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Chapter 35. Dancer in a Daydream

by Fjord

"You little–" Fjord bounded after Dittany down the hall, paw extended and grasping for the bushy red tail just out of reach.

How dare she, the hare thought. The brazen maiden had no right to stick her nose into his business. And the cheek of her! Waving a letter about in my face, then stealing it away as a 'reward' for being a good little bunny. 'Arrogant' was too kind a descriptor. He ducked down and used his powerful hindquarters to propel himself in a grand leap.

"Hah! Got yo–" Dittany ripped open a door and scampered through. She didn't bother to close it. "Oh, dear." Fjord writhed through the air, slamming into the wood shoulder-first and managing to grasp the handle with his left paw. His momentum flung him around and back, the crashing door covering the crack that rattled him to his teeth as he made the fascinating discovery that a stone wall was quite a bit harder than his head.

Before he had time dwell on the full magnitude of this fantastic revelation, another crack, this one outside and accompanied by a chorus of delighted screams, caught his attention. Discombobulated as he felt, the fire dancer managed to turn the handle the right direction on his fourth valiant attempt and–

A monstrous adder blocked the way, a macabre smile stretching across its yellow maw. Just beyond, the hare could make out a group of at least three shades that flickered and dissolved, whispers haunting the space they had occupied. "Hsss. You don't want to go in there, Fjord. You never know what you might sssee."

"W-wot?" Fjord fell back, darkness sweeping the venerable corridors of Redwall Abbey into the abyss and leaving only the doorway and serpent behind. It slithered forward, scales caressing the shadows like a lover.

"It'sss time to wake up now." The thing's tongue brushed his whiskers, and Fjord shuddered, pulling away. The adder mirrored him, withdrawing, and bunching its coils into a gold and black S of reptilian muscle. "Wake up!" It sprung.

O~O~O

"No!" Fjord screamed and started up from the ground, his head smacking into something that cried out.

"Ack!"

"Argh!" The fire dancer's eyes popped open as he clutched at his throbbing noggin, and he saw a stoat cradling his chin to the right. "I-I think I'm going to be sick." The hare rolled over and heaved the contents of his stomach onto the ground. He coughed, spat, and then wiped away the drool oozing down his face. "I say... koff... that's the last time I... koff... listen to a fox about a river crossing, wot. Koff!"

"Urgh... Stay here, I'm going to go check on the others."

Fjord had no intention of doing anything for the next several minutes save breathing... and shivering. Even with the midday sun making his best go at a sizzling spring day, the light breeze stroking the hare's fur chilled him more effectively than the water ever had. After pawing at his mouth a few more times and taking a tentative poke at the growing lump between his ears, Fjord looked up and around, rubbing his arms for warmth.

Three or four badger-lengths away, Dànaidh was hauling himself along the bank. If his quills could reflect his misery, the hare suspected they would be lying as limp as a week-old daisy chain. The hedgehog let his snout drag along the ground, not bothering to keep it up. He found an appropriately scenic patch of weeds and mud to die in and collapsed, coughing.

Nice to know the brute can be beaten, the fire dancer sneered, then gave himself a mental slap. I say, Fjord, old chap, bad form! Downright mean-spirited, wot. Fellow deserves an apology for that sort of perfidious pondering.

Further on, the stoat with a chin of iron – Ironchin, there's a name for a vermin chap. – was helping Alastia stagger up the shore while Hector pulled Thera and Silver out of the water, the kit intertwined with the vixen's skirt and tail. The other way, the Gergregs each had one of Envie's arms and were lugging him out.

"Hahah!" The hare jerked his head toward the abrupt bark of laughter and regretted the decision. The world spun and he narrowly avoided keeling over by snatching a clump of some squishy thingummy or other and using it to steady himself.

Two heads had popped out of the water and proceeded to shore – one rodent and one otter. Juniper seemed to be unconscious, but when Ironchin called out to the fellow beside the otter – the words lost on the hare's waterlogged ears – Fjord returned his gaze to the ground. A sense of vertigo had come over him again, and if throwing up on a full stomach was unpleasant, throwing up on an empty stomach would be about as enjoyable as digging out his eyes with a spoon.

Sound came in booms, splashes, and whistles, nothing making much sense, but nothing to worry him, either. Eventually, the hare felt his tummy settling down and thought, Best have a look at the others.

Fjord worked his way to his footpaws a little at a time, settling for loping on all-fours as he made his way over to Dànaidh. The hedgehog lay still. "Er... Dànaidh?" the hare tried. Nothing. He carefully prodded the fighter's cheek. "Dànaidh, sah? Can you hear me? I say, can you even feel this, Dàni?" Another prod. "I'd always wondered, wot. I mean you're covered in rather pokey bits, aren't you? Reckon after a few seasons you'd become immune, eh?" Yet another prod, enough to rock the fellow's head to one side. "But then that wouldn't do. Wot if you sat on your own quills, eh? Bit more than bruises there–"

Dànaidh snatched Fjord's paw before he could deliver another blow. "Ye keep jabbin' me in th' 'ead 'n' squawkin' in me ear, lad, 'n' I'm like as nae t' test yer immunity t' quills." He let go and managed to lurch into an upright position. "Guh! I've nae felt s' much like shite since I wen' three rounds wi' Mousekind 'n' 'is Beauteous Brawler. Now there was a beastie on'y a mudder could love. 'Beauteous' my arse."

"Right!" The hare said, grinning broadly. The perfect segue, sort of. "Well! I once challenged Carmen the Flame to a... Well, to a tap-off on hot coals! Lost. But! She-she was quite a bit older, you have to understand, wot! And I was... Hah! I was... Well, I-I was there. And I tapped. And it was very hot... It's like your fighting, then, eh? All running about and tumbling! See? You're a relatable chap. Everybeast's had his share of scuffles and scrapes." He raised his paws and threw a few mock punches for emphasis.

Dànaidh stared at him with a look of such complete bewilderment that Fjord worried the whirlpool might have knocked a few of the rocks between the hedgehog's ears loose. Then, he blinked and rubbed his forehead. "Did ye get brained on th' way down, longears? What are ye on about? Is there anybeast else alive? Did ye even check." He snorted. "Tappin'!"

'Give a chap a paw, and he's like as not to slap you with it.' M'am Lura certainly had that right, wot! Fjord grit his teeth and put on his best fake smile, determined to win the boor over after such a spineless shot earlier. "Looks to be everybeast made it out all right. Even a few new additions. A stoatly fellow and a few... erm... squirrels, I think they are, over that way. They brought Jun–"

"What!"

The exclamation set the hare's fur on edge. He wanted to leap away, so very far away from the owner of that voice, but he couldn't for the life of him understand why – Cecil was his friend.

Dànaidh raised an eyebrow and Fjord voiced their collective assessment of the situation. "Sounds like trouble, eh, wot?"

"Oh, we got trouble. With a capital T, and that rhymes with B, which stands for Bastard." It was Gergreg, alone. The pine marten extended a paw to Fjord, then Dànaidh, helping each of the woodlanders to stand.

"Where's Gergreg?" The fire dancer asked, looking around. He caught sight of the other marten twin sitting beside Envie, his hat in his paws and his head bowed almost to his knees. Gergreg's lips were pulled back and down, his eyes screwed tight, and his whole body shook every now and then... but, no sound escaped his muzzle.

That's wot sorrow looks like, Fjord realized with a gulp. That's wot Cecil must've looked like. And I wasn't there.

"What 'appened, la–"

"Envie's dead. Gergreg isn't taking it so well. They were more mates than me. Come on."

Hector, Thera, Silver, and the stoat had already regrouped where Cecil and – Oh, Fates... It's her! – Aya stood, sopping wet and shouting at Juniper.

"–you were playing dead?" the squirrelmaid snarled as Fjord, Dànaidh, and Gergreg shuffled over. "You little..." She made as if to strangle him, but Cecil grabbed her.

"I had to make it dramatic," Juniper protested, raising his shoulders and opening his arms. "You, by the way, were fantastic! I mean, I've seen a lot of heroines, but that performance... You put many an otter to shame today, miss."

"I say, why all the commotion?"

"Fjord?"

"W-wot ho, Cec?" He raised his paw up in a half-hearted salute.

"I'll tell you what the commotion is!" Aya interrupted before the bard could reply, shoving his paws away. "This idiot was playing at being trapped and half-drowned. If I'd known it was a bloody otter I was rescuing sooner, I'd have bloody well let him drown!"

"Did you have to play the damsel in distress, June?" Hector had one paw clasped over his eyes as he shook his head. "Why not the hero?"

"A real hero wouldn't let Envie get killed," Gergreg put in, casting a glance behind to where his brother grieved.

"Envie's dead?"

"Who's Envie?"

"Is he green?"

All glares turned to Cecil. "D-dearly sorry. Simply trying to lighten the mood."

Fjord reached over and tapped the squirrel thrice upon his head. "How does a bard have such bad timing, old top?"

"Er..."

"So, this Envie's dead because Aya and Cecil were saving the otter?" Ironchin asked. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think? He might've died anyway. Rather large whirlpool out there, if you hadn't noticed."

"We have an otter with us," Gergreg growled. "Nobeast should've drowned today."

"He has a fair point," Fjord agreed. "Speak up, then, Juniper, sah. Wot d'you have to say for yourself?"

The otter blinked, grinned, and then sprang to attention with a salute. "Sah! I was just doing my duty as a member of Hector's Acting Troupe, sah! Had to put on a blinkin' brilliant performance for the audience, sah! Can't let them down, sah! Would bring shame 'pon the family name, sah!"

The hare bristled, but Silver was the one to issue a reprimand, balling his small paws into fists and baring his teeth. "He's dead, Juniper!" the ferret cried, voice rising to a hoarse squeak. "For good."

"What? But..." The otter's brows knit together and his lower lip began to tremble. "But Envie never dies until Act II."

Fjord, Gergreg, and Aya moved as one, lunging forward to beat some sense into Juniper's criminally ignorant head. But at the last moment, the hare froze, and it was the marten and squirrel who tackled the otter and began laying into him. Fjord stared at his fist. It was shaking, but no longer with anger. Dànaidh was there in a second, grappling with Gergreg and flinging him off before dealing with Aya.

"That's enough o' that!" the hedgehog bellowed. "Don't jist stand there like a stump, longears! 'Old 'im!" The dancer's head snapped around, and he saw Gergreg picking himself up from the ground. Rage dripped from every fur on the marten's hide, forming a fiery glow about him and shining through his eyes as tears.

Gergreg jumped at Juniper again with a feral howl, but Fjord caught him mid-leap and threw him back down. The marten's fury did not terrify the hare so much as the otter's deranged insistence that life was nothing more than a play. Envie was just the first casualty. Who else would miss the curtain call?

"Sorry, old chap," he apologized sitting on the marten and pinning his arms. "J-just hold tight for a moment, eh? He deserved that box 'round the ears, but you don't want to kill him."

"Rrrargh!"

"Weeeell... maybe you do. Best not, though. Losing two friends and seeing his brother become a murderer in the same day might just break poor old Gergreg's heart in two, wot." That quieted the fellow. He quit jerking like a fish on a line and settled for biting the grass near his head.

Fjord turned his attention to Dànaidh as he wrestled Aya from Juniper's prone form. Hector rushed forward as soon as she was off to drag the otter up and away from the combatants.

"Calm down, lass! I dinnae want t' 'urt ye."

"Let go of me, hedgepig!" she growled, squirming in his grip. "He started this!"

"Aye, 'n' I'm endin' it."

Another few seconds of thrashing about seemed to cool the blood in her veins. Aya's flailing diminished to the odd twitch, giving way to impatient footpaw tapping. The hedgehog released her, and at the same time, Fjord stood and helped Gergreg up. Thera had run down the shore to comfort Gergreg, Hector and Silver were tending to Juniper, and Alastia was shaking her head at the whole affair.

"Well, that was exciting," Ironchin said after the relative silence had stretched to an uncomfortable length. "I'm Shelton, by the by. That's Cecil, and the lovely lady is Aya. How do you do?"

"Tch!" Gergreg sneered and stomped away.

"I see."

"Er... sorry about that, Shelton. Fjord, wot. Hector, Silver, Juniper, Dànaidh, Alastia, the vixen's Thera, and that was Gergreg." He indicated each of them in turn.

Shelton cocked his head to the side and point toward Gergreg, Thera, and Envie. "But I thought I heard you say that he was Gergreg."

"Well, yes. That's a bit... They're both named Gergreg, you see."

"What?"

"Please, don't ask," Silver interjected. "I did once, and I've regretted it ever since. We're all a bit mutton-headed at nine, though."

"Anyway, lucky you chaps came along, I suppose." Fjord smiled, then scratched his cheek. "Though I'm afraid your rescue efforts were just a bit of a waste. Sorry."

"What were you doing on the river anyway?" Aya demanded. She paused pressing her lips together, then stabbed a claw at Fjord. "Ah, there you are!"

The dancer saw her reaching for her pocket and immediately grabbed Cecil's arm, twirling him into a hug so that he was in between the vengeful squirrelmaid and the hare. "Cec! So good to see you. And you as well, Ms. Aya. I was coming back for those scones, honestly! Just-just got a bit sidetracked, wot! But you're here now, so I can get them later. Dead polite of you to come all the way out here to deliver them. But first I must engage in a very serious discussion with my most bosom friend, Cecil. Two more ticks, eh?" Still using him as a living shield, Fjord dragged Cecil up the bank and into a small stand of trees that provided minimal cover.

"I am quite glad to see you too, Fjord," the squirrel said once the hare came to a standstill, eyeing the other group over the bard's shoulder. "But, if you would not mind letting go of me, it would be much appreciated... as you happen to be very cold."

"Oh! Right. Sorry, old top." He peeled himself off and stepped back, rubbing his neck. "Burns a bit bright over old coals, that one."

"More like rages to an inferno at the hint of a breeze." A tiny smile was tugging at Cecil's whiskers. "Oh! I might use that."

"You sly, old fellow. You like her!"

"What? No! She is entirely too..." The squirrel flapped his paws and frowned, but after a moment he reconsidered, adding, "Her tail is rather nice when it is dry, though. Not that I have been looking!"

"You squirrels and your tails," the hare scoffed. "Now for me, it's all about Mary's... Mary!"

"Is something the matter?"

"How could I have been so stupid! The water must've... Oh, Hellgates!" The hare withdrew the sodden lump of paper from his pocket. "Maybe I can still..." He carefully peeled it open, but it was hopeless. Most of the ink had run together in an ebony smear across the bottom. All that he could make out was: 'Salamandastron', '-napping', 'rampant', 'sister', and 'scared'. "Her sister's rampant napping at Salamandastron has her scared? Well, anybeast would be terrified. That gel's snoring could raze mountains. No, you idiot. That's rubbish! Complete rubbish! Blast it!" He threw the letter on the ground and almost stomped on it, but a firm grip on his forearm stayed his footpaw.

"Fjord, what has happened?"

"It's Mary." The dancer groaned, pulling his ears down and twisting them until it hurt. "She sent me a letter, that's why I had to leave, wot. But I didn't finish reading it, and now... She's in some sort of trouble, or her sister is, and I don't know what it is."

"Wait just a moment. The reason you have for leaving... is because o' Mary?"

"Wot?"

"Mary," the squirrel repeated, a hopeful grin working its way across his muzzle. "You are innocent. I knew it could not possibly be you. This is wonderful! Now you simply must come back with us to Redwall, and we can tell Skipper that you had absolutely nothing to do with Dittany's..." The squirrel sobered. "With Dittany's murder."

The fire dancer looked at his friend and finally saw the lines of sadness traced beneath his jovial façade. "I'm sorry, Cec. In all the madness, I'd forgotten that... Are you all right?"

"No." He shook his head, frowning. "But when we, in fact, do find who did this, and we fetch him back to Redwall, and I watch him hang for what he did..." He muttered something else the hare could not make out beneath his breath, then finished, "I will be."

All the moisture in Fjord's mouth turned to ash as the meaning of the bard's words dawned on him. "You were sent from Redwall?"

"Well, not necessarily me, more so Ms. Aya and Mr. Shelton," the squirrel clarified. "I left of my own accord and met them shortly after. You see, they happen to be after some sort o' reward Skipper offered for the capture of the acting troupe and the other suspects. Is that a prob–"

"You little brat!" Shelton yelled.

The bard and dancer blinked at each other, then, hurried down the slope to the rest of the group. Dànaidh had Aya in a headlock, and Juniper and Hector each held one of Shelton's arms. Silver had tried to make himself useful by tugging on the stoat's tail.

"Fjord, grab the squirrel!" Hector commanded when he saw the pair. "They're the Skipper's pet trackers."

"Release Ms. Aya this instant!"

"I said grab him, hare!"

"S-sorry, old top." Before Cecil could resist, Fjord grasped the squirrel's wrists and spun him around so that he was held tight against the hare's chest, arms crisscrossed and down. For the first time, Fjord was grateful that they were all soaked. The trick wouldn't have worked with Cecil's bushy tail waving about.

O~O~O

"Fjord, why are you doing this?" Cecil asked, the confusion on his face lashing the dancer like a fire whip. "I thought we were friends."

Fjord grimaced, withdrawing for a moment before summoning the nerve to finish knotting the rope that held the bard to a tree. Juniper and Hector had already secured Aya and Shelton. "I'm sorry, Cec, but I have to get to Salamandastron. Mary's in trouble, and I can't..." Another wince. "You've lost your gel, old top. I can't lose mine."

"But I could help you," the squirrel whispered in earnest. "Please, come back with us for simply a day at the most. We merely need to show Skipper that you are innocent, then we can assist Mary. And find Dittany's murderer."

Cold water, much colder than the lake or river, sloshed about inside Fjord's stomach. "Cecil..." He couldn't give the squirrel a proper hug, so he had to settle for squeezing the bard's shoulder and pressing their foreheads together. "I'm sorry. Fates! I'm so sorry, Cecil. I promise, as soon as I know Mary's safe, I'll come back, and we'll find the monster who did this. Together, wot!"

"Fjord, hurry up," Hector called.

"Together," the dancer repeated, pulling away and rising. He glanced around at Hector and replied, "Almost finished." But instead of following after the fox as he retreated down the shoreline, Fjord reached into his pocket and produced a small blade. "Lucky you didn't stab me on the ride over here, you little villain," he muttered. Then, he leaned down again so that only Cecil could hear him. "This is one of Mary's throwing knives. I'm leaving it here for you." The dancer placed it on the ground just out of the reach of Cecil's footclaws.

"Why are–?"

"I have to come back for it," Fjord cut him off, straightening up. "So, you had better take good care of that, sah! Mary will know I've stolen it by now, wot. If you lose it, it'll be on my head–"

"Come on, Fjord!" This time it was June. The otter waved, a cheery, red smile plastered from ear-to-ear. Aya's pounding had once more tapped into the hidden fount of blood deep within the otter's nose, while Gergreg's fist had sealed his left eye shut. It was as though he had completely forgotten about Envie's death. "Don't want to lose the head start!"

Fjord took a step back, hackles rising. "He frightens me."

"Then why must you insist on going with them? Come back with us," the squirrel pleaded. "Let us prove that you are innocent."

The hare let his gaze linger on the bard. He could go back. He could make amends at Redwall before dashing off with a lot of strangers that he had known for a day and a half. He could let Mary wait that long, but...

"But why was he holding my paw?" The dancer looked at Juniper again. None of the troupe had explained that to him yet – how he came to be with the otter at the Abbey. He bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Cec."

Hector's Acting Troupe ran, and Fjord ran with them.