Dusktail - A Tale of Redwall (Winner of Three RAFF Awards!)

[Darkenmal]

New chapter released! The war has begun...

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9528816/1/Dusktail-A-Tale-of-Redwall

[Darkenmal]

The plot thickens! A new chapter is released!

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9528816/1/Dusktail-A-Tale-of-Redwall

[Darkenmal]

It's been a while... but here is another chapter!

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9528816/1/Dusktail-A-Tale-of-Redwall

[Darkenmal]

Haven't updated this in a long time... I've released a new chapter!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9528816/1/Dusktail-A-Tale-of-Redwall

Discussion thread is here as well:

http://redwallabbey.com/forum/index.php?topic=5531.0

Cheers!

[Darkenmal]

As per request, here is the new chapter posted on the forum!

Feel free to discuss here: http://redwallabbey.com/forum/index.php?topic=5531.0

Or the story from here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9528816/1/Dusktail-A-Tale-of-Redwall

Cheers!

-----

Prologue - Part 10

-----

The resentful Warlord, the tired Commander,

Both fighting for so long they cannot remember.

Their battles never cease, and the struggle never stops,

Their final destination... an embittered Redwall.

The siege of the Abbey must be lifted; the war must be won.

You alone have the strength to do this: save one other.

The progeny must live, for there are others that must be saved.

The Defiler and his son, two sides of a single coin: a coin that must be paid.

-----

Karth stopped suddenly, breathing hard while mentally cursing both his age and health as his shoulder twinged painfully with each movement. Overhead, the night grew a little brighter as the moon rose, its light piercing through the branches of a budding tree, reminding Karth of a long-repressed memory. Despite himself, he shuddered.

"Are you alright, Colonel?"

"Never better," Karth mumbled, bringing out a small chuckle from Stubb, who then looked over with some alarm as Karth sat down heavily, his back leaning against a tree.

"Don't you think that we could be spotted, wot?"

"I highly doubt it. After all, we have tracked the guard's movements the last few days, and they have been nothing if not regular."

"Still, don't you think we should move, sah?" Nodding his agreement to his younger subordinate, the Colonel forced himself to stand, unable to hide a grimace as he moved deeper into Mossflower, farther away from the enemy camp where they would not be spotted.

After a few minutes of growing more and more exhausted, Karth found himself in front of a small cave, more than large enough for one to crawl into.

Giving the interior the most cursory of glances, Karth crawled inside, ignoring the dirty floor as he turned himself over with a grateful sigh.

"I'm going to stand guard outside, Colonel. Get some rest; we still have a few hours before the meeting."

With a muttered thanks, Karth immediately shut his eyes, which closed almost on their own accord with his exhaustion. He had slept little in the past four days and had eaten even less. He fell asleep quickly, snoring softly as his consciousness expanded and shrunk, mentally preparing for the trials ahead.

-----

Running through the smoke-filled street, Karth could not help but marvel at the chaos he had helped to create. It felt good: bringing down an evil that had been plaguing Mossflower and beyond for close to a season. With Greyfang dead, the vermins' sense of leadership was crippled, and his patrol regiment was trying to mop up the remnants of what remained of the fox's forces, although strangely they had not tried to surrender. Instead, they had continued to fight on as if possessed by madbeasts, and Karth found himself somewhat respecting their misplaced efforts, if only marginally and with a great deal of smugness.

Glancing around the village, he smiled at the husks of homes, devoured by the flames that had spread in a surprisingly quick fashion. That and the battle had all but destroyed a village which shortly before had been seemingly unassailable with his small force.

"Greyfang was foolish to let us in," Karth thought.

Although Karth would have liked to watch and glory in the destruction, the fighting had become increasingly desperate, making that an impossibility. Right now, he needed to set alight as many houses as possible before dawn, to make sure this skirmish didn't devolve into a long-standing battle. Victory had to be claimed, tonight, or it might not ever be.

Behind him, there was a shuddering roar, dwarfing all other sounds. Karth stopped, winded, knowing that he shouldn't halt, but he wanted to see for himself. It truly was the culmination of all the Long Patrol had worked for.

Greyfang's former residence had been almost completed before this night, and even in its final moments, it remained impressive. There had been much grumbling from his hares when they spotted the house, and everybeast, himself included, took it as a form of vanity, that Greyfang had to have the bigger house. Typical vermin.

Distracted from his thoughts, he glanced up as the biggest and tallest house in the village groaned, its few intact beams struggling under the immense burden of keeping an entire house erected. For a moment, Karth was inclined to believe that the dead fox's residence would stay up, but before his eager eyes, the building crashed down, the encroaching flames eagerly lapping up its remnants.

For a moment, the air was clogged with flying dust and ashes that obscured the village beyond from Karth's view, but as the debris settled, Karth finally saw the true devastation beyond of what he had personally wrought. The dead and dying numbered scores, and Karth put a paw on his own blade, knowing that it was by his actions that this battle had been waged.

The smell was even worse: the smell of enflamed flesh driving out what little air was in his lungs. It hurt to breathe it in; he had to escape it.

Looking wildly around him, Karth found a building still mercifully intact, for some reason completely untouched by the fires or fighting. Renewing his sprint, he made his way towards it.

He reached the house within moments, his throat dry and his eyes leaking tears which fell down his face slowly, clearing some of the dirt and ash. Nearing the door, he noticed it still stood stolidly, unaffected by the fighting or by the chaos surrounding it.

Grunting, Karth shouldered through the door, wheezing heavily from the exertion. After giving the interior the most cursory of glances, he slammed the door and leaned on a chair, letting his weapon drop to the floor as he tried to catch his breath. Bowing his head from exhaustion, he noticed that there was still a meal on the table, reminding him of the fact that he had not eaten in quite some time. Moving his thoughts away from the prospect of satiation, he thought of what he still had left to do.

The last quarter hour after killing Greyfang, he had expected the vermin who still remained to surrender immediately, or at least see the fight go out of them. Instead, they fought on, redoubling their efforts as the fire began to spread throughout the entire village. It had turned into a slaughter, and his hares had become drunk off of it as they roamed the village. He could not stop them in good conscience. They had fought long and hard to get to this day.

A distinct feeling of pride welled up in his chest as he remembered how the Long Patrol had stood firm, killing any who opposed Salamandastron. Despite what he would say to anybeast else, he had reveled in it; it simply made him more alive, and that made him slightly uncomfortable.

But only slightly.

Behind him, he heard quiet pawsteps, and Karth whirled around to see a young rat, looking terrified and holding a knife, his paw whitened from how tightly he gripped it. As soon as Karth turned towards him, the vermin shifted into a run, doubtlessly hoping the element of surprise could give him the upper paw.

"Even their young are killers," Karth thought angrily, his fury finally blowing over this time as he did not bother to try reining it in. His rage gave him strength, and he relished the prospect of killing this vermin.

Disregarding his weapon, Karth blocked the swinging arm in mid-strike, causing the knife to fall out of the rat's grip as he shoved the vermin backwards with his other paw, causing him to crash into the wall and moan in pain, clutching his neck as he slowly slid down to the floor.

Snarling, Karth swiftly knelt and grabbed his sabre to finish his job, but instead he swung it desperately as another knife flew towards him, barely managing to deflect it. The redirected weapon flew through a nearby window with a smash, rendering the rat unable to defend himself.

"No!" the rat screamed hoarsely, raw terror in his voice as he leapt towards Karth with a strangled cry.

Elated, Karth leveled his weapon, watching as the sabre punched through the rat's chest and abruptly stopped; the only thing keeping him up was the Captain's own tight grip upon his weapon.

The two stared into each other's eyes for a brief moment, one panicked, while the other was smug. In his final moments, the rat glanced towards another door that Karth had not noticed in his fleeting search. The terrified look momentarily reappeared on the rat's face again, his paw lifting slowly towards the door, and falling as he began to twitch uncontrollably.

Yanking on his sword and ignoring the muted scream, Karth realized that the blade had gone through the rat's ribcage. Spitting in the face of the soon-to-be corpse, Karth pulled with all his strength. He watched in satisfaction as the rat gasped in agony in his final moments, which quickly turned into a sigh as his eyes dimmed.

Contemptuously, Karth pushed the falling body away from him as he glanced at the door, noting it in his mind before he set to work.

Taking a flint from his pack, he moved to the fireplace in the side of the room, lighting the piled wood in the hearth, glancing behind periodically as he did so.

When the logs were good and lit, he waited a few more moments before grabbing a nearby poker and dragging the logs from the flame, jumping back as they rolled towards him. In a few moments, that part of the room was alight.

Smirking, Karth redrew his bloodied sabre and began to slowly move towards the open door, aware that anybeast could be waiting back there, waiting to strike. Excitement welled up within him, and he hoped that he would be able to kill more in Salamandastron's name.

Opening the door, he stood there for a moment in surprise, unable to believe what he was seeing.

An ancient rat, coughing heavily as he leaned over a cradle, was desperately trying to pick up a squirming baby stoat that would not cooperate with his whispered pleas to remain still. As Karth moved forward cautiously, he realized that the rat was blind, his eyes completely filmed over. Although the rat could not see, he was not deaf, and he called out to Karth as the hare made his way over to them.

"Koial, is that you? Are you injured?"

Not answering, Karth walked up to the side of the crib and picked up the baby stoat, who smiled brightly at him, her eyes watering from the deepening smoke.

Ignoring the increasingly frightened tone of the old rat, Karth shifted the bundle in his arms to his left paw, his right paw inching towards his belt.

In the other room, there was a loud bang, followed by an even louder snap, as the flames truly engulfed the house. He would have to be quick, if he wanted to escape with his life.

A worried look on his face, the old rat placed a paw on Karth's shoulder, his grip surprisingly firm. He tried to shout over the growing cavalcade of falling timbers in the next room, but the Captain of the Long Patrol did not hear, his focus on the now-squirming bundle in his arms.

Her protests became weaker as the smoke began to overpower her. All he would have to do was hold her still for a little while longer...

The wizened paw on his shoulder slowly moved down, and Karth knew the rat would discover the deception. His hand slid down to his upper chest, and he felt the rat stiffen and recoil.

Adjusting the grip on his sabre, Karth hefted it and shoved it towards the rat's throat, now slightly unsure of himself and his actions at the sight of the helpless creature under his blade. He was used to fighting snarling vermin with weapons to the point that he had neglected to consider other possibilities. Possibilities such as this.

Staring at Karth sightlessly, tears streaming down his face, the rat spoke, his whisper somehow audible over all the commotion.

"Please- she is the only family I have left."

The words, meaningless in all of its variations spoken earlier this night, now struck home; it was as if a haze was lifted from his mind, and it screamed at what he had done, and what he had been about to do.

Still holding the baby, Karth turned away, unable to look at him as he thrust his knife back into his belt.

"What are you-"

"There is no time," Karth interjected, swiftly moving out of the room and leaving the vermin spluttering in indignation.

He wasn't sure if he was trying to avoid the rat's questions or the sinking feeling in his gut.

Opening the back door, Karth hurried out. Behind him, the entire house shuddered, the wood moaning as it began to crack, now completely unstable and liable to fall at any moment.

"Come on!" Karth shouted behind him, feeling a burst of concern and guilt for the old rat.

The rat hesitated, looking torn as he faced him. "But my grandson..."

Karth stopped, and looked down at the baby. It did not look that much different from a young leveret, a creature who could not possibly have committed any wrongs against him, but that he had now condemned to a life of hardship and squalor, all because of a personal vendetta...

"Is this truly my doing?"

"I killed him. It happened so fast, I don't-"

The rat laughed harshly, smiling a deadbeast's grin that contrasted with the deep sorrow in his expression and posture.

"Spare me your lies, Captain. Yes, I know who you are, I still remember the stripes well enough to know by touch. You have destroyed almost everything I have left to live for, and you hold what's left of it in your paws."

Disturbed, Karth placed the baby in the open paws of the vermin and gripped his arm tightly as he spoke haltingly.

"Let me- let me lead you to safety, at least."

Sneering derisively, the rat nodded his head, allowing Karth to lead him forward.

"Stay ahead of me, Captain. I don't want to put my back to you."

The words hurt, but what hurt even more was the realization that the rat was correct.

Huffing, the rat followed him towards the back door. As they went, Karth heard a loud crack from behind him. Not thinking, he dove towards the door, barely escaping as the entire building caved in on itself. For a moment he felt relief at his lucky escape until the hare whirled around, a cry of horror on his lips, but the old rat and stoat were already lost in the debris and smoke.

Watching the flames, Karth stood, his grip on his sabre slackening as he realized what he had done. It fell to the ground, the small thud it made nearly unheard over the crackling wood, which still could not drown out the growing horror that he felt.

This really would have been a place for vermin to grow and thrive, but not in a way that meant they were a threat to anyone.

And he had taken it away from them.

He looked upward, at the now brightening sky as the moon's dwindling light shone through the branches of a flame-scarred tree. Karth shut his eyes and opened them, as if trying to process what he had just done and the acts he had just committed, purposeful or not.

"Greyfang was right all along... They only wanted to be left in peace."

His conscience screamed futilely but his body moved on; his only thoughts were the faint hope that Dusktail was still alive.

-----

"Colonel, wake up. We're late for the meeting."

Karth sat up with a strangled cry, all the deaths still as fresh in his mind as the day they occurred. In his peripheral, Karth saw Stubb recoil at his sudden movement and watched as the Private's paw unconsciously strayed to the hilt of his sword.

"I've trained him well," Karth thought, feeling a brief moment of pride.

Karth could sense the rigidness of the hare next to him and the doubtless shame he must be feeling. His lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile at the thought. He sensed Stubb relax the tension in his paw, as Karth's initial look of blind panic faded into something more subtle as he became aware of his surroundings and what Stubb had done.

Karth chuckled as he saw the look of regret on Stubb's face and stopped as he was forcibly reminded of something else at the sound of Stubb ramming his blade back into his sheath. Shaking his head roughly, Karth forced himself to focus on the matter at paw.

"Don't worry about your reaction, Stubb, as your instincts were good and true. Focus only on the task ahead."

Visibly calming himself, Stubb moved back so that Karth could actually get out of the cave. Grabbing the Colonel's weapons belt, he put it in Karth's waiting paws as he exited the cave. With a nod of thanks, the Colonel reattached the belt to his waist, speaking softly as he did so.

"You will wait here for me, while I go and meet Edgar."

The younger hare started to protest, but Karth cut him off with an upraised paw, his expression hard.

"You will do as I say, young Stubb."

Stubb paused and then nodded, still looking somewhat reluctant.

Karth put his paw at his side, brushing against the grip of his weapon, one of the few things that had never failed him over the seasons, even if the wielder was not so infallible.

He began to move onward but stopped. He turned and looked at his younger companion, who gazed at him steadily, a slight frown on his face.

"You are a true Long Patrol hare, Stubb. You have done us all proud."

"For Salamandastron," was the whispered reply, and Karth saw the brightest and proudest smile he had seen in seasons.

Smiling himself for the first time in what felt like weeks, Karth nodded to the hare and took a deep breath.

The madness was about to begin, and he was not ready.

-----

Over halfway from where Edgar had said they would meet, Karth felt a distinct tugging in his gut. Familiar images flashed before his eyes, and he cursed inwardly. It was foolish to think his dreams would let him escape so easily, no matter the occasion.

Trying to ignore the pitiful screams, he continued into the wilderness, willing himself to move slowly and carefully, despite the distractions that his mind was providing him.

Breathing in and out slowly, he tried to thrust down his fears and other intrusive thoughts, interferences that would not allow Karth to reach the awareness in which all practitioners of stealth thrived. When at his peak, his thoughts were a pond, undisturbed in its stillness and existing in a state of perfection and tranquility; but today was different.

On this day a steady rain fell, the individual raindrops as piercing as they were fleeting, disrupting the state of mind that Karth sought to achieve.

The perfectionist in him felt disappointment, but the more logical part of him concurred with his findings. He could not hope for much better tonight, not after what he had relived after so many seasons. It would have to be enough for what he had to do.

Never standing in the open, he moved from tree to tree, rock to rock, sometimes moving in a crouch and other times crawling on his belly, as Karth continued towards the Barn Owl's location. In a previous encounter, Edgar had told him that there were many patrols in this part of the woods, and Karth did not want to meet any of them, especially when he could not count on anybeast for assistance.

An ugly and darker side of his self, the increasingly small sliver that still gloried in the massacre that he had committed, warned him not to fully trust the owl. A few weeks past, he would have been more inclined to believe this line of thinking. Now, after a few long and private conversations between just the two of them, Karth felt sure of Edgar's innocence but unsure of how the others would react to his sudden reappearance. Edgar's 'betrayal' had not been forgotten, and many still bore a grudge that had only grown stronger as the seasons went on.

He would just have to trust in their professionalism, just as he had fallen back into his old instincts of silent movement. Remaining in a crouch, he moved his eyes without moving his head, looking for any sign of movement around him. Seeing nothing, he shifted his head slightly, careful not to disturb the foliage around him as he did so. The spot that he had chosen to stop and survey his surrounding was a good one, but he could not afford to grow careless.

Underestimating his enemy, or any enemy, was a quick way to get himself killed.

Karth glanced upward, staring at the startlingly bright light of the moon, and was reminded of something else that had been bright: a blade held by a foe whose innocence had been forcibly taken, who had seen things that no creature should bear witness to. What he had also borne witness to.

He still remembered their cries: one harsh and guttural, the other soft and spluttering. The realization that the whole thing was his doing. He still remembered the temporary madness and how his mind had threatened to break apart completely, followed by a wave of pain and fear that had never entirely dissipated. They were his burden, and Karth carried them as best as he could.

He would carry the heavy weight of those lives that he had stolen with him forever, as it was his duty to see that he conducted himself honorably and honestly throughout the rest of his life, with nothing to relieve him of this duty but death itself, where he would be judged by those he had wronged.

"What are you going to do?" a familiar voice whispered, repeating a question formed so long ago, one that still haunted him.

Just as he was about to fall beneath the waves and into the depths of his own remorse, his vision grew brighter, if only slightly. Confused by this, Karth leaned forward in his hiding place, and waited.

A rattling noise arose from somewhere nearby, with its owners' soft pawsteps echoed by an even fainter clinking sound. A vermin patrol, and armored, like they were expecting resistance.

Instantly, Karth became fully alert, not allowing himself to stiffen in surprise by instinct, as many untrained stalkers would do, but instead remained limber and flexible. Taking a deep breath to calm himself once more, he carefully drew his weapon from its sheath, trying to minimize the amount of noise it would make. It hissed as it emerged, almost like it was eager to begin the slaughter. Around him, the surrounding area brightened rapidly, doubtlessly from a torch.

He emerged from his refuge, stepping lightly towards a nearby tree, quickly putting his back to it and feeling comforted by it and its implacability. It was nearly eternal and enduring, while whatever happened beneath it was a sheer blink of an eye, a sleeping giant before insects.

Closing his eyes, he listened carefully to their movements, noting through all the noise that they were making that there were three of them, their loud and uncaring pawsteps making that fact easy to determine. The problem was that they were coming his way and would be upon his position in a few moments, with nowhere to properly conceal himself in time.

Gripping his sabre tightly, he waited for the opportune moment to either strike or flee, the latter becoming more and more impractical as the vermin unknowingly advanced upon his position.

Mere pawsteps from his position they stopped, the three rough voices loudly conversing as Karth found himself split between two decisions. He could either try to move around the tree-trunk to try to evade their line of sight, or to rush them and attack while he had the element of surprise. If their torch was burning low, he would be more inclined to try to hide, but with their torch burning so brightly...

As he stood in indecision, the wind picked up slightly, tempting Karth further to action. Meanwhile, not caring in the slightest for stealth, two of the vermin continued to argue, their voices rising in pitch as their accusations became more inflammatory. Apparently, the vermin to the left of his position thought the other was trying to make a fool out of him and sabotage his chances for promotion, something that the vermin to the right of Karth argued vehemently against. The third was now quiet, having been shouted down when he had offered a reasonable compromise. With the both of them cursing at each other repeatedly, it looked like this could escalate into violence, which would most likely draw attention from other patrols. His position was growing more tenuous by the moment.

Karth hoped it would end soon; although many were waiting for him, even more lives were at risk. He didn't even want to move, as the nearness of their position mixed with the quietness of the woods around them would serve to amplify any sound that he made. One mistake and it could be his last.

As the standoff continued, the Colonel found himself becoming more and more impatient. Above him, the tree rustled, the branches and leaves shaking and only reminding him of his inactivity, also pausing the conversation briefly and confirming Karth's suspicions. They were exceedingly paranoid, and they would spot him if he did not act quickly.

Leaping out from behind his cover, Karth sprinted towards the passive rat, covering the distance between them in seconds. The stoat and rat who had been arguing stared at him in shock, their mouths hanging stupidly as they gaped at his unexpected appearance.

As Karth closed in, the three of them started back, the torch dropping from the stoat's paw, with the light spluttering as it hit the forest floor. The three of them drew their weapons, but all Karth could see for a moment was the flickering flame, all-encompassing and eternal.

He was grateful for the downpour of a few days previously, because otherwise the whole forest could have gone up in moments and there would have been nothing he could have done.

Enough of this.

A sword swished through the air towards him, and Karth snapped back into the present, ready to kill as his instincts kicked in. Instincts that had been drilled into him repeatedly on and off of the field of battle. The instincts of a killer.

He threw himself to the side, grunting in pain as he came up in a roll, his wounded shoulder still bothering him. He couldn't let it slow him.

As the rat swung his weapon again, he knew what to do.

He went with the strike, weaving into it and blocking it with his own weapon. The sound was like a bitter music to his ears as the two blades screeched in a rough symphony, seemingly angry at the opposition from the other.

Twisting his wrist, Karth wrenched upward with all his strength and disarmed the rat, and the blade flew through the air. Time seemed to slow, and the rat's surprised expression turned into one of pain as Karth rammed his sabre into the vermin's gut. It sank deep, nearly straight to the hilt, and the sharp rasp of pain from the rat told him that it was a mortal wound, one with which the vermin wouldn't walk away.

Releasing his own blade, he caught his former foe's weapon in mid-air, his paw clutching desperately at the hilt as he swung in the same motion. He managed to block the strike from the other rat, while matching his snarl with one of his own. Karth was losing control, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

He moved the double-handed blade upwards, letting his opponent's weapon lock against his hilt before suddenly shoving his blade forward, making the rat stumble.

As he fought, Karth's vision grew sharper, and the slight wind that caressed him like a hug from someone dear, and the ever-present rage that dwelled deep within bubbled up. He had to end this quickly, and not just for time alone.

Bending down, he snatched up a dead branch and hurled it at the stoat, who had been trying to sneak behind him. The stoat cursed, his girth providing him protection from the branch, but he was still caught by surprise, giving Karth a few precious moments. His shoulder ached from the throw, but he ignored it. There was too much at stake to fail now.

Grasping his hilt with both paws, he lunged towards his adversary, blade held above his head as he sought to finish the fight before it consumed him.

The rat scrambled backwards, but Karth pursued, knowing that neither of them could be allowed to escape.

"Intruder!" a voice roared from nearby, stalling Karth. He glanced where the voice had originated from, hoping that it wasn't what he thought it was. One look confirmed his suspicion, even though they were still relatively far off.

It was another vermin patrol, and they had stumbled right into the midst of the skirmish.

Cursing his luck, Karth threw himself at the still-retreating rat. The vermin nervously leveled a sword at him, not daring to do anything else, knowing that in a few moments Karth would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Stretching, Karth batted away the blade tip, presenting an opening that he had to exploit. Twisting his body, the hare heaved with all his might at the rat's head, trying to ignore the now terrified look on his face. An expression that knew the certain doom coming towards him, knowing that nothing could be done.

Karth knew that feeling all too well.

The vermin tried to parry the strike, but Karth smashed through, unrelenting. He felt the blade cut through skin and bone, decapitating the second rat.

Despite this victory, he knew he had taken too long with his kill, which could perhaps be his last.

A part of him wished he could go down with them, fighting until the last, but he had a job to do; death could not stop him from doing his duty.

Behind him, he heard the stoat advance warily, knowing how he had not been able to sneak behind Karth before, but understanding that the hare was weakening. He was right.

"I begin to grow tired of all this," Karth thought wearily, watching the vermin's blood slowly drip off his blade.

But he was still the best; he had to be. Salamandastron needed him, along with so many others.

He slowly raised his blade and faced the stoat, smiling slightly. If it had to be, this was as good a place to die as any. Stubb would do what he had to, and Maia and the Long Patrol would be freed, along with the Dibbuns.

It was perhaps a foolish hope, but it was all he had; it was comforting in its own way. He had made mistakes, but he accepted them. It was who he was, and who he could still be. If he lived.

"I will go down fighting, and that's the best I can hope for."

As Karth prepared for the end, he heard a familiar sound: a flapping of wings, followed by a faint metallic echo that promised both death and destruction upon his foes.

Karth felt renewed at the prospect of surviving this skirmish. He straightened and smiled grimly at the stoat.

Edgar had arrived.

-----

Hello again.

Well, this took a long time. Four drafts, laziness and summer work has made updating Dusktail to be a challenge, one that I have finally surmounted.

Due credit goes to my editor Sauron Gorthaur, who has stuck with me through thick and thin and an extremely busy schedule. Without her this wouldn't have come out nearly as well as it did. Feel free to check her work out, it is quite good.

Part 11 is coming soon, with some interesting insights in store for those still waiting to see where this will go.

Cheers, and thanks for sticking with me on this journey.

Darkenmal.

[Darkenmal]

As requested, here is the new chapter posted on the forum!

Please discuss Dusktail here: http://redwallabbey.com/forum/index.php?topic=5531.0

Or view the story from here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9528816/1/Dusktail-A-Tale-of-Redwall

Cheers!

-----

Prologue – Part 11

-----

Is it death you seek, glory you want?

You receive nothing.

Is it revenge you seek, vengeance you crave?

You receive nothing.

Is it life you seek, or something in between?

You receive nothing.

We whisper, but we never serve.

Madness we crave,

Yet sanity is all we have.

Listen: and learn.

Pitifully, they cried out, but few could listen to their despair.

Those that could willfully ignored them.

Except one.

-----

Silvia listened eagerly, giving thanks that she had not paid heed to all of those who would have dissuaded her from her true calling, her true path. She had listened to warnings that she would have a lonely life, a shortened life, and distantly she felt herself smile at their misplaced efforts.

They had all been fools.

Underneath the darkened shroud, there were voices. Some whispered in hushed tones, their voices nearly as indecipherable as they were ominous. Others shouted, their anger as brazen as it was overwhelming. The few who would speak did so cautiously, scared of whatever lurked within the shroud.

Those who had travelled along this path knew the dangers of the voices and the hidden pitfalls of their words. Despite the amount of training needed, most did not last long here. It gnawed on your mind and your soul, listening to those who were long dead and trapped in between the Dark Forest and Hellgates. It took a special creature to remain sane in this place... let alone make use of it.

Those that did survive gained a certain type of knowledge: a type of sight that enabled the viewer to see quick glimpses of the past, present, and very occasionally, the future. Most of what she could see was indecipherable: vague colors and images that could have meant many things. Usually, they only made sense in very specific circumstances, and almost always after the event had occurred or was no longer useful to her and those that she served.

All those who spoke were familiar to her, and all knew who she was and whom she was helping with her knowledge and skills. They whispered, for now speaking of events to come, speaking softly of her mate as one would to both a loved one and a lifelong foe, in tones both caressing and hateful.

A familiar paw lightly clasped her shoulder, startling her from her mediation. The fire in front of her pulsed but retreated quickly, as if it was angered by the intrusion.

The voices moved with the fire, becoming loud and crisp for a moment, before receding with the flames - but not before Silvia learned one crucial fact.

Her face turned as white as her fur, and her eyes flashed open, temporarily blinded by the light surrounding her as she leaned back, unable to process the information that she had just discovered.

"My love, what is it?"

She turned to her mate, noting his worried frown and tired eyes, something that doubtlessly was reflected by her. Taking a deep breath, she spoke, her own voice surprisingly collected.

You will be the father of two sons, Barkclaw."

The fox looked uncertain briefly until he smiled, looking happy for the first time in what seemed like seasons.

Crouching, he raised a hesitant paw, the one unscarred in battle. Reverently, he placed it upon her middle, his face turning more serious and thoughtful while his eyes still radiated pure joy.

"The world I create will not be enjoyed by me or by anyone fighting this war... but by both of you, my sons. I will do what my father could not do, and that was to ensure our future - forever."

Silvia was shocked to see the warlord's cheeks stained with tears, and her spirit lifted at his words, at their meaning and the emotion behind them.

"Truly, he will change everything," Silvia thought.

He hugged her then, around her middle, and for a moment she saw the one she had grown to love, the one with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. She enjoyed it for what it was: a luxury. Something she wished would last forever.

But she had her duty, and she would do it... no matter the cost. Nothing was more important. Not even their sons.

"The attack - it will come tonight, my love, from the positions I mentioned before."

As she spoke, she watched him, reading his face. As her words registered to the warlord, his expression shifted from pure happiness to cold calculation. The transformation saddened her. By the need of it. Soon it wouldn't be needed. Their allies would come and reclaim what had once been theirs.

They just had to clear the way.

Barkclaw stood then, his smile gone, replaced with solemnity. As he stood before her, Silvia noticed that his coat was beginning to turn grey, like his father's had once been.

The smile returned, but it was not sincere. This was a mask he was assuming that he had carefully discarded for a few moments, only to put it on as if nothing had occurred.

This was the face of a warlord, one that would conquer the last of Salamandastron's organized resistance and would lead the way for what was to come.

"Let us go greet an old friend," Barkclaw said, his eyes filled with barely contained malice.

-----

Karth watched the owl dive in with his battleclaws extended, eyes aglow, feeling both anger and relief at the familiar sight. That was until his gaze was torn back to the stoat, who suddenly lunged forward. Batting the strike away, Karth's face hardened.

The stoat ducked as the owl flew over them, moonlight glinting off his talons. Edgar was heading towards the rat and weasel behind him. Karth felt a moment of pity at the realization.

But for only a moment.

As Edgar neared his prey, he saw nothing but the only one he simultaneously feared and loved like a brother. A smoldering hatred simmered there as well, buried deep, resurfacing in times such as these.

It was as it was meant to be, and he was glad, in a way.

For there was killing to be done, and he both hated and loved what was about to come.

As Karth engaged the stoat again, Edgar honed in on the two vermin. They leveled their weapons at him, hoping to impale him as the owl flew over their heads.

Edgar laughed harshly, his voice booming behind his faceguard. Slowly, he lifted his battleclaws vertically and watched gravity do its work. With glee, he observed how the incoming pike was deflected and snapped it in half, the weasel's metal no match for his own.

A spear darted towards him, and Edgar rotated in the air. As a result, the spear was forcibly torn out of the vermin's unwilling paws, causing the rat to cry out in dismay. Rising slightly in the air, Edgar gripped the spear tightly and snapped it, causing the vermin to flinch. Glancing to where he'd last seen Karth, he was surprised to see the hare and stoat were still dueling, but he had his own problems to deal with.

The rat and weasel, now defenseless, retreated hastily as Edgar turned his attention back towards them. Edgar laughed again as he saw the vermin still clutched their useless weapons, and laughed even harder as their eyes widened in fear. Making a decision, Edgar flapped as he dove in, giving himself a little more altitude. Judging the moment was right, he ceased flapping, angling his wings downward.

Edgar dropped like a stone, waiting for the right moment as the last vermin watched fearfully, moving to strike.

He snapped open his wings, startling the rat. Whimpering in fear, the rat swung an ill-prepared blow, wasting his only chance at finishing off Edgar.

With a dull thud, the pike haft bounced off the barn owl's wing, which he had moved in to protect his chest.

Both the stoat and Karth looked over to Edgar as the owl reacted to the strike. Karth smirked as the owl screeched in rage, looming vengefully over the cowering vermin. He knew what would happen next.

The owl swung his wings together like twin battering rams, and the vermin disappeared inside the mass of feathers and death. As Edgar opened his wings, Karth saw both of the vermin lying on the ground, twitching slightly as they tried to crawl away, most likely with broken bones.

Pawsteps pounded behind him, and Karth turned and swung, his blade smashing against his foe's, whose face paled at the screams that sounded from behind him.

The two separate screams began simultaneously, as Karth shoved the blades close. The stoat's look of confusion turned to one of pain as Karth forced the blades to an awkward angle. The two struggled for a moment, until Karth released the tension on his blade. The vermin whirled uncontrollably, expecting resistance while receiving none. Karth, finding no room to stab, jabbed his pommel towards the stoat's jaw. The resulting uppercut caused the stoat to stumble, giving Karth room to breathe. All the while, the two vermin's screams continued, now rising in the air.

Karth glanced up to see the two vermin impaled on the owl's claws, their voices growing hoarse as Edgar halted in mid-air. Blood seeped down Edgar's claws, but still the owl waited. The stoat had now backed away from Karth, keeping an eye on the Colonel but now watching his comrades die in horrified fascination.

The owl began to turn, twirling faster and faster as the two vermin shrieked. Karth was beginning to feel slightly dizzy until Edgar crossed his claws and slipped them together. As the vermin wriggled sluggishly like worms on a hook, Edgar suddenly flicked out his claws, sending the two vermin flying in opposite directions.

The Colonel shuddered, both at the sounds the vermin made and the imagery that the scene provoked. He hoped Edgar would return from the madness this time.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught Karth's attention, as the stoat crept back into the fight.

Clearly, he wanted to die fighting, something that Karth could personally respect, as death on a sword point was a better fate than what his two comrades had just faced. As they neared, all Karth could see in his mind was Edgar covered in blood, lost in his madness. He felt a twinge of worry and tried to shake off the distraction, but it was not easy.

The familiar sight threatened to bring forth banished memories in his mind. Memories that were best left forgotten. Gritting his teeth, Karth lunged forward and engaged his foe again.

"You would attack Greyfang in the night, Karth? What of your oath to protect the innocent?"

The stoat nimbly skipped backward and slashed quickly, sacrificing strength for speed. Karth grunted as the stoat scored a slice across his brow, and blood seeped down from the wound. Karth blinked as the blood dripped into his eyes, blinding him momentarily.

"The fox is not to be trusted, Edgar; you know that just as well as I."

Seeking to press his advantage, the stoat feinted. The vermin's swing fluidly switched from its target from the hare's chest to the throat, surprising the Colonel.

Grunting, Karth parried with an upward swing, narrowly forcing the stoat's sword over his lowered head.

His blade having found no purchase, the stoat stumbled but recovered quickly, jabbing low. Avoiding the strike, Karth threw himself to the side, catching himself on the ground with his free paw. As he barely avoided the stoat's blade, the Colonel's own retaliatory swing scored only a glancing slice across the stoat's belly.

"Once I may have believed that, but now I think it is you who cannot be trusted in matters that concern Greyfang; your anger overwhelms the brother that I love and trusted completely."

Pushing himself up, Karth leapt to his footpaws, a roar erupting from his throat as he lurched towards the stoat. He swung savagely, his blade seeking to cleave the vermin in two.

The stoat parried his strike again, causing sparks to erupt from both blades. As the two struggled, the stoat leaned forward, trying to overpower Karth with sheer strength.

Not a word was spoken as Karth parried the stoat's strikes, his vision narrowing to only the fight as he forced his tired body to continue fighting. The stoat had proved a more adept opponent than most vermin he had faced; this fight needed to end soon. He let his hard breathing begin to show. Likewise, the stoat began to pant his eyes darting over Karth's shoulder, looking for a chance of potential escape.

That was the signal Karth needed to indicate the time was right to end this. The stoat wanted to finish the fight just as much as he did, in any way he could.

Karth pushed back the stoat and wearily raised his sword in a guarding stance, allowing himself to look as tired as he felt. Victory gleaming in his eyes, the stoat lunged forward, blade leveled at the hare's midriff, only to frown in puzzlement as Karth pivoted out of the sword's path.

With all of his remaining strength, Karth gave his own sabre a skillful twist. With a resounding clang, Karth's weapon smashed into the stoat's. The sword flipped out of the paw of the unwilling vermin, who screamed in pain as the hilt was wrenched from his grip, snapping his wrist. Reacting instinctively, Karth kicked the stoat in the stomach, sending him sprawling to the forest floor. The stoat collapsed, gasping for air and clutching his belly, a pool of blood beginning to circle around him. His wound had apparently been worse than Karth had realized.

"If you continue down this path, you will quickly become the brute that you perceive Greyfang to be."

In a last ditch effort, the stoat shakily drew a knife, which Karth contemptuously kicked away. Kneeling, Karth leveled his blade at the vermin's throat. The stoat began to shiver uncontrollably, which made it hard for Karth to hold his blade steady.

They both stared at each other for a moment, until the stoat spoke haltingly, his rough voice cracking from raw fear.

"Please... mercy-"

Not wanting to hear anything more, Karth thrust down. The ensuing scream was startlingly familiar as the stoat momentarily quivered from the strain. For a moment, the vermin's face was an impossible mixture of emotions as he sighed out a deep breath.

As Karth watched, a haunting series of images flickered before his eyes. Barkclaw holding his father, crying out in terror as his face contorted in a scream, their brief duel, and now the accusing eyes that stared back at his own in that moment startlingly similar to Barkclaw's.

Somewhat morbidly, he had always wondered what specifically that terror had meant. Was it because Barkclaw was now alone? That his father's dream was dust in the wind? Or was it because he had done little to deserve what had been done to him?

He would probably never know. Barkclaw's voice floated back to him then, his voice a mixture of agony and rage that he would never forget.

"I will kill you for what you have done, Captain. Your mercy will be the death of everyone you have ever loved, I promise you. You will burn..."

Karth's thoughts were interrupted as the stoat gurgled feebly, as he choked on his blood. Looking down, Karth saw his once foe in a sorry state. Feeling pity, the Colonel reached down and yanked out his blade, provoking a final shudder before the stoat finally stilled.

"We are all monsters," Karth whispered, as he watched the vermin's eyes go dim.

He felt a slight breeze as Edgar landed next to him. He had been lost in thought for a moment, unable to take his eyes off of his blade that was covered in vermin blood. Thoughts floated to the forefront of his mind, thoughts that disturbed him.

"Is this all I am destined to be?"

"I warned the Abbey," Edgar spoke, breaking the silence, surprisingly calm.

Karth tensed at the owl's words. Even now, his body uncontrollably reacted to the mere sound of Edgar's voice. Did he deserve such hatred, even after their hours of discussion? How was he still sane?

Karth was unsure, and that had always made him nervous. He wanted to know, and the prospect of the unknown had always unnerved him.

The Colonel turned, his eyes taking in the blood and filth that was caked into the owl's entire body from head to claw, wondering for a moment if he looked much the same. It was hard to tell, in the moonlight.

"They know of what is to come, Karth. They know what we will do."

"Good," Karth whispered, finding himself eager at the possibility of ending the bloodshed. Salamandastron called, and he was ready to return home.

Karth took a deep breath, disregarding Edgar's questioning stare. They would all know soon enough what was to occur. The questions would end, after tonight.

But now was the time to act.

"We need to go to the meeting where those who are willing to fight are waiting," Karth said softly.

"The Redwallers will not assist us," Edgar replied, his bloodied battleclaws glinting in the moonlight as he lifted off of the forest floor. "They say they are not fighters and they fear Barkclaw will harm their Dibbuns if they attack directly." He melted into the forest within moments, leaving Karth temporarily alone.

Karth let his weapon drop to the forest floor and he felt like dropping with it. Never had he felt as old as he did now, and this was only the preliminary skirmish to the battle to later take place.

He would find the strength to continue, or Maia and most of the Long Patrol would die.

"Maia..." Karth whispered. He could still remember the look on her face as he pushed her out the path of the arrow. There was confusion, anger, but above all there was compassion. Always she had cared for others more than herself. Always she had been there for him. The others thought him as the hero, the one who would make speeches, but she was the true heart of Salamandastron.

And he would see her returned, whatever the cost.

The familiar soft flapping above him told Karth that Edgar had returned. Instead of reacting to the noise, he simply continued his swift pace, waiting patiently for the news that Edgar had brought.

Instead of slowing his pace or stopping, Edgar continued flying, only calling back once as he increased his speed dramatically.

"Barkclaw's entire camp is mobilized and they are right behind us. RUN!"

Glancing behind him, Karth saw the flickering lights that told the truth of what Edgar was saying.

Drawing his sabre, he began to sprint, hoping that he would outlast the search parties for as long as possible. Briefly, he wondered how Barkclaw could have known he was there, but in the end it didn't matter.

The hunt was on.

-----

Swiftpaw, Lord of Salamandastron and Protector of the Western Shores, was terrified. The Badger Lord lay upon his bed, his eyes closed, not allowing the temptation of sleep to consume him. All he saw were things that nobeast ever wished to see or would wish upon any creature, alive or dead. He felt more at ease at the thought of taking on an entire army single-pawed then having to return to slumber.

Eventually, sleep would claim him and he would dream, despite his best efforts.

It was Maia who haunted his dreams, always Maia. But unlike the smiling, loving mate he had known so well, whenever he saw her now, she was crying and alone. Every time she would look at him, she wore the same look, a mask of sheer agony that gouged deep into his own soul. As soon as he reached out to comfort her, she would vanish from his sight with a chilling cry that struck like a dagger to his heart. The cry would echo through his mind as it pulled him awake, a sob of his own on his lips.

Even now he felt himself weakening, his body and mind craving rest as a desert wanderer craved water. He felt himself begin to slip, his mind shutting down as his breathing relaxed, against his will.

"Maia..." Swiftpaw mumbled, feeling saddened at the idea of sleeping without his mate by his side. He wondered if this was to be his fate forever. To be alone.

Swiftpaw allowed his paws to unclench from his sheets and placed them on his chest slowly, trying to drag out the action. Tears rolled down Swiftpaw's face as he began to surrender to oblivion, hating himself for being so weak.

As his consciousness began to sink into the depths of slumber, he heard something that instantly shocked him awake, threatening to provoke the Bloodwrath.

Melator's screams.

Leaping to his footpaws, Swiftpaw grabbed a spear lying near his bed and ran out into the hallway. Outside his door, two Long Patrol guards stood frozen, unsure of which badger to attend to.

"Secure the hallway and kill any who try to pass," Swiftpaw snarled, not even trying to rein in his wrath.

Not caring what response they made, Swiftpaw turned and ran, ignoring any inquiring calls as he sprinted down the nearest staircase to Melator's room.

Swiftpaw's breaths came in panicked gasps as Melator's closed door loomed ahead of him at the end of the corridor, but he didn't even slow down. As he neared the door, horrible images gushed through his mind: all of which involved his son being tortured in the cruelest of ways. The Defender of the Western Shores smashed his way through the door, forcing it nearly off its hinges as he leveled his spear, looking for any potential threats.

To his great shock and relief, he saw that Melator was fine. His son shrank back, his eyes reddened and his gaze questioning.

Swiftpaw leaned against a wall, unable to believe for a moment that his son was still alive and with him. He had not yet been taken from him, like Maia had been. They would still be together.

"Father?"

Swiftpaw found himself sliding down the wall, his body shaking uncontrollably.

"My son, you're alive," Swiftpaw croaked, feeling both an intense sadness and happiness, for his son was safe.

Melator opened his mouth and closed it, staring deeply at his heavily breathing father for a long moment. It was another long moment before Melator finally spoke, his tired voice cracking from sheer emotion.

"I saw Mother. She was alone and crying for help. When I moved towards Mother, she disappeared as soon as I neared her. She... she screamed and it hurt me, too. What is happening to me, Father?"

Swiftpaw froze, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.

"Father?" Melator's voice rose in pitch, panic beginning to enter his tone.

There was no point in withholding the truth any longer, especially if the rest of his own visions were now true. Melator needed to understand what he saw, and not be trapped in his uncertainty.

"It begins," Swiftpaw thought, a sudden chill creeping up his spine.

-----

Melator and Lord Swiftpaw stood in front of a huge rock, one that's purpose Melator had always wanted to know. The air seemed thick, and despite himself Melator felt a twinge of fear as he stared at the seemingly immovable boulder. What could possibly lie behind it? What secrets did it contain? Why had his father brought him here now, of all times?

Before, whenever he had asked the purpose of the rock's placement, Swiftpaw had always dodged the subject or had given him something infuriating to think about. This usually went along the lines of, 'when you are ready, I will make it known to you.'

The words had always made him angry, which seemed to only further cement his father's line of thinking. Looking back, he could see why this was the case, but he still felt anger, not at the words themselves, but for the implications of them. That he was too young, too experienced. He was young, and inexperienced, but he was willing to learn. Whenever he had told his father that, Swiftpaw would nod very slowly, his unblinking gaze repeating his words silently. When you are ready, I will show you.

For a long time, Melator thought that would never happen. Truthfully, he had forgotten about it. But something had changed.

A part of him wondered if this was a response to his nightmare a few nights earlier, but for the most part he was unconvinced. It was only a dream, after all. Dreams were only dreams, and they could not hurt him when he was awake. At least that was what he was hoping.

After making sure that Melator was all right, Swiftpaw had ordered the Old Guard to reform and drill, and for the past few days, Melator had felt largely ignored. That was until he went to bed, and only to find his father waiting for him in his bedroom, looking worn.

"Come to the forge at sunrise, my son. It is time for your first trial."

"Why now, Father, why when Mother is gone?"

His father's face had grown grave, and then he had uttered the words. The words Melator had been waiting to hear.

"Because you are ready."

His father suddenly moved, bringing Melator back to the present. His fur standing on end, Melator watched his father place his paws cautiously on the rock, his touch hesitant, almost caressing.

"By the power granted by both my title and my ancestry, I deem my son, Melator, worthy of being granted entrance within the final resting place of the Badger Rulers of Salamandastron. I grant him access to our greatest secrets, and I will be his guide through these most sacred halls."

The line, enunciated with care, at once seemed to clear the room of tension. Melator released a deep breath he didn't know that he had held, feeling some of his stress leave him. His father turned and looked at him, his face unreadable. Melator stared back, mouth slightly open, knowing that whatever his father would show him today would change his life forever.

Lord Swiftpaw moved to one side of the rock, still clutching it as one would a newborn, as if reluctant to share what needed to be shown. This changed in an instant as Swiftpaw slowly braced himself and heaved against the boulder.

For a moment, it seemed like it wouldn't move, that the Badger Ruler could not make it move, until it finally did. Slightly.

Forgoing the slightly mystic air that he had held since they had entered the room, Swiftpaw roared his defiance, veins standing on end as he pushed with all his strength, an incredible display of raw power and energy.

The sluggish progress of the boulder quickly turned into a fluid movement, and with a final shout from Swiftpaw, the rock smashed into the other side of the doorway. For a moment, Melator could briefly see a long hallway leading into a larger chamber, before the aftershocks of the rock smashing into the side of the room hit them.

Dust and debris rained down upon them both, and for a moment it seemed the whole mountain shook. Melator cried out, bracing himself against the wall as he tried to see into the halls beyond. Lord Swiftpaw stood, not moving or flinching as he stared straight ahead, his posture rigid.

The dust became too much and Melator shielded his eyes with his paw. When he lowered his paw, he saw his father as he always wanted to see him, with a warm smile on his face as he beckoned into the room before them.

"Welcome, my son, to the hall of warriors where legends are foreseen. Welcome, to the true heart of Salamandastron."

Placing a proud paw on his son's shoulder, Swiftpaw kept the happy smile on his face with effort. In any other circumstance, he would have been delighted with the pure joy in his son's expression. It had been something he had been waiting so long to see, and now he was going to take it away, possibly forever.

Forgive me ancestors for doing what I must do.

For Melator was not truly ready for what he was about to see and experience. Nobeast could ever be.

Swiftpaw turned his head and looked at his son. Questions pounded in his head as he did so. Could Melator even bear such a burden? Would he, Lord Swiftpaw, want his son seeing such things? How could he do this to his own son, when all they had left was each other?

Rage, anger, and helplessness coursed through the Badger Lord, as he debated what to do next. The matter was decided when he considered the idea of meeting the enemy without Melator knowing what he had to know. Ruling the mountain alone without properly meeting his ancestors.

But still, the Badger Lord hesitated. He looked at his own son, as pure and innocent as youth could ever be. He noticed that his own smile had slipped and had been replaced, like a mask. He would act as the proud father, which he was, but while also hiding the misery that lurked within. Could Melator ever forgive him? Would he want to?

Swiftpaw felt a tear in his eyes, and he lifted his paw from his son's shoulder, wiping it away.

"Come with me, my son. The time has come to join our legend."

Led by his father, Melator walked forward as if in a dream. He couldn't believe his father trusted him enough for this, and that fact alone made him happier than he had been in a long time. Before his mother had left him and his father... before his father had seen things in his dreams.

In silence, they slowly moved through the chamber, and Melator stared at the rich history before him with a sense of awe. Before him lay the bodies of Spearlady Gorse, Orlando the Axe, Rawnblade, and so many others. They lined the walls dressed in their finest armor and grasping their finest weapons. One near the end grasped a simple stick, and Melator started as he recognized him. This lord was Russano the Wise, famed for his passion for peace and his literature, something that very few other Badger Lords or Ladies had ever found time to do. Russano had dedicated his life in the pursuit of it, and Melator felt awed. He remembered his mother reading Russano's texts, which were so old that every page was covered in dust and so fragile that his mother would never let him hold them. It was one of the first things he had truly respected: a book full of wisdom about leading one's life honorably and justly.

As Melator slowly moved, his resolve strengthened into conviction. This was what he had been born to do; he could feel it. Salamandastron was nothing if not for those who defended it, and he would do what needed to be done, like his father and all of the Badger Lords before him.

Melator found himself humbled by the history surrounding him, and his gaze flickered from each ruler, each with his or her own tale to tell. Behind all were paintings, and the further back they went, the more these depicted great deeds of valor and nobility. War was frequently shown, but not always. One painting in particular looked so old that it had nearly faded completely into the stone wall. On it was Salamandastron enclosed within a cage, with a closed paw reaching towards it to seemingly rip it apart. Leaning forward eagerly, Melator finally deciphered a series of drawings as a strange sword lying near the cage, with a large crack running down the middle. Frowning at the strangeness of the painting, Melator allowed himself to be drawn back into the other paintings that were more pleasing to the eye.

In the other paintings, Melator saw great wars, with Badgers and other warriors fighting against impossible odds. Sometimes, Melator saw great feasts, depicting dances, songs, and many other things that weaved an intriguing idea in his mind.

He suddenly wanted to go to Redwall, to participate in these gatherings of mutual friendship and brotherhood. To not be surrounded by warriors at all times, but by those who had never seen war. He didn't want to feel the ache of seeing his friends leave Salamandastron to never return, while those that did return were... changed. His eyes darted towards Swiftpaw despite himself, and Melator wondered for the hundredth time what troubled his father so deeply and why he looked so depressed nearly every morning.

"Mother will return," Melator whispered, suddenly feeling childish at speaking the words out loud.

But he still wanted it more than anything he had ever wanted before.

His father kept walking without glancing to the side once, either not noticing Melator's whispered words or not caring, breezing past his fellow Badger Rulers that were doubtlessly a familiar sight by now. Lord Swiftpaw stared straight ahead, and Melator felt a brief stab of fear.

"What are we doing here?" Melator whispered.

Soon, the two passed the ancient rulers of Salamandastron and through another entrance that led into a much smaller chamber, one that was dominated by a single large throne.

Around the room itself were names carved into the stone walls seemingly at random. Swiftpaw stood in front of a set of names that were nearly perfectly centered behind the throne. Melator could not see the names, but he sensed his father stiffen upon entering the room.

Silently, they strode towards the throne. Melator almost walked into his father's back as Swiftpaw suddenly stopped and turned to regard him solemnly, his smile gone.

"What you are about to see is only intended for your own eyes. Tell nobeast what you see, and remember it always."

Melator felt cold and found himself instinctively shrinking back from the Badger Lord.

"What- what do you mean, Father?"

Lord Swiftpaw reached over to the throne and took a small bowl filled with what looked like ancient ground herbs. Looking at it for a moment with a grimace of distaste, the Badger Lord passed the bowl to his son, who tentatively cupped it in the middle of his right paw.

"These herbs are made to induce visions, visions that will tell you something that our ancestors wish for you to know. Their wisdom is unfathomable; accept what you will see and force yourself to process it later. It will go easier for you that way, my son."

Melator's eyes darted from the bowl, to his father, and back again. Melator couldn't help but notice the worried look in his father's eyes, or the way he glanced at the bowl with a hint of fear. His father fearing this tiny bowl was something he did not understand, and quickly he found himself not wanting to know the reason why. He wanted nothing more than to be anywhere but here, at this particular moment. Taking a calming breath, he whispered the words that he hated saying to anybeast, let alone to Lord Swiftpaw.

"I don't understand, Father."

Swiftpaw closed his eyes for a long moment, and Melator stiffened as he thought for a second that his father was irritated at him yet again, that he had said or done the wrong thing.

His father's eyes opened, and Melator was shocked to see unshed tears.

"Just lift it up to your face and inhale. Do it slowly and deeply, and immerse yourself in your visions. Do what is required of a Badger Lord. Do not fail our legacy."

Feeling the conviction in his father's words wash over him, Melator grasped the bowl firmly with both his paws. Raising the bowl slowly, Melator paused for a moment, terrified of what he was about to see. Shaking himself angrily, he forced his arms to move again, and the bowl jerked upward and towards his face. Forcing himself to be calm once again, Melator took a couple of deep breaths, steeling himself for what was to come.

Letting his face drop towards the bowl, Melator inhaled slowly, allowing the stale smell to fill his senses completely.

In a few moments, he found his vision shifting from the room to another realm. On the edge of consciousness, he felt himself lifted up and placed onto something cold and solid. The last thing Melator heard was a choked-back sob, and he found himself falling headfirst into his vision.

"This is what you must do," Swiftpaw whispered, finally allowing himself to crumple and hold Melator in his arms, as he had always wanted to do, like the father he had never been.

Tears now streamed down Swiftpaw's face as he watched his son begin to fight the madness that had since then sought to corrupt him from within. He remembered an old vow, that he would never let any blood of his experience what he had, by walking with his ancestors in the realm between Hellgates and the Dark Forest.

That was until he had learned the awful truth.

"You are the last of our line," Swiftpaw whispered, his gaze moving to the name that was roughly chiseled on the wall, next to the final space set aside for one other. Lord Swiftpaw, Lord of Salamandastron and Defender of the Western Shores, Last to Rule the Fire Mountain, save One.

Melator's eyes opened, and Swiftpaw began to extract himself from his son's arms, until Melator returned the hug, his arms wrapping tightly around his own chest.

The two sat there on the throne, each breathing slowly and regularly, taking comfort in each other's presence until at last Melator spoke.

"I saw things, Father, things I did not want to see."

Tearfully, Swiftpaw forced himself to look into his son's eyes, which were still dimming from the effects of the drug. Slowly, he spoke the words he had never wanted to say, let alone think about.

But it was necessary now, all the same.

"We prepare for war, my son. You must be prepared to take my place... if the time were to ever come."

Melator stared as Swiftpaw gently untangled himself and stood up, walking towards the door that would lead him out of this now oppressive throne room.

"Promise me that you will rescue Mother, Father. Promise me."

Swiftpaw stopped and placed a paw on the doorway for support, not daring to look at his son again.

"I promise," Swiftpaw whispered.

-----

Can you believe its been close to four months since my last chapter?

It's been a wild ride since then, to say the least. During all this time, my editor and I have been doing our best to work on Dusktail, with some long and frustrating periods of inactivity that sadly could not have been avoided.

However, with the winter holidays closing in, I hope that this massive gap between chapters is something that will never be repeated again, but honestly at this point I don't even know. What I do know however is that this will be finished regardless of how long it takes, and this story will find its way on the internet in one form or another.

One thing is for sure though. I am glad to share this with such an encouraging editor and audience, and I hope that any who are reading this will continue to follow Dusktail as it grows bigger and better.

Stay tuned, for the battle that I have been building up to for close to a year is going to occur next chapter, no matter how large the wordcount ends up being. It's going to be epic.

Cheers!

[Darkenmal]

Hey all, I've revamped Dusktail to the point where it is just best that I link it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9528816/1/Dusktail-A-Tale-of-Redwall

Cheers!

[Darkenmal]

Another chapter!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9528816/1/Dusktail-A-Tale-of-Redwall

[Darkenmal]

Just released a new chapter!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9528816/1/Dusktail-A-Tale-of-Redwall

Discussion thread is here as well for those who wish to discuss Dusktail:

http://redwallabbey.com/forum/index.php?topic=5531.0

Cheers!