Redwall by Brian Jacques
Cluny had fallen asleep in his tent. He needed peace to clear his troubled mind. But peace was not easy to come by when the mouse warrior visited his dreams once more.
Try as he would, Cluny could not evade the grim avenger with the sword. Shades of creatures that he had slain through the years came back to mock him. They got in his way, tripping him so that he stumbled and fell. Each time he would rise wearily and start to run again, the nemesis at his back pursuing, striding unhurriedly, never changing pace as the wraiths of his dead Captains, Skullface, Redtooth, Ragear, and Cheesethief hovered about, urging him to turn and face the warrior mouse. But he dared not turn. He kept running.
The two weasel diggers thrust upwards in the narrow confines of the tunnel. They sprang aside as earth showered down and daylight poured in. With a seething press of soldiers behind him, Darkclaw stepped up to the waiting diggers. They boosted him upwards. He grabbed at the grass, his spear tucked under one claw. He stopped suddenly, his body half-way out of the hole.
The first things he saw were two huddled crowds of small creatures. They stood either side of a double line of pegs and rope. Darkclaw grinned wolfishly. They were obviously playing some kind of silly little country game. He had caught them unarmed.
A noise from behind distracted the rat. He swivelled around. He found himself facing two huge cauldrons which bubbled and simmered ominously over twin fires. Behind them stood the big badger and another strange-looking creature, equally well built.
Darkclaw set his claws against the ground to lever his body out of the hole. Before he could do anything to stop them the badger and her companion tipped the bulky pots over.
Darkclaw did not even get a chance to scream out a death cry. Boiling water cascaded down over his head in a hissing, steaming deluge. The force of the rushing water sent his body plummeting back down the hole. Endless gallons of scalding water hit the rats in the tunnel like a hellish tidal wave. The tightly packed rodents were instantly slain.
On the surface, Constance cried out to the waiting defenders. ‘Jump in between the ropes. Now!’
The weight of combined bodies hit the ground between the lines.
Constance began a steady chant: ‘Jump-two-three! Jump-two-three! Jump-two-three!’
Under the constant pounding of countless feet the whole area that had been marked out by the moles suddenly sank into a trench. The tunnel had collapsed.
The defenders stood and cheered in the depression directly above what had once been Killconey’s tunnel. The badger gave the order to stop. Foremole and his crew moved in to block off the hole with rocks and rubble. Friar Hugo ordered the cauldrons to be carried back inside to his kitchens. The Abbey creatures fell silent and drifted away from the heap of stones which blocked the hole, a fitting headstone for a mass grave of the enemy.
At the tunnel entrance in the ditch, Fangburn and Killconey were madly thrust aside as rats, weasels, ferrets, and stoats fought their way out of the tunnel.
‘Hey, what’s happened?’ Fangburn shouted. ‘Come back here this minute! Where d’you think you’re all going?’
The defeated warriors ignored him. Caked with filthy mud and trailing broken spears they dashed off along the ditch.
Killconey peered into the tunnel. All he saw was the battered body of a stoat being borne towards him on what appeared to be a boiling wave of ooze. The ferret jumped backwards as the shoring burst and the tunnel workings caved in with a dull rumble of earth.
As Cluny ran, another spectre appeared in his fevered dream, it was a hideous-looking thing covered in a dark steaming substance. It stood barring his way with its arms stretched wide as if to embrace him. Cluny pushed it savagely from him. It moaned piteously: ‘Chief, it’s me, Darkclaw. Look what they did to me.’
Outside the tent Killconey and Fangburn exchanged uneasy glances.
‘You dug the tunnel, so you go in first.’
‘No fear, I’m only a ferret. You’re a naturally superior rat. You’d better go first.’
‘Shall we go in together, then?’
‘Better not. It looks like the Chief’s asleep. He might not thank us for waking him up out of a nice dream.’
‘Aye, that’s true. Let’s leave it until later.’
ASMODEUS’S EYES GLARED through the narrow hole in front of him. There were two creatures standing together in the big cavern, a shrew and a mouse. He hissed in anger. The mouse was holding his sword, his own beautiful sword!
The adder bunched his sinewy coils and shot through the skin-hung opening. He bared his evil poisoned fangs. No mouse was going to steal the sword of the serpent.
Matthias seized the frightened Guerrilla Shrew by his paw, pulling him along at a swift run.
‘Asmodeus must know we’re here by now. Come on, Log-a-Log! Let’s get out of this place, quick!’
They hurried down the nearest opening, immediately spinning around and racing back. Asmodeus was in the passage sliding towards them. They paused momentarily in the big cavern. With the shrew on one paw and the sword in the other, Matthias looked wildly about.
‘Over there, Log-a-Log! Move!’
Skirting the edges of the shimmering pool, the two friends dashed into a smallish tunnel at the other side.
Behind them in the cavern the giant adder settled down to a leisurely slither, his tongue flickered wickedly.
‘Asmodeussssssss! No hurry now, they are not going anywhere!’
With a cry of dismay the fleeing pair saw the blank wall ahead. They had run into a cul-de-sac!
Log-a-Log had stopped. His teeth were beginning to chatter. ‘Th … th … th … there’s no way out! We’re trapped!’
Matthias continued running to the dead end. He felt the surface of the wall, and ran his paws up and down it.
‘We must do something,’ he panted. ‘There must be some way to escape the snake. Get hold of yourself, shrew. Think!’
Asmodeus poked his head into the entrance. His sibilant voice called in to them: ‘Stay where you are, little ones. I will come to you, Asmodeussss!’
Log-a-Log had gone rigid with fright. He stood petrified. Matthias had begun digging furiously at the wall with his sword point. He gouged and thrusted, muttering to himself. ‘At least we’ve got nothing to lose but a sword and our lives. There might be something on the other side of this lot.’
The sword struck a tree root. He dug around it, probing, probing busily until the soft half-formed sandstone gave beneath the blade. Frantically, Matthias redoubled his efforts.
Log-a-Log gave a strangled sob. In the dim distance of the tunnel, Asmodeus could be seen advancing slowly but surely towards them.
Matthias felt the sword of Martin break through the stone. He looked back over his shoulder. The giant adder was slithering closer with each passing second. He hacked madly to widen the opening he had made. Sticking the sword in the ground, he grabbed Log-a-Log and shook him soundly.
‘Here, shrew! You are smaller than I am! Climb through, then see if you can tug me backwards by my feet. Come on, move yourself if you want to live!’
Log-a-Log came out of his trance. Leaping quickly into the hole he scratched the damp sandy grit left and right. Ducking beneath the tree root he scrabbled awkwardly through into a tiny cell-like space on the other side.
Asmodeus was close to Matthias now. Wielding the sword the young mouse backed off. He felt the hole behind him and scrambled into it sideways, still facing his enemy. Taking care not to let the sword-point drop, he shouted to his companion, ‘Log-a-Log, can you see my feet? Grab hold of them, pull me through.’
Matthias hung uncomfortably. He tightened his paws on the sword-handle and moved it from side to side with the sway of the big viper’s head. Suddenly he felt the shrew pulling on his feet. Wriggling his body Matthias started to move backwards. Asmodeus bared his fangs. He moved forward at the struggling mouse. Matthias swung the blade at the snake’s open mouth. It hissed and recoiled. As Matthias contorted himself to negotiate the tree root,
‘Stay back, evil one, or I’ll kill you!’ he shouted.
Asmodeus gave a low, soothing hiss. ‘Come to me, little mouse. Let me wrap myself around you. I will give you the kiss of eternal sleep.’
With a triumphant shout the young mouse disappeared completely into the hole. He fell on top of Log-a-Log at the other side. Forcefully the snake launched his great body at the opening, crumbling earth and rock as he pushed his coils through the aperture.
‘He’s coming!’ Log-a-Log screamed in terror.
Matthias shoved his friend behind him. Planting his feet wide apart he hefted the great sword in both paws.
‘Stay out of the way, shrew. There’s no more retreating. All ends here!’
The gigantic spadelike head of the snake thrust itself through into the small space.
‘Give me my sword, mouse, and I will make your dying easy!’ he hissed.
Matthias laughed in the face of the adder. ‘Come and get it, Poisonteeth.’
Asmodeus tried forcing his body through with one swift thrust. He found his bunched coils jammed firmly in the tree root. Relaxing, he allowed his head to wave from side to side.
‘Look at me, my little friend. I can see that you are a great warrior. You are not afraid to gaze into my eyes. Look at me.’
The eyes seemed to expand and dilate until they filled the whole of Matthias’s vision. They dominated him. He could not tear his gaze away. Asmodeus continued in a persuasive undertone.
‘See, they are the twin pools of eternity. Sink into them, and you will find darkness and rest.’
Log-a-Log was completely hypnotized. Matthias, too, felt overcome by an immense lethargy. The adder’s voice was a cold, dark, green velvet fog that threatened to envelop him. He stared deep into the deadly eyes, his lids began to droop heavily….
Martin the Warrior strode boldly up through the dark mist.
‘I am that is! Matthias, why do you sleep! There is a warrior’s work to be done here! Pick up your sword, Matthias! The evil one shall not have it. Strike out for me now, my brave young champion!’
Asmodeus was working his body free, pushing forward.
Matthias’s eyes were shut, his lips moved with one word.
‘Strike.’
Suddenly the spell of the snake was broken. The young mouse’s eyes snapped open, clear and bright. He swung the ancient sword high and struck at the giant adder.
He struck for Redwall!
He struck against evil!
He struck for Martin!
He struck for Log-a-Log and his shrews!
He struck for dead Guosim!
He struck as Methuselah would have wanted him to!
He struck against Cluny the Scourge and tyranny!
He struck out against Captain Snow’s ridicule!
He struck for the world of light and freedom!
He struck until his paws ached and the sword fell from them!
When Log-a-Log awoke from out of the trance he saw his friend, Matthias the Warrior.
He stood shaking. His chest heaved with exertion. His paws hung limp at his sides. The great sword lay against the warrior’s blood-flecked habit, its long, deadly blade crimsoned in victory.
And the head of Asmodeus Poisonteeth, the giant adder, lay severed upon the ground, its eyes dulled in death, never again to hypnotize another living creature!
IT WAS THE afternoon of the following day. Matthias marched into the farmyard at the head of all the Guerrilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower. He halted the entire regiment outside the barn and turned to Log-a-Log.
‘Wait here, my friend. There’s someone I have to see.’
The young mouse stood in the gloom of the barn, knowing he was being watched. Without turning or looking around he addressed the cat.
Julian, it is Matthias. I have returned.’
The marmalade cat loomed up out of the half-light. ‘So I see. Welcome, little friend! Is that the sword you told me of?’
Matthias proffered the blade for inspection. ‘It is indeed. Asmodeus the snake lies dead. I slew him with this very weapon. It is the great sword of Martin the Warrior!’
Squire Julian Gingivere handled the sword with care. He laid it on a hay bale. Sitting next to it he folded his paws under him and half shut his eyes.
‘Matthias, let me give you some good advice. I am much older than you and have seen far more of life. There are not many illusions left to me, and I do not want to shatter your dreams or blight your ambitions, my friend; but I must say what I have to.
‘We Squires of Gingivere are an ancient line. In the past I have seen many such tokens as this weapon. My Grandsires owned a vast armoury full of magnificent and valued battle equipment. No doubt your sword is indeed a beautiful thing. It is a tribute to whoever forged it in bygone ages. There are very few such swords as this one left in the world: but remember, it is only a sword, Matthias!
‘It contains no secret spell, nor holds within its blade any magical power. This sword is made for only one purpose, to kill. It will only be as good or evil as the one who wields it. I know that you intend to use it only for the good of your Abbey, Matthias; do so, but never allow yourself to be tempted into using it in a careless or idle way. It would inevitably cost you your life, or that of your dear ones.
‘Martin the Warrior used the sword only for right and good. This is why it has become a symbol of power to Redwall. Knowledge is gained through wisdom, my friend. Use the sword wisely.’
Matthias picked up his weapon. He was surprised at Julian’s words. They were an echo of something that his old companion Methuselah had once said to him.
‘Thank you, Julian,’ he said. ‘I will remember your lesson well. Now I must ask a favour of you. Would you come with me? I want you to be present when I speak to Captain Snow.’
The cat sniffed disdainfully. ‘You ask quite a lot. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else, you know.’
Reluctantly Julian stalked out into the sunlight with Matthias. There was an immediate spate of loud, frightened chatter from the regiment of Guerrilla Shrews. Squire Julian Gingivere merely nodded, and addressed them in a regal but distant manner: ‘Good afternoon. Very clement weather for the time of year, don’t you think?’
For the first time since the formation of their union, the shrews stood in slack-jawed silence, completely lost for an answer!
As they strolled along, Julian protested to his companion, ‘Really, Matthias, I think you are asking a bit much of one. Does one have to stand around listening to that befeathered regimental bore giving air to his hidebound militaristic views? Oh, it’s too much!’
Matthias stroked the sulky eat’s forepaw. ‘Come on, Julian. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.’
The marmalalde cat stifled a yawn. ‘You don’t say. Has another tree fallen upon the pompous old fool?’
Captain Snow paced around the base of his nest tree. He glared at the cat, then at the mouse holding the sword. He snorted, hunching his neck into ruffles and folding his wings behind him.
‘Listen, mouse. I don’t want to hear how you did it. Probably wouldn’t believe you anyhow. But here you are, and I suppose that’s that?’
Matthias hid a smile; he tapped his foot in mock impatience. ‘I’m waiting, Cap’n Snow, sir. Remember your promises on oath?’
The owl’s eyes bulged with ill temper. He flung Basil’s medal at the young mouse’s feet.
‘There! Take your medal back, you insolent little pup. I’m not saying another word while that salad-eating cat is within hearing range.’
Matthias traced patterns in the dust with the sword-point and spoke civilly to the owl. ‘Well, Cap’n Snow, sir. I never took you for a bad sport. Besides, I’ve got an entire regiment of shrews hidden all about. They’re waiting to hear you honour your wager.’
The owl spread his wide, snowy wings and flapped upwards to perch on the edge of his den. Folding the wings and shutting his eyes t
He hooted and vanished swiftly into his den.
Instantly the shrews broke cover, dancing and whooping with delight.
Captain Snow popped his head out of the nest. ‘Go away! Begone! I can’t stand it, all those little dinners dancing around. It’s too much, I tell you!’
‘Excuse my mentioning it, sir,’ Matthias shouted over the hubbub. ‘But what about your promise regarding our friend the Squire?’
The owl emerged grumpy and ruffled. Thoroughly humiliated, he called out to his former friend the cat, ‘It was all my fault. I apologize to you, Squire Julian.’
He was completely taken aback by the cat’s reply. ‘Not at all, my dear friend. It is I that must apologize to you. The whole incident was entirely due to my priggishness and lack of manners.’
Captain Snow swooped down and perched near the cat. ‘D’you really think so? Oh, come on, Julian old chap. I must share the blame. It was my barrack-room feeding habits that started the whole thing. You mustn’t blame yourself, old friend.’
A rare smile covered the features of the normally laconic Julian. He purred comfortingly. ‘No, no. I insist that we share the blame fifty-fifty. Besides, the question won’t arise now that you’ve sworn off shrews and mice. I say, have you ever tried a fresh trout salad with mustard and cress? Why don’t you come over to the barn? I’m sure there’ll be enough for two. I mean, trout’s not exactly a vegetable, is it?’
Wing in paw, the reunited comrades strolled off to the barn, chatting amiably as if there had never been a cross word between them. Julian was last to enter the barn. He gave Matthias a broad wink.