Book 1: Chapter 14

"When one repeats something over and over again and expects different results each time, most would call it insanity. What have you been doing?" – Barkclaw the Defiler

Halfway to the tree line, Karth found that he had stopped in his tracks, his sabre drawn in his right paw and his left paw gripping the hilt of his dagger.

Now that adrenaline was no longer pounding through his veins, the various wounds he'd collected over the last few hours were making themselves known, throbbing over his entire body. He suddenly realized how tired he was; his legs ached from running, his arm ached from the jarring blows of his sabre against various other weapons, and even his lungs ached from the strain. Even as a young captain, a sleepless night spent fighting and running would have worn on him after all these hours, but now he was all too aware of his age.

More worrisome to him however was the bleary emptiness creeping around the edges of his thoughts, seeking to infect him with crippling weakness, the same way Barkclaw had tried.

As he stood there by the stream, paws loosely gripping his weapons, a fleeting thought passed through his mind - that to simply be able to lie down and sleep without care or worry would be the greatest gift if it were possible.

But it was not possible. There was still far too much to do tonight and far too much at stake for him to even consider rest, no matter how much his body craved it and how much his mind needed it.

The Colonel roughly shook his head, attempting to clear away the lethargy claiming his body and mind. On this night, of all nights, he had to be sound of mind and completely alert. All of Mossflower depended on him to make the right decisions tonight and to do what was necessary to free the woodlands from the threat of Barkclaw. He could not compromise their situation by succumbing to weakness. He had to free the Dibbuns of Redwall. He had to protect Salamandastron and all he held dear. He had to save the captured hares and Maia… at any cost.

Maia. Karth glanced back at the corpse of the unknown badger warrioress who lay on the grass, seeming almost asleep except for the arrows that still stood erect on her frame, black needles contrasting against the silver shimmer of the stream behind her.

A tear slid down Karth's cheek, although the implied emotion behind it was not what it seemed, for the anger he had tried to suppress was still there, nurtured by his own feelings of betrayal and confusion. He couldn't help what he was feeling, but he felt guilty all the same.

"What are you going to do?" a voice whispered.

"Enough with the questions!" Karth inwardly snapped, lashing out with his sabre at all the foliage within his reach. It wasn't his place to question Maia or Swiftpaw, only to act as they saw fit.

But why had he not been told?

Over the years, how many other things had Maia and Swiftpaw kept from him?

Had they ever trusted him? It seemed the only logical reason why they would have kept something this important from him. Was he just their pawn, leading the armies of Salamandastron as they saw fit but too injudicious to ever ask questions or think for himself? Deep down, he knew this image did not fit the Swiftpaw or the Maia he knew, but during this journey so many things had turned out to not quite be what they seemed. For some reason, all these years they had hidden the truth from him and there were only so many possible answers to the problem. Karth wasn't sure he liked any of them, or that there were perhaps more truths hidden from him.

He had always trusted in their wisdom and authority. He had always looked up to them both with respect and trust. Why had they not seen fit to do the same with him? Did they know something he didn't?

A chilling thought struck him. It had been under their command that he had gone to Greyfang's settlement. They had told him to go there in peace, but surely they must have known what such a confrontation would lead to. Could they possibly have sent him on purpose, knowing he would return with the blood of dozens of innocents staining his paws instead of their own? Had they looked down on him for having carried out that slaughter? Was that why they had not trusted him? The very thought twisted a cold knot of horror and anger around his heart. Was he just a blunt instrument, a creature doing the dirty work so the paws of others were not sullied?

When he'd started out on this mission, he'd been so sure of his place within the world, seeing everything in black and white, right from wrong. Now he was seeing shades of grey that filled him with confusion and distrust. Who was telling truths and who was telling lies? Who could he possibly trust? What was left for him to go upon?

Images of those he loved flickered through his mind, the familiar warmth calling to him frantically, but with a great effort Karth forced them away, closing himself off to them. The despondency that remained only served to drive home a single fact that had just made clear to him.

He could only trust himself - to do what had to be done.

"Karth!"

The familiarity of the voice brought the Colonel back from the dark place his mind had gone, and he returned to find a completely demolished bush in front of him.

Karth was confused - he only remembered the first strike - but observing the bush, he could clearly see that he had spent a few minutes systematically destroying it.

It was beyond juvenile that he had resorted to destroying something in order to relieve his stress, but the terrifying thing was the anger had not diminished: instead it had grown, with only his own physical strength waning from the last few minutes of exuberance.

He was trembling with the force of his own anger, and the bloodlust that he had already succumbed to several times this night was pressing back in, tainting his vision in red and calling to him so sweetly that to resist only served to bring different thoughts to perspective.

He wanted to fight and he wanted to kill. Swiftpaw and Maia might have done him wrong, but he still knew who had caused this. If it wasn't for Barkclaw, he wouldn't be feeling this betrayal and anger right now. There would be time enough later, after the rescue, to question Maia and to learn the truth behind his startling new discovery, after he had thrust his sabre down Barkclaw's throat and watched him choke on his own blood.

The gruesome imagery provoked a happy snarl on his face, and his heartbeat quickened in longing, his vision sharpening at the thought of bringing the fox to justice. He wasn't sure how far he would to go to see Barkclaw dead by his paw, but he was about to find out.

Karth had not truly realized how much he wanted to see Barkclaw dead. He wanted to kill the fox more than anything else at that moment, with the pure unadulterated force behind his own hatred and desire for revenge disturbing him almost as much as the sight of the demolished bush.

"What is happening to me?" Karth whispered.

"Karth!"

After ensuring that he was ready for the trials that came ahead, Karth finally acknowledged that he could not ignore the squirrel's increasingly plaintive cries any longer. Raising a paw in reply to their now desperate-sounding calls, he began to walk back towards the tree line. As he walked, the night's air carried the scent of both blood and bark over him like a soft caress, as if trying to make him forget what he had seen, what he had done… but he couldn't. He was besmirched.

In his mind's eye, Karth saw the two writhing vermin impaled on Edgar's claws, screeching piteously as they were lifted up into the night sky. Through his arms, Karth remembered the sudden resistance against his blade as he stabbed it downward into the stoat's chest.

But above all, the sight of the badger warrioress's eyes going cold and dim haunted him like few things ever could. It struck too close to home, with Maia still being a captive of Barkclaw - it could have been her.

This night had already seen so much blood and death, and yet this was only the beginning. Karth repressed a shudder at the thought, and he wasn't sure if it was from horror or from anticipation.

His mind was splintered and adrift, like the pieces of a branch floating down a swift current, and despite his best efforts, Karth kept returning to the existence of the badger warrioress.

No matter how he approached the situation in his mind, it brought forth far more questions than it answered, with the answered questions only serving as a further distraction for tonight's efforts, as he had recently proved.

And yet, the fury that had caused his temporary burst of insanity still called to him, tempting him to descend into the horrifyingly blank state of mind that he had briefly occupied.

So instead of dwelling on that, he tried to examine the problem from a more critical and rational frame of mind.

"Why am I so angry?"

He didn't know the answer. While the question itself sounded as though he were confused, Karth felt anything but. It wasn't as if he himself had never lied, especially in terms of this magnitude, but this was different. Maia and Swiftpaw should have trusted him, as he had always trusted them. It was difficult to feel anything but betrayed, for this not only would affect the present and future, it would also affect the events of the past, with one event shining clearly.

If he were to close his eyes, he could still smell the flames and the stink that it brought forth… the smell of rotting flesh, the smell of fear, and the lasting pall of injustice being committed.

If these badgers had already known about Greyfang, why hadn't they come to help? Had they approved of what Greyfang had been doing? Did they disapprove of what he had done? Their existence brought forth so many questions and so little in the way of answers that it would do him no good to even think about them now. There was work to be done.

Shaking himself from his reverie, Karth hurried to the tree line, where he was swept upward through the dark branches to their leader. The King of the Squirrels looked both worried and relieved to see him in one piece.

Nurzon had changed since Karth had last seen him, close to two dozen seasons ago. Brown eyes that had once reflected youthful enthusiasm had now shifted to weariness, the once-eager young prince now looking older and resolute. At the time, Karth had been visiting Redwall as a part of a retinue from Salamandastron, himself a lowly private while Nurzon had already been declared heir to the Cedar Dray. From the very beginning, they had been a peculiar pair, but they had still formed an unlikely but enduring friendship, a bond that was now being put to the ultimate test.

"I see the seasons have only made you a stronger, Karth, as well as broadening your talent for getting into scrapes," Nurzon said, his voice solemn while his eyes sparkled in welcome. Despite the amiable words, the Colonel detected a faint undercurrent of nervousness from his old friend, and the Colonel's mind flashed to an image of himself mindlessly slashing at the bush like a savage. He wondered how the Squirrelking had responded to seeing his old friend react this way, and if seeing the leader of the resistance in Mossflower behave in such a manner made him uneasy and unwilling to listen to orders. And Nurzon was right to be worried. Tonight of all nights, Karth needed to have a clear mind. All of Mossflower depended on him. If he faltered, Mossflower as they knew it might very well cease to exist.

Karth hid a derisive scowl at the thought. He couldn't allow that to happen, and thus he fitted a false smile onto his face.

"I see that you have also retained your talent of timing," Karth said, nodding courteously. The thought occurred to him that Nurzon was an anointed king now, unlike the last time they met. With a grin he bowed, shifting his weight along the branch and hoping that the Squirrelking would mistake his smile as genuine, while also hoping that the branch would not snap underneath him as he moved.

Nurzon smiled warmly, looking pleased, although the expression swiftly disappeared as the seriousness of the situation impressed itself upon them both.

"What are your orders, Colonel?" Nurzon's voice sounded odd, almost strained.

"A test?"

Karth's closed his eyes, forgetting his irritation as his mind's eye flew over the treetops, the camp below him as clear to him as the moon itself. They were almost directly north of the camp and in place to launch a strike, a diversion that he and the Long Patrol would try to pull over one of the most formidable opponents he had ever come across.

They would have to strike fast and hard, cutting deep into whatever Barkclaw had planned for him before the squirrels, otters, and the shrews would come in a rough pincer formation from the west. He would be the anvil and they the hammer.

For a moment, the doubt that clouded his mind struggled to get a foothold. Could they really still win this fight? He had spent the whole night fighting, and Barkclaw was clearly aware that he was marshalling troops against him and that he would be attacking soon. With that element of surprise lost, could this battle still swing in his favor?

As soon as he thought that, Karth felt a vicious and bitter smile tug at his mouth. They didn't have a choice. They had to win, and he had to have his answers.

"There is only one thing we can do, Squirrelking."

He now had to truly assume the role of the leader of the resistance, and to ensure that, he would refer to Nurzon only as the Squirrelking. As the Colonel of the Long Patrol, he technically outranked him in military matters, and continually reminding him of the fact would only help him maintain that leadership. Tonight, he could not afford to have a single creature questioning his authority. He had to be irreproachable.

Karth turned with an unsteady wobble, rotating to face the enemy camp. To do so he found himself leaning forward, grabbing hold of a knot over his shoulder so that he could best judge its distance critically and with all that he knew. However even as he considered, he understood there was only one thing he could do.

The words came out haltingly, but deep down Karth felt a somewhat unexpected lurch of anticipation.

"We attack as soon as possible and with everything we have, holding nothing back."

The Squirrelking gazed at him, a grimace momentarily disrupting his features before disappearing behind a mask of intense politeness.

"If that is your will, it will be done," the Squirrelking said firmly, his eyes flickering to a pair of squirrels behind him as he nodded.

Karth felt the knot in his chest loosen slightly, but before he could even nod in response, he found himself grabbed by the shoulders and the legs and unceremoniously lifted up once more. The Colonel tensed for a moment, the unexpectedness of it causing those holding him to grunt from the effort as he was passed from tree branch to tree branch, but Karth forced himself to relax. It was faster this way, although it was an unorthodox way of travel for any but a squirrel, but soon he found himself hurtling from tree to tree at such speeds that he felt his stomach rising and falling like the tide.

"That would do it," Karth thought darkly as he neared the gathering grounds at dizzying speeds, the green leaves around them blurring, with the occasional branch slapping him as they neared their destination.

"The great Colonel and the supposed savior of Mossflower, heroically emptying the contents of his stomach before the entire army. Oh, the songs that would be sung."

After what seemed like an hour of endless tumbling but was in reality only a few minutes, Karth's vision abruptly brightened as he dropped headfirst with a startling amount of speed. Meanwhile, he had been doing his best to avoid any word of complaint, regardless of the fact that he had suffered a concerning amount of cuts and slashes that had gradually accumulated across his body. The cut on his head particularly burned, and when Karth placed a paw on his brow and drew it back, it was stained red.

"There isn't much time," Karth thought, grabbing hold of the ire that came with the realization and forcing himself to remain strong. There was a time for weakness, but it was not now. If he were to fall, everything else would fall with him. Barkclaw was waiting for him.

He thought of the vermin corpses that marked the bloody trail he had traveled that night and a grim sense of satisfaction filled him. Barkclaw, the great and dreaded warlord, had not been very careful or very wise in his moves this night. So far, Karth had already defeated everything the arrogant fox had thrown at him, even a fully armored and fully grown badger. They could still win this war if they remained strong and united in their cause, if they remained unwilling to be daunted by Barkclaw's threats. Before dawn came, Karth would lead the resistance in Mossflower to victory against the evil that threatened them all. He was the only one who could do it, and the thought gave him much needed strength.

Still, it took everything he had to not collapse flat on his face as he landed before them all, but Karth managed to do it, landing and falling into a roll before springing up to his footpaws. He tried to speak, but he found it was impossible because he was breathing so heavily. Although he had not done any real physical activity besides keeping his last meal in his belly during his treetop flight, it felt like he had only continued his relentless fight from the past few hours. The Colonel placed a paw on the hilt of his sabre and sighed. Its familiar presence always calmed him, and he needed an alert mind for what was about to transpire. He just wished his surroundings would stop their slow tilt, as it made it hard to focus.

Moving into the firelight, Karth was received with a series of shocked and horrified gasps. Initially, Karth was surprised at the reaction, at least until he looked down at himself and inwardly winced. He was completely covered in blood, although most of it was not his own, with his uniform a ruin and his own face a mixture of gore and mud. If Karth were able to look at himself, he would find a hare who looked as though he had swum through a river of mud and carnage to reach the site, which was not an entirely incorrectly assumption.

Nurzon landed beside him, the Squirrelking not even winded as he placed a comforting paw on the Colonel's shoulder.

"The Colonel has a few final commands for us all before we move out," the Squirrelking said, his voice soft but still easily reaching everybeast in the clearing.

Karth glanced over to Nurzon, nodding his appreciation to the Squirrelking before he turned to face the now silent gathering of creatures. Drawing in a deep breath, Karth began to speak.

"Listen closely, for this is how we will win the day and liberate the prisoners…"

Could they achieve victory against a foe who was willing to do anything in order to win?

Nobeast save a squirrel on guard duty saw Edgar, but the sentinel did nothing but raise an eyebrow as the owl landed on a branch above all of them. Guiltily, Edgar was pleased that the guard did not call out a welcome or warning of some sort, because he now had the time to see if his suspicions had a hint of truth to them.

Below him, Karth was laying out the plans for the attack to come, alternatively coercing and driving the point home and ensuring that everybeast understood what was to occur.

To be fair, his plan was not bad. Karth had been planning and executing campaigns for years, and he never would have become Colonel of the Long Patrol if he didn't have an excellent head for strategy. Like any good strategist and leader, he always listened to those who sought to advise him, sifting through the good and bad advice and implementing it into his plans as best as he could. Edgar had met many who had not ever wanted criticism, no matter how well-meaning.

"But…"

Edgar leaned forward, his branch creaking slightly as his eyes narrowed in disbelief at what he was seeing. It took another minute or so before he finally conceded the truth of what was happening.

To most creatures, Karth would look like the embodiment of heroism; in spite of his wounds and torn clothing, most would see the Colonel that legends had sprung up around - a war hero who would lead them through impossible odds and achieve victory.

But beneath the façade, Edgar saw what he himself understood most of all: hate, hatred mixed with an unrelenting desire to finish what he had started all those seasons ago.

At some point during this long night, this battle had ceased to be about saving Mossflower and had morphed into Karth's personal vengeance against Barkclaw.

It was subtle, but for creatures who actually knew Karth and not just his reputation as the famous Colonel of Salamandastron, it was clear that he was becoming increasingly unhinged.

The longer Karth spoke the more this was made obvious, from the way his speech slurred at the mention of Barkclaw, at how his ears slightly stiffened at the description of the battle plans, and how his tone became more fervent as he went on. Karth had a right to be angry at Barkclaw, even a right to hate him for what he had done, but Edgar worried that Karth's hatred would lead them all into a death trap. The relentless mixture of blood and adrenaline and killing had slowly eaten away at Karth's reason all night like a festering wound, and Edgar was not sure how much rationality the Colonel still retained.

But perhaps the most disturbing thing was how Karth's eyes dimmed, derived from something Edgar understood quite well. The darkness did not stem from being tired or feverish, but from desire, a deep-rooted need to kill the one who threatened everything he held dear. Karth did not merely want the rapidly approaching battle, he craved it. He anticipated it to an extent that Edgar found he was worried, and it took much to worry him these days.

Especially after what he had done almost eighteen seasons ago.

He still recalled the events like they had just occurred. The way it had begun was disconcertingly similar – he was staring down from a branch, observing a group of warriors who were preparing for battle, knowing that whether they knew of it or not, some of them would die. It wasn't an educated guess or one with any real evidence but a gut feeling, something that all creatures instinctively relied on in order to survive.

And that was all he could do: survive; survive, and add to the carnage.

But what really troubled him was that the root of this entire war could be indirectly traced back to himself.

Edgar looked down at the crowd and saw that a few of the more perceptive creatures were wide-eyed with insecurity and fear, trying in vain to look as though they were as eager as the rest to do battle. Edgar sighed.

This was largely his fault, and yet he would receive none of the blame. Or if he did receive blame, it would be the wrong sort. He knew most of the Long Patrol still held no trust in him. If he spoke out now, they would think he was trying to protect Karth or even he-who-had-been Dusktail.

Truth be told, he wasn't sure if he wanted the blame or not, but it was what was due to him. Instead, Karth would shoulder it all, as he always did, a friend until whatever end they found themselves in.

But it was not a friend that was needed now; they needed a leader, a leader who would not make the same mistakes that had been made before. He was not sure that was what they were getting tonight. Karth's current state made him unpredictable, although Edgar wondered at how unpredictable he had really become.

Edgar looked at Karth again. The Colonel had been speaking for the last few minutes without pausing, his voice rising and falling as he addressed his troops both gregariously and magnanimously, but all Edgar could sense was the encroaching eye of the incoming storm.

As Karth continued, Edgar saw that his words were not the prepared statements he had come to know from the Colonel, but rather a stream of consciousness that had Edgar scowling in displeasure.

This was not the structured Captain he had known, the hare whom Edgar would follow to Hellgates and back. This was somebeast else, a creature who spoke and sounded and moved like Karth, but who thought and acted differently in what truly mattered. It was that final piece that could not be accounted for – emotion – that had Edgar on edge. It was fine to inspire your troops to fight - even for the leaders to feel the same - but not to the point where it would affect their decisions before or during battle, and Karth had seemingly crossed that threshold.

He was convincing them to fight an all but predetermined battle, and in their desperation to save their friends and end the tyranny of fear that Barkclaw had brought with him, they would follow him into the heart of an all-encompassing inferno.

He had seen such a thing before, and he did not like where this was leading. Why were events finding ways to repeat themselves eighteen seasons onward? Why was he always part puppeteer and part observer?

He could only hope that this night would end, before they were all extinguished by the grim paw of fate.

Edgar grimaced in distaste as he looked down at Greyfang's warriors. Even now they waited upon him, impatient for his command so they could begin their trek.

It was an order he was unwilling to give.

He had never wanted to be a leader or even a follower. He had been content living on his own and being his own creature, at least until fate itself had seemingly intervened. It was akin to a chick being thrown out of a nest and told to fly before its primaries were completely grown, but Edgar had flown, and he had flown well.

"The life you seek will never be yours," the wizened voice of his grandmother murmured, the memory imbedded in his mind like the roots of a tree. Although tempted, he didn't want to tear it out or try to forget it, if only because he knew that her words were the truth.

"You are simply attracted to the danger of it all," Greyfang's voice said, and Edgar could still hear the wry amusement of the fox, as well as smell the scent of the thick wine Greyfang had been drinking. It had permeated the air, along with the task that now lay before him. It was imperative that he find the answers they both needed, before the looming conflict between Greyfang and Captain Karth enveloped them all, and with it certain disaster.

"All for the greater good," Edgar said quietly, unsure of whether he was trying to convince himself or not.

Grimacing, Edgar hopped off the branch, landing before the appointed leader of the six who had been specifically chosen by Greyfang.

"You have been told what our aims are, I presume?"

The rat frowned, his one good eye reflecting the light from the torch that he held in his left paw. Edgar tried not to look at the scarred ruin that was his other eye, but it was like the strength of the River Moss: it was irresistible.

The rat smiled as he noticed Edgar's stare, but there was no friendliness within it.

"We all know what we are to do, Barn Owl," the rat said, his voice mockingly high-brow. "'Tis a simple scoutin' expedition, nothing more, and our assigned mission is to look for any sign of the Cap'n and his own 'ares. Anything else, Sir?" The challenge behind the question was clear, and Edgar resisted the urge to smirk.

Edgar leaned forward, the swiftness of the action causing the rat to stumble backwards despite himself, his bravado disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

"I don't care if we find one hare, or even an entire battalion with Karth himself at our mercy. We will not engage with them under any circumstances. Do you understand?"

Regardless of some mutinous looks, every single one of Greyfang's warriors soon nodded in acquiescence, murmuring their acceptance under Edgar's unblinking gaze.

"Good," Edgar said, his features returning to the pleasant look he had previously worn before, almost as if the conversation had never occurred.

"Let us begin."

Edgar jumped as everybeast around him gave a collective roar of approval, their voices startling in their ferocity and terrifying in what it indicated.

There would be no turning back from this, not for anybeast here tonight.

For Edgar, it was the same as it had always been. One leader gave the orders while others followed them. It was the nature of military action, to command and expect instant obedience. Some creatures had to rely fully on their authority, but it was different for other commanders. Some had a certain type of bearing, a demeanor that made other creatures want to follow them, whether it be through rhetoric, power of emotion, or threats of violence.

Karth was using all of these tools tonight.

And Edgar knew it was his place to fight alongside his friends, no matter their likely fate. He would have stopped the madness playing out before him if he could, but tonight, Karth did not need somebeast like Edgar undermining his authority. He would not do that to his old friend. Edgar would fight and kill and die if he had to, but that was all he could do. Unlike last time, Edgar had no sympathy for Karth's opponents – Barkclaw was not even remotely close to the creature that Greyfang had been. If dying in battle was how he was to give his life, he would do so proudly, knowing that he was fighting for a worthy cause. And who knew? Perhaps Karth would truly lead them through to the outcome he had inspired them to believe in, despite his somewhat questionable intentions.

Karth had moved to stand on a log, his sabre unsheathed and jabbing up in the air – his earlier weariness temporarily forgotten in his own wild enthusiasm. Around him, the Colonel ostensibly looked moderate compared to the individuals from all manner of life who vigorously responded to Karth's eagerness and call to do battle with Barkclaw and his vermin.

"For Salamandastron!"

"For Mossflower!"

"EULALIA!" Karth roared, a call which was quickly taken up by the rest of the warriors in the camp, even the ones who had looked hesitant before.

"I look into the eye of the beast only to see my own fears reflected," Edgar thought, fighting the urge to turn away from the sheer rawness of the spectacle. He had no idea how much it would hurt to see these ordinarily gentle and wise creatures reduced to this… savagery. Edgar hardened himself as he saw them cry out their defiance, their weapons drawn and waving about in the same manner as the Colonel's. They thought they were invincible in their solidarity, and Edgar found himself childishly wishing that they were, if only so that more wouldn't be added to the tally of those he could not save.

When the Colonel's speech ended, orders instantly began to be belted out in a manner of which any parade-ground sergeant would approve, and the gathered troops quickly hurried to their assigned positions. Edgar hopped off his perch and landed behind Karth where he patiently waited. While the news needed to be told, he didn't think it would change anything that hadn't already been said. The attacks would be launched from the same places and the enemy would be there. That was all that would be needed in the end: enemies to slaughter and hapless creatures to save. The barn owl smiled at the irony.

Edgar felt a sharp twinge of expectation as Karth sheathed his blade and hopped off the log, calling a few final orders to a frowning Captain Jorel before he saw Edgar and headed in his direction.

The moment Karth faced the owl, Edgar saw that the hare's expression was simultaneously rapturous and grim, his eyes glowing softly in the now-smothered firelight.

Edgar saw that Karth was about to speak, but before he could, he interrupted him.

"Barkclaw has moved the prisoners to the center of his camp," Edgar said, his talons unconsciously digging deep furrows into the earth.

The Colonel's brow furrowed, annoyance clear in his expression. Karth had significantly changed, although it couldn't have been more than an hour since he had fought alongside the hare.

"This changes nothing," Karth said, his face twisting into a grimace as if the words tasted sour.

Edgar narrowed his eyes. How could it mean nothing? The prisoners were the reason why this whole odyssey began, the reason why they were fighting a war on Redwall Abbey's doorstep.

He felt deceived. Now was the time that Karth chose to descend into madness? Edgar's talons twitched as he forced down his anger, keeping his expression neutral with effort.

For all intents and purposes, the mission was compromised. When the leader of any armed force allowed himself to become too invested to the point that it was a detriment, they should be removed before any further harm could be done.

But could he do it?

"It is time, old friend; the war that we started is now coming to its inexorable conclusion. How do you feel?"

"Burdened," Edgar replied, unable to sound anything but taciturn as he prepared himself.

"Do it," Edgar's conscience demanded. The Colonel was a danger to the success of the mission, if there ever was a chance for success tonight to begin with. He had to be removed before it was too late.

"But he is my friend," Edgar thought, feeling miserable as he contemplated removing Karth from command, something he should never have had to consider in the first place.

The warning signs had always been there. The murder of Greyfang and the sacking of his village eighteen seasons ago had proven that when pushed, the Colonel was not afraid to utilize anything he deemed necessary for the Long Patrol's survival, ethical or not.

Even now, he missed Greyfang. He missed their discussions, their quiet and intense debates that would last long into the night. The unlikely bond between owl and fox was one that he still cherished. It had taken a long time to forgive Karth for killing Greyfang, even if it was his fault that the incident had occurred in the first place. Never before or since had his relationship with Karth reached the same level of closeness that he had shared with Barkclaw's father, but Karth was all he had left.

"I cannot do it," Edgar thought mournfully. Whatever came their way, he would stand by his old friend, no matter what was coming. He had failed.

It did not matter now that the Colonel wanted to kill Greyfang's only son, one of the last remnants of the dream that he and Barkclaw's father had once shared. Now there was only him to carry that dream, to nurture and protect it for a better time and a better place. He wasn't sure if he would live to see it.

Even in spite of all Dusktail had done, a part of him still wanted to protect and show him that the whole world was not truly against him… that sometimes you can find friends in the unlikeliest of places.

But Greyfang's son had made a single mistake. He had abducted and tortured innocent creatures from Redwall Abbey, and that was where he had crossed a terrible threshold, an opened door that should have remained closed. If worst came to worst, he would protect the Redwallers above all else, and the best he could do to defend them was to remain at Karth's side.

"Let us rid ourselves of our hatred, old friend… let us give the mercy that they deserve."

While Karth's words registered in Edgar's mind and the barn owl felt himself slowly nod, he did not really see the bedraggled Colonel nor completely register the triumph in his expression. Instead, he saw the consequences if they were defeated here tonight, along with the suffering and chaos that would erupt if they were to fail.

"What they deserve," Edgar heard himself repeat solemnly but without real conviction. He needed Karth on his side now more than ever, if he was truly not going to remove him from command as he should.

Edgar trembled as his gaze swept to the now dwindling fire, the still-glowing coals pulsating a myriad of colors that promised both life and death.

'It is what they need," Karth said firmly, the hare now almost quivering in anticipation.

Edgar mused, feeling uneasy at the anticipatory gleam in Karth's eyes. They were bound now, and from now until dawn, chaos would reign. He wondered if Karth was the precipitator of the end or the extinguisher of it.

For himself, the only comfort was that tonight's events would lead to a single conclusion, although Edgar did not know or even want to guess as to what that finality would be.

"All for the greater good," Edgar said, turning away from Karth, his mind racing as an idea occurred to him. He would collect Stubb before the fighting truly began, for if there was one that could bring Karth out of his madness, it would be the earnest young corporal.

For if he didn't do something, he feared that Mossflower would be consumed by Karth's hopeless fury, his anger fanned by the delicate nuance of Barkclaw and the circumstances surrounding them both.

It was all that he could do.