SalamandastTon
63
which way we should go to relieve the jolly old pangs?''
Klitch winked at Goffa. "I suggest we carry on into the foothills over to the east, what do you think, Goffa?" "Foothills, yeh, good idea!" the ferret agreed readily. Mara looked east to the distant foothills, with the mountain range rising green and grayish blue behind them. "Do you think we'll find food there, Klitch?"
The weasel patted her shoulder and started walking east. "It's a good chance. Streams usually run down from mountains and stuff always grows by themplants, roots, berry bushes."
Goffa followed Klitch. "He's good at findin' food." Pikkle gave Mara a shove in their direction. "Then what're we waitin' for? Lead us t' the berrybushes, chums."
Food had been passed up to Sickear in the lookout post. It was not mucha pawful of berries, a crust of bread and some waterbut he ate it gratefully, saving a little of the water to bathe his clawed shoulder.
The hot summer morning wore on, Sickear rubbing his eyes to stay awake as he kept watch, while below the lookout rock normal camp routine went on. Foraging and hunting parties came and went. Keeping away from Salamandastron, they moved south and stalked the swampland fringes for toads, frogs and birds. When these were not available there were always plants and roots.
Though everybeast feared Ferahgo, there were one or two who doubted the wisdom of his trek north. Forgrin the fox and Raptail the searat were two such creatures. They carried the breadsack, doling out stale bread to the horde.
A ferret named Bateye knocked his crust of bread against a rock, muttering complaints under his breath: "Lookit this bread they calls it. More like stone it is!"
Forgrin rooted about in the breadsack, his voice mocking. "Oh dearie me, did yew 'ear that, Raptail? Pore ol' Bateye's bread ain't fresh. 'Ang on a bit, mate, and I'll see if there's any cake 'ere. Now which would yew like, Yer 'Ighness, the sort wi' plums in or the cake wi' cream atop of it?"
64
Brian Jacques
Salamandas iron
65
Bateye raised his paw to fling the bread at Forgrin. "Yah shaddap, yer grinnin' idjit..."
There was a whirring swish as Ferahgo's skinning knife zipped between Forgrin and Raptail to pierce the crust held in Bateye's paw. The blood drained from the ferret's narrow face as the Assassin strode forward and picked up the knife with the crust fixed to its blade.
"Something wrong with your bread, Bateye?"
The ferret sat, staring up into the smiling blue eyes, then shook his head in vigorous denial. "No, master, norra thing. The bread's jus' fine, thank yer!"
"Excellent! Then let's see you eat it all up now!" Ferahgo smiled wickedly, holding the bread transfixed upon his knife as Bateye tried to eat it under his gaze.
Bateye was no longer young, he had teeth missing, and the rock-hard dry crust cut his gums, but he ate on doggedly, too scared to stop.
Ferahgo watched him intently and commented, "What's that noise? Has one of your teeth broken? Oh look, it's fallen out. Tut-tut, Bateye. You should have taken better care of those molars, and cleaned them with a soft twig every morning. Still, eating that bread will strengthen them. What do you say?"
Bateye tried to speak around the knife blade and the stale dried bread filling his mouth, but he was only able to produce a strangled noise.
"I understand, friend." Ferahgo nodded sympathetically. "You'd like more. Forgrin, Raptail, give me more bread out of that sack. This poor ferret is still hungry."
Forgrin's jaw tightened at the wanton cruelty of Ferahgo, but he obeyed. Just as Raptail was about to pass Ferahgo the bread, a stoat called Dewnose came running up.
"Master, Sickear says to come quick, he's spotted some-thin' that you should see!"
Flicking the blade from Bateye's open mouth, the Assassin ran to the lookout rock and scaled it nimbly. Sickear moved over the perch to make room, his claw pointing.
"Over there, Master. It's Klitch an' Goffa with two others!"
"Yes, I see. Good work, Sickear!"
"But look, can you see, Master, just behind 'em in the hills, there's a hare followin' them."
"Hmm, so there is. I wonder if the badger knows we're here, or is that just a lone hare spying on us? We'll soon find out."
Pikkle shielded his eyes from the midday glare as he viewed the mountainous country before them. "Oh corks! How much farther do we go? I'm absolutely whacked!"
"Too much to eat last night, Pikkle, that's your trouble." Klitch shook his head reprovingly. "Look, it's not much farther now. Why don't you and Mara rest here awhile with Goffa, and I'll go on ahead and scout the land. How does that sound?"
Pikkle flung himself gratefully on the ground. "Absolutely top-hole, old lad. You carry on bein' the jolly intrepid scout, and we'll flop down here!"
Mara did not argue, she was glad of me rest. Goffa merely nodded to Klitch and sat moodily, some distance from Mara and Pikkle. The badger maid rested her back against a rock and closed her eyes.
Suddenly a voice nearby whispered urgently, "Missie, don't turn round, stay has you are. You an' Pikkle 'ave got ter get away from 'ere sharpish. It's a trap!"
Startled, Mara opened her eyes and leaned around the rock. "Sergeant Sapwood, what are you doing here?"
Goffa sprang up. He came dashing over, spear at the ready. - "Wot's goin' on 'ere? Who are you talki"
Sapwood leaped out in front of him, poised for action. With . a yell the ferret thrust the spear forward. Sapwood neatly sidestepped, kicking the spear adrift with his long hind legs. Goffa tried to make a grab for it but he was confronted by the champion boxing hare of Salamandastron. In swift succession two neat left pawhooks thudded to the side of his head, followed
66
Brian Jacques
by a powerful straight right paw, smack dab on his chin. Goffa crumpled to the ground, senseless.
Pikkle came dashing over, puzzlement and concern on his face. "I say, steady on, Sappers oP boy ..."
Sergeant Sapwood seized him by the ear. "Liddle block-'eads, there's a whole harmy of vermin jus' over yon 'ill. Yore in a trap. Run for yore lives!"
A yelling horde of Ferahgo's creatures came charging over the hill in front of them. Sapwood threw an imploring glance at Mara, then snatched his javelin from behind the rock and thrust it into her paws.
"Too late, missie, but run. Y'might 'ave a chance, both of you. I'll lead 'em off!"
The Nameday celebrations at Redwall Abbey were in full swing. Early that morning they had started with the young ones marching round to the orchard, where they were met by Thrugg. As there was no badger to challenge them, the big otter had disguised himself, striping his face black and white and garbing himself with dusty old gray drapes. He shook a ladle at them as if it were a club and called out the challenge,
"What want you here, young beast, young beast, What want you here at my feast, my feast?"
Two young mousemaids, Turzel and Blossom, stood forward. They danced around Thrugg as they chanted,
"O stripedog, great guardian, some food for us all, For we are good young ones who live at Redwall!"
Thrugg appeared fearsome and waved his ladle at them.
"Some food, you say. Nay nay, away, Unless our good Abbess says it is Nameday!"