~Theft Of The Sword~
~Chapter Nine~
Night had begun to fall upon Mossflower County as the last light of the day shone over the lands. From the ramparts of Redwall, fires could be seen dancing through the woods, coming ever closer. High above, hanging there in the rapidly darkening sky, was the moon, shining with a white light, pale as death, an omen for both sides of the horrors that were to come. As the horde drew nearer the guards of Redwall could see the divisions of the horde clearly, about a third of the beasts bore red bandanas, setting themselves apart from the others, all of them the original members. Quickly everybeast on the ramparts prepared, notching arrows to bows, fitting stones to their slings, preparing for the time of battle that was upon them.
"Remember everybeast, don't hit anybeast with a red bandana on." Skipper whispered to his crew. The message spread quickly through the ranks of otters and other beasts, a scattering of mice, squirrels and such. Glancing down at the horde, Skipper to a quick count of their allies to find that the number of beasts donning the red bandanas was considerably less then those adorning none. With a sigh, Skipper glanced back to the main building where he knew that all the helpless beasts waited, the dibbuns, elders and any other beasts that were unable to fight; their fate was up to the defenders of Redwall now.
"Aw . . .but we wanna go an' see Skippa choppa dere tails offa!" The dibbuns would whine as the elder beasts tried to keep them calm and safe within the abbey dormitories, using tales of old heroes and battles of seasons past, entrancing the little ones, as a new story was written just outside.
"What do ye want here, scum?" Skipper called to the horde as it drew closer to the abbey, the otter chieftain standing tall upon the ramparts of Redwall, flanked on either side by a score or so of otters, each and every one of them armed, all of them at the ready.
"Halt!" Olin ordered to his horde, raising a paw as they stopped about forty yards or so from the gates of Redwall. The marten glared up at Skipper, his eyes burning feverishly, glinting with evil intent in the moonlight. "We want your abbey otter."
"Oh, is that so, mate?" Skipper replied, narrowing his eyes at the pine martin as he raised his paw. "Well, jus' try ta take it!" With that the otter chieftain disappeared below the wall, while a hail of arrows rained from the ramparts down into the horde, only a few finding their marks as a dozen or so horde beasts fell dead or wounded, while the others missed or were deflected by shields.
"Find cover, everybeast!" Olin ordered his troops, sending the survivors scrambling for the ditches, a few horde members staying behind to loose their own arrows into the Abbey, slaying three of Skipper's otters as they rose to fire. Olin stood in the ditch as the hail of arrows ceased save for an arrow or two flying into the ditches, searching for the enemy. The marten's entire horde sat, awaiting further orders as they stared out onto the path where their comrades lay slain.
"What are your orders, sir?" A rat asked, saluting as he stood next to his leader, a rapier in paw.
"Get the slaves up here, we'll use them for shields." Olin ordered, growling as he glared up at the ramparts of the abbey, finding them devoid of anybeast, all of the otters under cover.
"Sir, I can't do that." The rat replied, a nervous quaver in its voice as it took a step backwards away from the marten.
"And why in the name of hells gates can't you?" Olin hissed, grabbing the rat by throat. He glanced back to find every single slave gone and about a third of his horde gone as well, everybeast that had been wearing a red bandana and suddenly it dawned on him. "Damn it!" The marten cursed, taking out his aggressions on the rat, slaying him with a quick movement of his sword. Olin allowed the body to fall from his paw into the ditch, a pool of crimson forming around it as the marten glared at the abbey of Redwall with contempt.
~~~~~~
Meanwhile, at the eastern gate of Redwall Abbey, the freed slaves were quickly being led into the abbey along with a few of the vermin mothers and their babes as the original horde members reunited with their leader, Pearl. They had made a quick camp just behind the abbey, a half-dozen otters watching them carefully from above, sent by Skipper to watch them for any signs of treachery. At the gate, Abbess Mhera stood with Skipper, speaking with Pearl in low tones.
"You know what to do?" Pearl asked the otter maid, watching as her beasts set about the camp, preparing themselves for their own battle, a few talking and eating, trying to forget their reality.
"Yes." The abbess replied with a look of worry gracing her feature, her head slowly, trying to maintain a look of determination despite her apprehensions.
"I'm fightin' too." Pearl looked to down to her right to find the small ferret, Kyin, next to her, both of his twin daggers drawn and at the ready, their keen edges glinting in the torchlight.
"I understand, Kyin. You'll get your revenge, we all will." The marten nodded in response, putting a paw on the young ferret's shoulder, disappointed to see one so young lusting for blood, but she knew that he had a good reason.
"Don't worry, marm, I'll 'ave it." With that the young ferret walked away, eyes burning with anger, his rage barely suppressed. Already the ferret could hear the sounds of the battle. Already he could see his revenge.
~~~~~~
Meanwhile, in the ditches Olin's horde exchanged shots with Skipper's crew, none of their arrows hitting anything, only serving the purpose of preventing a true conflict. Olin gave out orders in hushed tones as he made his to the back of his troops, towards safer grounds, trying desperately to set up some sort of command post to attack Redwall from. However, behind the marten, unknown to him a tall shadow stalked him, following Olin's every move. The moonlight revealed only its eyes, clouded and confused, unaware of what was really going on, they watched the marten as it readied its spear for the kill.
(pre)
~Chapter Nine~
Night had begun to fall upon Mossflower County as the last light of the day shone over the lands. From the ramparts of Redwall, fires could be seen dancing through the woods, coming ever closer. High above, hanging there in the rapidly darkening sky, was the moon, shining with a white light, pale as death, an omen for both sides of the horrors that were to come. As the horde drew nearer the guards of Redwall could see the divisions of the horde clearly, about a third of the beasts bore red bandanas, setting themselves apart from the others, all of them the original members. Quickly everybeast on the ramparts prepared, notching arrows to bows, fitting stones to their slings, preparing for the time of battle that was upon them.
"Remember everybeast, don't hit anybeast with a red bandana on." Skipper whispered to his crew. The message spread quickly through the ranks of otters and other beasts, a scattering of mice, squirrels and such. Glancing down at the horde, Skipper to a quick count of their allies to find that the number of beasts donning the red bandanas was considerably less then those adorning none. With a sigh, Skipper glanced back to the main building where he knew that all the helpless beasts waited, the dibbuns, elders and any other beasts that were unable to fight; their fate was up to the defenders of Redwall now.
"Aw . . .but we wanna go an' see Skippa choppa dere tails offa!" The dibbuns would whine as the elder beasts tried to keep them calm and safe within the abbey dormitories, using tales of old heroes and battles of seasons past, entrancing the little ones, as a new story was written just outside.
"What do ye want here, scum?" Skipper called to the horde as it drew closer to the abbey, the otter chieftain standing tall upon the ramparts of Redwall, flanked on either side by a score or so of otters, each and every one of them armed, all of them at the ready.
"Halt!" Olin ordered to his horde, raising a paw as they stopped about forty yards or so from the gates of Redwall. The marten glared up at Skipper, his eyes burning feverishly, glinting with evil intent in the moonlight. "We want your abbey otter."
"Oh, is that so, mate?" Skipper replied, narrowing his eyes at the pine martin as he raised his paw. "Well, jus' try ta take it!" With that the otter chieftain disappeared below the wall, while a hail of arrows rained from the ramparts down into the horde, only a few finding their marks as a dozen or so horde beasts fell dead or wounded, while the others missed or were deflected by shields.
"Find cover, everybeast!" Olin ordered his troops, sending the survivors scrambling for the ditches, a few horde members staying behind to loose their own arrows into the Abbey, slaying three of Skipper's otters as they rose to fire. Olin stood in the ditch as the hail of arrows ceased save for an arrow or two flying into the ditches, searching for the enemy. The marten's entire horde sat, awaiting further orders as they stared out onto the path where their comrades lay slain.
"What are your orders, sir?" A rat asked, saluting as he stood next to his leader, a rapier in paw.
"Get the slaves up here, we'll use them for shields." Olin ordered, growling as he glared up at the ramparts of the abbey, finding them devoid of anybeast, all of the otters under cover.
"Sir, I can't do that." The rat replied, a nervous quaver in its voice as it took a step backwards away from the marten.
"And why in the name of hells gates can't you?" Olin hissed, grabbing the rat by throat. He glanced back to find every single slave gone and about a third of his horde gone as well, everybeast that had been wearing a red bandana and suddenly it dawned on him. "Damn it!" The marten cursed, taking out his aggressions on the rat, slaying him with a quick movement of his sword. Olin allowed the body to fall from his paw into the ditch, a pool of crimson forming around it as the marten glared at the abbey of Redwall with contempt.
~~~~~~
Meanwhile, at the eastern gate of Redwall Abbey, the freed slaves were quickly being led into the abbey along with a few of the vermin mothers and their babes as the original horde members reunited with their leader, Pearl. They had made a quick camp just behind the abbey, a half-dozen otters watching them carefully from above, sent by Skipper to watch them for any signs of treachery. At the gate, Abbess Mhera stood with Skipper, speaking with Pearl in low tones.
"You know what to do?" Pearl asked the otter maid, watching as her beasts set about the camp, preparing themselves for their own battle, a few talking and eating, trying to forget their reality.
"Yes." The abbess replied with a look of worry gracing her feature, her head slowly, trying to maintain a look of determination despite her apprehensions.
"I'm fightin' too." Pearl looked to down to her right to find the small ferret, Kyin, next to her, both of his twin daggers drawn and at the ready, their keen edges glinting in the torchlight.
"I understand, Kyin. You'll get your revenge, we all will." The marten nodded in response, putting a paw on the young ferret's shoulder, disappointed to see one so young lusting for blood, but she knew that he had a good reason.
"Don't worry, marm, I'll 'ave it." With that the young ferret walked away, eyes burning with anger, his rage barely suppressed. Already the ferret could hear the sounds of the battle. Already he could see his revenge.
~~~~~~
Meanwhile, in the ditches Olin's horde exchanged shots with Skipper's crew, none of their arrows hitting anything, only serving the purpose of preventing a true conflict. Olin gave out orders in hushed tones as he made his to the back of his troops, towards safer grounds, trying desperately to set up some sort of command post to attack Redwall from. However, behind the marten, unknown to him a tall shadow stalked him, following Olin's every move. The moonlight revealed only its eyes, clouded and confused, unaware of what was really going on, they watched the marten as it readied its spear for the kill.
(pre)