By Brian Jacques
At the shore of the jap Sea, in a chilly stone castle, a stoat named Badrang holds dozens of blameless creatures as slaves, a part of his scheme to construct an empire the place he'll rule as unquestioned tyrant. between these slaves is a mouse named Martin who has a warrior's middle and a burning wish for freedom-freedom not just for himself, yet for all of Badrang's victims. there's no threat he'll no longer take, no conflict he'll now not struggle, to finish the stoat's evil reign and within the procedure regain the sword of his father, Luke the Warrior-the sword that Badrang stole from him whilst he was once yet a lad!
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Extra info for Martin the Warrior: A Tale from Redwall
Permit me get you a few nutrition. ’ ‘Perhaps you’d prefer to test a few elderberry wine. It’ll take the coolness of your lengthy trip away, omit Aubretia. ’ Abbot Saxtus seemed excessive of his spectacles, wagging a paw. ‘So a lot support for one tourist! Aubretia, come and take a seat the following with Bultip and Simeon. the following, I’ll push up a piece so you’ll be subsequent to me. Why shouldn’t a venerable outdated Abbot have the excitement of an attractive mousemaid’s corporation? ’ Aubretia curtsied and smiled. ‘Why now not certainly, Father Abbot! ’ Bultip had a tremendous urge for food. Scarcely had grace been acknowledged while he was once munching away, sampling this and that as he allowed outdated Gabe Quill to fill his tankard. ‘Redwall October ale, best in Mossflower. attempt it with a few nutbread an’ yellow sage cheese, younger ’og. ’ Aubretia sipped from her beaker and shuddered. ‘Whoo! Taste’s gorgeous, packed with tiny bubbles too. what's it? ’ Simeon driven a wide confection in the direction of her. ‘It’s known as fizzy dandelion cup. really nice with snowcream pudding and damsons – fill your plate. My nostril advised me this present day once we met that you're a healer. Am I correct? ’ Aubretia appeared stunned on the blind mouse’s prepared notion. ‘Yes, you’re correct Simeon, i'm a healer. ’ Simeon reached out and took carry of Bultip’s hefty paw. ‘And you, sir, I don’t imagine you're a healer one way or the other. ’ ‘I’m no healer,’ the stout hedgehog chuckled, ‘just a travellin’ spouse protectin’ Aubretia. ’ The blind herbalist felt the power of Bultip’s paw as he flexed it. ‘I think you do it rather well. Woe betide the beast who stands within the means of this paw! ’ Laughter and merry chatter rose to the rafters of the large room underneath the Abbey. there has been heat there, strong companionship and strong humour. Dishes went this fashion and that from paw to paw, snowcream pudding, scorching fruit pies, vibrant trifles, tasty pasties, steaming soup, new bread with glossy golden crusts, previous cheeses studded with dandelion, acorn and celery. Sugared plums and honeyed pears vied for position with wintry weather salads and vegetable flans. Aubretia and Bultip joined within the merriment, loved the nutrition and basked within the mythical hospitality of Redwall Abbey. It was once overdue evening. Sleepy kids have been carried off to their dormitory beds and clean torches positioned within the wall sconces. Bultip nibbled on his fourth pastie. Draining a tankard of October ale, he seemed approximately on the nonetheless chattering Redwallers bantering with each other around the tables. ‘Does nobeast ever sleep during this position, Simeon? ’ The herbalist shrugged. ‘Are you drained, good friend? ’ Bultip blew on a bowl of sizzling soup. ‘Not me, I’m wakeful now. ’ The Abbot watched the soup disappear. ‘Good, that’s the spirit! None people has to upward push early and paintings the next day to come. It’s iciness, and there’s now not much to do keep consume and sleep, so we consume whilst we’re hungry and sleep once we consider love it. How does that fit you, Aubretia? ’ The mousemaid sat again contentedly. ‘It matches me nice, Abbot. What occurs now we’re accomplished feasting? ’ Foremole regarded up from his turnip ’n’ tater ’n’ beetroot pie.