Rise of Hellgates: The Fall of Redwall Abbey

[Ashleg]

Yeeeessssss!

[Groddil]

Chapter 3 - The Fire Mountain's Namesake

After the adrenaline had worn off, the pain in Tazzler's shoulder had set in. Unable to walk, the hare was quickly bundled onto a makeshift stretcher and carried aloft for the remainder of the journey. As the scouting patrol rose to the top of a large sand dune, the wounded hare breathed a sigh of relief. The comforting shadow of Salamandastron loomed over the patrol from afar, a testament to the steadfast nature of both the rock and the badgers that ruled it. Berro sent the patrol's runner, a thin, lanky young hare ahead to bring news to Lord Urthtooth. As the main patrol set their footpaws back on flat ground; however, it was clear than not everything was as it should be. The Lieutenant gagged and placed a paw over his mouth. For there on the ground, littering the beach for a mile, were the charred corpses of countless hares. Tazzler's stretcher was lowered and the scouts readied their blades. Berro pulled Tazzler to his feet and slung an arm around his friend's shoulder. Setting a slow pace for their wounded, the scouts advanced across the beach, where the sand had turned to glass in places. Tazzler glanced at Berro with a look that could only be described as pure terror.
"What happened here? Th-th-this isn't right!"
Berro nodded, but further conversation was stalled as the two hares nearly ran straight into the backs of those in front. The lieutenant forced his way through the crowd.
"What in the name of Lord Brocktree is goin' on he...Oh no. No, no, no, no..."
Berro had seen the shocking sight that stalled the patrol. The body of their runner, face twisted unnaturally into a petrified scream. Tazzler began to feel faint, and clung to Berro's shoulder. The scouts looked around in horror, still not fully comprehending the situation. One of them raised a shaky paw, pointing to the sand in front of them.
"S-s-s-something's c-c-coming our w-w-w-w-way..."
Berro peered through the dark, misty night towards the dark shadow slowly advancing on them. The hares raised their assortment of weapons, ready to go out fighting, when the shape came into view. It was Lord Urthtooth, crawling through the sand, hauling himself along with the shattered hilt of a massive double-hilted blade. Giant gashes covered his body, scantily clad in the tattered rags of a tunic. Resting crookedly atop his hilt was a steel helmet, warped in on itself by some massive force. The scouts dropped their weapons and stared in horror at their leader. Three who were braver than most rushed forwards, prying the ruined helmet from his head. Tazzler could not take it anymore, he threw himself away from Berro, vomiting into the sand. For Lord Urthtooth's face had been baked inside the steel helmet, completely unrecognizable amidst the cracked black skin splattered with red. Berro averted his eyes from the gruesome sight, helping Tazzler up. No sooner than the hare was standing on his feet again was he thrown back into the sand by some unseen shockwave. A blinding flash lit up the night sky, deafening cracks like thunder reverberated through Tazzler's long ears. Then the second shockwave hit. Tazzler felt as if his entire body had been smashed by a badger wielding a warhammer. The hare was thrown off the ground and spiraled through the air like a ragdoll, hitting the ground and rolling uncontrollably. Eventually, he came to a halt with his footpaws lying limp in a small creek. The pain enveloping the hare was so strong he couldn't move a muscle as the sand began to sweep over him. But before the darkness took hold, Tazzler saw something he would not forget for as long as he lived. Tazzler Fleetpaw had seen the Fire Mountain live up to its full namesake, molten rock and flames gushing forwards from a huge crevasse in the rock face.

<~O~>

Being so late, Redwall Abbey had gone quiet. The remainder of the feast was being cleaned up by a small detail from the kitchen, whom Skipper and Marcus passed on their late-night walk. The otter and mouse strolled through the orchard, a soft wind rustling the trees. Marcus gave a satisfied sigh.
"Makes you feel good t'be alive, huh Skip?"
Skipper nodded solemnly, having still not revealed to Marcus the Abbot's judgement.
"Uhh, yeah, Marcus. It's nice an' all, but...Well, I was talkin' t'the Abbot, an' he said that...oof!"
Skipper had the wind knocked out of him. Marcus was nearly knocked off of his feet, but the otter stuck a paw out and steadied him. Marcus rubbed his stomach.
"What was that? Didn't feel like wind..."
Skipper shook his head, pointing to the sky above the wall.
"I don't think so either mate, but it might have somethin' t'do with that..."
The sky had been lit up on the horizon, a soft orange color licked at the darkness like flames. Marcus swore that he saw movement in the 'fire.' The mouse gripped Skipper tightly as the wind began to pick up. The trees swayed from side-to-side maniacally, leaves stripped from branches in an instant. Skipper and Marcus struggled against the wind, half-walking half-crawling back towards the Abbey. Eventually, the otter bundled Marcus inside and dived in himself, the door slamming shut behind him. The old squirrel stumbled down the stairs in his nightshirt.
"Skipper! What's going on out there? The sky..."
Skipper shrugged.
"I don't know, Father Abbot. At least we're safe within these walls."
The Abbot nodded, his face a picture of grave concern.
"I do hope you're right..."

[Ashleg]

Just wanted to say, this is really good.

[Groddil]

Thanks, Ash!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 4 - Chaos

Tazzler's eyes flickered, slowly adjusting to the darkness. Pain shot through his body, an immense wave of heat. The hare felt water trickling onto his cracked lips as a kindly voice whispered to him.
"Shhhh...you're safe now. You're among friends. Drink deeply, and sleep..."
Before he lapsed into unconsciousness, Tazzler made the speaker out amongst the dim surroundings; it was an old, female otter. Tazzler breathed a sigh of relief, falling back into the land of dreams.

<~O~>

"Tazzler. TAZZLER!"
Wha- How?
Tazzler rubbed his eyes, investigating his surroundings. He was balanced precariously on a rocky ledge, encompassed on all sides by an endless grey void. The hare stared around for the voice, who was hanging from the ledge.
"Tazzler! Pull me up!"
It was Berro. Where were they? Was this to do with the mountain? With Lord Urthtooth? No, it couldn't be. He was safe. The otter had found him. But had she found Berro? This was too much to take in...
"Tazzler! I'm no Badger Lord, pull me up before I fall!"
Dumbstruck, Tazzler reached his paw down to Berro, and lifted his friend onto the ledge. Expecting thanks, Tazzler was stunned when Berro flicked him with the flat of his blade.
"Gaaah! BERRO! What was that for, you toad-brained twit? Have you gone mad?"
Berro continued to swat Tazzler with the flat of his blade, ignoring the other hare's pleas.
"You're going to die, you dithering idiot! Wake up, they're drawing nearer. WAKE UP!"

<~O~>

"WAKE UP! Wretched lazy windbag, GET UP, or I'm going to have to leave you here."
Tazzler sat upright with a start, the old otterwife springing back. The pain in his shoulder was gone, but the searing heat continued to sweep over his body.
"What's going on?"
She snatched his paw and pulled him from the makeshift bedding.
"THERE'S NO TIME! MOVE!"
The two creatures dashed from the chamber, mingling with several other otters in the holt's main cavern. All of the otters were transfixed on the entrance, shrieking and running for the exit in a melee of panic and terror. Tazzler turned his eye to a far corner of the holt. Was that...fire? The deepest tunnels were lit with a warm, orange glow, and punctuated with the shadows of madbeasts, flailing around in their death throes. Tazzler averted his eyes from the awful sight; between this and the mountain...what was happening? This wasn't the Mossflower he knew...The otterwive forced him from his thoughts, shoving him roughly towards a gap in the crowd.
"There! Push through there. We have to get out of here; every second we waste increases our chances of the fires catching up."
Tazzler obeyed her, pulling her behind him as he forced his way through the horde of otters.
"Who ARE you? What's happening here?"
"Name's Janbik, I'm one of the healers at the holt. Or rather, what used to be the holt. I found you in the stream, you and several others. They were already up and about when the fires began, so I suspect they're already on the boats. They wanted to wait for you, but I told them I'd get you out. That's enough storytime, take a left!"
The hare took a sharp turn into the masses, being swept along by the crowd around a large corner. Tazzler shielded his eyes from the sky above; rather than a deep blue, it was a bright red. Black clouds of smoke towered from further into the woods, and there on the horizon was Salamandastron, a beacon of destruction, spewing forth fire and brimstone from Hellgates itself. It was like nothing that Tazzler had ever seen, nor that he suspected anybeast else had ever encountered. The crowds were all headed in the same direction; the water. Blinded by terror, the otters dived into the stream, only to be boiled alive by the scalding water. Janbik pulled Tazzler away from the mad dash to the water, dragging him towards the woods. Her eyes lit up with horror as she noticed something approaching the cave, a giant wave of writhing, orange shapes. She had seen this before. Janbik let go of Tazzler, beginning to run much faster than Tazzler would expect of somebeast her age. The hare followed her at a breakneck pace, still questioning her.
"Where are we going? What are we running from? WHY IS EVERYTHING ON FIRE?!?!"
Janbik motioned to several shrew logboats, abandoned on the bank.
"You see that? Even the shrews abandoned the water and fled. There's SOMETHING after us, all of us. Something unnatural. And it won't stop until it burns everything to ash..."

[Ashleg]

Is this turning into a horror story? o-o

[Feles]

I guessed correctly 

[Groddil]

Uck, hey guys, the writer here. Sorry about the massive hiatus, and how I haven't posted a new chapter in a month. I've been pretty busy, with work, homework, and other stuff. I'm going to try and put up so more of both this and We Happy Few sometime in the next couple days, so don't worry, THIS SHALL NOT DIE!!!

Thanks guys.

[Captain Tammo]

Very glad you're still writing

[Ashleg]

Good to knowwww!

[Groddil]

Chapter 5 - Preparations

In the Abbey of Redwall, chaos was sinking its roots deep into the minds of the creatures that dwelled there. Skipper of Otters had finally managed to gather a team of stout beasts to help bar the doors. A team of moles had dug a tunnel to the Gatehouse and retrieved the heavy beam from the main gates, which was then used to seal the Abbey. Otters and squirrels worked together, lifting heavy objects up to block the many windows in the Abbey. The old squirrel who was Abbot, completely dumbstruck, had left the operation to Skipper. In short time, the Redwallers had all been gathered in Cavern Hole for an emergency meeting.
"Listen up, everybeast. Panickin' will not help us. I don't know what ails us, an' neither does the Abbot. But I does know that if we want t'make it through this, ye need ta listen ta me. Unless ye absolutely have ta, nobeast leaves this room. Sister Avan, the Infirmary is too unsafe. I'll have some o' me crew help you carry whatever ye need down here. Friar Glenim, how much food do we have right now, and how long will it last?"
The friar, a fat little vole, shrugged.
"Last time I checked, Skipper, we 'ad enough food fer about...three weeks?"
"Okay, have your helpers move the food into the cellar, it's nice and cool down there. We can cook more on fires if need be; the less danger everybeast is in, the better."
Finally calmed down by Skipper's logical thinking, the Abbey dwellers went about their business.

<~O~>

Meanwhile, deep in Mossflower woods, Tazzler and Janbik sat around a dying fire. The old otterwife stirred a large bowl of soup, crudely thrown together from shoots and berries. She pulled the meal from the last of the flickering flames and offered it to Tazzler.
"'Ere ye go, Taz. I've 'ad me fill already."
Tazzler drank deeply from the bowl, before spitting most of it back onto the coals.
"Pffft! Marm, I don't mean to insult your cookin', but that was absoballylutely awful, wot?"
Janbik fixed the hare with a cold stare and nodded.
"Aye, but in case ye couldn't tell, the world's burnin' out there. We aren't about ta get any more comfortable."
Tazzler was about to reply when a large gust of wind sent him barreling backwards into a tree. The hare winced and crawled back towards Janbik.
"Cor, looks like Mother Nature really hates us now, wot?"
Janbik clung to a large tree limb, staring at the sky. The winds blew the clouds out of sight, only to be replaced by tendrils of fire.
"Wot's goin' on here, Janbik?"
"I dunno, ye big-eared buffoon, but we need to get out of 'ere. Redwall's nearby. We can shelter there."
"An' wot about Berro an' the others?"
"If your mate 'as any sense, ee'll 'ead for Redwall too. It's the safest place in all the known land, ever since the Fire Mountain turned into 'Ellgates itself."
Though he was terrified, Tazzler tried to put on a brave face. The hare puffed out his stomach and stood up, hand on a large dagger thrust through his belt. Janbik saw through the ruse immediately.
"Don't say anything, Taz. I knows fear when I sees it. 'Tis a good thing. Ye'd be mad not t'be in a time like this."
Tazzler nodded, and the two began to struggle through the woods, heading straight for Redwall.

<~O~>

Unbeknownst to the two travelers, Berro and half a score of surviving hares had the same plan. After fleeing from the doomed Holt of otters, the Last of the Long Patrol had managed to link up with a clan of Guosim that had abandoned their longboats. Berro led the march, speaking his plan to the Log-a-log. The tribe's leader completely agreed, always knowing how Redwall helped those in need. Together, the shrew pledged his life and the lives of his clan to find a solution to the disasters. Even if they had to go to the Dark Forest and back, the shrews were with the hares until the bitter end. As they sheltered in a small cave hidden under the riverbank, a shrew handed out rations of shrewbread and shrewbear, with a large pot of stew as the main course. The cooks had not even needed a fire, as the sheer heat of the riverwater cooked the meal on its own. While many of the small army were grateful for a rest and a feed, Berro took it as another sign. If even the river was like this, who knew if Redwall still stood?

[Skyblade]

Oh yes, I like horror tales like this The thing that happened at Salamandastron was cool.

[Groddil]

Notice anything different about the chapters?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 6 - Joining Forces

Janbik threw down her pack and rummaged through it.
"Runnin' low on vittles, Taz. 'Ere, 'ave an apple."
Were it not for the powerful winds, Tazzler's ears would have drooped.
"A single apple? Are ye tryin' ta starve me, marm?"
"Oh, shaddup, ye ole famine face. Fine, 'ave an oatcake as well. Now we're out o' food."
"Out o' vittles, Janny me gel? Say it ain't so, wot!"
Janbik throw the apple at Tazzler, but it was caught by a gust and flew out of sight.
"What didcha do that for? Bad form, sah. Bad form!"
"Well, if ye hadn't complained, an' had jus' taken the wretched apple, we wouldn't be 'avin' this conversation, would we? Eat yer oatcake an' shuddup. I can see Redwall o'er the trees."

<~O~>

The Guosim-Long Patrol force had put on a quick march after leaving their cave, and were now at the ford across the River Moss. Having boiled for so long, the water level had sunk slightly, leaving a small segment of land free from the deadly water. A shrew ventured forth, taping the dirt with his footpaw.
"We're lucky, chief. 'Tis a bit warm, but we should be able ta cross widdout burnin' our legs off."
Log-a-log nodded, stepping onto the path.
"Good. We'll be at the Abbey afore nightfall. Guosim, across the river. When we get to Redwall, we can finally rest. However briefly..."

<~O~>

Janbik and Tazzler were just ahead of Berro's small force. After crossing the ford, one of the hares noticed their footprints disappearing east into the woods. Encouraged by this, and knowing that Tazzler, if it was actually him, would go to the Abbey as well, Berro and Log-a-log urged their creatures onward. By the time they got to the gate, the hare and otter were already pounding on it, to no avail. After receiving a warm welcome, Berro explained what was going on, and how they had pledged themselves to stopping it. Janbik nodded.
"I'm with ye, Berro. I saw me Holt die, panicking in fear. Many Guosim have also met their end at whatever this is. If what Tazzler says is true, if Salamandastron really did erupt in flames...We need to get into the Abbey. Then we need to get as far north as possible"
Log-a-log shook his head, drawing his rapier.
"Some of us may, but I'm stayin' right 'ere in Mossflower. I'll find out what's causin' all this, an' do me best ta stop it until such time as I find meself at the Gates o' the Dark Forest. Who's with me?"
Several shrews, mainly the young and foolhardy, gave a cheer. Berro and a few hares, knowing how much of a death sentence their mission was, but also its importance, muttered their support. The rest, however, stayed deathly silent. One older shrew moved to Janbik's side.
"She's right, Guosim. Mossflower's doomed. It'll all be a wasteland soon. Our only hope is to go north, and wait out the days until the earth no longer burns beneath our feet."
Berro stomped his footpaw.
"ENOUGH! The North is a land of ice, snow, vermin, and death. Mossflower is a land of heat, fire, vermin, and death. Noplace is safe. There is no black and white, just shades of grey. The Redwallers aren't safe here, and none of them are warriors. A few hares and shrews who are too cowardly to put an end to this can go with them as guards. The rest of you have no choice. As your commanders, Log-a-log and I are ordering you to stick to your mission. Too many have died. We need to make sure nobeast else does."
One of the younger hares drew his blade.
"How d'ye suppose we stop nature itself, Berro? Why can't we jus-"
"Go home? We have no home. Whatever life we once had, its gone. Our home, our friends, our family. They're all gone. All we have is each other, and the only things we can do are cower in fear, or try and do something."
"I'd rather live a coward than die a fool. Salamandastron goes up in flames, and so the land starts burnin'. See a connection? As long as we stay away from here, we'll be fine."
Murmers began spreading through the rank of shrews. Several shrews, as well as two other hares, began yelling their support for the rebel.
"You can't stop us, Berro ole chap! After all, it's our bally lives on the line, wot. Let everybeast else be fools. Brave fools, but fools nonetheless. We may be cowards, but we're living cowards. We're dismissed, sah!"
With that, they marched off back into the woods, aiming to put as much distance between them and the Fire Mountain as possible. Log-a-log took a quick count of his shrews.
"I've got 16 shrews left, includin' meself."
"And there's 9 hares, includin' me an' Tazzler."
Janbik knocked on the gate again.
"Who cares 'ow many creatures we got if'n we can't get inta th' Abbey. Somebeast should try'n climb th' walls."
Log-a-log stepped aside to reveal a tall, thin shrew.
"This's Skinnyshrew. Doesn't speak, but 'ee's the best climber we got. Anybeast got some rope?"
"Aye, Chief. I still got the anchor line in me pack, jus' in case. Even 'as the anchor attached."
"Didya hear that, Skinnyshrew? Ye even gets a grapple!"

<~O~>

Everybeast stood back and watched as Skinnyshrew whirled his length of rope until the anchor on the end was a blur. With a grunt, he tossed it upwards, where it was immediately blown aside by the wind. It took several tries, but the shrew finally latched the anchor onto the battlements. Two muscular hares gripped the rope tightly to make it easier for Skinnyshrew, as he slowly began his ascent. Halfway up, he was caught by a gust of wind, and clung desperately to the stonework. Log-a-log's shouts were barely audible to the climber as he roared upwards.
"Come on, Skinnyshrew. What're ye waitin' for? A bit o' wind never stopped ye before!"
The shrew nodded, and took the rope in his paws once more. Heaving himself upwards, Skinnyshrew finally managed to haul himself over the battlements. Shortly after, the main gate swung open.
"Alright, mates. In we go, an' try not ta startle th' Redwallers."

[Skyblade]

Notice anything different about the chapters?

I feel like I'm missing something important, and I don't want to do heavy thinking The only obvious thing I notice is that the chapters are longer and have squiggly things to separate each scene (which may have been there in the first place, anyway).

The first section was funny, and I like how the story is developing. We seem to have the same tastes, because this fanfic and the vermin one are both ideas that interest me.

[Groddil]

@Skyblade: I added chapter subtitles. ;P

[Groddil]

Chapter 7 - Joining Forces, Part Two

Hauling a large section of fallen tree between them, the Guosim and hares battered at the main door of Redwall Abbey. Their previous attempts having failed, brute force was their only option. Tazzler found himself next to Berro, complaining as they worked.
"Steady on there, ole chap. Why're we bashin' down their bloomin' door, wot? Isn't there another way inta the bally Abbey?"
Berro shook his head.
"If you want ta try an' get their attention, shout away. Nobeast'll hear us over this wind, an' it's too hard for Skinnyshrew to reach a window."
"But, they'll be defenseless!"
"They still have the outer walls. Plus, I've spoken to hares who've been 'ere afore. None o' 'em are still alive, alas, but I 'eard enough. There's some sort o' room under the ground a bit, called Cavern Hole. If those woodlanders 'ave any sense, that's where they'll be, wot."
Tazzler shrugged.
"I suppose. Wot really gets me is 'ow ye plan on convincin' the Redwallers to leave their home an' travel to the bloomin' northlands."
"Redwall is not full of fools. If they were, the Abbey would o' fallen ta vermin seasons ago. It's only cause o' how resourceful they are that they kept 'oldin' off any invaders. Once they 'ear some sense, they'll leave."
As the hares and shrews continued slamming the tree trunk into the doors, Janbik peered closely at the timbers. She held up a paw to halt the barrage, before reaching her paw through a split section of wood. She felt around for the timber barring the doors and shoved it upwards, before delivering a rough kick to the timbers. One door edged open just slightly, revealing several bookcases and tables stacked behind it.
"Come on, ya bunch o' longears an' lazybones. 'Elp me move this furniture!"

~~~~~~~~~~

In Cavern Hole, the Redwallers huddled around several small fires, heating up the food they had moved from the kitchens. Marcus sat in one corner with the Sword of Martin the Warrior, idly sharpening it. Skipper trudged over with a platter of food, sitting on a ledge beside the mouse. He motioned to the platter, which was, unusual for Redwall fare, not stacked high with food.
"Yer'll need some good vittles, mate. Don't wanna starve, do ye?"
Marcus shook his head, taking a bowl of salad from the platter.
"I suppose not, Skip. I just can't stop thinking about something. Why is this happening? How? Even the sky is burning; how long until those flames choose to descend? All of Mossflower, gone in an instant. It doesn't bare thinking about."
Skipper shrugged, before taking a pastie from their tray of vittles.
"No, it doesn't. Hopefully, it won't happen. Hopefully. Could just be some sort o' huge storm. That'd explain the wind."
"And the fire?"
"Might just be a trick o' th' eyes. Or it could really be fire. Which makes me wonder, what could start such a blaze? Only thing I could think off to come close'd be Hellgates isself."
The young mouse set aside the empty bowl of salad and continued sharpening the blade.
"Vermin, maybe. Doin' something stupid an' bein' unlucky enough to be in a really dry part o' Mossflower."
Skipper, having demolished the pastie, stood up and retrieved his javelin from the nearby wall.
"Well, I'm goin' ta take a look, see 'ow everythin' is out there."
"I'll come with you."
Marcus stood up behind him, blade in hand. Skipper merely shrugged again, before making his way out of Cavern Hole. He squeezed through a barricade set up on the staircase and found himself in Great Hall. It was a mess. The windows had long since blown out, and broken glass littered the floor. Then, Marcus drew his attention to the large doors at the entrance of Redwall. They were ajar, and one of the bookcases...moved. Silently, the two readied their weapons and stole across the hall. Skipper stood with his back to a bookcase, as the table next to it thudded to the ground. He could barely make out a voice on the other side of the barrier.
"There ya go, miss Janbik, wot. There's a bally gap in the bloomin' barricade, eh?"
An aging, female otter leapt through the gap, followed shortly by a hare. Skipper and Marcus lowered their weapons in relief and stepped into the open.
"Janbik, was it? Welcome to Redwall Abbey. Have you come to seek shelter?"
Janbik shook her head.
"No. We came to warn you. This is Liuetenant Berrilkan of the Long Patrol."
"The FORMER Long Patrol. Call me Berro, I'll explain our goals once we get some peace and quiet. This wind is too loud."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over a fresh plate of vittles, the hares and shrews gathered around a table with Skipper and his ottercrew. Having requested privacy, they held the meeting in the far corner of Cavern Hole, away from the rest of the Abbeydwellers that were just starting to fall asleep. Marcus stood to one side, practicing a few swings with the Sword of Martin. Berro pointed at him as the newcomers took their seats.
"What about the mouse? Will he be sitting in on the meeting?"
Skipper looked at Marcus, then called him over.
"Marcus! Over here. I don't see why it wouldn't hurt to have him around."
After they were settled, Berro and Janbik began to relay their sides of the story to Skipper. At its conclusion, the Abbot (having demanded a seat on the council) stood up and shook his head.
"The news you bring is indeed grave, but this talk of abandoning Redwall? Preposterous. This Abbey is the safest place in all of Mossflower."
Tazzler decided it was finally his time to speak up.
"You old, dithering fool. Did you not hear a bally word we said, wot? Salamandastron is GONE! I saw it with me own bloomin' eyes, burnin' up like a real Fire Mountain. If ye still want ta trust in the strength o' your walls after that, ye deserve wot ye get. If the wind doesn't tear this place down an' trap ye underground, the fire'll burn it ta th' ground. How could ye possibly think that this place'd stand up ta those flames, if a whole bloomin' mountain went up in flames?"
The whole table broke into bickering, especially among the shrews. Log-a-log slammed his paw on the table.
"ENOUGH! Right now, there's five options ye can take. Stay where ye are, ye die. Travel west, ye run right inta the Fire Mountain an' ye die. Travel south, where it's hotter? Ye won't even need ta wait fer the flames ta kill ye. East? Ye have nowhere ta run. Once ye make it out o' th' woods, yer on the shores o' the Eastern Sea. D'ye have any ships? No. Even if we 'ad our logboats, they couldn't last a day on the open sea. Anybeast wid a ship'll be 'alfway across the ocean by now. If they even CAN get across. We saw th' River Moss; bubblin' an' boilin' like a cauldron o' stew, dead fishes floatin' all down th' waterways. That leaves only one option. Go north, go where it snows year round. 'Opefully, the flames don't reach ye."
Skipper nodded.
"'Tis a good idea, Log-a-log. How many creatures do ye have?"
"16 shrews, an' 9 hares. But some o' our shrews are babes an' mothers."
"I've got just under a score of otters. Let me think for a moment..."
Tazzler raised a paw.
"How 'bout this, wot. Send th' babes an' mothers with the Redwallers, then 'ow many shrews are there?"
"Nine."
"Okay, we'll send two o' the shrews an' two o' the hares wid the Redwallers as guards."
"And the ottercrew?"
"Split 'em in half. Half goes with the Redwallers, especially the older otters, an' the other half comes wid us."
"That leaves... Seven shrews, seven hares, and nine otters. Twenty three of us."
They all turned to Berro.
"Would twenty-three be enough if we ran into trouble?"
"A good number, actually. Enough to handle any vermin smaller'n a horde, but not too many that it hampers travel. Select those ye want with us, we'll meet again on the morrow."

~~~~~~~~~~~

As the warriors began to disperse, Marcus sought out Skipper, clenching the Sword of Martin.
"And what of me? Am I to come with you?"
Skipper shook his head sadly.
"No. You're still young, and we need you to help defend the Redwallers."
"Actually..."
They both turned to the speaker, the old squirrel who was Abbot.
"He shouldn't come with us. I believe his fate has something else in store... Marcus, I want you to have this. It was your father's."
Marcus took a small parcel from the Abbot, the disbelief on his face.
"What...why? How do you?"
The squirrel silenced him with a nod.
"It doesn't matter. That's yours now, take it. You have to go on your own, do not go with Skipper, nor with I. If the prophecy is true, then I fear what will happen if you fail in your task. Skipper, my mind is changed. We will leave as soon as our belongings are packed..."