The Legend of Luke: A Tale from Redwall

By Brian Jacques

During this 12th publication of the masterful Redwall epic, storyteller Brian Jacques is going again in time to the times ahead of Redwall, revealing with dramatic poignancy the legend of the 1st of the wonderful Redwall warriors--Luke, father of Martin.

Joined through Trimp the Hedgehog, Dinny Foremole, and Gonff--the ever-mischievous Prince of Mousethieves--it is that legend Martin hopes to find while he embarks on a dangerous trip to the northland shore, the place his father deserted him as a baby. There, in the carcass of an exceptional purple ship--broken in part and wedged excessive up among pillars of stone--he eventually uncovers what he has been looking for: the genuine tale of the evil pirate stoat, Vilu Daskar, and the valiant warrior who pursued him relentlessly over the excessive seas, looking to damage Vilu in any respect bills, whether it intended deserting his purely son.

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So I struck out for the outdated terra firma, an’ stap me vitals if I didn’t wind up at dual Islands. Had t’live at the a ways isle, in fact – pesky little bugs in this one may devour a physique alive for those who allow ’em, wot. ’ Immensely cheered by way of the truth that he was once now not by myself, Vurg smiled and clasped his friend’s paw firmly. ‘But you’re alive, that’s the most factor! ’ The irrepressible hare winked fondly at Vurg. ‘Pretty a lot alive, except havin’ me paw squashed by means of a few hulkin’ nice mouse. Righto, better half o’ mine, come on. We’ll move the channel directly to my island an’ have a chew to consume when we switch yarns. Howzat fit your needs, ole mousechap? ’ Vurg published Beau’s paw and grew to become away. ‘There’s whatever I’ve obtained to do first. My shipmates . . . ’ Beau sniffed. certainly one of his lengthy ears flopped all the way down to wipe a watch sooner than he replied, ‘Say not more, good friend. I buried them m’self when you have been sleepin’. simply complete the activity if you happen to sneaked up an’ attempted playin’ piggyback with me, wot! Don’t be troubled, outdated fellow, I’ve positioned the Sayna’s team t’rest within the shadow in their personal send. ’ jointly they waded into the channel. besides the fact that, Vurg nonetheless had a question to invite. ‘Was the total group slain, Beau? ’ ‘Sadly so much of ’em have been, Vurg, even though I by no means came across Luke or wotsisname an’ the opposite chap, er, Dulam an’ Denno, that’s ’em. this means that they have been definitely taken for slaves aboard that foul vessel Goreleech. So, all in all there’s 4 of the outdated gang left, 5 countin’ yours actually. grasp tight to my paw now, will get really deep right here. We’ll need to jolly good swim for it, wot wot. Chin up an’ strike out! ’ once they reached the a ways island it used to be fairly a climb to Beau’s den. He had made it over the a ways facet of the hill, dealing with out to the open sea. due to this, Beau had no longer recognized approximately both the Goreleech or the Sayna till it was once too overdue. yet, as Vurg realised, there has been little he can have performed besides opposed to the crimson ship’s team. The den was once a small cave midway down the massive hill. Beau had made it cozy and foraged round the island to supply nutrition. Kindling a hearth he positioned dandelion tea directly to brew and produced a meal along with his personal gatherings and some issues that they had controlled to salvage from the Sayna’s galley. Warming himself by means of the fireplace, Vurg allowed Beau to examine his wounds. ‘Hmm, that’s a slightly appealing coloration of pink in your face there, previous factor. Have t’make a compound, take out the soreness an’ swellin’. Cheer up, Vurg, you’ll be pretty much as good as new in an afternoon or , my previous nautical matey! ’ Vurg heaved a sigh and gazed out to sea. ‘What can we do then, Beau? ’ The hare sliced himself a wedge of fruitcake from the Sayna’s shops, including it to his plate of island salad. ‘What can we do then? Why, we sit down the following an’ chunner while we become old jointly, like right wasteland isle hermits, m’friend. Huh, an’ if y’think that you’re a nincompoop! Do? I’ll inform you what we’re goin’ t’do, laddie greenback. Make a ship from the wreckage of our send Sayna an’ sail after the pink send. Rescue our acquaintances an’ if we get part a bally likelihood we’re goin’ to place paid to that evil blaggard who calls himself a captain.

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