Dragonsfang
By Langerhast
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Chapter One
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Martin, the Warrior of Redwall, sat slumped in a large armchair by the roaring fire. The light from the crackling flames played on the sandstone walls, reminding him of days past.
Ever since he had heard the tale of his father's end, he had found it hard to keep his thoughts away from much else. He retold the end of the tale over and over again in his mind on these autumn nights. Many of the Redwallers were beginning to worry about him, spending his time alone so often.
He was interrupted from his thoughts as the wide oaken door to his study swung open and a young mouse in a habit stumbled in.
"Mister Martin!" He cried, panting. "There's a stranger at the gates! Says he wants to speak to you!"
"Thank you, Rodric," Martin said, pushing himself up out of his chair. He didn't feel as young as he had, but his bones weren't creaking yet. "Let's go see what he wants, shall we?"
The two walked through the long, darkened corridors that he knew so well, dusted with age. Before long, their swift feet had carried them across the grounds and into the gatehouse.
Martin frowned when he saw that no beast stood in the dusty room. "Rodric, why didn't you let him in out of the cold?"
"I'm sorry, Martin, but he looked... well, untrustworthy."
The mouse warrior's brow furrowed as he frowned deeper. There hadn't been any vermin causing trouble in Mossflower for many seasons. He prayed that they hadn't decided to rise up again.
He made his way over to the vast, thick doors and unbolted them, grunting as he eased one of them open slightly, providing a small crack.
He bent to peer out into the darkness, seeing nothing. Suddenly, a clawed hand grasped the exposed edge of the door and pulled it open, a gust of cold air rushing in. Martin yelled, and jumped backwards. Rodric made an odd sort of squeaking noise, and ducked behind the older mouse, peering over his shoulder cautiously.
A dark shape stepped into the threshold, draped in a long cloak that swirled around it in the wind. It strode across the stone floor to stand before Martin and Rodric, looming over them and staring down intently with one gleaming emerald eye.
"You are Martin, yes?" A cold, deep voice growled, piercing like a knife blade.
"Yes," the mouse warrior said confidently. "But why do you wish to speak with me? Who are you, and what is your business here at Redwall?"
The figure allowed himself a deep chuckle. Stepping forward into the dim light, he grinned. "I am called Kain. Kain Nightstrider. As for my business here, you shall find the answer very soon."
Rodric gasped at Kain's sinister features. "A-a wildcat!" He stammered, looking up in awe. "With one eye! And black fur!"
The traveler grinned at the young monk's reaction. The mouse had obviously never seen, or had ever thought he would see, someone such as the wildcat.
"Please, sit down," Martin said, smiling slightly. "No one is who appears at our gates is spared our famous hospitality. Sit, and we shall talk."
Kain chose a wide armchair, designed for badgers. As he sat, he swirled his cloak, causing a strange swishing sound. He stared intensely at Martin for a moment with his piercing eye before speaking. "Now, for your other question, warrior. As to why I am here now, it is a long tale, but I will shorten it. Time is against me.
"My family was once respected in the northlands. We held a great secret; the greatest secret ever kept by a wildcat clan, or any other clan for that matter.
"We were the keepers of a talisman. Though quite plain in appearance, it was a vessel of overwhelming power. You see, everybeast chose to believe that my clan was only a family of royalty, but the truth is that we were masters of the Dark Arts."
Both mice gasped at this. "Surely you are joking, Master Kain?" Martin inquired, sweat beading on his brow. "The... the Dark Arts are merely a tale to frighten dibbuns..."
Kain leaned forward, stooping slightly, until he was face-to-face with the mouse warrior. "Oh, no, Martin... the Dark Arts are as real as you and I... and considerably more dangerous." Leaning back, the wildcat returned to his tale, paying no heed to the look of utter disbelief on the two mice's faces.
"Even though great respect was held for us, we still, of course, had enemies. Unfortunately, everybeast does. There were many who envied us for our power and position, and one winter night, they decided to take action.
"I was the first to wake that following morning, with the sun's first light, and so I was the first to know what crime had been committed. In the night the talisman had been stolen, by someone of great stealth, it seems. They must have possessed great skill indeed, or they would not have left our dwelling alive.
"The alarming thing is that it was well- hidden and guarded. There seemed to have been no way for it to slip from our grasp. When the fact remained that it had, however, we were faced with the horrible dilemma of finding out who stole it.
"Our search was frantic. In the wrong hands, the talisman is a weapon in indescribable destructive power. By luck, the answer soon became clear to us; a vermin tribe had stolen it. Not any common vermin tribe, mind you, but one of the most powerful and feared tribes in the northlands: the clan of Vulcar Zonn, the fox.
"I knew there was no way for my clan to repossess it on its own, for Vulcar is a cunning beast, and so I decided to turn to another creature for aid. When the night was young, about a fortnight afterwards, I stole away and journeyed south, for I had heard intriguing rumors of Redwall Abbey and its stouthearted warriors. And so, here I am before you."
"So you ask my aid?" Said Martin, bewildered but firm.
Kain leaned forward to face the two once more. "I do not ask your aid, Martin of Redwall... I beg for it."
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Fortunately this installment is much longer than the last one. A nice length, in my opinion. Please review, and tell me what you think!
By Langerhast
++++++
Chapter One
++++++
Martin, the Warrior of Redwall, sat slumped in a large armchair by the roaring fire. The light from the crackling flames played on the sandstone walls, reminding him of days past.
Ever since he had heard the tale of his father's end, he had found it hard to keep his thoughts away from much else. He retold the end of the tale over and over again in his mind on these autumn nights. Many of the Redwallers were beginning to worry about him, spending his time alone so often.
He was interrupted from his thoughts as the wide oaken door to his study swung open and a young mouse in a habit stumbled in.
"Mister Martin!" He cried, panting. "There's a stranger at the gates! Says he wants to speak to you!"
"Thank you, Rodric," Martin said, pushing himself up out of his chair. He didn't feel as young as he had, but his bones weren't creaking yet. "Let's go see what he wants, shall we?"
The two walked through the long, darkened corridors that he knew so well, dusted with age. Before long, their swift feet had carried them across the grounds and into the gatehouse.
Martin frowned when he saw that no beast stood in the dusty room. "Rodric, why didn't you let him in out of the cold?"
"I'm sorry, Martin, but he looked... well, untrustworthy."
The mouse warrior's brow furrowed as he frowned deeper. There hadn't been any vermin causing trouble in Mossflower for many seasons. He prayed that they hadn't decided to rise up again.
He made his way over to the vast, thick doors and unbolted them, grunting as he eased one of them open slightly, providing a small crack.
He bent to peer out into the darkness, seeing nothing. Suddenly, a clawed hand grasped the exposed edge of the door and pulled it open, a gust of cold air rushing in. Martin yelled, and jumped backwards. Rodric made an odd sort of squeaking noise, and ducked behind the older mouse, peering over his shoulder cautiously.
A dark shape stepped into the threshold, draped in a long cloak that swirled around it in the wind. It strode across the stone floor to stand before Martin and Rodric, looming over them and staring down intently with one gleaming emerald eye.
"You are Martin, yes?" A cold, deep voice growled, piercing like a knife blade.
"Yes," the mouse warrior said confidently. "But why do you wish to speak with me? Who are you, and what is your business here at Redwall?"
The figure allowed himself a deep chuckle. Stepping forward into the dim light, he grinned. "I am called Kain. Kain Nightstrider. As for my business here, you shall find the answer very soon."
Rodric gasped at Kain's sinister features. "A-a wildcat!" He stammered, looking up in awe. "With one eye! And black fur!"
The traveler grinned at the young monk's reaction. The mouse had obviously never seen, or had ever thought he would see, someone such as the wildcat.
"Please, sit down," Martin said, smiling slightly. "No one is who appears at our gates is spared our famous hospitality. Sit, and we shall talk."
Kain chose a wide armchair, designed for badgers. As he sat, he swirled his cloak, causing a strange swishing sound. He stared intensely at Martin for a moment with his piercing eye before speaking. "Now, for your other question, warrior. As to why I am here now, it is a long tale, but I will shorten it. Time is against me.
"My family was once respected in the northlands. We held a great secret; the greatest secret ever kept by a wildcat clan, or any other clan for that matter.
"We were the keepers of a talisman. Though quite plain in appearance, it was a vessel of overwhelming power. You see, everybeast chose to believe that my clan was only a family of royalty, but the truth is that we were masters of the Dark Arts."
Both mice gasped at this. "Surely you are joking, Master Kain?" Martin inquired, sweat beading on his brow. "The... the Dark Arts are merely a tale to frighten dibbuns..."
Kain leaned forward, stooping slightly, until he was face-to-face with the mouse warrior. "Oh, no, Martin... the Dark Arts are as real as you and I... and considerably more dangerous." Leaning back, the wildcat returned to his tale, paying no heed to the look of utter disbelief on the two mice's faces.
"Even though great respect was held for us, we still, of course, had enemies. Unfortunately, everybeast does. There were many who envied us for our power and position, and one winter night, they decided to take action.
"I was the first to wake that following morning, with the sun's first light, and so I was the first to know what crime had been committed. In the night the talisman had been stolen, by someone of great stealth, it seems. They must have possessed great skill indeed, or they would not have left our dwelling alive.
"The alarming thing is that it was well- hidden and guarded. There seemed to have been no way for it to slip from our grasp. When the fact remained that it had, however, we were faced with the horrible dilemma of finding out who stole it.
"Our search was frantic. In the wrong hands, the talisman is a weapon in indescribable destructive power. By luck, the answer soon became clear to us; a vermin tribe had stolen it. Not any common vermin tribe, mind you, but one of the most powerful and feared tribes in the northlands: the clan of Vulcar Zonn, the fox.
"I knew there was no way for my clan to repossess it on its own, for Vulcar is a cunning beast, and so I decided to turn to another creature for aid. When the night was young, about a fortnight afterwards, I stole away and journeyed south, for I had heard intriguing rumors of Redwall Abbey and its stouthearted warriors. And so, here I am before you."
"So you ask my aid?" Said Martin, bewildered but firm.
Kain leaned forward to face the two once more. "I do not ask your aid, Martin of Redwall... I beg for it."
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Fortunately this installment is much longer than the last one. A nice length, in my opinion. Please review, and tell me what you think!