Hey Y'all, CC here, letting you know that this story is a bit of a work in progress. I'm not really sure how I feel about the way I wrote this n I would welcome your comments. Just so you all know, this is an all new generation in the Abbey, I am attempting to use mostly OC's in this story. Please don't borrow them. I will, however, be allowing you a little leeway. I am at a bit of a crossroads as to how to end this story. I have two endings in mind, one happy, one not so much. I am leaning towards one particular ending and would enjoy having your input on all of this. Here's hoping to hear from you soon.
CalgaryCowgirl
It was time.
All about her, Nyx heard the sounds of war. Catapults were being cocked, bows being strung, slings whistling through the air. She felt the chainmail she wore rubbing against her fur, her swords pulling at her hips, the glittering steel cuff gently resting at the base of her bushy tail, her quiver sliding along the ridges of her back as she breathed. She wondered, casually, if this might be the last time breath would fill her lungs. She and death had walked paw in paw for most of her life, a wandering warrior seeking... something, offering her skills to the mice, otters, and other creatures who might have needed them.
As she went through the motions of preparing for the epic battle that was to come, Nyx let her mind travel over the many years she had spent wandering Mossflower Forest and the surrounding lands. All her life she had been a warrior, a killer. The creatures she helped may have been grateful to her for saving them from the vermin that plagued them, but they feared her almost as much as the enemies she vanquished for them.
Now the black squirrel's services had been called upon once more, this time in defence of the famous Redwall Abbey and its residents. She had come to Redwall about a year and a half ago after receiving some very grievous wounds in a battle with a group of vermin slavers. It had taken months for her to heal up from that encounter and in that space of time she had found herself becoming accustomed to the place, to the creatures within it. Such a feeling had unnerved her; she had even walked away from the abbey for a few months, trying to return to her wandering ways. It hadn't worked and she knew why.
As she had been healing, Nyx found herself getting to know one Duncan McKenna, a redheaded squirrel from the highlands. They were both warriors, but she found his belief in justice and his passionate defence of those he cared for interesting. They had swapped war stories and as interesting as she had found him, he had apparently found her just as fascinating. He found it inconceivable that a creature could dedicate their life to being a solitary creature. Having been surrounded by family all his life, Duncan just couldn't wrap his head around somebeast who actually wanted to be alone in their life.
She smiled softly to herself, still remembering the day the two squirrels had first encountered one another.
A crisp breeze whispered past her face as Nyx stared out at the thick forest that sprawled across the landscape as far as her eyes could see. Closing her eyes, she smiled as she took in the various sensations as they surfaced. The soft rustle of the trees in her ears, the fresh scent of last night's rain in her nose, the rough texture of stone under her paws... well, paw in this case.
Nyx grimaced in disgust as she opened her eyes to the splint and sling that shrouded her right arm, a lasting gift from her latest tussle. She hated the idea of being stuck in one place for months on end, just convalescing. It grated on her last nerve.
"Our healer's going to give you a right tongue lashing if she catches you up here." A Scottish brogue...it had been some years since Nyx had heard that. Glancing up she took in the rust coloured squirrel who stood before her. His shoulder length hair was swept up into a short ponytail and a small smirk tugged at his lips. The squirrel was dressed in a black leather jerkin, a sword hanging from his belt while a quiver of arrows rested on his back. What truly caught her eyes was the bright red tartan draped across his chest. She had seen it before.
"A McKenna." She said, ignoring his earlier statement. "You are from a noble line."
He arched a brow at her. "You know of my family."
Nyx nodded. "It has been many years since I've seen them, but the family of Kenneth McKenna were once great friends of mine. He trained me in to use of the Long bow and the Claymore."
"You knew my father?"
"I met him after both of his sons left home." Nyx replied. "Are you Duncan or James?"
A shadow of pain flitted through those emerald eyes. "Duncan." He replied, his voice soft and mournful. "James was killed about two years ago by a viper down south."
Nyx closed her eyes in sadness. "I'm sorry. You're father often spoke of you." Opening her eyes she let a small smile cross her face. "He was very proud of the both of you. Said he didn't know what it was, but he had obviously done something right."
An astonished smile grew rapidly on Duncan's face. "Really? We knew he cared about us, but we never knew he felt like that." Taking a seat beside her on the wall, he leaned in slightly. "What else did he tell you about us?"
Nyx took a moment to appraise the beast before her before speaking. It was true that Master McKenna had not been one to give praise freely. It appeared that he had he had done the same with his sons as he had done with her. "Well, he told me once about how you and your brother tried to climb the highest tree in the forest when you were only toddlers."
Duncan winced slightly. "And we both ended up with some form of broken bone. Ma never did let us forget that and we got a right whipping that night."
"Yeah, but even then he was proud of you." Nyx grinned at the astonished look Duncan shot her. "Really. He gave you the whipping because you deserved it but he was bragging about it to all men he knew later that night. He couldn't have been more proud of you."
Duncan smiled softly. "I never would have guessed." He shook his head in amusement. "He would often talk about you though."
Nyx frowned, suddenly slightly suspicious. "What did he tell you?"
The two had bonded that day, sharing tales out of school. They had swapped war stories and tales from their childhood, growing closer with each word shared. They were of the same mind, each seeming to know what the other was thinking at any given moment. This quality had come in very handy not too long ago.
The two of them had gone out with a patrol to investigate the rumours of a serpent invading the borders of Mossflower. It had been one of the more humid days of summer, causing them to think the snake would be easier to handle that day. They could not have been more wrong.
What the rumours had not said was that the snake made its home in the middle of the vermin encampment lead by its master. The patrol had been ambushed by vermin scouts and a vicious battle ensued
A wave of regret struck Nyx as she recalled that battle. Taking a moment, she rested against the gatehouse door, out of sight of all the beasts milling about the courtyard. She took a slow, shuddering breath, Nyx tried to calm the guilt and pain in her heart as she glanced up towards the infirmary window, remembering...
Nyx winced as she felt her blades strike bone as she sliced through her latest rat. Now she was going to have to file them down again to get the chip out of the blade. She hated doing that; it took so much time that could have gone towards training the guards of the abbey.
She let her eyes rove about the battlefield, searching for her next target as well as taking a moment to catch her breath. She felt blood from her own wounds running down her form, mingling with the blood and gore of her enemies. The sounds of battle were faint murmurs in her ears; the clash of swords mingling with battle cries sounded more like the quiet roar of a far distant waterfall. Spying a nearby fox, Nyx felt an evil smile cross her face. She always did like fighting with foxes, more of a challenge.
It didn't take her long to reach her target and soon the two were face to face, swords locked above their head. As the two struggled for dominance over the weapons, they stared into each other's eyes, each seeing a little piece of the other's soul.
"You will never defeat us." He hissed. "We will kill you all and dance upon your bones in victory."
Nyx just smiled at him before shoving the foul creature away from her. As he swiftly regained his balance, she made a mocking 'come-hither' motion with her paw. She watched in glee as the anger built in his eyes.
The battle that ensued was one of the fiercest battles she had ever fought. This fox was skilled, giving her a run for her life. The rest of the war faded even further into the background as Nyx centered herself, her only focus, the fox before her.
It felt as though the battle lasted only a moment, but Nyx knew it must have lasted far longer than that as she felt her breathing grow just a little more ragged, her arms quiver just a bit. The time she had been fighting, combined with how much blood she had already lost was swiftly sapping what little strength she had left. She wouldn't last much longer at this rate. She knew it, and her foxy friend knew it. There was a vindictive gleam in his eyes, a knowledge that he would get his revenge for the many wounds she had given him.
It was then that she made a fatal mistake. She had been so focused on her fight with the fox; she hadn't taken the time to watch where she was putting her feet. She felt herself falling backwards over one of the many corpses that littered the field. As she landed, Nyx saw the glimmer of satisfaction grow in her foe's eyes. Anger swelled in her heart, alongside intense frustration. She hated the smug look in his eyes as he kicked her sword aside and wheeled his arms back, preparing to gut her like a fish. Nyx closed her eyes and relaxed; praying her death would be kind and take her quickly, though, knowing there was little chance of that.
The shrill hiss of an arrow was not what she expected. Her eyes flew open as the breezy wake of death brushed past her ear, just in time to watch one of Duncan's trademark shafts bury its head into the heart of the fox before her. The survival instincts life had beaten into her soul kicked back into overdrive and Nyx rolled to the side, snatching up her sword and throwing herself back into the fray, with nary a glance behind her at the fox who had nearly beaten her.
The tide swiftly turned back in their favour and soon Duncan and Nyx were able to dispatch the last of their enemies as their minions turned tail and ran for the hills. As she watched them run, Nyx felt the adrenaline slowly run its course, felt pain slowly make itself known, felt her muscles quiver with exhaustion, and felt relief, and misery, fill her heart. Death had spared her once again, though to what end, she didn't know. Allowing herself to give in to her weariness, Nyx sagged against a nearby tree, using its trunk to slide down to the ground. Taking a moment, she examined her paws, running her eyes over the knots and whorls of her deadliest of weapons.
Drops of blood slid down her fingers, matting her fur and accentuating her scars. Flashes of old battles, of foes long since departed for the dark woods, filled her mind and anger began to bubble up in her heart. Why was she still alive? Why had death spared her yet again? So much blood was in her paws, and for what?
"What in the name of Great Martin's Ghost happened out there Nyx?" Duncan cried ad he marched up to her.
"What are you talking about Duncan?"
"You froze." He snapped. "You never freeze. You always have an escape route, a back-up plan. You just about offered you're hide up to that fox for the taking."
Nyx sighed, she owed him an explanation, but, would he truly understand? "You've never been feared have you?" she said, glancing over at him. "Never helped a village drive off a roving band of foxes, only to turn around and discover they're just as terrified of you as they were of the foxes you helped drive off." Nyx was silent a moment, letting her words sink in as her eyes took in the carnage before her. "Death has been my only companion since my parents were killed. Since then I have wandered the woods, hoping to find my place in the world, only to find I had no place free of fear."
"What are you talking about? You have a place at the Abbey."
Nyx let loose a scornful, barking laugh, her mouth twisting into a bitter smile. "What place? Every creature in that abbey looks on me with the same fear I've seen in the eyes of every creature I've ever come across. The only ones that don't are you and Abbot Morthai, and even then you don't accept me. Let's face it; the only one who might is dead."
"Accept you... W-what are you talking about Nyx? Of course I..."
"No you don't." She said, her voice calm, accepting even. "All of you push and push to know every little detail about myself. You're constantly pulling me to become a more social creature, more peaceful, well I'm not." Nyx fought to keep her voice even as her frustration over the last few months started roiling beneath the surface. "I am a warrior, a killer, I always have been and that is not about to change no matter what you or anybeast else in that place does. Kenneth understood that!" Nyx paused, battling to get her emotions under control once more. "Death and I walk the same path, paw in paw. Such is the warrior's life. You're father understood that."
"Not all warriors are like that Nyx." He said, wincing at how pathetic those words sounded.
"That's right, you're not." She replied, turning her face to his, arresting his eyes with poignant gaze. "You got lucky Duncan, I didn't. You've lived your life surrounded with happiness, family, friends...Your life hasn't been one life or death struggle after the other." Bowing her head, Nyx let out a harsh breath. "I'm tired Duncan. Just... so tired. I'm tired of the loneliness, of the fear, of the blood... so much blood." The last part came out in a whisper, so laden down with grief; Duncan felt a shudder ripple down his spine as he listened.
Nyx felt it, the pity, the sorrow in his gaze, and felt her mouth compress into a thin line. Shoving herself up, she tried in vain to wipe a bit of the blood from her paws. "Come on. We need to get everybody back to the abbey for healing and to restock the weapons."
"And after that?"
"I'm going after them." She replied, drawing her sword to inspect the damage, wincing as the muscles in her arms screamed their protest. Sitting had been a bad idea.
"Are you off your nut?" Duncan cried, leaping to his feet. "That's it isn't it? You're trying to get killed, aren't you?"
"I'm doing what I've been doing my whole life and that is keeping the creatures of these lands safe from vermin." She snapped, glaring at him. "And if that gets me killed then so be it. It's not as though anybeast here would care, and at least then I could rest." With that, she started back to the abbey, refusing to allow Duncan to finish his thoughts, forcing her heart to harden towards his words.
She had left the abbey soon after that, ignoring the pleas from Abbot Morthai and a few of the elders of the abbey. The Abbot was sincere enough, but most of the elders were just saying the words for the sake of appearances. None of them cared for her, and most of them feared her. Duncan didn't say a word to her, choosing to stay back from the crowd as she made her way to the gates. The two hadn't really spoken since the ambush, though every now and then, it appeared as though he had wanted to say something.
It had only taken her a matter of weeks to finish off the last of the vermin. They had left a bloody trail of torched homes and cold corpses behind them. As the last stoat fell at her feet, Nyx had debated returning to the abbey, but felt no desire to endure the looks of fear and disgust she would get from the residents there. Morthai and Duncan had been kind enough, but she was fine just the way she was. Who were they to try and change her?
The next few months were long and lonely. Nyx isolated herself further from the world, choosing to live the life of a shadow. But the deeper she went, the more she found she began to crave the company of Duncan, Abbot Morthai and the other Redwall guards. The looks and fear began to mean less to her as time went by and, unconsciously, she found her way back to the abbey, observing it from the woods across the road.
It had looked so peaceful, so quiet. Nyx had caught herself wondering what right she had to come back and throw their lives into such discomfort again. The warrior spirit within her finally rose up, snapping at her, asking what right they had to fear or look down on her. She had done them no wrong; in fact, she had saved their tails more than once. The warrior refused to allow her to kowtow to those too narrow minded to see past her image. With that, Nyx squared her shoulders and strode up to the main gates, ready to take on all comers.
The next few months had been rough. She had discovered Duncan grievously wounded in the infirmary, having taken a poisoned arrow to the shoulder earlier that morning. Shaking her head, Nyx remembered the fury that had filled her as she recalled the way the healers had simply prepared Duncan to die, unable to find an antidote to it. After one damn morning of trying. And no one had told her, despite her knowledge of the world and its weapons! The abbot ended up being the one to tell her, being the only one smart enough to realize that she might know this poison.
Nyx's frown deepened as her ears perked up, taking in the cacophony of vermin voices, shrieking war cries aloud. The poisoned arrow had heralded the coming of this particular tribe, a warlike, bloodthirsty tribe that Nyx had come up against once before and lost. As soon as the antidote had been brewed and administered (Under her cold and exacting eye) Nyx had spun on her heel and immediately made her way to the Abbot's quarters. Nyx no longer gave a damn what the creatures in this place thought of her, right now, her only goal was to make sure they survived the coming war.
With one last grimace, Nyx set her face in stone. Her guards were trained, the weapons were stocked, plans were laid and her nay-sayers' lips had been sewn shut. "I wish." Nyx muttered, smirking, running her paws over the new leather gauntlets Duncan had given her, a silent apology for his words when they parted and a quiet thank you for hers. Smiling gently, Nyx surveyed the walls, quickly spotting the brash Scot and the gilded quiver she had left in his room the day she'd left. Handcrafted leather, polished and beaten sliver, the thing had taken months to finish. She hadn't even intended to give it away, just used it as something to occupy her hands while she had been healing. After their argument... it had seemed like the perfect way to say goodbye.
Duncan, Thank Martin, would be staying behind the wall for this one. He had healed to the point where they could not keep him in the infirmary, but Nyx had been quite persuasive when it came to keeping him in the abbey. Threats of bodily harm and promises to give him the command of the archers tended to do the trick. Nyx sent a silent prayer to anyone in the dark forest who might be listening that he would live through this, because chances were, she wouldn't. No, there was very little chance she would be that lucky twice.
Drawing her sword, Nyx turned to the beasts standing at her back. Her heart swelled to see such courage. These were the beasts willing to follow her to their doom, just to save this symbol of peace. Nodding to them, she turned back to the gate, watching them swing open onto what would soon be a field bathed in blood, silently vowing to do these great souls proud, come hell or high water.