This was followed by a frightening silence.
Galloper Riffle rubbed both his eyes, peering into the fallen night. ‘What’s happenin’? Why’s everythin’ so bally quiet – I can’t see a flippin’ thing!’
A shrew standing by Riffle blinked hard several times. ‘Neither c’n I, matey, all’s I see is coloured lights, poppin’ all round. ’Twas that burnin’ tree wot did it.’
Most of the Redwallers were grouped at the centre of the ridge, in the place the otters had launched the trunk from. A shout from the far side of the ridgetop alerted them.
‘Help! They’re attackin’ this end!’
With their sight growing clearer, the Redwallers rushed to defend that end of the summit, only to be hailed by another distress cry. ‘Yurr, on ee t’uther end, they’m up ’ere too!’
Damug had not been slow. Even as the burning trunk was launched from the crest of the ridge, he had issued orders for his army to split up again and attack the summit from both ends. Now the Redwall army was in deep trouble. Damug’s plan had worked; he had gained the precious moments he needed to put his Rapscallions on the ridge summit.
Tammo fought back to back with Pasque, sling in one paw, dirk in the other. Vermin came at them in mobs. Lieutenant Morio was surrounded and alone; gallantly he battled away, hacking at the encroaching Rapscallions with a cracked pike. Tammo and Pasque began forcing their way through to Morio’s aid, but too late. The brave Lieutenant went down, fighting to the last.
‘Eulaliaaaa! ‘S death on the wind! Eulaliaaaaa!’
Captain Twayblade, too, was ringed by the enemy. Her long rapier darted and flickered as she wove it around cutlass and spear, slaying every vermin she touched. ‘Saha! Come an’ meet me, sir vermin, I’ll have ye crowdin’ at Dark Forest gates this night!’
Tammo glimpsed a fox working his way behind Twayblade and, as the fox raised his sword, Tammo let fly with the dirk.
‘A hit!’ Twayblade laughed. ‘Over here, Tamm, come on, Pasque!’
They were joined by Skipper, and between them they smashed free of the crowding foebeast. The otter pushed them towards the standing rock. ‘Over there, mates – get our backs agin somethin’!’
Perigord and Gurgan had been outnumbered and driven back along the ridge. Striving valiantly with what was left of their group, they too managed to reach the standing rock. The Major’s sabre decimated the ranks of vermin swarming to get at them. Blood ran from a cut above his eye as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Gurgan.
‘Whew! I keep choppin’ ’em down, but they’re still comin’!’
The Waterhog’s huge mallet hit the Rapmark Skaup, wiping him out. ‘Aye, there’s nought left but to take as many as we can with us. Hearken though, I’d like t’get yon Damug atwixt my paws!’
Log a Log gritted his teeth, bringing down a weasel with his heavy loaded sling. ‘Y’won’t get close to that scum, mate. Damug’s the kind who leads his army from be’ind, like the true coward he is! Tamm, did they get ye, bucko?’
Tammo almost collapsed as Pasque drew the pike from his leg. ‘Aaaagh! He got me, but I made sure I got him, the blackguard!’
They ringed the pair, fighting off the attackers as Pasque stuffed herbs into the awful gash and bound it with the red silken scarf. ‘There, that’ll hold you, sir. Lean on me. I knew that scarf’d come in useful. Good job you won it for me, wot!’
Deodar and Algador slumped on the rift floor, gasping for breath after making their report.
Lady Cregga acted instantly. ‘Sergeant, take the right flank; Corporal, you take the left. I’ll hold the centre. Let’s get out of this ditch and form up in a skirmish line, ten deep, fifty long. Double quick speed, weapons out and ready. We’ll come at that ridge from the back. Rapscallions haven’t got the brains to think we’d attack that way!’
Still fighting for air, Algador and Deodar drew their blades. ‘We’re comin’ too, Sergeant!’
Trowbaggs nodded to Shangle Widepad. ‘Grab old Algy there, chum, we’ll help him along. Fallow, Reeve, lend a paw to Deodar, there’s good chaps!’
The night air thrummed to the paws of five hundred Salamandastron hares. Silent and determined, they sped off into the darkness.
Damug Warfang was delighted beyond measure. He stood back from the fighting, leaning on his sword by a fire. The Rapscallions had suffered heavy losses, but nothing to what the creatures of Redwall had sustained. From his position he viewed what he considered to be the last stages of the battle. His enemy would soon be soundly defeated and the famous Abbey of Redwall his for the taking.
Rapscallions crowded in on every side around the standing rock, but there was a space at the centre between them and their opponents. The Redwallers had fought more fiercely than anybeasts they had ever encountered, and now, at this final part of the battle, many vermin were growing cautious, not wanting to be on the lists of the slain whilst their comrades enjoyed the spoils of victory.
The stoat Captain, Bluggach, was a bigger and more reckless beast than his confederates. Pike in one paw and a wicked steel hook in the other, he swaggered into the open space between the armies and began taunting his beleaguered enemy.
‘Haharr, so yore the bold crew who were gonna spank us an’ send us off in tears, eh? I wager the one who shouted that is ’idih’ somewheres at the back now, prob’ly in tears hisself!’
Mass laughter and cheering from the Rapscallion horde prompted Bluggach to become bolder. He leered at the Redwallers, licking the tip of the hook he carried. ‘C’mon out an’ face me, ’tis my turn t’do the spankin’!’
Gurgan Spearback was already out as he spoke, wielding his treetrunk-headed war mallet. ‘Stoats be windy braggarts. Come an’ spank me if thee thinks thou art warrior enough to do it!’
Bluggach gave a wild yell and charged the big Waterhog. Gurgan sidestepped and swung the mallet once. Just once.
Bluggach slumped to the ground, never to rise again.
But Gurgan’s sidestep had carried him close to the Rapscallion mob. A crowd leapt upon him, overwhelming the Waterhog Chieftain.
The Redwallers could not leave their friend in enemy paws. They charged forward into the vermin pack, roaring.
‘Redwaaaaallll! Redwaaaaaallll!’
They were hopelessly outnumbered, but prepared to sell their lives dearly. Strangely, though, it was Damug Warfang who saved them.
The unpredictable Warlord strode among his vermin, lashing out with the flat of his swordblade. ‘Halt! Enough, I say! We will take these creatures as prisoners. Nobeast must touch them. I will keep them as captives to serve me!’ The Greatrat halted in front of Perigord. ‘All except you, hare. Nobeast talks to me as you did and lives!’
Held fast by four Rapscallions, the Major still struggled to break free and get at his enemy, even though he was twice wounded. ‘So be it, foulface. Give me back my sabre an’ I’ll fight you, blade to blade. Come on, vermin, let’s have at it, wot!’
Damug looked Perigord up and down. Dried blood was caked over the Major’s brow, covering his right eye, while the Redwall tunic hung from him in shreds, revealing a ragged scar on one shoulder. The Greatrat sneered contemptuously. ‘Your fighting days are over, fool. I’m going to make an example of you in front of your friends. Conquered beasts always learn to behave better when they see their leader executed. Get him down in front of me and bend his head!’
A massive roar shook the night air, chilling the blood of every Rapscallion on the ridge.
‘Eulaliaaaaaaa!’
Thundering forward, fifty paces ahead of her command, Lady Cregga Rose Eyes hit the vermin ranks like a lightning storm.
Tammo saw vermin actually fly through the air as the huge badger, her eyes blazing red with Bloodwrath, swung her axepike into them. Then she was upon Damug Warfang. Casting her weapon away, she seized the Firstblade with both paws and teeth.
‘Spawn of Gormad Tunn! Evil murderer’s kin! Come to me!’
Hacking furiously at the Badger Warrior’s
head with his sword, Damug gave an unearthly screech. Locked together, the pair hurtled into space from the ridgetop.
‘Eulaliaaaa! ‘S death on the wind! Eulaliaaaaaa!’
Booting aside a rat, Major Perigord grabbed his sabre. ‘Hares on the ridge, hundreds of ’em! Eulaliaaaaaa!’
* * *
54
THE ARMY FROM Salamandastron charged into the Rapscallions’ midst to join the Redwallers. Galloper Riffle was down; a snarling weasel who was about to despatch him with a dagger thrust fell forward, slain by a sabre swing. Riffle felt himself pulled upright; he stopped a moment in the thick of battle, recognizing his rescuer. ‘Algador! My brother!’
The young Runner blinked, smiling and crying at the same time. ‘Riffle, thank the seasons you’re alive!’
‘Logalogalogalogalooooog!’
The shrew Chieftain, at the head of his remaining Guosim, tore into a pack of vermin and chased them the length of the ridge.
‘Redwaaaaaalll! No surrender, no quarter, me buckoes!’
Skipper of otters and his ragged band threw themselves headlong at another group of foebeasts, javelins forward.
Tammo had formed foursquare with Pasque, Midge, Twayblade and Fourdun, battling madly against the desperate Rapscallions. They pushed their way with blade, sling and tooth to where Corporal Rubbadub lay stretched on the ground, limp and trampled. Whilst the others fought, Pasque stooped to inspect the big lump and the awesome cut across the back of Rubbadub’s head. She looked up sadly at her friends. ‘I think poor old Rubbadub’s gone!’
‘Nonsense!’ Twayblade kicked Rubbadub’s paw roughly.
Turning over, the drummer rubbed his head, grinning widely. ‘Dubadubadubb! B’boom!’
Sargeant Torgoch found himself fighting alongside Drill Sergeant Clubrush. The pair fought like madbeasts, but chatted like old pals.
‘By the left, Sar’nt, yore young ’uns are shapin’ up well!’
‘They certainly are, Sar’nt – they pulled yore chestnuts out o’ the fire!’
Tare and Turry had formed up with Trowbaggs and Furgale. They pressed forward in a straight line, driving Rapscallions off the edge of the ridge. Determined to distinguish himself in this his first action, Trowbaggs pulled away from the others and began taking on four vermin single-pawed. ‘Have at ye, y’scurvy rascals, Trowbaggs the Terrible’s here!’
He managed to slay one before another got behind him and put him down with a dagger in his side. Corporal Ellbrig and Shangle Widepad rushed in to his aid, slaying two and sending the other one running.
Holding on to his side, Trowbaggs managed a weak smile. ‘Chap got behind me. Wasn’t very sportin’ of him, was it, Corp?’
Shangle provided cover whilst Ellbrig ministered to the recruit. ‘Trowbaggs, wot am I goin’ t’do with you, eh? War isn’t no game – there ain’t no such thing as a vermin bein’ sporty. Good job that dagger only took a bit o’ fur’n’flesh. You’d be a goner now if’n that was an inward stab instead o’ a sideways one. Come on, up on yore hunkers, me beauty, stick wid me’n’ole Shang.’
Furgale and Reeve Starbuck were in difficulties. Heavily outnumbered, they fought gallantly. Tammo’s party saw they were in a fix and dashed over to help, but too late. Both the recruits went under from vermin spearthrusts before they could be reached. Others came running to avenge their comrades, exacting a terrible retribution on the vermin spear-carriers with swords and javelins.
Clubrush saw Furgale twitch, and he knelt by him, supporting his head. ‘Y’did bravely, young sir. Be still now, we’ll git you some ’elp.’
Furgale tried to focus on Clubrush, his eyes fluttering weakly. ‘Get my old job back, servin’ you an’ Colonel Eyebright in the mess . . . won’t shout too loud though, Colonel doesn’t like that . . .’
The young recruit’s head lolled to one side, his eyes closed. Drill Sergeant Clubrush hugged him tight, tears flowing openly down his grizzled face. ‘I ’ope you’ve gone to an ’appier place than this blood-strewn ridge.’
The tide of battle was turned. What was left of the mighty Rapscallion army fled from the hill, pursued by the hares and the Redwallers. Major Perigord and Captain Twayblade limped their way down the hill and across the valley, with Tammo and Pasque following them. They found Lady Cregga in the rift, clutching the mangled remains and broken sword of Damug Warfang.
Pasque Valerian was the only one of the four who was still fit and active. She climbed down to the bottom of the rift. Perigord peered over the edge, watching her inspect the badger.
‘I say, Pasque, get a chunk o’ that smoulderin’ wood t’make a torch.’
The young hare snapped off a billet of pine from the charred trunk and blew gently upon it until the flame rekindled itself. She looked closely at the still form of Lady Cregga, checking her carefully.
‘Good news, sah! Though you wouldn’t think it to look at her. Lady Cregga’s alive, but Warfang must have slashed an’ battered at her with his sword somethin’ dreadful. Her face, head an’ eyes suffered terrible injuries, but as I say, she lives!’
The Major winced as he straightened up. ‘Well, there’s a thing! Our Badger Lady must be jolly well made of iron. Tammo, see if y’can hunt up stuff t’make a stretcher and find some able-bodied beasts to carry it. Tamm, are you all right, old lad?’
Tammo sat at the edge of the rift, his head in both paws, shaking and weeping uncontrollably. ‘No, I’m not all right, sah. I’ve seen death! I’ve been in a battle, I’ve slain other creatures, seen friends cut down before my eyes, and all I can think of is, thank the fates I’m not dead. Though the way I feel right now I don’t know if I want to go on living!’
The Major sat down beside him. ‘I know what y’mean, young ’un, but think for a moment. Think of the babes at Redwall and the oldsters, think of all the families, like your own, who will never be frightened or harmed by the bad ones we fought against. You’ve done nothin’ t’be ashamed of. The Colonel an’ your mother would be proud to know they had a son like you. What d’you say, Pasque? Tell this perilous feller.’
Pasque Valerian paused from her salves and dressings, capturing Tammo with her soft voice and gentle smile. She pointed skyward. ‘I don’t have to tell you anything, Tamm. Just look up.’
Tammo felt the other three staring upward with him.
Fading from dark blue to light, dawn was breaking, with threads of crimson and gold radiating wide. Pale, cream-washed clouds lay in rolls to the east, their undersides glowing pink with the rising of the sun. Somewhere a lark was singing its ascension aria, backed by waking curlews on the moor and wood pigeons in the copses.
The spell was broken abruptly as the Little Owl Taunoc swooped out of nowhere to land at the rift edge. ‘I see by your returning warriors and the vermin carcasses lying everywhere that you won the battle.’
Perigord wiped his sabre blade with a pawful of dewy grass. ‘Aye, we won!’
Taunoc nodded sagely, preening his wings ready for flight. ‘I will carry the good news back to Redwall Abbey. Is there anything else you wish me to add?’
Tamello De Fformelo Tussock dried his eyes and smiled. ‘Tell them . . . tell them we’re coming home!’
* * *
55
EXTRACT FROM THE writings of Craklyn the squirrel, Recorder of Redwall Abbey in Mossflower Country.
Healing the wounds of war takes a very long time. It is four seasons since the victorious warriors returned to us, but still the memory of that terrible time is fresh in all our minds. When Lady Cregga was brought to our Abbey we feared greatly for her. She spoke little and ate even less, lying in the Infirmary with her whole head swathed in bandages. Pasque Valerian and Sister Viola both knew Cregga would be blind, even before the bandages were removed.
Alas, when we did unbandage her, the rose-coloured eyes were no more. They had been replaced by tightly shut eyelids. She no longer had the desire to slay, the Bloodwrath they call it; all that was gone. Throughout the winter she remained in an a
rmchair by the fire in Cavern Hole.
It was pure accident that a miraculous change was wrought in her. One day the baby Russano got loose and crawled off, and we found him perched in Lady Cregga’s lap, both badgers entirely happy. Since then she lives only to rear and educate Russano. He is her eyes, and now he can walk in a baby fashion they are seen everywhere together. Tammo reminded me of the second half of the rhyme Martin imparted to him:
One day Redwall a badger will see,
But the badger may never see Redwall,
Darkness will set the Warrior free,
The young must answer a mountain’s call.
After the battle, the Warriors buried the Rapscallions in the rift and our own on the ridgetop. When spring arrived they returned to the Ridge of a Thousand (for that is what it is known as now). Major Perigord took Lady Cregga’s big axepike. Moles chiselled a hole into the top of the standing rock on the summit and they cemented the axepike in it, upright, with the old green homemade flag that bears the red letter R fluttering proudly from the piketop. There it will stand until the winds of ages shred the banner and carry it away with them.
The moles are good stonemasons; they carved Pasque Valerian’s poem to the fallen on the rock.
Slumber through twilight, sleep through the dawn,
Bright in our memory from first light each morn,
Rest through the winter beneath the soft snow,
And in the springing, when bright blossoms show.
Warriors brave, who gave all you could give,
Offered your lives so that others would live.
No one can tell what my heart longed to say,
When I had to leave here, and you had to stay.
Aye, there are memories that die hard and others that we want to keep for ever. What courageous creatures they were, as the Long Patrol would say. Perilous!
I wish that little Russano would never grow up, but that is an idle and foolish thought. One day he will have to take his place on that mountain far away on the west shores; he will be Lord of Salamandastron. Lady Cregga is certain of this. He is a quiet youngster, but he seems to radiate confidence, understanding and sympathy to all about him. Already the hares call him Russano the Wise.
The Long Patrol Page 30
