85. Epilogue: Southsward.

Rowanbloom almost forgot how nice peace felt. Rowanbloom heard something about a vermin band that evaded destruction by going towards the northern border, instead of trying to fight its way west, towards the ships left at the sea shore, but now they already must have been outside of Southsward, so there were no more enemies to fight. Her stay in Salamadastron felt like a temporary reprieve, but now, after far too many seasons, she finally felt that her war is over.

Rowanbloom almost forgot how nice dining with her family felt too. Of course, now her brothers and sisters weren't around. But her parents did not mind her inviting Ewalt, Weitla, Selvathy and even Smalltooth to their table. In fact, she was surprised to see Ewalt chatting with her father about this and that after scarcely half an hour in each other's company.

"Take some more blackberry and apple cake, dear."

"Just a bit." If there was something that annoyed Rowanbloom about being in the company her parents again, it was Myns' insistence that her wayward daughter must have starved constantly ever since they've parted, and this needs to be rectified to the best of her cooking ability. Well, Myns always loved feeding other beasts to start with, and Rowanbloom could not fault her too much. Besides, her cakes and pastries were absolutely delicious. And perhaps she was even right. Maybe eating little, getting away from the table when still slightly hungry, and trying to keep some food for the next meal were just habits from seasons of counting daily rations and never knowing if more food can be procured in time, for herself or her patients.

Speaking of patients, it was as if fate decided it was the time to smile on her – few of the wounded died after the battle, and none of her friends and companions were among their number. Some remained bedridden, like Kethra, and crippling injuries still reminded Rowanbloom of the cost of victory. At this thought she reflexively looked at Smalltooth. The young ermine was taking the loss of his thumb without drama, in fact, he seemed much calmer now than he ever was. He certainly did not blame anybeast. Sorrow still colored Rowanbloom's feelings slightly every time she looked at him. Or Suran.

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Later this evening, when everybeast at the table was sated, tired and slightly drunk, Belk asked a question that Ewalt was silently asking himself before:

"And what you're going to do now?"

Ewalt still had no answer, so he had to shrug. Then Smalltooth answered the question which seemed addressed to their entire company. "You can believe what I said about my vision or not, but I have to travel to the Redwall Abbey. Then I have to convince them that I can be trusted and allowed within. And then I have to learn reading and writing."

"I believe what you said, truly I do" assured him Belk. "Without doubt the spirit of Martin was with you. To tell the truth, I feel a bit of envy for the first time in my life – Martin saved my life too, yet he never spoke with me. Did your vision point you at Redwall specifically? This castle has its own library, and all you may need for learning how to write down what you saw, after all."

Smalltooth simply nodded. Since waking up he always seemed to be calm and serious. Belk looked at the ceiling, pondering some unpleasant thought if his frown was any indication, then back at Smalltooth. "We have no trusty crew to reach Salamandastron and safe lands around it by sea, and land journey directly to Redwall will be dangerous, that I can tell you. You'd have to depart immediately if you want to at least reach Mossflower before winter makes it even more dangerous. While woodlanders of Mosslower are not going to kill a solitary wandering ermine on the spot, they are not going trust to you easily, either. And I fear that I cannot accompany you and vouch for you, I certainly can't. The truth is, my health is failing. I'm no longer fit to wield the Sword of Martin. Dragging myself and Myns into wilderness again, that would be completely reckless, we will only burden and endanger our traveling companions. Gwynfren Squirrelking invited me to stay here as his advisor, and that I intend to do."

"I can go with him," Ewalt spoke before thinking, then turned to Smalltooth. "Well, if you want me to, and if Weitla doesn't mind. I don't know the land, and perhaps my mug is not the sort that will make a honest goodbeast trust my friends, but if I'm good at anything, that is surviving in the wilderness."

Smalltooth always seemed to be calm and serious since waking up, but now his face lit up with joy. "I can wish for no better traveling companion than you Ewalt, and no better friend."

"You, Smalltooth, seem to recover fine, but that may be only seeming," Rowanbloom spoke sternly. "And you Ewalt, certainly need a few more days of rest at Castle Floret, before I'm sure that your ribs have healed. But once I'm sure that you're healthy, I can travel with you. I want to see Redwall again, and I want you all to see it as well. I mean you, Selvathy, and Weitla too. Ah, Castle Floret is great and nice, but I think nothing can match Redwall, my old home, the sanctuary for beasts weary of war and bloodshed. Good company, good food, good songs, warmth and welcome for every decent creature. It's surely worth another season of traveling."

The two females seemed surprised by the sudden turn of the conversation, but not for long.

"I think I'd like a place where war is nothing but distant tales from faraway lands," said Selvathy.

Weitla just nodded

"Hmmm," Belk thought aloud. "I thought to wait until Gwynfren can spare a company of fighting beasts for escort, so I can return the Sword of Martin back to Redwall safely, but who knows how many seasons that would take, with the whole country turned upside down. I wonder if the sword will be safe in your paws."

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"Well. My new look sure fits an old warrior." Today Rowanbloom removed the last bandages and stitches from Suran's head and neck, so he decided to take a good look at himself, using a polished silver mirror. Suran heard the squirrel healer complaining about not being a miracle worker a couple of times, but the fact that she managed to put the right side of his face and neck back together in a way that could impress beasts rather than make them retch was a miracle. If his fur could eventually regrow and cover the lines of bare, scarred skin, at least mostly, maybe his visage was not even going to scare cubs. A good chunk of his remaining ear, and most of his teeth on the right side were not going to ever regrow, though. Neither were bones in his right wrist. Rowanbloom still tried to give him hope and said that he should give his paw time to heal, but he could tell that her thoughts were not as optimistic as her words. Likely he had to forget about wielding a sword or throwing a spear with his right paw. And even in Rowanbloom's fancy stories a warlord who lost use of his dominant paw was only good for scheming, assassinations, and treacherous attacks by surprise. At least it no longer hurt as much, and other injuries also seemed to be healing. The first few days were worse than death, now moving, eating, speaking, and breathing still caused pain, but Suran could bear with it.

"Your wounds are still healing," Silverbrush, who brought Suran the mirror, touched the scarred side of his neck very lightly, as she leaned closer to him. "You will look just fine."

Suran wondered, what the vixen had in mind. At night and from a certain angle, she could look like Akshai, but she certainly wasn't Akshai. Silverbrush was a long-time advisor to a corsair captain, a position few if any vixens could reach and survive without being deceitful and mindful of their personal own gain in any situation. And Suran had to admit, he went a long way down from the times when he considered himself the fate's gift to any vixen he bothered to notice. Why she cared for a wreck like him?

But these thoughts could wait. Right now Suran was checking his appearance because he was invited – insofar as kings "invited" anybeast – to dinner by the Squirrelking.

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"I recon, if you're asking my advice on what to do with the prisoners, you're not about to just chop them all into fish bait?"

"Precisely," Gwynfren Squirrelking looked at Suran, his chin resting on his folded paws. "Even if that was my wish, Aldwin and Belk would rather stand against my whole kingdom, rather than allow their promise to be broken."

This dinner involved more talking than eating, for the young squirrel ate little, probably to avoid getting fat, while Suran disliked gruel and fruit puree, but his jaws still hurt too much for anything harder. The fox waved his left paw. "I once heard a story in which your ancestor loaded whatever was left of the previous army that attacked Southsward into a battered ship with no captain or navigator of any experience and allowed them to leave this way. That sure was a nice way to kill them all without getting one's paws dirty. And you must have a bunch of captured ships right now."

Gwynfren just kept looking at him. Suran waved his left paw angrily. "Look, I know and you know that I'm a bloodthirsty, vengeful fox, what else did you expect to hear, Your Squirrel Kingness? Anyway, kicking that many beasts into unknown lands beyond your border, with the autumn season already beginning, no less, is just the same as chopping off their heads, only slower. If they're lucky, they'd run into a tribe that would spare some younger females and maybe a beast or two of real mettle. And if you leave them enough weapons to protect themselves, well, you know, even I would feel pity for any small tribe or village in their way!"

Gwynfren sat straight and nodded. "I think the same. And I won't deny that I thought of ordering something that amounts to delayed death sentence."

Suran took a breath that was too deep and pain shot through his broken ribs. Really, he should have learned to stop hurting himself in such stupid ways long ago. At least now he could hide his pain well. "Then why won't you do that? Don't you have laws to punish robbers and murderers? The beasts you now hold in your paws are only different from common robbers and murderers in their numbers. They came to your land to conquer, plunder and enslave. I know that because I was just like them. I was one of them, you know, so believe me, for every single one who was forced into the ranks by their warlords and captains or saw no other way to survive, there are ten, who simply did not care about spilling blood to get what they want. So just relieve them of their heads, or send them towards their deaths and be done with it, before they can think of a way to backstab you, even your soft-hearted woodlander kin never had problems with doing so!"

"I heard you indeed were a part of the same army. But you never backstabbed those who took you in after you left it, didn't you?"

"Sure, but look, Marroch took me in when I was half-dead, alone, on the run. He did not capture me in battle. And we had a common goal, shared interest – revenge, you know. Can you offer them anything like that?"

"Southsward has more enough land to hold another hundred-something beasts. As King, I can offer them a chance to live in peace and prosperity. You think that would not be in their interest?"

Suran did not laugh – not so much because he was talking with the Squirrelking, but more because laughing would have been even more painful. "To live in peace as what, farmers or fishers? Sure, most of them probably still remember how to till the earth or drag nets. Hellgates, even I still do. But don't you know, for our kind that is a life fit for weaklings and cowards, and so they soldiered and sailed, suffered wounds and killed others because they wanted to escape it. They would hate you for forcing them back into it, and they would think you weak and foolish for your mercy."

"You're not the first creature to say something like that. If you take a look towards the forest from that window, you will see, that I've already made limits of my mercy clear for everybeast."

Suran stood up from his chair slowly, walked to the window in question, took a long look in the indicated direction, and tried to whistle, but only managed to hiss. "They seem to be still alive, unless my eyes fail me. But given that I already see crows in the air… well, they won't stay alive for long after sunset, won't they?"

"Aldwin, if you remember, promised not only mercy to those who surrender, but also horrible death to those who murder and torture helpless prisoners. I think that waiting for the rest of the day to be torn apart by crows and rooks, who fear demonstrating their savagery within sight of Castle Floret – and well within bowshot from the forest line – for now, but will descend after dark, and then getting torn apart, is a death horrible enough."

"Great idea," Suran gave Gwynfen a crooked smile.

Gwynfren stared at him with such an expression, that though the squirrel was half Suran's mass and crippled worse than him, the fox felt shivers running down his spine. The brat was not just a soft-hearted, soft-spoken woodlander brat, but a King, after all.

"All creatures tied down there did things mere descriptions of which made me sick to my stomach, and bragged about doing that, all were accused by multiple witnesses and even their fellow vermin. But still, I would be pleased if you stopped complimenting the most revolting order I've ever voiced in my life," Gwynfren paused for a moment, and continued a bit less sternly. "Do you believe that even beasts of your kind would not take my mercy for weakness now?"

Suran nodded slowly. "I believe all but the dumbest would not, Your Majesty."

"Good. Then I only need some beasts whom I can trust to watch over my new subjects, so that the dumbest among them won't try something dumb."

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"And so, my pretty, I think you're going to be a chieftain soon, because I'm sure not fit for the role," said Suran, after he finished retelling Kethra his conversation with Gwynfren. "Perhaps I wasn't fit even before my right paw got crushed."

Kethra sighed. Her recovery was difficult, and she still remained bedridden. Smell of sickness filled the room, and even her fur lost its luster. At least her mind was clear by now, no longer clouded by weakness and fever. "By fire and ash, I hate Gwynfren for thinking I should watch those bloody bastards for him because I'm a ferret."

"He's right, though. Isn't it the custom old as time for soldiers of the defeated warlord to serve the winner and for the winner to command them, eh? Ulakhai was the one who really commanded the army, and you were the one who killed him. And you know, I think even Marroch could not have thought of a better revenge than taking over everything left after our enemies. Or wish a better fate for you, really."

"You think so?" Kethra wriggled, trying to move into a position more resembling sitting among the pillows. Not only she was now given her own room, as a guest of importance, her bed was huge and luxurious. "Brother always thought me stupid."

With his healthy paw, Suran helped Kethra to rest herself against the bed head. "I'm not saying I knew him better than you, but he impressed me as a ferret who deems everybeast stupid next to himself. I think you'll do fine, better than me in any case."

"Why do you sound as if you're eager to push an unpleasant work on me? Oh well. Will you at least be with me?"

"Where else can I be, my scarred but still beautiful warlady? Though I should, perhaps say, that you would do much better by finding yourself a young, healthy ferret, who can give you strong heirs, because no warlord or chieftain can hold power firmly without family to support her. And well, look, though you may trust me for some strange reason, my right paw is no longer good enough to help you hold it."

"You old rogue. I'm not sure if you really care about me, or if you've already found yourself some young and pretty vixen. Hellgates, I never even thought I'd live long enough to think about cubs…"

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The Gallopers' shock upon Captain Aldwin' announcement that he is not returning to Salamandastron did not last long. Sure, a dream seemed to be a pretty shaky basis for such an important decision, but hares of the Long Patrol were not unused to the idea of strange miracles and old Rulers appearing in dreams.

"…Brigadier Greyfield will be in command now, and excuse me, gentlebeasts, but he ain't the sort of hare under whom I can serve. Gwynfren Squirrelking and Southsward need my help more than Salamandastron does. Lieutenant Bascinette, from now on you're in command of the Gallopers. Any hare who may wish to discharge oneself from service and stay with me shall inform Bascinette about this in one day."

"You heard the Captain. Former Captain." Bascinette stood up from her chair and placed her paws on the table.

"I'm returning to Salamadastron," Espadron answered after a moment he needed to unclench his jaws. His scarred face was made uglier by a scowl, but he did not comment on Aldwin's decision otherwise.

Others were not so quick. Sovna felt conflicting thoughts, and decided that she should talk the matter over with Tesak first.

Later in their room Tesak was not quick to answer her question. He circled the room a couple of times, took a look at the window, and only spoke when Sovna was about to explode in impatient anger. "I can bet my tail and whiskers, without Aldwin, I'd have been a real rogue by now, that, or a bunch of bones molderin' in some forgotten corner of the forest, wot. If he doesn't want to serve Salamadastron anymore, neither do I. That's just how it is. Maybe if you finally flippin' say why exactly you have so little warm feelings for our Captain, I may reconsider."

"I wonder why Bascinette is not staying," said Sovna instead. "I thought she loved Aldwin."

Tesak looked at her, and shook his head, as in disbelief. "Oh dear, sometimes I wonder if your pretty ears are just for decoration, or if anythin' not related to swords and fighting just comes into one of them, and flies right out of the other. Of course Bascinette loves Aldwin, like a daughter. Both of her parents died when she was very small, her other relatives were old and ill, and Lady Violet herself took care of her, for the sake of her mother's friendship and council. If I remember right, Bascinette started her training as a future warrior of the Long Patrol just about when Aldwin figured out that if he gave up on having a family anyway, he may as well admit his bloomin' feelings for Violet, so he sort of ended as the closest thing to a father Bascinette ever knew. I think she followed him for too long already, wot, daughters shouldn't be in the shadow of their parents forever, don't you think?"

Sovna blinked. "Captain Aldwin gave up on having family? What do you mean?"

"What can I bally well mean?" Tesak huffed. "Just in case, Captain really flippin' hates talkin' about these things, so if he catches you retellin' what I'm goin' to tell you, don't blame anybeast but yourself. See, Captain was married twice. Once to a fellow patroller, Guisarme, when he was almost a leveret, his father must have arranged that. A proper perilous Long Patrol hare she was, and a beauty rare among fightin' beasts, if old Greeves told me the truth. But at the age when others were still milksops, Aldwin was already a warrior with few peers. Who knows if she really started throwing herself recklessly into battles because wanted to show Captain that she is as good as him, or that she is worthy of him, or if she just got unlucky, wot, but one day, in a tiny skirmish, she got a spear right into her face, and died. She bore Captain no leverets. Later he took another wife, Riverpetal, a beautiful country hare – but that marriage too remained barren, and she could not bear that, so eventually she returned to her village. I heard rumors… ah, never mind, gossip is confoundin' gossip. No wonder Aldwin feels like it is the fate of Nightfur family to end with him. I jointed the Gallopers soon after Riverpetal left, and I remember how grim Captain was these days. Merciless seasons, if Lady Violet is truly dead, I don't want to imagine how he feels right now…"

"I see," Sovna said in a weak voice. "And I thought I was the one having a hard life. Do you still want to know the reason I was angry at Aldwin? It is a petty, hollow, and stupid reason. By fang and fur, I understood that for a long time, just wasn't able to do anything about my feelings. But I can tell you."

"No need to. Better tell – will you stay in Southsward with me?"

Sovna nodded.

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Some of the heroes who helped Southsward left as soon as they have recovered from their wounds, and many of the woodlanders who joined their Squirrelking's army have swiftly returned to their fields and forests, to salvage whatever of this summer's harvest they could. But when during the first moon of autumn Gwynfren Squirrelking held a huge feast to celebrate the victory over invaders, the great hall of Castle Floret was still full, and tables for less distinguished guests had to be set in the courtyard. Many of the castle's cellars were emptied for this feast – stores of grain from the previous summers still remained, in case they would be needed to help common beasts survive the afterwar winter, but all that went into making of finer fares, worthy of a royal feast, from old wines to rare species, was used up, to make a treat that would leave nobeast unsatisfied. On this day, closeness to the King's seat at the head of the largest table clearly marked honor won by brave deeds above everything else. The scarred hare Captain, Aldwin, the two hares remaining with him, and that couple of ugly vermin, the fox and the ferret, sat to the right of Gwynfren. Eskil, who now commanded youngsters of the Squirrelking's reformed otterguard, Belk of Redwall, Gerrul, the chief of jerbils, and decrepit Elmsfort were at his left.

So Melayna Firebright had no idea, why she was invited to sit right at Gwynfren's side. She had to admit – throughout the war she earned little glory. A good number of beasts still gave her cheerful welcomes when she appeared in the courtyard and the hall, and she recognized many of them as those whom she led to escape the disastrous battle, and who later helped to defend Castle Floret. But that was little compared to adoration heaped on Gwynfren. One beast after another rose to proclaim a toast for their young king, Gwynfren the Stalwart, Gwynfren the Unbroken. That was just not fair. Sure, she had no exploits truly worthy of boasting about, but what the brat even accomplished besides getting crippled? Serving as a living banner, and making a speech or two?

Melayna cast a sidelong look at the Squirrelking, sitting next to her. He must have noticed that.

"Are you wondering, why you are here?" he asked, without turning his head.

"Don't pretend you can see me through, anybeast can guess this question" Melayna thought, but aloud she just said: "Yes".

"Two reasons. First, you're the sole surviving direct descendant of Laydon, who ruled before me, and you may have ruled in my stead, had I died as a babe, so, in my eyes, you deserve this seat. And second, think of this as my apology for not treating you as a Squirrelking should have. I was too young and had no confidence in myself, so I saw you not as another heir of Squirrelkings who works for the good of all Southsward, but as a rival and a threat. Because of my insecurity, I was biased against your advice."

Gwynfren's voice was not loud, and to hear him over the hum of the ongoing feast, Melayna had to strain her ears, and even to lean closer. "And now you feel… secure?"

"Eskil. Aldwin. Belk. Gerrul." Gwynfren's tone did not change, as he pointed his nose towards each of the beasts he named. "Our commanders and heroes. Who of them has more respect for you than for me?"

"Good point," Melayna grumbled in spite of herself. Gwynfren's face still was as plain as ever, but something in his manner of carrying himself has changed. Maybe it was that confidence he mentioned? Suddenly, Melayna could no longer see him as just a common, average-looking squirrel in fancy clothes. She could no longer deny to herself that the brat grew into a fine young, regal-looking Squirrelking, after all. Even if for now she hated to admit it before him. "Good point."