The hawk Elric Flametail was not fatally injured, and Sister Armel said that he would be fit to fight in a day or two. But a hideous burn scar now covered one side of his face, and he was blind in one eye.
Sister Melanda announced Martin's words before an assembly of Redwallers, and a chorus of oaths, speculations, and determined yelling followed before Abbess Brookflow whacked her tail on the floor of the Great Hall.
"Shouting and cursing the name of vermin will get us nowhere!" The otter Abbess's voice rang out sternly. The Abbeybeasts gradually hushed. "Thank you! Now, Sister Melanda, have you any notion as to what Martin's words mean?"
"Well, we know that four young ones will come to this Abbey," the Recorder said thoughtfully. "And they will all bear Martin's name."
"Four beasts all named Martin?" Perkle the hedgehog couldn't help interrupting. "Seems daft, if you ask me."
"Well, we know that nothing the Warrior says has an obvious meaning," Melanda pointed out. "It's probably just one of his riddles or double entendres. But one of the things that mystifies me is this line here, 'Moss points the way for evil ones'. Is 'Moss' a creature?"
Todd raised a webbed paw. "It could mean the River Moss. They could be following River Moss to our Abbey."
"But River Moss doesn't come very close to Redwall," said Tam.
Kabbry, though young, had been schooled in woodland lore since her Dibbunhood. "Wait... what if Martin simply means moss, literally?"
"How can moss point the way for anything?" Melanda inquired.
"Well," answered Kabbry, "one of the first things any rovin' beast should learn is that moss always grows..."
"...On the north side of a tree!" Todd finished. "So if moss is pointin' their way, that means they'd be coming from the south!"
Brooky did not miss a beat. "Tam, double the wallguards on the south ramparts, if you don't mind." With a nod, the Abbey Warrior padded briskly from the Great Hall."
"And what about the rest of the riddle?" Brooky turned back to Melanda.
The Recorder chewed her lip. "I have a feeling we'll be solving the riddle as we go along, making connections with what happens from this point on. I'll try to make sense of it, but we still don't have all the facts."
Graystreak the Sparra King fluttered down from the rafters. "Onemore," he chirped. "Otterskip sister sent ahead to Redwall, with otter nestling. Gouseshrews and otterworms make patrol, watch um Juskaworms."
Brooky nodded. "Thank you, King. We will watch for Del."
That day saw Saria and her companions trudging through the sands toward the trees. The polecat kept them going at a trot, which was not an easy thing in sand.
"Cap'n, can't we slow down?" Tobie asked, panting. Russell let out a tired "yar" of agreement.
"No, we can't, mate. Know why?" Saria was no less tired, but she forced herself on. "'Cos these're the western shores. We're dangerous close to Salamandastron. You can see it there in the distance. An army o' hares an' a badger guard these coasts from the likes of us. The sooner we get outta the sands, the better."
"What if the hares found the rest of the crew?" Jaru asked worriedly. "We don't know how many there are, how many of the crew survived the storm. They might be outnumbered, and we all know how much a squall takes out of a beast."
"I'm worried about that too, mate," Saria replied, slowing to a walk as they neared the treeline. "But if'n the Long Patrol has found 'em, then wot can we do about it, eh? From wot I hears, the warriors of the Long Patrol are beasts of honor, and the Badger Lady, Melesme, is a noble old creature. 'Sides, there's woodlanders in the crew as well as vermin. All we can do fer now is get to the woods, forage fer vittles, an' go from there to find the crew."
"How'll we find 'em?" Tobie asked. "Go up to a beast, ask real nice if'n they've seen 'em and say pretty please?"
"You'd be surprised," Jaru told him. "Manners can get a beast anywhere when dealin' with most woodland creatures."
They reached the edge of the woods without much incident, and Tobie could not help but gasp with wonder at the deep green trees. "I was born in the plains before slavers took me," he explained defensively to his amused companions. "'Twas early winter when I last went through a forest. Ain't seen so much of this shade of green before, at least so close. Can you blame me?"
"Yar," Russell reassured the ferret, clapping him on the back.
"Well, 'tis gettin' on to spring now," Saria said. "Jaru, mate, climb one o' these trees an' take stock of our surroundin's."
"Aye, Cap'n." The squirrel obeyed swiftly with a whirl of his bushy tail, in such a way that not a single leaf stirred on the branches
"Show-off," Tobie muttered.
"Ah! I see smoke!" Jaru called down. "Smoke from a cookin' fire, not far! We kin make it there by nightfall, I reckon!"
"'Ow do ye know it's a cookin' fire?" Saria asked excitedly.
"Well, 'tis too thin and controlled-looking to be a forest fire, and a bit small for a bonfire," Jaru replied.
"Come down, then," Saria called up to him. "If'n yew say it's a campfire, then I think it's a campfire. We'll investigate. Nightfall, ye say?"
"Aye." Jaru climbed down. "Let's hope they're friendly."
Venlow stared down at the bodies of the otters the patrol had slain. Forcing down the bile in his throat, the young marten fought madly against the urge to burst into tears. His teeth ground together as he stared down at the dead otter at his feet. The first creature he had ever slain.
"Ain't a very nice feelin', killin'," Figger murmured to him. "Is it?" Venlow could only shake his head dumbly.
Angry voices reached Venlow's ears, jolting him out of his shocked state. "'Old still, yer little blind runt!"
"Cody!"
Venlow dashed from the blood-strewn ground toward the direction of Sott's angry voice. When he saw what had happened, he froze.
Cody had been found out. His small brother was struggling wildly in Sott's iron-pawed grip, while the weasel Onim thrust a spear at him.
Alarm bells went off in Venlow's mind, and for a moment he stood rooted to the spot. Then, feeling as though it was all some bizarre dream that he couldn't wake up from, he lunged forward with his sword drawn. "Stop it! Leave my brother alone!" The sharpened blade of his sword, coupled with Venlow's wild desperation, was enough to chop the spear in half.
"He's blind, you fool!" Sott roared.
"That doesn't give you the right to kill him," Venlow retorted. His eyed caught a slight movement of Sott's free paw, and he threw himself to the side just as Sott drew a dagger and flung it. Instead of striking Venlow, as the rat had intended, the knife buried itself blade-deep in Onim's throat.
"NO!" Suddenly Kyru was there, trembling with emotion as the weasel fell. With a pang Venlow remembered that Onim had taught Kyru everything he knew.
"K-Kyru, he was going to--" Venlow's voice trailed off as his older brother drew his blade. "W-wait... Ky, please don't..."
"Venlow!" Cody managed to twist out of Sott's grip. "Run!"
His younger brother's voice brought him back to his senses. Grabbing Cody's paw, Venlow fled on footpaws fueled by fear and desperation. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Kyru --and only Kyru-- was giving chase.
By far, Kyru was faster and stronger than any of his brothers. Rage at Venlow's betrayal filled him with a cold desire for revenge. Onim had been his mentor and friend, and his death was all Venlow's fault.
Filled with furious vengeance, and desperate to prove himself worthy of the title of Taggerung, Kyru sent dust flying in his pursuit of his brothers. He was gaining on them, thanks to Cody's weaker build, and before long Kyru saw his youngest brother fall. He himself was slightly fatigued, but the prospect of vengeance lent strength to his paws.
The burly young marten approached Venlow first. His younger sibling stood against the trunk of a tree in order to protect his back, drawing his own sword. To Kyru's amazement, he tossed it to the side and held up his paws.
"I will not fight you," Venlow said, his voice trembling. "I don't want to have to kill. I never did."
The very words themselves enraged Kyru. "Shut up!" he snarled. "Onim is dead because of you!"
" I-I didn't mean to!" Venlow's voice shook even harder, and tears found their way down his face. "I'm sorry! But he was going to kill Cody!"
"Cody's blind, he's no use to the clan!" Kyru barked. He raised his sword purposefully. "If you don't fight, I'll kill you. If you do fight, I'll kill you or die trying."
In a panic, Venlow pressed himself harder against the tree. "No... please, Kyru, I'm your brother!"
"You're no brother of mine!" Kyru roared and lunged forward. Venlow shut his eyes.
In a blur of brown fur, Figger dashed in. "No, Ky, you can't!" he cried. The lean weasel threw himself protectively in front of Venlow, and the momentum of Kyru's lunge drove the blade into his stomach, straight up to the hilt.
As in his dream, time was petrified in Kyru's eyes. Everything stopped, and he was by himself in a frozen forest.
But he wasn't alone. The marten turned and found the strange ferret standing a few yards away. The creature's eyes were fixed on Figger's face with a sad look in them.
Kyru, horrified, turned back to Figger, unable to look away from the look of fear and raw desperation, so like the one on the dream-mouse's face. He turned to the ferret. "I didn't mean to kill him," he said almost pleadingly.
"Of course you didn't," the young ferret said with a shrug. "But you meant to kill Venlow. And that is what ultimately decided Figger's fate."
"But he should have known!" Kyru protested. "He should have known I meant to kill Venlow!"
"Of course he knew," the ferret informed him simply.
"No he didn't, or he would never have jumped in front of it!"
The ferret sighed. "That's exactly what they said about me. Kyru, Figger didn't do it because he thought you weren't going to strike. He did it because he knew you were."
"I don't understand."
"This is what I'm trying to teach you, Kyru. This is a lesson that many creatures --including me-- die learning. Some beasts always know it, and they pass nobly and with honor. But some, like you, have it in themselves already, but they don't know it." The ferret stopped, wiping his eyes with a red paw. "I'm trying to save you from my fate." He turned to leave.
"Wait!" Kyru pleaded. "Can't you turn back time? Give me another chance? Please!"
"I wish I could," the ferret said, sighing again. "But I'm only a spirit. Nothing more. I'm not a deity."
When Kyru turned back, time had resumed. Venlow crouched over the slain weasel, staring up at his older brother with rage that surprised and frightened Kyru.
"You know what? You were right," Venlow spat. "You're not my brother." Leaving Figger's body, he joined Cody and led him away.
Kyru could not have followed them if he wanted to. He stood, petrified, and stared at the creature he had not meant to kill.
But what had happened to Dante?
The marten had seen Venlow first run away with Kyru hard on his heels, but could not quite bring himself to follow. He crouched in the bushes unnoticed, watching. About fifteen minutes later Kyru returned with a bloodied sword at his side and bearing Figger's body.
Dante covered his mouth to keep from crying out.
"What happened, Kyru?" Sott demanded. "Are the traitors dead?"
"No." Dante let out an inward sigh of relief at his brother's statement. "They got away. Figger chose to side with them."
"Well, if it's not one traitor and a cripple, then it's another traitor," Sott said carelessly. "Bury him here with the otters, and we'll report this back to Harun Lok."
"'Ey, where'd Dante go?" Jadd the ferret asked, coming up to the scene. "I mighta thought he was with you."
"He will either go after them or come back to us," Sott said roughly. "That will determine his loyalties. Let's leave."
Figger's body was slung carelessly into a shallow pit with the slain otters. When the others were gone, Dante emerged from his hiding place and stood at the edge of the freshly dug earth. He bowed his head, humming a dirge softly under his breath.
Something grasped his footpaw, and he almost yelled. He looked down and gasped aloud.
A tiny otterbabe, no more than a season old, clung to him like a limpet with all four paws. Staring up at him with wide hazel eyes, she reached up and tugged at the scabbard that hung at his side.
Dante gaped. "Er..." Kneeling down beside her, he scanned the area for any sign of other otters. By the bushes, near where he'd been hiding, the tip of something made of cloth caught his eye.
The marten disentangled the little maid from his footpaw as gently as he could and made his way over to the underbrush. Half stumbling and half crawling, the otterbabe followed him. It was a carrying pack for a babe, overturned with a few things spilling out. Dante realized that the babe's mother must have hidden her in the bushes and run on, most likely to come back for her if she'd survived.
There was a necklace hanging off of the pack, and the pendent was a smooth white pebble carved into a flower, with the babe's name engraved in it: Lilia.
"Lilia, eh? Is that your name?" The tiny maid cocked her head and stared at him. Dante could practically feel his heart melt. "Oh, Mother Nature help me." Lifting the babe into the pack, he shouldered the burden carefully and set off in the direction his brothers had taken. "North is to Redwall Abbey, I believe," he said to himself. "Perfect place to take a lost little maid. Hellsteeth, I must be soft. Huh, I certainly can't blame it on old age, now can I, Lilia?"
The babe was already falling asleep.
