Chapter 2
"That's a good bag of candied chestnuts you owe me, Treerose."
Treerose saw Saxtus out of the corner of her eye. The somewhat fat abbot was trying to cover up a smirk. Lately, Saxtus had started taking pride in being able to correct other beasts about anything. Treerose thought it might have something to do with being called great father abbot all the time. However, in this case, logic could still deflate his ego.
"It's still not that late. They could still be here before dawn. Then you'll learn what northland males do in their spare time. Most likely tomorrow morning they'll be laid out on the floor in Cavern Hole, with mugs of October Ale close to paw. Luckily for you, this abbey is quite sound proof. Hopeful that will keep the dibbuns from learning the words to some of the dirty songs they sing."
"Sounds like Tarquin at a nameday feast."
"Only worse."
"I'll hold you to that."
"Come on Saxtus, I'm just shaking your branch a little."
"What?"
"Never mind, Saxtus."
"Squirrel slang always messes with my brain. I still think I'm going to be right though. I'd say we find them laid out by some campfire with mugs of October Ale close to paw."
"I doubt it. Rab isn't too bad, at least for an otter. Oh, and it's terminology, not slang" Rufe said, having just come up onto the wall.
"I'll hold you to you're acorns there, Rufe. The male otters I saw in the northlands didn't have a bit of sense between them. This Rab character is probably not quite so controlled when he isn't boosting his ego with formality by playing Captain of the Guard."
"Can we stop with the squirrel slang - er, terminology please?"
Treerose immediately launched into a near perfect impersonation of otter speech. "Aye, matey, we can stop the slang."
Saxtus sighed.
"Why must everybeast pick on the poor old father abbot?"
"Because you ain't lookin' like much of an old father abbot yet, old mate!"
Saxtus quickened his march, muttering just loud enough for Treerose and Rufe to hear; "Did I predict they'd be back tomorrow morning? Ha! If they're anything like the northlanders you described, they won't be here until tomorrow afternoon!"
"I hope you haven't bet anything on that prediction, great father abbot."
Rufe nearly jumped out of his skin as Oak Tom poked him in the back with his lance. Giving the lance a slight twirl, Tom slipped it into a carrying pouch on his back before Rufe saw what he had actually been poked with. His dramatic entrance complete, the big squirrel spoke to Saxtus again.
"Any food left for some passing rogues, old mouse?"
Saxtus snorted "You can stop calling me an old mouse, flufftail. In response to your question, there are some leftovers from dinner in Great Hall, assuming Flagg hasn't decide to look for a snack. As you can probably guess, everybeast is down in Cavern Hole for a good evening's entertainment now. I suspect your friend's stories are going to be the highlight of tonight's show. Where is Rab now?"
Tom jumped lightly from the battlements to the ground. Saxtus looked over the edge and shuddered before starting down the steps. Treerose didn't help him any by doing a perfect copy of Tom's maneuver. Continuing his slow walk down the steps, Saxtus strained to here Oak Tom talking. Even with his loud voice, the squirrel was hard to hear from so far down.
"East wallgate. I'll get it for you, you old fatty!"
"Less of the old fatty, flufftail!"
Rab walked in slowly, absorbing the breathtaking sight that was Redwall Abbey. Then he turned to Treerose and smiled gallantly.
"You must be Treerose. To tell the truth, you're more beautiful than I had imagined from Tom's descriptions of you." The comment managed to get Rab a smile from Treerose and a slap from Iris' tail.
As they walked towards the abbey, Tom slid up beside Rab.
"Is Iris always that grouchy? OW!" Tom quickly dodged off to the side to avoid another of Iris' tail swings.
"I heard that."
Garsider crouched in the bushes off to the side of the path, waiting for the group of hares to pass. All his years of training were all that kept him from running away. He was smart enough to know that that would be the end of him. The hares would hear him if he ran, and in a full out sprinting contest, no fox could defeat a hare.
For a second, he regretted having lost the compact crossbow he always used to carry with him. But then he realized that even with a good ranged weapon he wouldn't have stood a chance against that many hares. No weapon he knew of was fast enough to take down fourteen hares before one of them lanced him. Considering the fact he was the son of two arms dealers, that was saying a lot.
He counted them again as they passed; just to be sure his eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him in the fog. Fourteen hares. That wasn't exactly something he saw every day.
Quickly calculating how much noise he could afford to make, Garsider started trailing them, with his paw on his sword hilt. Luckily, with how loud the hares were being, he was able to clearly make out what was being said without being detected by the hares even at a good run.
"I say, Pa, when are we going to set up camp? It's dark out and it's getting pretty cold with all this fog, wot wot?"
"We're only a little ways from Redwall. We'll stop there for the night. Need to jolly well deliver Rawnblade's message on time, wot!"
"Any idea why Rawnblade wants us to get the message to Redwall so bally fast, Tarquin?"
A noise from a fair distance behind him cause Garsider to stop in his tracks. He noted the path the hares had taken, as well as the fact that even in the dark, he could see something that looked like a building in the distance. Perhaps he was closer to his objective than he thought...
He turned back and darted into the trees. He crouched and started moving back in the direction from which he had came, searching for the source of the noise. Slowly as to avoid making too much noise, he drew his sword, and once again he wished he still had his old crossbow. He had the feeling he could use it.
After being given a short tour of Redwall by Tom, Rab sat down in a chair by a fire in Cavern Hall. Slowly sipping from a warm mug of cider - the kind with alcohol - he looked towards his audience. After taking a good drink, he put the mug down and spoke.
"I'm guessing you want to hear all about my adventures in the Northlands and Southsward."
"Of course they do! Just get started with it, you old riverdog!"
Rab shot a glance at Tom that would have made most vermin cower in fear, but which had no effect on Rab's old friend. A laugh from the audience brought Rab's attention back to what he was doing.
"Well, where should I start..."
The sound of a twig snapping nearby caused Garsider to jump up and step backwards, just before an arrow hit the tree he had been crouching in front of.
He leaped towards his opponent with amazing agility, slicing his opponent's bowstring as his adversary was preparing to fire his second arrow. Quickly realizing his peril, the cloaked ferret attempted to distract Garsider by throwing the now useless arrow like a dart. He drew steel as Garsider spun sideways to avoid being hit.
Cold steel rang out against cold steel on a cold, foggy Mossflower night.
Meanwhile, a good sprint brought Tarquin and his family to the abbey. As the hares came into Cavern Hole after a good meal, Rab gave Rosie a small wave of recognition while continuing with his story.
Tarquin quickly sought out Oak Tom in the crowded room.
"Tom?"
Tom turned towards Tarquin. "Can it wait? I want to know what Rab has been up to."
Tarquin handed Tom an envelope.
"Rawnblade said this message was of utmost importance. Though in that case, I don't know why he gave it to a rogue like you."
Tom smiled. "Must be my personality. Or my looks."
Tarquin sighed slightly.
"I'm kidding, Tarquin. Its probably someone he wants me to look for next time I go out into Mossflower. That also means it can wait until tomorrow, since I'm not going to go out there tonight."
Tom put the letter from Rawnblade in his pocket. It would be some time until he remembered about it, because the next day would bring with it the first of many major events.
When there was a blade involved, Garsider was well in control of the situation. However, the ferret that had been hunting him was not stupid either. Calling on a reserve of strength, the ferret battered Garsider backwards towards a thorn bush, then made a run for it as Garsider cried out in pain.
"Don't rest while I'm around, you scum! We outnumber you a score to one!" The ferret yelled at Garsider as he ran.
"Those numbers are about to even out a little!"
Barely audible in the night, one of the poison tipped darts Garsider always carried hidden in his cloak pocket caught the ferret in the back. The ferret dropped with a quiet retching sound.
Garsider quickly ran over to the corpse. He wiped the dart on his opponent's cloak, than slipped it back into a protective casing, which he used to prevent the darts from stabbing him through his own cloak. He inspected the bounty hunter's bow and sword, but the bow was useless without a string and the sword wasn't as good as his own. He did, however, acquire a small dagger from his opponent. After that quick search he started moving again. The hunters usually operated in packs, and the others would be out for his blood soon. Uncorking a small bottle of water for a drink, Garsider quickened his pace. It was not hard for him to tell who had sent the bounty hunter, or how desperate Kellgan was getting.
Rab's son John quickly fit in with Redwall's dibbuns, some of who had never met someone their own age from outside the abbey before - let alone outside Mossflower.
"You're really from Southsward? We've only heard about it from what Rufe told us. Was there really a big battle there?"
"Aye. That was the summer before I was born."
John told them a lot about himself and his homeland, and he made a pact with some of the dibbuns. The next morning he would show them what the world outside the abbey was like - if they could show him how to get out one of the wallgates, of course.
The pact was sealed over a snack of candied chestnuts that some of the dibbuns had swiped from the kitchens, than John went to get some sleep.
Tomorrow was going to be a big day.
Garsider saw the abbey approaching as he came crashing through the woodlands. He had made it.
This far, at least. He still needed a way in. It was time to think. He didn't have long to think either. Dawn was almost upon Mossflower, and he would soon be visible from the walls.
"Something bothering you, Tom?"
Even after Rab had finished telling his stories and most of the abbey had gone to bed, Tom and Treerose had stayed up talking to Rab and Iris. However, Tom found it difficult to sleep, despite the late hour.
"Nothing. It's nothing, dear."
But even after he did fall asleep, Tom couldn't help but feel like something was about to happen. The appearance of Martin the Warrior in his dreams didn't help.
"Find the defector,
Beware the fox,
Guard the walls,
Check the locks."
Other than the poem, Martin gave Tom few words before disappearing.
"Be aware that not everything is as it seems. Be vigilant, or your mistakes could be the downfall of many."
Despite only having slept for a couple of hours, Tom woke up, fully alert, in a cold sweat.
"That's a good bag of candied chestnuts you owe me, Treerose."
Treerose saw Saxtus out of the corner of her eye. The somewhat fat abbot was trying to cover up a smirk. Lately, Saxtus had started taking pride in being able to correct other beasts about anything. Treerose thought it might have something to do with being called great father abbot all the time. However, in this case, logic could still deflate his ego.
"It's still not that late. They could still be here before dawn. Then you'll learn what northland males do in their spare time. Most likely tomorrow morning they'll be laid out on the floor in Cavern Hole, with mugs of October Ale close to paw. Luckily for you, this abbey is quite sound proof. Hopeful that will keep the dibbuns from learning the words to some of the dirty songs they sing."
"Sounds like Tarquin at a nameday feast."
"Only worse."
"I'll hold you to that."
"Come on Saxtus, I'm just shaking your branch a little."
"What?"
"Never mind, Saxtus."
"Squirrel slang always messes with my brain. I still think I'm going to be right though. I'd say we find them laid out by some campfire with mugs of October Ale close to paw."
"I doubt it. Rab isn't too bad, at least for an otter. Oh, and it's terminology, not slang" Rufe said, having just come up onto the wall.
"I'll hold you to you're acorns there, Rufe. The male otters I saw in the northlands didn't have a bit of sense between them. This Rab character is probably not quite so controlled when he isn't boosting his ego with formality by playing Captain of the Guard."
"Can we stop with the squirrel slang - er, terminology please?"
Treerose immediately launched into a near perfect impersonation of otter speech. "Aye, matey, we can stop the slang."
Saxtus sighed.
"Why must everybeast pick on the poor old father abbot?"
"Because you ain't lookin' like much of an old father abbot yet, old mate!"
Saxtus quickened his march, muttering just loud enough for Treerose and Rufe to hear; "Did I predict they'd be back tomorrow morning? Ha! If they're anything like the northlanders you described, they won't be here until tomorrow afternoon!"
"I hope you haven't bet anything on that prediction, great father abbot."
Rufe nearly jumped out of his skin as Oak Tom poked him in the back with his lance. Giving the lance a slight twirl, Tom slipped it into a carrying pouch on his back before Rufe saw what he had actually been poked with. His dramatic entrance complete, the big squirrel spoke to Saxtus again.
"Any food left for some passing rogues, old mouse?"
Saxtus snorted "You can stop calling me an old mouse, flufftail. In response to your question, there are some leftovers from dinner in Great Hall, assuming Flagg hasn't decide to look for a snack. As you can probably guess, everybeast is down in Cavern Hole for a good evening's entertainment now. I suspect your friend's stories are going to be the highlight of tonight's show. Where is Rab now?"
Tom jumped lightly from the battlements to the ground. Saxtus looked over the edge and shuddered before starting down the steps. Treerose didn't help him any by doing a perfect copy of Tom's maneuver. Continuing his slow walk down the steps, Saxtus strained to here Oak Tom talking. Even with his loud voice, the squirrel was hard to hear from so far down.
"East wallgate. I'll get it for you, you old fatty!"
"Less of the old fatty, flufftail!"
Rab walked in slowly, absorbing the breathtaking sight that was Redwall Abbey. Then he turned to Treerose and smiled gallantly.
"You must be Treerose. To tell the truth, you're more beautiful than I had imagined from Tom's descriptions of you." The comment managed to get Rab a smile from Treerose and a slap from Iris' tail.
As they walked towards the abbey, Tom slid up beside Rab.
"Is Iris always that grouchy? OW!" Tom quickly dodged off to the side to avoid another of Iris' tail swings.
"I heard that."
Garsider crouched in the bushes off to the side of the path, waiting for the group of hares to pass. All his years of training were all that kept him from running away. He was smart enough to know that that would be the end of him. The hares would hear him if he ran, and in a full out sprinting contest, no fox could defeat a hare.
For a second, he regretted having lost the compact crossbow he always used to carry with him. But then he realized that even with a good ranged weapon he wouldn't have stood a chance against that many hares. No weapon he knew of was fast enough to take down fourteen hares before one of them lanced him. Considering the fact he was the son of two arms dealers, that was saying a lot.
He counted them again as they passed; just to be sure his eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him in the fog. Fourteen hares. That wasn't exactly something he saw every day.
Quickly calculating how much noise he could afford to make, Garsider started trailing them, with his paw on his sword hilt. Luckily, with how loud the hares were being, he was able to clearly make out what was being said without being detected by the hares even at a good run.
"I say, Pa, when are we going to set up camp? It's dark out and it's getting pretty cold with all this fog, wot wot?"
"We're only a little ways from Redwall. We'll stop there for the night. Need to jolly well deliver Rawnblade's message on time, wot!"
"Any idea why Rawnblade wants us to get the message to Redwall so bally fast, Tarquin?"
A noise from a fair distance behind him cause Garsider to stop in his tracks. He noted the path the hares had taken, as well as the fact that even in the dark, he could see something that looked like a building in the distance. Perhaps he was closer to his objective than he thought...
He turned back and darted into the trees. He crouched and started moving back in the direction from which he had came, searching for the source of the noise. Slowly as to avoid making too much noise, he drew his sword, and once again he wished he still had his old crossbow. He had the feeling he could use it.
After being given a short tour of Redwall by Tom, Rab sat down in a chair by a fire in Cavern Hall. Slowly sipping from a warm mug of cider - the kind with alcohol - he looked towards his audience. After taking a good drink, he put the mug down and spoke.
"I'm guessing you want to hear all about my adventures in the Northlands and Southsward."
"Of course they do! Just get started with it, you old riverdog!"
Rab shot a glance at Tom that would have made most vermin cower in fear, but which had no effect on Rab's old friend. A laugh from the audience brought Rab's attention back to what he was doing.
"Well, where should I start..."
The sound of a twig snapping nearby caused Garsider to jump up and step backwards, just before an arrow hit the tree he had been crouching in front of.
He leaped towards his opponent with amazing agility, slicing his opponent's bowstring as his adversary was preparing to fire his second arrow. Quickly realizing his peril, the cloaked ferret attempted to distract Garsider by throwing the now useless arrow like a dart. He drew steel as Garsider spun sideways to avoid being hit.
Cold steel rang out against cold steel on a cold, foggy Mossflower night.
Meanwhile, a good sprint brought Tarquin and his family to the abbey. As the hares came into Cavern Hole after a good meal, Rab gave Rosie a small wave of recognition while continuing with his story.
Tarquin quickly sought out Oak Tom in the crowded room.
"Tom?"
Tom turned towards Tarquin. "Can it wait? I want to know what Rab has been up to."
Tarquin handed Tom an envelope.
"Rawnblade said this message was of utmost importance. Though in that case, I don't know why he gave it to a rogue like you."
Tom smiled. "Must be my personality. Or my looks."
Tarquin sighed slightly.
"I'm kidding, Tarquin. Its probably someone he wants me to look for next time I go out into Mossflower. That also means it can wait until tomorrow, since I'm not going to go out there tonight."
Tom put the letter from Rawnblade in his pocket. It would be some time until he remembered about it, because the next day would bring with it the first of many major events.
When there was a blade involved, Garsider was well in control of the situation. However, the ferret that had been hunting him was not stupid either. Calling on a reserve of strength, the ferret battered Garsider backwards towards a thorn bush, then made a run for it as Garsider cried out in pain.
"Don't rest while I'm around, you scum! We outnumber you a score to one!" The ferret yelled at Garsider as he ran.
"Those numbers are about to even out a little!"
Barely audible in the night, one of the poison tipped darts Garsider always carried hidden in his cloak pocket caught the ferret in the back. The ferret dropped with a quiet retching sound.
Garsider quickly ran over to the corpse. He wiped the dart on his opponent's cloak, than slipped it back into a protective casing, which he used to prevent the darts from stabbing him through his own cloak. He inspected the bounty hunter's bow and sword, but the bow was useless without a string and the sword wasn't as good as his own. He did, however, acquire a small dagger from his opponent. After that quick search he started moving again. The hunters usually operated in packs, and the others would be out for his blood soon. Uncorking a small bottle of water for a drink, Garsider quickened his pace. It was not hard for him to tell who had sent the bounty hunter, or how desperate Kellgan was getting.
Rab's son John quickly fit in with Redwall's dibbuns, some of who had never met someone their own age from outside the abbey before - let alone outside Mossflower.
"You're really from Southsward? We've only heard about it from what Rufe told us. Was there really a big battle there?"
"Aye. That was the summer before I was born."
John told them a lot about himself and his homeland, and he made a pact with some of the dibbuns. The next morning he would show them what the world outside the abbey was like - if they could show him how to get out one of the wallgates, of course.
The pact was sealed over a snack of candied chestnuts that some of the dibbuns had swiped from the kitchens, than John went to get some sleep.
Tomorrow was going to be a big day.
Garsider saw the abbey approaching as he came crashing through the woodlands. He had made it.
This far, at least. He still needed a way in. It was time to think. He didn't have long to think either. Dawn was almost upon Mossflower, and he would soon be visible from the walls.
"Something bothering you, Tom?"
Even after Rab had finished telling his stories and most of the abbey had gone to bed, Tom and Treerose had stayed up talking to Rab and Iris. However, Tom found it difficult to sleep, despite the late hour.
"Nothing. It's nothing, dear."
But even after he did fall asleep, Tom couldn't help but feel like something was about to happen. The appearance of Martin the Warrior in his dreams didn't help.
"Find the defector,
Beware the fox,
Guard the walls,
Check the locks."
Other than the poem, Martin gave Tom few words before disappearing.
"Be aware that not everything is as it seems. Be vigilant, or your mistakes could be the downfall of many."
Despite only having slept for a couple of hours, Tom woke up, fully alert, in a cold sweat.
