Durry saw the rips on both sides of the shrew’s tunic and the spreading dark stains. Silvamord’s sword had gone right through. Fatch’s head lolled to one side as he smiled weakly into Rufe’s face. ‘Told you I’d look after you, didn’t I, mate?’
The eyes of Fatch the loyal Guosim shrew clouded over and closed for the last time. Durry Quill turned and guarded both his friends. Rufe had both paws around the body of his protector, weeping softly as he rocked him back and forth.
Silvamord panted hard as she pushed herself upward on the stones of the spiral stairs. Behind her she could hear the relentless pad of Muta’s paws getting nearer. Not daring to look back, the vixen pressed onward and upward, fear clutching her heart in its icy claws. Fumbling hastily, she unlatched the roof door, slamming it behind her as she dashed out on to the battlements with a sob of relief.
Rab Streambattle stepped out from behind a turret, sword at the ready. Silvamord heard the door behind her burst into matchwood as the badger came cannoning out on to the battlemented roof. Whirling like lightning, she struck at Muta. The badger dodged aside, catching the blade in one paw as it hit the stonework. Though the edge cut into Muta’s paw, she hardly felt it – the hated vixen standing before her was all that she could see. Dragging the sword from Silvamord’s nerveless grasp, the big badger snapped the blade between her paws like a twig. With a scream of terror the vixen took a running leap over the battlements.
Muta and Rab dashed to the edge and watched Silvamord falling, down, down, down, to land with a dull splash in the moat.
Rab smiled into Muta’s angry, frustrated eyes. ‘She’s mine, friend. Nothing escapes from an otter in water!’
Dropping his sword, Rab sailed in a graceful arc as he dived from the battlements of Floret. He struck the water cleanly with hardly a splash. Muta watched the still moat from her high vantage point for a long time, but nothing disturbed the water save ripples. Then she saw Rab slip from the water and sit watching on the bank. Moments later a still-bloated form bobbed to the surface. Rab had spoken truly, nothing did escape an otter in the water. Silvamord, the mate of Urgan Nagru, was no more threat to any living creature than the weeds she floated amongst. A great calm fell over the badger as she waved to her friend below.
The horderats were broken and defeated inside Castle Floret. Pearl Queen’s crew and Blerun’s otters had helped Mariel and her friends to carry the day. Parties of the victors scoured passage and chamber, combing out any final pockets of resistance. Mariel and Dandin watched a wall curtain moving slightly.
‘Looks like a couple hiding behind that curtain, let’s give them a Redwall greeting!’ the mousemaid whispered as she readied her Gullwhacker.
A lump stuck out of the curtain fabric and Mariel gave it a sharp tap with the knotted rope.
‘Ouchooch! I say, go easy there, you rotters!’
Dandin ripped the curtain aside to reveal the Hon Rosie Woodsorrel, rubbing her rear end ruefully. ‘Hah, so there you are at last, where’ve you been?’ she cried.
Mariel thoughtfully hid the Gullwhacker behind her back. ‘Hello, Rosie. I think we should be asking you where you’ve been?’
The garrulous harewife shifted a fallen rat and sat down wearily on the floor. ‘Well may you ask, young uns, well may you ask! I’ve been doin’ a passable impression of a bloomin’ mole. Lost underground in all those bally tunnels an’ turns, trekkin’ this way an’ that until I was dizzy. Don’t snigger you two, s’not funny y’know. Moles have my undyin’ sympathy if they have to tramp around tunnels all their lives, no wonder they speak funny. I say, have I missed the jolly old battle? Not a scrap left for Rosie, eh, well there’s a fine thing, come all this way through shipwrecks an’ sharks t’be disappointed. Tchah!’
Finnbarr Galedeep stood in the banqueting chamber watching groups of defeated horderats being marched off to the dungeons by Blerun’s otters. Their weapons were stacked in heaps on the floor. He turned to Joseph, who was anxiously scanning the valley from a window, and said, ‘Ahoy, what’s goin’ on out there, Bellmaker?’
Joseph continued to peer at the far side of the valley floor as he spoke. ‘More fighting! It looks like some creatures need our help down there, Finn – take a look at this.’
Finnbarr and Joseph were joined at the window by Meldrum. The old hare assessed the situation right away. ‘Hmm, that must be the Foxwolf an’ his force in the dip – those chaps in the trees have got to be Southswarders. Hullo, looks like old Foxwolf’s layin’ some sort of trap for those lads in the trees. Look at those two squads droppin’ back towards here – I’ll be bound they’re out to ambush from both sides, sneak around through the trees at the Southswarders in the old pincer movement, wot?’
Joseph took up his stave. ‘You’re right! Come on Finn, let’s rally our crew and get down their fast. Meldrum, keep a small squad here to watch those prisoners. Where’s Mariel and Dandin? There’s not a moment to lose!’
36
THE TWO HORDE Captains, Bladetail and Coldclaw, had the tables turned on them so fast it made their heads spin. One moment they were about to split their forces and go separate ways, next instant they were engulfed by two silent waves of hard-eyed warriors rounding both sides of the plateau. The ambushers found themselves ambushed. The rats who were not immediately cut down dropped their weapons and lay on the ground in token of surrender. Coldclaw was laid low by a single blow from the Bellmaker’s stave. Bladetail dodged Dandin’s dagger and made a run for it, back to Nagru and the main force.
The Foxwolf was busy directing his rats to keep up constant barrages of arrows, javelins and slingstones at the Southswarders in the trees. He had the advantage of numbers and it was beginning to tell.
‘Archers, take aim at those rowans to the left, about midway up the trunks. Shoot!’ A hail of shafts zipped viciously into the swaying rowans.
The Urgan Nagru laughed savagely – he was in his element. ‘Southswarders, hah! They don’t know what a real battle is. I am the Foxwolf, I was Lord of all the lands of ice and snow beyond the great seas! These fools will weep blood before I am done with them!’
He was revelling in the screams of the squirrels who had fallen from the rowans pierced by arrows, when Bladetail tumbled breathlessly into the dip and collided with him, shouting, ‘Lord, they’re coming!’
Gael Squirrelking pointed out into the valley at the silent masses sweeping to the aid of the beleaguered Southswarders.
‘Bowly, Gawjun, look!’
Weldan, the older squirrel leader, came to the King’s side. ‘When they get close enough, Majesty, then we’ll charge. That way Foxwolf’s forces will be hit from both sides at once.’
Finnbarr Galedeep drew his swords as he ran alongside Mariel and Dandin. ‘Haharr, they’ve spotted us mateys, there’s no goin’ back now!’
They were close enough to see the eyes of the horde when yelling warriors broke from the tree cover. ‘Free Southswaaaaard!’
Hon Rosie Woodsorrel passed Finnbarr at a bound, javelin at the ready, as she yelled, ‘Whoohahahooh!’ Here we go chaps!’
A roar arose from the charging creatures around her.
‘Redwaaaaaaaallllllll!’
The valley floor shook to the pounding of paws as both sides closed in on the dip like a gigantic double tidal wave, clashing with the horde of Nagru as they joined battle. Gael Squirrelking was brought down by a loaded sling – Bowly Pintips snatched up the broom standard as he leapt over the senseless squirrel. A ring of pikes pointing outward protected the Foxwolf as he shouted above the din.
‘Circle and fight outward!’
Mariel found her Gullwhacker caught as it wrapped around the crosstree of a rat’s pike. She tugged furiously, as three more rats ran at her with drawn swords. Joseph was in at her side, laying two low with blows from his stave. The third fell to a blow from Deekeye’s warclub. Hon Rosie and Log a Log were fighting side by side, javelin and rapier points flickering in deadly patterns. Rosie spotted the four leverets and Bowly;
beset by rats on all sides they struggled valiantly to retaliate. Hacking a path through to them, Rosie took them under her wing. ‘Stick with Auntie Rosie, young uns, and watch your backs!’
Bowly took a crack over his head from a spearbutt and fell on all fours, still trying to uphold the standard. In the heat of battle Foremole had formed an alliance with the Southsward mole tribe. Heading a band that swung maces expertly, he fought his way to Bowly and took up the broom, waving it high as he threw himself into the fray. ‘Yurr, follow oi moles, rally to ee standard!’
Suddenly, Gael was hauled upright. Rubbing a sizeable lump between his ears, he stared into his rescuer’s face joyously. ‘Muta!’
The big badger peered at him, recognition dawning upon her. Planting the King firmly at her side she began fighting off all comers with mighty blows of her paws.
Joseph had fought his way to the edge of the conflict. He rested a brief moment, noting happily that the battle was going in their favour – Redwallers and Southswarders were beginning to overcome Nagru’s force. Finnbarr appeared at his side breathing heavily.
‘We’re doin’ well, Bellmaker,’ said the big sea otter, as he wiped both his sword blades on the grass. ‘But that Foxwolf is still goin’ strong. Look, the rogue’s got a group o’ spearbeasts about him, fightin’ their way over to the trees!’
Joseph gripped his stave as he set off towards the action. ‘Nagru must be stopped – if he reaches the trees he’ll escape!’
Escape was indeed the uppermost thing in the cunning brain of Urgan Nagru. He knew that the Southswarders were fighting for a cause, the freedom of their homeland. His horderats had only the fear of him to keep them fighting, and that was not enough. Small groups were beginning to lay down their arms and make their way beyond the edges of the mêlée to sit in surrender on the ground, heads in their paws.
The wolfskull clacked against Nagru’s head as he turned to see Finnbarr Galedeep coming after him. The Foxwolf had seen the big sea otter do battle with his twin blades, and he did not relish the prospect of having to face him. Muttering to his ring of spear rats, Nagru urged them towards the wooded hillslope.
‘It’s fight or die, now, my warriors – you get me to the trees and I’ll get you away safe. We’ll get to the cove where our ships are hidden; they won’t follow us into the sea. Keep going, it’s not far now!’
Joseph and Finnbarr were joined by Mariel and a small force, who circled around the outer edges of the fray until they were in the trees. It was the last thing Nagru or his spearguard were expecting. Joseph’s heavy stave, aided by Finnbarr’s twin blades and Mariel’s Gullwhacker, broke through the surprised rats. Joseph was tripped by a spearbutt in the confusion and Mariel rushed to his side, defending her father hard with the knotted rope until he was able to stand upright. A thud and a roar came from within the broken ring of spears. Finnbarr Galedeep had found the Foxwolf.
Creatures from both camps leapt aside as the fox and the sea otter locked together in a death struggle. Finnbarr could not use his swords in such close quarters – hurling them aside, he grabbed Nagru bodily and flung him to the ground. Nagru raked viciously at his foe’s face with the metal wolfclaws, his teeth seeking the sea otter’s throat as he called to his guards, ‘Help me, kill him!’
Bladetail drove his spear into Finnbarr. The handle snapped as the two creatures on the ground rolled over and over in a shower of dust and torn grass. Bladetail reached for another spear, but before he could grab it, Dandin’s long dagger ran him through.
The dust crimsoned as Foxwolf and Finnbarr fought like madbeasts around the small clearing, fangs snapping, claws raking, limbs kicking furiously. Then Finnbarr was standing upright; grabbing the fox by his neck and tail, the sea otter ran his enemy across the open space. Nagru’s paws flailed helplessly as he was propelled head down, and the last thing he heard was Finnbarr’s warcry.
‘Galedeeeeeeep!’
Crack!
With a sickening thud, the mighty sea otter ran his opponent’s head on into the unyielding trunk of an oak tree. The Urgan Nagru died by his own symbol of power. The wolf fangs of the skull that rested on his head were driven deep into his evil brain by the force with which Finnbarr charged him against the treetrunk. So perished the Urgan Nagru and his dreams of conquest.
Joseph dashed to Finnbarr’s side. ‘You old battledog, you did it! You slew the Foxwolf!’
The sea otter sat upon the ground and smiled at his friend. ‘You would’ve done it if you’d reached him first, Bellmaker.’
Joseph took Finnbarr’s scarred and tattooed paw. ‘The battle is won, come and we’ll find someplace to rest while I bind those wounds of yours.’
But the sea otter stayed upon the ground. ‘Let go of my paw, matey,’ he said. ‘This is where I rest!’
Joseph knelt by his friend’s side. ‘Finnbarr, are you all right?’
Finnbarr winced as he shook his head. ‘There’s ’alf a spear inside o’ me, Bellmaker. I ain’t gettin’ up from ’ere. Pass me swords, will yer, messmate?’
Joseph took the fallen swords from Mariel and Dandin, and pressed them into Finnbarr’s paws. The Bellmaker realized then what had happened. Bladetail’s spear had done its work; his companion was dying. Joseph’s brown eyes radiated sorrow as he put a paw about Finnbarr’s shoulders and whispered to him, ‘Is there anything else you need, mate?’
Finnbarr squinted through his one good eye. ‘Turn me t’face the west, that’s the direction the sea lays in, ain’t it?’
The Bellmaker nodded silently, turning his friend gently, so that he faced west.
‘Thankee shipmate,’ Finnbarr grunted. ‘Now stop ’ere with me awhile until I leave yer t’go on me last good voyage.’
Joseph the Bellmaker stayed. He held on to Finnbarr Galedeep the sea otter until his eyes clouded over and finally dosed. Finnbarr smiled as the sounds of land faded. Calm as a millpond and blue as aquamarine, the sea stretched away to meet the sky on a far horizon. He stood alone at the tiller of his beloved Pearl Queen as the sails billowed silently and it took him away.
37
PENNANTS AND GAILY coloured streamers fluttered on high from every tower of Castle Floret. Below the plateau every creature in Southsward sat feasting on the valley floor. The plateau steps were garlanded with flowers and green boughs; squirrel choirs sang, young ones danced and played, older ones dozed peacefully in the warm noontide.
Muta danced too, and perched upon her shoulders the little squirrelprince Truffen laughed and clapped his paws. Queen Serena watched them as she sat upon the steps with her friends Rab Streambattle and Iris.
‘Muta has had my Truffen on her shoulders since first light, do you think she’ll ever let him down again?’
Iris laughed as she watched the antics of the two. ‘D’you think he’ll ever let her, the rascal? There’s nothin’ he likes better than bein’ carried about all day by her, eh, Rab?’
Her mate sprawled lazily across the steps. ‘Muta’s happy, she’s no longer a fugitive, or a berserk slayer. They both deserve their happiness.’
Log a Log and Blerun marched up with both their tribes in tow. Sitting themselves between Foremole and Weldan, they accepted beakers of blackberry cordial.
The shrew Chieftain unbuckled his rapier and put it to one side. ‘Ah well, that’s the horderat prisoners gone. We shoved ’em aboard one o’ their ships an’ pointed them off to the open sea. They come back under pain of death, I told ’em.’
Egbert the Scholar sat a few steps above them, surrounded by Furrp and his tribe and Foremole. They inspected the huge medal he wore about his neck.
‘Burr, et be a vurry noice thing, zurr Hegbutt,’ said Furrp. ‘Urr, wot be et furr?’
Egbert felt very important as he explained to the rustic moles. ‘This is my symbol of office. By Royal appointment I am now Castle Librarian and Archivist of Floret, Official Recorder for Southsward Country and Dynastic Concordance Coordinator to the House of Gael.’
Furrp scra
tched his snout with a heavy digging paw. ‘Gudd luck to ee, zurr. Oi wuddent sleep wi’ a gurt ’eavy medal an’ a name long as a wurrm’s tail loik that, hurr no!’ Egbert sat with a look of injured dignity as the moles all fell about chuckling.
The four leverets and Bowly Pintips were demolishing a weighty plumcake, listening to their uncle Meldrum and Hon Rosie as they discovered ancestral connections.
‘Hmm, Woodsorrel y’say marm, not one of the Long Patrol Westshore Woodsorrels by any chance?’
‘Whoohahahooh! The very fellows, that’s my Tarquin’s branch of the family, d’you know them, Meldrum?’
‘Know ’em? Listen m’dear, my great uncle Bracken was the head of the bunch, marvellous old cove. They called him Bracken the Brave y’know.’
‘Did they indeed? That’s not what my Tarquin told me. He said the story goes that Bracken told so many fibs about his exploits, that the Long Patrol nicknamed him Old Bracken the Blowbag. Whoohahahooh, good name, wot?’
Amidst the laughter that followed young Foghill piped up, ‘I say, uncle Mel, your ears have gone all red!’
Meldrum the Magnificent addressed his nephew sternly. ‘Never mind my ears, you young pup. What’ve I told you about callin’ me uncle Mel? Confined t’barracks for two days, sah, for incorrectly referrin’ to a senior officer!’
Joseph lay full stretch in the soft grass of the valley floor, shaded by a rowan. He was watching Durry Quill and some young shrews, who had borrowed Mariel’s Gullwhacker and made a swing from the branches of a sycamore. Rufe Brush sat by Joseph, his eyes red from weeping. The Bellmaker nudged the young squirrel gently. ‘Come on, Rufey, how about a smile for an old greybeard?’
Rufe stared at the daisies which brightened the grassy shade. ‘I can’t get Fatch out of my mind, I’ll never forget him.’
Joseph saw a teardrop spill from Rufe’s cheek to the grass. ‘I should hope you never will forget Fatch,’ he said. ‘He was a brave shrew to give his life for you. I’ll bet wherever he is now he must be in a fine old temper.’