Chapter 3: Kick Him When He's Down

Mako sat in silence, eyes set on the east horizon. The iceberg he now rode, possessed of Gelida's cold power, would carry him exactly where he wished to go; all he had to do was will it so. Right now, it floated along at a steady clip, sped along its way by an otherworldly force.

Presently, he came within sight of land. Choosing a stretch of coastline that he felt appropriate, next to a strangely shaped rock, he directed the iceberg with a thought and told it to beach itself there.

As he came closer, he realized that the curious rock was, in fact, not a rock, but a galleon of searat design. He berated himself for his previous analysis, having thought the masts were simply strange trees behind the rock.

Closer still, he realized something else: he recognized the ship. The Sunder, a vessel involved in a rather poorly executed raid on the Ice Queen, now lay beached on the coast. Slightly to the left, Mako could see several beasts encamped on the shore. He willed the iceberg to beach near them instead.

Three days later, Ripfang was poring over a map in his spare tent. With his crew still mending up, he had a bit of time to focus on actually finding Redwall. His efforts were somewhat hampered by his lack of spatial awareness, and the fact that the only maps depicting Redwall were lost in the fiery death of his last tent.

A rather charred fox dipped his head in again. The audience may remember this unlucky vulpine, by the name of Smack, from the tent incident a few days prior. "Sir," he said with a gulp, "there's an iceberg approaching the coast."

Ripfang looked up, fear in his eyes. "Iceberg? Damn it! No! That is the last thing I need right now! Tell them I died in the battle, or something; just don't let them know I'm here!"

"Yes, sir!" Smack bowed quickly, then ducked back out of the tent. The iceberg was now a mere fifty meters or so from shore, and closing the distance fast. Smack reluctantly walked to the shoreline, eyes practically vibrating in his skull. The last time he'd seen any of Gelida's iceberg ships, he was with the crew running for their lives. The icebergs couldn't carry many beasts, but they were plenty fast, and the beasts chosen to command them were frequently quite deadly in their own rights. Woe betide the beast that opposed Gelida on the water, for her icebergs would be their undoing!

It was at this moment that he realized that he was standing in the water, and the iceberg was not slowing down very quickly. In a moment of panic, he suddenly found himself unsure whether to jump left or right; the paralysis of choice left him, unfortunately, frozen in place. The iceberg came careening into shore, knocking him between the eyes and sending him flying inland. He lay, stunned to the edge of consciousness, on the beach, watching as a lone figure descended from the iceberg.

The figure walked inland, stopping to loom over Smack. With a surge of fright, he recognized the beast: Mako, a Marl-badger and the Queen's second-in-command! "Well, well, what happened here?" he asked, looking around before setting his gaze on the stunned fox at his feet.

"Black… knight… big…" Smack stuttered, still dazed.

Mako nodded; the description sounded familiar, but he could not place it. "Where is Ripfang?"

"Rip… fang… dead… ugh." Smack finally slipped from consciousness. He would wake some time later, but his head was too muddled to stay alert now.

Mako looked down the shoreline and spotted Ripfang's secondary tent, and a pair of eyes staring out from within. The eyes were quick to vanish, but their owner did not escape his notice. Mako chuckled inwardly; Smack's last conscious words were clearly untrue. Didn't Ripfang know that Gelida was simply having fun with him? Did he really think he could have escaped from the Ice Queen, over water, under his own power?

Ah, no matter. He had a mission to get to. Letting his fur shift, he dropped from sight and continued inland.

The festivities were already two days past when he arrived. Shifting his fur to a more recognizable black-with-white pattern, he stepped out of the shadows and onto the road. Redwall's massive walls stood before him, built to keep out any creature that would dare attack, but they did little to impress him. He'd seen far more imposing walls created with a wave of his mistress's paw.

Approaching the gates, he shouted to any beast that could hear, "Ho there!"

Ranga the otter peered over the wall. "Greetings, badger!" he shouted back. "What business brings ya here?"

"My mistress has requested the presence of one of Redwall's famed cooks!"

"Yer mistress, eh? Tell me, where does she want our cook?"

"The Isle-" Mako cleared his throat. Something about yelling had thrown his voice into puberty for a second. "The Isle of Sampetra!"

"Och, I was part of an oarslave crew what went by there! I heard some nasty tales from the crewrats 'bout that place; I don' think the Abbess will approve of anybeast goin' there!"

Mako furrowed his brow. "Very well. Would you please speak with her about it? I will return in a few days' time for your answer!"

"Aye, badger!" Ranga disappeared for a second, then popped back up. "What be yer name, so I can tell her who's askin'?"

Mako thought for a second, then replied, "Stefan!"

Ranga laughed. "That's a right fancy name, friend! Any chance yer related to that Charle guy that came by here?"

"Charle?"

"Yeah! Big, black-armored guy, didn't talk much. Said his name was Charlemagne!"

Charlemagne. Now that name was memorable; it worried Mako, though he did not show it. "That sounds familiar; who knows, I might have met him once! In any case, I await your answer; until next we meet!" Mako turned away. He had urgent news to deliver to Gelida now.

Ranga, not keyed off to Mako's internal monologue, waved as the badger plodded away. "Right back at ya; 'till next we meet!"

Finally, after almost a week, Ripfang left his tent, sword in paw. "Are we ready?" he shouted. A chorus of roars were the reply. Raising his wickedly spiked cutlass, he roared, "Then we march! To Redwall!"

As one, the horde of pirates marched into the forest. All tents were left behind, and any cargo that would not be needed for the journey ahead stayed on the beach. As did Smack, sleeping peacefully by himself in the medical tent.

Smack was dreaming. He dreamt he stood within an immense darkness; his body was perfectly illuminated, but the ground immediately beneath his feet was nothing more than a mass of shadow.

Slowly, he walked forward into the blackness. Presently, he came to a ladder. The ladder appeared to be made out of old wood, and bore many twisted knots. The rungs were misshapen, tapering slightly toward one side and hideously un-parallel. He looked behind him, but saw nothing but blackness.

Shrugging, he set his paws on the rungs of the ladder. They were immensely cold to the touch, and slightly damp. Ignoring how strange they felt, he began to haul himself upward. The ladder cut off after a few meters; he felt around at the top and found that the ground ahead was solid. Pulling himself to his feet, he looked around.

A mouse stood before him, clothed in a brown habit. The hood had been pulled up over his head, disguising his features. A sword and shield lay on the ground before him, illuminated by some ethereal light.

The sword was finely crafted, with a wide crossbar and a perfectly straight blade. Set into the pommel was a brilliant red stone. The shield was well made too; a set of rivets adorned the outer ring of the circular surface, and an 'M' had been etched into the center.

The mouse gestured to the two tools, then spoke:

My friend, I bid thee, take your pick;

These tools will serve you well.

But you may carry only one

When you encounter Hell.

Misfortune claws and scars your soul,

But death has turned away;

But pass my test and you will find

A champion you'll be.

Within the land of Sampetra,

You shall begin your quest.

My friend, seek out the pinnacle

That's first north-east, then west.

My friend, find the red crystal fine,

That holds a captured soul;

And with your might the surface break,

Its owner to make whole.

As the rhyme finished, Smack groaned inwardly. The last thing he needed was a quest, much less one on Sampetra. But as he considered this, the mouse looked him in the eye and pulled back his hood. In his golden eyes shone a fiery confidence, and his face was that of a warrior born. Could this be Martin, the legendary Warrior of Redwall? Smack had heard tales of him in taverns on the northern shoreline; it was said that he still lingered around the Abbey, and chose champions to fend off great threats to the land.

Wait, could that mean…! Smack stumbled backward, shocked. Was he really a champion of Redwall? There'd never been a fox champion, not in any of the tales he'd heard of Redwall!

He looked down, and suddenly recognized the sword: Martin's sword! Legends had it that the blade was crafted from a falling star, tempered to perfection by a badger lord. Its strange properties meant that it never lost its fine edge, and it could slice through anything short of iron, and sometimes that as well!

"Wait," he said, remembering the rhyme, "I get to take one of these? For the quest, I mean?"

Martin nodded, smiling.

"Can I take both?"

Martin shook his head.

Smack looked down, putting a paw to his chin. He would have to think carefully about this. The sword was a mark of status, and a fine weapon for anybeast. Having it by his side would label him as a mighty warrior.

The shield, on the other paw… Smack had a history of injuries and all-around bad luck. Such a fine shield would be invaluable to a klutz like him, even if he didn't immediately recognize it. Besides, if someone were to recognize Martin's sword, Smack would probably find himself one blade deficit. With his luck, such a theft was practically guaranteed, if he didn't impale himself with it first.

He bent down and picked up the shield. "Okay, I choose this."

Martin nodded. Then, pulling his hood over his head again, he faded from sight, as did the sword. Smack found himself once more standing in a complete void. The shield began to grow hot within his paws, and the ground began to freeze. He lifted a foot to step forward, and was suddenly seized by nausea. Fainting, he fell forward, and he was out cold when his muzzle hit the ground and gave him a nosebleed.

Mako was greeted with a curious sight when he returned to his iceberg. The charred fox, whom he had spoken with upon arriving at the beach, was now laying on the icy surface of his vessel, an ash-covered shield under him. He appeared to be bleeding from somewhere around his face, as the blood had seeped out and frozen his muzzle to the deck. There also appeared to be a small trickle of vomit frozen in with the blood

Mako chuckled. The poor fox was probably dead, judging by his numerous injuries. As he thought this, though, he noticed a faint rise and fall of the fox's lower back; he was still breathing. It mattered little; there was no hardship in being waylaid at Sampetra, at least for a pirate like the fox appeared to be. He could stay onboard for now.

Taking his seat at the bow of the iceberg, Mako willed it back out to sea. He had news to deliver to Gelida.

EDIT: Removing long descriptions and editing chapters.

Credit to The Offspring for the song title.