It has been years since Salamandastron was challenged by Feragho the Assassin. Dumble has told the story many times, but one of the young ones has a pressing question about Ferahgo's past that can only be answered when a feeble old fox knocks on the Abbey's door.
Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall. I only own this story plot and any characters not featured in the book Salamandastron.
It was a rainy night in Redwall Abbey and everyone was huddled together in Cavern Hole, talking and telling stories. An old dormouse sat in a corner by the fire, surrounded by young creatures, all eager to hear the fascinating tales from his travels. One young mole especially, who'd heard the entire story before, had a pressing question she was itching to ask. She stuck a paw up in the air and waved it around near the old creature's face, to be sure he could see it. His eyesight had been ever fading since last season.
"Yes, you little rogue, what is it?" he finally asked.
"I want to ask ee a question, zurr. If Klitch was so bad, whoi didn't his mummy ever spank ee, boi hurr?"
Dumble laughed at the little mole's naïve question. "Vermin are vermin from birth. They are raised to cheat and kill and steal. Klitch could never have turned out any different."
"Oh, but couldn't he have?" A cloaked stranger spoke from the shadows near the hearth and stepped forward. The voice was distinctly of one who had seen many seasons pass, but was deep and steady. A paw reached out from underneath the thick, black fabric and pulled back the hood. Every creature in the room gasped. Some recoiled and some leaned forward, tense and ready to fight. It was a fox, it's coat silver with age and his build unnaturally heavy and muscular. Somehow it's eyes were kind, but every beast in Redwall knew that anyone of a vermin breed was not to be trusted, not for any reason.
"Relax. I am not here to harm. I have never harmed a creature unnecessarily in my life, although you doubtless don't believe me. I came here because of the ravaging wind and rain that have interrupted my travels, and I have learned from experience never to enter through the front door. Besides, I am more seasons old than even you, Mara. What harm could I do to all of you? But, listen, young ones, gather round. I can tell you for a fact that Klitch, Ferahgo's only son, was not meant to be raised to such barbaric cruelty. His mother, had she not passed, would never have allowed it. His mother was a good creature. Let me tell you her story. If I may?"
The crowd was somehow accepting of the mysterious stranger. The atmosphere he brought with him was one of disarming calm. The fox looked up at the greying guardian of Redwall for approval, who nodded against her better judgement. He settled down in front of the ever growing crowd around him and confidently began to weave his tale.
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Fer-Ah-Go! Fer-Ah-Go! Fer-Ah-Go! The warlike chant cut through the still night like a dagger to the heart, evil and foreboding. The Southerners of that part of the country had heard terrible stories of what came with that name: senseless war and death. Some feeble creatures who had managed to somehow escape Ferahgo's clutches had even come for refuge there. And now, he was coming to take them back, and the rest of the Southern Lands too.
Marelda sat up straight, awoken by the sound. It was not close, but it was approaching for certain. She jumped up from underneath her soft down quilt and made for the cave entrance. She could see the glow of torches coming up the path a few miles away. The horde was massive. Her fear caught in her throat and she wanted to scream. There was no way that anyone on the bank would be able to fight and win. She quickly woke the others.
Her older brother, confident and calm as always, tried to calm her while their father and a few other foxes tried to restore order to the panic that had ensued. He held her tight.
"It'll be okay, you'll see. We may not be able to fight them, but fighting is not the only way to defeat scum like that."
"What, you mean we should outwit them? Yes, yes, that seems highly probable. They'll be swarming everywhere, we won't get a chance!"
"Shh! The others are already frightened half to death already, Mar. Do you want to scare them anymore? Be calm. Panic won't solve anything. They are daring us to outwit them by that silly chant, and we have the opportunity now. What do you say? Are you with me?"
"If...if I'm going to die I might as well die trying rather than trembling...But, what could we possibly do, Klitch?"
"Atta girl! Be brave. Now, answer my questions: what are we?"
"Foxes?"
"And what do most beasts consider foxes to be?"
"Vermin."
"And what are the greasy rats and weasels several spear lengths up the road?"
"Verm-...Wait just a minute. You're not saying what I think you're saying, are you?"
"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. For a while anyway. It'll be a cinch. My name'll be Bloodtail and you can be-"
"They'll never be fooled by a girl."
"Sure, they will. Just grab something sharp and rusty and gather everyone you can. We'll join them at the back, and Ferahgo will come here to find a deserted camp. You with me?"
"Umm...I suppose so. But, what about the diamonds?"
"We'll take as many as we can with us, but some will obviously have to go to the dirty scum bags. Why do you keep fretting over details? We don't have much time, let's go!"
Marelda reluctantly started following her brother as he went towards the tribe's minute but deadly stash of wealth. Knives made out of perfect diamond rock, little squares of it, thin as paper but sharp enough to cut through steel, battle axes that could chop down mountains and some jewellery. She started grabbing what she could, while her brother informed the elders of his plan. But then, chaos ensued.
Rats and stoats started flooding into the cave without warning while most of the horde was still far down the path. It was an ambush. Marelda slammed the large chest of jewels and scampered towards the entrance, dodging and ducking every sharp object that was thrust her way only to run smack dab into the young weasel king himself.
Rather than killing her right then and there, he chuckled mercilessly and caught her by the wrists. "My, my, you're a slippery one, aren't you?" She kicked and thrashed in his grip. "You could be useful. Ratcage, take her with the others." A dark rat with a chipped tooth stepped forward and hit her over the head with the hilt of his knife. Everything went dark.
Marelda woke up with her face inches from a blazing bonfire and her hands tied behind her back. It was early morning and dawn would be quickly approaching. She pulled herself to a sitting position and looked around. She was tied to nine or ten other foxes- all young, more females than males. Some were awake- she could hear soft crying and curses uttered over the band that had captured them. The flickering light cast eerie shadows everywhere and she could make out fox shaped lumps on the beach. Dead beasts. They weren't called the Corpsemakers for nothing. She shuddered and bit her lip. She could not see who was dead or alive aside from the ones tied up with her. Her brother was not among them. She closed her eyes tightly to try to stop tears from flowing. He could not be dead. He had to be alive. He was near the entrance when the ambush broke out. He could've escaped... A sob escaped her lips as a hand fell heavily onto her shoulder.
"Oh, are you having a bad day? Poor thing." Ferahgo hissed in her ear.
"What do you want from us?"
"Oh, nothing really. I'm merely giving you a choice. Better than anyone else here has gotten. You can either serve my horde, or you can die. Plain and simple."
"Serve your horde?"
"Yes. Hand out food rations, scratch behind their ears...Whatever they want you to do, really. It's about time my captains had lackeys. Most of the others have already made their choice. What do you choose?" Ferahgo unsheathed a knife and began polishing it with a rag, his blue eyes sparkling in the fire light.
Marelda bit her lip to keep from crying. She needed her brother's quick wit then more than ever. He'd always been good at thinking on his feet. She turned her head to look up at the weasel and murmured her answer. She would become a slave. Ferahgo smiled and nodded.
"That's what I thought." he quickly raised the knife and sliced through her bondages without warning. She had never seen anyone so fast with a weapon in her life. She looked into his sea like eyes questioningly.
"You're not feisty enough to run." The warlord walked off to another poor fox that was awakening, leaving her to imagine her fate by the fire. She waited until he was well gone to check to see if he'd found any of the treasure she'd hidden in her bedclothes. He hadn't thought to search her. She still had a slight advantage. She patted the knife that she'd secured around her hips with a piece of decorative cord. She would be able to escape with that. She looked around her to see if anyone was watching. No beast was, but she was surrounded. She remembered her brother's words. If you can't beat them, join them. A clever plan hatched in her mind in her confused state between fear and cool headedness. She somehow found the strength to smirk and laid back down near to the fire. She would prove herself to Ferahgo and then...her revenge would be as sweet as sugar.