56. The Walls of Castle Floret.

Even after the vermin army marched away, the field of battle remained unquiet. Flies buzzed over unburied corpses, and wings of carrion birds flapped. There weren't many crows, magpies or jackdaws in Southsward, but most of them gathered for their greatest feast in living memory.

A pair of crows about to tear into a headless carcass of a big otter dashed away in a flurry of feathers as the shadow of a bigger bird fell over them. They cawed indignant curses as a great black raven landed on their chosen morsel but one glance of the raven's jet black eyes was enough to make them decide that there is no point in picking a fight with so much carrion around.

The raven forgot about them before they even were out of sight. For a minute the black bird stared vacantly in empty space, before remembering the reason for visiting this place. Well, the second reason, besides the mind-consuming visions. The raven looked around. Then pecked at the stump of the dead otter's neck.

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Nowadays nobeast could tell with certainty how old Castle Floret was. Chronology grew vague so far back through the ages, recordings incomplete, many ancient chronicles lost. Some said it was a contemporary of the Redwall Abbey, other considered it even older. Repaired and partially rebuilt many times over the seasons, it still retained its ancient core. Built of white stone, with thick walls and tall, graceful towers capped with red-tiled conical roofs, the Castle Floret was a magnificent sight. It fell to enemies a few times in the past – once to trickery, once to treachery, once to a sneak attack through its secret passages, and once to a protracted siege. But never to a direct assault.

Eikeru Manybattles did not know that, but could guess as much. As the black rat walked towards the castle gates under the white flag of parlay, she couldn't help but marvel at the height of the walls, number and might of the towers, elaborateness of battlements and crenellations, and width of the moat. The Seacrag Castle was like a toy next to this. A few dozens of fighters atop these creamy-colored walls could easily repel the whole vermin army.

Eikeru was not sure whether there were even a few fighters within, never mind a few dozens. From the prisoners she knew that every beast in the castle with strength and temperament to hold a weapon followed their King to war. Cubs, old cripples, housewifes and serving girls were no fighting force, walls or not. But who knew how many runaways from the battle were now up here? The Southsward host took horrific casualties, and as far as Eikeru knew, their best and brightest, the otterguards and the castle squirrels, fell almost to a beast. But by her guessstimation about enough common woodlanders have escaped the battle to match the surviving vermin in number. Scattering leaderless in every direction they were no threat. But defending the strongest castle anybeast could imagine…

So upon seeing Castle Floret with the gates closed and moat raised, obviously ready for an attack, Eikeru and other commanders agreed that the best option would be to intimidate whatever creatures were inside into surrendering. And for that purpose the entire army, over a thousand of armed beasts, was arrayed on the low hills overlooking the valley at the center of which Castle Floret stood, with weapons drawn, armor polished and flags flying.

Maybe this show of force had the intended effect. Even though the vermin, save for Eikeru and her small party, were well out of range, she could see few woodlanders on the wall, and even those seemed afraid to as much as stick their heads out of cover to peer.

"I wanna talk with whomever commands this castle!" Eikeru shouted.

For a time there was silence. Then a beast moved atop the wall and stood straight in the open behind a crenel. Eikeru strained her eyes, trying to detect every detail about him, but could not spot much – a squirrel male, clearly no longer young, with a handsome – at least for a squirrel – face, covered in heavy drab green cloak below the neck… "I command Castle Floret now. You wanted to talk? Talk."

Eikeru took a heavy roll of cloth from one of the soldiers following her and threw it to the ground, so that it unwrapped as it fell. Outspread on the ground before the eyes of everybeast on the wall was the royal banner of Southsward, torn and stained. Then Eikeru threw the silver circlet of the crown over the banner. "Yer army, yer best warriors, yer commanders and yer King are gone. We've crushed 'em! This war is over. Open the gate, and yer lives will be spared – on that I swear by all four seasons. Fight, and die – all of ye, down to the smallest whelp!"

The squirrel leaned far forward, as if unable to believe the sight before his eyes and trying to look closer. His movements seemed awkward to Eikeru, who kept watching him carefully. He steadied himself against the stone with only his right paw. Was the left in a sling, under his cloak? "If King Gwynfren is gone, why you've brought only his crown but not his head on a pike?"

"Because Lubrok needs his hide scourged off his back, that's why!" Eikeru thought angrily. The stoat and his soldiers still hadn't returned. "Because, by the fang, it wouldn't be lookin' much like him after a few days of summer heat! We'd be prepared to storm yer walls in three days! Ye have that many days to think! If by the fourth day we won't see the open gates before us, those still livin' among ye will envy the dead!"

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"Looks like the preybeasts still have some fight in them."

Rugger the Black, who was watching Eikeru's party return to the vermin lines, turned towards the vixen who made the observation. Today Rugger was not wearing his black cloth mask, despite Ubel's insistence that for important occasions he should not flaunt his ruined muzzle. But the black fox seemed to enjoy quickly averted eyes and other signs of revulsion – and attempts to hide those when he looked – that his injury provoked among other vermin. "And?"

"And that's good news for real fightin' beasts like us. More chances for blood and glory." Windflight the vixen – and now the captain of her own corsair crew – looked back at him. The left side of Rugger's face was a hideous sight, with half of his gum gone and remaining molars visible even with the mouth closed, but Windflight did not seem to be the least bit repelled.

"Like us? You seem to have a high opinion of yourself."

"Fits a cap'n." Windflight grinned, but Rugger was not amused.

"In the last battle I was where the fighting was fiercest, against their royal guard. I haven't seen you anywhere close, vixen. And I don't see a fighting beast "like me" here. Want to talk like this? Take a dozen of heads in a fight or be the first to scale those walls." The black fox nodded in the direction of the castle. "Show me how much of a fighter you are."

Windflight was pretty close to showing that on the spot by the moment Rugger finished speaking – she bristling, her teeth bared. But she did not miss the fact that his paw strayed to the sword hilt as he was speaking. Was the bloodthirsty fox just provoking her into starting a fight? Instead of striking, Windflight snarled. "Oh, I'll show ye all right! Just ye wait!"

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Eikeru's internal questions about Lubrok's whereabouts were answered soon after returning to the camp, when he and his surviving subordinates were escorted to her tent just as he discussed her plans with Enjo Greencloak. One look at their much reduced number, weary postures and gloomy expressions relayed to her the gist of the news.

"Out!" she barked addressing the guards who followed Lubrok's group. As soon as they were gone, she seized the exhausted stoat by his chest fur and snarled right at his face. "Where is the Squirreking? What happened to yer beasts? Speak!"

By the time Lubrok's tale was finished, Eikeru was swiping her tail from side to side, her wrath barely contained. But contained after all. She thought of massacring the remnants of the score on the spot, so that they wouldn't talk – the four vermin had no weapons, her pawpicked guards wouldn't have asked any questions… And wrath made that thought pleasant indeed. But half the camp must have seen them crawling back beaten and disarmed. Their murder would have spawned speculations and rumors more dangerous than even the truth. "Hellsteeth and darkness! If ye knew what's good to ye, ye would keep yer mouths shut about everythin' those hares or whatever told ye! Ye were seized by some strange warriors, and escaped on yer own, that's all, heard me, ye worthless, gutless slugs?"

She watched the four vermin furiously nodding in confirmation then snarled more loudly. "Now get out of my sight!"

They were only to glad to follow that order, leaving Eikeru fuming. She had no particular illusions about the ability of common vermin to keep their mouths shut.

"That bizarre band seeks to put fear into our beast, methinks," Enjo observed.

Eiekeru turned and swiftly walked up to him, high bad temper helping her to forget her usual unease before the far bigger and stronger rat. "Well, ain't ye a sharp one? Next ye're goin' to tell me that the sun rises in the east?"

Enjo chuckled. "I'm goin' to tell ye that while our army is winnin' tricks like these ain't good for much besides some laughs. Threats of the weak are cheap like snow in winter. An' we have just the right plan to win here…"

"It's a risky plan."

"Ah my soon-to-be-queen. Ye spent too many seasons landlocked on Ergaph. These are not wary preybeasts ye got used to. These are woodland bumpkins who haven't seen real war in bloody ages – naive as babes, not a shred of guile in 'em. Shark eat my tail if they aren't thinkin' they have three more nights to safely snore in their beds! And with just a bit of luck their beds would be where we'll catch the whole lot!"

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The second night of Castle Floret's siege was cloudy, with a drizzling rain. Ideal for a surprise assault, in theory. The practice was proving to be less than completely smooth, to Enjo's exasperation.

In a day and a half Enjo's corsairs and Eikeru's soldiers managed to make a very simple improvised bridge – they cut down a young and slender tree, leaving on it enough branches to serve as pawholds. However – there the problems began – the unwieldy trunk, proved difficult to haul around in pitch dark, particularly when ruckus and noise had to be avoided. The progress was slow and became even slower when the assault party reached rising slopes of the plateau on which the castle stood. Paws slid on dirt and wet grass. Beasts stumbled into each other, hit each other with every protruding part of the improvised siege device and stepped on paws and tails. Probably only Enjo's promise to strangle the first beast to break the silence with his own paws kept curses muffled and squabbles whispered. At least fires lit in Castle Floret made losing the direction impossible. Still, Enjo wondered whether the night sky already would have started to brighten if not for the shroud of rainclouds by the time they were at the moat.

Arrow slits on towertops still were glowing with torchlight, but it did not reach the moat and the vermin crowding before it. If any sentries were keeping watch up there, their own light was blinding them. Enjo was more concerned about their hearing. A hundred of beasts could not hope to maintain total quiet while crossing the moat and climbing the walls. Enjo hoped that in this hour inexperienced woodlanders would be sleeping on their posts.

With barely contained grunts of exertion the tree trunk was extended over the moat, the far end sinking into mud and water just shallowly enough for a beast to easily jump on the dry ground. Enjo was the first on the other side, then more corsairs started trickling over it, swiftly filling the narrow strip of earth between the moat and the wall. Lack of reaction within the castle so far was encouraging, but Enjo still couldn't shake off unease.

"What we're waitin' for?"

Enjo found that he could see the vixen who angrily whispered the question better than he expected. Was it indeed dawning already? This fact did not change his answer. "We're waitin' till enough beasts can climb at once, Windfight."

The vixen hissed through her teeth but did not object.

Nearly the entire vermin army was massing before the wall or watching in the field, ready for the gate to open, but the assault party itself consisted almost entirely of corsairs. Used to climb the rigging of their ships, they were the most suited for the task at paw. Quite soon a hundred of seavermin was on the other side of the moat, the biggest and brawniest among them ready to throw the grapnel hooks. There was still no sound from the castle. Or was there? Near-absolute silence briefly reigned below the wall, as the vermin around Enjo waited for orders. And the rat captain used it to stand on the tips of his toes, stretch his neck and listen very carefully. What was it? A faint rustle of multiple pawsteps above? Or were those sounds coming from the other side of the moat, from the main army? Or were his ears and nerves just playing tricks on him, maybe? For a very long second Enjo froze, struggling with doubt, Eikeru's word of caution surfacing in his mind. But… beating a retreat because of mere doubt would have made him a laughingstock. In Eikeru's eyes and everybeast else's.

Enjo whirled the heavy grapnel hook in his paw and launched it upwards. The throw was good – the iron claws immediately caught stone of the crenellation. The sound of metal hitting and scratching stone served as a signal for the rest of the hook throwers to follow their leader's example. Enjo tugged the rope a couple of times – but the hook seemed to hold solidly.

"Lemme go first, Cap'n," Barkface took the rope from Enjo's paws. Enjo did not object. His first mate was an excellent climber, and Enjo himself just an average one – being so big and massive for a rat had drawbacks. And to be honest, tonight Enjo was not in haste to lead his beasts from the front. He let a couple more eager corsairs start climbing after Barkface.

So when everything went straight to Hellgates Enjo was still at the base of the wall.

"Strike!" The voice from above rang like steel. And then the gloom of early dawn exploded with shouts, whistle of missiles, splashes of water and screams of pain. The walltop came alive with beasts, scores of them, throwing javelins and rocks, cutting into ropes and howling like no creature Enjo had heard before. Arrows and crossbow bolts flew through murder holes in the overhanging battlement. Corsairs, hanging to the ropes, or crowded on the narrow ground below, with no shields or armor that could impede their climb, with nothing that could allow them to retaliate, were easy targets even in the near-dark. Some of the vermin archers beyond the moat attempted to intervene after the first few moments of shock and surprise – but the moat was wide, the wall high, and so their shooting was inaccurate, more threatening the corsairs still hanging to the wall than the woodlanders on top of it. The battle was one-sided.

But few battles are one-sided entirely. Some of the climbing corsairs were struck dead, others plunged down when their ropes got severed, and yet others jumped off on their own will. But one got lucky. Windflight was a dexterous vixen with long limbs and sure grip. The ambush, the sudden danger that left many of the corsairs paralyzed with fright only gave her an extra burst of speed. Straining her muscles and tendons to the limit, she reached the walltop just in time to see a strange smaller creature she could not properly recognize in the dark, some sort of rodent, hastily sawing through her rope. The creature saw her at the same time, but Windflight was faster. Holding onto the rock with her left paw, she grabbed the curved dagger that was held in her teeth and slashed with desperate strength. The strike was true. The creature fell back, clutching at the terrible wound at his neck. Three heartbeats later Windflight stood in the crenel. Another rodent tried to stab at her footpaw and she sent him flying off the inner side of the wall with a kick. And that gave her just enough of a respite to realize that the battlement was positively swarming with defenders – squirrels, and many of those new creatures, and wait, was there a rat? There was no time to look closer – a half-dozen of foes already turned towards her, raising spears and javelins.

Windflight's courage abandoned her in that moment. She turned and jumped off the wall, propelling herself far into the air with all the might of her footpaws, flying beyond the hard ground, right into the deep water of the moat.

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Ubel, who stood with his bodyguards down on the slope in a safe distance from the walls, allowed himself to smirk. No doubt, had the little plan of two rats been successful, they would have started disposing of real and potential rivals in the vermin ranks, Ubel himself included, before the next sunset.

Then a stoat standing behind Ubel's left shoulder suddenly wobbled, slumped against the white ferret and fell. From the back of his neck protruded a grey-feathered arrow.

Once again Sheska reacted to an unexpected development faster than her master. She tackled Ubel, bringing him to the ground and covering him with her own body. "Move, ye dolts! Catch the assassin! That direction!"

But of course, the mysterious archer once again refused to wait and be caught.

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Enjo stopped and took a look back as soon as he was far enough from the wall to be reasonably safe from missiles. Only about half of the corsairs made it back to the valley floor. And among those who did not make it… Enjo could not see Barkface's body, but he knew it was here, broken by the fall.

When he turned away, right before him was Eikeru, livid with rage. "«Not a shred of guile in 'em», eh? Look where yer bold plan got us, ye timber-headed, feather-brained…"

Enjo struck like lightning, sending Eikeru spinning to the ground before she could move a finger. The couple of ferrets serving as her bodyguards backed away after one look at Enjo. Soaked in water and mud, wet fur tightly clinging to bulging muscles, breathing heavily, the face twisted in a snarl, paws clenched into fists, shaking with fury, the big rat was a fearsome sight.

Eikeru slowly sat and wiped blood from her mouth. The two rats looked at each other. Then Enjo turned and stormed away without a word.

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In the grayness of the morning, Belk the Fair counted the dead vermin below the wall. From this distance the fallen looked quite innocuous – some resembled broken and discarded toys, other seemed merely taking a nap in the wrong place. He finished his count at twoscore and four. And no doubt some of those vermin who escaped had bad wounds.

"Jihon and Arrish are dead. And Jaraina is dying," Jeibras reported to Belk just as he finished. "Four of ours got wounded by arrows. And about castle beasts or rats," Jeibras frowned, "none lost, just a few scratches, tchah."

Belk sighed. All in all, a clear victory. From the moment when the rat commander gave Floret's defenders so much time to think, Belk suspected foul play. His suspicions were correct and his trap had worked almost perfectly. Yet he did not feel any sort of elation. In his forty seasons as a Warrior of Redwall he prided himself on maintaining peace in Mosslfower with very little bloodshed. But now…

"So, you took out fifty vermin out of a thousand. Great. What you'll have us do now, Belk of Redwall?"

Belk suppressed another sigh as he turned to the beast who asked the question. Seneschal Walmond, the mouse left to take care of Castle Floret in absence of the King and his chief courtiers, was an old beast. His age alone demanded respect, never mind his position. And, after all, he let Belk and his horde of foreigners into the castle, if only because they arrived shortly after the news of the disastrous defeat. But Belk wondered if Walmond really started regretting that decision after Belk made it clear who is going to be in command until King Gwynfren or at least some Southswarder with authority and military experience is available to take charge. Or if he just was naturally cranky.

"Now," Belk answered, "we'll have to strengthen our defenses and endure the siege."

"Oh, is that it? And do you really hope to drive the vermin away from our land this way?"

"No, that is not what I hope for." Belk shook his head. "Wars are not won solely by holding the walls, and even these walls won't hold forever. My only hope is to show the rest of Southsward that the vermin are not unstoppable. To be honest that is only hope for everybeast within these walls."