The sky was still in the darkness of dawn above the recently completed Abbey. All was peaceful with a only few birds letting their voices be heard. The building was mostly quiet inside, a fact that one beast was taking advantage of.
A stoat, camouflaged by a brown cloak, had made his way to the edge of the woods at the east of the building. He scanned the top of the wall. No guards were there. Taking a deep breath, the stoat dashed across the open space until he was able to put his back against the red sandstone bricks. He then slowly inched to the left, hoping to find a gate or a door somewhere so he could get inside.
Stepping accidentally on a twig, he cringed as it snapped, sounding sharp and clear in the still air. He waited a moment, then peeked around a corner – and came face-to-face with an angry-looking mouse.
The ferret drew back just before the sharp point of a sword cut through the space where his head had just been. The aging mouse came round and into full view, holding his sword in an offensive position, coming towards the stoat, who had begun to back away.
"Get out of here, vermin," the mouse said, "before I decide to hurt you properly!"
The ferret had recovered from his shock and now drew two daggers. "Twofang never runs away. I always finish me fights!"
"So be it. Prepare yourself."
Twofang charged to catch the mouse off guard, but his opponent was ready. He threw a dagger, but the mouse swiftly brought the sword up to deflect it.
Twofang stepped back, a little afraid now with only one dagger. No one else had ever been able to survive a throw of his before.
The mouse came forward. "You have chosen to fight, and fight we will, Twofang."
"Aye, and you'll regret it, mouse!"
A light burned in the swordwielder's eyes. "I am not just a mouse. I am Martin the Warrior of Redwaaaalll!"
Martin swung his sword in a wide swipe with the battle cry. Twofang ducked, threw himself forward and stabbed at the Warrior's legs, causing a deep cut. With a roar the mouse pulled back and brought the blade down, plunging it deep into the stoat's back then withdrawing it.
Panting, Martin rolled the ferret onto his back with his foot. He had died with a sneer of triumph at wounding him frozen on his face.
"Martin! Martin!"
The male mouse turned as a voice called his name. "Yes?"
An adult badger came into view. "Marin, what are you doing out here?"
"What does it look like?"
The badger shook her head and sighed. "You are old, Martin. Yes, you are the Abbey Warrior, but your life is in danger if you keep rushing out on wild skirmishes like this. You need to take it easy."
I cannot, Bella. Redwall needs a Guardian."
"And if you keep endangering yourself, we will be without a Guardian sooner than needed. Now, let's get rid of this intruder."
He turned back to the body. Suddenly a memory flashed into his mind and he gasped, taking a step back away from the body and then stumbling.
Bella caught him. "What's wrong, Martin?"
He gazed at her with a strange light in his eyes. "Oh, Bella... He looks like Badrang."
Then the poor mouse fainted.
"How is he, Abbess?"
"He has a fever, a bad one. If he were younger, he would be able to pull through...but now, with his age, it will be impossible."
"Oh, no..." Gnoff II whispered sadly. "Why him? Why now? He doesn't deserve it!"
"No. No one does," the elderly Abbess Germaine replied, mopping her patient's sweaty brow as he lay moaning on the bed. "But he has a little time left, at least. Go fetch some more water, will you? And ask Brother Beau if he has any medicine to bring down a fever. He can't come up now; he is busy himself with three others. This case seems to have hit them hard."
"Yes, Abbess," the third mouse replied solemnly, bowing and hurrying quickly out of the room.
A few minutes later, after the Warrior had swallowed some of the medicine, he opened his eyes partially. His gaze fell upon Gnoff II, and he asked weakly but hopefully, "Gnoff? Is that you, old friend?"
"No, sir. I'm Gnoff's son."
"His son... Oh, yes, Gnoff II...You look so much like your father... He was the best friend anyone could ask for. Oh, Gnoff, me old matey..." His eyes widened as something came to mind, and he grasped the edge of Germaine's long habit sleeve. "The carving! Is the carving on the stone complete?"
She patted his paw. "Yes, Martin, it is. Your riddle is complete."
The Warrior sighed and closed his eyes again, falling back into unconsciousness.
He wandered through darkness and light, mist and shadow, forest and valley, lands of his past and present, lands unknown to the world but not to imagination and dreams. Soon he came to a foreboding place, but he knew not to be frightened and continued on, bold with his sword again at his side, once more youthful and zealous for what is good.
Soon he came to where he knew he would, at the gates of Dark Forest. A familiar figure who was guarding it stepped into his view and greeted him.
"Martin the Warrior."
"Boar the Fighter."
His badger friend blocked his way with his great broadsword. "You cannot enter here just yet, my friend. You must comfort those who attend you. A successor comes, but they know it not. So you must see him, and speak words that are not yours, so that his destiny is assured."
"I understand."
"Come, look at the pommel-stone."
He gazed at the red ruby set in the black grip, and slowly the face of another mouse appeared, young, but determined and skilled, ready to defend the helpless against evil. Martin smiled approvingly at the light of a warrior's heart in his eyes.
"I – am that is...Matthias," he murmured. "Matthias will wield my sword for me."
"There will be others before him that will use your blade," Boar explained, "but he will be the most famous, having to use it in a time when warriors are disregarded. He will use it well."
"Of course he will."
"You will not be like us, confined to this place. You will remain with Redwall, a helping spirit to the residents, an advisor to those who are in need, a mentor to those who will succeed you. It has been ordained so, and so it must always be. You will be lonely, but honored. Can you accept that?"
"Yes." Inwardly, sadness tugged at his heart, to be quieted by Boar's next words.
"Rose will come to you soon, in the heart of a flower that never dies."
The Warrior was going to start asking questions, but Boar came close and put a paw to the mouse's forehead. "Wake, Martin, and speak the prophecy."
Martin tried to reply, but his words caught in his throat as the scene melted around him, and he opened his eyes to see Abbess Germaine's face above his again.
"Martin?" she asked, worried.
The Guardian opened his mouth and spoke in a clear, calm voice, completely at peace. Somehow he knew these words were to be his last.
"I stand here in this world alone,
No kin of mine to take the sword,
No son or daughter of my own,
A bitter and a sad reward.
But Redwall in its hour of need
Will bring one forth to follow me,
To that one, valiant indeed,
I leave a Warrior's legacy.
"I – am that is, my sword will wield for me."
With the sounds of Germaine's sobbing growing fainter to his ears, Martin closed his eyes for the last time. Suddenly he found himself before the gates of Dark Forest, then the riddle on the stone, and finally above his Abbey, watching it with love as it shone in the sunrise, heralding the passing of the first Warrior of Redwall.