Jaden narrowed his eyes at the thought. That was the day when his father forced the gap between him and his son. No - he objected. It was never there. The connection. His father had always been cold and distant from his family. It was the norm for life in the horde. You had to dig up your own will within yourself to survive, and even then it was tough when no son recieved that kind of inner direction from their fathers. Jaden recalled the day when he found his father hanging limply by a noose by the rafters of his house. It had upset his mother in a bitter way; his sister had moved out to be the wife of some horde leader; and he - he didn't take to it at all. He didn't even cry. It was simply as if a stranger had entered and hung himself in his house. After that day he left his embittered mother for a rougher horde life. Drinking, pillaging, and all that good stuff. Most of all he got to sharpen his skills with his bow on live targets. After a while, though, that escape came to pass - and bore away on him. That was when he was called to the King's direct service to deal with traitors.
Desensitised vermin I am, he thought. And his instincts proved true. He had hundreds of minds burned into his memory. The thrill from following his enemy with bow up in the trees died down after a while because he lost interest in them - those pitiful glances back, wondering where the next arrow would come from; and then in a flash, they realize its too late to move. Pinned to the ground. Or a tree.
He rememberd the mice. - Or a woodshed. One of the families that had actually been nice to him. Only aquaintences though - Thank heavens, he commented bitterly. If he had known them - like he knows the Abbot - he would probably consider the same design as his late father had.
And with more accusation of his own self, his conscience pricked him. The Abbot, it said. The Abbot needs you.
He then realized where his thoughts wandered. Escaping Mossflower. Escaping the clutches of both his conscience by the woodlanders and fear by the King. But he could wretch himself completely, not even in the solitude of the cart.
The seas! Always wanted to become a fisherman or sailor. He chuckled dryly at himself at yet another idea not even asked of his father for approval. The idea of a fox doing an otter's job? Or in his horde's case - a rat's job. That was dirty work; both counterparts were approved as being dirty dishwater, dishrags, dogs, and the like, christened by the ever-so-more cleanly horde grunts. Who care nothing about dreams. Dreams evolved into killing woodlanders, conquoring much land, pillaging villages, and committing rape - so much change from children's playthings of sword fighting. That was the dream his people knew - his blood knew, his horde knew. That's the only kind of dreams they ever had known. Once the clay of a dibbun hardened by the fires of insensitive and dead types, it was all over. Damned to the life they were born into.
But you arn't, the voice said.
Yes... I'm not. The tod stared out the window from the darkness of the coach. He was in on the dirt road again.
He grunted to himself. Not only will I sail the seas... but I'll become a philospher. Think about this stuff way too much...
Seas. What is by the sea?
Salamandostron! He realized that. But no - the badger lord is too old, the hares too small in number to face the King's vast army. He recalled the day when he was standing on a mountain in midsummer. One of the mountains of the Snowy North, overlooking a valley. The valley was swarmed with at least fifteen thousand of the King's minions. The rest of the army was scattered throughout the southern Northlands.
That was four months ago, he recalled. He also realized - that the King had been assembling this invasion more quickly than he expected. Four months for fifteen thousand! If the King was going to commence invasion of Mossflower in two weeks, the legions had been traveling for at least three of those months. No doubt they would pick up more forces as they passed through towns - the number could be bursting at the twenty thousand mark.
Southsward is swarmed with lizards. Their population had exploded ever since woodlanders declined from that land... the last census was before the Southsward Uprising. They had counted two thousand lizards, newts, frogs, and those types. Knowing those scaley types, they could reproduce rather quickly - possibly to seven thousand by now. If the King has been arranging the attack from the rear in combination with the legions from the north, they had no chance of going south. The lizards would make a perimeter and eat off whoever crossed. That's how they had driven woodlanders northwards. Up the line to the literal border of Southsward.
Salamandonstron could only survive for so long. Its food supply was only fit for the hares and badger lord in the mountain, not all of Mossflower.
The seas! The seas are the only route then.
Jaden knew what he had to do right there and then. Inform the Abbot. He must have a great enough power to pursuade the Elders of the various villages and provinces of Mossflower - gather food quickly; but focus on provisions that can't be caught at sea. And take only what you need. Use the remaining ottertribes' boats. He recalled seeing five of those large beauties docked three weeks ago in the port town immedietly south and west of Sala. It took him a day or two to reach it traveling rather quickly. But he had traveled alone - expect four days with all the Redwallers and Mossflower peoples. And - two days to prepare. That would give them a head start of about a week. Board the boats quickly, make way downstream to the wide inlet, and sail off to sea.
To where, though? That question stopped Jaden midthought. He hadn't thought of that. Before he could consider even an "I have no clue", the cart stopped and the door opened roughly.
The two burly beasts - of the personal escorts of the cart of the King and servants - ushered Jaden out of the cart. He almost forgot to grab his belongings in there. Must have been left in there when he approached the King, as he did not recall getting jabbed with his bow or daggers when falling.
To the amazement of the six personal escorts of the cart, the tod took off bounding down the road faster than the six could push and pull a hunk of wood around. To where they did not know the tod went. They were merely servants of the King as well.
As Jaden ran fiercly, the idea of escaping by sea came to him again.
You coward. Running from the enemy is not the way to live! Fight for Mossflower alongside your Brothers and Sisters!
Brothers. And Sisters. Abbot Karuseth had called him Brother Jaden, but that doesn't mean everyone else would.
Fight for freedom. For a better Mossflower - and earth.
A part of Jaden scorned that phrase instantly. The horde part of him despised that kind of grand dream and adventure. That kind of idealism didn't exist in logic. It's either be killed, or run - for heavens sake!
He then reconsidered the facts: if Mossflower - combined with the two cities out west past the woodlands and the Long Patrol of the East - could fight off the King's then unorganized hordes that long ago, then they could fight them off again. But it would be hard, and a dangerous risk to take. The idea of risk with danger appealed suddenly to Jaden, as if his father had instilled him a strong missing part of his masculine self many seasons ago.
Danger and risk. As opposed to what? Capture and defeat? The King's horde ships were known to be the fastest on the earth - outrunning any quick-minded skipper any day. They would probably be chased down after spotting the white sails of the otter ships at sea. So the sea would be out of the question then. There was no room for second plans, no margin for error.
Capture and defeat was a concept Jaden could not bear to keep in mind. Forfeiting all future generations after now? After what they had strived to fight for? The exact moment the woodlanders hesitate is when they will forfeit. Doubt and "fate" will take over the risk that comes from choice, and the will that springs from hope. If he had learned anything of positive value from horde life, it was this: hesitation kills.
It's settled then. Fight or die. I won't allow a pitiful excuse to let the reigns of Mossflower pass away. I won't allow those written into the history books of Redwall library pass to ashes, either. Their own efforts will not go wasted by this. Jaden continued running down the Dirt Road path as his footpaws kicked up puffs of dust behind him.
Despite his best interests, his waned strength could carry him a quarter of the way running to Redwall Abbey from where he had been dropped - that being just south of the River Moss. It would take him several hours to get to Redwall, but not more than to sunset. He had slept little - or he had slept through a day, and it was the next. But his sensitive eyes and fatigued muscles said otherwise. His body screamed sleep! while his mind said walk. It was just enough to make his muscles shaky and steps uncertain.
He was partly used to this demeanor, though. Horde life made you used to sleeping on irregular schedules. It was marching one moment, scavenging for food for a brief stop, then eating on the run. Or going without food for several days. Jaden recalled that day vaguely when that actually happened. But his tired mind was in other places. It wasn't functioning completely, but it was alive enough to order his feet to march and to keep in his mind at least the feeling of the urgency at hand.
Jaden arrived at the Abbey about half an hour after the sun set, to his surprise. He had made it. The gates were just beginning to close when he approached. The two guards gave him an awkward look, probably due to the fact that he had been at the Abbey under twenty hours ago. He had never visited twice within a three month span.
They immedietly let him in only after spotting the dark circles and fallen complexion of his dark-furred features. His paled eyes lolling about lazily, he muttered, as if scraping about like a dibbun in a pie-tin, licking out last bits of energy from his frame. "Keriseth..."
The Abbot was conversing with Gatekeeper Pheonix in the Gatehouse. Jaden was ushered with the utmost haste to the bed inside, despite the hedgehog's quiet and murmering objections. The Abbot simply looked over to him once with passiveness, and directed his attention back to Jaden.
"Jaden! What is the matter? Where have you been? Why-"
"Mmmm. The King's armies... gathering." Jaden's eyes flittered as he attempted to stay awake. "Ehhhh... talk 'bout in mornin'."
The tod's eyes closed promptly. He was fast asleep. The Abbot observed the tod for a moment before standing up from kneeling by the bedside. He turned to Pheonix. Pheonix was aghast and perplexed at what just happened. Not only was there a vermin in his bed - his bed was occupied. "So if this mutterin' fool is sleepin' 'ere, where am I goin' ta sleep?"
The Abbot gestured. "Let us not disturb the fox brother. I-"
Pheonix grunted. "Brother Yeah. Brother. If he was a Brother-"
The Abbot opened the ancient gatehouse door and waited for Pheonix to take leave. "Mind yourself, Pheonix. We each are evil in our own ways. Vermin, or woodlander."
Pheonix reluctantly left. The Abbot followed after him. "Give me your key, Pheonix."
Pheonix peered back at the Abbot very quickly. He handed it over, but with question. "Why not lock 'im ou'side? He'll catch a wonderful cold an' we won't have to keep shovelin' the Abbey larders out fer 'im. I've seen him tuck in quite a few vittles, ya know. Vermin in company ain't cheap."
The Abbot gave him a menacing glare. Every word was bursting with potency: "Mind yourself, Brother." The two walked in silence for a moment as they bridged the gap to the Great Hall doors.. The Abbot calmed down a bit. "You, out of all creatures should understand this. You must realize how difficult a time he has."
Pheonix simply grunted again. The Abbot swung the door open. "Brother Pheonix, it isn't every day you run across a vermin who questions his instinct."
Pheonix spoke after the Abbot closed the door. He turned on heel and stared down at the Abbot. "Don't tell me about instinct. 'Twasn't instinct that had my brother killed."
"Individuals... Brother Pheonix."
"Oh don't play that with me. Ain't nuthin' changin' them. He's jus' makin' all that.."
The Abbot crossed his arms and stamped a foot. "Let me remind you, young one." Pheonix was at the most half the Abbot's age. The Abbot was greying in hair. "You stole pie from the windowsill not once, not twice - not even after getting two scrubbings in the Abbey pond to your great objections. Three times, as a dibbun."
Pheonix dismissed the Abbot. "I was 'ungry, an' I didn't know any better."
The Abbot nodded to Pheonix. "I guess ye have found some common ground to our vermin Brother, then." The Abbot left Pheonix to stubborn silence. Kareseth felt like giving him an earful, but he was too troubled by Jaden's sudden entrance - and that tired, glum face. Jaden had trusted the Abbot with information that he did not dare relay to the Elders several times before. The Abbot felt as though it was time to tell them. Time had waited long enough; the tensious peace had now grown any better. No, Pheonix wouldn't know - he has always been stubborn. That's why the Abbot had suggested to him that he be Gatekeeper instead of the Abbot himself. The Abbot thought of retiring as his eyesight had been failing and body began to fail him, but he didn't. He couldn't. Jaden had been the first major success that happened to his life. He wasn't about to give up his prized position and power for the sake of a more comfortable end. No - I'll go down in flames before I die. The Abbot then affirmed his past reguards to his predecessor - the fool next in line to him would abuse his position, he feels. Yes, the Abbot himself questioned Jaden even in their most closest times, but it didn't rule out what a great potential Jaden was to Mossflower. Is. Or is it was?
Jaden had mentioned something about the King's forces gathering, and the King gaining some desire to approach Mossflower. But he hadn't believed it at first - it had been a decade of seasons of peace that his woodlander people had enjoyed. And this fox came out of the blue, filled with curiosity; hidden intrigue; and covering of himself for fear of the Abbey dweller's harsh viewing of all vermin. The Abbot assured the Elders he himself was hard to convince. He had, indeed, attained the wise position of Abbot. Not many could be approved for that. Wisdom was one thing, but being accepting of all levels of woodlanders was standard. There were dibbuns to deal with; their problems were obvious. Then there were the young adults; their problems were a little more deeply rooted. But neither compared with adults. Adults were like dibbuns, except they had their spoken or unspoken justifications for doing and saying things. The Abbot's position has slipped in terms of respect in the past few decades, but people still take heed. Because he is the Father of Redwall, Redwall being the pinnacle of Mossflower and its history - not only in the present, but in the past. But much more so in the past.
The Abbot sighed as he trudged to the hallway. It'll be good to retire... permenently, after this life. But not until he figures out why Jaden came back so quickly, and why he is just so exhausted. - The King's armies are gathering. What does this mean?
Kerseth suddenly smirked as he opened the door to his quarters. Jaden knew that the Abbot hated the fact that he often left him with a word or two in confusion.
Ah, silly Jaden.
- Silly, silly, vermin.
Morning arose to the hustlings of the few who dared to rise so early. Meaning, cooks, cellarhogs, and Jaden. Jaden was strangely wide awake, pacing in the Gatehouse. He took no heed to the homey yet simple interior of the room. The owner must like everything in order, he thought offhandish. He looked at the scrolls - Pity that those will probably be ashes.
Jaden loved history. His horde was a scattered mass of... bogus myths. Telling from how non-interesting their history is in comparision with the Abbey's, the Abbey books of history and lore and such had hooked him. They were instilled with the ideal of courage and adventure, not raping pillaging and killing - and calling that adventure. But he was very dissapointed - the Abbey dweller's attitudes did not reflect the spirit detailed in his readings.
Wonder if they would listen to me.
The sound of a lock sounded from the door - he hadn't realized it was locked. But to his relief the Abbot walked in. Him and him only.
"Abbot Kareseth!" Jaden hurried to the Abbot, gesturing wildly. "We have problems. The Abbey is going to be under seige in two weeks time! - And sooner, possibly!"
The Abbot looked oddly at him. "My word, are you alright?" His eyes wavered. "Enough sleep ye have had?"
Jaden sighed. "The King - his armies. They're coming."
The Abbot bit his upper lip for a moment. "Who told you?"
"The King himself."
Abbot Kereseth frowned. "Oh dear. This is a grave situation... very, very grave indeed."
There had indeed been rumours of the Northern Hellsman invading for many a dreary season. Anticipation. But they never came - until now, it seems. For the King to declare this - it was an ultimatum that overruled all desire of the Hellsman grunts and rumours.
"Yes, Abbot Kereseth - it is! But not enough that Mossflower can fight it - again!"
Abbot Kereseth was taken back slightly. "Jaden... It was enough to survive for the first three seasons of the peace."
"And are you not standing here? Not standing here breathing? Are not the peoples of Mossflower... living?"
"Yes, but my dear Jaden-"
"And didn't Mossflower free itself of-"
Abbot Kereseth cut him off. "I would love to debate this, my dear Jaden, but you must realize where the mind of Mossflower and Redwall Abbey has wandered. They will annilhate themselves! They fear the King and his men, yes, but they don't think they do. Their fear is what drives them on to be so obnoxiously moralistic and apprehensive of every inkling of a vermin that exists. They fear, Jaden, they fear! Their hope is gone. Their numbers have diminished because of the war. Relatives, friends, cousins - dead! Ask anyone that exists in this Abbey right now and they can name at least one beast they knew that died at the hands of a vermin. They won't fight, they won't even believe me that they are coming, more less... some vermin who has been trying to be something he is not. Even if they did fight... ugh, let us not discuss even that."
That hit Jaden hard. His expression carried it well. The Abbot sensed it full well, but his firm stance and slightly quivering lip explained. "I don't hate you Jaden, you are the closest friend anyone can ask for - just this once, Jaden, just this once I must object."
Jaden looked hard at the Abbot. His eyes were now searching. His expression suddenly turned as cold as ice - he breathed in deeply, pulled his chin up, stood up straight. "If you must. But I will not let the people of this Abbey die for fear. If they're going to overcome the armies of the Hellsman they must overcome this fear."
The Abbot shook his head. "Jaden - how can ye be a leader when ye have not overcome the fear inside of you yourself first?"
Rejection. Discontent. Indifference. The fear of isolation had plagued Jaden all his life over all his troubles. He had avoided all instances of conflict as much as he could for as long as he could remember. The Abbot knew this - Kereseth was very fit for his job, Jaden reasoned, for being so discerning. "Thirty seasons. Thirty seasons I have given myself, waiting in vain for finding hope, and I've never come acrossed it. Now I have the opportunity."
The Abbot remained between him and the doorway. Jaden swallowed and looked down on the Abbot. He was shorter. "This hurts me to say this, but I must ask you to move."
The Abbot looked to the ground and sighed. "Very well Jaden." The mouse met Jaden's firm emerald gaze and spoke before doing as bidded. "Let me not obstruct you from this."
Jaden was caught by the shoulder before he could get out. Jaden turned sharply, glaring: "What!" his eyes snarled. The Abbot quickly dropped his grip and sighed coldly. "Be careful, my friend. You are a child among snakes here."
Jaden's gaze did remain firm, but it softened to determination. He nodded once to the Abbot and was gone.
The Abbot remained in the gatehouse for a moment, but quickly decided to follow Jaden.
The Feast of Summer was in continue; it was a week long event of celebration, entrailing games, feasting, talking, dancing, and much gossiping and talking. What made this event so well off was the gathering of the "Sons of Redwall" - the leaders and elders of the towns and provinces in Mossflower and surrounding country. These leaders and elders had come to the Feast of Summer as long as any beast could remember - most likely every since Mossflower united in cause against the Northern Hellsman. It was a mixed blessing for Khalon - he didn't have to waste precious days to spread the word and learn of their getting the word.
But he had to wake them. Jaden wandered around a bit before realizing the solution.