The Sable Quean: A Tale from Redwall - Softcover

Jacques, Brian

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0142420603 ISBN 13: 9780142420607

Verlag: Firebird, 2012

Inhaltsangabe

The Redwall series is soon to be a Netflix original movie!

The beloved Redwall saga continues in The Sable Quean.

The devious ruler Vilaya the Sable Quean and her hordes of vermin have a plan to conquer Redwall. And when the Dibbuns go missing, the plan is revealed. Will the Redwallers risk their Abbey and all of Mossflower Wood to save their precious young ones? Perhaps Buckler, Blademaster of the Long Patrol, can save the day. He has a score of his own to settle. And fear not, the Dibbuns are not as innocent as they appear. After all, they're from Redwall!

Perfect for fans of T. A. Barron’s Merlin saga, John Flanagan’s Ranger’s Apprentice series, and J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings series.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Dr. Brian Jacques was both a master storyteller and a jack-of-all-trades. He lived the life of a sailor, actor, stand-up comedian, radio host, bobby, even a bus driver. He was the recipient of an honorary doctorate in literature from the University of Liverpool and a New York Times bestselling author of more than twenty-five books for younger readers, including the wildly popular Redwall series. Dr. Jacques was a lifelong resident of Liverpool, England.

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Book One

Travel Is An Adventure!

1

Wreathing slowly through the foliage of a white willow, smoke spiralled into the warm summer noon. Below on the riverbank, two rats and a burly stoat squatted around the fire, roasting roots and wild turnips on sharpened sticks. Scraping away ashes and burnt soil, the stoat inspected his half-raw turnip. He spat sourly into the fire.

“Wot sorta vittles is this fer a warrior? Stinkin’ roots an’ turnips ’ard as rocks!”

one of the rats remarked hopefully, “If’n ye don’t fancy it, then ¬I’ll eat it for ye.”

Baring his snaggled teeth, the stoat whipped forth a ¬dagger. “Put a paw near my vittles an’ ¬I’ll gut yer!”

The other rat nibbled at a ramson root, wincing with disgust. He was in agreement with the stoat. “Aye mate, meat’s wot we need, a brace o’ plump woodpigeons, or even a fish. I like fishes.”

The stoat flung his turnip into the fire, scowling. “We ¬don’t have ter put up wid this muck. I thought we was Ravagers, not scavengers. Any’ow, wot are we supposed t’be doin’, that’s wot ¬I’d like t’know?”

The first rat retrieved the turnip from the hot ashes, wip¬ing it off on his tattered sleeve. “Zwilt the Shade sez Sable Quean wants woodlanders, young uns. So we’ve got t’stay hid in the area an’ capture any we sees. That’s our orders, mate.”

Testing the edge of his blade on a grimy paw, the stoat grinned wickedly. “Young uns would make good meat. Just let me git me paws on a fat dormouse or a chubby liddle squirrel. I’d let Zwilt ’ave the bones to give to the Sable Quean!”

The smaller of the two rats looked fearful. “You’d do that? I ¬wouldn’t like t’be you if Zwilt found out.”

The burly stoat tossed his dagger into the air, catching it skilfully. “So, wot if’n he did, eh? Lissen, I ain’t scared of Zwilt, or ’is Sable Quean. They ¬don’t bother me!”

The larger rat whispered nervously, “Be careful wot ye say. They don’t call ’im Zwilt the Shade for nothin’—some say ’e’s magic!”

The stoat scoffed. “Rubbish! Wot sort o’ magic, eh?”

The rat took swift glances up and down the bank. “Nobeast sees Zwilt, unless ’e wants ’em to. They say ’e can come an’ go secretly, just as ’e pleases.”

The big stoat shook his head pityingly. “Yer a right ole frogwife if’n ye believe that. Shade or no Shade, Zwilt’s just a beast like any other. Y’see this dagger o’ mine? Well, one good stab of ¬it’d make Zwilt vanish forever!”

The voice came out of nowhere. “How can you do that when ¬you’re already dead, fool?”

Brandishing his weapon, the stoat bounded upright. “Who said that—who’s there?”

From behind his back, a cloaked figure emerged through the smoky willow foliage. With lightning speed and savage strength, it wrenched the stoat’s paw backward, sending the dagger spinning. Dust rose as the stoat’s back slammed against the ground. He lay there, staring up into the face of Zwilt the Shade.

The sable was a sight to instil fear into most creatures. Behind the natural mask of dark fur, his eyes were totally black, dead and inscrutable. Zwilt was lean, wiry and very tall for one of his species. Beneath a flowing cloak of dull purple, he wore a snakeskin belt with a broadsword thrust through it. His teeth showed small, white and sharply pointed as he hissed at the hapless stoat.

“You should have believed the rats. They spoke truly.”

The burly stoat gulped. “Sire, I was only jestin’ . . .”

Zwilt held a paw to his lips. “Silence. You should not be speaking— I’ve already told you that you’re dead.”

In desperation, the stoat tried to rise. “No I ¬ain’t—”

The broadsword appeared suddenly in Zwilt’s paws; he swung it like lightning. As the severed head rolled into the river, Zwilt addressed it.

“Oh, yes you are. Perhaps you’ll believe me now?” With¬out raising his voice, Zwilt the Shade turned his unblink¬ing stare on the two rats. “You believe me, ¬don’t you?”

They both nodded wordlessly, in stunned silence.

The tall killer wiped his blade on the headless carcass. “Get this thing out of my sight. Throw it in the river.”

The rats scrambled to obey his order. When they turned back again, he had gone. There was only the fire, dying to embers in the bright summer afternoon. The remains of their former comrade drifted slowly away on the current.

None of the vermin band known as the Ravagers dared to disobey Zwilt the Shade. His orders came directly from Vilaya, the one they called the Sable Quean.

2

Waves broke endlessly on the sands of Mossflower’s west¬ern shore, with the lonely hissing sigh that is the music of the sea. Late noon sun was still warming the beach above the tideline, where the mountain of Salamandastron tow¬ered over all. Brang the Badger Lord and his trusty com¬panion, General Flackbuth, sat watching a young hare drilling a group of leverets in the use of the sword. Brang nodded in admiration of the Blademaster.

“I tell ye, Flack, that young Buckler kordyne is by far the best we’ve seen here since his grandsire, Feryn. What d’ye think, eh?”

The old officer brushed a paw over his drooping mili¬tary mustachio. “Hmmph, I don’t doubt y’word, sah, not bein’ old enough to remember Feryn, wot!”

Brang gave a deep rumbling chuckle. “no, of course not. I’m the only one on this mountain still alive to tell the tale. That’s the trouble with living several life spans more than most beasts. Hoho—see that, Flack. Well par¬ried, young un!”

Buckler had just returned the stroke of another hare’s lunge. With an expert flick, he sent his opponent’s sabre whirling in the air. The blade flashed in the sunlight, land¬ing point first in the damp sand.

Executing a swift half turn, the Blademaster disarmed an attacker who had been stealing up on him. He shook his head at the culprit.

“Never hesitate when you see an opening, Tormy. I felt you behind me before I saw you. Remember, a slowbeast is a deadbeast. ¬You’ll have to move faster.”

Tormy picked up his blade ruefully. “I say, Buck old thing, d’ye think ¬I’ll ever be as jolly good as you are, wot?”

Buckler shrugged. “That’s up to you, mate. keep prac¬tising. Also, if I were you, I’d choose a lighter blade. You lack the paw power to wield a sabre. Try a long rapier.”

The leveret cast a longing glance at Buckler’s blade. “Like that blinkin’ beauty of yours?”

The Blademaster cleaved air with his own special sword. It was a peculiar hybrid, longer than other rapiers, honed razor- sharp on both edges, with a cross- basketed hilt. The blade was thicker than that of a rapier but superbly tem¬pered, to give it flexibility. Buckler winked good-naturedly at his pupil.

“There’s not another sword anywhere like this un. I de¬signed it myself, but he made it. ¬Isn’t that right, Brang?”

A flicker of annoyance showed in the Badger Lord’s dark eyes. He beckoned Buckler to attend him.

Saluting the leverets with his...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Firebird
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2012
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0142420603
• ISBN 13: 9780142420607
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 416
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Purmerul LTD; https://strengholt.nl/en/; ; 22 Liuleburgaz Str., floor 4, app. 9; Plovdiv; Bulgarien