The Newcomer of Redwall
Book 1 The Stranger (or Heaven, interrupted)
Chapter 9
-Rallah Kheme-Rallah was born and raised in the northern seaside colony of Narlath, inhabited by a small group of perhaps two hundred fisherbeasts, farmers, maids, and young ones. She loved her family, she loved her home, and she thought that the peace of her little town would be everlasting. They were, after all, nothing but quiet worshipers of The Torch of the Ocean, Galen Herself, strongly under the influence of Her mighty Order. That is, until the wolf had come, along with his sickness.
The sores had started to spring up on her very own mother three days before the colony was set aflame, completely destroyed. She had been the only one who had remained pure, although she considered that more of a curse than a blessing from Her. She did the only thing that she could think of: follow Maliss on his inevitable journey south. He knew she was after him and his army, and she was aware of his knowledge. What amazed her was the size of his army, his Plague, was actually very small. No more than about two hundred vermin, and none of them were wolves, either. She had followed the wolf for untold seasons, growing old and gray while he never aged a day. She thought she had seen everything in her travels...until she met Simon.
Basil was at his side in a second, fumbling to catch the falling human. The hare missed, and Simon hit the ground with a dull thud. Basil reached for Simon's head, hissed through his teeth in pain, and drew his paw back sharply, exclaiming, "He's burning with fever!"
He turned to the group, to Rallah in specific, and said, "You, hedgehog, are you a healer?"
She stammered, taken off her heels by the suddenness and severity of the situation. "I-I know a few basic things, but not a cure for the illness." Auma knelt by the human as well, pulling him off the road.
From the side: "I can cure him."
They all turned at the new voice, all save for Simon. The female otter seemed to have come from nowhere. She was taller then most of the otters they knew, and had a long scar along one arm, but was otherwise indistinguishable from any other of her kind, save for the light. The air around her almost glowed with it, and her very body gave off waves of peace. Rallah found herself being calmed, and murmured, "Galen above..." as the otter passed her, electing a smile from the new one. She approached him, kneeling as the others had, and put her paw on the human's cheek. This elicited a scream from him, striking Rallah as something of fear more than pain, but she brushed those thoughts aside in favor of the new otter.
It was Auma who broke the palpable calm with the question, "Who are you?".
Without turning, the otter shot back, "Do you really need to know?"
Auma nearly reeled. She had not known what to expect, but such a question as that! The otter was frowning down at Simon, reaching into her robes and drawing out a bottle of blue liquid. "This will help, but he is very far gone. How long was he exposed to the sickness?"
"We aren't sure," Basil replied, clearly awestruck, "We don't know how long the sickness has been in the Abbey. But please...let us know your name."
The mysterious otter turned to him, several emotions flickering through her eyes, before replying, "Fine. I am Kilel. I hail from the south. I am a healer." With that, she tilted the liquid into Simon's open mouth. The human's face was white as death and his whole body trembled. Satisfied with her work, she tucked the bottle back into her robes and stood, saying, "He'll be alright in a day or two." She blinked, looking off into the dark sky as a thought seemed to strike her. "I mean," she continued, "As well as he can get before the wolf is killed."
Kilel's soft face turned to the south, to the Abbey. "The sword of Marten, the one of legend, is in yon building?"
Auma picked up Simon's body. "Yes, but I don't think even Marten could help us now." She started north.
Rallah grabbed the pack from the ground, found it surprisingly heavy, and asked, "Where are we going?" Auma turned her head to Rallah and motioned with her snout towards the north. "There's a farm up ahead, and there's a barn there. Simon needs a place to rest."
-Maliss-
He stood, clad in a robe dyed by the blood of slain children, held closed by the tooth of a mouse, gazing out at the crashing waves of the western sea. He often came here, as a sort of refection. His last meal was sustaining him, but he knew another kill was coming soon. He smiled and closed his eyes. An odd thing happened as he did. His shape started to grow translucent, like a fog, then a shadow, finally vanishing altogether from the rocky outcropping.
Maliss awoke in his tent, instantly aware, as always. He stood from his cot and walked outside the tent. His mental midnight wanderings were always enjoyable, but he had more pressing concerns. The Abbey. More importantly, what was in the Abbey. He picked his way through the Plague, careful of the sleeping rodents. He was not a cruel leader, though he was insane. Acceptance of that did not change it, as he was quietly aware. He looked to the west and saw a rolling sore of clouds to the west, flashing with lightning.
"Ahh, how...melodramatic."
His voice was full of cynical semi-disgust. He seemed disgusted by everything these days. Odd for one covered in open sores and missing several pieces of the skin off his face and arms. Two days left before the long march was over.