The Enemy of My Enemy

Abbot Dirkalt had led a very interesting life. He had always been a large mouse. During his life, he had been many things. He was a quiet, well-behaved Dibbun. He never caused trouble, until he was about seven years old. When it came time for him to get serious about his education at the Abbey, he ran away from Redwall. The Abbey dwellers presumed him dead after days of exhaustive search.

He had hiked to the northlands with enough of a head start to never be caught. It was there he unleashed his true passion. He trained himself to fight. He was fascinated with fighting and the art, if there was any, in killing. This was a dangerous path that ran completely against the Abbey's laws. Dirkalt would've kept from the Abbey forever if he weren't lonely. He practically feared being alone. It's not that he couldn't take care of himself. He did his best thinking, fighting, and work alone. It was almost for the best for him to be alone, but he needed companionship. He knew he would never be accepted as he was, a killer. He had terrorized any vermin in a five-mile radius of him.

Back at the Abbey, they were under attack by a small group of rats. They killed anyone that dared poke their head out from the gates. They shot arrows over the walls whenever they felt like it. Redwall had no warriors. There were no need for any. They prayed that any of their allies would come, but the rats continued to plague the Abbey. Dirkalt marched along the path nonchalantly, unaware of the nearby danger. It was only when a rat jumped in front if his path with a knife that he stopped still. He waltzed up to the rat and grabbed his wrist, twisted it, spun the rat around, and launched his foot into the rat's back.

With their comrade dead, the remaining five rats cornered him. Two took up archer positions in the trees. Three charged him head on with their knives. Dirkalt wasn't fazed. He slashed at one and used his leg to kick him in the knee. The rat's leg was broken. Then, Dirkalt threw his knife right into the second rat's heart. The third rat was the most experienced of the two. Dirkalt, however, saw a rat notch an arrow and take aim.

Dirkalt threw a punch at the third rat. The rat grabbed Dirkalt's wrist and was about to manipulate when Dirkalt ducked. The arrow hit the rat in the thigh. Dirkalt took the knife and stabbed the rat. Then, he took two knifes and threw them in the trees. The archers dropped out of the trees.

The rat with a broken leg began to crawl from the fight. Dirkalt leapt toward the crippled rat and took his neck in his hands. Like a tree snapping in the wind, Dirkalt twisted and snapped the rat's neck.

This had made Dirkalt a man of complications. When he realized the power in his own hands, he forswore violence. However, upon the sight of vermin, he practically foamed and could barely contain his rage. He would weep in his sleep when he had encountered no tragedy that the Redwallers knew about. But that was just it. He had encountered no tragedy that they knew about. Dirkalt himself remembered every waking moment of his hell.

"But if they can't defend themselves, they are only getting what they deserve!"

"If you were defenseless, would your current ideals change? Don't you care! You know that's how she died!" he had shouted.

"Yeah, it was a death she had begged for!"

"She never did! She was over it! She loved you too much to let herself die!"

"Yeah, but she never loved you."

"You don't know anything. She died so you could live. She died defenseless. Did she get what she deserved?"

"No. She got what she had always wanted, Father," the young mouse had said to him. That was the last Dirkalt had ever seen of him. He carried his personal crosses deep in the heart he had left in the north.

XXX

Abbot Dirkalt ordered a feast in memory of his daughter. It had been ten years since she had died. She had committed suicide, leaving her daughter without a parent. Both the mother and the father were gone. All because of Vaglu. Dirkalt made sure that nobody ever talked about Vaglu. The story nearly drove him to kill himself, something he could not do. The Abbey must survive. He adjusted his long, green habit and tightened his sandals.

Dirkalt was not just tall, but he was wide. His arms bulged from muscle, although it was concealed under his habit. He placed a massive paw on his forehead and brushed the sweat from him brow. His bushy eyebrows looked like a caterpillar on his head. His green eyes hazed over with a look of bittersweet serenity.

He beckoned a young mouse over to him. Lyra was his daughter's daughter, a child that had brought more troubles and more tears to the Abbey than she could ever understand. He brushed the mouse maid's hair and leaned towards her ear.

"My dear, run to the kitchens with all speed! Tell Friar Thiolt that there is to be a feast!" Dirkalt whispered.

"A feast?" Lyra squeaked.

"A feast!" Dirkalt echoed. Lyra wasted no time in running through the Abbey and nearly pouncing on the Friar, relating Dirkalt's words.

XXX

Vaglu wandered through the forests north of Redwall. He never wasted time, and he covered ground with all haste. He wandered the forest hoping to be caught. The Flitchaye roamed this edge of the forest. He was determined to learn their secrets. With their knowledge of drugging, he knew his revenge would be a step closer.

XXX

Badger Lord Belorn was more commonly known by his nickname, Brockfeet. He had the largest feet known of any Badger. He could step on a weasel and crush it to a pancake. One enemy he could not crush, however, was the corsair captain Lorga that attacked the coast. Lorga made sure that no hare ever got into or left Salamandastron. Belorn was ready to sacrifice himself so that Lorga would be killed. He called in one of his most trusted hares and spoke with him in the forges.

"Sir, you summoned me?" the hare asked.

"Indeed. Have you heard the legend of Dirkalt?" Belorn asked.

"Indeed, Sir. Did he not slay five vermin with his bare hands?"

"So I hear. I'm wondering if you couldn't run a mission for me," Belorn said.

"But Lorga does not allow anyone to exit the mountain!" the hare exclaimed.

"He will. I have a plan, if you think you can run a message. I need a warrior like Dirkalt to help me destroy Lorga," Belorn said.

"What sort of plan?"

"A plan only a few brave hares could manage," Belorn answered.

XXX

The Painted Ones roamed these woods. Vaglu knew that. He had learned the secrets of the Flitchaye. Now, he intended to learn about poisoning from the Painted Ones.

"Armed with the secrets of the most dangerous tribes, Mossflower Woods will fall to me!" Vaglu shouted aloud. Wind shook the trees and carried his threat through the woods.

Far away, Dirkalt was chilled by a ferocious wind. He could almost hear Vaglu screaming the very threats he screamed on that day, ten years ago, when he was cast away from the Abbey. Dirkalt shivered and went inside, blocking those thoughts from his head and refusing to believe Vaglu was still alive.

"I am forever Vaglu the Demon! I will kill you, all of you miserable monsters! No one will ever be tortured because of you!"