Chapter Nine
The sun was sinking lower and lower in the Western Horizen, and a very large ship was sailing towards it. Many creatures ran about, doing various chores. There were also the Sparra who, it seemed, had not taken well to sea life at all. The entire ship was not really under the command of anybeast. Rhyna, Sky, and Raivine all seemed to take command. Skystar was too sick to participate.
The scrape of wood against wood, the snapping of rope and the splash of seawater told a story of it's own to those observant enough. Delagor was not in the crows nest as usual, but had cut loose the small rowboat that was on the side of the ship to seek Fortguard and Mavarl, as he had promised.
A small rowing boat bobbed into view to the aft of the port side of the ship. Seated on the middle plank was the enigmatic wildcat, an oar to each paw. He seemed to have no fear of the water as any normal wildcat should. Fear was an unknown beast to him. Stowed for'ard were both his saber and bandolier-style belt, lest sea-water spoil them both.
"Aye aye, ol' Delagor's off then." Rhyna strode towards the ship's rail, watching as the wildcat skillfully maneuvered his boat towards the island. She watched as he rowed off into the distance, nervous tension clutching at her stomach. Hopefully, all would go well.
The last light of day was just fading as the Unnamed Ship nosed onto the shore. They had landed in a small cove around the north side of the island, completely sheltered from any sight of the castle. The only way there was any chance of them being spotted was perhaps by a scouting party, but those were rare, as most 'visitors' were seen far before they reached land.
With a soft splash, Sky was overboard, wading silently through the shadows and onto the shore. She pulled out her notepad, and jotted a note on it, leaving it on the railing where it would obviously be found by Somebeast. 'Stay here and set up camp. I'll see if I can get in touch with Delagor.' Without another word she set off away from the shore.
What appeared to be a mass of bedraggled brown feathers rose from the deck and landed on the shore, proving to be the pitiful band of Sparra Warriors that had accompanied Skystar on her journey to Fortguard. Now, all of the Sparra were quite seasick. Small birds were not meant to travel over great distances, and this had just been proved.
Feeling better, but not recovered enough to be interested in food, Skystar fluttered onto a rock and gazed out at the grey-blue sea - the sea she will have to cross if she wanted to get back to Redwall. Suddenly she noted a blur on the horizon, which disrupted her gloomy train of thought. A sail. The little Sparra Queen opened her beak to let out the call that would arouse the others on the ship
"Little wormship! Skystar see little wormship, far 'way. Allbeasts look. Is bad wormship?" Soon, Rhyna and almost everybeast with the exception of Sky had jumped off the ship and waded over to the sand near the cove that they had landed in.
Cap'n Clairethye stood at the prow of the ship she had been granted by the Colonel. The haremaid had been allowed to take her entire regiment of hares for this particular mission, which might not have been a good thing for the Ruddaring Otters.
Lord Ronil had been collected by the gallant haremaid and her ship full of gluttons, and had eagerly agreed to come with them to rescue his baby sister yet again from Mavarl. He had also willingly allowed a great number of his otters to accompany him. The band of tough looking male and female sea otters each carried the traditional double pointed javelins of their race, and all were heavily tattooed with blue lines.
Though Ronil had agreed to come, he had not so eagerly agreed to share Ruddaring's hospitality with the hares. The gluttons had eaten and eaten and eaten for almost the entire night! Those long eared bottomless pits had almost eaten everything in the otter's larders! So Ronil had forced them to continue the very next day without letting them stay long enough for any other meal besides breakfast.
In a ship full of hares and otters, it was rather unlikely that anybeast could possibly sneak aboard. Unlikely, but not impossible. The hares of Sky's Patrol had been banned from the voyage. Well, not really. They hadn't exactly known about it. This didn't stop one from coming.
Dunspur Sandflay, commonly known as Dunner, popped up beside the Captain, knowing by this time that they couldn't possibly send him home. He winked sideways at Clairethye before turning his eyes to the island in the distance.
The hares had drawn lots to make sure that one of them would have been left behind to plant false clues around Salamandastron so that their ware abouts wouldn't be discovered. In reality, the band had set off for Redwall, sneaking off in the night despite the Colonel's protests. But of course, Dunner had drawn the short lot. Though he had complained long and loud about it, he had.
And so, determined not to stay cooped up in Salamandastron leaving false clues so that his band of friends wouldn't be found, he had climbed aboard the ship when Clairethye had left. As long as the Cap'n didn't see him, he had been easily able to stay hidden. The other hares had simply assumed that he had been selected to come on the journey to get him out of trouble.
But now, Dunner had to tell Claire that he was here. How else was he going to get more food than what he could steal from the kitchens? Claire stared in shock at Dunner, ears sticking straight up in the air and gray eyes opened as wide as they would go as if she had seen a ghost.
When the Cap'n spoke, it was softly, and with slight stutters mixed into it. "Duh-du-Dunner? Whatcha d-do-doin' here, laddie buck? Y'sp-s'po-s'posed t'be back at th'mountain with the others. . . how did y- why are y- What the hell, lad, how did you get on this damn ship, soldier! Speak now, before I find some way of cartin' you home, an' believe me, young'un, I will!"
The tawny hare simply rolled his eyes, sending a smirk towards Claire. "Lighten' up, Captain. Y'couldn't possibly 'ave expected me t'stay at Salamanthingy with m'Patrol gone, eh? An' I already know y'can't send me home. There's no reason to, after all." By this time the light was fading. Dark came quickly on the ocean, which actually worked out rather well, considering it would help conceal their position.
Claire growled at the long patrol hare, eyes narrowed. "Aye, your right there, young'un, but that doesn't mean I can't punish you for seasons t'come, sah! I'll make sure you do double cleanin' duty, an' you'll be plate scraper until further notice. . . every night! An' another thing, what d'you mean your bally patrol's gone? They should be at Salamandastron. Unless. . . you don't mean they came along too?"
Dunner shook his head. "'Course not, marm! They're well on their way to Redwall by now. S'pose you haven't heard. They snuck off a fortnight 'afore we left, wot! I was s'posed to stay behind with an injury. But," he winked cheerily, "I couldn't resist bein' away from your pretty face, Cap'n." Claire was not soothed.
Claire rolled her eyes. There was nothing she could do, after all. "Fine, Dunner. You c'n stay, m'laddo. But believe me, once we get back to Salamandastron, I'll find a suitable punishment f'you, young rip! An' don't doubt it!" Dunner gulped. Claire was very, very good at dolling out punishment.
Meanwhile, on the shore, Raivine had told her shrews make no fire, for fear of attracting attention to their party. The cry of "Ship!!" rang in her ears, she swiveled her head towards the horizon. There, drawing closer by the second, was a ship coming towards the beach. She faced it grimly, looking up towards a rock above her.
MacPhearsome sat perched atop it. The shrew stared in wide eyed shock at the Great Golden Eagle, mouth hanging open. "Ma-MacPhearsome? What're you doin' 'ere?" was all she could say. The eagle stared at her calmly through his two great tawny eyes. He tilted his head, and Raivine smiled.
Obviously, the ship that had just arrived contained Claire and Ronil, as well as their hares and otters. That would be useful. Without saying anything else, she went to tell the others who was on the mysterious ship that was approaching with alarming swiftness. It was at this moment that the ship gently nosed into the shore.
Hares and otters immediately began to disembark, tossing supplies to the beach, some already setting up camp around the already existing one. Within a relatively short amount of time, the ship was empty, and the camp on the shore had grown considerably.
Small smokeless campfires now dotted the beach, each surrounded by a small group of creatures who talked softly as they fixed their meals. The conversation topics were purposely light and carefree. Nobeast really wanted to talk about the coming rebellion. War wasn't ever a pleasant topic to talk about, and everybeast was already worn to a frazzle from the long journey.
It hadn't taken Skythistle long to return to the shore. She had simply gone off to go and think. The haremaid snorted at her own thoughts. She was becoming more and more like Woodshire as she grew older. Here she was, Sky the Long Patrol Captain, brooding like her father. She brooded over many things. Over going home, mostly. How the hare ached for Salamandastron!
"Skkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkky!"
The haremaid had barely stepped foot inside the camp before she was tackled to the ground by a speeding blur of tawny fur. Wincing slightly, she shoved the now-laughing creature off her, climbing to her feet and dusting off her tunic. "Dunner? What th'flippin' 'eck are you doin' here? The others aren't here, are they? Bloody 'ell, I told 'em not t'let you come!"
The tawny hare frowned slightly and jumped to his feet, grinning as he threw an arm around Sky's shoulders. The two grinned at each other momentarily before Dunner spoke. Even though he had not seen Sky for a very long time indeed, it felt as if the two hadn't been parted even a day. "Aww, c'mon Captain, surely you're glad t'see me? An' no, if it make y'feel any better, th'others aren't here."
"Y'shouldn't 'ave come, Dunner," Sky mumbled, but she couldn't help but grin slightly as the tawny hare steered her towards the camp fire that had been built. She had missed her entire patrol, and couldn't entirely blame Dunner for wanting to come along for an adventure. "But all th'same, 'tis good t'see you. How're things at th'mountain? It's been a while since I've been back."
"Not much has changed," Dunspur shrugged, absentmindedly stirring the stew which was boiling on the fire with a nearby ladle. "A couple new promotions, few new recruits; nothin' worth mentionin'. Tal took th'Patrol down near Redwall not long b'fore we left." For a moment the tawny hare scowled slightly, then laughed, winking. "Which is why 'm here. Made me stay b'hind."
The conversation went back and forth, changing subjects a thousand times before it's end. Eventually Sky yawned, standing and setting her bowl (which had previously been filled with stew) aside. The haremaid stretched out languorously on the ground, eyes fluttering. It was getting late after all, and they would need all the rest that they could get in the near future.
"I'm goin' to turn in, Dunner," the haremaid said with a grin. "G'night. And I'm glad that you came."
Noisy seabirds wheeled and called to one another as a small rowing boat beached itself upon the sands. Delagor Shatarr shipped the oars of the borrowed vessel, locking them in their proper place by use of wooden catches. Rummaging about in the bottom of the boat, he came up with his bandolier belt and its poisons, a quiver-full of black fletched arrows, and a fearsome longbow.
He flicked the belt over his head, twitching it until it ran diagonally across his chest, before slinging the quiver and longbow over the same shoulder. The saturnine wildcat leapt neatly over the boat's side, creating a small flurry of sand as he landed. Delagor's banded tail twitched constantly as he dragged the boat further up the tideline for a short distance before halting and shading his eyes with a paw.
Any wise horde leader would be having his territory watched; therefore, it was quite likely that somebody would find him. Delagor sat down nonchalantly upon the nearest boulder to await the inevitable. Delagor didn't know how right he was.
A rat sentry watched as the boat slowly rowed in. Drawing a blade, the rat relaxed slightly upon seeing it was a wildcat. Of course, wildcats were dangerous, but it wasn't an armed woodlander. And so, feeling a surge of confidence, he stepped forwards, blade still drawn, eyes locking with the stripecats. "What d'yer want, cat? Know that yer on th' land of Mavarl, Rat Warlord o' this island."
Almost as quickly as he had sat down, Delagor arose to his well-muscled hinds, calmly returning the rat's stare. He folded his forelimbs, leaving the thick, heavy saber at his side much in evidence, along with the rest of his arsenal. Not moving from his place, Delagor replied in the soft, clipped tones for which he was known.
"I'm well aware of that, rat. I wish to speak to Mavarl." The rat wasn't entirely surprised. This had been known to happen before. And so, the rat decided to let the wildcat have his way. Besides, he thought, scratching his ear with a grungy claw, he would probably kill him if he refused and go up to find Mavarl anyway. Why risk his life? He could simply let the cat have what he wanted.
"Alright then," the rat said, pointing with a paw towards the great fortress that stood in the center of the island. "Th' chief's up in there. I'll bring yer fer an audience in 'is throne room. That agree with you?" Something of a thin smile etched itself across Delagor's features, giving him a sinister look; the look of one who would put up with no nonsense. Good little rat for agreeing with his wishes.
"Perfectly."
This one word answer was all that the assassin needed to utter. His paws left larger-than-average prints in the soft sand as he started forwards, though these tracks were soon obliterated by the wind. Well, that was phase one completed. Gaining an audience with Mavarl had been easier than he might have hoped for. Next, it was a case of trying to gain a place in the horde.
He imagined that there couldn't be very many wildcats within Mavarl's horde; perhaps this would count as a mark in his favor. Wildcats were generally known as decent fighters and cunning beasts. Of course, Delagor was certainly not being conceited, merely tactical. And if Mavarl was all he was cracked up to be, the wildcat would need his wits and as many good points as he could get on his side.
Inside Mavarl's throne room, the rat sat on his throne, his crown on his head. Of course, it wasn't nearly as fine as the one Kyra had stolen from his body, but it would do until he got his old one back. It was then that the door to the throne room opened. Instantly alert, the rat guards around him jumped up, spears in their paws and eyes fixed on the door as a rat, followed by a sinister looking wildcat stepped in.
The rat sentry stepped forwards, bowing low before speaking to Mavarl. "Milord Mavarl, I foun' this stripecat over by th' western shore. Sailed 'ere in a rowboat. Suppose t'was from some sort o' shipwreck. Well, I went up to 'im, an' 'e said 'e wanted an audience with you..." the rat stuttered slightly, not sure of what to say next.
Mavarl nodded, eyeing the cowardly sentry, and then the wildcat. The rat spoke in a calm voice, one that was soft and low, and held a note of a threat in it. He spoke without accent, as did the wildcat. Both beasts were intelligent, sophisticated, and deadly.
"Well, my friend," the rat said, eyeing the cat from top to bottom, "tell me why you have come to join my horde, if I'm not too bold in asking. Were you, perhaps, shipwrecked? Obviously you arrived in a boat that was small. Any larger ship would have been spotted long before. A longboat, perhaps?"
Delagor's eyes roved around the room the minute he entered, perhaps weighing up the situation, shifting his gaze from one sentry to another, before leaving it to settle upon Mavarl himself. His long shadow wavered as he stepped forwards, level with his rat escort.
He kept his eyes fixed upon Mavarl as the rat went through his small introductory speech. Agile as ever, his mind broke down everything the rat was saying; some of it may prove useful. Having been shipwrecked, for example.. Shipwrecked would do for an alibi.
"It is as your rat surmised. I was indeed shipwrecked; I stand before you as the only survivor. Tales of you and your mighty horde had inevitably reached our crew, and it was a stroke of luck for myself, landing upon your island. Now I seek a place within your horde."
Mavarl surveyed the wildcat. An assassin, obviously, considering his tools. His story seemed entirely plausible, and possibly could have been the truth. The wildcat would be a valuable asset to the horde. He was obviously a trained warbeast. But, he would have to take precautions to make sure that he was truly loyal.
"Well, cat, your story touches my heart," the rat said, smiling slightly. "Even if your story isn't true, I know that the part about wanting to join my horde is. Otherwise, you wouldn't have come. I see from your tools that you are an assassin, and by your appearance that you are a trained warbeast.
"Even if the only thing you've given me thusfar is some ludicrous fabrication, it was a good one. Simple and easy to remember. You obviously know how to lie very well. I'm impressed. You'll get the place you asked for. You'll be staying with this sentry here, though. At least until you prove your loyalty to me. And don't think I won't have other eyes open."
"A fair enough movement." Again, the thin smile was etched upon Delagor's facade, causing his whiskers to twitch ever so slightly. He glanced sideways out of the corner of his eye at the rat sentry. He didn't appear much of a threat. The slight smirk had long since vanished from his face, as the formidable wildcat stood at ease, awaiting his dismissal. The rat warlord waved a paw for the wildcat to leave.
When Raze awoke that morning, he immediately wished that he hadn't. It was the same routine. Get up, get out of bed, get your scythes, and accustom yourself to bleeding hands and the hypnotizing swish, swish of the crescent shaped blade. He sighed, not wanting to think about the day ahead. But the day was determined to come.
Before he even knew it, Raze was out on the fields, avoiding kicks from guards. However, there was a spark of hope. Kyra gripped the scythe in her paws, half whistling a tune through parched and dry lips. She hummed a bit. An old otter stream song. It had a pretty tune, minor and sad in key, but ended in a major chord, and lifted up the spirit.
Her paws even felt slightly better after having convinced Brindor Silverdance to talk to the slaves and convince them to rebel. Now, they just needed a message from the rescue party that had to be somewhere out there to start. Raze cocked his head at Kyra's humming, absently trying to follow the tune even as he gave her a warning glare.
Lucien grinned lightly at the small tune passing through the air, but it subsided slightly as it brought back memories of a tune he had once heard his mother sing to him. The swish of his scythe slowed until it was barely moving. The mystical song flew through his ears as though he'd known it all along. The days are cold, the nights are long,
The north wind sings a doleful song,
So hush again upon my chest,
All merry things are now at rest,
Save thee, my pretty love... He knew that was not the end, but just hearing his mother's voice made tears come to his eyes. He blinked them back, for he knew Silverblood was watching him. He quickly regained his pace, the blood dribbling down the shaft of the scythe not seeming to matter anymore. After all, he had a little calluses built on his hands.
But now he was humming, very softly, almost inaudibly, the tune that he had just remembered. He even murmured a few of the words to himself as he went along. He missed his family so much. He wished he knew more about them. He had only been with them for such a short time. .. such a short time. . .
Kyra stopped humming as she heard Lucien start humming as well, but as she listened, the tune was unfamiliar. Even though Kyra was a warrior, she had always enjoyed music. It brought certain liveliness to the soul, and she could just see a tear on Lucien's cheek. She swung her scythe closer to him, listening as he hummed the tune again, for she couldn't hear it if she was too far back.
In a higher octave, Kyra matched his humming, trying to bring her otter friend comfort with her music. Eventually, once she had the tune, she sang a soprano accompaniment, careful to make her notes match the melody that was being sung in a lower, male voice.
Kyra had often enjoyed playing on a wooden fife, and when she had played duets with other otters often enough to know how to make up a harmony. But it was hard. The tune was haunting and sad. It had been a very long time since she had sung. A very long time. She hadn't really hummed or sang, not with her true heart, since the night that she had been kidnapped.
Nearby, Kestral's ears perked up at the sound of the weaving harmony. The ottermaid listened quietly for a few moments, soaking in the notes, her paws automatically continuing the work they had grown used to over the past few days. Then she too joined in, taking up the alto part. Kyra felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips as Kestral joined with her own melody, in a slightly lower key. K
Kyra felt herself growing sadder as they continued to hum the song, softly, ever so softly. After a long while of working while the soft humming was going on, a new voice joined in the song, picking up in a deep rolling bass voice. It was Raze. That deep, musical voice seemed odd to any who knew him. None had heard the ferret hum or sing before, but no-one would have guessed he had such a voice.
Now, eyes half-closed, the ferret sang along, his voice completing the four- part harmony in wonderful style. The song drew long-buried feelings out of him, and he joined in now softly, his deep rolling voice sounding with theirs. Kyra smiled as the friends carried on their secret song.
A rat stalked across the fields where the slaves worked, Delagor following him, armed with all his equipment still. The rat was giving him a tour. Kyra listened with wide eyes as the two conversed. Or, rather, the rat sentry jabbered while Delagor twitched his tail and nodded, throwing in only an occasional remark.
"Well, this 'ere is where Mavarl 'as 'is slaves workin'. Biggest field an' all. Most heavily guarded too. Dere's a bunch o' slavemasters an' 'ordebeasts with longbows, ready to shoot or beat any slave misbe'avin'. Bad ones get taken to Mavarl if they disobey the rules or refuse to work."
Delagor's dark brown eyes traversed carefully around the area, as he only half listened to the rat. His brow furrowed slightly as his quick brain processed what he saw. He had never approved of slaves. Never. The life of an assassin may trick other beasts into thinking that Delagor had no heart, but they were quite wrong. Thin grooves along his forehead became more pronounced as the rat continued on.
Almost as immediately as he they had come, Delagor wiped his face blank. It wouldn't do for any creature serving Mavarl to spot his distaste. His arsenal of weapons clinked gently as he turned lightly to view the rest of the closest field. Then his eyes rested upon the small humming group (though he couldn't hear them). They hit swiftly upon the female otter. Rhyna's voice played itself through his head. . .
"Ha harr, you'll recognise Mizz Kyra when ye see 'er, alright. She's preddy tall, wi' darker'n average fur. Got th' air o' a warrior 'bout 'er. Can't miss 'er. She'll 'ave company.. two, is it? Nay, three. Or mebbeh four. I didnay listen very hard."
Ah. So, here was the group he was here to act as messenger for. Third step of the operation completed. Lifting a paw to his eyes in pretence of shielding them from the sun, he kept his gazed fixed upon the small crew, whilst making the effort to look attentive to his rat guide.
"... an' the slave compound is o'er that way. They go there at sunset ev'ry night. We'll be in the castle, 'less yer on guard duty. Mavarl'll mos' likely put ye there soon so you c'n have a chance t'learn how to do it properly." He knew what Delagor was thinking. 'How hard could it be to guard a door? You just stand in front of it and drool like an idiot.' He didn't comment.
Kyra, feeling the gaze of the wildcat upon the back of her neck, immediately pulled her head up and stared at him with large, dark brown eyes, making sure they locked with his... there was certainly something strange about him.
Raze kept singing to himself softly, apparently not noticing anything. His eyes were on his work. But he was listening hard, and a sound caught his ears. A high-pitched bird call. It was MacPhearsome, obviously, coming to tell them that this wildcat was harmless. The ferret grinned and carried on working without missing a note, looking up briefly to meet Kyra's eyes and nod. The cat could be trusted.
Kyra smiled, and nodded, and looked at the Wildcat, her brown eyes locking with his. She gave him a slight nod, and a wink that she knew only he could see. As she bent down to continue her work, still humming, a secretive smile curved the corners of her mouth upwards as she continued her work.
The ottermaid knew she couldn't risk telling her friends now. But this was good news. It meant that Sky and her friends had finally arrived, and that Delagor would act as the messenger they needed to give information. With his help, and MacPhearsome's as well, they had a slight chance...