The Taggerung

Antigra held the newborn stoat up high, shaking the babe until it wailed even more loudly. "Never!" she cried.

Sawney winced as his stomach gave a sharp twinge. He turned upon the stoat mother, roaring dangerously, "Enough! You have heard my Seer: the omens are wrong. Zann can never be called Taggerung. Unless you want to challenge me for the leadership of the clan and change the Juskarath law to suit yourself, I command you to silence your scolding tongue and speak no more of the matter!"

He turned and went into his tent, but Antigra was not prepared to let the matter lie. Everybeast heard her shout after him: "Then you are challenged, Sawney Rath!"

His stomach pains immediately forgotten, the ferret Chieftain emerged from the tent, a half-smile hovering around his slitted eyes. Vermin who had seen that look before turned away. Only Antigra faced him as he asked quietly, "So, who challenges me?"

He saw the creature, even before Antigra replied, "Gruven, the father of Zann!"

Gruven stepped forth from the shadows. In one hefty paw he carried a small round shield, in the other a tall slim spear, its point shining in the firelight. He struck a fighting stance, his voice loud and clear.

"I challenge you, Sawney Rath. Arm yourself and face me!"

Sawney had always liked Gruven. He was a valuable asset to the clan. Big, strong, but not too intelligent. Sawney shook his head and smiled patronizingly.

"Don't do it, Gruven. Don't listen to your mate. Put the spear and shield down; live to see your son grow up."

Antigra whispered something to Gruven that seemed to embolden him. He circled away from her, jabbing the spear in Sawney's direction. "I'll live to see my son become Taggerung. Now fight like a Juska, or die like a coward!"

Sawney shrugged off the insult. "As you wish." He turned, as if to fetch his weapons from the tent, then half swung back, as though he had forgotten to say something to the challenger. "Oh, er, Gruven ..."

There was a deadly whirr as the knife left Sawney's paw. Gruven coughed slightly, a puzzled look on his face, then fell backward, the blade buried in his throat up to its decorative handle. Sawney finished what he had been saying. "Don't ever hold your shield low like that, it's a fatal mistake. Grissoul, I'll see you in my tent."

Ignoring Antigra's wails, Sawney beckoned the vixen to sit beside him. "What have you seen?"

Grissoul emptied her bag of stones, shells and bones on the ground, nodding sagely. "See thou, my omens have fallen the same since the end of the last rain. Our Taggerung is born at last. There are other Juska clans abroad in the land, and any of these would deem it a great honor to count him as one of them. Such a beast is a talisman of great power. The Taggerung can change the fortunes of a clan. Nobeast is mightier; none can stand before a Taggerung. Long seasons have passed since such a warrior lived. Who would know this better than thee, Sawney, for was not thine own father the chosen one? Ah, those were glorious days. Our clan was the largest and most feared then. Everybeast had to bow their heads to your father. Zann Juskarath Taggerung! Can you not remember the respect he commanded wherever we went"

Sawney cut the Seer off impatiently. "Cease your prattle about my father. I know how great he was, but he's long dead and gone. Tell me more of this new Taggerung. How do you know he's born, and where do we find him?"

The vixen studied a single speedwell flower, which she had picked earlier that day. It was pale pink, with three fat petals and one thinner than the others. She smiled slyly.

"My visions tell me a mark shaped like this little blossom will be upon him, or maybe her, for who can tell if Taggerung be male or female?"

Just then a weasel called Eefera entered and gave Sawney his knife back, cleaned of blood traces. Sawney dismissed Eefera and placed the blade lightly against the Seer's nose.

"You said any clan would deem it an honor to count him as one of them. The Taggerung will be a male creature. Stop playing your little games and get on with it!"

Grissoul turned the knife blade aside with one paw. "He will have the speedwell mark on him, where I know not. See thou these two bones, fallen next to each other, with this shell across the ends of both? That means a river, or a stream, and the shell is for a place where those who dwell not in the waters may cross the stream. Do thou see it also?"

Sawney nodded. "That means a ford. The long path from north to south has such a ford, where the stream crosses it in Mossflower country, a good five-day march from here."

Grissoul closed her eyes, swaying back and forth. "Today I saw a hawk strike a dove in the air. Their cries mingled, and they gave out together a bell-like sound."

Sawney gave a start. "You mean the old Abbey of Redwall! That's the only place that gives out bell sounds in all that region!"

The Seer kept her eyes shut. "Methinks that would be it."

Sawney grabbed Grissoul's shoulder so tightly that her eyes popped open. He pulled her close, his voice like a rasp. "Speak not to me of Redwall. I would not go within a mile of it. I have listened to the talk around the campfires since I was nought but a whelp. The place is accursed!"

He released the quivering vixen and gestured dramatically. "I am not stupid. The history of Redwall Abbey has taught me a lesson. I know how many warlords and conquerors, with vast hordes and mighty armies to back them, have been defeated by the woodlanders who dwell behind those walls. Even in the seasons long before our great-grandsires' ancestors were born. You've heard their names, everybeast has. Cluny the Scourge, Slagar the Cruel, Ferahgo the Assassin and many others. All of them defeated and slain. But I'll tell you one name that won't be added to the list. Sawney Rath, Chieftain of the Juskarath!"

Grissoul spoke soothingly to calm Sawney's rising ire. "Nay, fret thou not. The bell sound omen is a warning, telling thee not to go near yon red Abbey. Beware the sound of the bell!"

Sawney spat neatly into the fire. "Hah! I already knew that. I'm as wise as any omen. Just tell me what part Redwall Abbey plays in all this?"

Grissoul gathered up her paraphernalia and cast them a second time. She stared at them, then pointed. "See thou those bones that fell foursquare with that red piece of stone at their center? Watch!" She lifted the red stone slightly, and an ant crawled from beneath it and ran over the bones. The Seer smiled triumphantly. "It means that the Taggerung will be a creature from the Abbey!"

Sawney placed a paw on the ground, and the ant ran onto it. The ferret held the paw close to his eyes, watching the insect circling a claw. "What manner of creature will it be?"

Grissoul pursed her lips. "Who can tell?" She inspected the pawprint Sawney had left in the sandy ground. "Five days from here, at the ford where waters cross the path. Then will thou see what sort of beast the Taggerung will be."

Sawney stood up and patted his stomach. "I feel better. Tell them to break camp; we travel tonight. To have a Taggerung in my clan will be the greatest of honors. My Juskarath will make the journey in four days. I want to be there early, in case other clan Seers have had visions. I'll slay anybeast who comes near that ford. Tell the clan to hasten or I'll leave them behind . .. aye, the same way I'm leaving Gruven here."

Grissoul stared at him, almost fondly. "Th'art a wise Chieftain, and ruthless too!"

Sawney checked her as she went. "One other thing. Once we have the Taggerung we travel back this way fast, to the sea and shores. Nobeast at Redwall must know 'twas my clan that took him. If the tales about them are true, they must be fearsome warriors, with a long paw for vengeance. I need to avoid a conflict with such beasts."

He waved a paw, dismissing his Seer. As he did so, the ant was hurled from its perch and fell into a basin of water. Sawney failed to notice it, but the ant swam!