57. In the Different Camps.

Southsward, just as thousand of seasons ago, in times of Gael Squirrelking, was mostly covered with forest. Even near Castle Floret fields, gardens and roads were mere islands in the wild green sea. Accordingly, it was not difficult at all to find plenty of hiding places for sixteen experienced beasts.

Much more difficult for sixteen experienced beasts burdened with a small horde of mothers and babes, old and infirm. Which started accumulating around them as soon as they passed through the first settlement where the news of the great defeat were already known. With the help of locals, Aldwin picked a good secluded hollow amidst a labyrinth of windbreak and brambles, with a stream providing enough water for everybeast. For now it sufficed. But even Rowanbloom knew, from her experience with the Marroch's band, that once vermin foragers start asking themselves where all the beasts from abandoned settlements went, finding the answer wouldn't be terribly difficult. She knew that Aldwin hoped to raise an army, but… to her own surprise, Rowanbloom found herself doubting this idea, despite many of the legends of Redwall. She spent too much of her life amidst hard beasts, from vermin raiders to Long Patrol hares, and seeing what normal, peaceful woodlanders were like when confronted with invasion and defeat – paralyzed by fear as if a viper's hypnotic glare was fixing them – shocked her. If not for arrival of Aldwin and the rest of the strange company, they probably would have kept arguing whether to run or hide, fight or submit, right until the moment of vermin kicking in their doors.

Of course, she hastily reminded herself, some of them still were brave and stalwart creatures. Like her current patient. She heard that losing a footpaw, particularly at a young age, could break creatures. She saw one of Marroch's beasts hiding the severity of his foot wound from everybeast, until he got blood poisoning – though that might have been because the band had no use for a beast permanently unable to walk. But Gwynfren Squirrelking withstood both the amputation itself – even though Rowanbloom had no means to more than somewhat dull the pain – and its results with clenched-jaw stoicism that was admirable but at the same time slightly unnerving in a beast so young.

"Thank you. Your food is delicious as always." Gwynfren nodded politely when Rowanbloom brought him his supper, a bowl of vegetable soup. Eskil, his last remaining otterguard, brought the King to sit in the shade under an old alder tree, from where much of the hollow could be seen.

"I'm flattered – my cooking is complemented by a King," Rowanbloom smiled to him.

"I'm just telling the truth," Gwynfren told her. "As a cook and as a healer you're equally good. And as a healer – can you make me a good crutch and maybe a peg leg too?"

Rowanbloom's expression instantly became stern. "It's far too early for you to walk! Do you want to fall and hurt yourself even worse?"

Gwynfren closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree, speaking in a tired tone. "You said yesterday Captain Aldwin wants to raise another army of woodlanders to defend… to retake Southsward from vermin. Do you think he can?"

"I'm… not sure," Rowanbloom answered honestly. "Every villager seems so lost."

"You cannot blame them. A King is the embodiment of the whole country, and the country is a reflection of a ruling King. A flaw in him will bring woe and ill fortune to entire Southsward. Therefore, any Squirrelking must be sound of body and mind. My body you see for yourself. As about my mind, what creature wouldn't doubt judgment of a King who led a mighty army to battle and returned with just one beast? And yet, if I'm unfit to rule, who could possibly take the crown, if it is to be recovered from vermin one day? There is only one other heir whose blood is not in doubt, and if Melayna even escaped the battle alive, she's still a female – no female sat on the throne in Castle Floret for three thousands of seasons. To beasts who don't read old and dusty histories, this length of time is simply "ever". No wonder woodlanders of Southsward feel lost. They look at me and wonder if both the line of their kings and their country are ending. I cannot do any brave deeds to convince them otherwise, and I have no brilliant plan to defeat the invaders. The only thing within my power is to go among my people, show them that their Squirrelking is still with them, wounded but not broken, and so their country is not done for either. To help Aldwin rally them. But for that I must be able to walk. As soon as possible. And you have to help me."

Gwynfren opened his eyes to look at Rowanbloom and found that he had more than one listener. Eskil, who was returning to his charge, walked from behind the big alder just in time to hear most of Gwynfren's speech.

"Oh." Gwynfren looked down. "That didn't sound very king-like, I know."

"No." Eskil lowered to one knee before the smaller form of his ruler and put his paw on Gwynfren's shoulders. "Never before I heard you sounding more like a true Squirrelking. One which I'm proud to serve."

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The Ergaph survivors, three woodlanders and four vermin, kept camping together since starting their journey south. While Selvathy hardly ever talked to Kethra and Suran, at least she wasn't going out of her way to pick fights with them, so a degree of peace was maintained in the small company.

When Rowanbloom returned from bringing Gwynfren his supper, she found the rest of them, except for Suran, gathered around a sizeable tree stump for a bout of pawwrestling. At the moment Ewalt was testing the strength of their paws against Smalltooth, and the mouse was not having an easy time. The ermine has reached his full growth, unimpressive for his species but still a head taller than Ewalt, and built quite a bit of muscle after spending the last few moons eating well and exercising. Nobeast could call him a runt anymore. The opponents grunted, their brows wet with sweat, pushing to overpower each other. Just as Rowanbloom walked closer, Ewalt's paw started verging towards the stump's surface, slowly, slowly… Smalltooth's whole body tensed like a bowstring, the ermine eager to finish the contest… and then his footpads slid on the grass, throwing him off balance. Before anybeast could blink, the back of Smalltooth's paw hit the wood with an audible thump.

"Oh by Vulpuz' ice claws!" Smalltooth shook his half-numbed paw. "Why can't I beat you today?"

"Fates are not on your side." Ewalt almost smiled. "Don't fret, today is not our last day."

Meanwhile Rowanbloom looked around. Suran was nowhere near. She felt a twinge of worry. Woodlanders in the camp could not hide their distrust and dislike of the four vermin in their midst, however fervently she, Aldwin and the rest vouched for them. And Suran was the type to pick fights easily.

"Where's Suran?" she asked. "Maybe somebeast should go tell him that supper is ready?"

"I'll go," Ewalt volunteered.

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However he wanted, Suran Longspear could not deny the signs of his advancing age, particularly as they seemed to be growing worse since their group left Salamandastron. Pain in his left shoulder, injured by Rugger three seasons ago in Seacrag Castle returned to him on every rainy day, now joined by aches in other old wounds, from the stump of his ear to those he already forgot about. He felt winded from exertions that would have been merely warm-ups in his prime. Maybe his mind too was showing cracks of age – ever since visiting the Mountain he was plagued by nightmares intermittently.

Of course, he kept all of that to himself. Even Kethra… with the mantle of the best vermin warrior in their small group obviously passing to her, her newfound confidence and a number of the woodlanders seeming to truly enjoy her company, she already needed Suran little enough… But of course keeping all of that to himself made Suran irritable. More and more often he preferred the company of his own thoughts. Now he sat on the grass a bit beyond the edge of the camp, watching flowing waters of the stream.

"Here you are."

The old fox nearly jumped. While probably not even trying to, Ewalt managed to sneak up on him. Well, that was the Ghost for you.

"Come and eat. Before Rowanbloom's soup grows cold."

The fox snorted. The thought of the stuff that the squirrel decided to cook today aroused his irritation rather than his appetite – only woodlanders could possibly like boiled vegetables without even a hint of fish or bird. He stared at Ewalt. "Don't think growing cold can make that slop any worse."

The mouse looked at him disapprovingly. "Did anybeast say to you that your mood is always foul as of late?"

Suran snorted again. "You're the first to say out loud. Do I owe you congratulations for that?"

"No." Ewalt looked towards the camp before turning back to Suran. "If something bothers you…"

"Something bothers me? Bloody right, something does!" The fox would rather have pulled his own tongue out with red-hot tongs than admitted his growing weakness to others, but finding an external grievance to voice was not hard. "How about some snotty hares saying that after sailing across the ocean, walking through half the coast, and bleeding and killing for revenge I should not take revenge properly? Well, not that you, of all beasts, would know anything about revenge. I was in Kunas' army too, I fought your tribesbeasts, and look at you, trying to be my friend!"

Ewalt did pretty well keeping visible calm, but very few beasts could consciously control bristling of their fur. Suran saw – to his satisfaction – that the mouse is very angry. Still, Ewalt's answer was level. "My father and grandfather said to me: when a beast gifts you with a weapon in your hour of need that makes him a true friend, and when two beasts save each other's lives in turn that makes them as brothers. I never asked to have a friend or a brother like you. But looks like destiny doesn't…"

"And who are you to look down on me like this and wrinkle your nose?!" Suran did not contain his own anger half as well. "You arrogant, self-absorbed walking crow bait!"

"«Arrogant»? «Self-absorbed»? That's rich, coming from you."

For a few seconds Suran was glaring at Ewalt, anger glowing like fire in his eyes, raising his hackles, twisting his lips into a snarl. Even with the fox sitting, his face was on the same level as Ewalt's. The mouse glared back, blue eyes meeting orange.

Then the fox laughed. Not a stunted fake laugh, but a hearty one that shook his whole body, made some of the beasts back at the camp look at their direction, and took Ewalt aback.

"You were saying something about destiny?" Suran pointed at Ewalt. "Guess fate wasn't blind when it drawn us together, you know. Like is attracted to the like and all that."

Ewalt stood still, unsure what to say. Finally, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Suran. It was unbecoming of me. I called you a comrade and a friend, but…"

"Aaah, don't worry about it," Suran waved his paw. "Holding not cutting my throat while I sleep against you was pretty daft on my part. Oh well. Let's not keep Rowanbloom and her soup waiting anymore."

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Suran resumed their conversation when they were back at their campfire and their bowls were empty.

"Mind if I ask you a question, Ewalt? About revenge, I mean." When the mouse nodded, he continued. "I said some dumb things earlier… but I must admit, I was quite surprised when you, whom beasts back on Ergaph called the Ghost from Hellgates, did not raise your voice against letting that bunch of old-time Kunas' lickspittles we caught go. When I, and Kethra, and Tezza did. Why?"

"Maybe because Ewalt is not you?" Selvathy, who sat nearby patching a fresh tear in her jerkin, and heard the question, could not keep herself from answering in Ewalt's place.

"Believe me or not, my fair ottermaid, I've noticed. And I'm asking why."

"I think he's not wrong to ask that, Selvathy."

"Of course I'm not. So what would your answer be?"

"That Aldwin's reasoning is good." Ewalt looked at the distance, remembering the hare captain's words. "We are only fifteen warriors and a healer, and however spiffin' warriors we are, I say that's a bit too few to fight a war all on our own. Without an army there no hope of winnin', if I say so. We lucked out to save the young King, and under his banner it could mustered. But could a new army prevail after the best and bravest of Southsward tried and were bally well scattered like leaves by the gale? Our foes would be givin' battle in a hostile land, many days of travel away from their ships. A host of hardened battlers knowin' they have to win or die would be awfully hard to break. That is, if winnin' or dyin' would be their only visible choices. But what if we add, "surrenderin'" to that, wot?"

"Suuure. If I was Ubel, Eikeru, or whomever is really in power now, and if I feared some of my fighters might be thinking about laying down their arms, I'd just use some captives to bind them all by spilled blood, so they'd have to swim or sink together. Maybe that already happened. Nah, methinks Aldwin is just soft-hearted. And he has nothing to avenge, after all. But you, Ewalt?" Suran shook his head. "At times I do not understand you, woodlanders."

Ewalt still did not look at Suran. "I want my revenge, yes. But most of all I want us to prevail. And as swiftly as possible. Maybe Aldwin's plan is not good, but do you have a better one? Anybeast can grumble and doubt."

"Marroch liked to say something like this, you know."

"By the way. May I ask you a question in turn: how it happened that Marroch's band spared you?"

"Well, I won't lie, that evening I thought I got from the frying pan into the fire. Would have fought them, if only I wasn't wounded about five times when escaping from Kunas and the rest of his army of bloody betrayers. Maybe I was saved by, you know, my natural charm. Or maybe Marroch's heart never overruled his mind, and his mind told him that a warrior like me was going to be of great use."

"And why my mind can't tell me that some undeserved mercy might be of great use in winning this war?"

"Mercy, hm," Suran grinned, showing his teeth, still good and sharp. "You see, Kethra once told me that Marroch planned to cut my throat after Kunas is gone. Did he plan that only at first or until the end, I wonder. I also wonder what Aldwin plans to do with all those prisoners, once the war is won."

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"Who are ye?" Eikeru was not nicknamed Manybattles for lack of experience, and that experience made her a light sleeper. Before a beast who stepped into her tent could even touch her, she sprung into the sitting position, holding the curved dagger she kept under her pillow.

"E… Eikeru, m'lady, King, I mean, Seien, is summonin' ye. He said ye must come right away!" The frightened voice was quite familiar – Singe the stoat, one of her loyal beasts.

"Bloody brat! Now, Singe, run, gather as many of ours as ye can. Move, haul yer paws!" Not being visited by an assassin was a relief, but Eikeru still felt a heavy lump in her stomach. Besides the fact that never before Seien got brazen enough to summon her, like she was a mere servant, it was still almost dark. If the little King merely wanted to talk, why so unreasonably early? She could smell something foul brewing.

After a rain in the night, this early morning was fresh, wet and pretty cold for the season, with thin chilly mist still blanketing the ground in places. By the time Eikeru donned her clothes, armor and cloak, a dozen of vermin gathered outside of the tent, out of about a score of her usual toadies. She surveyed them glumly. Was Singe merely unable to find the rest in time, or did they refuse to come?

"Follow me." Eikeru decided it was not a good time to ask.

Seien's tent was surrounded by vermin – score commanders and distinguished warriors of the waking army, and many of the corsairs, as far as Eiekeru could see in the murk. The crowd parted before Eikeru and her retinue, though without too much haste. She did not like at all how brazenly some of the vermin glared at her, and she could swear that she saw some mocking smirks. But now she could only pretend to notice nothing. That impudence was entirely Enjo's fault! Eikeru hoped that her humiliation two days ago would go unnoticed in the darkness of that early morning and chaos of retreat, but it seemed that the whole army was talking how she got beaten down like a slave before the sun was above horizon. Of course, nobeast cared that Enjo was born with twice her muscle, or that her bodyguards proved to be worthless, or that she was both too surprised to react and nearly unconscious! All the rank-and-file vermin heard was that Eikeru, for all her boasts of seeing more battles than any of them, refused to answer the most direct challenge possible. Eikeru lived this long because she picked her fights and confrontations carefully, and now Enjo, that overgrown lump of a grey rat ruined her carefully cultivated image of a level-headed but courageous captain at the worst possible moment!

Despite these thoughts, outwardly she was all confidence as she stepped in the middle of the circle of beasts – back straight, chin high, looking straight forward.

Seien was sitting on the trophy throne before his tent. His mother, Marda, stood behind his right shoulder. And Captain Ulakhai was behind the left, geared as if for battle. The big mustelid was an imposing sight in his armor, glittering like fish scales, and the polished helmet decorated with two long white feathers, with a crescent-bladed halberd in his paw, and a straight sword on his belt. Eikeru did not fancy her chances in a fair fight against him. She also saw at least a dozen of Ulakhai's archers standing near the King.

"What's goin' on? Somethin' happened?"

"Something happened? Does something need to happen for a King to summon his captain and for a captain to obey?" Seien tone was mild, but to Eikeru his words sounded like bell tolls. The crowd fell so silent she could hear her own breath. Certainly, all the vermin called young Seien King. But never before did he dare to act like one.

Eikeru stared right at Seien, but even without looking around she could feel beasts in the crowd glaring at her, and those glares felt to her as cold as those of a den full of snakes, encircling their latest victim. That was Enjo's fault too! Nobeast in this place cared that the plan which resulted in the humiliating disaster was his, not hers. Eikeru's paw gripped her pike tightly. The thought of running Seien through on the spot, before Ulakhai or anybeast else could react, flashed through her mind. Or could she strike at Ulakhai himself, bring him down with one quick, sudden lunge?

But once again, caution won. "No." She lowered her eyes.

"No, Your Majesty," corrected her Seien. "I am your King, and you shall address me as such."

Eikeru felt her nose and ears burn with the heat of rage and humiliation. But she tried to sound as obediently as possible, when she answered. "Sure, Your Majesty."

"Good." Seien looked from one side of the crowd to another. "Now, my brave officers and soldiers, here is what you shall do…"

Eikeru could only silently hope for Seien's – or, given in whose mind they almost certainly originated, Ulakhai's – orders to be embarrassingly bad. Her hopes were swiftly dashed. A third of the army was to maintain the siege. The rest, divided in groups of three scores each – on average fifty vermin after battle losses – were to scour the countryside, plundering and hunting for slaves. Popular officers were set in command of those foraging groups, instead of obvious Ulakhai's cronies. Ubel was to supervise building of a fortified camp, blocking the road from Castle Floret's gates down the plateau – the only way through which defenders of the castle could sally forth suddenly and in numbers – and all captured woodlanders were to be assigned to this task. And most of the corsairs were on board with the plan – Grimclaw's, Windflight's and Lurthen Longneck's crews already agreed to take their part of the siege's burden, so Eikeru could not even hope for soldiers to get angry at being the only ones left watching the castle, while corsairs have their fun across the countryside.

"And for you, Eikeru, I have the task worthy of the captain with the most experience of war. Take your beasts and fix your own mistake – find the woodlander King, wipe out warriors protecting him, and bring him, or his head, to me."

"He wants me to die trying!" thought Eikeru. But out loud she said. "Yes, Your Majesty."

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Seien clasped his paws behind his back as he returned to his tent. That was the only sufficiently regal way to prevent them from shaking he could think of. When the tent flaps finally closed behind him, he nearly fell on all fours, all his affected composure and strength gone in an instant. Facing the turbulent sea was scary but exciting, and the battle was blood-freezingly terrifying, but he did not have to actually do anything there. Speaking to a crowd of ruthless killers as if he had the right to command them and the might to make his commands obeyed was different.

But he was kept upright by his mother's hug.

"You did it!" Marda whispered right into his ear, so that he not only heard the words but felt them on his skin too. "Now we'll…"

She heard the sound of another beast stepping into the tent, and hastily backed away from her son. A King who wanted to stay alive could not appear as a mommy's boy.

"Oh don't be so nervous, Marda." Captain Ulakhai looked smug and satisfied. "And, Seien, nicely done. You sounded just like a King."

"Just like a King," repeated Seien in his head. With whatever willpower he had left, he tried to keep a frown off his face. Perhaps he wasn't entirely successful.

Ulakhai stepped closer. He still was taller and larger enough to make Seien uncomfortable by this difference alone. "One day, Seien, you will be a great ruler. Keep listening to me, and you'll live long enough to see that day."

"Ulakhai is right, Seien," Marda said as she moved next to the captain and helped him remove his feathered helmet.

"Ulakhai is lying," Seien thought. Ulakhai presented his case before, of course. With all of his breed living far beyond seas and vast forests he was not going to ever have a heir of his own blood. Thus there was no need for him to remove Seien. The young marten could succeed real power once Ulakhai is claimed by old age, thus there was no need for Seien to turn on him. That sounded fine, except Seien, despite his young age, knew that the world did not work that way. Over a dozen of King Kunas' sons, daughters and nephews survived their infancy, but by the time of his death only two remained alive – and more were slain by Kunas himself for real or imagined plots against him, or died under rather suspicious circumstances than were claimed by enemy blades. Seien also heard plenty of dark barrack rumors about Ulakhai and malice that broke from underneath his cool exterior whenever beasts disappointed him. About how easily he turned on Suran Longspear when the fox fell out of Kunas' favor, even though the fox saved his life more than once. Marda seemed to believe Ulakhai – apparently life of a slave and then a slave in all but name did not entirely beat trust in others out of her – but Seien was simply unable to.

Of course, Seien was not about to voice these thoughts in Ulakhai's own presence. "Yes, of course. What's next then?"

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A sound of scuffle outside of his tent drew Ubel's attention a second before Sheska flew in back first and rolled on the mat. He looked at the beast who stepped inside after her, seemingly unperturbed. "No need to treat my servant this rough, Eikeru."

"Ye slimy bastard!" the black rat hissed. "Ye knew what Ulakhai was planning, ye surely knew, and ye told me nothin'! Where's yer promise to rule this army together?"

"Sheska, stop it." Ubel put his left paw on his weasel assistant's shoulder before she could draw her sword, then addressed Eikeru again. "That promise is in the same place where you put it when you started preferring Enjo's company to mine. Had you consulted me more often, the night assault disaster could have been averted."

"Do ye really think Ulakhai would treat a treacherous viper like ye better?!" Eikeru shouted.

"No," Ubel answered quietly. "That is why before you let Sheska kick you out of my tent, I am going to tell you how to overthrow him. Now, please, yell something angry, else beasts outside might wonder what is going on…"