21
It wasn't long before Fentress was up and about the deck of the ship. She couldn't remain swaddled up in blankets forever, not when everything around her brimmed with such excitement, such buzz. Guosim shrews and former slaves alike flitted to and fro across the deck, each lending a paw to keep the vessel afloat on its course down the river, many more in the deck below. They continued although all of them, like her, must have been exhausted. An electricity pervaded the air.
Fentress wanted to speak with Luce, the new Log a Log. She could hear the little blind shrew, bellowing orders and instructions left and right, but too many creatures had swarmed around their new chief. Instead Fentress stumbled into Bristol.
The Long Patrol hare sat near the back of the deck, cradling her head in her paws. She was the only one who did not seem to be celebrating Kennebec's demise and the Guosim's rebirth.
Fentress sat down beside her friend. "Bristol? Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"
Bristol held up a paw bound in bandages. "Only so. Suppose I ain't one for jubilation right now. Not when there's still work t'be done."
"You mean Lady Alagadda."
"Aye," said Bristol. "Kennebec was a knave an' a traitor, but all in all he wasn't more than an appetizer for the main dish. I swear to bring her an' every last vermin in her wretched horde t'justice. 'Tis all I much live for anymore."
Fentress nodded. "I would be honored if you would fight beside me to reclaim Redwall, Bristol."
Bristol smiled, until almost involuntarily her mouth opened and loosed a laugh that grew and grew until it was a great big guffaw. "Haw-haw! Fight—you… Ha-ha-ha!"
"Is… is something the matter, Bristol?" asked Fentress.
Bristol managed to restrain herself after a few moments. She wiped a tear from her eye. "Nothin', nothin'. It's just, when I first met ye, I'd never've pegged y'for a fighter. You looked ev'ry bit the standard Redwall stock. Not to insult the fine Abbey, of course, I know they've produced great warriors, some greater even than the best Salamandastron's ever had to offer. But I had you figgered for the kinda maid who'd rather string daisies into a necklace than wage a war. An' then—an' then you go ahead an' pull that stunt with that snake! Take the scaly dastard one-on-one! The gall! The bravado! I've never seen such a thing!"
Fentress could not help but grin. "I think you're mistaken. Redwall has never had a warrior as skillful, as disciplined, or even as strong as the Long Patrol's finest. What Redwall has is creatures who stand up when there's something to stand for. When that snake looked at me—I didn't even think. I just did. It feels like a dream, even now."
"Greatness don't exist in a vacuum," said Bristol. "When times are tough, when the livers of ev'ry other creature have turned to rot, that's when you see greatness rise t'the occasion. But enough prattle. I got a gift for you."
She picked up something beside her and held it out to Fentress. It was a sabre, long and curved, so polished that Fentress could see herself reflected in the blade. Its hilt was ornate and encrusted with gens and flecks of gold.
"Belonged to Kennebec," said Bristol. "He never had much need to use it, since he could threaten creatures with that snake of his if needed. I picked it up after he died. That shrew girl, Luce, she didn't want it, said it sickened her. I don't blame her. I figger you might at least find some use of it."
"But I have no idea how to wield a sword!" said Fentress.
"Perhaps not, but you got somethin' more important'n that. You got mettle. I've seen it. An' a creature with mettle can do what they need when they need t'do it. Besides, y'can't go runnin' into battle against Alagadda of the Many Blades without havin' a blade of yer own. An' since that famous Redwall sword ain't in the vicinity this seems the next best option."
Fentress took the sabre, feeling its weight. Although it was a long blade, it was lighter than she expected. "Thank you very much, Bristol. I'll accept this gift—on one condition."
"Oh?"
"When we finally fight Alagadda, I don't want you getting yourself killed," said Fentress. "I saw the way you flung yourself into the fight with the shrews. I know you've been nursing a hatred against Alagadda for a long time. But don't look at this like the last thing you need to accomplish in your life. I want you to live, Bristol."
Bristol stared back, at a loss for words. Finally, she placed a paw on Fentress's shoulder and said, "Thanks, Fentress. I'll remember that."
Fentress smiled. "Come on, why don't you show me how to use this thing?" she said, hefting the sabre.
Bristol leapt to her footpaws. "One crash course in fencin', comin' right up!"
Fencing was hard. Several hours later and Fentress still hadn't managed to pull off any of the complex maneuvers Bristol tried to explain to her. The hare would always show her a parry or block with a quick flick of her wrist, describe how easy the motion was, and then try not to get too critical when Fentress invariably bungled it.
It just didn't make sense to her, such precision and calculation of movement. Her strokes were always too broad, too wide, too slow.
Eventually Bristol sighed and sat down. "'Tis alright. There's not enough time for a proper education anyway."
Fentress apologized, dejected by her own failure. She had thought for a moment she might really have what it took to become a true warrior. Still, she would not give up. When the time came, finesse and fancy pawstrokes would not decide fate.
Shortly thereafter the bustle on the deck paused, a deafening silence filled only by a single, small voice.
"Camp approaches," said Luce, pushing her way through the crowd, which parted to make way for her. "Camp approaches."
Fentress leapt up and shoved through a few bystanders. "The Guosim camp?"
"Aye," said Luce. "Where Kennebec's kept your friends."
"Are there any of his sympathizers there?"
"A pawful," said Luce. "Guards, mostly. They'll not fight us, not with our numbers." She swung around to face her crew. "Shore up, buckoes! Give us a clean landin', or I'll have yer tails!"
The silence cleared and the creatures departed to their tasks. Fentress slid past them to the railing at the bow of the craft. Ahead, nestled in a bend of the river, orange lights hovered in the darkness like unmoored spirits, will-o-the-wisps. As the ship drew closer the lights grew, acquiring form as lanterns strung up above a series of tents and flimsy wooden structures, the kind easily built and disassembled. A few shrews, big sailor types, stood at the bank watching the ship's approach and hailing it.
Luce took a spot alongside Fentress at the bow. "Anybeast waitin' fer us? They'll be in fer a shock when they see who's pilotin' this craft," she said.
Fentress nodded. "So, you're the Log a Log now?"
"Aye," said Luce. "'Tis my right. An' I'm fit to lead them, blind or no."
"Oh, I don't doubt that," said Fentress. "At Redwall there were tales of a badgermum, the last the Abbey ever had, who once ruled Salamandastron and was a fearsome foe for vermin everywhere. But she'd been blinded in a battle and settled at Redwall. It was a dangerous time for the Abbey, long stretches without an Abbott or an Abbess, and she—"
"Yes, yes," said Luce. "I'm sure she did fine, whatever she did. But it ain't the same with the Guosim as it is at Redwall. Shrews are fickle beasts, open to rebellion. They've seen the tides've changed an' they follow me now. But they'll start to think, if they ain't already. She can't see a thing."
"You can't think like that," said Fentress. "When Redwall is back to its former glory, we won't let our relations with the Guosim to go to rot as they once did. We'll be much closer allies, as we were in olden times. We'll ensure a peaceful reign, Luce."
"'Tis not olden times," said Luce.
The ship docked on the riverside and the crew disembarked with remarkable efficiency. The shrews who had been awaiting them did not betray any surprise of the change in leadership. They congratulated Luce as she climbed down the rigging, aided by Fentress, and then said no more and disappeared into the cavalcade as it marched into camp.
"Somebeast show me to where Kennebec kept the Redwallers," said Luce. At once twenty willing paws shot out to take her there, accompanied by a hundred willing cries. Luce brushed her way past, somehow capable of walking through the camp without need of vision—she must have been raised in this camp.
"Okay, okay, I don't need the whole lot of ye," said Luce. "Just a couple. The others go an' get some shuteye, it ain't time for celebrations just yet. We move for Redwall tomorrer."
"Redwall? But why!" shouted some voice in the crowd. "What'd they do fer us?"
"But why." Luce felt her way down a beaten dirt path that wound through the camp, assisted by Fentress. "But why, they ask. See, Fentress, I told you they're just waitin' fer the chance to change their fortunes." She moved to the fore of congregation and stopped, clearing her throat. "Do ye ungrateful beasts know who ye have to thank for the establishment of the rightful Log a Log to her post?"
"'Twas you," said another voice in the crowd. "You slew Kennebec yourself, Luce!"
"Aye, as if Kennebec was the true problem. Every single one of you know that Kennebec was nothing without the threat of unleashing that serpent upon whoever disobeyed him. Who knows how he befriended such a creature. But it was his greatest weapon, a key instrument in how he led my father to his ruin. An' d'ye know who fought that serpent, by herself, an' blinded it so it can do no harm to anybeast outside its little pool ever again? D'ye?"
She paused, her sealed eyelids somehow burning into the skulls of the assemblage without a single piercing ray of actual sight. The shrews shuffled uncomfortably, a few tried to equivocate.
"No. It weren't none of you worthless lardguts, that's fer sure. 'Twas this otter here, this Fentress. Don't be shy, Fentress, come over here an' stand with me. Hold up yer paw, like so, show 'em who you are. They can all see you, yer the tallest one here. 'Twas Fentress here fought that serpent. An' d'ye know where Fentress calls home? D'ye? Go on, Fentress, tell 'em."
Fentress stood in front of a massive gaggle of creatures, each and every eye galvanized on her. Ice ran through her veins. A gaze she could not escape from, not duck under. Eyes watching, always, always eyes watching. The stars in the sky were like eyes from a sphere beyond their own.
She decided to speak for them.
"Hello, friends," she said. "I… I know you must be tired. I'll try to be short. Um. So, I think you may know already, but Alagadda of the Many Blades invaded my home, Redwall Abbey, and took it over. I and my friends were only just able to flee. This… this isn't the first time Alagadda has stolen my home from me. Before I came to Redwall, I was the daughter of the Skipper of Otters. Alagadda slew us all to the very last beast… I was the only one to survive. After that, I wandered the land, dazed, abused. Terrible things happened to me. I'm sorry, I'm not describing this well, but…"
She glanced at her audience. They were quiet enough. She spotted Sully amongst the floating heads, giving a nod of encouragement. "…But the point is, Redwall Abbey took me in and was home to me. I met many friends there, who cared for me. I wasn't the only one. Thousands of lost, hungry, poor creatures have wandered to Redwall's doorstep and been given shelter and a warm hearth. It is a beacon of light in a rotten world, a world rotting even more by the minute. A cold world. In the future I hope for it to shelter many more against this world, for it to remain standing no matter what happens outside it, no matter what forces come knocking on its door. I need your help, friends. To retake Redwall."
It wasn't what she would consider a particularly rousing speech, but at its conclusion a wild cheer went up amongst the audience. "Hurrah for Fentress, the serpent-slayer! Hurrah for Redwall!"
"You better say hurrah!" said Luce, largely unheard under the cheer. "Fentress didn't have to come an' save us, but she shore did. 'Tis only right to repay the favor."
"Thank you, Luce," said Fentress.
"I'm the one ought to thank you," she said. "I would've sat down an' let Kennebec kill me 'twere not for you. An' what you said. About not givin' up, you know? I figgered I oughtta give him one last farewell afore he dropped me off to the depths. An' it turned out to work even better fer me than I'd hoped. So there's that."
She started to walk down the path again, and Fentress walked alongside her, supporting her steps and guiding her. The gaggle of creatures at their back—their army—cheered, bustled with energy.
They came to a long tent at the end of the camp, folds of tarp held up by stilts. Fentress did not need to ask to know that it was where prisoners were kept, as the opening to inside was barred by a heavy padlock. Luce barked for the key and after some commotion a shrew waddled up with one, a bright brass thing, and plopped it into her paw.
She held the key to Fentress. "Would you do the honor?"
"Of course," said Fentress.
She seized the key, bright and polished and gleaming under the torchlight. It was heavy. The crowd around her grew silent as she fitted the key into the padlock to the prisoner's quarters. She turned it; the lock snapped open. She swung in the door.
A hulking beast lunged at her, shouting a war cry something fierce. Fentress fell back and raised a paw to defend herself as the creature hefted something to strike her with. But no blow came.
"Fentress?"
She looked up. "Friar Alger?"
It was indeed Friar Alger, the hedgehog cook with whom she had fled the Abbey so long ago, although it was only a day or two at most. His habit had gone to rags. Over his head he had a blunt instrument constructed with sticks and rocks, but he tossed it aside with an embarrassed chuckle.
"Ha ha, sorry 'bout that. Was makin' a big fer escape, but seems you've come to rescue us first. Allus knew I could count on you, girl."
He glanced around at all the creatures. Behind him peeked the other Redwallers, their eyes peering out of the darkness.
"Kennebec is dead," said Fentress. "Luce here is the new Log a Log. The Guosim are with her, and they're willing to march on Redwall with us. We're going to retake the Abbey, Friar Alger."
"Is that so," said Alger. "Is that so." He could say nothing else, dumbfounded by the swollen ranks around him. For a moment he stood, gaping, and then he burst in tears, massive sobs and caterwauls.
"Friar Alger!" said Fentress. "Are you alright?" She tried to comfort him but shirked back a little from his spikes, with jutted along his back as he wailed. She had never seen such a creature devolve into such waterworks.
Alger made a great effort to compose himself, failed, and had to try again. He managed to stop his tears long enough to choke out a reply. "It's just—yer a true hero, Fentress—an' Redwall's really gonna be saved. I can feel it in me spikes."
Fentress smiled and patted him on the shoulder, beckoning for the other Redwallers to emerge from the prison as well. "Indeed, Friar Alger. I feel it too."
They slept that night. They had to. Marching them to battle after everything they had been through that night would have been impossible and impractical.
Fentress lay in hammock tent in the captain's quarters of the docked ship, which Luce had presented to her to use at leisure, despite Fentress's initial protest. After all, Luce really was the captain. But Luce said she'd rather sleep with her fellows, where she could best—pointing at her sealed sockets—keep an eye on them.
On the other side of the quarters, Sully lay on another hammock. The squirrel tossed and turned on the unfamiliar bedding. Fentress could not sleep either. Too much weighed on her mind.
"Sully," she whispered.
"Yeah?"
"So tomorrow we fight."
"Yeah."
"Are you afraid?"
"Me, afraid? Never. I can't wait to see my sister Laramie again."
"…"
"What about you, Fen?"
"I'm afraid."
"You? After what you did with that snake? Pah!"
"I'm not afraid for myself. I've decided I'm willing to die for Redwall, if it comes to it. I'm worried for you, Sully. And Bristol. And Luce. And everybeast else."
"Oh, come off it," said Sully. "We'll all be fine, wait an' see. When Alagadda sees us marchin' on her, a real army, not just the lot of farmers an' villagers she's used to pillagin', why I bet she'll tuck tail an' flee right then an' there."
Fentress thought about Alagadda. The only real memory she had of her—since the night she had fled from her burning clan had happened so long ago—was of her in the swamp, when the lizards had attacked. Alagadda had not seemed the kind of creature to flee, in that particular situation.
"If there's fighting," said Fentress, "Creatures will die. Creatures already have died. Fannin died. Who knows what's happened to the rest of our friends back at the Abbey. Abbott Walden, your sister Laramie, Brother Roane…"
"That's why we gotta be back as soon as possible. Worryin' ain't changin' nuttin'. D'ye think I'm worried about Laramie? You bet. I'd like t'say no flea-ridden vermin'll ever get the best of her, but you know, you can't really believe that, all the way. Vermin kill, 'tis what they do. An' Laramie's been all I've ever had since my parents passed. But you can't think about that. If you think about it you get paralyzed, you stop movin'. You said afore when the serpent attacked an' you attacked back, that ye didn't even think. Well, Fen, that's what you gotta do. To be brave you gotta be stupid. 'Tis the honest truth."
"I don't know if that's true bravery," said Fentress, but she did not feel like embarking on a philosophical discussion of bravery.
"Now if only this accursed hammock wasn't so stiff," said Sully, tugging at the ropes. She turned over, nearly fell out.
"Goodnight, Sully," said Fentress, closing her eyes.
"G'night."