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Chapter 13. Cave In
by Vitora
A tankard with nothing but froth to show that it had once been filled with October ale perched on the table in front of Skipper. The otter had his paws behind his head, leaning back in his chair, and for the first time that night, his muscles were a step below tense.
Melian sat next to him on a bench, her chin in one paw, her other tracing dreamy patterns in the table as she kept her gaze on the show. Skipper leaned over and chuckled. "Watchin' that there otter lad?"
His daughter sat up abruptly, her eyes darting. "Don't be crazy, Da."
"Can't say 'e ain't a brawny lad," he said with a shrug. "But 'e does associate wi' those vermin types."
"It's a livin'," Melian said hotly, "an' if'n 'e can overcome wot ye couldn't, then good fer 'im." She swung her footpaws around and stood up from the bench, her paws clenched at her sides. "Ye know, if'n ye weren't my Da, I'd - "
He jerked his head towards the stage and she broke off, turning to watch Juniper - whose surly, nasty character had just picked a fight with one of the others - storm off the stage. Melian's lip quivered into a pout, and Skipper couldn't hide his chuckle.
"'e's just 'eadin' int' th' Abbey, Mel."
"Oh," she said, and the word did nothing to conceal her excitement. She started to walk towards the place where Juniper had vanished, but Skipper caught her arm.
"No, ye don't. If'n ye go after 'im now, 'e'll..." He fumbled for a reason.
His paw tightened on her arm, and she softened. "Break character?"
"Yeah. 'E'll break character." He nodded.
With a sigh, Melian sat back down. Skipper reached over and ruffled her headfur; she made a point to scoot ever so slightly away. He sighed.
They watched the play for a while, fireflies distracting Skipper from the rather dull monologues being traded between the two foxes. His gaze tracked one particular insect until it blinked out suddenly - almost too quickly, he thought, the fur rising on the back of his neck.
The first explosion danced to life overhead, and Skipper was all knotted muscle again, crouching over the table, half-risen from his seat. "Damn. What in the 'ellgates - "
But there was cheering, and so the otter chieftain stopped himself from springing across the grounds to where the smoke was curling into the sky. He finished standing and put his paw on Melian's shoulder. "Don't go over there," he said, giving her the Look. She stuck her tongue out at him, but it was a half-hearted gesture.
Then the belltower exploded.
Skipper had sensed it, and threw himself over his daughter, grunting as sharp debris pelted his fur. He rolled onto his back when he was sure the destructive rain was over, then bounded onto his feet. Pain and blood filled his movements, but he shook himself and ignored it.
His foremost thought was that it was a distraction. That something much worse was about to occur while the Abbeydwellers were occupied by keeping their home safe.
Dittany.
With visions of her kidnapped or worse pounding a headache into his brain, Skipper dodged beasts fleeing the catastrophic scene. He looked upwards. Half the stones holding the belltower were gone, and the other half were spitting dried mortar at dangerous intervals. The otter ground his teeth; it wasn't going to hold.
He shot halfway up the nearest staircase and cupped his muzzle. "Get outside, all of ye! Th' tower!"
Panic erupted. Skipper swore and swung over the stairs, collapsing into a roll so that he popped upright at the footpaws of Lazuleep.
They stood, face to face, for a long moment, the otter's eyes narrowed, the rat's gaze steady.
Another explosion shook the ground, and they fell against one another, heads swiveling to find the source. Flames stretched towards the sky with giddy triumph, sheathing the main gates in fire. Screaming began anew, and a dark figure, indistinguishable through the shimmering of heat, ducked away from the gates and a discarded firestick.
Rage building inside him, Skipper let his pride collapse into a tiny lump, which he swallowed as he put a heavy paw on Lazuleep's shoulder. "We've got t' get them outside. Make sure whoe'er's doin' this can't keep it up."
The rat bowed slightly. "Go find Dittany." He turned, his tail giving Skipper a little push as he raised his voice. "Attention! Let's make this evacuation an orderly process, shall we?"
Some quality in Lazuleep's voice made the creatures nearby take dazed heads in paws and quiet down. Skipper nodded to himself. As much as leaving the Abbey's helpless in the paws of the Forerat galled him, he was satisfied for now. And now he had to find the Abbess.
Melian was up and shepherding mothers and little ones towards the east gate, but when her father caught her eye, she passed the task on to somebeast else and followed him out of the grounds.
They bolted together through the smoky darkness, giving each room they passed a cursory glance to be sure no one was trapped. Skipper shot his daughter a sidelong glance, concern forcing words against his teeth. Her headfur was mussed, and all but one petal was gone from the white flower he'd tied to her headband. She turned her head slightly, then, and he forced the words away. Her eyes were a warrior's. He had to be her equal, not her father, in that moment.
Then somebeast screamed.
"The Abbess! Oh, Fates, it's - " Whoever was speaking stopped using words and started spluttering out hiccups and sobs.
They rounded the corner to find themselves at the bottom of the dormitory stairs, where sticky blood was oozing into the cracks of the floor and a mousewife sat bawling next to a mangled body. A familiar face, twisted away from the body at a horrifying angle, stared blankly into the hazy moonlight streaming through stained glass windows.
"Dittany," Skipper said, and fell to all fours, mixing October ale with the blood.
He felt Melian's paw on his back, but it was a distant acknowledgment of a body that was feeling only grief and dread. He couldn't count the number of battles and skirmishes he'd seen on both paws, yet his stomach had never betrayed him. But staring at this - her neck broken, her skull split right between the ears, her internal organs peeking from torn fur in her side - he wanted to heave and heave until he'd turned himself inside out.
The otter started to retch again, but Melian put her paw under his chin and snapped his jaw shut. "Stoppit!" she cried, cuffing his ears. "Wether Rushtail, th' Abbey needs ye! Dittany's dead; she don't need ye right now."
Her voice was the rope he grasped to pull himself back into reality. "Mel. I'm sorry."
"Well, don't be," she said gruffly, pulling him to his footpaws. "I'm gonna 'elp Mrs. Churchmouse, an' ye need t' get this 'ere sorted out."
He saw that tears were sparkling in her eyes as she glanced at the body.
A lump formed in his own throat. "Ye're right."
"Course I am," Melian said, and pulled the weeping mousewife up. She gave the squirrel's corpse one last sad look. "See she gets more respect'n this."
-
He called together what leaders he could find, and they sat in a clearing outside the smoking Abbey, surrounded by a full otter guard. Lazuleep was the last to arrive; he was holding a sleeping shrewbabe on his shoulder. "Couldn't find his parents," he said by way of explanation, sweeping past Skipper to seat himself on the edge of the circle.
The otter grunted. "Arright, ye're all 'ere. Th' Abbess is dead."
He was satisfied by the wave of indignation that passed through the gathered creatures. Now that he'd numbed himself to Dittany's murder, he was analyzing the faces of each vermin leader, trying to find a telltale sign that would signal satisfaction, triumph, something he could pounce on to find the guilty party.
But, to his irritation, none of them were sufficiently smug. There was genuine horror on Lazuleep's mug, and Gurkin looked down at the paws that not a day before had grasped Dittany's in friendship with a look of growing anguish.
"Wot do we do?" the stoat asked. "If'n we 'ead out ourselves, we might be givin' th' murderer exactly wot 'e wants - an unguarded Redwall."
Skipper stroked his chin. "I ain't just lettin' 'im get away."
"Ah've got word from meh 'ogs," Corsenette spoke up, glowering at the warlords, "that a lot o' critters fled right after th' tower was 'it. May'aps one o' them did 'er in."
"Offer a reward," came the wildcat Liya's voice. They all swiveled to look at her, and she gestured towards the many creatures huddled a distance away. "Let the common folk pursue those that fled. Nothing motivates like the promise of money."
"Then we can stay here and investigate," Lazuleep added, shifting the shrewbabe to his other shoulder. "In case the murderer remained behind."
"'ow many ran?" Skipper asked.
Corsenette shrugged. "Ah 'ear tell a good dozen, may'aps as much as a score."
"Don't announce th' reward t' everybeast," Skipper said. "I'll go find a few wot seem trustworthy, send them out. Th' rest o' ye, start makin' a quiet perimeter around th' Abbey. If'n 'e's still 'ere, we'll find 'im." Liya's bells made an indignant sound. "Or 'er," he added from beneath a curled lip.
"And if not?" Lazuleep asked. "If the murderer's made it into Mossflower already?"
Skipper bared his teeth in a feral smile that had no joy or amusement. "Then we'll see wot those who know th' land can do t' 'im."