Vilu leaned upon Luke’s shoulder, happily surveying the empty shore. ‘But of course, I am a creature of my word, all three of you will have your freedom. Now set a true course.’
Awkwardly the Warrior mouse manoeuvred the wheel round. ‘It’s further north up the coast. The cross-currents shouldn’t give us much trouble if you pile all sail on and put the oars to a steady half pace.’
Ranguvar waited until Bullflay lumbered by before turning to the oarport. Vurg popped his head into view, spray dashing at his face.
‘Luke’s not given the word yet, friend. But I’d stay ready tonight if I were you. That’s when we should be further upcoast, amid the high rocks and deep water!’
* * *
34
RINGPATCH THE FERRET came in from watch and slumped down on a pile of old rope and sailcloth, glad to be back in the big smoky crew’s cabin, mopping water from his fur.
‘Bad night out there, mates, weather’s rough as a toad’s back an’ cold as a cap’n’s ’eart. Any vittles left?’
Foulscale pointed to the empty pan on the table. ‘Take a look in there, mate. If’n there’s anythin’ left then save ’arf fer me. Why’n the name o’ fishguts aren’t we down south somewheres in the warm sun, pickin’ ripe fruit offa trees an’ plunderin’ birds’ nests? Wot’s to be ’ad up ’ere, apart from yer death o’ cold an’ starvation, that’s wot I’d like ter know?’
Akkla snuggled up to the smoking stove, shaking his head. ‘Did the ice git down yore ears, Foulscale? We’re in the northern waters fer treasure, or ’aven’t yew ’eard?’
‘Treasure?’ Ringpatch crawled over to sit by the stove.
Akkla tossed some old rope into the stove and watched it burn bright as flames licked round the tarry strands. ‘Aye, treasure. Y’know that Warrior mouse Luke? Well ’e’s steerin’ the ship up t’where he stowed ’is tribe’s booty. Vilu ’ad a word with ’im, promised t’set Luke an’ his two mates free if’n they let the cap’n git ’is paws on the treasure they ’id.’
Foulscale showed his blackened teeth in a knowing grin. ‘Set ’em free, eh? Remember the last lot Vilu Daskar set free, those four ’edge’ogs, d’yer recall that, Willag?’
The searat chuckled with wicked glee. ‘Oh, I remember it awright. They were ’oldin’ back a supply of grain they’d ’arvested. Ole Vilu promises t’set ’em free once he’s got ’is claws on the stuff. So they showed ’im where they’d ’idden it. Hawhawhaw!’
One rat had not been a crew member at the time, so he had to ask. ‘An’ did Daskar set ’em free?’
Akkla looked about for more rope to feed the stove. ‘Course the cap’n did. He ’ad ’em sewed up in the grain sacks with some good ’eavy rocks an’ dropped overboard. Vilu’s last words to the ’edge’ogs were, “You leave my ship alive, free t’go where ye will”!’
The Sea Rogues pounded each other’s backs and laughed aloud.
‘Never tole a lie in ’is life ’as our cap’n. Hohoho!’
‘Wonder wot ’e’ll think up fer this mouse Luke an’ ’is mates?’
‘Heehee, bet ’e’ll take ’em up ter some clifftop an’ set ’em free as birds. Heeheehee!’
‘Or introduce ’em t’some new friends, the sharks. Hahahaha!’
‘Wotever it is, the cap’n’s shore t’give us all a good laugh, mates. Then we can sail south’ard t’the sun an’ prime vittles fer a while. Widout Luke an’ ’is two mateys though.’
Parug the bosun gestured to Foulscale with his knotted rope. ‘Oi yew, stir yer stumps there, ’tis yore turn t’relieve Ringpatch on watch. Never mind sittin’ round ’ere laughin’ an’ jokin’, git out on deck wid yer, go on!’
Foulscale shot the bosun a hateful glance. Wrapping a piece of sailcloth around him he lumbered reluctantly out. Akkla called after him, ‘Don’t let the Sea Bogle git yer!’
Foulscale spat out of the cabin door, and it blew back in his face. ‘Tchah! Sea Bogle, that’n soon deserted ship as soon as there wasn’t enough grub left t’feed a fly. Sea Bogle only brought bad luck ter this ship, just’s well ’tis gone.’
He ducked as Parug flung an old seaboot at him, calling, ‘It won’t be Sea Bogles you’ll ’ave ter worry about if’n yew stands wid that door open much longer, freezin’ us all into our graves. Gerrout on watch, yew idle lump, an’ shut that door after yer!’
Beau and Vurg had climbed aboard the red ship, being unable to endure further cold and hardship hanging on to the raft at the stern. Gripping any protrusions available they made their way along the outside of the Goreleech, avoiding being seen from the after peak, where Luke was tied to the wheel, guarded by ten crew and Vilu Daskar, who had a canvas awning to protect them and a brazier to warm their paws upon. The two friends made it to the foredeck and hid behind a sail-draped hatch cover. From their hideout they could see the shoreline: white sand backed by sheer cliffs which reared into the night.
Beau snuggled down. ‘Well, it ain’t much, Vurgy, but as my old auntie used t’say, somethin’s better’n nothin’ when y’ve got nothin’, wot?’
Vurg threw an affectionate paw about his comrade. ‘Shall I tell you wot my ole auntie used t’say, Beau? Well, she always said t’me, if yore hidin’ under a hatch cover with a sailcloth over it, an’ there’s a hare with you, then don’t let the hare talk about how ’ungry he is an’ don’t let ’im sing. There, that’s wot my ole auntie used t’say!’
Beau was still in a fine old huff with Vurg. ‘Food? Who said I was goin’ to talk about food, eh, wot? Far too hungry to talk about food. An’ I ain’t goin’ to sing to you no more, after you jumped on my head an’ damaged me warbler. Savage mousewretch, that’s what y’are. Oh, great seasons of stones, take a look up ahead, Vurg!’
The mouse poked his head from the sailcloth, his gaze following the bowsprit to judge the ship’s course.
‘’Tis the tall rocks, Beau, we’re headed straight for the tall rocks!’
Rearing like prehistoric giants to the stormy night skies, hundreds of the monolithic stone pinnacles stood out from the coast for leagues. Waves crashed into white foam at their bases, sending white spume flying high into the air. A peculiar effect, like screaming tortured animals, assaulted their ears, as the gale force winds tore between the awesome columns, whose tops seemed to touch the tempest-driven clouds.
For the first time in his life Beauclair Fethringsol Cosfortingham was robbed of the power of speech. He sat there with his mouth hanging open.
Vurg was the first to recover and do something. ‘Luke’s goin’ to smash this ship into the tall rocks! Quick, Beau, climb down to Ranguvar. I think Luke will give the signal very soon now. I’ll go astern an’ listen out for it. The moment I hear Luke’s voice I’ll make my way along the ship’s side an’ yell at the top of my voice. Go now!’
Vilu Daskar was also feeling something for the first time in his life. Fear! He had seen the tall rocks, once many seasons back when he was younger. However, he had not sailed remotely near them and had vowed never to do so. But now he was in the midst of a storm, his vaunted Goreleech headed straight for the tall rocks, relying only on the skill of a mouse oarslave, bound to the steering wheel. Daskar stood dry-mouthed, sweating despite the cold, paws atremble and stomach churning. Tugging hard on the rope halter about Luke’s neck he yelled shrilly, ‘Watch what you’re doing, go careful with my ship, pull her away from those rocks. Away I say!’
Luke kept his head bent, resisting the rope’s tug.
‘How does it feel, murderer, to have death starin’ you in the face?’ he gritted out from between clenched teeth. ‘Think of all the innocent creatures you’ve sent to their deaths. Go on, tell me how it feels?’
Vilu reached past Luke and managed to get a paw on the wheel. The Warrior mouse sank his teeth into the paw, and with a yelp the pirate stoat withdrew. Vilu’s guards drew their weapons. Luke shouted at them without turning his head.
‘One move from you, murderer, or any of your scum, and I spin this wheel an
d send her side on to the rocks!’
Vilu’s big mistake had been in binding Luke to the wheel. He was fully in control of steering the ship. The stoat signalled his crew to stay clear. Luke decided then to make his move. Throwing back his head he roared at the top of his lungs, loud and long, ‘Dead ahead! Dead ahead! Dead aheeeeaaaaadddd!’
Slipping half in half out of the lashing churning sea, Vurg scrabbled and clawed his way along the port side until he was amidships. Ahead of him he could see Beau, balancing perilously on Ranguvar’s oarshaft as it stuck out from the bowside, waiting for the signal. Vurg clambered up on to the rail, shouting, ‘Dead ahead! Free the slaves, take the ship!’
In his excitement he had forgotten all else. Next instant Parug and Akkla came rushing from the crew’s quarters.
‘What’s happenin’, who’s takin’ the ship?’
‘Somebeast’s tryin’ to free the slaves! Call to arms! All paws on deck!’
Slaves began pouring from the companionways of the three oardecks, some armed with what they could find, lengths of chain, pieces of timber and pitifully few daggers. Unsure how to proceed, they milled about on the deck, some weeping openly, not knowing what to do with their new-found freedom. These slaves, all from the upper and middle decks, soon found themselves set upon by masses of heavily armed Sea Rogues, veterans in the business of bloodshed. Vurg and Beau rushed to their aid. Laying two searats low with savage kicks from his long hindlegs, the hare grabbed the vermin’s cutlasses and tossed one to Vurg, bellowing, ‘Rally to us, you chaps, don’t sit round blubberin’. Fight!’
Several of the younger and bolder spirits obeyed, but there were others, too weak and frightened, who were thoroughly intimidated by the fierce horde of the Goreleech’s crew. These wretched creatures ran and hid, and a lot of them tried to push their way back down to the oardecks, to the benches and chains where they had lived for long seasons.
Then Ranguvar Foeseeker arrived upon the scene.
Battering slaves aside like ninepins, Bullflay came screaming out of the companionway, terror stamped upon his ugly features. Behind him, like the shadow of death, was Ranguvar. Laying into the slavemaster with his own whip, the black squirrel was a sight to strike fear into the heart of anybeast now that she was on the loose. The long whip cracked around Bullflay’s ears as Ranguvar Foeseeker went after him, the stormy night echoing to her battle cries.
‘Yayalaho! I am the Foeseeker, born in moondark to the crash of thunder! Sing your deathsongs! Yayalahooooo!’
In his panic Bullflay fled straight up the rigging, with Ranguvar hard on his heels, her eyes red with blood-wrath, laughing madly as she closed on her hated foe.
Vilu Daskar felt himself gripped by the icy claws of panic. Never in his wildest imaginings had he dreamt this could happen aboard his red ship.
‘Akkla! Parug! Bring the crew astern! Gather to me!’
As the Sea Rogues crowded round, Luke called to his enemy above the din of storm and battle, ‘What are you goin’ to do now, coward? Yore slaves are free and fightin’, the Goreleech is bein’ driven to the rocks. ’Twas a bad day for you when you murdered my wife!’
As if to emphasise the dilemma, Bullflay’s body, choked by his own whiplash, came flying down from aloft and crashed through the afterdeck stairs, taking with it two vermin who were making their way aft. Ranguvar Foeseeker climbed halfway down the rigging, then, with a bloodcurdling yell, hurled herself on a group of Sea Rogues who were hacking at helpless slaves on the main deck.
The pirate stoat turned on Luke, his voice a venomous hiss as he slashed at the bound Warrior with his sword.
‘You were the cause of all this, but I will end it here!’
Luke could not protect himself from the wild, vicious onslaught, even though the swinging blade chopped the ropes free from one of his paws. Dulam and Denno were battling their way to the afterdeck when they saw Luke being attacked. Beau and Vurg saw it too, and fought their way to the shattered stairs, Vurg crying out, ‘Luke! No! Hang on, mate, we’re comin’!’
But Luke was not finished. Fighting his way up through waves of pain, he put all his strength into a single blow. His paw chopped down on that of Vilu Daskar, sending the bone-handled scimitar skimming off into the sea. Then Luke had Daskar in a death grip, crushing him tight against the ship’s wheel. Sea Rogues hurled themselves upon the Warrior, trying to free their captain, who was screeching with fright. Pounding willy-nilly at the Warrior, they were about to break the awful grip he had on Vilu Daskar when suddenly Ranguvar Foeseeker was in their midst, armed with two swords. The black squirrel was like a berserk tornado, dealing out death and fearsome wounds, laughing madly into the stricken faces of her foes.
‘Yaylaho! ’Tis a fine night to die! Yaylahooooo! Take a deep breath, buckoes, it’ll be yore last! I’ll hold ’em off, Luke, you hold Daskar tight! Yayalahoooooo!’
Looming up to the red ship was a towering rock, ten times the girth of any craft, with waves riding high up its sides and smashing in foamy cascades. Luke had Daskar’s paws twined through the wheel spokes like a captive upon a rack, and the pirate stoat, his back pressed hard against the wheel, began begging and pleading hoarsely for his life as the Goreleech rode side on towards the monstrous column of wave-lashed stone.
‘Spare me, Luke. You can have the treasure and freedom for all the slaves. Take the red ship too, but let me go. I speak truly, my word is my bond. Spare my life!’
Luke the Warrior pressed his face close to that of his mortal enemy, crushing him tighter and whispering, ‘Cowards die a thousand times, a warrior dies only once. The spirits of all you have slain are watching you, Vilu Daskar, and they will rest in peace now that your time has come. You must die as you have lived, a coward to the last!’
When the red ship struck the rock it reverberated from stem to stern. There was a noise like an overhead peal of thunder, then it was shorn in two halves upon the mighty pinnacle of stone. The Goreleech hung there for one awful moment, then the whole stern, from afterdeck to midships, fell. With a huge creaking of sundered timbers it hit the water and sank instantly. Far far below the seas, never to be seen again.
BOOK THREE
* * *
A Warrior’s Legacy
* * *
35
SUNLIGHT LANCED THROUGH into the cabin of the Arfship, dustmotes swirled lazily about the still lit lanterns. Denno took the rock crystal glasses from his nose end and placed them on the closed book in front of him. Yawning and rubbing his eyes gently, he leaned back and stared up at the noon sky.
‘So now you know everythin’, Martin of Redwall, that’s the whole story, as best as we could remember.’
All eyes were on the stonefaced warrior, awaiting his reaction. After what seemed an interminable silence, he spoke.
‘Am I to understand then that my father wrecked the Goreleech on the big column, knowing that he would die?’
Beau wiped a paw across his eyes and sniffed.
‘Aye, that’s what he did, old lad, wounded almost t’death, with Ranguvar Foeseeker holdin’ off almost an entire vermin crew so Luke an’ her could have their revenge on Vilu Daskar, the red ship, an’ all that had caused ’em to lose their loved ones. By the fur, blood, tooth an’ sword! Two braver warriors never lived!’
Vurg grasped the Warrior mouse’s paw tightly. ‘They did it for you – for all of us, Martin. Everybeast who’d ever suffered by the wickedness of Daskar an’ his red ship. Luke was past carin’ about what happened to himself – Ranguvar too. Between them their final sacrifice was to rid the land an’ seas of a great evil!’
Martin’s eyes were like chips of ice.
‘I would have done exactly the same in my father’s place!’
Dulam felt the hairs rise on his nape as he watched Martin. ‘I believe you would’ve, too. That sounded just like yore dad talkin’ then. We all would, but for the fact we were at the for’ard end when the ship broke in two.’
Martin stared keenly from one to t
he other.
‘Is there anything else I should know? Vurg, you knew him better than most. Tell me.’
The old mouse shook his head wistfully. ‘He gave you all he could, vengeance for your mother an’ our tribe, freedom from a terror that the coastlands an’ seas lived in fear of. But I remember that day we sailed off from the northlands, he gave you his sword. That blade had never left his paw, or that of his father an’ his father before him. It was the most precious thing Luke ever owned! But there was something else, Martin, not from your father alone. When you discovered me in the old cave back there, I had found something buried in the sand. Here!’
Vurg passed the beaded linen bag to Martin. It was the sort of container a mother would use to keep her baby’s things in, together with the small possessions she held dear. Martin’s paw traced the beautiful pattern of tiny threaded beads worked on to the linen. He eased himself slowly away from the table and left the cabin.
Gonff called after him, ‘You all right, matey? Need any help or company?’ There was no answer from the Warrior. Gonff settled back against a bulkhead. ‘Best leave him alone awhile. Get some shuteye, mates. I’ve a feelin’ that when he comes back through yon door we’ll be leavin’ this place. You an’ yore pals better pack, Vurg, we ain’t leavin’ you stranded up in these rocks on a broken ship. You’ll have t’keep pinchin’ yoreselves to make sure yore not dreamin’ when you see Redwall Abbey, mates!’
Martin climbed down the front of the huge main column and sat on a ledge, with the sea almost lapping his footpaws, gazing down into the fathomless deeps. Somewhere far below lay the stem of the Goreleech, with his father, Luke the Warrior, pinning Vilu Daskar against the steering wheel, holding his enemy in an eternal embrace. Around them would be strewn the pirate stoat’s vermin guard, and Luke’s berserk friend Ranguvar Foeseeker. Pride surged through Martin. His father and the black squirrel had kept their vows, they were the bravest of the brave, true warriors.
The Legend of Luke Page 29
