19. Departures.
It was very early, frosty morning, the sky over the treeline just barely brightening, when Belk the Abbey Warrior woke up and started packing for his journey. He left Myns sleeping in their bed, quietly leaving the room. Not that he intended to leave without saying farewells to his wife, but he was already feeling terrible enough without her worried support making things worse, and wanted those farewells to be short.
The kitchens were Belk's first stop. He always preferred to travel lightly, living off the land. But in late autumn and winter that hardly was a sensible idea. Within Mossflower he expected to get food and shelter through hospitality of friends, both his own and friends of the Redwall Abbey. On the Southern Plateau, however... So his travelling bag ended up heavily loaded this time, mostly with small pancakes made of a mix of nuts, dried fruit and honey, plus some nutbread biscuits – food that provided good nourishment and was the least likely to spoil.
Abbess Chamomile was waiting for Belk on the stairway, when he was returning from the kitchen, an oil lamp in her paw.
"Greetings, Mother Abbess. To what do I owe being watched like this?"
The mouse sighed, placing her free paw on her hip:
"Belk, I may be half your age, but I'm still the Abbess of Redwall, and this requires a few convolutions to rub together in one's head. Besides, you're a terrible liar – Myns and Ruffen might not see it because they are nearly blind, in different ways, but to me it is clear as day that you're hiding something, some big burden on your heart, since we tried to make sense out of your vision. And now, lo and behold, you're trying to leave the Abbey almost as a thief in the night. I should be the one insulted by mistrust here, never mind poor Myns."
"I really can't keep any secrets from you, can I?"
"Not in this life."
Belk rubbed his forehead, a rueful expression on his face. "I wanted to tell you anyway just before leaving, or leave a note, that's what I wanted. Give me a minute. Please."
The squirrel warrior slowly walked to the window, two steps above the place where Chamomile stood, and sat on the window stool placing the bag at his feet, before speaking slowly:
"You are right on the mark. There indeed was one more warning in my vision, one that I'm hard-pressed to put in words. Whomever goes on this quest and leaves home behind, will never return. Whomever goes on this quest and makes one step on the Southern Plateau, will never set paw in Mosslower again. It was as if a great curtain, falling behind me. Rowanbloom, if she is to be saved, will return to Redwall alone. That I saw, and that can mean only one thing… ow, what for?"
The last words were thanks to the Abbess rapping the top of his head with her knuckles.
"And you thought it means that you'll die? You unbelievable old fogey!"
"But what else?" Belk answered gloomily.
"How about staying down south, once whatever evil you're fated to fight is defeated? Don't you know the first thing about prophecies? And, you do have to retire from your position one day, after all, why not now? Also, remember: To pay for what is yours, use what is mine. If that refers to the Sword of Martin, won't it be a bit of a stretch to say that it is "not yours", if you're the current Abbey Warrior?"
"But how can I just forget my wife?"
"Take Myns with you, you oaf! She told me herself, that her biggest regret is never being able to help you in your adventures and battles!"
"But she'll only be…" Belk cut the phrase off halfway.
"Well, of course she will be a burden to you. Now shall we remember what your vision said, shall we? To walk the path to the end, pick up a burden."
Belk took his head in his paws. "I don't know whether I want to hug you or slap you, Abbess," he complained. "I was losing hope most shamefully, certainly I was, and you're offering it to me anew. But taking Myns with me? My journey isn't going to be a walk through the familiar country, where you get pleasantly tired, work up a real appetite, maybe freeze a bit, before returning to your warm fireplace and filling Abbey dinner. On a real journey, beyond places where our help reaches, fatigue, starvation and cold kill, that's what they do. Before even talking about vermin."
"Belk, oh Belk." Chamomile' indignation turned almost to sadness. "I guess when you're the toughest of the tough, it is easy to forget, that we, normal, unwarlike Redwallers, are not that soft either. Isn't that why Rowanbloom left in the first place?"
For a second, the Abbess feared that she went too far. But Belk the Fair was a honest beast. He nodded:
"Yes."
Chamomile smiled slightly. "And for that matter, Myns is eight seasons younger than you, so I wonder who really will be worn out first on a journey. Come on, go and ask her, straight and upfront. You'll see what she's going to say!"
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The longboat outran the clouds that covered the Seacrag Castle on that day. With Selvathy's directions, the sail was set, and the small vessel steadily plowed low waves, carried in roughly the right direction by southwestern wind. When sunrise painted the sky in the east pastel rose and ruby red, no other boat was anywhere in sight, to much relief of the crew. Ewalt thought that either his bluff scared the surviving otters beyond expectations, and they were afraid of risking a night battle, or the smaller boat was just unable to catch up without a sail. The warrior mouse took a position on the bow then, thinking to look out for any possible surprises, but the only thing he found was himself admiring the scenery. The stretch of the coastline they were passing reminded him of his birthplace – forbidding grey rocks rising from the sea, the thick phalanx of pine trees, the closest ones seemingly growing on bare stone, the endless beat of waves. The landscape was austere, but so beautiful in the light of the rising sun, that Ewalt's heart ached.
"Looks like leaving them the second boat is not going to bite us in the tail, eh?" Suran's voice returned the warrior mouse to miserable reality. "Still, that was a pretty stupid risk. By the fangs, you look terrible, you know that?"
Ewalt cautiously touched his right ear. The partially-healed wound there got torn open again by one of the blows in the head he received during the battle in the tower, and while blood clotted by itself this time, the mouse could feel that his ear now features a permanent rip.
"Look at yourself."
"Who, me?" Suran probably wanted to smile, but managed only a sour grin. "Well, everybeast knows, that totally missing some insignificant body part only makes a warrior more manly!"
Ewalt just shrugged and held out to Suran the wooden-handled blade, that the fox lent him this night, when their company discussed what to do. "Here's your dagger. Thanks."
"Keep it." Suran waved his paw. "You probably can steal it off me if you ever want to kill me in my sleep, and I'm merely great with daggers anyway."
""Merely" great?"
"With spear and sword I'm without equals, of course!"
"Ah." Ewalt decided not to mention that he saw Suran knocked down with his own eyes. He weighted the weapon in his paw. It was forged for a pretty big beast, someone the size of a fox or an otter. For a mouse it could serve as a sword. Ewalt tested sharpness of the blade with his claw – and nearly lost a part of that claw! His old sword could never be honed this well. The carved wooden handle was not the most comfortable among the weapons Ewalt had in his life, made for a bigger paw as it was, but suitable enough.
Then Ewalt noticed that the second ferret in their sorry crew, the one with burned back, whose name he still couldn't remember, is eyeing him viciously. The warrior mouse was not sure what is up, but made a mental note – this one could attempt something stupid.
"A fine weapon for a fine warrior, right?" Suran was still watching Ewalt.
"Is this gift your way of saying that you're with us?"
Suran shrugged automatically and immediately winced from pain in his shoulder. "That we'll see, I've heard too little so far, you know? Anyway, we aren't sailing anywhere without that thing a beast needs for any travel – grub, scoff, vittles, you name it. What we stockpiled for the winter in out old tree hideout still should be there, though – I hope our dear warlady wasn't hit in the head hard enough to forget about that."
Suran was indeed correct. At that very moment Kethra and Rowanbloom, sitting on the aft, next to Selvathy, who steered the boat, just finished a quiet discussion about how to get to that hideout without running into either vermin patrols or Torbit's crew.
"So you say – Kunas' army will not turn on itself." Kethra knew that despite her low voice most of the beasts in the boat can hear the conversation. That perhaps was for the best.
"I'm sure of it." Rowanbloom answered with confidence. "If you don't trust me, then surely you can check the news personally, your brother had a few friends in outlying hamlets, hadn't he?"
"So you say – we can cross the sea."
Selvathy shrugged. "Autumn winds will blow us straight to the mainland, if they won't sink us. Sailin' the open sea in this season is dangerous, sure, but what isn't now?"
"So you say – we can find an army of woodlanders, able and willing to sail here and storm the Seacrag Castle."
Rowabloom clasped her paws, before looking back at Kethra and answering: "I would lie, if I say, that this is a given. But I know of many times, when Salamandastron and Redwall sent help to lands, that were struggling against tyranny and evil. I also know that Salamandastron, the biggest mountain on the coast, is not hard to find, even if our navigation will be poor, and that these days the mountain is ruled by a truly noble and virtuous Badger Lady. I know that if she hears my tale, she will want both to help Ergaph, and to prevent more bloody conquests. What I do not know is what happens later, whether she will be actually able to help."
"So you say. Now, here's the bloody question: if she's able, what I stand to gain from your crackpot plan, from letting other beasts exact my revenge? I have no place on Ergaph, taken and ruled by your high and mighty woodlander kind, aren't I?"
"Oh." Rowanbloom looked genuinely surprised. "Please forgive me, but what an unexpected and foolish question."
She felt Kethra's footpaw pinning her own to the bottom of the boat forcefully, as the ferret snarled: "Fire and ash, what do you mean, "unexpected"?"
"I mean, I'm terribly sorry, but it should be sort of obvious." At this point both Kethra and Rowanbloom were speaking aloud. "I remember once asking your brother, if there was another reason, beyond revenge, he struggled against Kunas so desperately, with odds so stacked against him, and he said that food gets eaten, weapons rust to nothing, good memories fade, and beasts die, but legends of great warlords and mighty deeds live on. Here, on Ergaph you'll find no more allies worth speaking of, so all you can hope for is a heroic death."
Rowanbloom paused here, as if awaiting objections. When no one disagreed with her, she continued:
"But have you considered, that even if your death indeed will be heroic, and not miserable, the very memory of that will disappear soon enough, lost among so many other tales that were cut short? How many warriors of your clan's old foes, from before Kunas, you still remember well enough to tell your kids about them? Even Marroch, who brought down Kunas, will be already forgotten by Kunas' grandchildren, busy squabbling over the great kingdom that will be left to them. But if you agree to my plan, but if we reach Salamandastron, but if we succeed – then surely the tale of your fight, and of our quest, will be retold forever and ever! For there is no place anywhere in the four corners of the earth, where legends live longer, than in the great mountain. The oldest of its stories were already ancient beyond reckoning at the time, when the first stone was not yet laid at the foundation of the Seacrag Castle!"
Rowanbloom put all of her power of persuasion in this appeal, hoping that she did not misjudge Kethra catastrophically. So Kethra's reaction was all the more shocking. The ferretmaid threw back her head and laughed rudely, her whole body shaking. When her breath was spent, and she looked back at Rowabloom, the Redwall squirrel was startled even more, seeing that her eyes were wet with tears.
"Legends… oh brother, you stupid, addle-brained daydreamer, you never had enough of them, hadn't you?"
Suddenly, the ferretmaid's expression turned into a snarl:
"I should throw you to fishes, lie low here on Ergaph until Ubel and the army pack off, then be the warlady of whatever is left on the island, you little poison-tongued treemouse! By fang and fur, I should! Now, that would be a good way to honor my brother's memory!" Then she shook her head, the expression softening again. "But he wouldn't want me to give up this fight, wouldn't he?"
Kethra wiped tears from her eyes, and turned to her small crew:
"Hey, you bullies! You've all heard the branchhugger here, you know the plan. I'm going to the mainland! But I ain't need any weak-kneed slobs on this journey. Those who think their chances are better on Ergaph are free to leave!" She thought for a second, and added. "After we make a landing, not right overboard, I mean."
Silence was the first answer. Then, to Kethra's utter surprise, Smalltooth spoke:
"I'm with you. My chances are better this way, methinks."
On second thought, Kethra could see his angle. Smalltooth was a young and weak stoat, an orphan, picked up by their band on a whim, without a single real friend on Ergaph. Not a beast who could hope to survive the coming winter.
Tezza, a stick-thin, black-toothed female weasel, was the second to voice her opinion: "If I stay, maybe I'll help a dozen of the castle scum die. If I go, maybe I'll help 'em all die. I go."
Luggun looked at Smalltooth and Tezza as if they were traitors, then spat into the sea:
"Madbeasts, ye are. Nay, I'm not going on any quests. Marroch was a proper warlord, who did all the thinkin' for himself, and e's still dead. Ye're just listening to some woodlander hogwash, nothin' good comes from that."
Before he finished speaking, Kethra was sitting very straight and breathing heavily, clearly regretting her promise not to throw anybeast overboard. But she kept her wrath under control and nodded.
Stumptail was fidgeting around nervously, but seeing that Luggun is not being punished, he gathered enough nerve to speak his mind:
"I'm with me old mate Luggun. The sea, with storms, and big fishes and reefs – that's not for me, no."
"Spikepelt?" Kethra addressed the next-to-last vermin in the crew.
"I'm with ye, Warlady?" grumbled the burned ferret. "A fool I'd be otherwise."
"Bloody right." Kethra nodded again. "But if you even think about taking back your word, once your back is healed, I'll kill you with my own two paws."
"Hah, ain't you a noble one, not to kill a cripple like him right away?" While all the talking was going on, Suran moved to the middle of the boat, so that the sail didn't obscure him from Kethra now. "Now, my beauty, can you guess, what will be the answer of this fox?"
Kethra glared at him icily enough to freeze a lake. "I'm not about to bargain with you… fox. Not like I have anything to offer you, anyway."
"Oh, you shouldn't be so sure about that." Suran smiled. "Never mind, my scornful mistress, I decided to go on this little journey anyway. Else my left ear will itch for the rest of my life, you know?"
"But yet left ear is gone!" Stumptail was not the brightest rat on Ergaph. "Yowch!"
"Yours will be too, if you barge in a talk between your betters one more time!" Stumptail nearly fell out of the longboat, backing away from the fox, whose healthy paw swiftly seized and cruelly twisted his ear. "Eh, where were we? Right – I'm going with you. I assume that all, hm, woodlanders here are going too?"
"Trugg?" Asked Ewalt from his place on the bow.
"What do you think?" The former slave shrugged. "Where can I go, to otters? All the other free tribes were crushed long ago… A slim hope in the sea is better than none on the land."
"So, we're all going." Ewalt concluded.
Suran looked around, and scratched his chin. "Nine beasts in all that will be. Four of you… and five of us. Well, what can I say, I've traveled in worse companies more than a few times, that's for sure!"
"Those companies all fell apart in a bloody way," was left unsaid.
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"Gallopers are ready and dyin' to march!"
A line of nine hares in full gear were standing at attention before Lady Violet Wildstripe. Each wore a breastplate and a vizorless rounded helmet, forged to roughly the same standard, and now polished to shine in the morning light. Each had a usual heavy haversack of a Salamandastron hare at the footpaws. But all of them carried different weapons. Their tunics were not dyed, retaining their natural dull grey color, instead of normal red or pink of the Long Patrol. Gallopers, the famous scouting unit of Captain Aldwin. Those hares were the elite of the elite – or at least eight of them, about the ninth, a hearty, smoke-grey young female, the Badger Ruler had certain reservations.
She was not about to question Aldwin's judgment before his command, but the captain noticed her doubtful glance, and responded to her thoughts:
"Worry not, my Lady. I've bally well took note of Private Sovna's fencin' skills since she was a leveret, and she's overjoyed to be in our ranks. Sure, she might have some itsy-bitsy attitude and temper problems, but a taste of real campaignin' will fix them right away." All joviality suddenly disappeared from his tone, as he turned to Sovna, fixing her with a stare. "One way or another."
"I trust you on that." The Badger Lady looked hares over once again. Aldwin was the only creature in the big, well-lit stone room who could notice, that Violet is really anxious behind her regal facade today – he could see it in her stiff posture, hear in barely noticeable inflections of her voice. And once again, the hare captain wondered, what future she really saw. Speaking of that… he also could feel a peculiar scent on her today, a mix of strange smoke and something faintly resembling really old dust. Was she in the secret chamber again this night?
This time it was Violet's turn to correctly guess her captain's thoughts. She extended her paw, tapping Aldwin's armor gently with her long, black claws. "Once again I will say: seek travelers from afar, newcomers to the north coast. I can tell you a bit more about those heralds of destiny now, even if I still had not been able to see their faces. There will be no more than eight, almost all of different species, of one group, but possibly separated. They will seek Salamandastron, but without help, not a single one of them will ever reach the Mountain alive. Bring them here, all of them you can."
Aldwin, looking up at the clouded violet eyes of the great Badger Lady suddenly felt a prick of feeling he almost forgot. What was it again?
"Remember," for a moment Violet turned to the rest of the Gallopers, "all of you remember, that this task is the most important duty I have ever placed on any of you. Do your best."
Suddenly, Aldwin remembered both the promise he gave to the Badger Lady not long ago, and what his feeling was. Fear.
But outwardly he remained cavalier:
"If I were to hear this from anybeast but my Lady, I'd be blinkin' insulted! We're the Gallopers, who forgot what "failure" is, when we ever did anything but our best, wot?"
He hoped for Violet to smile, but the hope was in vain. "My apologies, Captain. Now go. Farewell and best of luck to you!"
As the small unit of ten marched out of a side door, down the slope of the great mountain, and up the coast, turning into specks of grey on the grey sand dunes, Lady Violet Wildstripe watched them from a window high above for a time. Perhaps for longer than she should have. There was much to do, much to write, much to forge. And far too little time before facing the destiny she chose. If there really ever was a choice…
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And it so happened, that of all beasts, who started their journey on that day, Belk the Abbey Warrior was the one wanted to be on his way at the earliest hour, but actually made his first step on the road the last of all – after a whole farewell feast, not big or lavish by Redwall standards, but heartfelt. But the loss of time was more than compensated by what he gained. For the dearest companion of his life was with him, and now his heart felt lighter than it ever was from the moment he first saw the prophetic vision. There still were deep sadness of a creature who was leaving his home and life behind, and fear for others, but since when old warriors like him were not able to cope with such feelings?