48

High noon sun beat down on the weathered planks of the jetty. The harbor of Sampetra lay silent and shimmering under a blue tropical sky. Flanked by Plogg and Welko with their shrew rapiers drawn, Martin unslung his sword and hurried across the strand to where the ship bobbed calmly on a lazily swelling tide. Checking left and right and turning often to stare back at the palace upon the escarpment, the three friends made their way into the shallows.

“This is the ship,” said the Warriormouse, keeping his voice low. “I remember its name, Waveworm. Either the Abbot is aboard here or somewhere on this island, probably in that big building up on the rock. Stay here and keep watch, I’m going aboard to take a look around.”

Gripping the sword blade between his teeth, Martin began hauling himself paw over paw up a headrope hanging from the for’ard peak. Waist-deep in warm shallow sea water, the shrews waited. Plogg held up a paw to his ear, leaning inland.

“Listen, can you hear anything?”

Welko waded closer inshore, cocking his head. “Aye, sounds like shouting or fighting, I think maybe ’tis comin’ from somewheres round that big buildin’ up there.”

Faintly the noise of warfare drifted on the still air. Plogg looked at Welko and shrugged. “Hmm, somebeast’s havin’ a tussle, that’s plain.”

“Hi, you two, come aboard, the ship’s empty!”

Martin threw an extra ropeline over the side so the brothers could board more quickly. Sheathing their rapiers, they clambered onto the Waveworm.

Plogg pointed over to the palace. “Seems to be a bit o’ trouble over that way, Martin.”

The Warriormouse studied the palace a moment, then leapt into sudden action. “Aye, and there’s a bit o’ trouble headed this way! Grab some of them long poles there, you two, we’re about to steal a ship and sail off. Hurry, there’s no time to lose!”

Ublaz had watched Martin and the two shrews from his throne room window, puzzled by the appearance of strangebeasts upon his island, but not for long. When he saw them climb aboard Waveworm, the Emperor quickly summoned four Monitors. Ublaz had been keeping Waveworm as a standby, in the event that he had to leave the island in a hurry. Now, in danger of losing his vessel, he dashed down to the main door with the four lizards scurrying in his wake. They were just out of the door when the mouse who carried a great sword happened to look up and see them.

With Martin punting his long pole hard on the for’ard starboard and the shrews doing the same on the portside at Waveworm’s aft end, the ship began swinging round to face seaward. Martin joined his friends at the stern end, noting that the tiller was lashed, holding the vessel to head straight out. Between the three of them they poled furiously, watching the land slip away as she caught the gentle swell.

“Well done, mates,” Martin gasped. “See if you can loose some sail to catch the breeze further out. Good job I looked up and noticed those creatures, or they’d have boarded and taken us by surprise.”

Ublaz dashed along the jetty. Shaking with rage he stood wordlessly, watching Waveworm coast by, safely out of his reach. At that moment the pine marten would have given anything for a bow and arrows. He glared at the mouse, a strange-looking creature, stern and solid, and obviously a warrior by the splendid blade he carried. Silently the mouse stared back at him, not the least bit afraid of the mad-eyed Emperor. The four Monitors stood watching dumbly as canvas billowed out and the sails caught the breeze.

Then something happened to the pine marten that had never occurred in all his seasons. He found that his hypnotic power had no effect on the mouse. Piercingly, wildly, he glared at the stranger, but the warrior never budged a fraction, just remained leaning coolly over the rail, staring back, matching Ublaz eye to eye until his adversary was forced to look away. However, Martin kept watching the receding figure of his enemy, knowing that this was the beast he would have to reckon with.

Evening shades were falling fast over the small cove on the east of Sampetra. Grath and Inbar were resting on the grassy slope when Viola came and shook them. “There’s a ship coming this way. Look!”

Welko waved to them from the forepeak of Waveworm. “Ahoy, mateys, d’you like our new ship? No more logboats fer us!”

Grath took the heaving line which Plogg threw to her and made it fast to a rock. Martin and the shrews waded ashore, Martin calling to Inbar, “Is Clecky back yet? We lost touch with him over the other side of the island—he probably found something to eat.”

“Don’t you worry about mister Clecky,” Viola giggled. “He can take care of himself.”

There were still plenty of provisions left in the logboat, so as night fell Viola and the two shrews lit a fire whilst Martin and Inbar began preparing a meal. Immediately as a vegetable stew began to simmer, a jovial voice hailed them from the darkness.

“What ho, the jolly old camp! Rovin’ fighter returnin’ with tales of derring-do, high adventure an’ all that nonsense, wot!”

The friends burst out laughing, and Viola called back, “I had an idea you’d arrive as soon as supper was ready, you great furry foodbag. Where’ve you been?”

Clecky ventured into the firelight, pulling behind him a searat tied up with his own belt. “Evenin’, chaps. I say, that smells rather nice. By the by, I don’t suppose you’ve met this vile felon, captive o’ mine, says his name’s Gowja. Say hello to the nice creatures, Gowja.”

The searat, who sported an enormous lump on his head, stood glaring at them. Clecky pushed him so he fell into a sitting position.

“Old Gowja’s the strong silent type, doncha know. Come on, you jolly old sulker, no hard feelin’s, wot? Say hello to the chaps, don’t sit there like a lovelorn limpet, speak up!”

Martin ladled stew into a deep shell and passed it to Clecky. “Leave him for the moment. Let’s have supper in peace. Later on he can talk. There’s a lot of information we need about this island, the big building I saw today, and what both sides are fighting about. I’m sure Gowja can tell us that.”

Baring his yellowed teeth, the searat spat on the ground. “I ain’t talkin’ to nobeast an’ you can’t make me!”

With startling speed, Grath leapt over the fire, landed in a crouch facing Gowja and fixed him, eye to eye. Her voice was dangerous, like the growl of thunder on a far horizon.

“Keep lookin’ at me, scum, an’ don’t dare blink! I am Grath Longfletch of Holt Lutra, the only one of my tribe left alive after yore kind visited my home. When I’ve eaten me vittles you’ll talk t’me, in fact I’ll wager you’ll make a babblin’ brook seem dumb by the time I’m finished with you!”

Wide-eyed with fright, Gowja whined fearfully to Martin, “I’ll talk to yer, I’ll tell everythin’ you needs t’know, but keep this otter away from me, I beg yer, please!”

The searat winced as Clecky patted the bump on his head. “That’s the ticket, me heartie, we’ll even let y’sing us an ’orrible pirate ditty if you behave nicely, wot!”

While they ate supper, Inbar told Martin of what Grath, Viola and himself had discovered that day.

“We ranged as far as the northwest coast an’ found a steep cove, much bigger’n this one. Six vessels were berthed there, big ships, each one about the size of the craft you captured, Martin. There were about five or six vermin guarding them—we figured that there must be lots more on this isle to crew the ships, though.”

Clecky tore off a hunk of barleybread from a big flat loaf. “Oh, I found those blighters, there’s a great crowd of ’em, pastin’ the blue blazes out o’ a pack of those lizard types who seem t’be defendin’ the back walls of the palace. I overheard ’em sayin’ it belongs to a chap called Mad Eyes. Anyhow, the jolly old vermin want the palace, and the timber stacked behind the back wall, to repair their ships, but Mad Eyes isn’t too keen on lettin’ ’em have either—the blighter’s keepin’ tight hold o’ both, like a squirrelbabe holdin’ on to a candied chestnut.”

Martin contributed his intelligence to the hare’s. “Aye, I’ve seen that palace from the front; there’s a harbor with a jetty there. Saw Mad Eyes too, in fact we saw each other. I’m pretty certain that he’s holding Abbot Durral prisoner in that palace. I’ll get all the information I can out of the searat and then we’ll have a better idea of a rescue plan.”

Whilst Martin questioned the prisoner, his friends sat around the fire in the still tropic night. Viola lay on her back, gazing up at the velvety vault of dark skies, scattered with countless stars and a half-moon. The volemaid marveled at the sight of random comets, trailing fiery tails across the wide infinity in brief glory.

Inbar and Grath moved away from the roisterous snores of Clecky and the two shrews. The son of Wallyum watched Waveworm tilt into a slight list as the ebbing tide allowed her keel to rest in the shallows, and said, “Never have I seen such hatred on any face as I saw when you faced that searat this evening, Grath.”

The powerful otter glanced sideways at her friend. “And I never told you my story. When I was huntin’ alone I formed the whole of my tale into a poem, because I don’t ever want to forget, nor want the otter people to. Would you like to hear it?”

Inbar nodded. “I’d be honored if you’d say it for me.”

Grath’s voice rose and fell, sometimes quivering, often ringing like a brazen bell, as she recited the verses. The words burned themselves into Inbar’s memory.

Inbar Trueflight turned slowly to look at his companion. “That is a tragic an’ terrible tale, Grath. I see now how close to death that searat came when you spoke to him.”

Grath plucked an arrow from her quiver and sighted down its shaft, testing it for straightness. “Since I laid my family to rest an’ went rovin’, many corsairs an’ searats have fallen to these arrows o’ mine.”

Her friend shook his huge head in wonderment. “I’ve never known killin’ or war. Ruddaring Isle is a place touched only by good order an’ peace. You’ve seen my archery skills, I’m a deadshot with bow an’ arrow, but never did I aim at a livin’ thing.”

Ramming the arrow back into its quiver, Grath stood upright. “I was the same till the wavescum came to our holt on the far north shore, but I’ve learned different, mate. Any creature holdin’ out the paw of peace to searats or corsairs will get it chopped off by a sword. That’s the lesson I’ve been taught, an’ you’ll learn the same soon, so get used to it. I’m goin’ t’sleep now.”

Turning on her footpaw she stalked off to her place by the fire. Inbar remained seated, staring at his wide, powerful paws. His father had told him that the outside world was a different place; he was not sure he was going to like the difference.

Clecky opened one eye. In the soft dawn light he found himself staring at a brightly hued beetle perched upon his nose. With a twitch and a puff of breath from the side of his mouth, he dislodged the insect, blinking disdainfully at it as it trundled off through the sand and grass.

“Cheeky-faced object, go an’ perch on some other-beast’s hooter! No blinkin’ respect, that’s the trouble with beetles . . . I say, do I smell brekkers? Jolly good show, you chaps!”

Plogg, Welko and Viola had been up and about since the crack of dawn. They had rekindled the fire and made a meal. Clecky sat up, waggling his ears in anticipation as Viola served him.

“Hot shrewcakes, honey, fruit salad and melon juice,” she said. “We thought you deserved a break from cooking. Anyhow, you always cook too much so that you can have three helpings.”

Grath was sitting between Martin and Inbar having breakfast. Suddenly she jumped up, looking left and right, reaching for her bow.

“Where’s the searat? He must’ve escaped.”

Welko allayed her fears quickly. “Ole Gowja’s safe, marm, don’t you fret. Me’n Plogg couldn’t stand lookin’ at ’is ugly mis’rable mug, so we took ’im down aboard the ship an’ secured ’im all snug’n’tight with a fetter an’ chain stapled to the mainmast, even gave ’im vittles too.”

Martin smiled and winked at the shrew. “Well done, ’tis poetic justice really. I’ll wager that was the same chain they used to keep the Abbot prisoner on the voyage.”

After breakfast Martin called them all to a council of war. Drawing on the sandy ground with his swordpoint, he illustrated a plan he had formed.

“Right, here we are, and here’s the palace which is under attack. Now, I’m certain Abbot Durral is somewhere in that building and it’s our job to free him and get away from this island, so here’s what I propose. If we’re to get into the palace we must create a diversion so we’re not overrun by lizards or whatever beasts are up there. Listen carefully, you all have a vital part to play in this scheme, and it’s highly dangerous and we run a great risk of losing our lives. Anybeast who feels they cannot take part in my plan speak now, I’ll understand.”

Viola answered for them all.

“We came here to free our Father Abbot and take him home to Redwall. If our enemies were ten times the number they are now we would never back down, never! Tell us your plan, Martin sir, everybeast here is with you to the death!”

Tropical morning sunlight beat down on the cove where Waveworm lay, east of Sampetra. Martin’s great sword slashed paths and patterns in the earth as his crew sat listening to the daring idea unfold. Stirred by the excitement of it all, Plogg drew his short rapier, glaring resolutely towards the west coast of the island.

“Aye, ’tis perilous, that’s sure. But if I live through this ’un, it’ll make a great tale to tell around the fire on a winter’s night to me grandshrews in the seasons t’come, matey!”