"07 - The Bellmaker UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jacques Brian)

Serena came gasping and stumbling into the outstretched paws of Iris. The otter embraced her briefly before going back to slinging rocks. "Serena, no time to chatter now. We must get you an' the liddle un to safety!" "But Gael... and Rab, what about them?" Keeping her eyes on the target, Iris bowled a rat over as her stone cracked his skull. "If your Squirrelking doesn't escape, there's nothin' we can do at the moment,

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maim. As for my Rab, you know he'd swap his life for friendsЧthat's what he's doin' now. I've got to get you away, that's my job!"

A spear had furrowed Rab's side. He ignored the searing pain and dropped a rat with an accurate snap shot. Then he counted his remaining arrows. Three.

Using bush and tree cover, Nagru's rats were surrounding Rab. Without turning his head, the brave otter roared, "Get them out o' here, Iris. Go!"

Snuffling a tear aside, his courageous mate hustled Se-rena and her babe along with the otters. "You heard my Rab. Come on, move yourselves!"

They fled over the hilltop, zigzagging north through the trees. All but one.

A deep rumble shook Muta's huge frame; anger and hatred shone in the badger's dark eyes. With unbounded strength she seized the thick, overhanging limb of a dead whitebeam. Her sinews stood out like ropes as she tore it from the trunk with a resounding crack. Regardless of twigs and splinters, Muta swung the large limb above her head, and like a whirlwind she thundered forward, launching herself upon Nagru and his vermin. Keen as March wind through a stormlashed forest, a high-pitched whine tore from her throat. The wide, twigged end of the bough caught Nagru, sending him muzzle over tail, soaring high into the air like a dead leaf. The Foxwolf thudded painfully against a hornbeam, his shocked eyes taking in the destruction Muta was wreaking on his hordebeasts as he fought to regain his breath. Finally he managed to shout: "Kill them both! Mingol, RiveneyeЧsurround them! Use arrows; cut them down with spears ... Anything!"

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Back to back, the otter and the badger stood, battering away madly, one with a broken bow, the other with a tree limb. Wounded in a dozen places, they fought like mad-beasts as the gray vermin closed in on them.

Extract from the writings ofSaxtus, Father Abbot of Red-wail Abbey in Mossflower Country.

It occurs to me that small bees are as foolish as they are fat and fuzzy. Take for example, this fellow. Humming and bumbling around me as if I were a flower. Very disturbing when one is penning a chronicle. I think he wants this crumb of honey pudding, stuck to my whiskers. Here, take it, you rogue. No, the crumb, not my paw! Dearie me, are all bees as shortsighted as this one?

What a Recorder I am, playing with bees when I should be writing. Alas, the summer is to blame. It makes me want to dash outside and play with the Dib-buns (our Abbey young ones). It is they who hold the hope of Redwall's future; our Abbey would not flourish without the young. Many old friends have passed on to quiet pastures: Abbot Bernard, Friar Cockleburr, Old Gabriel Quill, and a few other dear companions have

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run their seasons peacefully to a close. But the earth and its creatures continue lo be renewed. Please forgive my ramblings and reminiscences under the spell of a warm summer. Let me tell you what has taken place of late at Redwall Abbey.

It all started as I was strolling in the orchard with Mariel's father, Joseph the Bellmaker. We were enjoying the early morning peace together. Joseph told me that he had been thinking about Mariel a lot and worrying about her. More than four seasons have passed since she went off adventuring with that rogue Dan din, a friend of my young days. He is a wild mouse, but with a good heart. Mariel and Dandin are kindred spirits, both with a yearning to wander.

Joseph's main worry was the lack of information about his daughter. He had received no news of Mariel from anywhere. Travelers, visitors to Redwall, passing birdsЧno creature knew their whereabouts, or had heard anything at all concerning Mariel or Dandin.

However, honest ones with troubled minds are often reassured by the appearance of Martin the Warrior in their dreams. Martin is the champion and founder of Redwall Abbey, a great warrior mouse who lived countless seasons ago. His guidance is peerless, and his words, though often shrouded in mystery, always carry a message of hope and truth. Little wonder then that a stout-hearted beast like Joseph the Bellmaker should find Martin, the spirit of Redwall, appearing in his dreams. I must confess that I was full of curiosity to learn of the message Martin had imparted to Joseph as his mind wandered the realms of slumber. But my good

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friend the Bellmaker was not ready to speak. He had not yet understood the meaning of Martin's words.

A single loud knock on the gatehouse door disturbed Sax-tus from his writing. Without looking up, he called out, "I recognize that sound; only Joseph the Bellmaker has a paw like an oak club!"