A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, but Veil knew that his first step was going to be the hardest. He had dreaded the task, but if any headway was going to be made, he was going to need the support of every beast in Middledune. Which considering the circumstances, was not at all attractive. To some degree, he had become disliked by some, and resented by all. All because he wasn't required to work at this damned labor camp of Fargan's.
They were pathetic, really. Veil had once thought all woodlanders were weak, and looking at the motley array of threescore beasts, all too cowardly to stand up to Fargan, not because they lacked the means, but because they lacked the incentive.
They were like abandoned Dibbuns, the kind that, if you kick them, will keep on coming back for more, just for the attention. Woodlanders were weak, Veil had learned, until they had a reason not to be. Those who resided at Redwall of Salamandastron were as hard as nails, because they had something to fight for. These pitiful whelps seemed utterly devoid of seeing a life past this wasteland.
He stood before them all, on the dune where he had called them all cowards, and rightfully so. He remembered them when he had first come to Middledune, so proud and happy with themselves. And when Fargan had arrived, he had seen them crawl on all fours to meet the wily wolf's payload demands. In the back of his mind, Veil gave the lupine points for finding an inlet for plunder that required no fighting, no exchange, and not even a bad word said. Hell, had Fargan asked, they would have kissed his feet, repeatedly.
In the end, Veil felt nothing but loathing for all of these worthless hides. And yet, here he was, about to try and save them all.
Why? Because his dream had said so. But that wasn't true, not entirely (he had disobeyed his dreams time and time again, especially that one night in Southsward). He did it because for once, he had something to give a damn about. For once, Veil didn't feel like such a dead beast walking. He had a reason to fight. Veil remembered how Myst had been so scared on the ship that day. And her reason for fear was a real one, not like these pissy beasts before him now. She feared the past, just as he did. And Veil had learned the past was a formidable opponent.
The mob was silent, not out of respect, but of fear. Veil's reflexes were legendary by now, and they had apparently seen Veil's bladework on Myst's boat. They knew Veil was more than just a warrior. They saw in his eyes that at one point, he had been a murderer. Veil realized that he would have to appeal to their hearts, not terrify them. Fargan saw to that around there.
"Friends, I wish I could express how thankful I am to have come here. The last few weeks have been something close to redemption for me, and the seasons know I need that. Some of you may know my story, some of you may not. What matters is not my past, but your future.
"I was there that day when Fargan the Butcher sailed in here and told you all to do his work. I was there when I saw him terrify you all into submission. And something tells me deep down that this isn't what you want. Not at all.
"When I was younger, I once heard a saying that I heard again when I was forced to take my father's life in combat." A hush of wonder rippled through them at this. "The circumstances don't matter, what matters is that the one saying through my mind was this: 'What are you going to do about it?' If I may, I'd relate to you the same saying."
He looked them all over with his bright blue eyes. The cool steel in his voice struck them all with his eight words.
"What are you going to do about it?"
Coll, the fat vole whose family had served as Middledune's most prosperous fisher since anyone could remember, strode forward. "Nothing, that's what we'll do! Fargan's always given us food, he's never been unreasonable –"
"I take it you weren't here for the uprising, then," came Veil's cold reply. "From what I hear, he was quite unreasonable then."
"That was what we deserved. We were in the wrong, he punished us because we did wrong."
You spineless twerp, thought Veil, and his old killing spirit rose up, and for a moment he wondered if it were possible for him and Myst just to leave this place. "You tried to fight for something that you believed in. I see no wrong with that."
"What we got here be fine, Sixclaw. Never needed any more."
"But there is more. More than you could possibly imagine. Any of you."
He sighed with the memory, and told them of Redwall, of the emerald paradise were it stood, of every grassy, lush glade that stood in the orchards, of the food (here Veil thought he had outdone himself as a speaker), of the sweet, melt-in-your-mouth feeling of a damson crumble, the savory, rich taste of Foremole's deeper 'n' ever pies, or that sweet yet burningly hot taste of hotroot stew, Skipper's finest. He told them of the dormitories, of the soft cots and blankets, of falling asleep perfectly content and waking with the bright feeling of having one more day to savor and enjoy.
When he ceased his warm description of his former home, Veil saw that every pair of eyes was glowing with the thought of the wondrous, far-off land.
"The Abbey is fairly new, but it wasn't earned easily. A tale I was once told by Bella was that of the Mossflower Wars. The land was oppressed by a creature much like Fargan, a wildcat demanding great pittance. A resistance was formed, but without much success.
"And then, one day, a warrior from the north came down to Mossflower, with naught but a chipped, rusty sword. And when he came into the fold of the freedom fighters, the unthinkable happened. They won. And with that, they built a great Abbey of sandstone, free of tyranny and oppression, full of joy and happiness instead."
He looked at them all. "We could win. We might one day stand on the parapets of Redwall and look out at the world in peace. But we must fight."
"And if we lose?" said Coll.
"Better you die on your feet than live on your knees," Veil said. He had heard that one from Sunflash, whose favorite maxim it had been.
"I cannot do this alone. I will need help from all of you in this. I will ask only once. Who is with me?"
There was an uncomfortable silence, and for one horrible moment Veil was sure their paws would stay down.
And then the paw of Mystfur shot into the air like an arrow from a bowstring, closely followed by every other paw there.
To war, Veil, Swart giggled in the back of his mind. After all, you slash and stab all the way to Hellgates.
Yeah, and guess what? he thought right back.
I don't care.
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Thanks to my reviewers!
