"05 - Salamandastron UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jacques Brian)

The badger Lord tried to ignore his pugnacious friend, but Sapwood persisted.

"Go on, sir, try the old one-two, eh?"

Urthstripe halted, blinking as the hare bobbed and dodged under his nose.

"Really, Sapwood, I'm in no mood for sport."

The Sergeant dabbed a swift paw at Urthstripe's jaw. "Oh,'ave a go, sir. Try yer luck!"

For all his great bulk the badger was surprisingly swift. He spun sideways, clipping Sapwood under the chin with what he judged to be a light tap. The Sergeant was bowled over, knocked flat on his back. Instantly the badger Lord was at his friend's side, his huge striped face showing concern.

"Sap, are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Sapwood sat up. Uncrossing his eyes and rubbing his chin, he chuckled ruefully. "Bless your 'eart, sir, I'm as right as rain, never saw that'n comin', though. Good job you never punched your weight, or you'd 'ave knocked me block clean off!"

With their paws about each other the two friends entered Salamandastron, chatting and chuckling about old fights and bygone battles.

Before he entered the mountain, Urthstripe could not resist casting a final longing glance to the open country. Disappointed that he could not see Mara arriving home he heaved a lonely sigh and followed Sapwood inside.

A massive ridge of mountains created a high spine down the land east of Salamandastron. In the foothills to the south they gave way to swamplands, which in their turn led to the dunes sweeping in from the west. The early noon sun was causing

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Brian Jacques

grasshoppers to chirrup and rustle in the rock-strewn foothills.

Ferahgo the Assassin sighted his skinning knife at one insect which was about to leap. He flicked the knife expertly. His aim was good: the keen-edged blade sliced the grasshopper in two. The knifepoint was still quivering in the ground as Ferahgo pulled it free and wiped it clean on the grass.

"That's one grasshopper won't jump any more," he chuckled. "Am I not right, Migroo?"

The stoat nodded vigorously. "Aye, Chief, 'twas a grand throw!"

Ferahgo sheathed the weapon in the crossbelts he wore diagonally across his chest. Two other knives were encased there, each as sharp and deadly as the one he had thrown. Smiling, he rested his paws on the broad belt supporting his short kilt of skins. He had grown taller and more sinewy than other weasels. The seasons seemed to lend an extra sparkle to his eyes, which were light brilliant blue like a fresh spring sky; beautiful almond-shaped eyes, with deep laughter creases etching their corners. Many a stranger had met death through the deceit and vicious cruelty which lay behind those innocently smiling eyes. Every weasel, stoat, rat, ferret or fox in his army of Corpsemakers knew that the more Ferahgo the Assassin smiled, the more evil and brutal he became. His reign of terror had spread and flourished in the Southwest Lands until the whole country trembled with fear at his name. Ferahgo!

This summer he had decided to push further north. None of his army dared question the odd decision, though they speculated in secret as to his reason for such a long trek. The horde lounged in the dunes and the foothillsЧsome stretched on the sun-scorched sand and grass, others seeking the shade of rocksЧapparently idle, but ever vigilant for their leader's commands. Disobedience to Ferahgo meant death.

The Assassin stretched luxuriously upon the dry curling grass and closed his eyes, enjoying the still warmth of summer. One eye suddenly snapped open as he called to a weasel stationed in the rocks higher up.

Salamandastron

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"Feadle, keep your eyes peeled for my son and Goffa. Don't go to sleep up there."

Feadle made a show of scouring the terrain north and west before shouting back down, "I'll let you know as soon as Klitch and Goffa show up. Master. Don't you worry!"

Ferahgo's reply gave the lookout good reason to stay awake. "Oh, I'm not worried, FeadleЧbut you should be, because if you miss them I'll skin you alive with my knives. Keep those eyes open now, there's a good weasel."