Chapter 4

Kyrin was woken up sometime later that night by faint shouts coming from the abbey courtyard. In an instant, the champion-in-training was out of bed, sticking his head out the window in an effort to trace the commotion. Although it was pitch dark outside, the noises seemed to be coming from the south side of the building.

The young squirrel quickly got dressed, grabbing the Sword of Martin leaning against his bedpost before sprinting out the bedroom. He was halfway down the dormitory wing when Mena emerged from her room, still in her nightgown.

"Did you hear it too?" the squirrelmaid asked.

Kyrin was surprised she was awake. "Aye, I think somebeast's trying to break in through the south gate."

Mena unfurled her sling. "Let's go investigate."

"I'll handle it. You go back to sleep."

She shook her head. "I'm coming with you."

"Alright, but keep your voice down," Kyrin said. He grabbed two torches off the wall, handing her one. Together, they crept down the stairs and through the Great Hall. The young squirrel's paws were sweating as he pushed open one of the solid oaken doors leading outside, causing a resounding creak that echoed throughout the large room.

"Shh!" Mena hissed.

Kyrin clutched the Sword of Martin tight. "Sorry. C'mon."

The sounds grew louder as the pair rounded the abbey's south side. They ran a few more steps before Kyrin stopped dead in his tracks. "Look, there!" he gestured, pointing across the lawn. The wicker gate to the South Wall was ajar, and a large, shadowy mass lay writhing on the ground.

"Be careful," Mena warned, as they cautiously approached the struggling form with their weapons drawn. As they got closer Kyrin realized that the cursing, kicking blob on the ground was not one creature, but several. Four guardsmice were trying to subdue a much larger individual, who seemed oblivious to their attempts to pacify him.

Kyrin leveled the Sword of Martin at the mysterious intruder. "Show your face, thief!"

The creature seemed to obey his command, as it got up with ease. Kyrin took a fearful step back as the thing reared up to its full height, towering head and shoulders over him. The guards clung on to their would-be captive desperately, crying out in alarm as they were lifted clean off the ground.

Mena jumped in front of her boyfriend, already twirling her loaded sling. "Let them go!" she yelled.

To everybeast's surprise, the tall creature spoke, his quirky speech cutting above the panicked yells of the guards still clinging to him. "On the contrary, madam, it seems that these cheeky blighters need to let me go, eh, wot wot?"

Kyrin did not lower his blade. "Step forth so we can see you!"

The figure stepped into the torchlight. He removed his bandana, revealing a pair of very long ears. It was a hare! Peering over Mena's shoulder, the creature held up a jovial paw in greeting. "Evenin', Kyrin old lad! It's been far too long!"

Mena stopped twirling her sling. Puzzled, she looked back at her boyfriend. "Kyrin, do you two…know each other?"

Kyrin stepped forward, sword still in paw. "I don't believe we've met, sir, but I must ask that you state your business here."

The hare chuckled. "Oh, silly me. Been away from this place for four bloomin' seasons then waltzing in on a warm summer night thinking anybeast would jolly well remember me! Where are my manners?" He took a deep bow, throwing one of the guards over his shoulder in the process. "Sergeant Thornberry Chambeleau McWarthorn, 33rd Reconnaissance Regiment, at your service! I was on the expedition with your father to find you when you ran away from here!"

There was a noise behind Kyrin as his family, Abbot Cyrus, and several others came running, still wearing their nightclothes. Raising his lantern, Tam recognized the hare straightaway, and rushed forth to greet him. "Private Thorn, is that you? Haha, I'd recognize that boisterous bellow of yours a forest away! How are ye, ye long-eared scamp?"

The remaining guardsmice fell to the ground in an exhausted heap. Thorn threw back his head and laughed. "That's Sergeant Thorn to you, sah! You might've noticed the insignia!" He pointed to an elaborate golden patch on his left sleeve. "Recently got the promotion suppressin' some vermin on the coastline, doncha know!" The two old friends hugged as he continued. "Your son barely remembers me, ha! Called me a bally thief just now!"

A relieved laugh escaped Kyrin as he and Mena helped the guards up. "I'm sorry, I thought you were breaking in!"

Thorn gave him a cheeky wink, ruffling the young warrior's headfur. "All's forgiven, lad. I'd bally well arrest myself too if I caught me sneakin' around your home at this time of night! Although I must say that wasn't much of a break-in – your guards left the door unlocked! Bad form, I must say…"

As the sergeant rambled on about the dangers of not locking one's gates, Tam took his son aside. "Did you bring Martin's sword up to your room again?"

Kyrin nodded.

"I keep telling you to put it back in the Great Hall after you train with it!"

The young squirrel started to protest. "But a warrior never parts with his sword…"

"It's not your sword yet. Give it to me."

His face burning, Kyrin mumbled an apology as he sheathed the blade, handing it over to Tam, who went inside to hang the weapon under the tapestry where it belonged.

Abbot Cyrus bowed. "You are always welcome at Redwall, Sergeant Thorn. I apologize on behalf of our guards, who accosted you in such a manner. Please, do come in, and help yourself to a late dinner. I do regret that they're leftovers from last night's feast – "

But Thorn didn't seem to mind. "Feast, did you say? Just what any hungry hare needs, and I'm abso-bally-flippin'-lutely starvin'! Lead on, abbot old thing, lead on!"

Candles were lit in Cavern Hole, the cozy cove underneath the Great Hall, so as not to disturb the rest of the slumbering abbey. Leftovers from the Nameday Feast were spread across a medium-sized table. Kyrin and the others present watched in amazement as the famished hare tore through cakes, turnovers, several flagons of ale, and the remainder of a deeper'n'ever pie.

"Mmf! I say! This is absolutely top hole, wot! Scrunch! Haven't eaten in three days! Gulp! Ah, yes, that ale really hits the bally spot there, doesn't it? Glomp! Glug!"

Abbot Cyrus patiently waited for Thorn to finish. After what seemed like an eternity, the old hedgehog spoke. "What brings you to Redwall Abbey at this hour, my friend?"

Thorn belched rather rudely. "I say, that was a big one, wasn't it, old chap? Anyway, what were we talking about? Ah, right, everybeast gather 'round…"

Everybeast crowded around the table as the Sergeant began his tale.

"Several weeks ago, we – that's my squad an' I – were on patrol duty around Salamandastron, when we came across this old mouse lying face down on the beach. Poor blighter looked little more than a bally skeleton. His skiff was nearby. Its sail was more tattered than the old Colonel's britches – haha, you'd have to see for yourselves to understand, eh, wot..."

"Any idea where he came from, Sergeant?" Tam asked.

The hare sipped his ale thoughtfully. "We suspect the creature may have sailed in from the Western Sea."

"There's nothing out there!" Kyrin blurted out, remembering his geography lessons.

Cyrus' normally kind features were etched with concern. "What would compel somebeast to try and cross the Western Sea in something as small as a mere skiff?"

Thorn refilled his flagon to the brim. "That's we're trying to find out, sah. Anyway, we brought him inside mountain as quickly as possible, and that's when things got strange."

Kyrin and Mena exchanged glances as Thorn, now solemn for the most part, continued:

"Now, this chap was clearly not right in the head – didn't talk, barely ate…would just sit in his bally room day an' night staring at the old wall. But every now and then the cadets passing by his room would hear him utter something: 'Werithor!'"

A murmur swept through the crowd. Tam looked at his daughter. "Any idea what this is, Melanda?"

The recorder shook her head. "I don't ever recall coming across it in the archives, and I'm pretty sure I've read every scroll in this abbey!"

"We didn't know what it is either, m'gel," Thorn said, "until three days ago when we had a bally breakthrough."

The intrigued Redwallers leaned in as the hare produced a battered scroll, which he unfurled on the table.

"I'll never forget it. One of the cadets comes burstin' through the Mess Hall during lunch. Nobeast interrupts a hare when he's eating, so we knew it was important. Said it was about the old mouse. We ran up to his room as fast as we could on a half-empty stomach. Old creature's eyes were rolled completely back in his head. He was sittin' up straighter than a spear, clearly in a trance, reciting a couple of lines over and over. Our scribes managed to write everything down."

Clearing his throat, Thorn read from the parchment:

Listen close, and heed my call

Sons and daughters of Redwall!

A journey far from home awaits

That shall unravel many fates

Blood will spill upon both shores

And stain the sands forevermore

The tale resolves across the waves

Lest hearth and home become your grave.

Thorn paused for a second, looking around at the shocked faces of the Redwallers. "The chaps at Salamandastron believe Werithor is a place, and that this mouse was enslaved there."

Mena peered at the message, pointing to a small drawing toward the bottom of the page. "What's that?"

The hare's voice was grim. "Probably something best left alone." He held up the parchment so everybeast could see the chilling sketch of the skull-and-trident.

"We found it tattooed on the blighter's paw," Thorn explained. "It looks like a crest of some sort."

Alarm bells were going off in Tam's head. "We're on to something, old friend. This Werithor place sounds big an' dangerous."

"Indeed, sah," mused the sergeant, fingering his insignia. "May have something to do with those vermin we encountered near the coastline, too."

Cyrus bowed graciously. "Thank you for relaying this information. Is there any more?"

"Ah, yes! There is one more thing," said Thorn, swigging his drink. "After our refugee finished reciting the first poem, he went on to a second, after which he fell unconscious and couldn't be woken up." The hare cleared his throat and read:

I call upon, at my behest

Travelers four, to take this quest:

A warrior young, who wields my Sword

Always wanting to explore

A healer, studying the art

To temper flame with gentle heart

Who could forget the loyal friend?

On his jokes and company we depend

Our fourth will keep your souls in line

With logic, reason, and thoughtful mind.

But before you sail the ocean blue

A kingdom of green shall come to you.

Thorn looked up again. "I know you all believe in that ghost mouse; Marby wotsisname, was it? I can't remember…"

"Martin the Warrior," whispered Kyrin, awestruck. "Martin the Warrior spoke through this mouse. He's calling on me to fulfill a quest."

The Abbot's jaw was set. "Martin sent that poor creature to warn us. Whatever lies across that ocean poses an immediate threat to our abbey. Kyrin, you must heed Martin's message. Go with Sergeant Thorn to Salamandastron. Find out what we're dealing with."

"Yes, Father Abbot," Kyrin replied, rather quickly.

"What's goin' on?"

Kyrin turned to see Gry and Firulan walking into Cavern Hole. Firulan yawned loudly. "Heard scufflin' earlier, didn't want t' get out o' bed just yet, but now I'm here. Wot's everybeast talkin' about?"

Kyrin strode over to his friends, putting his arms on their shoulders. "Perfect timing, mates. Pack your bags, we're going to Salamandastron!"

Firulan was awake in an instant. "Salamandastron? Y'mean the badger fortress?" He noticed Thorn. "Who's this?"

Thorn rolled up the parchment. "I'll fill you in on the details later, m'lad, but right now we have to go. Lady Melesme will be expectin' us. Maybe you can talk to our guest a bit more; squeeze some more information out of him."

Gry turned to the sergeant. "When do we leave?"

The hare, whose waistline seemed to have expanded, struggled to rise. "As soon as…uuf…we're ready!"

Firulan beamed. "I'll get my blades! See ye upstairs, Kyrin!" With that, the mouse ran out of the room.

Mena looked at Kyrin, puzzled. "I thought you had to stay at Redwall and train."

"Unless Martin the Warrior himself comes calling," Kyrin corrected her, looking over at Tam as he quoted his father's words. The Border Warrior gave a nod.

The squirrelmaid's grin was wide. "Let me go get changed and pack a few herbs. I'll meet you in the Great Hall."

Gry, who was already dressed, patted the large bung mallet dangling from his waistband. "I've got all I need. Let's get movin'."

Thorn let out another noisy belch. "Excellent! We'll set out shortly. I expect we'll be halfway across the dunes by nightfall!"

It was still dark outside as the expedition gathered at the entrance of the Great Hall. Tam frowned as Kyrin took down the Sword of Martin from its hangers. "I'd rather you not bring that. You can take my claymore instead."

Kyrin was still indignant over the older squirrel's words from earlier. "Martin chose me, father. I'm taking his sword."

Tam sighed. "I did say you could leave if Martin called on ye. But just so ye know, I don't approve of any of this."

Kyrin's voice was impassive as he strapped the fabled blade to his back. "I understand."

Sister Armel pulled her son into a hug. "Be safe."

"I will, mother," Kyrin promised her.

"And come back with lots of stories," joked Melanda, ruffling his headfur once again.

While Kyrin's family said their goodbyes, Abbot Cyrus passed Thorn several canteens along with a haversack of provisions. "Here are the remaining leftovers from last night's feast, Sergeant. It should last the five of you until you reach Salamandastron."

Thorn made an elegant leg. "Superior foodstuff, sah! We shall dine spiffingly, wot wot!" He tossed each traveler a canteen, as well as a blueberry scone apiece from the haversack. "Better have some food before we leave; we won't be stopping until late afternoon at the earliest. The old Badger Lady's expecting us at the mountain, so we better get there sharpish!"

Abbot Cyrus turned to the four friends nibbling on their rations. "Good luck on your journey. May Martin assist you all in getting to the bottom of this mystery."

"Yes, yes," rushed Thorn. "Now, are we ready to march?"

Kyrin, Mena, Firulan, and Gry nodded in unison.

The sergeant tied his bandana back over his head. "Good, then let's move out!"

The guards opened the main gates, and the five travelers departed Redwall Abbey under cover of darkness, disappearing into the night.

Tam watched them go, stony-faced. Armel touched his arm gently. "I know what you're thinking."

The Border Warrior did not look at his mate. "Do you now?"

"Kyrin's young, Tam. He could use the experience. He hasn't seen the outside world in four seasons."

Tam's expression remained grave. "That's what I'm afraid of!"