Outcast of Redwall: A Tale from Redwall

Outcast of Redwall: A Tale from Redwall

Brian Jacques

Language: English

Pages: 368

ISBN: 0142401420

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Abandoned as an infant by his father, the evil warlord Swartt Sixclaw, Veil is raised by the kindhearted Bryony. Despite concerns from everyone at Redwall, Bryony is convinced that Veil's goodness will prevail. But when he commits a crime that is unforgivable, he is banished from the abbey forever. Then Swartt and his hordes of searats and vermin attack Redwall, and Veil has to decide: Should he join Swartt in battle against the only creature who has ever loved him? Or should he turn his back on his true father?

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truth.’ Balefur followed the vixen as she picked her way through the vermin throng until the two of them stood alone in an ash grove. She sat and patted the grass indicating that Balefur join her. The fox inspected the area, then sat in a place of his own choosing, back against a tree, axe lying close to paw. ‘Ye dinna fool me, lassie,’ he said, ‘ah know ye t’be Swartt’s creature.’ Nightshade’s eyes were bitter and her voice shook as she answered, ‘For too many seasons, my friend, but now I’m

Redwallers until breakfast in Great Hall became a hushed and sombre meal. Many looked towards Bryony’s empty place. They nudged one another and shook their heads sympathetically; the good mousemaid would be feeling very sad this day. When the meal was finished the Abbess rose to make a short speech. ‘Please go about your work as normal and try not to gossip too much about last night’s events. This afternoon when tea is finished I would like you all gathered on the lawn in front of the

water a hard time of it. Up here, chaps! Up here!’ Sabretache turned towards the mountain. ‘Hurrah!’ he cheered. ‘Look, there’s a gang of otters’n’squirrels batterin’ the livin’ daylights out of the vermin!’ A great roar went up from the warriors at the mountain front. ‘Heyaaah! Hoyaaah! Firjak Greenstone! Whump! Whump! Whump!’ The otters and squirrels had come around the mountain from both sides, hurling themselves on both flanks of Swartt’s hordebeasts with clubs and spears. Guosim shrews

seasons turned through spring and summer to a mellow autumn. In the highlands of the far east, Bowfleg’s drums beat out their message of warning, whilst Swartt and his ragged band of vermin traversed over tor and scrubland. The pounding drums sent word to three rat runners from Bowfleg’s camp, who took off at a swift lope, heading for a long cliffrange which puckered the land like an old scar. At the foot of the cliffs, bunched close like dirty thunderclouds, lay the tents of Bowfleg the

of the forest, well ahead of the badger, though a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that he was beginning to shorten the gap between them. Blinded by tears and aching all over from battle wounds, the Badger Lord pursued his enemy doggedly, determined to catch up with the lighter, swifter fox. Swartt was well within the woodlands, ravaging a wild cherry tree with the rest of his vermin. He turned swiftly at the approaching patter of paws. It was a stoat he had left on watch at the forest

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