A/N: Welp, new beginning! And it's just the one review, hm?
Jared: I'm glad you enjoyed Before Meteor, and I hope Through Fire and Sword is to your liking. The first scene is the first action scene I've written in a while, and I'm glad you liked it. As for the Dreamscape... you'll see more of it soon! Hopefully I'll get the chance to elaborate on it. As for Kiordan being named temporary ruler of Helskerland... there's no such thing. Erlend refused Kiordan's request to make that happen, remember?
Chapter 1
Ship of Fools
Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive! -Marmion, Walter Scott
"Naptime's over, streamdog."
The voice rang in Kiormund Streambattle's ears as his eyes opened. It appeared that he was still in Redwall Abbey, with its red sandstone walls. However, nobeast was there to greet him - nobeast at all. The brown-furred otter was back in his Abbey clothes, despite not having worn them since his first night on the Aureous Gale.
Redwall was where Kiormund had spent the last three seasons, and he had made a crowd of friends there, who were surely quite worried about him. He had studied, played and (arguably most importantly) feasted with every single one of the Abbey's denizens, from the fatherly Abbot Cuthbert to the playful vixen Graha. In a way, Kiormund still missed the abbey. All was well until his father, Lord Erlend, wrote to Redwall, urging him to leave as quickly as possible. Now, he was on a ship sailing across the Western Sea, preparing to make the trip over the Roaringburn to Floret.
"Ah, finally you wake! Took me long enough to get to ya." The otter spun backwards, and locked eyes with a ferret in a green tunic - Redwall's shade of green, in fact - with his paws behind his back. There was something wrong about him, Kiormund knew, but he didn't know what it exactly was. His eyes were shifty, of course, and the dark shadows under his brows, and he emitted no scent. That must be it.
"Not a lot of beasts dream of Redwall Abbey when they sleep, but I suppose you're one of those beasts - those who brag about how 'spectacular' the abbey is, and how everywhere else is just some backwater place infested with vermin."
"I'm not like that," responded Kiormund. He was still in a dream. How could he talk with some ferret invader? Everything just seemed so unreal.
"Oh, whatever. Now what should I call you? You've got so many names on your paws, but a beast only needs one. Unless you're a hare, of course." His lips curled with disgust. "A bunch of stupid vittle-munchers, all of them."
"I'm Kiormund." said the otter nervously. "Who are you? And why are you in my dream?"
"You know me." The ferret lifted up a paw, and Kiormund gasped. It was the colour of blood, and there were six claws on it instead of the five. "Veil Sixclaw."
"You're the ferret who grew up in the abbey!"
"Yeah, yeah. You and your books." Veil scowled. "Though I doubt the Redwall library really dared to tell my side of the story. A lie-brary, if you will." Kiormund remained silent as the ferret giggled at his own joke, and remained so as the laughter faded into wheezing. "Sorry about that. Laughing hasn't been the same ever since I took a spear to the chest."
Kiormund wanted to wake up, to be rid of the ferret. "You still haven't told me why you're here."
"Simple. I'm bored."
"Bored?"
"Bored." The ferret rolled his eyes. "I heard what you said about the South, and I decided to hitch a ride there. After all, it's more interesting to see woodlanders kill each other than vermin. It wouldn't be obvious to who wins, and you don't get moments of baffling stupidity."
"I don't want you to cling to me," said Kiormund, shaking his head. "Could you leave me alone for a bit?"
"Maybe later, but not now." The ferret's expression changed to one of relative seriousness. "I just overheard something the vixen captain said. Urza, right?. She was talking t' a mole, who clearly has something planned for you."
Kiormund took a step back in shock. "Daghild." The otter's father had always told him that of all the Southswarders, the mole spymaster was most unscrupulous. Kiormund wondered why the mole was so reliant on her subordinates, before remembering his grandfather's words. A brave spy was as useless as a cowardly soldier. But still, how could she of all people talk in dreams? She wasn't even dead yet! And what did Kiormund have to do with all this?
"Oh, so that's her name, hm?" asked Veil, all seriousness wiped clean from his face. "You might want to pay attention to her."
"Why are you helping me?" asked Kiormund once more. Everything seemed to happen too quickly, and the otter couldn't help but tilt his head to the side. "You don't sound like the charitable sort."
"For fun." The ferret grinned as he faded into a grey mist. "What else?"
It turned out that having the ghost of an ancient ferret wasn't good for sleeping, and soon Kiormund awoke, finding himself sprawling out on the bed he slept on last night.
The Aureous Gale smelled like the sea which it coasted over, which was something Kiordan was not unaccustomed to. The places he grew up in - Miszbork, Wossaham, Kaldos - were all port cities, with their harbours clogged full of vessels with sails every colour of the rainbow. However, the seas west of Mossflower were different, and were their smells. Unlike the Southern harbours, which smelled of fish, seaweed, traded spices and goods and, of course, other beasts, these waters smelled of salt - a lot of salt - and nothing else but wet timber.
"Had a rough night?" asked the beast next to Kiormund, an older marten with brown fur and a yellow underbelly. With Urza, as captain, occupying the main cabin of the carrack, and Margane and Bodvar being far too close for any two beasts with differing species, the otter was lumped together with Dennol. Kiormund had tried to bond with the marten soldier, but his efforts were not appreciated - at least at first. Having to live in the same room with the otter eventually forced Dennol to initiate conversations to stave off the awkwardness.
"Yes. Weird dream." He paused, wondering if Dennol had heard of Veil and what he had done ages ago. "Some ferret spoke to me, and taunted me about loving Redwall too much." Kiormund said. "Then he revealed himself to a centuries-old ghost, and I honestly cannot tell you more."
"Dream, hm?" Dennol let out a great yawn as he sat down next to the otter. "I've had loads of those. Mostly about the past. Faces of beasts, most of them vermin. Still remember how my real parents looked like after all these seasons."
"I'm sorry. What do you mean 'real' parents?"
"Other martens, obviously." Dennol rolled his eyes. "Typical pirates. Died screaming like the wretches they are."
"Oh." Despite himself, Kiormund wanted to know more. "What else do you see in dreams?"
"More of the past. The Southswarders taking me in. Meeting Bodvar and his ilk. Training and playing. But sometimes I dream of stranger things again and again. A squirrel tossing something towards an otter. A great feast being prepared. An otter calling me to him." Dennol chuckled. "Funny. The last one sounded like you. He's not, though."
"Why are you so sure?" asked the otter. "I mean, it probably won't be me, but why?"
"He had a warrior's look. It made me feel self-conscious. Gates, it downright pierced through me. And I don't think you've got that look, princeling. You're no fighter."
"And I likely will would likely never be." Thank Seasons for that.
"Look, kiddo." Dennol placed a paw on Kiormund's shoulder. "The Captain helped me with the dreams once or twice. You should probably go find her for a chat."
Kiormund nodded and got up, yawning as he climbed the ladder up to the deck. The smell was still of sea and salt, but Kiormund knew from the maps that in a day or two, the ship would reach the welcoming arms of civilization, and thus encounter all the other scents.
Another marten exited the captain's cabin, this time a female. Unlike her gruff brother Dennol, Margane usually wore a smile upon her face, but that was strangely absent today. "Where's Dennol?" she asked, eyes trained straight at Kiormund.
"Er- in the hold. Why do you ask?"
"Just some family business." Without another word, the marteness slid down the ladder, into the bowels of the carrack.
What's with her today? Kiormund thought to himself, looking around the ship. The journey south was full of grey skies and seas, but as the Aureous Gale approached Southsward, the clouds stayed put up north, and all Kiormund could see was blue, aside from the faint yellow to the ship's left. The Northwestern Desert was the boundary between Mossflower and Southsward, which the dusty tomes of Redwall said that it was populated by toads. But now, they seemed to have vanished into the interior of the continent. Aridness and amphibians were not a good combination.
There was little wind, but the Gale was still blazing its way down the Western Sea, pushed hard by the Roaringburn. The current had seen its share of ships since the Pearl Queen countless seasons ago, but shipbuilding technologies had come a long way since then. What had taken Joseph the Bellmaker months to traverse only took Urza mere weeks.
Kiormund shuffled up to Urza's cabin door, and gave it a good hearty knock. "Come in," came her raspy voice. The otter nodded, then opened the door.
"What now?" asked the captain. While foxes seldom ventured out to sea, it was even rarer for a beast of the Juska to find her footpaws on board a vessel, yet Urza had made quite a name for herself over the seasons as the Captain of the Gale. A myriad of medals, of polished gold and brass, hung on the lapel of her deep blue uniform, their sheen a stark contrast to the dark brown markings tattooed on her face and snout. It seemed like Urza had an even rougher night than Kiormund had. The vixen could barely keep her eyes open, and it seemed that she had been awake and concentrating throughout the night.
"Dennol sent me here," said Kiormund, rudder shaking left to right. It always acted weirdly when he was talking to his elders. "I had a strange dream yesterday, and he said you could help."
"I only promise to try." The vixen frowned. "Speak up."
"Alright." The otter took a deep breath. "A dead ferret talked to me, and he told me that you were talking to Daghild in your dreams."
"He WHAT?" Urza sprung up from her chair and grabbed Kiormund by both shoulders, earning a panicked whine in response.
"Do I have to repeat-"
"No, no!" The vixen shook her head madly. "Hellgates, we need more security."
"And she said that she had plans for me, didn't she?"
Urza sighed as she finally let go of the otter. "Alright, alright. I'll explain everything. You might want to keep your muzzle shut if you want to stay alive." This time, it was her turn to take a steadying breath. "Remember that letter you got a while ago? Your father telling you to come back home?" She shook her head when Kiormund nodded. "Well, that was a lie. It was not your father who mailed you, nor did he send us to Salamandastron."
Kiormund's throat suddenly felt dry. "Then who did?"
"Fates, you're not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed!" Urza sighed in exasperation. "Your uncle Lamont, Steward of Castle Floret. Lord Erlend has been brewing treason from his corner of the realm for some time, so we called you to Floret to serve as insurance."
"By 'insurance' you mean hostage, right?"
Urza nodded. "Daghild insisted on the euphemism. In any case, your father already knows all this, and most likely your grandfather as well. If he tries to do anything, we'll just have to do things to you that we'd rather not do."
Kiormund's heart sank. He had just left Redwall, the happiest place he had ever been in, and the company of his friends to walk into a trap. They'll probably chain me up in some sort of dungeon and leave me to rot! "Then what are you going to do now?"
"Nothing." Urza's ears folded. "We'll leave you unharmed and comfortable for the time being, but we'll be keeping a very close eye on you"
"I have another question," said Kiormund, tail curling up close to his body. "How could you talk to each other in dreams? Neither of you are dead."
Urza tensed before speaking. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that you don't go blabbering about this to anybeast, or I'll simply cut your throat and feed you to the fishes. Understood?" The otter found himself frantically nodding. "Then get something to eat and leave me alone. I need more sleep."
The ship's food wasn't particularly palatable in the first place, but today's hardtack was even more tasteless than the usual rations. Kiormund had never touched alcohol before in his life, but he was tempted to reach for a little rum.
Everything was all a big lie, thought Kiormund as he mentally kicked himself. No wonder Father's letter was so brief and hastily written! Somebeast else wrote it. And the fact that it's vermin picking me up should have rung a few bells in my head… Father never trusted them with anything important! Fates, how could I have been so stupid?
"Wonderful performance, plankrudder!" Another voice rang loud and clear beside the otter.
Kiormund blinked before grimacing. It was Veil, of course. The otter was sure he wasn't asleep, but the ferret was still visible, twenty-one claws and all.
"Urza isn't an interesting beast - not by a long shot - but you managed to bring the best out of her. I would applaud you, had I a pair of paws."
"Why can't you just shut up?" Kiormund snapped. "You weren't always like this! You were just some wandering vermin who got kicked out of the abbey, got killed in the most pathetic of ways, and now you're still tormenting woodlanders from beyond the grave. Almost as if you'd never learned your lesson at all!"
"That was seven hundred seasons ago. Seven centuries, and Redwallers don't stop talking about me. Shouldn't have put it past them to speak ill of the dead." The spirit shot Kiormund a bitter smile. "Vermin are too superstitious to do that. I've talked with their seers. Every one of them were confident that they would be the first vermin to take Redwall, to partake of its pleasures and enslave the proud woodlanders who had stood above them. They never learn. A long time ago I egged them on, eager to see Redwall fall for what they've done to me, and they met their ends like all vermin did. Then I told them to wait until they're strong enough. They brushed me off and charged to their deaths. Then I told them not to try, told them I knew better. They still tried, and they still died."
Veil's smile faded into a frustrated scowl. "Three seasons ago, when the greatest horde in centuries flocked underneath Redwall's walls, I begged their seers not to attack. I begged them to quit while they were ahead, and they scoffed at my so-called cowardice. They perished, of course. Some of them by Redwaller steel, more of them by the blades of the Long Patrol, and yet others fell before the might of Southsward. All while I could do nothing but watch and hide."
"So why are you with me? Because you're tired of seeing your kind make stupid mistakes? You could have left Mossflower on the back of anybeast!"
"Because I want to see woodlanders be stupid for a change." The ferret lifted up a six-clawed paw and pointed one of them at Kiormund. "With you, I'm not disappointed."
Veil didn't stop talking in Kiormund's ear for hours, but eventually he grew bored of kicking a dead badger. The otter prayed for a peaceful night of sleep before he opened the door to his cabin and plopped right down upon his bed.
It was not exactly the most comfortable place he had slept in - Kiormund was at sea, after all - but it was a start. There was a bed on each side of the cabin, one for him and one for Dennol, a little desk to write on (even though neither of them brought quill or ink), and nothing else. Unlike Urza's cabin, there was not even a window to gaze out into the ocean.
"Kiormund?" Surprised that Dennol called him by his preferred name, the otter looked wide-eyed at the marten on his bed, who wore a frown on his face. But unlike his default unhappy expression, this frown was one of confusion. "Have you heard of Taggerungs?"
"I read about one of them," answered Kiormund. "An otter called Deyna who ended up being the Warrior of Redwall. The Juska called him by that title. Why ask?"
Dennol shrugged. "Apparently one of them walks the world again. That's what my sister says." The marten rolled his eyes as he put both paws behind his head. "Urza says it could be me. Or my sister. Or whoever fits the description."
"Description?"
"'Child of Mossflower and the South'. That's what the Captain said was in the prophecy or something. Margane and I both fit the description, and I was wondering if you did."
Kiormund gasped. The Taggerung was back, and it could be someone on the Aureous Gale. Had I been in Mossflower long enough to call himself a child of it? Gates, wouldn't it be awful if I was destined to be some sort of slayer?
"Maybe we'll know the truth soon," said Kiormund, fitting his body under the bedsheets. "We should sleep on it."
Within mere minutes, the otter could feel his thoughts slip, and he presumed he must be dreaming. And then, fortunately, he was.
