CHAPTER ONE

Under the sweltering heat of the summer sun, a young ottermaid sat beside the Abbey Pond. Trying to relieve herself a bit of the scalding temperatures, she dabbled her paws in the shallows. She was suddenly knocked flat by a rush of Dibbuns, the mischievous abbeybabes.

"Save oi, Rikka, oi do gurtly 'ate bathers…"

"Dun let Sisser Lily get us inner baff! She scrub our eyeses out!"

"Heeelp!"

A rather disdainful mouse sister of Redwall Abbey followed the Dibbuns. "Oh dear, I'll never be able to bathe them now… They've found you." Rikka only gave Lily a wink in reply.

"Now then, wot's all this? Dibbuns not wanting to take a bath! Well I never… hasn't old Brother Ogen told you the story of Dillin?"

A hedgehog scowled impudently. "No, Rikka, tell us'n's, we wants to hear et!" Rikka began her fibbed story, making grand gestures with her paws to emphasize her words.

"Why, Dillin was an innocent-enough young mousebabe; th' only thing wrong wi' her was she never wanted to take a bath. She kept gettin' dirtier an' dirtier, 'til she was covered with layers an' layers o' dirt. One day, the ole Cellarhog accidentally dropped a handful of seeds on her. The seeds took root in the dirt, and began t'grow! Within a month or so, pore ole Dillin was covered head to foot in strawberries, turnips, carrots, an' all manner o' vegetables!"

The Dibbuns watched, wide-eyed. A young mole pressed further. "Hurr, wot 'arppened nex, miz Rikka, marm?" Rikka grinned knowingly. "She was eaten all up by two hungry hares!" The small crowd let out a gasp, then took off toward the bath. "I ain't gonna be eated up by any 'are, ho no!"

In a matter of moments, all the Dibbuns had dispersed, Sister Lily with them. A molemaid chuckled from her position a few feet away. "Hurr hurr, Rikka, you'm a rarscal if oi ever seed'un. 'Ee got those Dibbuns to 'ee barths quicker'n'ever!"

Rikka bowed comically. "Why, thank ee! You're Duggem, right? Foremole Burgg's daughter?" The mole nodded. "Whoi, yes oi am. Lunchtoime is cummin' oop, we'm better get to 'ee Gurt Hall." The ottermaid grinned. "Ho, right you are, m'friend! If we don't get there soon, our new resident hare might just eat it all up!"

The pair had nothing to fear. When they made it to the abbey, they found the resident hare sitting outside Great Hall. Duggem inquired about his downcast appearance. "Hurr, wot are 'ee doin owt yurr, zurr Dunnor?" The hare replied in a mournful tone. "I was just samplin' a bit of the food before hand, makin' sure that the scoff was safe t'eat. But that ole Friar chap, Roan thingummy, chased me out! I was only doing mah duty, wot wot."

Dunnor had come to Redwall Abbey only a season back, and was little older than a leveret. Rikka helped him to his feet. "Don't worry, mate! Me'n Duggem here'll protect you from Friar Roanburr." Duggem agreed heartily. "You'm no need t'be a-froightened with us'n's 'round!" Dunnor slung his paws around Rikka and Duggem's shoulders.

"Yore right, no Friar'll dare mess with three bloodhungry beasts such as we, wot wot!" Joking and laughing, the three creatures of Redwall entered the Great Hall.

Miles away from the peaceful Mossflower Country, in the land of Southsward, an army was growing. Redven the Sly surveyed the many creatures under her command with disgust.

Redven was a cunning young vixen, scheming her way to positions of power. Now she was left with a horde of thousands of vermin; rats, ferrets, weasels, and stoats, even three adders were present.

But each and every one was untrained, unused to being under command of a single horde leader. Redven was left with thousands of hordebeasts, several hundred prisoners, and the conquered Castle Floret of Southsward.

A grimy looking rat scrambled up the side of the cliff Redven was standing on. His head popped up over the edge. "Eh, Redven, there's a li'il' problem down 'ere…" The golden-furred fox aimed a kick at the rat's head, pushing him off the side of the cliff. "Wot 'ave you done now, Grimnose?"

Grimnose reached wildly for the cliff edge, making contact and clinging to the side of the cliff. He clambered up to stand far away from the edge. "It ain't nothin' I've done, Redven, it's those snakes you got. The other hordebeasts won't go anywhere near 'em." Redven sighed. "How in the name of Hellgates does that add up to a problem I should be worried about, you addlebrained excuse for a rat?"

The second in command shuffled his feet, and mumbled out an answer. "They refuse to train with the adders in camp, Redven."

Redven the Sly erupted, aiming kicks and blows all around her right-paw rat. "Well, get down there and tell those sniveling, simpering, pampered brats that they better get training, before I come down there and flay each an' every one of their hides!"

Dust flew as Grimnose scrabbled down the cliff. "Yes, yes, right away, Redven!" The vixen horde leader buried her head in her paws. Thousands of vermin under her control, and no place to go!

It was deep into the night, and Danolta, the squirrelking of Southsward, sat under the tree where he had so happily spent his childhood. Now he was chained up and tied to the old willow, along with his wife, twin daughters, and the rest of his court. One of the twins, Roey, was set in his lap. The other, Amin, nestled uneasily in his wife's. Danolta blinked back a tear.

"How could I have let this happen? How could I have let our dear castle fall prisoner to that vixen?" He murmured softly to himself, so as not to wake the other prisoners that he assumed were all asleep. The muffled clanking of chains and the soft touch of a paw on his shoulder told him his wife, Aethel, was also awake.

She shifted, bound right beside Danolta. "It's not your fault, dear. There was nothing you could do. There were too many of them, and too little of us."

The strong voice of the head hare of the Southsward army, Fleetum, reached the squirrelking's ears. "Aye, even if they hadn't caught us off guard, we wouldn't have been able to make a bloomin' dent in their ranks, wot!" Danolta smiled weakly. "You're both right. I suppose I am blaming myself too much."

Fleetum spoke again. "I already have the troops workin' on plans to escape from this bunch of rotters." Aethel chuckled. "Always ready for action, that's you in a nutshell, Fleetum. We didn't appoint you head of our army for nothing."

Danolta nodded, stroking Roey's soft baby fur. "Well, there's naught we can do right now, save sleep." Fleetum nodded, looking down as her stomach rumbled. "If those vermin would only give us some scoff… ah, well, a body can forget everything in sleep. G'night, yore majesties."

Soft snoring announced the hare's slumber. Aethel yawned. "It is late, Dan. We should follow the others' example, and get to sleep. Try not to worry too much, we will find a way out of this mess."

Danolta settled down to sleep, following his wife's advice. But the back part of his mind vowed revenge on Redven the Sly. He would get no rest until the cunning vixen drew her last breath!