• • •
Vickor is not well. It was he who was talking. He came into Cavern Hole, stave in his paw, and stalked towards the Abbot.
I didn't know what he was doing until was almost too late. I saw his eyes. I tackled him before he could drive the stave into the Abbot. We struggled. He started speaking incoherently as he calmed down. He seemed in right of mind. I helped Vickor to his footpaws and let him lean on me. The stave had injured him in the struggle. That must have snapped him out of the madness.
It did not defeat the madness for long.
Vickor talked and I listened. He cursed about the Abbey. Saying he shouldn't have come. He said it was his fault. He was trying to save his troop, by getting rid of those affected by the unknown. He was crying by the end. He said sorry. The words stopped being understandable.
I don't want to write what I saw. I can't write this. I mustn't.
I need to keep it from my mind. Onto this paper.
His eyes changed. I saw them change. He pushed away. Vickor stood oddly, his legs different, his motions flickered, quick, reflex. A hare from his troop appeared from around the main Abbey building. He. He went. He went to the hare, sniffed. I didn't know what to do. It was a female hare. Vickor mounted upon...
I cannot write this. Oh Martin, Martin help us.
Or are we are beyond help?
I see other Abbeybeasts throughout the Abbey in about the same state. When I find someone not fully affected, they act oblivious to the events around them. I try to convince them that something is wrong. It's pointless. They appear to be fade away the more I speak.
I am in the room below the bell, where the bell rope hangs above. There have been scratches at the door. I'm scared. I must get to the Dibbuns.
Geoffrey
• • •
Our Badger Mother Lissa is not well.
What follows, I don't know how to write it. I see and I don't know what to say, what to write. I am past being scared. Being scared has come already. I am past scared. My mind has bared emotion. I see and don't feel.
The tears still fall. The Dibbuns ask me why. I can't answer. I smile for them. I must keep them from seeing.
The rabbit, the dead rabbit was in the jaws of Lissa when I came around the corner to the gatehouse door.
Part of the rabbit at least.
He was everywhere. Ripped apart. Red on the chest of Lissa. In her mouth was red. Red everywhere. She chewed. Licked.
I wanted to scream.
She did not exist. Nobeast existed anymore. The badger only watched me. The badger was not Lissa. It watched me enter the gatehouse as it ate the rabbit.
The Dibbuns were sleeping. They knew nothing of the rabbit and the badger.
They said Lissa had come to say good-bye when I was gone.
Geoffrey
• • •
The Dibbuns are fine.
They are fine. I read them some from one of the scrolls. They are calm.
The bottom of the tapestry is tattered. Where is Martin?
Please help.
Geoffrey
• • •
Fleetpaw is asleep.
I can't believe he lasted this long. He is still conscious of himself. He was injured when he knocked. He told me. He told me what he knew. He told me what they saw.
There was a warren not far from here, further down the River Moss. Rabbits lived there. It was abandoned when they found it. They found some beasts there. There was something not right about them. They couldn't speak. They were primitive. Like the beasts here in the abbey. I do not know what to do.
He is waking.
Geoffrey
• • •
In the depths of everybeast, within their soul and being, behind their awareness and intellect, lies their bare nature and instinct. This exists to help in times of trouble, to give choice when none can be chosen, to attempt that one last chance of survival.
I remember those words of my predecessor, the prior Gatekeeper and Recorder of Redwall Abbey, Fredrick, the wisest mouse I ever knew.
He never mentioned the darker side of this inner being, if it ever came to cover all else.
It has come.
Fleetfoot is gone, what remains is a nameless creature. It looks like him, but is him no longer.
Geoffrey
• • •
Within a few days, the Abbey has changed.
I don't know how to say this. I have been looking through scrolls and I find nothing. There is no way out. It is dangerous outside. They no longer think. They are only action and motion to react. The Dibbuns are with me in the gatehouse.
No way to help. The stories mean nothing now. The Abbey survive so much.. The stories worthless.
I need to lay down. I fear-
• • •
Brother Geoffrey, Recorder of Redwall Abbey
Brother Geoffrey, Recorder of Redwall Abbey
Brother Geoffrey, Recorder of Redwall Abbey
Brother Geoffrey, Recorder of Redwall Abbey
Brother Geoffrey, Recorder of Redwall Abbey
Brother Geoffrey, Recorder of Redwall Abbey
Brother Geo-
• • •
It is coming for me.
I need to remember.
Remember.
I, Recorder of R-
• • •
I saw Martin last night in dream. He talked. Told things. Only heard squeaks. Must have been important. Nice day. I keep forgetting things. Kinda scared. I happy though. Odd. Sun is out. I need to write more. Need to write. My paw cannot right. Hard to breathe. Martin answered in dream. Nice dream.
• • •
I hungry. Must write. Writing. Writing. what I writing? Why writing. Write good. Ink is on paws. It quiet in Abbey. Very quiet. Many have left. The Abbey is quiet. The little ones fine. All be fine. Quiet. The moss growing stones. Stones red. Fine. Sun nice.
Not forget. I remember. Remember.
• • •
I need note this I Geeofery i record i no know redrock he come take away need want happy now scare happ-
• • •
i finish right now no more right fine good wrong good fine nut good
• • •
from life end to beginning of new welcome to gates of redwall abbey
end
• • •
"What do you make of it, Rips?"
Major Sandripper, of the Long Patrol, didn't answer, only noticed how forced the penmanship was in the end, barely legible even to his exceptional eyesight. Tears of unknown origin riddled the last part of the parchment roll, ink smudging and causing blurred pawprints over the writing.
"Rips?"
"How did you find this again?"
"Just lying at the edge of a large oak outside of camp," Sergeant Quinn said, his voice not hiding his own wariness, "I don't understand what it means, sir."
The hare finally rose his gaze for the first time since starting to read the document. He spoke, "Vickor, Fleetpaw, and a dozen hares...impossible. We need to be sure. We must get to that Abbey."
"I don't know if that's safe if..."
"That is not your decision Sergeant Quinn. We were sent to find out what happened to Vickor's company, and we are going to find out. This document is not proof that anything has happened to them."
"It has been two seasons."
Two seasons. The truth was Major Rips didn't want to admit how disheartening this conveniently found parchment sounded.
He pushed that away, "We are only a days march from the Abbey. We shall be there by twilight on the marrow if we leave at dawn. No questions Quinn. I've made up my mind. For all we know they are there right now, stuffing their faces on the grand Redwall fare, enjoying their extended leave of absence."
This didn't seem to comfort either Quinn or Rips himself. Quinn opened his maw, as if he wanted to object or state some other thought. Nothing came out and the silence sank in until the hare just saluted and exited the tent, out into the dark outside.
Rips reread the last few entries of the supposed records of Redwall Abbey. Questions he couldn't even find the words to ask floated among his now troubled thoughts.
They would find out tomorrow.
His lantern flicked out.