"They're coming!"
The stoat messenger known as Grimfang was panting slightly from his running charge through the woodlands. As he stood before the dark, hypnotic eyes of Rivan Fireclaw he spoke again, "Otters, a little more than threescore of them, along with several squirrel archers!"
Rivan nodded, and then turned to the twenty or so vermin he had with him. The ferret was garbed, as usual, in the traditional garb of a Twisting Flame soldier. Only his helmet proclaimed his status as a commander, but otherwise he did not identify himself as leader of the horde. Most were ferrets or weasels, Rivan's elite rulers, but a few were lower-ranking stoats or rats. Though they were hard to see, however, Rivan knew they were not as solitary and defenseless as they seemed. His plan was working perfectly.
Since the two otter prisoners had escaped, Scythe and his advance strike team had been making raids against the common people of Mossflower, to antagonize the Redwallers enough to come to them rather than the other way around. Rivan Fireclaw, Icecloak, and the ermine rarely showed their faces. They didn't want anyone who had a chance to recognize them as the powerful beings they were and warn the Redwallers. As far as they knew, the Twisting Flame Horde was a small gang of around twenty vermin. Dangerous, yes, but nothing to be overly concerned about.
And it was the front of around twenty vermin who would confront the woodland army head-on. However, the lack of numbers was nothing more than an illusion. Rivan had nearly one hundred battle-hardened vermin soldiers in the woodlands around him. They would close the trap around the otters and crush them completely.
Even now, Icecloak and nine hundred Twisting Flame soldiers were on their way to Redwall Abbey, following the trail left by Saren and Ravenna. Then Redwall would be his for the taking.
Rivan dismissed Grimfang, then turned to Scythe. "Gather together your best front-line warriors. We will confront the Redwallers head-on while the rest of our force will ambush them. Be alert for their Skipper. Try to cut apart their chain of command if you can. I will be leading you personally."
"Is that wise?" Scythe asked. "We'll be outnumbered three to one before the ambush. You could be killed."
"I will not be killed," Rivan promised. "But how can I ask my soldiers to take risks for me when I do not put myself in the same danger?"
"Very well," Scythe nodded. Rivan dismissed him, and raising his curved sickle, Scythe went to rally the rest of his troops.
Rivan turned to another of his skilled warriors, the ferret archer Vask Annax. Though young, she could hit the wing of an insect with her bow, and she was, along with her mentor, the weasel Snakepaw, the most skilled among Rivan's archers. "You know what you must do," he whispered to her. Vask nodded and knocked an arrow to her bow. In the distance, Rivan could hear the sounds of beings approaching.
Now this was the crucial moment. The moment when Rivan's ambush would either be spotted by the Redwallers, or pass without a hitch. Now, Rivan knew, the time had come for his small group of guards to make their attack. If they delayed, the otters would spot the rest of the vermin concealed in the wood around them, and if that happened Rivan's greatest advantage would be lost.
Signaling to Vask Annax to remain in position ahead of the archers, Rivan strode among the group of warriors Scythe had handpicked for the most dangerous part of the plan. Seeing their chieftain with them emboldened the vermin, and Rivan was satisfied to see the gleam of greed in their eyes.
"Now," said Rivan quietly. Immediately the twenty vermin slipped through the shadows, moving silently toward the otter patrol. Seeing them appear from the darkness a squirrel yelled from the tree above. Rivan looked up momentarily, and saw an arrow headed toward them, skewering one of his stoats through the heart even as Scythe's sickle buried itself in a large otter's chest.
Rivan Fireclaw knew at once that they'd lost the element of surprise. Immediately, as shafts of death from the two squirrel archers rained down on the vermin and the otters weighed in, Rivan and around ten of the vermin began to fall back, leaving Scythe and the rest leading the charge against the otters. "Keep fighting," Rivan hissed, and the rest of his soldiers, emboldened by their leader's presence, continued to hold off the otters.
Rivan threw a glance in the direction of Vask Annax, who was concealed in the foliage. She raised the bow and let the arrow fly. A large, brawny otter was charging straight at Scythe when Vask's arrow buried itself in his back. Rivan saw the otter go down and knew at once he was a goner. Seeing another fall to a second arrow, Skipper began to pull back the attack force.
Then Rivan's force of about one hundred vermin closed the trap around them. The otters, still recovering from the fall of two of their warriors at the hands of Vask, had no time to retreat, flee, or organize a battle plan.
The otters tried valiantly to fight the vermin attackers, but the vermin barred their way, using the tactics that had made them so feared in the northlands. Each of them carried a shield along with their stabbing spears. While using the shields to deflect the arrows from the two squirrels as well as the otter javelins, they stabbed through the opening between the shields with stabbing spears. This system was easy to learn and drill and Rivan could tell that, with the otters surrounded, their victory was inevitable. It would not have work in the tangled forest, but it was Rivan who had manipulated the Redwallers into choosing this battlefield, a clearing.
Rivan watched as the coordinated movement, with its wall of shields and thrusting spears slowly overwhelmed the otters. In a battle that was fought on one-on-one terms, the otters were easily superior, but against Rivan's system, it was impossible for them to triumph against the masses.
"Retreat!" Skipper yelled, as he dispatched a powerful-looking ferret with his scimitar. The otters began to scatter, and the remainder of Rivan's force weighed in against them, the numbers beginning to overwhelm the attackers. Rivan Fireclaw saw to his satisfaction that they had no way to defend against his tactics. The wall of shields provided an impenetrable barrier, and every time an otter came up against the wall, spears thrust out from behind, wounding, stabbing, and killing. And as the otters fell back, Rivan's soldiers continued to press forward, several arrows fired from Vask, Snakepaw, and the small cadre of archers put an end to more of them. Rivan's second division of forces was approaching from the right, blocking off the easiest escape route. Rivan knew that the chance of many of them escaping without wounds was unlikely.
"Run!" the leader of the otters called. "Get out of here!" For the briefest moment, he was visible above the throng of otters. Rivan shot a quick glance at Vask Annax, who lifted her bow and fired. However, at the last minute Skipper sank out of view, and the otter directly behind him, Skipper's brother Waterstrike, took an arrow to the throat. He collapsed, and the otters fled into the woodlands, Scythe racing after them. Soon most of the otters had vanished, and those who did not lay wounded on the ground.
Skipper was the last of the otters that vanished into the night. He stared at Vask Annax with hatred, "You'll pay for killing my brother with that arrow, coward!" Then he disappeared into the shadows after his surviving otters.
"After them!" Scythe yelled, but Rivan cut him off as the surviving vermin readied their weapons to race after the otters.
"Let them go," he ordered. "We're still a day's march from Redwall, and we can't waste any more time pursuing otters. A shame Annax missed their chieftain, but we killed enough of them to make sure that there won't be as many Redwall defenders."
Vask Annax hissed her frustration. "There's nowhere that otter can run that my arrows won't find him."
"So I am sure," said Rivan. "Now we must rendezvous with Icecloak at Redwall Abbey while the otters are still scattered and cut them off from returning to their precious Abbey."
Rivan actually wasn't overly annoyed that Vask Annax had failed to kill Skipper. His strategy would have the double effect of cutting off the otters and the Redwaller's other famous allies, the Gousim shrews, while simultaneously pinning the Redwallers in. Everything was proceeding according to the plan.
Darkness had fallen over Redwall Abbey. Most of the adult Redwallers had gathered in Cavern Hole, but Brother Alfin couldn't sleep. He was surprised that Skipper and his otters had not yet returned from their expedition, and was more worried than he let on. Had the vermin band staged an ambush? Had there been more of them than Skipper had calculated? Alfin didn't know, and couldn't guess. But he'd resolved to wait for Skipper until morning, and if he did not return then he was going to round up a search party and send them into Mossflower.
So it was that the father of the young squirrel Oakan found Brother Alfin at the foot of the stairway up to the infirmary when he came rushing into the Great Hall. "Come quickly, Brother Alfin, Abbot Tyrn," he spoke through the open doorway of Cavern Hole. "There's something you need to see. Vermin at the gates!"
Immediately Abbot Tyrn rose to his feet with surprising agility for such and old mouse. He and Alfin raced to the main gate at once after Oakan, Maia lumbering behind. Standing at the gates of the Abbey were about twoscore creatures, all wearing black armor inscribed with an insignia that appeared to be a claw clutching a spear of fire which spiraled upward. The beings at the forefront of the vermin were a being wearing a sinister-looking hood and a brawny, brutal-looking weasel.
"Who are you, and what do you want at Redwall Abbey?" asked Tyrn, trying to keep his voice steady. "Why have you come to Mossflower Wood?"
The brutish weasel didn't speak, but the sinister, nightmarish specter wearing the hooded cloak did, his voice quiet. Alfin saw a staff seem to materialize in his hand, inscribed with the same flame insignia. "We are the Twisting Flame Horde, the masters of the earth. My master has allowed me to deliver an ultimatum to you. We, the conquerors of the Northlands, demand your unconditional surrender and complete turnover of all arms. This land belongs to the Twisting Flame by right."
"I am sorry," said Abbot Tyrn. "We are peaceful creatures, and do not wish to engage in war against you. But if you demand ownership of Redwall Abbey, I am afraid we cannot give this to you. Redwall Abbey belongs to peaceful creatures."
The hooded being lowered his hood, to reveal an ermine beneath, sleek with white fur and dead killer eyes. "I was afraid you might wish to defy the Twisting Flame Horde," he said quietly. "Nor did I think you would surrender without a fight. In that case, my master demands that you meet with him tomorrow evening, at this time. If you are not there, we shall treat this as a declaration of war and you will be expelled from Redwall Abbey by force.
Maia had had enough of this ermine. She was usually a peaceful creature, but she'd not been ruler of Salamandastron for nothing. Her eyes glowed crimson as she snarled, "Your master can have our answer now, ermine," she hissed. "Tell him that if it's a fight you want, the creatures of Redwall are willing to give it to him! We are peaceful creatures, except when scum like you decide to threaten us. Tell that to whoever you serve."
"Very well," said the ermine. He was not at all fazed by Maia's outburst, and simply returned the gaze with his cold, dead eyes. "I hope for your sake, and the sake of all in Redwall Abbey, that you will change your mind when you meet my master tomorrow evening."
Back at the Twisting Flame encampment, Icecloak delivered the report to Rivan. When he finished, Rivan let out a quiet, cold laugh. "I knew they would say that," he said quietly. "Woodlanders are so predictable."
Thanks to all the users who read and reviewed the last few chapters! I hope you continue to read the rest of the story. ~Varkanax40
