Chapter Four
Partially repaired, the ship Renegade sat unmoving on the beach, her stern being washed continuously by the surf. Rugval Sarrico planted himself firmly on a rock, overlooking the progress. One paw gripped his cutlass handle tightly while the other shielded his eyes from the sun. Sarrico was a true corsair, and he hated staying on land for more than one day. And if he is on land for more than one day, he gets edgy and irritable.
Rawtooth and Twineback suddenly appeared out of the forest. They scrambled to their leader, spraying sand everywhere with every step. Rugval snarled at the two rats, who stood trembling at attention. Rawtooth and Twineback gave smart salutes.
"Cap'n sir, der h'Abbey's south wall's topplin' down," Twineback blurted out. "It'll take some days fer der goodbeasts t'repair it. We cou' fight them an' gain cont'l o' der Mossflo'r!"
This lightened Sarrico up, but only a little bit. He rapped out harshly, "Then wot're yew waitin' for, yew lousy fleabitten nitwits! Git back t'the Abbey an' find out wot's goin' on!"
"Aye aye sir!" The two rats ran back to the Abbey, breathing heavily and dashing madly.
Sarrico motioned for two of his Captains, and they came.
"Aye, sir?" a rat asked.
"You two gather two dozen workers and stay here to repair Renegade and Mutineer. I'll gather the rest o' the crew an' 'ead inland. D'yeh unnerstand?"
"Aye, sir!" the other Captain replied for the both of them.
Rukkachun watched all this, hidden well amongst the leafy foliage. Standing awkwardly on his perch, Rukka chuckled to himself. "Kchakcha! Thatta stoat is killa, but he be killad soon! Kchakcha!"
The chipping sparrow flew from the tree in the opposite direction of the site to tell the patiently waiting Stormpaw of the news.
Stormpaw sat by a small stream barely big enough to wade in and listened to Rukka's message.
"Kchakchakchaaaaar!" the bird exclaimed as he pecked hungrily at a small fish his otter friend had caught earlier. "Sarrico send ratters to the h'Abbey. Heesa wanna spy. Heesa gonna 'tack Redwall, Sto'paw. Nothin' yeh c'n do outta 'ere."
"Nothin' I can do, mayhaps, but yore wings'd git yeh t'Redwall faster than an 'are can eat one pastry," the female otter replied. "Send word t'Abbess Song an' the others. Git them ready fer wotever Rugval wants t'throw at 'em."
And Rukkachun was off in the blink of an eye.
* * *
Sister Rayna, Painttail's mate, loved to bird watch. She'd even sketch the rarer ones that she'd sight on occasion. Now she was rummaging through her sketches to look for a chipping bird, as the rhyme had stated.
"I know of no chippin' bird, marm," Rayna told Abbess Song, "but there's a critter called a chippin' sparrow, wot, see?"
Rayna held up the quick-yet-accurate sketch of a chipping sparrow. It was a brown back with gray belly feathers. Black stripes streaked down the back of the bird on the parchment.
"There's only five blinkin' chippin' sparrows in Mossflower, though," Rayna continued. "I'm afraid they died out, though; I never saw 'em after three seasons afore now."
"Wot does a chippin' bird sound like, marm?" Runn asked, staring at the sketch.
"It's just one long trill, like this…" The harewife cupped her paws around her mouth and screeched. "Treeeeeeeeyahhh! Otherwise, it sounds like a regular sparrow. Kchakcha! See wot I mean?"
Painttail nodded to his wife affectionately. "That be righto, me beauty, wot."
"Yer sayin' that there's only one or two chippin' sparrows left in Mossflower? It'd take an 'ole season t'find un!" Wedge said unhappily.
"No, actually," Rimrose stated. "All we have to do is listen. Read—'His voice, the eagle among crows.'"
"An' that means…"
"We listen! If we hear a long sharp 'treeyah' we can find the chipping sparrow!"
No sooner had she voiced the last word there was a shrill cry just outside the room's window.
"Treeeeeeyahh!"
The occupants of the room rushed to the window only to move back again as a brown-and-gray blur shot into the room. Flapping like mad, Rukka tried to find a suitable place to land. He ended up in a washbasin filled to the brim with water.
"Kcha! Kchakcha! Trrrreeeeeyah! Gemme outta hirr! Gemme outta hirr!" Rukka screeched. "Gemme outta basin! Me feathers arra alla wetter!"
Abbess Song scooped up the young bird and wrapped him in a small face towel. Rukka shivered visibly within the towel, his head the only thing that shown underneath the cloth.
"Who're you, ole chap?" Rayna asked.
"Rukka norra ole chap!" the chipping sparrow said fiercely, eyes shining. "Rukka lasta kind! Norra nuff sparras o' me sort! Rukkachun Beakblur me name. Rukka Sto'paw's friend. Rukka chippin' sparra!"
There then was a silence. Runn looked at Wedge, who looked at Painttail, who looked at Rayna, who looked at Rimrose, who looked at the Abbess. Rukka jerked his head around, glancing at the larger creatures in front of him.
"Wella, wassa waitin' for? Sto'paw needa 'elp! Norra know whatta she wants, bu' she needa you t'come! Rugval Sarrico comin' t'Redwall!"
That seemed to snap the six creatures out of their shock. The Abbess spoke.
"Well, if Redwall is on the verge of being attacked, we'll need to get ready. We'll send a few warriors ahead to where our otter friend now stays. Will you lead them?"
"'Course Rukka will!" the sparrow said impatiently. "Rukka loyal t'Inbar Trueflight an' Grath Longfletch an' Rudd'rin' till the day Rukka die! Onna me aff'davit!"
Abbess Song had explained the situation to the rest of the Abbey at dinnertime. Creatures, young and old, were fidgety. Would this Sarrico character attack during the nighttime, the morning, or the day? Would he attack the next day or the next season?
Niklur, who was worried not only for the Abbey's safety but for his friend's safety as well, went to bed not fit to sleep. He rolled in bed countless times in a time lapse of three hours. Sleep still didn't come.
That is, until Nik fell off his bed.
He blacked out completely as he thudded to the floor and drifted slowly into the ethereal dream world. He was in an open field filled with sweet smelling wildflowers of every color. The sky, a light blue, showed little or no clouds at all. Nik felt calm where he stood in the field, shrouded by the warm sun's light and the cool spring air. Standing before the young squirrel was the legendary Martin the Warrior, clad in armor from ears to footpaws. The great battle sword was thrust into the scabbard tied to Martin's belt. Nik could hardly believe his dream.
"Martin?" Nik exclaimed in surprise. "Martin the Warrior?"
Martin smiled. "Yes, 'tis I, Niklur Reguba. I have come to you, just as I did many seasons before when your father was your age. I came to him because it was urgent, and now I've come to you for the same reason."
"Rugval Sarrico, right?"
Martin said no more. Though his face remained motionless, his voice seemed to reverberate throughout the field and toward the gray mountains in the distance.
"Thou must follow the river of green,
And the great stream south,
To where the mountains meet the sea,
Stop at the dragon's mouth.
Fire burns yet contains such life,
As those of warriors born,
Find the reason of your strife,
And defeat him before the morn.
Gatehouse otter goes with thee,
Same with mountain hare,
Born of wind and born of sea,
Go with warrior rare.
Finally, without one doubt,
The sword bearer will wish to go,
And follow the strong wind's scout,
To the sun-baked shores to meet thy foe."
Nik's eyes snapped open. The vision of the field and flowers and blue sky and Martin faded instantly and was replaced by the familiar face of his mother. Sitting up like a lightning bolt, Nik yelled, "Mother! Martin came in a dream! He said…he said…oooh, dangit, I forget!"
Abbess Song wrapped her arms around her son and whispered, "Shh, please be quiet, Nik, or you'll wake the Abbey. Recorder Rimrose wrote it all down, didn't you, Mother?"
Old Rimrose Swifteye nodded and held up the piece of parchment. She read it out loud to Nik, who wasn't surprised that he'd have to go and help Stormpaw out.
* * *
Stormpaw crouched low in the underbrush, watching all activity on the sandy shores in front of her. A black-fletched arrow fitting in her bow, the otter waited. The ocean waves pounded restlessly against the beach, spraying salt water at the vermin among the waves. Twenty-four rats, ferrets, foxes, and weasels labored onerously, repairing the damaged ships as the rest packed vittles and water and prepared to journey.
There was also one stoat. Dusty brown with a tawny throat color, he wore a simple jerkin with a red silk headband. A cutlass and twin daggers were thrust into his adder-skin belt. One ear was cut right off of his head, but everything else was intact. He was every inch a true corsair, from the attire to the character. He wasn't called Rugval Sarrico the Renegade for nothing.
"Yew! Addle-brained snot-nosed no good excuse fer a rat! Stop yer moanin' an' 'eave that plank! If'n yeh don't work, then when that un plank's fixed then ye'll be the first un t'walk it!"
The rat trembled visibly and scurried along with speed born of never-ending fear.
Stormpaw smiled grimly. She drew the string of her bow taut, took aim at the waddling rat, and fired.
Ssssssss…thunk!
The arrow whizzed through the air and embedded itself in the rat's throat faster than one could blink. The rat gave a sputtered cry and fell, the plank striking his corpse heavily.
Rugval whirled around to see the rat with the arrow shaft protruding from his throat. Waving his cutlass aloft, the stoat Captain yelled, "Attack whoever's'n those woods!"
The pirates dropped their packs and repair tools and drew their daggers, cutlasses, and swords. They charged at the leafy green forests and hacked away at branches, ferns, old logs, and even tree trunks. But Stormpaw Swiftwater was already gone, silent as a wraith and swift as as the water.
* * *
"'Thou must follow the river of green.' That's easy—the River Moss. 'And the great stream south.' 'Nother easy un—the Great South Stream."
The whole of the Abbey was out and about in the orchards. It was lunchtime, and the day was so cheery that even old Cregga Badgermum, who had recently preferred the indoors, stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. Now, every Abbeybeast was trying to solve both riddles. Some already had and were eager to tell of their interpreting.
"Let's try to finish the first one before we start on the second, Skipper," Abbess Song interrupted. "Now, the first half we have done. 'Beware the fiery mountain of hell.' What would that be?"
Painttail's ears perked up. "Wot would that be, m'Abbess marm? Why, the bally
Salamandastron, o' course! Used t'be a volcano—a mountain that spit fire. Jolly Russano the Wise lives there nowadays. So does the Long Patrol, wot wot!"
"That explains the third verse. The last two are easy," Brother Lanno said, reading over the parchment with the first rhyme on it. "It means there'll be fighting near Salamandastron or something of the sort."
"Done with that rhyme, on with the next!" Sister Rosa exclaimed happily. She, unlike most of the Abbey Sisters, loved rhymes, riddles, and adventure.
Recorder Rimrose unfolded the second piece of parchment. "The first and second verses have to do with the first rhyme. It mentions the two rivers and Salamandastron. And the fighting as well. But the last two…I think Martin chose the ones to go already. Niklur, you look confident today. Tell us what you think."
Nik patted his grandmother's paw fondly. Then he turned to the other Redwallers. "'Tis simple. 'Gatehouse otter goes with thee—'"
"Me!" Runn Rivereye yelled suddenly. "I'm the gatehouse otter!"
"That's right, me good chap," Painttail added. "I goes as well, wot. 'Same with mountain hare.' That's me."
Niklur glared daggers at them. "I wasn't finished!"
"So Nik, Runn, an' Paint are goin'," Lunkin concluded. "Wot 'bout the other two?"
"'Born of wind and born of sea, go with warrior rare,'" Friar Minnle the Infirmary keeper read, taking the parchment from the old Recorder. "What or who are they?"
"Who's born o' wind an' sea?" Runn wondered, scratching his whiskers and looking up at the leafy boughs of a pear tree.
"A seagull?" Wedge suggested helpfully.
"No seagulls 'ere'bouts," Lunkin replied, tossing a ripe red apple lightly.
Abbess Song recalled something from the back of her mind. "Oh…wait a minute…Mighty Megraw! Born of wind—a bird—and born of sea. It all equals to a fishing eagle!"
Dann nodded in agreement. "But Megraw's not here. He rarely ever visits nowadays."
Rukka pecked at a pear, which he held in his talons. Looking up from his food, he said, "Rukka finda fishin' h'eagle forra Sto'paw's friends."
"I suggest you don't," the Abbess intervened. "You'd be slain on sight."
"Rukka norra 'fraid o' water 'awk, Abbess marm! You justa see me! Rukka comin' back wi' Megraw!"
Sister Rayna shook her head. "Sorry, ole chap. Wot the Abbess says, yeh follow."
"Rukka norra ole chap!!"
The Cellarhog, Puntik, thought for a moment. He scanned the lawns, watching everything moving. The pond caught his keen eye. Kippit and some Dibbuns were sailing makeshift rafts. Guddle was resting on shore with a few other molebabes, too afraid of water to venture on it. Tibbin was desperately clinging to one of the rafts' masts. It seemed that out of all the Dibbuns on the rafts, Kippit was the one brave enough to sail. A swift gust of wind was collected in the square canvas sails and the rafts moved forward. The Dibbuns other than Kippit wailed in surprise. The young squirrel only yelled in glee.
"C'mon, cowards, brighten up! I not afraid o' water, an' you liddle cowards shouldn't either!" the squirrelbabe told the others.
"We cowids, Kippit!" a hogbabe squealed helplessly.
Puntik interrupted Sister Rosa, who wasn't against allowing Rukka to find Megraw. The hedgehog held up a paw and spoke.
"I think I found our wind 'n' sea-born liddle 'venturer, mateys," Puntik said. He pointed with his other paw at Kippit. "That liddle tyke looks fit t'sail."
Dann and Abbess Song exchanged worried looks. Dann shook his head. "Little Kipp's too young. He'd die in battle before he could blink."
Niklur suddenly sat up. "Dad, Mum, I will look after Kipp. He's my brother, and if Martin says he must go, he goes."
The Mother Abbess nodded slowly. "If Martin says, then so be it."
Dann hesitated. "I…guess I agree," Dann added, hugging his wife tightly.
"That's all settled," Rimrose said softly. "But who is the 'warrior rare'?"
Runn looked at the old Recorder with a strange expression on his face. "Dunno why, marm, but I 'ave a feelin' we don't need t'find 'er. The warrior rare…I think 'tis Stormpaw. 'Sides, the rhyme never said nothin' 'bout all five bein' Redwallers. So I think we've found our five. Me, Nik, Painttail, Kippit, an' Storm."
