Whoever said a fox was cruel
And cunning, one to deceive?
And who laid it down
That vermin were rats,
Over whose deaths none would grieve?
It's always been told
Of snakes, weasels, and stoats
Never to trust or give aid to them;
And among their own kind
You unfailingly find
Underhand plots that destroy them.
In the midst of all thisCould it ever be had
That a fox would be good
While an otter was bad?
From ages of stereotypes we must part
To see in a villain a warrior's heart.
Warrior's HeartA/N: Here's the first chappy of the first fic I've actually published. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Well, let's see, the Redwall setting and related things like "somebeast" and "squirrelmaid"-Brian Jacques. Characters and plot within this story-mine.
Chapter 1: The Silence
Sparks danced red and gold under the contemptuous glare of Tharn Yagil, mocking him. The stoat sighed, staring moodily into the flames that danced gleefully in the face of his misery, willing it to produce a fat roasted woodpigeon from its fat jeering face. Behind Yagil hunched shivering over the fire, the bushes rustled. Yagil ignored it, though a ready claw was hooked around the dagger beneath his cloak. It was only Welp. "What is it now, Welp?" he rasped impatiently.
A scrawny, nervous rat with patchy black fur skittered out of the undergrowth. Bowing upon shaky legs, she spoke in a high-pitched quaver. "Th-Tharn Yagil, sir. The c-clan says yesterday you p-promised them they'd have f-food by now, sir." She shrank back as he turned his gaze upon her, knowing her words could easily incur the wrath of the brooding stoat.
"And do they have food, Welp?" he replied in a hoarse whisper, danger alight in his eyes. The rat winced and visibly gulped before responding. Yagil was unpredictable in a mood like this, especially after a defeat.
"N-n-no, sir. They are h-h-hungry."
Tharn Yagil averted his gaze from the terrified Welp, returning to his preoccupation with the fire. He sneered at it. All your fault, fire. It's your burning, crackling, fiery fault my clan is plotting to revolt tonight. He knew his clan was displeased and, as all vermin do, they were plotting against him. Welp had been sent to let him in on what he already knew, which meant the time for action was fast approaching.
Suddenly he spun back upon Welp, slashing his claws deep into her cheek and sending her with a heavy thud to the ground. He stood over her calmly and stated, "Moles are weak, inferior creatures, and one little den of them should have been dead within seconds. But I am only one stoat, Welp, and I cannot kill them all myself. Besides, then you and your disgraceful excuses for comrades would have no share in the booty. Tell them that from me, Welp, will you?" He whined his last request, an honest plea in his voice. The next instant his foot paw connected solidly with her side. Hauling her upright by her neck, he shoved her in the direction of the other disgruntled clan members, growling, "Tell them, Welp. Always do what your leader asks of you. Or else." He chuckled dryly, and returned to his post at the fire.
Shht. Shht. Shht. Crack! Shht. The sound of a twig breaking underpaw drew the fox Asino's attention away from the axe blade he was sharpening. He tested the edge, finding it honed to perfection, and then addressed the black rat who collapsed beside him. "What did he do, Welp?" he questioned casually. She touched a paw gingerly to her face, indicating the bleeding scratches. The fear was quickly receding from her, and her voice grew spiteful and sarcastic.
"Oh, he only threw me down, beat me, threatened me, and called his clan a disgrace. I 'ope yer happy."
He caught her disgusted look, found her a somewhat clean scrap of cloth with which she could clean her face and calmly returned to fingering his beautifully crafted battleaxe. Axes and spears were Asino's specialty-nobeast in the clan could beat him. "I am happy, Welp, thank you for your concern. But that is good-Yagil's playing down to our level now. He's unnerved and he knows we aren't behind him. Not much of a leader anymore, is he?" He raised his voice so his last statement could be heard by half a dozen nearby clan beasts. Grumbled agreement met his words.
"Yeah, well ain't it a bit disgraceful that a few molebeasts defeated an 'ole vermin clan?"
"Only if you think we could've done better."
An aged fox in heavy bandages spoke up from where he was lying, a few feet from Asino. "Those moles got lucky, kicking their cooking fire about and happening to get it caught on a clothesline. If they hadn't been surrounded by their own flames we'd have killed them all."
Asino snorted disdainfully. "Yes, father, and if you hadn't been so blind, you wouldn't be the only thing half-cooked around here." Asino's father was his greatest disgrace, an ordinary clan vermin with an amazing capacity for being slack-the antithesis of his self-driven, power-hungry son. "Any food around, Gretch?"
A sleek weasel sitting opposite of Asino replied, "Nothing much, but here." She reached into a pouch slung around her neck and withdrew a pawful of early strawberries. Reaching across the space where a fire should have been, she handed them to the fox. "Little bitter, but summer will be here soon." Asino received the berries gratefully and devoured them on the spot. Several minutes passed in silence, every creature reflecting upon their individual miseries, then Asino rose and shouldered his axe.
"Time to go, mates. Yagil's had more than enough opportunity to turn things around." Silently he disappeared into the trees surrounding the vermin camp, followed closely by Gretch and Welp.
Although their actions were furtive and their plans well concealed, it was easily inferred what Asino's trio was up to. It reflected the general attitude of the clan. An unnatural silence blanketed the clearing, ominous and foreboding in its chilling presence.
With Gretch and Welp concealed among the trees on either side of him, Asino strolled back into camp and right up to Tharn Yagil, staring levelly at him from across the fire. The stoat was muttering curses at the fire under his breath, and jumped when the image of a fox suddenly seemed to appear in the flames. "Whaddya want, foxling?"
His young seasons being pointed up as an insult irked Asino, but he kept his tones cool. He knew he could easily have Yagil slain without the stoat even knowing what hit him. But that would create a craven image for Asino, and he knew he could beat Yagil in combat just as easily. So he simply announced, "Tharn Yagil, you will die tonight."
This assertion finally snapped Yagil into full consciousness. He laughed mockingly at the young fox, and said tauntingly "And I suppose yer going to kill me?"
Asino ignored the stoat's ridicule and merely nodded with grave sincerity. Yagil threw his head back and roared with laughter. "That little whelp...kill me...he couldn't kill an apple if'n it fell on top of his axe! Hahahahahohohoho!"
Asino leveled his axe at Yagil from across the fire. "Fight me, coward, or die where you sit."
Yagil straightened, noting the ferocity in the fox's eyes, then called to the rest of the clan. "Look, Asino wants to die." Stifling another gale of laughter, he rose and drew a sword from the sheath on his back and a dagger from his belt. It was remarkable how quickly the gaiety fell from his countenance when faced with an adversary. Already the vermin had closed in upon the combatants, forming a ring within which the two would battle until one emerged the victor and undisputed leader of the clan. The pair circled halfway around the ring, then Yagil charged.
He slashed down toward Asino's neck, meeting the blade of the fox's axe with a sharp clang. Asino darted sideways and swiped toward Yagil's legs. The stoat leapt backward, eyeing the fox suspiciously. Asino grinned, a gesture enough to infuriate the wired Yagil, who lunged forward with a roar and hacked at Asino's head. Asino stepped almost delicately sideways again, and Yagil stumbled across the ring, unbalanced by the force of his unmet blow. He spun back to Asino, snarling, "Fight me! You are a coward!" He lunged again, meeting the fox's axe-blade, and the two exchanged blows. The clang of the blades reverberated across the clearing as the two jumped and slashed. It was a brief conflict. Asino flicked his axe to the left, and Yagil met it. The two strained against each other for a moment, then Asino slid his axe straight down the sword blade and into Yagil's paw, separating the weapon from his grip. Yagil paused, then hurled himself toward his sword. Asino swung the axe straight down into the stoat's back. Hauling him upright on the edge of his blade, he whispered, "You are a fool, Tharn Yagil. And now you are dead." Disgustedly he shook his weapon free of the limp carcass and turned to the rest of the group. Gretch and Welp emerged from hiding, their assistance not having been needed. His voice rang out across the silent vermin, victorious and confident.
"I, Asino, lead this clan now. Any who do not wish to follow me, leave before I learn whom you are or I shall track you down and kill you. Only the strong and the worthy shall be taken under my command. You will not speak unless you have something valuable to say. You shall carry out every order down to the last tail twitch or face...unpleasant consequences."
Somebeast spoke up from the back. "You are an arrogant, incompetent upstart. Nobeast will ever bend to your will, Asino."
Asino grinned. This was where his expertise with spears came into play. Even as the rebel was speaking, he reached behind his back and the ever-attentive Gretch passed him a short spear, perfect for the distance. Without moving a paw to reveal the presence of the weapon he hurled it forward. He did not miss, and an old, heavily bandaged fox lay slain with the spear in his throat. Asino shrugged, and turned from the scene. "Silenced him for good this time," he chuckled to Gretch.
The weasel grinned. "And I'm sure you'll enjoy the silence."
Asino started at her last words. The Silence, he mused. It was perfect, no ordinary name for an army. The perfect name for no ordinary band of vermin. His would be no horde, no rabble of useless searats and corsairs. They would be soldiers, well versed in the ways of war. Their name would be reminiscent of so many things Asino wished opposing forces to consider. The unnerving, unnatural silence that falls over the woodlands just before a predator strikes. The silence of an assassin, moving undetected until it is too late. And the perpetual, irrevocable silence of the dead. He issued his first command in an authoritarian voice. "Break camp and move out." He started off westward, without a backward glance to see who chose to follow. Without another leader, most of the vermin were likely to follow.
Gretch loped fluidly over to the new clan leader, a slight urgency in her speech. "Asino, what shall we do about the two slain ones?"
Asino flashed her a fiendish grin before nonchalantly replying, "They can rot where they fell." Turning back to the path ahead, he broke into an easy trot, bound for the western shores, and has never looked back since.
A/N: Hopefully it was worth your while to read that. Please read and review, flame if you feel like it, so I can see if people want me to continue writing this story.