The Price of Defeat

[cairn destop]

Author's forward

This story is a fairly long one.  For ease of reading, I'll be releasing three chapters each week.  For the first week, that will be Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.  The post holiday start is what throws my usual timing down the drain.  After that, the chapters will be uploaded Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  The story will run fifteen weeks.

Each chapter is between 2,000 and 3,000 words. 

If you have not read any other work in my Vermin Badger series, don't worry.  Each is a stand-alone work.  Characters will be introduced as if this is your first exposure to them.  There is a sense of continuity between the various stories, but missing any will not affect this one.  If you have read any of the previous stories, you'll run into many familiar characters.  Otherwise, sit back for an enjoyable read.

For the enjoyment of others, I ask that you make any comments here.  I'll also provide a link in every third chapter.  So, until September 4, 2012, you'll have to wait.

[cairn destop]

Prologue
The Opening

Summer heat hung heavy over Redwall Abbey.  If any resident had chores that took them outdoors, they kept a pitcher of water close.  Even those who braved the bright sun for the shortest of times made some joyful exclamation when they returned inside the cooler Abbey.  Only the very young considered such a beautiful day a special gift from the Eternals as they frolicked under a cloudless sky, oblivious to the heat or humidity.

A woodchuck bounded out of the communal dining hall everyone called Cavern Hole.  He raced through the Abbey's long hallway towards the main doors.  In his eagerness, he did not spot the other creature just entering the Abbey.  They collided.  The youngster lay sprawled on the hardwood flooring staring into the hooded face of the other beast.

The older beast stood in the doorway framed by the sunlight.  Two black paws reached up and pushed her green habit's hood off her head.  "Why are you in such a hurry, my child?  The day is new and there is plenty of time for enjoying it."  The older squirrel reached down, extending a paw.  "So what has our young scribe so animated this morning?"

Hassellick accepted the squirrel's helping paw.  "Our Chief Historian told me at breakfast he is considering me for the position of historian.  I'm excited at getting to my new duties; I didn't look where I was going.  Accept my apology, Mother Abbot."

She smiled.  Now that she was indoors, the woodchuck could see how the Mother Abbot's green eyes twinkled. 

"I know all about your pending promotion.  Who do you think told me about it while we were conversing late last night?  I'm pleased you pursued this task with such diligence; I know how much the dust in our basements makes you sneeze.  I do hope your story is finished before next season's festival.  It can be part of our celebration."

With that, the squirrel continued on her way.  Hassellick remained by the front door and listened to the footfall of the elder's sandals as they ascended the marble staircase.  He watched the upper floor's railing, but the abbess did not reappear.  The sounds of her movement receded until the Abbey became quiet once more.

After closing the door, Hassellick stood atop the steps, scanning the courtyard.  Where shall I go? My mind is full of ideas, but none feels right.  Perhaps I should find a quiet place to consider my options.  Problem is, if I wander beyond the outer walls, some elder will decide I can better spend my time gardening. 

The woodchuck shrugged.  "One more dibbun by the swimming hole will never be noticed." 

As he passed a small stone, he gave it a vicious kick.  He watched it bounce across the cobblestone courtyard as he turned down another paved path.  "How I hate being called a dibbun.  I might not yet have the years to be an elder, but I'm not some irresponsible pup either."

When the path he followed continued beyond the small orchard, his eyes searched for a shady spot.  He slung his backpack down and knelt beside it.  His paws rummaged through the material he had gathered earlier.  He arranged all his writing implements neatly.  Satisfied, he leaned back and stared into space. 

His mind wandered.  Thanks to a light breeze, the rustling leaves created a kaleidoscope of green patterns against the blue sky.  A twig snapped so close that it startled him.  A glance to his left found the cause of the disturbance. 

"So, brother, what brings you outside when you could be working on your letters somewhere nice and cool?"

The female woodchuck stood next to his tree, her fur dripping wet.  For a moment, Hassellick considered sending her back to the swimming pond, but welcomed her company.  So many times in the past she had proven an aid to him, he couldn't dismiss her without cause.  It took no more than his paw patting a grassy spot.  The two rested, both comfortable in their shared silence.  When he began to speak, she leaned closer.

"I have a problem, sister.  I need a true story of Redwall, and I'm reluctant to go rooting through all those dusty scrolls in hopes of finding something everyone will enjoy.  If I cannot come up with a memorable story, I may lose this once in a lifetime opportunity at becoming the Abbey's historian.  But right now, my mind is a complete blank.  I have no idea where I should begin."

"Forget about entertaining everyone at our next season festival.  If the story you select doesn't move you, it will not capture their attention either.  You need something that fires your passions, dear brother."

With that, she gave him a sisterly peck on the cheek and made for the pond once more.  As his sister strolled across the grass, another beast turned to observe her approach.  The elder then looked in his direction; Hassellick waved a greeting.  The elder raised a paw before settling on the lawn, her back to him as she watched the many younger dibbuns enjoying the water.

Hassellick stared at the back of Redwall's most infamous resident.  At least he remembered others describing her that way when first they met.  Then, like the flash of lightning in the darkest night, an idea came to him.  Without moving his eyes from the unsuspecting female, the woodchuck pawed the ground as his fingers quested for his writing implements.  His pen raced across the paper in the special script recorders used.  He paused, once again gathering his thoughts.

* * *

Perhaps the greatest stories ever told are those filled with romance.  Love provides even the weakest of creatures, the strongest of motivators.  We willingly risk everything to gain what we see as a chance at happiness.  For love, we travel great distances.  For love, we sacrifice wealth, power, and position.  But is there a point where we fear to reveal our true inner self to another?

I shall relate a true account of our resident vermin.  Yes, such a beast lives within our Abbey.  It does indeed astound me Redwall would harbor such a creature.  From where I pen this tale, I can see her.  So I shall give you a story of love and hate, and how one conquered the other.  It tells how our own special vermin met another beast that saw her as a creature worthy of love.

All romantic narratives are enjoyable, but I believe they overlook one important element of life.  We cannot measure success with the blood of our enemies.  In our haste at penning the glories of our victories, we forget the tears shed by those who lost so much.  What we perceive as victory often has a high price, which brings me to my second tale.

This will be a story of two teens stolen from our midst.  They stand alone against a powerful enemy.  And we learn together the price of failure and the pain that comes with it.  Yet hope, like love, remains a potent emotion.  It keeps us moving when common sense tells us we should surrender.

Gather round and hear how I weave these two threads into a tale that would rival our Great Tapestry.  Though my saga shall focus on two hearts drawn together, it will also reveal the tragic events that parallel this love story as one could never be without the other.  Listen to my rendition of events that has such meaning to me, for I am a participant in this history.  And I challenge you dear reader to find me ... if you can.

[cairn destop]

Chapter One
A Distant Place

The male badger ambled through the orchard.  His eyes scanned the branches as he passed each tree, the air redolent with apple blossoms.  The buzzing of bees provided a pleasant background.  Satisfied with what he saw, he moved to the next tree.

Another dozen trees passed his visual inspection.  Then he ceased his walking.  Unlike all the others, one high branch caught his attention.  The blossoms that delighted the eyes remained nothing more than tight buds.  

He made a quick trip to his cart and lugged back a ladder and several other tools.  In a matter of seconds, he grasped the branch, and with a swift motion, sliced one of the buds.  A putrid odor assailed his nostrils.  He tied a red ribbon about the limb at a point where it joined another that had a smattering of flowers.

"I see you have found us another good piece of firewood, brother."

He started sawing off the diseased branch.  "Broden, I still have another hundred trees to check before the sun sets.  Maybe if you would dirty your paws, the work would go faster, and you would still have time to chase every skirt in town."

"Now that cuts me to the quick, Bruno.  Here I come all this way with glad tidings and what does my brother do?  You insinuate my time going over the family's records isn't work?  Your talent is rooted in these trees while mine is found at the end of a quill.  Together we keep this place running at a profit, which allows me to chase skirts as you so crudely put it."

Bruno slid down the ladder and faced his younger brother.  He stared at Broden, his eyes noting the fancy shirt and the shine of the goat cart he rode.  Bruno leaned against the closed sideboard door.

"I'm wasting daylight standing here and I'm guessing some lonely badger sow is awaiting your return.  Unless you have something important to say, I've got work to do."

Broden's words carried a note of anticipation.  "There is a festival in town tonight and your presence is required.  I took the liberty of extending your acceptance when the invitations came in last week."  

Bruno gave a dismissive snort.  The two tethered goats took several nervous steps at the unexpected noise.  The seated badger spoke soft, calming words to them as he pulled on the reins.  Broden faced Bruno once he had the animals under control.  

"Our family is a prominent one and you neglect social duties.  And don't give me that 'you do enough for the two of us' speech.  It will do you a world of good getting into town and away from this orchard for a night of merriment."

Broden gave him no opportunity at responding.  With a flick of the riding whip, the two goats trotted off, leaving him where he stood.  Bruno sighed as he returned to his work.

Nightfall found Bruno riding with his brother along the main highway into town.  One displayed an animated anticipation while Bruno brooded in silence.  Broden drove the cart while providing a continual litany about the many sow badgers they would meet.  Bruno maintained his silence.

They had no troubles locating the festival.  The town's meeting hall had so many lights blazing that the surrounding area looked as if sunlight had lingered there for the party.  As the two badgers drew closer, Bruno recognized many of the town's other prominent members entering the building.  Lively music and louder laughter floated on the night breeze, promising an enjoyable evening.  

Just as they pulled up to the main entrance, a dibbun badger raced to the side of the cart and held out his paw.  Broden unlatched the door and without a word to the youth, dropped the reins into the child's outstretched paw.  The young boar climbed into the driver's seat and steered the cart into the livery stable.

Bruno hesitated by the town hall doorway while his brother hurried into the swirling mass of revelers.  Based on the number of celebrants, the festival seemed to have attracted more than just the locals.  He recognized many prominent residents from towns located more than a day's journey mixing with the local dignitaries.  If he read their expressions right, this social gathering also involved several discussions regarding some of the latest edicts from their clan chieftains, something Bruno preferred avoiding.

It took no more than a glance to distinguish the itinerant warriors and the successful merchants who traveled beyond the mountains.  Though none of the hired mercenaries carried a weapon, they dominated the gathered badgers with their physical appearance since they towered over the crowd.  Merchants may have lacked their size, but made up for it with their fancy attire and an open display of flashy jewelry.

Older males remained clustered in groups towards the rear while their mates gravitated to tables near the refreshment stand.  Unattached males and females vied for attention from their counterparts; the dance floor filled with those who succeeded for the duration of a dance.  Music and voices blended as a pleasant background.

Those entering the hall jostled Bruno as they passed the stationary badger.  A quick exchange of apologies and the newest arrivals joined the growing throng.  He found no means of escaping the crowd without drawing attention.  Bruno worked his way through the press of bodies towards the bar located near the back.  

No sooner had Bruno gotten a drink than a nearby boar placed a friendly arm around him.  His paw firmly clasped to his shoulder, a reluctant Bruno went to a table near the dance floor.  Once there, the badger responded to the many boars gathered at the table by name as he introduced Bruno.  

Despite his initial feeling, Bruno relaxed.  The talk proved stimulating as these prominent leaders discussed current events beyond their clan's territory.  The pleasantries ended when one local merchant broached a subject that divided the entire region.  

"So tell me Bruno, how do you feel about outsiders coming to our valley?  A landholder like you with so much property must have some opinion."

Bruno nursed his drink while his eyes scrutinized the fellow.  Though his garments appeared lavish, they lacked the well-tailored look of the more successful traders.  The amount of golden rings and bracelets paled next to some of the more prominent merchants he noticed as they danced with some sow dressed in their finest.

"That depends on how you define outsiders, sir.  If you mean as fellow merchants and trades beasts, I would welcome them.  Competition for our harvest could mean better prices."  The fellow squirmed.  "Something tells me your meaning is different, dangerously different."

The merchant coughed.  "I'm talking about workers.  The plateau of the Nine Badger Clans hasn't seen another species cross those hills in close to a thousand years, or so the stories go.  Some say we need no outsiders.  Others claim our kind would welcome a fresh outlook.  As one of this town's largest land owners, your opinion carries a lot of weight."

After draining half his mug, Bruno set it down.  He took a deep breath and released it before he spoke.  "You understand I speak from ignorance since I have never ventured beyond our clan's borders.  However, if the stories about the special services other species can provide are true, I would welcome them.  Our orchards might become more productive with squirrels.  Moles could be most useful as mining engineers, and I understand voles are known as excellent scribes."

The merchant's voice sounded vexed.  "You dodge the issue like a pup questioned by an angry mother.  Our leaders fear new arrivals will try settling here.  They would steal our land if given the chance.  Are you willing to lose what your family earned over several generations?"

"Workers are welcomed, but I also hear rumors of slavery coming to our lands.  I believe fair wages will prove far cheaper than forced labor."

The merchant' response supported the economics of slavery; Bruno bared his teeth.  Such ill manners did not go unnoticed.  Another boar placed his paws on Bruno's shoulder, keeping him in his chair.  Bruno kept his voice civil, but felt his hackles rise as his anger grew.

"Cheaper sir, I think not.  Slaves must be housed, fed, and clothed.  One also must guard such property, least it be lost.  A gold coin has far more power than chains or a strong paw wielding leather.  The only ones who benefit are those lacking a soul and willing to barter or sell such creatures."

The merchant remained oblivious to Bruno's growing ire as his expression never changed.  "That is not what your brother said last week.  He supports those who believe we should be expanding beyond our mountain borders.  After all, badgers are physically and mentally the better of other creatures.  It is time we assert our leadership and take advantage of whatever we find."

"Now I understand you, sir."  Bruno tried to maintain a serene expression, but his flexing fists betrayed his growing anger.  "In a war with outsiders, you stand to make a great profit since you have exclusive rights to the raw iron from our mines.  You hope to use such wealth in securing a slaving franchise for this region and profit from the blood and misery of others.  It's not going to happen."

"Haven't you heard?  Six of the nine clans were overthrown by the Expansionist in a bloody coup within the last month, including ours.  Half the merchants and warriors gathered here came to discuss the change in leaders.  Talk of importing slaves is but one issue."  The merchant waved his paw in an inclusive gesture.  "We all stand to make greater profits when the remaining three clans realize the error of opposing progress."

He pointed at a boar dancing with his mate.  "Tetsen has already said he would purchase as many slave miners as I can get him.  Unlike you, he sees the wisdom and profit such workers offer.  Even your brother said he would give serious consideration to acquiring slaves."

Bruno lifted his mug and drained it in one pull.  He placed it on the table before he stood.  This time no restraining paw kept him in his chair.  Bruno leaned over the table, his muzzle within inches of the merchant.  They remained in this pose for several seconds before Bruno's claw toppled the merchant's full mug into his lap.

"You are the most contemptible of creatures.  You deal in death and misery for gold while remaining untouched by any of the bloodshed.  If you ever come to our land with slaves, I'll use their chains to remove your head."

The badger spun around and left the table as fast as the crowd allowed.  With every step, he struggled to control his temper.  When he came to an open window, he stood before it and drew in a deep calming breath.  His jangled nerves had him jump when another paw tapped his shoulder.

Turning, Bruno gazed upon one of the most eligible sows living within the town, a lady he had wooed for several seasons.  The two conversed for several moments on less disruptive topics, both sharing a laugh at the local gossip.  A dainty cough from the sow had Bruno wave his paw until a server refilled their drinks.

Bruno spied an empty booth near the back that offered more privacy.  She smiled.  They settled on the plush cushions.  Bruno wasted no time.  He asked her about the prospect of a more serious relationship.  He never expected such an amused look.  Every time the sow looked his way, she giggled.

By the time the lady recovered, her expression had morphed from amusement to a more serious one.  "How shall I put this, Bruno?  You're a wonderful companion, but you've lost whatever appeal you had as a prospective mate."  She stared down at her drink, the silence stretching as she chose her words.  "Your brother's support of the Expansionist means he stands to become both wealthy and a prominent leader, two qualities ranking high with any eligible sow.  And, you do know Broden will be inheriting your father's estate?"

"By right of firstborn, I inherit, not Broden."  Bruno could not disguise his simmering anger.

The expression Bruno saw reminded him of a school teacher trying to impart a basic fact to a dense student.  "That only applies if there is no will."

"Father has no will; he never saw any reason for such a document."

"I work with our town recorder and can assure you such a document is on file.  Your brother submitted it on your father's behalf two days ago.  It names him as sole heir to the family's wealth.  That's why I sought you out tonight.  If the rumors are true, your father's illness has him near death.  I thought it best to let you know before the rest of the town learns you have been reduced to a moneyless tenant on your father's land."

Bruno tried hiding his shock.  Before he could say more, his friend reached over and touched his arm.  Her expression now reminded him of the healer who had diagnosed his father's ailment as terminal two months back.  When the silence between them grew uncomfortable, Bruno raised his mug, hoping the additional time would spur his lady into saying something.

"I also wanted to let you know I intend accepting Broden's marriage proposal.  He said he would make the announcement public a month after your father's death.  I can wait that long as a sign of respect.  I also believe him sincere, despite his reputation with the sows."  Bruno stared into the woebegone eyes of the lady he thought his.  "I do hope we can remain good friends, but I must consider my future.  Your brother will have everything; I'll not be the impoverished mate to some lowly field worker.  I deserve better."

Setting his mug down with extreme care, he bowed to her and excused himself.  He made his way to the exit, resisting the impulse to find his brother.  With their father comatose for the last two weeks, he knew Broden forged the will and got several of his drinking cronies as witnesses.  He could not win any public confrontation since others would see it as the actions of a disinherited brother seeking vengeance.  Bruno surrendered to his only viable option.  He left the dancehall.  The long walk home would give him time to consider his future.

[cairn destop]

Chapter Two
It's Negotiable

The male fox polished the glass while leaning against the bar.  He lifted the tumbler and held it up to the nearby lantern, checking for any water spots.  Satisfied, the barkeep set the clean wineglass in its proper place.  He selected the next one and repeated the process.

His eyes wandered up and gazed into the long mirror hung against the back wall and observed his other workers.  The rasping sound of the cornhusk broom drew his attention in the otherwise quiet inn.  His eldest pup swept the floor with a broom that had a handle taller than him.  His niece struggled with a pail of soapy water that stood half her height and probably weighed a quarter of hers.  She placed the bucket by a table and after dunking her washcloth, climbed onto the nearest stool.  The girl leaned over the table and scrubbed the mess left by a recent patron. 

A door to his left opened, and a second male fox exited the kitchen carrying a basket filled with beer steins.  They exchanged no words as the dishwasher replaced the empty basket with one containing cleaned beer steins.  The second fox leaned against the ice-filled cabinets located under the bar; Kiyesh noticed how Dasher enjoyed the pleasure of something cold against his back.  Dasher removed his dirty apron and threw it into a hamper next to the bartender.

"I'm telling you Kiyesh, if that pup back there drops just one more plate, I'll box his ears."

Kiyesh reached for another beer stein.  "Don't be so hard on the lad.  I remember a certain pup who broke so many tumblers when he started here grandpa seriously considered using pewter mugs."

"Was I ever that young and clumsy?"   

Kiyesh listened as his brother admonished the young female about all the water she slopped onto the floor.  When Dasher shifted his position, it left the bartender the option of talking to his back or turning around.  The number of steins still needing attention eliminated his second choice.

"Business is a bit slow with the farmers between seasons and so many merchants preferring the rivers," Dasher muttered.

Kiyesh snorted.  "In the spring, barges go downriver.  In the fall, they go upriver.  The rest of the time the waterway is too dangerous because of the ice or the rapids.  That's when we have our busy times.  I like these quiet moments.  And we have enough locals to remain profitable."

Their conversation ceased when the tinkling of a bell heralded a new arrival.  The first fox continued polishing the stein he held while his eyes appraised the new customer.  The unknown beast lingered within the shadowy alcove, remaining nothing more than a silhouette.  Even that proved enough for the fox's discerning eye.  He knew the local farmers who frequented his place, so he labeled this beast as some traveler who had pushed on in spite of darkness.

The stranger stepped into the light.  While Dasher went to welcome their visitor, Kiyesh scrutinized the male badger.  Based on the gauge he used for unobtrusively sizing up his newest guests, the fellow stood a bit taller than most of the badger merchants who stopped at their inn.  His garments appeared too plain and the walking stick he held lacked any metal sheathing that would mark it as a weapon. 

Even from across the room, the bartender noted the broadsword's handle just behind the male badger's back.  Since he lacked the intimidating build or swaggering arrogance common to badger warriors, Kiyesh figured his weapon provided protection along roads frequented by bandits rather than as something for sale to the highest bidder.

Kiyesh continued polishing the glasses while his brother greeted their newest guest.  A quick nod from his brother sent Kiyesh bustling about behind the bar.  A twist of the handle and a short wait had a mug filled with chilled cider.  Without breaking stride, the fox exited the bar and approached the table where his newest guest rested.  A glance at the two working pups had both retreating to the kitchen area.  Cleanup could wait until their customer departed.

He settled the mug on the table and with a practiced move had the handle sitting within his guest's reach.  "It's quite late to be traveling, stranger.  Why didn't you bed down when the sun began to set?"

"There will be time enough for rest after I locate those who guard the prophetess.  The proprietor at the last inn said her home was some six-day's journey down this road.  I've been traveling almost eight."

"I take it you're not one for long journeys since merchants have no problem reaching us in that time, unless there are heavy rains or bandits.  My eyes tell me you are a simple farmer, and since such badgers seldom venture from their lands, you must have a good reason for seeking out this witch."

"My reasons are my own and no concern of yours.  I'll explain all only to the witch everyone claims can foretell the future.  If you can direct me, I would be most grateful."

The barkeep flipped the towel he carried over his shoulder.  Reaching out, he spun an empty chair around and sat down.  His arms acted as a cushion for his muzzle as he leaned on the backrest facing his guest. 

Though the badger had the advantage in height while standing, each could look the other in the eye while sitting across a table.  They remained in this pose until the badger reached into the backpack on the seat next to him.  The sound of a heavy pouch of coins landed on the table and the fox eyed the bag.  The badger eyed the bartender as he awaited some reaction.  At last the fox spoke.

"My name is Kiyesh, and I would be remiss as a host if I didn't offer you a room for what remains of the night.  Come morning, I'll contact the lady you seek.  If Melody deems you worthy, she will let us know and you can see her the following day.  If she refuses, a dozen gold purses like that one will not change her mind.  As to price, that is something we can discuss later."

Kiyesh's fingers twitched but he made no move for the coins when he stood.  The fox summoned the male pup from the kitchen.  Some quick instructions and the lad led the badger towards the stairway.  The second fox joined Kiyesh as they watched the fox pup and badger depart.

"Is he the one?"

A light chuckle came from Kiyesh.  "She said he would be a misfit that came in the dead of night.  His appearance does match her words.  Advise our cousin of his arrival and tell her everything you can about him; though I have a feeling she knows more about this badger than she told us."

The badger remained at the lodge another two days.  With the third dawn, Kiyesh summoned Bruno.  He led the badger along a winding trail deep into the woods.  The badger kept his weapon sheathed, while Kiyesh remained unarmed.  The sun had nearly peaked when the fox stopped and pointed to a path hidden by several trees.

"There is the path you must follow, Bruno.  Our lady awaits your arrival.  If you prefer calling her by name, she is known as 'Melody the Miserable,' and after you meet her, you'll find it a fitting title."




The badger hesitated.  Behind him, the fox retraced his steps.  Bruno stood for a moment as his mind considered his options.  He then shouldered his backpack and growled at himself for wasting daylight.

As the trail ascended, Bruno paused.  A short distance to the north he recognized the mansion belonging to the kin of the fox prophetess.  Tilled fields to the east gave the land the appearance of a green quilt.  A collection of simple huts hugging the lone road marked the location of a village.  Seeing the farming community made him think of his homeland.

Off to the horizon he could just make out the cliffs that surrounded the plateau where the badgers lived.  He hesitated, but then he remembered why he had parted with so many coins before leaving the lodge this morning.  When the route he followed led to another side of the hill, he lost sight of the many lands he crossed since leaving the place of his birth.

Bruno continued his climb and after another hour came to a clearing.  A simple log cabin sat on the far side of the wide glade.  It had a wide awning over the porch for anyone sitting in the chairs arranged like soldiers along the wall.  Smoke rose from the stone chimney and the sound of somebody singing floated across the open field.

Reaching the door, the badger gave a firm rap.  Just as he decided to give the door a second and harder knock, he detected the sound of somebody moving within the cabin.  A bolt slid back, and the door opened.

Bruno's jaw fell as he met the cabin's inhabitant.  The vixen stood tall, though her head came no higher than the badger's shoulder.  The lady's fur glowed from a recent brushing and when she moved onto the porch, he inhaled the scent of wildflowers.  Her garments mirrored those any farmer would consider appropriate, simple but functional.   She stepped into the sunlight and the badger beheld a vixen in the prime of her life. 

Before he could speak, the vixen pointed to another path.  She stopped halfway to the new trail, and glanced at her guest.  Bruno followed her.  Together the two strolled to the very top of the hill where they could survey the surrounding countryside.  They stood in silence.  Bruno felt her fathomless amber eyes measuring his soul. 

"You have the look of one who finds joy when his paws are coated in dirt.  Why would such a simple beast come to my door?"

Bruno gave a slight bow.  "Forgive me for saying, but from all that I heard, you should be an old crone.  Tales within my homeland and the gossip of those I met on the road speak of an ancient witch with the gift of foresight."

Melody gave a lyrical laugh.  "They describe my mother.  Our family has sired a soothsayer as the first-born daughter for more generations than I can count.  When mother died, I became the prophetess.  If you do not believe I have her gift, return to my kin and whatever gold parted from your purse shall be returned."

He gave her offer serious consideration.  What value did the advice of a charlatan hold for him?  Then again, did he have any other option?

The badger cleared his throat before he replied.  "I seek knowledge of my future.  Will you tell me what lies ahead?"

"First, a warning, badger; I can read the river of time and interpret the currents.  However, the future can be changed by knowing what Fate has decreed.  Because of that, she refuses to give up her secrets in a straightforward manner.  My readings often come as riddles, or poems that might help or hinder your desires.  I make no guarantee of clarity."

She tapped her finger onto the badger's chest.  "Not all who climb this path are granted a reading.  Fate often withholds her secrets or deems the beast unworthy.  I believe they may be the lucky ones." 

The vixen took a step back.  "I can tell yours, but would caution you not to ask me anything.  Reclaim your gold and leave with haste.  Better it would be if the future revealed itself as it does to all creatures; one moment at a time.  Should you be foolish enough to still desire knowledge of what the Fates will reveal, heed my words."

Melody continued; her voice filled with a melancholy tone that Bruno found frightening.  "When I read the future, I will answer a single question, which you must ask with great care.  An ill worded question, or one that is too vague, cannot help.  Once your question is asked, I cannot answer another until a full year has passed.  Such a limitation the Guardians of Fate will not change.  Tomorrow at noon, return and we shall talk."

That night proved restless.  Bruno kept replaying their conversation.  His mind kept bouncing between his two options.  Yet he could not dismiss the stories about her powers.  If true, her help could prove invaluable.

When he arrived at the hilltop the next day, Bruno found the vixen staring across the valley towards the mountains surrounding his homeland.  Though Melody did not look at him, she must have sensed his presence.  She kept her muzzle lowered as she voiced her concerns, never looking at Bruno.

"Though we have never met, I know you, sir.  Whatever action you take, or fail to take, will have repercussions you cannot ever imagine.  And how do I know this?  My curse is fathoming the many possibilities the future holds.  I know the price others will pay because of your foreknowledge."

Melody descended from the rocky outcrop and deemed the badger worthy of her attention.  Together, the two returned to the log cabin.  Just before she entered, the vixen blocked the doorway.  Badger and fox stood there for a brief moment before Melody stepped aside and waved Bruno inside.  She remained standing in the entryway.

"Despite my best efforts, you have your question ready to ask, that I see by your expression," she lamented.  "Inside, I shall drink of a potion spiked by a measure of your blood.  Once drunk, you may ask me your one question.  What words I speak, are from my vision of the waters.  Expect no help from me and depart without delay.  For a vision of what can be shall create a burden few would accept.  I prefer not helping you avoid whatever course Fate originally intended."

Having said this, she slowly entered the cabin.

[cairn destop]

Chapter Three
On the Road

Bruno slid his chair back.  He stood in the darkened cabin and circled the table.  He approached the beast sprawled across the rough planked table.  When he stood behind the vixen, he reached down and lifted her.  Though an adult, Bruno carried the lady fox as if she weighed less than a basket of fruit plucked from his family's orchard.

In an adjoining room, Bruno found Melody's bed.  He laid the fox atop the quilts and withdrew.  He stoked the fireplace and placed another log on those still burning.  Confident that the fire would keep the simple cabin warm, he started for the door.  Just as he touched the handle, he hesitated.  Bruno returned to the table and collected the paper sheet he forgot.

He sat on the top step while he held the document.  A stiff breeze blew and several times it tried stealing the paper.  His fingers remained locked on it.  The continual snap and pop of the fluttering sheet accompanied the music of the swirling breeze as it stirred the leaves.  Bruno tested the ink.  When the letters did not smudge, he folded it and placed it in his backpack.

He had to choose.  Bruno descended the hill until he reached the rocky outcrop where he met the prophetess that morning.  Staring off to the horizon, he focused on a grey line that smudged the green landscape.

Those mountains are like walls that will entrap me if I return home.  With the death of father, my brother has become lord to our family's estate.  Can I abide life as a servant on my own land when I believe my brother stole what was rightfully mine?  If war comes to the Nine Clans, which side shall I support?  Yet I fear peace most of all since it will mean we are taking the war to others.  A war will bring slaves to our lands.  Can I only add to their suffering regardless of the course I choose?

Such thoughts clouded the badger's mind as he stared back along the road he traveled.  Bruno recalled telling his brother about his upcoming trip and how Broden laughed.  It did not assuage Bruno's anger at his disinheritance when his younger brother assured him he would continue as the chief groundskeeper for the orchard.  

Bruno did enjoy watching his brother dodge the many sows he promised to marry.  Prominent families added even more pressure as Broden turned such evasions into an art form.  Yet that did not make him long for home.  He remembered how those sows had enticed him as possible mates until the contents of his father's will became public.  After that day, none did more than display proper manners around him while shamelessly courting his brother.

His mind recalled the last village he visited atop the badger plateau.  There he spoke with the merchants and debated politics with his fellow badgers.  Warriors added their opinions.  Some welcomed war against outsiders while others saw any upcoming civil war as a cleansing.  Bloodlust ruled both sides.  Only the target remained undefined.

Several merchants leaving for the lowlands discussed the need for soldiers as the clan's former leaders recruited armies against the rebels.  They welcomed any who would stand with them.  Other departing merchants said the same about the rebels.  Warriors discussed the upcoming conflict, debating which side they would join and tried enlisting anyone who listened.  By the time Bruno retreated to his room, his head spun.  

Those conversations kept replaying in his mind.  Then he remembered the other creatures he met along his journey.  Until then, such beasts as squirrels, moles, hedgehogs, and foxes existed only in stories relayed by traveling merchants.  Whatever he knew of them came from tales that might have exaggerated some points and ignored other important facts.

Bruno had never previously met such creatures since he kept to his family's holdings or the nearby badger town.  Meeting them opened his eyes to the outside world.  They were simple farmers who treasured the land and their families just as he did with his father's orchards.  Knowing such creatures would suffer first if war ever spilled outside his homeland mountains saddened him.  

The sun passed its zenith and still he could not make up his mind.  He wondered if he should return to the land of his ancestors or seek another path.  A soft voice surprised him out of his reverie.

"Sometimes clarity comes with the morning, Bruno."

"You startled me Melody."  When Bruno saw the vixen's mouth open, he hastened his comment.  "What you said will help, but right now my mind churns like a dust storm."

Melody smiled.  "Did you know your coming was foretold to me in a dream?"  She paused until Bruno turned towards her.  "Every prophetess in my family sees the future in a different way.  My mother saw it as a huge library where the words of ones fate are inscribed on scrolls.  A wise owl always led the way to whichever scroll she needed.  I always envied her visions as they seemed simpler than the ones I experience."

Bruno nodded, not because he understood but sensed she expected such a response.  When the silence became unendurable, the badger again focused on the distant mountains feeling the call of home.  Yet his curiosity got the better of him and he asked the beautiful fox how she saw the future.

"I see time flowing around me as if I travel along a river.  Most of the creatures who receive a reading from me are quite ordinary.  It takes no special effort divining their futures.  The currents of time are strong and push such beasts to an inevitable destination.  Fate doesn't allow them many options.  I float over these waters on a raft that lets no wayward drop touch me as it could distort whatever reading I give.  My journey always ends when I see a crane standing on the shore dip its head.  I immerse my paw in the river, and all is revealed."

"I feel the key word in your statement is 'most.'  Something tells me mine was different.  It had to be so different you feel compelled to explain yourself and your powers."  Since Bruno continued staring off in the direction of his homeland, he did not see how the fox reacted to his words.

"Before you climbed my hill this morning, I sailed that river.  For the first time, something pushed me overboard.  I swam the waters of time.  Making my way to shore had me experience more possibilities than I wanted.  It frightened me.  I felt every outcome and knew my words would help some, and condemn others to a horrible death."  Melody's voice cracked, and she remained silent for a short time; she continued her tale.  "When I reached shore, the crane had me heft a boulder that could only be lifted in the reality of a dream.  When I held that massive rock, I saw your face and knew your past as if we were family.  The crane ordered me to throw it into the river."

Melody's paws rested on the badger's shoulders.  "My dream ended when I threw the rock.  I awoke and went about my normal chores until your arrival.  After my trance, I finished that dream.  Once more I found myself in my boat, and what did I see?  I saw that rock still suspended in the air, darting across the river like a dragonfly.  All I can tell you is that whatever choice you make, the flow of time will be forever altered.  The river cares not about you, only what happens because of you."

Bruno said nothing as he considered the lady's words.  When he turned to face her, he found himself alone.  Shouldering his backpack, the badger followed the trail downward.  While his mind replayed the day's events, his feet carried him back to the inn without any conscious effort on his part.

A light knock on his door the following morning preceded a sumptuous meal.  While he ate, his paw dug through his backpack until he found the parchment sheet.  His paws smoothed out the creases as he read the words written but a day earlier.  Moving to a desk, he took quill and ink.  Once he copied the prophecy, he sanded the page.  Now that he had a clean copy, he balled up the original and heaved it into the fireplace.  Moving to a chair bathed in sunlight, he read the cryptic message.

Behind are lands of long ago
To the fore lies a world yet to know
History gives thee lots of joys
The future morrows with girls and boys

There be two paths before thy feet
One goes forward, another does retreat.
Yet each is your Fate's mirror face
Time is short, so start the final race
Onward murderer in the sea
She shall look a lot like thee
You will on her back the waters cross
Once beyond, your past is lost

Seek the road for the end of day
Briny smell follows all the way
Last path will take thee through the thorn
Blood changes to stone in the morn

Travel long to find what you seek
A faceless mate that is far from meek
Final words, will you turn away
The choice be yours on a moon filled day

The badger studied the message until the morning sunlight shifted.  A shadow from a passing cloud reminded him that he could not delay some decision.  After he secured the witch's prophecy in his backpack, he exited the building.  Neither the proprietor nor the few guests within the common room tried engaging him in conversation.

Bruno stood on the porch facing the road.  To his left, the way he came.  His eyes stared in that direction for several moments.  The badger gave a snort and stepped off the porch.  When he reached the center of the dirt path, he turned right.

"It's time I stop wasting daylight."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Four
Voyage

Bruno considered it fortuitous meeting the caravan boss less than an hour after leaving the Inn operated by the witch's kin.  One look at the armed badger and the shrew stumbled over himself doing all he could to hire Bruno.  Once he learned the caravan's destination, he agreed.

After two weeks of hard travel, they reached their destination.  With less than a hundred meters to go, the caravan boss signaled a halt.  Each driver in turn came to a stop; the goats snorted as they shuffled in place. Bruno shaded his eyes as he searched for some explanation for the delay. 

Three armed ferret guards followed a wolf as they approached the wagon train waiting outside the walled city.  The caravan boss strolled up to the wolf and greeted him like a long-lost relative.  They hugged and slapped each other's shoulder in an open display of friendship before they moved to the first wagon.  The two remained inside for a brief time before both rejoined the guards.

Once the shrew and wolf exited the wagon, they approached the next cart in line.  Bruno watched as the three ferrets inspected the cart's cargo.  Items would be moved about and words would be exchanged in hushed voices with the wolf officer, who then conferred with the shrew boss.  Once satisfied, they moved to the next wagon in line.  This routine continued with the cart Bruno guided.

While the shrew who led the caravan examined the manifest under the watchful eye of the wolf, one of the city's guards approached Bruno. He did nothing more than ask for the badger's name and purpose; the ferret guard's manner suggesting such questioning happened so often it became a boring routine.

Satisfied with his answers, the party moved to the next cart.  Bruno made sure nothing had been shifted or damaged when the guards inspected the packed merchandise.  When he saw everything remained undisturbed, he strolled over to the three goats tethered in front.  He gave each a quick pat, which kept them docile. 

Within the hour, the guards hurried back to the front of the caravan while the wagon train boss jogged a few paces behind them.  From Bruno's vantage point, he could see the city's guards enter a nearby building.  When the wolf exited a few moments later, he gave an exaggerated wave.  From the lead wagon, the voice of the wagon train boss bellowed.  Each driver relayed his orders to the next in line and the wagons rolled towards the open gates.  The caravan encountered no more delays as it entered the walled city.

Bruno's eyes tried drinking in all the sights as he guided his cart.  Signs on many buildings advertised merchandise.  Others had wall-sized glass panels that allowed the menagerie of creatures passing an opportunity at seeing inside.  Everywhere Bruno looked, he spotted beasts he heard merchants describe, but had never seen before leaving his homeland.

At long last, the caravan pulled into a fenced-off area.  As each cart came in, a bored weasel would call out the cargo's destination after conferring with the shrew.  The weasel consulted the papers he held while a crew of beasts dashed up to the cart and unhitched the goats.  The wagon train boss pointed at the animals and then to another building.  Bruno accepted the silent order.

Bedding down the goats within the stable took little time.  Bruno then followed the other wagon drivers into another building and waited in line.  A few moments later he walked outside with a heavier purse.  The voice of the shrew boss called.

"Friend Bruno, are you sure I cannot talk you into staying with us?"  The wagon train boss stood at the gate, blocking his exit.  "You have a strong back, a quick mind, and a sharp blade; all are great assets to caravans traveling open country.  And didn't I tell you the truth when I said we paid well?  You would be a great asset."

Bruno flipped his purse in the air before catching it.  "Good fortune smiled on both of us when we met, but I have other plans.  I thank you for the silver and your company on the road."

The shrew's jovial smile melted, replaced by a slight frown.  "Then let me give you some good advice.  Keep your purse hidden and be cautious on the waterfront, if that is still your intended destination.  Pickpockets abound and some ships have oars filled not only with slaves or condemned criminals, but with those who awakened from a hard knock to the back of a head."

Bruno signaled his understanding by moving his purse to an inside pocket where his vest hid its presence.  With a quick wave, the badger left the merchant standing at the corral.  Bruno took but a dozen paces more before joining the throng of creatures beyond the gate.  He followed the flow at a leisurely pace, taking time to examine several shops that caught his interest.

After a long and tiring walk, he noticed the subtle changes of the city.  When he first arrived, the buildings lining the street were small.  As he walked, residential structures dominated the area, along with the businesses that catered to their needs.  Homes gave way to merchant buildings that encompassed an entire block.  Instead of shoppers, he passed workers traveling towards the waterfront or returning to their homes. 

By late afternoon, the waterfront beckoned.  It didn't come close to matching the descriptions others gave him while traveling to the city; it was worse.  Every large building had a sign announcing the name of some warehouse.  Taverns sprouted like weeds, each advertising some local or exotic beverage.  Boarding houses faced the waterfront; many appeared so dilapidated he wondered if they were condemned buildings filled with the city's derelicts.   Instead of an occasional guard making his presence known, squads of armed soldiers patrolled the streets. 

As Bruno strolled by the piers, he dodged the numerous carts rumbling between the nearby warehouses and the waiting ships.  He ignored the brothels and paid little attention to the deafening music that came from every tavern.  The odor of rotting fish, pitch and garbage, along with the scent of the salty air, spices, and perfumes made his nose twitch.

Standing close to the waterfront, the badger found identifying the many merchant ships easy if their aft end faced the shore.  Bruno sometimes had to walk the length of the pier before he knew a particular ship's name if its bow hung over the street.  One such ship's figurehead displayed a black and white fish with red teeth. 

According to the witch, I was to seek a murderer on the sea that looked like me.  Well, if such a fish does exist, it has my coloration.  Judging by the creature's expression, it must be a fierce one.

The badger walked onto the pier.  His route to the ship remained serpentine as he dodged around the many dockworkers.  He approached one otter who supervised those loading the ship.  A quick inquiry had Bruno mounting the gangplank in search of the captain.

When he reached the main deck, he turned aft.  Crew beasts ignored him as they continued working at a frenzied pace.  Bruno approached a set of double doors located halfway between two ladders leading up to the quarterdeck.  With a firm knock, he announced his presence.  A muffled voice summoned him inside.

Having spent the last two weeks sleeping on the ground, the captain's quarters appeared opulent.  The cabin walls were a dark shade of wood, a patina gleaned from many years plying the seas.  Its deep color acted as a stark contrast to the lighter shade of wood found on the ship's deck.  Windows to either side stood open, allowing the many port smells to invade the room.

Dominating the portside corner stood a large, time-worn desk.  All kinds of documents covered it, strewn in a haphazard manner.  Pictures of several otters and numerous ships decorated the walls.

Behind the desk, and with his back to Bruno, sat an otter with a quill.  The fellow ignored his guest for a moment as his pen flew across the paper.  When he finished, he stuck his head out the nearest window and shouted.  A few seconds later, some beast knocked on the door, leaned inside, took the document the otter had penned, and left without speaking.

His work done, the otter faced Bruno.  "You have come at a bad time, sir.  The cargo handlers were late, and I must be gone before the tide changes.  So state your business as we will depart within the hour."

In stature, the otter seemed no taller than most of those Bruno saw running about the dock.  The fellow looked trim, though age caused his features to sag somewhat.  His hazel eyes reflected a keen intelligence and a no-nonsense attitude. His brown fur showed much graying, which enhanced his air of authority even while standing before a badger who towered over him.

"My name is Bruno, and I seek the captain of this ship.  If you are him, I need passage to your next port of call."

"Well, I be Captain Oxbow, and this be my ship, but I'll not take passengers.  I can see no profit in accepting some creature that is more burdensome than perishable cargo.  This is a work ship; I'll not let any of my crew become your servant."

Bruno pointed to a large table on the opposite side.  "Can we at least discuss it?  Perhaps for the right price you would reconsider."

At the mention of price, one of the otter's eyes widened.  Captain Oxbow strolled to the table and sat on a stool.  He waited until Bruno joined him.  Each of them stared at the other for several moments until the otter plucked a pipe from an inside vest pocket.  He sat there enjoying his smoke until a nearby clock tower chimed.

"The Orca is a merchant vessel, not a pleasure ship.  If you come aboard, I expect you to share the rowing duties alongside my crew.  You'll do other duties as I'll not have some beast eating my food without working for it.  Though I hate having somebody new to the sea on my ship, I might if the price is agreeable."

Bruno tried hiding his surprise when he heard those words.  "I thought ships such as yours used slaves or condemned convicts as rowers."

The otter gave a low growl.  "For short trips along the coast, I find slaves efficient, but on this voyage, I cross an ocean.  Chained rowers eat as much as any crew and can be more trouble than pirates or mutineers.  On longer voyages, I prefer a hold filled with cargo rather than rowers.  More cargo means greater profits."

Bruno dug deep into his purse.  Holding his paw above the tabletop, he unclenched his fingers.  Coins danced on the wooden surface and made metallic sounds whenever they touched.  Bruno watched the old otter sweep the coins closer to him.   

The captain shouted and the otter who greeted Bruno at the gangplank entered the cabin.  "We have a passenger, one new to the sea.  He tells me he can row and is willing to work.  See that he has a place to sleep with the crew as we leave as soon as those fools on the dock finish loading our cargo."

Before Bruno stepped outside, Captain Oxbow pointed a finger at him.  "If you be running from the law, or if any inquire about you, I'll not risk my ship, or my reputation as an honorable beast for your safety."  With that threat delivered, the otter returned to his desk.

The otter summoned by the captain led Bruno through a hatch and down a series of ladders to the rowing deck.  When the otter officer entered the area, conversations ceased as everyone moved to their assigned oar.  The crew beast Bruno replaced thanked him as he scurried topside. 

Over the next five hours, Bruno rowed when commanded.  The officer barked orders and the crew did as directed.  When the officer announced they were clear of the harbor, the otters manning the oars shipped them.  As one, they filed out of the room.

Every rower groaned or thanked their crewmates as the new shift slid the resting oars outward.  Bruno forgot about exchanging pleasantries when he examined his paws.  The wooden shafts had rubbed them raw.  In spite of the many seasons working as a farmer on his father's land, he gave a groan as he stretched long neglected muscles.  Since none told him what to do next, he followed the relieved crewmembers as they moved aft. 

The crew climbed one deck up and traveled down a short corridor.  Bruno soon found himself standing in line as others ladled out a generous portion of food.  Never did simple fare ever smell so delicious or taste so good.  Bruno polished off everything given him.  When the otter who sat alongside him mentioned sleep, Bruno decided to go topside.

Daylight had disappeared.  A few shuttered lanterns mounted along the gunnels gave just enough light to illuminate the deck, but did not dispel the surrounding darkness.  Bruno's wanderings led him to the very bow of the ship.  Standing at the point where starboard met port, he stared into the endless sea ahead. 

Bruno studied the inky waves as they passed the bow, each a repetition of the one before it and a duplicate of the ones that followed.  His eyes shifted to the horizon, but sea and sky shared a deep blackness.  Only the constellations distinguished sky from water.

The smell of smoldering tobacco came to Bruno's nose and he turned his head seeking its source.  Captain Oxbow stood next to the badger, his face visible each time the otter's pipe flared like a miniature blacksmith's forge.  "Our ship runs dark in case pirates stalk the area.  In another hour the port city's lights will be below the horizon."

He faced forward, his eyes never turning from the course of the ship.  Bruno wanted to project confidence, but his voice betrayed him with its melancholy tone.  "My future lies wherever this ship goes."

"Darkness upon the high seas can prove a frightening experience for young and old alike.  It can extinguish the very fire from your soul.  Without the benefit of any beacon to guide you, the feeling of helplessness and loneliness can overwhelm one's senses."

A mirthless laughter rumbled deep within his chest.  "I have the prophecy of a witch acting as my guide."

"Then listen to an old seadog.  Charts are good for taking you where you want to go, but sometimes you have to alter course.  The wise captain knows when to do just that.  It might take you longer getting to port, but a ship resting on the ocean's floor does none any good."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Five
Market Day at Redwall

"Would you shake your tail child, there's so much to do and you're dawdling in there."

"I have everything I'll need for this upcoming trip.  Why do we need to go to this market together?"

Tassel rapped on the closed door to the washroom.  After the first series of knocks, she waited.  When Tassel grew tired waiting for the mouse to finish preening, she started pounding. 

Kurella rushed outside and tried giving her badgermom the friendliest of smiles.  Stepping past the door, the petite mouse gave a slow spin, allowing Tassel a chance at appraising her attire.  Though the mouse wore a dress that had faded over time, it still held the sharp creases a hot iron highlighted. 

She did nothing more than grunt, pleased she selected her best outfit.  Kurella opened her mouth, her eyes beseeching the badger for approval.  Tassel silenced her by displaying two copper coins in her paw.  The mouse took the offering.

"Jazzin came for you when the tower clock struck the quarter hour."  Tassel smiled when she noticed a slight blush touching the mouse's check.  She watched Kurella dance in place with a worried look as her eyes darted to the closed door.

"Unless your friends grew weary waiting, they're outside.  I expect to see you at the market later so we can shop for a suitable backpack.  I'll not have one of mine moving to a new village dressed like a beggar.  No apprentice healer should look like she needs the charity of others." 

Her gravelly voice held a note of pride as she scrutinized the teenaged mouse.  After finishing her inspection, Tassel dismissed Kurella.  The elder's eyes followed the teen as she raced to the door. 

The badgermom stepped inside the washroom and surveyed the destruction.  Every girl living under Tassel had primped all morning in preparation for market day, so the room received even more abuse than usual.  Tassel hung several dropped towels, placed discarded garments in a nearby hamper, and returned grooming tools to their respective boxes.  Her work done, she beheld a tidy washroom. 

"At least it'll look neat until tonight."  She almost laughed at the thought of a washroom that remained neat.

As she turned, she caught her reflection in the looking glass.  She hesitated.  In height, the female badger might pass as a dibbun on the cusp of adulthood.  Like all badgers, her body had the distinctive black and white markings, but there similarities ended.  Unlike other badgers, she had no tail.  Such a missing appendage masked her moods, and Tassel knew it sometimes unnerved those around her. 

She scrutinized her reflection and shuddered.  Even after so many years, the face staring back came from a nightmare from which she could never awaken.  Her paw traced her disfigurement in slow motion. 

With a conscious effort, Tassel moved her paw away as she adjusted the lay of her dress.  A glance into the mirror before her reflected the image of her back in the looking glass mounted on the opposite wall.  Whenever she groomed her back, the comb bounced over her scars.  Knowing the marks came from the woodlanders she served made them a shame she could hide, but never remove. 

Tassel withdrew a cloth mask she kept in her dress pocket.  With practiced ease, she slid the form fitting cloth over her head.  A flick of her ears assured her that the fabric did not rub against them.

Again, the mirror reflected her ignominy.  The numerous scars about her wrists prevented fur from covering them.  These bare spots, as well as the matching ones about her ankles explained the reason why so many within the Abbey reviled her.  She knew her stockings covered the marks on her ankles, and after she slipped on her fingerless gloves, her confidence returned.

She exited the dormitory and turned down the second floor hallway as she made her way to the office of the Father Abbot.  While she strolled along the carpeted path, her mind played over her intended conversation with the ruler of Redwall Abbey.  Good fortune smiled on her as the father abbot's secretary noticed her arrival and announced her before she reached the door.  The badgermom stepped into the office.

The woodchuck behind the desk laid his quill down and leaned back in his chair.  "Why Tassel, I didn't expect you in here, not on such a beautiful day.  As soon as I finish with these letters, I'm going to wander through the market.  But that's for later.  So, how may I help you?"

Tassel's well planned conversation evaporated like smoke on a windy day when Father Hughnaught looked her way.  "Can I have three silvers?  Kurella needs some things before her departure and today's market is my last chance to purchase them."

"You're not one to belabor any request.  Still, why do you need it from me?  What about your share of the canning?  Wouldn't that give you more than enough money?"

This time the gravelly voice did not mask her anger.  "Loamripper informed me at breakfast today I would receive no payment.  When two certain hares vandalized my garden last week, I lost everything.  Then, after spending yesterday helping with the canning, they cheated me of my share.  That lady mole even said my labor wasn't worth a copper, let alone an equal share of whatever they realized selling the canned goods."

The father abbot's paw played with the quill he had discarded earlier.  "I didn't know."  The silence hung heavy.  "As to who wrecked your portion of the garden, that is conjecture.  Just because our two hare guests had muddy footwear the night your garden was wrecked doesn't mean they did it."

Tassel turned towards the door.  Father Hughnaught called her back and opened one of his desk drawers.  A moment later, the badgermom left the father abbot's office with the requested coins. 

Winter still held the land, but its grip had been broken.  Sunlight offered the potential of warmth, not just its illusion.  The light breeze no longer contained a bite; it carried the scent of wildflowers too long dormant.  Residents and visitors filled the courtyard dressed in lighter garments than those worn but a week earlier, their voices no longer marked by a frosty cloud hovering before their muzzles.

She descended the steps and proceeded to the line of stalls erected by visiting merchants.  The din from many vendors barking out their sales pitches, and the continual haggling of buyers made the courtyard a festive place.  As Tassel drew nearer, her nose detected the aroma of exotic spices and perfumes mixed with the mouthwatering scent of tasty treats.

A glance to her left and Tassel spied the seven ladies she helped that morning.  While most remained seated on the shaded bench, one stood before them speaking in an animated manner.  As she drew nearer, she overheard the mole report how much each would receive.

"Then you did well selling what the winter gardens produced, Loamripper?"

The lady mole pivoted on one foot as she faced the approaching badger.  Loamripper's muzzle rose slightly as she stared into Tassel's eyes and her back stiffened as she stretched to her full height.  The mole's right paw pulled a kerchief from her opposite sleeve and held it before her muzzle, her expression making it obvious that she smelled something most unpleasant.  Her voice changed from bubbly animation to a chill that put winter to shame.

"Our decision is final."  Loamripper glanced behind her and saw the other ladies nodding in unison.  "You'll not receive a copper.  It was our produce the merchants bought; none came from your garden.  We'll not cut our share so a beast living on our charity can squander it on herself."

Tassel's gravelly voice matched the chill of her accuser.  "Aye, this Abbey's charity keeps those orphans clothed, fed, and sheltered.  The coins I earn are used for new garments, which are a special treat for those who must scavenge through discarded items others outgrew.  It allows me a chance at providing something special on birthdays and at the Dibbun Day festival, like the one we celebrated a month earlier."

One squirrel interrupted the verbal duel.  "You would think our abbey provided more funding," the squirrel hesitated, "unless it went elsewhere.  Dibbuns shouldn't be cheated on such a special holiday."

A second mole snapped her fingers.  "I thought that one gift looked familiar."  She turned to the hedgehog sitting next to her.  "Didn't your daughter have that same doll two years back?"

The hedgehog stared at Tassel.  "Cheating a child out of something new must be a common thing for vermin."

Another squirrel gave a dismissive snort.  "Could you expect anything else when you house such nice children with a convicted criminal?  Despite such a poor example, those youngsters know their manners."

"That's a real testament to abbey life," Loamripper said.  "Abusive vermin cannot break a good woodlander, no matter how hard she tries."

The other mole described an incident at last night's dinner where Tassel scolded a child for something she thought insignificant.  The ladies then recounted the local gossip about suspected abuse of the orphans as if the badger didn't exist.  Tassel withdrew.

"I knew this would happen."  Tassel growled under her breath.  "I told the father abbot my working with those ladies would not change their opinion of me.  Knowing how many times Loamripper entertained those two hares, I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't plan the destruction of my garden."

Rounding a row of stalls, the masked badger found a mixed group of older teens sitting on a shaded bench.  Kurella sat among her friends as they gossiped, unaware of her approach.  The mouse, Jazzin, stood behind the girl, kneading her shoulders.  Tassel thought the two mice made a wonderful couple, though she didn't know if the teenaged son of Redwall's champion warrior found the girl more friend than prospective mate.

Like a living shadow, the squirrel Firecrown stood to the right of Jazzin.  As a fellow warrior in training, the two remained inseparable.  Tassel's eyes noted how much of Firecrown's head fur had faded to a light grayish color over the last few seasons.  The top of the squirrel's head remained a bright red, validating the name his parents gave him at birth.  Still, she wondered if even that patch would disappear over time.  The idea of a grey squirrel with such an unsuitable name amused Tassel, which dispelled the gloomy feelings she had but a hundred paces earlier.

A light giggle came to a sudden halt when the female mole sitting next to Kurella noticed the female badger.  As Loamripper's only child, Tassel expected the same degree of animosity from Terranoir, but the girl always treated her with deference.  She did get a bit tongue-tied around elders, and acted a bit too submissive around her parents, but the young mole liked Kurella.

"Need I pull you away from your friends, or did you find a proper backpack?"  Though delivered with a soft tone, the gravel in Tassel's voice made her words sound more like a threat.

Firecrown reacted to the perceived danger by moving to a point where he could intercede if Tassel made any aggressive move.  The squirrel's paw reached for his reed sword.  He focused on the badgermom, anger smoldering behind his eyes.  Jazzin kept massaging his girlfriend's shoulders while shifting his weight away from the squirrel, ready to circle the bench in the opposite direction.

Kurella answered her badgermom, since she must have anticipated the question.  "I found one that is reasonably priced."  Her paw pointed down a long line of stalls.  "We can pick it up now, if you wish."

Tassel noticed how Kurella's calm reply defused the building tension without her even knowing it existed.  Firecrown retreated; he crossed his arms and leaned against a shade tree.  The anger kindled in his eyes snuffed out by his friend's casual reply.

Jazzin shifted his focus back to massaging the girl's shoulder with renewed vigor.  Hearing the girl's response had the warrior mouse in training give a sharp snort.  "You told us you preferred the other backpack, Kurella.  If you let me haggle with that otter lady, I can get it for less than two silvers."

"Two silvers is an exorbitant price."  Tassel's paw dug into her pocket and flipped the requested coins at Jazzin, who caught them without thinking.  "For that much, I expect nothing less than the highest quality.  If you can get it lower, then the four of you can spend the rest celebrating Kurella's departure.  I hope you all enjoy your time together as she leaves in five days."

"We're going too." Terranoir almost whispered.

Before the masked badger could ask for clarification, Firecrown left his post by the tree.  "Her father's help is needed on a construction project at the same village.  Foremole agreed to let Terranoir accompany us.  Jazzin and I will be traveling along as additional guards, though I doubt there will be trouble.  The village is more than a two-day journey from the sea."

Tassel expressed her wishes that the trip would be pleasurable before she returned to the bustling marketplace.  She recalled how many others approached the father abbot with some excuse to join those traveling to Plintar when he made the announcement at last night's dinner.  "That girl is so popular I bet half this Abbey would tag along if given the chance."

She stood by a stall, weighing the options as to which skeins of yarn she should purchase.  She felt another beast tap her on the arm, and she turned.  There stood the father abbot dressed in his traditional green habit, the hood hanging down his back so he could feel the cool breeze ruffle his fur.

"You need not repay me for those coins I gave you this morning.  I collected half a silver coin from each of the other ladies as land rent.  So you see, Tassel, I even made a profit for our poor Abbey."

"And they parted with their money without complaint?"

Father Hughnaught spoke as if he were describing the weather and not the reaction of several ladies denied something they thought theirs.  "They squawked like hens with their head on the chopping block, but eventually paid me when I told them it was to reimburse the Abbey for the money I gave you.  Needless to say, those ladies were not too happy."

Though Tassel made no reply, her mind screamed. That's just great.  Now those ladies will have another reason to resent me.  Is there anything else you can do, Father Abbot, to make my life here any less pleasant?

[cairn destop]

Chapter Six
Two Requests

When the door opened, a metal tab attached to the upper corner struck a brass bell.  The tinkling note echoed throughout the empty shop as it announced a customer.  It rang a second time as the door closed.

From a back room a female vole appeared.  In one paw she held a broom and in her other a dust tray.  She smiled at her guest and swept the floor.  With a quick pace she gathered the errant tuffs of fur and soon had everything tidy.

"You're a bit early, Tassel.  Give me a moment to clean up from my last group of customers."

The female badger stood just inside the furrier shop and swiveled in place.  "I do hope you don't expect me to sit out here where anyone could see my uncovered face."  She paused.  "I think you can understand my reluctance since you know what I look like.  Even my dibbuns have an adverse reaction the first few times I'm unmasked."

Henrietta finished sweeping the last bits of fur into the dustpan and dumped it into a trash receptacle.  "My customers prefer a communal setting, but I can understand your reluctance."  The vole pointed to the store's rear.  "My next three appointments are in an hour and, in the meantime, I'll leave a sign on the door saying I'm closed.  That should assure us privacy.  If some beast ignores it, we'll have the door to the back room shut and I can deal with the intruder without any risk of them seeing you."

Tassel followed the vole to the back room and gave the place a cursory inspection.  The windowless room had two wall length mirrors hidden under a heavy tarp.  Satisfied none could see her, the female badger disrobed and sank into the massive tub resting above a bank of smoldering coals.  After a few tentative tries, she sank into the hot water and let out a contented sigh.

The vole allowed her customer a few moments to enjoy the warm water soaking out all her tension.  Henrietta began rubbing a foamy soap into the badger's pelt.  When she finished, she rinsed the soap out of Tassel's fur and had her stand in a second, but empty tub.  Tassel did not move as Henrietta started her work.  The thick towel felt warm and the vigorous rubbing had the badger purring with delight.

"When one of your little ones said you needed to see me on an emergency basis, I was happy to find an opening in my schedule.  Now I understand why." 

Henrietta stepped back and examined the badger.  With the exception of the bare skin rings around the ankles and wrist, the fur remained winter-thick, but thickness didn't concern the vole.  Henrietta's paw pushed the stained fur against the grain as she inspected the underlying coat.  Her tongue kept a steady clicking as she circled the badger.

"There's no way I can salvage your winter coat; the coloring goes right down to the skin.  Good thing spring is almost here.  I suggest you sit closer to the fire on cold nights and add another blanket to your bed."

Tassel examined the orange streaks staining the fur on her arms and chest.  "A bucket of dye propped over my door doused me when I got up this morning.  It ruined my dress and left me looking like this.  I don't mind saying I thought one of the dibbuns I care for did it, but their eyes told me the truth."

Henrietta laid out her clippers.  "Considering what happened yesterday morning, I believe Markus and Darlow did it.  Those two hares dyed Robertasin's sheep and then scattered them throughout the pasture.  Yarden described it as the funniest thing he saw in a long time.  Imagine red, blue, violet, and yellow sheep wandering around a green field."

The badger did not join the vole's laughter.  "How did Robertasin take it?"

"You know some of the elders here call her 'Thunderhead' because her temper is like a storm cloud when angered.  She sure lived up to her nickname.  Robertasin caught them in the act and tried braining them with her shepherd's crook.  Good thing those hares could outrun one very irate squirrel.  Yarden said he watched that black squirrel chase those two for close to an hour before she finally gave up.  I'll not repeat what my mate said she shouted; I'm too much a lady for such language.  My guess is they saved some of the dye for you."

Henrietta then recounted the Abbey's gossip mill's version of what happened when the hares faced Father Hughnaught just before dinner.  She grumbled about his lack of control; somebody needed to rein in those mischievous teens.  Henrietta recounted the many pranks attributed to the two teenaged hares and how the father abbot did nothing.  The vole stopped her monologue when she noticed her customer's silence.

"I do wish you would stop moping every time I mention my mate's name or that of my toddler.  You make any conversation difficult as I'm always afraid my words will have you acting like one of your youngsters denied a treat."

Tassel shifted in her chair, allowing the vole a chance at trimming another section of her coat.  She kept quiet while the metallic clicking of the scissors continued.  As Henrietta selected a different clipper, the badger spoke in a subdued tone.

"Every beast in this Abbey has a mate, or a good chance at finding one."  Tassel's gravelly voice held no emotion.  "But me, I'm condemned to this Abbey, never able to venture beyond its outer walls, and I can count the number of male badgers that have visited this Abbey on one paw.  Every time I hear those wedding bells, I get so depressed.  I feel like a clay vase that will never know the kiln's fire."

The vole stopped her work, stepped back, and admired her effort.  Tassel allowed Henrietta a moment to make her final inspection.  When she said nothing more, the badger started dressing.  She then placed two large copper coins in a tray by the covered mirror.  The vole tried returning the coins, but Tassel refused.

"Redwall pays you for grooming those under my care.  That payment doesn't cover me.  I'll not accept charity, though I am grateful for the offer."

"Then consider this a favor returned between friends.  If you hadn't stayed with my daughter while I was at the market, I never would have gotten my clippers sharpened."

Tassel pocketed one of the coins as she left the room.  Henrietta retrieved her broom.  Just as the doorbell sounded, she called out to the badger.  "Before you leave Tassel, any word on your request to the father abbot?"

Tassel crossed the shop and exited the room giving no indication of having heard the vole's query.

* * *

The brown squirrel stood at parade rest before the massive desk, his paws clasped behind his back.  Just over his head he caught sight of his bushy tail and noticed how the hairs at the very tip twitched.  His mood darkened as he concentrated on the task before him.  His eyes wandered to the large window that dominated the wall he faced.  Sunlight streamed into the room giving it a bright appearance and added warmth. 

Behind the desk sat the current leader of Redwall Abbey.  Karteel remembered the woodchuck had been one of the first to greet him two winters back when his wanderings brought him to this impressive fortress.  Until now, he never had an excuse for visiting the office.  In the past, the squirrel preferred discussing matters informally over a gaming table.

Karteel kept his voice devoid of any emotion as he held his irritation under control.  It would be counterproductive if their conversation turned into a heated shouting match.  He knew words spoken in anger seldom persuaded another to change their opinion.  A calm voice always worked better.

"I remember my words from two months ago, Father Abbot.  With everyone getting antsy confined to the building due to the heavy winter snows, it sounded like a great idea.  You were most enthusiastic, and I was pleased so many of the residents joined the classes I held in the Abbey's basement."

The woodchuck's eyes never strayed from the paper.  "Your idea of training everyone in basic weapon's skills and defensive tactics did indeed help everyone overcome the winter doldrums.  If they don't continue the training now that the snows are gone, I'll not force it.  We are a peaceful Abbey; you knew that when you settled here, Karteel."

The squirrel took a deep breath and let it slide out before replying.  "According to the merchants I talked to yesterday, slavers are active in the regions to our north and west.  Though no community east of the Grand Spur has been attacked, it is best all are prepared.  I'm just concerned about our conversation from last night.  If I am correct, you expect me to train vermin too?"

Father Hughnaught lifted a quill and began writing, his eyes fixed on the material before him.  "I'm not asking you to turn our resident nanny into Redwall's next champion warrior.  Just give her enough attention so she feels confident with her weapon of choice."

Karteel interjected a strong note of displeasure.  "As a matter of courtesy, Father Abbot, could I have your undivided attention?"

The father abbot stopped his work.  He leaned back in his chair, his paws forming a platform for his muzzle.  For the next moment, the two remained in this silent staring contest until the woodchuck shifted in his chair.

"What more is there to say?  You voiced your objections while we played Siege last night.  Nothing you said then has changed my mind.  Tassel asked me before dinner if she could take lessons and even Nivek supported her request.  If Redwall's champion warrior thinks it a good idea, I see no harm."

"No harm?"  Karteel couldn't keep the shock out of his voice.  "You would have me train an enemy how best to defeat us?  I said it before and I'll say it again, if this Abbey ever does come under attack, either keep her locked in a secure place until our enemy is defeated, or kill her.  She's a menace to every honorable beast residing here."

The father abbot's voice remained unruffled.  "You're too inflexible.  She has proven herself trustworthy with the dibbuns I placed in her care.  Though I wouldn't classify her as an enemy, I can well understand your reluctance.  If you think you are unable to act like a professional soldier, name another drill instructor."

"Have you been taking heed to some of our most respected elders?  If even half the tales about her treatment of those under her care are true, she needs no training from me.  As I hear it, she is quite deadly when armed with a willow switch.  Why give her access to a real weapon?"

Father Hughnaught leaned back in his chair, his expression calm.  "Such stories were circulating even before I confirmed my predecessor's decision to have Tassel named Redwall's badgermom.  Each has proven false, though I investigated any that sounded creditable.  I can remember ordering Tassel to have one or two of her youngsters taken to Healer Fazbee, or I had a dibbun sent to the infirmary without her knowledge.  Not a shred of evidence supports the accusations of abuse."

Like any tactician thwarted on one front, Karteel tried another approach.  "Would the Counsel of Elders support your decision?"

The father abbot's voice remained unruffled.  "I understand you made sure they knew about her request.  Think I didn't see you conversing with them after our game?  Before I even had a chance at breakfast, they stormed my private quarters.  Two threatened a vote of no confidence, but that will not sway me.  Such a vote for my removal as the father abbot requires an overt action from Tassel that proves my decision endangered the residents."

"If you insist I go forward with her training, she will find others of her ilk.  Before long this Abbey will be a smoldering ruin.  Vermin will be dancing on our graves."  Karteel could not keep his voice from climbing several octaves, though he kept it low enough that anyone outside could not overhear his words. 

The calm voice of Redwall's ruler sounded more like some beast describing the progress of this year's crops and not somebody in a heated verbal battle.  "Yes, I'm taking a risk, but I believe she will tire of the lessons just like many of the others.  Her responsibilities as badgermom weigh heavily on her, so I doubt she will show much progress.  If you feel so adamant about training her, I'll have Nivek take over when he returns from Plintar."

Karteel adopted a more civil tone.  "I'll inform the sow that her first lesson will be this afternoon."

He marched out of the office and closed the door.  Once outside, the squirrel emitted a low growl.  With a conscious effort, he unclenched his fists.  The sound of another beast taking a deep breath had him turn to his right.  Karteel noticed the secretary staring at him with eyes as big as saucers.  He took a moment and smoothed his shirt, acting as if the red-furred mouse didn't exist.  With the nonexistent dust removed from his tunic, he addressed the lady as if he just noticed her.

"Mark my words Cinnamon.  We shall all rue the day somebody placed a weapon in that vermin's paw."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Seven
On Another Road

Within the dark clearing, a fire burned.  Sparks leaped into the sky before they faded into nothingness.  Light illuminated but a small portion of the wide field, yet in that limited space, shapes moved.  The silent darkness became a shroud that morphed the nearby forest into stalking creatures ready to devour any who strayed from the protection of the fire.

A twig snapped.  Heads turned towards the unknown disturbance.  Several of the silhouetted shapes stood.  Paws reached for weapons.  Firelight reflected off the metal surfaces, giving the illusion these weapons now held the power of the flame.

"I say old chaps.  Is there any room at your fire for a squad of patrolling soldiers?  We've been traveling for some time without seeing anyone and it would be jolly well nice sharing your company." 

Out of the darkness emerged a tall figure.  The male hare stood ramrod straight as he entered the light.  He held his paws away from his side.  His camouflaged-colored shirt had no sleeves, which gave his powerful arms free rein.  The matching britches ended above his knees, which exposed muscular legs.

In coloration, the hare's fur displayed two distinctive shades.  Like a line drawn through the middle of his body, the left side showed the off-white shading of dingy sheets.  His right side showed blotches of brown on an otherwise bright-white background.  The fellow's brown eyes reflected the light of the fire, adding a devil-may-care twinkle to his broad smile.

One of the beasts standing near the fire spoke.  "Unless my eyes deceive me, that's the uniform of the Salamandastron Regulars."  The creature approached the hare and extended his paw.

"Right you are, sir.  I'm Lieutenant Snellzen, and we're at your service, at least for tonight.  Do hope you don't mind entertaining guests."  The hare shook the stranger's paw, accepting the test of strength the male mouse initiated.

While the hare squeezed the mouse's paw, another half dozen hares entered the circle of light.  Like their leader, all wore similar outfits, though none displayed a rank insignia higher than Lieutenant Snellzen.  No weapons were drawn, though the hilts of sword or axe rested within easy reach.  One male, whose physique overshadowed the other hares, carried a wooden club capped in metal against his shoulder.  The lone female in their group carried an unstrung longbow over her back along with a wicked-looking blade riding on her hip.

Both warriors released their grips.  Each of them flexed their fingers, satisfied with the draw.  The male mouse beckoned the hares closer.  "Your company is always welcomed.  There's plenty of room around our fire."

A deep rumbling voice responded from the dark.  "It's good to be welcomed by friends."

If the hares appeared tall, the apparition that stepped into the clearing made them the size of dibbuns.  Everyone took an involuntary step back at the unexpected sight of a full-grown male badger.  The handle of a war axe showed above his shoulders and the blade reflected a reddish hue from the fire.  Compared to the hares, the badger's muscular build overpowered everyone.  Those camped at the fire openly stared at the powerful beast.

Though what he wore resembled no uniform, the hares treated the badger with a special deference.  He approached the campsite as if he owned it, never acknowledging the courtesy of those who gave way when he passed.  Though none made threatening moves, four buck hares surrounding the badger held their weapons at the ready.  When the male badger found a rock close to the fire he could utilize as a seat, he took it.  He gave a low groan as his backpack slid off his shoulders.

Lieutenant Snellzen stepped next to the huge badger.  "This fine fellow is Lord Brisson, the eldest son of King Meles.  As heir to the throne of Salamandastron, he will become the next ruler of the Northern Alliance.  You can understand my caution about strangers camped so far from any settlement."

The mouse pointed to himself.  "Then let me offer introductions.  I am Nivek, champion warrior of Redwall Abbey.  Every beast traveling with me is a trusted companion.  All of us are expected by the elders ruling the village of Plintar.  Would you know of it?"

Lord Brisson held his paws out to the fire warming them.  His eyes remained focused on the dancing flames as he offered a response.  "If memory serves me right, it's an insignificant farming community composed primarily of mice and otters, though other species reside in the area and frequent the town.  We saw no reason to tarry there."

"Perhaps for some beast from Fiery Mountain, such a community might not attract your attention.  However, we have important business to conduct there," said the mouse.  Nivek pointed to the mole standing to his left.  "Foremole intends showing those good beasts how to improve their irrigation system."  With a wave of his paw, he ushered a female mouse to his side.  "But the real reason for our trip is to deliver Kurella to the village's healer.  She will be his new apprentice."

For the first time since entering the campsite, Lord Brisson scrutinized each woodlander gathered near the fire.  The badger's brow furrowed when he noticed the female mouse's expression.  "The others seem awed by my appearance, yet I see in your eyes that the sight of a badger has no effect on you.  You must find me a far better example of our kind than what you have at your Abbey, if that female still lives.  Even in the company of badger warriors, my build surpasses all."

The mouse stood tall as she approached the boar.  Two of the hares moved to block her.  Seeing their drawn weapons got nothing more than a contemptuous snort from an unarmed Kurella.  When neither hare backed away, she stood her ground, and challenged the badger eye to eye.

"You are correct, sir.  Redwall has a resident badger, so the sight of one does not enthrall us.  I will admit your size is most impressive, and I'm not talking about your height.  I'm referring to your pride.  Heir to a throne you may be, but your manners are as offish as a spoiled child.  You dare to strut in here as if we owe you some debt?  Intimidating you may be, but I'll not be cowed into acting the genial host to one who thinks the world owes him homage due to nothing more than an accident of birth."

Kurella took two steps away from the future ruler.  She turned her head until her muzzle pointed at the boar sitting by the fire.  "As far as I'm concerned, our badger is a far better example for your kind than the buffoon I see."

Having delivered her rebuke, the mouse circled the fire.  Nivek tried blocking her way, but she pushed aside his restraining paw.  Once she reached the far side of the flame, all watched her lay out her bedroll.  With a minimum of motions, she bedded down for the night, her back to the fire and those attending the badger lord.

Stunned silence hung heavy over the camp.  Nivek pointed to the girl when he spoke to Lord Brisson.  "The female badger you insulted raised her.  She is the only mother Kurella has ever known.  Would you expect no less a defense of a beloved elder?" 

Lord Brisson remained quiet, though his eyes focused on the sleeping form across the fire.  When the badger failed to acknowledge him, the mouse warrior repeated his words.

"There are disturbing rumors of villages being attacked by raiders from the sea.  All the merchants who visited Redwall a few days back told stories of slavers west of your home mountain.  Is there any truth to these stories, or are they exaggerated tales?"

Lieutenant Snellzen answered Nivek's question.  "Those stories are true.  There have been a number of minor raiders, but one particular vessel, The Red Sharkeye, has cleaned out seven villages over the last six months.  Somehow, their captain knows where our forces are patrolling.  They played me like a bloody fool with their latest raid."

The badger replied to the lieutenant's comment without masking his disgust.  "They played us all for fools.  You need not take the blame.  I thought the same as you; otherwise, I would never have been there."

Lieutenant Snellzen picked up where the badger left off.  "Our unit patrolled a section of the coast we thought ideal for sea raiders.  It looked perfect to us.  There were three villages within a day's march, a sheltered cove big enough to hide any seagoing vessel from other ships sailing along the coast, and far enough from any roads that a vermin base camp could remain undiscovered."

"Did they show?" asked Nivek

The hare answered with a bitter snarl.  "Indeed they did.  One morning, we spotted the Red Sharkeye approaching the area.  Three creatures came ashore and prepared a campsite.  I sent runners to every nearby militia unit.  On the fourth night, the vermin began slinking around one of the villages; we bided our time and did not interfere."

"That makes sense," said Firecrown.  When several eyes turned towards the young squirrel, he squirmed where he sat.  "I mean, you could observe and decide what to do later."

Snellzen nodded.  "Our squirrel there has the right of it.  We wanted their ship, not just three lowly crew beasts.  It took five days for our soldiers to gather, and we figured the next new moon would be an ideal time for any attack.

"Two nights before the new moon, we saw the slaver's ship bearing down on the cove; its running lights blazing.  The three vermin crew beasts got in their launch.  I surmised once they reported everything ready, the crew would come ashore.  It never happened.  They recovered the launch, and every light winked out.  When morning came, they were long gone."

Though the rumbling voice of the badger remained low, none could mistake its angry tone.  "Two days later, a runner came into our camp.  The slavers hit a large community to the south, captured all but a pawful of the residents.  They decoyed us into shifting our forces away, which left that village exposed.  If I didn't know better, I would think they knew we were there, and like bloody fools, we took the bait."

"Begging your pardon, but if you're hunting pirates, why are you so far from the ocean?"

Those gathered about the fire became quiet.  Then Snellzen nodded.  "I have heard moles are known for their logical minds, and you live up to that reputation, Foremole.  We got a dispatch from home about bandits camped out in the Barrier Hills, raiding caravans and demanding tribute from some of the nearby farming communities.  The local militia was routed in their last encounter, and I'm hoping a few hares will give them more backbone when next they face these criminals.  I figure it should take about a month to eliminate whoever is responsible."

"As for me," Lord Brisson added, "I'm on a bit of a diplomatic mission, trying to remove a few burrs from the fur, if you catch my drift.  The local ruler has been quite vocal about the lack of help."

Nivek pondered the statement.  "Doesn't that leave this region wide open for the slavers?"

Lord Brisson gave a negative shake of his head.  "Every raid has been west of an outcropping of rocks known as the Grand Spur, a day's march from our mountain fortress.  They know our fleet would catch them if they tried sneaking past us.  The villages north and east of our base have nothing to fear from slavers.  You'll see how true that is when you get yon maiden to her master healer."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Eight
Bad Timing

The mouse dodged left, a spear thrown by an unseen attacker grazed his hip.  He ignored the minor injury concentrating on the beast before him.  His sword engaged the stoat's axe.  The blade slid along the shaft; a cry of pain, and the mouse gained time as his opponent retreated.  Sweat rolled off Nivek's muzzle, mixing with the blood from several deep cuts.  His voice rang out, calling to all who were near.

"Rally to me.  Rally to me." 

Nivek listened to the screams of the injured and sensed the villager's panic.  The smell of fear blended with blood creating a sickly odor that saturated the area.  The burning buildings illuminated what had developed into a living nightmare.  Shapes flashed in and out of the surrounding darkness as Nivek tried separating friend from foe.

A paw touched his back and Nivek spared enough time to identify who would bother a warrior in battle.  His teenaged son Jazzin stood next to him, his expression devoid of all emotion.  Like his father, he held a sword covered in blood.  Nivek noticed how his son's twitching whiskers betrayed his terror. 

"We fall back," Nivek shouted above the noise of battle.  "We fall back," Nivek whispered as exhaustion took its toll.  The warrior mouse scanned the terrain.  "Has anyone seen Firecrown?"

Jazzin hesitated.  Slavers dragged out those who tried hiding and gathered those separated from the armed villagers.  Both warriors stood too far away to help.

"They captured Firecrown.  I saw them carry him away in chains.  There were too many for me, and I had to protect another family fleeing the area."

The old warrior awaited his next opponent.  His shoulders slumped under the pain of his injuries.  "This battle is lost, son.  I needed Firecrown because he is our fastest runner.   You'll have to go in his place; I'll not trust our future to anyone else."

The mouse turned to his son.  "Find those soldiers we entertained last night and tell them Plintar is under attack.  Without those hares, anyone surviving this battle will be doomed to a life of slavery.  If there is any chance we can turn their victory into defeat, it will only come with the help of those soldiers."

Several vermin raiders started towards them, Jazzin matched his father's stride as both sides drew near.  Then the teen sheathed his blade.  The father spared a few seconds.  Nivek watched his son retreat; then he charged the vermin.  The mouse had to distract the raiders, and that he could do with cold steel and a colder heart.

* * * *

Commander Flashentie awoke.  After a long sleep on the hard ground, he needed a slow stretch to work out the kinks in his back.  Within the shadows of the forest, a dozen other creatures still slept around the campground.

After checking with a nearby sentry, he strolled over to his second officer.  He had no trouble locating the weasel since his russet fur ran darker than the other weasels under his command.  As he approached the officer, he inquired about what happened while he slept.

"Commander, all but one of our scouts has reported.  The others returned an hour ago and things are not as we expected.  I have a bad feeling about this raid."

Flashentie grinned.  "Altac, you always have a bad feeling whenever we're about to strike.  Tell me you're happy; that's when I'll worry."

The weasel glanced around, making sure the sentries were too distant and any beast near still slept.  "Our agent described Plintar as a sleepy little village in the middle of nowhere.  I would hate to see a place she calls lively.  A caravan came into the village just before dawn and now there's a marketplace set up with all manner of beasties running around."

"Excellent," Flashentie grinned.  "Instead of us getting a few river dogs and mice, we just might get us a full mix of creatures.  Best of all, skilled artisans usually travel with merchants.  There's always a demand for jewelers and tailors.  Captain Peggen will be pleased.  Right now, the market needs otters, but conditions can change before we reach Herlystone.  A good mix of other beast will guarantee a profitable venture."

"I don't like it, commander.  Caravans and merchants mean warriors.  That brings me to my other bit of news; another group arrived at the village.  An hour later, a festival started.  It's been going all day."

He ignored his second's dour voice and made his way to the cook's tent.  Flashentie weaved around the sleeping bodies as he followed the smell of hot food.  Once inside the tent, he grabbed a plate and waited until the stoat attending the cooking fire saw him.  His finger tapped the metal dish and the cook ladled out a heaping measure. 

Stepping outside the tent, he searched for an unoccupied space that still promised shade from the setting sun.  His back slid down the rough bark of the tree he selected until his rump rested on one of the exposed roots.  Altac grunted as he found an acceptable spot near the same tree.  While they ate, the other raiders stirred.

"This village, how far away is it?"

Altac's spoon hovered above his dish while his head bobbed from side to side.  When his head movement stopped, he shoveled in the food and gave a quick swallow.  "Plintar is about a two hour walk from here.  These woods will hide our approach the whole way; no chance the residents will spot us.  Between that market, the festival, and the threat of rain, I doubt any beast will be hunting these woods, but I'll have our officers stress the need for absolute quiet."

Flashentie grunted.  "I intend hitting them at dawn.  We leave here right after sundown.  Best we keep an eye on our target during the night and have everyone in position.  Our raiders will hit them an hour before the sun rises while everyone is still sleeping.  Festivals and market days are tiring; they'll be slow reacting.  Maybe we can do some looting, bring back a little extra for our captain."

"Doesn't that make our trip back to the Red Sharkeye tight?  Prisoners seldom move fast and we have to make the beach no later than two hours after sunset the day after tomorrow.  I would hate to miss our ship by an hour or two."

Flashentie chuckled.  "Captain Peggen will wait until false dawn before withdrawing.  If it looks like we'll miss our rendezvous, I'll send a runner back to the Red Sharkeye.  We capture as many new slaves as I anticipate on this raid and our good captain will come back the next evening.  You worry too much, Altac."

Just then the two heard another beast jogging through the forest.  The approaching creature made no effort at concealment.  The cracking of twigs and the swishing of leaves heralded his arrival.  Several beasts placed their meal trays on the ground, drew their weapon as they searched for the intruder.  One ferret strung her short bow, the arrowhead pointing to the source of the disturbance. 

The creature came into sight.  Everyone sheathed their weapons as they returned to their meal.  Some hurled insults at the approaching stoat as they retrieved their food.  The runner locked eyes with the commander as he entered the camp.  The scout did not stop until he stood before Commander Flashentie.

"Sir, I found a campfire half a day's march west of here.  I counted at least a dozen hare tracks plus a warrior badger, judging by the size of his prints.  Their scent is two days old, but they went in the general direction of the village."

His eyes glazed over and he began tapping his incisor with the tip of his spoon.  After several seconds, he pointed at the scout and then indicated the mess tent's location.  Flashentie renewed his tapping.  At last he stopped abusing his tooth.

"The other scouts, did they report any hares or a badger wandering through that village?"

"None reported such creatures within Plintar.  Considering the fighting reputation hares and badgers have, I doubt our scouts would overlook such a vital piece of information.  That village would treat a warrior badger and a contingent of Long Patrol hares like honored guests, parading them throughout the town and showing off their fields."

Flashentie returned to his seat by the tree.  "Something tells me this unit has a specific mission further inland.  Otherwise, they would have paid a courtesy call.  According to our informant, hares seldom patrol this area since they think no raider foolish enough to try it."

"Should we call off this attack and return later?"

"No, we just change the time.  We attack tonight instead of at dawn.  A burning village sends up a smoky beacon during the day.  It would attract those hares the same way rotting meat draws maggots.  The intervening forest and hills will hide any fire's glow and by morning, the village will be ashes.  Those hares will never know we were here."

He summoned his officers and informed them of the change in plans.  The raiders broke camp.  As the sun dipped below the horizon, Flashentie led his force into the forest.

Several hours later, they reached the outskirts of Plintar.  He waited at one end of the village while his raiders moved into position.  Runners reported all awaited the signal.  If not for a lone sentry circling a dozen wagons, Flashentie might have thought the place abandoned.

He pointed to the female ferret kneeling next to him and the guard.  She slid forward and Flashentie lost sight of her in the darkness.  He strained his hearing, knowing what would happen next.  The expected twang of the bow never came, but he saw the unknown guard collapse with a feathered shaft sticking from his back.  Nothing disturbed the quiet night.

Commander Flashentie blew a whistle once.  From three sides his raiders stormed the sleeping village.  Several torches flared, and then flew towards the nearest huts.  Some of the residents inadvertently aided the attackers by opening doors and holding lanterns high, just like he anticipated.

Without warning, everything changed.  Armed figures emerged from two of the huts.  The first raiders entering the town never anticipated resistance.  Flashentie watched as the unexpected warriors dispatched his vanguard raiders.  Instead of a panicked mob, the inhabitants rallied.  Even as the next wave of raiders reached the village, more residents produced makeshift weapons.  Rakes and hoes proved just as deadly as spears and swords.

Commander Flashentie unsheathed his blade.  A red-headed squirrel lunged at him, his sword going straight for his heart.  He responded with a flick of the wrist and redirected the blade away from himself.  Reaching behind the grey squirrel, he yanked hard on his opponent's tail.  Spun around, the squirrel had no defense for the meaty fist that struck the back of his head like a blacksmith's hammer. 

Even as he pressed forward, he spared enough time to watch another raider slap chains around the dazed squirrel's wrist and ankles.  The armed villagers gravitated to the other side of the town, away from the merchant wagons where Flashentie stood.  Screams rent the air as his raiders torched the town.

Two ferrets led a dozen captives towards the preplanned rally point.  Reaching out his paw, he stopped his archer.

"We cannot afford having armed villagers dogging our heels.  If we can take out that mouse, they'll scatter."

The ferret archer nodded.  Flashentie watched her work her way closer to the mouse directing the defenders.  She stepped clear of a burning hut, drew her bow, and launched her arrow in one fluid motion.  The arrow struck the mouse right in the chest and he collapsed.  The villagers hesitated.

The mouse stood.  He yanked the arrow out and threw it aside.  Without missing a step, he slew one raider and injured another.  The other villagers rallied to his side, scattering Flashentie's soldiers while acting as a rear guard for the retreating inhabitants.  He watched another two of his raiders slaughtered and their prisoners escorted to safety.

"By the Eternals, that mouse is wearing armor," he shouted.

The Commander tried locating his archer.  In the light of a burning hut he saw her prepare another shot.  She notched an arrow, stepped clear of the hut, and sent the shaft flying.  Flashentie cheered when the shaft shattered the warrior's skull like an over ripened melon.  The armed villagers withdrew.

Best I cut our losses.  Reaching into his pocket, Flashentie withdrew his whistle.  He sounded two long notes.  In the light of the burning huts, he saw his retreating unit prod a large group of chained villagers past him. 

Flashentie stopped a limping stoat.  "You caught everyone that ran in the direction we wanted?"  Before the stoat could answer, he fired off a second question.  "Where's Altac?"

"That mouse knew the obvious escape route was a trap.  Altac tried distracting him.  He failed."

Cursing, Flashentie trailed his raiders as they pulled out.  In the distance, he noticed two bobbing lights.  He then heard the soft sobbing of prisoners, the clank of chains, and the growling commands of his soldiers.  A glance at the burning village showed no beast followed.

They continued their fast march along the trail.  Prisoners and guards alike panted at the grueling pace.  When all reached a wide clearing, a collective groan arose.  Flashentie gave no time for rest.  He gathered his squad leaders.

"What's the tally?"

A weasel lieutenant stepped forward.  "We took so many prisoners that some remain unchained.  It looks like we did well."

Flashentie nodded.  "And your soldiers, how do they fare?"

The weasel hesitated a moment.  "Our losses were heavy due to those warriors.  We lost one in ten from every unit, and a quarter of our remaining soldiers have serious injuries.  The guard on the south side never returned."

Flashentie growled.  Officers jumped to obey his orders.  Tired prisoners and raiders alike voiced their objections.  Everyone moved north at a fast pace.  At the rear, several soldiers worked at hiding their trail.

Mumbling under his breath, he pushed to the forefront.  "Now we're in a race.  Only reason somebody would go south is if they knew those hares were traveling in that direction.  Last thing I want to do is tangle with the Long Patrol and some badger warrior."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Nine
The Race

Commander Flashentie wiped the misty rain off his face.  A quick glance at the rolling grey clouds overhead indicated this shower would not abate until late afternoon or evening.  He tried cinching his foul weather coat tighter, but the wetness soaked him to the skin.  Such discomfort soured his mood.  In spite of this, he still greeted each sentry by name before moving on to the next beast on watch. 

At last he turned to the weasel who had dogged his heels since he started his inspection.  "Well, lieutenant, you did a fine job keeping our captives under control.  Anything you want to report before I grab a quick meal?"

"Our scouts spent the night laying down a false trail that should take anyone following us further west.  They also reported our actual trail remains well hidden.  An expert tracker would have a difficult time finding us.  Thanks to this constant drizzle, even our scent will vanish within an hour."

"Did I make a mistake promoting you?  Tell me you're not that arrogant.  These rains have been far too light.  Anyone with a sharp nose should detect something.  And if you have forgotten the obvious, these prisoners are going to leave a powerful scent trail regardless of this weather since they are doing nothing to hide it.  It all comes down to who is better, the beast tracking us or our efforts at masking so many smells."

The weasel came to a halt when he heard the note of disapproval.  The fellow outlined the precautions he took covering their retreat while insuring no prisoner escaped.  Each time the officer mentioned something, he grunted.  In spite of his overconfident attitude, Flashentie admitted his new second covered every possible contingency.  When he spied the cook handing out rations, he tried leaving, but the lieutenant had one more thing to report.

"I assigned a scout to watch the area where our real and false trails diverged.  If somebody sees through our deception, we'll have plenty of warning.  I told the scout he should remain at his post until mid afternoon.  Traveling alone, he'll be at the beach by nightfall with time to spare."




While the two vermin conversed, Firecrown continued to slink around the bodies of the exhausted slaves.  Whenever the fox came to a standstill, he drew close.  If the rattling of his shackles attracted the attention of any raider, he fell flat on the ground mimicking a restless sleep.  Once the fox and his weasel escort walked beyond his hearing, he made for his two companions.

Near the center of the herded captives, Firecrown approached several creatures that acted as if they still slept.  His friends reconstructed each conversation overheard from the raiders during the previous day and night of travel.  They reexamined each detail, and rejected those considered exaggerations, while Kurella wrote everything else.

Kurella read her notes; a deep frown etched into her features.  "Fine, we have a lot of useful information, but what do we do with it?  No sense trying to hide this much paper.  Unlike the vermin in our Recorder's tales; these are diligent about clearing our back trail.  Besides, if the rains continue, my pages will become nothing more than mush once exposed to the weather."

Another voice interrupted their whispered conversation.  As one, the youths turned towards the source.  An older female squirrel rested a few feet distant.  Her ears kept swiveling as she maintained a low voice.

"What information you kids have gathered might be valuable, but you'll never be able to pass it along."

Firecrown gave the elderly squirrel a dismissive snort.  "I'm the fastest tree jumper in all of Redwall.  I get into the woods and they'll never catch me."

The elder's voice came across as condescending while she stated the obvious.  "These guards keep all the squirrels close to the center and away from trees.  Besides, with your shackles, you'll be too slow.  Fortunately, when they caught me, they didn't have any more.  You get me to the forest and I'll guarantee delivery of your message."

Terranoir, a female mole no older than him, placed her paw on his shoulder.  "The elder knows nothing about you, but she speaks with wisdom.  Listen to her.  While you followed that fox, did you notice if any of the raiders were armed with a bow?"

Firecrown covered his face with his paws while sounding a low growl.  He looked at the female mole, addressing her in a less than civil tone.  "Anyone ever tell you changing boats in mid stream can lead to trouble?"  After a short pause, he faced a silent Terranoir.  "Leave it to a mole to devise riddles when actions are needed.  But to answer your question, I didn't see any bows while I shadowed that fox."

Terranoir's voice showed she either missed the rebuke or ignored it.  "The elder is unfettered.  Since these slavers have no bow beast, once she reaches a tree, she can outrace any spear or sling stone.  We need a way of distracting the guards at the right moment."

A series of loud voices intruded on their conversation.  From the outer edge, several of the raiders began rousing the sleeping prisoners.  These beasts did not hesitate using a swift kick or a less than gentile prod with the butt end of a spear as they moved through the exhausted captives.  Despite the moans and groans, they were herded to the center of a wide trail.  The grey fox pointed off in one direction and everyone started jogging.

Kurella folded the pages and slipped them into an inner pocket.  Another paw squeezed her shoulder just enough to catch her attention.  Terranoir leaned closer while keeping an eye on the nearest guards.

"The elder said she has a leather bag that should keep those pages dry.  Give them to her."

With nothing more than a faked sneeze, Firecrown caught the attention of the adult squirrel.  He pointed to a long strand of trees bordering the trail.  The elder opened her blouse and exposed her leather purse before nodding.  A few whispered words and the teens worked their way to the outer edge.  Firecrown jogged behind one guard while the elder paced him.  He risked a quick glance behind him at Kurella, who indicated her readiness.

Firecrown gave the signal.  Kurella stepped in front of the guard and fell to the ground.  The guard, unable to stop in midstride, tripped.  When the second guard turned, Firecrown tackled him.  The elder squirrel launched herself at the nearest tree, her claws scrambling for a solid hold.  Before anyone could stop her, she climbed beyond questing paws.

Pandemonium broke out as guards began herding the remaining captives away from the disturbance.  Other guards released spears, but they fell short as the old female reached the tree's upper boughs.  Some tried racing to the next tree, but she outdistanced them.  The forest loomed ahead and in a few seconds, the slavers would lose sight of the fleeing squirrel.

Firecrown's whispered encouragements died when he heard the distinctive twang of a bowstring.  He watched in horror as the elder tumbled out of the tree.  He heard the snap of the branches as the escaping squirrel fell in some bushes, but could not see where she landed.  After a brief pause, a female ferret approached.  In one paw she carried a short bow, while she held the severed head of the elder squirrel in her other.

Propping the head on a nearby branch, the archer faded back into the forest.  The grey fox marched through the cowering prisoners until he came muzzle to muzzle with the teen squirrel.  He gave no warning before driving his knee into his gut.  Flashentie lifted him by the nape of his neck until his nose touched the teen's ear. 

"No beast has ever escaped me.  A few fools tried, and you saw what happened.  If anyone else makes such an attempt, you'll wish for a quick death.  Trust me when I say I'm one who always keeps his word when it comes to threats."  He released the teen who continued retching from the rough treatment.

The guards made no other retaliatory moves against either Firecrown or Kurella for their actions in the attempted escape.  Instead, they prodded them to the front of the pack before herding the remaining captives down the appropriate trail.  Both teens kept silent as they quick-marched down the indicated path.  At the next rest stop, Terranoir joined them, two otter teens following at her heels.

"We still have one more opportunity, and these two have a plan."

Firecrown glanced at the mole, her two companions, and the back of the fox leading them.  He felt his hackles rising.  "I'll do whatever it takes to help."



Commander Flashentie paced his new second in command as they raced towards safety.  While he ran, he tried recalling the face of his long-time partner, Altac, but it remained a blur.  He remembered how the weasel thought every raid too dangerous.  Yet Altac's concerns honed his strategy as it forced him to consider unforeseen alternatives.  Together, they forged an unbeatable team.  This time, Altac's fears proved valid.

He knew the more prisoners one took, the greater the chance for an escape.  He recalled how otters always darted to the nearest stream and squirrels to the highest tree.  With no water nearby, he hedged his bets on a break for the trees.  When the slaves passed the severed head, whatever fire filled their eyes vanished like morning fog.

Just then, he heard running footsteps.  When Flashentie turned, he spotted the ferret commanding the rear guard.  The fellow jogged closer before matching his pace.

"The scout I left by the false trail just returned.  You were right, sir.  The villagers reorganized and followed our trail.  This rain slowed them down, but they're armed and looking for blood.  Think one or two of their hunters led the others and they took the bait.  They followed the false trail westward."

The Commander expressed his irritation.  "So why did the scout leave his post?"

"Sir, an hour later, another group came from the direction of the village."  The officer took a few deep breaths before he continued.  "A young mouse traveled with more than a score of hares and a male badger.  One hare sniffed out the true path.  When he told the badger, he sent two hares down the false trail and had the others await their return."

The commander cursed.  His mind worked on the logistics as he considered the turn of events.  Commander Flashentie turned to his underlings.

"We will reach a sharp bend in the trail very soon.  First squad, drive the prisoners to the next clearing, which should take you about an hour.  Second squad, hold along the tree line." 

Then he turned to the officer commanding the rear guard.  "Send two of your warriors down the path.  Delay anyone they meet and then have them join second squad.  Once we secure the prisoners at the next clearing, I'll lead everyone through the forest.  When those hares attack, second squad will become the anvil to our hammer."

With a renewed sense of confidence, the slavers drove their prisoners harder.  None tried covering the evidence of their passage.  When the raiders passed the fork in the road, all of the beasts assigned to second squad entered the forest.  As the others passed them, the commander nodded his approval as the raiders prepared a barricade.

Every beast now ran.  Guards bullied the villagers.  If any shackled beast proved too slow, a sword ended their race.  Chains were removed from the dead and placed on any prisoner who still remained unfettered.  By the time they reached their destination, everyone collapsed, gasping for each breath.

Commander Flashentie allowed only a few moments rest.  Water bags passed from one prisoner to another as each took a quick drink.  Guards took whatever rations could be scrounged from backpacks.  Groans from everyone evidenced the grueling pace.

Two officers jogged over to him.  Before they reached Flashentie, he led them a safe distance beyond the hearing of the other soldiers.  He issued new orders.  The two officers stood there too stunned for any retort.  Then the ermine commanding the first squad found her voice.

"My unit can control these prisoners while everyone else eliminates those hares."

Using a voice more befitting a vexed mother, Commander Flashentie repeated his prior order.  "Everyone will make for the beach in ten minutes.  If second squad can delay those hares just one hour, we will have everyone back aboard the Red Sharkeye, which is all that matters now."

"But ... but ... but sir, the second squad will be exterminated to the last beast," stammered the female ermine.

"As far as I'm concerned, second squad became expendable once those hares saw through our deception.  Given the choice between returning to the ship with a large number of slaves, or being killed while facing the Long Patrol and some battle crazed badger, I cannot believe you prefer dying."  Commander Flashentie watched the lady's jaw drop.  "If you prefer to remain with second squad, I'll not interfere.  The fewer who return, the bigger the profits for the rest of us."

The ermine allowed one paw to fondle her ear for several seconds.  When she stopped, the shocked expression had changed to an avaricious one.  "I'll raise a mug of grog in their honor when we get back to the ship, Commander."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Ten
The Water's Edge

"Keep 'em moving.  We don't have time to waste," Commander Flashentie growled.

Nightfall came and with the moon obscured by clouds, the raiders had no choice but to slow.  Fallen branches remained hidden in the shadows and nobody wanted to fall.  If a soldier fell, his comrades cursed him or an officer kicked him until he regained his position.  If a captive fell, they had to scramble back to their paws before the rear guard passed.  The raiders left no living beast behind.

With the path so narrow, the soldiers maintained their vigilance lest their lone squirrel try a repeat of an earlier escape attempt.  If Firecrown stepped towards the outer edge, the slavers drove him back with the flat of their swords.  They allowed no opportunity at escape.

Another turn on the dark trail and the running beasts found themselves funneled onto a wide and sandy beach.  The exhausted slaves collapsed in a heap when the guards ceased their constant prodding.  Tongues of both captives and guards hung out as everyone panted.

From several bushes along one side of the clearing, seven sea rats moved onto the beach.  Unlike the raiders who wore green uniforms, the sailors wore a motley collection of garments running from a dingy white to a flashy gold color.  The one wearing a dark outfit that blended with the moonless night called the fox by name.

"We expected more of you and a lot less of them.  So what happened?"

Commander Flashentie shook paws and glanced back the way they came.  "Long story short, Jark.  We hit the village at the same time some caravan decided to visit, which explains why we have so many captives.  Unfortunately, the villagers put up a good fight thanks to several wandering warriors who happened by at the time of our attack.  And that's not the worse part.  Just tell me Captain Peggen is sitting offshore, otherwise we'll have a score of Long Patrol hares and one blood-wrath badger as uninvited company real soon."

Jark shouted instructions to the other rats.  Five of them raced to the far side and removed the camouflage from a dozen launches.  The last rat returned with a shuttered lantern, which Jark lit.  The sailor walked to the water's edge and flipped the shutters up and down at a rapid pace.  When he finished, the rat doused the flame.  A moment later, two dim lights flared to life some distance offshore.

Commander Flashentie paced the beach as everyone prepared for departure.  "Hurry it up; we get these launches more than ten paces from shore and no beast can grab us.  Under fifty paces and we need only worry if one of those hares is a marksman with a bow.  Get beyond that and the dark will hide us."

Prisoners boarded first.  With the dejected woodlanders seated, several raiders climbed aboard.  Oars were shipped and the vermin pulled together.  A dozen paces from shore, they awaited the arrival of the other launches.

Flashentie raced to the shoreline.  His paw snagged his lieutenant's shoulder and he stopped him from loading the slaves.  "Keep that troublemaking squirrel with the red head and his mouse friend together.  I want those two on my launch where I can keep an eye on them.  Make sure the otters remain seated in the middle, I don't want to lose such valuable cargo."

The weasel lieutenant's eyes scanned the collection of prisoners yet to be loaded.  "I'll chain that female mole to them.  She'll do anything she can to remain dry.  Anyway, I hear river otters hate salt water since it bothers their fur."

Commander Flashentie hesitated when he heard something in the forest.  He noticed how the sound of snapping twigs had every raider redoubling their efforts.  He stood by the last launch, his muzzle alternately pointing to the forest and the distant lights floating offshore.  As the last prisoners were loaded, he grabbed the red-headed squirrel's lapels.

"You have caused me a lot of trouble on this raid and I intend seeing you get what you deserve." 

When the squirrel spat at him, he used the back of his paw and struck the prisoner hard across the muzzle.  He felt something wet on his arm and that brought a satisfied smile to his lips.  Commander Flashentie climbed into the launch, sitting in the bow where he could watch the prisoners and observe the now deserted beach.  Each stroke of the oars widened his grin.

* * *

During the forced march, Firecrown kept dragging one of his feet despite the harassment he received from the guards.  If he passed a bush, his paw would bend a branch.  Though he suspected his efforts would prove little help to those tracking the slavers, he did what he could.  Ever since the returning guard announced the Long Patrol had seen through the raider's deception, they no longer bothered hiding their tracks.

When Terranoir proposed an escape, he felt apprehensive.  Her plan relied on the innate talents of others.  Firecrown chaffed at the idea of putting his reliance on somebody he didn't know but had no choice.  The guards remained too vigilant for any escape effort while they crossed the forest.

Things began going wrong the moment they reached the beach.  With all the prisoners clustered at the shore, Firecrown lost contact with his friends.  Guards loaded their captives aboard the longboats by grabbing the nearest prisoner.  With so many creatures running about, it proved impossible to locate either of his companions or the two otters he met.  Just as two stoats seized his arms, he heard the grey fox call.

"Bring that one to me."

Spitting into his capturer's face proved nothing more than a futile act of bravado, but the fox's reaction made a bloody muzzle worthwhile.  Then Firecrown smiled when he noticed who sat in the longboat.  Kurella sat next to him on the first bench occupied by captives.  Two rows behind and between the two otters she recruited sat the mole Terranoir.  Hope surged until he saw the chain running between the otters and mole. 

Firecrown listened to the longboat as it scraped across the sands.  He rocked with the boat as the vermin climbed aboard.  He considered trying to tip the launch, but realized his shackled wrists would weigh him down.  With no alternative but to endure, he remained seated.

The rhythmic grunting and the sound of the oars rising and falling depressed him.  Each stroke became another lost opportunity at freedom.  Somehow this reality conflicted with the many tales he remembered of the Long Patrol arriving just when all hope seemed lost.  The grinning fox sitting in the bow said it all; they were beyond rescue.

The vermin put their backs into rowing.  In the dark, Firecrown could not tell if they moved since he found no point of reference.  After what seemed like hours, a bright light appeared.  Though he knew the launch moved, his eyes told him it was the light that approached while they remained stationary.  The bow turned towards the light like a moth drawn to a candle's flame.

Each longboat made for the illuminated patch of sea.  As they approached, he spied members of the crew moving about the deck.  Prisoners climbed up netting dropped over the ship's railing.  The launch crews fished out any who fell into the water.  When a captive reached the top of the netting, the vermin aboard the ship would grab them.  Once emptied, the launch rowed further down the ship where winches lifted the craft.

Then it was their turn.  The boat bumped into the wooden side and two of the slavers grabbed the netting.  Another raider passed a key to the captives, instructing them to remove their shackles.  The grey fox made a motion with his paw and every woodlander eye followed his pointing finger.  Firecrown listened to several captives moaning at what the squirrel considered an easy climb.

"Don't even think about escape.  If you fall in, swim towards the ship.  The tide is against you and the beach is on the other side of this ship.  Any beast swimming away will be shot."

A glance upward confirmed the presence of archers sitting on benches suspended over the side.  Firecrown blurted "Looks like you covered every possibility."

"Indeed we have squirrel."  The fox's laughter angered Firecrown.

As the prisoners grabbed the netting, Firecrown whispered to the two otters.  They relayed his instructions to the mole and mouse.  A simple command from the fox sent the five beasts scrambling up the netting. 

When the five reached the top, one vermin crew beast grabbed the mouse Kurella.  Her aggressive side asserted itself and she sunk her sharp teeth into the vermin's arm.  On the other side of the netting, Firecrown launched himself into the midriff of the vermin waiting for him.  He then threw himself at the feet of two sailors and rolled into them.  With the guards distracted and the nearest sailors floundering, he hoped the otter twins had a clear path.

The squirrel spared a momentary glance at the unfolding drama.  The two otters crossed the open deck area at full speed.  Before any of the crew could react, they dove headfirst into the inky ocean.  The other woodlander captives attacked whichever vermin crew beast stood close.  Pandemonium broke out aboard the raider. 

A large stoat grabbed a spear as he followed the teen otters.  He stared down into the black waters, his arm pulled back ready to throw.  When Terranoir cleared the ship's side, she raced across the deck and jumped onto the sailor's back.  Both toppled into the ocean. 

Firecrown regained his footing, his back against the mast.  He yanked two nearby belaying pins free.  Lines screeched as the rigging sagged under the released tension.  Crewmembers scrambled for the errant lines, bumping into any standing in their way.

Everywhere he looked, he saw brawling beasts.  With a serviceable weapon in his paws, Firecrown charged into the nearest group of vermin sailors.  His first swing connected with a sailor's head, which left whichever beast he struck lying on the deck.  He had no time to verify if the rat lived.  He roared out his battle cry as he charged another vermin sailor.

Kurella dumped a nearby bucket of water on the deck. Two ferrets racing towards her crashed head first onto the slippery surface.  She swung the empty bucket like a mace, just missing the head of a charging stoat who tackled her.  The two went down in a tangle of arms and legs.  Several raiders pounced onto the mouse and the fight ended. 

A rope coil hit Firecrown's legs from behind.  He crashed to the deck with his feet entangled.  Three sailors tried to subdue him, but he fought with grim determination until the crew pried the belaying pins from his fists.   

The woodlander uprising ended.  Sailors and raiders alike herded the fighters to the ladder propped open near the cargo hold.  Both Firecrown and Kurella stood by watching the other captives descending.  The crew held onto both until a familiar face approached.

"Again you have caused me trouble with your futile antics," the grey fox growled.

Just as the fox pulled back his fist, another raider shouted.  "We're missing one crew beast and three prisoners.  It's those two otters and female mole that were in your boat commander.  I don't see them in the hold and they're not on deck."

Commander Flashentie forgot about him as he rushed to the opposite side of the ship.  He stood at the railing, his back towards them.  When the fox spoke, Firecrown shuddered. 

"So we have escaping prisoners; you know what must be done."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Eleven
Left Ashore

A male otter stood before the badger and his hare entourage, his paws resting on his hips.  The fellow shook his head when the badger spoke.  Jazzin and Foremole sided with Lord Brisson, which angered the villagers.

"These raiders know how to fight, best we exercise a little caution while trailing them," said Lord Brisson.

"With all due respect," the otter replied, "it's not your people held captive.  You can 'exercise a little caution,' while we free our friends."

The otter then rushed down the indicated trail; a dozen armed villagers followed.  The hares started down the same path, but at a slower pace.  An hour later, the villagers staggered back.  Several of them nursed a sore shoulder, or held an injured arm close to their chest.  None acknowledged the badger as they retreated.

Lord Brisson called Lieutenant Snellzen to his side.  "It seems these raiders made a stand against the villagers.  Though their numbers would be welcomed, we just might have a better chance at freeing the prisoners without them."

Lieutenant Snellzen nodded.  "Those hot-headed villagers may have done us a favor.  Since we were not there when the slavers attacked, I'll wager those vermin scum think nobody will follow.  My unit will give 'em a good taste of steel when we cross swords."

"I suggest you curb your enthusiasm for battle, lieutenant.  Our primary goal is freeing the captives.  It will do no good if the vermin use the prisoners as hostages or kill them in their rush to escape."

Jazzin overheard the two discussing tactics and stepped forward.  "Foremole and I are warriors; we can help."

Lord Brisson glanced over to the young mouse and the older mole as they continued down the trail.  Both had a determined expression on their face that dared him to dismiss them.  They kept their paws close to their sheathed weapon while each scanned the forest for unexpected trouble.

"Your blade may have been blooded and yon elder has every reason for charging into the fray, but I doubt you have the skill these hares have.  This squad is a well-trained team of professionals.  Though your help is appreciated, it isn't needed."

Foremole spoke before Jazzin could voice a retort.  "We have our reasons for going into this fight, but we also have the wisdom to follow orders.  Two more such warriors can only increase our chances at success.  Are you so petty that you fear we will steal the thunder of your victory?"

Lord Brisson recoiled from the mole's words as if they were a physical blow.  He cleared his throat and glanced at the hare lieutenant standing behind the mouse and mole.  He caught the slight head bob.  "My only concern is for the hostages.  If you can follow orders, I'll welcome your help."

With that issue settled, the warriors continued down the trail at a faster gait.  When they came to the site of the skirmish between the villagers and the slavers, everyone slowed as they scanned the immediate area.  Several hares examined the numerous tracks while others reconstructed the battle.

"It appears they ran into two fighters who were more interested in scaring their opponent than a sustained engagement.  I'll wager they waited here a few minutes before they rejoined the others."  Lord Brisson nodded as he listened to Lieutenant Snellzen's calm summation.

The hares dispersed so each could cover the advance of the hare to his left or right as they trotted down the wide forest trail.  Jazzin and Foremole flanked him as they followed behind the hares.  Weapons remained sheathed to facilitate travel but paws always remained close.  Every ear swiveled in an attempt at detecting the presence of vermin or their unfortunate prisoners. 

An hour passed and the soldiers exited the woods.  On the other side of the glade, they found the severed head of a squirrel staked on a tree branch.  The hares disbursed until they discovered the body.  Two of the hares carried it to where the head had been mounted like a grizzly trophy. 

"We can bury the body later" said Lord Brisson.  "Best we move out on the double and catch up with these fiends before they make good on their escape."

Everyone moved forward at a fast trot through the heavy forest.  Around another bend in the trail, the hares came to a meadow.  As the vanguard reached the halfway point, one hare let out a loud scream.  Another hare snagged his injured comrade by the shoulder and retreated.  Several more sling stones whizzed past the hares forcing them to seek cover.

"Jolly good thing those vermin didn't have any archers," quipped Lieutenant Snellzen.  "A broken shoulder can mend.  Don't think that chap would have survived an arrow in the same spot."

Lord Brisson surveyed the area.  "Those vermin are dug in pretty solid.  Any chance we can go around them?"

"We'll lose too much time circling them instead of taking the direct route through this forest.  What bothers me is why they would hold here when they could push to the sea and be there by sunset."  The hare stroked his chin as he stared at the vermin's fortifications.  "Unless those blokes knew we were coming this way.  If it were me, I would have a unit in the forest and hit us from the rear when we attack."

Jazzin tapped the hare's shoulder.  "Foremole and I can scout these woods.  If we find anything, we'll report back."

Lord Brisson nodded.  As the older mole and his young mouse friend melted into the forest, the hare warriors remained vigilant.  They moved closer to the dug-in vermin, but kept under cover. 

Each hare awaited the start of the assault.  Snellzen raised his paw.  Before he could lower it, Jazzin returned.  Crouching by Lord Brisson, the mouse made his report.  "Nothing, absolutely nothing has been in this forest other than us for at least a month.  If this is a trap, there's nobody waiting to spring it from our rear."

Lieutenant Snellzen considered Jazzin's words; then rubbed his paws together in anticipation.  He relayed orders for the attack.  Ears flattened and whiskers twitched as each soldier awaited the command.

"Give 'em blood and vinegar," shouted the officer.

The hares initiated their frontal assault.  Steel met steel.  The vermin held and Lord Brisson ordered a retreat.  Four hares nursed injuries that left them unable to rejoin the fight. 

The Lieutenant rallied the others as they prepared for another charge against the slaver's fortifications.  Before Snellzen could issue his command, Lord Brisson called out to the vermin, asking for a parley.  Several hares grumbled, but complied with his orders.

A large stoat stood, though he kept close to a wide tree trunk.  "There's nothing to discuss badger.  If you retreat, we will not pursue.  That's our best offer."

Brisson's laughter shattered the silence that followed the stoat's audacious offer.  "I'm thinking you expected another force to hit us from behind while you entertained my hares.  You've been deceived; nobody is hiding in this forest.  If there was such a force, they would have attacked us by now."

The stoat's muzzle pointed down for several moments.  When he raised it, the bravado had disappeared.  "We know the fate of slavers; better to die taking as many of you as possible."

"I am Lord Brisson, heir to the throne of the Northern Alliance," he shouted.  "Surrender and I will have you sent to a penal colony.  Ten years if we don't recover the prisoners, three if they are freed.  You have my word on it.  Decide.  Do you prefer death or a chance at life?"

The forest stood in total silence, even the leaves seemed to stop rustling.  Lord Brisson stared at the vermin's barricade, waiting for some reaction to his offer.  As time passed, Snellzen prepared for his next assault.  The hares moved as close as they dared; weapons shifted, catching the waning sunlight.

Three sheathed swords flew from the barrier.  Another six weapons fell onto the path separating the two sides.  The stoat who had addressed him stood, his paws held away from his body.  Eight others followed his example.

Leaving the prisoners guarded by the injured hares, the others moved out at double time.  Once again the warriors jogged down the trail as they raced towards the ocean.  Darkness deepened with the setting sun and still the soldiers pressed forward.

The lead scout charged across a deserted beach.  He splashed into the ocean until the water reached his chest.  The hare lifted his metal studded club and smashed it into the waves that pressed him backward.  With every splash the hare cursed the shadowy outline of the launches floating beyond his reach.

Close behind their scout, the hares reached the beach.  Lord Brisson's paws snatched the bow another hare carried in a backpack.  He strung it in one motion while preparing an arrow.  He drew the bow until it threatened to snap in two.  He sighted along the shaft at the withdrawing boats.  A paw knocked the arrow off the string and he glared at the hare officer.

"They might be in your range sire, but there is as much chance of you hitting one of the captives as there is of you killing a raider."

Lord Brisson threw the useless bow onto the beach and bellowed in frustration.  He added his taunts to the insults hurled by the partially immersed scout.  Lord Brisson stared into the inky darkness.  Just as his labored breathing slackened, lights flared to life.  The vessel remained an indistinct silhouette to those standing on the beach.

Though he knew their mission was doomed to failure, he could not give the order to stand down.  A glance at the other soldiers confirmed their reluctance at withdrawing.  As long as the vermin ship could be discerned, everyone remained rooted to the spot.

A light arched high into the sky and landed on the water.  There a fiery flower bloomed that illuminated the nearby waters.  Three more such fires flared to life.  Just as the fourth one faded, the high-pitched wail of some beast shattered the silence.  The flames shifted to another part of the blackened ocean.

"What in bloody blazes is going on out there?" one hare said in a hushed voice.

"Some beast must have gone overboard and is making a swim for it," another hare answered.

Foremole, who stood furthest from the water, spoke.  "The merchant caravan had a family of otters carving jewelry.  Maybe they dove overboard."

"If they did, there's no way we can help them."  Frustration tinted his words as another scream echoed over the waters.

One flaming arrow arched high into the sky where it burst into a new sun that showed those standing on shore the raider's ship.  In the brief light, all saw the distinctive blood-red sails and the two high masts that divided the ship.  Even as the light faded, the name of the raiding ship, The Red Sharkeye, appeared in bold lettering along the bow.

Just before total blackness again engulfed the sea, a third scream rent the air.  The sound of synchronized oars rising and falling drifted to shore.  Even as the frustrated hares stood helpless to intercede, the vessel receded.  When the ship moved beyond the range of the sharpest ears, everyone prepared to withdraw.

Lord Brisson retreated from the water's edge.  Their defeat had each beast dragging their paws, reluctant to leave even when staying would accomplish nothing.  Then the lone doe froze in place while her ears swiveled.  Soon two more mimicked her actions.  The soldiers advanced to the water's edge while the others watched with growing anticipation.

Jumping up and down, the doe exclaimed "There! There! There!"  With every hop she held her arm straight out pointing with her sword.  "A voice.  I hear a voice."

Lord Brisson never hesitated.  He plunged into the dark waters.  From the beach, several hares shouted out directions.  With powerful strokes, he cut through the water.  Then he too heard the voice.  Lord Brisson homed in on the mournful cry and discovered a struggling female mole.   Without the hare's exceptional hearing, the sea would soon have claimed this one.

Grasping the lady's blouse in his teeth, Lord Brisson fought the tide as he towed the mole towards the safety of shore.  Her low moans gave him all the encouragement he needed.  Desperation gave him strength as he raced for shore battling both the tide and the frigid waters.  Once his paws touched bottom, he cradled the female in his arms.  Even in the darkness, he knew the seriousness of her injuries.

When Lord Brisson shouted to those on shore that he held an injured female mole, Foremole pushed through the crowd to the water's edge.  "Terra, Terra, you're safe now," he shouted.  Foremole clicked his sharp digging claws together as he awaited the arrival of his daughter.

The injured mole stirred.  Her eyes widened as she stared into the face of her savior.  She reached up, pulling hard on his ear.  Lord Brisson felt the girl's muzzle caress his ear.  He remained standing in waist deep water as the mole spoke.  So weak was the girl that her voice came out as a mere whisper.  Had she not placed her muzzle so close, he would have missed much of what she imparted.  Then she shuddered as a bloody cough wracked her frail form.

Lord Brisson lowered the still warm body of Terranoir onto the beach.  The hare medic approached, but stopped when he saw him.  No doubt the medic knew the girl's fate by his expression.  Foremole pushed every beast aside as he dashed to his prone daughter's side.

"Wake up girl.  This be no time for sleep" moaned Foremole.

Lord Brisson placed a paw on the grieving father's shoulder.  Foremole's tear-streaked face turned towards him.  "Be off with you," he snarled.  "I saw her speak with you and now she plays at sleep.  She will speak to me, not you stripedog.  Not you."

"Your daughter has departed for Dark Forest."

"No.  She lives.  She fakes sleep to anger me," sobbed Foremole.  "Give me a stout switch and see how fast she awakens." 

Foremole clung to the lifeless body of his daughter and wailed as he rocked back and forth.  Every so often, he would plead, threaten, or entice the girl.

Lord Brisson again approached Foremole.  "We will help you bury your daughter, sir.  She has done us a great service.  I will honor her in whatever manner you wish."

"Then permit me to return her body to Redwall," Foremole sobbed, his voice still filled with anger and contempt.  "There my wife and I can visit her grave; for our lives ended as well when she left for Dark Forest.  So keep your bloody honor, badger, and I will try to forget my daughter thought it far more important to speak to a stranger than her kin."

Lieutenant Snellzen followed Lord Brisson a few paces from the others.  "Sire, that fellow had no right growling at you.  Your position as heir to the throne demands respect."

Lord Brisson watched the other warriors consoling Foremole.  He kept his voice low as he spoke to his officer.  "Grief has a father speak in anger; I can forgive that."

He then pointed to the others standing on the beach.  "Send our fastest runner back to that dead squirrel we passed, Lieutenant.  According to . . . ."

"Her name was Terranoir," said the hare.

Lord Brisson nodded.  "Terranoir, the squirrel's purse holds valuable information.  If we are lucky, we may learn something useful.  All we need is confirmation from those prisoners."

"There wasn't an officer among them," Lieutenant Snellzen said.  "Even their commander was a lowly grunt ordered to hold at all cost.  I doubt they know anything useful."

Lord Brisson glanced back at the distraught father who still pleaded with his dead daughter.  "Our chances are slim, but I'll not let her death be in vain.  I have every intention of pursuing her clues and finding that ship.  This I swear."










Comments? Questions? Insults?.

[cairn destop]

Chapter Twelve
Summer Recess

The dining hall bustled.  Residents filled their trays with choice fare prepared by the cooks before finding a seat at one of the many tables.  Animated conversations added a background hum as friends and family exchanged pleasantries.

At one table, Tassel attended to the orphaned or abandoned young placed in her care.  As Redwall's badgermom, she knew today's remarks focused on either final grades or summer plans.  She heard several mention the upcoming swimming party, celebrating the successful conclusion to another school year. 

Sarweed, a mouse who would soon become an elder, spoke in a low but plaintive voice.  "Please don't come over here."

Tassel turned her muzzle towards the mouse.  "Let me guess, Markus and Darlow?"

She groaned when Sarweed gave a quick head bob.  Ever since those two hares arrived, the peace and tranquility Redwall enjoyed morphed into a wistful dream.  Both hares delighted in springing practical jokes.  At first, their pranks provided everyone an occasional light moment of amusement.  As their antics became more annoying, the residents no longer excused them as playful jokes. 

Tassel sensed the change.  Conversations quieted.  Half finished plates remained untouched though each dibbun held their utensils at the ready.  The badgermom turned.  The two hares stood like sentries on either side of her chair.

As brother and sister, they shared the same brilliant white coloration.  Yet each had distinctive markings.  Markus showed a patch of grey fur on an exposed belly as well as one under the rolled-up sleeve of his right arm.  Darlow had two thin brown streaks that reminded Tassel of twin snakes crawling up her long legs. 

Tassel checked their attire.  Markus wore a matching shirt and trousers that had as many wrinkles as a newly plowed field.  Both his vest and shirt remained unbuttoned, which left the upper half of his body exposed.  She would never tolerate such a disheveled appearance from any of her youngsters.  At least Darlow took pride in her appearance.  The doe hare wore an immaculate yellow sundress that displayed sharp creases.

After viewing the two teens, Tassel returned to her breakfast.  "If the two of you are joining our table, there's plenty of room at the far end.  I suggest you hurry or your food will become cold."

Markus leaned down, his voice just loud enough so those at the table could hear him.  "We have such great news."  Tassel caught the insincere inflection.

Darlow drew closer.  "Oh yes, such wonderful news it is too.  Because of slavers roaming about the countryside, we are remaining at the Abbey until the end of the next school year."

"Excellent.  I do hope your time will be," Tassel hesitated, "enjoyable."   

"More to the point, mum, is how enjoyable we can make it for vermin scum like you."

All of the children reacted to the hare's implied threat.  The two older males stood with their paws clenched in fists.  Though the youngest male remained seated, he bared his teeth and hissed.  Even the six females set dignity aside as they too rose in defense of their elder.  A light rap on the table caused them to hesitate.  The children returned to their meals as the two laughing hares moved to another table.

* * *

"Are you that stupid or are you just a senile sow?"  Karteel screamed. 

He stood so close the air from his voice would have ruffled the female's fur if she wasn't wearing a cloth mask.  Karteel was well aware no beast liked anyone invading their personal space, which was why he did it.  Such tactics helped him train many raw recruits in the past, and he saw no reason for changing his methods. 

"No, you're not stupid.  That would mean you had some brains in the beginning."  He stepped back a pace, hoping the disgust he felt registered on his face.

Karteel backed up another three paces.  He barked out a cadence.  With each number, the badger changed positions, her reed swords moving to his commands.  The pace increased.  Without interrupting the rhythm, Karteel lunged at Tassel striking her chest with his reed sword.

"You're dead.  Drop your guard just once and those brats you care so much about will be in an unmarked grave.  Try it again."

Once more he counted.  When he had the sow badger moving faster, he made his thrust.  The badger's sword deflected the killing blow and Karteel retreated as the next count had Tassel's sword slashing at his head.  Twice more he tried piercing her defense and each time a reed sword parried his blade.  He ordered the badger to stop.

"Maybe there's hope for you yet."  For the first time since their private practice sessions started, he smiled.  "Try it against a live opponent."

Karteel charged the masked badger, his reed sword cutting through the air.  Tassel blocked it and initiated her attack.  The crack of dry reeds filled the air as the two continued their duel.  Neither fighter held back as they circled.  He retreated and stopped their fight.

"That will be enough for today; you're making excellent progress.  I would dread being the vermin fiend that faced you. dear lady."

"Don't you mean woodlander?  If she ever does use a real weapon, those inside will have more reason to fear this vermin than any foe scaling the walls."

Both student and teacher faced their unexpected observer.  Markus, a buck hare of fourteen summers, left the shade of a nearby tree.  He swaggered towards both fighters, but kept his eyes focused on the badger. 

"Best you leave her no better off than a raw recruit.  That way she will prove no danger to others she would betray."

Badgermom Tassel placed her paws on her hips.  "Markus, you should be in school, not wandering about the Abbey.  Even our father abbot would have some objections to you skipping classes."

Markus rolled his eyes.  "You must be joking.  My sister and I have the highest scores of any student.  And since today is the last day, where's the harm?  All teachers ever do is hand out report cards and discuss the upcoming year.  We'll hear the same speech on the first day of classes."

"So you figured interrupting my training session acceptable?"  Karteel marched up to the hare until he stood between his student and Markus.  He continued to advance until his nose touched the hare's.  "If you think yourself the better fighter, I can find you some practice pads and we can spar.  So far, all you have demonstrated is a glib tongue; let's see you back it with actions."

That had the hare laughing.  "It would be no contest.  With my father in the Long Patrol, he made sure I received the best training possible.  I stopped practicing with reed swords two summers back."

"If you have no intention of demonstrating your skills, why are you here?" Tassel snarled.

"I saw you at your fun and games and decided to come and watch the incompetent trained by the reluctant.  I must say you do provide a most enjoyable show.  I'll have to invite my sister; maybe we can sell tickets."

Karteel opened his mouth, but the Badgermom spoke first.  "That you do not respect me, I can accept.  That you would insult our instructor is going one step over the line young fellow."  Tassel took a step towards the young hare.

Markus moved a pace backward.  "It will take more than words to convince the father abbot that whatever punishment you think proper, be imposed.  Even if you didn't wear all that heavy padding, I think I can outrace you."

Karteel turned his back on the hare.  He walked over to a bench and unfastened his padding.  The sweat-soaked gear fell to the ground, leaving a heavy musty smell.  Karteel rubbed his chest with a towel as he dried the perspiration.  A paw tapped his shoulder.  When he turned, there stood Markus. 

"As I said, fighting you wouldn't be very entertaining, but I might be willing to take on your student.  Such vermin deserve a good whack or two."

Karteel considered the hare's offer.  Unlike most of the Abbey residents, Tassel took an intense interest in learning the proper use of her weapons.  Her skills needed honing, but challenging somebody with more expertise would be an excellent test.  He glanced at Tassel.

"Practice pads will reduce the blows, but I would dearly love trying to raise a welt or two on that hare."  Tassel twirled her two reed swords as she took a defensive stand.

He handed Markus his reed sword and pointed to his discarded padding.  Markus took the reed sword but declined the equipment.  "No need for such rubbish.  She couldn't hit me if I stood still."

The instructor shrugged his shoulders.  Both duelists eyed the other as they awaited the signal to begin.  Karteel explained the ground rules, which caused Markus to drop his sword and place his paws over his ears.  Tassel changed her stance, her paws again resting on her hips.

"Where's the fun, the challenge?  I would enjoy something of a side wager with yon vermin lady, if she has the nerve."

"If you're proposing a deal, it better end with my fanning your furry bottom when I win."

"Agreed." responded the laughing hare.  "Since you have established the stakes to our little contest, I shall set the venue.  What say we face off with these reed swords on the low scaffolding by the east wall?  If you can knock me off, I am all yours, dear lady." 

The hare's syrupy-sweet voice grated on Karteel's nerves.  Though he anticipated her reply, it pleased him hearing his student accept his terms.  The three of them ambled over to the east wall.

Moles had erected the scaffolding to repair some damaged bricks.  With Foremole still in mourning over the recent death of his daughter, it remained in place even though the moles finished the work several days earlier.  The structure consisted of seven sections, each with five different levels wide enough for three creatures to stand.  When Markus and Tassel climbed onto opposite ends, the frame wobbled.

"Last week's rains left the ground soft, so neither of you should be injured when you fall."  Karteel shouted to the two fighters.  "I'm sure it's sound.  Foremole isn't one to let his crew work on something that isn't safe."

Markus sat on the middle level eyeing the masked badger.  His one leg swung back and forth as he leaned against the support pole.  "This is going to be a jolly good show.  I'll wear you out running up and down this thing while you move about like a fat slug."

Tassel removed her padding and dropped it over the side.  "I'm getting tired of listening to such an arrogant windbag.  Once I have you cornered, you'll prefer a firm spanking to the thrashing I can give you with these reed swords."

Karteel gave the signal.  Badgermom Tassel assumed a defensive posture as she eyed the hare.  Markus remained seated.  Neither fighter made a move.  Tassel relaxed.  Markus studied the reeds he held while he hummed.

"I can wait."

Markus stopped plucking at his reed sword.  "To the contrary, it is I who can wait all day.  School will be letting out in four hours and you want to know how those brainless blunders of yours did."  The hare gave a slow stretch.  "If you want to win this duel, you have to come to me."

The badger advanced.  She passed the first section and still the hare rested.  Tassel passed the upright marking the start of the third section.  The platform listed and the supports wobbled.  Tassel shifted her position closer to the wall.  Markus leaned against the far support, the reed sword dangling from his paw.

Tassel stood next to the support at the end of the third section.  The boards beneath her feet moved.  The structure groaned.  Markus twirled his sword like a bandleader's baton.  His attention focused on catching the reed handle as it spun in the air. 

Karteel watched his student pass the next post.  The badger reached the center section of the scaffolding.  A series of loud popping sounds disturbed the peace.  Instinctively Karteel stepped back.  The popping gave way to a loud shriek as the central section swayed.  Planks from the upper levels tilted.  Tassel lunged for the nearest vertical support as the upper levels collapsed.

The post Tassel held leaned away from the wall.  The planks slid off the scaffolding.  As the wood shifted, Tassel lost her balance.  One paw snagged the nearest metal beam while her body hung suspended in the air.  The vertical support shrieked as it tore away from the wall.  The badger fell, landing in a muddy puddle.  The central three sections collapsed atop her.

Karteel stepped closer to the jumbled pile of wooden planks and metal girders.  He stopped.  A gloved paw reached up and pushed one of the boards to the side.  Karteel froze in place as she issued a mighty roar.  Pieces of the destroyed scaffolding flew in all directions as Tassel freed herself.

Judging by the sound of her voice, the badger's patience had reached its breaking point.  Her paws flicked off the dirt still clinging to her fur while her garments remained coated in mud.  She stepped clear of the wreckage, shaking her fist at the laughing hare.

"You cheated.  You sabotaged the platform."

"This time I cannot take the credit.  My sister Darlow came up with the idea.  You could say she rigged the rigging.  According to our agreement, the first to fall off this thing lost.  Since I'm up here and you're in the mud, I win." 

Once Markus climbed down his section of the scaffolding, he tossed the reed sword at Tassel's feet.  "Or will you, like all vermin, go back on your word?" 

Karteel worked his way closer to his student.  Together, the two listened to the hare's laughter as he walked away.  He offered his paw to his student as he led her towards firmer ground.  The badger never ceased muttering words unfit for any lady.

The badger's muzzle turned in the direction of the retreating hare.  "One of these days those hares will go too far.  When they do, even our father abbot will not stop me from doing what I must."

He nodded.  "Let me know when that day comes.  I for one would appreciate seeing that one put in his place."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Thirteen
Blood to Stone

Since his arrival in this new land, Bruno followed the witch's instructions.  Melody said, "Seek the road for the end of day," which led him into the setting sun.  He believed her prophecy referred to the road he took since he could still detect the smell of brine on the wind as she had foretold.  Then he came across a patch of thistles on both sides of the road that kept him walking throughout the night.   

When the thorny plants gave way to clover, Bruno took the next path leading away from the ocean.  At first, it remained nothing more than a meandering dirt trail that eventually led him to a small farming community.  From there, he discovered a stony roadway that remained hard on the feet but dry despite the heaviest rains.  He continued following the serpentine road as it took him further inland.

As the night sky lightened, Bruno leaned forward in a muscle-relaxing slow stretch.  He gathered his bedding and packed everything as he had each morning since leaving the port of Ferretsville.  His questing paws snatched the last of his rations.  A swig of water drained his canteen.  Finished with what passed as a morning meal, he looked up and saw how the constellations had faded with the coming dawn.

"I'm wasting daylight.  I better find someplace soon or I'll be hungry come morning."  Bruno muttered to himself as he buried last night's fire.  His paw checked his broadsword, making sure it slid in and out with ease.  He started up the hill.

Bruno crested the hill.  What he saw made him want to dance with joy.  In the distance, he spied a red structure.  His eyes traced the road as it wound through the valley.  Though he lost sight of its course once it entered the forest, he hoped it passed the unknown fortress.  Bruno maintained a brisk pace now that he had a definite destination.

"Every place I've seen has been made of thatch or wood, and none of them were painted.  If that structure ahead is made of stone, its color will match the witch's words."  His speed increased while he whistled a merry tune.

An hour later, Bruno came upon a true oddity.  In the grassy field bordering the road he saw sheep.  Unlike those of his homeland, several displayed a light tinting.  The closest one appeared blue, while its grazing neighbor showed a hint of pink. 

"Now what manner of beast is that?"  Bruno stepped off the road and made for the nearest animal.

He came within four paces of the targeted animal when a stone cracked into the rock by his foot.  Bruno reached for his sword, his paw moving like a hummingbird's wing.  Standing at the ready, he gazed about him, searching for his unseen attacker.

"You'll not find anyone down there badger," called a feminine voice.  "If your intentions are honorable, sheath that blade before I decide to bounce a stone off that thick hide of yours."

Bruno homed in on the source of the voice.  In a tree just to the left, a female squirrel stood.  Her natural black colored fur blended into the shadows, making her almost invisible.  She balanced on the lowest branch while her sling spun around at a slow pace.  Judging by her confident stance and the accuracy of her last shot, Bruno believed she could make good on her threat.  He moved in an exaggerated slow manner, sheathing his blade.  Bruno then kept his paw by his side, as far from the sword's hilt as possible.

"Forgive my reaction, but you did startle me.  I am a stranger in these lands and I have never seen blue sheep.  Where I come from, they are either white or tan."

The squirrel ceased twirling her sling and hung it on her belt.  "The same is true here.  A pair of pranksters dyed their wool two months back.  Fortunately the colors didn't set and has faded over time." 

Bruno laughed.  "It would be easier speaking if we didn't have to shout across this field."

The lady squirrel descended from her lofty perch where she retrieved her Sheppard's crook.  Despite her smaller size, she had the swagger of a warrior who knew she held the stronger position.  When she drew closer, Bruno noted her brilliant green eyes as she stared at him.  She maintained a guarded pose, the crook held like a quarterstaff.

"I am called Robertasin.  These sheep belong to my family."

"I seek information regarding the large red structure I spotted this morning.  Can you tell me more about it?"

"Indeed I can," replied the squirrel.  "That's Redwall Abbey.  If you follow along the road you left, you will come to a wooden bridge that crosses a wide stream.  It leads to the Abbey's main gate."

After thanking her, Bruno started back the way he came.  Just as he stepped onto the stone path, he called out to the squirrel.  "Until I met you, everyone seemed bewitched by badgers.  Why were you so hostile?"

Robertasin leaned upon her crook.  "Badgers seldom travel beyond the boundaries of their clan's territory.  When they do, others will try currying favor.  Such powerful friends are always welcomed in a land where vermin bandits still roam."

"That explains why others treated me as if I were some high ranking dignitary, but not your reaction."

"Since Redwall has a badger living within its walls, I am quite familiar with your breed.  I see nothing mystical about your kind as others might."  A sly smile crept across her face.  "Besides, what value is a shepherdess who will not protect her flock from strangers?"

"So, there are badgers within this Abbey you speak of?"

Robertasin snorted.  "There is but one badger within those stone walls.  I suggest you travel the road past the Abbey to a place where many of your kind live.  They would welcome a stranger who wants to join their community."

The lady squirrel turned her back on him and strolled towards the far side of the meadow.  "As for me, these sheep need to be moved to greener pastures."  Without another glance at Bruno, she prodded the sheep away from the road he traveled.

By early afternoon, Bruno reached the bridge Robertasin described.  At the end of the path the open gates to the red stone fortress beckoned.  As he drew nearer, Bruno came upon a guard sitting by the gate.  The old hedgehog may have held a spear, but all he fought was the onset of an afternoon nap.  He passed under the archway unchallenged.

Bruno paused inside the inner courtyard of Redwall Abbey.  He observed several squirrels resting under a large apple tree talking with a pair of voles in an animated, but genial exchange.  The laugher from two river otters standing by the main gate overpowered the conversation of the mice ambling past him.  Every beast within the Abbey grounds seemed to share the same festive mood.

Yet an indefinable something about the place bothered Bruno.  After some thought, he marked the cause of his consternation.  Not a single child could be found.  While his mind pondered this strange phenomenon, his meandering placed him near one group of lady hedgehogs who did not notice his presence.

"My two dibbuns seemed to be having a hard time in school.  Oh they did fine with their lessons, but their letters make me think they were homesick.  I know they will be so happy classes end today and they can spend some time with us."

The swirling crowd pushed him beyond the lady hedgehog.  "No wonder so many elders crowd the courtyard," Bruno mumbled.  "I'm wasting daylight; best I find whoever is in charge."

Just as he stepped out, he bumped into two moles.  Everyone exchanged apologies and introductions.  When he learned the moles resided here, he took the opportunity to ask for assistance.  One mole pointed out the main building, but hastened in the direction of the gate when his mate pulled his paw.

Bruno entered the large building, hesitating in an expansive foyer.  His nose detected the savory aroma of hot food coming from a side room as noisy as any tavern's common room.  Corridors on both sides of the foyer led down hallways with closed doors in an otherwise empty building.  Recalling Foremole's directions, he climbed the marble steps to the second level and turned.

He heard the raised voices of several creatures.  Bruno moved closer to a door just to the left side of the stairway.  His ears detected the angry tone of one beast within the room.  His curiosity brought him near enough that he could distinguish the conversations emanating from the room.

"Keep your filthy paws off me you vermin sow," yelled a male voice. 

A distinctive female voice answered with an authoritative tone.  "I believe in age before beauty.  So, by virtue of one year, you will go first."

After a short pause, the same male voice screamed out.  "My parents have expressly forbidden you to touch me.  You will release me at once."

Bruno opened the door.  He entered a room as noisy as a steeple when the bells tolled.  To his left, Bruno heard a second female's somewhat muffled voice demanding her release.  A chair propped under the doorknob kept her imprisoned within a closet.  The unknown female accentuated her commands with a continual pounding from within. 

The owner of the female voice he first heard from outside the room sat on the bed with her back to the doorway.  She wore a simple grey dress with matching fingerless gloves, and a tight-fitting bonnet of the same color.  Since she had her back to Bruno, the female remained unaware of his presence.

The second occupant had his posterior facing up while lying across the female's legs.  The large female had pinned the male's arms despite his struggles.  While she maintained her hold, she endeavored to remove his trousers.  Though the creature's arms were well secured, the final outcome of their titanic struggle had yet to be determined.

Bruno reached out and grabbed the female's shoulder.  He spoke in a firm voice that demanded immediate compliance.  "If the boy's parents have told you to keep your paws off, then you must release him.  Do it now."

In one fluid motion the female creature dumped her captive to the floor, spun around and punched Bruno hard in his chest.  Before he could recover, the beast before him became the embodiment of a demon.  Bruno fought to restrain the maddened beast.  After taking several hard knocks, Bruno latched onto one of the female's arms, pinning it behind her.

"Cease your struggles lady or ..." Bruno lifted her elbow upward, causing the unknown beast sufficient pain that she howled.  "Persist, and I will snap your arm off and beat you with the bloody end."

Just as Bruno subdued the female, he heard a chair topple behind him.  A door creaked open and running footsteps drew nearer.  Bruno had just enough time to identify the two other creatures as hares before they joined the fray.  Never in his wildest imaginings did Bruno expect such an assault.  He lost his grip on the female and it became a four-way brawl.  It took considerable effort on his part subduing the female a second time while shielding her from the efforts of the two hares. 

The male hare aimed a high kick at the restrained female.  Bruno blocked the foot and then pushed the off balanced male into the female hare.  Both tumbled, landing hard on the floor.  Bruno sat on the bed atop the elder with one paw gripping her elbow.  He formed a fist with his other paw.  The two hares, eyes wide, hesitated. 

"No doubt this is something the Father Abbot needs to know," Bruno growled.  "All of us will go to his office this instant."