Thunder in the Rain
Three shall stand, and three alone,
When the world comes tumbling down,
The great reborn to fight again,
Through snow and hail and rain,
One who knows his destiny,
Son of herb and son of tree,
Born beneath a comet's glow,
A flash of light to strike the foe,
One who's path leads wild and far,
Lutra marked out by a star,
From blazing dawn she will return,
With green fire she shall burn,
And one, who shall steadfast stand,
While the masked one rules the land,
A whirlwind come to sweep away,
A storm upon a summer's day,
Each will lose and each will gain,
Feel again the warrior's pain,
Father, daughter, mother, son,
Dark Forest gates may spare no-one,
When foe is friend, and friend is foe,
Forth shall the chosen go,
A mask across the wicked eyes,
His followers on land and skies,
The mountain falls beneath his paws,
The woodlands bend unto his laws,
But three alone shall not fall flat,
And they will win the good earth back.
~ From The Cycle of the Ages.
Prologue- The Vision
The wind rustled the trees of Mossflower Wood. It blew across the rooftops of Redwall Abbey, making the weathervane spin wildly. But deep under the cover of the trees, all was still.
The great oak tree seemed to dominate the surrounding trees. It's branches stretched far into the sky, and it's roots went deep into the ground.
And in those roots, in maze of passages and chambers that wormed their way under Mossflower, was the ancient manor of Brockhall, seat of the badger rulers of those great woodlands.
But Brockhall had fallen into disrepair after Redwall Abbey had been completed. Bella, the last inhabitant, had become Badger Mother at the abbey, and none but a few travellers looking for a place to sleep had used Brockhall since.
But Sagil loved it here. The ancient passageways were well trodden, and comfortable on his paws. The occasional danger of roof falls were an excitement. And best of all was the solitude. Sagil needed that more than anything.
Sagil Fordwater was an aged water vole. He had left his tribe long ago, his abilities had scared them. Since that awful day in his youth, he had travelled the length and breadth of the land. From far Southsward, to the frozen north. From the eatern marshes, across the Outlands, to Salamandastron, standing sentinel on the western shores. And once, on a ship crewed by sea otters and shrews, he had journeyed across the ocean, to a far land called Sampetra.
A strange place, where peaceful vermin farmed the land, and bands of rogue lizards raided their villages. Odd legends surrounded a castle on a high plateau, of sea serpents, mad-eyed pine martens, mouse warriors with bright swords, and otters who shot red and green fire at their opponents.
But everywhere he went, Sagil could never stay. He knew that sooner or later, somebeast would discover his secret, and he would be driven away, like he was at his village. For Sagil Fordwater was a seer.
Long ago he had discovered that something he dreamed often came true, or that by looking at somebeast he could tell something that would happen to them. When he had predicted that the river he lived by would flood- and it did- his tribe had driven him out, afraid as they were of his talent.
But all that was in the 'before' as he called it, the past, what was dead. He was in the 'now', and he looked at the 'will be'. In fact, the 'will be' was foremost in his mind at that moment.
Seating himself in one of the many large chairs dotted around the rooms, Sagil leaned back, and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, he was lost in a vision.
He was standing in the middle of a battlefield. The ground all around him was charred and blackened, and dead beasts lay everywhere. The wind howled around him, and it whispered. "Three alone, three alone, against the Darkfather's blood and bone."
Suddenly, the scene changed. He was standing on the Great Western Plains. To the west he could see the mountains, to the east the fringes of Mossflower, and a reddish blur that was probably Redwall Abbey. Then, down from the north, he could see a great horde marching. Banners flew above rank upon rank of soldiers. But this was no army of good warriors, come to help those in need. It was the horde of a vermin warlord
The black banners carried two symbols- a white eye mask which Sagil did not recognise, and, oh, horror of horrors, the split skull of a rat. Sagil moaned in despair.
But before he had time to think, the old vole was plunged into blackness. Three beasts flashed before him- a young male badger, a female otter, and a mousemaid in a green habit. Then all faded, and he opened his eyes.
Sagil shuddered, recalling the vision. The rat skull! The dreaded symbol of Darkfather, a polecat warlord who had ruled the north with an iron claw. The first beast he had ever killed was a rat, hence the symbol. But Darkfather had died years ago- what could it mean?
Then he remembered the whisper in the wind. 'The Darkfather's blood and bone.....' Could he have a son or daughter? The ancient water vole shook his head. "It's all too mu- too much for me." he yawned, settling down in the chair to sleep.
The wind still blew outside.