Book 1: Chapter 7
"You think that because we fight for what is good and just, we are guaranteed victory? Nothing is ever certain." - Swiftpaw, Lord of Salamandastron and the Western Shores.
Present day…
"Gone, both the young Lord and his friend. Left at dawn they did, with that lump of a hare carrying enough grub to feed an army for a week."
"What should we tell him?"
"Nothing. I think he already knows… Lord Swiftpaw hasn't left his room since that terrible argument a few nights past. Such dreadful words, 'tis a wonder that Swiftpaw didn't strike him there and then."
"What should we do? We all need him, now more than ever!"
"We do nothing. Lord Swiftpaw told me this morning that he has an announcement to make and that all must come to dinner. Personally, I think his writings are finally finished."
"Do you mean…"
"Yes. Let us hope that he may be able move on, with his works and account of the Battle of Salamandastron finally completed."
"Will he?
"I doubt it. Not as long as he lives."
Eighteen seasons previously...
Maia turned from the amassed crowd of hares before her and began running at a full-on sprint, with a huge roar behind her, signalling that they too had joined the charge.
Arrows thudded into the sand around her, with one or two of them nicking her shoulder and cheek as she kept running, moving diagonally in order to make it harder for the archers to hit her.
Maia heard the shouted command to fire back at the archers but she paid it no mind as her vision started to turn red at the edges of her vision, her breaths becoming more ragged and shallow as she realized what has happening.
"No!" Maia snarled, yanking her sanity back like one would grab something from a rabid animal. She needed her head, and becoming consumed by her hatred would make her useless for everything except one thing.
Death.
As she rounded the hill, she saw the last of the forces that she had sent forth earlier fleeing in her direction, with a pack of vermin hard on their heels. She stood there a moment, out of breath and nearly hoarse, as she watched another hare fall to a spear through his back. They were running out of options.
"Stand firm!" Maia shouted at them, moving forward and holding aloft her mace. At her words, the vermin slowed, shocked at seeing her make it up the hill, unwounded and ready for combat.
The half score of surviving hares sped up, with the lead runner making it to Maia within twenty heartbeats, long enough for Maia to catch her breath and to assess the situation.
"Orders?" the hare wheezed, saluting as his eyes darted around the area behind her, and Maia knew he was looking for the archers that had been harassing her. They were no doubt eliminated by now, as they had stopped firing shortly after she had heard the order from Torgil, who currently was in command of the Long Patrol.
"Karth's third,"Maia thought bitterly, her anger at the entire situation just shimmering beneath the surface. Karth should be with her right now, helping her to do what had to be done, helping her keep back the gathering darkness.
Maia opened her eyes, unaware that she had closed them. The vermin had nearly reached them, but that was not what had truly caught her attention. In the far distance and nearly out of sight, close to two dozen vermin were running at full-tilt, away from the skirmish and back towards wherever they made their camp. There they would tell the Fox everything, and even more blood would be upon her paws.
Shuddering, her eyes darted back from the fleeing vermin towards the foes in front of her, who were now nearly upon them, double the number of the escapees. The last nine hares surrounded her protectively, their weapons held forward, every eye upon her as they waited for her command, which would likely be their last. A snarl unconsciously spreading across her face, she moved forward, speaking loudly as she moved to the front of the line.
"We kill, while being quick about it," Maia growled.
"Defend the Badger Lady!"
"For Salamandastron!"
Karth heard the words and tried to stand, but something was pressed against his chest, preventing him from doing so. Angrily, he saw that it was one of his recruits, the one that had first hugged him after he had made the speech in the mess. He tried to stop himself from being dragged away from the fighting but the only rewards for his efforts were an excruciating amount of pain and a growing tiredness.
"You must stop, or you will be unconscious within minutes," a voice shouted in his ear, briefly overcoming the sounds of battle.
Karth stopped, not because he wanted to but because he knew that he would be needed. By Maia, the hares, and Salamandastron. His biggest fear was that the mountain would never stop needing him, and he was not getting any younger, no matter how much others remarked on his vitality. His days were numbered.
"How… many?" Karth spluttered, forcing himself to look up at his rescuer despite the pain.
The hare grimaced, his paw momentarily tightening on his shoulder, sending streaks of pain throughout Karth's whole body.
"A sixth of us are here, with a few wounded but none nearly as badly as you. We had orders from Lady Maia that presided over all others, and we followed... as we were commanded." Despite himself, a hint of bitterness was present in the hare's voice, with which Karth was familiar, perhaps too familiar.
Karth understood. He remembered a few days back, when she had shaken off whatever had been inflicting her for a brief moment and had called a score and a half of hares, from all regiments and rank, and had a whispered exchange with them that had lasted a few minutes. During that time, when Maia had paused mid-speech, her eyes had flickered over to where he had been standing, paws behind his back watching them. He knew what it was for, to make sure the chain of command wouldn't be broken under the worst circumstances.
The hare dragging him stopped for a moment and called for the stretcher. Karth wondered why they hadn't just given him the stretcher before, until he saw that it was made of spears, with belts looped around to hold it in place. The recruit saw that Karth had noticed the finer details and smiled slightly.
"We had to get you out in time, and we had to make do with dragging you out of the chaos until then. I trust you didn't mind?"
The sarcasm caused a ghost of a smile to flicker across Karth's face, and despite his pain, he nodded approvingly.
"That will do perfectly, at least until I get properly patched up."
The hare's face dropped at the mention of his fragility, and Karth felt angry at himself. They were holding on by a thread; one more disaster would ruin them, and Karth had just reminded them of it.
"That you will, Colonel!" the hare added a little too brightly, and Karth felt himself lifted off the ground and gently placed on the stretcher.
As he was carried away with as much speed as possible towards the camp, Karth found that the battle was nearly over, the clamour of weaponry all but silenced, with a few shouts audible here and there. "She must have followed," Karth thought silently. This was not good news.
He closed his eyes, willing himself to remain conscious, and began to plan.
"They are trapped at the ford and will be captured or dead within the hour, my Lady."
Maia of Salamandastron stood on top of a hill facing a large stream, doing her best to remain strong as she fought the urge to fall to her knees, fighting the temptation to submit and to let herself be overcome, both physically and mentally.
After eliminating the vermin squad that had nearly wiped out a score of her own, Maia and the Long Patrol had chased the vermin nearly to the edge of Mossflower Woods, doing a day's march in just under four hours.
"Strange," said a quiet voice beside her.
"Strange?" Maia echoed, her confusion clouding over her face as Torgil jumped, unaware that he had spoken out loud.
"Pardon, my Lady, but every time we thought we had lost the vermin, we miraculously found them again. It just seems a little suspicious. Barkclaw may be laying a trap here, my Lady."
Maia nodded, as she felt her chest constrict and her thoughts glaze over as she heard the Fox's name. Even the mere thought of her foe was enough to threaten her mental stability.
She shuddered at the thought of actually seeing him and what would occur. She didn't know if it was from delight or muted disgust. She couldn't even bring herself to speak his name. He wasn't worthy of one...but she did wonder.
"Is he really that clever? Is the Fox really capable of making such a convoluted plan that hinges on too many different outcomes to be even remotely plausible?" Maia didn't know, and not knowing just made it worse. She didn't have the option of pondering the dilemma, however, not if Redwall's Dibbuns were to be saved.
She just wanted this to end, before she lost control of herself.
Taking a deep, calming breath and forcing herself to remain stoic, Maia turned to her hares and called out tersely, watching the vermin trying to escape via the stream as she did so.
"There will be no prisoners. If even one of the vermin happens to escape from us and make it back... Redwall will never recover. This must be done; kill them all."
With a salute, and a look giving neither agreement nor condemnation, Torgil nodded to the nearest sergeant, who bellowed out orders for an advance.
The plan was straightforward in its simplicity, although the simplest plans seemed to be the ones that were most likely to go awry.
A third of the total archers would remain on the very top of the hill, split in two to both keep the vermin penned down; as they were doing this, a select few would go down to eliminate the last of the vermin, with Maia and the rest of the infantry staying near the crest of the hill, looking out for a potential ambush at the ford or anywhere else.
If anything were to go wrong at the bottom of the hill, a blue flag, adorned with the colors of the Long Patrol would be raised to warn Maia and those guarding the hill, giving them a few moments to prepare a counter-attack.
She wondered what Karth would have said at this plan. Would he have applauded her bold manoeuvre, or would he have advised caution? Maia frowned. Now was not the time to be plagued by self-doubt. Every action in the last full-moon had led to this moment. It was time to cast the dice.
"Forward!" Maia said softly, and she watched as the assigned fifth of her troops broke out into a trot and began to move down the hill, including the commanding officer Torgil. This time there were no shouts or war cries, nothing but a grim acceptance, that what they did and committed today would be forever embedded in their minds and consciences.
Maia peered down and really looked at the vermin for the first time, seeing the vermin had finally turned around to face them. Most had wounds, either from the arrows or from the brief skirmishes that occurred throughout the day. Few had weapons, as most had lost theirs during the struggle or discarded them while trying to cross the river, and all wore expressions of defeat or helplessness, the rage easily visible on their faces, even from Maia's distance.
Had these very vermin been some of the ones that had massacred Blythe's regiment? Tortured her own scout? Kidnapped Redwall's Dibbuns? Maia ground her teeth together, finding that she was looking forward to watching her Patrol finally take their revenge. The red mists of Bloodwrath pressed in at the edges of her vision, obscuring the hills in her peripheral. It was almost frightening how much she wanted to see those vermin die.
"What do I have to become in order to secure victory?"
As Torgil ran down the hill, he thought of the reasons for which he was fighting.
He remembered like it was yesterday: the inspiring sight of Lord Swiftpaw coming into his own and calling Salamandastron to war, the feeling of elation when he had been promoted, and the realization that creatures would now depend on him. Lives were at risk, and throughout his journey, Torgil had done his best to do his home proud. He remembered with bitterness his eagerness for the heroic battles that would occur, with him standing alone and fighting his mortal foe to the death, winning and bringing honor both on himself and Salamandastron. How wrong he had been, both about himself and Lady Maia. She should never have lead this expedition.
He stared at the vermin in front of him as he reached the shoreline. Torgil ran in, cursing as the shocking coldness of the water washed over him. The vermin were about forty paces away, nearly halfway through the stream. The current was strong, but the actual depth of the stream only went up to just below Torgil's knees. If one was cautious, a creature could move quickly, but there was no time to be careful.
Digging up his last reserves, Torgil increased his speed, pulling his sword from over his shoulder as he reached the first vermin, who stood rooted to the spot in fear, his body shaking uncontrollably. Whether it was from the cold or from the fact that his death was immiment, the hare did not know.
"Please, I beg yeh-"
With a scream, Torgil swung his sword in a rough arc, forgoing finesse for raw urgency. The rat tried to move out of the way, but Torgil's strike was too fast to avoid, and Torgil's sword slammed into the rat's side, nearly cutting him in two. With a whimper, the rat fell forward, hitting the water with a loud splash, and was swept away almost instantly. Raising his now bloodied sword, Torgil turned to his squad and beckoned forward towards the shoreline.
"Onward! For Salamandastron and for Lady Maia!"
The cry gave his squad a much needed shot of adrenaline, and he watched as they moved past him, the blue standard-bearer last as he held the flag sideways, only to be waved towards the hill by his command, and his alone. Catching the standard-bearer's attention, he jerked his paw downward, and the hare stopped, face blank as he awaited further orders.
"Stay behind me," Torgil muttered.
Maia's sight flickered back and forth between red and grey. Whatever energy she had had before sending Torgil out had now nearly dissipated, and Maia was finally feeling the effects of her relentless pursuit.
She looked at her troops splayed around her and Maia stared enviously at her troops crouching and sitting, not even caring that they were breaking protocol. She wanted more than anything to sit and to relax, but she couldn't. Although she loved each and every one of her hares, she wasn't one of them. She couldn't be one of them. It was harder to know when to distance herself from her troops than nearly anything else, but she did what she had to do. She would stand here forever, if she had to.
A flash of color swam across Maia's vision, and for a moment she thought it was nothing, until she saw what was happening.
A massive vermin horde flooded out from behind the ravine, surrounding the hares, and they were capturing her troops, just as they had captured her scout and tortured him for days on end.
The flag flew back and forth, and from the shouts behind her, she knew that the others had seen the standard as well.
"Perhaps we should retreat."
Maia snarled angrily at the thought, and whirled around towards her troops, who were now standing in formation, their heads held straight and their weapons held high.
Just as she opened her mouth to issue the command to charge, she heard a single scream down by the river, one that she recognized immediately.
Like a dam breaking from stress, the Bloodwrath slammed into her. This time she did not fight it, but embraced it. Forgetting everything but her beleaguered troops below, she starting running at a full-on sprint, ignoring the cries of alarm as she starting laughing hysterically, eagerly anticipating the bloodshed ahead.
Every time Maia fought, she was fighting a battle on two fronts. One physical, the other taking place within her mind. Each time, the madness lingered at the edges of her consciousness, tantalizingly baiting her to let her control slip, even just for a single moment. Always the struggle continued, and always it surfaced when she was needed most. The best she could ever do was to just concentrate and to lead, something that even the best Badger Rulers consistently struggled with. To know when to be diplomatic, and when to kill. To be a harbinger of death or a vessel of peace. It seemed lately that both were required in order to make the other possible. What was peace, when it was resolved through violence and death? What was death, when it never achieved a lasting peace?
She had difficultly knowing which was which anymore.
As she reached the stream, she saw that Torgil and a few others stood alone, avoiding both the nets and vicious blows that were being sent their way. At the sight of these vermin, these vile vermin who had caused her and those she loves so much pain, causing her creatures yet more agony, Maia felt a furious roar swelling inside of her.
She spotted vermin trying to escape by running into the stream and swim away, but the expert aim of the Long Patrol archers assured the surviving vermin that flight was not an option. It was a true fight to the death.
Fighting four at once, Maia did her best to not focus too deeply, not on what she was doing, but on whom and what she was fighting. For justice, for Salamandastron, Swiftpaw and Melator... and for revenge.
Maia grunted as she leaned backwards, barely avoiding the tip of the razor-sharp blade as she swung her mace forward in reply, satisfyingly crushing a skull with a loud crack, and sending the rat flying into the weasel next to him, taking out two with one mighty blow.
"Lady Maia!" The scream cut over the din of battle as Maia became aware of the fighting around her, the screams and the blood and the death. It was not glorious, nor was it beautiful. As that thought crossed her mind, the smell hit her like a blow from her own mace, and she stumbled backwards from shock and partly from disgust, allowing the hares behind her to cover her while she looked for the source of the urgent shout.
"Lady Maia! The hill!"
Maia whirled around, just in time to see the hares on the hill, the hares that she had been supposed to stay with to command and protect, being overwhelmed, the entire hill completely covered by even more enemy forces. Instantly, she knew what was happening.
"No..." Maia snarled, and while moving forward despite herself, she felt something slam into her side.
The force of it nearly drove her to her knees, but deep within, she found some inner strength tucked away and forced herself to stand, turning around to see enemy archers firing upon her own. They could not go to take the hill, with archers firing at them from the side, and the vermin on top of the hill holding the high ground, squeezing Maia and the Long Patrol into a noose that was nearly impossible to get out of.
With a cry of defiance, Maia ran towards the archers, not caring in the slightest that they were all aiming at her. She felt something holding her at her back but kept on, oblivious to the shouts and screams in both her ears and behind her. She could not hear, she could not feel, and she could not see. Maia was dead, replaced by death itself.
"Protect the Lady!" Maia heard dimly, and in the corner of her eye, she saw hares abandon the fight to come towards her. Some intent on pulling her back, the others trying to form a protective shield in front of her with their own bodies.
The arrows rained down, some hitting her, with the rest either splashing down into the water or hitting the hares around her. As the arrows landed, she felt the grip on her slacken and cease, and she turned around to see Torgil face down in the water, not moving.
"BARKCLAW!" Maia roared, nearly frothing at the mouth as she ran full-tilt through the stream, intent on either killing the archers slaughtering her own or dying in the attempt.
Around her, she saw her hares running forward and heard the screams as they were thrown backwards by the arrows slamming into them. She felt helpless to defend them, something that only served to further her descent into madness as her vision slowly began to turn black.
Screaming incoherently, she kept running.
Despite her inner pleas, the arrows continued to rain down, the focus still on hitting her own troops, now that she had been eliminated as a competent commander.
Maia charged forward, panting heavily as her wounds began to take their toll. That fact alone only served to enrage her even more, and she redoubled her efforts, punishing her body as she moved forward, each step feeling like a hundred.
Despite herself and her current state, she laughed when a vermin stumbled in front of her with a dazed look on his face, almost as if he didn't know what was happening.
Maia reached forward and grabbed the rat by the throat, lifting him up and staring into his eyes as the life drained out of them. The rat struggled for a moment desperately but stopped abruptly as the vermin archers refocused on Maia and sent an entire volley in her direction, determined to finish her once and for all.
"Wound her, do not kill her! She is more valuable alive!"
With a roar, Maia snapped the rat's neck like a twig and threw the corpse to the side, the body resembling a pincushion as she began her charge once more. For a minute, only a few arrows were shot her way, all glancing shots that either missed her entirely or only sliced her as they exploded into the water around her.
However, when she was nearly halfway to the other side of the riverbank, the arrows again rained down upon her, most of them hitting her in non-vital areas as she finally fell to her knees, overcome by her wounds and exhaustion. Around her, it was nearly silent as she realized that the battle was over.
Vague thoughts flickered throughout her mind, all of which were unrecognizable, save one.
A body, over top another. A laughing face, swimming in and out of her sight. Blood, all over her body and weapon. Suddenly, she realized what was being shown. The realization washed through her mind, and Maia gasped as she understood what she was doing.
Damning everyone around her to a fate worse then death. Her mind now completely clear, she hoped that at least she could save those that were still at the river.
"Forgive me," Maia whispered.
Had it all been for nothing?
Maia felt her eyes close despite themselves. Her will to fight fading, she forced her eyes open and stared upwards, convinced that she had seen her last sunrise.
Just before all was still, an image flashed through her mind, an image of what would come now that she had failed. Melator and Swiftpaw, all but dead at her feet, the Fox laughing as he brought them both to the very precipice of death itself, before dragging them back kicking and screaming from death's warm embrace. All while she stood there bound, unable to help or do anything besides watch the cycle continue over and over, the only thought in her mind of how this could have been avoided if she had done her duty.
It was dark as the weasel pushed through the tent's opening, disrupting both the conversation and the meal as they got a good look at his countenance. Disregarding them, Splitface moved forward towards the table, paws behind his back as he focused his gaze on the deadliest creature he had ever known.
The weasel stared at the fox, waiting patiently as their eyes both bored into each other for a long and uncomfortable moment, the atmosphere quickly becoming chilled.
With an irritated toss of his head, Barkclaw broke eye contact first, and Splitface allowed himself to exult in his victory for a brief moment as the fox's face briefly tightened in anger.
Even still, Splitface waited, forcing Barkclaw to speak first as Splitface looked over Barkclaw's guests, noting every single one, quickly seeing if any were his creatures. He almost jumped as the warlord spoke, his tone mocking as it pierced through the room like a knife.
"Is it done?"
Splitface paused for a moment, just long enough for it be noticeable before he began his explanation. From the dull looks of Barkclaw's guests, nobeast noticed save Barkclaw who nodded impatiently for Splitface to begin. With a curt smile, he began to speak.
"It is done, my Lord, as you requested. The expedition sent from Salamandastron has been completely crushed, although not without our own serious losses, with the last stragglers that we know of surrendering the day before yesterday. We caught them by a secluded stream finishing off our scouting squads. It seems that they had indeed followed the bait and believed everything, with the rest going according to plan… as you so predicted."
Barkclaw cackled, enmity momentarily forgotten as he slammed his goblet down, ignoring the splash that doused all around him as he smiled warmly at Splitface. He stood up, everybeast else following, albeit a little confusedly.
"Lead me to my prisoners, Captain."
The badger awoke, breathing heavily as his vision swam. His head pounded like somebeast had just smashed it, and Swiftpaw's breath caught as he realized that something terrible had happened: the perfect culmination of his deepest fears.
Moving towards the window, he looked towards the east and confirmed his own prophecy. Two dotted specks could be seen in the far horizon, and Swiftpaw knew at once who they were and what they would tell him.
"Must everything be inevitable?" Salamandastron's ruler whispered.
The Badger Lord stood silently, feeling the wind brush over him fitfully as he started to chant the poem that had been first spoken to him three seasons ago, speaking it out loud for the first time.
"As the battle rages and as the banners fly,
One looks upward and prepares to die.
Awake from your slumber, Badger Lord, and look to the east.
What comes for the mountain is death, which may soon never cease.
Already it has claimed many, and soon much more;
You will be sorely tested, as all are in times of war.
Take heart, for while the battle is lost, the struggle has just begun.
What will take place is for you to decide, as the Fox's plans soon could be undone."
"Maia…" Swiftpaw whispered, his voice tinged in agony, images flashing before his eyes as he gripped the windowsill, desperately hoping against what he knew would be true.
"Take heart, Captain, for with Swiftpaw's downfall, Salamandastron will finally be mine." - Barkclaw the Defiler.
