Disclaimer: Redwall is the work of Brian Jacques. The places, characters,
and plots of the Redwall books belong to him.
Andrew tugged his cloak tightly around himself, and willed the rain to stop falling. The wind, too, made him uncomfortable, but it was the rain that made his clothing damp and caused every fierce gust of wind to feel more cold than it actually was.
I should've listened to dad and waited to leave Redwall, thought the young mouse. If he had waited for the storm to pass, he would probably have been able to Hake's dwelling without too much delay. After all, five days visiting Hake was five days, no matter when he set out. But Andrew had insisted on leaving that afternoon, bidding farewell to his father and his friends and carrying only his sword and a pack of provisions.
The young mouse regretted his decision now, though. Even if he didn't become sick from the cold, his journey would be miserable. The icy winds and rain were already chilling him to the bone, and the night was only just beginning. But if he could find some short of shelter... Andrew squinted and swept his gaze across the woodlands. If he could find somewhere, anywhere, to take shelter, he could escape from the wind and rain and resume his journey to see Hake in the morning.
Unfortunately for Andrew, he couldn't find any place to hide from the elements. The mouse bit out a curse and drew his cloak even tighter around his body, and continued to make his way through Mossflower Woods. He had traveled along this route many times in his life, accompanied by his father Cain or Hake when he was younger, and eventually traveling the paths himself when Hake and Redwall's Champion, a squirrel named Gormin, judged him capable of defending himself at the age of twelve seasons.
After several more minutes of walking, Andrew came to a halt. A large tree had fallen across his path, and though Andrew could have easily made his way around it, he saw his chance to take shelter beneath it. After taking the time to make sure the tree would not fall on him if he were to stay underneath it, he crawled through some of the branches and took shelter from the wind. Most of the rain still found its way to him, but the shelter was better than staying out in the storm.
Andrew had no idea how much time had passed when he heard footsteps moving along the muddy path. The falling raindrops drowned most of the sound out, but Andrew could still distinguish the sound of walking. Cautiously, Andrew pulled himself out of his shelter and looked through the tree's branches in the direction of the footsteps.
In the dark of night, he could only make out the vague shape of a hare walking slowly in the opposite direction of that he had been traveling in. Most hares in these parts were trustworthy, and this one was coming from the direction of Salamandastron. But being cautious had never hurt Andrew before, and he quietly drew his sword and sat waiting for the hare to approach the fallen tree.
But it seemed that Andrew hadn't been quiet enough to escape the hare's hearing. The shadowy figure stopped in its tracks, and drew a weapon from its belt. "Show yourself an' I'll spare your life!" exclaimed the hare, crouching and holding the blade in front of itself. "I'm warnin' you, I'm a fair fighter, an' a member or Lord Rocketh's Long Patrol at that! If you come out peaceably, I'll think about sparin' your life!"
Andrew showed himself and held his sword out in front of him. "I'm Andrew, a mouse of Redwall Abbey. I'm a traveler, and have had the misfortune of being caught in this storm. I don't mean for any trouble, but if you want a fight, I can give you one."
"Would you be Cain's son?" asked the hare. The figure lowered its blade, and stepped closer to Andrew. He relaxed his hold on his sword, but stayed wary of the hare. "I fought alongside your mother an' father seven seasons ago, during the Stormrat War. Cain was a great swordsbeast, an' your mother Kelly was talented with a scimitar. A mighty shame she met her end durin' that war - she would've wanted to see you grow into a fine young mouse."
The death of his mother was a topic that brought feelings of grief to Andrew's heart, but he didn't let the hare know that. "You're... Candice. My father speaks highly of you, and says that it was because of you that he survived the war. I never expected to meet you in the middle of Mossflower Wood. Where are you headed?"
Seeing that the young mouse had recognize him, Candice stepped back and made a running jump over the trunk of the fallen tree. "I'm bound for Redwall Abbey. Lord Rocketh wanted me to take a message to your Abbess, an' I'm one o' the fastest hares in the patrol. But I'm curious about why an Abbeybeast such as yourself would be travelin' through this gloomy weather. You could end up dead from the bally cold!"
"I'm journeying to meet up with my friend Hake. He's a warriormouse, and my father says that he was the beast who taught him how to fight. He took me to meet Hake a couple seasons ago, when Redwall's Champion, Gormin, decided that I was learning faster than my friends and needed someone else to teach me. My father couldn't, since he is Gormin's assistant, so he asked Hake to train me. I've been working with him for four seasons now, and I've been able to fend for myself in the better parts of Mossflower for a season and a half." A note of pride crept into Andrew's voice as he said that last sentence.
A smile spread across Candice's face as she listened to Andrew. "You sound skilled for your age, but don't go thinkin' that you can take down a Long Patrol hare. An' I'd recommend stayin' away from vermin, for a while at least. No need to risk your fur to do what other beasts can do themselves, wot!" Candice put on an air of confidence as she said this, but something about her voice told Andrew that there was something worrying her.
"Here, take my cloak," said Candice, taking off her own cloak and giving it to Andrew. "You look chilled t' the bone, and havin' only one layer o' protection from the elements certainly isn't helpin' you. I'd stay here and make sure you didn't catch fever, but Lord Rocketh's message was quite urgent, an' I don't think he'd appreciate me wastin' my time. If I had been runnin' instead of travelin' at this slow pace, I'd've been far past here by now!" When Andrew tried to refuse the cloak that Candice offered, the hare shook her head and shoved it firmly into his hands. "Don't be ridiculous!" scolded the hare whiled bouncing on her footpaws. "Like I said, I'm a hare of the Long Patrol. We're used to runnin' in any sort o' weather. I should be goin'. By fur, I should've been gone already!" With one last concerned glance at Andrew, Candice turned in the direction that she had been headed and galloped off. In a few moments, the dark swallowed her retreating figure.
Shivering, Andrew ducked back into the shelter the tree provided. He wrapped Candice's cloak around him, and it did help protect him from the wind. But the dampness still soaked through his clothing, and when he closed his eyes, he had trouble sleeping. It was only when the howling winds and the rain began to die down that he was able to drift off into a fitful sleep.
~~~
At Redwall Abbey, the storm wasn't so lenient. Instead of dying down as it had in Mossflower Woods, it only increased its ferocity. Many beasts tossed and turned in their beds, trying to force themself to sleep. Out of those few who did manage to shove the howling of the winds and pattering of the rain on the walls of Redwall out of their minds and will themselves to sleep, all but a few were tormented by uneasy dreams. Many of the adults had given up on getting to sleep, and were gathered down in Cavern Hole, sipping at whatever beverages they could get their paws on.
Redwall's Champion, Gormin, paced restlessly, holding a cup filled with October ale in his paw. Around him, Abbey dwellers sat around Cavern Hole's two tables or stood in clusters, talking to each other quietly. The wind outside drowned out their voices to those who were not sitting close to them. Something about the storm taking place outside hushed the voices of the normally cheerful Redwallers. This storm is a fearsome thing, thought the squirrel to himself as he walked back and forth, letting his bushy tail sweep out behind him. The Champion of Redwall was considered by many to be fearless and ferocious, and aside from himself and his close friend Jacob, nobeast knew the inner thoughts and feelings of the squirrel considered by many to be a badger in a squirrel's body.
Everybeast gave Gormin a wide berth as he paced back and forth, though he was doing nothing to make himself seem intimidating. He supposed that the image of a warrior that fought against the Stormrats moving about Cavern Hole restlessly and scowling at nothing would put fear, or at least wariness, into the hearts of most beasts. Had he been in the mood, Gormin would have laughed at the way the other beasts in Cavern Hole kept clear of him.
Eventually, Gormin became aware of the discomfort his pacing was causing to most of the adults gathered in the room. He heaved a sigh and sat down next to Cain, a mouse who didn't seem to be particularly disturbed by his reputation as a fierce warrior. "Hello, Gormin," said Cain, looking up from the table. "The storm disturbed your rest, too?"
While Gormin and Cain had never been close, they had fought together in the Stormrat War, and that gave them a kind of kinship that no nonwarrior would understand. In fact, Gormin considered Cain to be more in touch with the forces of war than himself - while Gormin had seen many beasts die on the field of battle, Cain had lost a wife to the Stormrats. It was a wound that would never go away, and Gormin felt a deep pity for the mouse.
"Yes... I don't believe anybeast in Mossflower will sleep peacefully tonight. Even within this Abbey, the wind and rain are strong enough to keep us awake. Think of what it must be like elsewhere." A flash of worry passed over Cain's eyes, and Gormin realized that he had said the wrong thing. "Your son is out there, isn't he?" Cain nodded. Gormin reached out a paw and placed it on Gormin's shoulder. "He'll be alright. The mouse is tough for his age, and a little bit of bad weather will do him good; give him some experience in what it would be like during a war." Cain nodded his thanks, but it was obvious that Gormin's words did little to nothing to help abate Cain's worries.
A couple minutes of silence followed Gormin and Can's conversation. When Gormin noticed Colin, a squirrel who had fought alongside Cain and himself in the Stormrat War, come down into Cavern Hole, he quietly stood and left the table. Cain would likely want some reassurance about his son Andrew from a close friend's lips, and Gormin feared that it would be considered rude to stay and listen to the conversation. He had few enough friends in the Abbey as it was, and he did not want to offend one of the few beasts who didn't mind his company.
By the time Colin had taken a seat next to Cain, Gormin had walked to the other end of Cavern Hole and now stood sipping at his October ale. The squirrel resisted the urge to resume his pacing, and instead stood with his back to the wall, sweeping his gaze back and forth across the room.
As Gormin drained his glass, his thoughts turned to his friend Jacob. He would be out in the gatehouse, almost certainly awake. Jacob had been a poor sleeper since he was a dibbun, and was kept awake by storms and other distractions even now, many seasons later. Jacob would confine himself to the gatehouse this stormy night. There was no way for him to know that much of the Abbey population was gathered in Cavern Hole, and even if he did, he might prefer the company of the Abbey histories to risking the heavy rain and rough winds to come out from the gatehouse. But instead of wasting his time trying to get to sleep, the Abbey recorder would be reading through Redwall's histories, or undertaking the task of organizing the text held within the gatehouse.
There's nobody here for me to talk to, thought Gormin. Jacob was the only beast who was willing to befriend him, and that was because they had been close when they were young, before Gormin became a fierce warrior. Jacob had apprenticed under the mouse who had been the Abbey recorder when they were young, and was schooled in the Abbey histories and keeping his own records at the same time Gormin had been learning how to fight with sword, spear, and bow and arrows.
Gormin had taken the place of Rina, the previous Abbey Champion, the same season that Jacob had risen to the position of Redwall's recorder. The responsibilities of the Abbey's Champion before the Stormrat War had consisted of defending Abbeybeasts and innocent woodlanders from the more unsavory beasts that roamed the woodlands, keeping in touch with Lord Sunforge and his Long Patrol, and training Abbey dwellers who wished to become warriors. Redwall's Skipper of otters had helped Gormin with the training when he first began, but it still took the squirrel seasons to grow into the art of teaching younger beasts how to fight. Rina, though she was old and her fur turned grey, had helped him teach the younger beasts until her seasons got the better of her and she died in her sleep.
When the Stormrat War began, the duties of Redwall's Champion changed drastically. Lord Sunforge himself had journeyed to Redwall and requested assistance from Abbess Elm. At first, she was reluctant to risk Abbeybeasts in a war that she felt Salamandastron's Long Patrol could win itself, but as the army of the Stormrats gradually began to beat back the Long Patrol and make its way north along the coast and east into Mossflower, desperation got the better of Elm's peaceful ways. Redwall's defenders were sent to assist the Long Patrol, from Gormin to Skipper to a young Colin. Only Cain and Kelly refused to hurry to the front lines. Instead, they set off into Mossflower Wood, leaving their son Andrew behind.
The Long Patrol had suffered heavy losses against the Stormrat army by the time Redwall's warriors arrived to help. But though the warriors at Redwall were well trained by the Abbey defenders in the art of war, they could do little against the disciplined army of the Stormrats. Slowly but surely, the armies of Salamandastron and Redwall were pushed north, toward Salamandastron. There, Lord Sunforge claimed, they would drive off the Stormrats or die trying.
And for awhile, it did seem as if the goodbeasts would die trying. The Stormrats were unusually skilled at keeping their army disciplined, and the beasts themselves were awesome to behold. The Stormrats were a dominant family of searat, and they grew to almost twice the size of a normal searat. Stormrats were almost as fierce as badgers, and they had all the cunning of a vermin warlord. Their numbers were small, but the presence of the Stormrats gave their army confidence, and brought despair to the hearts of the goodbeasts that opposed them.
At Salamandastron, the armies of the goodbeasts managed to hold off the Stormrats for many days. It seemed that they would have a chance to retaliate when Lord Sunforge came up with plans to direct guerilla attacks against the vermin army, sending attackers by night to harass them and retreating to the safety of Salamandastron when their presence was noted. He hoped that these tactics would cause the Stormrats to retreat to more neutral territory along the coastline. But Lord Sunforge died leading the first guerilla attack, and though the vermin were caught by surprise and many of them were slain, many of the goodbeasts also lost their lives.
The loss of Lord Sunforge was a demoralizing blow, but the goodbeasts did not give up. Gormin himself took over the overall leadership of the beasts stationed at Salamandastron, and a hare by the name of Lanter took over the Long Patrol after Sunforge died. Using guerilla tactics, Gormin drove off the Stormrats from Salamandastron. But instead of turning back south, the army plunged into Mossflower.
Naturally, the goodbeasts pursued, unwilling to watch the Stormrats invade their home. But when they caught up with the vermin army, they found a force of Guosim shrews already fighting them. Cain and Kelly accompanied the shrews, along with an assortment of woodlanders. The intervention of the Guosim had turned the tide of battle, but there were still more tragedies to be experienced...
A particularly loud gust of wind brought Gormin out of his reminisces. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he noticed that even more Redwallers had come down into Cavern Hole. It's getting a bit too crowded in here for my tastes, thought Gormin. He made his way toward the entrance to Great Hall, casting one last glance at his fellow Redwallers who were gathered in Cavern Hole.
Gormin walked toward the stairs leading up to Redwall's dormitories, but stopped as the tapestry of Martin the Warrior caught his eye. He walked over it and touched it gently. "We never did find your sword," the squirrel whispered, gazing at the warrior mouse depicted in the tapestry. "Maybe that's why we fared so poorly in the Stormrat War."
The mouse warrior's eyes seemed to gaze at Gormin, and for a moment, it seemed to the squirrel as if Martin the Warrior was gazing across time, judging the current Champion of the Abbey he had founded. It made Gormin feel inferior, but at the same time, kindled some kind of fierce pride within him. With or without the sword of Martin, he was the Champion of Redwall Abbey.
The moment passed, and Gormin shook his head. It felt foggy, and no matter how hard he tried to clear his mind, the fogginess would not leave. Sighing, Gormin turned away from the tapestry and climbed the stairs to the dormitories.
Many Redwallers in seasons past had claimed to have "spoken" with Martin the Warrior through dreams, or felt the subtle touch of his paw on their daily lives. But if the warriormouse intervened in the lives of Abbeybeast in the present day, none of the Abbeybeasts had shared their experiences with their fellows.
But before he left for the Stormrat War, Gormin had visited the tapestry to ask the spirit of Martin the Warrior for luck. He had experienced a dizzy feeling, and when the feeling dissipated, he felt somehow more confident and prepared for war. He also suspected that Cain and Kelly had received some sort of guidance from the mouse. He had seen the two of them together in front of the tapestry the day before Redwall's defenders had departed. Gormin believed that it was Martin's guidance that caused Cain and Kelly to rally the Guosim and other woodlanders five seasons ago.
When Gormin opened the door to his dormitory, he had every intention of laying down in his bed and making at least a half-hearted attempt to get to sleep. But instead, he found himself donning his cloak and walking back down to Great Hall.
The squirrel warrior passed some other Redwallers in the halls, but he didn't stop to greet them. He wasn't even sure where he was going. He felt as if he were being guided, and when he turned his thoughts toward this, a small smile spread across his face. Once again, Martin, you nudge me toward something. I just wonder what.
Gormin swept through Great Hall, and made his way toward the door leading outside to where the rain and wind raged. He reached one paw up to draw his cloak around himself to protect him from the cold, though he was not sure if it was his own will or Martin's guidance that caused him to take the action. I think I did it, though Gormin, feeling his legs move without his direction and moving outside. I remember telling myself to.
The rain and wind beat fiercely at Gormin as he exited the main Abbey building, but he didn't so much as pause. His legs carried him against the wind, against the rain, and toward the main gate. The squirrel consciously willed himself to ignore the discomfort the weather was causing his body, and let his legs carry him to his destination.
Once he reached the main gate of Redwall, he felt as if he were being slowly released from some sort of foreign influence. Goodbye, Martin, though Gormin wistfully as he felt himself regain full control of his body and will. Once he could act for himself again, Gormin turned his thoughts toward why exactly he was standing in front of the gate.
It didn't take him long to grasp one possible answer. Over the noise that the wind and rain caused, Gormin could hear something pounding on the Abbey gates. They had been locked before everybody turned in for the night, and in the event that some woodlander was left out in the storm, there would be no way for them to enter the Abbey. But it could also be a vermin...
On impulse, Gormin slid open the bolt that held the gates shut and slowly opened the heavy wooden doors. After he had managed to open a crack between the double doors large enough to permit a badger to enter, he stepped outside of the Abbey walls and looked around. After only a few moments, he sighted the beast that had been waiting at the doors. A female hare that Gormin presumed was a member of the Long Patrol stood outside of Redwall's gates. Drops of water dripped down from her long ears, and her fur was soaked through.
"Sure took you long enough to open the flippin' gate, didn't it?" said the hare huffily. Then she shook her head, sending droplets of water flying from her ears. "Well, I suppose I can't complain. This storm's a fierce one, and I can't expect you to hear me poundin' on the door, wot?" Gormin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get anything out, the hare continued speaking. "Well, now that you've opened the darned thing, I don't suppose you could take me inside? I'm Candice, a runner from Lord Rocketh's Long Patrol. I got an urgent message for the Abbess o' Redwall. From Lord Rocketh himself, y'know."
"I'll take you to her," said Gormin wearily. "But could you help me shut the gates, first?"
"O' course I can!" exclaimed the hare, lending Gormin her assistance in shutting the gate. "As a hare of the Long Patrol, I do a whole lot more than openin' and closin' gates. I'm one of Lord Rocketh's fastest runners. That's why he chose me to deliver this message. It's urgent, and the Abbess must be notified as soon as it's convenient."
"Then come inside," said Gormin. "Almost everybeast in the Abbey is awake because of the storm, and the Abbess is down in Cavern Hole. I'll take you to her right away." The squirrel warrior slid the bolt back into place to lock the main gate of Redwall, and turned to lead the hare to the main building. Just like an outsider to ask for admittance by the main gate rather than the wallgates, he thought. Grandeur isn't everything.
"By the way, I don't suppose that you have any food that you could spare? The long run tired me out, and I'm jolly well famished. A towel would be nice, too, but if you don't have any you could spare, that's fine by me."
Gormin almost chuckled. Just like a hare to but food ahead of comfort. "I can get you both food and a towel. Wait in Great Hall while I get you a towel from one of the dormitories. You can eat while you deliver your message to the Abbess."
The hare nodded, and Gormin led the unexpected guest into Great Hall. At the moment, he didn't give much thought to what message she might have been sent to deliver, but by dinner tomorrow, it would be the subject for gossip among every Redwaller.
Andrew tugged his cloak tightly around himself, and willed the rain to stop falling. The wind, too, made him uncomfortable, but it was the rain that made his clothing damp and caused every fierce gust of wind to feel more cold than it actually was.
I should've listened to dad and waited to leave Redwall, thought the young mouse. If he had waited for the storm to pass, he would probably have been able to Hake's dwelling without too much delay. After all, five days visiting Hake was five days, no matter when he set out. But Andrew had insisted on leaving that afternoon, bidding farewell to his father and his friends and carrying only his sword and a pack of provisions.
The young mouse regretted his decision now, though. Even if he didn't become sick from the cold, his journey would be miserable. The icy winds and rain were already chilling him to the bone, and the night was only just beginning. But if he could find some short of shelter... Andrew squinted and swept his gaze across the woodlands. If he could find somewhere, anywhere, to take shelter, he could escape from the wind and rain and resume his journey to see Hake in the morning.
Unfortunately for Andrew, he couldn't find any place to hide from the elements. The mouse bit out a curse and drew his cloak even tighter around his body, and continued to make his way through Mossflower Woods. He had traveled along this route many times in his life, accompanied by his father Cain or Hake when he was younger, and eventually traveling the paths himself when Hake and Redwall's Champion, a squirrel named Gormin, judged him capable of defending himself at the age of twelve seasons.
After several more minutes of walking, Andrew came to a halt. A large tree had fallen across his path, and though Andrew could have easily made his way around it, he saw his chance to take shelter beneath it. After taking the time to make sure the tree would not fall on him if he were to stay underneath it, he crawled through some of the branches and took shelter from the wind. Most of the rain still found its way to him, but the shelter was better than staying out in the storm.
Andrew had no idea how much time had passed when he heard footsteps moving along the muddy path. The falling raindrops drowned most of the sound out, but Andrew could still distinguish the sound of walking. Cautiously, Andrew pulled himself out of his shelter and looked through the tree's branches in the direction of the footsteps.
In the dark of night, he could only make out the vague shape of a hare walking slowly in the opposite direction of that he had been traveling in. Most hares in these parts were trustworthy, and this one was coming from the direction of Salamandastron. But being cautious had never hurt Andrew before, and he quietly drew his sword and sat waiting for the hare to approach the fallen tree.
But it seemed that Andrew hadn't been quiet enough to escape the hare's hearing. The shadowy figure stopped in its tracks, and drew a weapon from its belt. "Show yourself an' I'll spare your life!" exclaimed the hare, crouching and holding the blade in front of itself. "I'm warnin' you, I'm a fair fighter, an' a member or Lord Rocketh's Long Patrol at that! If you come out peaceably, I'll think about sparin' your life!"
Andrew showed himself and held his sword out in front of him. "I'm Andrew, a mouse of Redwall Abbey. I'm a traveler, and have had the misfortune of being caught in this storm. I don't mean for any trouble, but if you want a fight, I can give you one."
"Would you be Cain's son?" asked the hare. The figure lowered its blade, and stepped closer to Andrew. He relaxed his hold on his sword, but stayed wary of the hare. "I fought alongside your mother an' father seven seasons ago, during the Stormrat War. Cain was a great swordsbeast, an' your mother Kelly was talented with a scimitar. A mighty shame she met her end durin' that war - she would've wanted to see you grow into a fine young mouse."
The death of his mother was a topic that brought feelings of grief to Andrew's heart, but he didn't let the hare know that. "You're... Candice. My father speaks highly of you, and says that it was because of you that he survived the war. I never expected to meet you in the middle of Mossflower Wood. Where are you headed?"
Seeing that the young mouse had recognize him, Candice stepped back and made a running jump over the trunk of the fallen tree. "I'm bound for Redwall Abbey. Lord Rocketh wanted me to take a message to your Abbess, an' I'm one o' the fastest hares in the patrol. But I'm curious about why an Abbeybeast such as yourself would be travelin' through this gloomy weather. You could end up dead from the bally cold!"
"I'm journeying to meet up with my friend Hake. He's a warriormouse, and my father says that he was the beast who taught him how to fight. He took me to meet Hake a couple seasons ago, when Redwall's Champion, Gormin, decided that I was learning faster than my friends and needed someone else to teach me. My father couldn't, since he is Gormin's assistant, so he asked Hake to train me. I've been working with him for four seasons now, and I've been able to fend for myself in the better parts of Mossflower for a season and a half." A note of pride crept into Andrew's voice as he said that last sentence.
A smile spread across Candice's face as she listened to Andrew. "You sound skilled for your age, but don't go thinkin' that you can take down a Long Patrol hare. An' I'd recommend stayin' away from vermin, for a while at least. No need to risk your fur to do what other beasts can do themselves, wot!" Candice put on an air of confidence as she said this, but something about her voice told Andrew that there was something worrying her.
"Here, take my cloak," said Candice, taking off her own cloak and giving it to Andrew. "You look chilled t' the bone, and havin' only one layer o' protection from the elements certainly isn't helpin' you. I'd stay here and make sure you didn't catch fever, but Lord Rocketh's message was quite urgent, an' I don't think he'd appreciate me wastin' my time. If I had been runnin' instead of travelin' at this slow pace, I'd've been far past here by now!" When Andrew tried to refuse the cloak that Candice offered, the hare shook her head and shoved it firmly into his hands. "Don't be ridiculous!" scolded the hare whiled bouncing on her footpaws. "Like I said, I'm a hare of the Long Patrol. We're used to runnin' in any sort o' weather. I should be goin'. By fur, I should've been gone already!" With one last concerned glance at Andrew, Candice turned in the direction that she had been headed and galloped off. In a few moments, the dark swallowed her retreating figure.
Shivering, Andrew ducked back into the shelter the tree provided. He wrapped Candice's cloak around him, and it did help protect him from the wind. But the dampness still soaked through his clothing, and when he closed his eyes, he had trouble sleeping. It was only when the howling winds and the rain began to die down that he was able to drift off into a fitful sleep.
~~~
At Redwall Abbey, the storm wasn't so lenient. Instead of dying down as it had in Mossflower Woods, it only increased its ferocity. Many beasts tossed and turned in their beds, trying to force themself to sleep. Out of those few who did manage to shove the howling of the winds and pattering of the rain on the walls of Redwall out of their minds and will themselves to sleep, all but a few were tormented by uneasy dreams. Many of the adults had given up on getting to sleep, and were gathered down in Cavern Hole, sipping at whatever beverages they could get their paws on.
Redwall's Champion, Gormin, paced restlessly, holding a cup filled with October ale in his paw. Around him, Abbey dwellers sat around Cavern Hole's two tables or stood in clusters, talking to each other quietly. The wind outside drowned out their voices to those who were not sitting close to them. Something about the storm taking place outside hushed the voices of the normally cheerful Redwallers. This storm is a fearsome thing, thought the squirrel to himself as he walked back and forth, letting his bushy tail sweep out behind him. The Champion of Redwall was considered by many to be fearless and ferocious, and aside from himself and his close friend Jacob, nobeast knew the inner thoughts and feelings of the squirrel considered by many to be a badger in a squirrel's body.
Everybeast gave Gormin a wide berth as he paced back and forth, though he was doing nothing to make himself seem intimidating. He supposed that the image of a warrior that fought against the Stormrats moving about Cavern Hole restlessly and scowling at nothing would put fear, or at least wariness, into the hearts of most beasts. Had he been in the mood, Gormin would have laughed at the way the other beasts in Cavern Hole kept clear of him.
Eventually, Gormin became aware of the discomfort his pacing was causing to most of the adults gathered in the room. He heaved a sigh and sat down next to Cain, a mouse who didn't seem to be particularly disturbed by his reputation as a fierce warrior. "Hello, Gormin," said Cain, looking up from the table. "The storm disturbed your rest, too?"
While Gormin and Cain had never been close, they had fought together in the Stormrat War, and that gave them a kind of kinship that no nonwarrior would understand. In fact, Gormin considered Cain to be more in touch with the forces of war than himself - while Gormin had seen many beasts die on the field of battle, Cain had lost a wife to the Stormrats. It was a wound that would never go away, and Gormin felt a deep pity for the mouse.
"Yes... I don't believe anybeast in Mossflower will sleep peacefully tonight. Even within this Abbey, the wind and rain are strong enough to keep us awake. Think of what it must be like elsewhere." A flash of worry passed over Cain's eyes, and Gormin realized that he had said the wrong thing. "Your son is out there, isn't he?" Cain nodded. Gormin reached out a paw and placed it on Gormin's shoulder. "He'll be alright. The mouse is tough for his age, and a little bit of bad weather will do him good; give him some experience in what it would be like during a war." Cain nodded his thanks, but it was obvious that Gormin's words did little to nothing to help abate Cain's worries.
A couple minutes of silence followed Gormin and Can's conversation. When Gormin noticed Colin, a squirrel who had fought alongside Cain and himself in the Stormrat War, come down into Cavern Hole, he quietly stood and left the table. Cain would likely want some reassurance about his son Andrew from a close friend's lips, and Gormin feared that it would be considered rude to stay and listen to the conversation. He had few enough friends in the Abbey as it was, and he did not want to offend one of the few beasts who didn't mind his company.
By the time Colin had taken a seat next to Cain, Gormin had walked to the other end of Cavern Hole and now stood sipping at his October ale. The squirrel resisted the urge to resume his pacing, and instead stood with his back to the wall, sweeping his gaze back and forth across the room.
As Gormin drained his glass, his thoughts turned to his friend Jacob. He would be out in the gatehouse, almost certainly awake. Jacob had been a poor sleeper since he was a dibbun, and was kept awake by storms and other distractions even now, many seasons later. Jacob would confine himself to the gatehouse this stormy night. There was no way for him to know that much of the Abbey population was gathered in Cavern Hole, and even if he did, he might prefer the company of the Abbey histories to risking the heavy rain and rough winds to come out from the gatehouse. But instead of wasting his time trying to get to sleep, the Abbey recorder would be reading through Redwall's histories, or undertaking the task of organizing the text held within the gatehouse.
There's nobody here for me to talk to, thought Gormin. Jacob was the only beast who was willing to befriend him, and that was because they had been close when they were young, before Gormin became a fierce warrior. Jacob had apprenticed under the mouse who had been the Abbey recorder when they were young, and was schooled in the Abbey histories and keeping his own records at the same time Gormin had been learning how to fight with sword, spear, and bow and arrows.
Gormin had taken the place of Rina, the previous Abbey Champion, the same season that Jacob had risen to the position of Redwall's recorder. The responsibilities of the Abbey's Champion before the Stormrat War had consisted of defending Abbeybeasts and innocent woodlanders from the more unsavory beasts that roamed the woodlands, keeping in touch with Lord Sunforge and his Long Patrol, and training Abbey dwellers who wished to become warriors. Redwall's Skipper of otters had helped Gormin with the training when he first began, but it still took the squirrel seasons to grow into the art of teaching younger beasts how to fight. Rina, though she was old and her fur turned grey, had helped him teach the younger beasts until her seasons got the better of her and she died in her sleep.
When the Stormrat War began, the duties of Redwall's Champion changed drastically. Lord Sunforge himself had journeyed to Redwall and requested assistance from Abbess Elm. At first, she was reluctant to risk Abbeybeasts in a war that she felt Salamandastron's Long Patrol could win itself, but as the army of the Stormrats gradually began to beat back the Long Patrol and make its way north along the coast and east into Mossflower, desperation got the better of Elm's peaceful ways. Redwall's defenders were sent to assist the Long Patrol, from Gormin to Skipper to a young Colin. Only Cain and Kelly refused to hurry to the front lines. Instead, they set off into Mossflower Wood, leaving their son Andrew behind.
The Long Patrol had suffered heavy losses against the Stormrat army by the time Redwall's warriors arrived to help. But though the warriors at Redwall were well trained by the Abbey defenders in the art of war, they could do little against the disciplined army of the Stormrats. Slowly but surely, the armies of Salamandastron and Redwall were pushed north, toward Salamandastron. There, Lord Sunforge claimed, they would drive off the Stormrats or die trying.
And for awhile, it did seem as if the goodbeasts would die trying. The Stormrats were unusually skilled at keeping their army disciplined, and the beasts themselves were awesome to behold. The Stormrats were a dominant family of searat, and they grew to almost twice the size of a normal searat. Stormrats were almost as fierce as badgers, and they had all the cunning of a vermin warlord. Their numbers were small, but the presence of the Stormrats gave their army confidence, and brought despair to the hearts of the goodbeasts that opposed them.
At Salamandastron, the armies of the goodbeasts managed to hold off the Stormrats for many days. It seemed that they would have a chance to retaliate when Lord Sunforge came up with plans to direct guerilla attacks against the vermin army, sending attackers by night to harass them and retreating to the safety of Salamandastron when their presence was noted. He hoped that these tactics would cause the Stormrats to retreat to more neutral territory along the coastline. But Lord Sunforge died leading the first guerilla attack, and though the vermin were caught by surprise and many of them were slain, many of the goodbeasts also lost their lives.
The loss of Lord Sunforge was a demoralizing blow, but the goodbeasts did not give up. Gormin himself took over the overall leadership of the beasts stationed at Salamandastron, and a hare by the name of Lanter took over the Long Patrol after Sunforge died. Using guerilla tactics, Gormin drove off the Stormrats from Salamandastron. But instead of turning back south, the army plunged into Mossflower.
Naturally, the goodbeasts pursued, unwilling to watch the Stormrats invade their home. But when they caught up with the vermin army, they found a force of Guosim shrews already fighting them. Cain and Kelly accompanied the shrews, along with an assortment of woodlanders. The intervention of the Guosim had turned the tide of battle, but there were still more tragedies to be experienced...
A particularly loud gust of wind brought Gormin out of his reminisces. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he noticed that even more Redwallers had come down into Cavern Hole. It's getting a bit too crowded in here for my tastes, thought Gormin. He made his way toward the entrance to Great Hall, casting one last glance at his fellow Redwallers who were gathered in Cavern Hole.
Gormin walked toward the stairs leading up to Redwall's dormitories, but stopped as the tapestry of Martin the Warrior caught his eye. He walked over it and touched it gently. "We never did find your sword," the squirrel whispered, gazing at the warrior mouse depicted in the tapestry. "Maybe that's why we fared so poorly in the Stormrat War."
The mouse warrior's eyes seemed to gaze at Gormin, and for a moment, it seemed to the squirrel as if Martin the Warrior was gazing across time, judging the current Champion of the Abbey he had founded. It made Gormin feel inferior, but at the same time, kindled some kind of fierce pride within him. With or without the sword of Martin, he was the Champion of Redwall Abbey.
The moment passed, and Gormin shook his head. It felt foggy, and no matter how hard he tried to clear his mind, the fogginess would not leave. Sighing, Gormin turned away from the tapestry and climbed the stairs to the dormitories.
Many Redwallers in seasons past had claimed to have "spoken" with Martin the Warrior through dreams, or felt the subtle touch of his paw on their daily lives. But if the warriormouse intervened in the lives of Abbeybeast in the present day, none of the Abbeybeasts had shared their experiences with their fellows.
But before he left for the Stormrat War, Gormin had visited the tapestry to ask the spirit of Martin the Warrior for luck. He had experienced a dizzy feeling, and when the feeling dissipated, he felt somehow more confident and prepared for war. He also suspected that Cain and Kelly had received some sort of guidance from the mouse. He had seen the two of them together in front of the tapestry the day before Redwall's defenders had departed. Gormin believed that it was Martin's guidance that caused Cain and Kelly to rally the Guosim and other woodlanders five seasons ago.
When Gormin opened the door to his dormitory, he had every intention of laying down in his bed and making at least a half-hearted attempt to get to sleep. But instead, he found himself donning his cloak and walking back down to Great Hall.
The squirrel warrior passed some other Redwallers in the halls, but he didn't stop to greet them. He wasn't even sure where he was going. He felt as if he were being guided, and when he turned his thoughts toward this, a small smile spread across his face. Once again, Martin, you nudge me toward something. I just wonder what.
Gormin swept through Great Hall, and made his way toward the door leading outside to where the rain and wind raged. He reached one paw up to draw his cloak around himself to protect him from the cold, though he was not sure if it was his own will or Martin's guidance that caused him to take the action. I think I did it, though Gormin, feeling his legs move without his direction and moving outside. I remember telling myself to.
The rain and wind beat fiercely at Gormin as he exited the main Abbey building, but he didn't so much as pause. His legs carried him against the wind, against the rain, and toward the main gate. The squirrel consciously willed himself to ignore the discomfort the weather was causing his body, and let his legs carry him to his destination.
Once he reached the main gate of Redwall, he felt as if he were being slowly released from some sort of foreign influence. Goodbye, Martin, though Gormin wistfully as he felt himself regain full control of his body and will. Once he could act for himself again, Gormin turned his thoughts toward why exactly he was standing in front of the gate.
It didn't take him long to grasp one possible answer. Over the noise that the wind and rain caused, Gormin could hear something pounding on the Abbey gates. They had been locked before everybody turned in for the night, and in the event that some woodlander was left out in the storm, there would be no way for them to enter the Abbey. But it could also be a vermin...
On impulse, Gormin slid open the bolt that held the gates shut and slowly opened the heavy wooden doors. After he had managed to open a crack between the double doors large enough to permit a badger to enter, he stepped outside of the Abbey walls and looked around. After only a few moments, he sighted the beast that had been waiting at the doors. A female hare that Gormin presumed was a member of the Long Patrol stood outside of Redwall's gates. Drops of water dripped down from her long ears, and her fur was soaked through.
"Sure took you long enough to open the flippin' gate, didn't it?" said the hare huffily. Then she shook her head, sending droplets of water flying from her ears. "Well, I suppose I can't complain. This storm's a fierce one, and I can't expect you to hear me poundin' on the door, wot?" Gormin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get anything out, the hare continued speaking. "Well, now that you've opened the darned thing, I don't suppose you could take me inside? I'm Candice, a runner from Lord Rocketh's Long Patrol. I got an urgent message for the Abbess o' Redwall. From Lord Rocketh himself, y'know."
"I'll take you to her," said Gormin wearily. "But could you help me shut the gates, first?"
"O' course I can!" exclaimed the hare, lending Gormin her assistance in shutting the gate. "As a hare of the Long Patrol, I do a whole lot more than openin' and closin' gates. I'm one of Lord Rocketh's fastest runners. That's why he chose me to deliver this message. It's urgent, and the Abbess must be notified as soon as it's convenient."
"Then come inside," said Gormin. "Almost everybeast in the Abbey is awake because of the storm, and the Abbess is down in Cavern Hole. I'll take you to her right away." The squirrel warrior slid the bolt back into place to lock the main gate of Redwall, and turned to lead the hare to the main building. Just like an outsider to ask for admittance by the main gate rather than the wallgates, he thought. Grandeur isn't everything.
"By the way, I don't suppose that you have any food that you could spare? The long run tired me out, and I'm jolly well famished. A towel would be nice, too, but if you don't have any you could spare, that's fine by me."
Gormin almost chuckled. Just like a hare to but food ahead of comfort. "I can get you both food and a towel. Wait in Great Hall while I get you a towel from one of the dormitories. You can eat while you deliver your message to the Abbess."
The hare nodded, and Gormin led the unexpected guest into Great Hall. At the moment, he didn't give much thought to what message she might have been sent to deliver, but by dinner tomorrow, it would be the subject for gossip among every Redwaller.