Beyond the Unknown
STATION OF CALLING, THE RIFT
"Drat. I've lost him."
Dagbert crossed his paws as he watched Thordan Swalestrom's figure begin to wane. He may not have expected that, but he should have. Even without the fox's meddling, Thordan could wake at any moment.
Bringing him here took high amounts of Conjuration and an Amplifier, so Dagbert was not in his best form. If a confrontation was to follow, he would lose to the black-furred beast in front of him. The only way to survive is to play the emissary card.
"So you did, Conjurer." The fox smirked.''You Southards had a way with losing."
"What are you doing here, Emmeroloth?" The Thaumaturge had many names - Isangrim, Pallpelt, the Darkening Cloud, but Dagbert decided to make an impression. And an impression he did make, for the fox visibly twitched, but returned to his overconfident self ere long.
"Me? Following the orders of the beast you had a paw in killing." Emmeroloth seemed to spit his anger out word by word. He leered calmly ,"You have a tendency to interfere even when it is all too unwise to do so."
Dagbert felt a fury rise within him. "We were only trying to do the right thing!"
The Thaumaturge rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Right. How right is it to murder every single seer that is allied with us?"
The Recorder sighed. "Listen. What we have done I hope we do not do again. But we have no other choice - we cannot let you-"
Emmeroloth revealed a sharp scowl. "And that's why you have been trying to tempt Thordan to align with you?" Both woodlander and vermin stayed silent for a few tense seconds before the fox decided on changing the subject.
"You know, pretending to be an otter was a neat trick. The Veil was perfect. Masking yourself to look like the boy's grandfather was incredibly ingenious of you. A pity you got the look wrong, and the accent as well."
"How - how did you know?" The mole was clearly shaken.
"Well, I was speaking with the actual otter while you were doing ridiculous impressions of him. To be honest, you were too polite to imitate him completely, Conjurer. Trust me, you still have a long, long way to go in your acting career." The Thaumaturge sighed. "You see, it's quite fun talking to the only beast with any shred of conscience on your side."
What Emmeroloth said was not quite true. Aside from the Emissary, the Warrior and the Assassin, there was still the Architect, one more addition to their little union - one whose potential as a seer is as low as one can have, but a fearsome warrior nonetheless. "It's much less pleasurable talking with the only beast without morality on yours."
The fox sighed again. "I fear we would have a long way to go before we can achieve any sort of compromise. At least you do."
"We could talk only if you could divulge more than a little shred of your plans." Dagbert kept his eyes trained on the fox as he spoke. "You have already Sundered one Shard! What will you do next? What can you do next?"
Emmeroloth sighed for the third and final time. "What I do, I do for the salvation of this star." It only took a single impact through the Rift before the Thaumaturge stepped through the Gate of his own making, turning back from the scholar mole and stepping into the world that he considered to be real.
Dagbert just stood there, without making a single noise. He had failed in his mission, and his colleagues would not be happy.
Emmeroloth may be his foe, but the black fox had told the truth, as all seers are obligated to do. He had a long, long way to go indeed.
KALDOS, LORDSHIP OF KALDOS, DRAVANIA
After all that followed around her - all that tragedy that had descended upon her - Sigrun was finally home. Growing up with her brother and mother, Sigrun always had an affinity with the city.
After Hildrinn, Kaldos was the largest city in Dravania. Despite being cleaved neatly into twain by a narrow strait, barges frequented the harbours between. Kaldos proper was situated on an island, with the urban centre and main fortification atop. The other side, Koerthas as it was called, was being rapidly developed by the efforts of Sigrun's father, which caused some minor conflicts of interests with the Kaldosians along the way. Beyond that lay hills and mountains, protecting the city, but preventing it from developing further.
Walking behind Sigrun were the Strandsors, father and son. They were quite an odd pair, the father being wild and passionate while the son being calm and composed. It took less than three glances to see that they were trying to manipulate her into doing their bidding - they have made everything obvious. At least they have not seized control of herself yet - Father would rage for a few more days if they had tried to marry her to anyone.
Gustav Strandsor carried the Wolf Banner for her - the commonfolk cannot expect a lady to do everything herself, can they? Though its purpose seemed to have been fulfilled - beasts flocked to see her and her (nominal) subordinates carry a pennant never seen in a hundred seasons, which must be for a big reason.
And a big reason it was! The procession finally reached the main square of the city, and the main three figures ascended onto a platform specifically designed for the occasion alongside their bodyguards.
"Beasts of Kaldos, listen!" Gustav Strandsor shouted at the crowd. "Dravain legend tells of this banner, and this banner's own tale!" The beasts quickly silenced themselves, as the tale was known to all.
"In the past, Dravania was its own kingdom with its own king, but this was not to last. For fifty and two hundred seasons, they fought against Southsward." Pointing at the banner, he continued, louder than ever before. "For where this banner went, Dravain beasts followed. Where this banner went, we were a thorn in the squirrelking's tail. Not even with the might of both Southsward and Parma were we beaten."
A cheer arose from the crowd, only to silence itself moments later. They knew what happened next - every Dravanian knew.
"Finally, while the kingdom was being rent apart from within, Southsward pounced upon us for the last time. A small force was able to occupy a strategic location, but they were few in number." Lord Gustav decided to break out the dramatic paw gestures. "Ravens filled the air, calls of death following in their wake. Thousands of Southards thundered towards Hildrinn, their fires outnumbering the stars, and they carried the banner of King Riddian the Third - the King Riddian who was one of the best tacticians of all time!"
The older lord raised his paw up into the sky, as if he was a chorus in some ancient play. "We were supposed to not last a single hour, to be swept along the winds. But we fought! In a trickle, beasts did not flee, but fought to keep their homes and loved ones free from Floret's paws. That one trickle soon turned to many, and a flood of beasts exited the safety of their homes, and arrived at the field of battle. Farmers carried pitchforks, woodsbeasts carried axes, and nothing more but a few days of food. Everyone knew that they might not return - some even knew that they will not return! But the land had been theirs, and they would not parcel even a fistful of soil!"
Standsor shed a tear next, his paw falling. Then another tear trickled down. "The dead piled up in mounds, but our loyalty to the land was matched bit by bit by Southard fidelity to their king. Slowly but surely, we perished one by one." He paused to wipe off a few stray tears lingering on his face. "But not all of them died. The survivors, few they might be, lived and sired children. Seasons came and seasons went, till Dravania was but a distant dream. Weep for it! Weep for what is lost to you!"
Sigrun must have been hallucinating, for she saw the most forced of grins appear on the lord's face. "But there is hope left to us, in the form of a king! A King of Dravania to give our lives meaning! A King of Dravania to save us all!" Lord Gustav's smile became less forced by the second. "He is coming! He is coming! Seasons help us! Seasons help the world!"
The lady's thoughts were soon drowned out by the endless shouts of the crowd below.
RAEVSVAKT, DRAVANIA
"You're awake!"
Thordan Swalestrom has never been an otter with a strong constitution, but suddenly fainting in the midst of a conversation was a sign that something was very wrong. Lorcan may have been the only beast to keep a cool head outwardly, but inside he was spinning like a top. He managed to carry him to a bed, and summoned a few servants and a healer to attend to his needs, which, truth be told, are not much.
Thordan groaned as if he was shaken awake from a deep slumber, which he was. "Lorcan. How long was I out? Where am I? Where are the others gone?"
"Calm down, Thordan. You're very safe, and so are the others." Lorcan has a way of comforting those he cared about, though suddenly losing consciousness may spell disaster to his friend. Holding a cup of water, he beckoned Thordan to drink, which he swiftly did.
"You were turning and twisting a lot in your state." Lorcan tried and failed to suppress a giggle. "Were you dreaming of some pretty lass?"
"What?" Thordan's ears folded, an obvious reaction to the taller beast's teasing. "No. No such thing. It was simply..." Thordan paused, scratching his head. "I don't remember much. Two beasts were in it, one vermin and one woodlander. They said a lot of things. They argued and I woke up."
"Well, dreams could be important." Lorcan smiled as he finally sat down in an armchair. "You saw that otter before you helped us drive Skipper Becker back. Maybe someone's prodding you towards victory - like in the books! The hero gets advice from the ghost of a past hero, and he triumphs against all that he will face. Like Joseph the Bellmaker!"
Thordan shook his head slowly. "I don't feel like a hero at all. I'm just some lord who tries his best to fight for my father. Oh, and to survive as well."
"Well, they do say that all heroes have their own journeys to make. I do wonder why and how…" Lorcan shook his head. "If there is some sort of law or formula regarding the making of a hero, it lies beyond the unknown."
A tense silence followed, with both beasts hesitant to speak. Lorcan has never been a beast of many words, but Thordan made him look like a chatterbox.
A cough from Thordan signified an end to the silence. "So… where are Alfyn and Egil?"
Lorcan smiled. "Well, the healers said that you were fine physically, so they went off into the city to… er, enjoy themselves." He turned towards Thordan. "I trust that your weasel friend is also unmarried, is he not?"
"Y-Yes." Thordan sighed. "Why did you ask that of all things anyway?"
Thordan, you innocent little child… "Nothing. I'm just wondering what fun they could have right now…" Lorcan stared right into his friend's eye. "Speaking of marriage, has your father made any betrothal for you? He cannot hope to fight this war alone - he's married as well as your brother."
"I haven't thought about that yet…" Thordan leaped back into his usual musings. "I'm too closely related to every eligible ottermaid of any sort of importance. The only suitable choices are all taken."
"Your half-sister hasn't been promised to anyone yet as well." Lorcan winked.
Thordan's ears folded. "Father has many plans."
Another tense silence followed, this time lord than the last. This one was finally broken with a little revelation by the younger lord.
"I remember now! Dagbert the Floret Archivist! He and Isangrim!"
Lorcan raised a claw at his worried friend, no more smiles present. "Who's Isangrim?"
"The spymaster fox! From my grandfather's court! He said that my grandfather was killed - and we don't know who did it!"
BLESWYN, CROWNLANDS, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
"How did they slip through your claws?"
The two guards who defended the east door may have been just starting on the way to recovery, but Lord Denebas Burelas was planning to move in haste. Having just received a report that Captain Waycaster has escaped, alongside with one of his subordinates, the young lord had to fulfill his duties as commander with relish.
"We were tricked!" The hareguard shrieked. "Lied to! Deceived!"
"And on no other beast's watch but yours!" Borellers are not known for their calmness, though the younger Boreller duke was an exception. However, being also sticklers for honour, it did not take long for Denebas to be pushed past his breaking point.
The grey-furred squirrel took a deep breath, finally taking the cup of tea that had been prepared for him. "I say that you two did not try your best."
Denebas put his mouth to the cup and prepared for the serene taste of unsweetened tea - only to burn his tongue. Perhaps not coincidentally, he felt his anger return.
"Please, we were just-" The mouseguard attempted to beg.
"You two apparently do not know this one thing about Borellers." Denebas stood completely still, allowing his anger to melt. "The more you plead to one, the less inclined they are to listen."
Before the unfortunate duo can respond, Denebas continued to speak. "You two will make up for your mistakes. You will tell me which direction the two have went, and you two will accompany my unit to hunt them down, and bring both the traitors back into Trielian custody! Their location might be unknown, but it is our duty to go beyond."
He turned coldly towards them, eyes revealing a savage glare - his brother's glare. "Do you two understand fully and completely?"
"We do! We do!"
'Good." The squirrellord finally let his gaze avert from the pair of former guardsbeasts. "Now, you two will stand here and do nothing at all while I inform my king and my brother."
VARGO, LORDSHIP OF VARGO, KINGDOM OF OTHARN, HIGH KINGDOM OF PARMA
A warm spring may have followed a mild winter, but Niels Crestworth was basically shivering in public view.
Of all the things Queen Lorelei could imagine to repay his favour from the Second Electoral Council, she had asked for a private dinner meeting. Not alone, of course, but with two other Valnainer lords - one of them a fox, even.
Of course, Lady Lorelei had a poor reputation prior. She was not particularly attractive, which had led to many mockeries and nicknames. Mouthpoke, Pocket-mouth, Satchel-mouth, the Big Mouth, the Mouth Bag, the Pocket-Mouthed, the She-Wolf of Vargol, the Ugly Duchess, and With the Pouch Mouth were all suffixes used for her, and for her alone. She, for one, bore all this with pride and dignity, though not exactly a lot of beasts would try to mock her in earshot.
"Lord Maurice needs more wine, Hersent." The queen gestured at her personal servant, a grey fox with fur the colour of ashes. As far as Niels knew, she was just some vermin randomly inducted into the court by Lorelei, though the Royal Vicar knew that this must have been a Skyward trait. Her father had vermin courtiers more numerous than woodlanders, and he scandalously preferred vermin females to either one of his wives. Perhaps this was due to his chaotic upbringing, or some other fact that Niels was blind to for now.
Ignoring a lustful look from Lord Renart of Maupert, the grey vixen soon left the room after fulfilling her duty, having no intent to linger there. The foxlord was known far and wide for having needs for physical pleasure that made Thordan look like a celibate. Sly, amoral, cowardly and wholly-self serving, Renart would not have amounted to anything in normal circumstances, but these vices allowed him to thrive in the Valnainer court. The common folk do say that Maupert was one of the best hiding spots for this errant lord - which was desperately needed due to his tense relationship with his soon-to-be-former liege.
Niels preferred the other Valnainer, Lord Maurice of Graille. After all, he had married his only full sibling, and they loved each other so much for the birth of two children, with a third following them by the end of the season. Plump and portly for an otter, he preferred the kitchen to the court, as cooks scheme significantly less than lords. However, even the slightest mention of the voleking seemed to spur the otter into action.
"You Otharnese serve good food," the otterlord smiled as he sipped from his goblet. "But we know that you do not randomly invite your guests to such gatherings without them having something to offer."
"Your intuition is good indeed, Lord Maurice. We have matters of a more serious nature to discuss than pies and wine." Lorelei grinned at Niels openly - a sign that she wanted something very badly. After all, they knew each other since childhood, but she was noteworthily cold towards him for the last forty seasons.
"What are your thoughts on allowing Lord Renart to replace his treasonous liege?"
A/N: Another chapter with 5 points of view! Grey would like this…
Back on track. First, my first responses to reviews! And thanks to everyone for taking them to 70!
Sebias of Redwall: We're out of wine? That's a statement Becker would make. And as for the seer confrontation between Dagbert and Isangrim? It doesn't happen... for now.
The Grey Coinicidence: I'm glad you liked Sigrun's letter. That was a really fun part to write. And the contrast between the elder Swalestrom brothers was intended, but Erlend would not be likely to throw tables or stuff. Thordan knowing more may (or may not) equal him doing more, of course.
Now, all roads are open, and I can assure you that more magic will be shown in Book II than in Book I!
Chapter 20 (Flight) will be up on 21/22 August!