CHAPTER THREE

Things were looking bleak for Edeltrak, Edeweiss and Thoril. Cloaddak the Conqueror stood before them, his sharp claws clicking expectantly on the wood of the deserted cabin he had deigned to be his temperorary lean-to. The pine marten was not pleased with his follower's progress.

Thoril chanced a glance at his chief from his kneeling position. "Sire, surely you don't believe that I am to blame for this oaf's failure?" He spluttered, pointing a trembling paw at Edeltrak.

Cloddak's fearsome amber eyes flickered down to look at him. When he spoke his voice was silky smooth, and dangerously soft. "Did I ask ye to speak, Captain?"

Thoril forced down a swallow. "A boon, sire!"

Cloddak roughly kicked the stoat with unexpected force. "A boon? Ye return after three days and all you bring is news of defeat by woodlanders and the loss of a score of good fighters? And ye ask of me a boon?"

Edeweiss suddenly threw down a pawful of powder, her voice mysterious as she spoke. "Ah, the spirits show me omens!"

Cloddak seemed to forget his anger and approached Edeweiss, anticipation in his eyes. Edeweiss smirked inwardly—like most warlords, Cloddak's weakness was superstition. She continued with the charade.

"Aye, I see…two woodlanders, bearing the symbols of death, a golden fang! And with them is a place of great riches, a great redstone building!"

Edeweiss knew that she spoke truth about the redstone building. Redwall Abbey. It was a cursed name amongst most vermin, infamous for repelling attackers. But the creative Seer knew that Cloddak was confident in his ability and that his attention would be drawn away from their punishments.

The Conqueror indicated the green smoke, his voice barely concealing his excitement. "Do ye see anything else, my Seer?"

Edeweiss looked up at the barbaric, armor-clad pine marten and decided to stop her gambling there. "Nay, sire. That is all I have been shown."

Cloddak took a seat heavily in his throne-like stone dais, gripping the arms of the furniture aggressively. "A great redstone building. Do ye mean Redwall Abbey?"

Edeweiss plastered a thoughtful look on her face. "Now that ye mention it, sire, the vision may have been pointing towards the Abbey. Indeed, it seems likely."

Cloddak was a canny beast. Restless now, he stood and began to pace the room, his paws folded behind his back and his purple cloak billowing out behind him. Thoril stood warily, nursing his aching side with loathing evident in his eyes as he watched his master. Cloddak seemed to remember their presence and waved a paw dismissively. "I need to think. You may go."

Thoril, Edeweiss and and ignorant Edeltrak took their leave. Thoril immediately gave vent to a loud curse.

"By the tooth and claw! I didn't do anything, and milord kicked me!" He glared sullenly at Edeweiss. "Thankee for distracting him, ferret."
Edeweiss shrugged. There was no friendship lost between the two. "Ye are a worthy ally. Without ye, I would have nobeast to back me up."

Thoril's curiousity was piqued. "Back you up on what?"

Edeweiss knew the coming moment was crucial if she was to live to see another sunset. She lowered her voice to a whisper, glancing around to assure herself that there was nobeast eavesdropping on their party.

"Lord Cloddak is getting too dangerous. Methinks 'tis time to handle him once and for all, eh?"

Thoril looked surprised. "Ye, Cloddak's personal Seer, wish to dispose of him?" He pawed his rapier as he often did when he was nervous. "'Tis a dangerous gamble, ferret."

Edeweiss looked incredulously at him. "Dispose of him? Nay, 'twould be suicide to tackle him in such a manner." When Thoril registered no comprehension, Edeweiss continued her example, warming to the idea as she spoke. "Aye, attacking Cloddak the Conqueror while he's awake or asleep, either way, would be attempting the impossible, I wager. But if we were to take control of him, turn him into a weapon…"

Thoril looked rather excited. "He would be the perfect tool to conquer yon Abbey!"

"And much more." Edeweiss looked at Edeltrak, whom was staring off into empty space with an empty expression. "Methinks that my brother yonder would be a useful tool."

Thoril cocked his head. "But how am I guaranteed that ye will remain loyal to yore word?"

Edeweiss held out a paw, concealing her satisfaction. "Ye have my word, stoat. If ye don't take it, then I will find a more worthy assistant."

Almost suspicously, Thoril took a hold of her paw. "Fine. Ye have an ally, Edeweiss Seer!"

Unknown to the two conspirators, a scrawny hordebeast had been listening from behind some bushes. Sniggering maliciously, the spy took off for the cabin via a hidden path. He knocked politely on the side door with a grimy claw and stood waiting for Cloddak the Conqueror to open the portal. He had not long to wait—in seconds the sharpened claws of the pine marten swept out of the door and literally dragged the hapless rat into the cabin.

Cloddak led the rat to a small chair situated on the side of an polished oaken table, where a roast wood pidgeon and some damson wine awaited him. The rat eagerly dug in, consuming bird flesh messily and glugging down wine, sploshing it all over his tunic.

Cloddak sat opposite the rat in a more luxurious seat. He watched the spy for a time, and then grew tired of waiting for the dimwitted beast to begin the conversation. "Well, rat? What finds did you make today? And what's your name, anyway?"

The rat put down his goblet and the half-carcass of wood pigeon and replied, "Me name's Rottail, chief. An' 'twas hard work, getting' the informashyun wot I found."

Cloddak's amber eyes slitted impatiently. "Yes, yes, but what did you find?"

Rottail polished off his damson wine and held out his goblet cheekily for a refill. Cloddak hissed much like a cat would, consenting to the knowledge that the rat contained valuable information. Then he filled the rat's goblet and lay back, waiting for the rat to resume the session. After a time, Rottail obliged.

"Aye, so 'ere was I, sittin' be'ind the bushes like nobeast's business, like ye requestered, sire. An' then, wot did I 'ear but yore Seer conspirin' wi' the stoat!"

Cloddak was indeed slightly taken aback. "Edeweiss—my Seer—conspiring with Thoril, ye say?"

Rottail nodded sagely. "That she wos. Never did like tha' Thoril beast, canny one 'e wos."

Cloddak leaned forward. "And what did they say, Rottail?"

Rottail slowly picked the last meat off of his meal, and finished the wine before concluding his speech. "They wos plannin' a takeover!"

The Conqueror clenched the table, hard. Splinters shot out of the wood, embellishing themselves in the nearby furniture. "Ah, so it's insubordination, eh?" He pawed his ever-present trident and gestured at the door. "You may go, Rottail."

Rottail left indeed, shivering at the look on the pine marten's face. He would hate to be in the paws of whoever Cloddak the Conqueror was planning revenge on.

Oren picked up a small flower, inspecting its petals. It was pink and soft. He showed it to Camron. "Is this what we're lookin' for, n'uncle?"

Camron nodded, satisfied. "Aye, mah wee bairn. When yore uncle Tyson gets bech here, we'll be well on aur way tae Redwall Abbey!"

Oren squealed with delight. "Oh corks, Redwall Abbey!"

Tyson bounded down a tree, looking swiftly at the flower in Oren's paw. He grinned widely. "Ach, it's the auld Redwall Rose, mah friends!"

Oren squinted to the north. "Aw, but I can't see the towers and spires like you siad I'd be able to."

Tyson cast a jaundiced eye on the squirrel. "Ah'd watch mah mouth, laddie!"

With high spirits, the party exchanged banter as they walked steadily to the north. After a short time, the spires of Redwall Abbey came into view over the treetops. Oren performed a spirited jig of delight. "There it is! The famous Redwall Abbey!"

Tyson clapped a paw to his nephew's shoulder. "Aye, there's mah home, mate."

Camron was already dashing off towards the great building. "Last one there is a rotten egg, laddies!"

Skipper of Otters, Jaylon, called "Jay" for short, was standing on the ramparts, sipping in some harvest vegetable soup from the feast that was taking place. Jay was not one who enjoyed such hustle, so he had slipped out of Great Hall and taken up his own feast on the West Wall. Deeper'n'ever turnip'n'tater'n'beetroot pie and the Skipper's own personal favorite, hotroot soup. He dunked some of Friar Minsum's special mealbread (loaves of bread with the satisfaction of a meal) into some hotroot soup, allowing the fact that the bread didn't fill him as proof of his insatiable appetite.

He heard pawsteps and turned to look to see who was gracing him with their company. To the grizzled Jay's delight it was his pal, the Foremole Tunnelpaw. "Ahoy, Tunnelpaw matey, why'd ye leave the Great Hall?"

The homely mole chuckled in his bass voice and took a seat next to Jay. "Hurr, all o' that talkin' made oi dizzy. Oi noticed ee weren't thurr, so oi came up yurr to see ee."

Jay patted Tunnelpaw's back heartily. "Well, it's good to have ye, mate!"

They sat in content for a while, Jay sharing his food with his friend. As the sun began to set, Jay noticed some silhouettes on the horizon. He stood, his eyes warily regarding the approaching creatures. "Tunnelpaw, mate, look yonder!"

The mole rose and eyed the shadowy figures with interest, his eyes narrowing and the area his ears were located wiggling. After what felt like an eternity, he grinned so widely his face seemed to split in two. "Zurr, they baint anythin' dangerous! Et bees Tyson and Camron, hurr, an' they got company, they do!"
Indeed, an accented voice rang out over the ramparts. "Ach, ye canny otter, open yon gates and let us through afore ah make ye!"
Jay's face lit up—he had always enjoyed the company of the mercenary squirrels. "Belay, ye bushtailed fiend! Wot's that ye have with ye?"

Camron's heavy Northland accent shot back at him. "De ye mean aside from air poor ould stummicks?"

Tunnelpaw gave a mock scowl. "Hurr, answer ee question or oi'll keep ee out furrever, zurr Camron!"

Tyson's slightly less accented voice replied, "This is air new bairn, Oren! He was born on a midwinter naht midst thunder an' lahtnin'! Ah'd open the gates afore he eats ye alive!"

The gates swung open midst the laughter of allbeasts present, welcoming the heroes into Redwall Abbey.