Book 1: Chapter 12


The night seemed peaceful, although the mouse knew it was not so. As he stood guard in the burgeoning dawn, the wind shifted, making Jorde's cloak flutter slightly as he wearily shifted in his position. Everything felt familiar but everything also felt wrong, for he knew a battle was being fought at this very moment.

Along the walls, three others stood guard, all of whom were yawning and shifting lazily and doing their best to stay alert, and Jorde found himself shaking his head. They were struggling to force themselves through something that they were not used to, and while it should not have been so, war frequently made impossibilities a reality. What should have been an impossibility was now being fought over at this very moment. The consequences of this night would haunt them all forever, and there was nothing that he could do.

A flash of anger swept through Jorde, and he tightened his grip on his pike, old scars across his face tightening as the ever-present bitterness and impotent rage resurfaced, like a newly reforged sword. He had thought he had left it all behind and that he had sworn war off forever, but fate clearly had other plans for him, as it always had.

And now he was entrusted with more responsibilities than even in the darkest days of the Conflict, and there was more than just his family to protect here, and far more at stake.

Redwall.

When he had first arrived at Redwall, it was to ensure that his own kin would have the protection that he would never be able to provide them in the cold wastelands of the north, living through the ceaseless fighting for causes that he had personally never believed in. He remembered his cynicism as he had slowly strode through the famous red gates, thinking that this Abbey could not possibly prove to be everything that he hoped it to be.

But that was for him. For his daughter and his youngest son, it had to be different, it had to be so. He needed Redwall to be what it stood for, to be a happy community whose greatest fear was growing old and dying peacefully, surrounded by those that they loved.

He still found himself unsure at times, unsure that this place was all that it had claimed to be, or perhaps something more. He remembered the concern on the Redwallers' faces when he had arrived with his family, with nearly all of their worldly possessions dwindled down to little more than the rags that they had been wearing. He had still not believed then. He didn't want to, if only for fear that his hopes would be dashed away again. His wariness would never completely desert him… not after what he had seen, not after what he had been forced to witness.

But now, he knew that the same wariness that was part of him would continue to disbelieve what Redwall was to him, what he was willing to do for this. For his home. He would die defending it, and he would count that a worthy death, for his children who still needed him to be strong, and all the others who lived in this Abbey that had shown him the truest essence of trust.

He remembered his astonishment when the Abbot had begged him for assistance when Edgar had left, outfitted for war. "You are the only one here with real combat experience, the only one with real expertise in the art of war," the Abbot had whispered, his grey eyes piercing and pleading.

Even still, Jorde had been tempted to say no. "Let Martin do it, and appoint somebeast in his place as he has always done," Jorde replied, his voice hard, feeling the dread well up from deep within his very core.

He had never wanted to fight again, not even for his new home, but he had never been able to say no to those who truly needed help. It had been the main reason why he had lost his wife, his home, why they were at Redwall to begin with in the first place, but still he could not do it…

It had both exasperated his family and friends and made them proud, but the dead no longer cared. Many others would depend on him now, and he had to get used to it, although there were some things that he could never quite get used to.

"Joelle," Jorde muttered, tasting the name on his lips like the finest wine, the words hanging in the air almost mournfully. He realized that he had been drifting for far too long, and the mouse brought himself back to the present.

Irritated with his behavior, Jorde pulled himself from the depths of his mind, turning around from his view of Mossflower Woods and beginning another slow walk, his stiffened limbs eager for some form of movement. His relief would be coming momentarily, and he was eager to leave the wall and his memories behind, even if only to relive them in his dreams.

As Jorde walked, he approached the second creature on the front wall with him, a wizened old shrew who looked cold and completely miserable, walking the opposite direction as Jorde.

Quickly, Jorde's face changed, shifting into a not altogether truthful smile. It was almost akin to putting on a mask, something he almost always did when he was around other creatures when he was like this. His pain was his own, and that would never change.

"You look excited," Jorde quipped, knowing how much Vern hated standing still for any period of time.

"Most exciting thing I've seen recently is watching the trees sway," Vern muttered, hunching over and hugging himself a little as a stiff breeze pushed through them.

"That's the nature of the watch, Vern," Jorde said softly, smiling as Vern pulled a face.

"I've been on watches longer than you've been alive, mousey. Doesn't mean I have to like it," Vern grumbled, placing a rock that he had been holding on top of the wall.

Jorde was a little surprised to see the rock steaming, although he had an inkling what it was for.

"Oh that," Vern said, following Jorde's questioning eyes. "I asked the cook to heat it up for me, so that I could at least be warm while on watch. Like my idea?"

"Yes," Jorde murmured, placing a weary paw on the rock and quickly drawing back with an oath.

The shrew cackled at Jorde's discomfort, carefully picking the rock back up and cradling it like a newborn.

"Have to get used to it you do, like tipping your toes in a boiling hot bath. Can't just go on grabbing it like you're about it eat it."

Jorde smiled, although his thoughts had now begun to shift once more, the conversation not nearly enticing enough to distract him. Perhaps a question of what else the old shrew had to share, stories of what life was like growing up in Mossflower Forest as a young shrew? He had only been at Redwall for a short while, only a few seasons…

Jorde's thoughts were interrupted by Vern timidly speaking up.

"The Abbot, is he-"

Jorde's eyes refocused on the shrew, who cringed at the look on the mouse's face. His earlier mood resurfacing, Jorde held Vern's gaze until the shrew looked away, which for some reason only made the mouse angrier.

"He is sleeping," Jorde snapped, angry at the implications of the unsaid question.

Vern had the decency to look abashed at his question, although his expression was still of curiosity as he studied Jorde, who found himself fighting his own fury.

"They all know what the Abbot is going through, and yet they still question…"

Something bright glinted in the corner of his eye, and Jorde found himself reacting instinctively.

"Get down!" Jorde yelled, dropping his weapon and throwing himself at Vern in a single movement. Nearly forgotten reflexes kicked in as Jorde cupped the back of Vern's head with his paw, ensuring that the shrew wasn't injured as they fell to the hard ground.

As they hit the floor, a thunderous crash sounded directly above them, and the great redstone wall shook slightly as chunks of stone rained down upon Jorde, who tried to cover his eyes as best he could.

Moments later, although still incapacitated, he heard what sounded like the beginnings of a screech and a large splash which could only be from the Abbey pond.

After taking a cautious moment to confirm that it was safe, Jorde leapt to his footpaws, hauling Vern up with him. Ignoring the shrew as he coughed and wheezed, Jorde leaned over the inward rail, wiping his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was the absolute truth.

It was, and now there were precious few moments to waste. Grabbing Vern, Jorde leaned in, their faces inches from each other as he shouted his orders, hoping that the shout would snap the dazed look out of Vern's eyes.

"Belltower, Infirmary, Abbot, in that order! Do you understand me?!"

Vern jumped at the shout but recovered quickly, nodding his head at Jorde's questions, his face pale. Jorde shoved him forward, watching him to make sure that he was doing as he was told. The shrew stumbled from the unexpected push, but quickly picked himself up and began to sprint, the older creature moving with a surprising amount of speed directly to the nearest staircase.

Forcing himself to turn away, Jorde ran across the ramparts, ripping off his cloak and throwing it to the side as he went. The mouse knew that he would not have enough time to climb down the stairs and run to the pond, so he had to make do and choose the best possible place.

As he ran, he heard Vern shout, and a few moments later the belltower started to ring, the Matthias and Methuselah bells loudly singing their metallic cries as Redwall began to awaken.

But it was not fast enough.

Judging the best place of entry, Jorde leapt off the wall, aiming himself at the now dwindling ripples where Edgar had fallen. As he fell, Jorde's last thoughts were of somebeast he hadn't thought of in a long time, and he was surprised at the venom contained within them.

"Damn you, Karth."


The stream gurgled steadily as Karth's footpaws pounded into the wet ground, looking for the bend in the stream that he knew would not be there, not yet.

The Colonel had been running for the past few hours, wearily outpacing a foe with an increasingly long reach. Barkclaw must know by now that he was here and that the attack would occur tonight… but it didn't matter in the end. There would be a reckoning.

Cries rang out in the night, angry shouts and calls for vengeance, followed by an even more sobering realization for Karth.

He would not reach the meeting point in time, not if he wanted to make it there in one piece. He was so close he could nearly taste it, but the lights of the vermin's torches were just behind him, and they were gaining on him. Within a few minutes, Karth knew, he would be under direct assault.

Karth gritted his teeth, slowing down somewhat to look for a suitable position to bunker down and try to survive long enough for aid to come, if it would ever come. He had never thought that Edgar had really betrayed the Long Patrol, not truly, but now he could not help but doubt.

"There 'e is!"

Remorselessly crushing an instinctive moment of panic, Karth lifted his eyes, searching for some high ground or advantageous position to make his stand. Glancing across the stream, Karth noted that there were no trees for about three hundred paces. Beyond that, a dense patch of firs stood out like a dark green patch against the ashes, oaks, and sycamores that made up most of Mossflower Woods. The sight of the fir grove triggered a long ago memory, one that might just be his salvation, or his demise.

It was a risk to be sure. There was no assurance that his old ally still lived anywhere near this area of the woods. The fir grove was completely still and dark, but Karth knew he didn't have many options at this point. And even if Nurzon had long since moved on, it was particularly dark among the firs and he might just have a chance to shake his pursuers.

All he had to do was get across the stream and that open patch of ground without being shot down by his pursuers' arrows.

Karth increased his speed, barely avoiding a flurry of arrows that peppered the ground all around him. Turning his head, Karth gave one last glance down the stream, now resigned to the fact that he would fail to make it there in time… if he were to continue down this path.

Making his decision, the Colonel ran diagonally across the streambed and into the stream itself, hoping that he had enough distance on his pursuers to make it across unscathed.

"Edgar!" Karth roared, hoping against hope that Edgar would hear him in time, but unless the owl was right above him, almost nothing would save him now, save the squirrels.

Reaching the other side of the stream, Karth jumped onto a rock, splashing both himself and his surroundings heedlessly as he then leapt onto the crest of the riverbank.

Renewing his pace, Karth ran towards the treeline. Karth hated putting his back to so many foes, but speed was of the essence, as his primary goal was to just survive. He hoped that his intuition was not wrong, and that there could be somebeast there who could give him the aid he desperately needed.

Behind him, Karth could hear splashing and shouts, along with the many heated voices of all the vermin that were headed directly for him.

He had an inkling of what had to be done so that he would be able to survive and lead the Long Patrol and all other allied creatures in the battle to come, but first he would have to call upon an old friend.

"Nurzon, I have need of you!" Karth shouted, hoping that the fir grove was not as deserted as it looked. By this time, the sound of footpaws on pebbles behind him told him the vermin had nearly crossed the stream.

An arrow pinged off a rock directly to his left, causing Karth to curse and stagger. The arrow was a lucky shot from a long distance and well-aimed, but instinctively the Colonel began to duck and weave, frantically trying to make himself as difficult a target as possible. He still had one hundred paces to go before he reached the treeline. Each breath was beginning to feel like fire in his lungs.

"I can't let them take me. Not this close."

Punishing every muscle in his exhausted body, Karth sprinted forward, pulling back out of the vermin's shooting range. There was no sign of any movement in the dark trees looming in front of him. His heart sank. It had been foolish of him to think that Nurzon would still be here after all these years…

That was when all of the surrounding treeline shook, and Karth's pounding heart skipped a beat. Maybe luck had not decided to completely abandon him after all.

They all emerged at once, and Karth saw that every squirrel that could wield a bow was there, arrows nocked and ready. Nurzon was there at the front, his own arrow loaded and his features solemn. Karth wondered at Nurzon's placement for a moment, before his focus shifted.

Karth turned back around to face the vermin that had been hounding him half the night. His closest pursuers had all made it to the other side, but surprisingly they were not moving. Instead, they seemed to be waiting for something.

Narrowing his eyes, Karth waited also, knowing that the squirrels would not let their arrows fly without his express command. At the moment, the Colonel counted around a score of the vermin, not including the ones that were further behind.

All was quiet for a moment, until louder than normal splashes suddenly echoed through Mossflower Woods, and what soon emerged on the riverbank shook Karth to his very core.

"Maia?" Karth whispered, his voice cracking through his disbelief and feeling of betrayal.

For a long moment, Karth thought of anything, or anybeast else that the badger could be, but he recalled a conversation from seasons before. When he had pointedly asked the Badger Lady where she and Lord Swiftpaw had originated from, the only reply he had received was a sad smile until she spoke.

"We are all that is left," Maia said softly, her voice gentle but firm. Despite his prior misgivings, as a result of the word of his Badger Lady, Karth had never felt a need to challenge her statements. His trust in her was absolute, and unshakeable… until now, as he coldly regarded his foe before him.

The badger was armed to the teeth, and Kath noted that the armor was pristine, a masterwork of steel and coldhearted design. For a moment, Karth wished that Swiftpaw was here with him, if only to see a fellow smith's creation that could compete with his own.

But reality slammed back into him as the badger raised its weapon to its shoulder, the polished pikehead glinting from the moonlight.

A furious growl emerged from the depths of the badger's armor, and the pike stabbed forward brutally, signaling the vermin to advance regardless of the cost. The vermin began to move cautiously, and the Colonel saw that more vermin were now making their way across the stream and to the riverbank. He had to finish this now, and potentially kill one of the most important creatures in his life.

"So be it," Karth whispered.

Karth did not look back to the squirrels waiting for his command that would truly begin this battle, a command that would be one of the hardest he had ever made.

"Forgive me, Badger Lord."

"Let fly!" Karth roared, his voice as harsh as a whip.


Author's Note (5/05/15):

Hello again,

It has certainly been a journey in of itself to get this chapter published. Over the past six months, this chapter went through at least four different drafts before it was judged by myself and Sauron Gorthaur (please check out her own fantastic work!) as being worthy of publication, with around 12,000 words written overall.

In fact, the chapter ended up becoming so overbloated at one point that I ended up scrapping a large portion of it, and as a result I am now splitting this chapter into three portions. Please note that this may change as the first climax of Dusktail hurtles towards us all. As I have mentioned in the past, Dusktail has grown in the telling, and it may yet grow further still.

For those who have been waiting patiently, I sincerely apologize for such a long wait. For those who have just hopped on for the ride, welcome! I hope you enjoy the ride.

I will no longer promise anything in terms of release dates, but with school over chapters should be released relatively quickly.

However, I will promise this: that I will never make the decision to abandon this story. No matter how long it takes, I will do my utmost to finish Dusktail's story, you have my word. It may take a long time, but I will see this through. Thank you once again for reading, and if you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM or leave a review.

Cheers!

Darkenmal.