The young hedgehog looked oddly at his companion. "Ordered to, wot d'ye mean?"
Gorath explained, "While I was chained to the mast of that ship, I saw things in my mind. A mouse who carried a sword spoke to me, he told me to watch for the young thief. You told me yourself that you were the thief, remember, when you were opening the locks. That mouse halted my Bloodwrath. Do you know what Bloodwrath is?"
Orkwil shook his head, so Gorath continued.
"My grandparents called it the affliction of Badger Warriors. It is a rage for battle that cannot be stopped. When the Bloodwrath strikes I lose all control of myself. Nothing can stand against me in my lust for slaughter, nothing but death itself."
Orkwil's voice sounded very small. "I saw it on the ship, when you seized the fox, it looked as if yore eyes were filled with blood."
Gorath nodded. "Aye, that was Bloodwrath, I would have attacked that full vermin crew. But in this weakened state, they would have overcome me with their numbers. It was the sword mouse who brought me out of it. He appeared in my mind, and told me to go to Redwall with you. So don't try to stop me, little friend, eat this food and we'll be on our way."
Orkwil began wolfing down the food, talking with his mouth full. "Right, I'll try not to stop you, mate. Anyhow, I lost my staff in the swamp, so I couldn't really, could I?"
Gorath passed the vole's club and dagger to him. "You'd best take these."
Orkwil could see Gorath was smiling. He brandished
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the weapons, slitting his eyes fiercely. "There, how do I look now, eh?"
The young badger managed a straight face. "Oh, very savage, a real terror I'd say!"
Orkwil took a last mouthful of food and licked his paws. "Come on, then, let's go to Redwall, mate! Oh, before I forget, there's something there that I want you to see."
They set off along the bankside together, the badger's curiosity was aroused. "What's that?"
"Just a friend of yours, the sword mouse, is that what you called him?" Orkwil winked broadly, and would not say anything further.
Dawn glimmered through the trees onto the River Moss. Vizka Longtooth lay asleep in his cabin, gradually coming awake to the sound of voices outside his cabin door.
"Yew tell 'im, Glurma, 'twas ye wot found 'im!" Firty's remark was followed by the cook's denial.
"Ho no, mate, yew see'd 'im afore I did, I was on'y da one who tripped up over 'im on me way t'the galley."
Jungo interrupted Glurma. "Why don't youse both tell de cap'n t'gether?"
Firty rounded on him irately. "Why don't yew tell 'im, bigmouth, go on. March in dere an' say, 'Cap'n, I got news for ye, Codj is dead'!"
The cabin door flew open, knocking Firty flat, and smacking the rat cook in her bulging stomach. Vizka grabbed Jungo by the neck. "My brudder dead, where, 'ow?"
The hapless weasel's windpipe was constricted, he gurgled, "Gollawolla me, Clap'n, yer krokklin' me!"
Glurma rubbed her stomach with one paw, gesturing with the other. "Over dere by d'mast, 'e's over dere!"
The golden fox rushed to the spot. Hardly paying any attention to the crumpled figure of his brother, he stared wildly around, yelling, "Where's der stripe'ound an' dat 'edgepig?"
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Bilger, who had just appeared on deck, took in the situation at a glance. "Gone, Cap'n!"
It was the wrong thing to say. Vizka felled him with a hard blow, and jumped up and down on him, roaring, "I kin see dey're gone, mud'ead! But who saw 'em, an' where've dey gone to?"
The rest of the crew had turned out to see what all the commotion was about. Vizka rounded on them. "Don't jus' stan' there, do sumthin', go an' track 'em!"
Keeping her distance, Glurma the cook called out, "None of dem kin track, Cap'n, we ain't got a trail follerer aboard!"
Vizka kicked the prone form of Bilger. "Den go an' find one an' bring 'im back 'ere!"
There was a mass scramble as the vermin followed Bilger to the rail, nobeast wanted to stay aboard with their captain in his present mood. About ten made it into the river, when Vizka halted the rest.
"Git back 'ere, it don't take all of youse to find a tracker. Line up there, where I kin see ye!"
The remainder of the crew formed a haphazard line. They stood staring at the deck, as Vizka paced up and down in front of them, glaring.
"Wot a crew, eh? Y'spends yer lives snorin' an' eatin', huh, dat's when yer not swiggin' grog. Lettin' prisoners escape, dat's all yore good for!" He went to the tiller and leaned on it, shaking his head. "An' dere's my pore brudder, deader 'n a stone. Codj was worth more'n all of ya put t'gether, now 'e's gotta be laid t'rest. Dogleg, Patchy, find some sailcloth an' wrap Codj up in it. Bind it round wid dat chain, so 'e'U sink. Firty, make up some nice, fittin' werds to say for when my brudder goes overboard."
The two stoats, Dogleg and Patchy, parcelled the carcass of Codj up in a length of sailcloth. They bound it with the chain which Gorath had been locked to. Six crewbeasts bore the bundle to the rail, where they balanced it. Firty
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stepped forward at a nod from his captain, and dirged the eulogy he had hurriedly put together about Codj.
"Parcelled up in sail an' chain, we won't see young Codj again,
'e's goin' down where der fishes play, one shove'll send 'im on 'is way, while all 'is good ole shipmates wail, fer one pore fox widout a tail!"
Vizka gave the bundle its required shove, sending it overboard. The golden fox wiped water from his eye, which some of the crew mistook for a tear, but it was only caused by a splash as Codj hit the river. A shout came from the bank foliage.
"Ahoy, Cap'n, we found ye a tracker!"
Bilger and his mates scrambled aboard, dragging with them a creature who was not having the happiest of days. It was the watervole. Bilger sent him sprawling with a well-aimed kick. "Dis ole hairy mouse knows der way to dat Abbey place, Cap'n, an' 'e sez dat stripe'ound an' de 'edgepig robbed 'is brekkist jus' afore dawn."
The prisoner attempted to rise, but Vizka booted him flat again. "Wot's ya name, 'airy mouse?"
The watervole snapped abruptly, "I'm a vole!"
Vizka allowed him to stand upright. "Well, if'n ye wants ter stay alive, vole, ye'd best tell me where Redwall Abbey is."
The captive indicated with a sullen nod. "Upriver to the ford, an' south down the road, as far as I know."
Vizka tweaked his captive's snout until tears poured from the vole's eyes. "Yer a feisty ole crab, ain't ya? Well, let me tell ye, I'm der cap'n o' dis ship, so ye'd best show me some respeck, or yer'll be a dead 'airy mouse!"
Still tweaking his victim's snout, Vizka gave orders. "Weigh anchor an' get under way, we'll pole 'er upriver
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t'der ford. Dogleg, give dis 'un a paddle an' put 'im ta work. Fasten 'im on a lead, we don't want 'im slippin' away. Hah, we might need an 'airy mouse when we gits ter Redwall."
By midnoon of that hot, summer day, Bludgullet had progressed well. The vole stared at the entrance hole to his dwelling as they sailed past it. He silently cursed the bad fortune which had thrown him into the paws of Vizka Longtooth and his Sea Raiders. His reverie did not last long, though. A sharp tug on the tethering rope tied around his neck dragged him back to reality. Bilger was shouting at him.
"Keep movin', get dat paddle a-pushin', move yer wobbly ole bottom or I'll move it for ya!"
The watervole spat on his blistered paws, glaring at his taskmaster, as he punted deep with the long paddle.
Soft evening shades were draping over the land as Orkwil and Gorath waded across the River Moss, where it forded the path. Orkwil pointed south. "If we push on, I reckon we might get to the Abbey sometime after supper."
Gorath began plodding wearily down the path. "Do you think there'll be any supper left over?"
Orkwil matched his big friend's flagging pace. "There's always food to be had at Redwall, mate, anytime of the night or day, you'll see."