"Brian Jacques - Redwall 08 - The Outcast Of Redwall" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jacques Brian)

"Listen now, and I will relate to you a mighty saga. It concerns a Badger Lord
who once ruled this mountain, and his mortal enemy, a Ferret Warlord. The
destiny of these two was entwined with many creatures, but mainly with two
young ones who dwelt at the Abbey of Red wall. They were a pair thrown
together by chance, for good or evil.

' 'Each of us is born to follow a star, be it bright and shining or dark and
fated. Sometimes the paths of these stars will cross, bringing love or hatred.
However, if you look up at the skies on a clear night, out of all the
countless lights that twinkle and shine, there will come one. That star will
be seen in a blaze, burning a path of light across the roof of the earth, a
great comet. Think on these words as my tale unfolds. Mayhap you will learn
something valuable, not about stars, but of the value friendship brings."

BOOK ONE

A Friendship Made

Skarlath the kestrel fledged later than his brothers and sisters; the autumn
was almost over when he left the nest, never to return. This is the way with
hawks. They are fierce and independent, free spirits who love to soar high.

So it was with Skarlath, but being young and reckless he flew north and was
trapped by winter. Howling gales from the very edges of the world bore him
away. The young kestrel was held captive by a whirling mass of snow that swept
him over hill, dale, and forest. Shrieking winds drove him along, a bundle of
wet feathers in a tight cocoon of damp white flakes that built on to his
plumage in small drifts. Helpless, Skarlath was shot like an arrow into a
forest. His body smashed against the trunk of an old hornbeam. Relentlessly
the storm plunged onward, keening a wild dirge, leaving in its wake the
unconscious young kestrel.

Skarlath regained his senses slowly. It was night, still, with not a breeze
about the forest. The cold was bitter and intense,

8

Brian Jacques

and frost glittered and twinkled on snow-laden tree boughs. Somewhere close he
could see the glow of a fire, but could not feel its heat. Voices and raucous
laughter came from the lighted area, drawing him, but when he tried to move,
the young kestrel squawked aloud in pain. His whole body was pinioned by ice;
he was frozen tight, spread-eagled to the trunk of the hornbeam.

Swartt Sixclaw sat closest to the fire. He was a young ferret, but obviously
the leader of the threescore vermin who made up the band. Tall, vicious, and
sinewy, Swartt had made himself Chieftain, because he was quicker and stronger
than any who dared challenge him. He was a fearsome sight to friend and foe
alike, his face striped with a sloping pattern of purple and green dye, teeth