22
Vellis opened the door to the upper-story gatehouse. The gatehouse provided a wide view of the front courtyard. From here she could be of use.
The gatehouse floated with dust in the rays of the early morning, granules of a deteriorating fortress. This Abbey was not long for the world; Vellis could smell it, hear it. The stones creaked and groaned, the wood buckled underpaw. In the end, when they stood back and regarded what they had won, they would find they had conquered a husk.
She went to the window and peered outside. The lizards had gathered in full force near the south gate, a meaty congregation of green. They looked like one massive beast when they were grouped together so tightly.
Jareck and the scribe, the squirrel named Laramie, stood near the Abbey building. Alagadda stood amongst the lizards, holding the Abbey's famed sword.
Sosostris, the faulty seer, huddled crouched in the corner of the Abbey, where the looming red walls threatened to fall and crush her.
Vellis could discern no immediate strife. She unslung her bow nonetheless, and waited.
"Who's there?" said a voice behind her.
She swung around, an arrow already notched, aimed directly into the face of the intruder. It was a vermin of some sort, obviously a survivor of their old horde. She couldn't place the species. Marten maybe. She wasn't an authority on martens, however.
"Who're you."
"C-cap'n Vellis!" said the vermin, realizing who he had addressed. "S-sorry! It's just me, Switz!"
She didn't know a Switz. She didn't feel like knowing a Switz. She turned back to the window, where little to nothing had changed about the little creatures below. She mentally derided herself for being such a imbecile to not check the room before going to the window. Classic know-nothing mistake, especially with situations as they were: How should she know there wasn't a whole nest of lizards asleep under one of the decrepit bunches of furniture floating around? Idiot stupid idiot augh. Stupid Vellis stupid stupid Vellis.
"Just—Just don't get in my way, y'hear."
"Aye aye, cap'n!" said Switz. She didn't look but she knew he saluted her.
What a stupid Vellis. Know-nothing idiot Vellis.
Conredd's corpse languished on the ground beside all the other corpses. Alagadda dug a finger into her socket, rubbing at something.
"Pore ol' Conredd," said Jareck again. "What a waste."
Alagadda tore her finger out of her eye and wheeled on him. "Are you lookin' t'die yerself, Jareck?"
Jareck gave one of his ineffable smiles.
"'Cuz I ain't kiddin' around here," said Alagadda. "I got two of four cap'n's dead on the ground, why not make a third? Why do I need any of you, yeah?"
"Please, milady," said Jareck. "We all know yer not the type a warlord t'go slayin' yer own soldiers. Ain't it right, Laramie?"
He nudged the squirrel. Laramie gave him a look as if to say, don't rope me into this.
"The way I see, Jareck, y'ain't been pullin' much weight around here as of late." Alagadda strolled toward him, sauntering with a heavy gait. Jareck did not flinch or back down, merely continued smiling endlessly, the smile his last bulwark. "An' the more I think about it, the more I think mebbe you ain't ever pulled no weight at all, despite all yer smooth jive to the contrary. What've ye ever done for me, eh, Jareck?"
Jareck shrugged. "What've I ever not done fer you the moment ye asked me?"
Alagadda stopped mere inches away from Jareck. She was much shorter than him. She held the Sword of Martin at her side, while Jareck held nothing. He merely gnawed on the edge of his ruddy coin.
"Look," he whispered, so quiet that of all the creatures assembled around them only Laramie could hear. "I know yer just tryin' t'save face after what happened with Conredd. Ye've got nothin' to—"
The blade whipped out and up at Jareck's neck. It stopped against his skin.
Jareck's smile faltered.
"Good," Alagadda spat. "If ye'd kept on smilin' I'd've gone an' done it." She lowered the blade. "It ain't about savin' face no more. 'Tis about respect, and the zilch of it ye've got fer me. I ain't—"
For the first time she (or anybeast, really) noticed Sosostris off in the corner bawling. "Shut up, you banshee!" Alagadda shouted, although it was lost beneath the vixen's wails.
With almost manic fervor she next turned toward Laramie. "An' you!" she shouted. "I see you eyein' Conredd's rapier on the ground there."
Laramie held up her paws to signal she had no such intentions. (She really did have such intentions.)
Alagadda gritted her fangs and scowled, glancing askance at the lizards and everything beyond them. Her restless gaze settled on the ruined ashes of the door to the cellar and the charred wormwood heaped before it.
She addressed the nearest lizard. "You. What's your name."
The lizard saluted. "Darkzcale!"
"Tell me, Darkscale, why is that door burnt down."
Darkscale regarded the door in question and scratched his chin with a claw as he puzzled it over, trying to remember why indeed the door was burnt. Finally he said, "Furbeaztz inzide."
"Furbeasts. Like me? Furbeasts like me an' Jareck over there?"
Darkscale considered Alagadda and Jareck with measured calculation. He shook his head. "No, like buzhy tailbeast." He pointed at Laramie.
"Oh yeah," said Jareck. "That's where the Redwallers're bein' kept, remember?"
Alagadda picked at a clod of dirt with the tip of Martin's Sword. "You mean t'say that somehow, after all that's happened, the Redwallers are inside that cellar safe 'n sound like nothin' even happened?"
"Well, they're alive."
"Unreal! I refuse t'believe it," said Alagadda. "That—that ain't even fair at this point. That's some ridiculous luck if I've ever seen it. Why d'the goodbeasts allus get it right fer them? What've they ever done to deserve it?"
"Well, they were probably good beasts, hence the name," said Jareck, quietly, as if testing what he could get away with before provoking Alagadda's ire.
Alagadda shook her head. "Good beasts. Weak beasts. Worthless beasts. They ain't known hardship. They ain't known nothin' outside these walls. They ain't never had to do nothin' they didn't wanna do just to survive, an' at the end of ev'ry day they had a nice hot meal afore sleepin' in a warm feather bed. Good beasts! Pah! 'Twere I so lucky I'd be a good beast too."
"Creatures get what they deserve," muttered Laramie.
She had tried to whisper it like Jareck had whispered but Alagadda heard. She wheeled on Laramie. "That so, dear? Tell me, did yore precious mouse warrior get what he deserved?" She jabbed a finger out across the front courtyard, to the spot where the body of Fannin still lay, undisturbed since Alagadda had slain him days prior. "Tell me that."
Laramie said nothing, focusing her energy on restraining herself from doing something stupid.
"No, I reckon pore mousey didn't get what he 'deserved.' Creatures don't get what they deserve, they get what they get. Here, I'll prove it now. You! Lizards! Get into that cellar an' bring out ev'ry last snivelin' runt! Bring 'em alive, bring 'em dead—whichever way's easiest for them to come."
The lizards nodded, a flotilla of bobbing heads. Under the direction of Darkscale, they streamed toward the cellar door.
"What're you intendin', milady," said Jareck.
Alagadda did not hesitate. "Slaughterin' 'em. Ev'ry last one, even the liddle babes."
"You—! You!" Laramie lunged forward, wielding nothing but her bare paws, which she battered against Alagadda's chest uselessly, even as she struck at all the bandaged weakpoints in reach. Alagadda loosened a hearty laugh.
"I what? I what, tell me that. If creatures get what they deserve, well then, some miraculous event'll transpire to rescue 'em from my nefarious clutches, won't they? Ain't it so, scribe? So we'll see who's right. Whether this rotten world's got justice or if this rotten world's got me. I'd put the odds on me, whaddya think Jareck?"
Jareck thumbed his coin. "Well, yer the one I can see an' touch."
"Well, yew can see me, at least." Alagadda plucked Laramie away from her and surveyed her lizards. They had formed a single-file line by the entrance, funneling one-by-one through the portal.
The first lizard, Darkscale, plunged inside. Moments later came a solid CRACK and Darkscale blundered back, knocking aside the lizards lined up behind him, both claws clutching his snout. He waddled over to Alagadda.
"They hit! The furbeasts hit!"
The second lizard, who had plunged into the abyss undaunted by the fate of Darkscale, came running back out, nursing a massive welt on her skull.
A third lizard went in and came out right after.
A fourth lizard went in and came out right after.
A fifth lizard—
A fifth lizard didn't go in because Alagadda stopped him by pressing the blade of Martin in front of his chest. "Stop it, idjits, obviously they've got some kinda trap down there."
She pushed past the lizard and stepped into the darkness. For a moment nothing happened. Then a creature shouted and the swish of a blade rang out. The lizards, Jareck, and Laramie exchanged glances as more creatures shouted below, some calling for arms and others screaming in despair.
Soon the chaos died to a few wayward sniffles and the soft sound of somebeast crying.
Alagadda emerged from the stairwell. The blade of Martin dripped with blood. She motioned to the lizards. "You can bring 'em out now."
Laramie stifled a sob as Alagadda wiped the blade clean on the grass.
Not long later the lizards had hoisted out every last mouse, squirrel, mole, vole, hedgehog, otter, and other assorted species, some literally by the scruff of their necks, and deposited them in a loose pile in the center of the courtyard. Most of the creatures they hauled out were still alive, albeit terrified, huddling together on the grass and staring wild-eyed at the grotesque collection of monsters surrounding them, not the least of which being Alagadda herself, who paced before them, muttering.
Some of the creatures they brought out were dead. Laramie recognized among the corpses Cellarhog Gilmer, brother of Friar Alger, and several other friends. She cupped her paws over her mouth and tried to look away, but the only thing she saw when she turned her head was Conredd's discarded rapier sticking out of the ground.
Alagadda was distracted. All she had to do was sprint to the rapier, seize it, sprint to Alagadda, and run the blackguard through. And then she would have Martin's Sword, and she could command the lizards, and the whole affair would be over like that. No further bloodshed. No further death.
She glanced up at the gatehouse. In the window, watching her with bow in hand, was Vellis.
Laramie remained put by Jareck's side.
"It had to happen like this, sooner or later," said Jareck. "Alagadda ain't one fer leavin' survivors."
"You speak like you're not complicit in all this," said Laramie. "When I get ahold of a blade, I'll not forget about you, don't worry."
"'Twere I another beast, I'd have cut you down for those words alone. Remember that."
The last stragglers emerged from the cellar and were unceremoniously added to the huddle of bodies in the grass. Darkscale manifested behind them and saluted Alagadda. "All clear!"
Alagadda took inventory of the assembled Redwallers. They wilted under her stare.
"Some other time," she said, "I'd give a speech. I ain't feelin' too long-winded right now, though."
"Good, you blowhard!" shouted some anonymous creature from the crowd, who could not be distinguished. At least not all of Redwall's denizens had been defeated, Laramie thought.
Alagadda did not grow enraged at the comment. Instead, she smiled. "Good indeed. 'Cuz now we can skip straight to why I brought you all out here. To slay you. Where's yore leader, or yore Abbott, or whatcha call 'im."
At first none of the pitiful goodbeasts made motion or noise. Even many of snivelers went quiet. But they knew, as Laramie knew, that Alagadda would have her way sooner or later. If they did not give up Abbott Walden, she would take the youngest or feeblest of their stock instead, and continue moving down the line until they did.
Abbott Walden saved the trouble of such an arrangement by standing of his own accord. He was not very tall, even when surrounded by creatures mostly sitting or lying down. He adjusted his spectacles, one lens of which was cracked.
"I am the Abbott of Redwall," he said. "My name is Walden."
"Oh yeah," said Alagadda. "I remember you. You were the first Redwaller I ever met, when I was enjoyin' those delicious scones or pastries or whatever they were. Jareck was there. You remember this, Jareck?"
"I remember ev'rythin'," said Jareck.
"I had that little table out with the chairs an' the plates. Early mornin'. Waitin' fer somebeast to come out an' say hallo. An' who shows up but the dear Abbott Walden here. Look 'ow far we've come since then. All my horde's dead an' most of all the Redwallers are still kickin'. I bet you find that mighty vindicatin', don'tcha, Abbott?"
Walden did not waver. "I'll find vindication when you lie slain on the ground, Alagadda of the Many Blades."
"I've not so many blades left no more," said Alagadda. "I've got one, though. Cap'n Jareck, do me a favor and relieve Abbott Walden of his burdensome head, will ya?"
For a time nobeast said anything.
Jareck chuckled. "Too bad I haven't a blade, milady."
"Yes you do," said Alagadda. "I gave it to you myself. You have it concealed under your cloak. Use it."
Jareck folded his arms. "I thought we agreed, milady—"
"Jareck. My horde is dead. I don't need you to play the harmless old codger no more to sucker 'em into yore confidence an' sound out their moods. I need you to cut off Abbott Walden's head. I'd rather I didn't have to slay you for insubordination, but you know how it goes. Take a look at pore Conredd on the ground there if you don't believe me."
Tugging at his collar, Jareck glanced at Laramie, who refused to make eye contact with him.
"Aye," he said. "As you bid, milady."
He slid a paw through the folds in his cloak and rest it on the hilt of some blade, most of which he kept concealed as he approached Abbott Walden. The old vole did not flinch or shirk away or show the slightest discomposure.
When Jareck had stopped directly in front of Walden he drew. A long an curved sabre, the hilt laced with gold and opal, gems harvested by the orders of a southern king, who had ruled a land greater than all Mossflower country. The king had his smiths forge him the sword as a token of his reign, using the finest steel, tempered to the point of indestructibility. And with this sword on his hip the king had ruled, with a just paw yet firm, and although at times his subjects questioned him they nonetheless knew he was just and his actions were necessary for their good as well as the good of their babes. The king ruled for more seasons than most creatures ever see until he had become old and gray-furred and with mist in his eyes and yet with his faculties still among him, sharper perhaps than ever. Until one day a vizier of his court grew jealous or angry and smote the king during a private council, smote him by drawing the king's own sword from its sheath and slaying him with it. Realizing what he had done, the vizier fled, carrying only the sword, stowing away on a merchant vessel headed northward. A bounty was placed on his head and the meanest sellswords of the realm hunted him, tracking him over the sea until his craft ran aground. The bounty hunters attacked the ship in search of the fugitive only to engage in open warfare with the merchant crew in a battle that ended with every last creature slain on the sun-soaked shores of western Mossflower. The king's sword still held by the corpse of the vizier, stretched near the bulwark of the grounded ship. As a shiny thing, it caught the eye of the many gulls who flocked to the battleground for their supper, and these gulls fought for the beautiful artifact, some fighting to the death. Until a victor emerged, the largest and strongest gull, who took the blade in his talons and soared skyward, headed for his nest perhaps, or wherever gulls keep the things they find, when he was shot dead by a lone arrow fired from the bow of a starving weasel archer who was part of a starving gang of vermin almost on the verge of cannibalism. And although anybeast in that gang, if they knew what game the archer had, would have slit her throat for it, she smuggled the gull and blade alike to her one friend in the world, a weasel like her, and together in secret they shared the meat and grew strong and took control of the gang and transformed it into a horde. And the archer's friend, now a warlord, had held onto the blade all that time, until she bestowed it upon Jareck as a gift for his assistance in her ascension, which she had bidden him keep concealed—he would be her eyes among her horde, sniffing out revolts and schemes before they even had a chance to manifest.
This was the blade Jareck drew now before Abbott Walden.
"Don't do it, Jareck," said Laramie.
Jareck glanced over his shoulder.
"Remember Romsca."
Jareck glanced back at Alagadda. She leaned against the Sword of Martin, lizards draped around her.
"Sorry, Laramie," he said.
Abbott Walden closed his eyes with a serene placidity on his face. "If I shall die in service of this Abbey, so be it."
Jareck's arm had extended its full length. The very tip of the sabre radiated with early-morning sunshine.
Laramie cartwheeled to the side, seized the rapier in the ground, and lunged at Jareck. Jareck threw his body out of the way, diving through the mud and spinning back to a standing position, whipping the sabre in front of him to defend from a second attack. Laramie had no more eyes for him, however. Alagadda stood but a few paces from her, her elongated torso primed for stabbing, her—
Alagadda's fist planted itself in Laramie's face, knocking her head back. She dropped to the ground, the rapier thudding from her paw. In an instant Alagadda swept the weapon aside with her shin and held the tip of Martin's Sword to Laramie's throat.
"Got a death wish, squirrel?"
From behind, Sosostris started a high-pitched wail. Her screams before had gradually died down with little aplomb or note from anybeast, but now that she had begun again the shriek pierced their collective ears.
"One of you lizzerds shut her up," said Alagadda. Every single lizard nodded and headed toward Sosostris's position.
She had moved from the corner of the Abbey to the south gate, which lacked a door, as Conredd had had it removed for repairs shortly after the Abbey's conquest. The vixen had probably been making her way to escape unnoticed, but now she pointed at something outside and continued to scream.
The first of the lizards reached her and clamped her snout shut with his claw. The screams became muffled whimpers.
"If I could get but a moment a peace an' quiet, it'd be nice," said Alagadda. "What's she even screamin' over anymore, you'd 'spect she's all screamed out by now."
Darkscale saluted at her side eagerly. "Zhe zcream becauze redfort under attack," he suggested.
Alagadda's eyes narrowed. "What."
From the other side of the wall, from the fringe of Mossflower Wood that stretched along the southern face of Redwall, Fentress hailed her.