Bren of Redwall
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Chapter Six
Rye liked the Salamandastron hares immediately. They were talkative and friendly, wringing her paw every time she met one of them. Some of the older hares were very polite, offering to help her over particularly knotty stumps or across wet stones of which they were afraid she would slip and fall.
Skimear, the hare she had hit, had gotten over the attack quickly, although there was now a somewhat of a large swelling on his nose. Indeed, it seemed as though he had already forgotten about it, chattering to Susy, who was just as talkative, about this and this or that and that. They passed a very pleasant time.
Saril the squirrel was a good companion as well. She wasn't one to beat around the bush or honey-coat her words. Though a gentile creature she seemed, there was a quiet fierceness around her that made Rye glad she was a friend and not a foe. Upon asking the red squirrel if Rye might take a look at her dagger, Saril withdrew it easily and handed it to her, warning the mousemaid to take care not to cut herself on it.
"I should very much like to be a sword-maid," Rye mused, turning the dagger in her hands. "It must be exciting."
"Aye, it is exciting…and dangerous too." Saril sighed. "It's a Redkin tradition to learn the art of sword-wielding. We're a warrior tribe, really, though civil in most aspects. It's hard when you're the only female squirrel warrior in the fam'ly. Growing up with six brothers and being the youngest does things to you." Rolling up the sleeve of her tunic, the young squirrel revealed an inch-long scar just below the shoulder. "I'm an archer by blood, but I'm not bad with a blade, either. I got this one in my first sword-fight against my next-to-oldest brother, Quinzo. I lost, of course, but my old pops, Rimdye, figured out that the sword I was using was much too long. A dagger suited me much better, and still does. Have you ever handled a real blade before, Rye?"
"The only blades I've ever handled were kitchen knives," replied Rye, and they both laughed.
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"D'you hear something, Friar Yuan?" Maple cocked her head to the side as she helped carry in a bushel of apples, just as the Abbey bells began to ring out their mellow evening tones. A brisk, but not unpleasant night was settling in.
"I don't hear anything, Miz Maple," replied the fat hedgehog, "Mayhap it was just the leaves crinkling beneath your paws?"
"It must have just been me, then…" Maple agreed, trailing off. "But for a moment, I swore I could have heard my brother's voice."
"REDWALL!"
"Funny, now I'm hearin' it too. The leaves must have adopted young Bren's voice, eh?" Yuan stopped and chuckled.
"No, no, it's not the leaves, Yuan! It's Bren, I'm sure of it!" Placing the apples hurriedly on the ground, Maple rushed towards the gate. "He's come home, Yuan!"
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"Bren! You silly goose, where have you been for four seasons? Did you ever think of your old, lonely sister back at the abbey?" Maple grabbed Bren in a suffocating hug before he could protest. Like all warriors, Bren patiently let his sister squeeze him for several minutes before gently untangling himself from her.
"Hi, Maple! Has it been well since I've been gone?" The younger mouse smiled easily.
"Same as always, of course. But what we want to know is how you've been! And your friends; who are they?" The mousemaid was practically dancing up and down in delight.
"The story is long, I'll give you that. I'm fair starved, sis, can we go back to the abbey? The Redwall Patrol and I'll explain it to everyone then." Bren took Maple's paw in his. "But let me tell you…it's good to be home!"
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"Burnscum, me ol' swashbuckler, come in, come in!" Grinning good-naturedly, Fluk welcomed the lowly horde-stoat into the Captain's quarters with open arms. Afraid that he might have caused his captain some kind of displeasure, Burnscum waited until Fluk closed the door gently behind him to fall to his knees and beg desperately.
"Oh mightiness, dun kills me, please! Wudever it was, I din do it, I swear!"
"What are you talking about, Burnscum, me best chum, eh?" Laughing gently, the Corsair captain led the terrified stoat over to half a roasted gull and a jug of seaweed grog. "I won't do you any harm, friend! Here, you must be hungry! I know that rations haven't been good lately. This should fill you right up. Don't worry, it's not poisoned." Seeing his horde beast's suspicious stare, the black stoat tore off a leg and sank his teeth into it, tearing off a strip of flesh and chewing slowly. "See?'Tis perfectly alright! Now dig in, yar!"
Burnscum needed no second bidding. He ravaged the rest of the roasted gull, the juices dripping down his bulging cheeks.
"D'you know why I brought you here, Burnscum?" asked Fluk, sitting back onto his handsome chair and watching the starved stoat eat. Burnscum shook his head slowly and swallowed his mouthful of gull with an audible gulp.
"It's because of that Blackwhip." The stoat continued leisurely. "You've seen that fox; he's been acting out of his place lately, wouldn't you say?"
"Oh aye, Cap'n!" Burnscum agreed readily. "Too big fer 'is boots!"
"We stoats need to stick together, matey!" Fluk smiled good-naturedly. "I've seen the way he pushes you and yer buddies around, and I'm not liken' it. Trouble is, though, he's a crafty one. Of course, I could always demote him on a whim, but it's rebellion that worries me."
The lowly stoat didn't know what to say, but he nodded as if he understood.
"So here's my idea. Listen quickly, and listen well, Burnscum." From within the folds of his voluminous velvet cape, Fluk drew out a tiny bottle. "I'm giving you this bottle o' the finest poison in my possession. One drop will kill anybeast in less than a minute. You are to be the new serving beast aboard my ship, Corpse. When Scully tells ya to bring the food to the captain tonight, slip a drop into his evening meal. Once he's good n' dead, fling him into the ocean. Then report to me. Do your job successfully and I promise you that I'll make you captain of that ship, along with a share of whatever is inside that mountain. No beast will be pushing you around, then!"
Burnscum's eyes lit up with greed. "I'll do it!" He said excitedly.
"Good…and to make the deal sweeter, when we face off against the badger and his pet bunnies tomorrow morning, I'll make you look the part of captain!" Grandly, Fluk swept off his cloak and tied it around Burnscum's scrawny shoulders. "There! Now don't that look nice?"
"Thank ye, Cap'n! I'll wear it wid pride!" Burnscum puffed out his chest.
"Hide it 'till tomorrow morning. We don't want the rest of the horde to get any ideas now, do we? And tomorrow, when we make our show of force, there's something very important I want you to say." Fluk whispered in Burnscum's ear. "Can ya remember that, matey?" The stoat nodded.
"Oh, aye, Cap'n, I kin remembers that!"
"Off you go, then, Burnscum!" Opening the door for him, Fluk allowed the stoat to swagger out before closing the door gently. "Fool," He murmured and allowed himself a chuckle.
"M'lord," Periwinkle timidly opened the door to the forge. "There are vermin out there callin' yer name! They ask to parley. The one they call Fluk Loomspear, their leader, is also there. He is a stoat who wears a purple velvet cloak."
"Tell them that I do not parley with vermin," growled Whitetooth, hammering a set of new spikes to insert on his steel knuckles.
"We 'ave, sire, but they refuse to leave," replied the runner.
"Then I will tell them myself," Abandoning the gigantic mallet, the Badger Lord made his way to the nearest window. "Please alert ten hares to join me in five minutes' time. You are dismissed."
Bobbing a quick curtsy, Periwinkle disappeared around the corner. Five minutes later, she returned with the requested ten hares, all armed with longbows. Marshbob looked out at the shores.
"Corks, there's a lot of them," The young hare sighed. Indeed, almost five score vermin of every variety stood on the shores, the shadow of five ships overlooking them. Alongside the Hellbird stood the Swordfin, Corpse, Nightshade, and Redeye, each swaying ominously in the gentle waters"But we're ready when you are, Whitetooth, sah!" He said, fitting an arrow to the bowstring.
"Wait," barked Whitetooth, staying the arrow. "Fluk Loomspear is the Stoat in the purple cloak; there is none like it on the Seven Seas. Let's find out what it is that he wants, first, though I have a pretty good idea already." He turned to the window. "I am Lord Whitetooth of Salamandastron! What is it that you vermin want?"
"Whoo," said Twiggan, stuffing a paw into her ear. "Our lord can roar, all right."
"We merely want to work out an agreement, yer 'ighness!" Ripsnout shouted back, waving the white flag of truce. "M'lud, the magnificent Fluk Loomspear'll tell ya more if yer interested!"
"Keep your offer, because I don't want any of it! If you seek to conquer my mountain, you might as well turn on your miserable tails and go home! Set foot inside Salamandastron and my hares will shoot you down!" Whitetooth slammed a fist on the window sill, making the floor rumble slightly. "Be off with you, vermin!" Turning away, the mighty badger lord started back to his forge.
"Then we'll be eating rabbit roast rump by the time we're finished with you, oh mighty Badger Lord!" hollered a voice from outside. Whitetooth waved his paw and the voice was promptly silenced and replaced with the twang of hare bows as ten arrows found their mark.
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A/N: Last update for a while; I'm just now recovering from a dreadful fever. Anyway, story-wise, guest characters will start appearing near the end of Part One and the beginning of Part Two.
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