Chapter 15: Heart of Fire
It was easier to tell you everything you want to hear, but I will surround your heart with lies…
The dreamer stood on a pathway, Redwall Abbey looming in the distance. He began to walk in its direction, and as was typical in dreams he reached the gateway rather more quickly than physically possible. The enormous gates stood open; the courtyard was devoid of life. The dreamer padded through the abnormal silence, taking in the empty Abbey grounds with trepidation. Redwall should never be so uninhabited as this.
He reached the entrance to the Abbey proper and pushed open the doors. Unlike the rest of the grounds, the Great Hall showed signs of life, or at least that life had recently existed there. One of the great feasts the Abbey was so famous for sat half-finished across the tables. The scene gave him the impression that the meal had been abandoned in a hurry; several dishes had been knocked to the ground, and a few benches had been overturned in a great hurry.
The dreamer made his way through the mess, drawn by the tapestry that hung on the far wall. The image, obscured partially by some strange form of shadow, still clearly displayed the visage of the Abbey's founder, Martin the Warrior. His face was nearly covered entirely by the indistinct shadow, but his golden eyes still shone through.
As the dreamer gazed upon the historical figure, the warrior's eyes began to smolder. The fire quickly spread, coating the tapestry and revealing the true nature of the strange shadow.
Ash.
The dreamer became aware of the sounds of panic around him. He turned to find the once empty hall on fire, with beasts all around trying to escape the raging inferno. None seemed to pay him any heed, as he made his way back outside.
The courtyard was ablaze as well; the flames filled the sky with smoke, nearly blotting out the sun of what was once a cheerful summer day. Panicked beasts flooded toward the four gates; screams of terror filled the air. Several strange creatures, indistinct quadruped masses of black, grey, and yellow, mingled with the fleeing beasts, some picking up survivors and carrying them out, while others fought the fire with sprays of white foam.
The dreamer looked to the sky, and his vision contracted to show only what he saw there. A ball of fire hung in the sky, far smaller and closer than the sun should be. Every so often, a tendril of flame would lash out from the orb and scour the ground below. The dreamer squinted, and could just barely make out the form of somebeast at the heart of the blaze. His vision slowly blurred, as the darkness wrapped around him. Only the ball of flame, now little more than an orange spot, penetrated the darkness. As even that began to fade, words came to the dreamer's ears, spoken by the voice of an unknown goddess.
The tongue dances like flame, the heart simmers with rage, the eye smolders in hate.
The heart of fire will lead astray, the devil's dog to set ablaze.
Be strong. Be brave. Beware.
Smack and Welking shot upright in their beds almost simultaneously.
The two beasts reacted differently to the dream, although neither would return to sleep. Indeed, it was nearly morning regardless, and further sleep would only be interrupted.
Smack sat on the edge of his bed, sweating profusely. He could almost feel the heat of the burning Abbey from his dreamscape, and despite the superstitions surrounding it he would not be averse to another bath.
More important in his mind, though, was the prophecy he'd just received. He opened the drawer of the nightstand, and found exactly what he was hoping for: paper and a charcoal stick. The charcoal was wrapped with a band of paper, most likely intended to protect the user's paw from going black. The ability to read and write was uncommon among vermin, but as luck would have it he had learned it quite early in life, back when he was being tossed between royal families constantly. He took a moment to translate it into the written symbols he could remember, then set charcoal to paper and began transcribing the poem. After the last line, he added a few notes: Castle on fire; Redwall Abbey? Source of fire appeared to contain beast, unknown species. Tail shape suggested rodent. He set down the wrapped charcoal, picked up another paper, and pushed out down over the surface of the first sheet to remove the excess charcoal and prevent it from staining anything. He folded up the note and stepped over to the wardrobe. Opening it, he turned his single set of clothes until he could find a pocket, and deposited the note. He'd have time to look over it later.
He then turned to the window, and found that the sun was just beginning to rise. Well, now was as good a time as any to begin his day. He slid his garments off the hanger and put them on. There may not have been a nudity taboo here, but he didn't want to freeze out there; he never would have considered going out unclothed in the cold back home, and he wasn't about to try it here, especially when it seemed colder here than it had ever been in his old home.
He was about to leave the room, when he got the feeling he was missing something. He turned around and saw Zargothrax's hat sitting on the nightstand, perfectly fine despite spending the night right next to him. He headed back and picked up the cap. He honestly had nothing to lose by wearing it, he thought as he donned it. After all, it had survived a night of his luck unharmed.
He tippawed downstairs, anxious not to wake anybeast up, only to find the house silent. He would have most likely returned to the guest room, were it not for the note on the kitchen counter. Less nervous now, he moved over to the counter and looked down at the note. It took him a moment to decipher it - it wasn't written in the Tysk that he'd been raised on - but eventually he parsed it; thankfully, the characters were almost identical to those used in Tysk. Nevertheless, he found it difficult to translate quietly, and eventually he just decided to read it out loud. "Smack, last night I painted a piece that has left me fairly concerned. I've taken it to my contact in Gelida's court; I'll be gone most of the morning. Amity had to take an extended shift near Ruddaring to cover for a fellow guard, and won't be back until much later. I've asked one of the batlings to show you around the island once you've finished breaking fast. I also prepared a chicken omelet, which should be in the icebox behind you." He paused and turned around. Sure enough, there was a crate set into the wall, with slight condensation visible on the metal frame. He opened it to find the omelette, plated with a great deal of care, and a bucketload of ice surrounding it. He removed it, set it on the counter, and turned back to the letter. "Cutlery is in the drawer on the far left end of the counter. The omelet should taste fine cold. That's about it; I'll see you soon. Regards, Jacqueline."
She was right; the omelette was absolutely delicious cold, a testament to her skill. He polished it off in record time. He bussed the tableware to the sink, then headed outside.
Welking's reaction to the dream was tempered by the fact that Abzel was already awake. For somebeast who was, by all accounts, nearly old enough to be a grandmother, she was remarkably energetic; she had been practicing her kata long enough to break a sweat, and said she had nearly woken him up herself when he shot up in bed.
Unlike Smack, though, they hadn't anything else to do with their morning, and so they spent their time discussing the dream. Despite Abzel's hyperactivity, she was very receptive to the discussion. "So," she began after he had finished, "let me get this straight: somebeast fire-themed is coming, and he's going to lie to a 'devil's dog'. Anybeast we know?"
"Well, I don' really know enny hearts o' fire, although I guess Smack's little incident back on th' beach was priddy hot. As fer devil dogs… foxes?"
"Possibly. Could be Evil-Dog."
"Well, th' name fits, but less be 'onest, thass about all 'at does."
"Yeah. Poor pup."
"'E's got Switch, though."
"Heh." Abzel sat down on Welking's bed, scooting back to the wall. "She's a bit of a problem child, though, don't you think? Although, I guess he's generally not the victim of her mischief."
"Yeh." They were silent for a moment, then Welking said, "Mebbe Katrina?"
"I hope not. Poor girl's got enough to deal with, without being the target of some crazy prophecy."
"Think we sh' tell Charle?"
"'Hey, Charlie, your quiet, reserved daughter may or may not be the subject of some mysterious prophecy!'"
"Yah, yeh gotta point there." Welking finally decided to stand up. "Eh, less juss go see if Seamus is makin' brekkist yet."
"You know the way?"
"Charle gave me a fancee map; check this thing out." He picked up the sheet from beside his bed and unrolled it.
"Woah… Where are we?"
"Here, inna Dormitory Wing." Welking gave her a skeptical glance. "Can't yeh read?"
"No, sadly that never ranked very high on my list of priorities as a pirate." Abzel hopped off the bed and returned to her own. She pulled out her food sack from underneath the bed, popped a strip of beetle jerky in her mouth, and shoved the sack back under. "Lead the way."
Welking nodded. He took a moment to scan the map and commit the path to the mess hall to memory, then rolled up the resined parchment again. He stood up and reached for the door lever-
And paused, as it turned itself. The door slid open, and the strangest beast either of them had ever seen stepped into the room.
The creature was predominately black and yellow, decorated in a pattern that was quite clearly artificial. It strode in on four legs, none of which seemed structured to use as arms. Its paws resembled those of the arguably mythical horse, but slimmer and more poseable to match its more catlike posture. A strangely boxlike head capped its spine at one end, while the other terminated in a long, lashing tail.
It stared up at them for a moment, then emitted a series of short notes and weaved its way past them. A set of small arms unfolded from its boxy head, with which it proceeded to clean the room. It started with the washbasins, quickly rearranging the decorative flowers and replacing a few from chambers within its body, and scrubbing out the interiors with small spinning pads. It then moved on to the floor, cleaning and polishing in a spiral outward from the center column.
When it reached Abzel's bed, it paused and poked its head underneath the frame. It pulled out like a bird pulling at a worm, bringing the food sack with it. Abzel rushed forward and grabbed the sack. "Hey, get your… uh, face, offa that!" The creature quickly complied, then jumped around her and skittered over to the wardrobe. Pulling it open, it removed a back panel and procured a long, thin box, which it then placed beside the bed. It looked up at her, then gestured with one face-paw to the sack and another to the box. Another burst of tones sounded from within its cubic skull, presumably a statement that the contents of the box were safe from cleaning, or something along those lines.
"Thanks, but I think I'll keep it for now." Abzel tied off the end of the sack and slung it over her shoulder. The creature gave a confirmation note and pushed the box under the bed with its tail, then returned to its rotation of the floor. Abzel, meanwhile, decided it was time to leave. "Come on, Welking; let's go eat."
"Er… yah, less do that." They exited the room, closing the door on the metal maid creature as it continued with its silent task.
"So," Welking said after a few paces, "yer real protective o' that bag there. Whass so importent 'bout a bunch o' food?"
"Well, it's-it's food!" Abzel's voice quite suddenly filled with hostility. "You don't get much of that on a pirate ship; you get even less in the desert! You need to hold on to every little scrap, just in case you lose the source!"
"Not likely t'happen here." Welking had, just barely, heard Alphonse's pawsteps before he cut into the conversation. Abzel, on the other paw, was caught completely off-guard, and jumped straight into the air with a yelp of fright. Al watched with a twinkle of amusement in his natural eye. "Figgered those ears would be a bit more sensitive; guess not."
"Yer damned quiet, mate."
"You should hear me when I'm tryin' t'be quiet." Al chuckled. "Then again, ya probably couldn't!"
"Yeh mean ya weren't even tryin' ta sound lighter'n a heartbeat?"
"Ya flatter me, but I think ye'd still hear my heartbeat then, considerin' you noticed me comin'."
Welking stared at him with astonishment written across his face. "How d'yeh figger that?"
"You turned ever so slightly t'look at me when I showed up. Nothin' obvious, but I can spot the little details like that."
"Somethin' t'do widdat eye o' yers?"
"Azzamaddafact, yes. I'll explain in a moment, but, eh, it appears we've stopped moving." He waved for them to follow, and they resumed their journey to the kitchen. "So, the eye. Charlie designed it as a visual enhancement device. It's got ultraviolet, infrared, and even sonic feeds, and it can interface with this bracer here-" he held up the metal cuff that adorned his left arm "-for an enhanced tactical view, or, eh, 'Heads-Up Display' as Charlie calls it."
"Ehhh… am I serposed t'be impressed? Cuz I din' unnerstand any o' that 'feed' stuff, an' I don' see whass so speshel 'bout a Heads-Up Dis-Play."
"Well, first, it's 'display'; the second syllable's got the emphasis. Next, the feeds are just different ways of looking at the world. Ultraviolet and infrared are colors most beasts are unable to see. Imagine, if you will, a color that is to red what red is to orange; that's infrared."
"Uh… I ain't th' most 'maginative beast."
"I guess you'd have to be able to see it to understand what it feels like to be able to. In any case, the benefit of havin' something like that is that, because most beasts can't see it, you get a different view of the world. This is best in the tactical departments of technology, because you can't hide yourself in a spectrum you can't see." He tapped the temple of his metal eye and focused on Welking. "For example, I'm currently viewing you in the infrared spectrum. Wanna see what you look like?"
Welking nodded. Alphonse winked with his artificial eye, then began tapping on his bracer. The surface glowed into life, with a brilliant blue sheen that reflected off a slightly recessed flat area on the outside. He tapped his way through a variety of graphs, then produced an image that looked utterly foreign to Welking: himself, in purple, pink, and orange.
As he examined the bizarre image, details began to come to his attention. His nose was slightly darker than the rest of his face; his eyes, mouth, and inner ears, on the other paw, were bright orange. "What ezzactly'm I lookin' at?"
"This," Al said with an air of scientific haughtiness, "is your body heat. Many creatures have incredible natural camouflage to hide from predators - or prey - but in the infrared spectrum, their bodies are lit up like bonfires." He started walking again. "In addition, lots of things that are normally opaque are transparent in infrared, meaning I can see straight through them."
"Woah."
"Woah indeed. As for ultraviolet, that's the color off the other side of the spectrum, past purple, but it doesn't have as much, eh, tactical benefit as infrared. Charlie just threw it in there for completeness' sake.
"Now, sonic, that's another matter. Picture this: seeing sounds."
"Are yeh… are yeh 'avin a lark?"
"Not even a bit. Bats already do it, in a sense. They send out a small sound, then listen to the echo to determine how far away obstacles are. My version is a bit different, though; it only listens to the sounds already occurring in the world. Of course, since I don't live in total darkness, I still get a visual image, but I can overlay it with audio input parsed into a visual format. The system runs incoming sounds through a few filters to pick out the pitches that will be the most useful to me, and then it renders them into a heat-map display that-"
"Yeh lost me."
"You lasted longer than most. Suffice to say that I can see your heartbeat."
Welking stared at him. "You… can?"
"Yes. It's not perfect, and the range is pitifully small, but I can still pick you out from your surroundings from the timbre of your heart rate and breath. Combine that with the tactical overlay from my bracer, and I get a nice little circle in my peripheral vision that shows me everybeast within about twenty paces."
"So," Welking began, motioning to the quickly approaching mess hall door, "can you see if anybeast will be joining us for breakfast?"
"It'd be better to ask me a question I couldn't answer by other means, but we'll run with it. No, everybeast else is asleep right now." He paused right in front of the door, then frowned. "Actually, there might be somebeast in there… don't seem to have a heartbeat, though…" He tapped his bracer. "Oh. Somebeast must have made a mess in there."
He swung the door open, and the trio was greeted by another metal beast cleaning the floor with an array of spinning brushes. Al walked past it with barely a sideways glance, patting it on its pronounced spine ridge as he went. "Don't mind us, Golgi; just making breakfast." The creature whirred in reply, attention still totally focused on the cleaning of the floor.
Welking was slower in skirting around the beast. "What are 'ese things ennyway?"
Alphonse slid behind the counter and began assembling the components of the morning meal. "Charlie's little 'maid' service. He's made a bunch of different models for them, to fill all sorts of purposes in his day-to-day affairs. I'm not sure what he calls this model, but they're the cleanup crew around here. He's also got packdogs, the jack-of-all-trades military support units; groundhogs, the digging and demolition units; paper wasps, the architecture and construction crews; and… well, security and peacekeeping drones, which I don't actually remember the name of. Each one of the different models is designed for exactly one purpose; you won't see groundhogs sweeping the floor, or packdogs digging out a mine." He pulled out a bowl of bright orange orbs from a steam-filled cupboard in the wall; Welking felt a brief wave of cold air as the door shut again. "You ever had fish eggs?"
Abzel perked up quite abruptly. "Oh, oh, yeah I have! Oh they're SO GOOD Welking like you would not BELIEVE how good they are!"
"Oh, that's right, Seamus said you were from Tassa. Well, you'll like this breakfast, 'cause I'm gonna make a masala."
"YES!" Abzel screeched, leaping into the air. Welking pitched forward, paws cupped over his ears in a futile attempt to block out the massive outburst that had already started a ringing inside his head. Unhindered by this, Abzel continued babbling. "OH MY HELLGATES the food in Tassa was THE BEST THING EVER I could just keep eating and eating and EATING AND EATING! Welking Welking Welking we gotta get a table come on!" Heedless to his pain, she grabbed him roughly by the arm and started dragging him to a table.
Alphonse stared for a little while longer, then chuckled lightly. "It's like you don't even use commas," he quipped, before returning to meal preparations. His tail, previously relatively inactive, whipped up over his shoulder and acted as a sort of third limb for adding spices, allowing him to hold the pan and spatula with his paws unhindered.
Welking, after a moment to recover from the audial assault, focused on the strange appendage. "What 'appened ta yer tail?"
"Cut it off," Al said nonchalantly, shaking a bit of garlic into the pot over his shoulder. "Not as useful; not prehensile enough."
"No sob stories or grand adventures?"
"Nope, just pure engineering utility." He picked up a small spoon with his tail, doled out a dab of the masala onto it, and took a taste. "Yeah, that's ready." His tail snaked down behind the counter, fished out a stack of bowls, and expertly rolled them out onto the counter in a line. He poured a helping of masala into each, picked one up in each paw, and wrapped the third in his tail. He carried the helpings over to the table, as Abzel slowly went mental in her seat. Her bowl was only on the table for a fraction of a second before she dug in. "Take care you don't eat the spoon," Al joked, though his voice betrayed a hint of concern that she might actually do just that.
The fear was unfounded, but he soon found himself regretting the joke anyway. Abzel, now aware of the existence of the spoon, picked it and her bowl up, and began directly shoveling masala into her mouth. Within seconds, she had finished off the entire helping. She frantically inspected the bowl for any last remnants of food, then held it up to Al with pleading eyes.
"Hey," Welking said, pushing over his bowl. "Yeh c'n 'ave this; 'm not all 'at 'ungry."
Al stopped the bowl halfway. "No, she can have mine. My fault, really, for underestimating a Fennec's appetite." He passed her the bowl (or rather, narrowly avoided putting his paw in her mouth) and sauntered over to the counter. "I can just make another-"
"No, I believe I will handle that, Master Alphonse." Welking turned to see Seamus marching into the room, dressed in some form of martial arts uniform.
Alphonse's expression brightened in recognition. "C!" he greeted, with one of the most pointless nicknames Welking has ever heard. "What's with the outfit?"
Seamus took his station in the kitchenette and started preparing another round of masala. "I wouldn't expect you to be aware, seeing as you spend all your time hidden away, but our guests are familiar with Shuan-Ge kata; Abzel has agreed to give a demonstration for Katrina's benefit."
"Oh?" Al raised an eyebrow. "Well, won't that be exciting! Speaking of, where is Katy?" As he asked, he tried to squeeze his way past Seamus and out of the cramped kitchenette, but failed to find an opening.
"She should be along shortly; she had planned to wear her uniform to breakfast as well, but it needed to be refabricated after her last session."
Abzel tilted her head to one side. "What happened then?"
Al finally gave up on trying to slide by Seamus, and turned to the back wall. Then, with a small "Hup!" he jumped up, kicked off the wall, and vaulted over the counter. He landed lightly on all fours, then pushed himself up to a bipedal stance and rubbed his paws together. "Funny story, that. Y'see, Charlie's a bit hung up on training in realistic situations. He says if you train kata without an actual opponent, you'll just get overwhelmed and forget everything in a real fight. Basically, what that means is that he has us train with fake beasts, kinda like the drones he came up with."
He motioned to Golgi, who was off in the far corner of the room cleaning up dust under one of the tables. "Got a whole bunch o' those, modeled after jus' about every species you're ever likely to meet out in the world. Has us train against them regularly, to prepare us for… well, whatever might happen."
Seamus finished whatever he had been cooking, and portioned it out into five bowls. "Master Alphonse, I'm disappointed in you. Once again, you've forgotten the paneer."
"I never forget the paneer," Al said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I avoid it intentionally."
Abzel gasped. "But the paneer's the best part; why would you leave it out?"
"It's cheese," he responded. "It's made with milk. Milk is gross."
Welking's face wrinkled in confusion. "Don'tcha use greensap fer makin' cheese?"
"No, paneer is traditionally made with milk," Seamus replied. "It's part of the Tassan cultural heritage; and beyond that, greensap cheese is just a bit too plant-like in flavour."
"Flavor," Al said.
"That is what I said."
"No, you said 'flavour'. You added that weird 'oo' sound at the end again."
Seamus handed him his bowl of masala with a fierce glare accompanying it. "I may not be a hare, but you would do well to allow me my verbal idiosyncrasies."
Al snorted. "And you'd do well to let me cook, but that doesn't stop you from stealing the show every time you enter the room - Ayo! Chica! Why the long face?"
Welking turned to see Katrina in the doorway, staring at Alphonse with a look of dumbfounded shock. It took her a few seconds to find her voice. "Oh, um… Alphonse! What… what are you doing out of… out here?"
"Eh, got bored of dim lighting and cramped spaces. Heard Charlie had some guests over, figured I'd take a looksee." He paused to take a bite of his masala, opened his mouth to speak again, and was promptly interrupted by a series of tones from his bracer: high-low, high-low! "Mm? Ah, carajo. Groundhogs hit a snag; gotta go straighten 'em out. Hey, Katy!" He pointed a claw at her. "You're awesome! Stay awesome!" His pointing transitioned into a thumbclaws-up, then he saluted as he backed out of the room in a strange shuffle-step. "Take care! Adios!"
The room filled with silence once again, as Seamus and Katrina served up their masala and took their seats at Welking and Abzel's table. After a prolonged soundtrack of silent chewing, Welking quipped, "Lovely weather we're having."
I WROTE. SO MUCH.
WHY DID I DO THIS.
AGH.
Sorry. I really overdid myself here.
Credit to Innerpartysystem for the song title.