A/N: This chapter's fairly short, but I couldn't really squeeze anything else in there.
A Warrior No More, Chapter 2
"Pack up your tents! I want to leave this town by noon, no exceptions! Spokesbeasts Brownlug, Graysnout, Stumptail, your tent-groups will stay here and stand guard! I don't want any woodlanders to pass what is left of the gates!" Itharos barked, then glared at no one in particular and returned to his tent as his mighty army of war-hardened fighters scrambled like a pack of hunting dogs to do his bidding.
"I don't see why's we 'afta stay here an' stand guard over a half-burnt liddle village when everyone else's havin' fun an' stuff," one of Brownlug's tent-group muttered under his breath.
"Yer stayin' here 'cause da Baron said so, yeh lazy lump," snapped a passing officer, neatly tripping the speaker with a slight jerk of his spear-shaft. "An' don't yeh ferget it, see?"
"Yessir, sir!" barked the unfortunate stoat form where he lay sprawled upon the ground.
"Good, yew good-fer-nuthin' piece o' junk," spat the officer, and moved on.
~@~
Itharos's army marched southward, wreaking havoc on any settlement that stood in their way.
In one such village, a farmer returning to the safety of the town after a hard day's work in the fields noticed a great cloud of dust in the distance, and gave the town elders enough warning to send a small party to Redwall, asking for help. And then Itharos came.
The Baron of the Iron Helm stood on the balcony of the mayor's mansion, surveying his newly aquired domain. "Not bad for a day's work, eh?"
He turned to the officer behind him who had spoken, a fox whose name he couldn't remember at the moment.
"Yes, a decent -sized town to stay the night. And this mansion, as a bonus. Someday, when I grow too old to travel, I may retire here and leave you in command."
"Really, sir? Me?"
"Yes, you. Now, will you join me in the banquet hall for supper?"
"Yessir, sir! Very good, sir!"
As the ecstatic officer half-ran through the doors, Itharos laughed under his breath. "A buffoon like him running the army? Ha!"
~@~
Before he turned in for the night, Abbot Arven glanced out the window of his room. Tents and makeshift shelters were clustered across the Abbey lawns, and the guest dormitories were packed full of woodlanders who sought shelter within the walls of Redwall until the danger had passed.
But would it? Arven mused to himself. Of course it would. Redwall had not yet fallen to even the mightiest of conquerors, and this Itharos seemed like the typical attacker. If he had kept a warlord like Warfang from even seeing the abbey, it would be perfectly easy to keep the Baron out. Everything would be all right in the end. It had to be.
~@~
The five creatures who had escaped their town before Itharos arrived were exhausted. They had been running since dawn, and could not go on any longer. But they had to reach Redwall. They had to get help. Before it was too late.
Finally, they decided to stop. They would continue in the morning.
As the fatigued companions fell asleep in a thicket one by one, a cloaked creature stepped out of the thick brush. It carried a tall spear, and though in truth it did not mean any harm to the sleeping travelers, it certainly wasn't going to help them. In fact, this strange being would stop at nothing to keep them from Redwall.
