I do not own Redwall.


Ulvaey Greeneyes was pacing. The warlord had been waiting outside his tent for several hours, ever since his mate had gone into labor earlier that morning. Of course, the old midwife and her helpers had immediately sent him away, and the warlord was growing anxious. Behind him, a pawful of assorted Zahir hordebeasts had gathered as well. They were murmuring amongst themselves. The birth of a possible heir was a rather momentous occasion, and they wanted to see what would happen.

Ulvaey furrowed his brow as a particulary agonized cry came from the tent. He had never seen the birthing of a kit, but he hadn't expected it to take so long or be so painful. Akal sounded as though she was being flayed alive, and that wasn't an understatement

Suddenly, a young female ferret rushed past Ulvaey and disappeared into the tent with an armload of old cloths. There were voices talking quickly and more screams of anguish, and then silence. Ulvaey held his breath for a long moment. Then, he heard it: the cry of a newborn babe. There were gasps and whispers from the females inside the tent. Ulvaey's brow furrowed, unsure if the murmurings were a good or bad sign. It was several more minutes before the tent flap was pushed aside and Graila the old fox midwife emerged. The trinkets in her ears jangled as she bowed to the warlord. Ulvaey looked at her.

"Well?"

The bent-backed vixen's voice was cracked. "My lord, you have a son."

Ulvaey closed his eyes and breathed too softly for any but him to hear.

"Let me see him."

Graila bowed again and held back the tent flap for the russet-furred fox. Ulvaey surveyed the scene inside. There were five young females seated on the ground, three ferrets, a stoat, and a fox. One of them was dabbing the forehead of a tired looking vixen. Akal was propped up by a pile folded blankets. When Ulvaey entered, the five females bowed their heads respectfully. The warlord waved a paw at them. They seemed strangely reluctant to leave, but Graila nodded and they finally filed out of the tent, taking away buckets and dirty cloths.

Akal opened her eyes and smiled weakly as Ulvaey came to kneel next to her. Her fur was damp with sweat and her breathing was shallow. In her paws was something small, wrapped loosely in a blanket; she unwrapped the bundle it so that Ulvaey could see. The warlord's stern features softened and he put a paw on his wife's shoulder. A tiny foxbabe looked up at them from the bundle; his fur was the same russet tone as his father's and his bright green eyes were full of wonder.

"He has your eyes," Akal said, smiling. "Do you wish to hold him?"

The warlord nodded silently, and Akal handed him the precious bundle. Ulvaey's rough paws cradled the baby fox as gently as possible. He looked into the babe's eyes for a long while, his tattooed face smiling almost kindly. It was an expression that Akal had never seen before. Love and caring were not things expected to be seen in a warlord.

Ulvaey looked down at his wife, and did something that he had never done before with his other mates: he put a paw around Akal and kissed her on the forehead. The vixen smiled weakly. Perhaps the seer, Uka, had seen something in her visions that she would be the bearer of Ulvaey's son. Whatever the reason, Akal cherished her husband's short embrace. Ulvaey pulled back and looked at the babe.

"He'll be strong," he predicted, "Like 'is sire and grandsire."

Ulvaey had ruled the Zahir for ten years, ever since his father's death during an ambush. The warlord had killed his own uncle in the process of declaring his leadership, and with his seer Uka at his side, there was little anybeast could do to stop him. Ulvaey matched his father for mercilessness and cruelty and did not tolerate conspirators among his horde. Any beast unlucky enough to be discovered was beaten without mercy, and then buried alive. A quiet voice pulled the warlord from his memories.

"What shall he be called?" Akal's breathing was breath growing shallower. Ulvaey thought for a moment.

"Uriun," he replied, looking down at the baby fox. The little one had fallen asleep, calmly sucking on his paw.

"Uriun," Akal breathed, "He-," she stopped and let out a shaky breath. There were tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she choked, stroking the soft fur of Uriun's face. She tried kiss her tiny son, but couldn't find the strength. "I lo-," her voice failed and she sank back onto the blankets.

Ulvaey looked at his wife and watched as her limp paw fell from Uriun's face. Akal's brown eyes misted over in death, and then she was gone, never to look upon her son again. Ulvaey was too shocked to make any sound. Then he saw it: blood was beginning to seep through the blankets under her. Ulvaey put a paw on her face.

Just as she had brought him happiness, she was gone, snuffed out like a torch in the wind. Ulvaey looked down at his sleeping son, who would never know his mother, and yet was so peaceful. The fox warlord set him down gently, taking care not to wake the sleeping babe. He lifted Akal's body and hugged her to him. Ulvaey trembled and then, for the second time in his life, he cried.


At the edge of the camp stood a tent painted with strange and exotic symbols. A faint trail of smoke always seemed to rise from within it. The entrance was flanked by two thin poles that were hung with the feathers and skulls of birds. Inside, half hidden in a fog of cedar smoke, the seer Uka tossed a handful of bones onto the ground. The vixen closed her pale eyes and chanted in a low voice, moving her paws over the arrangement. Her head swayed slowly, making the strings of bone and amber around her neck clink together.

After a few moments, the seer opened her eyes and bowed her head. She had already foreseen this tragedy; Akal was a bright spirit in the world of the Zahir horde. Her loss would not be easily forgotten. The seer sighed as she returned the bones and feathers to an eel skin bag. She had chosen to withhold her vision from Ulvaey. There would have been no way to save the vixen; even Uka did not have that kind of power.

The seer put the eel skin bag around her neck and took her gnarled pine staff before making her way across the camp to Ulvaey Greeneyes' tent. As she approached, the crowd of Zahir vermin stood aside to let her pass. Many of them felt uneasy around the strange vixen; as if they feared she would put a curse or spell on them.

Uka stopped outside the tent and waited a few moments before entering. Once she did, her vision was confirmed. Ulvaey sat on the ground next to the body of Akal, which was now covered with a blanket. His newborn son was cradled in his arms, fast asleep. The warlord looked up at Uka with narrowed, baleful eyes. The moistness of old tears stained the fur under them. He did not speak, but Uka knew better than to say anything. She was turning to leave, when Ulvaey spoke.

"You knew this would happen, didn't you?" the warlord's voice was low, cold as ice and as sharp as steel. "You knew she was going to die."

Uka was caught off guard. She thought carefully before responding. She began shakily.

"I-I did not want to upset you, my Lord-"

"At least I would 'ave had a chance to tell 'er I loved 'er, but now-," Ulvaey broke off for fear that he would start shouting and wake Uriun. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. Uka watched with bated breath. After a long moment, Ulvaey opened his eyes again. The angry fire in them had subsided. Uka glanced at him, not sure what to do or say.

"Never mind," Ulvaey said "What's done is done."

Uka had never heard Ulvaey talk like this. He was a creature who had no caring emotions. He concerned about keeping his horde in line, not loving another creature. The seer took a chance and spoke.

"Who will raise him, my lord, since he no longer has a mother?" Immediately, she regretted going so far and waited for Ulvaey to lose his temper. Instead, the warlord stood slowly and walked over to her.

"You will find a female to take care of 'im until he can walk an' talk on 'is own. Then I will raise him and teach him of the Zahir. But I have no knowledge of caring for infants"

Uka nodded and then took Uriun from him, holding the sleeping babe gently.

"I will give him to Saba," she said. "She will care for him."

Saba was Akal's cousin, a young female who had recently given birth to a baby vixen. Sadly, Saba's newborn had died not long after the birth, leaving the young vixen and her mate, Cuvan, without the joy of a little daughter. Uka knew it would be hard for the Saba to care for a babe that was not her own and then have to give him up, but no one would give him better care than a close relative. Ulvaey nodded.

"Very well," he turned and strode out of the tent, throwing aside the flap with a flourish of his paw. He stood with his head held regally and addressed the now large crowd of hordebeasts.

"My mate has given me a son, and in doing so, she has died." There was murmuring among the crowd and several creatures bowed their heads in reverence. Ulvaey continued emotionlessly. "We will burn her, this night on the ridge. By next full moon, we go north."

As soon as he Ulvaey finished speaking, the group began to disperse. The warlord gave orders to a select few creatures. "Orin, Vini."

A brown stoat and a short, wiry ferret appeared at Ulvaey's side.

"Yes m'lord?"

Ulvaey addressed the stoat first.

"Take half a score of creatures and gather wood for the pyre. And make sure that it is built on the dirt and that there is no grass to catch; I don't want there to be any chance of it getting out of control, not with all this dry weather."

Orin nodded and put his right paw on his left shoulder in salute before jogging off. Ulvaey turned to the ferret.

"Vini, take Halfpelt, Rebane, and Baitpaw and scout north; stay to the coast. Take note of food and water supplies and any settlements, vermin or otherwise. Report back before the full moon."

"Wot if we do find set'lements, lord?"

"Observe them, estimate numbers, but do not make yourselves known. I don't want to deal with enemies who are already expecting us."
"Aye, m'lord," Vini saluted and was gone.

Ulvaey watched him go and then turned on his heel and strode back into the tent. Uka stood there holding little Uriun. The babe had awoken and was crying softly.

The warlord ran a paw gently over the infant's head.

"Take 'im ta Saba," he said "I 'spect 'e's 'ungry by now."

Uka bowed. "Yes, lord."


The funeral for Akal was a somber yet beautiful affair. For all the killing the Zahir did, they made up for it with their burial techniques. Zahir always buried their dead, unless the creature had done something that made them unworthy of a proper burial, such as murdering another hordebeast in cold blood or worse, conspiring against authority, the punishment for both of which was death.

Common hordebeasts were buried in simple graves, but the funeral for a chief or a high standing creature was quite elaborate. It consisted of a wooden pyre, on which was laid the body of the deceased. No words were spoken at these funerals, but there would be a time of silence, after which the current chief or a relative of the deceased would walk to the pyre and set fire to it. Afterwards, the ashes would be gathered and buried. So it was with Akal.

The vixen's body was carried to the pyre by four strong ferrets. Akal looked beautiful. Her fur had been washed and brushed so that it shone in the torchlight. She was dressed a white shift that spread over her footpaws like water. Her paws were crossed over her chest, and a sprig of blooming heather had been placed between them.

Quiet sobbing was the only sound as the ferrets approached the pyre. There were few females in the horde, and many of them had come to love the quiet vixen.

Saba and her mate Cuvan stood at the front of the group. The vixen was clothed in black, from her dress to the strip of mourning cloth tied around her left ear. In her arms was little Uriun, who was amusing himself by trying to reach the black cloth. Saba made a soft noise to quiet him and held him close. Her mate put a paw on her shoulder.

As the four ferrets reached the pyre, Ulvaey Greeneyes appeared from behind it. He made way for the ferrets to pass and then watched as they laid Akal's body on top of the wood. The vixen looked as if she was merely sleeping.

Uka appeared moments later in a jangle of trinkets. She made her way over to the pyre and produced a small amulet from the depths of her cloak. It was as small leaf carved from dark onyx. The seer laid it across Akal's folded paws and then stepped back and bowed her head. Her acknowledgement was done.

Once she moved, Ulvaey stepped forward. He stood to the side of the pyre and took a small knife from his belt. He carefully sheared off a tuft of fur from his neck and placed it under Uka's amulet. A rat standing close by handed Ulvaey a torch. The warlord held it aloft and then put it to the wood. From there, the flame grew, licking at the wood and oil until the pyre was ablaze.

Ulvaey stepped back from the flame and watched the pyre as it burned, sending embers into the darkening sky. His face was a mask. Even Akal's death had not made him weak; he was still the warlord of the Zahir, as ruthless as ever. The light from the flaming pyre made his green eyes flicker and cast a strange smoky shadow over his face. He was strong.


How many times did i type the word 'pyre' ? I'm going to be saying in my sleep now.