14. Directions.
Mother Abbess Chamomile was far from the youngest creature ever elected to lead the Redwall Abbey, yet still unusually young for her position. A lively, plump mouse in the zenith of her life, she combined youthful energy and judgment born of experience. And aside from cooperation demanded by their respective positions as the Abbess and the Abbey Warrior, Chamomile was a good friend of Belk and his family. So, she demonstrated not a slightest hint of annoyance after she was awakened before dawn and spent half a day helping Belk to make sense of the vision he received. Things finally started moving somewhere when she asked if the squirrel warrior could put down on paper whatever he could remember of twisted and convoluted images that filled his mind – as concisely and to-the-point as possible.
"But this still makes no sense!" complained Myns, who refused to leave her husband's company all morning, after looking through his jumbled writings.
"No sense, you say…" said Chamomile thoughtfully, taking the paper from her. "Hmmm. And what if, Belk, I take all those lines you wrote aaaand put them in a good order, like this…"
She took the pen, and quickly wrote the bunch of short phrases that Belk came up with, placing them in a new sequence.
"Ain't this more like what Martin might have tried to tell you?"
Evil grows, takes root in hearts of warriors bold.
Icy hatred lurks behind eyes of fire.
The small treeflower lost in the cold night
Will perish, if kept alone, away from warmth.
The unreachable south the three paths will reach.
To arrive in time, get on the road too late.
To walk the path to the end, pick up a burden.
To pay for what is yours, use what is mine.
"I have a question." Said Belk after reading through what Chamomile presented back to him. "Can anybeast tell me why Martin does not like to speak… clearly? Why all the confounded riddles and contradictions?"
"Ahem!" The fourth beast who was with them in the Abbess' study decided to wedge in the conversation. Or maybe he just woke up again. Ruffen the Librarian was a hedgehog of many seasons, all grey and white with age – a beast of considerable knowledge and wisdom, for sure, but often absent-minded as of late, and prone to falling asleep in his chair whenever his attention was not concentrated on something.
"A good question, my young friend." Ruffen continued, as if Belk addressed him specifically. "Hrm… once I read a good answer for it, too. I believe it was in that big, old book with green cover, an Abbot's journal, wasn't it?... I might show it to you, if you want. But anyway, I remember it somewhere like this: if the spirit of Martin, may he always protect us, were to deliver a clear, straightforward prophecy, easily understandable even to those of simple mind, it would sound too much like a command! Ain't that right?"
The ancient hedgehog paused to give his thick glasses a wipe. Everybeast else waited patiently, both because they didn't want to be rude, and because they hoped the Librarian might be onto something.
"And aren't we all resent being commanded? And for so many beasts it is doubly true, when we know deep down that the one who commands truly knows what is best for us better than we do. So I think, hmhm. Now, on the other paw, if we're presented with a riddle to solve, a task to accomplish cleverly? Then we're proud of ourselves when we finally solve it! When a prophecy given to us is a riddle, we think, hm, how I can say it… we think themselves somewhat involved in making it, maybe not quite on par with Martin himself, but not silly dibbuns, who need to have everything explained to them in simple and plain terms, either. Hehe, and that probably makes us dibbuns still from his viewpoint, only those a bit older, those so proud when domestic cares, entrusted to them by their parents, go well… Although that not the only explanation I've saw, aaand if you're interested…"
"Thanks, Ruffen, I have no doubt that it also will be very enlightening to hear." Abbess Chamomile felt that Ruffen is on the roll and decided to intervene, before he continued his lecture. "But the first thing comes first – we need to solve the riddle, and the sooner, the better. By the way, anyone wants more mint tea?"
"Oh, don't worry, Mother, I will serve the tea," Myns volunteered.
""Mother"? I'm still young enough to be your daughter, dear." Chamomile waggled her index claw at Myns. "And since when we're this formal? Anyway, yes, please do."
The mouse turned her attention back to the text on paper:
"So, Belk, what do you think?"
"I think that I need to think." The squirrel warrior examined the lines time and again, listening to patter of the heavy autumn rain beyond the window, and contemplating the words, pulled from his own memory.
"Let's go over the easy part first." He said finally. "The "small treeflower" is my daughter. If anybeast here has any doubt, then be reminded, that I used to call Rowanbloom "my small treeflower" in the days when she was young enough to bring me joy, instead of worry. No place for doubts here. Another thing is easy to see: unless I go to help her, she will die. And the first two lines tell about the evil that threatens her – and many others – but I can only guess about it. It is there, it is very dangerous, even if not directly to Redwall, it terrified me in my dreams, and the thing with those "eyes of fire" is a part of it, but not the whole, I believe. Not much to say, as you see."
"But what, in the name of seasons, has eyes of fire?" asked Myns. Her paws remained steady, as she poured tea, but from the position of her ears and tail Belk could easily tell that his wife is scared.
"I wish I knew. But don't worry, honey, something this unusual won't be easy to miss" He smiled reassuringly.
"Couldn't that just mean a beast with red eyes?" Chamomile responded. "I've read of such in the "Twenty and One Heroic Tales", thank you again Ruffen for compiling them."
"My pleasure, Abbess," answered the Librarian. "Khm, khm. Indeed, the old lore records a whole bloodline of ferrets who had white fur and red eyes, albeit that bloodline is thought to be extinct. And don't forget, my friends, creatures affected by Bloodwrath strongly also have red eyes when in its grip, although I haven't read of any vermin and villains with such condition, I'm sure…"
"I'll remember to be on lookout for any such beasts," said Belk. "But for now, I don't think we can divine anything more from the first verse, I really don't. If the first four lines tell me, that I must leave Redwall on the quest to help my daughter, I assume the next four are supposed to tell me, how to go on this quest. And here I'm reaching my wit's end."
"Well," agreed Chamomile, "I see how you had a hard time figuring out what Martin tried to show you, if the vision had this many self-contradictions!"
"Did it?" Ruffen asked, chuckling. "Hehehe. You certainly might think so, but…"
"Oh, don't worry, my young friends." The Librarian smiled, noticing questioning looks on the Warrior's and the Abbess' faces, as both of them turned to him. "I'm not about to lecture you, no. Well, khm, you could use a good lecture on certain subjects, about that I am sure, but I just wanted to say, that I know where that "unreachable south" is. You see, in my younger seasons, when I was scribing up the story of the quest for Loamhedge from an old manuscript, I found a pretty old map, from many generations ago, probably drawn by Recorder Springald's own paw. It depicted lands to the south of our beloved Abbey, a part of Mossflower and then the Southern Plateau and the marshlands between it and the western coastline. I dare to say, it is the best map of those areas in our Library. But Springald, or whomever else made it, did not know what was beyond the Southern Plateau, probably because nobeast ever crossed it in both directions, and only two beasts crossed it once and lived long enough to pass the tale back to Redwall, and even that happened in times so impossibly ancient… oh look, I'm digressing again. Ahem, anyway, the creator of the map simply marked what was beyond the Plateau as "Unreachable South"."
"Well, that answers most of the question." Chamomile nodded to him. "I heard once from Lady Violet Wildstripe, when she was visiting our Abbey, that the kingdom of Southsward still stood, well, at least it did a generation ago. I'm not sure if that's where exactly Martin wants you to go, Belk, but that will be as good place as any to start looking for directions once you reach the unreachable."
"And," completed the idea Belk, ""The three paths" likely mean that I'm not the only beast who will head there. The other two are probably my daughter and the evil that threatens my daughter."
Then his expression grew sour. "But the path will be long and difficult, sure it will. Even if I get on the road tomorrow, how many seasons will change before I'm even in Southsward?"
"Tomorrow?" Myns shuddered. "But seasons are already turning towards winter, look how few leaves are left on the trees – now is not a time for such long travels, it is too late!"
"Aha!" Belk suddenly jumped up from his seat in excitement. "My dearest wife, you've just solved another line! "To arrive in time, get on the road too late." Too late! I must set out right now, that's what it really says."
"But snow and cold will catch you on the road!" Myns shook her head desperately.
"No need to fret, darling. Many beasts have survived winter journeys in the past, and I will be prepared better than most of them."
"The prophecy does not command you to travel alone, right?" Chamomile asked. "I'm sure Skipper and his otters will only be honored to provide you with some company!"
"Yes, that would be great!" Myns was quick to support the Abbess.
"I'm sorry, my beloved." Belk looked his wife into the eyes. "I do understand that you fear for my life, truly I do. But I fear something as well: that some peril might befall Redwall, while I'm far away. How can I take enough beasts to deal with an average band of vermin brigands by brute force from the scant number of our abbeyotters? I dread to think how weak that will leave the Abbey, how open to any peril that might come your way! No, it is better for me to move alone, fast and stealthy. Although…"
The squirrel warrior rubbed his forehead. ""To walk the path to the end, pick up a burden." I must say, that was a pretty vivid vision, me, hauling something like a big stone that... never mind. To think of it, do any of you, by chance, know of any young louts dreaming of going on adventure among the abbeybeasts?"
The Abbess and the Librarian exchanged glances. Then Chamomile shrugged. "Not any I know of. Your son maybe, but he is hardly going to be a "burden" to you."
"Hm, if I know Leriann at all, a quest like this will be dream come true to him – all the more reason to get on the road early, before he returns from visiting his brothers in Mossflower. Leriann's skills would be better used protecting the Abbey in my stead, so I can leave without fear. I've trained him to be a fine warrior, not a burden, didn't I?"
"As you say. Maybe you would encounter somebeast on the way? Then we have the last line, "To pay for what is yours, use what is mine"..."
"Oh, half of it is easy to understand, hehe." Ruffen chuckled. "The words are supposed to be those of Martin the Warrior remember? Certainly, our whole Abbey is, in some way, "his", but really, of what we always speak as of belonging to him? Well, a few beasts might mean the great tapestry, but you certainly aren't going to take it with you to your travels, right, young Belk?"
"So, you say it talks about the Sword of Martin..." Belk made an exaggerated frown. "I guess that means I'd have to haul this big, heavy piece of iron all the way beyond the edge of the map. Then that I will. But paying with the Sword of Martin for what is mine? However rarely I drew it in battle, such thought never occurred to me."
"Well, well… we clearly don't have knowledge to understand all that Martin referred to in your vision, right, aren't we?" Ruffen answered thoughtfully. "Just keep that line in mind, when you feel that you've reached the place to which your destiny was leading you. I do hope that place will be hard to miss, khm, khm. But about the sword I wouldn't be too worried – you know, it fell into evil paws more than once, in fact, no less than seven times, or was it eight, either way, it never remained in them for long. Spirit of Martin ensures that it brings only bad luck to villains. That's the only reasonable conclusion."
"No doubt." The Abbess smiled to the Librarian. "One more thing, Belk, wanted to ask you just in case – you sure that this is all? There was nothing more to your vision that you might place on paper, or try explaining to us?"
"I wrote down what I could." Belk shrugged trying to look and sound as nonchalant as possible. "I think we can trust my memory this far."
For a moment, Chamomile looked at him as if he was at a mischievous dibbun trying to explain how a freshly baked cake managed to disappear from the kitchens and why he is covered to the ears in cream and crumbs. But she inquired no further.
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The day was relatively nice, with the rainfront that now shrouded Mossflower already past the Mountain by the time when Captain Aldwin was summoned to the forge chamber of Salamandstron. Lady Violet couldn't help, but smile with very corners of her lips, when the brave captain walked in and stood before her in sunlight.
Sure, Aldwin looked quite smart in his best tunic: fur brushed, whiskers jutting out, black ears held at just the right angle to look dashing, breath smelling of mint. But however hard he tried to tidy himself, bloodshot eyes betrayed the fact that he spent the night doing what Aldwin himself preferred to call carousing, and Brigadier Greyfield, the commanding officer of the Long Patrol, vehemently branded as debauchery.
"Good to see you in top form, Aldwin." Violet said after the greetings. "I hope you and your Gallopers enjoyed your merriment."
"Have no doubt, my Lady." The captain was not embarrassed even a little bit. "But I will enjoy even more fulfillin' the task you're about to give me, if I just heard your words right. Even if I'll have to set out from the Mountain this late in the season – what a trifle, if this can ease the burden on my Lady's heart."
"Flatterer." This time Violet smiled openly. "But as a matter of fact, yes, you will have to set out."
She hesitated briefly, clasping her long, glossy black claws behind her back. "Sit down, have some tea. I've brewed relaxing herbal tea today, and I dare to say, it is quite good."
As Aldwin obeyed, even though he hardly wanted any tea at the moment, the Badger Lady continued. "The future is a bit clearer for me now. Soon, certainly before the shortest day of the winter, creatures of great importance will arrive to somewhere around our northern border, beyond the River Moss. I do not know clearly who they are, except that they will be travelers from afar, belonging to many species. Their number will be small, but the exact count of their group is not among the things known to me."
Violet paused, lowered her eyes to the table, and if Aldwin didn't know her better, he would have decided, that she gathers her courage. "But I know firmly that you'll find them in danger and despair and that, if helped in time, they will bring very important news to the Mountain. You are my best scout, bar none. Take your Galloper troop and find them, whomever and wherever they are. Bring them to me."
Aldwin remained silent for a pretty long time, sipping his tea, or rather pretending that he does.
"My Lady." He said finally, in a quiet voice that resembled hiss of a slowly drawn blade, nothing in common with his usual exuberance. "I trust you to know what you're doin' by sendin' me, of all hares, there. Just one question. If those mysterious creatures end up in paws of the Axehound otters or their underlings, and that is very much blinkin' possible that far north, am I allowed to get those paws off them with my saber?"
Violet Wildstripe shook her great striped head. "No. Most certainly not. You'll have to use that glib tongue of yours. However, I'm sure that Axehounds will only be glad if you do them a favor, and take any suspicious outsiders away to Salamandastron."
"I beg your pardon, my Lady, but I disagree here."
The Badger Lady sighed. "Why do you distrust them so much? Your grandfather was their staunch friend, and so was your father."
"Seasons know, maybe I have a different notion of honor from them. Maybe those rogue otters are not what they once were." Aldwin shrugged. "But far it be from me to disobey orders of the Lady Ruler. I'll not raise' arms against Axehounds if that is at all possible. My Gallopers will be ready to move out tomorrow."
"Then go without delay."
Aldwin rose to his paws, and was about to walk out, then remembered something. "My squad is still down to nine hares, countin' me, after the campaignin' season. Thought I'd have plenty of time to pick another young lad for the vacant spot, but now…"
"Time might be of the essence, Aldwin. Pick whomever you want, if you can find a volunteer in one day, but do not tarry!"
"Aye!"
After the captain walked out, Violet Wildstripe leaned back, suddenly feeling exhausted – but also relieved. Of course, she still had time to rescind her orders, stop Aldwin from going, but such fearful indecisiveness was beneath her. For good or ill, the first step on her chosen path was made.