The ragged rat panted heavily as he continued to run through the dark Mossflower Woods, carrying the odd, purplely-like substance-filled glass vial closely to him so that he wouldn't drop it and break it. He had been on the run for three days now. He was tired, he was hungry, he was greatly thirsty; but he could not stop. Those trackers from the vermin horde he had fled from were in steady dogged pursuit and seeming to be getting closer every minute. In the all-but-dim lighting present that was fading fast with the sunset he made out some sort of building somewhere ahead. Maybe he could hide there and escape them, or at least for a while. He sped up his pace and made towards it. By the time he reached it, whatever it was, the night had come on fully and he could not see at all what the sign from it read. He quietly made his way into it and hid somewhere amidst the odd rock-like things that seemed to be all over it. They couldn't get the vial, and they couldn't get what was inside. He had to make sure of that.
Unfortunately for him, he had unintentionally left rather the easy trail for them to easily follow, and bearing torches with them they could easily see his path. They could easily see how it turned off in one direction. They could easily see how it kept going in that one particular direction. They could easily see the sign for the building read, "St. Ninian's Church". And they could easily see the rat's path go into the graveyard part of it.
The rat gulped when he started to see the flames in the distance, again as they made their way towards his hidden spot along his trodden trail; closer, and closer, and closer, and closer and closer...And when he could finally see from them his surroundings, he gave a loudly audible groan of major horror. If he could have been any place at all, anywhere on the entire land...He would never have chosen at any point to be in a graveyard. This was one of the most dangerous places for the vial to be. He had to get away. Now. He creeped as quietly as he could, inching as much as he dared to without letting them catch him.
"Oy, Rattooth- Where do ye think yer goin'?!" the voice came loudly from behind. He stopped and turned around. There were eight of them. Four Rats like him, one Weasel, one Ferret, a Stoat and a reddish-brown Fox. The Fox- the speaker- sneered at him. "Ye did think ye could just run didn't ye? Just take the Vial O' Lavonas an' run!"
"Aye, I did actually," Rattooth muttered darkly. "Ye can' 'ave it!" He started to continue inching further... "Stop right there, scum." The Fox drew a long, razour-sharp sword, with the other seven following suit with their various different equally-deadly weapons. They blocked off the entraunce space to the graveyard. He couldn't get out that way now. "Do ye not remember how long it took our horde to steal that from those stupid reclusive beasts from that island temple? Do ye not recall that we lost almost three-fifths o' the horde in that assault?"
"Of course I remember it," Rattooth responded bitterly. "I lost my brother in that! I am also one of the few that can read and have read the scroll that came with it. Ye 'ave absolutely no idea what the vial can do."
"Maybe I don'," the Fox replied with a malicious grin. "But I do ken that Chief Redblade wants it back. An' right now that's the only thing that matters." He took a step towards Rattooth. "Keep away!" Rattooth cried, turning about and running back further into the graveyard. "After him!" the Fox yelled and went after him, the others following in close pursuit.
Rattooth ran as fast as he could, dodging past and through the gravestones trying to find an alternate way out. "Ye can't escape!" the Fox yelled after him. "We'll catch ye an' bring yer 'ead back on a spear to the chief!" Rattooth continued running, making sure he did not drop the vial. He had to get out of there. He ran and ran and ran, the Fox and the otherbeasts closing directly in on him. He passed by another grave and was forced to stop several steps by a side of the graveyard wall when there was nowhere else for him to run. The Fox and the rest of the search party stopped three or four yards away from him, surrounding him on all three of the remaining sides. He was trapped.
"Ye 'ave nowhere left to run, Rattooth," the Fox said, holding up his sword towards Rattooth. "Why not give up an' we'll make yer death quick and not as painless as otherwise?" Rattooth looked from each one to the next. Wait a minute... Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that there was a small gap on the top of the graveyard wall behind him. If he was quick enough he might be able to make it to there and manage to get over the wall and he could escape. He gulped. He looked back at the Fox and the others, trying to not let them figure out what he was going to try to do.
"Please," he said, looking at the Fox. "Ye don' understand what this vial is capable of. "We can' allow it to fall into unmanageable paws. Tis too dangerous...In the wrong paws it cou-"
"Oh cut that recluse 'beware the power' rubbish." the Fox said, interrupting. "Those stupid temple Mice tried that on us already, remember? An' look 'ow they ended up. The chief wants the vial and that's that. Now hand the vial over. Last warning." He looked at Rattooth. "Ye can still get out of this wi' a quick an' near-painless death."
Rattooth looked from the Fox to the other seven. This was his one opportunity at this. He would not get another moment to attempt this. It was now or never. He had to do it now.
He gave a deep sigh of defeat. "Alright," he said, shaking his head glumly. "I give up. Take it". He held up the bottle in one hand. The Fox smiled and reached out to take it...And then Rattooth smacked the paw away with his other paw, turned around and made for the space on the wall behind him.
"Get 'im!" the Fox snarled, and the whole group of them ran to stop him. Rattooth had almost made it to the top of the wall when several paws grabbed him roughly from behind and pulled him back down.
Rattooth gave a yelp as he came back crashing to the ground...and the odd glass vial fell out of his paw, bounced a few spaces and then shattered to pieces, releasing it's contents onto the ground in front of an old gravestone. "Oh nooooo..." the groan escaped from Rattooth's mouth. The liquid spread about onto the ground and then soaked down into it. The earth was quiet for a space of a few moments.
"Ye idjit, ye broke the..." the Fox started to say, raising his sword high. And then the earth began to shake, a ripple in the ground where the substance had fallen formed and went out and the ground began to quiver more violently knocking everybeast off their footpaws and an eerie mist began to spread about the graveyard, covering all of the graves. "Wot in the-" The Fox's statement caught in his mouth as the ground- just as quickly as it had begun- suddenly stopped quaking. The enigmatic mist remained for a wee bit longer and then slowly began to fade away. After a minute everything seemed as it had felt previously.
The other seven members of the search party still in shock, the Fox grabbed Rattooth. "Wot in the devil's claws was that?!" He shook the frightened Rat. "Wot was written on that scroll?!" The poor rat could only shake his head and quiver his lips, his mouth unable to accomplish anything else. The Fox looked about the graveyard. Absolutely everything was quiet. There was not the sound of birds chirping, or insects buzzing or even leaves blowing in the wind. All was deathly quiet.
Suddenly a subtle crunching sound could be heard. Everybeast looked about for the source of it. Everybeast except Rattooth. They could see no-one. The sound continued, and began to be joined by more similar sounds. Now the sounds grew louder, and could be heard all through the graveyard. Still they could see nobeast. And then...The earth in front of each grave began to shake. It continued and eventually it started to crumble...
"When the Vial Of Lavonas is poured," Rattooth recited a line he had read on the scroll that had come with the vial. "All is blood, dead, and gored." The eight otherbeasts around him widened their eyes in horror as the earth eventually began to part, and from the dirt in front of each grave, decaying and dead limbs began to unearth themselves from the ground and slowly, slowly, slowly pull themselves up and out. The realisation of what was happening suddenly struck them like a lightning bolt and they all got up and tried to run away from that place, and run away from what was happening, and run away from the dead bodies pulling themselves out of their graves.
The four Rats were the firsts to come face-to-face with the walking corpses. The first one tried to stab the one facing him through the heart. When he pulled his dagger back out it merely kept coming and, grabbing him with two decayed arms, sank it's rotting fangs into his chest. The remaining three rats tried other ways past them but all were unable to escape. The Ferret almost made it to the entrance but was dragged down. The Weasel and the Stoat tried sticking together but came to a dead end of the graveyard. The previous sentence ended up being translated literally.
Singetail- For that was the Fox's name- tried chopping off the arms of the two nearest to him, but they kept coming. He wouldn't be able to hold them off forever. Meanwhile Rattooth was trying to avoid the corpses as well, jumping and running as best as he could to evade walking deadbeasts. He managed to push one over and go past it, narrowly avoiding a hole that had so recently contained a resident. Suddenly running across a second grave his left footpaw hit something and he crashed to the ground with a thud. He turned looking back to see what had brought him down, and to his horror saw a muddy, decayed paw sticking out of the ground, grasping his left ankle. His terror grew as the other paw and then the rest of the corpse began pulling itself out of the grave. He tried pulling his leg out of the corpse's grip, but the dead grey paw held tightly in a death-grip.
Whilst the one pulling itself up held tight to him, other dead corpses began creeping towards him. He tried to get away, but he couldn't get loose. He looked over the graveyard at Singetail, who had just 'disarmed' two more- which still kept coming and coming. The corpses advancing on him came closer and closer...One more look over at the Fox saw Singetail beginning to being grabbed by dead bodies. Rattooth remembered the final two verses from the scroll. "Every Ligament tooth and claw, become infected have they all." he whispered, as the rotting, decayed corpses came ever closer and closer. "Where once were goodbeast, vermin, Crow, All turned into...Zombies...Now." Yells and screams rang out from the St. Ninian's graveyard that night, soon suddenly ominously being cut into silence. Having messily devoured the creatures' flesh to either the point of none being left remaining or the unfortunate creatures left with enough to have enough body to still remain a creature- to which the carcasses rose up and joined the other moving dead bodies, the walking corpses, the Zombies, began creeping out of the graveyard into the forest...
War-Chief Redblade- a big, crimson-red furred Fox, opened his eyes. He was lying on his bed, in his tent, with the camp with the rest of his horde located outside. He had had dreams of great conquest again. He liked the dreams, although he had never put much reliance or belief in dreams, particularly that they foretold the future. But he could still enjoy them, and appreciate the relish they gave him. When they were favourable, that is. He sat up and looked about his tent.
Redblade was a bit taller than the average Fox, with a good muscular build and strong, sharp-clawed paws with a vice-like firm grip. He spied a Caterpillar busily crawling across the ground. He reached out and carefully picked it up. Unlike the majority of the rest of the brutish vermin in his camp, he could manage to hold delicately. He held the Caterpillar betwixt two fingers. Aye, he could hold things delicately when he wanted to, he thought. The Caterpillar tried to get loose but was unable to. And when he didn't... He suddenly squeezed the fingers tightly, splattering its insides outwards. He wiped the Caterpillar's blood off on some grass and stood up. He went over to the fold of his tent which blocked visibility and opened it.
It was still night out, which indicated dawn was on its way, but not quite there yet. He decided to go for a walk about the camp, and quietly made his way at his own pace. Other than those on sentry duty, who were wide awake (of course- they were well aware of the many painful ways of how Redblade 'rewarded' guards who decided to get a good night's sleep) the rest of his horde were fast asleep. As he walked he looked thoughtfully up into the darkened treetops.
He was well aware of their proximity to the famous Redwall Abbey. Of the incredible resources they had there, the well-built fortress that was the abbey, and of the fabled riches and treasures they were said to have there. To conquer the abbey and claim its treasures would be a great feat indeed. He smiled. But he was no fool. He was also well aware of the innumerable past invasion attempts of Redwall by various vermin hordes, and how each and every one of them had met with failure. He was not- in no uncertain terms- going to go anywhere near that place.
He continued through his camp. About him he could hear the quiet (and sometimes not so quiet) snores of the various creatures that made up his horde. As he walked he thought about the vial and wondered about how Singetail and the others were doing retrieving it and that traitor Rattooth. He still cursed that wretched Rat's name. He secretly hoped Singetail would him back alive, so he could personally loose his retribution on the fool. And he had kept whining about how the vial was dangerous and similar drivel- utter rubbish. The vial was an incredible artefact, and would make a perfect memento of his conquest of the Temple Of Archonia, and he would not let it slip away from him. He would not.
Just then there was an alert by one of the sentry beasts. He stopped and looked over at them. It was still dark, but it had gotten light enough that he was able to see creatures moving a wee bit of ways from camp. He thought he recognised the shapes Singetail's ears.
"Ahoy! That ye, Singetail?" said one of the guards- Grimp, a somewhat overweight Ferret- to the approaching creatures. What appeared to be Singetail made some indecipherable noise. "Wot was that?" Grimp shouted. A couple members of the horde were sitting up, having been woken by the speech. The creatures approaching made more sounds, which rather sounded like moaning to Redblade. He began advancing to the spot where the sentries were.
"Speak up!" Grimp said again, taking a few steps towards the group as the advancing creatures continued to approach. As they got closer and closer Grimp was beginning to be able to see more of their features- and one of them looked like Rattooth.
"Oy, wot's this?" he yelled at the one that appeared to be Singetail, about one that looked a lot like Rattooth. "Ye were supposed to bring that traitor back dead! Why is he-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" As he had taken another step towards the approaching creatures, the one that looked like Singetail had stepped up to him and bitten down into his upper chest.
"Eh?" said somebeast else in the camp, as more vermin were woken up. "Wot's goin' on-" As the creatures had approached, they had reached the camp, and from the fires alight in the camp and the small growing daylight they could now see the features of the creatures... The greying fur and skin... The blood and gashes and other wounds and scars all over their bodies... The dead, hungry looks in their eyes... Now they could see them quite clearly. Those closest to the edge of camp where the creatures were approaching suddenly and horrifyingly found themselves being grabbed and bitten into by the zombies and released loud, terrified screams as the creatures- the zombies- reached the camp.
"ALERT! WAKE UP!" Redblade yelled, drawing his sword, which was an oddly well-crafted weapon with a blue pommel at the end. "The CAMP IS UNDER ATTACK! STIR YERSELVES ADDLEBRAINS! FIGHT BACK!" What, Redblade thought, was happening?! What were these things?! He came to one he somewhat recognised as a Rat named Nemmy. The Nemmy zombie growled at him and continued approaching, reaching out with his paws. Redblade swiftly took a slash across them, and stared with triumph at the creature, now missing both forelimbs- which quickly turned to horror, when the Nemmy zombie kept moving towards him. Back at the sentry post Grimp had already gone down, and two other sentries, a Stoat and a Rat, were being brought down as well. Redblade took his blade and tried another offensive tactic, running the Rat zombie through with it. He pulled it out, and to his horror again the Nemmy zombie kept coming. A quick look about him showed him that the rest of horde was facing the same exact problem. Beside him a Rat went down, two zombie Ferrets both with their teeth deep into him. There had to be something they could do! Redblade thought. Some way to stop them! His attacks on the zombie became more frantic, and finally he threw a wild slice at the head. The sword's blade made a clean slice through it, and the Nemmy zombie suddenly dropped to the ground and stopped moving.
Aim for the head! "AIM FOR THE HEAD!" he shouted to the other beasts of his horde. "AIM FOR THE HEAD!" Those of his horde that could hear him above the countless screams and growls tried it- and, indeed, it did work- but by this point it was too late. The majority of the horde was down, and the scrambling few remaining just couldn't reverse the situation. There were multiple yells of 'Retreat!' and everybeast still alive tore off in all directions into the woods. Redblade had almost gotten away from the camp, when he heard a noise from behind him and turned around. He could clearly see the face and what remained of the creature that was Singetail, his mouth and tunic covered in blood. The Singetail zombie groaned and looked hungrily at Redblade, advancing towards him.
"Looks like I'm finished with ye, Singetail!" Redblade snarled. "Goodbye!" He slashed through the Fox zombie's head, and the body toppled still to the ground. Redblade shook his head, and ran off into the dense forest...
Over the trees quite a ways and through the expansive Mossflower from that point, stood the great magnificent red-stoned place of Redwall Abbey. Recently, the good creatures of Redwall had had to bury old Abbot Marnian at St. Ninian's just three days ago, and many were still sad at the elderly mouse's passing. But things still continued, as they must, and everybeast in the abbey were going about their chores, tending the Abbey's gardens and trees, baking delicious foods and similar tasks, and all enjoying the calm tranquillity of Abbey life.
Meanwhile, the zombies, having overrun Redblade and his horde's camp, all made their own ways in various directions- some off to other parts of Mossflower, and many in the general direction of Redwall Abbey. Ahead of them ran the various remnants of Redblade's horde in states of total panic. One of the few Rats that had managed to get away, named Wibear, ran and ran and ran until he was out of breath and tired, weary, parched from thirst and days without any real food or sleep and finally had to stop and try to catch his breath. He dropped to the ground and got several gasps of air. He lay there several minutes, shaking uncontrollably, the panic within him from that night at the camp still vividly rushing through him. There was a sudden sound from off into the trees- it was only a small Bird, but in his state he wouldn't think it was that even if he had seen it. He couldn't stay here. He couldn't. He had to keep moving. He shakily picked himself up and kept running.
A couple minutes later, stopped again, and was shocked to find himself at the main doors to the Abbey. He of course had no idea what this place was, but it had to be a miracle, he thought. Surely it couldn't be a place of safety?! He ran- or rather, he hobbled- his way towards the doors. He looked, but couldn't see anybeast up on wall. He had to try to get somebeast's attention who was inside. He knocked on the doors. He waited what he thought were several moments (actually they were only five seconds, but his mind didn't seem them as such), and then knocked again, this time with as much more intensity as he could muster (which wasn't very much). Still no answer. He had to get in. He had to get in! He knocked as hard as he could, trying to say something- anything- but only managing some incoherent gargles. He knocked, he knocked- he couldn't do it anymore, and slumped unconscious against the doors.
Some of the abbeybeasts inside heard the noise, and opened the doors to find the unconscious Rat fallen against them. Caring for those in need, they picked him up and carried him inside to the Infirmary. He had a small bite mark on his left arm...
(End Of Prelude)