Chapter 4

After the best afternoon of his life, the night couldn't have been more contrasting. Inas laid in his bed listening to Aeno's and Trat's deep breathing of sleep as he gazed with bloodshot eyes feeling the sword's pulse even stronger, now that he was at Redwall Abbey. Martin's presence was so powerful within the Abbey Inas could practically smell him. The tingling feeling of something watching him, waiting, pervaded thoughout the room; it made the weasel wonder how Trat and Aeno could sleep through it.

Inas, take it!

The weasel shuddered at the voice which he conceived had whispered into his ear. He sat up to stare out the window with staring wide eyes--the eyes of a beast who couldn't sleep--where he noticed the moon hanging exactly where it did in his dreams. Inas swallowed and sat mesmerized. Then he turned over and tried to get back to sleep.

He barely contained a startled cry from escaping his lips when he felt the sword pulse again in the moonlight. It felt like something was living inside him and trying to kick its way out. It didn't hurt so much as was uncomfortable, yet the weasel tried to ignore it as best he could.

Inas, the time is now!

The weasel sat upright in bed again quickly and tuned his ears to the sounds of the room. Nothing; only Aeno and Trat getting an actual decent night of sleep. The weasel then peered at them cautiously to see if they were truly asleep or faking it. He sat there for a few minutes, concentrating on them, then he began slowly and cautiously slipping out of bed.

Carefully, oh so carefully, Inas began squeezing the clasp that latched the door into place. Redwall's doors were old and though this one had been oiled, it still screeched unmercifully loud in the weasel's ears. Cold sweat beaded on his face as he peered at Aeno. All it would take for the squirrel to spot him leaving was to open his eyes, as the squirrel faced him while he slept.

Inas' luck held. As the weasel opened the door just as carefully as he had squeezed the handle, he cracked it up only a few inches or so and began to edge his way out, to prevent himself from opening the door further. The weasel was lean, so he was soon on the other side of the door as he stepped out into the hallways. Soundlessly closing the door and latching the knob, Inas peered into the darkness of the hallways. Wall sconces with torches lit up a good portion of the hall, but left deep nooks and corners in shadow.

Seeing the cheery yellow light of the flame and the way it produced a little heat, cheered Inas up instantly and his fears were currently allayed. However, alertness refused to be washed out of his mind by the primitive comforts, and he began tip-pawing down the hallway toward the tapestry. He hurried along as quickly and silently as he could; should he be caught, he didn't want to be seen taking too careful of steps.

His body trembled as he came to the top of the stairs that led into Great Hall. The stairs closest to the tapestry and the calling sword. Inas hastily descended and walked purposefully toward the sword; that's all his eyes saw. Despite the realistic feel of his dreams, they were incomparable to the actual sight of the beautiful blade glinting and shining in all its glory. His dream did not include the sconces so now torches were flanking it on either side to give it a orange, flickering glow.

The weasel began raising his right paw slowly, ever so slowly, toward the waiting metal blade of violence and justice. 'Just a little bit farther,' the weasel thought as he seemed to sway from the dream world that still seemed to grip him. He blinked and came to his senses for a bit, and looked around him cautiously.

Déjà vu. He remembered being in the same trance while his paw was guided toward the sword. Though he remembered it had only been a dream, it made Inas shiver at just how real it all seemed to him. The weasel was so absorbed into his thoughts that he didn't hear the soft pawsteps of a beast coming up behind him.

"Inas, what are you doing?"

The weasel tensed in fright and turned rapidly enough that his vision blurred for a moment before his eyes came to rest on one of the beings he abhorred most. Aeno Straeker. Inas began trembling and his eyes widened in fear as he suddenly realized that his dreams on getting the sword and being so close would amount to nothing. Aeno would most certainly turn him in.

"Master. Master," Words had failed Inas. What was he supposed to say? Saying nothing else would almost certainly reveal that he had tried to steal the sword, yet saying more would as surely sign his death warrant as if he had killed himself. Inas decided on the offensive since nothing would save him now. "Master, what are you doing here for?"

If Inas had been more vigilant he would've noticed that Aeno had his belt on with a dirk sheathed in it, his paw resting on it. He smiled benignly at the hostile weasel who knew he was at the end of his rope. But it wasn't the Redwallers that would outcast him; it was Aeno that was going to cut the threads holding him to life.

The crafty squirrel had been lying awake in bed, pretending to be asleep when Inas slipped out the door into the hall. Waiting for a few minutes to be sure his slave wouldn't hear or see him coming, he walked out much later, but walked down the hall at a faster pace.

The squirrel was originally going to wait until they were out of view of Redwall, then kill the weasel, but Inas had presented him the perfect opportunity of wandering off in the dead of the night. No beast would be able to prove he had done it. The murder could still remain a mystery.

Now as the scheme of what was about to unfold ran through Aeno's eyes a certain evil knowing started to gleam in them. Inas was looking to his face and was bemused and a little bit frightened about the slyness in the squirrels eyes--he hadn't seen the knife in the squirrel's belt. As surely as Inas slept with his dirk in its sheath hooked onto his belt, Aeno did too.

The cold sweat running down Inas' back caused him to shiver as his black eyes darted from the sword to Aeno who had started to take a slow step forward. Despite his hatred for the squirrel he could not--would not!--attack any creature who was unarmed or had yet to attack him. The weasel was the son of two soldiers who were driven by their honor to fight and die courageously, they wouldn't allow verbal provocation to ruin what they'd worked so hard to obtain.

Inas wasn't willing to shatter that either. He waited for Aeno to make the first move.

As the weasel hunched into a fighting position to make himself a smaller target as well as prepared to protect himself, he stood up on the balls of his paws and coiled his muscles. Aeno eyed his fighting behavior studiously before he whipped out his dirk from his sheath. The foot long metal gleamed with the light of the moon due to the liberal polishing it received; the blade was a steep pyramid that ended in a sharp point, honed to frightening sharpness. Instinctively, the weasel began reaching for his own knife, but his paw halted as though paralyzed. It trembled just a few inches away before he let it rest at his side, then allowed his eyes to dart to the sword.

"Inas, Inas, you'd be killing yourself if you took the sword. Your taking the sword would only give me another and better reason to open your insides to the world, in Redwall," Aeno stated as a wicked smile began etching its way up the side of his face. The squirrel's expression alone seemed to mock the weasel with a message, "I dare. I dare you to take the sword." The squirrel took another step.

The weasel's labored breathing quickened into short, nervous gasps while he watched Aeno approach him. Another step. That was enough for the aspiring warrior obsessed with honor and he said in a voice just above a whisper, "That's close enough, Aeno. Don't you come any farther or I will kill you."

The warning had saved his honor, but he knew that Aeno Straeker would not hesitate to take the next step. The old squirrel had battle experience by fighting the weasel's own parents and his side had won in the end. Inas was a specialist with using knives close range and throwing them, but he had never tried to wield a sword. A revelation soothed his conscience, 'Just remember it's longer and heavier, Inas. Conserve your energy until the time to strike is right.'

Aeno stepped forward. The boundary crossed, Inas wheeled around and hurriedly grabbed the sword with one paw. For the span of a second that seemed to last an hour, Inas thought he felt a subtle power surge up his arm and through his entire body, lending him the strength to carry the sword with one paw. The magnificently crafted weapon came easily off its hinges and the weasel turned around with plenty of time to block Aeno's attack with the dirk.

Though it was metal hitting metal, the Great Hall seemed to absorb the sounds as they echoed. No beast would hear their fight. Aeno used his old strength to push the weasel back, which momentarily upset Inas' balance; he wasn't used to the heavy weapon. For one moment the weasel wind milled as he tottered on the heels of his paw, trying to regain his poise. His black eyes were so wide, whiteness surrounded the orbs, but then he stepped back and barely raised his sword to parry Aeno's thrust that would've gone into his stomach.

The weasel circled his opponent and jumped back nimbly to allow himself some extra room, and then as Aeno came forward to attack him Inas leapt into action and met him. It was strange having such a big weapon in his paw, but Inas gradually got used to and soon he was wielding the sword mightily with one paw, parrying and attacking at Aeno, his hated nemesis.

Pant, pant, pant. The harsh breathing of the squirrel clued the weasel in that Aeno was tiring rapidly now, all he had to do now was wait for an opening. Despite Aeno's exhaustion, Inas felt all his senses come to life after becoming accustomed to the sword, then they dulled down to where Inas was unconsciously dancing to the tune of battle. Aeno jumped in and suddenly let loose with a barrage of attacks with his quick dirk.

It took his entire speed of reflex and concentration into blocking the attacks and he managed it. Aeno's defense and offense crumbled; the squirrel had been hoping to score a hit during the barrage, but his mistake had been the death of him. The weasel didn't hesitate when he whirled around, to gain extra momentum, and sink the blade into the squirrel's chest from the side. Aeno died instantly.

The Great Hall was dead silent. It took a moment for Inas' mind to clear and the realization of what he'd done hit him like he'd been stabbed in the gut by the squirrel itself and could only stare in horror at what he'd done. He seemed to stop breathing all at once as his intake and exhalation of air was so tiny it could not be heard. Blood pooled on the floor from the ghastly wound in the squirrel's side and his polished knife lay in his limp grasp seeming to absorb the red liquid as it spread. Noticing that blade, Inas inspected Martin's sword with awe and horror as the gleam making it shine from the moon now mixed with poisonous blood. The weasel took a handkerchief from Aeno to wipe off the blade then stuck the cloth in his pocket, cleansing the sword of the sin he had committed with it.

'I have to get out of here,' Inas thought as he stared at the body, then turned to exit through the great doors in the hallway. He'd only taken a few paces when a sound caught his ear.

Clip, clip, clip.

The sound was so horrifyingly similar to Martin's boots that Inas turned to the stairwell half expecting to see the dead warrior appear in front of him. It was coming from the stairs though, and as soon as Inas caught the light of the torch climbing down the stairs, he grabbed the great warriors scabbard and ran for the door. It wasn't Martin; it was a Redwaller.

Abandoning caution Inas opened the door and slammed it shut behind him, then sprinted swiftly across the grounds to the nearest gate: the South wall gate. Lifting the lock from it, he brought it open with such force that he nearly tore it off its hinges and sprinted into the forest, sheathing the sword as he went and slinging it around his back.

Even as he listened to the slap of wet leaves and plants being pushed away, he could hear the uproar and the terrible cry for him back at Redwall.