A/N: Just so that you have an idea of where and when this is, Fort Vil is located near the ruins of Marshank (the fortress of Badrang from Martin the Warrior), by the Eastern Sea. I'm not sure whether or not Redwall will enter into this story, but if it does, it will be near the end of the story and it will be late in Redwall's history (like after Taggerung).


Chapter One

Jem leaned on the hoe, breathing heavily. Two rows down, nine thousand to go, she thought sarcastically. She closed her eyes, gathering her strength. Opening them again, she looked upon Fort Vil. The slaves had finished laying the last stones only last season.

"Water," Jem heard somebeast whisper behind her. Turning around, she found a young hedgehog bearing a large water jug and small cup. He held out the cup to her, but remained staring at the ground. She took the extended cup and dipped it into the jug, drinking it all down in one gulp. It was freezing outside, being the dead of winter, but she knew better than to forgo drinking.

"Thank you," she told the hedgehog. He looks no bigger than a dibbun.

The hedgehog grabbed the cup back, and after giving Jem a slightly frightened look, scurried on to the next slave. Oh, thought Jem, so young and he already knows not to talk. I bet he's only allowed to say 'water' and nothing else. I didn't mean to scare him by talking. Glancing around, she saw that no salve drivers were close enough to have heard her. Walking over to the next row of potatoes, she got to work again.


Jem sat up late. While she hadn't thought much of it at the time, it was now disturbing her that she'd spoken to the young hedgehog who was giving water to the slaves. Jem had never done anything to get herself in trouble before. It all comes from knowing Genti, she thought. Genti was an otter, five seasons older than Jem. She still couldn't believe that he was that young. He was huge!

Jem would never forget how they had met. Genti had taken a stone off of her paws on her second day of making bricks and had kept an eye on her for the rest of the day, saving her life when a slave driver named Trute had tried to whip her to death. She'd been sick and delirious afterward, spending the next few weeks in bed instead of out working. Genti had sat beside her every night, trying to talk her out of her illness. By the time she was fit enough to get back to work, Genti had changed her, according to Carla, for the worse. Jem was no longer the timid mouse she had once been. She'd always had thoughts of anger toward Vil and his hoard, but now her anger was more focused.

"The way to win is to not lose hope," Genti had said. "We have to join together and help each other. Then, with time, maybe we could help somebeast to escape or escape ourselves."

Genti had been encouraging her to speak to other slaves, but she had never done so during the working day and most slaves were so tired by the end of the day that they just wanted to eat, drink, and then go to sleep. Thoughts of a better life were so far away that they didn't exist for most of the beasts Genti and Jem spoke to. Carla thought the two of them were simply young beasts thinking of impossible things. She had told them more than once to stop their nonsense or else they'd get in trouble. It annoyed Jem how Carla doted over her, referring to her illness and how weak she was. It's been two seasons! Jem thought angrily. I'm fine now. I'm strong!

"What's bothering you Jem?" asked Genti, sitting down next to her and handing her some stale bread. She accepted the bread automatically, but she didn't eat it.

"I broke a rule today."

"Which one?"

"The one that says we can't talk."

Genti shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I talk all the time. Sometimes you just have to say something nice and smile. Otherwise there'd be no point to life anymore."

Jem shook her head, looking down at her bread. "Is there really a point? I believed you before, but we haven't made any progress. Two seasons and still we have nobeast on our side except each other. Why are they all so hopeless? If somebeast just escaped, then couldn't things work out?"

"Jem, look at me."

Jem looked up at Genti. He had a stern look on his face. She couldn't help but think, as she had many times before, that he looked so much older than he really was. "Don't you give up hope too. I've been on my own for a while. Then you, little missy, came into my life. We'll find somebeast else. Just take a look around. There are hundreds of slaves here, but how many do we know? Probably around fifty, right? There is somebeast else who feels like we do, who believes that they won't, that they can't, die a slave."

Jem smiled. "You're right Genti. We'll find somebeast else."

Genti patted Jem on the back. "Have hope little missy, have hope. Now, let's keep ourselves fit. We'll have a feast so we can stay strong."

Jem smiled, seeing a glint in Genti's eyes. "A feast?" Genti held up his bread, looking at it with wonder. Jem could tell that he was trying to be serious, but a smile showed through on his face anyway. Laughing, Jem began to pretend that her own meager piece of bread contained the contents of an entire feast, and the two friends ate their meal among happy laughter.


"Hey, mouse!"

Jem looked up from her work. She was the only mouse in the vicinity. What have I done? she wondered. Standing up straight, she turned in the direction of the voice.

"You're being moved to another job. Follow me," said the rat. A young squirrel at his side quickly scurried up to Jem, extending his paw to take her hoe. She handed it over mutely and the squirrel got to work where she had left off, his head bent down over his work. The rat had already turned and begun to walk off, so Jem ran to catch up. I wonder what I'll be doing now.

Jem stayed in step, just behind the rat. They were heading straight for Fort Vil. She knew that many slaves worked in there during the day instead of out in the fields or down by the sea, but she hadn't spoken with many of them and wasn't sure what they did. As they passed between the large gates into the fort, she couldn't help but stare in awe at the place. The slaves were kept in a highly guarded barracks behind the fort, so many of them had never seen the inside before. Jem was overcome with a desire to stand still with her mouth wide open and just look around. She could barely believe that only two seasons ago she had been building and carrying some of the stones which were now fitted together into such a majestic building. Jem had to concentrate on what she was doing and continue to follow the rat though, or else she's surely forfeit her life for being slow and stupid.

The rat had not even checked to make sure that Jem was still following him, but was instead marching straight on toward the main building of the fort. It had been named Castle Vil. Jem had never seen a castle before, so she wasn't sure whether the building lived up to the title or not, but nobeast, least of all slaves, would have any interest in challenging Captain Vil. If he wanted to name everything after himself and if he wanted to call his house a castle, who was going to stop him?

Just when Jem was going to brace herself before going into the castle, the rat leading her turned off to the side. It's probably better that I don't see the inside, she thought. I like pretty things too much. Carla's always telling me that it'll get me in trouble one day.

The rat stopped before what looked to be a hole in the ground right up next to the castle wall. "Down these steps and into the kitchen. Gofod is in charge and will tell you what to do."

Without haste, Jem nodded to the rat and stepped up beside the hole. Sure enough, there were stairs cut into the ground, and at the bottom of the stairs there was a door leading into the castle. Jem hurried down the stairs, and without a backward glance, opened the door and stepped inside.

She was met with such wonderful smells that she felt as if she could sing. While the slaves were only given the foul leftovers of the fort, Vil and his hoard ate very well indeed. A few rats and ferrets stood along the walls of the kitchen (and it didn't take Jem long to notice their presence), but all of the cooks seemed to be slaves. Jem stepped uncertainly away from the door, wondering which one of the vermin was Gofod.

"Hot cherry pie! Out of the way!" said a mouse as he passed her. She quickly jumped out of his way and watched him as he ran the pies over to a side table where many things were cooling.

And then it hit her. He spoke to me and there are definitely enough hoard beasts nearby to have noticed! In fact, many slaves were talking. They were instructing each other on what ingredients to pass them or how long something should simmer or even of where they had learned different recipes. The entire environment was different than any other Jem had ever been exposed to. Without being able to help it, Jem smiled. Finally something good has happened to me.

Mustering up the courage, she approached an elderly squirrel who was kneading dough. "Excuse me, but could you tell me which hoard beast is Gofod?"

The squirrel gave her a slightly startled look and then began to shake his head. "None of them are. Gofod is over there by the pantry door." The squirrel nodded his head in the correct direction.

Jem looked at where he was indicating. She wasn't sure what a pantry was, never having heard the term, but there was only one door on that side of the kitchen, and standing before it were two beasts, a hedgehog and an otter. What's going on here? she thought, walking toward the beasts. The rat said that Gofod was in charge, but how can that be? Slaves are never put in charge of anything. As she approached the pantry, the otter nodded and walked off to the opposite side of the kitchen. The hedgehog quickly looked around the kitchen, as if surveying it. He took in Jem instantly and beckoned her forward.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Gofod." Jem realized that she was whispering. It would take her a while to adjust to the activities in the kitchens.

"Well, you've found him. I'm Gofod. Are you doing a food run to some troops or what?"

"No, no, I'm supposed to work here. That's what I was told."

"Oh good! We can always use more help. What is your name my dear?"

"Jem. My name is Jem. But, I don't know how I can help you. I've never made food before."

Gofod began to laugh merrily, his stomach shaking. Jem found herself staring at his tummy. He was fat. A fat slave! She'd never had so many surprises in one day. She felt as if she'd stumbled into another world. "Haha, never made food? Well Jem, you don't need to worry about that. We'll teach you. Before long I bet you'll be the best cook in the kitchens, just you see."

Jem blinked in alarm. The best cook in the kitchens? How could he say that? She knew nothing, absolutely nothing, about cooking. She'd also never met a beast who was so optimistic and jolly. I hope he's alright in the head.

"But we'll start with the basics," said Gofod. "Let me introduce you to Barka. You can help her. Just help her gather ingredients and measure them out. She'll let you do more when you're ready. She's good at being able to tell when somebeast is ready." As he spoke, he put his arm around her and began to direct her toward the corner to the left of the door where she had entered. Jem didn't feel very comfortable being so close to Gofod and she kept eyeing his spikes, but she didn't want to be rude or do anything to get herself in trouble, so she remained quiet.

Gofod led her to an ancient mouse who was slowly stirring the contents of a large bowl. He tapped on the mouse's shoulder and she set down the bowl and turned around, wiping her floury paws on her apron. "This … is … Jem!" said Gofod, speaking very loudly and slowly. Oh no, thought Jem. He's lost his mind! "She's … going … to … help … you!"

"Eh?" asked the mouse. "What did yousay?"

Gofod repeated himself, this time even louder.

"Oh," said the mouse, taking Jem's paws. Jem forced herself not to flinch as she felt the dough. "I'd love your help Jim!"

Jem smiled weakly. The poor thing can't hear. "Umm, it's Jem."

"Eh? You have tospeak louder."

"Jem. My name is JEM!"

"Oh, that's nice." said the old mouse, patting her paw. "My name is Barka."