Part Four: A House Divided
Chapter One
The weasel clutched his spear, and waited.
Around him, his allies readied their own weapons and tried not to disturb their hiding spots.
It was not an impressive force; not even a score of beasts, only one of whom had a stormpowder weapon, an old fuse-lit firepaw he had stolen from the Long Patrol as a youth. The rest were armed with blades, bows and slings.
It would have to be enough.
The weasel wiped his brow. Cool air of spring or not, he was still sweating profusely.
Ahead, the shrill call of a woodthrush, the signal that the enemy was coming.
Three…
Two…
Now.
The explosion was nothing particularly impressive; they had only managed to scrounge up a few pawfuls of stormpowder, but they had made the trap as best they could.
"Get'em, mates!"
The weasel and his allies dashed forward, slings whirling and blades out. Ahead, their enemies, still reeling and wounded from the explosion, didn't have time to light their fuses, much less let off a volley.
And for the first few minutes of the fight, the ambushers had the advantage. Their adversaries struggled briefly to get their melee weapons out and drop their firepaws, by which time the first few rows had already been cut down.
The weasel fought with a ferocity few would have believed that his species possessed, his spear discarded, laying about with a short sword in one hand and the stock of a dropped paw-cannon in the other.
"Watch the trees!"
The weasel hit the ground as the first arrow smacked into one of his compatriots. That probably saved his life, as immediately after that, the rapid cracks of several stormpowder explosion announced that his enemy had gotten off a volley.
He tried to crawl forward, but suddenly, with the swish of an arrow, half the world turned into shear pain and red.
The weasel fell back, sinking into unconsciousness as his enemy charged past him.
"Some beasts say that war is a constant, that the direction of history makes it inevitable. As much as I hope to hellgates that they're wrong, I find it harder and harder to believe so."
-Benton
858 AR (cont.): Events such as Izacall's War, where the entire course of history is changed, tend to overshadow anything else that happened that season, and while it is true that the war affected the entire region, in many ways, life went on.
Talrus dies at the end of this spring. A very, very old beast, the fox's passing did not attract as much attention as that of King MacAugraw, but for the vermin species of the Northlands, the loss is just as saddening. For many, Talrus had been a symbol of a better, more peaceful life, and dozens of them attend his funeral. The fox's tomb, while simple, will be the sight of countless pilgrimages by vermin seeking to honor the beast who did so much to bring woodlanders and vermin together.
Telenor travels to Salamandastron for a week to see the wedding of his brother to the Lady Brockfern. It is quite a happy occasion, although Telenor spends almost as much time in conversations with Brockfern's father, the Tabura Carlanus, as he does in the festivities, but the couple hardly notices anything else than each other. But even as Salamandastron is lit up by a week of festivities, the first sparks of a wildfire are lit in another corner of Mossflower.
The beast named Izacall was raised in Mossflower in an ordinary tribe of squirrels. As an adult, he fought as a volunteer in the Lowlands war, where he learned to use a firepaw and, later, crew a cannon.
It would be expected, considering how Izacall is remembered today, and the actions that have made him infamous, that there was some tragic event in his past. A beast with his utter and abject hatred for vermin would be expected to have woeful tale of a family slaughtered by Brownrats, of a brother enslaved by corsairs, of a wife and child murdered by a warlord's hoard.
But Izacall's life had been somewhat normal. His father had died of old age a few seasons before, and his mother was still alive through the war.
And while his tribe, like almost all squirrels, had trained in the bow and in fighting from treetops, the Lowlands War had been his first real experience with combat.
Historians are at a loss, then to explain Izacall's beliefs and actions other than to say that being taught from birth not to trust vermin caused much more of an impact on him than any normal beast. It would be clear in hindsight that he was mentally unhinged, but at the time it was hidden beneath his natural charisma.
Whatever the reason, Izacall believed firmly that all vermin where dishonest murderous thugs that would only cause trouble and destruction for peaceful woodlanders, and among those woodlanders who had had family member and friends murdered or enslaved by vermin, his message spread like wildfire.
Izacall and his lieutenants were all veterans, and quickly brought many other warriors, and more importantly, craftsbeasts, to his movement.
At first, Izacall's followers, mainly otters and squirrels, restricted themselves to attacking vermin bandits; many throughout Mossflower even praised the mysterious army that seemed to be succeeding where which the Long and Woodland Patrols weren't. Izacall used secrecy to inspire fear in vermin, while also making it possible for new recruits to seek him out.
It was in 858, when Izacall's army had grown too large to remain secret, that the war named for him truly began. As mentioned before, he ordered the Flitchaye's territory to be completely destroyed. Fire and cannon destroyed the woods, which crashed burning through the Flitchaye's burrows. Any that tried to escape where met with a burning woodlands and a hail of arrows and paw-cannon balls. By the end of the day, the Flitchaye were functionally extinct.
Elated with victory, Izacall journeys to Redwall, where he requests a meeting with the Abbess. Roven and is family weren't there, having traveled to see Taldin, by now an adult working for the stoat farmer to whose daughter he was engaged, for the week.
Never one for subtly, Izacall paraded his army on the path outside the Abbey and announced that he would see the Abbess. Evelyn reluctantly agrees, although maintains that she cannot allow an entire armed army into Redwall.
The Abbess and Redwall council do not know what to think about this strange squirrel; although by now rumor of Izacall's army has spread to the Abbey, they had not heard yet of the slaughter of the Flitchaye. But as Izacall speaks, Evelyn's distrust grows.
The squirrel rants on about the Vermin Menace, about the ever-present threat of a hoard of savages arming themselves with advanced stormpowder weapons and brining ruin to the peaceful Abbey, all leading back to the point that Redwall should throw its support and resources beyond the Army of Mossflower. To the shock of the assembled council, Izacall boasts of his wholesale murder of the entire Flitchaye tribe without a hint of shame or awareness that his actions could be viewed as anything other than heroic.
Although most of the council is stunned into silence, Benton tells Izacall through gritted teeth that Redwall can defend itself as well as it always had, and that judging a beast by anything other than their character always led to ruin. Redwall's warrior warns him that if the squirrel did not disband his army immediately, Benton would take action personally.
Izacall storms out of Redwall in a huff. He had always heard of Redwall as a place of shelter and security, which in his mind he had twisted into a fortress against all vermin kind. More than a few Redwallers had thoughts of joining him, but wouldn't dare so much as mention them in Benton's presence.
A few days later, Izacall, in a passionate display, gives a speech to his followers, now numbering several thousand. He announces that they would not rest until Mossflower was free of vermin for all time. The squirrel called upon all freedom-loving woodlanders to join his ranks, for a Grand March, first to the south, then to Salamandastron, to gain their support, then all throughout the rest of Mossflower. He promised that eventually the Army of Mossflower would not only rid Mossflower of vermin forever, but also wipe the Confederation off the map and deal with vermin in Southsward as well.
The Army sets out on a long march from Redwall to the south.
A week later, a small force of vermin under a weasel named Bomal launches an attack against Izacall's forces. While seemingly suicidal, Bomal's village is directly in the path of the squirrel's crusade, and the weasel is willing to do anything to slow it down. Most of Bomal's allies are killed in the resulting skirmish, although the weasel himself survives (sans his left eye), forced to go on the run as Izacall's trackers try to hunt him down. More importantly, the villagers were able to flee deeper into the woods.
Receiving news of these events back at Redwall, Roven is of course appalled, and wants to put a stop to Izacall's rampage immediately. He knows that Redwall does not have the power to combat the squirrel themselves, and so resolves to travel to Salamandastron to plead with Lord Rockstripe to come to the aid of the helpless. And if the Badger Lord will not stop Izacall, Roven vows to find someone who will.
Telenor fears that his brother will most likely side with Izacall, but he decides to travel alongside his friend, in the hopes that Rockstripe will be willing to listen to him if not to the stoat.
In the Domain, Arlow comments privately to some of his admirals that it would be wise to support Izacall covertly, at least until Rockstripe made his position clear. His equivalents in the Confederation find the presence of a militant anti-vermin warlord on the mainland worrying, but are too divided to do anything about it.
Weeks later, Bomal finally recovers enough from his wounds to get to work.
After briefly checking on his family, Bomal begins to seek out allies who will fight against Izacall. Many vermin mercenaries, veterans of the Lowlands War, have the secrets to stormpowder making, and aren't blind to the fact that Izacall presents a clear threat.
Small "hordes", Juska clans, and surviving Flitchaye and Painted Ones are untrustworthy and hard to work with, but desperate times call for strange alliances. Although the weasel finds sea vermin even more distasteful than most of his allies, Bomal seeks out agents of the Confederation to purchase weapons. He has little to offer himself, but several opportunistic warlord contribute their treasure in the hopes of securing advanced armaments.
By the end of the season, bolstered with refugees fleeing Izacall, Bomal's army has set up camp in the eastern Lowlands, and are ready to take the fight to Izacall.
Roven and Telenor had in the meantime traveled to Salamandastron. Despite a heated debate, Rockstripe and the Long Patrol commanding officers are unwilling to commit to fighting Izacall unless he posed a threat to "goodbeasts". Disgusted, Roven does not return to Redwall, but instead sets of on his own.
Unbeknownst to him or Telenor, the Long Patrol had been providing weapons to Izacall when he was forming his army, but he had cut off that support after reports of the massacre of the Flitchaye. He knows that Izacall will come calling one day, seeking a full alliance, and he has no idea what he will do.