Salamandastron Part 30

"Can we be of help, Lady?"

She turned the a.s.sa.s.sin's carca.s.s over with her footpaw. ' Take this worthless thing and cast it into the sea. It does not deserve a resting place like any decent creature."

Blinded by hot tears, Mara watched as Loambudd placed the medallion about Urthwyte's snowy neck.

"This belonged to my father and to your father. It should have been worn by your brother Urthstripe. It now belongs to you, my grandson. Wear it proudly."

Mara knelt and clasped the big battle-scarred paws of the fallen badger Lord. Words tumbled out with her tears. "I 324.

came back too late. Now it is past the time when I could tell you what is in my heart. I have ranged far and wide to be back home here with you, and in that time I have slowly understood what you tried to teach me-you who were ever true to your own code of honor and duty. To everybeast you were Urthstripe the Strong, Lord of the mountain; so will your name be always remembered. You cannot hear me now, but I wish to add one more name to your t.i.tle."

The young badger maid took both the lifeless paws and placed them on her bowed head as she spoke a single word: "Father!"

Klitch lay still, listening until the victors had departed. Beneath the slain bodies it was hot and airless. His tongue clove to the roof of a dry mouth, parched from battle, thirst and the fear of discovery. The silence became total, oppressive, like the weight of the two creatures he had slain lying on top of him. Pus.h.i.+ng and kicking, he freed himself from the carca.s.ses and sneaked off up the stairs. His only hope now waito gain the crater top and slip away over the east rim white his enemies rested on the sands at the west side of the mountain.

The young weasel took several wrong turns as he roamed the pa.s.sages and upper galleries, seeking an exit. Panic was beginning to set in. Fearing the return and possible vengeance of his foes, Klitch ran desperately. Some pa.s.sages ended in a blank rock face, others opened out into caves and chambers. He padded along, silently cursing Ferahgo's stupidity and the b.u.mbling horde that had followed blindly on such an addle-brained enterprise. Licking bone-dry lips with a parched tongue, Klitch stumbled along a pa.s.sage that opened out into a cool dark cave. Feeling his way around the rocky walls, he sobbed raggedly. Was there no way out of this accursed mountain, no way back to the good lands of the Southwest where he could terrorize the creatures that had been subdued by his father? Surely they would know that he was the son of Ferahgo the a.s.sa.s.sin and learn to fear him as they had feared the old one.

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Klitch's footpaw stubbed against something hollow and wooden in the gloom. He hopped painfully, biting his lip to keep from crying out. When the pain receded he looked more closely. There were several of the objects. He tapped their sides.

Barrels!

Pulling one over, Klitch was rewarded by the swis.h.i.+ng sound of dregs swilling about. The top was open. The young weasel smiled in the darkness; maybe now his luck was beginning to change. The water sloshed out of the open barrel on to the rocky floor, and Klitch went down on all fours and lapped gratefully at it. The cool liquid refreshed him, lending a new sense of purpose and resolve to the a.s.sa.s.sin's son.

Standing upright, Klitch squared his narrow shoulders and strode out of the cave purposefully, fear receding as he mentally planned a campaign of terror that would mark his return to the Southwest Lands.

Now every pa.s.sage and corridor appeared light and airy, and the way to the top was clear. His bright blue eyes gleamed confidently-yes, this was the day luck had returned to him. Up ahead he could see the bright summer morning and the catwalk to the crater top.

An unexpected stomach twinge caused him to double up. He stood still a moment until it pa.s.sed. Straightening up, he smiled. There, the pain was gone-nothing was going to ruin his newfound luck. Mounting the catwalk, he started to run for the crater top and freedom.

Twice, thnce, he was stopped by the sudden lightning bolts of pain that lanced through him, but each time he recovered and hastened upward.

Now Klitch was going slower, his limbs became numb-it was like wading through deep cold water. The young weasel blinked. Why had the day become foggy and dark? Finally he made the top and lay down upon the edge of the crater, fighting off the dizziness and agonizing lances stabbing through his body. Klitch doubled up and wedged himself between two rocks. He would sleep here awhile until he felt 326.

better. Fixed in this position he could not roll over the mountain edge as he slept. Nothing was going to ruin his good luck ... The once bright blue eyes clouded over and went dim as he slipped into an endless dark dream.

40.

Two days had pa.s.sed, two days of sadness and hard work. Salamandastron was cleared of the horrifying debris of war. Pennants waved from lances fixed in the sands of the sh.o.r.eline-these were the graves of hares and shrews who had fallen in the struggle to free the mountain-and farther along in an unmarked place the carca.s.ses of Ferahgo's horde found their last resting place. Now was the time to bring light and fresh food to the rocky fortress by the sea. Parties were sent out to forage, others worked on the slopes, unblocking window s.p.a.ces and replanting the mountain terraces with flowers, crops and trees.

Deep in the cellars Arula had discovered a fault in the rock. She supervised a band of shrews as they levered, chiseled and chipped at the fissure. The young molemaid had smelt water below, a cold clear spring of good fresh drinking water. It would make the mountain invulnerable to siege, giving an endless supply of the most precious of liquids. She shook paws with Log-a-log and Alfoh as they watched the spring gurgle gently through the hole they had sweated to cut into the living stone.

"Hurr hurr, it baint no 'Tober ale, guddbeasts, but oi wager 'ee taste just as gudd, hurr hurr!"

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There remained one last sad duty, to install the body of Urth-stripe with his predecessors.

Samkim was requested to be at the ceremony, wearing the sword of Martin the Warrior strapped across his shoulders. He carried a lantern, lighting the way for the three badgers who bore the mountain Lord. Big Oxeye and Sergeant Sap-wood walked with them, giving Samkim directions to the spot.

Urthwyte pushed back the slab to the secret cave. Samkim gazed around at the rock walls covered in mysterious badger carvings and pictures. Sapwood sniffed and wiped a paw roughly across his eyes as he peered at the last carving.

"This 'ere was graven by 'Is Lords.h.i.+p 'imself. See, there 'e is, an' there's you, Lord Urthwyte. 'Ere's young Master Samkim, too, an' the sword. Though Hi can't read the writin' my friend Urthstripe carved there."

Loambudd could, however. Samkim held the lantern as she silently scanned the high ancient badger script. When she had finished reading she turned to them.

"This was written for me alone to read; that is why I am not pictured on the wall. I alone must keep the awful and joyful secrets written here until Urthwyte can be instructed as Lord of Salamandastron. There is one thing I can tell you, however: Urthstripe my grandson wishes to rest beneath emllor-where that is I cannot say. Do any of you know?"

The lantern light flickered about the walls as they looked at each other.

"Emllor?'1 Big Oxeye shrugged. "There's no place in this mountain with such a name."

Samkim wandered about the chamber, repeating the name to himself. "Emllor, emllor."

At the far end of the cave the wall was smooth but blank; there was no writing on it. Samkim ran his paw across it and leapt back in surprise. "Look, this is not stone!"

It was a curtain made from some rough woven material. Pebbles and sand had been fixed to it with pine resin, giving the effect of a rock wall. Urthwyte moved it carefully to one side. An awesome sight greeted the eyes of the onlookers. Seated on a rock throne was the crumbling skeleton of a badger clad in full war armor. The alcove behind the curtain was semicircular in shape, marred by a huge boulder that bulged out on one side. "The writing says that is-the last remains of old Lord Brocktree, first badger Lord of Salamandastron." Loambudd's voice echoed around the cave.

Sapwood touched the dusty mailed pawguards reverently. "Hi'11 bet this old Lord knows where emllor is, but he ain't tellin' us, hare you, sir?"

Mara stood staring at the skeleton of Lord Brocktree. When the feeling of awe had pa.s.sed she noticed something. Hurrying forward, she examined the wall at one side of the throne. "His paw seems to be pointing this way. Look!"

An oblong plate of copper was fixed into the rock. It was green and dulled with age. Loambudd wet it and scoured the surface with sand until it gleamed dully. Bringing her face close, she inspected it carefully. "It's just a smooth metal plate-there's nothing written on it."

They sat on the floor, facing the plate. Oxeye turned to the entrance where Urthstripe's body lay waiting.

"Poor old Lords.h.i.+p, looks like you'll never get to emllor."

Mara stared at the copper plate long and hard. "Pa.s.s me that lantern, please, Samkim."

The young squirrel did as he was bid. Mara placed it on the arm of the throne next to the skeletal paw. "Who's got good eyes?"

Sapwood raised his paw. "S'pose my peepers are good as anybeast's,"

"Then sit right here and tell me what you see, Sergeant."

Mara moved out and Sapwood took her place. He sat staring at the burnished metal as it shone dully in the lantern light. "Well, bob me tail! I can see words-letters, I mean- though I don't know what they says. Never learned writin'. Too busy teachin' meself other things-fighting* an'-"

"Samkim," Loambudd interrupted, "give him your sword. Sapwood, can you sc.r.a.pe the word on the floor here?"

"Certainly, marm."

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Salamandastnm 331.

It was badger script. Loambudd said the word triumphantly: "Emllor!"

Loambudd placed her paw on the plate, then moved precisely in a straight line across the chamber. Her paw smacked hard upon the rock bulge to one side of the throne.

"Give me the lantern. It's right here! See this word carved on the boulder? It is directly opposite the plate so that it reflects in the metal, backwards, of course-like all mirror images it is the wrong way round. It's not emllor, it's rollme."

Urthwyte looked puzzled. He began repeating the word over and over, fast at first but then slower: "Rollme, rollme, ro ... llm ... e, r... oil... me ... Roll me!" Striding heavily over to the boulder, he stretched his powerful paws to its sides, grunting as he cautioned his friends, "Stand out of the way!"

Mara knew that Urthwyte was a badger of immense strength, but she doubted that even he could s.h.i.+ft such a formidable chunk of rock. She was about to move forward and offer her help when Loambudd placed a restraining paw about her. "Watch him, Mara. He will do it."

Planting his legs square like two tree trunks, Urthwyte threw his weight against the boulder. Cords of sinew stood out from his snowy hide as the muscles of the great white badger bulged, and his teeth ground together like millstones. Growling savagely as the blood rose to his eyes, Urthwyte grabbed the boulder and gouged deep at it with both paws. His whole body shook and trembled with the staggering effort. Riveting his whole being on the boulder, Urthwyte let out a whoos.h.i.+ng roar and heaved.

Wide-eyed with awe, Oxeye grabbed Sapwood's paw. "By the blazin' thunder! He's not rolled it... he's lifted the thing!"

Urthwyte stamped a full three paces before letting the huge boulder drop. The thud shook the entire cavern. The boulder had rested in a hole. Holding the lantern between them, Mara and Samkim lay flat on the floor, gazing down at the treasure of the badger Lords of Salamandastron.

Pearls from the depths of the sea; silver cups and gold plates; and weapons, fabulous arms forged by the badger Lords of old-longswords, sabers, rapiers, strange curved swords, s.h.i.+elds, spears, pikes, daggers and lances-made from the most precious woods and metals, lay in a glittering heap, cascading over the ma.s.sive sets of ancient badger armor, studded with stones that shone and twinkled, scarlet, ultramarine, turquoise, amber and obsidian jet. Their lights reflected in Mara's eyes as her mind went back to the day when Klitch tried to wheedle information out of her in the dunes.

"So there is a badger Lords' treasure after all!"

Urthstripe was lowered down in his full ceremonial battle armor to lie there as he had wished, an eternal guardian.

Soiamaruiastron 333.

41.

"Ho, the good ol' Abbey. Anybeast 'ome? Redwaaaaaallll!"

Mrs. Faith Spinney jumped up and down like a fat little jack-in-the-box on the north ramparts, peering across the battlements each time a leap carried her that high.

"Stickle my ol' spikes, it's Mister Thrugg! Bless 'im, it's Mister Thrugg!"

Thrugann leaned on the parapet, shaking her head. "Oh, it's that harum-scarum brother o' mine. I could tell that if he were two country leagues away. Ahoy there, trouble. What took you so long, an' who are all those hungry-lookin' birds?"

Looking very much the returning hero, Thrugg strode jauntily up the road, wearing a cap he had taken from a fighting weasel who had picked on the wrong otter. In the cap was a splendid falcon feather. Thrugg swept it off and bowed low, grinning like a mole at a picnic.

"Good afternoon to ye, ladies. Meet me mates, Rocangus, Tammbeak, Winghye an' Rantaclaw. I trust yer all well an' s.h.i.+pshape."

Mrs. Spinney was overjoyed. Thrugann opened the gates impa.s.sively. "You look like a rovin' riverdog in that hat, Thrugg Otter."

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Flouris.h.i.+ng the hat elegantly, Thrugg kissed his sister's paws affectionately, declaiming aloud, tongue in cheek, to the whole of Redwall: "You was never out o' my thoughts, sister dear, an' all the rime I was freezin' in the mountains, battlin' crows an' livin' lower than a lame toad, there was one question that I made me way back here to ask yer."

Thrugann sniffed slightly, and wiping her eyes on her tunic, she asked in an apologetically tender voice, "What was that, brother o' mine?"

"What's fer tea? Me an' me mates is fair famished!"

The four falcons joined the crowd of Redwallers who had flooded out to greet them, laughing uproariously as they watched Thrugg fleeing across the Abbey grounds with Thrugann, hard on his heels, swinging a twig broom.

"You bottlenosed rogue, I'll give yer tea. You'll get a taste of this when I catch up with ye!"

Later that day Abbess Vale watched fondly as Thrugg dandled Baby Dumble on his knee while he plowed his way through a buffet teatime meal, specially set up on the gatehouse steps for him and his four falcon guests. Baby Dumble told the most atrocious lies about his epic flight in the haversack-how he had rescued the eagle from some far bigger birds and how he had pushed MacPhearsome's wings up and down to keep him flying when he was weary. Thrugg and the four falcons tried their level best to keep straight faces.

Dumble glared suspiciously about at them. "Och, yer no laughin' at the bonny Dumble, are ye?" He had begun affecting a smattering of Northland into his speech.

The Wild King MacPhearsome, perched on his favorite log in the orchard, nodded his approval as the falcons circled above, dipping their wings in tribute to him.

"Aye, they're a grand bunch o'laddies, nae doot!"

As evening drew on, Dumble was carried off snoring to his bed by Thrugann. Thrugg sat relaxing with a flagon of October ale, glad to be back safe in his beloved Abbey. A dep- 334.

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utation of Redwallers attended as Tudd Spinney presented the otter with a specially carved bowl and spoon of applewood. The old hedgehog twirled his stick awkwardly as he made the presentation speech.

"Er, oh dearie me, I'm not much at words, but this is a liddle gift from us all to you, Thrugg. Redwall owes its life to you. It's all carved pretty, like, wi' your name an* so on, an' Friar Bellows says as he'll fill it with shrimp an' bulrush 'otroot soup any time you pleases. So er, 'ere 'tis, an' thank ye!"

Three rousing cheers went up for Thrugg. He hid his head with embarra.s.sment, placing the bowl over his blus.h.i.+ng face. "Thank ye, mateys. Thank ye kindly, but 't weren't nothin', you'da did the same fer me, an' I knows it!"

Late that night they all sat together in the orchard around a small fire. The summer was drawing to a close and nights were getting chilly. Brother Hollyberry held out his mug for more hot spiced cider, and Foremole filled it from a big black kettle, eyeing the laden apple trees as he did.

"Burr, 'twill soon be toim fer' arvestin'. 'Ee arples do make a noice drop o' cider for next summertide."

Hollyberry blew on the steaming drink and sipped reflectively. "Aye, the seasons turn and the fruit ripens well, old friend. Oh dear me, I wish that young Samkim and Arula were back with us, I do miss those two scamps."

Foremole poured himself a mug of the hot spiced cider. "You'm roight thurr, zurr Berry'oily. 'Tis not fittin' furr a young moley maid t' be gone so long. Burr hurr, no taint."

Sister Nasturtium had been sitting staring long into the flames. In the silence that followed she sang: "Bring me back a squirrel carrying my blade, Bring me back a little mole, a pretty fair young maid, Bring me back a speedy one with hunger and long ears, And a Redwall Guardian to watch us through the years."

Nasturtium shook herself and sat up straight. "My goodness, there I go again, singing silly songs that I know naught of. I am sorry!"

"Nay nay, Aspershum, doant 'ee 'pologize." Foremole patted her paw. "That wurr Marthen 'ee Wurrier."

Abbess Vale stirred the fire with a twig. Sparks drifted upward to dissolve in the night. "Thank the seasons for that! Now I can stop worrying over those two young ones. If Mar-.tin says they're coming back, that's good enough for me. I'll post lookouts on the ramparts tomorrow as soon as it's light."

High above Mossflower Woods the moon shone down over Redwall, and the fire burned to embers as everybeast about it dozed in drowsy contentment.

The sun burned through to the sh.o.r.es of Salamandastron, dispelling the wreaths of sea mist to reveal the Guosssom shrews standing side by side with the hares of the Long Patrol. All eyes were on the front entrance, and a hubbub arose as the boulder was rolled to one side, revealing Loambudd, her head garlanded in a wreath of wildflowers. She was clothed in a magnificent robe of blue. She stepped aside and silence fell as the procession emerged from the mountain.

As honored guests from far Redwall, Samkim and Arula led the line, the young squirrel holding aloft the sword of Martin, the molemaid bearing a shrew paddle wound about with ivy. Behind them walked the shrew leaders, Log-a-log and Alfoh, green cloaks about their shoulders, paws resting on sheathed rapiers. Then came Mara and Pikkle-the badger maid in a decorated smock of rich autumn brown, carrying a large bouquet of late roses upon a lancetip. Pikkle in light sandy-yellow, bearing a hare longbow and a quiver of gray-flighted arrows. Ashnin walked behind them, wearing a splendid cloak adorned with sea sh.e.l.ls. Urthwyte was flanked by Sapwood and Oxeye. They were the last to emerge.

Now that Urthstripe lay at rest clad in his best ceremonial armor, the great white badger was wearing his brother's old fighting armor. It had been retrieved from the sh.o.r.eline where he fought his last great battle. The armor had been restored, 336.

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rebeaten and burnished at Urthstripe's forge by Urthwyte himself.