Chapter Seven
'Redwall'
Mervo went to the archives to return the books he had borrowed. Uggo and Posy were obviously in a bad mood, but gladly welcomed him, and obviously felt bad for the young fox, since he had gone through his troubles. As Mervo was pulling the books out of his bag, he realized he had forgotten about the script he found in Saint Ninian's.
"Mr. Wiltud," he said, pulling out the old script. "I found this scroll in Saint Ninian's. Do you have any idea what it means, I don't know the language, though I wish I did."
Uggo looked at the scroll for a few seconds., then laughed. "See, Posy! I knew I'd be glad I learned Ancient Badger! Listen, Mervo. Come back tomorrow. I should have translated it by then."
Mervo nodded. "Thank you."
Uggo smiled at the young fox. "It's good to see the future is in good hands. You remind of one in the stories here, a young mouse called Saxtus."
"I remember Saxtus. I always liked him, because he was similar. His diary helped me a lot the past days."
"Hmmm... Before you go, I want to show you something I gathered from your father's contribution. It's very interesting, and I think it pertains to the badger script. It was written by your great-great-grandfather, the one from Gulo's horde."
He pulled an old scroll in his own language from a shelf he had seen his father observe many a time, and handed it to Mervo.
My name is Zêrin, Mervo read, I served in Gulo the Savage's army, something I will always regret. My friends have all passed, and I ran away. Something is pulling me to go out and kill. It reminds me of what I have heard of the badgers' bloodwrath, though this is constant, yet not overwhelming. I have found the remains of an old church. There I have found some ancient badger script that I believe could save myself and my descendants if I have any.
So now I change myself. I change myself, in order to give me a choice, like the goodbeasts in Redwall Abbey.
In order to do so, I must break the pull. This is my story..."
'The Past, The Sand Dunes'
Zêrin the fox hiked across the shore, his perilous journey now complete. His yearn for blood urged him to plunder and turn back, but he pushed it down. Unless he succeeded, the wrath would overcome him. So he must do what needs to be done. He must find the source.
There was the mighty mountain Salamandastron. He must go through it, unlock its secrets, without being slain by Lady Melesme and her hares, or letting his wrath overcome him. A difficult plan, but necessary.
He must. For him, and all those descended from him.
He followed the instructions of the ancient Badger Scroll. He would need to find a secret pathway into the mountain, one forgotten in time and story. Weaving through the dunes, he felt around at them until he a hard rock underneath the golden sand. He brushed with all his might, and the sand sifted away, revealing a secret passageway. He crawled through the ancient wooden door, revealing an old emerald mine that used to belong to shrews. He walked along the old, rusted rails when he found the minecart.
The mine was dark and eerie, with strange clicks every now and then. Cobwebs decorated the wall, and he worried, what if there are spiders in here?
He passed an old minecart, the rickety thing rusted and filled with small skeletons of shrews that could not escape. The mine had been victim of a horrendous gas leak, which was caused by an explosion from Salamandastron. Zêrin was staring at the skeletons as he walked forward. When he turned back, he found eight black eyes glaring at him.
"Heeeeellooooo," clicked the tarantula with a scratchy voice, her many eyes glaring at the fox and legs moving slowly. "The pooooint-eeeears-foooour-leeeegs is whiiiite... whaaaat coooould it meeeean? I've nooooot beeeeen up theeeere for fiiiiivescoooore seeeeeeasons, suuuurviiiiiving on thoooose thaaaat iiiiinfeeeest myyyyy miiiiind. Liiiiike pooooint-eeeears-foooour-leeeegs, even whiiiite-furred ones..."
Zêrin stepped back in fear. "Wait! What can I do? I've come so close, there must be something!"
"Yooooooou could aaaanswer myyy riiiiidllle. I woooould looooove tooo seeeeeee a creeeeeature thaaaat cooooould aaaaaanswer myyyy riiiiidle."
At least I have a chance, thought Zêrin, before he heard the riddle.
I am the king, but weak I am,
The target of the battle,
I am the queen, just as strong,
I am a soldier, weaker I am,
I am a knight, a brave and agile one,
I am a priest, I am wise in my attacks,
I am a castle, brave and arrogant,
We fight to death, to kill the enemy.
Zêrin gaped. This could be anything! A kingdom. Yes... that would make sense. What enemy though? I suppose an enemy kingdom, but they wouldn't always fight to death, no, they would try diplomacy, wouldn't they? And why would the king be weak? Ohh...
Zêrin wondered if it could be a specific kingdom, so he tried to recall all his experience with kingdoms, even his chess games, but he could find nought. What about Gulo? He was strong, but weak in the mind. And always fought to the death. And... no! He wasn't necessarily a king, and there was no queen. And how could a castle have any personality? No...
The tarantula clicked in hunger, causing the fox to jump back again. Zêrin tried to look at the words used to describe. Weak. Maybe not in power, just in physique. And the queen would be exactly the same, just the king's the target. And the soldiers are also weak. But the knights are agile? Aren't knights covered in heavy armor? And since when does a priest attack, and a castle doesn't have personality traits! Unless it's in some ridiculous story or game!
Then the answer hit him. He knew it was risky, but it accounted for everything. "Chess!" he shouted. "The game of Chess!"
The tarantula glared at him, and for a second he thought he would be devoured. Then there was a few fang clicks, and she walked back away, whispering, "Goooood jooooob. You are a smaaart fox."
Zêrin smiled with relief. Then he ran down the opposite fork the tarantula went through, until he came across a light.
At last he found it. A room he knew was part of Salamandastron. There was a treasury, gold, jewels, armor, and weapons. There was a badger here, his inscription marked Urthstripe. A great beast with tremendous power.
Zêrin felt a deep pull of greed to steal the treasure, but logic cut in. He must do this. So he pressed on. He found a large emerald, mounted on a golden pillar, and pushed it into a mold in the wall. A few rocks gave, revealing yet another passage. He walked through. There was a perfectly circular room, the rock completely black, as if he was staring into a starless night sky. In the middle of the room was a still burning torch mounted on a staff, it had remained burning for all these years, the flame a brilliant ice blue. Zêrin tried to blow it out, even though the badger script told him it would be impossible. Surrounding the torch in a circle were the Seven Stones of Xeymar.
For is not seven the most magical number? Seven music notes, seven days of a week, and seven phases the moon shows itself with, and the one where it vanishes from the sky. They say Xeymar was the seventh son of the seventh son. Yes, seven is a magical number.
Zêrin placed his paw on the blue fire. His paw ignited, but the fire was not burning him, but was rather cool, as if he had jumped in a pond on a hot day. The fire spread across him, until it had enveloped his entire body.
The fire dissipated, leaving Zêrin different. His fur was clean, his eyes were brighter, and he felt a score of seasons younger. But there was a greater, more important difference.
He felt something. He was now in complete control of himself. Then he laughed. And he was filled with such mirth, he started singing. Not a song of death or war, but of joy.
Oh, I am free, I feel I could fly like a bee,
The joy, the joy, I am free, not a toy.
Not controlled by some mythical spell,
Oh, what a tale I have to tell.
I am Freeeeeeeeeee!
(Author's Note: This is not Zêrin's full story. I plan to make a story about that, but not at the moment. This is just what matters for this story.
Also, just before somebody calls me out on this, I want to say that way back when, the queen was exactly the same as the king in terms of movement in Chess.)
The Great South Stream
"Here come the rapids!" called out a captain of the first logboat.
Vermin of Vafír's horde screamed in fear. The feral cats backed up to the center of the boat as the rapids splashed fierce water at them. The WROOTS, however, were skilled waterbeasts. With practiced ease they navigated through the fierce waters. Vafír stood up, making sure the rats were keeping strong.
The logboat in front of them crashed into the water, wood shattering everywhere. Pieces and screaming vermin were cast out through dark tunnels into the mountains, or just vanished under the foaming water, never to rise again.
"What a pity," whispered Vafír phlegmatically.
General Zäev twiddled his thumbs. The Pine Marten was bored, there was nobody of his rank to talk to. Griv and Darkblood were at Redwall, probably enjoying plenty of action. While he was stuck on a boat bored.
"Bloodtoe!" he called to a gray rat captain.
The gray rat looked back at him. "What, General?"
"Think we'll see any action?"
The rat chuckled. "Heh. When we get to Salamandastron, I hope."
"Hahah!" laughed the Pine Marten. "Listen. You're a good, solid rat, Bloodtoe. You do well and you could be a general like me.
The rat's eyes shined. "What would you like me to do?"
oooooooooooo
Vafír polished his sabre. He knew that a good warrior must have a good sword, so he took utmost responsibility in lovingly caring for the weapon every hour. He cleaned the blade, then sharpened it with the whetstone, then cleaned the inside and outside of his scabbard thoroughly, made sure the sword easily slid in and out of it, made sure the scabbard wasn't placing too much pressure on the blade, made sure the sword fit comfortably in the scabbard and didn't jostle around, and then polished everything.
"Argizt!" he called out to one of the WROOTS. "When do we reach Salamandastron?"
The rat shrugged. "I've never been to no Salamandastron. I no do nothing but follow orders."
Vafír knew the rat had contradicted himself twice, but knew what he was trying to say. "Well, then find somebody that does!"
The rat scampered away and got the captain of the ship, a tall rat with with a long goatee. "Well," he said. "I feel I should be honored, Silvertung asking me for help."
Vafír stared blankly at the statement. "When will we reach Salamandastron?"
"Seven moon-falls. Mebbe more, mebbe less. We'll see."
Vafír nodded. "Hmmm... What's your name?"
"Captain Occisor."
"Well, Occisor. I have a question. You know anything between here and the mountain?"
"Not much. Mountains, the swamplands of course, and a few other things. We won't have much trouble." The rat spread a map across the table. "Well the swamplands might be a small problem."
Vafír placed a paw on where they would be, and dragged it down the river to the shore. "What if we sail down the coast, and get closer to the mountain?"
"Then the waves will crush the logboats."
"Ah. So we'll have to fight the toads?"
"Looks like it."
"Any way we can go faster?"
"Nope."
"So let's start working on our plan of how to fight those toads. Maybe we could get them on our side?"
"No! They're savage beasts!"
"Perfect."
The Great South Stream
Findelo Gonfelin the Wandering Bard was a joyful mouse, and true to his name, enjoyed wandering, singing, and eating. He had played at Redwall, Salamandastron, Noonvale, Castle Floret, and many other places. The fellow was waltzing through the mountains singing a ditty and playing his lute when he saw Anera's boat.
"'Lo, there! What are you doing sailing through the mountains alone?"
Anera chuckled. "I must do a mission."
"What sort of mission could this be?"
"I'm from the Redwall place. We're in danger, and I received a warning from Martin the Warrior."
"Ah! Redwall. Great tuck there. Hmmm... The Martin chap helped found the place, did he not? So did my ancestor. Anyway, could it be all those vermin that sailed past here? They were followed by a squirrel. Heh. They were watched by a squirrel that was watched by me."
"Possibly." Could the squirrel be Prince Tharius? "They came down this stream?"
"They did. Well you better go. But rest assured," the mouse grinned, "I'll be there to help if there's trouble."
Anera laughed as she sailed away. With her mirth she failed to notice the fierce rapids as her little boat failed to endure their wrath.
Painted Ones' Camp
Tharius repeated their plan in his head. Climb the tree. Then Hurqu rams through the prison hut and attacks the rat holding the rope around my neck. Once I can run, I jump down, and go to the tall oak with my claymore and bow with arrows, and Hurqu's grippers and axe. Note to self: What on earth are grippers? Then, we fight are way to freedom. Don't get killed or recaptured. Those are the rules.
"What are grippers?" asked Tharius.
Hurqu chuckled and held up his hooves. "How do ye expect meh teh hold anaythang with these?"
Tharius laughed. Then the door to the hut opened, and a painted one walked in, a sneer on his face. He through a rope over Tharius's neck and yanked the squirrel outside, then closed the door behind him. Tharius tried to loosen the rope, but the rat just tightened it, causing Tharius to choke.
The painted one yanked Tharius next to a tall sycamore. It looked quite enough, but Hurqu said there was some, thing, up there.
Hundreds of Painted Ones crowded around the sycamore, including the royal family. The one with the rope around his neck pointed upwards. "Yousa go up dere! Getta Golden One! Makeus happyhappy!"
Tharius sighed and gripped on to the tree. His paws firmly gripped the tree as he climbed. This was a squirrel's natural place, not in a dungeon. He felt so relaxed that he nearly forgot about the rope around his neck. He entered through the leaves. The green leaves shrouded him as he heard the the painted ones shouting ("Heeza vanished! Makeasure rope is tight!"). He searched through the branches, and in the center he saw a small golden statue of rat standing pompously. It was crudely carved, but it was definitely the Golden One. He grabbed it, just in case.
"Aiiiiieeeeee!" he heard the call of the Painted Ones. He felt the rope go loose as the Painted One let go as Hurqu blasted him with his horns. Laughing, Tharius caught sight of the tall oak a couple trees away and leaped.
As he was in the air curved yellow talons gripped his shoulder. A ferocious mountain eagle grabbed him and flew upwards. This was the beast up the tree. "Yaah! The squirrel thinks he can steal from Faro Goldenbeak? He shall pay!"
Tharius struck upward with the golden statue, catching the bird in the leg. It staggered and its hold on Tharius lessened, but remained secure. He kept striking, and the bird stabbed with its beak, a midair fight.
It looked as if the bird wood win. High in the air, Tharius was losing badly, blood pouring from his wounds. He kept striking, but there was less vigor in his attack. Tharius tried a desperate last strike. He smashed it down on his shoulder, crushing the birds talons. Faro screeched and dropped Tharius, as the squirrel fell to the ground.
Tharius let the statue fall, but regaining his vigor he grabbed a branch on the tall oak. He winced as his arm was pulled, but held on.
He clambered down and found the entrance. Hurqu would lose the fight soon without help. He found his claymore and bow with arrows, and the goat's axe and grippers. They were a pair of wooden molds with hooks that were controlled from the inside, so Hurqu could open and close the hooks.
He grabbed them and rushed out. Hurqu charged at him, fear in his wild eyes. The Painted Ones were closing in on him, so Tharius hastily grabbed the gripper and shoved them over his hooves. He passed the axe, which fit in the hooks well.
"Thanks," said the goat. "But what cud weh do. We're surrounded."
"We give them a fight they'll remember!" called Tharius, brandishing his claymore.
The two friends charged into the mêlée, slashing and hacking. Hurqu had tremendous power. His fighting was such a force that Tharius was forced to fall back and attack the rats on the end. The goat barraged forward, smashing with his hooves, hacking with his axe, and goring with his horns. The rats pushed each other in front as the goat fought, trying to reach the royal family. Red mist filled his eyes and a wrath overcame him, and he charged with all might, blasting through the soldiers.
Faro dived down, striking three rats out of the battle. He stared with his fierce golden eyes at Tharius. "Yaah! The squirrel will pay for stealing and hurting Faro Goldenbeak! Yes! Die!"
The eagle charged at Tharius, but he had no space to take off and charged on his feet, allowing the squirrel to nimbly bound away. "Hurqu! This is our chance to leave! Run!"
But the goat was beyond reason. He had made it to the royal family and hefted the female and through her at the eagle, and Faro caught her on his talons. He lifted the male, and laughed maliciously. "Haharr! ye'll pay fer yer crimes!" And with that he beheaded the rat with his axe.
The child ran away from his dead parents. "Pwotect Me! Now!" he called, four rats coming to guard him.
"Come!" called Tharius. "RUN!" Tharius bounded off, hoping his friend would follow.
Tharius voice seemed to bring Hurqu back to reality. Shaking his head, the goat charged back the other way through the horde, trying to escape the vast amount of Painted Ones. The goat charged forward, making sure he didn't go berserk again. "Haway the Braaaaaaaaaaw!"
With that warcry the hordes seemed to be unsettled. They backed away, desperate to avoid his wrath. Hurqu ran forward, killing any unfortunate beast that got in his way. His charge broke through their ranks and he ran through Mossflower. He kept charging on, looking back and laughing.
He charged right into Tharius, who was standing still. And they both fell into The Great South Stream.
