Bat Mountpit
"So you were sent to find me?" asked Tharius, trying to make sure he heard correctly.
"Yes."
"But you lost the sword of a dead guy?"
"The Sword of Martin the Warrior! And it's vital we find it!"
Brockhammer shrugged. "Why? I can make one exactly like it."
Anera shook her head. "This sword was made by the greatest smith of all the time, and out of the metal of a fallen star. Besides, it is vital to Redwall."
Brockhammer whistled. "I don't have a fallen star, but, I sincerely don't mean to brag, I'm the greatest smith since my ancestor, Boar the Fighter."
Anera gave the badger an exhausted look. "It was made by Boar the Fighter."
Brockhammer looked embarrassed. "Ah."
"So, we need to find it!" Anera looked at the bats, hoping for an answer.
Whitefur shrugged. "You didn't have a sword when you floated in here. It must be at the bottom of the stream."
Anera frowned. "No, that can't be it."
The albino bat shrugged. I don't know what to tell you."
The mousemaid looked crestfallen. "No! I can't be the one to lose it! No!"
The others didn't know what to say. Except Hurqu, who always had something to say. Even if it wasn't the right thing.
"Ach, me wee lassie, it was just a sword. Brockhammer can make yeh anawther one, it mayn't be as good, but 'tis better than naught."
Anera turned around, eyes angry and brimming with tears. "How would you know? All you care about is a good fight! You left your family because you wanted some fun! This sword was the most important thing to the Abbey, and I lost it!"
Backing away, the goat looked hurt and annoyed. "Och, ye wouldn't understand! Ah felt a pullin' teh do sum fightin' it's in mah blood!"
Anera scrunched her face. "Oh, so some mythical force is commanding you what to do? Is that it?"
Hurqu didn't look like he knew how to answer that question. Tharius thought the goat was actually contemplating if a mythical force was telling him what to do.
Anera went on. "None of you are from Redwall! You wouldn't understand!"
The mousemaid ran off through the complex tunnels and caverns, trying to find a place to hide.
ooooooooooooo
Findelo Gonfelin took a rest on the side of the Bat Mountpit. His tired legs gave up as he was hiking. Taking a scone out of his pack he took a bite, letting the flavor relax him. Taking out his lute, he began strumming a tune.
"Oh, where the sky is green and the rivers do floooow,
But when the third season comes the sky turn red,
As if it's all on fire, oooh,
Mossflower woods is my home,
Where I was young, but I did grooooow,
And with that my ambitions soared,
So I traveled far and wide, far, far and wide,
I regret it nought, but when home I goooo,
Mossflower Woods is the place!"
Laughing to himself, the mouse took another scone out and gobbled it. "Ah, this is the life. Trapped high up on a mountain and exhausted, but at least I got good food and my lute! Oh yes, and this sword."
Taking the beautiful sword from his belt, he admired its red pommel stone and shining blade. "Aye, I've never seen a weapon like this. Once I get in this mountain I'll need to return it to that pretty mousemaid if she's still alive. I'm no good at fightin', 'cept for my daggers."
Fingering his throwing knives and daggers, the mouse got up, put the sword in his belt, the lute on his back, and picked up his pack. Refreshed, he continued hiking up the mountain.
ooooooooooooooooooo
Standing at the top exit, Tharius and company thanked the bats for the hospitality.
"Och, how can we repay you, noble lord?" asked Hurqu.
Lord Nightshadow shook his head. "I require no payment. My bats will find the mousemaid soon, and then you can be off." With that, the massive bat flew off into the caverns, followed by his bats. Tharius, Hurqu, Amamo, Aar Krullen, and Brockhammer stood about idly, waiting to see what they would need to do.
Amamo yawned. "How long till those bats find a mousemaid in their own mountain?"
The others shrugged. "We don't know."
The rabbit tapped his footpaw. "Well I'm getting tired waiting here! Should we just leave?"
Brockhammer sighed. "No, Amamo."
"But it's boring! I wanna get going!"
"Amamo, you're acting like an infant."
The rabbit growled and pouted. "Humph! Well, don't blame me if we stand here until our legs break!"
The others rolled their eyes.
Many minutes later, Rockwing and Whitefur came out, escorting Anera. The bats where covering their eyes and trying to stick to the shade. Anera hardly acknowledged them, just looking into the blue sky.
"Soooo... Salamandastron?" clarified Tharius.
Anera gave a slight nod of her head. The others shrugged and began walking forward. Only a few steps in, Anera noticed a bright gleam and bolted towards it.
"The sword! The sword!" called Anera. The mousemaid hefted the blade from the earth. She ran back to the others and handed it to Tharius.
"I was supposed to give this to you. That was my job. And now I have."
Tharius gingerly held the incredible blade in both hands. It had a plain back hilt and a red pommel stone. The sword was razor-sharp, and much harder, stronger, and lighter than Brockhammer's blade. He held it up. It was as if he was just raising his hand, this sword felt natural with him. The hilt fit perfectly and the balance was exact. Holding it high above his head he shouted.
"To Salamandastron!"
Salamandastron
Lord Brawblade was a massive badger. His shoulders were broad, his arms muscled, and his face noble. He carried a massive sword that had once belonged to his ancestor, the legendary Lord Brocktree. He sat at the end of the dinner table in his great throne, with proud dignity he ate his fill, and his fill included five soups, seven stews, four deeper'n'ever pies, thirteen other pies, fourteen pastries, twenty-four scones, and much, much more.
But for all this, his appetite could not begin to compare the ravenous Rogue Crew. They wolfed down all food in reach, making it very difficult for Brawblade to communicate with Throkrig.
"So you say blue hordes are marching off to Salamandastron?"
"Aye–scrumf, snarf –so we gotta kill 'em an' save me–harrumph, this is some really good pie here– daughter and Marko."
Brawblade sighed. Holding up his sword, he said to it, "looks like you'll fight the blue hordes once again, by deadly friend."
ooooooooooooooooo
Something was troubling young Alfar Miggory. His solution to things like this would be to walk across the shore, which is what he did now. Ergo said vermin were coming from the south, but the Rogue Crew said they were camping north of Salamandastron. Was there two forces? Were they going to meet? Would there be a three-army stand-off?
Then a club hit him and he fell to the ground, senseless.
ooooooooooooooooo
"Tell us your plan, master!" called the vermin, eagerly waiting. Zäev threw the unconscious body of Alfar with two dead hare lookouts and a dead Blue Horde scout into the one finished trench.
The white fox raised his paws. "I will tell you if you silence yourselves!"
Immediately the shore went silent, not a sound could be heard. Glancing around, Vafír leaned close to the vermin and spoke quietly.
"Salamandastron will be hard to conquer. Vermin have tried it since it was created. We have the advantage with numbers, but so did Ferrahgo the Assassin, Ungatt Trunn, and others, and they all were killed. I want to take over that mountain! We will kill those hares! But to do that, we must think. Brains will let us win. So... this is the plan."
The vermin were in awed silence as Vafír pulled a glass vial out of his pocket. It was filled with a black murky liquid.
"This vial holds something much more deadly than a thousand swords. It holds a vicious plague known as Mortifer's plague. It had long ago died out at an abbey called Loamhedge. I traveled had somebody travel there and harvest it for me when I was planning to conquer the north. This disease will kill you within three days if you contract it, and it spreads incredibly fast."
The vermin continued the silence, though this time it was also in fear. One, Dethfur the rat, asked, "Wot if we get it?"
Vafír grinned. "I was hoping some clever one would ask that. Now, who remembers Tramun Josiah Cuttlefish Clogg XVII?"
There was an immediate show of paws. Clogg was a foolish stoat from the north that travelled south, and was put in the slave compounds. He was always carrying some white flowers he adored more than anything.
"Well," continued Vafír, "Those flowers he carried were actually extremely valuable. They were Icetor flowers, from the north mountains. They can cure anything."
There was an awed silence. Then the vermin erupted in raucous cheers. Vafír went up to Zäev. "Wake our prisoner. Tell him to give his leader a message."
ooooooooooooooooo
Brawblade and his longtime second in command General Tenac Durus sat in front of Vafír and Zäev, across a chess board. Vafír insisted they play a game of chess while they discuss. Brawblade refrained from the game, as did Vafír in order to keep up with the conversation. Intimidated by the great badger, Zäev quickly began losing and Tenac took the upper hand.
"You show up at my mountain, declaring war? Scum, you are a fool."
Vafír took a sip of his dark damson wine. "Drink. I do wish to take over your mountain to continue my empire. I have gained the support of all southern vermin, the Wroots, and the toads here. You are outnumbered, and my scouts killed a vermin that is from neither armies, which means you are threatened by two."
"You've probably poisoned me and my general's drinks. You are right, you have considerable forces, but the Long Patrol has defeated more formidable opponents."
Vafír smiled and poured a bit of the badger's wine into his own and took another sip. "'Tis not poisoned, and neither is your general's. 'Tis good. And none of your enemies were like me."
Tenac took a swig of the wine and moved his bishop, eliminating Zäev's lastrook. "So what's so bloomin' special about you, wot wot?"
"I'm smarter than any you've seen before. If you do not surrender, then–" the fox picked up Zäev's knight and jumped it across the board– "Checkmate."
The fox and his pine marten left the table, leaving a gaping hare and a brooding badger.
