4

Scattered and ramshackle, those who had fled Redwall staggered eastward through the dales and glens of Mossflower Wood, forcing their way past the ivy and underbrush dense in the shadowy ways beneath the canopy. Vegetation seeped from every crevice, gnarled and twisted, snagging on skin and habits. Every few seconds somebeast fell and had to be helped back to his or her footpaws.

Friar Alger led the diaspora, warding away the tendrils of the forest with his ladle. "The wood's never been like this afore," he said, delimbing a wayward branch.

Sister Selma of the Infirmary struggled through a thicket alongside him. The spry old mouse had tromped over all manner of bramble to reach the friar. Picking thorns from her fur, she said, "Alger, we cannot continue much longer like this. A fine young beast like yourself can keep going along at this pace, but we have elderly and young with us. We need rest!"

Breathing heavily, Alger glanced back at the ragtag creatures, many collapsing with exhaustion. "Aye, seems you're right. Okay, listen up! We camp here, 'tis as good a spot as any in this wretched snarl we've blundered into. Rest your footpaws and tend to any scratches, I'll see if there's anything I can fix up for vittles roundabouts."

Fentress and Sully were among those to slump to the ground, shuffling around twigs and leaves to make a less uncomfortable spot for themselves. Fentress picked a few leaves from her whiskers and let them sink in the stagnant air of excess verdancy.

"I don't remember something like this ever happening in the stories before," she told Sully.

Sully remained seated for half a second before springing back up and scouring the area. "That's 'cuz it's never happened afore, at least not for longer'n a day at most. It's always the same: vermin show up, posture like they'll take the Abbey, and get what's comin' to 'em—Aha!" She dug into a nearby brush and returned with a double pawful of blackberries. "I knew I sniffed something in all this mugginess."

She fell back to her seat and shared the berries with Fentress. Many of the other Redwallers, having fled on an empty stomach, flocked to her. Sully was glad to share what she had with everybeast. "There's more just behind that brush," she said when the supply ran out.

Fentress bit into a blackberry; it was bitter but good enough for a famished otter. As the woodlanders ate, her thoughts turned toward the dream that had woken her in the morning. "If I had gone straight to the Abbott, maybe I could've changed something," she said, half to herself.

"Oh yeah!" said Sully. "Your dream, right? With what's happened, I bet it's really important!"

Many of the others perked their ears in curiosity.

"Dream? What's this about a dream?"

"Did Martin come to you in a dream?"

"Tell us—what was it?"

The eyes of the creatures turned upon her, blinking out of the darkness, surrounding her. Before panic could seize her, Friar Alger burst from the underbrush, carrying an assortment of fruits and vegetables under his arms.

Fentress was momentarily forgotten. "It ain't much," said Alger, "But I've scrounged up some decent greens for a salad. We'll make do with what utensils we have, and what utensils we have ain't many, but it don't seem we got the option of bein' too picky here."

A ragged cheer went up from the crowd of refugees, who numbered around twoscore. The food combined with the visitation from Martin had lessened the dismal mood that had pervaded through them just moments before, and every well-bodied creature leapt up and volunteered to help Friar Alger prepare the salad. One foresighted mole even revealed a collection of wooden spoons, forks, and knives he had lugged from Redwall.

"Iffen oi hadn't thought to've brung moi gudd silvurr, oi doin't know what we'd bee doin'. Havin' to use urr diggen' claws, no doubt."

Soon Alger passed around a small salad for everybeast, each in a cleverly-arranged leaf bowl. Due to the shortage of utensils, Fentress had to eat hers with a spoon, but she didn't mind much. Alger was nothing if not a capable chef, and he somehow made a delectable dish out of what amounted to wild lettuce and chopped apples. She and Sully had sprinkled some extra blackberries into their salads to add a bit more complexity to the flavor.

As they settled into their meal, the conversation quickly (and regrettably) returned to the topic of Fentress's dream. It started as whispers, many of the woodlanders eyeing Fentress from behind their salads. Fentress was attuned to the stares even from the most surreptitious watchers, and it caused the fur on her neck to bristle as she tilted her head deeper into her salad in an attempt fold in on herself completely.

It was not long before Friar Alger noticed. "What're you all whisperin' about? Something wrong with young Fentress?"

Before Fentress could stop her, Sully piped up. "She saw Martin the Warrior in a dream!"

"Aha! I knew Martin wouldn't roll over an' let his Abbey get taken without some sort've help. Surprised it wasn't Fannin he visited, him bein' the Champion n' all, or mebbe he doubled up an' spoke to the both o' ye. Well now, don't be shy, young lady, spill what he said!"

Fentress knew short of the ground opening up and swallowing them all, no distraction would prevent them from prying what they wanted out of her. She felt awful for not wanting to tell them, even though she wasn't sure if what she said would help much. By the same token, they had all been at the Abbey much longer than her and knew more of its history; they might be able to make sense of her dream, even if she couldn't. Of course, that only made her wonder more than she already had why Martin had chosen her of all creatures.

She wedged her eyes shut and said: "He didn't say anything—that was the odd thing about it. He showed up to me and started to talk—I mean his mouth moved—but no sound came out… it was completely silent. He kept talking and talking but saying nothing—and then the dream ended and I woke up. That's it."

Silence fell among the woodlanders.

"Are you sure that's all of it?" said Alger. "What about his expression, did he look angry? Sad? Was he holdin' anything, any sort of clue?"

"He looked exactly like he did in the tapestry… as if he had been cut out of it. All he held was the sword… That's it, I'm sure of it. Unless I've forgotten something…"

Sully leapt up for about the fifth time since she first sat down. "That must be the clue!" Everybeast looked at her. "The silence, I mean. What talks but says nothing? It must what Martin's tryin' to tell us!"

"That may be the case," said Alger. "'Tis not in Martin's nature to abandon Redwall in our time of need. He visited Fannin once, y'know. Gave 'im a nice good riddle, took a real long time for us to puzzle out, an' that was back when our wits was still sharp, heh heh! What talks but says nothing… Put yore heads together n' mull it over while we march. Sister Selma, assist the infirm. We head east—if we reach the River Moss there's a good chance we'll run into somebeast who can help."

A few of the woodlanders groaned, but climbed to their footpaws anyway. Their spirits seemed to have flagged since Fentress related her dream—but they were not without hope, either. A few chattered amongst themselves of what the dream might mean, rifling through several hypotheses. Even Sully stroked her chin as if thinking incredibly deeply on the subject. What talks but says nothing… That was a good catch. Fentress wouldn't have figured that one out, at least not as quickly as Sully had. Was that really what Martin meant?

Friar Alger lent her a paw to help her up. "Don't look so downcast, young lady," he said, with a booming guffaw. "Martin's riddles ain't meant to be figgered out straightaway. Ye've done good enough today already by gettin' us all outta bed in time."

Fentress lowered her head. "Thank you. I wish I could do more."

"Oh, you'll have plenty of chance for that," said Sully. "Martin only singles out those he finds truly worthy, y'know? You'll be the big hero in no time flat, right alongside Fannin and Friar Alger!"

They turned eastward and plunged deeper into the wood.

Captain Kludd was enjoying his new weapon. Having discarded the wobbly cutlass, he lorded over the Abbeybeasts with the infamous symbol of their seasons-long dominion over the vermin, waving the Sword of Martin aloft and threatening to smite any disobedient creature at the least provocation as he herded them into the cellar.

Captain Jareck, ever the carrion crow, had cottoned to what had transpired in the duel between Alagadda and Fannin, and now lingered behind Kludd, pressing him on the Sword of Martin. "Yer tellin' me Alagadda just up 'n gave that t'ye?"

"Aye, me and me alone," said Kludd, nudging a laggard mole down the stairs. "She coulda given it to Conredd, or Vellis, y'know how she favors 'em. But she gave it t'me. Must be 'cuz she sees so much potential in me, y'know, as a leader?"

Jareck had seen many creatures in his long seasons; Kludd was a typical fool. Biting onto his copper coin, the old stoat played to Kludd's ego. "Oh, indeed. 'Ave ye heard 'ow she 'n Conredd have been arguin' lately? No doubt she's groomin' yew t'take his place as her right paw."

"Groomin'?" said Kludd. "Wot's that mean?"

"It means it's a shore thing, mate," said Jareck. "Who else would she promote? I'm too old, an' Vellis ain't ne'er been one for givin' orders. Only yew got what it takes, Kludd."

"It makes sense," said Kludd. "I was the one who led the charge on the Abbey, she must be rewardin' me for that."

"Aye, a right perilous thing for ye to do, and courageous too," said Jareck. "I'd've died of fright if she'd sent me to rush all those Abbeybeasts. They're magic, the stories say."

Kludd pumped out his chest, seizing a passing mouse by the back of the head and throwing her down the stairs into the dark of the cellar. "Aye, 'twas pretty brave o' me, wasn't it?"

From outside came a yell: "Kludd! Where are ye, Kludd?" It was Alagadda.

"That must be her comin' t'give the promotion right now," said Kludd, winking slyly at Jareck, who winked back.

Dispensing some lesser hordebeasts to the task of watching the prisoners, Kludd led Jareck up the stairs out of the cellar. When they reached the top step, a lone voice from below shouted:

"That sword doesn't belong to you!"

Kludd whirled back, baring the blade before him, but only darkness returned his glare. "'Ey! Who said that?"

Silence below. Alagadda called for Kludd again, and he forgot the disturbance.

They emerged into daylight. Alagadda was waiting for them, tapping her footpaw. "'Bout time. Jareck, I'm leavin' yew in charge o' the prisoners. Kludd, yer with me, got somethin' to talk to you about."

"Aye, milady," said Jareck, with a bow so elaborate it verged on parody. Giving Kludd one last wink, he descended back into the depths.

Alagadda led Kludd across the Abbey. Kludd knew better than to speak if she didn't. They crossed the front lawn, where the corpse of the mouse warrior Fannin remained, the knives still embedded in his chest. Alagadda stepped over the lifeless body on her way to the front doors; Kludd went around.

"Imagine," said Alagadda. "Had the beasts who lived here not been so tidy, this Abbey'd be too dense with skellingtons of our ancestors for us to walk."

Kludd wondered if this was a prompt for conversation, but since he had nothing much to add to the observation, he kept quiet. She would get to the business of promotion in good time.

They wound up at the east end of the Abbey, by the wallgate. Conredd was fiddling with the gate, knocking a paw against the wood and listening to the sound. Kludd didn't like that. Conredd didn't factor much into his plans for promotion. But Alagadda had snubbed the fox once already by giving Kludd the Sword of Martin, so perhaps it meant little that he was there now. Yes—Alagadda must have brought him here to deliver the news so she could rub it in Conredd's smug upturned snout. No other option made sense.

They stopped in front of the gate. "Tell me, Kludd, whaddya see here?"

"I see yore most trusted captain, milady," said Kludd, already imagining her response: Oh, no, Kludd, he's my most trusted captain no longer. That honor now belongs solely to—

"You clod, I ain't talkin' 'bout Conredd. I'm talkin' 'bout the gate!"

Kludd flinched, although she had made no aggressive motion other than to fling her paw out to indicate the east door of the Abbey wall. "'Tis no more than a regular gate, milady!" said Kludd, hoping it was the right answer and knowing it wasn't.

"A regular gate, shore. But Conredd, why don't ye enlighten our friend as to what state you found this gate in when you first encountered it?"

"Rotten," said Conredd. "Same as the others. They'll all need replacin'."

Alagadda tore at her headfur. "Argh! I already told yew I don't give one whit about that! Tell him the other thing!"

"Oh yeah. Found just as it is now: wide open."

Kludd gulped. He knew where this was going.

"Now then," said Alagadda, "What possible reason could this pore innocent gate have for bein' so disorderly and out o' sorts? You mind takin' a guess, Kludd?"

"M-m-m-mebbe the latch got too soft an' broke?"

She struck him in the mouth with the back of her paw. Kludd toppled over and covered his face to defend himself from an onslaught, but instead of striking him again Alagadda simply stepped down on his chest, squeezing the air out of his lungs. "You know darn well that the gate's open for one reason an' one reason only: 'cuz somebeast's escaped. I took a gander at the bedrooms in this place and they got room for a hunnerd at least, an' we only rounded up threescore of 'em. That's twoscore unaccounted for, Kludd, since I know ye ain't so keen on yore 'rithmetic."

Still stepping on him, she drew a knife and leaned over until she had the point pressed against his snout. "You know wot this means fer yew, right?"

Kludd wheezed, "Y-y-yer angry at me?"

All at once the pressure lifted as Alagadda stepped back and laughed. "Whate'er gave you that idea, nimwit? Go on, get up, quit yer snivelin'."

Still uncertain the intentions of his superior, Kludd slowly climbed to his footpaws, trying to calm the uncontrollable trembling that had spread through his body. "Y-yer not mad?"

"Not yet. Go round up a score o' yore closest friends, yer goin' huntin'. Dependin' on what happens when you come back, then we can talk about mad."

She gave him a shove and sent him tottering off toward the Abbey building. He did not need a second bidding, thankful enough to have come out of the encounter with his life.

Alagadda watched him disappear into the Abbey. Once he had, she leaned against the sandstone wall and rapped an idle paw against the wormwood. A dull thunk percolated from her knuckle. Beyond the open gate, the trees of Mossflower stood sleepy sentinel over the land.

"Are you goin' to be one of those warlords who offs their own soldiers willy-nilly," said Conredd.

"Nah, Kludd's just too easy a target t'pass up," said Alagadda. "Are yew goin' to be one of those captains who won't give my ear a rest with yore incessant yappin'?"

"I'm already one of those," said Conredd. "Speaking of which. Whether you have faith in Kludd or not, you're sendin' him—and more importantly, that sword—straight back to where the Abbeybeasts can get their paws on it. Kludd ain't even a good tracker. Send Vellis instead."

"Kludd'll go. An' to make sure he don't muck up, I'm goin' with him."

"There's no reason for that," that Conredd. "Send Vellis, and any other good trackers. Have 'em scout out where the Abbeybeasts ran off to, then send me and a good group of troops to crush 'em. Or better yet, use the threescore we did manage to capture as bait to lure 'em to us, so we don't hafta go trompin' through the woods in the first place."

"Boring," said Alagadda.

Conredd's eyes narrowed. "Not t'mention, we had plenty o' time once we got into the Abbey to put guards at each gate to stop this from happenin' to begin with."

"Whoops, didn't think a' that one."

"I believe I suggested somethin' o' the sort to you. I distinctly remember it, actually."

"An' how're you s'posed to expect me to listen to each n' ev'ry bit of benign advice that comes out yore ever-flappin' jaw, Conredd? By the way, while I'm gone, get the situation with the doors sorted out, so you don't have t'bother me about 'em anymore. Will that satisfy you?"

From the Abbey, Kludd and a gaggle of troops picked seemingly by random had emerged, Kludd leading them with some of his reclaimed boldness now that he didn't have Alagadda eyeing daggers at him. Alagadda had to give the rat at least some credit; he worked fast when he had to.

"I'll not be satisfied 'til you quit actin' a fool and start approachin' this with reason, milady," said Conredd. "You n' I've both heard too many stories o' foolish vermin warlords who lost everythin' just 'cuz they couldn't think with any sort of rational decision-makin'."

Alagadda shrugged. "I ain't got much t'lose either way," she said.

"Wot kinda talk is that. Ye got an Abbey to lose, an' an army, an' yore life."

"We'll talk about this later," she said as Kludd stopped beside her an saluted. "I've got some woodlanders to hunt down now."

Motioning Conredd aside, Alagadda led Kludd and the twenty vermin through the open gate and into Mossflower Wood.