An osprey flew into the cliff where fortress Marshank used to stand. He winged his way through the twists and turns of tunnels, until he came to a large room. He flapped up to a balcony, landed, and bowed low. There before him stood Aquila, the golden eagle, and overlord of the Jurgan flock.
"Kreeaar! What news do you bring?"
Irontalon, who was the leader of the ospreys, responded. "There is little resistance from the Dofosabets, though we have lost many valiant ospreys to the tall ones."
"This news is old. Take Sparrowhawks from Piter's legions if you wish. We must take more tall ones. They must be used as bargaining chips."
"I live to obey, mighty Aquila." Irontalon flew off to follow his newest orders.
Aquila surveyed his domain. It was a huge cavern, carved out through centuries of erosion by water. There was a small stream that flowed through it. Birds milled everywhere, but vermin of every kind dwelled there as well. They were the main army, about tenscore altogether, taken from bands who lived in the surrounding area.
Down in the cells, a young ottermaid sat, wishing she could see her friends again. And one in particular…
Three days had passed. Martin and his friends had made camp for the night. The otters had made shrimp'n'hotroot soup, which they enjoyed immensely. Earthcoat made a point of saying that though his mother's friend Marigold made the best hotroot soup in the northlands, it was obviously not the best in the entire world. Martin looked around in amazement. The land had changed a lot in the time it had been since he passed through. He wished he could be going up to see if his father ever returned, but that would wait. Rose's home was in trouble, and he didn't want to let them down. Not again.
Gonff chuckled. He had spent some time getting to know Urbai, and he had decided to teach him in the ways of, as he put it, 'honest thieving.' The shrew had been very talented with the art of lock-picking, and the art of invisibility. Urbai could not be seen unless he wanted to be. He could not be heard even if he wanted to. Gonff was proud of his student. Soon Urbai would learn the art of pickpocketing, and his training would be complete.
Earthcoat smiled. He could not remember a time when he was happier. Then he remembered Yerma, and how she had been cruelly taken from her family and friends. He scowled. He would do anything to get her back. Nothing would stop him. Not even death.
He reached down into his pocket to retrieve a painting of his parents. It was gone! He searched frantically around for it, but to no avail. Then he saw the form of Urbai in the darkness, shaking with mirth. He acted like he hadn't seen Urbai, but stared off in the distance. Then he struck. Darting from where he sat, he knocked Urbai to the ground. Searching the shrew's pockets, he found his picture. He grinned evilly. "Let's see how well you can pickpocket when you're dripping wet!" He dragged the protesting shrew to a pond. It was the pond where they got their fresh drinking water. Hoisting Urbai over his head, he tossed the Guosim into the water. Earthcoat laughed long and loud. Urbai was grumbling, but soon he too was dissolved in a bout of helpless laughter.
There was much hustle and bustle in Redwall. The Mossflower patrol had seen a large gang of vermin heading towards Redwall, and had warned the abbeybeasts. Germaine had sent the fastest runner hares to Salamandastron to seek reinforcements. However, before they could arrive, the vermin appeared.
They were a motley crew. Mostly foxes, but the leader was a barbaric sight. She was an ermine, all white, but her face was painted blood red. She carried a huge wooden club, with flint knobs surrounding the tip. Her tail was like a rat's, but had white tufts of fur in random places. Her name was Stela, and she was almost purely insane. The only reason she had come to Mossflower was Redwall. She wanted it, and whatever she wanted, she usually got.
Germaine looked out over the sea of vermin. They couldn't have come at a worse time. With Martin, Skipper, and Lady amber gone, they were virtually defenseless. Only a score of hares were there to defend them. She felt hopeless. Suddenly, the world faded away. There stood a mouse, older than Martin, but every inch a warrior. He spoke, every word sticking itself into Germaine's memory.
When winter snow is coming, blowing in the breeze,
There comes a ready warrior, carrying ale, bread, and cheese.
Then blood-red snow will fall, and warriors come home,
Along will come a young'n, his name is known as Brome.
Warrior comes home, who lost his heart's desire,
And yet there is a passion here, kindled by a fire.
His heart's desire, true to him, throughout all his days,
Approaches home now, at his side, faithful in all ways.
Germaine came out of the vision. She remembered none of it, though it remained locked in her mind.
The ottermaid sat up straight. She had an idea! A cloaked guard came by every hour to check up on her. If she could just figure out how to get out of the cell, then she could take out the guard, or get the guard to show her around. She decided on the latter because she didn't have her weapon. But how to get out? That was the trouble.
Earthcoat was in a good mood. He had gotten back at Urbai for taking his painting, and had gotten a good rest. He and the rest of the eightscore militants marched on. Earthcoat saw familiar signs and landmarks that he had passed on his way south. Martin came up and walked beside him. "So, Earthcoat, how is Brome doing these days?"
Earthcoat answered reverently, "He is the leader of Noonvale now. Urran Voh and Aryah passed on to Dark Forest's gate seasons ago. I hardly remember it, I was so young. Mum told me that they died on the same day! There was a huge burial ceremony for them, and Brome's 'coronation'. There wasn't a beast that didn't gain weight!"
Martin laughed. "That must have been some feast!"
Earthcoat nodded. "Aye, it was!"