The Mousethief sat beside his molefriend. Taking two mushrooms, he stood one on Dinny's head and the other on his own, then he held his paws straight in front of him, a dandelion held firmly in either one. Gonff signaled Martin with a wink. What Trimp witnessed then she could scarce believe, but it convinced the hogmaid that nobeast living could wield a sword like Martin the Warrior.
Martin began moving slowly at first to Dinny's beat, whirling his blade in all directions. Underpaw and over-paw, around both shoulders and overhead, the sword moved in a slow flashing pattern, humming and whirring, with fireglow playing along its blade. Everybeast stared in silent fascination at the wonderful display. Martin skiphopped, his keen blade tip missing both footpaws by a fraction, then he gave a piercing yell.
"Redwaaaaaaall!"
Dinny speeded up his rhythm, with Martin keeping perfect time, eyes half closed in concentration. Redwall's great sword became a blur of liquid light, traveling so fast that it left patterns upon the air, figures of eight, circles, crescents, even shapes like flowers.
Tocktokkatokkatocktokkatokkatocktokkatokka . ..
Faster and faster the mole's digging claws rapped on the upturned copper pot. Otters held their breath as the perilous blade sang within a whisker of their faces. Trimp nearly bit through her lip at what happened next. Martin gave a wild animal roar and whirled upon his two friends, the blade striking down on their heads. Once! Twice! Both mushrooms fell apart sliced from cap to base. Like a living thing, the sword hummed and flicked round Gonff's paws, lopping off the dandelion heads so that they curled lazily up in twin arcs, landing neatly 'twixt the cut mushrooms on Gonff and Dinny's heads. With a leap and a bound, Martin was at the big red apple, his lethal blade appearing to be six swords at once, chopping like lightning at the apple. Never once was the blade edge heard to strike the oaken stump, on which twelve perfect apple slices lay. Sweeping the flat blade to and fro, the Warrior sent the slices spinning into the watchers' laps. Tossing the sword in the air so that it turned on its own length, Martin took a half pace backward. With an audible thud the sword came down point first to stand quivering in the floor. Martin clasped both paws on the pommel-stoned hilt and bowed.
The Nort otters went wild. They cheered and danced around Martin and his two friends, lifting them shoulder high and carrying them round the cave. Chugger was already up with his pals, the Kitts, stuffing apple slices in their mouths as they cast about for dandelions, mushrooms and swordlike sticks to repeat the Warrior's feat. Queen Garraway Bullow gripped Martin's paw tight, pumping it up and down fiercely.
"Never seen aught like that on land or water, matey. Hoho! Thought you was goin' to make two moles out o' Dinny an' leave ole Gonffo pawless for a moment back there. You'll have t'show me how t'do it, Martin. Great thunder, matey, wot I wouldn't give for a sword like that'n o' yours!"
When the Warrior could get a word in edgewise, he shook his head ruefully at the crowd of admiring otters.
"Please, 'twas only a fancy exercise in sword control I thought up to relieve the boredom of training. Normally I wouldn't let anybeast see me do it, but I made the mistake of performing it once at a Redwall feast and Gonff's been trying to talk me into doing it again ever since."
Gonff patted his friend's back, obviously proud of his skill. "Fiddley dee, mate, shows yore a real Warrior. Huh, if'n I could do that I'd be at it ten times a day for sure!"
Late that night Martin sat alone on the dam. Inside the holt of Queen Garraway it was snug and warm, and he could hear the snores and murmurs of sleep talkers drifting forth into the soft summer darkness. Martin smiled, recalling how Gonff had grabbed the sword and told a disobedient gang of Kitts about a tail-chopping trick he knew, for naughty little otters who would not go to sleep. It worked like a treatthey fled to their beds instantly. The Warrior stared into the night, wondering what sort of a father Luke had been. He wrestled with fogged memories, confusing the images of his mother Sayna and his grandmother, Windred, as they merged together in his mind's eye. He tossed a stone into the water, watching the moon-rimmed ripples. What sort of place had the far north shores been? Had Luke, his father, ever kept his word and returned there? It was all too puzzling, so he turned his mind to thoughts of the Abbey. What would Redwall look like, one day when it was finally completed? That turned out to be a puzzle, too.
Next morning Queen Garraway took the travelers beyond her dam. There had once been a broad waterfall farther down the stream, but the damming had cut it down to half its original size, allowing the otters to build a steep mudslide. Squeaking Kitts, covered from ears to tails in wet brown clay, shot down it like stones from a sling, splashing into the pool below and emerging clean of mud. The friends laughed uproariously at their antics. Trimp pointed out one, zooming down backward.
"Heeheehee, look at that liddle scamp. Bet he'd catch it off his mother if she saw him doing that!"
With a resounding splash the little one hit the water, vanished and came up again, washed recognizable. Trimp hid a smile as Dinny roared gruffly at the culprit: "Yurr, git out'n thurr, maister Chugg. You'm bain't no h'otteryou'm apposed t'be ee squiggle, ee likkle rip!"
Chugger wrinkled his nose at the mole. "I norra swiggle no more. Chugger a notter now!"
Crafty Gonff waved to the squirrelbabe. "Righto then, otter matey, you stay there. We're goin' now."
Chugger scrambled up the bank and clung to Trimp. "Norra notter no more. Chugger go wiv you to da norfen seashores. 'Urry up, Martin, we go now!"
Below the falls, the pool narrowed again into the stream. Queen Garraway lifted the fringe of bushes growing on its bank, showing them their transport.
"Here 'tis, mates, a stout liddle raft. C'mon, Gonffo, lend a paw to pull it out here."
It had a collapsible mast and a sail which would double as a tent, plus four long ash poles, paddle-shaped at one end. They heaved it into the water and leaped aboard. Martin shook the Otterqueen's paw heartily.
"Thank you for everything, Majesty. May your tribe live in peace and plenty here always!"
The brawny otter grinned cheerfully at them. "Thankee, an' may yore journey be a safe 'un. Go now, find what ye seek, an' don't let ole Gonffo git his nose into the grub supplies too often!"
Chapter 6
By mid-morning the stream had widened out considerably, small white clouds decorated the sunny skies and a gentle breeze convinced the friends they should erect the mastpole and spread sail. Dinny was never fond of water, and had to be dug out of the jumble of sail canvas where he had hidden himself. Gonff, however, took on a decidedly nautical mood, calling out orders.
"Ahoy, mateys, rig up that mastpole amidships, will ye? Set yon sail an' unfurl 'er smartlike to catch the breeze!"
Martin and Trimp chuckled as Dinny threw a derisory salute.
"Aye aye, Cap'n Gonff zurr. Do ee got any more h'orders furr uz common waterbeasties?"
Hiding a grin, Gonff called back haughtily, "I say, Martin, tie a rock t'that fat ole mole's tail an' chuck him in the river, will you? He's slowin' us up!"
Bushy-edged banks slipped by, casting lacy patterns of sunshadow on the translucent waters. Trimp munched on a damson scone and sipped raspberry cordial.
"Ah, this is the life, pals ... Ouch!"
A muddy stick came spinning out of the northbank bushes, striking her on the cheek, followed by a mocking imitation of the hogmaid's voice.
"This's the life, pals, heeheehee!"
Martin grabbed a pole and punted the raft toward the south bank. Gonff's sharp eyes picked out the culprit.