Chapter Eight

Salamandastron. Home, or at least it once was. For now, however, home was this ship. A large corsair galley bobbed lightly on the ebbing tide, the tattered bodies of its former crew floating in the shallows. One lone creature was still aboard the ship. Woodshire, as a matter of fact.

The Captain was thoroughly delighted with his new vessel, striding back and forth across the decks and complimenting to himself on what a marvelous 'find' this craft had been. It was a truly wonderful ship. It well built and made for speed even if it did need a few minor repairs. Now, if only Sky would meet him here as was planned.

And then, almost as if Woodshire had summoned her by magic, Sky appeared. The haremaid stepped over a sand dune, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the ship. She grinned and continues forwards; dropping the two packs she was carrying on the shore and wading into the shallows. She picked up her notepad and wrote in large letters so that Woodshire could read them from a distance: 'Lovely ship'.

The haremaid had formed a rescue party as soon as the rats had left. MacPhearsome had been contacted, for he would again be needed as messenger. After all the necessary persons had been informed of their meeting place, Sky had gone out to seek one more creature. . . Woodshire. He, she knew, could get her a ship. He had, and on time as well.

Then, flying down from the air above the boat, Skystar and some chosen Sparra warriors flew, landing neatly on the boat after circling a few times. The Sparra queen ruffled her feathers before fluttering across the deck of the boat, landing on a railing and shaking her head as the ship moved up and down on the waves. Sky grinned and scribbled another message on her pad: 'I thought you were guarding the abbey'

Skystar ruffled her feathers again, an air of smugness about her. "Oh, Skystar has many wormwarrior. They stay, defend Abbey! Skystar take goodfightah warrior here to fight ratworm with abbeyfriends, you see? I leave other Sparra in charge, then I free come with you. Few Sparra, so boat no sink and we no have to fly." Sky nodded, understanding. How could Skystar stay behind on an adventure like this?

Then, Sky saw more creatures coming from the borders of Mossflower Wood and crossing the sand dunes to meet them on the shore. Raivine and her Guosim Shrews had arrived at last. Woodshire, however, did not know who they were. He was just about to ask his daughter to enlighten him when a large female shrew with scruffy looking fur jumped up onto the ship, offering a paw for him to shake.

"Raivine, Log-A-Log of the Guosim, at yer service," she said, grinning. "Can't let Kyra an' her matey's be slaves on that island. I felt we had t'help." A few other strong looking male and female shrews clambered aboard, laden with provisions. They were armed with shrew rapiers, as well as bows and arrows. Raivine herself had a shrew rapier in her belt. "And might I add we're good cooks."

The shrew would have said more, but was interrupted by a loud calling from a small distance off. "Ahooooooy the ship! Are yeh goin' ta leave me and my maties all behind, eh?" Oblivious to what was unfolding on the deck, Rhyna, accompanied by a score of her own squirrel band, and a similar number of Kyra's own otters, came thundering along the sands, leaping pell-mell over the dunes.

To the rear of the group, and larger than both squirrel and otter, another black tunic clad figure skimmed over the beaches with admirable agility. Whooping, Rhyna's band plunged into the blue ocean, with their Chieftain wading along at their head. Everyone was lost in the confusion of roaring waters for a moment, before Rhyna's head poked up over the ship's rail.

Nimbly, she and her band hopped over the ship's side, with the otter crew sliding smoothly in behind them. The Squirrel Chieftain drew her blade swiftly, and twirled the sword in a salute. "Sorry we're a bit late. Picked up more reinforcements on the way, some o' Kyra's band." A black bandolier- style belt thudded to the deck, as the strange lithe figure hauled himself onto the ship.

At this distance, even a half blind beast could see he was a wildcat, and an assassin at that. The range of daggers and poisons tucked into slots onto the belt saw to that and the great long bow over his shoulder added to the effect. A quiver full of arrows slid into view, as Delagor Shatarr bent to pick up his shoulder belt, carefully inspecting his poison pouches before slinging the strap over his shoulder.

Tall and saturnine, he leaned back against the ship's rail, nodding silently to a random selection of creatures. Turning to gaze at her newfound ally, Rhyna felt some explanation was called for at his sudden appearance. "I think I have someone who could make a difference to any current plans ye may have." She said, her tail swishing back and forth as she spoke.

"See the big wildcat beast? Well, you could hardly miss him. Anyway, picked him up along the way too. His name's Delagor Shatarr, good with those blades of his, and got a fair few poisons too. Mercenary assassin by trade, ye see. Well now, did not the nice beastie offer us his services? I was thinkin'; we could do with a spy in the enemy lines. D'you catch me drift?"

Sky listened silently throughout the Reguba's thoughts, her lips slowly curving into a small smile. The self-appointed leader of the expedition nodded, her ears perking up as she wrote on her notepad. 'Bring him along. We might find some use for him'. Throughout this entire conversation, Delagor had been silent. He was not mute, but the warrior wildcat hardly ever spoke.

Raivine stared as the number of the crew almost doubled. She nodded, and turned to Rhyna. She grinned. "We need all th'help we can get, Rhyna. My shrews and I'd be happy if you came along," she said, her grin broadening even more widely than before. Rhyna simply nodded again, grinning to herself as she watched her own crew going about their tasks with a will.

Meanwhile, a long distance away, other creatures had missions of their own to complete.

Salamandastron was unusually quiet. Normally, on a day like this the mountain was bursting with activity; Long Patrollers coming and going, the occasional visiting sea otters, leverets diving through the halls with stolen puddings, and older, retired beasts attempting to stop them. Yes, if anything, Salamandastron was never quiet. But today, it was. . .

The mountain was nearly empty. Almost all of the Patrols were out, and those that were left had gone with the old ones and leverets down to the seashore. Redwallers, you see, weren't the only ones who celebrated the new season. The entire mountain had turned out for a feast on the beach, which would probably last until dawn's light, knowing hares. The whole mountain, save six.

Five hares waited in complete silence just outside of a large closed door. One, a young haremaid with brilliant red-gold fur, was dozing against the wall with head slumped down on her knees. Two others, a huge dark brown hare and a slightly smaller tawny-brown, paced impatiently, passing each other as they reach the door.

The remaining two, a chocolate brown maid with cream colored splotches and a rather calm looking lad who's gold-white fur set him off drastically from the others, quietly waited on a bench, staring across the hall towards the door.

The tawny hare growled, slamming his fist into the wall. His face was the picture of impatience and disappointment. "Why's it taking so long? He should be out by now!"

The golden haremaid glared up at him, shocked out of her nap. "Drop it, Dunner. We're all just as bored as you are."

Dunner shot her a glare before sighing and slumping down between the other two hares. "He has t'let us go. Why shouldn't we? 'E can't stop us."

"Th'Colonel c'n do whatever he wants," mumbled the spotted maid, eyes still trained on the door.

"That's never stopped us b'fore," Dunner stated matter-of-factly.

The group broke out in strained laughter at Dunner's comment. "I suppose we could just leav-" The golden furred maid started to say before being cut off as the door slowly swung open. A sandy brown hare stepped out, smiling faintly. He raised a white splashed paw, holding off any questions.

"I've got good news, an' bad news. Th' good news is that he said we c'n go!" The hares instantly jumped to the feet, cheers ringing through the abnormally hollow mountain. Tal smiles sadly, waiting a while before continuing. "The bad news: We can't leave 'til next season."

It was at that moment that a thin, lanky female hare strode out of the mountain. She was rather pretty, with light creamy fur and hazel eyes. It was, of course, Cap'n Clairethye, more commonly known as Cap'n Claire, or just Claire to her friends and superiors. She grinned and winked at the group, knowing what they were thinking about before they told her.

"Missin' th' Cap'n, are you, m'dears? Th' feast just doesn't seem fun without her, does it? So am I, doncha know! Our Sky's been gone at th' bally Abbey for a long time now. But alot's been going on lately."

There was silence. She grinned at Tal, who looked especially gloomy, and gave him a wink. "Oh, chin up, laddie buck! Sharps th' word an' quicks th' action, eh wot? Why don't you an' your pals all head over t'Redwall an' give your pretty Meadowsong a visit? She should be there now, doncha know!"

Tal threw a flourishing bow to his superior, stepping past the others to meet her. "Wish we could, marm. Just been t'ask th'Colonel. 'E said we had t'wait a bit first." Tal turned, striding to sit with his other three comrades. "He seems t'think she'll be back any day now, an' doesn't want us goin' all th'way t'Redwall for no reason."

The golden haremaid suddenly jumped up from her position, landing just in front of Claire, radiating a sense of childlike innocence. "Per'aps you could change his mind, Cap'n? We'd really like t'go. There's really no reason f'us t'stay here. Th' Colonel won't let us go t'visit Sky, or even go on Patrol for another season! Doesn't trust us."

Cap'n Claire grinned and waggled her ears, taking a few steps forwards. "Well... I s'pose there isn't any harm in trying, is there? Otherwise... I think I could convince the Colonel to send you young lot Patrollin' instead of mopin' about the mountain. I know y'said he wouldn't let you go patrollin', but maybe I can let him at least do that if I can't change his mind entirely, an' you can nip up to Redwall."

The light creamy furred haremaid smiled mischievously, giving them a wink. "But, only as a last resort mind. If th' Colonel finds out I've done this, he'll cut of m'head an' hang it over th' fireplace in th' Dining Hall! I'm sure you'll put some food in me mouth if he does, won't you? I'd be starvin' without any tuck, eh eh!"

She put a finger to her lips and winked. "Well, I'll jus' nip up to th' Colonels office, shall I? I'll get him to let you all go patrollin' at the least. At least, I bally hope I will! For you lot as well as fer me. Pity I can't come with you. Tell her hello, an' give her a hug from me. An' make sure to bring her back here." The Captain waggled her ears comically before striding back through the door that she had just exited.

The Colonel's office looked much like a cross between an office building and the Badger Lord's forge. Weapons of all shapes and sizes covered the walls, ready to use at a moments notice. Tussock was sitting at a desk on the other end of the room, gazing absentmindedly out of the window. Tussock looked up as the door opened, smiling slightly when he recognized the figure entering.

"'Ello Clairethye! Didn't expect t'see you here. Why aren't y'down at the feast? I was goin' t'come but..." He trailed off and shrugged, glancing past her out the door. "They've left then?"

Clairethye nodded emphatically. "Aye, an' th' blighters weren't to happy t'go, Colonel, sah! They were a right sorry bag of ragamuffins, if I do say so meself, Colonel Sah! I know you won't let 'em go up to Redwall, Colonel sah, but could it hurt to let 'em go out on Patrol? I mean, they're stubborn hares, I'll admit that, but do you really think that they'd disobey you t'go up to Redwall?"

"Do stop y'whining, Captain. I know y'want 'em t'go. We all want 'em t'go! Haven't been this much trouble since they were levrets! Bah, now you've made me feel old. Back t'th'subject. I can't keep them here forever, Clairethye. Soon enough they'll leave whether I say they can or not. I just need t'stall 'em a bit. Can't have 'em goin' yet. I'll let 'em go soon. Just waitin' f'Skythistle t'get back."

It was then that there was a loud and firm knock on the door. Clairethye muttered and walked towards the door, a bit angered at the interruption. "Oh, come in, whatever y'want, chap! But I'm warnin' you, m'laddo whoever you are, th' only person that I wouldn't give a sound tannin' to for interruptin' H'Officah Buisness is th' bally badger lord 'imself!"

MacPhearsome clacked his beak, stepping through the door. "Och, weel nau, lassie, won't ya make an exception for your fav'rite h'eagle?" Claire grinned, waggling her ears and standing up, giving the bird a swift salute.

"Oh, come now, MacPhearsome. You've got to have some sort o' reason that your here, eh wot! Right, ol' chap. Out with it! You wouldn't spend a moment with the crazy leverets outside if it wasn't unavoidable. What d'you want m'good sah?"

The Eagle bowed his head. "Ah've come t'ye wi' a wee liddle message from Sky, Clairethye. Kyra's been taken by Mavarl. Th' rat came stormin' int' Great 'All an' captured 'er an quite a few other beasties. Sky's arranged it all, I b'lieve. They're goin' to head off, but they'll waiting for you an' th' Otters from Ruddaring tah come wi' larger forces soon after."

And so, MacPhearsome told the two head officers of Salamandastron about the situation.

The first night on Fortguard was as hot as any other western eventide. Kestral was curled up in a corner nearby Kyra, who was sleeping in between Raze and Lucien, who were a few good feet away from her on either side. The otter wrapped her arms around herself, not to keep out a physical coldness, but to shield her tender flesh from a mental coldness that was as sharp as the bitterest winter storm.

Suddenly, the ottermaid felt a grip as hard and icy as stone grab her shoulder. Kestral jumped and tried to let out a shrill scream of terror, only to be silenced by a similar paw over her lips. Kestral struggled slightly, only to be held even more firmly by the pair of paws that had grabbed her. Now, there was a touch on the back of her neck and the grip on her shoulder had loosened.

Then, the ottermaid felt something near her ear. She didn't move, frozen with terror and dread. Then, voice whispered in her ear, and the ottermaid's eyes flicked towards the sounds. The voice was a low growl, and the pair of eyes that she saw stare back at her made her heart skip a beat. The eyes continued to stare at her, boring into her flesh. Kestral shuddered, but could not dispel the strange grip upon her.

"Tell me," the voice said, carrying a sense of urgency in it's soft but harsh tones, "what is your name." His grip loosened on her mouth as she spoke, allowing her enough room to speak. "Don't scream," he said swiftly, allowing his paw to drop from her lips and back to his side. "I mean you no harm," the figure added to reassure her. "Now, young kit, tell me your name. I must know."

Kestral licked her dry lips, parting them to speak. She tried to utter a sound, to speak her name so that the attacker would not grab her again, but her throat would not make the necessary noises. The creature grunted with impatience, snorting slightly. Kestral tried again to speak and again failed.

The figure grew impatient. "Just tell me," he said in a low and calm voice, "if your name is Kestral Riversplash. Just tell me if that's your name, kit. Was the name of your Dam Rael? And-" he paused, almost choking, "your Sire? Who was he?" Kestral was shocked. She couldn't speak for several moments.

"My Dam was named- is named- Rael. My Sire was Brindor Silverback. But how in Great Seasons you found that out is beyond me." A shaft of moonlight came down from a hole in the rafters, spreading its soft brilliance over the features of Kestrals strange visitor. He was an otter, old with graying fur and with bright blue eyes.

The strange old and grizzled otter had the look of one who had once been very handsome indeed, but who, in old age, had lost most of his good looks. Kestral could guess that he had spent many seasons in slavery. The otter's face was lined with premature wrinkles and the fur that had obviously once been sleek and brown was now gray.

It wasn't just the strange otter's body that was different either. He was like the other slaves now. All slaves shared one thing with each other: their eyes, the look in their eyes that never left them even after they were freed. Their eyes held the look of the hunted, of the weary creature who can never completely rest, the creature for whom the only escape from pain is death.

This look never leaves them. It was a look that still covered the eyes of Kyra Longfletch, dimming their brown. It was a look that could be seen in the eyes of Lucien Streambed and Razorfang to this day. It was a look that never left, and that no healer could find a cure for.

Kestral stared at a face and body that she knew and that she did not know. A face that was familiar, and yet different. It was a face that held love, and a face that held something Kestral had never seen in it before- fear. Kestral looked up at him, not sure what to say. She could only manage one phrase. "Hello father."

After these two words, the big male otter scooped his long-lost daughter into his arms and let her cling to him, pressing her against his sturdy form. Both of the cried, tears streaming down their faces. Kestral buried her face in her father's shoulder, crying into the hollow of his neck, unable to breathe properly or speak.

Later that night Raze, Lucien, Kyra, Kestral, and Brindor were all huddled in a corner, trying to plan a meeting in which Brindor would be able to convince the other slaves to rebel with him. Not knowing anything about performers or strolling players or the like, Raze just shrugged and settled into a corner of the compound while the others gathered closer around him.

"First of all," Kyra said, "we'll have to think of how to rouse them up into Rebellion. This lot doesn't look very promising. If you've seen the looks in their eyes, you'd know. It's a look we're all familiar with. It's strong in this lot. Mavarl must be cracking down hard on them."

"I s'gest Brindor Silverdance does the talking," she continued. "He's a performer and all, and would do it best. The guards'll probably doze off sometime tonight. All I need to do is keep a lookout 'n make sure they don't wake up. Well, friend? D'you have any past experiences that might 'elp?"

Brindor chewed his lip thoughtfully. He wasn't really suited to planning and organizing and such... He was an actor, and used to having a script with everything all worked out before hand. Yet here were all these creatures looking to him to convince the slaves to rebel. He wasn't sure he'd be able to, and began to say as much. "I'm a performer by trade, not a leader or a fighter. I'm not sure I-"

But before the otter finished his sentence, Kestral's eyes lit up, and she jumped to her feet. "O' course you can! O' course you can. Who better than a performer to sway audiences with words alone? I've seen creatures after you've worked with them. They come away a bit dazed, feelin' as though they 'ad been part o' the story."

Her father frowned, still not convinced. "Yes, but those are creatures who come expectin' to be taken up in the story, creatures who willin'ly let themselves be convinced. You've never been a slave before, m'dear. You don't know these creatures. Their spirits are all but gone." Kestral shook her head impatiently.

"That doesn't matter. Think of it as a challenge." Looking him straight in the eye, she added slowly, "if anybeast can do it, it's you, Da."

Kyra nodded slowly. "C'mon, Brindor. I know that this seems a lot, but it's possibly the only chance you an' yore daughter'll get to find yore mate and kits. Besides, wouldn't you rather die a hero and a fighter than a submissive wretch? Wouldn't you do that for all these poor creatures?" She gestured about, paws pointing at all the thin, ragged woodland slaves.

With a sigh, Brindor nodded. "Yer right. Not much I can say against an argument like that. I've also got just the speech to do it. It's from one of my plays, y'know, a rather good one. It fits the situation almost exactly." His eyes got a faraway look in them as the mahogany furred otter's mind drifted off to prepare for the monolog he was to perform.

Kyra, without even asking whether Brindor was ready for immediate action, went to rouse the slaves. It did indeed take a while, but she managed it. The slaves were so used to obedience that they would obey even her without question. Very few objected. When the captives had settled, and Kestral's father had their attention, he began.

"Friends, fellow woodlanders, I see here before me a sorry state of affairs. . ." Voice gaining strength and confidence as he spoke, Brindor preformed as he had never preformed before. It did not take much acting for the otter to be convincing, because he truly believed, and deeply felt, the words he spoke.

Brindor spoke on, adjusting a word or phrase here or there, to better match the situation, but taking the body of the monolog from a play he knew well. Excited whispers passed among the slaves. Brindor concluded his monolog. Kyra kept her lookout, though every word of Brindors speech went into her brain. She was very pleased indeed.

"Some of you may have no memory of a home or family, but I am here to tell you that there is such a thing as a better place then here. Those of you who do remember- don't you miss the green grass? The changing seasons? The open air? If we work together, we can have freedom. It will be difficult- you all know that already. But we have to try. We must fight for our freedom."

If there had been no guard at the door to be roused, the slaves would have applauded loudly enough to send the roof collapsing in on them.