Tristyn

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: once again, no ownership to Redwall, belongs solely to Brian Jacques, and I am using his world purely for creative expression. All characters not recognized from the books (ie, original characters) are not to be used without my permission. Thank you.

A/N: Once again, excuse the huge lack of updates. Five English courses have been eating up most of my time. By summer, I should have more time to continue this. Not to mention, like an idiot,I decided to take on NaNoWriMo this year (don't know what it is? Google it). So, at least I got this out. Enjoy!

To say Tarian was worried about her warlord's reaction to their news was a gross understatement. Dinali was not going to be happy to hear that someone else had beat him to the punch as far as Salamandastron was concerned, but Tarian knew it would be best to mention that the Black Horde (as she had entitled it) was nearly ten thousand strong. Too large a force for Dinali to take on with his meager army.

She and Grenn stood outside in the courtyard of the fort, both beasts looking at each other, sharing the same nervous look. Grenn was the first to speak, whispering, "So…'oo wants to tell 'is lordship?"

"Neither of us, naturally," she retorted, her pale grey eyes roving over the compound. In the week they had been gone, the slaves had completed much of the outer walls of the fort, and though the fort itself was constructed of wood, for now, she knew that soon, with Dinali's plans of conquest, he would construct a great castle on this spot, or near enough to it.

But her master's plan was to raid Salamandastron, kill resisters and enslave the others. The badgers, he knew well enough, would never submit, and to kill them would sacrifice a good number of soldiers. Not that Dinali cared, surely.

Tarian sighed. Grenn spoke up, "Yew should tell 'im. 'e likes yew more."

"What makes you think that?"

"'e hasn't threatened yew yet."

Good point, she thought. "Alright, let's get this over with…" She pushed open the oaken doors that led down into the underground compound, where the heart of the fort lay. One day, this place would probably be used for only storage, but for now, it was used to this purpose, but also for guards' barracks, armories, and the quarters of the generals and the warlord, of course. Tarian was fortunate enough to have a room to herself, but as the chief advisor and assistant to Dinali, her job was pivotal, and required her to stay close to her master…closer than she would have liked. Dinali once proposed to have her room situated right next to his, with a door adjoining the two. Tarian had wisely advised against it, claiming that his lordship would not want to risk another beast getting so close to him as he slept. In his present place, at least he was protected by his own solitary confinement.

After traveling three stories down into the cold, dark earth, she and Grenn came upon the caverns that made up the strongest part of the stronghold. These caves had been discovered purely by chance as the slaves dug for the fort. One slave had been lost as he fell to his death after cracking through the limestone, but it was a small loss. One less mouth to feed, in an area where food could be scarce.

She couldn't help but admire the subterranean fortress, more like a palace with the myriad crystals embedded in the cavern walls, reflected by the torchlight casting a rainbow of colors all over. In the middle of the cavern was a natural underground reservoir, full of fresh, clear water. The torches reflected off the unnaturally still water, an astonishing natural mirror that made the stalactites appear to be growing out of the floor: a remarkable view, through and through.

She took no more notice of the storerooms in other caverns, rough signs above each one—she saw no need for them, since very few of the horde members could actually read—and was reminded just how shrewd her leader could be.

Insane Dinali might have been, but smart he most certainly was. He was aware of the necessity of these caves and the fresh water. He used the caves to grow mushrooms and other vegetables that could tolerate the cold, damp, dark climate. This, he felt, would serve them well in event of a siege.

Finally she and Grenn came upon his quarters. Tarian took a deep breath and walked right in, not bothering to knock. Dinali was seated at a pilfered desk, which appeared old and well used—a scholar's workplace. Charts and maps were laid out before him, a tankard of ale within arms reach. Every candle and torch was lit, which Tarian felt was a waste, but knew necessary, especially down in these depths.

Dinali looked up sharply as she entered. "What in Satan's name are you doing back so soon?! I gave you a month!"

"My lord," Tarian gave a quick bow. "We have urgent news that we need to tell…"

"Don't waste my time vixen, out with it!"

Tarian quickly began, "We arrived a day early to Salamandastron, and began scouting about, as were your orders. The second day we were there, we were awoken by a rumbling…"

Dinali arched an eyebrow, casting a glance at her. "Rumbling? If that mountain is becoming a volcano once again…"

"That's not possible, sir. It would have made things easier for us…"

"Undoubtedly."

"It was another horde."

He paused, staring at her. The silence made her uncomfortable. "How many?"

She took a deep breath and swallowed. "Ten thousand."

Dinali let out a loud expletive. Grenn tried to quell his raging anger, if only to provide himself as a whipping boy. "Lordship, if'n it 'elps, the entire horde ain't from around these parts…"

Tarian nodded. "Every soldier—for they are indeed well trained, from their battle formations—is black in color, their armor black, sir, it was as if it were a living black sea."

Dinali's expression changed, from confusion, to recognition. "Karnak."

Tarian was surprised. "Yes, that was the warlord's name…"

Dinali sneered, "He's no warlord, calls himself a living god…"

Grenn answered, "Aye, we 'eard that part…an' 'e disowned 'is own son, too."

"Excuse me?"

"This Karnak is apparently the father of that black fox we tried to hang," Tarian explained. Dinali looked very surprised, "Indeed?"

"Well…I think so, the fox—Kyo'nak, he was called—claimed he wasn't Karnak's son…" she paused when Dinali began to look confused. "It's a long, convoluted story, lord," she quickly finished.

"I couldn't tell," he said sarcastically. Dinali sat back on his stool and thought for a good long moment, but Tarian could easily see the gears turning. Finally, he spoke, but not to them, as he formulated a plan. "Karnak wouldn't have much reason to take the mountain, unless he was planning to expand his empire…but no empire that big could ever keep together…"

"Too much territory to govern," Tarian nodded. Dinali nodded in agreement, "And his only real motivation is looking for his heir, who he disowned…he has no reason to stay. But…" he paused.

After a time, Grenn pressed, "But…?"

Dinali, surprisingly, didn't reprimand him. Instead, a cruel smile slowly grew on his face. "I got it. Tarian, prepare a ship—tomorrow, we sail for Salamandastron."

Tarian blinked in surprise. "What?"

Dinali smirked and stood, rounding the desk to stand in front of her. "Think of it a moment…why should I sully my paws when I can have another force do it for me?"

"You mean to betray him," she finished.

"Aye, naturally. Now, we need to get going, to extend the olive branch, as it were."

Grenn looked a little bit confused. "But where we gonna find an olive tree up 'ere?"

Dinali groaned, then slapped him on the side of the head. "It's called a figurative expression, barnacles for brains! Tarian, get a crew together…and for hell's sake, leave this pea-brain here."

Taking this to mean she was dismissed, Tarian bowed and walked out with Grenn, closing the door to Dinali's chambers as quietly as she could. After they were far enough away from the ferret's quarters, Grenn nursed his aching head, but grinned stupidly, "That went better th'n we thought."

Tarian snorted, and for once, was glad to carry out one of Dinali's orders.

At the Black Horde's encampment by the Fire Mountain, later that night, Karnak was seated in front of a roaring fire, surrounded by his most trusted generals. An assortment of strange creatures never before seen in Mossflower congregated around the fire, listening in on their leader's plans.

Karnak drew idle diagrams in the sand as he spoke off-handedly. "This place is strange and foreign, but it is rich in food and clean water. I can see a grand future in attaining this place…"

One of his generals, a fennec fox named Sefu, spoke up, offering his input. "Maybe so, your holiness, but it is so far away from our Mother Land. How can we hope to control these creatures here, when they are so hostile?"

Karnak scoffed. "Soft-hearted fools who believe in peace and justice for all…what frivolity! There are so few creatures on this earth who deserve it."

A mongoose named Sekani, a little farther down nodded in agreement with the rest of the generals; to do otherwise was defying their god and king. "Only those who fight for such freedoms, as you have done my lord and king, are truly worthy of honor and glory."

Karnak didn't nod, but acknowledged the mongoose with a glance. Then the golden eyes flicked over to the mountain that loomed high above their heads. The black fox king smiled slightly. "If only…"

"Sire?" a jackal, Gaji inquired.

Karnak rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This mountain…an edifice so impressive must have great stores of treasure…and not to mention make an impressive summer palace, to escape the desert heat."

Sitting beside Karnak was an equally strange creature to Mossflower, but stranger still to Karnak's horde of males: a female fennec, Shafira, who, like Tarian, served as his advisor. Shafira, unlike the generals, was no fool—she recognized that Karnak was no living god. Shrewd and calculating, she personified the slippery character of the cobra, but coated her words with the sweet birdsong of a warbler. The fennec was garbed in black-dyed linen, worn as a tunic, a red sash of light cotton wrapped around her body and covering her head as a veil. She wore gold bangles on her wrists and ankles, and the many necklaces and rings on her person provided evidence of another role she played in Karnak's court…and in his bed.

Sitting on her right side was a rare beast: a naturally black jackal, Amon, the best assassin and secret soldier to Karnak. The jackal's amber eyes were penetrating yet deep, allowing no emotion to be witnessed in them. He employed a strange curved dagger as his favorite weapon, and preferred his assassinations to be up front and personal. Many considered him suicidal, and he was far from that—he was high.

Shafira inched closer to Karnak, resting her head on his knee as a sign of reverence; the other males around the fire averted their gazes out of respect. The fennec smirked and sat up, nuzzling her king. "Sire…if it is this mountain you wish, then it is in the best interests of the gods to ensure your success…"

Karnak sighed, "What payment do you want, Shafira?"

"Payment?" she asked quizzically. "No payment is ever required my lord, my king…to know the pleasure of serving you…" her paws dipped close to a sensitive area, "…is all the payment I need."

Karnak arched an eyebrow with interest. He looked about at his generals, posing the question, "If I wish for this mountain, could you deliver it to me?"

Gaji spoke for all of them: "Until the last breath, sire, we will fight for what is yours by right."

Karnak allowed himself a small smile and gazed back up at the mountain. He smirked, "Then it shall be mine."

Tristyn was overwhelmed by the events of the last two days. Since coming to the mountain fortress of Salamandastron, she had been fed, bathed, clothed in a new green dress—which she hated, despite its richness—and had been given the best treatment of her life. The hares of the Long Patrol were especially kind to her, and treated the former slave as an old friend rather than what she considered herself as: a refugee.

The mouse sat in the dining hall, alone but for a few younger recruits farther down the long tables from her. Her food sat untouched in front of her, though she was hungry, she couldn't stomach anything. She was full of worry for her friends, whom she hadn't seen since they'd been brought in.

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and the mouse looked up to see Major Mercedes taking a seat next to her. "You must eat, m'gel," the hare said simply, "Ye not much more than a twig at the moment. So skinny, poor thing."

"Have no pity for me," Tristyn said. "I don't want it."

"'Tis not about pity," Mercedes said. "The other officers expressed concern over you."

"And what of my friends?" Tristyn asked. "No concern for them? Or are you all through torturing them for information they don't have?"

Whatever the female hare expected the mouse to say, it certainly wasn't that. "How can you call them 'friends'? They enslaved you, treated you poorly…"

"I never told you where I really came from, have I?" Tristyn sighed, "I was a slave, but not to them. I have scars from whippings, beatings, and worse. Those foxes were the first to ever show me any form of kindness. For seven days, they led me to this place…"

"They did, did they? Ever learn why?"

Tristyn paused; she had been wondering that herself. "I think Kyo—the black fox—he has some form of honour code."

Mercedes shook her head. She reached for a nearby pitcher of cold mint tea and poured two mugs for the both of them. "We questioned that one; got only mumblings from him. Nonsense about losing his soul, a living god, and gobbledy-gook. His mate said that he's never seen this Kyo act this way before."

"What could he bothering him then?" Tristyn wondered aloud.

Mercedes shrugged, "Most likely some silly vermin superstition, they're full of them."

"He's not a vermin," the mouse said coldly. "Don't you ever call him that again."

Mercedes' mug was halfway to her lips, but she set it down. The hare looked bemusedly at the mouse, wondering, "My goodness you make your opinion known quite well. What brought on this belief? How are you to trust either of them?"

"I don't know," Tristyn said resolutely. "Mayhap it's the fact that they never once harmed me, never once tried to take advantage of me. When we made it here, they ensured my safety first, caring little for their own. If you ask me, it sounds like they are more like woodlanders than vermin."

Mercedes was silent, mulling over the mouse's words. Finally, the hare took a sip of the mint tea and set the mug down. "I'd watch my words around the Badger Lord when you finally meet him," she warned. "He hates vermin with a passion, and it's a small wonder why he's done nothing to your…friends, yet." She let the last word hang in the air, emphasizing the point.

Tristyn looked down at the table then back up at Mercedes. "I want to see them," she said with strong conviction in her voice.

"The badgers?"

"No, the foxes."

"I can't promise that."

"I just want to know that they are treated well," the mouse said.

"They are treated as well as any prisoner," Mercedes explained. "At least we treat them better than their own kind would."

"Their own kind tried to hang Ren for piracy, and Kyo for no real reason except that he was found with Ren."

"Then we treat them quite well," Mercedes said with a nod. "The black fox received treatment for his wound, but his spirit is the most damaged. Whatever rhetoric that warlord used on him, had some deep effect."

"What kind of effect?"

"Haven't the foggiest, m'gel. I know little about how verm—their minds work."

Tristyn looked back at the stern face of the hare, noting the strength in her features despite her diminutive size. The mouse found that inspiring; here was another creature like herself, small but strong-willed. Perhaps if they got around their differences in opinion, they could get along. "If I see them, perhaps I can persuade them to speak more. You would get better answers…"

"You don't know what kinds of questions we've asked."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "They would be more cooperative in every way if I was an intermediary."

Mercedes looked at her, surprised. She asked, "Not to pry, but can you read?"

"No."

"Write?"

"Not a day in my life."

"You sound quite eloquent for a slave, she said. "It's rather impressive."

Tristyn's ears colored red, but she said nothing. She pushed her food with her fork, then set it down. "I want to see my friends," she repeated.

Mercedes sighed. "Very well, follow me."

Ren wasn't fond of prison cells. Normally it involved torture, and cellmates. Those cellmates often weren't the nicest. As far as cellmates went, he'd rather have a silent catatonic friend than a big brute that could fold him five ways and do some not-so-nice things to him.

The fox looked over at the black fox curled up in the corner, a blanket wrapped around his lithe body. Ren lounged back on his cot—he was surprised to have gotten one—glancing occasionally at his catatonic friend. The mumblings in the middle of the night didn't help the brown fox's mood in the least bit, nor to subdue his worry.

His guards weren't so bad. The one hare, Owen, at least check in on them every hour or so, to see, probably, that Kyo hadn't snapped. Judging by the incessant mutterings in his mother tongue, Ren was certain it wouldn't be that long.

Owen's friendly face showed up at the barred window in the heavy oak door. "'Lo, lads," the hare greeted. "Brought some chow and a visitor."

Ren sat up and walked over to the door, reaching for the tray as Owen passed it to him through the half-opened door. "Thanks mate, best grub we've 'ad in a while. Now 'oo's the visitor? Badgers decide whether we should hang yet?"

Owen shook his head, "That's pending. Your visitor is much more understanding."

The door opened wider and Ren set the tray down on the floor. He tore into some bread and sent a mock-salute to Tristyn. "G'day, mousie."

Tristyn smiled thinly. "Well, you look healthier, at least."

Ren smirked. "If'n I'd known about woodlanders sooner, I'da been captured a long time ago. If this is torture, lay me out of the rack!"

Tristyn smiled. She'd come to miss the brown fox's humor. She turned to look at Kyo, whose golden eyes were widened, regarding her warily. She could have sworn he was shaking. "Hello Kyo, how are you—"

"Not Kyo," he sharply. "He no longer exists. I'm Nameless One…bastards don't deserve names…worthless…all are worthless…none exist…lowest of the low…"

Ren looked back at Tristyn, "'e's been like this since we got 'ere. Dunno what the bloody 'ell 'e's goin' on about."

"Is it because of what that…that warlord said to him?" she asked, momentarily forgetting Karnak's name. She also wondered if incurring the name of the one who caused her friend so much pain would send him over the edge.

"Mebbe," Ren shrugged. "they still out there? Can't tell from th' window."

Owen answered him, "They are, just over the dunes and towards the pines. We can see them from the top of the crater."

"They're daft if'n they think they can attack this place."

"They're foreigners, I'm sort of counting on that, wot!" Owen grinned maliciously. Ren cracked a smile, "Saves us some work, eh?"

"What work?" Tristyn joked. "I haven't seen you do an honest day's work…ever!"

"Oi! I brought you fish!"

"I said 'honest'."

She and Owen laughed while Ren scowled. The fox shrugged again, brushing it off and tearing into the fish. He licked his lips on the salted fish, "Wot's that word you long-ears use? This fish is…"

"Spiffin'?" Owen offered.

"Aye! That's the word! Flippin' good!" He tore into the food like a starving animal, setting aside the other plate. He looked back to Tristyn, who knelt beside him. "Try feedin' Princey-boy over there, he ain't touched 'is food yet."

Tristyn tried not to look worried, but scooted over to the black fox with his plate in hand. "Kyo…"

"Not Kyo."

"Fine, Master Not-Kyo," she said impatiently. "You need to eat."

"soulless ones deserve no food…only deserve death…"

Tristyn thought of an idea, hoping it wouldn't be too much of a shock to him. She gently caressed the side of his face and the black fox looked at her, completely startled. Tristyn smiled sweetly at him, "You may not have a name, but that doesn't change the fact you are my friend. Close your eyes."

He stared at her, uncertain.

"Close your eyes, please," she repeated, softly and gently, her hazel eyes looking back into his. Something in the back of his mind clicked on, and he stopped shaking long enough to relax.

The fox slowly did as told, clenching his eyes shut, the blanket slipping from his shoulders a bit. Tristyn saw he was still wearing his blood-stained tunic and felt pity for him. She'd need to get some clean clothes for him. "I want you to imagine all the good times we had together," she instructed him softly, taking his paw in hers. "The nights by the fire, telling each other stories, exchanging jokes, the time Ren stole those fish, and we defeated that adder together…we were a team, Kyo…you can trust me…"

The black fox didn't know what to expect from what the mouse had told him. Then something pressed against his lips; instinctively, he parted his lips and accepted the strange wet object into his mouth, then realized it was hot and…slimy.

He coughed, wanting to spit it out. Tristyn held his jaws closed, "Chew it and swallow it, the fish is good for you."

The fox fought back his gag reflex and started to move his jaws, chewing on the tender fish, then finally swallowing it. He made a face like a child tasting a much-despised vegetable, staring incredulously at Tristyn. She looked satisfied, "Well, it's a start. How do you feel?"

His stomach was churning from the fish in his system, and he felt like being physically ill. Tristyn held up the loaf of rye bread and broke off a piece, dabbing it in the lentil soup on the plate. She held it up to his lips and he turned away. She turned his head to face him and said strongly, "If you will not feed yourself, then I will."

The fox once known as Kyo grasped her wrist quickly; both Ren and Owen made a move to help her. But the black fox took the piece of bread from the mouse's hand.

"I can feed myself," he said stubbornly. He dragged the plate closer to him and started to slowly feeding himself, turning away and staring down along the wall. Tristyn sat back on her haunches with a satisfied smile, which she sent back to the hares and Kyo's cell mate.

Ren looked more relieved than the hares did, and he slowly crept over and drew Tristyn away from the black fox, whispering, "Ye might want t' leave 'im be…I'll keep an eye on 'im."

"I'll be back," she said resolutely. "He needs his friends."

"Easy fer you t' say," Ren quipped, "Yer not livin' with 'im."

Tristyn allowed the brown fox to hand her over to Owen, who escorted her out. She looked over her shoulder at Ren, "I'll plead your case to the Badger Lord, try to get you out of there."

Ren shook his head, looking back at his cellmate and back at her, "'S not me I'm worried about Trissy."

"He needs a healer, Ren, he can't stay in here and rot."

"'e ain't. Least 'e's eating," the fox said. "I'll let you know 'ow 'e does. Yew jus' rest up an' keep eatin', mini-mouse. Ye still too skinny fer me likin'."

Tristyn had never seen this side of Ren before, but she wasn't complaining. Something about the situation made her wonder whether Ren felt it was his duty to take Kyo's old position, to stay calm and have assurances ready when needed. The vulpine jokester seemed the least likely candidate for the job, but considering their mutual friend was still in a state of shock, the role needed to be filled by someone.

Tristyn nodded to Ren and allowed herself to be led down the hall, resolving to be back as soon as possible.

Lord Osono Seren stood at the top of the mountain's crater with Howell by his side. The Badger Lord's fur took on a silvery sheen with age, and showed in little places, by the wrinkles around his steely eyes and stern maw, but the muscles on his arms and chest were starting to show wear from lack of use. Both he and Howell knew the time of Osono's sunset would soon be upon them.

Osono finally spoke, his deep rumbling voice having a slight wispy rattle in his chest, "I swore I would never die an old one lying prone in his bed. My deathbed will be on my shield."

Howell took off his monocle and polished it on the chest of his uniform. "Rather good spot o' luck these blighters decided to show then, wot?"

"Brynmor is old enough to take over my throne, after my death," Osono said. Howell caught the hesitation in his tone.

"M'lud?"

Osono sighed. "He has never seen battle."

"Neither 'as yore daughter Anwen."

"That was intentional. Battle is no place for women."

"Don't let Mercy 'ear you say that, sah," Howell joked. Osono smiled half-heartedly, "No, she is the exception, not the rule."

"Sah, if I could be frank a moment."

"Proceed."

Howell replaced the monocle over his eye and sent his commander a look, "It sounds t' me that ye keepin' yer daughter from the battles is protectin' her. I know ye care deeply for yore children, but if'n its fine for Brynmor t' face battle, why not yore daughter?"

"Anwen's disposition is poorly suited for the Hell that is warfare," Osono said sternly.

"And this 'as nothing t' do with her mother's death, I wager," Howell surmised mordantly. Of all the hares in the mountain, he was the only one who dared to speak to the Badger Lord this way. He wasn't much different from Owen, and the hare started seeing more and more of himself in the younger warrior

The only indication that this stung was a slight narrowing of the badger's eyes. "She would have been a fine warrior, if not for her delicate condition, but our daughter…"

"Was never trained, so how would we know, wot?"

Osono sighed through his nose, staring at the camp of the Black Horde. The massive white tent at the rear stood out like a bright star on a moonless night, the fabric painted in bright reds, blues and gold. Strange symbols and ancient spells were written at the tent's entrance, and Osono knew this was the dwelling place of the warlord.

"These are unusual beasts," he said after a long pause, completely changing the subject. "Very unlike other hordes. These are trained soldiers, highly disciplined, I don't know how to deal with this."

"Quite unusual sah," Howell agreed. "We've never 'ad to fight a force like our own."

Osono's eyes scanned the army at his doorstep and felt a chill run up his spine. This surprised him. How many battles had he seen with just as many if not more numbers? He'd survived all of them, but now it was as if the Spirit of the Dark Forest was resting its bony claws on the badger's shoulder, enticing him to the gates of his own demise.

"They have made no claim to fight, yet," the badger said. For now, do nothing until they act. I will not be the one to start this war."

Anwen slept fitfully, tossing and turning, the sheets wrapped around her slim body. Sweat matted down the fur on her brow, her eyes clenched shut, willing away the images in her mind.

It was the same dream she had been having, and just now the flash of a knife…

Blood, blood all over everything, blood on her hands, down the front of her dress. Breathless. She heard cackled laughter, triumphant, dark as a devil's gaze.

But something changed.

Strong paws held her up, the flash of silver, another blade. Anwen closed her eyes, expecting the slash of the blade, but it never came. A male's voice in her ear whispered,

Strong be the maiden never lifting the blade
Whose sight sees farther than the eagle's eyes
The day when Luna forces Helios to fade
Lo, Maiden, keep thine eyes upon the skies!

Anwen awoke with a start, looking around the room for the source of the voice, but she was alone. What had just happened? She stood and checked her reflection in a polished shield hung on her wall. The dark circles under her eyes were getting worse, and she was losing weight. Heaven forbid she allow this continue.

Her family would worry soon. The hares had already noticed by now, and talk spread quickly around the fortress. She sighed, then asked herself this new question: who was that speaker? The voice that spoke to her was comforting, strong and bold, confident, everything she did not have. For the first time in weeks, she had awoken without a sense of dread, but she knew one thing. Whoever the speaker was, she needed to heed his words.