Amos Stickley and Gabbro were more easily convinced of Nyctllr and Troyte's purposes than Nuthead was. The Sparra's stubborn instincts would never let him consider that an usnusually clumsy hawk and a peculiarly diurnal bat really were travelers with a direction that they didn't know how to reach. Mole and hedgehog, however, were completely convinced of their innocence for exactly the same factors.
When Nyc attempted to recall Raglé's word for word, she failed miserably. The gist of the confusion, though, was very evident. Amos Stickley, after a great deal of thoughtful headspike-twanging, eventually offered the following advice: Jest ignore that Enigma beast. Jest foller us and ye'll get teh Redwall. Ye shoulda asked us first.
The distance actually was quite small. Nyc and Troyte could have actually walked it alongside Gabbro and Amos without becoming tired. But had they done that their first view of Redwall's grandeur would have been from the standard terrestrial perspective. From the air the Abbey was a colossal red square surrounded by lush green foliage. The outer wall ringed the inner building, the architectural structures of which splayed out as if in a contour drawing. They could see so much more than that from above, though. They saw Redwall the fortress, the community, the historical site, and alas, the target.
You have to get us to whoever's in charge, Nyc demanded urgently as she flew through the gates.
No take batworm to mouseworm leader! Up to nogood! Nuthead stared Nyc right in the face.
Troyte stared right back down at the smaller bird, which silenced him at least momentarily.
Gabbro tugged at his snout. I carn bring youm to zurr Foremoler.
Nyc looked up around the Great Hall, expression only becoming more urgent as she took in the details of the room. But can your Foremole set up sufficient military defenses for an air attack?
With that Nuthead shot out from under Troyte's gaze in an irate spasm. Nuthead nolike the sound of that, batworm. Gonna get mouseworm warrior, get you out plentyquick.
Gabbro slowly turned his head, regarding Nuthead and then Nyc. He'm no Wurrier. Maoibe zurr Abbot—
Amos cut him off. Attack by air? Yeh said summat about an attack by air? His spikes bristled in alarm.
Nyc nodded solemnly, but Troyte picked up from her, having absorbed some hysteria from Amos and Nuthead. Yes, yes! They've captured innocent creatures in two huge towers and they're enslaving and killing those creatures so they can use them to fly and go on the wind and swoop down from the sky and take Redwall completely unexpectedly! Amazingly, he did not breathe throughout this entire statement.
You're doing...what?
All present looked up to see a hard-eyed mouse with a midwinter-sharp sword.
Not us, Nyc returned, voice firm but eyes following the path of the magnificent sword. A weasel called Nadal ob Insame. His fortress is two identical towers, out far from here, above a cliff between the mountains and the sea. He's trying to make a flying machine to take over Redwall. You can believe me. You have to believe me!
The mouse retained his pose a moment longer, then snapped back with a dismissive puff of breath. That's nonsense.
How can you be so sure? Nyc seemed offended by the statement.
I'm not the Abbey Warrior for no reason, the mouse replied coldly. Threat has forewarning and foreboding. This doesn't.
Nyc glared. I'm warning you!
And how can I believe you? This is wasting my time. And the mouse was off.
