3
The vermin escorted their prisoners to the front lawn and sat them in a huddle, ringed by a row of guards who prodded the more fidgety ones with the butts of their spears. Anybeast who cried out received a quick rap to the back of the skull. As the procession waned, Alagadda of the Many Blades took reports from her captains at the little table she had set up on the lawn, beckoning the somewhat-trusted lieutenants to partake in the best fare Redwall had to offer.
Captain Jareck, the old stoat who had accompanied her when she accosted Abbott Walden, was first. He needed no more than one proffering to start wolfing down a plate of pastries.
Alagadda waited far more than she should have before aheming him. "Your report, Jareck."
Jareck glanced up, wiping crumbs from his gray whiskers. "Report? Wot's this about a report?"
"How goes the attack on Redwall?"
After a moment's contemplation, Jareck reached for a lonely plum turnover. "'Ow's it look? Ye've got eyes, ain't ye?"
In a flash, the turnover was impaled against the table by a thrown dagger. Jareck regarded the spoiled pastry with dismay.
"Y'addlepated know-nothin'," Alagadda hissed, "I asked fer a report, and that's what I wanna hear!"
Undaunted by the sudden ferocity, Jareck reached into the folds of his cloak and withdrew a ruddy copper coin, which he flicked from paw to paw. "An' 'ow am I s'posed t'know what ye want me t'say? Ye ain't ne'er asked fer a report afore."
"I ain't ne'er been sittin' in Redwall Abbey with a host of captured goodbeasts at my footpaws afore. We ain't rovers n' brigands no longer—it's time we started actin' like a real army!"
Jareck considered, gnawing on the tip of his coin with one long fang. He nodded. "Guess yore right. Well then, 'ere's my report: You're sittin' in Redwall Abbey with a host a captured goodbeasts at yore footpaws. Ye ain't a rover nor a brigand no more—"
Alagadda snatched a scone off the table and flicked it at him. Jareck recoiled, clapping a paw to his face. "Gaah, me eye, ye hit me eye!"
"Git outta my sight," she said, drawing a knife, "Or the next thing I throw won't be no scone!" As Jareck bumbled away, she added: "An' from now on, you'll address me as 'milady,' y'hear?"
Alagadda reclined into her chair and sighed. She cast a bored eye over the creatures huddled before her, some eyeing her carefully with fearful looks, others too concerned with little ones or elders. What a total disappointment. All her seasons she had been raised on stories of the peerless warriors of Redwall Abbey, stories punctuated with the dire warning to all good little vermin: Beware the bells of Redwall! And yet here she was, having taken the entire place without a sole casualty on her side.
Her next captain, a dour-faced fox named Conredd, approached. "Milady, I've inspected the main gate in more detail. 'Tis as you thought—rotted through. If we're to hold this Abbey, it'll need to be replaced quick, else somebeast may enter the same way we did. I'll check the smaller wallgates 'round the Abbey in case they're the same—"
"Don't ye got anythin' more excitin' to gab at me with than the state of the doors," said Alagadda.
Conredd gave a slight bow. He was a natural sycophant, and by extension, a natural fox. Alagadda had bet Jareck on how long until he tried to backstab her, as all of his ilk are inclined to do sooner or later. Jareck had given him far more credit than she had. "Milady, you asked for reports on the state of affairs, and 'tis what I have given you. If 'tis not to yore fancy, then I shall depart, with yore permission."
She waved him off. "Yes yes, dismissed." He melted out of sight nigh instantaneously, and she was grateful he had spared her any further ingratiation.
A commotion arose near the front doors of the Abbey. Six or seven of her lesser hordebeasts struggled to push a lone creature out of the Abbey building and into the crowd with the other woodlanders; despite their insults, prodding spearpoints, and the presence of Alagadda's third captain, the creature made almost no movement whatsoever.
Alagadda rose from her seat, wondering if perhaps something had occurred at the doldrum of an Abbey that might whet her interest. Her third captain, a rat named Kludd, noticed her approach and saluted her smartly with a wobbly cutlass. His oversized helm shifted off his undersized head and clattered to the ground.
"Kludd, I told you to ditch that stupid helmet, t'ain't doin' yew no favors," said Alagadda.
Kludd launched into his report. "I've taken th'Abbey, just as you ordered, Lady Alagadda!"
"And nobeast escaped in the fray?"
Kludd hesitated for half a second, enough for Alagadda to know that whatever he said next was a lie. It mattered little. She would press him later.
"Secured each n' ev'ry room, not a one left unsearched. This mousey's the last of 'em."
He indicated the creature still being prodded forward by his subordinates, in whom Alagadda had taken great interest. The creature was no more than an old mouse, draped in the same green habit all the woodlanders wore, but she could tell by his still-limber musculature that he was no beast of peace, like the others. No, when he glared at her through eyes stoic and unflinching, Alagadda knew that he had the prowess to back up that stare, old though he was.
"Who's he?"
Kludd shrugged. "You'll have t'ask him that yoreself, milady. We found 'im in a big room full a' books, just sittin' there, but he shore gave us a wallopin' with just his bare paws, that's for shore. I'd be careful, he's a real fighter."
Alagadda hoped Kludd spoke sooth. She brushed away the six or seven vermin gathered around the mouse to get a better look at him. Much like the old vole she had accosted earlier, who she had later learned was the place's Abbott, the mouse was smaller than her but unafraid of her advance. But unlike the vole, when Alagadda stared back into the eyes of the mouse, she knew she was looking at somebeast who could potentially kill her. The thought filled her with brimming anticipation.
"Tell me yore name," she asked him.
She worried for a moment he might be one of the silent types, but he soon spoke. "My name is Fannin. I am the Champion of this Abbey. Unless you and your horde release my friends and leave this instant, I will kill you."
A smile crept over Alagadda's features, which burgeoned into a laugh. "Aha! That's the kinda speak I've been waitin' t'hear. Fannin, y'say? An' th'Abbey Champion, no less! I was startin' to worry this accursed ol' Abbey didn't even have a Champion, that it was all hearsay muttered by skittish ol' dams t'keep their runts from squealin' at night. Say, speakin' a' stories, that famous magic blade of Redwall Abbey wouldn't happen t'be real, too, now would it?"
Kludd, realizing he was suddenly relevant again, stepped forward. "Aye, milady, we found the sword, an' the tapestry too!" He pantomimed a series of frantic paw-movements at two of his lackeys, who disappeared into the Abbey and returned moments later carrying the gleaming blade of Martin the Warrior between them.
The two lackeys knelt before Alagadda and held the blade up to her. Kludd knelt as well. "I present to ye, milady, the famed magic sword of Redwall Abbey! 'Twill be an excellent addition to yore collection."
Alagadda took the blade by the hilt. It was surprisingly light, but undoubtedly durable. A cursory appraisal was all Alagadda needed to be convinced of its remarkable quality. Anybeast who fought the wielder of this blade in combat would be foolish indeed.
She planted the sword into the ground before the mouse warrior Fannin. "Go on, take it," she said. "You claimed you'd kill me. Well, here's yore chance."
Fannin's eyes narrowed. Slowly he reached a paw for the hilt of the sword, eyes trained on both Alagadda and the vermin around him.
One of the captives in the center of the lawn stood up. It was Abbott Walden. "Don't, Fannin—it's a trap." A guard forced the vole down with the butt of a spear.
"Here's my proposal," said Alagadda. "You and me, we fight. Nobeast in the way, not any of my soldiers. I kill you, I get yore Abbey to do with it what I will. You kill me, then I'm a deadbeast and my army crumbles 'cuz there ain't nobeast else with the charisma and competence t'lead it. Whaddya say t'that?"
"I've no reason to trust you," said Fannin.
"Then don't. Imagine that I've got all sorts a' dirty tricks up my sleeve. But you swore you'd kill me, and so here I am, and there's yore magic sword. Nobeast'll stop you from pickin' it up, ain't that right Kludd?"
"Er, um, right, milady!"
"In fact, anybeast who takes even a step in the direction of this warrior Fannin answers to me personally. Go ahead, Kludd, try to cut the mouse down with that cutlass of yores, so I can show 'im I'm serious."
Kludd scratched at his collar. "Er, um, is it alright if I, uh, don't do that?"
Alagadda turned back to Fannin. "See? He ain't goin' to interfere."
"And will you give the same threat to the creature in the gatehouse who has an arrow trained on me as we speak?" said Fannin.
Despite herself, Alagadda grinned. The mouse was observant as well—he had spotted Vellis, her fourth and final captain. Vellis would not loose her bow without Alagadda's permission, but to give the mouse peace of mind, she dismissed the sniper anyway. Vellis disappeared from the gatehouse window without a word.
"Satisfied?" said Alagadda.
"I'll not be satisfied until your army is sent fleeing from this Abbey," said Fannin. "Despite your assurances to the contrary, I expect all manner of cheats and trickery from the likes of you. But I'll agree to your duel nonetheless, as I know I can outsmart you."
With hardly any outward exertion, he drew the Sword of Martin from the loamy soil and affected a defensive stance, leaning away from Alagadda as the vermin cleared a berth around him. Vermin and woodlanders alike shouted encouragement to their respective parties.
"Come on, Fannin, trounce that mangy scoundrel!"
"Lop the mouse's head off!"
Alagadda picked two of her many blades at random and drew them. Fannin instinctively took a step back, watching her paws for a twitch, but instead she made a half-lunge which he sidestepped immediately. Alagadda made another lunge, a little further than the first, still swiping at nothing but air. She was not trying to hit him, yet. Instead she studied his response: how fast did he react, which direction did he favor, how close until he switched to the offensive.
She flicked one of the blades at Fannin's footpaw. He dodged back and immediately she was at him with another blade drawn, slicing low at his stomach. He deflected the blow with his sword, sliding back even further, forcing the edge of the circle of spectators to dance back out of his way, none of the vermin daring to be anywhere near the mouse. She followed the first swipe with a second from her other dagger, aimed for the throat, but Fannin dipped under the swing and dove at her with his sword, a move she had not expected from such an old mouse. She span to the side as the metal cut into the skin of her ribs. A sliver of blood splattered onto the grass.
The dodge sent her off-balance and she started to fall. Tucking in her head as she connected with the ground, she somersaulted out of the way of a second swing from the mouse, rolling back to her footpaws and throwing both knives as soon as she rose, which Fannin evaded with one deft motion.
They both took a step back, facing each other, Alagadda breathing much more heavily than the mouse, whose imperturbable gaze never wavered, never wandered. A line of blood ran down the edge of his blade, but Alagadda knew without having to inspect her wound that it was shallow.
Drawing two more knives, she smiled; the fight was good.
She began to circle the makeshift arena, stepping with a slight limp as though her injury were worse than it was. Nothing in Fannin's blank stare indicated he fell for the ruse, which she had not expected and quite frankly would have been disappointed if he had.
From out of the ring of vermin burst Conredd. "What's this," he said. "What's going on here?"
"What's it look like," said Alagadda. "We're havin' a fight, leave us to it."
"Are you daft in the head," said Conredd. "Fightin' one on one like this? Why? What's the gain? We've won the Abbey, an' here you are riskin' all o' that for no reason!"
"The only one daft in the head is you, if you think mouthin' off at me is a good idea!" As she snarled at Conredd, Alagadda kept one eye on Fannin, although the mouse appeared content to remain in a reactive stance.
Conredd let out a long exhalation. "You're hurt."
"Take a step closer an' die," said Alagadda.
"Why're you doin' this?"
"Because I want to!" With a shriek Alagadda launched herself at Fannin, baring her knives like two gleaming fangs. Fannin drew back again but underestimated the ferocity of the lunge, unable to block in time as she crashed into him, knocking them both to the ground.
A collective gasp went up from the audience. Conredd rushed forward, drawing a blade, demanding Kludd and a few of his rats to help. Kludd did not budge.
Fannin and Alagadda had collapsed in a heap at the center of the arena. By the time Conredd reached them, one of the two figures had stirred and started to rise. It was Alagadda of the Many Blades, wiping a lick of blood off her paw. On the ground before her lay Fannin, Champion of Redwall, two knives protruding from his chest. The Sword of Martin remained clutched in one paw.
"Fetch mud and dockleaf for her wounds," Conredd barked.
Although the vermin had obstructed the woodlanders's view of the fight, the outcome seeped its way to them immediately. The initial assault on Redwall had stupefied most of them into shock, but the realization of the loss of their Champion broke the haze that lay over them. Many of the more frightened began to wail, while a few others hurled curses at the vermin and even charged the guards, only to be beaten back immediately.
Amidst the turmoil, Abbott Walden sunk to the ground. He and Fannin had grown up in the Abbey together; they had shared their Dibbunhood. Long ago, fed by stories of adventure, Fannin had gone on an adventure of his own into distant lands. He had offered Walden to accompany him, but Walden had declined, had remained in the safety of the Abbey, and had regretted the decision ever after. Every night lying in bed since that fateful decision, Walden had wondered what would have happened had he gone, imaging himself at Fannin's side, fighting villains with their backs against each other, although Walden had never fought and never truly desired to. After Fannin had returned, Walden had often contemplated inviting him on another adventure, but the seasons passed and Walden had said nothing and now Fannin was dead and there was nothing he could do and—
"Abbott, you can't cry like that," said a young squirrel beside him. It was Laramie, the Abbey's new Recorder. Her eyes were aflame, her teeth gritted, but her words calm. "Everybeast will lose hope if they see you like this."
"Lose hope?" said Walden. "For the first time since its construction, Redwall has fallen. Our Champion—my friend—is dead. What hope is there?"
Laramie helped him back up. "Redwall may have fallen, but that doesn't mean it's over. My sister Sully isn't here, neither are many others. They must have escaped. They won't abandon us—they'll find help. If we persevere, we can fight back. But we need a leader, someone who will remain strong."
Abbott Walden adjusted his spectacles and wiped his eyes. "You're right. You're absolutely right. It ill befits an Abbott of Redwall Abbey to break down in face of tragedy. But although I know these words are true, I cannot bring myself to live by them… Fannin is dead, Laramie. My friend, and he's dead."
"He was friend to us all," said Laramie, squeezing his paw. Her eyes bore into the backs of the heads of the vermin guard, who had started up a chant for their leader, the weasel with the odd name: Alagadda of the Many Blades. Laramie was young and inexperienced in the ways of combat, but as she supported the frail Abbott she knew one thing, and one thing alone; she would kill that creature Alagadda.
If Alagadda had any inkling of the unrestrained ire levied at her, she did not show it. As Conredd tended to her wound, she examined again the Sword of Martin, which she had pried with some difficulty from Fannin's cold dead paw. In the blade she saw her own reflection through the streak of blood still splotched upon the metal.
"So much fer a magic blade," she said.
"You speak as if you wish he'd bested ye, milady," said Conredd. He wrapped a bandage around her torso where the cut was.
"Magic or no, 'tis a good blade indeed. What think ye, Conredd? Shall I change my name to Alagadda of the One Blade and use this for my weapon?"
"Whatever your will desires, milady." Faint derision in his voice. Faint, but detectable.
She shrugged. "'Tis not a blade befits my style, I'm afraid. Captain Kludd! Where's Captain Kludd?"
Kludd pushed his way to the fore. "'Ere, milady!"
"Guess wot, Kludd? It's yore lucky day. I'm givin' you a gift!" She lobbed the Sword of Martin at him. He tried to catch it by the hilt but missed and cut his paw on the blade, dropping it. After scrambling to retrieve it, he gushed a profusion of thanks to which she didn't bother to listen.
Tightening the bandage around Alagadda's waist, Conredd said, "More qualified creatures may've wanted the blade, milady."
"Kludd is a capable beast," said Alagadda. Stepping away from him, she addressed the soldiers thronged around her, many still chanting her name. She held a paw for peace and the courtyard fell silent save for a few sobs from the woodlanders grouped nearby.
"Ye've fought well today," she said. "I'm pleased with the lot of ye. Take the prisoners to the cellar, that'll do for a jail 'til I figure out what I wanna do with 'em. The rest of ye, enjoy yore new home here at Redwall Abbey. Raid the kitchens, set up a feast for suppertime. Understood?"
The vermin erupted into a raucous cheer, raising their weapons in a clatter of hurrahs. Alagadda had heard it all before; they were easy to please. Above, the Abbey bells chimed. One of hers must have climbed up in the excitement to make some noise. Well, let them have their fun.
With Conredd trailing behind her, she passed between her ranks and entered the Main Hall of Redwall Abbey.