I know it's a bit late, but just in case I have to say this, I didn't make
up Redwall and don't take credit for it.
Chapter 3
Not so far away from the two pitiful, freezing creatures, another pair was discussing something else entirely. Hill upon almost identical grassy hill surrounded two villainous looking weasels, effectively discouraging and confusing them.
"It's that way, yew blubberin' buffoon," the weasel scout Warttail shouted at his comrade, pointing vaguely south.
"No it ain't, the horde's that way. Any fool wid one eye an' 'alf a brain can see that!" snapped the other weasel, Blewflit, pointing in the opposite direction.
"What gave yew that stupid idea, wormbelly?"
"I can actually scout, that's wot gave me my clever idea, soupbrain!"
"Scout! Ha! Yew couldn't find yore way back to camp if yew had my paw prints t' follow, clear as day!"
Blewflit sighed. "Come on matey, no use arguin' over it, Ol' Kuna w'll skin us alive if we come back late."
At the mention of the gray fox's name Warttail shuddered, and a chill crept through his spine that didn't have anything to do with the cold climate.
"We should go, mate," he said quietly. "You know 'tis bad luck, sayin' the Gray One's name away from camp. Y'know, I think it's that way."
Holding paws firmly, the now thoroughly terrified scouts stumbled off in what they hoped was the direction of the rest of the horde.
In the center of an odd ring of hills, the camp of Kuna Cherra sat like a cruel, hideous beast in the midst of peace and beauty. Small grimy tents took up most of the available space, with campfire ashes strewn around them like pitiful offerings to some horrid deity of dirt. Seven hundred-odd war- like creatures of all kinds, rats, weasels, ferrets, stoats, one wildcat and several foxes dressed in tattered, stained tunics almost as dirty as their tents and carrying all manner of weapons from swords to blow-darts lounged about, eating, sharpening or cleaning weapons, napping, and playing cards. But all activity ceased when the Gray One strode from his clean silken tent.
The mere sight of him was enough to chill any creature's blood. Completely silver-gray from nose to tail tip, the large fox had flat, emotionless blue-gray eyes like chips of dirty ice. His only garment was a kilt made from the pelt of a Silverstar squirrel he had slain long ago. The only weapon he carried was the squirrel's swordspear. It had a blademark, so its user had been very skilled with it - but not as skilled as Kuna Cherra. Kuna had easily disarmed the squirrel with his bare paws and used the squirrel's own swordspear to kill him. Kuna was different from other warlords. His horde greatly feared and respected him, but he almost never unjustly punished them. Unjustly in his opinion, that is.
Kuna Cherra was well aware that his hordebeasts called him "Ol' Kuna", but while any other warlord would have ranted and raved and executed anybeast who he suspected to have called him that, Kuna took it as a compliment and mark of respect.
Now, as came out of his tent, carrying the swordspear as he always did, with not a trace of emotion or feelings of any kind on his face, all hordebeasts immediately threw themselves flat on the ground, roaring in one voice, "Mighty leader, who shall one day rule the Silverstar and all of the country, mightier than the badger lord of Salamandastron, Lord Kuna Cherra!"
Kuna watched this display impassively, before barking, "Thornlock!"
The tawny wildcat Thornlock scrambled to her feet and loped over to him. She gave an ungainly bow before standing beside him, his faithful second-in-command.
"Listen, allbeasts," Thornlock called in her light, piercing voice. "The mighty Lord Kuna Cherra wishes to address his horde."
Instantly everybeast was silent, listening carefully to what Kuna had to say.
"Long, too long we have stayed in this one camp, not fit to travel, just barely able to hunt and forage what we need to survive." Kuna Cherra did not have to raise his voice at all to be heard by everybeast. "Look at yourselves. You have become lazy and fat, out of practice fighting from seasons without the need to. I believe it is time to change that. Have any of you heard of the abbey of Redwall?"
Most of the horde called out, "Aye!" in practiced unison, but one stoat shook his head, knowing that he would not be punished for simple ignorance.
"Redwall Abbey," Kuna continued, "is a marvelous place. It is rich, well stocked, and well fortified. It lies in the center of Mossflower Wood. Imagine, if I possessed it. The day you say shall come that I rule all the country would not be long in coming if I did. It would be far easier, as well, to destroy the Silverstar and all their idiotic ways."
No beast, except perhaps Thornlock, knew why Kuna despised the Silverstar so much, and no beast really cared. The horde had unsuccessfully tried to conquer the Silverstar, or at least burn down the Great Library, several times. Now most hordebeasts only wanted to stay as far away from the Silverstar as possible.
The gray fox closed his eyes briefly, savoring that dream. Those sniveling little squirrels, bound before him, awaiting his decision of their fate and begging for mercy. Oh, they would beg for mercy. Kuna knew how much the Silverstar valued their own pathetic lives, and how much they feared death. He would enjoy his moment of triumph and vengeance, watching the horrified looks on their faces as they were sent off to their deaths.
"Lord Kuna," Thornlock hissed in his ear, "The plan."
Thornlock was the only beast who dared call the fox Kuna to his face, instead of his full name, Kuna Cherra. Kuna was annoyed at Thornlock for disturbing his dream, but he didn't let it show. He would deal with her later.
"I have thought long and hard about capturing the abbey," he said, "And I have concluded that if we tried to, the Silverstar would help the abbey dwellers, and we would not have a chance. However, if I split the horde into two groups and one group tried to capture Redwall while the other group kept the Silverstar busy, we may stand a chance."
Kuna Cherra gave a ghostly smile reminiscent of a vampire anticipating its next meal.
"I know your thoughts. You think, so many warlords with hordes of thousands have tried to get Redwall and failed. How can only half of my horde succeed?"
There were murmurs of agreement among the hordebeasts. Kuna raised his swordspear into the air and roared, "Speak up!"
"Aye, Lord, those are our thoughts," everybeast in the horde said, as was expected.
Kuna Cherra, the Gray One, warlord of a powerful horde, self- appointed ruler of the northern stretches of the Eastern Hills, smiled his vampire smile and said softly, "Leave that to me."
Chapter 3
Not so far away from the two pitiful, freezing creatures, another pair was discussing something else entirely. Hill upon almost identical grassy hill surrounded two villainous looking weasels, effectively discouraging and confusing them.
"It's that way, yew blubberin' buffoon," the weasel scout Warttail shouted at his comrade, pointing vaguely south.
"No it ain't, the horde's that way. Any fool wid one eye an' 'alf a brain can see that!" snapped the other weasel, Blewflit, pointing in the opposite direction.
"What gave yew that stupid idea, wormbelly?"
"I can actually scout, that's wot gave me my clever idea, soupbrain!"
"Scout! Ha! Yew couldn't find yore way back to camp if yew had my paw prints t' follow, clear as day!"
Blewflit sighed. "Come on matey, no use arguin' over it, Ol' Kuna w'll skin us alive if we come back late."
At the mention of the gray fox's name Warttail shuddered, and a chill crept through his spine that didn't have anything to do with the cold climate.
"We should go, mate," he said quietly. "You know 'tis bad luck, sayin' the Gray One's name away from camp. Y'know, I think it's that way."
Holding paws firmly, the now thoroughly terrified scouts stumbled off in what they hoped was the direction of the rest of the horde.
In the center of an odd ring of hills, the camp of Kuna Cherra sat like a cruel, hideous beast in the midst of peace and beauty. Small grimy tents took up most of the available space, with campfire ashes strewn around them like pitiful offerings to some horrid deity of dirt. Seven hundred-odd war- like creatures of all kinds, rats, weasels, ferrets, stoats, one wildcat and several foxes dressed in tattered, stained tunics almost as dirty as their tents and carrying all manner of weapons from swords to blow-darts lounged about, eating, sharpening or cleaning weapons, napping, and playing cards. But all activity ceased when the Gray One strode from his clean silken tent.
The mere sight of him was enough to chill any creature's blood. Completely silver-gray from nose to tail tip, the large fox had flat, emotionless blue-gray eyes like chips of dirty ice. His only garment was a kilt made from the pelt of a Silverstar squirrel he had slain long ago. The only weapon he carried was the squirrel's swordspear. It had a blademark, so its user had been very skilled with it - but not as skilled as Kuna Cherra. Kuna had easily disarmed the squirrel with his bare paws and used the squirrel's own swordspear to kill him. Kuna was different from other warlords. His horde greatly feared and respected him, but he almost never unjustly punished them. Unjustly in his opinion, that is.
Kuna Cherra was well aware that his hordebeasts called him "Ol' Kuna", but while any other warlord would have ranted and raved and executed anybeast who he suspected to have called him that, Kuna took it as a compliment and mark of respect.
Now, as came out of his tent, carrying the swordspear as he always did, with not a trace of emotion or feelings of any kind on his face, all hordebeasts immediately threw themselves flat on the ground, roaring in one voice, "Mighty leader, who shall one day rule the Silverstar and all of the country, mightier than the badger lord of Salamandastron, Lord Kuna Cherra!"
Kuna watched this display impassively, before barking, "Thornlock!"
The tawny wildcat Thornlock scrambled to her feet and loped over to him. She gave an ungainly bow before standing beside him, his faithful second-in-command.
"Listen, allbeasts," Thornlock called in her light, piercing voice. "The mighty Lord Kuna Cherra wishes to address his horde."
Instantly everybeast was silent, listening carefully to what Kuna had to say.
"Long, too long we have stayed in this one camp, not fit to travel, just barely able to hunt and forage what we need to survive." Kuna Cherra did not have to raise his voice at all to be heard by everybeast. "Look at yourselves. You have become lazy and fat, out of practice fighting from seasons without the need to. I believe it is time to change that. Have any of you heard of the abbey of Redwall?"
Most of the horde called out, "Aye!" in practiced unison, but one stoat shook his head, knowing that he would not be punished for simple ignorance.
"Redwall Abbey," Kuna continued, "is a marvelous place. It is rich, well stocked, and well fortified. It lies in the center of Mossflower Wood. Imagine, if I possessed it. The day you say shall come that I rule all the country would not be long in coming if I did. It would be far easier, as well, to destroy the Silverstar and all their idiotic ways."
No beast, except perhaps Thornlock, knew why Kuna despised the Silverstar so much, and no beast really cared. The horde had unsuccessfully tried to conquer the Silverstar, or at least burn down the Great Library, several times. Now most hordebeasts only wanted to stay as far away from the Silverstar as possible.
The gray fox closed his eyes briefly, savoring that dream. Those sniveling little squirrels, bound before him, awaiting his decision of their fate and begging for mercy. Oh, they would beg for mercy. Kuna knew how much the Silverstar valued their own pathetic lives, and how much they feared death. He would enjoy his moment of triumph and vengeance, watching the horrified looks on their faces as they were sent off to their deaths.
"Lord Kuna," Thornlock hissed in his ear, "The plan."
Thornlock was the only beast who dared call the fox Kuna to his face, instead of his full name, Kuna Cherra. Kuna was annoyed at Thornlock for disturbing his dream, but he didn't let it show. He would deal with her later.
"I have thought long and hard about capturing the abbey," he said, "And I have concluded that if we tried to, the Silverstar would help the abbey dwellers, and we would not have a chance. However, if I split the horde into two groups and one group tried to capture Redwall while the other group kept the Silverstar busy, we may stand a chance."
Kuna Cherra gave a ghostly smile reminiscent of a vampire anticipating its next meal.
"I know your thoughts. You think, so many warlords with hordes of thousands have tried to get Redwall and failed. How can only half of my horde succeed?"
There were murmurs of agreement among the hordebeasts. Kuna raised his swordspear into the air and roared, "Speak up!"
"Aye, Lord, those are our thoughts," everybeast in the horde said, as was expected.
Kuna Cherra, the Gray One, warlord of a powerful horde, self- appointed ruler of the northern stretches of the Eastern Hills, smiled his vampire smile and said softly, "Leave that to me."
