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Back Salamandastron Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. TRAPPED
  2. Title Page
  3. Map
  4. BOOK ONE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. BOOK TWO
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. BOOK THREE
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44

Alfoh shook Samkim heartily by the paw. “Best Guosssom call I’ve ever heard in me whole life. We’ll make a boatshrew of you yet, young squirrel!”

*   *   *

There was a moment’s pause as the five logboats met on the wide lakewaters. Log-a-log stood in the prow of his boat, displaying the Blackstone strung about his neck. All the five crews bowed low in acknowledgment of the Log-a-log of all the Guosssom, then happy shouting broke out.

“It’s Alfoh’s colony from the hillbank!”

“Hey, Nordo, you young rip, how’s your paddle!”

“Cousin Dwing, you fat old rascal, give me your paw!”

“Bowley—hi, Bowley, are you still poisonin’ the lads with your cookin’?”

“Forbun, how are the twins—still growing?”

“I’ll say they are, Tubgutt, and they’re the image of your sister: fat and idle. Hahahaha!”

Backslapping and paw-shaking went on apace as the shrews were reunited with old friends from the Great South Stream. Samkim was lost for words; he could only stand and stare at the handsomely marked young female badger holding the sword of Martin the Warrior in her paws. Stepping over the side of the boat, he never once took his eyes from hers as he spoke.

“I am Samkim of Redwall Abbey.”

“I am Mara of Salamandastron.”

They stood staring at one another until Samkim found himself speaking again. This time the words sprang unbidden to his lips. He felt as though he was back in Redwall, standing before the tapestry picture. Images golden with motes of the dust of time floated through his mind like brown leaves drifting over an autumn evening meadow . . . Thrugg the otter dressed as a badger guardian at the Nameday feast . . . the big empty chair in Great Hall where once sat Abbey badgers . . .

“The sword you are holding belongs to Redwall Abbey. It was once the sword of Martin the Warrior, and it was his face you saw in the blade.”

Samkim shivered and placed a paw across his mouth, not knowing why he had spoken such words. He felt slightly foolish as he looked into the badger’s dark brown eyes. Mara was mystified but she did not question the young squirrel. A sense of calm and quiet happiness stole over her as she placed the beautiful sword into his paws.

“May your sword travel safely back to its Abbey, Samkim of Redwall.”

37

Three gnarled apples and half a beaker of water stood on the long dining hall table in Salamandastron. Urthstripe sat in his chair like some brooding mountain spirit, and around the table were thirty-two hares—the full complement of the Long Patrols. Urthstripe’s gaze roved about his fighters, finally settling on Pennybright.

“Take these apples and this water, Penny. A sip and an apple apiece for you and the two next youngest in the mountain.”