The Vanguard: A Tale of Redwall

Summary

It's time for Redwall's annual Jubilee feast! Drink flows freely into goblets and all manner of food is shared between the Redwallers and some new friends! But on the northern horizon a shadow looms. Spearheaded by the terrifying beast, a massive horde descends on Redwall, intent on setting itself up as the greatest power since the rule of the Greeneyes in the time of Martin the Warrior. As if this were not threatening enough, the tragic Badger Warrior Grimm Stonepaw approaches from the south, his mad mind intent on a Mossflower genocide. Redwall is in for its greatest challenge yet, and Martin II is about to embark on the quest of a lifetime.

Prologue

The stench of foul breath and rotting carcasses pervaded a massive pole-tent erected at the center of an even larger camp. The camp spanned for more than a mile in any direction, all manner of vile beasts inhabiting it. There were only four properly-ordered sections of the camp, forming a triangle with an epicentre focused on the tent. The vertices of the goat's head served as camps for the three most respected Lieutenants in the horde, whereas the centre was the camp of the horde's leader and a testing ground for siege weaponry.

The camp bustled around the tent, undisturbed by myriad experiments being tested around it. Incendiary weaponry was the subject of the day, but there was also a curious ballista-slash-catapult machine being tested, the gears and cords twisting and screwing under the strain of lifting a giant rock. Without warning, the siege weapon snapped, sending wooden shrapnel scattering all over the field. Those lucky enough to avoid the now-falling rock were impaled or cut to ribbons by the force of the blast. The screams of pain were extinguished with the crack of a whip.

A catmaid was dragged along helplessly by her wrists. She could do nothing but stare at the suffering around her. Slaves were the test workers and the test subjects. The slaves not working on the formulas and weaponry were standing in spot, held down as a target by straps and cords. The working slaves could do nothing, surrounded as they were by scores of hordebeasts and overseers.

The catmaid continued helplessly, half walking and half dragged by her tormentor. When she stumbled, the slavemaster started lashing out at her, jerking on the rope and cracking his whip dangerously close to her ears. Finally, she'd had enough. With a yowl of pure ferocity, she gripped her bindings and yanked hard. She caught the slavemaster by surprise; the weasel was pulled face down into the mud. In a trice, the catmaid was on him, coiling the whip around his neck and throttling him as she pressed his face into the dirt, suffocating him two ways.

The response was instantaneous. The catmaid was set upon by the nearest overseers, who beat her and battered her until she released the whip. Using their whips and cords, they bound the snarling catmaid from tip to tail and drug her past the massive tent.

Inside, the scuffle could not be heard. Sitting on the outside of an epicentral hollowed-out semi-circlular table were eight distinct figures. Before them was a figure cloaked entirely in shadow. Its voice boomed out, curiously coaxing and almost seductive. "Let's get this over with, Lieutenants. I want a full report. Stubbs, what is first on your list?"

A pure-black stoat directly in front and to the left of the shadow bowed and pulled papers out from the folds of a crimson red vest and cloak. His voice was harsh and grated like a stone. "First…ah, we must make our new addition's promotion 'official'. Hear that squirrel? You're getting the cloak now."

A squirrel sitting to Stubb's right glared at the stoat. "Then give it here so we can move on to the real business," he snarled. Only two of the circle did not crinkle their noses in disgust at the young pitch of the squirrel's voice. Ignoring them, the squirrel said, "I'm sure it would be wise to move on to more pressing matters."

"Silence, both of you," the shadow hissed. "I do not want petty squabbling. Stubbs, give me the cloak." The stoat produced an embroidered green-and-gold velvet cloak from underneath the table and gave it to the shadow. A massive black paw gripped the neck fastenings and passed the cloak to the squirrel. As he stood and fastened it around his neck, the shadow addressed him. "Do you, Blind Shot, swear allegiance to the horde."

The squirrel did not hesitate. "I do."

"Do you, Blind Shot," the shadow asked again, "Swear to obey all orders given by myself and Stubbs?"

A brief period of hesitation, but Blind Shot agreed. "I do."

"And do you, Blind Shot, swear allegiance to me?" the voice hissed.

Blind Shot's paw found its way to his left eye, covered as it was by a patch. Staring decisively up at the shrouded face of the shadow, he replied, "I do."

"Then you, Blind Shot, are now an official Lieutenant of our horde, and everyone here bears witness to this promotion. You will assume full control of our elite archers and spies. You are to attend every meeting at the sound of the horn, and bring any and all reports with you. Understood?"

"Understood," Blind Shot replied.

"Then sit down, and let us be done with this. Pegtail!" A wooden-tailed otter at the right-most end of the table sat to attention and saluted the shadow. "What is our progress on wood gathering and boat building?"

Pegtail smiled and placed a claw on the papers. "Aye, our wood's bein' gathered faster 'n we can build. We'll have plenny o' wood stocked for our invasion, and we'll have more boats than we need."

"Have your lumber slaves re-route half of their yield to Limeskull's siege operations. We are lacking wood for our weaponry. Drakesbane, what do you have to report?"

A silver-furred fox on the leftmost end straightened up and spoke silkily. "I have good news, Great One: my scouting groups have discovered a surface deposit of iron half a mile to the west of our camp. We have already begun to extract the ore and my metal slaves are working it into usable steel."

"Excellent. Have a quarter of what you extract fashioned into caps for the head of our ram. It will become much more effective with a steel cap. Limeskull; siege test progress."

A ferret to the right of Blind Shot grinned sagely. "We are making wonderful progress with the trebuchets, Great One. As we speak, slaves are testing the efficiency and effectiveness of incendiary weaponry as enhanced by Scorch's discovery of Greek Fire. We are also working on a massive trebuchet; the walls will not stand up to it for long."

"I do not want another wall-crusher, Limeskull," the shadow admonished. "The ram will serve that purpose well-enough. What I want is a weapon of fear; something which will show my enemies that we are not to be tampered with."

A hysterical giggle cracked from Limeskull's right. A ferret pawed a bottle of a strange liquid and giggled. "Scorch will show you a way…yes, Scorch has a way to make people fear this horde…HAA!" Without warning, Scorch stood, parted the tent flaps, and smashed the bottle over the head of a rat guard. As soon as the liquid made contact with the Rat, it set aflame. Scorch's mad laughter screeched through the air as the guard dropped his spear and shield and ran about, burning alive by the strange liquid.

Immediately chaos reigned in the tent. Stubbs roared in protest as his guard burned alive, grabbing Scorch by his orange vest and flinging him down on the floor. Blind Shot and Pegtail got up and pulled Stubbs back, keeping the stub-tailed weasel from gutting the ferret.

"ENOUGH!" the shadow boomed. Still cloaked in the darkness, it stood and stomped on the ground, rattling the entire tent. "I SAID ENOUGH! Stubbs, sit down! You two, get back into your places!" Stubbs, Blind Shot, and Pegtail walked back into place, all huffing from their respective efforts. Scorch got up and returned to his place without bidding. The shadow's paw thrust out and lifted Scorch effortlessly by the throat. "Listen to me, ferret, lest you never listen again: we cannot afford to lose soldiers. If you wish to test your mad concoctions on the slaves, then do so at your own discretion, but do not use them on the soldiers, am I understood?" When Scorch spluttered an affirmative, the paw released him and the shadow returned to its previous position. When they were all seated, the shadow continued. "What was that concoction you used, Scorch?"

"It is a new strain of Greek Fire, Great One," Scorch said, a lopsided smile coating his features as he massaged his throat. "It only burns when it comes into contact with fur or skin. It is made of elderberry juice and – "

"I do not care what it is made of, only that you can make more. Can you make more, Scorch?" The ferret nodded an affirmative. "Good; this will be excellent for the siege. And you, Fernpaws? What have you to report?"

Fernpaws, a ravishingly-dressed weasel sitting on Drakesbane's right, closed her eyes slowly and smiled. "Ah, everything goes well, Great One. My hunters and foragers are bringing back plentiful food, and my fighters are deadlier than ever. Why, just yesterday they slew an entire village to the south of here."

The shadow growled, its temper rising again. "They are no good to us dead, Fernpaws," it snapped. "We need slaves! At the end of the day, Scorch's experiments and Limeskull's construction leave us with a mass of slaves lying in a ditch."

Fernpaws smiled benignly. "Why, I would be greatly shamed if I did not have a quota of slaves by the end of the day. As a matter of fact, before the horn sounded, two-score shrews were brought as slaves. I have them penned up in the hole right now, ready for slave starvation."

"Ah…excellent. I was beginning to worry about you, Fernpaws. And you, Bloodbane, what have you to report?" A crimson-clad rat to Stubb's left bowed and toyed with his rusty hand-axe.

"Ah, why I have absolutely nothing at all to report, Great One. And this is good; none of the defensive structures are compromised, and all are ready to be packed and moved at your signal. The defenses are perfectly intact; our sentry towers are on a constant lookout, and no incident has occurred as of yet."

"What of the weapons crafting?"

"My crafting slaves are working through the day, of course. We will have an armoury like none you've ever imagined."

The shadow nodded, then turned its face on Blind Shot. For the first time, its slitted yellow eyes were visible. "Do you have anything to add, Blind Shot?" it asked softly.

Blind Shot nodded. "Yes. The spies you granted me a week ago have returned, and we have good news. Firstly, we have chosen the perfect time to strike; the Redwallers are currently in the midst of preparing for something they call a 'Jubilee feast', and are most vulnerable during its celebration. We can use this to sneak by them or to assault them directly. Secondly, some scouts have returned from scouting lake Kotir. It turns out that Kotir lake now exists only as a pond in the middle of Redwall. The lake your maps indicate is known as the 'Great Inland Lake', and plays host to Marlfox Island and some other, smaller islands. We can use the smaller islands as a base of operations, but Marlfox Island cliffs are too steep to be climbed, and I know of no berth where our ships, when built, can land."

The shadow scratched its chin, its eyes obscured again. "Hmm…very well. I will think on this information, and give my decision at the next meeting."

The shadow stood and started walking forward, the ground vibrating from its weight and strength. "Yes…the time is coming, my Lieutenants. Soon we will be the greatest power in Mossflower history. Verdauga Greeneyes couldn't claim this!" The light illuminated the gargantuan figure from head to toe. A massive black wolverine, cloaked in a gold-and-black embroidered cape, stepped into the light. Her sinewy legs bulged with each step she took. With a final, cruel laugh, she cried aloud, "I shall feast on the bones of Redwall within the season!"