waves scudded spray to fleck her wake, ragged clouds swirled overhead with no moon to light them on their way, timbers creaked and ropes hummed as the burgeoning canvas pulled the sleek craft across the main.

Graypatch knew it was dangerous to sail the Darkqueen in any northerly direction, but northeast was better than northwest, and he was a bit more familiar with the coastline in the northeast area. It was still some time until dawn.

"Keep her head in to the shore, Fishgill/' Graypatch called to his steersrat. "Deadglim, sound the water for reefs as y'go. Frink, stay up that topmast and keep yer eyes peeled north and westward. Any sign of a sail, give me a shout. I'm goin' below to look at the charts. Stay on duty, now. Anybeast I catch nappin'll be dead afore he wakes up."

The charts in Saltar's former cabin were few and sketchy. Searats were notorious for sailing by instinct and rule of paw. Graypatch found a scrap of parchment and began drawing his own map of the coast from memory.

in

"Hmm, if I recall right, the badgers' mountain is further south'ard, then there's the seamarshes, and I remember some outlyin' cliffs boundin' 'em t' the north. Them dunes is next, an' the toadlands. I reckon we're a full night's sailin' with the wind behind us. . . . Got it! Haha, I knew me old brain wasn't rustin'. Some-wheres up this coast is a river that runs into the sea. Eye, it comes out of the forestlands and across the shore. All's we do is keep a lookout fer the trees a-growin' inland to the starboard side. I know the river's somewheres there, I can feel it in me bones."

Daybreak found the Darkqueen still beating north up the coast. The morning was heavy with rolling seamist, promising to clear into hot sunshine. Promises were not much good to the Captain of Darkqueen, however. With Frink peering to port and Fishgill to starboard, it turned into a guessing game as to what would show first, the trees to landward, or the enemy to seaward. Graypatch paced the deck anxiously.

A grizzled searat called Kybo came scurrying up with bad news.

"Just been checkin' provisions, Cap'n. Nought but a few breaktooth biscuits left, an' we're out of fresh water!"

Graypatch slammed the rail with his claw. "Stow the gab, Kybo. There'll be fresh water an' vittles aplenty where we're bound. Somewheres along this coast there's "

"Land ho!"

Graypatch dashed to the starboard rail. "Where away, Fishgill?"

"Straight as y' look, Cap'n. The mist's a-clearin'; I can see the trees growin' green an' 'andsome atop of some dunes inland."

Graypatch clapped Kybo on the back and winked with his good eye, "See! I told yer, matey. Hoho, let's see if they can find us now. Fishgill, Deadglim! Keep yer eyes skinned for a river runnin' out o' those trees

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across the shore. Ahoy there, Frink. Any sign of Gabool or his ships on your side?"

"Nan^ a sail, Cap'n. The mist's liftin' an' all I see is a bright day an' some seabirds!"

The news cheered Graypatch immensely. Helm down, the Darkqueen raced along the shoreline as a stiffening breeze sprang up from the south. Graypatch called all claws on deck, where they could watch for

the river.

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It was early noontide before the river was sighted, flowing through a deep defile in the dunes and bubbling out to meet the sea. The strain and tension was showing in Graypatch's face. Though his search had been rewarded, he knew precious time had been wasted. Gabool's ships would not be meandering about at half-sail, they would be hunting at full speed and bound to turn up sooner than later. Moreover, conditions for navigating the river were not favorable. It was ebb tide.

Graypatch would have liked to approach the river at high water, sailing his ship straight into the forest. He cursed aloud, knowing the decision he was making would leave them totally vulnerable to attack. Dropping anchor bow onto the river, he addressed the Darkqueen's crew.

"Hark t' me, lads. There'll be no flood tide until late tonight, so here's the plan. We're goin' to haul the ship through that river which runs across the shore an' into the forestlands. Once we're among the trees we're safe. No one'll find us up there. It's a snug berthlots of fresh water, fruits, an' good meat t' be had. Trust old Graypatch, me lucky buckos ..."

"Hah! Tell that t' the frogs, Graypatch. We'll never drag Darkqueen o'er that long shore. Any rat with half an eye can see that river's too shallow!"

Graypatch's good eye glared down at the objector, a burly searat. "Stow that kind o' talk, Bigfang! Either we

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haul her up into the trees or we sit here like ducks at a weddin', waitin' fer the tide tonight, and get ourselves caught by Gabool's ships. Now which is it?"

Bigfang and the searat crew grumbled and muttered, but there was no real objection to Graypatch's plan, which they knew was their only hope. The master of the Darkqueen rapped out his orders.

"So be it! Everybeast aboard shipI mean everyone, all of you and whatever slaves are in the galleys. I want you all ashore, split into two groups either side o' that river, pullin' on the ropes. Kybo, Frink! Get the anchor rope to port and another one as thick to starb'd. Now when I say pull, I want yer to put yer backs into it, buckoshear me. Right? All ashore!"

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Standing waist-deep in the shallow river, Graypatch eyed the lines of crew and oarslaves either side of the banks. He raised his sword, bringing it down with a splash into the water as he yelled, "Pull! Pull! Bend yer backs an' curse yer mothers! Pull, I say!"

Grunting and sweating, the crew heaved on the taut ropes across their shoulders, digging their claws into the sand for purchase.

"Pull, you 'orrible seascum, pull! You couldn't drag a worm out o' bed between the lot of yer. Pull!"

The ropes creaked and groaned as Darkqueen began to move forward, fraction by agonizing fraction. Gray-patch waded from the river and took a place at the head of the port rope.

"Hoho! She's movin', me lazy lads. Pull, pull as if you were pullin' buckets o' dark wine from a barrel. Pull!"

Darkqueen had moved twice her own considerable length when the river shallowed out drastically, and she buried her nose in a sandbank.

Bigfang threw down the rope. Followed by many others, he waded into the river and began drinking the fresh running water.

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Graypatch drew his sword in high bad temper and began bellowing hoarsely, "Get out of there, you worthless idlers! Get back on your ropes, you frog-hearted, backbitin', jelly-clawed slackers. I'll carve the hide from your bones. I'll strangle every jackrat of yer. I'll

Across the open sea, just beyond the tideline, Garrtail's ship Greenfang was bearing down on them under full sail!

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"Mariel, your name is Mariel, daughter of Joseph the Bellmaker."

The mousemaid hauled her Gullwhacker in from the infirmary window, where it had hung to dry. She swung it experimentally, nodding with satisfaction at the clean knotted hemp.

"I know my name, Dandin. And I know my father's name. I can remember everything now. Stand aside."

Dandin and Saxtus followed her down the stairs, across Great Hall, into the Abbey kitchens. Mariel picked up an empty floursack and shook it out. She started packing it with any food to paw. Saxtus nibbled his paw agitatedly. "What are you doing, Mariel?"

The mousemaid continued filling the sack. "Packing rations, Saxtus."

Friar Alder and his young assistant Cockleburr came bustling up.

"Hi there, young missy. What do you think you're up to?"

Mariel tested the weight of the sack and threw it across her shoulder. "Borrowing some supplies, Friar. Don't worry, I'll repay them."

Friar Alder held out a restraining paw. "Now, hold on a moment, please."

Mariel grasped Gullwhacker tightly. "Stay out of my way, Friar, please. You have all been very kind to me at Redwall and I would hate to harm any Abbey crea-

ture, but there's something I've got to doand nobeast will stop me."

Cockleburr hopped up and down, stumbling on his apron. "Walloping winters, Friar. Get out the way. I've seen her use that Gullywhacker thing!"

Dandin jumped between the Friar and Mariel. "Violence is no answer, Mariel. We are creatures of peace. It's wrong to offer harm to a Redwaller."

The mousemaid shook her head. "Don't you understand, Dandin? I don't wish to harm any creature in this Abbey, but I have scores to settle with my enemies. Look, just let me go and leave me alone, will you."

"Oh, and what do you plan to do then, Storm Gullwhacker?"

Mariel turned. Standing in front of the great oven was Mother Mellus, accompanied by the Abbot, Simeon and Tarquin.

"My name's not Storm Gullwhacker, it's Mariel," she said defiantly.

Blind Simeon tapped his way forward until he touched her sleeve. "Then start acting like Mariel and not behaving like the old Storm Gullwhacker. We are trying to help you, child."

Mariel looked at the floor. "Don't need any help."

"Not true, Mariel." There was a touch of firmness in Mellus's voice as she interrupted. "Every creature needs help. How do you suppose we live here in harmony together? By helping each other. This Abbey was not built by one creature; it needed cooperation and help. Tell me, where do you think you are going with a knotted rope in a borrowed habit carrying a sack of stolen food?"

Suddenly Mariel felt helpless in the face of all this peaceful opposition. The sack slipped from her paw as she brushed away a threatening teardrop.

Tarquin saved the situation by throwing a rangy paw about her shoulders. "Come on, old gel. Chin up an' never say boo to a goose, wot? Tell you what we'll do

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let's tootle over to that dusty old gatehouse place an' hold a council o' war. Get the stew sorted from the dumplin's, eh?"

Abbot Hubert slipped Mariel a clean kerchief and stood in front of her as she scrubbed at her eyes.

"Splendid idea, Tarquin. A good sensible talk never hurt any creature. Come on, we'll all go together. Many heads are better than one."

The gatehouse proved far too dusty and cramped, so they sat on the low steps in the shade of the west rampart. The Abbot ordered lunch to be sent out to them, with cold mint and rose cordial.

Mother Mellus folded her paws. "Now, where exactly do you plan on going?"

"Terramort Isle." Mariel's answer was loud and clear.

"Do you know how to get there, or where it is?"

"No, but don't worry, I'll find it myself."

Simeon chuckled. "As the blind squirrel said, reaching for a cloud."

Mariel bristled. "What does that mean, that I'm stupid!"

"Don't be silly," Tarquin interrupted. "Oh, haha, I say, 'scuse me. Lunch, chaps. Here comes lunch!"

As they sat eating, the Abbot gave Mariel a friendly wink. "Simeon didn't mean anything. All he said really was that you need help. I think the first thing to do is to find out where Terramort Isle is; at least that will be a start. Has anyone ever heard of Terramort in the past, any mention from travelers, scrolls, books, old rhymes anything at all?"

"I think I may be of some help there." Brother Hubert had been eavesdropping on the conference from the door of the gatehouse. He wandered over cleaning dust from his spectacles. "Hmm, is that food I see? I think I'll join you."

Seating himself comfortably, he began helping himself to cheese, bread and cold cider.

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Simeon coughed politely. "Ahem! I don't suppose that you've ever heard of Terramort, Hubert?"

Brother Hubert blinked over the top of his spectacles. "On the contrary, as soon as I heard the name it brought to mind a young mouse who should have been learning the precepts of Redwall Abbots in bygone days. Yes, he thought I was dozing and he began leafing through the scrolls of Fieldroan the Traveler ..."

Tarquin hastily swallowed a redcurrant muffin. "Fieldroan! Well, there's a thing! My Father Lorquin knew him, of course. Old Fieldroan had more seasons to gray his hairs than a hedgehog has spikes when he and the jolly old pater were chums. D'y'know, I thought I recognized that poem young Saxtus recited at the feastknow bits of it m'self. Blow me if it isn't one of Fieldroan's very own rhymes!"

Brother Hubert sniffed severely. "Indeed. Well, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, Fieldroan was a compulsive traveler. I met him one winter and sheltered him in the gatehouse through half a season of deep snow. He left some of his scrolls with me because they were becoming too bulky to carry about on his journeys."

This time it was Dandin's turn to interrupt. "Where are they, Brother Hubert? Do you have them?"

"Patience, young mouse, patience. I'll have to search them out. Unfortunately my gatehouse has become a little, ahem, untidy of late."

Leaving the meal half finished, everybody hurried to the gatehouse, intent on being the first to discover the scrolls. Brother Hubert scurried about in alarm.

"Don't touch anything. You don't know my storage system, any of you. Valuable writings could be lost, my collating disturbed ..."

"You old fraud, Hubert," Simeon chuckled. "Your system is nothing but layers of dust. Even I can feel that at a single touch. Don't worry, friend. By the time

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we're finished we'll free the gatehouse of rubbish and dust and provide you with a proper tidy system. I think everything will have to be moved out here onto the lawn. It's the only way we'll find anything from that

jumble."

oo

Midafternoon saw the sunlit lawn dotted with piles of manuscripts, books, scrolls, parchments and pamphlets. Covered in dust, the friends sat by the wall, sipping cold mint and rose cordial.

Saxtus shook his head for the umpteenth time. "No, it wasn't any of that lot. I'd know them the moment I saw them."

Bagg and Runn sat on top of the wallstairs, laughing and giggling. "Hoheeheehee. . . . Whoohahaha. What a bunch of dustbags!"

Brother Hubert tried to ignore them. "Yes, I'd recognize those scrolls instantly myself ..."

"Teeheeheehee! Rec'nize them himself. . . . Yahah-ahaha!" They rolled about on the ramparts, kicking their legs in the air and wiping tears of merriment from their eyes as they went into fresh gales of laughter.

Mariel liked the fun-loving otter twins, but this was neither the time nor the place for fun and games. "Hi, you two," she called up to them. "Are you both sitting on a feather, or is it just a mad fit of the giggles?"

Bagg and Runn were laughing too much to answer. They fell about, slapping their paws down against the wall top and shaking their heads from side to side. The laughter was so infectious that Mariel and Saxtus began chuckling, and even Brother Hubert could not suppress a dry smile.

Simeon turned his sightless eyes toward the walltop. "Now then, you young villains. What's so funny? Let us in on the joke, please."

Bit by bit the story came out from the laughing twins.

"Woohoohoo! You're all lookin' for scrolls. . . . Hohoho!"

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"And you've. . . . Teeheehee! Shifted everythin' out of the gatehouse. Haha!"

"Yahahaha! But when you started carryin' all that stuff out. Ohohoho!"

"Br-Br-. Brother Hubert. . . . He-he. . . . Heeheehee! Gave old scrolls to Simeon t' stick under the gatehouse door an' keep it open. Hawhawhawhaw!"

"An' I said to Bagg. . . . Ohoohoohoo! S'pose they're the scrolls that everyone's lookin' for. Ahaahaahoho-hoheehee!"

Simeon turned his face to Brother Hubert, who looked guiltily toward the Abbot, who shook his head in disbelief. He was about to say something to Mariel, but the mousemaid was already at the gatehouse door, easing the flattened bundle of scrolls from under it.

"It's them, all rightthe scrolls of Fieldroan the Traveler."

Rubbing dust and sweat from his brow, Dandin nudged Hubert. "Well, at least your gatehouse got a good free tidy-out, Brother!"

Smiles broke into chuckles, which gave way to open laughter all around.

Sister Sage shook a quilt out at the infirmary window and began folding it neatly as she reached for her feather duster.

"Well, it's nice to know that all some creatures have to do is sit out on the Abbey lawn in the sunshine and laugh all afternoon, I must say!"

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Graypatch drew his sword, waving it and roaring as he waded from the stream. "Now we'll see what yer made of, you sons of searats! Catch 'em in the shallows afore they're ashore an' massacre every rat of 'em. Sharp now. It's our necks or theirs. Charge, me buckos. Charge!"

The Creenfang had sailed into shore as close as Garrtail could take her. She listed slightly in the shallows then settled askew. Garrtail had his crew ready. Lining the rails, they gripped weapons between their teeth and waited his order as Graypatch's rats thundered across the sands.

Garrtail vaulted over the side, landing chest deep in the sea. "Follow me, lucky lads. It's booty for all aplenty when we've slain that load o' turncoats an' traitors. Over the side, all of yer!"

Quick thinking and speed had given the advantage to Graypatch. His searats were at the water's edge as Garrtail's crew came over the rails of the Creenfang.

Wading out, Graypatch called over his shoulder, "Keep to the shallows. Don't go too deep, lads, but hold Garrtail's scum in the deeper waters where they can't fight so good. Bigfang, get back to the Darkqueen. Kybo, you go with him. Get hold of any long boathooks

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or pikes you can find. Look lively now I'm not goin' back to Terramort with me head in the bows an' me body in the stern for Gabool to gloat over!"

Garrtail was out ahead of his crew. Realizing the urgency of the situation, he waded and cursed as he made his way toward Graypatch.

"Come an' fight, you frog-livered schemer. I'll carve you to fishbait!"

Graypatch balanced an iron marlinspike in his claw. Taking careful aim, he flung it. The pointed missile hissed out across the rippling waves. Standing almost chest-deep in the water, Garrtail had little chance to dodge or leap out of the way; it caught him between the eyes. The Captain of the Greenfang fell backward into the sea, slain instantly. His crew, on seeing their leader dead, milled about in the water betwixt ship and shore. All heart for the fight had deserted them now they were without a Captain.

"Ahoy, Graypatch. Lookit what we found!"

Bigfang and Kybo came splashing into the shallows with two galley slaves, all four laden with pikes, long boathooks and bows and arrows. Graypatch snapped out swift orders, his clever brain working fast.

"Kybo, you stay here with half the crew as archers. Keep pouring arrows at 'em, hard as you can fire high over the pikers. Bigfang, take the other half of the crew and wade a bit deeper. Stick any of the Greenfang crew who try to get ashore an' circle behind us. Deadglim, give me yer burnin' glass an' a bow 'n' arrows."

With its unanchored keel scraping gently off the sea bottom, the Greenfang began a slow drift away from shore with the outgoing tide. The crew split two ways, some trying to swim back to ship, the other, bolder spirits wading toward shore, yelling as they thrust their swords at the pikerats.

Kybo and the archers had easy targets, arching their arrows over the top of the pikers into the unprotected backs of those who were swimming to the ship. Their

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screams mingled with the angry yells of those with pitifully short swords, trying to do battle with long

pikes and boathooks.

oo

On shore, Graypatch had soaked rags in lamp oil and bound them around arrowpoints. In the hot sun it was the work of a moment with a burning glass to concentrate the sunrays into flame upon oil-soaked rags. Kybo followed behind, carrying the fire arrows as Graypatch waded out, testing the wind to make sure it was with him. The first arrow blurred high over the heads of the searats like a red comet, arcing into the big mainsail of Greenfang. Two others followed swiftly. One stood quivering in the stern, the other burying itself deep into the mast.

Graypatch amused himself by firing the remaining fire arrows at the helpless rats who were still trying to swim for the ship. He laughed aloud as one wretched creature sank with a sizzle and a scream. All around, the water ran red with blood as the breeze stirred the flames to a roaring inferno. Bodies of the wounded and the slain followed the blazing Greenfang out on the ebbing tide. Graypatch, his single eye illuminated red in the glare, called out, "Make sure there's none left alive to tell the tale, mates. Haharr, Gabool will never know what happened to us an' the Darkqueen, or Garrtail an' the Greenfang. D'ye hear me, Gabool! Blast yer eyes, lungs 'n' liver, wherever ye are!"

As the searats waded ashore, Bigfang muttered to Kybo, "Graypatch is gettin' too big fer his seaboots, matey. There'd be no victory today if I hadn't found those bows an' arrows, mark my words."

Kybo agreed wholeheartedly, though under his breath. "Aye, did y'see him there, yellin' an a screamin' to kill Greenfang's crew down t' the last rat? I'll bet some o' those buckos would've joined us. We all had mateys among that crew, but they're gone to Hellgates now."

Bigfang flung his pike upon the sands. "Right you

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are, shipmate. I think we've a come out o' the frypan into the fire here. Graypatch is startin' to act up as wild as Gabool. Did ye hear the way he was yellin' at me fer drinkin' water earlier? I take that from no searat, Captain or not. Still, we'll bide our time, eh, matey."

Graypatch wandered over and slapped Kybo with the flat of his swordblade. "C'mon, gullywhumper. Back aboard the Darkqueen. We can afford to wait the night floodtide to send us across the shore now. No more pullin' her on towropes."

Kybo turned to look at the last of the Greenfang, wiping smoke from his smarting eyes as the blazing

hulk drifted seaward.

oo

Gabool was in a foul temper. Most of his servant slaves had gone to the galleys of the three ships under repair, and he was left with only four. Blinking his red-rimmed eyes, he watched them polishing his bell. The Warlord was afraid of the night; sleep brought with it only nightmares of avenging mice, fearsome badger figures and the angry boom of the bell, tolling around his brain like a harbinger of doom. Virtually alone now in Fort Bladegirt, he did not have the satisfaction of asserting his power as King of all Searats. There was nobeast to plot against, to bend to his will, only sitting around waiting and festering with hate for his one-time ally Graypatch. He aimed a kick at a dormouse who was down on all fours furiously rubbing away at the great bell.

"You there, scabpaws. Where's my food?"

The slave continued polishing, not daring to stop as he replied, "Master, I am not a cook. You sent the cooks away to your ships. All I do is polish your bell as you have told me to."

"Get me something to eat and drink," Gabool snarled. "You're a cook now."

The dormouse dropped his rag and bowed, trem-

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bling. "Master, I cannot cook. I am only a bell polisher ..."

Gabool's cruel claws dug into the slave's body as he drew him upright, glaring at him through sleepless sore eyes.

"Get down to the kitchens, and light a fire. You'll find dead seabirds thereroast me a few, bring wine too. Get out of my sight!"

As the dormouse picked himself up and scurried off, Gabool vented his spleen on the remaining three slaves.

"Out! Get out, all of you! Leave me, I want to be alone."

Gabool flung a knife at the last dormouse to disappear around the door. It clattered harmlessly off the wall, and he slumped dejectedly in his chair. "Must be losin' me touch. Should've pinned him easily."

The afternoon sun slanting through the window cast its warmth over him. Gabool's tired eyes began to droop. He sighed as his chin slowly sank onto his chest. Outside, the sounds of the restless sea grew distant. Finally sleep overcame the King of Searats; his eyes closed and his head slumped gently forward in the quiet summer noontide.

A badger was advancing upon him, a huge warlike badger brandishing a broadsword that made a searat blade look like a toy. He turned in fear. A mouse had crept up behind himit was the one he called Skiv she was carrying a heavy knotted rope and the light of battle was in her eyes. Somewhere he could hear Graypatch laughing, a contemptuous mocking sound . . .

BongW

Gabool sat bolt upright, wide awake. There was no creature in the room save himself . . . And the bell.

oo

"Well, what a riddle t'be sure. I'll bet even Hon Rosie couldn't make head nor tail of this jolly old thing. Wot, wot?"

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Mariel aimed a candied chestnut at Tarquin and threw it. He merely caught it in his mouth and munched reflectively. "Course, y'know, I've never seen her solvin' riddles and whatnot. Bet she's bally clever at it, though. Hon Rosie's pretty good at most things."

Mellus stuck a huge paw under Tarquin's nose. "Listen, doodlehead, if I hear you mention Hon Rosie one more time ..."

The friends sat at table in Cavern Hole. They were not to be disturbed, on the Abbot's orders. Outside in Great Hall the rest of the Redwallers took supper and chased reluctant Dibbuns around in an effort to get them washed and up to their beds. Mariel picked up the scrolls from amid the supper-laden table.

"There's no puzzle or mystery about it, the whole thing's a straightforward map in rhyme. Maybe we don't know what certain things areFieldroan the Traveler had an odd way of expressing himselfbut don't worry, I'll find out what it all means as I go along."

Saxtus helped himself to more mushroom-and-cress soup. "Read it again, Mariel. Perhaps it may sound clearer if you do."

Mariel drew a deep breath. "Right, here goes for the tenth time . . .

If I were fool of any sort, I'd leave Redwall and travel forth, For only fools seek Terramort Upon the pathway leading north. This trail brings death with every pace; Beware of dangers lurking there, Sticklegs of the feathered race And fins that in the ford do stir. After the ford, one night one day, Seek out the otter and his wife. Forsake the path, go westlands way, Find the trail and lose your life. When in the woods this promise keep,

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With senses sharp and open eyes,

'My nose shall not send me to sleep'

For buried ones will surely rise.

Beat the hollow oak and shout,

'We are creatures of Redwall!'

If a brave one is about,

He'll save any fool at all.

Beware the light that shows the way,

Trust not the wart-skinned toad,

In his realm no night no day.

Fool, stay to the road.

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.

His flight is straight, norwest is true,

Your fool's desire he'll show to you."

Brother Hubert made a show of polishing his spectacles busily. "Complete balderdash and nonsense, of course. Fieldroan was, like most old travelers, given to tall stories and half-truths. The very idea of it! Sticklegs and fins, otters' wives, sleeping noses and buried ones rising. Huh! Truth was a cuckoo's egg to that fellow."

Tarquin left off chewing an enormous turnip 'n' leek pastie. "I say, that's a bit strong, old boy. What reason would old Fieldroan have to tell a pile of fibs? Personally I'm inclined to believe the bally poem, even though I can't make head nor tail of it."

Simeon touched Mariel's paw. "What do you think, young one? After all, the decision to travel upon this information is yours."

Mariel patted the blind herbalist's shoulder. "Thank you, Simeon. I will tell you what I think. I never knew

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Fieldroan so I cannot say if his poem is totally correct, but it is all I have to go on if I am to reach Terramort, so I will do what the rhyme says to rescue my father and return the great bell to Lord Rawnblade."

The Abbot pursed his lips. "But that is not all you intend to do, Mariel."

The mousemaid's voice had a ring of determination which no creature could deny.

"I have only one other thing to do I must slay Gabool the Wild. None of you can know the hatred I bear toward this barbarian. He must be sent to Hell-gates so that decent creatures can live in peace; only then will I rest. I must do this alone. I thank you my friends for all the kindness and hospitality you have shown to me, a stranger in your midst. Continue to live, prosper and be happy in your wonderful Abbey, but do not try to follow me. The responsibility is mine alone, and I cannot allow any Redwaller to risk life and limb on my behalf. Now I must sleep. Tomorrow my

journey begins."

oo

When the mousemaid had retired to the dormitories, Dandin looked at the friends around the table in Cavern Hole.

"I am going with her. She cannot achieve her aims alone."

Mother Mellus rapped the table. "You'll stay right here at Redwall, Dandin."

The young mouse turned to the Abbot. There was no change of verdict.

"Dandin, we are creatures of peace, and also duty. You must obey Mother Mellus. You are still a very young mouse in our care."

"But ..."

The Abbot held up a paw in a gesture of finality. "No more arguments, please. The hour is late and sleep beckons."

t *

Shadows of drifting nightcloud meandered past the moon. A light breeze made the hot night more tolerable, and trees rustled and sighed in Mossflower Woods, sending their whisperings echoing around the stones of Redwall. Simeon sat propped up by cushions in his armchair near the open windowhe seldom slept in bed. It was sometime after midnight. Unsure of whether he was half awake or half asleep, the blind herbalist felt a presence in the room.

"Is that you, Bernard, old friend?" he said softly into the darkness.

The voice that replied was not that of the Abbot; it was strong, firm and reassuring, a voice that Simeon instinctively felt he could trust.

"Simeon, friend, Dandin must go. Mariel needs him."

The blind mouse felt a light touch against his paw. All around was the scent of woodland flowers, columbine, wood anemones, bryony, honeysuckle and dog rose. The voice spoke again.

"The blood of Gonff flows in Dandin. Mariel needs a friend as I once did. Do not be afraid, come with me."

Simeon arose from the chair and left the room, guided by his strange visitor, though somehow with the odd feeling that none of this was real and he was still sitting in his chair. Convinced that he was asleep, Simeon decided to settle back and enjoy the dream.

oo

Down stairs and down more stairs, along winding and twisting corridors, never touching the walls as he usually would, yet not putting a paw wrong, as he was guided by the friendly presence, the blind herbalist practically floated. He heard a door creak softly as it opened. Gliding through, Simeon sensed that he was in a rock chamber somewhere deep beneath the Abbey. It was so peaceful and quiet here, yet wistful, with a breath of summers long gone, and autumn mists hanging like dried tears. Simeon could not suppress a long

128

129

sigh in the silent calm of the chamber. Something was pressed into his paws; he felt it as the voice spoke

again.

"Leave this with Dandin. Do not wake himhe will

understand."

Drawing the thing from its long case, the blind herbalist felt it. From the smooth pommel stone, across the curving hilt and down the perilous blade to the winter-keen tip, Simeon touched it. He had never felt a sword before, but the blind mouse knew that had he felt ten thousand swords, none would have been fit to compare with this one. The balance was perfectwieldy, yet light as a feather; dangerous, but safe as a rock to the paw that held it; a blade of death, yet of destiny and

justice.

Simeon hardly remembered the journey back. He dimly recalled leaving the sheathed sword alongside Dandin as he lay sleeping. Then he was back in his armchair, wide awake, with the cool night breeze wafting on him through the open window, the woodland flower scent, and a fading voice calling from far off: "Goodbye, Simeon. May the seasons rest easily upon

you ..."

Simeon smiled and settled back in his chair as sleep

closed in on him.

"And may the peace of Redwall Abbey be upon you,

Martin the Warrior/'

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The sails of the Darkqueen had to be tight furled to avoid overhanging trees. Oarslaves had been brought up from the galleys, pitiful wretches; they stood on deck, using the long oars to punt the massive vessel upriver. Graypatch stood at the helm, supervising the movements, moonlight patching down through the night foliage upon his lean figure. Floodtide had lifted the Darkcjueen's nose from the sandbank, and then with a favorable night breeze she had spread sails and glided across the shore toward the forest-fringed dunes.

oo

Pakatugg had been following the progress of the ship since he first spotted it offshore from the dunes. The recluse squirrel had followed along the shoreline and seen everything, from the near mutiny of Graypatch's crew as they hauled the Darkqueen, to the murderous encounter with Garrtail and the burning of Greenfang. Pakatugg was on the scavenge; anything he could steal from the searats he considered would be his by right. When he saw the ship sailing across the beach toward the forest, his respect for Graypatch grewhe would have to treat this searat with some respect. A ship in full sail, gliding over a beach in the night, what a strange sight!

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Dawn was peeping over the treetops to a loud chorus of birdsong when Graypatch chose an inlet far upriver. With no proper anchorage on the pebbly riverbed, he ordered Darkqueen made fast by stem, stern and midship ropes to a sycamore and two elms. Graypatch felt a real sense of triumph as he gave orders.

"Frink, Deadglim, take Ringtail, Lardgutt, Ranzo an' Dripnose. Patrol this forest awhile, see what y'can see. There must be life hereaboutswe crossed a path that was forded by the river durin' the night. There's always somebeast around to tread that pathmight be a settlement of some sort. Anyhow, get your carcasses movin' an' report back to me at noon. Kybo, Bigfang, Fishgill, you stay on deck an' keep a weather eye out hereabouts. I'm off t' me bunk for some rest after steerin' all night. The rest of you, keep your heads down below decks until we know what sort of country this is."

oo

Pakatugg tracked the six searats as they patrolled northward through far Mossflower Woods. He could tell they were raw and inexperienced in woodland matters. Frink, who was leading the party, walked straight into a bed of stinging nettles, tripping on an exposed treeroot and falling headlong.

"Yaagh! Owouch, help me, mates. Ow, oo! These things are alive!"

Lardgutt and Ranzo pulled him out. He sat nursing a rapidly swelling face and cursing.

"Chahah! Me noselook, it's blowin' up like a balloon. Garr! I hate this placetrees everywhere. A rat can't even take a decent breath. Give me the open sea anytime."

"Ahoy, Frink. Over here! Ringtail's been stung by one o' those wasp things."

Deadglim pulled the dart from Ringtail's paw, catching a glimpse of Pakatugg dodging behind a tree with his blowpipe as he did. Deadglim inspected the dart and flung it away.

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"So that's what a wasp looks like, huh. We've got some learnin' t' do before we're proper landlubbers. I'm goin' back to the Darkqueen. You lot carry on with your patrollin'."

Pakatugg missed the wink which passed between Deadglim and the other five. The squirrel followed the remainder of the patrol, sniggering quietly at their ignorance of woodland lore.

"Hey, Frink, what d'you suppose these are strawberries?"

"No, they're blackberries or raspberries or somethin'. Anyhow, why ask me? I don't knowdon't wanna know either."

"Haha, why don't you try eatin' one, Lardgutt? Are yer scared mate?"

"Who, me? 'Course I'm not. Here, watch this."

"How does it taste, Lardy, me old shipmate?"

"Mmmm, tastes nice. Wonder what they're called?"

"Deadly nightshade or somethin' they're probably poison."

"Yarghphutt!"

"Garn, what'd you spit 'em out for? If you ate some an' didn't die, then we'd know they'd be all right to eat. Proper mean to your mates you are, Lardgutt. Betcher Kybo wouldn't 'ave spat 'em out."

Pakatugg decided it was time for a wasp sting again. He was chuckling silently to himself and loading his blowpipe when a tattooed arm circled his neck and a swordblade pressed against his throat.

"One move an' yer fishbait, squirrel. We might not know much about forests, but a searat can sniff the enemy a mile away. Ahoy, lads, lookit what I got!"

They flocked around; Deadglim, licking his knife-blade and smiling evilly at Pakatugg. Frink snapped the blowpipe and threw it aside.

"So it's our wasp, eh. What's yer name, wasp?"

Pakatugg swallowed hard and tried to stop trembling. "Pakatugg's my name."

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Frink twitched his tender nose. "Pakatugg, eh. What'd you call 'im, Ranzo?"

"Hah! I'd call him Deadsquirrel, or maybe Nopaws. Then again, Slittongue might be an 'andsome title fer a squirrel who follers searats round a-firin' darts at 'em."

They bound Pakatugg's paws tightly. Dripnose threw a noose about his neck and gave it a sharp tug.

"Move lively, matey. We'll see what name Cap'n Graypatch can think up for yeh."

cxo

Clary, Thyme and Hon Rosie stood to attention in the armory at Salamandastron. Lord Rawnblade paced up and down, a worried frown creasing his broad brow.

"Longeyes has reported a smoldering wreck of a shipGreenfang, it's one of Gabool's. There may have been trouble farther north up the coast. Clary, I want you to take your patrol up there, fully provisioned and well armed. Find out what's been going on and report back to me. But if you are needed up there by any good creatures, then stay and help out as best you can. Understood?"

Clary made an elegant salute with his lance. "Leave it to us, sah!"

Rawnblade allowed himself a fleeting smile. "Thank you, Clary. Move your patrol out whenever you wish."

oo

The badger Lord watched them go from his high window. The three hares swiftly bounded across the beach, sometimes skipping in and out of the small wavelets at the water's edge. Rawnblade turned back to his forge and quenched a red-hot spearhead in water. He remembered, long seasons back, three similar hares, young carefree fighters, their bodies washed up on the tideline after Gabool's searats had finished with them.

Rawnblade set the spearhead on the anvil and began beating it with mighty blows. His heavy hammer rose and fell; sweat mixed with tears and sizzled into the

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embers of the forges as the ruler of the fire mountain renewed his vow.

"I cannot leave my mountain and these shores undefended, but one day, Gabool, one day you will sail back to here and I will be waiting. Oho, Gabool, all the seas of the world cannot keep us apart it is written that we will meet again. We will meet! We will meet! We will meet!"

Rawnblade repeated the phrase over and over with each hammer blow upon the spearhead, releasing his pent-up frustrations. When he finally stopped, the spearblade had been battered to four times its size and

was thin as a leaf!

oo

From the western flatlands fronting the Abbey, a chorus of larks wakened Mariel. She stood stretching and rubbing her eyes for a brief moment until realization hit herit was almost an hour after dawn. The mousemaid slung Gullwhacker around her neck and opened the door carefully, listening for familiar sounds of Abbey bustle. Thankfully she noted silence from outside and inside the building. Stealing quietly down the corridor, Mariel could not help a slight sense of bewilderment. Usually Redwall was alive and humming by this time. Tip-pawing through Great Hall, she retrieved the knapsack of supplies she had hidden behind a column before supper. Thanking her lucky stars, she dashed across the lawn toward a small wicker gate in the north wall and unbolted it. Taking one last backward look at the sleeping Abbey, the mousemaid sniffed, wiped her eyes, took a deep breath and left Redwall with its happy memories behind her.

Flatlands to the left, woodlands to the right, Mariel strode the brown dusty path that wound northward. Early dew was drying from the lea already; it was going to be a hot day. She stayed on the side of the path where Mossflower provided treeshade. Strange that the Redwallers should sleep so late, she thought. Still, it

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was far better, in a way. Mariel had been dreading any long tearful farewells; it would be far easier this way, even though she felt rather guilty, stealing off like a thief in the early dawn. "I, Mariel," the mousemaid called aloud to Mossflower country, "swear by this honorable weapon known as the Gullwhacker that one day I will return to Redwall Abbey and all my true friends and dear companions I leave there. Always providing that I live through the dangers of the task ahead of me, that is. Oh, and providing of course that I can find the way back. No, that's nonsenseI'd find my way back if I had only one leg and the snows were as high as the treetops. But what if I'm slain or I fail in my quest? Well, in that case I solemnly swear that my spirit will find its way back to Redwall Abbey. There! That's that. I feel much better now, even hungry enough for a spot of breakfast."

Without stopping her march, she munched bread and cheese from the knapsack. A stroke of luck provided a gnarled apple tree hanging its boughs low over the path, so she plucked an early russet apple and bit into it, noting her find as a lucky omen for the journey ahead.

Woodpigeons cooed within the dimness of woodland depths, bees hummed and grasshoppers chafed out on the sunlit flatlands. Mariel began skipping, twirling Gullwhacker at her side, suddenly filled with a sense of freedom and adventure. What better than to travel alone, eat when you please, rest when you feel the need, camp by your own little fire at night and sleep snug in some forest glade! The feeling flooded through her with such force that it made her light-headed, and she began singing aloud an old playsong, known to mice everywhere.

"The winter O, the winter O,

With cold and dark and driving snow,

O not for me the winter O,

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My friend I tell you so.

In spring the winds do sport and play,

And rain can teem down anyday,

While autumn oft is misty gray,

My friend hear what I say.

When summer sunlight comes each morn,

The birds sing sweet each golden dawn,

And flow'rs get kissed by every bee,

While shady stands the tree.

The summer O, the summer O,

Amid its golden peace I go,

From noon to lazy evening glow.

My friend I told you so."

Mariel held the final note, leaping high in the air and twirling. She came down on the far side of the path, stumbled and fell. Rolling over, the mousemaid slipped down the side of the ditch bordering the flatlands.

"Tut tut, dearie meleapin' mice, what next? Though I must say, old gel, you held that last note gracefully. Hon Rosie couldn't have done better. Bear in mind, though, she wouldn't have dived nose first into the ditch. Not the done sort o' thing for young fillies. Wot?"

Tarquin lent a paw to pull Mariel from the ditch. She was completely taken aback at the appearance of the hare.

"Where did you come from, Tarquin? I never even heard you following me."

Tarquin L. Woodsorrel adopted a pose of comical outrage. "Following? Did I hear you say following, marm? Boggle me ears, I wasn't followin' you, snub-nose, I was right alongside you, mousy miss. Oh yes, seasons of trainin' y'know. Camouflage an' all that dodge an' bob, duck an' weave, disguises too. D'you want to see me become a daisy or a bally buttercup?"

Mariel was smiling as she dusted herself off on the pathside, but she chided the garrulous hare.

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"Very clever, Tarquin, but you can't come with melt's far too dangerous."

Tarquin adjusted the fastenings of an oversized haversack filled to bursting with food. "Balderdash, young 'un. Absolute piffle and gillyswoggle! I'm goin' my own way, just keepin' you company on the road to see you don't practice any more ditch divin'. Come on, step out lively now, leftrightleftrightleitright an' all that."

Mariel kept pace with him, jogging to match his lanky stride. "Well, as long as you know you can't come all the way with me ... but why are we walking so fast?"

Tarquin kept on, pawing it out at the double. "Goin' to be late for lunch if we don't move smartly. Come on now, keep up."

It was about lunchtime that they rounded a bend in the path to find Dandin awaiting them with a wild summer salad he had gathered to garnish the bread and cheese, together with a flask of elderberry cordial he was cooling beneath an overhanging willow. The young mouse waved to them.

"Hi there. Good job you made it another moment or two and I was going to start without you."

Mariel placed her paws on her hips, chin jutting out angrily. "What in the name of fur are you doing here?"

Dandin smiled disarmingly. "Oh, it's all a bit of a mystery really."

The mousemaid turned on Tarquin. "And you, how did you know he was here, you great lolloping flopear? It's a plot, that's what it is. You set this up between you!"

Tarquin sprawled on the grass and began constructing a giant cheese and salad sandwich. "Steady on there, missy, I was waitin' outside the north wicker gate for you to appear right through the bally night. Then about an hour before dawn young Dandin here pops out, so I merely told him to get a move on an'

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we'd meet him further up the road for a spot of lunch. Rather civilized, don't y'think?"

Mariel was fuming with temper, but she plumped herself down and began eating because the walk had given her an appetite. Through mouthfuls of food she berated the smiling duo.

"You can wipe those silly smiles off your whiskers. You are not coming with me, either of you. Is that crystal clear?"

They both munched away, smiling and winking at each other as they nodded agreement with the furious mousemaid.

When lunch was finished Dandin repacked his knapsack and thrust the marvelous scabbarded sword into his cord girdle.

"Rightyo, Tarkers. Let's get moving. I wonder if this pretty mousemaid is going our way. D'you think she'd like to walk with us?"

"Doubtless, old lad. We'll string along with her a piece. D'y'know, she's an excellent ditch diveryou should've seen her this mornin', looped the loop graceful as y'please, straight into the jolly old ditch on her snout."

Stone-faced and in high dudgeon, Mariel marched on between them.

Tarquin and Dandin made perilously light of the situation.

"I say, Mr. Woodsorrel, that's a strange noise those grasshoppers are making."

"Not the confounded grasshoppers, laddie buck. Sounds like some wild creature nearby grindin' their teeth."

"Hmm, not very good for the old molars, that. Temper, temper! . . . Look out, she's swinging that knotty rope thing."

By midafternoon Mariel had simmered down somewhat. She even let slip the odd smile or giggle at the

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antics of her comical traveling companions, and at one point deigned to talk to them.

"It's getting very hot. What do you say we take a rest in the shade, have a snack and then push on until dark?"

The suggestion was well received. They flopped down gratefully with their backs against a tree-topped oak. When they had eaten, all three napped for a while, but the long summer day took its toll; what was meant to be a short rest for hot dusty eyes turned into quite a lengthy sleep.

oo

Dandin was wakened by a paw across his mouth. He gave a muffled cry as Tarquin hissed a warning. "Ssshh, not a sound!"

The young mouse sat up carefully and looked around. Mariel was standing still as a statue, her Gullwhacker at the ready. The hare bent an ear in the direction of the woodlands opposite.

"Somebeast is stalking us," he breathed to them both. "Over there, behind that yew thicket, I'm sure. Dandin, go with Mariel to the left. I'll take the right. We'll jump the blighter an' turn the tables in our favor. Go!"

Paw by paw they crept forward, listening to the rustle of the thicket, where it was plain some creature was moving about. Skirting to the left, they made out a dark shape in the shadows. Tarquin yelled out the signal.

"Up an' at him!"

Throwing themselves headlong, the three friends pounced upon the miscreant.

"Yow! Ouch! Whoo! Eeek! Yarrgh! Lerrimgo! Ger-roff!"

Young Durry Quill watched them as they hopped and leaped about like boiled frogs, yelling in pain at the spikes, embedded in paws and bodies, that they had collected from him in their mad plunge. He twitched his nose.

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"Serves 'ee right fer jumpin' on a young lad like that. Ain't you beasts got no manners at all?"

Mariel hopped about in agony and frustration. "Ah ah! You sure you haven't brought the rest along with you? Ooh ooh! I wouldn't be surprised to see Mellus, Simeon and the Abbot leap out from behind that hornbeam yonder. How many more of you are there? Am I taking the whole population of Redwall along with me? Ow ooch!"

Durry was quite amused at the idea. "Heehee!" he snickered aloud. "No no, 'tis only me alone. Now do you stop a leapin' round an' let me get those spikes out. I'll fix 'ee up, never fear."

They waited in painful silence as Durry Quill nipped the spikes out with his teeth. Working smoothly and easily, he made a large wad of dockleaf, wild cloves and rowan berries.

"'Ere, rub this on where you be stickled 'twill ease all pains."

Dandin was surprised and delighted. It worked like a charm. A short space of time and it felt as if he had never encountered a hedgehog spike.

Early evening found them back on the north path, with Durry explaining himself to the other three travelers.

"My ol' nuncle Gabe, 'ee wants me to be a cellar 'og. It's a good job, mind, but a young 'un wants to see summat afore he settles hisself down to a life of cordial, wine an' ales, ho yes. I 'eard all about it 'ee, Miz Mariel, an' I couldn't sleep for thinkin' about it. Durry, I says to myself, Durry, a young 'og would be right honnered to tread the roads wi' such a fearless mousemaid. So I packs me sack, gives you a liddle start there I tells a whopper, I overslep' really. Anywise, I follered 'ee, an' 'ere I be, fit as a flea, fat as a beetle, an' ready fer ought."

They laughed heartily at the honest and earnest hedgehog.

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Dandin pointed up the road. "Look, there's a ford coming up. I can see the sun glinting off the waters. Hope it's not too deep for us to cross."

Quick as a flash a big heron flapped down on the path in front of them. His sticklike legs bent as the long snaking neck curved itself ready for a strike, the fierce circular eyes contracted and dilated angrily, a dangerous pale yellow beak pointed down at them.

"Irrrrrraktaan, this is my waterrrrrrr! Rrrrrrun for yourrrrrr lives. . . . Back! Come near Irrrrrraktaan's waterrrrr and you die! I am Irrrraktaan, mighty kil-lerrrrrr!"

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Graypatch's eye came close to Pakatugg, and the sea-rat's tone was wheedling, almost friendly.

"Now then, matey. You know the lay o' the land 'ereabouts. Don't be afeared of old Graypatch or none of this riffraff aboard the Darkqueen, you just tell me about all the snug little berths an' cosy coves in this neck o' the woods."

Pakatugg felt a little bolder now that the searat Captain had untied his paws and taken the noose from about his neck, but he was quite nervous about the horde of grinning searats who lounged on the deck around him. This one called Graypatch, though, he sounded differentmaybe they could talk reasonably. Feeling naked without his blowpipe and darts, Pakatugg did his best to muster up a commanding tone.

"There's not much at all in this region. You've come to the wrong place. Far north's where you want to be, that's where all you types usually land."

Graypatch bent his head to one side and winked at the squirrel. "Aharr, is that so? What scurvy luck fer us, eh? Still, never you mind, we've landed up here, an' here we'll stay. Now I'll ask you again, messmate, nice an' polite as you please. I want somewhere with

peace an' plenty to settle down. Now where d'you suppose that'd be?"

Pakatugg mistook Graypatch's reassuring manner for weakness, and he decided to take a firm line with this ragamuffin rat and his tawdry bunch. After all, the hares always did it and creatures took notice of them.

"Look, I've told you once, you're wasting your time around here. Up north is much better for vermin like you!"

Still smiling, Graypatch kicked him in the stomach, knocking him to the deck. Looping a rope around Paka-tugg's footpaws, he rasped out an order:

"Haul away, buckos!"

Pakatugg swung upside-down in midair, suspended above the deck as a gang of searats yanked him higher and higher on the rope.

Graypatch shook his head sadly. "Did y'hear that, mates? He called us vermin!"

Pakatugg swallowed hard and closed his eyes as he heard weapons being drawn.

The searat Captain squinted his good eye at the hanging squirrel. "Have ye ever fed the fishes, squirrel?"

"N-No. What d-do you f-feed 'em on?"

A harsh roar of laughter went up from the crew. Graypatch drew his sword.

"What do we feed 'em on? Why, you of course. Those liddle fishes'd be right partial to squirrel carved up into tasty strips."

He slashed at the end of the rope, which was secured to the mast. Pakatugg came down on the deck with a bump. Graypatch drew a curved dagger from his belt. Using his sword blade like a butcher's steel, he rubbed them together, putting a fine edge to the dagger blade. He grabbed the squirrel by the ear and brandished the dagger with a fearsome yell.

"Start from the top and work down to the tailthat's the best way!"

"No, wait! There's an Abbey not far from here.

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They've got it all. Food, shelter, plunderthe lot! Spare me, please!"

Graypatch put up his weapons and aimed a kick at the blubbering squirrel. '"Ere, Ringtail, Dripnose, take 'im below an' put 'im in chains. Don't be too gentle now, and don't feed the slug too well. When I'm ready he'll take us to this Abbey place. Ain't that right, squirrel?"

Pakatugg nodded vigorously, his tears staining the

deck.

oo

Colonel Clary, Brigadier Thyme and Hon Rosie had stopped near the sand dunes to take refreshment and a short rest. Clary was lying back, voicing his thoughts to the other two.

"No trouble so far, wot? Longeyes must have spotted the burnt-out ship a bit further up the coast. We'll patrol further up and camp on the jolly old seashore tonight might even try a shellfish stew, eh, Rosie? Long time since you've cooked one. If we don't catch sight of any bother by tomorrow afternoon late, we'll head back to Salamandastron."

There was a whooshing noise and a trident buried itself in the sand not a paw's-length from Thyme.

"Ears down, chaps! Attack!"

Throwing themselves flat facing three directions, the long patrol started instinctively pushing the sand around them into a barrier. The croaking of countless natterjacks filled the dunes.

"Dig your slings and stones out, too many for lances," Clary called to his companions. "By the left! This is all we need, that villain Oykamon and his slimy mob attackin' us when we're out on a mission. By the right, center and by the cringe, I'll show 'em!"

Hon Rosie slung a flat pebble at a toad charging over the hill. It connected with a splat, knocking the toad out like a light. "Whoohahahahoohah!" she whooped. "That bagged the blighter. I'm pretty fair at slingin'. I'll

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get that big fat rogue, you watch. Whoohahahahoohah! Good shot, Rosie!"

Thyme waggled a paw in his ear between launching off missiles. "Stone me, Rosie. You could scare 'em all off with that pesky laughin' of yours."

"Whoohahahaoohah! You are a card, Thyme, no mistake. Watch that feller to your left! Oh, never mind, I'll lay him out. Howzat, middle an' stump!"

Clary got two toads with one of his special bouncing shots. "Corks! I say, there must be squillions of the reptiles. We're goin' to run out of stones before they run out of soldiers, I suspect."

Thyme banged the heads of two venturesome toads who had climbed the barricade, and they both fell back senseless.

"One thing you can say about big chief Oykamon he keeps his word. He said he'd be back with a full complement. We're on a sticky wicket, Clary old lad. Any ideas?"

Colonel Clary glanced up at the sky before launching off another stone. "Funny you should say that, Thyme. Matter of fact, I've come up with a pretty good wheeze, actually. It'll soon be evenin'. Now the minute it starts gettin' darkish, keep your eyes peeled for a sight of the old arch baddie himself, Oykamon. Rosie, you're the best shotchoose yourself a jolly good big pebble. I want him knocked out cold. That'll upset the lads of the sandhills, and they'll prob'ly crowd round to see if he's dead. Then we'll make a run for it, go straight for the sea, just about paw-deep, and keep goin' north. Toads aren't too fussy on salt water, so they'll give up following us if we sprint fast enough. How's your throwin' paw, Rosie old gel?"

"Top-hole. Don't fret, Clary. I'll put the old bandit asleep until this time next season. Now let's see, which is m' biggest stone? Oh, this one's rather pretty, nice little sticky-out bits. Whoohahahahoohah!"

Luck was on the side of the long patrol that evening,

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and Clary's plan ran true to form. Illuminated by two lanterns, Oykamon appeared atop a nearby dune, his bulging throat pulsating in and out as he bellowed.

"Krroikl! You were warned, longears. Now you will die knowing the power and might of Oykamon. Krrrikk!"

Hon Rosie popped up, twirling the large rock in her slingshot. "Shall I bowl him a googly, Clary?"

"Certainly, Rosie old gel. Shut the fat blighter up."

The rock flew straight and hard, whacking Oykamon with a force that sent him head over webs. Clary and Thyme's slings took the lantern holders out. Immediately, the dunes and shore became a mass of natterjacks. Croaking and clicking with dismay, they hopped speedily over to their fallen leader. The hares of the long patrol were up and gone with a turn of speed that would have left a hunting hawk flabbergasted.

They splashed along the shoreline in the failing light, a red bronze sun turning the wavelets to liquid gold as they skimmed and bounced.

"Excellent shot, Rosie. An absolute bull's-eye, wot!"

"Rather. He did a full double backflip when that rock beezed him."

"Oh, d'you think so? Thanks awfully, chaps. Whoohahahahoohah!"

Dandin spread his paws wide. "Back off. This bird means business!"

Mariel sprang forward. The heron struck, and she dodged sideways, narrowly getting clear of the huge pointed beak, which left a deep dent in the path.

"Mariel get back, he'll kill you," Dandin yelled.

The heron hopped in on spindly legs, flapping his wide wings and screeching, "Irrrraktaan will spearrrrr your hearrrrrt! Irrrrraktaan knows no fearrrr!"

Mariel rolled over and over, keeping a fraction ahead of the murderous stabbing beak. A movement caught Iraktaan's quick eye, and he glanced to one side. There

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was Durry Quill, rolling past him in a tight ball. The heron struck at the hedgehog, but his beakpoint encountered a hard spike and bounced back with a pinging noise.

The moment's breathing space was all Mariel needed. She whirled Gullwhacker and struck Iraktaan across the legs, right on the narrow knee joints. The knotted rope wrapped round the heron's legs several times. He tried to move but crashed to the ground. Immediately, Tar-quin was there. He sat across the middle of Iraktaan's neck. Before the great bird could start flapping its wings, Dandin passed the remainder of the rope across them and stood on the rope's end. Durry Quill tugged and chewed at some bindweed, snapping several lengths off.

'"Ere, tie that burd up wi' some o' this."

Tarquin grabbed a strand and wound it round and round the clacking beak. Dandin took the rest and hobbled Iraktaan's legs securely, passing it through the joint of one wing and knotting it off. Breathing heavily, they stood up. Mariel disengaged Gullwhacker from the heron's legs and whirled it close to the bird's head.

"Be still! Be still, I say, or I'll scramble your silly brains!"

The heron's eyes rolled madly, but he lay still, feathers in disarray, hissing and blowing through his fearsome beak. Dandin unsheathed the sword of Martin and placed the point at Iraktaan's crop.

"When we are gone, you will be able to free yourself. But hear what I say, Iraktaan. Follow us, and I will slay you with this sword. It has taken more lives than there are feathers on your body. I am Dandin the Sword Carrier, and you can believe my word. We wish only to cross the ford in peace. Stay where you are, wait until we are gone, then loose yourself."

Iraktaan wriggled a bit and made stifled noises but they ignored him. The ford appeared neither too wide or deep, but with masses of long trailing weeds waving

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beneath the surface. Tarquin took a few paces back as if he were going to rush at it with a hop, leap and jump. "Wish me luck, chaps. Here goes!"

Dandin stood barring his path. "Wait, Tarquin. Remember the old saying, look before you leap?"

"Of course, old lad. Well, I've bally well looked, and now I'm goin' to jolly well leap ..."

"Oh no you're not!"

"I say, Dandin, you've become rather bossy since you started wearin' that blinkin' sword. 'My name is Dandin the Sword Carrier,' eh? Righto, give me one good reason why I shouldn't leap, and I shan't."

Dandin recited the words of the poem which he had memorized.

"This trail brings death with every pace; Beware of dangers lurking there, Sticklegs of the feathered race And fins that in the ford do stir.

Well, as you can see, we've already met the sticklegs Iraktaan took care of that. Our next hazard is fins that in the ford do stir. Let's try out an idea before we attempt crossing."

Together they went to the water's edge. Dandin took a crust of bread from his knapsack and tossed it into the ford. It drifted on the surface of the water. They stood watching the bread. Like a small golden-crusted boat, it moved slowly downstream on the calm river.

Durrey did not seem too impressed. "My old nun-cle'd say that there's a waste o' good food."

Quick as a lightning flash, a mighty silver black-banded body whooshed out of the weeds. There was an explosion of water, a gleam of needlelike teeth, a huge splash, and the ford returned to its former calm.

Durry Quill grabbed hold of Mariel's sleeve tightly. "Sufferin' spikes, what were that?"

Tarquin sat down in the dust looking decidedly shaky. "Pike, old lad. An absolute whopper. A fish like

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that'd rip you up as soon as look at you. Dandin, I'm never backward in comin' forwardyou were right."

Dandin was pacing the ford edge. "Look, there's more than one, much more."

Peering carefully into the reeds, they were able to make out at least eight of the long, sleek bodies. Nose-on to the current, they backed water, fully grown, hook-jawed and totally dangerous.

Mariel sat down with Tarquin. "Time for thinking caps. Glad you came with me, after all!"

They sat in silence, watching the setting sun sink beneath the trees. Durry Quill drew patterns in the dust. "Mayhap we need a bridge."

Tarquin snorted. "Right you are, let's start buildin' one right away. Shouldn't take us longmiddle of next season, with a bit of luck."

Durry snorted back at him. "If brains was bees, there'd be no honey between your ears. Why, from where I'm a sittin' I can see a great dead tree lirnb among yon bushes. What's to stop us usin' it as a bridge?"

The hare stood up, bowing gracefully to the young hedgehog. "Profuse apologies an' all that, young master Quill. Forgive me. The excellence of your suggestion is only surpassed by your good looks and keen intelligence."

oo

Placed across the ford, the thick, dead tree limb looked wobbly and unsafe. As Mariel tested it she noted the position of the voracious pike.

"See, the fish have come out of the weeds. They're all waiting both sides of our bridge, just beneath the surface. We'd better not put a paw wrong crossing that thing."

Mariel decided that she would go first. Stepping onto the branch, she wound Gullwhacker about her neck and held her paws wide to give herself a bit of stability. The mousemaid paced forward carefully, the branch

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shaking slightly beneath her tread. Hungry pike nosed closer, their underslung jaws agape as they watched her.

"Don't look down, Mariel," Dandin called out. "Keep your eyes straight ahead on the other side. You're doing fine!"

Now she had reached the center, the branch dipped slightly, its underside touching the water. A pike butted the branch with its curving mouth, causing it to wobble dangerously. Mariel went down on all fours, gripping the bridge firmly. She waited until it ceased moving then scampered across swiftly, leaping the final part and landing safe on the other side of the ford.

"Well crossed, young mouse, well crossed, I say. Who's next?"

Dandin elected to try, with Mariel sitting on one end of the makeshift bridge and Tarquin holding the other end down. Dandin held the sword in both paws, straight out in front; it helped to balance him. The young mouse had a surprising natural agility. Despite the pike nosing against the branch, he made it across with ease, even leaping ashore with a fancy twirl of the sword.

Tarquin nudged Durry Quill. "Your turn, old chap."

The young hedgehog blinked his eyes and gulped. "If I turns out t' be a fish's supper, tell my old nuncle Gabriel that I love him dear an' I was a-thinkin' of him even as I was bein' ate. Ah well! C'mon, Durry. Brace up, Quill. If y'don't try now, y'never will."

With these few poetic lines, Durry scuttled out across the branch on all fours. It shook and wobbled furiously. The others held their breath, not wanting to call out advice lest they should upset him. The hedgehog was at the center of the bridge when a monstrous pike hurled itself clear of the water, arching its sinuous body as it slammed forcibly into the branch. Durry plopped off into the ford, yelling as the pike closed in on him, "I'm a-thinkin' of 'ee, Nuncle Gabe. Heeeeeelp!"

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"Eulaliaaaaa!"

Tarquin L. Woodsorrel came tearing out along the branch, half in and half out of the water, the branch flopping up and down madly into the ford. Grabbing Durry by the snout, he swung him clear of the pike's jaws. Kicking one pike savagely and braining another with his harolina, the hare carried straight on with his mad dash. He sprinted out of the water with Durry held tight, a damaged harolina, and a big female pike latched onto him, its teeth sunk into his bobtail. Tarquin let go of Durry and performed a mad war dance on the bank.

"Yahwoo! Leggo, y'beast, leggo!"

Mariel twirled Gullwhacker and struck the pike, batting it with all her might. It separated from Tarquin's tail and shot through the air, landing in the ford with an awkward splosh.

"Hooray!" Durry cheered. "I ain't ate, and we're all safe 'n' dry."

"Hah, I'm glad you're pleased, young Quill. Look at me! A chunk of m' bottom and half a tailbob missin'. What'll Hon Rosie say when she sees my handsome form disfigured?"

They made camp in a forest glade farther up the road as night fell. Mariel and Dandin setting out the supper, Tarquin repairing his harolina, whilst Durry Quill put together one of his sovereign poultices for the hare's nether end. Mariel conversed quietly with her friend as they sat eating.

"Dandin, where did you get that beautiful sword?" "You'd never believe if I told you, Mariel, but it came to me in a dream."

"A dream? Surely you're not serious ..."

"Oh, but I am. Strange, though. I dreamed I saw a

mouse in full armor. He just stood there, watching me

and smiling. I felt so peaceful and friendly and at ease

with him, it was wonderful. He said to me, 'Dandin,

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go with Mariel.' Just those four words, then he took his sword and scabbard and laid them at my side. I knew it was only a dream, a dream which I wanted to last forever, but it didn't. When I woke before dawn, there were the sword and scabbard by my side. It must have been the spirit of Martin the Warriorhe founded our Abbey. Martin is guardian of Redwall. They say he comes whenever the Abbey or its creatures are in danger. I always thought it was just a nice story, until he visited me. I'll never forget it, Mariel."

The mousemaid crumbled a piece of bread and watched the ants bearing the fragments away, her face a strange picture of wonderment.

"As you were speaking, Dandin, I remembered. It all came back. I dreamed of your Martin last night. He was just as you described him, a wonderful brave figure. He said: 'Be brave, Mariel. Follow your heart's desire.' He was there in my dreams one moment and gone the next. I know what you mean when you say you'll never forget. I was so sad when he disappeared."

"Anybeast want more soup? If not, I'll just have what's left in the pot t' keep me goin' through the old night watches, wot? I say, Dandin, can you recall the next part of that rhyme thingummy?"

The young mouse thought of his friend Saxtus as he spoke the lines.

"After the ford, one night, one day, Seek out the otter and his wife. Forsake the path, go westlands way, Find the trail and lose your life."

Durry sniffed as he beat Tarquin to the last of the soup. "Lackaday, that sounds cheerful, don't it? I wonder who the otter 'n' his wife be."

Night closed in on the few red embers of the campfire in the glade as the travelers lay to rest, Tarquin with his harolina, Durry with a well-licked soup bowl, Mariel

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with her Gullwhacker and Dandin with the strange ancient sword of Martin the Warrior.

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Orgeye of the Waveblade had dropped anchor in Terra-mort cove earlier that same evening. Confining his crew to shipboard, he strode up to Fort Bladegirt, aware of the reception he would receive coming back empty-clawed. Gabool was in a murderous mood; even the slaves were hiding and dared not attend him. The King of the Searats had gone past sleeping. His eyes were completely blood-red, but he quivered with a furious nervous energy, roaming the banqueting hall, drinking wine straight from the flagon. Orgeye walked in without knocking. Gabool did not acknowledge him at first, but strode about shouting, "Look! . . . Look at this, half-cooked seabird still with the feathers hanging from it!"

He hurled the silver platter, splattering food across the walls.

"Not a slave to look after my needs. Me, the Ruler of all Seas! Wine? This tastes more like vinegar. They're tryin' to poison me. That's it! They can't get me while I'm asleep because I won't go to sleep. . . . No sleep . . . No rest for Gabool ..."

He appeared to notice Orgeye for the first time. "Saltar! No, it can't beI slew him. Haharr, it's Orgeye, my old grogmate. Belay there, I knew you wouldn't let

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Gabool down. I knew out of all those slopbacks you'd be the one to bring me back the Darkqueen an' Grey-patch's mangy skull!"

Orgeye moved away until the big table was between him and the Warlord. "Gabool, listen. I scoured the seas to the far west from here and past the horizon. I searched the bare rocks and small islands until I ran short of vittles an' water for the crew an' meself. There's no sign of Graypatch at all. Wherever he's taken the Darkqueen to, we'll never find him, on my oath!"

The flagon narrowly missed Orgeye. It smashed upon the door, cascading blood-red wine everywhere. Gabool looked madly about for something else to throw.

"Garrr! You lyin' traitor, you useless mud-suckin' scum. If you couldn't find him west'ard, you should have sailed south."

Orgeye was backing toward the door. He did not want to be in the same room with this mad creature.

"Hold fast there, Gabool. Take it easy. I only put in to Terramort for fresh provisions. You say go south right, then I'll take the Waveblade on a southern course, soon as I've taken fresh vittles aboard."

Gabool drew his sword and advanced, foaming at the mouth. "Vittles, you bottlenosed trash. Vittles? I'll give ye vittles, bucko. I'll carve yer tripes out and feed 'em to your scurvy crew. Set course south an' gerrout o' me sight. You don't get a crust o' my bread or a drop of water until you bring me the Darkqueen an' Graypatch's head!"

Orgeye barely had time to slam the door and run. Gabool was tugging and pulling as he cursed, and his sword was buried deep in the heavy oak door. Behind him the bell tolled once. He heaved the sword blade from the door and came at the bell.

"Silence, d'ye hear me! Silence! Boomin' an' bongin' away night an' day so a body can't even sleep. I'll teach yer a lesson!"

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Two dormouse slaves peering through a crack in the door watched fascinated as the King of Searats attacked a bell with his sword. The bell clashed and clanged as Gabool hammered at it, both claws gripping his curved blade. The one-sided fight could have only one possible outcome. The sword blade snapped against the great bell and Gabool lay facedown upon the stone floor, panting and sobbing as the metallic echoes of the bell swirled around the banqueting hall.

The dormouse slave turned to his companion. "Did you see that?"

"Aye, that I did. It looks like His Majesty is two waves short of a tide. Whoever saw a rat fight a bell?"

"Right, mate. And look, he lost. The great Gabool's cryin' on the floor like a baby squirrel who's lost his acorns. Hahahaha!"

The laughter rang through into the hall as the two slaves fled back into hiding.

Gabool gritted his teeth at the bell. "Go on, laugh, yer great brazen lump. Laugh away, but next time I'll

get a bigger sword!"

oo

Abbot Bernard sat at late supper with Simeon, Mellus and Gabriel Quill. Foremole wandered in and sat picking at the barely touched food on the table.

"Burr, maisters. No news of 'ee young 'uns, then?"

Simeon felt the round firmness of an apple as he polished it on his sleeve. "No news as yet, Foremole. But don't worry, they've got everything on their side-youth, health, strength and a sense of adventure. I wish that I were with them, old as I am."

Mother Mellus tapped the table fretfully. "I wish I were with them, too. I'd tan that Dandin's hide until he turned blue, the disobedient little wretch. That's all the thanks you get for looking after them, caring, worrying when they're ill. What about that scallywag nephew of yours, Gabe Quill?"

"Well, he fair shocked me, I can tell 'ee. Young Durry

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were always a quiet sort of 'og, good worker too. If you were to ask me I'd say as 'ee were led astray by that Storm Gullywhacker. My word, she's a wild 'un fer a liddle mouse, that she is."

"If the three were gone together then I think it is for the best."

Mother Mellus pushed aside her plate. "How can you say that, Simeon?"

"Because either Dandin or Mariel has the spirit of Martin the Warrior walking alongside them, though I am not sure which one it is."

Abbot Bernard looked thankfully toward his friend. "Well, bless the seasons! Tell me more of this, friend Simeon."

Mellus, ever the big practical badger mother, stood up from the table. "I'm off to my bed, can't stop around here all night with young 'uns missing and you lot yarning away bout long-dead warriors. Martin or no Martin, first thing tomorrow I'm putting that big otter, wotsisname, Flagg, out on their trail. He'll bring the rascals back!"

When she had gone, blind Simeon began recounting his strange but wondrous experience.

"It happened last night as I sat dozing in my chair by the window. Oh, pour me some October ale, will you, Gabemy throat's a bit dry."

Somewhere out in the darkness a young blackbird chirruped as its mother drew it under her wing against the all-enveloping night.

oo

Dawn broke gray with an unexpected shroud of drizzling rain. The four travelers were abroad early, continuing their northward trek upon the path. The flat-lands to the west had been left behind after the ford, now the forest closed in either side of the path.

"Pretty good this, wot? The jolly old trees leaning over are like an umbrella, dontcha think?"

Durry shook himself. "No I don't, if tain't churnin'

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up the path into mud this rain is a drippin' off those trees onto the back of 'ee neck. Still, as my old nuncle allus says, if it be rainin' then there do be water pourin' from the sky."

Mariel smiled and winked at Tarquin. "A wise fellow, your old uncle."

Durry nodded in innocent agreement. "Oh aye, Nuncle Gabe's never short of wise sayin's. There do be no better way o' eatin' than with 'ee mouth, a full barrel's not an empty 'un, an' 'ee can allus tell a squirrel by his tail."

Tarquin chuckled as he tuned his harolina. "Hmm, that makes sense."

Durry sniffed. "A course it do. Bet you never see'd a squirrel wi'out one o' those lollopin' great bushy tails, did you?"

"Er, ah, no, don't s'pose I did, really."

"There, that goes to show 'ee then. You can allus tell a squirrel by his tail, jus' like my nuncle says."

Dandin kept in close to the pathside. "The rain's getting heavier."

There was a distant roll of thunder, lightning illuminated the sky. As they trudged on Durry whispered to Dandin, "Lookit, Mariel's dropped back. Tears to me she's shiverin' an' un'appy about summat."

They hurried back to Mariel. She was clutching herself, rain dripping from her face and paws, shivering as she faltered along the path.

Dandin looked worried. "Mariel, what's the matter with you?"

The mousemaid leaned against a spruce tree. "Thunder, the rain and the lightning. . . . Reminded me of being thrown in the sea by Gabool . . . Terramort, my father ..."

Tarquin took charge. "Golly, you look like a whitewashed duck, old thing. Here, Dandin, lend a paw. We'll get her under some dry trees and light a fire, she'd better rest up until this lot clears."

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Slightly off the path on the east side they found a fir grove. Durry dug a shallow pit and kindled a small fire with dead branches and dry pine needles. With her back against a fir, Mariel sat dozing, soaking in the warmth of the fragrant dry atmosphere. Beyond the trees the rain pounded hard against the path, sending up brown splotches as it churned the dust to mud. Durry brewed some sage and mint tea, and they sipped the steaming liquid gratefully.

About halfway through the morning Dandin became aware that they were being watched by something crouching in the grass on their left. Slowly he unsheathed the sword, signaling with his eyes to Tar-quin and Durry. All three rose quietly and moved toward the long grass until they could see the watcher.

It was a large snake!

Dandin had never seen a snake before, though he had heard many stories at Redwall of the dangerous poisonteeth. He felt a shiver convulse his whole body at the sight of the slithering coils, the flickering tongue and the twin beads of cold ruthlessness of the reptile's eyes. It came clear of the long grass, hissing and weaving its head from side to side as it menaced them. Dandin unsheathed his sword, whispering to Tarquin, "What do we do now? It looks very dangerous."

The hare took the nearest weapon to paw, his haversack of food. He stood at ease, swinging it experimentally as he replied, "Nothing to worry about really, old bean. See those black markings on the thing's back? Well, that's supposed to be an adder. Camouflage, I thinkthe bally creature's a bit small for an adder, take my word, laddie. There's lots of harmless grass snakes who mark themselves up with plant dyes an' whatnot, just so travelers like you an' I will think they're adders an' become frightened of 'em."

Dandin kept his sword pointed at the serpent's head. "D'you think so, Tarquin?"

'"Course I do, old son," the confident hare snorted.

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"The blighter's a fraud, a blinkin' charlatan. Right then, you dreadful snake thingy. Move out or I'll brain you on the bonce with this havvysack, d'you hear?"

The snake, however, had other ideas. It had fixed its reptilian stare on Durry Quill and was gliding slowly toward him. Durry stood rooted to the spot, trembling and unable to move under the hypnotic spell of the reptile's evil eyes.

oo

Sitting in a half-slumber, Mariel gradually noticed that some creature was talking to her. She opened her eyes partially and saw the armor-clad figure of the dream mouse warrior whom Dandin had called Martin. His voice was strong and stern.

"Mariel, rise up, your friends are in danger. Rise up, Mariel!"

The mousemaid's eyes snapped open. She took in the situation at a single glance. Throwing caution to the winds, she acted swiftly.

The snake's eyes were fixed on Durry as Mariel grabbed her Gullwhacker. With a mad, silent dash and a mighty leap the mousemaid jumped clear over the snake's head, bringing the knotted rope down with a mighty crack on the reptile's flat head as she traveled through the air. The snake instantly dropped like a limp piece of cord, stunned by the sudden impact of the blow.

"Durry, are you all right? Durry, speak to me!"

The young hedgehog blinked and rubbed his eyes as Dandin flung a beaker of cold sage and mint tea into his friend's face.

"Phwaaw! I'd sooner be in yon ford wi' pikes than lookin' at that bad thing. I don't reckon that were no grass snake."

Tarquin took a quick close look at the snake, which was beginning to recover speedily.

"Nor do I, old fellah. Still, a chap's allowed a mistake

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or two, wot? The bally thing's a real adder! Oh, not a fully grown one, I'll grant you, but nevertheless ..."

Dandin grabbed the hare, shoving him out upon the rain-spattered path. "Quick, let's get out of here. We're not stopping to argue with an adder. Come on, the rain'll put those fire embers out."

Grabbing their packs, they dashed out of the grove onto the path, stumbling and squelching as the snake's angry hiss sounded behind them.

oo

Mariel felt much better as she ran alongside her companions. Pounding along the muddy path with the rain bouncing off them, they kept up a breakneck pace until they were certain the adder was far behind them. Farther along the road they halted, heads bowed, panting and blowing as they fought to regain their breath. Dandin glared at Tarquin. "Don't ever do that again, friend."

Tarquin shrugged nonchalantly. "Sorry, old bean. How was 11' know?"

Durry shuddered. "You should've chopped offen its head wi' that sword when you 'ad the chance, Dandin."

Mariel shook her head. "No, we do not need unnecessary killing, Durry. As long as we are safe and in one piece, the adder has a right to life, the same as any creature."

oo

By early afternoon the black cloud had shifted. The rain halted abruptly and a warm wind chased broken white clouds across a blue sky considerably brightened by the sun. The companions took food upon the path, walking as they ate. Steam and vapor rose from their wet fur and clothing as they tramped northward. Durry's spirits rose, even to performing a passable imitation of Tarquin's flippant attitude.

"Ho, I say, old bean, be that a wood pigeon or a great eagle? Blow me, I do believe it's carryin' me off over the jolly ol' treetops to eat me all up. Ho dearie

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me, I don't s'pose it's a wood pigeon. Must've made a jolly ol' mistake, wot wot?"

Tarquin took the ragging in his carefree stride.

"Well, roast my aunt's chestnuts, was that a hedgehog or a noisy pincushion? No, it couldn't be. I s'pose it was a jolly old talkin' gooseberry, bit too spiky to bake in a pie, so somebeast slung it out onto the path and it's followin' us."

Mariel looped Gullwhacker swiftly about Tarquin's shoulders. "Look out, it's an adder just dropped out of a tree!"

"Yaaagh! Whoohooh! Don't do that, miss. You frightened me half t' death."

Dandin had been watching the way ahead. He pointed forward. "Look, there's the otter and his wife!"

Durry kept up his banter. "No tain't, it's the frog an' his gran'father."

But Dandin was sure of what he could see. "Stop fooling around, Durry. Can't you see? Look on the left side of the path further onit is the otter and his wife."

Mariel smiled. "Yes, you're right, Dandin, though I never thought the otter and his wife would look like that!"

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18

It was an ill-tempered and pawsore crew that blundered their way through Mossflower led by Pakatugg, whom Graypatch prodded ahead of them by swordpoint. Far behind them the Darkqueen lay hidden in the creek.

Bigfang as usual was voicing his thoughts aloud. "We could be traipsin' anywheres, mates. I reckon we're lost. Leavin' Darkqueen deserted like that. Me an' Kybo or any couple of us could have stayed back as sentries. I tell yer, mates, it's a bad omen, us lost out 'ere in the forest an' Darkqueen wi'out a guard to watch her."

Graypatch gritted his teeth. Pushing the reluctant hedgehog pathfinder forward, he called back, "That loudmouth sounds like Bigfang again. Don't worry, matey, I can hear ye. If you like to go back an' mount sentry on Darkqueen, don't let me stop yer. Take Kybo too, if ye've a mind. Aye, y'can laze about on the ship's deck while yer messmates do all the marchin' an' fightin' for you. Is that what ye want?"

Bigfang knew he was trying Graypatch's patience, but he continued, hoping for some support from the rest of the searats.

"It's not like the open sea, messmates. This filthy jungle's so thick you can't tell thither from yon. Aye, I

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still reckons we're lost. An' it ain't right leavin' our only ship undefended ..."

Graypatch tugged on the halter around Pakatugg's neck, bringing him up sharp. His single eye glared so hard at Bigfang that the complaining searat took a step back.

Graypatch's tone was dangerously level. "Right, bucko, get back to the ship. Go on, take two more with yeh. If one o' Gabool's craft sailed up that creek fully crewed, what d'yer think three, or even four, could do against it, eh? Nothin'! Not a thing, addlebrain. The snip's safe layin' hidden in that backwater; nobeast is goin' to find her. I need every fightin' rat I've got for what lays ahead. Now get marchin', afore I cuts yer adrift an' leaves you for lost in these woods. One more word from ye, Bigfang, that's all. Just one peep!"

Unaccustomed to the foreign woodland, the crew stumbled on for the remainder of the day, insect-bitten and nettlestung, thrashing at the undergrowth with dagger and cutlass. Graypatch led his sullen band, whilst muttering dire threats to Pakatugg on the consequences of leading them astray.

oo

Evening shades were drawing close as Graypatch and his crew sighted Redwall Abbey. The searat Captain tugged sharply on the rope halter, dragging the miserable Pakatugg back from the path into the cover of Mossflower Woods. Graypatch pricked the squirrel's chin with his dagger tip.

"So that's Redwall Abbey, eh, mate. You did well. I don't reckon there'd be as cozy a berth within a season's march of here."

Bigfang hefted a spear. "Come on, let's rip 'em apart an' take the place."

Kybo and the others moved forward, weapons at the ready. As Bigfang took up the lead position, Greypatch tripped him. He fell heavily, half rising to find Grey-patch's sword edge at his throat.

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"Didn't take yer long to vote yerself in as Captain round 'ere, did it, Bigfang?"

"You said it was a cozy berth. Let's take it, less'n you're scared."

Graypatch kicked Bigfang flat on his back, his single eye watching the rebellious crewrat scornfully.

"Careful isn't scared, mate. I'm careful. Who knows how many are behind those walls, or what manner of creatures they are. All that's got to be found out, then we'll have the measure o' them. Now take you, Bigfang. You're not scared, are yer, bucko? No, you're stupid! Thick'eaded an' dimwitted, that's you. Harken, you scum. Anyone wants to challenge me as Cap'n, let that rat do it now an' we'll settle it right 'ere."

There was a murmur and a shuffle from among the large rough contingent, but no rat took up the challenge. Graypatch nodded with satisfaction, he swung his sword and cut through a tuft of Bigfang's whiskers before turning confidently away from his former adversary.

"Good, that's as it should be. I'm Cap'n 'ereme, Graypatch. 'Twas me that brought you 'ere; without me you'd still be servin' crazy Gabool, wonderin' who'd be next to feed the fishes, worryin' whether you'd looked at him the wrong way an' were due to wake up with a dagger in yer back. Trust me, lads, an' we'll live off the fat o'the land."

Ranzo stood alongside Graypatch, brandishing a cutlass. "We're with you, Cap'n. You just issue orders an' we'll be there."

Graypatch lounged against a tree and plucked a low-hanging pear. "Lookit that, will yer! Vittles a-growin' on trees, by thunder! What we'll do is this. We'll drop anchor 'ere for the night, then at the crack o' dawn tomorrow when they're all nice an' peaceful, we'll drop over an' pay 'em a visit."

He threw the halter over a limb of the tree, tugging

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it slightly so that the miserable Pakatugg had to stand on tip-paws.

"As fer you, matey, you stand by 'ere. I'll need you on the morrow. Don't try any funny moves now, or there won't be only pears hangin' from this tree!"

Simeon stood upon the west wall ramparts with his friend the Abbot, as they did most evenings before turning in.

"More rain tomorrow, do you think, Simeon?"

"No, Bernard. It will be a fine hot summerday with hardly a cloud in the sky. The weather should stay fine for Mariel and her party. I wonder where they are now."

"Who can say? Rushing and dashing off on quests and adventuresit must be nice to be young and have all that energy."

Simeon smiled. "Talking about energy and youthful-ness, I think I hear Mellus coming from the woods with her party of Dibbuns. I hope their wildberry-gathering expedition was a success."

Abbot Bernard folded his paws into the wide habit sleeves. "Success or not, maybe it has tired them out and they'll sleep soundly tonight. Where are they now, Simeon?"

The blind herbalist inclined his head to one side, listening carefully. "Just coming out of the woodlands slightly northeast of here. Can you see them yet, Bernard?"

"Ah yes. Poor Mellus looks as if she's had a full day of it. Rather her than me. I used to take them out when I was younger, but we never had a pair like those little otter twins Bagg and Runn then. Don't think I could put up with a full day's wildberry gathering in Mossflower with that pair. Mellus has seen us, she's waving."

Simeon turned in the direction of the badger and

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waved back. "Mother Mellus, how did the berry gathering go today?"

Mellus's gruff boom rang up from the path below. "It was good, Simeon. I got some herbs that you may need too; arrowhead, motherwort, pennybright, oh, and some slippery elm bark."

"Thank you, friend. I hope Bagg and Runn behaved themselves."

"Surprisingly, they did. Those two collected more berries than the rest put together. That little mole Grubb was the naughty one today. The wretch covered me in stickybuds while I took my lunchtime nap, then he began eating the berries the other Dibbuns had collected and he tied three little mice's tails together with vines. Next time he can stay behind in the kitchens and help Friar Alder to peel vegetables. Where is he now? Hey, come back here, you little rip!"

Baby Grubb had run off in the opposite direction from the Abbey and was scuttling along at a fair rate. Away he went up the north path, chattering to himself.

"Burr, oim agoen' to foind a'ventures wi' Gully-whacker an' 'ee others."

Mother Mellus broke into a shambling run. "Come back this instant, you little rogue. You're going to bed!"

Grubb trotted off the path, into the woodlands. Gray-patch and Frink, hiding behind a broad oak, watched the infant mole unsuspectingly coming toward them. The searat Captain held a noosed rope ready.

"There ain't nothin' like a baby 'ostage to make things easy," he whispered to his crewrat.

Grubb trundled along, oblivious to all about him. He needed a weapon if he was going to join the travelers on their adventure. Right next to the broad oak was a sycamore sprout, little more than a thin stick. Grubb began heaving and tugging upon it.

"Hurr, this'll do oi, 'ee'll make a gurt spearer, ho

urr!

As Graypatch opened the noose to cast it over

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Grubb's head, Mother Mellus swept the tiny mole up with one huge paw, unaware of the searats.

"Got you, mischiefskin! Right, m'laddo, bed for you with no supper. What have you been told about pulling young trees up by the roots? Just wait until Abbot Bernard hears about this, you wretch!"

Graypatch had pulled back behind the oak. He and Frink held their breath as Mellus strode off with a loudly protesting Grubb under her arm.

"Boohurr, let oi go, missus. Oi wants a'ventures."

"I'll give you adventures, you rip. Adventures in bed!"

"Gurr, when oi get ter be a biggun, oi'll spank 'ee furr thiz!"

Frink wiped his brow and sat down heavily. "Shiver me sails, Cap'n. Did you see the size of that ol' badger?"

"Did I? Now y'see what I said earlier is true, Frink. Careful is best. If we'd roped the liddle mole, that ol' badger would've done fer the pair of us with one swipe, you mark my words!"

oo

At the open gate, Abbot Bernard carried Grubb inside. "Come on, Dibbun Grubb, berry pie and custard for supper."

"Burry poi an' cuskit, oh joy! But zurr, Ma Mellus says oi ain't a-getten none fer bein' pesky."

The Father Abbot set Grubb down upon the lawn. "Hmmm, did she? Tell you what, little Grubb. You can have some this time, but next time you're pesky it's straight off to bed without any. Go on, hurry and get washed up or it'll all be gone."

Grubb smiled one of his most winning smiles at his benefactor. "Oi knowed you wudden let a hinfant starve. You'm a gudd beast, zurr!"

Simeon joined the Abbot to follow up Mellus and her herd of Dibbuns.

"Ah, Simeon, smell that. Young Cockleburr makes

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the finest cornflower custard I've ever tasted. Can you smell it?"

Simeon looked pensive. "Hmmm, I think my senses are trying to tell me something and it's not the smell of custard, Bernard. It's. . . . It's. . . . Oh, it's probably nothing, friend. Let's go inside. You're right, that custard does smell delicious."

oo

The four travelers stood facing the rock which reared up from the earth on the west side of the path. Mariel looked up at it.

"So that's the otter and his wife. I expected real otters, not a great lump of stone. Still, it does look very lifelike. I wonder who carved it."

Tarquin rubbed his paw up and down the smooth brown rock. "Somebeast must've done this when the land was young, more seasons ago than we could ever imagine. Jolly fine work, wot? I think the rock once looked naturally like an otter and his wife. Whoever did it only had to improve on what mother nature had already started, eh?"

Dandin nodded agreement. The rock was a sort of double lump, looking not unlike a male otter standing on his hindpaws with a female otter sitting at his side. Long ago some clever creature had carved the details of the otters' faces into the stone, giving them a very lifelike appearance.

The four friends made night camp at the base of the figures on the woodland side. Tinder and flint kindled a small fire. Tarquin, taking his turn as cook, decided on candied dried plums, sweet chestnut scones and dandelion cordial. They sat around the bright flames, which provided an island of golden light against the gloomy vault of the forest in front of them. Dandin recited the next stanza of the rhyme which provided guide rules for their quest.

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"Seek out the otter and his wife. Forsake the path, go westlands way, Find the trail and lose your life. When in the woods this promise keep, With senses sharp and open eyes, 'My nose shall not send me to sleep' For buried ones will surely rise."

Durry Quill's eyes were drooping. He was beginning to nod.

"And frogs will fly on mayday morn, While fishes sing aloud at dawn.

Huh, I can't make top nor tail of it. It all sounds like nonsense to a pore lad who's been hippotized by a serpent."

Mariel stirred the fire with a green twig. "It may sound like gobbledygook but it's proved true so far, Durry. We'll just have to wait until it's light and find out for ourselves, I suppose. What d'you say, Tarquin?"

The hare nibbled on a candied plum reflectively. "Don't know really, old gel. Y'see I've never patrolled this far up north. Strange country, very strange. Take these woodlands west of the path; they're not even mapped, y'know. I'm not sure they're even part of Mossflower."

Dandin hunched closer to the fire. "I'm certain they're not. They don't have that comfortable homey feeling you always get in Mossflower Woods. This area looks wilder, more grim, hostile somehow. But as you say, Mariel, we'll find out for ourselves tomorrow. I take it we have this statue of the otter and his wife to use as a bearing point and strike out west from it."

"Sssnnnnggggghhhhrrrrr!"

Durry Quill was not listening, he was lying on his back with all four paws in the air, making the most uproarous noise.

Tarquin sniffed. "Listen to the beast, snorin' like a

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flippin' hog, just as I was going to play a few tunes on me harolina to cheer us up,"

Mariel lay down, using her haversack as a pillow. "Oh please, it's bad enough having a snoring hedgehog without the addition of a caterwauling hare singing lovelorn ditties. Let's all go to sleep while we have the chance of a full night's rest."

Dandin and Mariel soon joined Durry in slumber. Tarquin still sat up, a little sulky as he fondled his unplayed harolina.

"Caterwaulin' indeed. Shows how much mice know about music. Now if Hon Rosie were here I'll bet she wouldn't object to a chap havin' the odd plunk on the jolly old harolina. Ah well!"

He fell asleep humming and serenading himself quietly.

"A hare beyond compare, so spiffin' and so fair,

Oh, Rosie, Rosie, dear my honey Hon,

I wouldn't swap your affections for a heap of

confections,

Not for ... blackb'rry pie, oh my oh my. October Ale would surely fail, Summer salad couldn't stop my ballad, Hazelnut pudden'd just taste wooden, As for cheese on toast it'd make me weep. Feel so hungry, Rosie, I'd better go ... to ...

sleep ..."

Overcome by weariness, the travelers slept at the fringe of the darkened forest, whilst on the path the stone figures of the otter and his wife stood like eternal sentinels in the silent watches of the night.

oo

Out at sea a shroud-like fog had dropped. Completely lost, without bearings by the stars or the sight of landmarks, Orgeye abandoned the helm of the Waveblade, which had been sailing a southern course until the fog descended. He posted two searats with weighted ropes

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to test overboard for shallows and reefs. Cursing Gabool for his uncontrollable mad temper which had driven them into this unknown position, Orgeye went below to his bunk to await the coming of dawn.

oo

Hidden in Mossflower Woods a mere stone's throw from Redwall Abbey, Graypatch and his crew also awaited the arrival of dawn.

oo

Pacing his bedchamber in Salamandastron's mountain, Lord Rawnblade Widestripe awaited yet another dawn, knowing that each fresh day brought his time of encounter with the searats a little closer.

oo

Wandering the empty halls of Fort Bladegirt on Terra-mort Isle, Gabool the Wild awaited a dawn that would dispel his nightmares of ringing bells, badgers and avenging mice.

In fact there were many different creatures in diverse parts, each waiting to see what the new day might bring: adventure, danger, victory, defeat, peace of mind, or death.

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BOOK TWO

The Strange Forest

Light tendrils of mist clung to the burgeoning greenery of Mossflower Woods, and the rising sun tinged buttermilk hues across a sky of powder blue in the shimmering peace of dawn. Graypatch shook dew from his claws as he stamped about, restoring circulation around limbs unused to sleeping out in the woodlands. Dead-glim sat gloomily chewing on young dandelion stems, sulking because his Captain would not allow a fire, lest the telltale wisps of smoke betray their position.

Graypatch wiped his sword blade dry as the other searats awoke, rubbing sleep from their eyes.

"Come on, hearties," the searat Captain chuckled. "You're like a pack of dormice staggerin' about after a hard winter. Rouse yer carcasses, the sun's gettin' up an' it's going to be a good day to inspect our new home. Thank yer lucky stars we're not out on the seas. There'll be a fine old fog there that'll last until noon. If you was aboard ship now in blue waters, you wouldn't be able to see the tail behind your back, hahaha! Gather round now an' listen to me. I'll tell you about the plan I've got charted for us. Leave it to ol' Graypatchwe'll soon be livin' like kings!"

Flagg the otter was always ready and willing to oblige.

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Mother Mellus had asked that he track down Dandin and Durry Quill. She was sure that a fellow as big and capable as Flagg would have them back home at Redwall in no time at all. Determined to start his journey bright and early, Flagg shouldered supplies, checked his slingshot and stone pouch, then slipped out by a wicker gate in the Abbey's north wall. Scarcely had he let himself out into the woodlands when he became alert. Watching from the shelter of an ash grove, Flagg witnessed a curious sight.

Graypatch had assembled his oarslaves, mostly dormice and shrews. They grouped on the path in a ragged bunch, thin and underfed. The five score searats who comprised the crew of the Darkcjueen lurked in the path-side ditch, fully armed. Graypatch issued his orders.

"Lissen now, mates. You lot stay in the ditch an' keep yer heads down. As for you scurvy oarpullers, you don't breathe a word, just follow me an' try to look hard done by, haharr, though that shouldn't be too hard. Mind though, if one of you steps out o' line the crew in the ditch'll deal with ye. Ringtail, you're in charge down there; wait my signal. As soon as these country buffers open the big gate to bring us food out. I'll tip yer the sign an' you rush in. Slay any that look like trouble right off. The rest we'll let live to serve us."

Flagg had heard enough. Luckily he had asked Mellus to leave the gate open until morning. The big otter scuttled back through the woods, across the fields and slipped inside, bolting the gate securely behind him.

Mellus was strolling toward him from the direction of the unfinished bell tower.

"Flagg, I thought you'd be gone by now ..."

The otter held a paw to his lips. "Sssshhh! Not so loud. We've got troubleno time to explain now. Check all the wallgates are tight shut and bolted. I'm going to rouse the others. Please, marm, don't stop to

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ask questions, just do as I say like your life depended on it. This is urgent!"

The badger caught the tone and look in her friend's eyes. She nodded wisely and hurried to do his bidding.

oo

The sun was nearly up. Mist hung low on the path and flatlands as Graypatch halted his bedraggled column of oarslaves at the main gate of Redwall Abbey. Glancing up, he was slightly taken aback to see a line of grim looking Abbey dwellers staring down at him from the threshold of the high walls. Fixing a friendly smile on his face, the searat Captain called out a greeting.

"Good mornin' to yer, sirs. Whew! It's goin' to be another scorchin' summer's day again. I wonder, could I have a word with whoever's in charge of this marvel-ous place?"

Abbot Bernard kept his tone polite. "I am the Father Abbot of Redwall Abbey. What can I do for you, my son?"

Down in the ditch, Kybo jostled Ringtail and sniggered. "Did ye hear that, mateyhis son! Now we know what Graypatch's daddy looks like. Heehee!"

Ringtail silenced him with a smart slap. "Stow yer noise, fool. Be quiet an' listen."

Graypatch touched the dagger hidden behind on his belt, "Ah well, what better creature to ask for help than the Father Abbot himself. As y'can see, sir, we're poor wretched seafarers who lost our ship in a great storm. We've been adrift fer nigh on half a season now, wand-erin' round woodland an' plain like birds without wings, an' we're sore in need of a bit o' food an' water. Have ye any vittles to spare?"

The Abbot nodded. "Tell my friends what you need." He stepped back, letting Flagg and Rufe Brush come forward.

Graypatch allowed himself a smile; they were halfway home. "Good day to you, sirs. We need water an' bread, nothin' more. Oh, I know we look rough an'

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dirty, but we're all honest creatures. You've nothin' t' fear from us ..."

Flagg smiled back. "How many d'you have with you,

cully?"

The searat Captain shrugged. "Only what y'see here, matey. If you was to open yer doors we could come in an' rest awhile, save you the trouble of bringin' supplies out to us. I've never been inside an Abbey."

Rufe Brush gripped his javelin tight as he murmured, "No, and you're not likely to get inside this one."

Flagg continued smiling. "What about that gang hidden in the ditch?"

Graypatch waved toward the mist-shrouded ditch, a look of injured innocence on his villainous face. "Ditch? Gang? What d'yer mean, shipmate?"

Flagg fitted a pebble to his sling. "I'll show you . . . shipmate!"

The stone zinged down, plowing a furrow through the ground mist.

"Yowhoooo!"

Bigfang's head appeared out of the white shroud. He was clutching his nose, which was bleeding like a tap.

Ringtail's voice rang out. "Get down an' shuttup, yer big oaf!"

Rufe Brush leaped to the battlements, his javelin poised. "This is for you if you don't shift yourself fast, searat!"

Graypatch took the warning seriously. He dashed across the path and leaped over the ditch, landing on the flatlands beyond.

"Come on, mates. Out o' that ditch an' show 'em who we are!"

The crew scrabbled out of the ditch to stand on the flatlands at their Captain's side. He took his sword from Frink and waved it.

"I'm Graypatch, Master of the Darkqueen, and this is my crew. Haharr, bet you country bumpkins never clapped eyes on the likes of us. We can fight an' slay

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just like we do all over the high seas, so listen to me now, you woodland clods. Surrender, or I'll bring this place down round your ears. You know nothin' of warfare an' we're all covered with the scars of many a battle, d'ye hear me?"

Young Cockleburr, Friar Alder's kitchen assistant, could stand no more. His fighting spirit was roused. Using his apron strings as a sling, he launched a small rock-hard turnip at Graypatch.

"Bubbling brothpans! Take that, you simmering sea-scum!"

It struck Graypatch hard in his one good eye. The searat Captain fell back, completely blinded, blackness interspersed with bursting colored stars filling his vision.

Ringtail quickly picked him up, supporting him as he shouted at the woodlanders on the walls, "That's it, you've done it now. This is war!"

Driving the oarslaves in front of them, the searats retreated back up the path to the shelter of Mossflower. The Redwallers laughed and cheered, congratulating each other on their brave stand.

Cockleburr was delirious, he patted Flagg heartily. "Galloping gravyjugs, we showed them, didn't we!"

Foremole waddled up, his normally merry face creased with worry. "Hurr, may'aps 'ee did, but 'twere only luck, maisters. Them'ns is searat spawn, gurt warriors an' wicked cruel slayers. Ho urr, you marken moi words, they vermints'll be back, doant doubt et."

The cheering died away.

Simeon spoke up. "Foremole is right. We're not warriors, though we have the might and safety of these walls in our favor. We must take extra care in the coming days, post lookouts, stay within the Abbey and its grounds, and be constantly on guard against tricks. From what I could hear, this Graypatch sounds to me like a very cunning beast."

The Abbot turned to Flagg and Rufe Brush. "I leave

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you in charge of all arrangements. Unfortunately I am no use at all when it comes to matters of war. Both of you have my complete confidence. You are brave beasts, and I trust your judgment. What do you say, Mellus?"

The badger shook her great head, halfway between maternal instincts and righteous rage. "Did you see those poor slaves? Some of them weren't much more than Dibbuns. Can't we do anything about them? They looked so thin and wretched; we must help them somehow."

Flagg placed a gentle paw on Mellus. "I know how y'feel, marm. I think every creature here would love to give the sorry little things some aid. But you must understand we have to defend the Abbey, we're all needed here. What good would it do those slaves if Redwall fell into the claws of Graypatch and his crew?"

Saxtus had stayed silent in the background throughout the whole incident, but now he felt the time had come for him to speak.

"Mother Mellus, I have never experienced war in my life. I do not think I will like it. However, if it is war, then Redwall Abbey comes first, before slaves, or even ourselves. Perhaps if we defeat these searats then we can think of rescuing others. Meanwhile our Abbey is our main concern."

Flagg shrugged. "Hard words, Saxtus mate. But

you're right, of course."

oo

Inland the mist had vanished with the advent of a hot summer morn. Tempers were also running hot in the woodland camp of the Darkqueeri's crew. Graypatch sat back in the shade with a leaf poultice held against his throbbing eye. The injury had resulted in temporary blindness with his eye swelled shut. The searat Captain dearly wished he could lay claws upon Bigfang for yelping out aloud and giving the game away, but knowing he was at the mercy of his own savage crew, he

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had to wralk a diplomatic tightrope. Graypatch tried to make light of the encounter.

"Yah, what are they, eh? A bunch of root crunchers. We could take 'em with one claw. Stupid mob of straw-suckers, what do they know of fightin' an' killin', eh?"

Kybo tried disguising his voice so the Captain could not identify him. "Strawsuckers, matey? Huh, they still sent us packin'. We should've did like Bigfang said and rushed the place soon as we arrived here."

Graypatch knew the voice. He made a mental note to see Kybo as soon as he regained his sight.

"Rushed 'em? What good would that've done? I don't think things would have turned out any different."

Bigfang picked dried blood from his top lip. "Hoho, don't you, then? Listen, rat, if we'd rushed 'em, I could have taken that place."

Graypatch tried to control his temper. "Tcha! But instead you got a stone on the nose and yelped like a fieldmouse at a funeral. Go on then, buckotell us what you would have done!"

Bigfang was a large, barrel-chested searat. He picked up a dead branch and snapped it in two pieces.

"I'd have broken 'em with the element of surprise-charge and kill! An hour before dawn I would have set light to those big gates. When they burned down, the crew would have been in there a slayin' an' rippin'. But you know better, don't you, Graypatch. What did we do? Hid in a ditch, playin' peekaboo like frogs hidin' from a hawk. And you, matey, you, the great Gray-patch, terror of the waves, put out of commission with a turnip by a little cook, hahahaha! Wheedlin' round the road like a lame beetle. Please, sir, give us bread an' water, kind sir. . . . Hah! Bilgewater! Some searat invasion that was, mates, I'll tell yer!"

There was a murmur of agreement from the crew.

Tied in a line with the oarslaves, Pakatugg trembled nervously. Bigfang had wanted to kill him. If there was

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a power shift among the searats and Bigfang became their leader, the squirrel's life would be worthless.

On an impulse he yelled out over the rumblings of disagreement, "Graypatch is right. There's more sense in tricking your way into the Abbey than just burning and slaying!"

Ranzo leaped up and knocked Pakatugg flat with a spear butt. "Slaves an' prisoners tellin' us what t' do, eh, shipmates! I think we're all goin' soft in this forest!"

Bigfang threw a claw about his shoulders. "Aye, Ranzo's right. We were better off with the deck of the Darkqueen under us. That craft'd outrun any vessel on the seas. I say we set sail for the open waters in Darkqueen. Who's with me, mates?"

A roar of approval went up from the crew. They seized their weapons and any supplies lying about, forming in a mob with Bigfang at their head. As they marched off into the woodlands, dragging the oarslaves with them, Bigfang called out to his disabled adversary:

"Don't worry, Graypatch, I'm not goin' to kill yer. I'll leave that to this countrysee how long you'll last in the woods without yer good lamp to see through. Hoho, you'll die with the flies crawlin' over yer, cursin' my name an' the day you tried to do me down. I'm Cap'n now."

The crew marched off through the woodlands, laughing and jostling each other, happy to be going back to the life they knew aboard the best craft of all Gabool's fleet, the good ship Darkqueen.

One searat remained, however. Fishgill the steersrat strode across to Graypatch and sat beside him.

"Let 'em go, Cap'n. They'll either end up in Gabool's clutches or come back to you after gettin' sick of that bigmouth Bigfang. He's a fool an' a hotheadhe'll either get himself or the crew killed."

Graypatch breathed a sigh of relief. "Fishgill, matey, I knew you wouldn't let me down. Stay with me now. This eye'll be better in a day or two, then we'll see

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who's the real Cap'n of Darkqueen, and the best steersrat

too."

oo

Clary and the long patrol had become alerted when they found Pakatugg's secret den empty. Using their considerable skills as trackers, they had trailed the squirrel across the dunes. The hares found the river crossing the beach at midmorning. Checking the aftermath of the battle with Greenfang's crew, they traced the river course inland.

At midday they sighted the Darkqueen tied up alongside the tree-fringed creek.

"Whoohahahahooh!" Hon Rosie whooped with delight. "Who's for a trip aboard the Ski/lark?"

Brigadier Thyme jumped aboard. "Deserted, eh. Where d'you s'pose the scurvy blaggards are now, Clary?"

"Haven't the foggiest, old fellah. Still an' all, I'll tell you where they won't be goin': to sea in this bally tub again. We'll make sure of that. Come on, chaps!"

In a short time the rudder was detached and hidden in the woods, the oars were weighted and sunk in the creek, the steering wheel was dismantled and flung widespread into the bushes, and the mooring ropes were hacked through so that Darkqueen drifted in and heeled at a crazy angle in the shallows. They jettisoned the worst of the provisions and made a leisurely meal off the choicest bits of the remainder.

Clary found some of the bows and arrows in the weapon locker. "Righto, chaps, settle down now. You take first watch, Rosie. Shout out at the first sign of a scurvy whisker and we'll give 'em billyo."

"Oh, I say, super! I'm rather good at the old archery game, y'know, I could score a bull's-eye on a rat's eye with no bother. Whoohahahahoo!"

Clary nibbled a ship's biscuit until a weevil poked its head out at him, he spat out quickly and tossed the offending morsel overboard.

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"Phwaw! I think I'd turn to a life of crime if I had to eat tucker like that. No wonder they look mean an' ugly!"

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2O

The mist was heavy in the forest as Mariel and her friends struck westward into the strange new territory. Durry Quill kept repeating the lines of the poem aloud.

"Find the trail and lose your life. When in the woods this promise keep, with senses sharp and open eyes, 'My nose shall not send me to sleep.' "

"Your nose doesn't have to, your bally voice would send anybeast to sleep, Durry," Tarquin snorted. "Didn't they teach you singin' at Redwall?"

"Floppyears, I weren't singin', I were recititatin'. So there."

"Can't you two stop arguing and keep quiet?"

"Oops! Sorry, old gel, m'lips are sealed from now on, promise."

Dandin had to hack away at hanging vegetation and thick fern to keep the path clear. He did not like this forest at all. It was dank and steamy, with little sunlight showing through the matted treetops, the ground was squelchy underpaw and the going slow.

The travelers were not inclined to stop in the gloomy atmosphere. They snatched bites of food as they pressed onward, each with their separate thoughts.

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Dandin thought of Redwall and Mother Mellus, the good badger who had reared him: Despite her scolding and reprimands, he missed her. He wondered how Saxtus was faring, now that he was the only one of the terrible duo left for Mellus to watch over.

Durry thought of his uncle Gabriel, his friends Bagg and Runn and the moles whom he felt a great kinship to. He imagined summer afternoons in the orchard with cool cider and cakes beneath the shady trees.

Mariel thought of her father, wondering where he could be and how his health was. She remembered the quiet strength of her father the bellmaker, his ready smile and gentleness, the care he had taken of her and the pride he took in his little daughter, whose name he likened to a bell ringing over meadows on a summer evening. She blinked away a silent tear and gritted her teeth as she thought of cruel Gabool and the retribution she would mete out one day when she faced him.

Tarquin thought of sitting alongside Hon Rosie at the annual haredance and banquet in Salamandastron. Rosie always treated him mockingly, but that was just her way. Secretly he imagined she longed for him. The words of a new song came bubbling out of the irrepressible hare.

"If I were a cake upon the table,

You would take a bite from me

and I would shout if I were able,

Rosie, you're a sight to see.

Dolly ting bang clang, diddly ding ..."

"Mr. Woodsorrel, I've told you once politely, now clamp a lid on it!"

"What? Oh, er, right you are, m'lady. It's just that lovely smell, reminds me of Rosie's perfume that she wore to the banquet."

Durry Quill sniffed. "My spikes, so that's what perfume smells like. A lad like me never smelt it afore. Whaaaawwwhhooommmm! 'Scuse I."

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Mariel was about to silence Durry when she yawned aloud also.

Dandin stopped swinging his sword into the tangled creepers. He leaned against a willow and yawned aloud, rubbing his eyes. "Hoooommmmm! Funny sort of smell, not like I'd imagined perfume to be. Bit sickly sweet, if you ask me ..."

Tarquin sat down on the trail. His harolina slipped from his paws and he blinked owlishly. "Hooooooah! Take m' word for it, laddie, that's what perfume smells like. Whoooohaaaw! Corks . . . can't keep . . . the ol' eyes oooooooh . . . pen."

Mariel lay down slowly, clutching the Gullwhacker to her like a baby mouse going to bed with her dolly. Through half-closed eyes she watched shadowy figures rising from the earth around them. The last thing she heard before sleep rode in on the cloying waves of heavy scent was Durry Quill's voice.

"My nose shall noWhooooaw!"

oo

Mariel's head ached furiously and a dark mist swam before her eyes, changing to brown then dull green. She caught a whiff of the fetid scent as a face swathed in barkcloth came close to hers.

"Heehee, dis'n wak'nin' up, athink!"

"Dese'n's near wak'n too abit."

"Eer's Snidjer, lookitout!"

The realization that she was bound to a tree woke Mariel completely. She tugged and strained at her bonds as a creature hobbled toward her. It was covered in trailing weeds and wore a barkcloth wrapper around its face, as did many others she could see crouching in the background. The creature carried with it the whiff of heavy scent. It stood in front of the mousemaid and spoke in a high, squeaky voice.

"Yerrherr, Snidjer gotcheranyerr fren's!"

Tarquin had awakened. They were all tied tightly to

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the same big tree. "Oh, great golly, rrt'poor head, it's burstin'. Who the devil are you, sir?"

The creature prodded Tarquin with a long thorny branch. ' 'You sh' rupp. Snidj er' s talkin' nochoo. Ennyow, werryerfrom?"

Dandin was awake. He lay with his eyes closed as he interpreted. "I think his name is Snidjer and he wants to know where we're from."

Snidjer giggled. "Heehee, smarteemouse dis'na smarteemouse!"

Durry was last to wake. He strained forward, trying to reach his head with bound paws. "Gwaw! My poor skull. This shouldn't happen to a good young lad like me. I think it was that scent which knocked us out. Oh, nunky, help! Send those 'orrible beasts away!"

Snidjer and his tribe giggled as they danced around the tree in front of their victims. Dandin watched them closely, trying to figure out what sort of creatures they were under the barkcloth facewraps and body hangings of thick weed.

"Tarquin, who are they? Have you ever seen anything like them before?"

"I should jolly well hope not, old boy. What a dreadful load of idiotscan't even talk properly. Rosie'd have a word or two to say to 'em about their sad lack of elocution, believe me!"

Snidjer pranced up to Tarquin, waving a torch made of smoldering herbs under his nose. The hare was not well-pleased.

"Pooh, take it away, you rascal. It's that beastly scent again."

Snidjer giggled. "Sleepasleep, sleepasleep, yerrher-raherrherr!"

Mariel groaned aloud. "So that was what the poem meant about my nose sending me to sleep. It's those smoldering herbs; they must be full of a sort of sleep drug. 'Buried ones will surely rise . . . ' Ha! I remember that bit. Just before I was knocked out by that smell, I

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dimly remember seeing those creatures coming out of the ground, though how they did it I don't know. Wh-where's my Gullwhacker? Oh, I wish my head would stop aching."

Snidjer wriggled with delight, the loose weeds quivering all over him. "Wannasee how we do it, clever-mouse? Wannasee 'ey? D'Flitchaye cleverer than you a bigbit, yousee."

The weird creature stamped his paw several times upon the ground. Mariel watched, her eyes wide with amazement. All around the earth, clumps of weed and grass lifted like rough lids as more of the peculiar creatures came out of hiding from their subterranean pits. In a short time the area was thick with bark-masked, weed-clad beasts. They shuffled about, chanting in their high-pitched voices:

"We d'Flitchaye Flitchaye Flitchaye!"

Dandin struggled against his bonds as he roared aloud, "Hey, come away from that stuff. It's ours!"

Snidjer was waving Martin's sword about as his tribe emptied the contents of the travelers' packs onto the ground, fighting and grabbing for the food and drink. One of them swung Gullwhacker close to Dandin's head.

"Nahh sh'rup, you'n's Flitchaye pris'ners!"

Tarquin gulped against the rope that circled his neck. " 'S'no use, old lad. Stiff upper lip an' ignore the blighterswe're outnumbered at least ten to one. I say, what's the next bit of the jolly old rhyme? Maybe that'll help us, wot?"

Dandin promptly reeled off the required stanza.

"Beat the hollow oak and shout, 'We are the creatures of Redwall!' If a brave one is about, he'll save any fool at all.

That's it as best as I recall. Let's look about for this hollow oak to beat, then we can start shouting."

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Durry blinked painfully as he tried to focus his eyes. "Phwaw! I'm lookin', though outside o' this clearin' I can't see nothin' but trees. My ol' nuncle Gabe'd say it were like lookin' fer timber in a woodland."

By now the supplies had either been eaten or squashed into the ground, though one or two of the creatures were still squabbling over flasks of cider and cordial. Snidjer swung the sword at an overhanging bough. He missed and landed himself flat upon his back. The Flitchaye chief lay sniggering as three smaller ones thrummed roughly away at Tarquin's beloved har-olina. The hare fought against his tight bonds, crying out against the outrage.

"I say, put that instrument down! You're an absolute bunch of yahoos, d'ye hear me? Yahoos and hooligans!"

Concealing her voice beneath the surrounding hubbub, Mariel whispered to Dandin, "I'm working my paws loose. It shouldn't take long. The moment I'm free we'll have to see if we can grab our weapons and hold this lot off until we find the hollow oak."

"Hollow oak, old gel," Tarquin chuckled. "No need to look any further, we're tied to the bally thing!"

Durry groaned aloud. "An' I could've saved my poor eyes all that lookin' an' searchin'. 'T'aint fair."

Dandin glanced upward. "Hmm, so we are," he whispered back. "Right, when Mariel's loose we'll untie each other quietly. If we can reach our weapons, all well and good; if we can't, then the best plan would be to surround Tarquin and keep him protected while he beats the oak. Those long legs of yours should come in very handy for that, Tarquin. Er, Durry, what is it that we all have to shout out?"

"We are creatures of Redwall, good an' loud!"

Snidjer and the Flitchaye who was holding Gullwhacker hurried across to the prisoners. Snidjer carried the sword and some smoldering herbs. He glanced at them suspiciously.

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"Worrayou talkabout, 'ey?"

Tarquin sniffed. "Actually, old bean, we were just remarking on what a vile smelly load of old forest weeds you bods are."

Snidjer's eyes glinted angrily and he waved the smoking herbs under Tarquin's nose. "You sh'rup, y'hear, sh'rup or Flitchaye send you sleepasleep s'more."

The hare coughed violently, his eyes watering as the Flitchaye chief held the reeking herbs closer. Suddenly Tarquin shot out both his long legs. Bound together as they were, the powerful limbs caught Snidjer a mighty kick that sent him head over heels.

Mariel freed her paws and unknotted the rope that held them to the oak and unbound Dandin's paws. With their backs to the dead oak the four companions faced the howling mob of Flitchaye creatures. Mariel tugged Durry's paws loose as Dandin untied Tarquin. Snidjer leaped up, quivering with fury as he waved the sword menacingly.

"Hawhaw y'done it now, cleverbeasts. D'Flitchaye killyer now, killyer good 'n' dead. Gerrem, Flitchaye, gerrem!"

Again the mousemaid remembered attacking Gabool with the sword when her life was threatened. This time it was not only her, but also three good friends who were in danger of being slain.

Mariel felt the old Storm rise within her. Grabbing the ropes that had bound them, she knotted the ends and passed them to Dandin and Durry.

"These will have to do as Gullwhackers. Get thumping, Tarquin!"

The hare needed no second bidding. He pounded his long hindlegs against the hollow trunk, raising his voice to join the others:

"We are creatures of Redwall! We are creatures of Redwaaaaalll!"

The first wave of the Flitchaye mob struck them,

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armed with sticks and small daggers. Mariel and her comrades thwacked away at them with their knotted ropes for all they were worth. Most of the Flitchaye were repulsed, some knocked senseless, whilst others, half-conscious, clung onto the bodies of their attackers.

Snidjer stayed well back, swinging the sword as he urged a fresh wave of attackers to the fray. "Gerremall, Flitchaye. Grabbem, holdemI cut'm up wid dis sworder!"

Durry Quill went down, felled by a heavy blow. Dandin and Mariel stood shoulder to shoulder, swinging their knotted ropes. Tarquin lay on his back, pounding the oak with his hindpaws while he lashed out at the enemy with his front paws, joining voice with his companions:

"We are creatures of Redwall! We are creatures of Redwaaaaalll!"

They were struggling against the odds, more so when Snidjer gathered a fresh batch of Flitchaye about him and headed the charge at his weakened opponents.

"D'cleverbeasts fallin' now. Gerrem, Flitchaye!"

Mariel and Dandin went down beneath the masses of weedclad bodies, still shouting as they were submerged beneath the Flitchaye mob:

"We are creatures of Redwaaaalll!"

oo

Thick white fog enveloped both sea and shore as if the very clouds had dropped out of the sky. Sound was muted and nowhere was there vision or sight for more than a paw's length. Rawnblade Widestripe chuckled grimly to himself as he donned the long spiked helmet he always wore with his battle armor. Salamandastron was deserted; he had sent out all his hares to patrol on one pretext or another, some to the south, others to the east. The great badger Lord pulled down the helmet visor, focusing happily through the twin slits. Rawn-blade's eyes should have been tired, but they were not. He had lain awake most of the night, listening to the

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muffled silence fog brought in its wake, restless, turning. Rawnblade had finally left his beloved mountain to stroll on the tideline along the shore by Salamandastron.

That was when he had heard it.

The sickening crunch of ship's timbers upon rock was unmistakable.

00

The searat Captain Orgeye was below sleeping when he was thrown forcibly from his bunk onto the cabin floor. Shouts from the Waveblade's two lookouts brought him scrambling up on deck.

"Belay, we've run aground in this cursed fog!"

"Hell's teeth! She's run bow-on to a reef!"

Rawnblade had strained his ears to catch the shouts from the Waveblade.

"Cap'n Orgeye, what'll we do?"

"Bilgescum! You've been sleepin' on watch. If she breaks her keel on these blasted rocks, I'll rip out yer livers. Get over the side onto the reef an' see how she looks. Move yerselves!"

"Cap'n, she's nose-up on the stones, holed near the waterline an' trapped tighter than meat between yer teeth. What do we do?"

"What can we do, slophead? There's naught for it but to wait till this fog clears. May'aps we can beach

her for repairs then."

oo

Rawnblade expanded his massive chest, letting out a great sigh of pure joy at the memory of his night stroll. It was not often the big badger got a shipload of searats delivered to his doorstep. That was why he had sent his hares away. The Lord of Salamandastron wanted this one all to himself. Picking up his formidable broadsword, he swung it easily across his shoulders and strode silently back to the tideline. Standing with waves lapping his studded leg greaves, Rawnblade Widestripe resembled a great carved statue set at the edge of the

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sea. Fog swirled about his armored body as he listened to the sounds of the cursing searats, who were waiting for the fog to lift.

So was Rawnblade.

He remembered the dead bodies of his three hares swaying in the shallows of the tideline, the work of searats. A huge rumble of satisfaction welled up in his throat as he anticipated loosing his wrathful battle-sword upon Orgeye and the Waveblade's crew.

c/o

Colonel Clary notched an arrow to his bow, and the other two members of the long patrol followed his example. The fog had thinned to a milky river mist in the creek where the Darkqueen lay crippled. Clary's ears stood straight up as he listened to the noise of the Darkqueen's crew. They were crashing heedlessly through bush and shrub, careless and noisy, as they made their way back to the ship.

Ringtail was first to spot the Darkqueen's masts amid the forest greenery. He dashed forward with the light mist swirling about him.

"Ahoy, mates. There she lies. The DarkqueenY'

Even as the rest of the crew dashed forward, they saw Ringtail fall with a gurgle, an arrow through his neck.

"Down! Get down. The ship's been boarded!" roared

Bigfang.

The searats obeyed, dropping down instantly behind

trees and bushes.

Ranzo lay alongside Bigfang, pale with fright. "Ringtail's been done for. Who killed him?"

Bigfang peered through the mist-shrouded trees. "I don't know, mate, but I'll soon find out. 'Ere, bring up them oarslaves."

Brigadier Thyme raised himself from the heeling deck to obtain a better shot at the foebeast. He groaned aloud and sat down again.

"Oh, dash it, look what they're up to now!"

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Clary and Hon Rosie stood up in dismay. Bigfang was approaching with the rest of the searats, and they were using Pakatugg and the wretched oarslaves as a shield in front of them. They stood in a bunch at the woodland fringe on the creek bank.

Hon Rosie relaxed her bowstring. "Golly gosh, I say, that sort of thing's not on, you know. Hey there, you bunch of moldy old cowards. Come out an' fight, beast to beast."

Bigfang prodded Pakatugg with his cutlass. "Moldy ol' cowards is better than foolish dead heroes, rabbit. Now what d'ye say we parley a bit eh?"

Clary twitched his whiskers firmly. "We don't parley with the likes of you, bottlenose."

"Bottlenose yerself, rabbit!" Bigfang snatched a spear from Kybo and hurled it. The spear landed with a quivering thud, pinning Clary's paw to the Darkqueen's side. Immediately, Rosie and Thyme took a chance; shooting slightly upward, they sent their arrows over the tops of the oarslaves' heads, wounding Frink and slaying a searat named Reekhide.

The searats broke and ran for the cover of the bushes, dragging the oarslaves with them. Hon Rosie acted swiftly. Tugging the spear free, she pulled Clary into the scuppers.

"Knew they couldn't kill you, you old piewalloper. Are you hurt?"

Clary gritted his teeth, trying hard with one paw to stanch the flow of blood from the other. "Ahem! That feller's not very good at givin' a manicure with a spear, though I think he meant it to be a haircut."

Rosie could see by the tight-drawn expression on Clary's face that he was suffering greatly. She searched her pack for bandages.

"Not to worry, you'll soon be right as rain again, old lad."

Thyme put aside his bow and arrows now the confrontation was over. "Well, chaps, it looks like we're

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stuck aboard this tub until Clary's able to use the old

paw again, wot?"

oo

Out of sight and earshot of the hares, Bigfang was having trouble with his new command. Kybo had elected himself spokesrat for the rest, and he and Bigfang argued fiercely.

"We should've charged them when I flung that spear!"

"Huh, an' get caught in the water by those two with the bowsnot me, matey. Did you see the Darkqueen? They've crippled 'er."

"I could get her seaworthy an' sailin' again,"

"You! All you've done so far, Bigfang, is to get Frink wounded an' Reekhide killed. It was foolish chuckin' that spear. We should've got closer to 'em, then we could've done some real damage."

"Oh aye, an' what would you have done, scumbags?"

Kybo flung himself on Bigfang. They rolled over and over, grunting and kicking at each other. Bigfang was gaining the upper paw when he tripped and became tangled with the oarslaves. Kybo quickly sat on his adversary's chest. Pulling out a wicked skinning knife, he pressed the blade across Bigfang's throat. The former leader lay still, knowing that Kybo had won.

Kybo retained his position, breathing heavily. "Now you listen to me, addlebrain. I'm speakin' fer all of us, see! The Darkqueen's scupperedoars, rudder an' steerin' wheel gone, didn't y'seean' they've heeled her over. She'll sit on the bottom of that creek like a stone in mud. I'm takin' this crew back to Graypatch; that Abbey is the only place where we'll have it safe an' easy. He was right. Now you can come peaceable or die here. What's it t' be?"

Bigfang swallowed, feeling the blade scrape his throat. "You win."

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Mother Mellus crept up on Bagg and Runn the otter twins, who were hanging perilously over the north ramparts. She seized each one by an ear and pulled them down as they squeaked piteously.

"Now then, you two young fiends, what are you up to out here, eh?"