Chapter One
Though they didn't know it, the two weasels Deathpaw and Greenfang weren't the only visitors to Mossflower that eventide. A well-muscled female otter with dark fur and equally dark eyes walked through the trees.
The moonlight was softly reflected in the dark orbs that sat serenely in the ottermaid's head, shining and spreading soft light over the shadows of her face. The crown of her head was bent down, examining the ground, and her ears were pricked for any sound of movement through the brush that covered Mossflower at all seasons but winter. Most of the foliage died during the winter season, leaving the landscape barren.
Her eyes were a bit large and were tinted a soft brown in color, turned white in some parts by the reflecting moonlight. The ottermaid's slender neck was cast partially in shadow and was extended forwards, almost as if she was a hunting dog after her prey. She was hungry for blood.
Kyra Longfletch's Bloodwrath hadn't left her, but she found that she was able to control it to some extent. But, even she couldn't control her feelings and emotions completely, and the strange red madness still stole upon her like clouds on a moonless night when her bloodlust was high. Her shoulders were slim and fit, with her flesh rippling over a muscular back.
The ottermaid had changed a lot in the seasons she had been away from slavery. She had grown more proportioned on regular meals and regular physical training. The wary signs of bodily abuse hadn't completely left, but Kyra had recovered extremely well. Kyra had filled out, regular meals helping a great deal to help her get a more natural and sleek otter form.
She bent down on one knee, looking at the slightly muddy ground. Something had passed by this way, several somethings in fact. A dozen. They were vermin footprints.
The ottermaid was tall for her sex and species, and she was unnaturally dark for a streamdog. With her at the present time, besides the bollases and sling- as well as it's stones- the ottermaid carried a beautifully decorated quiver over her shoulder, and a bow across her back. The bow was truly a work of art, intricately decorated and made of hardened driftwood.
Kyra muttered, eyes narrowing as she looked at the ground below her, moving steadily forwards, the moonlight illuminating the forest enough for her to track without much difficulty. She emptied her mind, concentrating on following the trail of broken twigs, slashed trees, and paw prints. Obviously, the creatures that had passed this way hadn't thought that they would be followed.
The ottermaid bent down again, picking up a broken twig. Just as she was about to rise, she sensed something behind her. The fur on her back and neck prickled. The Skipper didn't move, but was totally silent, listening. After a few long, tense moments, the ottermaid spoke, though she didn't move a muscle.
"Greetings, Rhyna, Reguba of Squirrels. What business do you have with me?"
From a nearby tree a pleasant sounding voice, along with a bit of rustling, was emitted in a relaxed fashion.
"Oh Kys, why be so formal and mysterious. Great Seasons, you almost scared me that time. How'd you know it was me, and why can't you just say hello like a normal creature? I doubt anyone could be less friendly, really I do y'great bloody riverdog. 'Tis uncanny, you knowing exactly who was behind you. You know what I think, Kyra Longfletch? You're a great big showoff."
Kyra smiled broadly at Rhyna. "I knew it was you because I heard you coming through the trees," she stated simply. It made sense, actually, once you heard her explain her deductions. "Only Squirrels travel that way. And I knew you were the Reguba because you didn't greet me, as any of your warriors would have done."
The squirrelmaid nodded. It was true enough. Any of her warriors would have come up and stated their purpose to the Skipper in a respectful manner, as was proper. She hadn't. She was Kyra's equal- perhaps even partially her counterpart- the leader of a good number in squirrels. Rhyna's squirrel's resided in Dray Beechpaw, a group of trees in which many houses had been built, named after their illustrious leader.
"I suppose," Kyra stated matter-of-factly, that you'll want to come with me on this trackin' journey. Wasn't expecting company." Rhyna jumped down from her tree, twirling a neat double sommersault as she landed with a soft 'thump' on the leafy ground. "And let me point out that I wouldn't be tellin' you who you were without turnin' around if you 'adn't crept up on me in the first place, Rhy."
The Reguba grinned cheekily, shifting the bow that hung across her chest. The Reguba of Squirrels was a warrior, descended from previous Reguba's. The name of Reguba was a sacred one, and carried the mark of a warrior upon it.
"Alright then," Rhyn said. "I do want to join you, Kys. Y'see, I think we're following th' same trail. Truth is," Rhyna confided, "one of my scouts reported a vermin sighting out in this area of Mossflower. I didn't want the whole tribe in an uproar, and so decided to come check it out quietly myself."
Kyra nodded gravely. So the vermin sightings had been true. "Then we're here for the same reason, Rhy." Kyra spoke, her voice solemn and worried. She didn't fear to show her emotions to Rhyna. "One 'o my Otters reported a fewscore vermin up this way, an' I decided to come up and see. Restless, y'know." The squirrel chieftain nodded.
"Aye Kys, well, since we're both here, lets track together. Safety in numbers, I say. And I wouldn't mind having your bow with me, Skip. Bloody handy you are, in a pinch, aye?" Kyra nodded, taking the bow off of her back and drawing a green-feathered arrow across it, pulling it back slightly.
"I've got th' trail right 'ere, Reguba," She said with a smile. "Been following it for a while." This was true. The trail that she was following now had been a project that had taken several hours. She had started just after noontide.
"Looks t'me like a few dozen creatures passed by this way. Severed tree limbs and broken twigs all along this way. Pawprints all along this way, since it rained naught but a few nights ago." The Skipper was about to continue following the trail when she heard Rhyna cough behind her.
"D'you want me to track, or d'you wanna keep at it?"
Kyra shrugged. "You track. My eyes are sore from followin' the bloody trail for hour after hour." Rhyna nodded and headed off, following the trail. Kyra, pulling her arrow back still farther, kept the rearguard.
And so the two chieftains stalked their quarry through Mossflower as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, bringing the hot summer day to a close. Kyra yawned, her brown eyes scanning the trees behind them for any sign of approaching company. There was none, of course.
The ottermaid didn't suspect that they were being followed, and it was unlikely that most vermin would want to tangle with two warriors that were fully armed. The Reguba had her eyes on the ground, following the trail as her friend had done before her.
Suddenly, Rhyna stopped. "Harken, ruddertail," Rhyna hissed. "I think I hear something beyond these trees." Kyra silently nodded. Both friends stepped forwards at the same time, each pulling a small sapling to the side to make a gap, and sticking their heads through.
Both of their eyes rested on the same sight: a clearing with a campfire in the middle, as well as many patches and blankets in the grass where creatures had obviously been sleeping. Kyra spat on the ground and shook her head.
"Right slobs, these vermin are, Reguba, leaving their camp messy. This is probably just a minor foraging party. Any real leader would at least know enough to clear a campsite! Even though I hope I'm dead wrong, it seems as if they're from a bigger horde. Not many small vermin bands would make this much commotion, y'know."
Rhyna nodded. "Aye, Kyra. You've got a point there. A Mossflower Band would be more concealed, since they stay here full time until any Squirrel and Otter warriors get their shafts and blades into them." This was true. Mossflower's main defenses were Kyra's otters and Rhyna's squirrels.
Both leaders sent out parties of warriors regularly for vermin hunts. Ever since both females had come to power, the vermin numbers had been severely dwindling. Not all vermin were bad, however. Quite a few lived at Redwall now, and two were special friends of Kyra's in particular.
Of course, many vermin had chosen to live peaceful lives. With the dangerous north killing them off without much help from goodbeasts, only a few lived there. The southern vermin dared not stay in Mossflower in large numbers, for armies made up of Otters and Squirrels quickly picked those who did off.
The seas were guarded as well, protected by the giant mountain of Salamandastron, ruled by Lord Seastripe, the great Badger Lord and his force of fighting hares. Salamandastron hares were indeed quite comical, but all of the long eared warriors were perilous to the end. Kyra knew this from experience.
Her best friend lived at Salamandastron, and was now a Captain there, with her own regiment of hares in the Long Patrol. Kyra was in constant contact with her dear friend though visits and frequent letters. She was also in contact with a few other hares. Sky's fellow Captain, Clairethye, had become a good friend of the ottermaid's as well.
It seemed as if the only safe place what far to the west, on the many islands where vermin ruled the seas. But, Kyra couldn't go around killing vermin whenever she was in the mood. She was a Skipper, a leader and queen to her otters, and had to think of them as well as the forest she had sworn to protect.
Besides, her twin Ronil could easily take care of the vermin out there. She didn't want to intrude in her brother's territory. She had to let him have his fun. After all, she had her forest, and he had his sea. The River Otter blood in her veins tied her to the mainland, its rivers and trees, while Ronil was tied to the salty blue sea and the beautiful but sometimes deadly islands.
The Skipper was jolted out of her thoughts when about twelve vermin stalked through the trees and entered the camp from the other side of the clearing. Kyra smiled. Now, they were getting somewhere. Looking at abandoned camps was nice enough, but how were they going to gather information without subjects to watch?
Surprisingly, the information was easy enough to come by. Two of the vermin, weasels and spawn of hell both stood in the center of their fellows, talking in loud and excited voices. "Its true, I tell yer," the first one proclaimed in a loud voice to the other vermin, who were looking on in a mixture of excitement and resentment.
They were excited because of the news, and resentful because of the boasting of the first weasel. "We found the perfect place! We was lost see, an' so I perks up me keen ears, and hears voices comin' from miles away an' I says to Deathpaw that we should. . ."
The second weasel interrupted his comrade, his eyes glaring the first into silence. Deathpaw, for that was the weasel's name, was furious at his comrade's idiocy. "Shut up, Greenie. All you did was throw a bloody stick an' follow the way it pointed!"
Deathpaw's tones were in that of a growl, and the feeling that his mood and words gave was one of anger. "T'was me that kept us walkin' on a straight line an' you that found the big redstone building by complete accident. You only found it 'cause you was too stupid to stay in one place an' ran off in all directions slicing everything in sight."
Greenfang sniffed, looking down his tattooed nose at his partner. Though Greenfang was taller, Deathpaw sometimes seemed far more intimidating than he, and the weasel knew it too. He was determined to get some of the glory for himself- since he so rarely did- and wasn't about to give up yet.
"Well, alright, I did throw a stick. But, it was me what found the buildin'. You just admitted it yerself! An' who cares how we found it as long as we found it! Oho, Fangarl'll reward us fer this, mate!" This last statement was meant to lighten Deathpaw's mood. It worked.
Deathpaw nodded, his eyes alight with the thought of plunder and booty. "Aye, so we will! But t'continue with our story." He paused here to glare at Greenfang, who remained perfectly silent. He knew not to annoy Deathpaw when he was in this mood.
"The real story. Well, we found this place, an' watched it fer a day. It's a home full 'o liddle mice! Big Badger wench though, an' a few good warriors. A few slinging otters, some climbin' squirrels, an' some of the mice were carryin' weapons, but not somethin' a good horde couldn't easily conquer!"
Kyra looked at Rhyna, and the squirrelmaid nodded. They had learned enough. These vermin were indeed from a big horde. The weasels Deathpaw and Greenfang had been sent to find. . . something. . . and had found Redwall. They had mentioned someone called Fangarl. Could he or she be their leader or a captain?
Deathpaw looked around and sat down on the ground in front of the empty fire pit. "Well, I say we get started under cover of night. That'll give us an hour or two to Forage. 'Sides, I don' fancy travel at day. I've seen signs of life 'ere, an' we don't know what we c'd run into."
After this statement, the vermin spread out across the camp, gossiping and doing simple chores in longer amounts of time than necessary. Kyra's brown eyes met those of Rhyna's, and both nodded, their thoughts running along parallel lines. These vermin had to be stopped, and more information would be harder to come by.
She smiled, their eyes locking. Both nodded at the same time, each mouthing the same thing: One. . . Two. . . Three! The two friends jumped out at the same time, arrows pulled back and each with a blade and sling at their belt.
Twang! Whoosh! Two arrows pierced the throats of two vermin, and both fell backwards, screaming their last. The other vermin could only stare on in amazement as their comrades fell, mouths agape in a final scream and muscles growing stiffer by the moment.
Kyra felt no pity for the rag-tag group. These vermin were a threat to Redwall! If any one of them got away, then they would surely report back to the leader of their horde. That would, in turn, bring war to the entire region of Mossflower. Redwall was not meant to handle Bloodshed.
That was what she and Rhyna were for. They were the twin forces that protected Mossflower from hordes of vermin and bands of scavengers. Of course, Redwall had it's own warriors, but it was much easier for Kyra and Rhyna to cut down the vermin before the Abbey fell under attack.
Kyra gripped her bow, eyeing one of the vermin that was staring with an open mouth at his dying comrades. Quick as a flash, both friends had a fresh arrow at their bowstrings, pulling back and letting them fly. Two more vermin fell.
It was only then that the stunned vermin seemed to come to their senses and attack the pair! There were now nine vermin still alive, and six of them charged, blades raised above their heads. Kyra smiled, notching another green-feathered arrow to her bow. Another twang as the arrow was let loose, another scream as the ferret she had hit fell to the ground.
Rhyna too let loose a third shaft. Seven left! Or was it six? Rhyna looked at the vermin that were now upon them. Hadn't there been more? She dismissed the thought, taking a thin sword from the cream colored belt about her purple tunic. She ran it through a stoat's stomach as the stoat's scimitar scraped her across the shoulder. The Reguba winced, but she ignored the pain and met blades with a weasel.
Kyra wasn't using her sword. The bow was her preferred weapon. Dispatching a rat with a swift, high kick, she shot him with a green feathered arrow from her quiver. "Four, Bushtail! She called over her shoulder, grinning. "How many you got?"
Kyra and Rhyna both knew that they were competing. Whoever killed the most would never let the other hear the end of it. Both started fighting another vermin, counting the dead corpses. "Four!" called back the squirrelmaid, before her sword ran the weasel that she had been fencing with through.
"Correction, Longfletch. I've got five now!" Kyra grinned and rolled her eyes. She wouldn't let Rhyna win that easily. The ottermaid gritted her teeth and let loose her fifth shaft, pulling it back so far that when she let it loose, it went through a rather fat rat and ran through a stoat behind him. Both were slain instantly. Kyra winked cheekily at Rhyna, that that move had put her ahead.
"Make that six for me, Reguba. I'm on a roll t'night!" Rhyna grinned too, and Kyra was so busy grinning back that she didn't see the weasel creeping up behind her. Rhyna, however, did. The ottermaid was just about to bend down and retrieve her arrows when the squirrelmaid let loose one of her purple feathered shafts at him, killing him just as he raised his saber to strike.
Kyra turned as she heard the screams of the Reguba's victim, and the dead weasel fell on top of her, his saber piercing her right forepaw. She glared at Rhyna and waggled a finger. "Losin' your touch, Bushtail! Should have gotten him sooner. But, you did just as well as I did. Tied again! Six each."
Rhyna nodded. "I could have been faster, but you could have been more alert. Y'should have killed him yerself if you didn't want to be stabbed. 'Tis your own fault you've got a sore paw, y'great baby. Besides, I've already got a shoulder laid open to the bone to worry about," she said with a sniff. She sheathed her sword and grinned. The wounds upon both of them were mere scratches.
Kyra snorted. "That wound isn't laid open to th'bone, y'great idiot. 'Tis naught but a scratch. Now, my wound is grave. Might have to cut off the footpaw to keep from getting' sick, y'great bloody bushtail. Still say ye were careless, an' now I'll have t'lose me footpaw like as not." Rhyna rolled her eyes and bit her lip to keep from laughing.
"Your wound's no worse'n mine, which is to say they'll both be forgotten in a few days. Besides, weren't there more of these blighters here?"
Kyra shrugged. The two friends continued their conversation as they walked off towards Redwall abbey. Meanwhile, Greenfang breathed as lightly as he could, his eyes closed and his heart pounding as he hid behind the thick trunk of an oak tree.