The Price of Defeat

[cairn destop]

Chapter Twenty-Eight
Redwall Alerted

Father Hughnaught found the weather a bit overwhelming whenever he stepped outside in his official attire as the father abbot.  It might be early summer, but the afternoon heat had him ignoring tradition.  Though the woodchuck wore green, he left the winter-heavy habit hanging inside the abbey like a raincoat on a cloudless day.

His walking companion, Captain Karteel, wore an outfit that proclaimed his position as the commanding officer of the Abbey's defenders.  Since the Abbey preferred peace, the residents on guard duty seldom wore anything resembling a uniform; something he knew disturbed the retired soldier. 

While they walked, both debated their latest game of Siege.  Each of them claimed the better position when they adjourned late last night.  Such genial conversation proved a pleasant diversion.  As far as the father abbot was concerned, the selection and assignment of garden plots could wait.  If his luck held, the bickering gardeners might resolve the issue without his intervention.

A gravelly voice called out.  "Captain Karteel, a moment of your time please."

"Now I do wonder what Tassel would want with you," said the father abbot.  He knew his serious tone would needle the captain. 

Karteel's eyes rolled.  The woodchuck had to employ every ounce of self-control; otherwise, he would burst out laughing.  The Captain of the guards often bragged about her combat training, but never failed to miss an opportunity to insult the lady badger.

Once she came close enough, the captain snapped at her.  "Our next practice session isn't until the day after tomorrow.  And no, you may not join my training class with the Pine Tar warriors this afternoon.  Didn't they make their feeling known last time?  I don't need such problems."

Tassel came to a quick stop.  Her muzzle dipped, but it came up before she spoke.  "I didn't know they felt so strong about my presence that they withdrew.  However, I'm here on more urgent business."

Karteel gave a heavy sigh, his vexation coming to the fore.  "So what bee stung your nose?"

"That boar badger has been gone three days.  He should get here well before the gates close tonight.  I want you to alert those guards about Tabeston's return.  I would keep a watch on the road all day, but my duties as badgermom don't allow me such a luxury."

Father Hughnaught clicked his tongue.  "I know you fret every time one of your dibbuns goes beyond our gate, but you must accept the fact they can go where you cannot.  I'm sure Bruno is going as fast as that child of yours can move.  They might spend a day or two at that village if it takes time fashioning new spectacles.  Anyway, I've already asked the captain to pass the word.  If anyone sees them, you'll be the first informed."

"It doesn't stop me from worrying.  Bruno doesn't know how important the hedgehog's schooling is."

Before he could reassure Tassel, another voice called out.  Two squirrels hesitated by the main gate before they rushed across the courtyard.  He recognized the bandana every Pine Tar squirrel wore, but could not identify the older squirrel who accompanied him.

After a hasty introduction, the younger squirrel trotted back to the main gate.  The older one waited.  His eyes flashed from the father abbot, to Karteel, and settled on the masked beast.  He muttered something too low before extending his paw to him.

"Everybody calls me the hermit.  Good a name as any.  I came to tell you of slavers in Mossflower Forest."

Father Hughnaught pointed to the abbey, and the three hastened their steps.  Once the abbot entered the main building, he slipped on his green habit.  As he led the two squirrels to another room, Tassel followed.  After the squirrels entered, he blocked the threshold.  The lady badger's voice acquired a pleading tone she used whenever she begged for additional funds.

"Please Father Abbot; I must know what this hermit has to say.  It might involve Kurella."

For a moment, he remembered how despondent Tassel felt when she learned slavers captured Kurella.  Even if he stood by his decision, he knew she would pester him for every detail.  With an admonishment about keeping her own counsel, he allowed her inside the room.

The hermit launched into his story.  He related the fate of Quagland, including the death of those the vermin deemed unfit.  When he spoke of the grey fox who commanded the slavers, he painted a picture of a heartless beast.  Then his narration touched on what he saw in the forest.  His description of the lady shrew caused his voice to crack from the emotion it evoked.  Finished with his report, he called himself a coward for not helping any of them.

Captain Karteel patted the hermit's paw.  "You were brave enough to follow them and smart enough to come here.  Let those trained to fight do the rest."

Father Hughnaught went to the door and summoned a passing resident.  That beast escorted the hermit to the dining area, promising he would help the old squirrel find lodging during his stay.  Once the door closed, he returned to his chair.  A glance at the captain showed he too had troubles assimilating the magnitude of the news.  He rapped the tabletop with his paw, which caught their attention.

"If all our warriors were here, we would be a powerful force.  The Pine Tar tribe has the heart, but not the numbers.  Warriors tend to boast about their successes while forgetting any setbacks.  I must consider the consequences of any failure.  An unsuccessful attack leaves us vulnerable.  Our abbey would become too tempting a target.  Still, Redwall has never ignored a chance at freeing slaves.  So what are our options?"

The father abbot and Captain Karteel debated the merits of an attack.  They considered several plans based on the information supplied by the old squirrel.  Where the captain wanted to maximize the number of vermin killed, he emphasized the safety of their captives.  The hallway clock bonged the passing of another quarter hour and they still had not devised a workable plan.

Tassel interrupted their conversation.  "If you don't like the battlefield, why not change it?  We would be on familiar territory if they came to this area of Mossflower Woods."

Karteel gave the masked badger a scowl.  "And how does that help us, or those captives?  We might be more familiar with this stretch of woods, but it doesn't change anything else.  We lack the numbers to overwhelm them.  Any battle, no matter how well planned, will have too many of those captives dying, even if we succeed."

The masked badger hung her head while she offered her apology.  The Father Abbot stood.  His anger boiled at her untimely interruption.  He pointed his finger at her, his mouth opened, and then he froze in place.  For several seconds he remained in that pose before he plopped back into his chair.  Now his fingers combed the side of his muzzle.  Karteel kept silent.

"Captain, find the Pine Tar's chieftain.  It doesn't seem fair discussing an attack involving his squirrels without asking if they will agree to such a battle.  They only promised to defend the Abbey.  Wouldn't we look foolish if he refused such a risky venture?"

Ten minutes later, a second male squirrel joined them.  If not for the tribal leader's grey pelt, Captain Karteel could be his twin.  After an exchange of introductions, the fellow settled in a chair next to the father abbot.  His eyes turned red when he saw the masked badger.

"I'll not have that vermin scum in this room.  If what we hear is true, that filthy sow is more likely to help those slavers than us."

The father abbot matched his indignation with a voice that brooked no compromise.  "Her past is just that, the past.  I am allowing her to remain as a courtesy since she has lost one of hers to those same slavers.  If you cannot accept that, you condemn those villagers to a life of never-ending misery."

Without responding directly, the tribal chieftain muttered just loud enough that all heard.  "Too bad we couldn't lure them inside Redwall.  We could seal them in the courtyard.  It would still be risky, but we just might be able to protect those prisoners while fighting the vermin."

"I wonder if they would come inside if we offered to purchase their captives with gold," Tassel said.  "Slavers are greedy by nature.  Give them gold and make sure they leave.  Once they go, we notify the Northern Alliance about their eventual destination and let them do the rest."

"You would know all about slavers," growled Captain Karteel.  "And I notice your plan allows these vermin to leave without so much as an apology.  Like I said, she sides with those vermin."

A distinctive female voice called out.  "Perhaps you should combine both plans."

Tassel jumped up so fast her chair toppled.  "Darlow, show yourself this instant.  You dare to eavesdrop on elders?  I'll have your paws scrubbing pots until your fingers turn into nubs, assuming I let you live that long."

From under their table a female hare crawled.  She brushed herself off as she eyed the four elders gathered at the opposite end.  When Tassel took a step in her direction, she held up a polishing cloth like a shield.  For every step the masked badger took, she retreated two.  With her back against the wall and Tassel closing, she spoke.

"Before you send me away, can I say Miss Tassel's plan has some possibilities?  You just have to make it more enticing.  I have a crazy idea, but if it works, we can increase the chances of saving those prisoners while eliminating the slavers."

Father Hughnaught ordered Tassel back to her seat.  Darlow then outlined her plan.  Tassel growled about it being too foolhardy.  Then the tribal elder offered some modifications.  Captain Karteel offered a few suggestions.  In moments, the two squirrels and teen hare considered different ideas while he and the masked badger listened. 

"We need the cooperation of every elder living in Redwall," said Father Hughnaught, "though something tells me they will jump at the chance to partake.  Even if we succeed, the villagers will suffer heavy casualties."

Tassel broke her silence once more.  "Forgive me for saying this, but there is no way a hardened slaver like Commander Flashentie will negotiate with you, Father Abbot.  You have a soft look and too kind a face.  He would consider that a sign of weakness.  I fear he would bully you into either an unwise decision or refuse to even discuss your offer.  Only a beast he respects or fears has any chance with him."

Darlow tapped the table until the elders looked her way.  "How do we prove to this vermin fox that he should consider our offer?"

Tassel outlined her modifications to their plan.  Darlow dropped back in her seat while various objections were voiced.  The three elders made clear their disapproval.  The hare raised her paw until the father abbot acknowledged her.

"If my father was here, he would chain me to this chair and throw away the key.  I don't like the idea of putting my head on that vermin's chopping block, but I believe it can work.  I'll do it."

Captain Karteel and the Pine Tar chieftain roared their opposition.  Father Hughnaught slammed his paw on the table demanding silence.  He stared at each beast in turn. 

"Time is our greatest enemy.  If we don't do something by sunset, there's an excellent chance those slavers will be on their way to the sea.  Once they move, I fear a mountain of gold will not divert them.  The Pine Tar warriors could overtake them, but then we have the same problem we first encountered.  How do we eliminate the slavers while protecting the villagers?  It would be a hollow victory defeating this grey fox if none of the captives survived."

Captain Karteel allowed his anger to resurface.  When he spoke, he did not hide his feelings toward Tassel.  "This whole plan comes down to expecting one slaver to betray another.  I don't mind giving that filthy sow a reed sword.  I'll not object to acting her subordinate if it frees those woodlanders.  But I draw the line at putting a real blade in her paw."

"Then we forfeit any chance we may have of saving those innocent prisoners.  Our lady badger's suggestion gives them the best chance at coming out of this battle alive.  All Tassel needs is our trust."

The father abbot allowed the two squirrels a few moments to vent before he announced his decision as final.  Turning to Tassel and Darlow, he instructed them to have everyone gathered in Cavern Hole within the hour.  They were to tell them slavers had invaded the region and the Father Abbot needed their help.

After the badger and hare left, he asked the Pine Tar tribal chieftain which archer was their best sharpshooter.  He waited for a consensus before ordering that beast brought to him.  When the archer arrived, the abbot asked him about his skills with a crossbow.

The squirrel grinned as he leaned across the table.  "From a hundred meters I can pluck the petals off a rose while some fair maiden sniffs it, and never disturb her whiskers."

"Very well, archer, find where our badger intends setting her table.  Without telling anyone outside this room, select a spot where you can remain concealed but close enough that you can prevent any treachery with a single bolt."

The cocky archer rubbed his paws together.  "Not to worry, father abbot.  That fox is as good as dead."

Father Hughnaught's eyes bore into the archer's.  "Your target isn't Commander Flashentie, it's our lady badger.  At your discretion, if you think Tassel intends to betray us, kill her."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bait

The three stoat sentries watched the odd pair approach their hidden outpost.  The first creature, a squirrel, moseyed down the trail at a steady pace, whistling a merry tune.  A crossbow rested on his shoulder, the bolt aimed behind him.  In his right paw, he held a chain leash.  Every so often, the squirrel tugged it, which had the young hare on the other end step up her pace.  While the squirrel carried nothing more than a light backpack, the leashed creature struggled under a heavy load.

Three stoats left their observation post as the two drew nearer.  One sentry stepped onto the path while the other two slipped behind the squirrel and his leashed companion.  When they stepped onto the path, the squirrel fired his crossbow.  The bolt made a high pitch screech as it arched high above the open field.  Before the stoat could challenge the stranger, the squirrel growled at him like a drill instructor disappointed by a new recruit.

"You took your bloody good time.  If you and your two buddies listen very carefully, you'll hear two more whistles.  I have two squads of squirrel warriors hidden in these trees, stoat."

On cue, two more whistling sounds came from the forest.  The squirrel smiled when he saw the stoat scanning the nearby forest.  Instead of reloading his crossbow or reaching for his sword, the squirrel addressed the beast in front of him as if the other two did not exist.

"I'm here to discuss business with Commander Flashentie, or his second, Dabhiran.  Our queen wishes to purchase slaves, and I hear his raid on Quagland proved most successful.  Now, do be a good chap and take me to him."

The sentry facing the squirrel recovered his wits.  He summoned his two cohorts.  While they conferred, the squirrel and his leashed companion stood in place.  Two of the stoats rushed down a path through the forest while the third led the strangers at a leisurely pace.

When they entered the vermin camp, everyone ceased working, and stared at the two strangers.  Even the prisoners watched the unfolding drama as the stoat sentry led the two travelers towards the largest tent.  Four creatures emerged.  The squirrel approached the grey fox, who then dismissed the guards. 

Commander Flashentie snorted.  "So you are Captain Karteel of the Squirrel Imperium?"  He laughed, as did the soldiers gathered around him.  "Give me one reason why I shouldn't add both of you as new slaves, or kill you where you stand."

He kept his motions slow.  Karteel reached into his pocket.  He tossed a cloth bag at the commander's feet.  When it landed on the grass, sunlight flashed off the spilled coins.  The weasel standing next to the fox retrieved it with a deft motion.  After examining the coins, he passed them to Flashentie.

"My queen, a badger named Tassel, offers tokens of good faith that we will pay a fair price.  This hare, as well as the supplies she carries, are yours.  Consider the gold coins a down payment for the slaves we require."

Captain Karteel proffered the leash to Commander Flashentie.  The fox inspected the female hare standing next to the supplies she carried.  Flashentie nodded his approval when he saw her wrist chains kept her paws below her shoulder when she stood. 

"A good job with the chain," said Commander Flashentie.  He hesitated a second, "Captain.    It's long enough that she can move, but not run."

He circled the hare and without warning, punched her hard in the stomach.  She fell onto the dirt.  Flashentie grabbed the hare's muzzle, pulling it up until he could look deep into her now tear-filled eyes.  His razor-sharp claws pierced her skin, causing a drop of blood to form along his nails.  The hare twitched from intense pain, but did nothing. 

While the commander inspected his newest slave, Karteel discussed a possible sale with Dabhiran.  He offered the weasel the hospitality of his queen's fortress, explaining how it would cut a day off their travel when they made for the Red Sharkeye.  He showed no reaction to the fox's vicious abuse of his latest acquisition.

"This hare has spirit, but she knows her place," said Flashentie.  "She will fetch a handsome price when auctioned."  The fox removed the leash.  "For now, I'll put her with the other slaves while the two of us discuss business."




Captain Karteel entered the fox's tent.  Darlow followed the pine martin to where the slaves rested.  With the squirrel inside the tent and the hare out of hearing range, Flashentie motioned the weasel closer.

"Let's accept his hospitality after a little haggling.  Something tells me these are simple bandits who made a lucky raid.  What bothers me is how much this one knows about us and our business.  If they are as weak as I think, we'll leave their fortress with even more slaves."

"A badger isn't something trifling, commander."

The fox nodded.  "We have fighters, many of them experienced warriors.  If this badger commanded any sizeable force, she would be here leading a charge to free these woodlanders, not bargaining for our slaves.  Think how much her sale would generate.  It's worth the risk."

"And you'll have a tree rat to interrogate once we get back to the ship, commander.  I bet he'll become very talkative after a little persuasion."

The two shared a sly smile as they entered the tent.




Darlow had no difficulty acting helpless.  The chains made that easy.  Initially she wondered why Tassel insisted she wear them after she left Redwall.  Now the hare understood.  It took her half a day learning how far she could step without tripping.  That lesson left her chest and ribs quite sore, but her gait while wearing the chains convinced these vermin of her slave status.

She had two missions.  First, she needed to alert Quagland's elders of the rescue plan. That could wait until she completed her second task, finding the female shrew the old hermit described.  Darlow searched the woodlanders as she looked for a shrew wearing a blue dress.  None matched the description.

Then she spotted four shrews huddled off to the side.  The older male sat besides a female lying on the ground as he gently washed her back with a tattered red cloth.  Two younger versions of the male stood watch, their paws clenched in fists.  The two youths moved to block Darlow.  Up close, she noted the bloody lip on one and the swollen eye on the other.  The older male saw the hare and invited her closer.  The two youths gave way.  Darlow found it hard understanding the older male's speech as he lisped due to a missing front tooth.

"Forgive my sons missy," he said.  "Several villagers attacked my wife less than an hour ago.  They blame her for our captivity.  The guards saved us, but as you can see, her dress didn't survive the fight.  Not that it was fit to wear after that first night."

He lifted the female shrew until she sat.  As though fascinated, he examined the rag he held before he tossed it aside.  He crooned to his mate as he sat next to her, but she did not respond.  Darlow moved closer to the shrew.

Darlow took the unresponsive female's paw in hers.  "Miss, hold onto hope for just a few more days.  My friends are near and will be freeing everyone real soon."

"Not going to happen.  That pine martin you followed?  His name is Kanar; not a beast you want to meet.  He's going to give my Zoranna a proper flogging," he sobbed.  "Kanar and his commander are too sadistic to miss an opportunity to further torture her.  My wife has ... had spirit, but then she noticed how every villager abandoned her; it killed her will to live.  Anyway, how can you help if you're chained too?"

Darlow lifted her grungy blouse and turned it over.  In the frayed seam the father spotted a key.  "I can get out of these bloody chains anytime I want.  We plan to buy as many as we can and rescue the rest.  It means a fight and some might be killed, but it's the best we can offer.  I just hope I get a chance to smack that fox with one of these iron cuffs."

She had no chance to say anything more.  Commander Flashentie ordered his soldiers to break camp.  The vermin raiders moved about the campsite like ants at a picnic.  Slaves hustled as they awaited their marching orders.  Darlow grunted as she swung the heavy load onto her back.

Guards walked along the perimeter.  Instead of issuing verbal commands, they used switches as pointers.  If a slave failed to keep up or missed a turn, the nearest guard struck the slaves on that chain until they rejoined the others.  Darlow noticed how none rebelled or cried out when struck.

She tried approaching a chain of mice.  Whenever she got close, the nearest elder pushed her to the outside.  A guard switched Darlow's leg, which had the hare jogging a bit faster as she again worked her way towards the mice.

"Those bloody vermin enjoy using those things way too much.  Why do you keep pushing me their way?"

The lady mouse checked the location of the nearest patrolling guard.  "Keep your mouth shut or you'll wish you had.  If I have to choose between you or my family feeling that switch, guess which one I'll protect."

A weasel jogged towards the rear of the formation.  His eyes locked onto the hare.  Once he drew close enough, he flipped the noose to the hare's leash over her head.  A quick jerk had Darlow stepping faster as she followed him to the very front of the line.  The weasel passed the leash to the grey fox.

"Even from the front, I can hear you, girl.  I demand quiet slaves when we travel, something I taught the others over the last three days," the fox said in a bored voice.  "You were not here, so I can forgive you this one time.  Continue blabbering and I may ask Kanar to explain the rules in his own special way."

The vermin leader called a halt when it became too dark.  Darlow turned towards the area where all the woodlanders rested until a hard pull on her leash toppled her onto her back.  A foot planted on her chest pinned her down as the noose tightened.  Then the pressure eased.

"Best you stay with me," said Commander Flashentie.  "Gabby slaves make me nervous."

The commander led Darlow to a tree where he tethered her.  Satisfied, the fox retired to his tent.  She tried resting, but the noose tightened if she reclined.  The tree trunk offered no relief since the leash failed to stretch far enough.

"This is just bloody great," she muttered.  "I never got a chance to tell anyone what to expect."  She closed her eyes as she slipped into an exhausted sleep.

A boot connected with her side.  Darlow awoke to the dawn with a snarl that turned into a gurgle as the leash tightened.  The fox stood over the hare, his expression sending shivers up the doe's spine.

"You have far too much spirit.  It's a good thing my timetable allows an extra day for unexpected delays.  Perhaps a certain lady shrew would find it educational if Kanar showed her what we mean by a proper flogging.  Thank you for volunteering as his assistant after we complete our business with this badger queen."

Commander Flashentie chuckled as he walked away.  Within moments, the camp stirred as the vermin prepared to leave.  The grey fox untied her leash and led the doe hare to the forefront.  He called Captain Karteel closer and the two discussed the upcoming meeting.   Darlow found herself panting as the vermin set a fast pace.

Finally, they exited the forest.  A ten minute walk brought the fox to the wooden bridge leading to the gates of the Abbey.  Darlow heard Dabhiran give a low whistle.  Captain Karteel bragged about their earlier conquest of this fortress. 

On one side of the road, an old squirrel guard watched several hedgehogs laboring in the field.  Darlow wondered how the other captives would react to the scene, but all the woodlanders marched as if they saw nothing further ahead than the next place where they intended planting their foot.  She hoped none recognizes the Abbey, or if they did, said nothing that might alert these vermin slavers. 





Far in the back, a family of squirrels trudged.  The younger female shifted her gear, glad that her load no longer rubbed her sore back raw.  She didn't blame father.  These vermin told them any squirrel looking up a tree would be beaten and she forgot.  Considering what happened to the lady shrew, she preferred her thrashing come from her father.

Like all the other villagers, she held onto the slim hope that somebody might rescue them.  They talked about it during their last night in Quagland.  Sometimes they whispered about it during their rest stops.  However, that first night drove home how helpless they all were.  Mother shielded her eyes, but nothing could silence the shrew's cries.  When she witnessed the lady shrew's bloody back, she feared the same might happen to her.

By mid-afternoon, she worried more about her life as a slave than the possibility of rescue.  When she saw the old squirrel in the tree, her hopes flared anew.  That dream died a slow death when nothing happened over the next few days. 

As they approached the red fortress, she saw a squirrel guard standing watch.  As they continued up the hill towards the gate, the guard turned.  Their eyes locked.  She recognized him.  He bobbed his head as she passed, masking it as an itch in need of a good scratching.  Once again hope flared to life.

[cairn destop]

Chapter Thirty
Enticed

Commander Flashentie approached the red fortress.  As his raiders marched to the gate, his paw slid down to his cutlass.  He then beckoned Captain Karteel to his side.  A nod to his second had the other slavers merge with their prisoners.  Each raider scanned the area for any sign of treachery.  He saw nothing more threatening than three hedgehogs weeding a garden while an old squirrel kept watch.

"I'm impressed," he said.  "This fortress could withstand an extended siege.  Did you find it difficult to capture?"

Captain Karteel laughed.  "The fools ruling this place greeted every woodlander as a friend.  They left the gate wide open and we walked in unopposed."

Commander Flashentie continued checking the area.  His blade rested by his hip.  "So where are your soldiers?"

"This is harvest time.  Most of our guards are watching the slaves tilling the fields located over that hill we passed."

When Captain Karteel mentioned his need to contact his leader, he made no move to hinder him.  As they entered the expansive courtyard, he motioned Dabhiran closer.  The weasel mentioned the closing of the inner gate, but noted no other guard than the old one they saw outside.  Commander Flashentie smiled.

"Something tells me these tree rats think they have us trapped.  Pass the word to the others, be ready for an ambush.  We'll bide our time.  Before the sun sets, this place will be mine."

Lieutenant Dabhiran pointed at the two beasts emerging from the large building in front of them.  Since he recognized Captain Karteel, Commander Flashentie figured the masked beast accompanying him must be the badger who called herself Queen Tassel.  When they reached the table set in the courtyard, Captain Karteel showed his subordinate role by holding the chair for the female.  After she sat, the squirrel executed a deep bow before stepping to her right side.

Commander Flashentie emphasized his swagger when he approached the table.  He refused to give this ruler any of the deference he knew she expected.  Flashentie stared at Tassel for several moments, letting his contempt show in his eyes.  He sat, his paw holding the hilt of his exposed blade while he inspected the surrounding buildings for the anticipated ambush.  He played for time.

"Your wrists show the marks of a beast who has worn prison shackles for a long time.  How is it you're here and not rotting in some woodlander's penal colony?"

"These scars come from those who tried to thwart my ambitions.  I conquered many of the surrounding villages near my homeland, but my enemies captured me.  Everyone thought if they put me in prison, my soldiers would disband.  It didn't work.  With their help, I escaped.  Now we have carved out a new empire with this place as our castle.  If you hadn't attacked Quagland when you did, my soldiers would have done it after the harvest."

"Such boastful tales are nothing but the blathering of a conceited fool.  I give you credit for your successful escape and for recruiting bandits, nothing more.  As to this empire, since you don't threaten the Northern Alliance they leave you alone, for now.  Cross their border and you'll be facing their combined might."

"And yet you plan on marching more than a hundred slaves across their lands."  Tassel laughed.  "Now who is the conceited fool?"

Commander Flashentie ignored her comment.  "Remove that ridiculous mask," he growled.  "If we are going to speak, we deal eye to eye."

He examined the badger's face.  Since she kept her head tilted, he saw only her left side.  If it were not for a slim, red scar running from the tip of her nose to the back of her head, other badgers might consider her an attractive female.  He decided it wouldn't hurt her value too much on the auction block.

Then she revealed her right side.  The badger's muzzle showed signs that it suffered a crushing blow as it slanted at a sharp angle.  Four prominent red scars ruined her face.  One started just behind the tip of her nose and ended at her upper jaw.  A second ran from the center of her muzzle to the end of her upper jaw.  Between these two marks, she had no lip, which gave her a permanent snarl.  The last two scars completed the disfigurement.  They stretched on either side of her eye from the top of her head to a point halfway down her neck.  He saw her price tumble.

"Have I satisfied your curiosity, commander?"  He cursed his unintended reaction; the female badger smiled.  "If you are wondering, my disfigurement is due to those who imprisoned me.  Now you can see why woodlanders are no friends of mine.  You have slaves, I have gold.  Shall we examine the merchandise?"

The guards had the slaves stand in line as the two leaders inspected them.  Sometimes the badger would check out one before moving to the next chained group.  None of the woodlanders offered any resistance.  If Tassel lifted their muzzles, they reacted to her disfigured face.  Finished with her inspection, she returned to the negotiating table.  She called for her scribe.

A young mouse exited the building behind the badger, running to her.  While Tassel relayed her instructions, the creature maintained a submissive pose.  Tassel dismissed her as if she held no further importance.  The mouse performed a deep curtsy before darting back to the same building.

Commander Flashentie waited, expecting armed soldiers to exit the building.  When the mouse did reappear, she directed other workers who provided food and drink for the two of them and his soldiers.  Another group ran to a building where they retrieved two large carts.  The woodlanders filled one cart with the backpacks and fabric bolts the villagers carried from Quagland. 

The scribe directed the bustling woodlanders to fill the other cart with additional supplies.  After dismissing these workers, the mouse knelt behind the badger, her head bowed.  The badger patted her on the head like somebody petting a favorite goat.

When he commented about the quality of the ale, Tassel ordered two kegs be loaded on the carts.  While they ate and drank, the slaves remained standing.  Neither he nor the badger said anything until they finished.

The sow badger turned her disfigured face towards him.  "I have a most generous offer.  Twenty silver coins for every five slaves, two carts for transporting everything they carried, and additional supplies for your soldiers.  Two can pull each cart with ease; they are that well balanced.  If you leave now, you should make good progress to your final destination."

Flashentie watched the sow badger counting out enough gold coins to cover all the slaves he captured.  "You think I will surrender my prize for this pittance?  Listen, my ugly hag, you may call yourself a queen, but where I come from, you would be a pathetic beggar, nothing more.  If you want these slaves, increase your offer."

"What if I doubled the price?" countered the badger. 

"Better, but my captain expects slaves for the auction block.  I'll consider selling one in five, if you substitute one gold coin for every twenty silver coins.  The hare you gave me earlier and one chain of shrews cannot be included.  The doe hare is such a rarity she will fetch a handsome sum.  As for the shrews, they are part of a bargain between Captain Peggen and another party.  I couldn't sell them regardless of how much you offered."

Tassel shifted her position, which kept her disfigured side closest to him.  "Tell your captain the raid on Quagland proved to be a double-edged sword.  The villagers put up so stiff a resistance all died, but your raid happened after they received payment for their crops.  I doubt these slaves could generate two gold coins for every three slaves unless those buying them are drunken fools."

"For that much gold, I'll give you half.  The others we need for our ship.  I consider that my final offer.  Continue haggling and we leave here with your gold, your slaves, and your soldiers as our prisoners."

Lieutenant Dabhiran heard his commander.  With a sharp whistle, the raiders stood, their weapons sliding out of their sheaths.  The weasel awaited the signal.

"And you should have accepted my last offer, fox," Tassel said with a note of malice in her voice.  "Unlike you, I consider threats meaningless.  I make promises.  Today you die."

Before he could react, Tassel's paws went under the table.  She lifted the heavy oaken furniture as if it weighed nothing.  Her first step bowled Commander Flashentie onto his back.  The badger gained momentum as she charged his soldiers.  Three archers fired, but their arrows failed to penetrate the wood.  The badger smashed into them.

Tassel dropped the table once she passed the clustered soldiers.  On the underside of the table, she freed two swords tied to the wood.  The badger faced her enemy, her blades weaving a deadly pattern.

He recovered his wits.  As Flashentie scrambled to his feet, he saw more than a dozen armed squirrels exiting a nearby building.  The warriors were augmented by another contingent of woodlanders carrying weapons.  When he saw the twin blades in the badger's paws, he ordered his soldiers into battle.  He remained confident since they still outnumbered these woodlanders by more than five to one.

* * *

As both sides engaged, the slaves cowered.  Darlow stooped while keeping her eye on the two nearest guards.  Both watched the battle, their backs to the assembled slaves.  She yanked the hidden key out of her hem and twisted it in her shackles.  She lifted the noose off her head.  Neither guard noticed her; they continued watching the armed woodlanders close with the other slavers.

Free of her restraints, Darlow leaped up, delivering a hard kick to the guard holding her leash.  The ermine landed on the cobblestone courtyard hard enough that his movements resembled a drunk.  His companion turned.  Darlow swung the cuffs like an improvised mace.  The female stoat crumbled to the ground when the metal shackles struck her forehead.

"This isn't how it was supposed to go."

When the elders planned the rescue, they included a contingency if the negotiations failed.  The young doe watched two lines of armored woodlanders exit the Abbey, forming a wide corridor.  Each held a weapon at the ready, but remained in place.  Darlow yelled above the din. 

"That building means freedom and safety.  Make for it now; we'll protect you."

The slaves hesitated; they then raced in the direction she indicated.  Chains tripped many.  Those standing shuffled as fast as possible.  The prisoners who fell crawled towards the open doors of the building on the far side of the clearing.  Darlow ran from one group to another, herding them to safety.

One group of voles refused to move.  Darlow tried convincing them to run without success.  Then, Lieutenant Garff and Kanar charged the fleeing slaves.  Darlow abandoned the stubborn voles.  Unarmed, she tried intercepting the two slavers before they reached the others.

Kanar swung his whip at the back of a female hedgehog's leg snapping it in two.  His whip shot out at the next beast on the same chain.  With two disabled, the others cowered.  The pine martin's whip shot out at the next chain of fleeing slaves.

Darlow blocked his weapon by placing her arm in the whip's path.  The leather wrapped itself around her wrist and she felt the bone break.  Kanar yanked hard, which knocked her to the ground, leaving her dazed.  Darlow tried standing, but the weight of another beast kneeling on her back pinned her to the ground.  A paw grabbed her long ears stretching her neck upward.  She saw the pine martin's merciless grin, his knife held at the ready. 

Before he could strike, a grey blur knocked him aside.  A lance protruded from the pine martin's chest.  Kanar thrashed about in agony, his cries merging with the other sounds of battle that filled the courtyard.  The old hermit helped Darlow to her feet. 

"An unarmed fighter who stays on the battlefield is a fool.  Get to the Abbey; I'll guard these injured slaves 'til help arrives." 

She continued arguing with the old squirrel, but he turned his back to her.  She waited until he pulled his spear free of the pine martin's chest.  Kanar's continual howling faded into a whimper.  The hermit again pointed at the Abbey before he again turned his back on her.  Darlow raced back to the Abbey, her eyes now focused on Lieutenant Garff.  Injured or not, she had to stop him.

Lieutenant Garff hurled a spear at a chain of three woodchucks that outdistanced the other slaves.  The spear struck the male in his hip, toppling him.  His mate fell on her knees wailing while the young male froze in place.  The ferret drew his broadsword as he charged down on his hapless victims.  Darlow knew she would lose this race.

"You were warned about the penalty for escape.  Now I'm going to cleave you in two like I did those babes left in the village."

His paws went over his head.  With a mighty swing, he attacked.  Twin fountains of blood sprayed the three woodchucks.  Garff looked at the bleeding stubs that had but a few heartbeats earlier held a mighty sword.  Confusion clouded his face as he tried pondering the sudden disappearance of his weapon.  His befuddlement lasted only a second before the flash of another sword ended his life.

The lady badger pushed the dead body aside.  She advanced on the woodchucks.  Her eyes blazed a fiery red while blood flowed from several cuts, including one that left a blood trail down her muzzle.  She stared at the woodchucks, spun around, and returned to the battle.

Three burly hedgehogs made their way toward the woodchuck family.  The first hedgehog carried a bolt cutter.  He worked fast as he severed the chains between father, wife and son.  One of his companions grabbed the spear embedded in the father's hip while the other pinned the injured woodchuck to the ground.  Using the bolt cutter, the third hedgehog sliced the spear shaft close to the father's body before he raced towards another chained family.

The remaining two hedgehogs lifted the older male.  Slinging him between them, they carried the injured woodchuck towards the safety of the Abbey.  Just as the hedgehogs lifted him, Darlow arrived.  She grabbed the wife by her fur with her good paw and yanked her to her feet. 

"No time to ask pretty please.  The longer we remain out here, the more chance somebody will get killed."

The mouse that acted as the badger's scribe, stood between the two lines of armored guards shouting encouragement to the racing slaves.  When the mouse spied the woodchuck youth still frozen in place, she charged past Darlow and flung the young boy over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  The mouse joined Darlow as they raced through the Abbey's open doors to safety.

[cairn destop]

Chapter Thirty-One
The Flying Fox

Commander Flashentie and his second, Dabhiran, carved a path through their adversaries.  A lull in the fighting gave the commander a chance at evaluating the situation.  He saw his warriors failed to prevent their captives from escaping.  Each prisoner that reached safety meant he lost one more bargaining chip for his own survival.

At first, his warriors held the advantage in numbers since the armored fighters refused to abandon the slaves.  As the battle progressed, the woodlanders proved themselves the better adversaries.  The odds shifted.  Flashentie had no doubt as to the inevitable outcome.  A quick glance at Dabhiran showed he too reached the same conclusion. 

He considered surrender, but dismissed that idea.  Woodlander justice never tolerated slavery.  If captured, death at the end of a rope might be considered a kindness.  A lifetime in some prison, or a slow death from a vengeful ruler held no appeal.

With the main gate barred, he needed another way out.  He tapped the weasel on the shoulder, pointing to a tower furthest from the fighting along the front wall.  Dabhiran nodded.  The two ran towards a nearby building, hoping to evade detection.  Once hidden from view they kept to the shadows, creeping around the deserted building.  His heart leaped with joy at the sight of the unguarded tower.

Flashentie groaned when he checked behind him and saw the female badger in pursuit.  His companion echoed his moan when he too checked behind him.  He drew a deep breath, broke from cover, and sprinted.  Halfway to the tower, Commander Flashentie glanced over his shoulder.  His friend was right behind him.  Further back, the female badger followed in their wake, gaining ground fast. 

Flashentie weighed his options.  If he dropped his weapon or his backpack, he could move faster, but then he would be helpless if the badger caught him.  Mustering every last ounce of energy he possessed, he bolted for the tower door. 

He couldn't believe his good fortune.  The door to the unguarded tower stood open.  Commander Flashentie crossed the threshold and pivoted on his foot so he could observe the unfolding drama.  Almost a dozen paces back, Dabhiran ran as if a demon chased him.  Considering the female badger's appearance, Flashentie thought that an appropriate description. 

The commander slammed the tower door shut.  A wooden beam used to seal the door leaned against the wall.  He dropped it in place.  When the door closed, something collided with the closed door.  Flashentie rested against the wall panting, not regretting the loss of his second in command.  His eyes followed the long stairway as it circled the inside wall upward.  He climbed the winding staircase.

* * *

Stranded outside the tower, Dabhiran had less than a second to comprehend what happened.  His commander had abandoned him.  Unable to break his stride, he slammed into the wooden barrier.  Disoriented by the sudden collision, Dabhiran leaned against the door while he tried regaining his wits.

His muttered curses became a cry of sheer terror as the face of the female badger materialized inches before him.  The weasel realized he lost his weapon during his mad dash for the tower.  Defenseless he faced the badger's wrath.

Dabhiran tried prying the badger's fingers from around his throat.  Tassel leaned down before she again stood upright.  Her action lifted him off the ground pinning his back to the door.   Dabhiran kicked, but she showed no reaction to his frantic blows.  Despite his efforts, he felt the badger's fingers closing off his airway. 

Exhaustion weighed heavy on him.  His desperate struggles drove wooden splinters into his back as he fought an enraged badger deep in the grips of the blood wrath.  Dabhiran recalled such tales of madden beasts.  Those who claimed they encountered such creatures in battle said they felt no pain and possessed extraordinary strength. 

Until this moment, he considered those tales nothing more than gross exaggerations.  Powerless to prevent his imminent death, he understood the validity of such stories.  Darkness closed in on him while the badger's face filled his vision.  The female spoke with a softness that didn't match the fire in her eyes.  Tassel's grip loosened just enough that he could take a shallow breath.

"I will spare your life if you can tell me the fate of two Abbey beasts.  One was a mouse of fourteen years, destined to become a healer.  She traveled with a male warrior squirrel of the same age.  If you cannot remember them, I'm sure you can recall a teen mole who tried swimming to freedom.  Speak.  Do you know where they are?"

Dabhiran considered her question, grateful for the reprieve.  "We have taken many of that age.  You'll have to give me more than that if you want my help."

"The girl has no distinctive marking that would make her memorable to anyone but the one who raised her, but I have a feeling the squirrel is somebody you would remember.  He had a patch of red fur atop his head.  I doubt he went quietly into captivity."

"Him I remember."  The paw holding Dabhiran lifted him higher, though she eased her grip on his throat.  "We took him on our last raid several months back.  Our Captain sold them to a private bidder."

"They live?  Tell me where," Tassel growled. 

"Such information is known only by the captain of the Red Sharkeye.  Spare my life and I will help you get whatever you need to find these two teens.  I swear it."

Tassel roared.  She gave him a vicious shake, which snapped his neck. 

* * *

Flashentie heard the distant boom of something striking the tower door.  He looked down at the barrier and snickered, confident it would hold.  He hesitated halfway up the stairs when the door splintered.  A female badger looked up at him.  Her growl reverberated off the stone walls.  Once again Flashentie found himself in a race for his life, but this time he had nobody behind who could delay the enraged badger.

Winded from the earlier fighting, he found his progress up the tower slower than that of the crazed badger.  With a fatalistic sigh, he turned and prepared to face her.  By the sound of thumping feet and the labored breathing, he knew the badger must be near exhaustion.  Good, even on his worse days, the commander thought himself the better fighter with a blade.  He awaited the badger's arrival

"Feel the might of my sword," shouted Flashentie as he engaged Tassel's twin blades.

While he parried the badger's initial thrusts, he retreated up the winding stairway evading the tips of Tassel's twin blades.  He played for time while waiting his chance for a counterstrike.  His opportunity came when the badger's blades came at him like scissors.  Commander Flashentie lunged for the badger's breast.  Tassel countered.  While the high blade deflected his cutlass, her other sword severed his blade at the guard.  Flashentie dropped his useless weapon.

Tassel paused, dropped her weapons over the side, and then rushed him.  Commander Flashentie lashed out with his foot catching her hip.  Unbalanced, Tassel fell backwards.  The female tumbled down the stairs until she reached the ground level.  She did not move.  He climbed up the stairs chuckling. 

A low groan had him looking down to where the badger landed.  He stared at Tassel who rose to an upright position.  She shook her head, sounding another moan.  Their eyes met.  Flashentie's blood froze in fear when he saw how the badger's eyes burn with an inner madness.  He took the remaining steps two at a time until he reached the access door to the roof.  One look at the flimsy lock made him laugh, but he still used it when he closed the door.

He gave a quick peek over the tower's edge.  No woodlander patrolled the area.  If he could make it to the ground, he could lose any pursuit in the forest.  His paws rummaged through his backpack as he searched for the rope he packed earlier.  He attached it to one of the merlons.  Flashentie tossed his backpack over the side.  His confidence rose when he verified that the line reached the ground.

Before he could repel down the rope, a paw grabbed him by the nape of his neck.  He flew backwards.  Flashentie's body skidded across the slick bricks until he crashed against the opposite wall.  Flashentie rebounded to his feet as he faced the female badger.  She advanced, blocking both the escape rope hanging over the wall and the tower doorway.

"Why do you come for me badger when we should be allies?  Didn't you say you had no love for these woodlanders?  Look at your wrists and then tell me we are not of a kindred spirit.  Let's fly away from this accursed place.  Together we will seek vengeance on these creatures you say you hate so much.  Or was everything you said just lies?"

Tassel's paws reached out and grabbed him about the shirt collar.  She drew him closer, lifting Flashentie until he came muzzle to muzzle with her.  The gravel in her voice accentuated her anger. 

"I told the truth, at least as much as you needed to hear.  The marks I bear will always remind me of what these woodlanders did.  I hate them as much as they hate me, but I loathe slavers even more.  Remember what I said?  I make no threats, just promises."

With the badger distracted, Flashentie let his paw reach down inside his boot.  He withdrew the stiletto hidden there for just such an emergency.  In one quick desperate move, he plunged the blade deep into her chest.  Roaring in pain, she slammed him onto the brick pavement of the tower's rooftop.  Flashentie almost lost consciousness from the force of the blow.

He groaned.  The badger jumped onto his back driving all the air from his lungs.  Before he recovered, the badger held both his wrists in one paw with a grip stronger than iron.  The other paw wrapped itself around the base of his bushy tail.  Tassel lifted him above her head. 

Flashentie felt the full weight of his body stretching his shoulders apart.  He thought the badger would rip his tail out by the root.  The more he struggled, the greater his agony.  She held him high aloft before slamming him back onto the brick rooftop. 

Again, he felt his paws trapped in Tassel's viselike grip, her fingers entwined in his tail as she raised him as high above her shoulders as possible.  Once more she released him, allowing his body to fall onto the unyielding bricks.  Each time he fell, Flashentie tried scrambling out of the badger's reach, but failed.  Tassel repeated her abusive routine.  After several more falls, he ceased his struggles, too battered to offer any further resistance. 

The badger grabbed him again; she carried him over to the opening where he could see the rope hanging over the side.  Like a pendulum, his body swung forward, then back.  Each swing had him going a little higher.  Flashentie started blubbering; he offered the badger his surrender.  Again his body shot backward.  He pleaded for mercy, promising Tassel anything she desired if she would release him.  He begged her to stop.

"You wish to fly away from this place?  Very well, I will help you find your wings."

Flashentie screamed.  On the next backswing his eyes took in every detail of the roof.  With absolute clarity he saw the swirls in the mortar, the imperfections in the bricks, and the grain of wood in the badger's sandals.  His body moved forward, gaining momentum.  The paw holding his arms released him, as did the fingers entwined in his tail.  His body shot through the battlement's opening like an arrow fired from a taut bow.  He reached the apex of his trajectory where he hung for the span of one heartbeat.  His paws clawed at the air as he tried arresting his downward plunge. 




Tassel listened to the fox as he shrieked in terror.  When his cry ended, she pivoted towards the stairway.  Her weary steps had her leaning against the tower wall as she descended.  At the bottom of the stairway she retrieved her twin swords and exited the tower.

By the time she reached the courtyard, the fighting had ended.  Issuing a long sigh, Tassel discarded her twin blades.  She yanked the knife from her breast, wincing at the pain it caused her.  The torn leather armor vest slid off; she discarded it.  Tassel pressed her paw against the wound trying to staunch the flow of her life's blood as she stumbled forward.





Bruno reached the main gate shortly after the fox fell from the tower.  He pounded the door, shouting for the guard.  One of the squirrels must have recognized his voice and opened the gate.  Bruno rushed down the passageway to the inner door where he stood looking for any enemy, but none remained standing.  He sighted Tassel staggering towards the abbey.  Bruno ran, hoping to overtake the female badger before she disappeared inside the building. 

He entered but a few seconds behind Tassel; a sense of dread growing within him. Tassel moved through the frightened villagers, all of whom stepped aside.  The female badger lurched on until she stood before the Great Tapestry's image of Martin the Warrior.  Tassel's paw slowly dropped from her breast.  Blood pooled at her feet.  She swayed from side to side before collapsing in slow motion.  Bruno lunged for her.

[cairn destop]

Chapter Thirty-Two
The Next Day

Bruno's fork stabbed a piece of meat and lifted it to his mouth.  The raw meat brought back memories of the dead bodies and severed limbs piled in a corner of the Infirmary.  He dropped his utensil.  When the metal fork struck the ceramic plate, it sounded like his broadsword bouncing off the stone floor.

He missed Tassel when she swooned, his foot slipping in the blood pool.  Bruno regained his footing, scooped the female badger off the floor, and followed Sarweed to the Infirmary.  Once Bruno passed the doors, he listened to the low moaning of those injured, but his eyes sought an empty stretcher.  He made the unresponsive female badger comfortable, unsure what to do next. 

An elderly woodchuck trotted down the corridor.  With the exception of a pair of glasses, which remained perched atop his head, he wore no garments.  Blood and muck covered his fur.  The smell of ointments and death preceded him.  Bruno tried to block his approach, but stepped aside when another squirrel addressed him as Healer.

The woodchuck said nothing to Bruno.  The Healer made a quick examination of Tassel, summoned helpers, and followed them as they carried the stretcher.  Bruno trailed the nude woodchuck until the fellow pointed to the exit, his order quite clear. 

Once beyond the Infirmary, Sarweed led Bruno downstairs.  He followed the mouse into Cavern Hole where Redwall's residents tended to the residents of Quagland, as well as the uninjured warriors.  A quartet played a merry melody, but all remained unresponsive.  When the Father Abbot started reading the names of the dead, no amount of food, drink, or music, could dispel the gloom.

Bruno's mind returned to the present when Captain Karteel touched his paw.  They sat in silence for several moments as each tried eating.  Bruno tasted his tea, found it cold, and pushed it aside.  Karteel adjusted his sling, his face flinching when his elbow contacted the table.

"I'm grateful Tassel survived the night, Bruno.  Vermin she may be, but I'll put a blade in her paw and trust my back to her in any battle.  Without her help, the number of dead villagers would be a lot higher."

"It's good knowing somebody other than those dibbuns consider her worthy of praise.  I overheard those villagers last night.  Every freed woodlander remembers her face, but none comments on what she did."

"They fear her," the captain said.  "A badger in battle who has surrendered to the blood wrath is frightening.  Her appearance doesn't help.  She looked like a crazed warrior who would be just as happy adding their head to her list of victims." 

The silence grew longer as he stared at his plate.  Bruno pushed his half-eaten meal away.  Some inner sense told him the squirrel needed his help, but Karteel had not figured out how best to ask for whatever favor he wanted.   Both waited until one of the kitchen servants collected the dirty dishes.

"Seven injured slavers survived, including one officer, an injured female stoat.  Father Hughnaught wants them sent to Fiery Mountain where they can answer for their crimes before the sun sets this day.  He said he would consider it a personal favor if you escorted them.  I, too, would welcome your company, Bruno."

He reflected on the request.  He mulled over leaving Redwall for the mountain home of the badger king.  No doubt the place supported a number of badgers, including eligible sows.  Then he thought of Redwall's lady badger and hesitated, unsure why he did so.  Bruno told the captain he had to do something first, but would join him on his mission.

In the expansive courtyard where yesterday a battle had raged, the former captives milled about, freed from the chains that bound them.  Those needing garments received replacements from the generous residents of Redwall.  Smiles of gratitude shone on their faces.  They spoke of their longing to return home. 

The villagers moved in the direction of the main gates.  Several of the stronger males lifted the traces to the supply wagons first offered to the slavers.  Now those same supplies would feed the villagers on their homeward journey.  The former captives voiced a determination not to let this tragedy destroy everything they had built.  Come next spring, they would replant their crops.

Former captives exchanged farewells and best wishes with Redwall's residents as they stood near the inner gate's threshold.  At last, Father Hughnaught made his appearance.  He strolled up to the village elder of Quagland, extending his paw. 

"There is sufficient food to last everyone at least two weeks.  If your gardens cannot produce enough for the upcoming winter, send somebody back for more.  When the injured can travel, we will send them home with whatever supplies they can carry."

The mouse who ruled the village pulled the Father Abbot into his embrace.  He gazed upon the many expectant faces before addressing Father Hughnaught.  "I understand not everyone will be returning.  Some have expressed a desire to remain here where the memories of lost loved ones will not haunt them.  Thank you for making them welcomed at Redwall."

While the two elder leaders spoke, Tassel approached.  Instead of leather armor, today she wore a bright yellow outfit.  Even her mask matched her frilly dress.  Her movements appeared stiff and sometimes her darker bandages showed through the lighter colored material. 

Where everyone showed smiles, the young otter following alongside Tassel displayed the opposite expression.  He tried withdrawing, but the lady badger's paw kept him by her side.  The otter's woebegone eyes pleaded with every otter elder he saw for a reprieve from his fate.

The masked badger approached the village elder.  "You are certain nobody will claim him?  As much as I love having another sitting at my table, I think it far better if relatives could care for Waterwing."

The village elder averted his eyes from the masked female.  Instead, he replied as if the Father Abbot inquired about the child. 

"Waterwing's mother died last winter of pneumonia.   His father kept him on the raft as a way of training him in the family's trade.  Though all the otters living with us knew his family, they have no room for another.  With the loss of the raft, even with your generosity, next winter will be harsh on everyone.  None wish to deprive their kin for a stranger."

Not knowing what to say, the abbot remained quiet.  The silence stretched for several moments before the village elder announced their impending departure.  Everybody gathered to pay their heroes a final tribute. 

Villagers passed Father Hughnaught, Darlow and the Pine Tar warriors as they exited the Abbey.  Most proffered a paw; a few embraced their rescuers.  Many of the females kissed their benefactors.  Each time they kissed Darlow, her face turned a deeper shade of red.

One female squirrel clung to the paw of the old hermit, calling him the real hero.  She attributed their salvation to him alone.  The lady squirrel gave him a peck on the cheek before hugging another male.  All three stood side by side until her family joined them.  As her family drew nearer, she couldn't remain silent.

"Thanks to the hermit, my wedding will be held as scheduled.  Before we return home, our family intends fixing our hero a meal that will rival last night's feast."  The female pranced through the gate, pulling the hermit and her betrothed along while her smiling family trailed them.

The female's open display of joy had Bruno smile, yet something disturbed him as Quagland's residents departed.  Without exception, not one beast made any physical contact with the masked female badger.  They nodded or offered a word of thanks, but none reached out to her.  Bruno watched adults cringe when they stared at the faceless lady badger.  Children retreated to the safety of trusted elders.

As the rescued residents passed through the gate, Tassel withdrew.  She left the otter youth, who latched onto the Father Abbot's habit.  No other beast noted her departure.

Curiosity prompted Bruno to follow.   Tassel made her way to the northwest corner tower where she entered the narrow stairway.  By the time Bruno reached the uppermost part of the tower's battlement, the masked female had stationed herself along the side facing the departing villagers.

Tassel waved her arm with a wide slow motion.  As Bruno observed her, he could also hear her soft voice pleading for somebody to notice her.  This voice contained none of the confidence she projected around her young charges.  It reminded Bruno of a small child needing comfort.  She stopped waving once the villagers disappeared beyond the meadow's boundary.  Her shoulders slumped, and Bruno heard the badger's quiet sobs.

"What did you expect those woodlanders to do," Bruno said.  "Even in my homeland where only badgers live, blood wrath is a fearsome sight.  We know it can be controlled to a degree, but other beasts think such madness is common among our kind.  It terrifies them."

Tassel spun around.  She squared her shoulders, and after taking a deep breath, made to leave the rooftop.  Bruno blocked her way, determined to learn what bothered the lady badger.

"You dare to ask?  It was my idea to get those vermin slavers inside Redwall.  I was the one who tried freeing all of them by offering gold to their captors.  When that didn't work, I risked my life fighting for their liberty.  So who do they thank?"

The badgermom mimicked shaking another creature's paw.  "I cannot thank your warriors enough for all they did for us, good sir.  Thank you for saving us Father Abbot.  It was most generous of you to fight those filthy slavers.  It's so nice knowing those raiders are all dead now, much appreciated."

She glared at Bruno, anger flashing in her eyes.  "Just once, I would like to see some beast acknowledge what I did for them.  Would it be too much if one of them took my paw and thanked me?  I know what I am and why everyone here avoids me, but sometimes I crave a friendly voice that isn't a dibbun."

"So why do you refuse friendship when it is offered?"

"I need no pity," Tassel growled.  "If you knew me as these elders do, or saw my face, you would flee Redwall without a backward glance."

"You foolish sow.  How do you think you got to the Infirmary?"

Tassel opened her mouth, but remained silent when Bruno lifted his paw.

"Captain Karteel wants me to escort the captured slavers to Salamandastron.  Within the hour, I depart, but I intend to find the one you lost.  Join me on this quest; let Sarweed care for your young charges for the short time we are gone.  Best of all, when we return, we will do so as husband and wife, if you are willing."

Tassel cocked her head to the right.  She remained in that pose for several seconds before she exploded.  "You idiot.  Haven't you figured it out yet; must I be blunt?"

Bruno said nothing.  Like a blacksmith's forge, Tassel's eyes burned a deep red.  His continued silence fanned her eyes to an even greater intensity.  Tassel stalked the rooftop, pacing to the far end where she pivoted and stomped back towards him.

"Every creature here considers Redwall home.  They see Father Hughnaught as a friend, but not me.  This place is my prison.  These outer walls mark the boundary of my world.  If I ever leave, I would be hunted down and made to pay for my past crimes.  My punishment would make death a welcomed alternative.  Now do you understand why none will have me?"

Bruno tried assimilating this dire revelation.  He looked up into the clear morning sky, noticing the well-defined outline of last night's full moon.  With sudden clarity, Bruno recognized this moment as the one Melody foretold.  If he took Tassel for his mate, Redwall would become his permanent home.  Yet he loved this ugly creature with all his heart.

Bruno held her paws in his as he expressed his deep feeling.  Tassel stood speechless.  Again, he repeated his heart's desire.  Time dragged as he waited for her reply.

"There are conditions.  Never ask me or any other creature about my past.  Second, as the badgermom, I alone shall determine what is best for those under my care.  Third, you must always remember the abbot's power over me is absolute.  Redwall's leader is my jailer." 

"Anything else?" 

"Wait thirty days.  Consider how little I offer and how much you loose."  Her voice carried a heavy note of sorrow.

Bruno returned to the courtyard alone in time to see the surviving slavers loaded onto a cart pulled by six goats.  None of the guards showed the vermin any sympathy as they shackled them to the sideboard.  The seven vermin raiders kept their heads bowed, unable to silence the jeers of elders, or to deflect the rocks hurled by the Abbey's dibbuns.

A family of four shrews watched the prisoners endure the abuse while they stood near the cart.  Unlike the Abbey residents, they kept a silent vigil.  Bruno approached the lone female.

"Miss Zoranna, I'm surprised you're joining us.  Last night the village elders begged you to come home.  They need a good teacher like you.  Why go to Fiery Mountain?"

"Sooner or later the villagers will need to blame somebody for the death of their friends and family.  Then they will remember what the fox said.  All of them will blame us for their attack.  My family will become outcasts, targets for their anger and their grief.  They will forget what I suffered.  Best our family search for a place in need of a teacher, somewhere far from Quagland."

She trailed the cart out the gate with Bruno on one side and her family on the other.  Zoranna squeezed her mate's paw and his eyes reminded Bruno of two lovers who saw nothing but each other.  Her two sons accepted their mother's heavy load so she could walk unencumbered.

Zoranna spoke aloud, though not at anyone in particular.  "I carry documents penned by my sister.  She is the one responsible.  Every time I read her letter ordering my mistreatment, it hurts more than Kanar's whip.  Her vindictive words will always remain a vivid memory time can never purge.  When I see the king, I shall give him everything.  Let justice take its course."

A sly smile played across the lady shrew's face.  "Before I do that, I'll send a letter to my sister describing my reaction to her special gift.  Then I'll let her know I'm no longer a slave.  How I wish I could see her face when she reads the part about me revealing her treachery to the king.  Is that retribution or revenge?  I don't know."

Bruno halted at the bridge.  Turning around, he waved his arm in a wide and slow manner.  He continued waving at the tower where the figure of a lady dressed in yellow stood.  She duplicated his gesture.  Bruno felt a sudden surge of happiness. 

He trotted to the lead, joining Captain Karteel.  "We're wasting daylight and it's a long road to Salamandastron."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Thirty-Three
Motives

The otter Captain stood, marched to the door, and hesitated.  Her paw rested on the door's latch, but it remained shut.  She glanced back at the others.

"Our lookouts have sighted our quarry," Captain Istedikus said.

Lord Brisson leaned back, his chair squealing a protest when he shifted position.  He tried reading the facial expressions of Redwall's champion warrior, Jazzin, and Major Eytomin when the Captain made her announcement.  He wondered if her dream voice was indeed a vision or the fondest wish of a desperate captain.  Then he noticed the female otter's expression and all doubt vanished.

"I am the captain of this ship.  From this moment forward, your rank and title are meaningless.  My word is law.  Once we leave this cabin, you will do as I command, without hesitation.  If you cannot do that, stay below deck and away from my crew."

Lord Brisson trailed the otter as she left the cabin.  While she climbed the stairs to the wheel deck, he hastened to the bow.  His fingers drummed the hardwood railing as his eyes searched for their target.  A low rumbling voiced his frustration.

The first officer said the Red Sharkeye had been located.  By all his senses, the seas remained a watery void.  He leaned over the wooden barrier that separated him from the deck of the warship and the ocean.  Lord Brisson glanced down, staring into the painted eye on his side of the bow. 

When they first left port, he found it amusing how much effort Captain Istedikus put into having an eye painted on either side of her warship.  His laughter died when he noticed how the crew scowled at him.  The otter captain explained how the ship took on the personality of a seafaring predator thanks to those eyes.  Without them, the crew believed their mission doomed to a watery grave.  Such was their nautical superstition.

By the light of the setting sun, he made out the ram jutting from the front of their vessel.  The waters rushing past the bow gave the warship a foamy smile as if it too sensed its next victim.

"May you fail to taste blood when the battle starts," Lord Brisson muttered.

"I can understand our lady otter speaking to this oversized carved log," Major Eytomin said.  "I begin to worry when my future king does it."

A quick glance revealed the hare officer's grin.  Under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed the good-natured banter his flippant comment offered, but not tonight.  His mind churned like the sea.  Major Eytomin must have noticed his dark mood since the hare's voice lost its jovial lilt.

"Sire, you have been," and here the hare hesitated as he searched for a diplomatic term, "somewhat withdrawn ever since we returned home.  We boarded this ship in such a rush that day I never learned what happened when you addressed the other nobles.  Did our trip to Halazatt cause a political firestorm as you predicted?  Did your father disapprove?"

Lord Brisson nodded.  "When we spoke in private and before I revealed my actions to the other nobles, my father commended me for rooting out her espionage ring.  Publicly, I found myself on the receiving end of a scathing rebuke from our king.  Such things I expected and accepted, but ...."

Lord Brisson saw his confidant's jaw hang open for a few seconds.  When the hare regained his wits, his eyes asked for a denial.  "So the story I heard from the crew is true?"

"Indeed," he growled.  "The day before I boarded this ship I received an urgent dispatch from the High Court.  Madame Sultakka made a fool of me.  Her legal court jester gave me the verbal equivalent of a sound thrashing.  Count Delupo not only set her free, but when my father rebuilds the inn we destroyed, he will give it to her as reparations.  Worse yet, upon my return I must send that treacherous shrew an apology."

Major Eytomin's expression changed to one of disbelief.  "That isn't the Count Delupo I remember.  Your word alone would have that shrew hanging by her neck along the pier within the hour, if she were lucky."

"You speak of the father, may he rest in peace.  His son has a cruel streak when it comes to sentencing those guilty of capital crimes, but he tempers it with a rigid adherence to the letter of the law.  He requires hard, irrefutable evidence.  He found no solid proof that links Captain Peggen to the Red Sharkeye or the slavers raiding our coast.  Claimed any bartender or innkeeper worthy of that title could learn such things from talkative customers.  He demands witnesses or documents that substantiate my accusations, something I lack."

Crewmembers scurried about the deck, which drew his attention.  Otters lowered the sails and secured all loose gear as they cleared the area.  The oars continued their steady pace; a faster tempo resonated within the ship.

"We change our objective tomorrow, major.  First thing we must do is secure the captain's cabin, which is why I will join you on the initial assault.  Between the ship's log and whatever other papers we find, I will have the evidence I need to put that shrew in her place.  If we capture that sea rat alive, I will consider it a great victory."

"Our original plan is dangerous enough, sire.  Have you forgotten it will take this ship at least fifteen minutes circling?  During that time, the few who board the Red Sharkeye may die since those pirates outnumber us five to one.  It is why I insisted you be in the second wave.  We stand a better chance of victory if we secure the rowing decks first.  The stairways we can defend; the captain's quarters are too exposed."

"For the greater good, we must secure the captain's quarters first.  If you can find another ten fighters, we will still try holding the stairwells leading to the rowing decks.  As our good captain informed us, if these sea pirates see the tide of battle shift against them, they will either scuttle their ship or murder the oar slaves in order to deny us a victory.  Every one of those sailors knows they face the gallows if captured."

When the major didn't respond, Lord Brisson focused his attention on the aft portion of their ship.  Thanks to an unobstructed view to the wheel deck, he saw where Captain Istedikus stood.  The captain leaned against the portside railing, her spyglass an extension of her eye as it focused on the far horizon.  When Lord Brisson tried sighting along the same line, he saw nothing, yet he knew she must.  Even he sensed the ship's movement.  The warship had changed course.

A fiery sun slipped into the sea, yet no stars shown down on them.  The full moon they expected remained hidden behind clouds that churned like a cauldron full of black snakes.  Off the bow, he saw nothing of their quarry.  Instead, the distant horizon reflected lightning from an approaching storm.  Lord Brisson wondered if such an omen held ill fortune, and if so, for which ship.

He noticed a change come over his ranking officer.  In all the times the major served him, he had seen the hare show anger, sorrow, pride and joy, but never such a brooding expression.  Lord Brisson asked what troubled him on the eve of battle.

"Personal affairs are distracting me, sire.  Three weeks ago, my wife and I found ourselves forced to surrender our two teens to the care of Redwall's resident vermin.  I know messages move slowly between us, but there should have been at least one letter delivered from Markus or Darlow since classes ended.  Their teachers sent word about how well they did in their studies, but nothing from them.  They know my feelings about that filthy creature.  Why didn't they respond to our letter?  I fear the worse.  The faster this war ends, the sooner I can rescue them from that vile creature."

Another beast approached the bow.  Even in the waning light, he knew it had to be Jazzin.  When Lord Brisson last saw Jazzin, his clothing matched those worn by the crew.  Now, Redwall'a champion warrior wore his chain-linked armored shirt.  On his hip, the last rays of the dying sun caught the red gemstone atop the golden sword.  Jazzin had morphed from a mouse who found the sea not to his liking, to a warrior eagerly awaiting the call to battle.

"Those two teens have been like a burr one cannot remove," Jazzin said.  "During the winter school break, they stole the Sword of Martin and left clues as to where it could be found.  My father preferred beating the location out of them.  The abbot called their prank a great diversion.  It took us a full week finding it.  Until I took possession of the sword, we locked it in a secure place and kept a guard on it least they try it again, as they threatened to do."

"Markus and Darlow are well behaved teens; we never would have sent them to Redwall if their behavior was anything less than exemplary.  What your Father Abbot terms annoying antics, I believe are nothing more than the exaggerations of somebody unfamiliar with high-spirited youths like my son and daughter.  What harm have they done?"  The hare's angry voice challenged the mouse to say otherwise.

Jazzin refused to rise to the bait.  Lord Brisson remembered these two discussing the hare teens at mess on several occasions.  The mouse told the father about their less than appropriate behavior and the reactions of those who suffered as the victims of their mischief.  Major Eytomin dismissed his complaints by claiming such actions attributable to others, who then blamed his two youngsters. 

Jazzin asked about the Red Sharkeye while ignoring the father's defense of his two teens.  When Lord Brisson said neither of them had spotted the other ship, the mouse searched for their elusive target.  All three kept silent as they stood along the bow.  At last, Jazzin broke the stalemate.

"I overheard you say you needed more fighters for this initial assault.  We might not be the equal of a Long Patrol hare, but my Abbey soldiers have just as much heart when it comes to freeing slaves.  Say the word and I can have a dozen willing to accept the risks of joining the first wave storming that ship."

Major Eytomin fingered the chain-mail suit the mouse wore.  "You do realize that if we cannot immobilize their ship, Captain Peggen will have the advantage?  His vessel has three times the number of rowers and it is far more maneuverable.  If he succeeds in sinking us, either your sword will become his prized possession or it will forever more rest on the ocean's bottom.  Not exactly how a sword of legend should pass into history."

Lord Brisson knew the captain's plan required a stealthy approach.  If successful, they would draw close to the Red Sharkeye during the night and attack with the rising sun in the raider's eyes. 

Captain Istedikus cursed the timing when the search extended into the third week.  Instead of the darkness a new moon offered, she expressed her fears that the light of a full moon would brighten the night enough that a sharp-eyed lookout would detect them.  Thanks to the growing storm, the ocean remained black.  Present conditions seemed ideal for a stealthy approach.

A male otter jogged from the aft deck to the bow where the three warriors stood.  Lord Brisson recognized him as the same one who informed Captain Istedikus about the Red Sharkeye.  He hastened to him, gave a slight head bob, and addressed him with the same respect he showed the captain.

"Our captain has ordered quiet throughout the ship.  If you must speak, do so below deck and preferably in a closed room.  She has instructed me to extinguish all but the most essential lanterns.  Both light and sound carry too well on the open sea.  Have those warriors who will board the ship first standing ready.  When we attack, they'll have only a short time as we cannot stop."

All three nodded their understanding.  Jazzin withdrew as he hunted down those who would accompany him when the battle began.  Major Eytomin did the same.  Alone with his thoughts, Lord Brisson envisioned the many probable endings this battle could have.  He prayed whatever gods existed would grant them a favorable finish.



* * *

Down below on the oar decks, the captain relayed her orders.  The otter setting the pace ceased beating his drums.  Two voles stood where every rower had an unobstructed view.  Using large yellow boards, they raised and lowered them.  When they changed positions, it represented another beat of the silenced drums.

Every four hours, crew beasts and Long Patrol hares replaced half the rowers.  The two setting the pace rested each hour as another pair maintained the grueling routine.  Dawn approached.  For the last time, well-rested beasts relieved the tired rowers.  As the strongest, they had the privilege of rowing into battle.  Anticipation ran high for those pulling the oars. 

Fresh arms lifted and dropped the yellow boards at an even faster tempo.  A crewmember tapped the two otters operating the yellow signs.  They spun the boards over.  The bright yellow changed to a deep red alerting everyone of the impending battle.  In the span of but a few quick breaths, the ship accelerated to ramming speed.  Nobody even grunted at the punishing pace, fearing the sound would carry to the other ship as a warning.

A shrill whistle sounded from the main deck far above them.  On the next beat, every rower on the starboard side shipped their oars.  Those on the port side dug in with every ounce of power remaining within their bodies.  None of them considered failure an acceptable option.  The otters relayed another three strokes to the port side when every creature aboard the warship felt their ship slicing the oars off the port side of the enemy vessel.

The final battle was at paw.

[cairn destop]

Chapter Thirty-Four
Final Duty, Lasting Tribute

Dusty stood rooted to the spot.  He turned to his left.  His shovel bit deep into the mound.  Turning to his right, he threw the dirt into the deep hole.  Dusty repeated the process until the motion became a mindless exercise.  The summer sun caused sweat to drip down his muzzle; he took no notice of it.

He passed the shovel to one of his companions who helped him fill the mass grave, his eyes fixated on the darker colored soil.  In another week the tropical sun would leach all the moisture and none would ever know where these unfortunates were buried.  Each beast squeezed his shoulder, letting him know they too mourned for those who died.  They withdrew, allowing Dusty some privacy.

Alone at last, he spoke as if one of the departed could hear him. 

"Never would I believe your words.  Over these last six weeks, I saw you demonstrate those values.  I thought you a fool; I was wrong.  On my oath, when the next shipment of slaves arrives, I will find whichever creature needs me most, and I will do everything possible to help that one, even if it means my own life."

Dawn brought word that a ship dropped anchor.  According to the story circulating among the workers, it carried new slaves in trade for raw ore.  Dusty quickened his pace as he walked towards the building the slaves referred to as the Hiring Hall.  There the vermin rulers distributed their latest slaves to the other islands.  If he intended helping someone, he had to first learn if any of them would stay on this island.

He entered the huge Hiring Hall.  Dusty drew as close as he could to the ferret sitting at the desk.  As each slave came forward, the ferret checked a document, made a mark, and assigned the creature to some island.  After each pronouncement, a slave overseer approached.  The summoned overseer then led the new slave to a holding area.

A pine marten carried a female squirrel by the scruff of the neck.  When she reached the desk, she swung the tiny girl up and dropped her like a pile of dirty laundry before the ferret.  When the diminutive squirrel landed on the desk, she buried her face in her bushy tail.  From all outward appearances, she resembled a living dust ball.  The two slave masters ignored her soft whimpering. 

"Somebody shipped us an under-aged toddler."  The pine martin pointed at the grey fur ball trembling on the desk.  "The captain believes she's mute since nobody has heard her speak."

The ferret gave the girl a less than gentle poke without getting a reaction.  He opened his desk where he retrieved another ledger.  Dusty watched the ferret's finger slide along the pages for several seconds.  When he slammed the book closed, the grey squirrel shivered harder.

"No openings available.  I will not waste our resources raising that thing when our nursery is already overcrowded.  Best use this one as filler in tonight's soup.  Take her to the kitchen for butchering."

Before today, Dusty pitied anyone facing the butcher.  He too thought the young squirrel unfit for any duty sufficient to warrant her continued existence, so he understood the ferret's decision.  Evisceration might be fast for the butcher, but such slaves lived long enough.  Dusty witnessed such a death once as a dibbun.  He remembered how loud his playmate screamed before death claimed him.

Yet as if propelled by some unknown force, he approached the two vermin masters standing at the desk.  When the pine martin noticed him, she shifted her stance.  That caught the ferret's attention.  Both of them frowned when Dusty drew nearer.

"You're not allowed in this area," the ferret said.  His voice left Dusty with no doubt that he had committed a serious infraction.  "Only slaves wearing the sash designating them as overseers can approach us."

"Master," Dusty uttered with as much deference as possible, "why waste that one in a stew pot?  Let me care for her.  In three months, I will prove her value far exceeds the meager morsel she is right now."

"If you wish to train her and demonstrate her value, that's fine.  But I cannot give you so much time.  Six weeks.  Either the two of you will serve us, or you will both be served to us as dinner."

Dusty hesitated when he saw the serious expression on the ferret's face.  He thought he could salve his conscience by making the offer, but the words he spoke the previous day haunted him.  Dusty knew he had no choice if he wished to honor his pledge.

"You are most generous.  I shall prove her a valuable addition."

The pine marten, who had been watching this exchange, snatched the girl by the scruff of the neck and threw her at Dusty.  The girl howled at her mistreatment.  Dusty succeeded in catching the child.  Both ferret and pine marten enjoyed a hearty laugh as he withdrew, carrying his new charge.  Dusty noticed the girl weighed no more than some of the lighter tools he carried in the mine.

Once outside, Dusty sat on a nearby rock.  With persistence and a gentle touch, he got the girl out of her ball.  He pushed her bushy tail away from her tearstained face.  He wiped her eyes dry with his fingers and smiled at the small, frightened dibbun. 

When he stopped petting her, the girl gazed at the surrounding area.  The stench of fear from one so small overpowered Dusty's senses.  Her paw touched him as she stared into his face.  She leaped onto his chest and dug her claws into his fur with a power he never expected from such a small body.  Not sure what to do, he cooed to her until she lifted her eyes.

"I shall name you Bushface.  If you do as I say, we may survive many years together."

* * *

From the moment the sun heralded a new day, they toiled in the orchard with the other slaves.  The older one carried baskets of fruit to the storeroom upon his back.  His small companion scurried through the tall trees picking the fruit and whisking it back to the line of basket carriers.
With the trees relieved of their ripened bounty, the work detail returned to their sleeping quarters.  As the they finished the meal their masters served slaves who did a proper day's work, they gazed out across the orchard watching the distant horizon swallow the sinking sun.  With weary pawsteps, the two trudged towards their assigned sleeping area.

Dusty led his younger companion into an empty bunkhouse.  Since the other slaves living here worked the evening shift in the mines, the place remained deserted after sunset.  Dusty preferred this arrangement.  It gave him time to instruct Bushface regarding proper behavior. 

Though tired from a full day of work, the girl raced to a nearby table, scaling its frame.  She bounced on her toes as Dusty went to his bunk.  While he held the brush and comb, she quivered with excitement.  He marveled at her good behavior when he combed her as sometimes his heavy paw tugged a stubborn tangle quite hard.  She stood there like a living statue, never moving as he groomed her. 

While he brushed Bushface, he spoke to the girl.  He smiled when he recalled how others passing the cabin often stopped for a peek inside when they heard only one creature talking.  These curious visitors always commented on her excellent behavior, which made Dusty proud.

"So far, more than half our time has passed.  I do believe our masters now think your work is exceptional."  When he saw her turn her head toward him with a puzzled look, he grinned.  "That means they think you are a hard worker."

Dusty discovered caring for so young a child proved far more demanding than he first envisioned.  Things he thought so obvious to him needed explanations.  Just like now, he sometimes forgot the girl's age by expecting her to understand everything he said. 

He remembered how frustrated he felt that first day when they weeded one of the fields.  She changed from such a well-behaved child to a disobedient hellion by the early afternoon.  Angered by her obstinate attitude, Dusty prepared to administer a harsh switching.  As he raised the stick, a paw prevented him from striking Bushface.  He turned on the creature who dared to grab his wrist.

The lady hedgehog released Dusty.  "My eyes tell me that child is far too young for the fields.  I know, because I worked in our master's nursery, raising some younger than her before I was reassigned to this island.  You might think she has unlimited energy, but she is in need of a nap, not the switch."

The older female latched onto Bushface's paw, pulling the child free of his knees.  The hedgehog lead the young squirrel to a shady patch where she fussed over the girl.  Like a candle snuffed out, Bushface fell asleep. 

"She will awaken when the shade moves." 

An hour later, Dusty felt something tweak his tail as he worked.  A glance behind him and he noticed a very frightened Bushface.  Her eyes brimmed with tears while she stood just beyond his reach.  He opened his paws and she ran to him.  Dusty returned to his assigned duty.  Bushface knelt by his side imitating his actions. 

He mouthed a silent thank you to the lady hedgehog weeding the next row.  The well-mannered child he remembered had reappeared.  Dusty took the lady's words to heart.  Thereafter, when the sun reached its highest point, he allowed the girl a brief rest.

As he brushed the girl's back, he recalled how one angry sea rat demanded she polish his boots.  When the rat saw how well Bushface did, his attitude changed.  The sea rat couldn't stop praising her.  By the next morning, her reputation had spread throughout the island.  Each morning, half a dozen boots awaited her attention.  Some of their masters even left her a few acorns in appreciation when they collected their boots.

Dusty carried the grooming tools back to his bunk.  He turned; pleased to see Bushface stayed where he left her.  Dusty studied her posture as he approached the table.  She had her back straight and her muzzle pointed at the floor.  Even her tail hung low behind her.  Only her fidgety paws marred her posture.  She rubbed them together as if a thick layer of dirt coated them.  Dusty slapped his paw hard on the table.  Bushface dropped to all fours, her forehead and paws pressed flat against the tabletop with her tail pulled beneath her.

"You are such a good girl.  When you face me, you maintain a submissive pose.  If the master commands you to kneel, you know the proper pose.  I'm very proud of you, Bushface." 

Dusty placed the child on the floor next to him.  Her smile gave him such a pleasant feeling.  Bushface punched Dusty's arm and ran beneath the table.  One look at her eager expression showed she anticipated his reaction. 

He crouched; his hackles rose.  Dusty made a deep and menacing snarl.  The girl squealed with delight.  She ran.  The two of them charged about the room with Dusty always to her rear, his teeth or claws always close, but never connecting. 

Playtime ended.  He gave an extra burst of speed and caught the girl.  His huge paw bowled the girl onto her back.  Dusty buried his face in her stomach.  He growled as he rubbed his head against her.  Between fits of laughter, the girl fought back.  Their game finished, Dusty glared down at Bushface.  His words may have sounded harsh to anyone passing their barrack, but he considered it another part of the game they played.

"Naughty girl, it's not nice to hit others.  Just for that, it's off to bed with you."

Dusty snuffed the lone candle lantern before climbing into his assigned bunk.  A few seconds later, he detected the sound of Bushface's claws as they dug into the wooden frame.  In the darkness of the bunkhouse, he detected her as she clamored onto his bed.  She squirmed about, like she did every night, until her head rested over his heart.

As he reclined on the wooden pallet, his mind pondered what additional duties he should teach his pupil.  Much as he feared doing it, the kitchen offered her many chores.  He considered letting her learn here at the mining camp with the other slaves.  Then he decided to take her to the Mess Hall down by the beach.  Working around those who held such absolute power over their fate carried many risks.  Yet, Dusty had faith in the girl.

Silence filled the empty room.  He stared at the ceiling beams, wondering if he had not somehow condemned himself by helping this mute beast.  From out of the darkness, or maybe within his own mind, Dusty listened to another voice whisper that he did the right thing.

He braced his head up, resting his chin in his paw.  He peered at the spot where she lay.  Her eyes reflected the crescent moonlight that filtered through the ill-fitting ceiling boards.  Sleep eluded him.  When Dusty turned onto his side, Bushface snuggled up to him, her head just touching his chin.

"Have you ever heard of a place called Redwall?"  When he felt the girl shake her head, Dusty spoke in a voice full of longing and disbelief.  "I knew a creature who claimed such a place really existed.  He said dibbuns played all day long there.  No elder ever feared the whip, and everyone had lots of food.  That squirrel told me many wonderful adventures about the woodlanders who called Redwall Abbey home.  Would you like to hear one?"

Bushface pressed herself into his chest.  Dusty's paw reached around so he could knead the fur on her stomach.  His mind tried recalling one of the adventures Firecrown told.  Satisfied that he remembered enough of the tale, he cleared his throat. 

"Though I doubt such a place ever existed, here is a story he told me about a great bell and how it came to be in their Abbey.  It all started one night when ...."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Thirty-Five
Summer Ends

The gentle warmth of a late summer day dawned with a cloudless sky.  Though the weather said summer, for those gathered in the courtyard, this morning marked the end of their carefree existence.  Today, school started.  Every youngster spent these last few moments of freedom rekindling old friendships.  All talked about the wonderful experiences they had since school ended.

Darlow, a doe hare, stood near the steps scanning the crowd.  Her immaculate blue dress showed a razor-sharp edge to every pleated crease.  The light blue ribbons that entwined her long ears accentuated her juvenile beauty.  On each ear tip a tiny silver bell tinkled whenever she moved her head.  For this special day, she had brushed her fur until her pelt developed a sheen that sparkled like dew whenever the sun shone upon it.

As she stood there, Darlow made pleasant remarks to passing acquaintances, but always her eyes searched the crowd.  Whenever her gaze wandered to the tower clock, she chewed on her knuckles.  An old habit she couldn't break.  It resurfaced whenever she felt tense.  Her brow creased as the final minutes marched past. 

Darlow joined the other children as they gathered near the schoolhouse.  Darlow needed these last few moments of summer as she had a purpose to her vigilance.  After what seemed like an eternity of searching, Darlow raced across the schoolyard with the lightning speed natural to hares, into the arms of her older brother's embrace.

Unlike her bright-colored dress, her brother's outfit had a somewhat muted hue.  Though neat and clean, his garments needed the application of a hot iron to smooth out their rumpled look.  The matching light brown coloring of his britches and shirt reminded her of the tilled fields beyond the gate.  This close to her brother the scent of laundry soap assaulted her nose.

Darlow squealed with delight as she hugged her brother.  "Gaddie said you would be getting out this morning.  You cannot imagine how happy I am to see you."  Darlow stood back a bit and gave a prim pose as she addressed Markus.  "Tell me how nice I look 'cause I worked extra hard making myself pretty just for you big brother."

Markus made a slight gagging noise, which earned him a playful punch on his shoulder.  They laughed as they embraced a second time.  For that brief moment, no one else existed in her world.

"What a horrid summer.  I tell you, sis, our king had the right of it when he outlawed the use of a leash.  Bad enough missing all the excitement with those slavers last month, but going the whole summer as that otter's servant made this a vacation I'll want to forget.  Be glad he didn't need two helpers.  You got off a lot easier than I did." 

Markus shook his head, a sour expression on his face.  Darlow giggled at his discomfort, her paw rubbing the top of his head as their mother did whenever her brother complained about something.

"First, I spent two weeks in the Infirmary caring for that otter.  I changed more bandages and emptied more chamber pots than I care to remember.  If the healer needed a helper, I had to do his bidding too.  He made that painfully clear the first time I refused.  Things didn't get better when the healer released Mister Scrimmith.  The indignities I suffered just got worse."

Darlow tittered as she remembered seeing her brother pushing a wheeled chair while a chain ran from the armrest to his neck.  She recalled his glum expression when forced to eat and drink from bowls placed on the floor like some pampered pet.  Darlow recalled the festive mood his embarrassment caused among the many elders he had harassed.

Once her brother started grumbling, he couldn't seem to stop.  Though cruel, Darlow enjoyed hearing him describe his travails and with a few gentle prods, had him telling her everything.  She fondled his one ear just like mother did whenever she had to coax something out of him.  It worked.

"Since Mister Scrimmith couldn't handle the switch, his mate used it.  That old hag enjoyed using it far too much, if you want my opinion. After my first escape, they locked that chain around my neck tight enough that I couldn't slip it off again.  Blasted leash always kept me in her reach."

Darlow recalled seeing Lady Scrimmith taking him to task when her brother spilled hot soup in her mate's lap.  With the chain tied to the table, Markus had little room to escape, but did a credible job.  Several nearby elders helped restrain him while the female otter vented her anger.  When she mentioned that incident, it got her brother talking about the abuse he suffered from Tassel.

"Lady Scrimmith was always having me wheel her mate to Father Hughnaught.  They made me wait, within hearing distance, while deciding what punishment I deserved for some minor infraction.  Every time I saw that sow, I shuddered.  When Tassel grabbed my leash, she led me to the front of the room.  She spanked me while everyone watched and cheered.  Never said a word before, during, or afterward.  That vermin sow just put me over her knees and smacked my bottom raw."

Darlow laughed about the way he expressed his displeasure.  When she regained her composure, she fondled her brother's ear until he stopped mumbling.  "Be glad the Father Abbot made the decision.  Considering how many times I saw you outside his office, your bottom should still be smarting.  I understand Mother T turned him down several times; said your misdeeds didn't deserve her special attention."

"Since when did you start showing that vermin beastie such good manners?  Don't tell me she broke your spirit."

Darlow placed her paws on her hips as she imitated her mother's I'm-vexed-with-you stance.  Her brother's sudden silence let her know she did it right.  Markus turned his head away from her.  Like mother, she tapped his muzzle with her index finger until he met her eyes.

"After today's classes, you will be living with everyone else in the Dormitory.  Unlike you, I observed her over the summer.  She honestly loves those orphans as if they were her own.  Father always said vermin don't know how to show kindness.  I hate myself for saying this, but I'm thinking father might be wrong about her." 

Markus snorted the same way their father did whenever he heard something he didn't believe.  Her gentle laughter did nothing to lift her brother's mood.  Darlow leaned closer.  When her nose touched his, she whispered to him like she did whenever she told him some special secret.

"Don't go thinking you're the only one who suffered some indignity because of her.  I found myself lying across her knees a time or two over the summer.  I hate saying this, but I got what I deserved."

"That's nice to know, sis," the buck said with a mischievous grin.  "However, I was going to ask if she really did refuse to punish me.  Considering how many practical jokes we played on her, I'm surprised she wouldn't take advantage of every opportunity for a bit of pay back."

Darlow wished she hadn't told him about her spankings.  She could feel her face turn a deep crimson when Markus looked at her.  One peek into his eyes and she knew her brother would harass her until he got the full story.  She needed some way of diverting his attention.  A glance at the clock provided an answer.  Darlow mentioned the upcoming school session.

"Hear we have Lady Five-hundred this year," Markus said with a sullen expression.  "That old lady vole is infamous for making students write five hundred word essays.  Bet her first assignment is what we did this summer.  She wouldn't ask us if she lived here.  I tell you sis, the last thing I want to do is write an essay on what it's like to be a leashed prisoner."

Markus checked the area near them, making sure nobody would overhear his next comment.  The way he crouched down told Darlow he had some devilment planned and he needed her help.  He confirmed her suspicions when he pulled out a small box he hid in his shirt pocket.  Whatever it held wanted out.

"I found out beetles scare her," Markus confided.  "Imagine her reaction when she finds these critters crawling about in her desk drawer.  It took me a few minutes in the orchard catching them, but it should prove entertaining when class begins," Markus giggled.

"Better ask yourself what Mother T will do when she finds out about your little prank.  You think it's worth it, dear brother?" 

Darlow showed her brother the palm of her paw as she began spanking an imaginary bottom.  Her eyes twinkled at her brother's dismay when she reminded him who would be on the receiving end since she voiced her intention of offering him no help with this latest escapade.  The doe's twitching ears set the tiny bells ringing as she enjoyed watching him decide what he should do. 

He grumbled in words far from acceptable in polite gatherings.  Markus dumped the box of beetles on a nearby bush.  If the badgermom overheard such language, Markus would have one very soapy mouth.  She started to caution him when the school bell tolled the hour. 

The students moved towards the building like condemned prisoners.  Teachers herded the reluctant youths inside with kind words and a gentle paw.  Just before the two hares went in, Markus grabbed his sister's arm.  He pulled her to the side where they gained a few more seconds for their private conversation.

"I'll make a bargain with you.  If you stop calling that badger Mother T, I'll be nice to her when I move in with you this afternoon.  We have a deal, sis?"

She gave her big brother a light peck on the cheek.  Darlow grinned.  One look at her brother's expression told her he read her mind.  She glanced around the entryway, making sure none of the other students or teachers paid any attention to them. 

"What say we plan a smashing prank to top anything we have ever done in our lifetime?  Something this Abbey and its residents will record as the greatest one ever done.  We have several months to come up with the perfect idea."

"After all your talk about that vermin beastie, you're willing to do this," an incredulous Markus asked.  "The way you act, I thought Tassel broke whatever rebellious streak you had.  Or are you trying to get a bit of payback for the things I did to you back home by getting me into even more trouble?" 

"If Miss Tassel cannot prove to you by the start of the winter school break she is worthy of your respect, I'll help you pull it off.  For such a stupendous event, all the demons of Hellsgate can have our furry bottoms.  But there is one more condition, brother."

When Markus said nothing, Darlow finished her proposition.  "If she does convince you she is worthy of our respect, we pledge, on our honor, that we will behave ourselves for the rest of the time we're here."

Both hares laughed as they envisioned the response of the residents to such a grand stunt.  Darlow thought the challenge made enduring school worthwhile.  One look at her brother showed him happier than he had been since their parents first announced their enrollment at Redwall Abbey.  As the doors sealed them inside, Darlow whispered one more comment to her brother. 

"Trust me when I say Badgermom Tassel is worthy of our best behavior.  She proved it to the Pine Tar warriors when she fought those slavers, and she proved it to me during the summer." 

[cairn destop]

Chapter Thirty-Six
Victory at Sea

Exhaustion, total, complete, and absolute: those words described her condition.  Even as she awoke, she did not feel the refreshment sleep accorded most creatures.  She wanted to greet the day feeling rejuvenated, and ready for whatever life hands you.  It would not happen today or anytime soon.

She kept her eyes closed, but her reality needed no vision.  The constant motion of the ship, not just fore and aft, but a rolling action from side to side, left her stomach queasy after the latest storm.  A putrid stench from overflowing slop-buckets competed with the sickly sweet smell of her fellow captives.  The snores of those sleeping, the moans of the injured, the creaking of the ship, and the whimpering of the sick added another item to her long list of discomforts.

Much as she would like to deny this terrifying reality, she had no choice but to accept it.  She rested below deck in what the crew called the holding pen.  She remembered her former existence.  She took great pride in her duties, and spent a lifetime of faithful service to her masters.  Yet one mistake negated everything.  Now bound to this ship, she pondered if death held more appeal than rowing another day.

Light penetrated her dark world, so she closed her eyes in the vain hope it might disappear.  The sound of wood striking metal could mean but one thing.  She opened her eyes, confirming her suspicion.  Silhouetted by the light, she made out the outline of some crew beast standing at the bottom of the stairway.  The repetition of the sounds heralded the arrival of a second sailor.   

At the far end, two shadowy beasts move down the central aisle.  As they proceeded aft, they examined the sleeping slaves.  Though neither one touched the sleeping creatures, the two would examine a clipboard, mutter awhile, and then continue their inspection.  Eventually they drew close enough that their words became distinguishable.

"What about ... number one thirty-eight?" a male voice inquired.

"With a large shipment of slaves expected in another three days, we can afford to let this lady otter rest.  Maybe she'll get over her illness by then.  If not, we'll have something in our stew other than fish."  The way the female accented the words left little doubt as to the otter's fate.   

The iron lattice hatch covering the aft section squealed in protest as another unseen crew beast lifted it.  A lantern threw a beam of light into the hellish blackness illuminating a second ladder.  The opening of the second hatch had her moaning.

The female crew beast rustled a sheet of paper.  She relayed a series of numbers to her companion who moved up and down the aisle checking ankle tags.  As she called out a number, the male roused the corresponding beast.  A less than gentle kick stirred the selected slave who stood.  The crew beast pointed aft and the slave made his or her way to the ladder.  Each time two beasts exited the hold, another two entered from the bow.  The slaves going off duty found an open spot and soon fell asleep in spite of the lantern's light.

"Number one twenty-two," the female said.  "Never mind, I'm standing right next to her."

The female ferret stood over her, pointing to the stern.  With a groan, she shuffled over to the ladder.  She took a deep breath at the base while gazing upward.  By the time she climbed the five steps, she no longer squinted from the brightness of the light.

Unlike the hold, the lower rowing deck remained bright.  A stoat sat idle by his drum near the aft hatchway.  Woodlander slaves occupied a series of benches to port and starboard.  Each side held sixty oars and each oar had two creatures attached to it, something she confirmed the first time she rowed.  Three sea rats patrolled the middle aisle, each armed with a coiled whip. 

A young slave hedgehog delivered rations.  He served her a soup full of half-rotten vegetables, some raw fish, and a portion of stale bread.  She bolted down the meager meal knowing it had to last until her relief in another six hours.  By the time the next slave received his portion, she handed the hedgehog her tray licked clean of any scraps.

One of the guards carried a ring of keys down the central aisle.  Locating the appropriate ones, the guard unlocked the chains fastening one set of slaves to their oar.  The two rowers moved to the bow where another slave handed them their final rations.  While the guards prodded her and a male woodchuck towards the vacated bench, those relieved entered the holding pen.

The routine never changed.  The crew first fastened a short chain around her wrist that kept her paws close to the oar.  The sailor did the same to her partner.  Before the sailor withdrew, he strung a heavy chain through their ankle shackles and attached it to a ring embedded in the deck.  Once secured, the guards repeated the process with the next set of replacements.

Stormy weather kept the oars idle as the ship rode out the rough seas.  She slept.  A tube whistle sounded and she awoke to the sudden disturbance.  Near the bow, the drummer placed his ear close to the speaker tube.  After he replaced it, the drummer issued a brisk command.  In unison, the oars slid outward.  Every slave kept pace with the rhythm the drummer set.

One moment, everyone pulled on the oars.  The next, the ship gave a mighty heave pitching the portside rowers askew.  Screams overpowered the sound of splintering oars.   The breaking oars lifted many of the slaves off their benches.  Chains pulled taut.  Rowers cradled arms or held legs broken by the violent movement of their ship, their howling adding to the confusion. 

"A warship, I can see another warship" shouted one rower.  A second later, the unknown rower's panicky voice screamed a second time.  "It's going to ram us!"

Some slaves abandoned their oars as they tried yanking shackles off wrists or ankles.  Others wailed.  The smell of blood, panic, and fear filled the deck.

High above the deck, alarm bells rang insistently.  The distinctive sound of metal meeting metal filled the air.  Battle cries echoed throughout the upper decks.   Injured slaves howling added to the din; the sound of combat grew ever closer.

The drummer's body flew into the bulkhead when the ship collided with the other warship.  The drummer's head splattered like over ripened fruit dropped from a great height when it hit the side of the ship.  She and her oar partner finished their stroke without thinking.  Her mind could not comprehend the chaos erupting around them.  Without the strokes of the drum setting the pace, she observed the events unfolding around her as if she existed outside this reality.

The female ferret carrying the keys fell into the lap of a male hedgehog five rows in front of her.   The slave fastened his paws about her neck.  Though lacking the leverage to make her death a quick one, he strangled the struggling ferret.  Her claws raked his arm and face, but he did not react.  The sea rat guards unlimbered their whips and began flaying the hedgehog.  It did not affect the relentless pressure applied by the hedgehog's paws.

One row behind the vermin floggers, a male vole slid the shattered oar shaft off his wrist chains.  He swung the freed shaft and crushed the skull of one tormentor.  In a matter of seconds, a dozen slaves followed suit and clubbed the sea rats into a bloody pulp.  When the hedgehog dropped the dead ferret, the rowers roared in celebration.

Such insanity broke her out of her catatonic state.  She understood the danger a second warship represented.  If their ship sank, they died.  Her voice overpowered their jubilation. 

"Somebody get the keys.  We have a chance at freedom.  Let's take it before that other warship rams us."

Slaves passed the ferret's key ring from paw to paw until a female mole in the front row held them.  She stretched as far forward as possible.  The slaves hushed in breathless silence, watching. The mole maneuvered the key in the hatch lock and it turned.  Their cheers turned into panic when an arrow shaft nailed the mole to the deck.  A second shaft followed and her reverberating shrieks gained volume.  A third arrow struck and her voice faded into silence.

Somewhere behind the rowers came the distinctive twang of a bowstring.  Another slave sounded his final defiance.  The slaves still chained to the oars could do nothing to avoid the archer's arrows.  On the side with the shattered oar shafts, the slaves cowered beneath the benches.  The bow beast launched a bloody slaughter.  The archer's shafts struck the slaves one by one.  One slave pleaded first for mercy, and then a quick death.  He received neither.

Unable to do anything but sit, she tried rallying those still hiding within the hold.  She knew they had no chains encumbering them.  Six slaves answered her call.  They rushed their tormentor armed with tooth and claw.  Three died and a fourth fell to the deck.  For a moment, she held onto hope.  An arrow pierced her back, its bloody warhead exiting from her chest.

Four more stormed the bow.  An oar slave closest to the drummer gave a mighty cheer.  One by one, the slaves turned the right keys that released them from their restraints.  Armed with the splintered shafts of their oars, several rushed to help their comrades.  Others rallied those still cowering in the holding pen.  Several braver ones scrambled out.  Their faces reflected a strong determination to earn their freedom or die trying.

Like a nightmarish apparition, a huge creature forced its way through the aft bulkhead.  It stood taller than any beast, and displayed a muscular body.  His white face had a black stripe that ran from his nose, along his muzzle and widened to encompass a third of his head.  Even from her seat halfway back, she saw the glowing fire burning within his eyes.  Blood and gore dripped off his huge double-sided war axe. 

"Drop your weapons, we're here to save you," the monster roared.

"He lies," she answered.  "We either become his slaves, or die here."

Once more, she rallied her fellow captives.  Six attacked the huge beast.  The monster swung his weapon sideways.  All six slaves fell to the deck moaning.  Others stood ready to take their place, a few brandished broken oar shafts like clubs.  The monster repeated his order.  The slaves shouted their defiance.

A recent memory surfaced.    She was home, seated near a low campfire while a squirrel told a tale of brave souls facing impossible odds.  Like her friends, she remained mesmerized by Firecrown's tale.  His eyes burned with passion as he spoke.  His words resounded in her mind.

"When all hope is lost, when your enemy is at his strongest, those who fight for a just cause will know what to do.  Shout the word that will frighten your enemies.  Challenge your foe with the power of . . . ."

With all the strength she could muster, she screamed out that last word.  "Redwall."

It proved miraculous.  The huge creature lowered his weapon.  He leaned on the hilt, staring at her.  The slaves hesitated, unsure what they should do.  Behind her, the battle ebbed.  She maintained her litany, fearing the power of that word would flee like a windblown leaf if she ever stopped.

"What creature calls out for Redwall?"

The monster blocking the aft bulkhead pointed at her.  All of the slaves turned in her direction.  In the eerie silence, she heard somebody approach.  He came into her line of sight.  Then a sense of euphoric relief washed over her.  She paused in awe, whispering a name she thought only existed in legends, "Martin."

The mouse strode down the central aisle dressed in a chain mail shirt and hood.  In his paw, he held a mighty sword.  Its golden hilt displayed a red gemstone embedded in the pommel.  Their eyes met.   His appeared cold and merciless.  As he came nearer, they softened.  He stood in his armor next to her, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"I thought I knew all that lived around Redwall, but you I don't remember."

She stammered.  "I know why you are here, Martin.  You seek two stolen from your Abbey, a squirrel named Firecrown, and a mouse named Kurella.  They are captives in the Tamagoran Archipelagos.  I knew one, and he often spoke of the other."

The mouse shouted for a healer before sitting by her side.  "Yes, I search for them, and I thank you, dear lady.  Tell me your name, and all of Redwall shall speak it with great reverence.  Your bravery shall live forever."

She gazed at the arrow's warhead jutting from her chest.  Her eyes tracked the blood trail that pooled beneath her on the deck.  The gates to eternity started to open and she knew no force could shut them.  Looking into the warrior's eyes, she summoned up enough energy to answer his question before entering the realm of Dark Forest. 

"My ... name ... is ... Splin ... ters."

* * *

Cradling the lifeless vole, the mouse murmured.  "Forgive me for not telling you my name.  If thinking me Martin the Warrior pleased you, than I am glad.  I will keep my promise, Splinters.  Your name will live forever in our chronicles, this I swear." 

He gently lowered the body of the vole and kept a vigil until a group of hares arrived.  After removing the arrow, he helped the hares place the fallen hero onto a canvas sheet.  None of the uninjured slaves left the deck as they watched the hare medics treat their fellow oar slaves.  As the warrior mouse stood, the woodchuck that shared Splinter's bench reached out his paw.

"What is to become of us?  We have never known life without a master commanding us."

"King Meles will do all in his power to help you start new lives as free beasts."

"And what of you, sir?  We know nothing of you but a name of some fabled warrior."

He faced the gathered slaves, "My name is Jazzin, champion warrior of Redwall Abbey.  When our ship returns to Fiery Mountain, we shall assemble a great fleet for the final war against those who dare enslave others.  I pledge my life to freeing every slave held within the Tamagoran Archipelagos.  Will any of you join me?"

[cairn destop]

Chapter Thirty-Seven
A Bell Ringer

Dusty stood atop the trail that led from the mines to the campground where those who ruled over the slaves lived.  He sometimes wondered why his masters preferred the beach since it had so little value.  He glanced behind him.  The valley's lush vegetation thrived in the fertile soil.  The mountains contained metals that could be shaped into anything needed.  Artisans fashioned all manner of goods for trade.

When I lived in the valley, I had a full belly, a roof over my head, and a purpose to my life.  Maybe the beach offers more than I can fathom.

A paw tapped his hip, reminding him why they traveled along this trail.  Dusty glanced down at the small grey squirrel accompanying him.  Almost five weeks ago, he walked this very path down to the place where all new slaves first arrived.  When he came back, he faced the challenge of raising and training a mute child, thereby saving both of them from a stew pot.

On the beach, they came to a series of dilapidated buildings set apart from the sturdier structures.  Dusty held the youngster's paw as they came to the first one.  He called out, and another slave appeared.   That one led him to the next building where he approached a female otter wearing the sash designating her as the overseer. 

Dusty introduced himself and his companion.  "We seek work here.  My friend is reliable, though one does have to make certain allowances for her age and size.  She did well in our mess tent by the mines, so I thought to have her learn new skills here."

The female otter leaned against the building, standing in the shade while he remained under the tropic sun.  In her paw, she held a pipe fashioned from a piece of bamboo and a corncob.  Dusty found the elder's act of smoking fascinating as none back at the mines had access to whatever the crude pipe held.  She laughed when she noticed Bushface's nose twitching.

"One of the privileges I enjoy as the overseer."  She waved the pipe under the girl's nose.  The otter chuckled when the youngster leaned so far forward following its scent that she toppled.  "The herb has a very sweet smell when burned and a pleasant taste.  I keep things running smoothly and this is my reward.  Convince me you'll not be shortening my smoke rations."

Dusty related Bushface's duties in the mess tent back at the mines.  He emphasized her cooperative nature.  While he described her special needs, the lady otter puffed her pipe.  When Dusty finished his narration, the otter stuck the nail of one claw into the bowl of her pipe.  She continued stirring the mixture until it stopped smoldering.  She knocked the residuals into a bag hidden under her sash.

"Think we are ignorant of your camp?"  The otter shifted to a shadier spot.  "That old shrew who replaced Splinters got her position, thanks to me.  She passed the word shortly after you announced your intention.  I anticipated your arrival."

The otter pushed off the wall.  She said nothing more as she led them to another cabin where she assigned Dusty a bunk.  Bushface remained at Dusty's side until the otter latched onto the girl's paw.  In the near corner, the overseer pointed to a basket containing ten boots.  The young squirrel began polishing the first boot she grabbed.

The overseer led Dusty outside the cabin.  The otter jabbed him in the side with the pipe stem.  "Her reputation is good with boots.  If she proves it true, I'll allow you some leeway.  Play me the fool and you'll find the river full of mud."

They waited.  Every few minutes, Bushface rushed outside where she placed a boot near where Dusty sat.  When she finished the last one, the diminutive squirrel knelt before the overseer, her head pressed to the ground.  The lady otter inspected her work.  She picked up the last boot and threw it into the dirt by the girl's face, ordering her to redo it.  Bushface snatched the dusty boot and ran inside.  The otter waited until certain Bushface couldn't overhear her.

"Every boot cleaned to perfection and paired without prompting.  She showed no anger when I had her redo the last boot.  You trained her well.  Report to the kitchens tomorrow morning, I'll alert our master of your new duties," said the otter. 

Like their camp, the vermin masters ate within a large building next to a kitchen.  When Dusty led Bushface inside, he noticed many tables lining the wall.  When they crossed the threshold, a female sea rat approached.  The rat gave Dusty a cursory glance, and then stared at the small girl.

"Ayun said I would be getting new workers, but I did not expect one this young."  She snorted as the first group entered the room.  "It's your back if there's any trouble.  Keep those at your table well fed."

With that said, she returned to her kitchen.  As their masters filed into the room, they copied the actions of the other slaves assigned to the dining area.  Whenever the table emptied, Bushface placed everything in a basket that Dusty whisked off to the back room.  Both gave the table a quick scrubbing as they waited for the next group to be seated.

While the vermin ate their fill, the smaller squirrel relayed food and drink to her assigned tables.  Her size allowed her to move about the tabletop as she filled each plate without disturbing those eating.  Some laughed when she either ladled food or poured their drinks, since many of the pots rivaled her in weight.  Dusty felt his confidence growing. 

A loud string of oaths drew Dusty's attention.  One irate weasel dried off his shirt while complaining about the hot drink spilled onto his lap.  As Dusty rushed back, the rat sitting on the other side give a playful yank to the girl's tail.  Before he could stop her, Bushface snarled.

"Who let this untrained brat in here?  This slave needs a proper lesson on manners." 

The weasel's expression darkened.  His lips curled back as he looked at a defiant Bushface standing before him.  The vermin's paw reached out with the speed of a striking snake as he grabbed the small squirrel.  He then thrashed her, much to the delight of his companions who cheered his efforts. 

Dusty watched, unable to help his small friend.  When the weasel dumped the crying girl to the floor, he rushed her outside.  For the remainder of the day, Dusty kept the ovens stocked with firewood while Bushface refused to leave the pile of uncut logs.  It didn't improve Dusty's mood when an irate otter overseer approached.

"Don't start with me, Ayun.  The hot tea was an accident and I forgot some of these overlords enjoy teasing slaves."  Dusty groaned.  "It seems my effort at making a good impression failed and will earn us the stew pot."

The otter overseer's hard expression melted when Dusty spoke those words.  "Tomorrow, tell that sea rat both of you are volunteering for scouring duty.  Keep the pots clean and Catarie will praise your work to any and all.  Best I can do."

Things started out better the next day.  They scrubbed all the morning pots to Catarie's satisfaction.  Whenever the sea rat paused by the sinks, Bushface gave her a quick bow before continuing her duties.  Hope surged again when the sea rat patted Bushface on her wet head.

Two of the kitchen slaves passed Dusty another dirty pot.  He filled it with soapy water while Bushface finished polishing hers.  As he cleaned a third gritty pot, his ears detected the sounds of a brawl.  He glanced over the stack of dirty cutlery, searching for the source of the disturbance.

Uniformed soldiers crashed through the outer doors with weapons drawn.  Four of them burst inside the kitchen while an equal number of their masters charged from the dinning area.  Vermin from the kitchen attacked the long-eared beasts with whatever cutlery their paws grabbed. 

Caught in the middle of this mayhem, unarmed slaves scurried about in a frenzied attempt to exit the building.  Ayun, dodge a master's body as it flew backwards from a solid kick.  Though she avoided the animated projectile, she fell into a bloody heap when Catarie's meat cleaver severed her neck. 

Creatures wielded whatever weapons their paws found.  None seemed to worry if they faced a friend or foe; they killed any beast that came within striking range.  Like the other unarmed slaves, Dusty panicked.  As he sought a safe way through the melee, a high-pitched wailing noise brought his flight to a sudden halt. 

Bushface cowered on the countertop next to the sink where they worked.  She cried into her bushy tail while near her, several combatants flayed away at each other.  Dusty raced back.  He lunged for the girl, snatching her off the counter.  As he squeezed her to his chest, an axe wielded by one of the intruders, missed its intended target.  The blade slammed into the very spot where Bushface stood seconds earlier.  He sidestepped a spear from a pine martin and almost lost his head from a mace swung by a hedgehog.

Dusty spied a cast iron cauldron and tipped the huge pot over them.  From within the pot, Dusty walked it into the corner and hunkered down while Bushface held a death grip on his chest.  He sat on the floor, cooing to the girl.  Dusty hoped her whimpering would not attract attention as he drew his feet closer to his body and away from the pot's rim. 


* * * *

As fast as it began, the battle ended.  A doe hare surveyed the carnage within the now deserted kitchen.  Another hare righted a stool near the hot ovens.  He grimaced in pain as his companion bound his broken leg.  The rest of her squad took a defensive position.  Their eyes swept the now empty work area; their paws holding onto their weapons, ready for battle.

"How many," the hare sitting on the stool asked through gritted teeth.

A hedgehog patted the injured hare on his shoulder.  "Seven slaves dashed past me and maybe another four vermin close on their heels.  They were too fast for me."

A second warrior reported.  "It seems slaves here go about without garments."  His eyes scanned the floor.  "By my count, three slaves died and four of their masters." 

"Your count's wrong.  We eliminated five of those vermin," said a third hare.  "Thank goodness we secured the kitchen.  After all this fighting, I'm looking forward to a good tuck."

While they talked, the combatants surveyed the destruction within the kitchen.  The doe hare snapped her fingers as she pointed to a series of bloody footprints.  "You and your stomach, is that all you can think about?"

The five kept talking about what they wanted to eat while the four uninjured fighters followed the trail.  The doe pointed at an overturned kettle pot.  A foot moved near the pot's edge.  The doe lowered her spear as she prepared to lunge at whatever creature cowered under the cauldron.  Two hares positioned themselves on either side of the pot.

The hedgehog unlimbered his mace.  He hefted it and made a few practice swings, but made no contact with the kettle.  He planted his feet as he waited for the doe's signal.  She nodded.  The hedgehog applied every ounce of power he possessed in one mighty swing.

His metal mace struck the cast iron kettle.  He lost his weapon as it went flying from his paw; the kettle rang an off-keyed note.  Two hares lifted the still ringing kettle.  They threw the pot to the side while she stood poised to stab whatever vermin had sought refuge beneath the pot.  In mid lunge, she stopped.

A wheaten colored squirrel with a grey chest sat howling in pain.  He held his ears while shaking his head.  When he opened his eyes, he jumped to his feet.  The scent of fear mixed with the coppery tang of blood as the unknown slave sought an avenue of escape.

The squirrel's grey chest moved.  Another smaller squirrel hung onto the brown one.  The grey squirrel turned her head in their direction before she again buried her face in the chest of the male.  Her paws gripped the brown one's fur so tight her knuckles turned white.

She stepped back a pace, her spear no longer aimed at the squirrel's heart.  The others followed her lead.  She held one paw up, her fingers splayed as she tried reassuring the muscular squirrel. 

"Sorry, old boy.  We thought you one of those filthy slavers.  Calm down, you're safe now.  Nobody is going to hurt either one of you."

The brown squirrel kept shaking his head, a motion copied by the petite grey.  She had seen other creatures like this one.  Panic had him.  She had to keep him quiet or he might hurt himself.  She spoke to him in her softest voice, but it did not affect him.

"I don't think they can hear you, sergeant," one hare said.  "Our spikedog friend there gave that old pot a hefty whack."

"Hey, don't blame me," growled the hedgehog.  "If we knew slaves hid under that pot, they could stay there.  It's safer than running across a battlefield."

"Nobody's blaming you."  She motioned the others back.  "Give that squirrel some room, just be ready to stop him if he breaks for the door.  Maybe if we smile, he'll realize we mean him no harm."

As they retreated, the brown squirrel's eyes darted in every direction.  When he took a step towards the nearest door, a hare blocked his path.  He raised his bloody sword, which had the squirrel press his back against the far wall.  He then tried for an open window, but a second hare thwarted him from taking that route.

The brown beast charged the hedgehog.  At the last second, he dodged around the unarmed fighter.  The hares rushed to cut off any escape.  Instead of heading towards an exit, the slave raced to the washtubs.  His paws pried the younger squirrel off his chest.  He threw her, and a scrubbing rag, inside a pot.  He applied a piece of soapstone to another kettle.

The injured hare glanced at her.  "Well, at least we have two willing workers for KP duty tonight, ma'am."

The sergeant strolled closer to the washbasins.  From her position, the two squirrels scrubbed the dirty dishes with far too much enthusiasm.  Occasionally the squirrels glanced at her, a look of fear still etched on their faces.

She moved towards the door, calling the others to her side.  "Something tells me these two will stay here.  We had better see if anyone needs our help.  If I see one of our medics, I'll send him here."  With that, she led her squad out of the kitchen.

[cairn destop]

Chapter Thirty-Eight
Silenced Drums

An insect buzzed around the four sleeping bodies.  It landed on the muzzle of one, which caused him to shift.  The insect resumed its flight.  As it circled the closed eye of another beast, a paw waved it away.  The insect once again diverted course.  Another sudden movement had the insect flying into the bright sunlight.

Kurella shook her head; she then lifted her paw and scratched the inside of one ear.  Her eyes followed the insect's path.  "Why couldn't you let me sleep for another hour undisturbed?  Did you have to land in my ear?" 

She took a long relaxing stretch.  Kurella scanned the surrounding plateau as the last vestiges of sleep evaporated.  Based on the length of the shadows, she knew her next shift would begin with the sun at its hottest.  She checked the cord around her wrist as she calculated how many more times she would mount the wheel before she returned to the beach. 

"I'm not even halfway done, and I feel like I never left this place," she muttered.

She shifted her body to avoid contact with the other sleepers sharing the shady platform.  She groaned as her bare feet touched the hot ground, the heat seeping through her calloused feet.  Kurella pushed herself upright and stepped into the sunlight.  Her paw verified the presence of the noose she carried, grateful nobody tried stealing it like one squirrel attempted to do during her last rest period.  She shaded her eyes as a hot breeze ruffled the fur along her nude body. 

A dozen drums kept a steady beat.  An equal number of wheels turned as they drew water from deep underground.  The slaves within those wheels walked with their eyes glazed over as they marched in time to their drummer.  One vermin guard patrolled the area, her motions casual from the monotony of watching those who either worked or slept.

Kurella turned away from the all too familiar scene.  For the few moments left to her before her next shift, she needed a pleasant view, something other than the barren rocks scorched by a tropical sun.  With that thought in mind, she meandered across the plateau to the lone path leading down to their living quarters.  From this height, she could look out on a seascape that stretched to the horizon.

The water's deep blue contrasted with the lighter shade of the cloudless sky.  She glanced down into a valley filled with green fields.  It provided a pleasant, but stark contrast to the rocky ground where she stood.

Instead of the usual canoe floating off the pier, a seagoing vessel sat a short distance offshore.  The first one she ever saw that stopped at their island.  She searched for some clue to its purpose.  The remote beach didn't allow such a detailed examination, which frustrated her sense of curiosity.

Something moved along the path.  The distant creatures traveled far too fast.  She knew slaves never had the enthusiasm to race up, and those returning to the beach didn't possess much energy while descending.  Such an inconsistency roused her curiosity.  She waited.

Five creatures rounded a bend in the trail, visible for a short time.  Kurella's mind rejected what she saw.  She shook her head trying to clear it of any residual affects from an interrupted sleep.  Just as she convinced herself they didn't truly exist, the five creatures came into view as they reached the next switchback.  All doubt vanished like smoke upon a stiff wind.

She cupped her muzzle, and shouted down the hill, "Give 'em blood and vinegar."

The war cry of the Long Patrol echoed from below.  "Eulaliiiiaaaa!"

She stood rooted at the top of the trail wondering if such vivid images and sounds foretold madness brought on by a tropical sun.  Her eyes shifted to the final turn.  If the vision she witnessed proved real, the hares would soon reappear.  Kurella made a quick check behind her, pleased nobody had seen her leave the sleeping area.  If this turned into a cruel hallucination of a tired mind, better she experienced it alone.

The five hares emerged from around the last bend in the trail.  Each warrior withdrew his weapon while jogging up the final stretch.  Blades caught the sunlight, reflecting a golden fire that promised deliverance.  Without realizing what she did, Kurella rushed the lone officer.

Once her paws encircled the hare, what she feared illusion became reality.  Even the feel of the officer freeing himself of her grip confirmed their existence.  The other hares closed in around her while keeping a wary eye on the hilltop.  The officer offered her his canteen.  She drained it in one long pull.

He posed a series of questions about the vermin based atop the hill.  She replied as fast as he asked, though his expression showed he did not like her vague responses.  Without another word spoken, the hares charged up the trail, bursting onto the plateau like floodwaters released from a ruptured dam.  Kurella followed at a slower pace.  The first hare kick in the door to the building housing the off duty vermin guards.

Seconds later, the sound of furniture splintering and metal meeting metal echoed as the guards within fought the invading hares.  Three unarmed vermin tumbled out the window.  One hare raced out the door as he tried apprehending them.  All three reversed course.  Despite the soldier's plead for their surrender, they did not stop running when they reached the cliff's edge.

With the defeated guards disarmed, two hares circled the building as they followed the sound of drums.  One approached a vole pounding on a drum.  When Kurella realized what he intended to do, she called him back.  Her warning had both hares hesitate; they turned towards the officer who had followed them.

"You stop that drummer, and those inside the wheel will be injured," said Kurella.  "Let me do it the right way."

Kurella drew near the drummer, but from the rear.  She leaned down and whispered a command.  The drum's cadence changed until those inside moved at a fast walk.  She repeated her action with each drummer.

She stood by one wheel as the officer marched up to her.  Though his nostrils flared, his voice remained calm.  He hesitated a moment as other slaves moved from the sleeping platforms to the wheels, or relieved the drummers.  None of the slaves took any notice of the hares as they went about their duty without prompting.

"We came to free you, not to keep you slaves," the officer hissed.  "Dash it all.  I would hate seeing any of those beasts hurt.  There is no need for them to labor on those wheels."

Kurella gave a dismissive shrug.  "Our tanks have enough water for today.  This is the only way we can get more.  If you intend staying on this island, we must continue doing our duty.  Don't worry, at this pace there is no risk of injury."

Those within the wheel shifted as the drummer brought the wheel to a near stop.  Kurella slipped the noose over her neck and secured her tail to the other end.  The officer stopped her and pointed to a nearby hare.  The private joined the two slaves.  The drummer increased the beat until those inside marched at a brisk walk.

"I need you out here.  You know who we are and what the Long Patrol represents.  Tell these others we come as friends, not as new masters."

The officer followed Kurella as she gathered the off duty slaves.  She searched the crowd until she found the slave overseer.  After a hasty introduction, she suggested they work together keeping the wheels operating.  Kurella offered her firmest assurances that he had nothing to fear from the hare.  Together, the three entered the mess tent where they shared a meal. 

When the overseer raised the topic about work shifts halfway through the meal, Kurella decided she should leave them alone.  She saw no reason for her continual presence.  A heavy paw landed on her shoulder just as she stepped outside the tent.  She gazed into the eyes of a male badger who divided his attention between her and a thorough search of the plateau.  His smile and soothing voice confirmed their liberation.

"You're the first slave I've seen who isn't working, or sleeping.  I'm looking for a mouse named Kurella, and a squirrel named Firecrown.  Would you know if either of them is up here?"

"You're in luck, sir.  I'm Kurella.  I have no idea where they took Firecrown after we arrived."

The badger now gave her his full attention after he led her to one of the shaded sleeping platforms.  Kurella felt his eyes appraise her as she sat.  For the first time since her arrival, she realized she resembled something feral and not a civilized beast.  She first averted her eyes.  She knew she had no control over her appearance, and that gave her the courage to lift her eyes and hold her head high.  Kurella returned the badger's stare.

"I've been here maybe four or five months, and look at how much it changed me.  These unfortunates have known no other life.  It will take a long time for them to learn how to live as free beasts."  She shifted her gaze from the badger to the water wheels.  "Did you come all the way from Fiery Mountain just to find me?"

"My name is Bruno, and another badger inspired my quest.  You do know Tassel has been worried sick since you ran off to this island paradise?"  Bruno's paw patted her knee in a fatherly way.  His smile swept away all the memories of the terrible things that happened since her capture.

The absolute absurdity of his words snapped Kurella out of her introspective mood.  Then she remembered her pledge to another friend.  She pushed herself off the mat and asked if they could return to the beach.  The badger followed her to the trail as another squad of Long Patrol hares crested the plateau.

She recalled walking up the trail two nights back as a slave.  Kurella remembered fastening the noose about her neck and tail before mounting the wheel.  She wondered how many steps she took each shift, never moving but always afraid of falling.  Now, she walked down that same path, but as a freed creature. 

The sky appeared bluer, or was it her imagination?  Did the breeze feel more refreshing as she descended?  Had this trail ever been so easy to travel?  She smiled, her lips mouthing the answer.  Freedom gave her a new perspective of her surroundings.  She hugged Bruno as if he were her Badgermom, catching the boar badger unaware.  He returned her hug with a gentle squeeze.

As she crossed the beach, the aftermath of battle overwhelmed her senses.  Hares fed a funeral pyre with the bodies of vermin as if they were cords of wood.  The stench of burnt fur and flesh filled her nostrils.  Soldiers carried fallen warriors and those unfortunate slaves killed during the invasion with deep reverence, placing them in a series of graves.

Four hares lowered the body of the wildcat, Snarllyn, into a fresh grave.  They treated her with the same respect normally reserved for a fallen comrade.  Kurella approached the gravediggers as they performed this final service for her friend.

As one hare dropped the first shovelful of dirt, he spoke to the hare next to him.  "Those vermin archers nailed several of my friends when we stormed the beach.  Nobody could get past them.  I saw it, and still I don't believe it possible."

The second hare leaned on her shovel.  "Idiot, you forgot I was there too.  Our lieutenant almost ordered our retreat.  I cannot believe this wildcat charged a dozen vermin without a weapon.  I reached her first and held her paw as she died.  She appeared happy."

A third hare continued shoveling the dirt into the grave.  "Now that we know she was a slave, it doesn't seem so strange.  The thing that amazed me is what she yelled when she attacked those archers.  I swear I heard the word Redwall.  It's not possible, is it?"

"I wish she lived long enough for us to thank her," the fourth hare mused.  "She fought like a true warrior.  Without her gallantry, I believe none of these slaves would be free."

From behind the burial detail, Kurella's soft voice startled the reverent hares.  "She knew of Redwall, because I told her about it.  If she used that word as her battle cry, then you can be sure she was a good beast doing what needed to be done, regardless of the cost." 

Kurella remained standing by the grave as the four Long Patrol hares finished their assignment.  Bruno offered a comforting paw as the last shovelful landed.  They stood together as she offered a silent prayer for her departed friend.  She removed the noose she still wore, kissed it, and placed it on Snarllyn's final resting place.

"My duty to the dead is done; I must now attend to those living who need my services."  Kurella left the badger's side.  She retraced her steps to where the injured lingered.  She felt certain they would welcome another beast trained in the healing arts.

The bright sun shone in a cloudless sky.  A gentle breeze cooled all who wandered along the tropical shore.  But Kurella felt something different.  Within her mind the sky darkened.  The wind carried a winter's bite that chilled her to her very soul.

She stopped halfway between the living and the dead.  The tears she held back since this terrifying ordeal began trickled down her face.  Kurella felt Bruno's comforting paw holding her tight.  She recalled the reverence the Long Patrol showed a beast they considered vermin before today.  Snarllyn earned the respect due a brave warrior who died defending an honorable cause.  That thought made the tears fall even faster as she honored the memory of her friend.

[cairn destop]

Chapter Thirty-Nine
The Quest

While the hares offered guidance, they allowed the former slaves to organize themselves as they wished.  First, they needed to decide the fate of their former masters.  Some of the liberated slaves wanted them executed.  The most vocal provided graphic suggestions regarding the method.  An equally vocal minority wanted the two sides reconciled, the past forgotten as if it never happened.

Dusty tired of the debates after the first hour.  He wanted no part of the discussion.  He did not give an acorn if a former master faced the gallows, exile, or something between these two extremes.  Listening to the former slaves organize a governing body for the islands also held no interest. 

On the third day after their liberation, an interesting rumor circulated through the camp.  He dashed down to the docks, and approached a tall wolf guarding a ship's gangplank.  They exchanged words and Dusty raced back to the barracks.  There he found Bushface eagerly cleaning a hare's boot.  With a gentle touch, Dusty caught her attention.  He ordered her to leave everything.  Dusty grabbed his grooming kit and led Bushface back to the docks while positioning his hard hat atop his head.

The wolf he spoke with earlier stopped the wheaten-colored squirrel before he could pass.  "You understand we have too little sail for a long voyage.  If you come aboard, you may find yourself rowing to Fiery Mountain."

"You also said no chains, or whip.  Your captain will accept honest labor in exchange for our passage."

"Aye, I did say that, squirrel.  No chains will bind you, though you'll feel the whip if you disobey our captain, or any of his officers.  In that respect, you will be treated no different than anyone else sailing this vessel."  His eyes looked down at the grey squirrel standing by his side, who kept her muzzle pointed at the planked wharf.  "She works too.  Decks need scrubbing, and railings polished."

A hare poked his head over the sideboard.  He waved at Dusty before shouting down to the wolf.  "Would you mind ending your gabfest?  Captain said the tide is changing; he wants us underway within the hour."

Dusty, with Bushface clinging to his side, followed the wolf to the ship's main deck.  He joined a dozen hares as they stood along the railing watching the island recede.  As it faded from view, Dusty listened as all talked of home.  He felt a momentary regret at leaving his, but this island held no allure for him.  He would not miss it.

A paw tapped him on the shoulder.  When Dusty turned, he recognized the male hare that guarded them in the kitchen.  He glanced down at the plaster cast that encased his leg, uncertain what to say.  They again stared at the rolling sea, neither one bold enough to break the silence.  At last, the hare offered his name.  Dusty introduced himself, and his companion.  Once the island became a dirty smudge on the horizon, the hare leaned closer to him.

"Where you're headed, you'll need proper attire.  I know you see nothing wrong prancing about as you are, but it isn't civilized."

"And what would you have me do, Channar," inquired Dusty.  "All I own is a simple comb and brush I keep within this bag.  If I missed this ship, another will not come for three months.  I must leave while the weather in your homeland is warm.  Travel in winter holds no appeal, if the descriptions of that season are accurate."

The hare chuckled.  He asked the squirrel to follow him.  As Channar led the way below, the girl tagged along.  Her paw kept a tight grip on Dusty's hip as they followed a passageway aft.  As Dusty trailed the limping hare, the sound of drums grew louder. 

He shivered.  All his life his masters used the threat of rowing an oar as the ultimate punishment for any disobedience.  No one desired such a life, or sought it out.  Yet here he stood on a ship where his paws would soon experience that fate.  The hare beckoned him a third time, but his fears rooted him to the deck.  Only a supreme effort to conquer his fear allowed Dusty to follow the hare.

Channar held a door ajar until Dusty entered, but insisted the girl stay outside.  While the hare struggled with a heavy chest, Dusty noticed an opening in the wall behind him.  He poked his head through the hole where he could see a nervous Bushface leaning against the closed door.  He had no opportunity to soothe the girl's anxiety as Channar's voice drew Dusty's attention.

"Before we left Fiery Mountain, the captain stocked the ship with some replacement garments.  Figured anyone liberated might need them.  When we found out none of the slaves wore clothing, he kept this secret.  Our captain didn't have enough for everyone, and he did not intend outfitting some, while leaving the rest without.  Figured that might cause even more problems.  There should be something here that would fit a bloke like you."

The hare rummaged through the open chest.  Sometimes Channar lifted his head over the lid, staring at Dusty before he bent down again.  Whenever he disappeared beneath the open lid, Dusty could hear the hare muttering.  Channar circled the chest and held out a pair of trousers for Dusty's inspection.

His fingers rubbed the dark blue fabric.  Its course feel appealed to him as did the color.  Unsure what he should do next, he just held it.  The hare mimicked the act of putting the pants on, and Dusty copied his motions.  Before stepping back to inspect the squirrel, the hare helped him string his long tail through the rear vent.  Dusty felt strange having fabric rubbing his fur, but did not find the garments too restrictive.  Judging by the smile the hare gave him, the fit appealed to him as well.

"Methinks there is time enough for learning how to wear a shirt, or fasten a sandal."  The hare shook his head.  "Thought I stopped teaching such things when my youngest son turned three.  Let me find one more pair, since you'll need to change them if one becomes torn or dirty."

Something made a loud thud outside the room, and Dusty leaned out what would pass as a window if it faced the exterior.  Three doe hares crowded Bushface until her back pressed against the door.  One hare leaned down close to the grey squirrel, her paw pushing the squirrel's tail to one side.

"She's adorable, even if she isn't a hare," the doe cooed.  "Just about the same age as mine back home if I had to guess."

"A real cutie," agreed the second doe as she reached out to pet a frightened Bushface.  "I could squeeze her all day."

When Dusty stuck his head out the window, the third hare reacted to the movement.  "I see the story about us having a pair of former slaves aboard is true.  You must be the big brother that wolf told us about.  I'm glad somebody is caring for your needs as well, sir."

The second hare gave Dusty a quick glance before she started petting Bushface.  "This one must be his sister.  Hard believing them related since he is such a light shade of brown and she's a dark shade of grey."

The first hare laughed.  "With my silvery pelt, you wouldn't think me related to my father.  Colors have ways of blending that are sometimes hard to predict."  As she stroked Bushface's arm, she glanced at her two companions.  "Are you does thinking what I'm thinking?"

Each hare stared at Bushface like a hungry snake; they moved closer.  Dusty pleaded for them to leave her alone, but they crowded the small squirrel even more.  Bushface let out a frightened wail.  Dusty fumbled with the door latch as he struggled with the unfamiliar device.  The door opened. 

Halfway down the passageway, Bushface hung above the deck. One hare held her left arm, and a second had a firm grip on the right.  The third led her companions towards the bow.  With her feet never touching the deck, the mute squirrel could do nothing.  Her wide-eyed expression spurred Dusty as he gave chase. 

He lost sight of them when they made a turn.  As he reached the cross hallway, all three hares rushed into a room carrying a struggling Bushface.  They closed the door, leaving Dusty outside.  A feeling of dread washed over him.  His paws found the door secured from the inside and with no room for a charge, too firm to break.  He pressed his ear to the door.

One female yelped.  "She bit me.  Watch out, she's making for the porthole."

"Not to worry, I got it closed.  She'll not escape," another female yelled.

"Come on girls, how hard can it be controlling one toddler squirrel?"  The third female's voice sounded like an irate master.  Back home such a voice preceded the crack of a whip, which had Dusty wondering if the girl might be in real danger.

A rhythmic thump reminded Dusty that Channar moved at a slower pace due to his cast.  When the male hare reached Dusty, Channar motioned him away from the door.  He looked at the smiling hare, not sure what to do next.  A loud squeal sounded like a terrified Bushface did not help, as he envisioned dire things happening in the room.  He pounded on the door, his voice pleading for the girl's safe return. 

Channar leaned against the bulkhead.  "Those ladies mean no harm.  Let me give you a word of advice from one who has spent the last ten years living with a strong-willed female."  The hare's smile made Dusty curious, but his eyes darted to the door every time he heard an unidentifiable sound.  "You may rule outside your hutch, but inside, the lady commands."

"So what do I do now?  I'll wear the deck into sawdust waiting for them to come out."

Channar's face took on the same serious expression he wore when they first met topside.  "I saw fear in your eyes when we went aft.  I don't know what scares you so much, but you have to face your demon alone.  I suggest you do that while the ladies tend to your sister."

The hare turned to the nearest stairway.  Each time the plaster-encased foot hit the deck, it made a heavy thud.  Without giving Dusty a second look, he climbed the steps.  In the ensuing quiet, the drums challenged him.  He approached the stern until he came to a stairway.  His eyes closed as he listened to the beat.  When he opened them, he licked his lips as he tried calming his nerves.  He slid down the stairway railing to the rowing deck.

When he turned towards the bow, he found himself standing behind an otter drummer.  His paws rose and fell at a steady pace, with each fall heightening his panic.  Beyond the otter, a collection of woodlanders stretched out on both sides of the ship.  They sat on benches that faced him.  No guards patrolled the aisle between port and starboard rowers.  Dusty found it impossible to move.

He forced one foot forward.  He repeated the motion.  With his third step, Dusty moved beyond the otter drummer.  He stepped down the passageway between the two sides of rowers.  He studied the faces of those he passed.  They glanced his way, but then focused on the otter.  When Dusty reached the bow, he turned.  Most wore no shirt and not one had a mark on their back.  As he moved towards the stern, his eyes searched for chains, but found none.

He stopped three rows away from the drummer, too paralyzed with fear to advance any closer.  The nearest two woodlanders moved in time with the sound that scared him to his very core.  He fought the sudden urge to run while his heart thumped within his chest louder than the drum. 

Dusty asked the two crew beasts sitting closest to him to stop rowing, telling them he wanted to replace the hedgehog sitting by the aisle.  They complied, and the hedgehog patted the squirrel's shoulder as he left the bench.  Dusty stared at the empty spot.  He sat.  As he reached for the oar, his paws trembled.  Twice he tried, and twice his paws refused to close around the shaft. 

The other beast, a russet-colored male squirrel no older than him, remained silent as he watched.  Dusty closed his eyes, and when he opened them, his paws held the oar.  The male squirrel sitting next to him spoke softly.  Together they slid the oar outward.  They fell into the same rhythm as those sitting one row in front.  As they pulled the oar, Dusty waited for a chain to bind him, or a whip to strike.  His mind could not let go of his terror as he labored with the others.

Dusty pulled on the oar as the drumbeat commanded.  He concentrated on the drummer until a series of light chuckles washed over the rowers behind them.  Dusty's frightened mind tried grasping what the others found humorous in this living nightmare.  He stole a look down the aisle, expecting his worse fears would come to life.

When the former slave turned towards his partner, he saw what caused the laughter.  The diminutive figure of Bushface climbed onto the bench between the two rowers.  She placed her paws on the oar and mimicked his motions.  Dusty smiled at the girl in her new green dress, and she hid her face with her tail.  His misgivings evaporated when he heard her giggle.

All three squirrels continued rowing until the drummer gave the order to ship oars.  The sudden sideway shift of the oar knocked Bushface off her feet.  Dusty slammed his paw onto the squealing girl's back saving her from a hard spill onto the deck.  Bushface lay pinned across his knees.

From the row behind him, a hare leaned forward.  He tapped Dusty on the shoulder, his voice loud enough that all could hear.  "I say, no need spanking that tyke.  She's pulling her weight." 

Everyone laughed at the joke.  With a gentle touch, Dusty stood the girl upright on the bench.  He smoothed her dress while telling her how nice she looked.  His partner on the oar added his own compliments, which caused the girl to giggle while swiveling her hips.   

"Where will you and your sister go now that you're free," he inquired.

Dusty hesitated, wondering how these strangers would perceive his words.  "Six weeks ago, we did not even know the other existed.  Today, we are more than friends, and less than blood.  I cannot explain it any better than that.  As to where we will go, we seek something I fear doesn't exist, except in legends.  Have any of you heard tales of a place called Redwall Abbey?"

Silence followed his question.  Dusty tried reading their expressions, wondering if they considered him a fool for believing in such things.  Behind him, the hare laughed.  Then the woodlanders around him joined in until their merriment rippled outward.  Soon every beast on the deck seemed to be enjoying a joke at his expense.  The russet squirrel patted his leg while the others moved to the stairways.

"Hold both your paws up and splay all your fingers.  Before that many days have passed, you will be gazing upon Redwall Abbey."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Forty
Hilltop

Bruno awoke from a dreamless sleep.  With a flick of his paw, he shifted the flap of his tent to the side.  For a moment, he imagined this night sky as the same one over his homeland.  The constellations matched, the same moon hung in the heavens, yet this place felt different.  Where home held a nostalgic appeal, his present destination offered the prospect of something better.  Such pleasant thoughts chased sleep away.

He stepped outside and took a deep breath, enjoying the warmth of a late autumn night.  On the other side of the fire, their lone sentry now had a companion.  He understood their kinship, both warriors dedicated to their duty.  Bruno remembered how Major Eytomin entertained everyone last night with his stories.  He spoke of bravery without touching the fear battles foster.  For him, his mind fixated on the innocents that died.

He lifted the flap of the tent next to his.  One look at the mussed bedding showed Kurella had endured another restless night.  He remembered their voyage homeward.  The female mouse had terrible nightmares, and then spent the rest of that night pacing the upper deck until she fell into an exhausted sleep.  He tried talking to her, but she remained unreachable.

Bruno thought Kurella had found her sounding board with the warrior mouse, Jazzin.  They greeted each other like long lost friends when she first reached port.  The two spent that first night in the common room of an inn at the base of Fiery Mountain recalling their escapades at the Abbey until the innkeeper chased them back to their rooms.  Though they spoke of the distant past, they avoided the events since her capture.  Even Bruno could see that whatever sparks existed, her time in slavery had extinguished them.

He let the tent flap fall back into place as he glanced a second time in the direction of their sentries.  Jazzin stood next to the Long Patrol hare as they talked.  He spotted Kurella sitting near the feet of Redwall's champion warrior.

During their trip home, Jazzin confided to him that the girl had erected a wall he could not breach.  Though both shared the same number of years, she could not confide with her male companion about the time since Plintar.  Jazzin voiced his frustration at her stubborn refusal.  Major Eytomin recommended patience; give her time since the horrors of her captivity still weighed heavy on her mind.  Bruno could offer no better counsel.

A light flared to life within a neighboring tent.  Bruno meandered closer and lifted the flap.  The older of the two squirrels sat cross-legged under the lantern.  Dusty's brush swept the grey fur of the smaller squirrel before him.  Her small paw rubbed her eyes even as she tried suppressing a sleepy yawn.  Not wishing to disturb the girl's grooming, Bruno allowed the tent flap to fall back in place. 

He grinned at the memory of what happened yesterday morning when Dusty's growls became quite audible to those passing his tent.  The older squirrel found his footwear had a mind of its own and nothing he did could get the series of straps fastened in proper order.  It took the guidance of his younger companion to accomplish the task.  Something the elders teased Dusty about all day, much to the squirrel's chagrin.

Bruno found the older squirrel almost as anxious as him to reach Redwall.  Dusty chaffed at each delay after his ship docked.  The more he learned about the Abbey from those he met at the inn, the more impatient he grew.  Once they departed Fiery Mountain, Bruno assured him they were moving as fast as they could.  He needed to do no more than point to his grey companion when the sun reached its zenith.  Either Bruno or Dusty had to carry the sleeping squirrel exhausted by her long morning trek.

He stepped around the campfire, following the scent of fresh brewed tea.  Bruno helped himself to a steaming mug as everyone talked of home and any plans for the future.  When they heard a twig snap, all turned as one.  Dusty walked forward until he found an open space next to the fire.  He poured another mug while Bushface joined him.  The hare offered the mute girl a cooler cup.  She executed a deep bow before accepting it, which caused the hare major to laugh.

"A well behaved child," Major Eytomin said, "but I do wish she would stop acting like I'm her bloody master."

The brown squirrel stroked the girl's back.  From where Bruno sat, the girl's expression suggested she wanted to know if she did the right thing.  Dusty smiled.  The girl's face beamed with pride as she sat closer to him.  Bushface buried her muzzle in the mug she held.

Dusty kept rubbing one of the girl's ears as he turned to the major.  "I too find it hard not bowing to those I see as my superiors.  It is something beaten into us at an early age."  Dusty noticed how his inadvertent choice of wording disturbed the hare. 

Bruno didn't give the hare any chance to respond.  "Do you think we will reach the Abbey today?"

Major Eytomin threw the dregs of his cup into the fire where it hissed.  "These hills will take another three or four hours to cross.  An hour after that, we'll be at the gates.  So we should be there just after lunch but well before dinner, dependent on how many times we need to rest."

Bruno rubbed his chin.  "I'm thinking the others will be just as antsy to reach home as our young squirrel here.  What say we rouse the others and get an early start?  Maybe we can reach our destination before the sun gets too high."

Everybody bustled about the campsite as each beast prepared for departure.  When word spread that they would reach the Abbey later today, each camper moved faster.  As the sun peaked over the horizon, tents fell.  In rapid order, everyone awaited the Major's signal to move out. 

The sun passed its highest point, and the hills proved formidable to the weary travelers.  As they crested the next hilltop, all pointed as one to a building at the far edge of the forest.  Its reddish hue stood out; a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of an autumn forest and the deep green of cultivated fields.  Those traveling with Bruno cheered, knowing their long journey would soon end. 

Bushface stood beside Dusty.  She drew nearer, her expression displaying both anticipation and wonderment.  Bruno listened to the brown squirrel speak of Redwall as if he never really believed it existed until this moment. 

To Bruno, the abbey became the reality of a witch's prophecy.  He understood Dusty's joy since the squirrel displayed the same anticipation he experienced the first time he beheld Redwall Abbey.  Even the little one seemed energized by the prospect of visiting such a fabled place.

An abbey lookout must have seen them while they followed the road.  By the time they passed through the last bit of forest, bells tolled a merry series of notes.  Along the walls, a multitude of creatures waved colorful flags of every hue, shouting to friends that traveled with them.  Those working the fields stopped to clap and cheer as the travelers crossed the wooden bridge.  Many exchanged greetings with friends as they approached the wide opened gate.

A crowd surged out of the Abbey, unwilling to wait any longer.  The two hare teens Bruno met on his first day, led the other residents as they rushed out the gate and embraced their father.  Major Eytomin tried questioning them about their lack of correspondence, but the teens preferred learning more about their father's exploits.

Bruno smiled as Bushface clung to Dusty, her eyes drinking in the menagerie of woodlanders.  Some of the Abbey dibbuns ran through the crowd, drawing her attention to their antics.  Bushface kept pulling on Dusty's arm and pointing until Dusty finally swept her off her feet and sat her upon his shoulder.  From her high perch, she swiveled her head in an effort to take in everything at once.

Kurella took a position between him and her friend, Jazzin.  While the crowd swirled about them, a figure dressed in a green habit approached.  He maintained a dignified pace until he stood before the three of them.  Unlike the riotous voices around them, the father abbot spoke just loud enough that the three could hear him.

"So good seeing your quest proved successful, Bruno.  I know a certain lady badger will be most enthused at Kurella's return."  Father Hughnaught gave the mouse a fatherly kiss on her brow.  "As for you, young lady, there will be a special festival held in your honor tonight.  And talk about good fortune, we have a band of entertainers visiting us.  I'm sure I can convince them to give a repeat performance this evening."

Jazzin spoke when the mouse said nothing.  "Our mission is over.  I'm proud to report the slave auction is no more.  Lord Brisson said it might be another year before all of those stolen from their homes return, but it will happen.  It will just take time unraveling the records and tracking them down."

"And what of those who betrayed their fellow woodlanders for gold?" the father abbot asked.

"They will receive the justice due them," Bruno said.  "Count Delupo had a certain bartender and mouse flogged in public before he exiled them for not reporting such crimes.  As to the mastermind behind the spy ring, she fled the same day she received a letter from her sister, Zoranna.  The Count put his best bounty hunter on her trail.  For all I know, she might already be in custody."  Bruno's smile changed to a more serious expression.  "Her final fate might fit the crime, but harsh doesn't come close to describing what awaits Madame Sultakka."

One couple drew Bruno's attention.  He figured they had to be mates as neither strayed more than a step from the other.  Where everyone within the crowd showed a happy face, these two had a more frantic appearance.  They grabbed each traveler by the wrist, and asked one question.  With each creature that shook their head, their actions reflected a growing sense of anxiety.

At last, the couple made their way to their small group.  Though Bruno did not know their names, he saw the bandannas that identified them as one of the many members of the Pine Tar tribe, residing within the Abbey.  When they spotted Kurella, they ignored the father abbot and pushed their way closer until they confronted her.  The female grabbed the mouse's paw.

"You were captured with our son.  What can you tell us about him?"

Kurella tried prying her paw loose without success.  The female squirrel continued to squeeze the mouse's arm as she awaited the Kurella's response.  "We were together until we reached the island of Vratadoe.  I never saw him after that first day."

The squirrel's voice became even more frantic.  "But you're here.  That means the slaves are free.  Where is our son?  Why didn't he come home?  Tell us."

Bruno placed his paw on the female squirrel's shoulder.  "When we left those islands, everything was in shambles, the former slaves disorganized.  Your son might still be there, unaccounted for in the confusion of our invasion.  Since most of the fleet remained behind in case the vermin tried recapturing the islands, we had limited space for our return voyage.  He might have chosen to stay for a time to help those former slaves."

The female released Kurella as she nodded vigorously.  "Yes, that must be it.  Our son always did feel the call of duty.  He wouldn't come home if he thought he could help others.  The next ship, he'll return on the next ship."

Her companion guided his mate towards the open gates while she kept repeating her expectation that her son would return with the next ship.  They made their way through the crowd at a slow pace, their sad faces a counterpoint to all the merriment surrounding them.  Bruno pointed back at the couple as they entered the shady gateway. The father abbot remained silent until the two squirrels entered the Abbey. 

"The distraught female is Blossombranch, her mate is Flashtop.  No doubt, seeing Kurella free has them worried about their son, Firecrown.  I'll make sure those two attend tonight's festivities.  They need to know we haven't abandoned hope for their son's safe arrival."

A paw tapped Bruno's arm.  He turned.  The two young moles he escorted to the Abbey stood next to him.  He knelt so he could face the two former slaves at their eye level.  The girl held onto the paw of her brother as if she feared the crowd might spirit him beyond her reach.  Though she smiled, she appeared ill at ease around so many strangers.

"Sir, you said we would find a new home here with others our age.  Can we see this place?  If it pleases you to do so now."  Her muzzle dipped towards the ground as her eyes focused on Bruno's feet.

Bruno chuckled.  His paw mussed the girl's fur.  "You'll have to excuse us, Father Abbot.  I found these two on the same island as Kurella.  Since they have no elders to care for them, I brought them with me.  I'm wasting daylight standing here when I should be introducing them to Tassel."

Dusty gave a slight bow, cautious about spilling his younger companion from her perch.  "You'll have to excuse us as well.  Bruno tells me, we too will be under Tassel's care, so it would be best if we went with him."

He noticed how the three youngest members gawked at the marvels within the abbey as he led them to the main building.  As they drew closer, he realized something disturbed Dusty.  Instead of trying to drink in the sights, the older squirrel acted as if he saw nothing.  Bruno wondered what caused the sudden change.

Dusty placed Bushface on the top step before entering the building.  "I have a feeling tonight's festivities are going to be memorable in more ways than expected, and things here will never be the same."

[cairn destop]

Chapter Forty-One
Festivities

Elders carried tables from Cavern Hole to the wide courtyard in front of the main building.  There they grunted and groaned as others directed their efforts.  Those not involved in moving furniture helped the visiting entertainers erect stages.  Ladies sat in circles weaving the many flowers the younger residents gathered into centerpieces for the tables.  Every resident Bruno passed pursued an activity.

As one of the honored guests, Bruno found himself chased off every chore.  His efforts at assisting the residents received a gentle rebuff until he retreated to the top of the outer wall.  From his high perch, the aligned tables formed a half circle.  In the middle of the wide space before these tables, the residents built a low-walled hearth stacked with firewood.  Beyond that, the main table sat on a raised platform. 

By the time shadows filled the stone courtyard, the area in front of the main building offered enough seating for all the residents.  Colorful flags and bright lamps hung over the tables like miniature fireflies.  The musicians tuned various instruments, their notes masking the many voices.  Actors made last minute changes as they prepared for the night's entertainment.

Sandals scraping across the stone battlement heralded the arrival of another beast.  After a quick check behind him, Bruno continued watching the preparations.  Tassel strolled over to the low wall and joined him.  They observed the workers for several moments before she spoke.

"Our father abbot asked me to make sure you wear your finest.  Since you are the one who found our future lady healer, he gave you the seat next to Kurella."

"Speaking of our guest of honor, how is she," he inquired.

Tassel grunted.  "We spent this entire afternoon discussing what happened.  My past life gives me insight others don't have; it helped.  I do believe her far too sensitive a beast; she wasn't ready to handle such open displays of cruelty.  Our future healer will need time to heal herself."

"How are your newest additions?"

Bruno stole a quick glance at Tassel, but she did not look at him.  Her muzzle kept pointing at the activity within the courtyard.  She remained quiet.  Just as he decided to repeat his question, she responded.

"This festival is providential.  Those two young moles feel so enthralled by the idea of a party they can attend as guest that neither one has asked why I wear a mask.  They still think of themselves as slaves, but I'm sure those two will adjust to freedom over time."

"And what of Dusty and his companion?"

"Dusty shows the maturity of an elder.  What he needs is a task worthy of that title.  I will discuss that with the Father Abbot tomorrow.  As to Bushface, she will be a challenge, but I'm up to it."

Bruno gave the masked badger a slight head bob before he departed.  A quick run to his room, and in a matter of moments, he felt ready to face the crowd.  As he made his final visual inspection, one of the Abbey's residents knocked on his door.  Together, they strolled over to the main building where he joined the other guests who would share the main table.

After a series of instructions from a female vole, Bruno stood in line.  The elder kept the door open just wide enough that she could see outside, while preventing anyone from slipping past her.  At last, she tapped the Father Abbot's shoulder and the old woodchuck exited the building dressed in his best green habit.  Bruno listened to the fanfare and the loud applause from the gathered residents.

In quick order, the female vole released the others.  Major Eytomin marched out in his finest dress uniform.  Darlow followed a few seconds later attired in a green dress that matched her father's formal wear.  Kurella needed a firm push out the door, and judging by the vole's hissing, dawdled too long.  She then approached Bruno.

"You are to take the next open seat on the platform.  Jazzin will follow you once you reach the table.  Remain standing until the Father Abbot tells everyone to sit."

She no sooner finished her instructions than she opened the door, her eyes daring him to hesitate.  Bruno knew better than to fight a determined female, regardless of their species.  He stepped outside.  The father abbot's secretary guided him to his seat while another beast announced his name.  Like the other honored guests, his arrival came with a musical introduction, and the applause of the gathered residents.

Once the head table's guests sat, the kitchen staff relayed food to the tables.  Music floated over the crowd as musicians played a series of merry tunes.  Laughter from the many tables sometimes overwhelmed the melodies as everyone got into the festive mood.  As the first course ended, Father Hughnaught rose.  He waited while the crowd shifted from boisterous to a respectful silence.

"Nine months ago, slavers raided villages all along the western region.  Despite the best efforts of the Long Patrol, they struck where, and when, they pleased.  Five months ago, they attacked the village of Plintar, capturing our apprentice healer, Kurella.  Tonight's festivities celebrate her safe return."

When the cheering stopped, the Father Abbot continued.  "It grieves me that her return came at such a high price.  We lost many brave comrades in this campaign, but we succeeded.  The raiders died within our walls, the vermin ship sails no more, and those enslaved are free."

The Father Abbot turned towards Major Eytomin.  The hare rose after the woodchuck took his seat.  The hare waited.  The silence had the crowd leaning forward in anticipation.  With a strong voice, he spoke.  His written speech remained unread next to his mug.

"We owe our success to one brave lady who paid the ultimate price.  Thanks to her, we learned about an espionage ring within our lands that assisted the vermin for gold.  That girl provided information about future raids, which safeguarded others.  Without her help, The Red Sharkeye would still be sailing unimpeded, and the slave auctions would continue uninterrupted."

Major Eytomin hesitated; his muzzle ceased its sweep of the assembled beasts.  The hare took a deep breath while staring at his untouched mug.  He again faced the crowd, but his eyes remained focused on one side of his audience.

"To Foremole, and his wife Loamripper, I have been asked to extend the King's deepest condolences for your loss.  Terranoir was a true hero.  Your daughter will be forever remembered for her bravery."

When the major again took his seat, Kurella stood.  She looked around the assembled multitude and told them of a slave who fought and died for freedom shouting the word Redwall.  She wiped a stray tear off her muzzle.  Though others called her vermin, Kurella honored her friend by speaking the name Snarllyn with the same reverence reserved for any fallen warrior.  The crowd maintained a respectful silence until their guest of honor returned to her seat.

After a short pause, Jazzin spoke of a slave he met in battle.  Though bound in chains, she inspired others to fight for their freedom.  He told the story of one female who fought against impossible odds for the benefit of others.  Jazzin's voice cracked when he came to the part where the vole thought him the legendary warrior, Martin.

"With your kind permission, Father Abbot, I would like the woodworker's shop to be renamed in her honor.  From this day forward, we shall know it as Splinters Haven.  May her name be inscribed as one that shall forever be honored, whenever we recall Redwall's fallen heroes."

A thunderous applause punctuated his request.  Jazzin smiled.  From his seat, Bruno heard the warrior mouse toast the memory of his father and Splinters.  Like the mouse, he hoped both could find eternal rest with kindred spirits within Dark Forest.

The entertainers started one of their shows as soon as Redwall's champion warrior took his seat.  Dibbuns and elders alike sat transfixed as the actors performed magic tricks.  The performers declared a short intermission and the chef announced another round of culinary delights.  Every beast applauded.

As the servers finished distributing the next course, Dusty rose from the table where Tassel sat.  Dressed in a dark red outfit, the squirrel approached the open space.  Dusty stepped forward like a visiting dignitary with every strand of his wheaten fur displaying an impeccable sheen.  Standing before the head table, he gave a deep bow as he awaited permission to speak.

Bruno wondered what would cause such a serious expression on one who seemed so jovial during his trip.  Dusty's solemn demeanor crumbled when another squirrel squirmed out of Tassel's arms.  Bushface rushed to Dusty's side, and without prompting, knelt facing the head table.  With her tail tucked, she laid there shivering as if whatever judgment the father abbot passed on Dusty would also affect her.

The father abbot stood, asking for quiet as one of their guests wished to speak.  Residents focused their eyes on the brown squirrel as he lifted the small child off the ground.  From his seat, Bruno could just make out Dusty's words as he spoke to his young companion while everyone waited.

"This isn't something you must do, Bushface.  What I say could be taken wrong, I would not want you hurt because of me."

Bushface held out her paws and waited until Dusty gave her a gentle hug.  When he stood, the older squirrel's eyes scanned the crowd that had grown so quiet.  One look at his small companion, and Dusty assumed the pose of a soldier at parade rest.  His voice no longer quivered. 

"I speak to those who are the parents of Firecrown.  Since his arrival at the slave camp, we have been companions.  Perhaps we were even friends; though that is something I will never know.  What I do know is that I called your son a fraud.  Every time he spoke of a place where all lived in peace, where all shared the work, and where there was time for play, I knew he lied.

"Firecrown spoke of values I never believed anyone possessed in the real world.  He spoke of kindness, but I knew others would take advantage of anyone so foolish.  He spoke of generosity, but others would steal all that you have, if given the chance.  He spoke of hope, but I could not envision anything better than a life of slavery.  He spoke of love, and I laughed at the idea of one creature caring for another without the expectation of gain."

Dusty paused.  An eerie quiet grew as the squirrel faced the crowd.  Bushface leaned against his hip.  He reached down, rubbing her ear.  The older squirrel took a deep breath before he continued.

"Firecrown did not just say those words.  He lived them.  If another became sick or injured, he did their job as well as his.  When our masters denied somebody food he gave whatever he had to them, even when it meant going hungry.  He told us tales of adventure, and they gave us much pleasure.  Be proud of your son, for he never surrendered his spirit to our masters.

"Six weeks before our rescue, disaster struck our mine.  A pickaxe must have loosened a plug, and when removed, the tunnels flooded.  The rushing water swept support beams away and sections of the mine collapsed.  Firecrown could have saved himself at any time by climbing the main shaft up to the next level.  Instead, he remained behind helping others towards safety.  By the time the mine tunnel disintegrated, he had saved at least ten others from certain death.  It is my saddest duty to inform you that he could not save himself.  Firecrown drowned deep within the lightless mines.

"Because of his example, I challenged my masters to protect this little one.  From Firecrown, I learned such noble virtues exist.  Now I ... no, now we beseech you, the parents of Firecrown.  Accept us as your own.  Teach us as you taught your son.  In this way, we can both honor his memory, and give his brave sacrifice true meaning."

From a back table that seemed so distant from the festive mood of the others, two creatures stirred.  The two distraught squirrels Bruno met earlier, stood.  The female leaned on her husband's arm.  They stopped a few paces past the table.  The husband patted his mate's arm as they stood together.  Her soft crying remained audible to Bruno.

The male's voice carried such sadness that every beast felt his pain.  "We always held out hope, even after Kurella's return, but that hope is now gone forever.  You know our son's fate.  That knowledge, as terrible as it is, allows us closure.  Though your words have broken our hearts, we are grateful.  We can move on with our lives."

Flashtop held onto his wife's paw, as he looked deep into her weepy eyes.  He whispered something first and she replied before the male squirrel continued.  "Join us at our table, both of you.  Let us begin a new life together in memory of a beloved son, and a steadfast friend."

Blossombranch chimed in; her voice sounded so gentle though all knew her heart must ached from the loss of her only son.  "Both of you will find my mate a loving father, and I shall be a devoted momma."

Dusty took a step towards the adult squirrels.  A high-pitched wail pierced what had been a quiet night.  Even the crickets ceased their chirping. 

"Momma!" 

Back where Dusty stood when he spoke of Firecrown, his young companion remained.  Bushface's expression exhibited a private terror while she kept screaming that one word.  Her eyes focused on the fire as if she saw something within the flames no other beast could see, or fathom.

Blossombranch stepped further into the open space.  She beckoned the small child with her softest voice as she called, "Momma's here." 

Firelight reflected off the tear tracks that cascaded down the side of the young squirrel's face.  Each time Blossombranch called, the girl's eyes grew wider.  A third time the older female beckoned. 

Bushface looked away from the fire, her head turning in every direction.  She spun in place, her frantic eyes searching.  Again, the elder called.  The young squirrel charged around the fire until she saw the kneeling female, paws outstretched.  She did not stop until she was in the embrace of the older female.  Both parents tried to comfort the trembling girl by kissing her forehead and holding her close.  Bushface buried her muzzle deep within the folds of Blossombranch's dress.

Dusty approached, his paw reaching out to the child he always thought mute.  He hesitated, afraid to disturb Blossombranch as she held the bawling dibbun.  Both elders looked at Dusty who stood transfixed, uncertain what he should do.  Flashtop reached out to Dusty, drawing him into the embrace of his mate.  Together, the four became one.

[cairn destop]

Chapter Forty-Two
New Families

Loamripper placed her paw atop her husband's.  "I've changed my mind.  I'll not wait until morning.  That filthy beast will not have them for even a single night."

Foremole tried soothing his irate mate.  "If the Father Abbot said he would talk to her on our behalf, I'm sure it's as good as done.  She cannot go against his orders, regardless of how she feels about us."

She stood, her eyes pleading with her mate.  Foremole joined her.  Husband and wife circled the other tables.  She held onto the paw of her mate as they moved past the other celebrants who sat spellbound by a minstrel singing a song about another gallant quest from long ago.  As they walked, Foremole realized how nervous his mate must feel since she kept squeezing his paw for reassurance.

At last, they reached their objective.  Both moles stood near the badgermom's table, paw in paw.  The couple moved closer.  When Tassel turned in their direction, the youngsters sitting at the table also faced them.   Loamripper ignored everyone as she approached the two young moles who sat next to the masked badger.  The female mole dropped to one knee as she gazed into their eyes.

"My husband and I planned on making our intentions known to you tomorrow, but now seems a more fitting time.  We are offering you a new home with us as your parents.  This doesn't mean we have forgotten our beloved child, Terranoir.  What it does mean is that we want to commemorate her memory by offering the two of you what she had."

Before the dibbun moles could respond, Badgermom Tassel commented.  "She speaks the truth children.  When you entered Redwall this afternoon, Foremole and Loamripper asked about your adoption."

Loamripper's voice registered a bit deeper than usual.  "Would you oppose us badger?"

"Oppose you," Tassel said with a startled voice.  "Adoption by a loving couple of their species is something I desire for every child under my care.  Life with parents devoted to their welfare is what any child deserves.  Their happiness is my highest priority."

The dibbuns shifted their eyes from Tassel to the adult moles.  The boy and the girl appeared a bit confused as they pondered the idea of parents versus guardian.  When neither made an immediate response, Loamripper stood, and took a step back.  She moved so close to him that they touched.  With every second that passed, Foremole felt her body shiver and suspected it had nothing to do with the chilled night air.  She gripped his paw as they waited for the two youngsters to decide.

The boy spoke first, his voice quivering.  He tried to make eye contact with either elder, but then dipped his head. 

"Why do you ask me?  I am but six autumns old, and shall be seven with the next full moon.  As slaves, nobody asked, they ordered.  Is it not the same here?"

His sister chimed in.  Though she tried to hold her head higher than her brother did, Foremole heard the same tremor in her voice.  The wind carried her scent, which betrayed the depths of her fear. 

"I am no older, and no wiser.  How am I to choose what is best?"

Loamripper answered the children, keeping her voice low, but friendly.  "We could make this change in your life without your consent.  Such is the power of elders over dibbuns.  Join us and learn the values our daughter believed worth her life.  Help us move on from a tragedy no parent should ever suffer."

The two youngsters rose almost as one.  They knelt before the two older moles and crossed their wrists before them.  Holding their arms towards Foremole and Loamripper, they offered themselves as willing slaves, swearing their unconditional obedience.  They continued holding out their crossed arms while pressing their heads to the ground before the two adult moles.

He sensed his rage growing stronger while his mind replayed their actions.  He balled his fist; he shook more than his mate did a few seconds earlier.  He recoiled.  Foremole latched onto his wife's arm with such a tight grip that Loamripper gasped.

The two dibbuns waited, but he did not give them an immediate reply.  Brother and sister raised their muzzles off the dirt and glanced at the elders.  Each of them kept their ears back and their tails tucked.  Foremole maintained a low voice, but he could not hide his anger.

"My wife and I seek two children that will see us as loving parents, not as their masters.  Perhaps we were wrong to make such an offer."

The sister's voice froze both adults.  She cried out their names.  Foremole refused to acknowledge her plea.  He tried steering his wife back to their table, but she would not move. 

Loamripper interposed her body between him and the dibbuns that still awaited some reply.  She kept her voice so low that he had to bring his head closer to hers.

"Sodroof, open your heart.  Your ears deceive you."

"You haven't used my given name since I became Foremole."

"It wasn't just your skills at building that earned you that title.  Back then, you had a heart that listened.  Look at those two youngsters.  They need us, now, more than ever."

Though the girl raised her head off the ground, she did not gaze at either elder.  Foremole could hear her whimper as she called them by name.

"Please don't leave us.  We don't understand the proper way to accept your offer, so we did it the way we learned back home.  Tell us what we must do if we are to become your property."

His fury grew even stronger, despite the honesty of the girl's plea.  He leaned closer to his wife so the two children could not hear his words.  "They have no idea how insulting their words are to me.  She still thinks we want them as our slaves." 

"The moon has not gone full cycle since they became free, and yet you expect them to understand the difference between a master, and a parent?  They sense your anger and don't know why.  When we lost our daughter, you blamed yourself.  Please don't take it out on two innocent children."

He gazed past his mate.  He saw two children who still knelt before them.  Their eyes showed the sincerity behind their confusion.  For the briefest moment, he saw tears flowing down their muzzles.  His anger waned.

"Perhaps I expect too much from dibbuns so young."  Foremole leaned closer to his mate.  "I have forgotten their past in my zeal to have a family once more.  They did nothing wrong.  Will they forgive me?"

Loamripper patted his arm as she faced the two youngsters.  She used her softest voice while beckoning the two closer.  "Come to us of your own free will.  Greet us as any child would a beloved elder."

The two youths stood up and trotted over to them.  They hesitated just beyond Foremole's reach.  They drew nearer, and gave him a timorous hug.  When they hugged him, it filled him with such joy.  He dropped to his knees, embracing the youngsters.  One look at his mate and he knew she too experienced the kind of happiness they thought forever lost when they buried their daughter.

He took his wife's paw as they returned to their table.  Behind him, the two children followed.  They stood erect, their muzzles pointed at the ground.  Each kept their paws crossed at their wrist.  Two obedient slaves followed their masters.  Once again, Foremole's felt his rage grow.  His wife's words came back to him, and his anger disappeared.

* * *


While Bruno enjoyed a dance with Tassel, he learned the fate of the two moles he escorted to the Abbey.  When he rejoined the others at the head table, his reported the pleasant news.  Every beast at the head table raised their mug in salute to the adoption.

Major Eytomin turned to him as the performers started another show.  "I can understand you wanting to dance with a female of your species, though I do find your growing infatuation with her quite disturbing.  Please tell me you're not smitten by that foul beast.  How can such an honorable fellow find her company enjoyable?"

Darlow jumped to Tassel's defense.  "Are you still looking for vengeance?  Perhaps she did go too far when she punished us, but we have forgiven her.  We tried telling you that this afternoon, but you ignored everything we said if it sounded too much like a compliment."

"The law has declared her vermin because of her crimes.  I've pledged my life to ridding our land of such ilk."  The older hare's voice took on a hard edge.  "What she did to the two of you only proves it.  She had no cause to act that way.  If this abbey were under our good king's jurisdiction, I would personally mount her severed head on the longest pike I could find and dump it in the nearest dung pile."

The father Abbot held up his paw for silence, claiming he couldn't hear the actors.  With the argument between the two hares deferred, those at the head table leaned back in their chairs enjoying the show.  Good food and drink soon turned the conversation to the quality of the performance.

As the evening wore on, those residents with younger children withdrew.  Elderly couples also called it a night in spite of the many games and activities offered.  Even Kurella begged the Father Abbot's indulgence as she quietly slipped away for a good night's sleep.

With so many gone, Bruno had no trouble hearing the female badger.  As the musicians took another rest, Tassel's paw lightly rapped the tabletop, rousing those who had again fallen asleep.  A chorus of voices argued with her that they wanted to stay.  She had Markus awaken those nearest him while she did the same.  Despite sleepy protests to the contrary, she ordered everyone back to the dormitory.

Tassel stood.  Bruno interrupted the Father Abbot's discussion with the hare major.  As Father Hughnaught turned, Bruno slid out of his chair.  His eyes kept watching Tassel herding her young charges.  "Father Abbot, I do hope you will wish me good fortune."

He jogged around the head table.  Bruno cut across the open courtyard and intercepted the Badgermom.  He seized her arm and pulled her back towards the head table.  When her sleepy charges followed like sheep, Bruno held his palm out indicating they should remain where they stood.

Bruno led Tassel close to the fire at the center of the open area.  Before she could react, he pulled her right glove off her wrist and dropped it to the ground.  As his paws reached for the drawstring on her hood, Tassel reacted by slapping his paw away.

Bruno trapped both her wrists in one paw and held them tight.  With his free paw, he admonished her with the waggling of his finger.  With an ever so gentle touch, he untied her hood and slipped it off her head.  Tassel tried to hide her face.

"The night is dark and the fire too low.  None can see you, but me."

Bruno pushed her muzzle to the side so that he stared into the disfigured right side of her face.  He seized her right paw in both of his and dropped to one knee.  His firm voice carried to every table.

"Last time we spoke and the moon was full, I asked for your paw in marriage.  You set several conditions to my proposal, no doubt hoping I would refuse.  Before all who are assembled here, I hereby accept your terms, and again ask that you take me, with all my faults, as your mate."

Tassel turned to face to the head table, ignoring Bruno, who stood before her.  The woodchuck remained in his chair.  He sipped some of his wine.  Like Bruno, he waited for some response.  When none came, he laughed.

"Perhaps I am the ultimate authority within these walls, but not for something that involves the heart of two lovers.  Decide for yourself, old girl.  I'll support whatever course you choose."

"Deny her," growled the hare.  "The bloody fool has no idea what he is doing."

Tassel looked at Bruno.  "He's right.  If we marry, you will be forever bound to this place.  My reputation will tarnish your good name.  I offer you so little.  Are you certain I am your choice for a mate?"

Bruno said not a word.  Pulling her paw down, he kissed the bare patch of scarred skin that encircled her wrist.  He then stood and kissed her once on each cheek and once on the forehead before he again stared into her right eye.  With an unwavering patience, he awaited her answer.

Tears coursed down her face.  Unable to say anything, she nodded.  In seconds, the orphans surrounded them.  They rushed both badgers, not sure which they should hug first.  From some of the tables scattered about, there came the sound of light clapping.

Major Eytomin stood so fast his tankard clattered to the ground.  His paw encircled his daughter's arm as he pulled her from her chair.

"Your schooling here is done.  I'll not allow either of my children to stay some place that coddles vermin.  Markus, we leave within the hour.  Get over here."

Markus made no move to leave the badgers.  Darlow yanked her paw free of her father's grip.  She returned to her chair at the head table, rubbing her wrist where her father held her but a second earlier.

"I am no longer a baby or some private you can command" Darlow growled.  "Mother believes our education too important, which is why we're here.  When the school year ends, pull us out if that is your wish, but I intend staying long enough to see what happens next."

"You dare use such a disrespectful tone of voice with me.  Apologize, or I shall give you a thrashing like none you have ever experienced before this day, young lady."

"And you have the nerve to call her vermin?  Neither of you ever raised a paw to us in the past because of our actions, but you will if we don't accept your opinion.  You're no better than the vermin you claim she is."

Bruno and Tassel looked at the main table as the voices of the two hares rose to a shout.  When the major charged the main table, his paws became fists ready to strike.  Darlow never moved.  At the last moment, Major Eytomin must have sensed how everyone stared at him.  The older hare lowered his arm, pivoted on his heel, and without a backward glance, marched back to the main building.

In the awkward silence that followed his departure, Bruno pointed to the Abbey.  Tassel nodded, and they led the youngsters to the dormitory.  For them, the party had ended.



* * *

As Badgermom Tassel, Bruno, and the gaggle of young woodlanders made their way across the courtyard, Darlow leaned closer to Father Hughnaught.

"You know, I do think we need to rename this festival.  So many good things have happened.  Instead of calling it the Festival of Return, what say we rename it the Festival of Many Joys?"

Smiling and nodding in unison, the two celebrants clicked tankards, one filled with October Ale and the other with strawberry fizz, toasting the latest betrothal.