A/N: THIS IS LOOONG! Well, longer then the other two parts, anyhow. ENJOY!
Part three: Future warrior.
Matthias ran.
He had finally understood Creations' message: Danger was here. The only problem was that he had no weapon.
Matthias ran.
The young mouse ran farther and faster than he had ever ran. A terrible feeling clutched at his stomach.
Matthias ran.
He skidded to a stop, and picked up a rough stick, about as long as Thyme, and while he was at it, a few stones for a last resort. He picked up the pace, and ran.
Matthias ran.
Why, oh why did this have to happen? He promised himself that if his father lived, and his mother, and even if they didn't, he would lay down thought of being a warrior, his dream, and take up farming. Or at least he would try.
Matthias ran.
()o()o()o()
Kent shook his head slowly as his son ran off, broken stick in paw. When would that mouse get some sense into his head? Slowly, he picked up his paw-plow and began to sift the rich earth.
Fwift, fwift, clunk.
Kent removed the stone in the way of the paw-plow, and continued silently, though he breathed lightly.
Fwift, fwift, fwift………
He was enveloped in the soothing tone of the earth's voice, as it welcomed him to plant his winter crops.
Fwift, fwift, fwift, fwift………
And then, the earth shook lightly.
Fwift, pause, fwift, pause…..
Kent slowed, his ears now focused for anything else. No sound came.
Fwift,
But then,
Fwift,
A few seconds later,
Fwift,
Came a scream.
The mouse stood up swiftly, the echoes ringing in his ear. They sounded so familiar…….
He knew.
Bluebell.
()o()o()o()
A small group of vermin had cornered the mousewife, who had just uttered a short scream of fright, in the kitchen, leering at her, drawing weapons menacingly. A rat with a scarred face spoke first, he and his gang a few yards away from her.
"Where are th' vittles, me pretty?" He grinned, revealing two rows of crooked, yellow and brown teeth. Any lesser creature would have quaked, but this trait was not in Bluebell.
The rat squealed as he was shoved out of the way. In his place stood a large, muddy-yellow furred stoat, obviously the leader of the ruffians.
His chest was bare, and he wore a kilt-like skirt of pounded bark, secured to his waist by a thin, though sturdy rope. He smiled assuringly at the mousewife.
"I am truly sorry for his bad behavior, madam. Please, we are but a small group of travelers, and we have no provisions left. Though we are vermin, we, or at least I, am an honest beast. So please, lend us a small sack each, or at least a basket to hold things that we can forage food along the way." His voice was honey-sweet, and it dripped invisible sugar. Bluebell would've been fooled by this speech, had it no have been from the cleverly hidden dagger, and the length of mouse fur pasted to it with pine sap. She smiled, and replied.
"I am sorry, dear fellow, but all of the food we have is stored away by a good friend of mine, and the baskets with them. So sir, please go to another home; perhaps to my neighbors a mile away, the closest here."
The stoat snarled abruptly. "Capture her, dead or alive!" The other seven vermin hurled themselves at her. Bluebell flung her paw behind her, and swung the object that she had grabbed at the nearest.
BOOOONNNNNNG!
The pan hit the rat squarely on the head, and he flopped down, unconscious. The remaining six halted their attack, only to be prodded on by the stoat.
"Go on, scum! Can't you see that she is alone, with only a frying pan as a weapon? Attack!"
Again, the vermin continued, but were once more stopped, yet this time by a yell.
"LEAVE MY WIFE ALONE!" they swiveled around to see a mouse charging down the small hill, wielding a sharp-looking paw-plow.
A short battle followed, husband and wife fighting side by side, brandishing pan and plow, striking blows left and right. It would have been a humorous scene, but for the fact that Bluebell and Kent were in a battle for their lives.
()o()o()o()
Matthias soon heard the dim clatter of battle, coming from the direction he had dreaded it to come from.
Home.
His paws, already beating a fast pace, pumped harder than before. They were almost a blur, as he ran swiftly, even more speedily than before.
The clangs grew louder, accompanied by shouts.
"Oooh- the mousey got me foot!"
"Get 'em!"
"Go away, vermin, or you'll taste my pan!"
There was a loud clang, and a long tremor shivered through the air, accompanied by a harsh yelp of pain.
"OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW! Ye'll get a whiff o' me dagger, sweety!"
"Over my dead body!" Matthias recognized his fathers' yell, and a triumphant yell.
"I got 'im! I killed the mouse!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" A shriek echoed through the sky. And then, Matthias was at the top of the hill.
The fight had moved to the outdoors, and he saw his mother valiantly protecting his father's still body. Two vermin lay dead on the ground, and one unconscious.
He froze in fright. And then, remembered those smooth, smooth stones from his flight.
Shakily, he grasped a rock in a paw, and drew his arm back. After that….
He let it soar.
The stone whistled softly through the air, gathering momentum as it fell, soon, the whistling grew to a shrill shriek, causing the battlers to look up in astonishment, including his mother.
And the stone smacked right into the head of an unfortunate ferret, killing him outright.
Already, Matthias had drawn another stone, and hurtled it at the attackers.
Another life was spent, wiped out by the falling stone. Four were left against one, and Matthias had two stones left before he had to plunge into battle.
And those two ended two lives, leaving three of the original eight alive, one in no condition for battle.
Matthias charged at the conscious rat, wielding a sword of wood. He struck him down, unconscious. Now, only the stoat was left.
As the young mouse turned to face the leader, he saw a wicked grin playing on the vermins' face. And before Matthias could figure out why, the stoat drew his weapon, and threw it.
Matthias saw it all in slow motion. The knife twirled slowly, traveling unhurriedly, aimed right at his mothers' heart.
"MOTHER!" He screamed in anguish. No, no, he couldn't lose her as well. NO!
His mother saw the dagger coming, but could only move a fraction out of the way before the dagger plunged deep into her skin. All that Matthias could see was a red nightmare, a growing blot that covered his vision. He hurled himself at the surprised vermin leader as his mother fell with faintly clouded eyes, wide with a pleading look.
Matthias didn't regard the fact that the stoat was bigger, stronger, and rougher than him. The young mouse fought with tooth and claw, digging deep into his opponents' bare chest.
Near the heart.
()o()o()o()
Again, Matthias ran, gasping for breath. He recalled the vision of the stoat leader, dead, and Matthias himself, with blood on his teeth, over his claws, and in his fur. He recalled his mothers' last pleading: To find Redwall Abbey, and follow his dreams, wherever they may lead him.
A coarse yell echoed behind him, causing him to remember why exactly he was running.
"I'll get ye! I'll make ye pay fur killin' me leader! I'll hunt ye down t' 'ellgates myself!"
Matthias had washed the blood out of his fur earlier in a stream nearby before running. Now, he had to get to Redwall Abbey before the avenging rat caught up with him.
()o()o()o()
Methuselah, the ancient gatekeeper, looked through scrolls of the past, and, as if caught by instinct, looked out of his window. The sun was already rising, a pink and yellow glow to the east.
"Goodness!" he murmured. "Well, It's past time for bed, but as its' already morning, why should I snooze?" he chuckled to himself. He absentmindedly dusted himself off-and heard a faint knock.
Tap knock, tap knock. Tap knock, tap knock.
Methuselah hurried out of the door into the chilly morning air. Again, the knock sounded, only louder, and quicker.
Tap KNOCK, tap KNOCK. KNOCKAKNOCKAKNOCK.
The elderly mouse opened the gate, and saw a frightened looking youngster peering up at him.
"What's the matter, young'n?" At this, the mouse looked fearfully over his shoulder.
"C-can I come in?"
"Why, of course. At least 'till the Abbot is up. Where've you been?"
He shook his head solemnly. "I can't tell. I just can't." a flash of pain lanced across his face, and Methuselah knew to dig no deeper.
"Well then," he ventured. "What is your name?"
"Matthias."
And so he was led in, accepted into the Order, and from the bumbling shell he created for himself, became the warrior that allbeasts know him as:
Matthias, of the Twin Bells.
A/N: Whew! This is the twelfth page, you know. And- this isn't the end! I am going to do an ALL CHAPTER/PART after this. Shortly after this, in fact. And I will always do that.
May.
You.
Please.
Review.
NOW!
Thank you.