Hey guys! Sorry to keep you waiting so long. This part is rather short for the period of time that has elapsed since my last chapter was posted. School started again this week, and I've had a science project. I'm also in the middle of a rather suspenseful Susan Conant mystery, so that has not left me much time to write.

Anyway, here's number five. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall. Brian Jacques does. Although I do own this plot.

I do not own the song The Red, Chevelle does. All lines in italics that are not quotes from the Redwall books are from the song The Red. Blah.

January 3, 2005

Chapter 5

As soon as Martin hit the bed that night, he was into a deep slumber. It had been a long day for him, complete with meeting a chipmunk, dealing with three ferrets and a rat, and having two unexpected attacks of the Bloodwrath. Snuggling into the blankets, the mouse was beginning to encounter something else. A nightmare.

It started out as a simple dream. Martin was sitting at the pond, fiddling with a cattail. It was a peaceful day, and it was the middle of summer. The hot sun beat down onto Martin's shoulders. He was sweating, and longed for a quick dip in the cool-looking water. Shedding off his clothes, he ran and leaped in with a splash. Instead of being underwater, he immediately found himself in a world of red once again. Fearing he was experiencing the Bloodwrath, Martin panicked. He felt no anger, however, only extreme confusion. That's when he heard someone, or something, move around him. The warrior spun around and found himself standing face to face with none other than Badrang the Tyrant.

Badrang looked exactly the same. He still had the same evil grin spread across his face. He still walked with the same powerful awe about him. And he was still carrying Luke's sword.

"I thought I killed you," Martin stated, unsuccessfully trying to sound brave, even though his blood had run cold.

Badrang continued to smile, and began advancing towards Martin. They say freak, when you're singled out, he said, as if reciting a line from a song or riddle. Martin was sure Badrang was the one who had spoken, even though his mouth had not moved at all.

"Are you a ghost?" Martin demanded. "Are you here to haunt me? Answer me!"

The stoat edged closer still. The red, well it filters through.

Martin noticed a small movement in the corner of his right eye. He chanced a quick look, and what he saw scared the crap out of him. Felldoh, his long-dead friend, was standing next to him, clutching a javelin. "Felldoh?" Martin's voice was barely a whisper.

The tough squirrel stared back at Martin with a cold, unfaltering gaze. Just like Badrang, his lips never moved even though his voice echoed clearly around the trio. One day I'll return to dance on Badrang's grave.

Both stoat and squirrel were coming closer, weapons at the ready. Martin was defenseless, and slowly began to back away into the red mist.

So lay down, the threat is real.

Martin felt another pair of eyes burning into the back of his skull. Windred was behind him. A gasp escaped from the warrior. "Grandma?"

D'you realize you're almost a league away from the caves? The old and frail mouse swung a small stick about, her cloak wrapped around her tightly as if they were in a blizzard.

When his sight goes red again.

Martin was completely surrounded now. The icy grip of terror engulfed him. He wasn't used to being afraid. He was usually the one causing fear. He was weak and powerless now without means of defense in this red world.

We'll call him Martin, said another voice, this one sweet and feminine. Sayna, Martin's mother, also had appeared out of nowhere. Martin had never known her for she had been murdered by vermin before he was a season old, but he instinctively knew it was her. "Mother? Mother, what are you doing here?"

This change, he won't contain.

But Martin's beloved mother did not answer. Instead, she swung about a heavy seashell on a cord, and advanced on Martin with the others.

Slip away, to clear your mind.

What did Martin ever do to these creatures for them to want to avenge him? Yes, Martin had murdered Badrang, but he should be at Hellgates right now after all the death and suffering that dreadful stoat had caused. But what pain had Martin put his mother, grandmother and best friend through that made them so angry, so eerie.

When asked who made it show, the truth he gives in to most.

Martin didn't know what to do, so he let instinct kick in. He dashed away from the four creatures. Running as fast as mousely possible, Martin tried to put as much distance in between himself and the dead as he could. He normally would have been delighted to see Felldoh, Windred and Sayna again, but not if they were out to kill him as it seemed they did now. The warrior looked behind him, and saw that the ghosts were also running. And they were running after him, all with the same expressionless gazes, with the exception of Badrang of course. But he had always been a coward at heart. Martin was getting tired, and they were getting closer. He could practically feel their hot breath against the back of his neck. Just when he thought he was a goner, he heard a soft, singing voice ringing clear through his red world. A heavenly voice.

Look for me at dawning, when the earth is asleep. Till each dewdrop is kissed by the day, 'neath the rowan and alder a vigil I'll keep, every moment that you are away…

The creatures hunting down Martin froze, and then vanished. The red mist began to fade. Martin wasn't scared anymore, and felt randomly happy. He could even hear a voice calling his name. Laterose had saved him once again.

Sunlight filtered in through the window of Azalea's tree home, leaving a sleeping form on the bed completely covered in a soft brightness. The chipmunk had been awake since dawn, watching her mouse friend toss and turn in his dreams. She knew Martin was having horrible nightmares, but no matter how hard she tried to wake him, he would not break from his slumber. The warrior's body was now drenched in a cold sweat and a look of pain showed on his face.

Azalea rubbed her tired eyes. Martin was sleeping peacefully now, his nightmares apparently had subsided. Filling a canteen with water, Azalea shook her head with a look of dejection. She hated to leave him alone when he was like this, but she had no choice. There was nobeast she knew that could stay and watch him for her, and the only way she could curb her own curiosity and help Martin was to make the day-long journey. The chipmunk scribbled a note with a piece of charcoal on some bark, and pinned it to the bed post. Certain Martin would notice the strip when he awoke, Azalea began packing food into her cheek pouches. Taking one last look at the sleeping mouse, she tapped upon her door until it fell forward. "If anyone has an answer, Martin, it's Polleekin."

Martin was partially blinded by the extreme sunlight pouring in on him. For a minute, he forgot where he was, and wondered why he was in a bed. Then he remembered Azalea, and then Scribnose, and then finally the chipmunk's tree. Mentally wishing he forgot his attacks of the Bloodwrath, Martin took in his surroundings.

The bed he was laying in felt like a cloud, its soft blankets were made of owl feathers and the pillow of a fox's tail fur. He snuggled deeper down in them, sighing contently. And that's when he noticed a small strip of bark attached to the bed post. Curious, the warrior pulled it off and stared at it. Dear Martin, it read, I have gone on a little adventure. I should be gone about two days, and should arrive back home tomorrow night. Whatever you do, DO NOT leave my home or let any other creature in. You must stay where you are. Please follow my instructions. There's food and drink in the larder, yes there is. Don't come after me, I'll be back soon. Remember, stay in my home! Azalea.

Martin turned the note over, slightly confused. Azalea had told him the night before about how she would sometimes leave to explore for a few days, weeks or even a season, and then return home, but this departure was very sudden. She should have thought to bring me along, Martin thought, unless it was a personal matter. Sighing with frustration, the mouse stood up and stretched. He looked around, wondering what in the world he was supposed to do cooped up in this house for two days, when he realized how hungry he was. His stomach grumbled ravenously, and it seemed to echo loudly throughout the tree. Opening the many cupboards in Azalea's home, he noticed how the food practically repeated itself. Nuts, berries, strawberry cordial, water. Nuts, berries, strawberry cordial, water. Did Azalea eat anything but? Were there no summer salads, bread or scones dipped in honey? No leek and cabbage soup, cheeses or cold mint tea? Martin winced as he remembered all the feasts he had with his friends at Noonvale, at Polleekin's house and on the boats of the otters. For a moment, he regretted leaving, but then realized how painful that would have been. Seeing Aryah and Urran Voh's shocked and traumatized faces as they were told their only daughter was killed by a cruel stoat would be too much for him. He was supposed to protect her. He was the one who was supposed to bring her back to Noonvale safe and sound. He should have died before he let anything harm her. He was her best friend. And yet, she died. And he didn't.

Martin slammed the cupboard doors shut. I should have died, he thought. Rose should still be alive. I should be dead. Martin reached for his father's sword on the nightstand. He pressed the blade against his paw, testing it. A trickle of blood sprouted from the fresh cut, the result of the sharp metal. Hot tears poured from his eyes as he pointed the lethal weapon towards his chest. A mix of emotions, jumbled and tangled together, came out all at once. Anger, sadness, shock, fear. He had to see Rose again. He had to repay her for the pain he had caused her. He wanted to end the pain he was feeling now. And here was an answer, staring him blankly in the face. His reflection showed in the metal of his blade. He looked at it, wondering how he would look once he was gone from the face of the Earth. His paws started to shake. How nice it would be to see his mother, his grandmother, and all his brave friends again. His entire body was trembling violently now. How great it would be to see Rose again, and leave all his negative feelings behind him.

"On the count of three," Martin whispered, "One…two…three…"