28. The Ruler of the Abyss.
Belk knew that Great Gorge is not likely to be completely impassable, without any trails and paths leading down and up. He just has no hope of finding them in a reasonable amount of time. But jerbilrats, who lived around the gorge since the times of their distant forefathers, knew said paths well, so getting on the other side of the massive chasm was definitely possible with their help, Gerrul already said that.
The trouble was, they had no intention of helping until Belk visits that mysterious Ruler of the Abyss. The squirrel warrior did not like both the title and the hushed tone in which jerbilrats spoke of that being. But it was clear, that jerbilrats also had no intention of letting them go now. A number of smaller tribes and family groups flocked to Gerrul's tribe, once the news of the prophecy finally coming to pass spread among their cave dwellings, Belk saw, that he and Myns are being watched at all times, even if watchers tried to be as unobtrusive and deferential as possible, and he did not fancy his changes against a whole hundred of foes, no matter how poorly armed they were.
Now, when the two squirrels walked down a narrow, winding path in the gorge's wall, escorted by a procession of jerbilrats, Belk wondered whether he should have take taken said chances, after all. Above, at its edge and upper reaches, the Great Gorge felt awe-inspiring to Belk and Myns, like any wonder of nature. But as they descended lower and lower, that feelings changed. Of course, like nearly all squirrels, the pair had no fear of heights, so walking a difficult trail over the rift that still seemed bottomless did not depress their morale. The feeling of slowly descending into gloomy depths of the very underworld, where sunrays reached uncertainly even at midday, where even moss and lichens did not grow; the feeling of immense and immensely old masses of stone looming over them ominously, as if ready to crash together again, leaving not even a trace of puny creatures, who dared to walk here; these feelings did.
"This is no place for a beast to live," whispered Myns.
Belk was of the same mind, but felt he has to say something uplifting. "Oh, I'm sure plenty of moles might disagree."
"Here, here, come here." Gerrul himself, who led the way, motioned nervously towards a jagged crack in the gorge wall, big enough for a squirrel to walk through. "That's the door, the entrance to the Ruler's realm."
"We'll need a torch." Belk peered into the darkness inside.
Gerrul backed away a step. "Tch, the Ruler doesn't like when we bring torches here. We dare not disobey."
Belk answered calmly, hiding his nervousness. "Then I'll disobey him for you."
"There is no need." A female voice sounded from the darkness, seeming deeper that it was, thanks to the echoing walls. "The Ruler of the Abyss already knows that you, the Foretold One, is here, and sends us to welcome you."
A thin creature stepped out, clad in a long, well-worn cloak with a cowl, carrying a carved staff. Even in shadows of the Great Gorge, Belk could see the face of an aged black rat beneath the cowl, and while Gerrul bowed, almost touching the ground with his nose, the squirrel promptly drew the Sword of Martin:
"If you led us into a trap..."
"Lower your weapon, warrior." The rat spread her paws. "I'm just an unarmed messenger of my Master, sent to escort you. There is no ambush, we bear no ill will towards you. You can have your torch, if you please."
Belk didn't really believe her, at least the "no ill will" part. Not only she – and, in all likelihood, her Master – weren't clearly vermin, they had to be dangerous enough to clearly frighten jerbilrats. But fighting through a horde of rodents, waiting above, while standing on an uncertain ground was an alternative he did not dare to try, when Myns burdened him.
"My wife is going with me, I won't leave her alone."
The rat only nodded.
If lower levels of the abyss itself were oppressive, then the lair of its ruler was frightening. Air was musty here, and sometimes, when stone passages narrowed, rocks hedging in from all sides, Belk and Myns couldn't help but shudder, thinking in unison of a stone grave. Yet when passages turned into caves, walls disappearing in the blackness, beyond their tiny red circle of torchlight, foreboding merely changed – who knew, what vermin or worse could lurk just beyond their sight? Belk never sheathed the sword.
Yet no one jumped out of darkness to ambush them, and much less time actually passed, than it seemed to the two squirrels, when they reached a small cave, that, unlike others, was lit by a bonfire – yellow, sulfurous flame danced in a stone circle, smoke being drained through a crevice in the ceiling.
"O Zarfayn, Ruler of the Abyss, I, your lowly slave, brought to you beasts you sent me to bring."
Beyond the bonfire sat a creature that, as Belk thought, was not a ruler for nothing. A mustelid likes of which the squirrel warrior had never seen, about the size of an otter, but bulkier, with bulging muscles, paws like tree roots, and big, ugly head like a battering ram, connected to mighty shoulders by a very short neck.
Belk's attention was instantly drawn to this obviously dangerous creature, so the answer to the rat's words took him completely by surprise, for it came not from the brute, but from what he mistook for a pile of blankets:
"G… good. Now go. And you two… step closer. Let me... let me see you".
The voice was very weak, as if the beast, who was now trying to move, had no strength to talk, yet the words mostly sounded clear. As the big mustelid turned to the speaker, helping him to assume a sitting position, Belk did step closer – he too wanted to see, what sort of creature among vermin could command such a powerful beast.
He regretted this desire immediately. Myns gasped, and he could not blame her. For the two squirrels, who already knew the struggle with advancing age, the Ruler of the Abyss looked like a corpse-strewn field of defeat might look for a soldier. The Ruler, Zarfayn, was probably a weasel, or at least Belk thought so – with not a trace of old markings left on completely grey fur, on hide hanging from his bent limbs like clothes from a line, on face, where only splotches of fur were left among dry and wrinkled skin, with body gnarled and twisted, it was hard to tell. One of Zarfayn's eyes was white and blind, other runny and blinking.
"Yes… yes I see you, traveler. Step closer… do not be afraid of Shlacht, he's an obedient boy… Let me see your sword."
Belk made one more cautious step, extending his sword paw, so that the weasel could see the legendary blade more clearly. Zarfayn wiped his working eye and took a long look. The squirrel warrior looked at the creature too. He felt a shiver of dread and disgust, when he realized, that a part of the Ruler's bed was formed by a beast's hide – of very unusual, pearly-white color. Before Belk managed to think of something to say, Zarfayn spoke:
"Yes… the beast of woodlands… the sword of legend… the sword of one who persists beyond death. You are the… the one whose coming I have foreseen all those seasons ago. The Foretold One, they say… Name yourself."
"I am Belk, also called Belk the Fair, the former Abbey Warrior of Redwall, and this is my beloved wife, Myns."
"Belk, erhhh… You do not trust me, Belk, I know."
The squirrel warrior shrugged, and answered honestly. "You probably do have prophetic powers, far it be from me to doubt, that there are a few true Seers among your kind. What I doubt is goodness of your intent."
Zarfayn produces a wheezing, rattling sound. It took a few seconds for the squirrels to realize that he was laughing.
"Do not worry, Belk… My intent… my intent is to help you. Not out of goodness of my heart, no... In cold dreams, I have seen that one day you will come… and then you will go, driven by fate. You will go to fight against the beast that I hate more than even being this old."
"You know something about my quest?"
"Yes… yes, I do. Not all… but I saw that a beast of destiny... armed with sword that has no equals... will travel to the southern kingdom through my land. And I know whom you will face there. But now go, have rest… you must be tired from your journey. I am tired too, need to sleep… gather my strength before we talk."
Belk slowly nodded, and turned to leave, then reluctantly remembered something and stopped:
"And what about jerbilrats? They told me…"
"Jerbilrats?" Zarfayn looked as if trying to remember something. "Ah, them… I will tell you all in due time."
When Belk and Myns left, escorted by another black rat, Zarfayn remained still and silent. Shlacht, who watched him raptly, started to think, that the ancient creature had drifted back to sleep already, when the rag-like lips moved:
"If only I saw him coming alone... with just the sword and his wife. Then jerbilrats would be enough… If only…"
The huge mustelid froze in shock. Zarfayn never talked to himself, and only once in Shlacht's memory he had ever admitted to being in error about anything! Did he finally succumbed to senility? But the Ruler of the Abyss was back in no time:
"Shlacht. Call Ezri. Tell her to bring all of my herbs and potions."
Soon Ezri, the same black rat that met Belk and Myns at the entrance, was laying snakeskin pouches, tiny clay pots and wisps of dry plants before Zarfayn. Upon listening to instructions about which herbs to brew, she had to comment, if only because of suspicion that this was another test:
"But drinking that will be risky, Master. Your heart may fail."
Zarfayn glared at her angrily with his remaining eye:
"Do you think I not remember? Do you?" He coughed, then continued, in a weaker tone. "I need more vigor... I need that."
With an effort, he rolled to face the giant mustelid:
"Shlacht."
"Yes, father?" The brute lowered his head.
Zarfayn remained silent, for a long time. "Father?" asked Shlacht again, a hint of impatience in his voice.
The ancient one's mottled claws clutched the white hide, on which he was lying, as he answered:
"Shlacht. You are… you are very strong. If they survive my ploy tomorrow… I command you to kill them. I command you to seize the red-pommel sword. And make sure it never reaches the southern lands."