Chapter Six

Rage filled Rugval Sarrico as another one of his crewbeasts fell to a black-feathered arrow.

            "Wot is goin' on 'ere?!" the stoat roared, grabbing a nearbly ferret by the back of his neck. "Yew! Frogface! Wot's 'appenin'?"

            "Yeeeergh!" the ferret wailed unhappily. "Er, dunno, Cap'n, bu' I counted fifteen o' ours gone. The two 'undred o' yores are puttin' up great defenses though, heh." Laughing nervously, the ferret gulped as Rugval glared fiercly at him. The stoat corsair then threw the crewbeast aside and waved his cutlass in the air.

            Sarrico snarled and let go of the ferret. "Hungh. All right, crew. Half o' yew addlebrains keep on repairin'. The rest o' yew lot—git packin'! We leave 'morrow at noon!"

            Sarrico was lucky. As he let the paw holding the cutlass drop to his side, another arrow whizzed at him, bounced harmlessly off the cutlass blade, and buried itself in the footpaw of an unfortunate weasel. The verminous rodent squealed in pain, let go of the heavy plank he was holding high above his head in an attempt to massage his damaged footpaw, and ended up being knocked unconscious by the plank as it came whoosing down in his head. Another arrow rid the weasel of his life.

            A shiplength away, a mob of two hundred foxes gathered around large campfires, away from the slaughter. Queen Nerygia, a pure black female fox, taller and stronger than all of the foxes in her five different tribes (except her mate, who agreed to let her rule as long as he was second-in-command), sat regally on a flat beige rock, roasting a bird-on-a-stick. Her five tribes—the Ragfur, the Rockshade, the Nightblack, the Clawfist, and the Arkenjaw—laughed and joked around the fires, calling rude things at the crewbeasts and at Rugval Sarrico. Nerygia herself called the stoat "a snot-nosed, sword-swiped, salt-furred arrow target." Sarrico had to vent out his anger by slaying the nearest fox, causing the anger to rise in the fox's tribe, the Arkenjaw. Though Nerygia was head of all tribes, she didn't seem to care whether or not Sarrico had slain the fox or not. After all, she did have two hundred and her main priority was the Nightblack.

            "Look at him, wasting his time on repairing that water-logged mess of wood he calls a ship," Nerygia growled smugly. For a fox who had been living in Mossflower all her life, the Queen was very refined in speaking. Otherwise, she was just as savage as the rest of the clans' foxes.

            "Aye, he's too dimwitted to realize he can't fight an invisible enemy! Hahaha!" the Queen's mate, Xeroedge, agreed, nodding as he tore at another roasted bird. He too was another refinely-speaking fox.

            Nerygia smiled craftily, patting Xeroedge's paw fondly. "'Tis true, Xero. But we can, can't we, my strong and brave assailant?"

            Xeroedge grinned toothily, matching his wife in every baneful aspect. "Aye, my pretty, we can! Sarrico's too high in his tree. We'll cut him down and then take everything for ourselves!"

            Again, Nerygia smiled. She, Queen Nerygia of the Xerogia tribes, would soon conquer not only Redwall but all of Mossflower as well!

            She would soon betray the betrayer…

*                      *                      *

Salamandastron—the fire mountain. It stood proud and tall against the bright sunrise and the dark forest. Rays of sunlight poured like melted butter over the trees, the rocks, the underbrush, the sand, and the ocean. Creatures stirred from their beds, night animals returned to their homes, and everywhere, peace reigned.

            Except in the dining hall of the great mountain.

            Lord Russano, used to the major scoffing of the food in the dining hall three times a day, ate contendedly while the hares around him didn't give a thought about table manners.

            "Oooh! Is that a bally 'uge pan o' pudden, wot? Me fav'rite!"

            "It's fer dessert, y'liddle flea-infested scoundrel, git off it!"

            "Damson pudden! Yum!"

            "Pass me the jolly summer salad! Oh, I say, good show, wot!"

            "Yaaaaagh! Wot did ya do that for?!"

            Pawpike ate his food like a thunderbolt striking the ground. Dunelily watched in amazement at her friend; he had never eaten that fast before. Sure, he had won a few scoffing contests, but never had he eaten the food piled high on his plate quicker than she could even finish half of hers.

            "Paws, wot 'appened yest'day?" Dune asked, still staring awestruck at the younger hare. "Y'were all gloomy, now yer eatin' like there's no 'morrow!"

            Pawpike looked up from his food. "Aye, maybe there won't be, m'gel!"

            Dune shook her head. "I don't unnerstand. Wot's all this 'bout?"

            The younger hare puffed out his chest, and replied proudly, "I'm part o' the jolly Long Patrol, wot!"

            Dunelily clapped her paws in congratulations to her friend. "Oh, good show there, Paws! Y'can show 'em wot fightin's all 'bout, wot."

            "Yup. An' me trainin' starts t'day, m'gel."

            Lieutenant Tammo walked by, staggering under a large plate of food.

            "Mornin', Lieutenant, sah," Pawpike and Dune greeted the old hare in unison. Tammo sat down between the two and gently placed his plate in front of him.

            "Why, g'mornin' t'you liddle uns, wot," the old Lieutenant replied. He turned to his grandson. "Pawpike, I want you t'git ready as soon as y'can. Lord Russano says me an' six others are takin' a hike t'Redwall Abbey. Ho, you'd like t'go there, m'laddo, wot. Y'should see the tucker they 'ave! Any'ow, I'm choosin' you, Earlop, Lin, Frizfoll, Cap'n Quickpaw, an' Medi-hare Liana. We're leavin' aft'r brekkist. Got it?"

            "Yessah, granpa—er, Lieutenant, sah!" Pawpike replied, saluting.

            "Good."

*                      *                      *

Rukka flitted carefully from branch-to-branch, watching a lone male otter, quite young in age, swim effortlessly in the water. The chipping sparrow knew the otter was from Lurrana's holt. Creekstar's and Portred's holts had been visited already, and they were on their way to help. Lurrana's holt, as Creekstar, brother of Runn, had told Rukka, was hidden away underneath a large amount of vegetation. Only otters knew how to get there, but, if somebeast follows an otter marked on his right paw with an "L" with a javelin through it, then that otter would return to an inconspicuous pile of underbrush and disappear beneath it.

            The chipping sparrow watched as the young male otter looked around cautiously, then slipped beneath the surface. Though he would have looked invisible to anybeast on the shore, Rukka could see the otter quite clearly, swimming underneath the bracts and disappearing behind them.

            Rukkachun sighed. Water wasn't his thing, but he was willing to do it anyway. He flew to and landed on the pile of vegetation and found a hole big enough to squeeze through. Rukka inched his way through the hole and flapped madly to stay above the water. In the dim light, Rukka could see the large opening at the end of the tunnel.

            The young male otter, Sandtail, shot out of the water and landed on the dry dirt floor of the immense cave. Lurrana, Queen of the holt, sat atop a carved wooden chair in front of the fire.

            "Ev'rythin's fine, Mum," Sandtail told Lurrana.

            His mother looked hard at him. "Yeh cheeky thing, I'm Yore Majesty, not Mum!"

            Sandtail grinned. "'Kay." Then he added as an afterthought, "Mum."

            All of a sudden, Rukka shot out of the tunnel, yelping in surprise as he sped through the large fire in the center of the cave unintentionally. Flapping like a mad bird, Rukka skimmed the surface of a bowl of water, his tail feathers almost on fire.

            "Yaaaaargh! Rukka burnin'! 'Elp!" the chipping sparrow pleaded. Lurrana jumped from her chair, caught the sparrow, and quickly dunked him in the river. He rose from the water, sputtering and flapping feebly, still clutched in the otter Queen's paw.

            "Gerra offa me, riv'rdog!" Rukka ordered. "Rukka norra time fer play!"

            Queen Lurrana let go of the aggressive bird, who landed on the floor and spread his water-soaked wings in a bow.

            "Yore Majesty, Rukka comin' in time o' warra. Runn Riv'reye needa 'elp. Rugval Sarrico wi' two 'undred verminbists a-comin' t'Mossflo'r. He gonna starta warra. Redwall needa protectin'. Warra needa fought. Rukka norra know 'ow turn out, but Rukka thinks us'n's win!"

            "You are Rukka?" Lurrana asked.

            "Me Rukkachun Beakblur, aye."

            "Yeh said me brother need me, didn't yeh?"

            "Aye. Runn an' friendbists needa 'elp."

            Lurrana turned to her holt, which had gathered due to the curious little bird. "Me brother Runn needs our 'elp. Old uns an' young uns, stay 'ere. Quitin, take ten o' yore best fighters an' stay 'ere t'protect old an' young alike. Ravawar, take the rest o' 'em an' foller me. Sandtail? Yeh should foller Quitin's orders. Yer not goin' this time, son, or else ye'd be slain."

            Sandtail frowned.

            In no time at all, Lurrana, Ravawar, and the rest of the fighters were off, following Rukka through Mossflower.

            "Creekstar an' Portred comin' too?" Lurrana asked the bird.

            "Aye, marm, aye. Creekstar tol' Rukka wherra find ya."

            Lurrana was about to say something when Luna, one of the scouts, rushed towards her. "Yore Majesty, Creekstar an' Portred up a'ead waitin' fer us."

            "Well then, let's go," the otter Queen retorted. She held her javelin in the air, jerked a point to the side, and soon all otters were racing towards their fellow holts.

*                      *                      *

Nik, Runn, Painttail, Ralar, and the young ones were up and about since early that morning. Breakfast was done, the campsite was packed, and they were of to Salamandastron.

            "Are yeh up to it, mate?" Runn asked Ralar as the old mouse hobbled onward.

            "Oh, I'll be fine, Runn. Just get me to Salamandastron and I'll be fine," Ralar replied.

            Meanwhile, the young ones, except Kippit, were staring in awe at Martin's sword. The legendary battleblade was usually strapped securely on Nik's back, but at the moment, the warrior squirrel held it out to show the little creatures.

            "Oooh! Bigga sword!" Pinidap exclaimed, eyes full of curiosity.

            "Who's?" Filian asked, pointing at the legendary blade.

            "This sword belonged to Martin, the great Warrior of Redwall," Nik replied. "He's dead now, but his memory lives on in the Abbey."

            Verleaf nodded. "I think I've heard of Martin the Warrior afore. My great-great-granpa told my great-granpa about him, and then my great-granpa told my granpa, then my granpa told my dad, then my dad told me."

            "Martin was the bravest warrior ever. He freed Mossflower from the clutches of Tsarmina Greeneyes, a wildcat. Then Redwall was built atop of Kotir, the castle of Tsarmina. Martin's sword was then handed down to many other warriors. Arven, a squirrel like myself, my father Dann, and so many others from the past."

            Nik continued talking about the history of Redwall, explaining it to Verleaf, Pinidap, and Filian. The three were so engrossed in what Nik was saying they didn't bother looking where they were going. In fact, it was because of this that Verleaf fell into a well-covered pitfall with a fast-flowing underwater river at the bottom.

            "Verleaf!" Ralar exclaimed as his grandson fell, squealing with fright, into the waters.

            "Don't worry, messmate, ole Runn'll git yeh out o' there!" the big otter yelled, diving head-first into the underground river.

            "Runn!" Nik and Painttail shouted in unison. Painttail, who was grasping Nik's shoulder, slipped suddenly and fell into the pitfall as well. His squirrel friend yelped in dismay as he too was pulled into the current due to the hare's desperate grab for the thick bushy squirrel tail.

            Ralar, Filian, and Pinidap had to restrain a struggling, biting, kicking Kippit from jumping into the water after his brother. The squirrelbabe fought like a madbeast, escaped their grasp, and willingly hurtled himself down, yelling, "Niiiiiik!"

            Pinidap sighed. He turned to Filian, who nodded grimly. Grasping the hedgehog's paw, Filian made for the pit.

            "Oh no you don't!" Ralar warned. "I'm not going in there after you."

            Filian and Pinidap grinned. The leveret told the old mouse, "Then, sah, y'll might come down da bally 'ole wiv us'n's, wot."

            Before Ralar could reply, Filian grabbed his paw and jumped down the hole with the two clinging onto her. They were squealing with delight, except Ralar, who was in fright, yelling, "I'm too old for thiiiiiiiiss!!"

Verleaf gasped for breath as his head broke the surface of the rapidly flowing river. The young mouse was pushed underneath once again and was pinned against the jagged floor of the river. He knew there was no escaping now as he was fastened between two rocks.

            Minutes passed slowly as Verleaf began to lose consciousness. Air bubbles gradually escaped his mouth and nostrils, forcing him into suffocation.

            A sudden thud shook the rocks that had Verleaf pinned. Something brown, sleek, and powerful pushed the two rocks aside, grabbed the young mouse's limp body, and swam upwards, towards the surface. Verleaf was thrown onto the uneven bank as the brown thing dove back into the water. In no time at all, the rest of the group was unearthed from the icy depths.

            Verleaf choked and sputtered as powerful paws thumped his chest. Water sprayed unbidden from his throat as he was gradually revitalized. His vision, though blurred, came back, as well as his life.

            "Verleaf!" Ralar exclaimed, relieved. He hugged his grandson fondly, nearly squeezing the air out of the young mouse's lungs.

            "Granpa!" Verleaf yelled hoarsely. "Lemme go!"

            Ralar let go of Verleaf but stuck the mousebabe close to him, covering him with an extra cloak.

            "Whew!" Nik, who sat nearby, said. The squirrel warrior wrung the water from his tail as he continued. "That was something, eh Paint?"

            The hare shook the water from his fur, showering droplets on his friends. "Aye, Nik, that ole waterdog sure can swim!"

            The "ole waterdog" Painttail had been referring to sat a good distance away from the others in the shadows of the bank of what seemed like an underground lake, gasping for breath. His jerkin, torn from the rocks and drenched with freezing cold water, clung to his brown and beige fur. The creature was a fearsome sight, even if he was tired. A long scar ran down his blind left eye as green, blue, and red streaks criscrossed his face. A cutlass, long and sharp, was thrust into the toad-skin belt that held an assortment of other weapons: a sling and stonepouch, three daggers, and an axe.

            Kippit, Filian, and Pinidap, who were just waking up, noticed the fearsome creature and cowered behind Nik and Painttail. Verleaf and Ralar stuck close to their friends, unsure whether this new arrival wasn't as scary as he looked.

            "Who are you?" Ralar demanded.