Martin the Warrior: A Tale from Redwall

Martin the Warrior: A Tale from Redwall

Brian Jacques

Language: English

Pages: 384

ISBN: 0142400556

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

On the shore of the Eastern Sea, in a cold stone fortress, a stoat named Badrang holds dozens of innocent creatures as slaves, part of his scheme to build an empire where he will rule as unquestioned tyrant.  Among those slaves is a mouse named Martin who has a warrior's heart and a burning desire for freedom-freedom not only for himself, but for all of Badrang's victims.  There is no risk he will not take, no battle he will not fight, to end the stoat's evil reign and in the process regain the sword of his father, Luke the Warrior-the sword that Badrang stole from him when he was but a lad!

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Safe enuff an’ awroight furr ’ee moment, mizzy, never fret.’ Pallum stared at her curiously. ‘How do you know?’ Still nodding and smiling, with closed eyes the mole spoke. ‘Oi knows lots o’ things but oi doant know why oi knows ’em. Places, faces, ’appenings an’ all manner o’ things runs in an’ out o’ moi ole ’ead, loik beefolks in an’ out o’ ee hoives.’ Martin stared fixedly at the wise old mole, his food forgotten. ‘Yes, I had a feeling when we first met that you were not ordinary.’.

Brown nut cheese, a small fresh-baked wheat farl and a jug. ‘I haven’t seen him, sir, but I know where he’ll be: doing a lone patrol and keeping watch for foebeasts while we sit here filling our bellies. I’ll go and find him with this food. He must be hungry wandering the cliffs by himself.’ Felldoh laid his javelins and thrower down. He sat with his back to a rock at the cliff’s edge, staring out at the calm sea and the star-strewn sky. Though he was savouring freedom, the sturdy young.

As you had fat in your gut, you’d know. I came in through the tunnel that the slaves escaped from. You can go both ways through it, in or out. Obviously you didn’t think of that, swillhead!’ With a sudden move that belied his bulk, Clogg wriggled free of Badrang’s paw and ran for the door shouting, ‘Crosstooth, Gruzzle, Boggs, arm the crew. Badrang’s ’ere!’ The Tyrant stoat righted the fallen chair and sat in it, smiling. ‘Shout your thick head off, bucko. You’ll get no help.’ Clogg stood for.

‘Haharrharr! I reckernizes that flag flyin’ o’er yon place ashore. Ho lucky day, I knowed it, I could feel it in me dogs! There’s me messmate of bygone seasons Badrang, built hisself a stone castle, pretty as you please. ’Ow many pore liddle slaves would yer say it took to work on a place like that, Crosstooth?’ A wicked-looking fox draped in purple bandannas scratched his chin. ‘Hmmm, I’d say lots, Cap’n.’ ‘Lots an’ crowds?’ ‘Aye, lots ’n’ crowds.’ ‘Which is most, Crosstooth, lots or.

The broth into his bowl. ‘Thankee, Grumm. Mmm, smells nice!’ ‘An’ so et should, hurr. Oi maked et wi’ roses an’ onions an’ daisies an’ carrot, an’ plums an’ turnip too, ho aye, gudd zoop! An’ oi sturred et slow, not loik some villyuns not arf a league from wurr oi sits!’ After breakfast, Rose showed Martin round the orchard. Plums, greengages and damsons hung red, yellow and purple amid other trees bearing pears, apples and cherries. Neat rows of raspberry, blackcurrants, bilberry and.

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