“I am Lonna Bowstripe. This is not my cave, but you are welcome to stay here until the hare recovers. I saw you escape those rats today and knew you would shelter up here. I watched from the hills what a brave thing your friend did. I killed those three rats who tried to capture him—vermin are bullies and murderers, they are no great loss to anybeast. Who are you, why are you in this country?”
The otter bowed respectfully. “I am Bragoon. This is Saro, Fenna and Springald. The hare is named Horty. We are travellers.” He gestured upward toward the plateau on top of the cliffs. “We are seeking a place called Loamhedge. It lies somewhere up there.”
Lonna began stringing his bow. “A dangerous quest, friend. There are many Darrat rats out there still. Their captain was one of the three I slew. You need to reach the clifftops without interference from them. Your journey will be hard enough without rats following you. Perhaps they are camped in the area. I will warn them off. Pass me an arrow, Fenna.”
The squirrelmaid took a shaft, nearly as long as she was, from the badger’s quiver. They watched Lonna blunt the point by jamming an old pinecone over it. He held it to the fire until it was blazing and crackling. Testing the air outside the cave, the badger seemed satisfied.
“It’s not raining too heavily now, the shaft should burn for a bit before it goes out.” With a single graceful move, Lonna set the blazing arrow on his string, drawing the shaft back until the burning end almost touched the bow. Whooooosh! It shot off like a rocket, into the night sky above the dunes.
Throwing back his head, the big beast roared out in a thunderous voice that echoed around the cave and along the cliffsides. “I am Lonna Bowstripe! I eat rats! I will taste the blood of any who are here by dawn! Eulaliiiiiaaaaaaa!”
He returned to the fire as they took their paws from ringing ears and began tending to Horty. Lonna smiled and shook his head as Horty began to stir. “He looks hard to kill—I’ve heard it said that hares are perilous beasts. This one will be a warrior one day.”
The giant badger looked so large and ferocious in the firelight that Springald could readily understand how the rats would fear him. She enquired politely, “Sir, you didn’t really eat three rats, did you?”
The smile still lingered on Lonna’s lips. “Nay, little maid, don’t believe all you hear. The language of death and violence is all that vermin understand. I’d sooner devour a crushed toad that was four seasons dead than eat rat. I eat only the same food as you do.”
“Eat? I say, did some chap mention eats? I’m famished!”
Bragoon assisted the incorrigible hare to sit upright. “Oh, this ’un’s awake, sure enough. Well, how d’ye feel, young famine belly? Oh, ye’d better thank the beast who saved ye. This is Lonna Bowstripe.”
Horty did an exaggerated double take at the huge badger. He winked cheekily. “Good grief, sah, bet you can pack the jolly old provisions away, wot wot?”
They pooled the resources of their packs and were soon toasting yellow cheese and oat scones over the fire. Saro poured dandelion and burdock cordial for the company. Springald split some loaves of nutbread and spread them with honey.
Lonna glanced sideways at Horty, taken aback by the young hare’s appetite. “Great seasons, talk about packing provisions away! Where do you put it all? You’re a bottomless pit!”
They all burst into laughter at the sight of Horty’s indignant face.
Over the next few hours, they exchanged their stories. The five friends told Lonna all about Redwall and its creatures. They also explained Martha’s situation and the reason for their quest. When the giant badger related his own personal history, they were greatly saddened and angry, too. There was a hushed silence when he came to the end of his narrative. Lonna ran his paw down the fearsome scar, tracing it across his still face.
“They will pay with their lives, Raga Bol and all his vermin crew. As sure as the days break and the seasons turn!”
The five travellers did not doubt a word that he uttered.
Lonna rose and replenished the fire. “You must sleep now. Tomorrow will be a hard day’s climbing. I think the plateau above the cliffs is no place for the fainthearted. Take a good rest tonight, I’ll guard the cave entrance.”
Bragoon uncovered his sword. “I’ll keep ye company, Lonna. Two guards are better’n one, an’ four eyes can see more than two.”
They sat together at the cave entrance. Lonna could not take his gaze from the otter’s sword, drawn to it like a magnet to metal. “That is indeed a wondrous weapon you carry, Bragoon.”
The otter let the firelight play along the blade. “Aye, ’tis so, though it don’t belong t’me. Abbot Carrul of Redwall loaned it t’me the day we left. I think he did it not just for our protection, but as a sort o’ good-luck charm for the journey. This sword belongs at the Abbey. ’Twas owned in the far olden seasons by a mouse. His name was Martin the Warrior, one o’ the founders of Redwall. I was told stories of Martin an’ his sword when I was nought but a Dibbun. They say it was forged an’ made by a great badger lord, a warrior himself, an’ a very skilled swordsmith, as ye can see. He made it from a lump of ore that fell from the sky, a piece of a star, I was told. This badger, he was Lord of Salamandastron, a mountain fortress. Did ye ever hear of that place, Lonna?”
The dark eyes of the giant flashed. “Every badger knows the name of Salamandastron. I will go there myself someday. I feel my days will end there—but only when my score with Raga Bol is settled.”
Bragoon sat up with a start, realising that he had dropped off to sleep during the night, something he would never have done in his younger seasons. Dawnlight was filtering into the cave, and Lonna Bowstripe was gone. As Saro was rekindling the fire from its embers, the three young ones were just waking.
She gave Bragoon a beaker of hot mint tea. “Mornin’, matey. Well, our bigbeast left while it was still dark. I saw ’im go, y’know.”
Fenna poured tea for herself. “Lonna’s gone?”
Saro nodded. “Aye, you lot were all asleep. Horty’s snorin’ woke me, sounded like a tribe o’ stuffed-up frogs.”
The young hare huffed indignantly at her, but Saro carried on. “I was lyin’ there wide awake, watchin’ Lonna in the fireglow. He’d picked up the sword o’ Martin to admire it. Well, next thing that badger went stiff as a frozen pike, sittin’ there starin’ at the blade as if it was speakin’ to ’im. I watched for a while, then Horty started snorin’ agin. So I gave ’im a good kick an’ settled back to catch a nap.”
Horty interrupted. “Blinkin’ cadess, kickin’ a chap in mid slumber? Rank bad manners, I’d say. Hmph!”
The elderly squirrel shrugged. “When I woke up agin, he’d gone.”
Bragoon slapped his rudder against the rock floor. “I’ll wager ’twas Martin the Warrior, speakin’ to Lonna through the sword. He told the badger where t’find Raga Bol, an’ Lonna took off after the villain!”
Bragoon wrapped the sword up reverently as Horty chuckled. “I bet old Raggaballoon wotsisname wouldn’t be too pleased with Martin, if he knew. Snitchin’ about him to that bally great hulk. I’d hate to be in his way when he feels peevish. Frazzlin’ frogs, imagine what old Lonna’ll do to that vermin when he catches up with him, wot wot!”
Bragoon began packing his belongings. “I wouldn’t like to imagine, mate. That’s Lonna’s business, an’ I’m sure he can take care of it well. But we’ve got our own problems to tend. Up an’ on to Loamhedge, mateys!”
Morning boded bright as they left the cave and began climbing the cliff to its top. It was hard going until the two squirrels, Saro and Fenna, went ahead. Soon they were on top of the cliff. Lowering down a rope, they heaved up all the packs, then secured the rope around a rock, allowing the other three to haul themselves up.