Far away from the corsair ship Nightplague, Abbess Tansy sat at the head of a large table groaning with the weight of all the food piled onto it. The Redwallers stared at her, waiting for her to begin to feast. Tansy cleared her throat before she spoke, "Before we begin the feast, I want to thank all the creatures to help rebuild our south wall. Even though it has been a season since it was rebuilt, they still deserve our thanks. With that said, enjoy the food!"
Hearty cheers erupted from the Redwallers as the dug into the food. Only one wasn't present for the festivities: Arven. The squirrel warrior sat on the east wall staring out into the dark woods. Abbess Tansy left her seat and walked up the stares to the wall. She sat next to her friend. "Isn't it a lovely night? A perfect night for a feast. Come and join the festivities, Arven."
Arven continued to stare out into the woods. Tansy placed a paw on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
Arven shrugged and started to climb down the wall. "Nothing. It's just this strange feeling I have. It feels like something very evil is coming to Mossflower. It's probably nothing. The Rapscallions are gone, and the south wall is repaired. Your right Tansy. This is a time for celebrating."
Confused by Arven's strange mood, Tansy followed him back over to the table. Was something evil really coming to Mossflower?
---
Everything was dark. As far as Arven could see there was black mist. He was alone in this strange, silent, black world. The ominous silence was broken by a mighty roar and the din of battle. Arven could see a figure running through the mists. It was a black squirrel. She was pursued by three creatures: a huge wolf with an enormous axe, a lean bodied female weasel, and a small, lithe fox.
Arven stood to one side as the squirrel ran by him, disappearing into mists. The vermin vanished behind her. Arven felt a soft breeze blow across his face. From somewhere in the darkness, a seagull cried. Salty spray dewed on Arven's fur. A voice whispered in his ear,
"When summer ends look to the east,
See a single slave fleeing her past.
On the Abbess's final feast,
Three warlords will attack fast.
Ten warriors must unite their blades
To save the Abbey then.
The first will blend with the shades
The second shall not journey far,
The third is worshiped as a king,
The fourth has no memory.
The fifth like a bird does sing,
The sixth bears my name.
The seventh has eyes like a hawk
The eight is a simple traveler
The ninth cannot walk
The tenth shall be one you would never choose."
Arven turned around to see Martin the Warrior fading into the black mists. The squirrel called after him, but no sound issued from his throat. The lean female weasel had grabbed him by the throat. There was a loud clang of steel. Everything went dark.
---
Arven woke on the floor, a blanket wrapped tightly around his face. He freed himself from the blanket and climbed into the bed, his dream still vivid and clear. Who were these ten warriors? Who was the black squirrel that was pursued by three vermin? The warrior squirrel settled back into his bed. It would all be clear in the morning…
---
Far, far away from Redwall Abbey, Skorm too was sleeping fitfully. In her dreams, she was free from the corsair galley. A salty breeze ruffled her fur, and a lone seabird cried from somewhere in the distance. Skorm's freedom was short lived. Yelling and screaming like a madbeast, a lean female weasel crashed from the undergrowth and began to pursue Skorm. The black squirrel turned and ran, only to confront a small fox. Like the weasel, the fox gave chase. Skorm's breathing became ragged and labored. A wolf leapt out of the trees at her. Still she ran. Trees and bushes became a blur as she ran on; her footpaws pounding on the forest floor. A massive red sandstone building loomed up in front of her. Black mists engulfed her. She stumbled around in the darkness, paws outstretched. The lean weasel's paws tightened around Skorm's neck. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Skorm flailed her arms. Her attempts became feeble as the weasel tightened her hold. The mists parted. A squirrel wielding a marvelous sword stepped out of the mists. There was a loud clang of steel, and everything went black.
---
"Hold 'er still, Kali!"
"I'm tryin'."
Skorm opened her eyes. Alkali and Jenner were leaning over her, trying to untangle a length of chain from around her neck. Skorm looked around. She was lying on the galley floor. Her chain had wrapped around her neck, restricting her breathing. Skorm slowly climbed back up onto the galley bench. Firth's whip lashed out at the three slaves.
The narrow-faced rat glowered at them. "Wot's the problem o'er 'ere, eh? Why can't yew threes sleep like the rest o' the slaves, huh? One more screw up, jus' one. An' yew threes'll be feeding the fishies."