Loamhedge: A Tale from Redwall
The sixteenth full length Redwall novel sheds light on the Abbey's ancient origins in a thrilling adventure. Loamhedge, the deserted Abbey, has been forgotten for countless seasons. What secrets do it's ruins hold? When it becomes clear that wheelchair-bound Martha might be cured by a formula buried there, two old warriors are inspired by the spirit of Martin the Warrior himself to go on a quest for the ancient Abbey and three young rebels are determined to go with them. Meanwhile. the giant badger Lonna Bowstripe thirsts for vengeance as he relentlessly pursues Raga Bl and his murdering crew of Searats...who are on their way to attack Redwall itself. The valiant Abbeybeasts must defend their home, but how can they, when their boldest warriors are away on their quest? Will Redwall fall to vermin invaders at last?
who was still talking at length with Horty and Fenna, “Now then, matey, when d’ye reckon we’ll be at Loamhedge?” Without turning around, the dormouse shouted his answer. “Oh, it won’t be ’til after lunch, I’m thinking. But don’t ye fret, we’re makin’ fair progress, one an’ all.” Nodding knowingly, the otter whispered to Saro. “Aye, I thought so, this ole buffer’s got us on a vinegar trip.” She glanced quizzically at the otter. “Wot are ye talkin’ about, mate?” Keeping his voice low, Bragoon
lunch. “Whoohoo, ain’t nothin’ wrong with a beast who kin eat hearty, mate! That limp o’ yourn will soon clear up with a good cruise. Ye won’t be walkin’ so much.” Lonna liked the feel of a boat beneath his paws; he felt rested and well. Gesturing ahead, he enquired, “How long can we go by water, Garfo?” The otter refilled his beaker. “Almost into Mossflower. This ole stream takes a turn there an’ runs back east. I kin see yore wonderin’ ’ow far ahead those vermin are.” Lonna eyed him keenly.
face of Raga Bol—concentrating hard on it, as only a creature of fate and destiny like a badger can. “I’m coming, Raga Bol! I am Lonna Bowstripe, and I’m coming!” 18 After marching all night on what he had fondly imagined was a southeast course, Horty was totally fatigued. In dawn’s pale light, he slumped down in a fern grove, grumbling. “It’s no blinkin’ use, you chaps, I’ve got to take a jolly old snooze. Ahah! But first we must deal with the inner hare. Brekkers beckons the poor
He’s up t’no good, though, an’ jumpin’ mad by the look o’ him.” Foremole gestured at the considerable mound of earth and stone piled up close to the windowsills. “Hurr, ee vurmint can jump all ee looikes, we’m ready for ’im!” Granmum Gurvel staggered in, dragging a bulging sack. “Yurr, lookit oi finded, ee gurt sack uv ’otroot pepper. Ee ’ hotters leaved it yurr afore they’m go’d off. Oi’m b’aint a keepen it in moi kitchens, no zurr, orful sneezy stuff!” Gurvel dumped it next to Martha’s chair.
timbers. Unfortunately for them, the wood started sinking into the rubble, which had turned into a big mudheap, owing to the water drenching it. However, three of the longest planks spanned the mess, their ends resting on the sandstone lintel above the door. When Raga Bol saw this, he waved his scimitar about wildly. “Ferron, Hangclaw, Rinj, gerrup those long bits. Come on, all paws t’the planks. Get through those winders, look sharp!” Clenching blades in their fangs, the Searats clambered