Redwall-centric chapter today. Some might see this as a filler chapter, but I do not, as I see it addressing at least one very important issue. Basically, the aftermath of the battle. Whatever the case, the chapter turned out quite well, the best chapter I've written for this fanfic for a little while. :)

Chapter 35

"I know what this thing is."

And with a decisive and rather proud motion, Linus slapped the curious crossbow that the Quorum of Warriors used on the table with a thump. Startled, both Abbot Isaiah and Skipper Rowe stared at it for a moment, then glanced questioningly up at the recorder squirrel.

Linus made a frustrated shrug. "We're in a siege, my son is missing, and life in this abbey has become more or less miserable for me." he stated, annoyed. "So...I found something to do to keep my mind off things, and that was identify what that thing is." he pointed a claw at the crossbow.

"But Linus," Rowe began, "we know wot it is. It's a crossbow, mate."

"Yes, but what type of crossbow?" Linus challenged. "I mean, none of us have ever seen a weapon quite like this one before, right?"

"Well..." Rowe began, searching for a defense.

"No, we have not, Linus." Isaiah remarked calmly to avoid argument, folding his arms in the process. "So, what have you learned my boy?"

"That it's a repeating crossbow." Linus said, and pulled out an old book from under one arm and opened it, starting to flip through the pages to provide evidence. "See, a Long Patrol sailor encountered one once many seasons ago, while visiting an island out in the southeast. The populace of the island had a small army that bore these weapons. The sailor was so fascinated by them that he managed to obtain one and brought it back to Salamandastron to study and possibly add to their armory. There, they were eventually able to create a copy of the crossbow that worked and everything, but they discontinued making any more after that, declaring that the weapons couldn't be built easily enough to arm their forces with." By this point, Linus had found the page he was looking for, and turned the book around so Rowe and Isaiah could see the text and accompanying illustration that was on it while continuing. "I know all of this because one of the Long Patrol hares of a later generation found one of the two repeating crossbows and made it his weapon of choice. He later visited Redwall in passing while on assignment and there he showed off the crossbow, how it worked, and explained how he came to have it. The abbey recorder at the time was dutiful enough to record all of that down on parchment for future reference."

Rowe studied the illustration on the page and compared it with the real crossbow. Despite a few minor differences, they were identical. "Aye, they're the same thing all right." he admitted, tugging at a whisker in thought.

"Did the Long Patrol find these repeating crossbows in any other lands?" the abbot asked curiously, fingering the crossbow on the table carefully.

"No, only on that one island." Linus admitted.

"Then 'ow did the Quorum o' Warriors managed t' get their claws on these things?" Rowe asked, puzzled.

Linus again shrugged. "Search me." he admitted. "Maybe that's something else I can investigate."

"We will welcome any and all new information you can give us, Linus." Isaiah remarked. "Thank you for sharing your discovery with us."

Linus nodded happily, collected his book but left the crossbow, and turned and left the abbot's study, closing the door behind him.

Isaiah looked at the crossbow left on his desk for a moment and sighed, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, it doesn't help much with our present situation, does it?" he asked aloud.

"No." Rowe agreed, walking around to stand on the opposite side of the desk from the abbot now. "That confounded army is still out there, waitin' for their chance t' slit our throats." he jerked his head at the window to indicate to the army hidden behind the abbey's wall outside. "But at least we were able t' 'old off their attack last night. 'tain't th' battle I was expectin'. They didn't really try." he shrugged. "I guess they just didn't expect us t' resist 'em so 'ard."

"But they are still there, and they could try again at any moment, this time with different, possibly better, tactics." Isaiah pointed out. He looked extremely worried. "Skip, judging from how they attacked last night, do you think Redwall could survive another attack?"

Rowe shrugged. "'twould depend on several things, Father Abbot." the otter admitted. "Mostly on wot they did, an' wot we're doin' at th' time. They'll probably try an' get th' jump on us again like they did last night, seein' that was where they caused th' most damage." he paused for a moment. "Personally, I'm just glad that they've given us th' time t' recover from last night's battle. We needed it."

"I'm sure you did." Isaiah said, and managed a grin. "You and the forces you rallied together performed well."

"I s'pose we did." Rowe agreed. He heaved a heavy sigh. "Although I wish we could've gotten more out of it, other than casualties on both sides, the right t' live through th' night, an' that." he jabbed a claw at the repeating crossbow.

Abbot Isaiah examined the device again. "How many of these were we able to capture, anyway?" he asked.

"Just th' one." Rowe replied. He hesitated for a moment. "'twas the one Charles used."

The abbot nodded in understanding, and fell silent for a moment. "Speaking of which, how is he doing?" the elderly mouse asked.

"Physically, he's fine." Rowe replied, sitting down in a seat that sat nearby and scooting it closer to the desk. "He slept th' rest of th' night after he passed out from th' stress, an' probably needed it. Sister Mint claims that she can't find a thing wrong with him." he paused. "I still worry about 'im, though. He...he wasn't at all actin' like himself when I got t' him Father Abbot. I don't know how he managed t' get through that battle alright in that state."

"And yet, he managed to slay...what...six foebeasts?"

"Seven. Not that anybeast's keepin' track. Not really somethin' t' be proud of, y'know."

"I know. Still...considering his age and especially his skills..."

"Aye, an' t' think I was tryin' t' get him t' use a sword when he volunteered t' 'elp. Didn't ever stop t' think 'bout makin' him an archer. Wish I had. Could've used another archer, an' there's no denyin' that he apparently has skill. And maybe things would've gone differently."

"And perhaps it would've." Isaiah agreed. "But now we need to make the best of the situation as it stands now."

"Aye, so we do, an' wot a boatload of a situation it is." Rowe agreed, standing up. "I need t' get back t' dealin' with that situation paws on. Be back later with any new news."

"Understood, Rowe." Isaiah said, as he thought about something. Rowe was nearly out of the study when he called for him to stop. "Uh, actually, Rowe, could you find Linus and send him back in here? I want him to look up something for me."

A little while later, Abbot Isaiah hobbled down to the Infirmary, leaning heavily on his cane as he went, a bundle of parchment clutched in one paw. Reaching the double doors leading into the room, he politely rapped upon it with one paw. There was a momentary pause, then the door opened a crack to permit Sister Mint to peer out.

"Father Abbot." she said, mildly surprised. "What brings you here?"

"I came to see Charles, I wish to speak with him about...about recent events." Isaiah explained politely. "May I come in and see him?"

"I suppose you may." Sister Mint said. "I don't know how successful you'll be, though."

"What do you mean? Isn't he awake?"

"He is, but...he won't talk to anyone."

"He won't?"

"No. Unless it's to that blooming sparrow."

Isaiah blinked. "What sparrow?"

"The sparrow you brought in here a few days back that I haven't been able to get back out ever since." Mint stated in annoyance.

"Oh." Isaiah remarked, having forgotten. "That sparrow."

"Yes, that sparrow! I can't get that bird to leave the room. It won't go near anyone, either. Except Charles. It apparently likes Charles."

"And you say that he's been...talking...to it?"

"Yes. But don't ask me what they're saying, as I can't begin to understand it."

"That is not surprising. It is my understanding that the sparrow language is extremely difficult for woodlanders such as us to comprehend, much less repeat. Few have ever mastered it."

"Charles has."

"Yes, very interesting." Isaiah said nodding. "Now, Sister Mint, if I may enter?"

Sister Mint held open the door for the abbot, who ambled inside. In the room, sitting in bed, tucked neatly under the covers, was Charles. He looked very depressed. However, he was awake at the moment, and speaking rapidly, and in remarkably fluent Sparra to the sparrow in question that was currently perched on the end of the bed. The two didn't notice the abbot making his way towards them.

Isaiah paused upon nearing the bed, not wanting to interrupt, and stood and watched the two creatures converse for a few moments. The old mouse was thoroughly impressed. Clearly there was much more to Charles than anyone had ever thought about the mouse. Finally, he cleared his throat to announce his presence. Both the young mouse and the sparrow immediately fell silent, and whirled around to look at the abbot, then moving almost at the same time, the sparrow took flight and flew up into the rafters to hide, while Charles quickly rolled over in the bed, facing away from the abbot, his ears folded back as if in shame.

Isaiah sighed, sensing the mouse's emotions. "Hello Charles." he greeted.

No response.

"I didn't know you spoke Sparra." the abbot continued, deciding to not get on topic right away. "I know very little of the language myself, but from what I heard, you speak it very well."

Charles still didn't respond, but Isaiah saw that the mouse's ears had gone a little redder, proving that he was listening. Heartened by this, Isaiah continued.

"What is the sparrow's name?" he asked. "They do have names, don't they? I wouldn't know, as it's been many generations since Redwall has made much contact with the sparrows in the loft, not since the times of Matthias the warrior. These days, they usually keep away. Wish I knew why. Fascinating creatures, sparrows, but we know very little about their culture now. Most of what has been learned in the past has been lost, buried in all those books Linus keeps in that gatehouse of his, long forgotten. It would be a great pleasure to get to relearn all of that and more some day. Perhaps that day will come soon."

Charles still didn't respond, but the abbot knew that he was listening. Isaiah sighed again, and pulled up a stool to sit upon.

"Charles, you must know why I am here." he said finally. "I wish to talk to you about the events that occurred last night."

He fell silent to give Charles a chance to talk. Instead, he heard the youth suddenly break down into tears, the sobs shaking his body gently. Isaiah felt his heart go out for the mouse, and placed a comforting paw on him.

"Charles, it wasn't your fault." he said.

"Yes it is." Charles mumbled back.

"No, it's not." the abbot persisted, momentarily pleased, at least, that Charles had finally spoken.

"Yes it is."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is!"

"No, it's..."

"YES IT IS!" Charles spun around to face Isaiah as he shouted the words as he looked at the abbot with guilty, tear-stained, eyes, breathing heavily from his outburst. Then, realizing what he had done, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned to look away from Isaiah again, ashamed, as a fresh bout of tears came on.

Isaiah said nothing, letting the mouse cry and vent his feelings.

Finally, Charles spoke again. "I killed them." he whispered, choking out the words with obvious regret.

Isaiah nodded, knowing he couldn't deny the truth. "Yes."

"How many?"

Isaiah sighed. "Seven."

"Seven...oh good seasons..." his crying redoubled for a moment. "I killed seven creatures in cold blood. Without even meaning to."

"You reacted in defense for yourself, for your fellow creatures on the walltops, and for the abbey." Isaiah stated sternly. "You did exactly what was expected of you. You can't blame yourself for that."

"I still killed them." Charles murmured, still not facing the abbot. "Nothing can change that."

"No." Isaiah agreed, and sighed again. "Charles, you've just had your first taste of war. Real war. You're struggling to cope with it."

Charles nodded. "I shouldn't have volunteered." he muttered in-between sobs. "I can't deal with it. All I want to do now is to...undo what's been done."

"But you can't, Charles. What has happened will stay with you. Forever. It has, in a way, scarred you for life. That's what being a warrior entails."

"I'll never forgive myself for what I did."

"Be that as it may, you can't blame yourself for what happened. As I said, you reacted to protect yourself, others, and this abbey, for all that is right. That is what a true warriors fights for. Whether they know it or not. You should really be proud for that much."

"But I'm not."

"I know. And it'll take time for you to see it. If you ever see it at all. The road ahead of you will not be easy, Charles. From this point onward, your life could very well be forever different. And you probably never will learn to forgive yourself for what happened. Instead, you'll be forever trying to rectify what wrongs you think you've committed. You are a warrior now. Whether you like it or not."

Charles was silent for a long moment. He sniffed, and turned to look at the elderly mouse finally. "Father Abbot," he began, "would it be all right if I asked for your forgiveness anyway?"

Isaiah smiled. "My dear boy, you've already gotten it."

As sad as he was, Charles couldn't help but grin. "Thank you, Father Abbot."

They were silent for a long moment. Then Isaiah decided it was time to approach a potentially even more delicate matter. "Charles, what do you remember about the battle?"

Charles was silent for a long moment, his eyes glazing over as the unwanted memories appeared before him against his will. He sniffed. "I...remember being afraid." he said softly. "Terribly afraid. I watched a creature die right before me." his eyes started to brim up with tears again, but he held them back. "Then I felt angry. After that...I can't remember everything. Just brief glimpses. Gruesome ones. Of...of..." he trailed off.

"You don't need to explain it to me." Isaiah said quickly.

Charles nodded. "I can't remember everything, though." he pressed. "I felt like...I was in a daze. Like...something else had taken over for me."

"The same thing happened, I believe, when you were practicing swordplay with Skipper Rowe before the battle, correct?" Isaiah asked.

Charles nodded.

Isaiah sighed yet again. It seemed to becoming a habit. "Charles, judging from a description of yourself that Rowe provided after the battle, before you passed out, I believe I know what came over you." he held up the bundle of parchments he had been holding in one paw during all of this. "It is a condition known as the Bloodwrath. Technically, it shouldn't be considered to be anything serious, but typically it causes a creature engaged in battle to...become extremely enraged, to loose all self-control. Bloodshot eyes, sometimes to the extent that red is all one sees, is a notable characteristic."

Charles looked apprehensive, and went to speak, but Isaiah motioned for him to be silent for a moment longer.

"It's exact effects vary upon the creature." Isaiah said. "Judging from what we know, your case is rather unique. Instead of simply going berserk, you seem to...gain a...heightened perception of what is going on, and react accordingly. It is, presuming I am correct, what enabled you to attack the enemy so skillfully as you did."

Charles was silent for a long moment, then asked the foremost question on his mind. "Is it bad, this, Bloodwrath?"

"It can be." Isaiah admitted. "Badgers are well known for having it, and become extremely dangerous creatures under it's influence. But it's not limited to them. Other creatures have been suggested to have it. According to legend, Martin the Warrior even suffered from it on occasion, but he generally kept it in check rather well."

"You think it can be controlled, then?" Charles asked, sounding hopeful.

"I know it can be controlled." Isaiah said, handing the parchments to the youth to look at. "I asked Linus to gather all the information he could on the Bloodwrath, and jot down some notes. It should tell you what you need to know about it."

Charles accepted the parchments and glanced through them. "Will it tell me how to prevent it from happening again?" he asked.

"It might." Isaiah admitted. "But that choice is up to you."

Charles looked at the parchments for a few moments, thinking. "I didn't want to be a warrior. Not like this."

"Few seldom do, Charles."

"But...what has happened...has happened. And there is no changing it, is there, Father Abbot?"

"I'm afraid not, my son."

Another long moment of silence fell. Finally, having done what he sought to do, Isaiah rose creakily to his footpaws and started to turn to leave. "I'll let you have some time to think about it." he said as he left. "Thank you for letting me speak my part, Charles."

Charles nodded. "Thank you for coming to speak your part, Father Abbot." he replied with a small grin of thanks.

In the encampment of the Quorum of Warriors, the otter commander was perplexed.

"I don't understand it." she muttered. "We outnumber them. We should have overpowered them, and won that battle last night. Instead, we were driven back."

"The wicked shall be punished for those actions." the weasel teacher commented confidently.

"Yes, but..." the otter commander shook her head. "I still don't understand. We should've won with a fraction of the effort we put into that battle...and yet we did not. Why has Gemini forsaken us?"

"Gemini has done no such thing." the weasel teacher pointed out sternly. "He would never forsake his loyal followers. There is a ulterior motive to what he has done. A lesson to be taught and learned from what happened the following night."

The otter commander thought about that for a moment. "Yes." she said. "Yes, of course. Forgive me for my rash thinking, teacher."

"You are forgiven, commander." the teacher remarked. "Now, what of the wicked abbeydwellers?"

"We will not give up." the commander stated. "They merely were lucky. We'll come up with another, better tactic and try again, and we will keep trying again until they have been defeated. That abbey will not continue to stand and mar this world that Gemini has provided for us while I am alive. You have my word on that."