[Redwall 18] - High Rhulain
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
BOOK ONE - The Forgotten Tome
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
BOOK TWO - The Fool of the Sea
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
BOOK THREE - Across the Western Sea
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Also by Brian Jacques
Like the sun, High Rhulain will rise anew,
to set the downtrodden free.
A warriormaid with Wildlough blood
must cross the Western Sea.
She who looks ever through windows
at the signs which feathers make,
seek the Green Isle through her knowledge,
for all thy kinbeasts’ sake.
Praise for High Rhulain
“Jacques adds to the intrigue with several subplots boiling just beneath the surface . . . A welcome book.”
—Booklist
“His characterizations are complex and show multiple sides of both adult and younger personalities. The pacing is well handled, especially in a book with three story lines that entwine. As with the other volumes, there is sacrifice, death, and bloody battles galore.”
—School Library Journal
“This gripping and moving tale of heroism, sacrifice, and the fight for freedom will delight both Redwall fans of longstanding and newcomers to the series. Brian Jacques paints a vivid portrait in words . . . Peopled with funny and brave hares, bright and determined otters, moles, mice, a strong badger lord, and a good number of vermin creatures, this is a tale rich with humor, warmth, wonderful mouthwatering meals, song, and lots of riddles to solve.”
—Through the Looking Glass Children’s Book Review
Redwall
The book that inspired a legend—the first novel in the bestselling saga of Redwall! The epic story of a bumbling young mouse who rises up, fights back, and becomes a legend himself . . .
Mossflower
Brave mouse Martin and quick-talking mousethief Gonff unite to end the tyrannical reign of Tsarmina—who has set out to rule all of Mossflower Woods with an iron paw . . .
Mattimeo
Slagar the fox embarks on a terrible quest for vengeance against the fearless mouse warrior Matthias, cunningly stealing away what he most cherishes: his headstrong son Mattimeo . . .
Mariel of Redwall
After she and her father are tossed overboard by pirates, the mousemaid Mariel seeks revenge against searat Gabool the Wild . . .
Salamandastron
When the mountain stronghold of Salamandastron comes under attack, only the bold badger lord Urthstripe stands able to protect the creatures of Redwall . . .
Martin the Warrior
The triumphant saga of a young mouse destined to become Redwall’s most glorious hero . . .
The Bellmaker
The epic quest of Joseph the Bellmaker to join his daughter, Mariel the Warriormouse, in a heroic battle against a vicious Foxwolf . . .
Outcast of Redwall
The abandoned son of a ferret warlord must choose his destiny beyond the walls of Redwall Abbey . . .
Pearls of Lutra
A young hedgehog maid sets out to solve the riddle of the missing pearls of legend—and faces an evil emperor and his reptilian warriors . . .
The Long Patrol
The Long Patrol unit of perilous hares is called out to draw off the murderous Rapscallion army—in one of the most ferocious battles Redwall has ever faced . . .
Marlfox
Two brave children of warrior squirrels embark upon a quest to recover Redwall’s most priceless treasure from the villainous Marlfoxes . . .
The Legend of Luke
Martin the Warrior sets out on a journey to trace his heroic legacy: the legendary exploits of his father Luke . . .
Lord Brocktree
The mighty badger warrior Lord Brocktree must reclaim the mountain land of Salamandastron from the army of a villainous wildcat . . .
Taggerung
The otter Taggerung, realizing he’s not cut from the same cloth as the vermin clan who raised him, embarks on a journey to find his true home and family . . .
Triss
The brave squirrelmaid Triss plans a daring escape from the enslavement of the evil ferret King Agarnu and his daughter Princess Kurda . . .
Loamhedge
Young haremaid Martha Braebuck, wheelchair-bound since infancy, embarks on a quest to the mysterious abbey of Loamhedge to find a cure for her condition . . .
Rakkety Tam
Mercenary warrior squirrel Rakkety Tam MacBurl quests to rescue kidnapped Redwall maidens and thwart the plans of the murderous wolverine known as Gulo the Savage . . .
Also look for these thrilling adventures
from Brian Jacques
Castaways of the Flying Dutchman
The Angel’s Command
Also by Brian Jacques
REDWALL
MOSSFLOWER
MATTIMEO
MARIEL OF REDWALL
SALAMANDASTRON
MARTIN THE WARRIOR
THE BELLMAKER
OUTCAST OF REDWALL
PEARLS OF LUTRA
THE LONG PATROL
MARLFOX
THE LEGEND OF LUKE
LORD BROCKTREE
TAGGERUNG
TRISS
LOAMHEDGE
RAKKETY TAM
HIGH RHULAIN
CASTAWAYS OF THE FLYING DUTCHMAN
THE ANGEL’S COMMAND
VOYAGE OF SLAVES
THE GREAT REDWALL FEAST
A REDWALL WINTER’S TALE
SEVEN STRANGE AND GHOSTLY TALES
THE RIBBAJACK
THE TALE OF URSO BRUNOV
THE TRIBES OF REDWALL: BADGERS
THE TRIBES OF REDWALL: OTTERS
THE TRIBES OF REDWALL: MICE
REDWALL MAP AND RIDDLER
BUILD YOUR OWN REDWALL ABBEY
REDWALL FRIEND AND FOE
A REDWALL JOURNAL
THE REDWALL COOKBOOK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
HIGH RHULAIN
An Ace Book / published by arrangement with The Redwall La Dita Co., Ltd.
Copyright © 2005 by The Redwall La Dita Co., Ltd.
All rights reserved.
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ISBN : 978-1-101-20849-6
ACE
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For my friend
Alan Ingram,
the guardian at Redwall’s gate!
BOOK ONE
The Forgotten Tome
1
BOOK TWO
The Fool of the Sea
119
BOOK THREE
Across the Western Sea
221
When autumn’s day grows old,
sad orchard leaves do fall.
Dawn breaks o’er silent gardens,
bereft of sweet birdcall.
Stark winter’s dirge then wails,
until the earth appears,
white clad ’neath drifted dunes,
whilst trees bear crystal spears.
My chamber is a refuge here,
against the snowbound night,
a flickering cave of crimson gold,
made warm by firelight,
where images are conjured,
of friends I used to know.
I battled and I marched with them,
one dusty long-ago.
I see them now arise again,
in memory that ne’er will fail.
Their legend is reborn anew,
and thus begins my tale.
BOOK ONE
The Forgotten Tome
1
The wind moaned like a wounded beast in the southwest. Gathering speed, it ripped over the heaving ocean, smashing the dark wavecrests to boiling foam. Evening skies darkened as the bruised heavy underbellies of cloudbanks tumbled into a chaotic stampede of black and leaden grey. Lightning scarred the skies. Thunder boomed out, like the sound of mountains cracking from peak to base. On Green Isle, the still waters of loughs and streams were whipped over their banks, flattening and saturating reed and sedge. Leaves showered widespread as trees shook their heads, goaded by the gale into an insane dance.
None of this concerned the big hawk as it fought for its life. The bird was cornered, even though it had ripped through the catching net with its fearsome talons. It choked and spat at the remnants of the tidbit which had lured it into the snare. But there was something it could not rid itself of: a star-shaped iron barb, which the bait had been wrapped around. It had pierced the roof of the big bird’s mouth; one of the tips protruded from under its beak. Blood bubbled onto the hawk’s throat feathers as it hissed defiance at two young feral cats. They circled their quarry, yowling and spitting, looking for an opening to catch their fierce prey unawares.
Riggu Felis, Warlord of the Green Isle Cats, stood watching his two sons, scorning their efforts to dispatch the wounded bird. The wildcat chieftain turned impatiently to the pine marten, Atunra, his aide and constant companion.
“Gwurr! Is this a kill or a dance? Look ye, they fight like two frightened frogs!”
Atunra flinched as both young cats leapt back, a hair’s breadth from the wounded hawk’s lethal talons. “The big bird is a dangerous fighter, Chief. It is wise they do not rush in at it.”
Riggu Felis gave a snort of derision. Casting aside his single-bladed war axe, he threw off his battle helmet and cloak, oblivious to the wind and rain.
“Garrah! I have raised cowards for sons! Step aside, ye weaklings. I can snap that thing’s neck like a twig!”
As his two sons gave way, the big wildcat bounded in. Tail waving, ears flattened and fangs bared, he howled his challenge. “Arrrreeeekkaaarrrr!”
The wildcat chieftain made a barbaric sight, but the hawk was a born warrior and not easily daunted. Shaking its wings free of the last net strands, it powered itself straight at the foebeast’s face, avoiding the outstretched claws. The savage, hooked talons struck true, deep into the area betwixt eyes and nostrils. Spreading its mighty wings, the big bird flapped a short distance into the air.
Riggu Felis screeched in pain, hanging helpless for a brief moment. Then his weight sent him crashing to the ground as the hawk winged upward and out of the trees. Both the young cats and the pine marten dashed forward to help, but too late. The bird had flown.
High into the raging gale it swooped, where it was flung by the elements into the maelstrom of keening wind and battering rain. Up and away it went, like a dead leaf in an autumnal gale—head over tail, talons over wings, a flurry of dark brown and white plumage, resembling a tattered quilt. Off, off, over glade, swamp, stream, sward and lough, across dune and shoreline. Out over the thunderous might of raging seas.
The warlord Riggu Felis lay senseless on the wet earth. His sons looked on in horrified awe as Atunra inspected the gruesome injury inflicted by the bird. Quickly she held his head facedown, wiping away the gore as she issued hasty instructions to the young feral cats.
“Jeefra, Pitru, run and get help. I’ll try to keep him breathing while he’s unconscious. Hurry now!”
Jeefra ventured a question. “Is he going to die? Has the big bird killed him?”
The pine marten snapped back, “Nay, he will live, as long as I can stop him choking on his own blood. Go now!”
Pitru leaned over Atunra’s shoulder. The pine marten kicked out at him. “Don’t tarry there gossiping, go and get help—a healer, carriers, bandages and salves. Half of his face is gone, ripped off, most of the muzzle, all of the nose, and his top lip, right down to the teeth and gums. Go quickly, stop for nought. Hasten, before your father bleeds to death!”
As they dashed off through the trees, Atunra stared down at the ravaged features of Riggu Felis. “Ye still have two eyes, though if ye see that face reflected in water, you’ll wonder why I saved ye. Still, half a face is better than none. Now Riggu Felis will be able to slay his enemies with just a look, methinks!”
Lycian still had her best seasons before her. She was rather young to be Mother Abbess of all Redwall. However, nobeast could deny that the pretty, slender mouse possessed wisdom, judgement and the good sense of most creatures twice her age.
On the west parapet of the Abbey’s outer walltop, Lycian and her constant companion, the molemum Burbee, basked in the welcome morning sun, sitting on their portable chairs enjoying mugs of hot mint and comfrey tea.
Burbee scratched her velvety head with a huge digging claw, exclaiming in curious mole dialect, “Hurr, marm, ee wuddent think this morn wot a terrible stormen et wurr larst noight, burr, nay ee wuddent!”
Lycian, surveying the gentle b
lue sky, blinked in the warm sunlight. “Thank goodness Mother Nature is in a calmer mood today. Just listen to that lark, what a beautiful song she’s singing! Can you hear it?”
The molemum had to listen a while before she could discern the sound. She nodded, smiling. “Hurr aye, marm, ’tis aseedingly noice!”
Lycian began singing a song from her Dibbun days, which harmonised perfectly with the bird’s trilling.
“When the new day is dawning
the lark doth ascend.
If I could but speak to her
I’d make her my friend.
She would tell of her journey
to the lands of the sky,
where the soft fields of cloud
like white pillows do lie.
She would sing of the earth
far below that she’d seen,
all patched in a quiltwork
of brown, gold and green.
As she wings on the zephyrs
of smooth morning breeze
to rise from the meadows,
the hills or the trees.
With the evening come down,
little bird, cease thy flight
’til the blue peaceful morning
awakes from the night.”
The larksong and Lycian’s ditty reached their finale together. Molemum Burbee, a sentimental beast, wiped a tear from her eye. “Thurr now, ee likkle bird bees hoi and far away.”