Chapter Two
The mousemaid, whose name was Maybell, trudged cautiously next to Lunkin, as close to the otter warrior as she dared. Stormpaw had abandoned camp and had decided to trek with her three newfound friends towards Redwall. Even though Stormpaw proved amiable and Lunkin and the hare, Painttail, had instantly made friends with her, Maybell was still cautious. She had never seen the killing of another creature before in her life, and she wasn't willing to see it again.
"So…ever been to Redwall afore, Storm?" Lunkin asked the born warrior.
"No, Lunkin matey, never. The only place I've known 'bout was my home isle, Ruddaring. Two days ago, a large amount o' corsairs—led by their stoat cap'n Rugval Sarrico, I think 'twas— attacked our peaceful isle an' slew all o' my family. Afore the vile creature could git a'old o' me, my mum an' dad placed me in a large basket an' sent me mainland. Then I ended up wi' you three."
Painttail pushed aside a leafy fern with his pike that he held in his paw. With his other paw, he pointed to a faint spire sticking up from the other side of a tall hill.
"That there be the jolly Redwall, Stormpaw. Jus' a bit more o' the paw, wot? Mmm…smells like brekkist!"
The lanky mountain hare dashed up the path with Stormpaw in his wake. Lunkin and Maybell brought up the rear, listening to their friends' conversation.
"'Ave yeh ever tried flans or trifles, or deeper'n'ever turnip'n'tater'n'beetroot pie, or some jolly plum puddin'?"
"No. Are they good, Paint?"
"Good! Y'could bet yore sword that they are!"
"I wouldn't dream o' doin' that sort o' thing. This 'ere sword's the on'y thing t'remind me o' my dead family an' the vengeance they so need."
"Ah well. I'm sure a few other otters'd like t'git their bally paws on that blinkin' sharp thing, wot."
"Otters? Did y'say otters?"
"Yes, I jolly well did."
Stormpaw thought this over. More otters in this Redwall place? It sounded good and fair to her ears, and, coming from an honest hare like Painttail, Stormpaw knew she could trust him to his word.
The feast ended late in the night. The next day was a sunny and lively one, and Skipper and Nik continued on their boating skills. Watched by Nik's younger brother, Kippit, the two improvised their raft.
The Dibbun squirrel (though he was big enough and old enough not to be called a Dibbun) Kippit, or Kipp, for short, dashed off to a nearby tree and watched the two older beasts from his perch. Kip glanced to his other side and saw four creatures running up the path.
"Whoahohoho!" one exclaimed. "Redwaaaaall!"
"Redwaaaaaaaall!"
Their cries mingled and could be heard even from inside the walls. Kippit jumped down from his perch and ran to his older brother, who had already spotted the travelers.
"Skip! Look, 'tis Painttail, Lunkin, and Maybell! And they've got an otter friend with them!" Nik exclaimed.
"'Nother otter, eh? Might as well, coz me crew's short on warriors. Maybe this other otter'd make a great warrior," Skipper replied.
Painttail bounded down the path, followed by Stormpaw and Lunkin. Maybell took her time and strolled insolently down the path. Stormpaw tripped up on the hare's long footpaws and the two went tumbling down the rest of the hillside path.
"Whoa!" Painttail exclaimed. "Easy there, m'gel! Y'could chop me whiskers off wi' that bally sword, wot, wot!"
"Sorry, Paint," Stormpaw replied as the others caught up. The female otter picked herself up and straighted her sword strap. Then she helped Painttail up off the ground.
"See what I mean by dashing off so quickly, mister Painttail?" Maybell scolded in her high, prissy voice. "You tripped and fell! You could've gotten hurt, you know. I'm not responsible for everybeast."
Stormpaw laughed aloud. It was the first time anybeast had heard her barking laughter, really. It shocked Painttail, Lunkin, and Maybell to hear it.
"Hahaharr! Yeh liddle mouseymaid, gittin yoreself too 'igh in the tree, do yeh think? I won't consider yeh responsible fer anybeast, 'cept yoreself. Jus' be careful when ole Stormpaw's around, y'might find yoreself polishin' me sword. Haharr!"
Suddenly, Stormpaw realized what had happened. "Well, strike me colors, I jus' laughed. Huh, I 'aven't laughed since ole Ruddaring fell t'the sea vermin…I guess I sorta missed laughin'."
Painttail patted Stormpaw's shoulder with his paw. "Don't y'worry, m'gel! We'll git yeh laughing in no time at all." The hare turned to the patiently waiting Skip, Nik, and Kippit. "So sorry, fellow chaps. Ah, Skip an' Nik! Blow me away, yore all grown now!"
The male otter, a full head taller than Stormpaw, nodded. "Aye, Nik 'ad 'is birthday yesterday, Paint. I 'ad me promotion yesterday, too. Now I'm a Skipper. Uh, an official Skipper." He eyed Stormpaw. "An' who's this pretty liddle otter yeh have wi' yeh?"
"Sorry t'burst yore bubbles, sir, but I ain't liddle an' I ain't pretty," Stormpaw interrupted.
The bigger otter shook his head. "Don't call me 'sir,' pretty-face, the name's Skipper of Otters, or just plain Skipper. An' y'should look yoreself in a mirror more often. Then ye'll see who's prettier—you or Painttail!"
Stormpaw grinned. "Well, if'n y'put it that way, then I'm very flattered that y'think I'm pretty. Ole Painttail needs a fur job. Oh, by the way, me name's Stormpaw."
"Well, nice to meet you, Stormpaw," the bigger of the two squirrels chimed in. "I'm Niklur, but you can call me Nik. I'm Redwall's Champion."
The little squirrel by Niklur spoke up. "I'm Kippit, Nik's brother. Is that Martin's sword?" The squirrelbabe pointed to the sword held tightly in the female otter's paws.
"No, little tyke, 'tis Stormpaw's sword," Nik corrected. "Martin's is within the Abbey. Say, speaking of the Abbey, have you lot eaten yet? We still have lots of food left in the kitchens."
Painttail's ears stood on end when the word "food" was mentioned. "Why, no we 'aven't, jolly lad, Nik. I'll be in th' jolly kitchen." And Painttail was off in a flash.
"Thankee, sir Nik, I'll be off too. Must fill this 'ere sack wi' provisions," Lunkin told Nik and was soon running after Painttail.
"I could use a tour," Stormpaw said. "'Sides, I'm 'ungry too. After a night of rats an' foxes attackin' me camp, I could use some peace an' joviality. C'mon, Maybell, y'don't want ter starve or stay out 'ere."
"Well…" Maybell began, but Stormpaw and the others were already heading for the gates. "Oh, all right, I'm coming."
* * *
"Are they inside yet?" a hoarse voice snapped at a quivering weasel.
"Yes, sir Rugval, sir, they are," the weasel replied hastily. "Uh, uh, inside th' Abbey, sir. Um, last I 'eard from th' group was that they're lookin' fer food."
The creature facing the weasel, the one who had emitted the hoarse voice, grinned and toyed with a knife. "Well then."
"What should we do, sir?"
Rugval snarled at the weasel. "Take yore best spies an' go an' find out what else they're doin', yeh idiot!"
"Uh, yessir!" the weasel exclaimed and was dismissed. Then he mumbled as he left, "Take best spies, find out what they're doin'…"
Rugval Sarrico, a lean and sinewy stoat corsair, sat in his rickety captain's chair aboard his first ship, the Renegade, named after his tendency to betray even his most loyal cohorts His second ship, Mutineer, was also named after his back-stabbing reputation.
Scratching his tawny, sand-colored throat fur, Rugval looked out his window and saw his crew frolicking in the surf and sand.
"Nitwits, they're not 'ere t'play, they're 'ere t'collect supplies!" The stoat stood up and poked his head out the window. "Yeh numbskulls, stop yore foolin' 'round and git t'work! Renegade and Mutineer's not even arf done yet and all yore thinkin' of doin' is havin' fun! Git dry, git wood, an' git t'work! We ain't sailin' till these ships is fully repaired! Yew there—gather a bunch o' crewbeasts an' search fer food an' vittles."
"Cap'n," a timid-looking rat piped up, "yew said we'd come t'shore an' start conquering. 'Ow come we're repairin' der ships?"
As the knife Rugval had been holding buried itself in the rat's shoulder, the stoat replied, "Coz in case we're done conquerin' this land, we'll sail an' conquer more, dimwit!" Rugval disappeared from the window, but he could still be heard yelling, "Oh, an' the moment yeh've finished pullin' that knife out, return it!"
All the crewbeasts stopped their horseplay and set to work, ignoring the whimpering rat. The ones who had been in the water dried themselves off and went to look for decent wood. Those who hadn't been in the water went back to the ships and started nailing the ready-made wooden planks to the battered hull while a group of other searched for food. Whiptail, one of the rats in charge, flicked his whip to hurry up the process.
"Yew turtles, git a move on! Cap'n Rugval don't want ter see anybeast slackin'!" Whiptail ordered.
Then came Rugval's voice. "Whiptail, git ter work! Yore 'nother crewbeast and yore not 'ere t'waste air by talkin'! Put the whip back an' git t'work! I want Renegade and Mutineer t'be finished in three days, an' then we'll git movin' on inland. Keep a slow an' steady pace, yeh lizards, or she'll break agin, an yeh don't want ter see me if she does!"
"AYE AYE SIR!" came the loud and unified voices of all the crewbeasts. They pushed on as some of the crew returned from wood gathering.
* * *
"So this'n's Redwall Abbey? Mum an' Dad always spoke o' it, but never told me nothin' 'bout it. I'm impressed."
Stormpaw walked aimlessly around the Abbey. Painttail had decided to give her a tour, and a few Dibbuns had followed. Kippit and his friends were among the group along with a few younger Dibbuns, and they were busy chasing each other at the moment. Kippit's mousefriend, Tibbin, squeaked as he tripped upon the floor and landed tail over paws against the tapestry of the legendary Martin the Warrior.
"Oh, will yeh young hooligans stop bangin' yoreselves inter the blinkin' walls already, wot?!" Painttail growled threateningly.
The little Dibbuns squeaked in fake dismay, trying to conceal their giggles. Painttail adopted an angry harewife look as he chided the Dibbuns.
"Yeh bunch could 'ave knocked down the bally tapestry, wot! Shame on yeh fer dirtyin' Martin's image on cloth!"
"Ho urr, we'm be surry, zurr Pointtoil," the molebabe Guddle whimpered, hiding his face behind his digging claws to hide a smile. "We'm not durtin' Marthen's image, zurr!"
"Yes, yes!" a female mousebabe squeaked in surrender. "Aff mercy on us likkle uns, sir! We dinna mean it!"
Stormpaw chuckled and elbowed Painttail, who was now brandishing a broken broom at the little creatures.
"'Ave mercy on 'em, Paint," the female otter told her friend. "They didn't mean any 'arm t'the tapestry."
"Jus' makin' sure…" Painttail replied. Then he grinned. "Yeh ever 'eard 'bout Martin?"
"I told yeh once, and I'll tell yeh agin—I've never 'eard o' Redwall or Martin or Mossflow'r before now."
"Well, Dibbuns, shall we tell 'er?" the hare asked the little ones.
"Yes!" they all cheered in unison. "Tell missie Storm 'bout Martin!"
Kurpit the weasel sat uncomfortably on a high branch above Redwall Abbey. He and four others—three rats and a ferret—were the best spies in Rugval Sarrico's horde. They looked down upon the grassy lawns, the smooth-surfaced pond, the orchards, the busy Abbeybeasts, and the large redstone Abbey itself.
"Yowch!" a rat named Rawtooth exclaimed as a jutting piece of the oak tree pierced his footpaw. His companions turned to him and shushed loudly.
"Be still, yew crippled excuse fer a rat!" the ferret, Stumptail, snarled.
"But I gotta splinner!" Rawtooth complained. "An' it 'urts, too!"
"Shuddap!" the other four hissed.
They all looked down at the Abbey in time to see Abbess Song and her husband Dannflor exit the building. They were chatting nonchalantly with Foremole Ruggum. The five hordebeasts leaned closer to hear.
"We need another day or two to completely stabilize the south wall, Abbess," Dann said. "Ruggum says that the south wall is cracking again; we might need to redo the construction of the whole south wall."
Abbess Song pursed her lips, something she does when she's thinking. "Well…I guess you could continue with it. I just hope no vermin come along at this time. We're in a bad position to be attacked, you know."
"Hurr, ee be roight," Ruggum replied. "Moi molebeasts an' oi'll fix'n ee wall afore vurmints attack. Furst we'm need a gurt holer dug, then…"
Foremole Ruggum continued with everything that had to be done. He showed the two squirrels exactly where he and his moles would dig, where the construction would take place, and how the wall would be fixed. The south wall had been toppling before due to underground water. Now it was on the verge of toppling again due to the gradually forming cracks in some areas.
This was good news to the five spies of Rugval's horde. Grinning confidently, Kurpit sent two rats back to the ship to tell of the news. The two rats, Rawtooth and another called Twineback, hurried back south, racing each other with refreshed excitement. The other three listened intently to further conversation.
