Chapter 15

Laurel was so exhausted from her ordeal in the river that she had to sit down for a moment. Her injured leg throbbed painfully. As she rested, her mind was whirling with many different thoughts and questions. She knew the mouse who rescued her was Martin the Warrior. He fit the descriptions she had been told since she was a baby. But she didn't know how to tell him who she was. She was slightly apprehensive about it, worried that he would be angry if she brought up Noonvale after he had been gone so long.

She dozed off while her rescuers doused their campfire and prepared to go to Redwall.

As they walked, Martin and Gonff discussed the night's events quietly, out of earshot of the others. Martin had bundled Laurel up in his arms to carry her. She was breathing slowly, deep in sleep with her head resting on his shoulder.

"So, what are you thinkin', warrior?" Gonff asked him. "Do we wait for her to tell us she's from Noonvale?"

Martin glanced down at her. "Yes. I don't want to scare her."

"I wonder how she got herself caught by those foxes."

Martin lowered his voice even more. "I'll bet you the vixens were going to sell her to those robber bands north of here. They usually pay a good price for a young slave." His voice was angry. He knew exactly what it was like to be enslaved; having been for most of his youth.

Unknowingly, Laurel had wakened but kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep. She was on cloud nine when she realized Martin was the one carrying her. She listened to their conversation quietly.

Gonff shook his head. "Poor little maid. We are returning her to Noonvale, aren't we?"

"Of course, we are." Martin replied.

Gonff raised an eyebrow. "You're willing to go back?"

Martin was silent for a moment. Laurel could detect a wave of grief and she snuggled closer to him.

"I have to." Martin looked down at his sleeping charge and smiled.

Marlo and Viscinia were standing on the bank, farther downstream. They were a short league from the rats' ferry where they had begun their journey a couple of days previously. They were doubled over, panting heavily. The three otters had released them and forced them to start running, chasing after them for a short while and then turned back. The sisters kept running, fearing death from the avenging woodlanders and the gray-eyed mouse that led them.

"That's it!" Viscinia pointed an accusing claw at Marlo. "I'm done with your schemes."

Marlo straightened. "My schemes? Some of them were your ideas!"

"You almost got us killed!" Viscinia growled. "That mouse wasn't worth the whole journey. I warned you about her! We should have sold her when we had the chance. We had many buyer opportunities!"

Viscinia was standing so close to the bank that something shot out of the water and grabbed her footpaw. The vixen screeched with fright and fell over herself trying to flee. Lezpa's head emerged from the water, blood trickling from a wound on the side of it where Savitch had brutally hit her.

Marlo sighed with relief. "We thought you were those otters!"

Viscinia stared at the white mink in disbelief. "How did you escape?"

Lezpa pulled herself painfully from the water and lay on her back. "That rat hit me and I fell in the river. I resurfaced while the fight was still going on. I swam downstream and hid until the fighting stopped. Then," a small smile appeared. "I swam after you two and those three otters. Now here I am."

Viscinia had recovered from her fright and sat dejectedly where she had landed. "The martens are dead. So is Fleak."

"At least the three of us made out alive." Marlo reasoned.

Lezpa scoffed. "Barely. Look at the knot on my head!"

Marlo inspected it, touching it gingerly. Lezpa winced.

"I don't think you're concussed. He just gave you a good whack."

Lezpa sighed. The three vile vermin sat on the bank miserably. They would rest there before moving on in the morning.

It was dawn when the rescue party with their shrew companions came within sight of Redwall. Vurg and Abbot Cyril had been standing on the ramparts watching for them. They scurried down the steps with surprising speed for mice their age and flung the gates open.

Vurg stared at the sleeping mousemaid in Martin's arms curiously.

"Well, isn't she a beauty. That leg of hers is in bad shape."

"Where's Folgrim, Mayberry and Catkin?" The Abbott asked.

"Chasing those vermin foxes that kidnapped her. They should be along about breakfast time." Gonff explained.

The Father Abbott nodded. He turned to Martin. "We'll put our guest to bed in the infirmary. A good sleep would do her good." He stared hard at the members of the rescue party. "All of you need to get some sleep as well." His gaze rested on Martin. The retired warrior nodded, knowing what the Abbott was thinking.

"I will help take her to the infirmary. Then, I will go get some rest myself."

Cyril nodded and Martin followed him into the Abbey.

Sister Fern was the mouse in charge of the infirmary. Her round, homely face was concerned when she saw the sleeping Laurel in Martin's arms. She rushed to one of the neatly made beds and pulled the blankets and sheets back.

"Poor little one. What a horrible thing to go through." She whispered as Martin laid Laurel gently on the bed. Sister Fern pulled the covers up over her and gestured for the Abbott and the warrior to leave the room. "I will see to it that she rests and get that leg seen to. You need to go get some sleep yourself, Sir Martin." She stared at him, paws akimbo.

Martin nodded, smiling. "You know best, Sister Fern." He looked one last time at the sleeping maid before heading into the hall and down the stone stairs.

Abbott Cyril yawned. Sister Fern smiled at him, knowingly. "You've been up half the night waiting for them to return. You need to sleep too."

The Abbott patted her paw gently. "Yes. I could swear I heard my pillow calling for me."

Martin's sleep was more than restful. His dreams returned, unbidden as usual. He was fighting the huge wolverine again. Instead of the River Moss, they were on the Kamwian cliffs with the sea roaring below them. He felt himself flung from his opponent and he rolled until the cliff walls stopped him. His back hit hard against the stone and he lay winded for a few moments. Behind the snarling wolverine was the yellow-eyed stoat and the fox with stone-like claws. They were grinning at him malevolently. The stoat was holding Martin's sword, its sharp point facing the ground.

The fox whistled and the wolverine backed away from the stunned mousewarrior. The stoat stalked towards his victim, sword outstretched. Martin sat up, his head spinning. Before he could do anything, the scene changed. His three enemies were replaced by the same comforting blackness from before. He was still sitting, his limbs aching from the battle. His heart leaped when he saw Rose emerge once more from the dimness.

It was a few moments before his voice worked.

"Noonvale is in trouble, isn't it? Because of that stoat?" He asked her. Rose nodded.

"I'm afraid so." Her hazel eyes were pained. "How is she?"

Martin realized she was talking about Laurel. "She'll be fine. She's strong and brave." He paused and smiled. "Like you." Rose returned the smile. He struggled to stand but Rose motioned for him to stop and she knelt down next to him, her shimmering white dress pooled about her. There was a look of longing in her eyes.

"I'm afraid Noonvale is beyond saving, but Kamwe is plagued by the same evil."

"I don't understand." Martin was confused. "What does Kamwe have to do with Noonvale?"

She took his paw. Her touch was cold, evidence that she was not a living creature. A pang of regret hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Some of Kamwe's creatures have Noonvale blood." Rose explained. "In a way, the two communities are one in the same. Peaceful societies both threatened by evil. Though you promised to never return there," She paused and Martin knew that she was talking about the vow he made in Polleekin's treehouse, soon after her death at Marshank. Her hazel eyes darkened to an emerald green. "It was long ago written you would return, sword at your side."

A chill ran up Martin's spine and he shook his head, disbelievingly.

"Who is the stoat and the fox?"

Rose's mouth became a grim line. "I'm afraid that is something you need to find out for yourself." She replied regretfully. "I've revealed too much already."

Martin sat, thinking all of this through. He looked up at Rose who had been sitting patiently, waiting for him with her paws folded in her lap.

"I'm afraid I've forgotten the way back. The severe injuries I suffered from Tsarmina caused me to lose some of my memory."

Rose nodded. Another chill went up his spine. Though she was not living anymore, she knew all that had happened in the seasons that had passed since her death.

"I will guide you, Martin. I haven't left your side," She leaned forward. "Even if you think I have."

She put her lips on his and kissed him passionately. As she slipped away, Martin fell into a deep sleep for the first time in weeks.

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