Author's Note: Awsomewriter: Uh, last chapter wasn't the last one in Part II. The last chapter in this part is actually 26. Each part is 13 chapters long, you see?
Also, from now on, every single chapter has considerably more length than most chapters prior. I believe at this point in the story, I had an average of 4 pages per chapter in MS Word, with the longest chapter being the Part I finale with about 6 pages. The latter half of the story- the next 20 chapters- has an average of 6.5 pages per chapter, with the longest chapter being the Part III finale with a whopping 10 pages (and maybe more, as I plan on revising some of that chapter).
This also means that there's very little filler from now on, as I can only write in length if stuff is actually happening. .
By the way, Warrior may like this chapter, as I re-introduce two heroic characters from before. However, you may notice that one of them has substancially changed... (the other was really minor in Part I, so I can't say the same about him).
XXI: The Trick
Regner and his four subordinates had followed Ballantyne's path exactly, and now they stood on the precise spot that the tactician had marked with a neat, black X, which was behind a sand dune decently close to Salamandastron. The weasel lord was not in the best of moods. Ballantyne had promised that Salamandastron would be in the process of being taken over when the warlord arrived, but the mountain stood firm and tall, without any sign of chaos anywhere. If Ballantyne had messed up, Regner didn't know what he'd do.
The ferret made good plans, and he made them consistently, and usually even on demand, but they were always so completely overcomplicated. Regner doubted that the faking of the assassination was actually necessary. There probably would have been a very simple, obvious path around it.
The problem with Ballantyne was that he'd think of a plan that he'd like very much, and that plan probably incorporated Regner's assassination in it very well. But then Ballantyne would realize errors in his plans and revise it to a point where the assassination wouldn't be needed. However, Ballantyne would keep all of those ideas intact. It was a very confusing thing to do, but it was how Ballantyne's mind worked, and Regner had no choice but to respect that. He owed everything to Ballantyne. The weasel had been completely unknown until he met the traveling tactician many seasons ago. Then Ballantyne had explained the ways of propaganda and advertisement, and that was how the great horde of Regner the Magnificent started.
Truth be told, Regner wasn't particularly magnificent. He was an above average fighter, and pretty strong, but he wasn't anything special. Deathblaze was the kind of warrior that would be able to rally a horde just due to his own fighting prowess; Regner had always been glad that Deathblaze had never challenged his leadership, because the captain of the guard would definitely prevail in a fight.
Regner was snapped out of his thoughts as the stoat Sawdirge leapt over the top of the sand dune and slid down the slope, stopping right in front of the warlord. Sawdirge was out of breath, and panting heavily. Regner had sent him out as a scout to search for Ballantyne and the rest of the horde.
"I got pretty close ta the mountain," Sawdirge panted, "Yeah, there's still longears there, I saw two of 'em guardin' the front door. I don't think they saw me, else they'd be runnin' at us now. I didn't see Ballantyne or any of them anywhere, though."
Regner growled. Sawdirge slunk back, but Regner wasn't angry at him. He was angry at Ballantyne. The longer he stood out here, the more likely it was that some Long Patrol hares would go out and see them. He began to pace around nervously, using his large battle axe like some sort of walking stick. Taroll and his three friends simply watched him, as if amused by the spectacle. Regner glared at them, and they all averted their gazes immediately.
They lazed around for a while longer, doing nothing. They were on a long beach, sand everywhere. The beach ended at the exact spot where a forest began, farther off. Regner suddenly realized that if Ballantyne had arrived, he would have concealed his army in that forest. Regner chastised himself for not realizing that sooner. Here he was, brooding and becoming angrier and angrier, when it was incredibly likely that Ballantyne was just behind those trees.
"Hey," the weasel shouted to Sawdirge, who had sat down in the sand, "Go out to those woods. I bet that's where my army is, along with Ballantyne and Deathblaze."
"I jus' ran up ta the mountain," Sawdirge protested, "Why don'tcha send Levail up there or sumthin'?" Sawdirge pointed to his fellow stoat, Levail. Levail looked as if he was about to say something in return, but at that moment, Alsten the fox pointed over the side of the sand dune.
"'Ey, look!" shouted Alsten, "It's Golding!"
Regner trudged up to the top of the dune swiftly, followed by Taroll and the other two stoats. Peeking their heads over the dune carefully, they all watched as Scout Commander Golding marched out of the forest far away, on the other side of the mountain. Even though he was hardly visible at that distance, it was, without any doubt, Golding. Regner noticed that Golding was also wearing his armor, and scowled.
Golding was followed by about forty or so assorted vermin. He marched proudly, his saber drawn. Undaunted, he climbed to the top of a giant dune, and stopped, with the other vermin all forming up behind him.
"Wot's he doin'?" asked Taroll inquisitively, "Don't he know that the Long Patrol can see him from there?"
A familiar voice rang out behind them. "Actually, Sir Golding is completely ignorant to that fact. This is quite fortunate, as my master plan hinges upon it." Regner and the other turned around, and found themselves face-to-face with a solitary Ballantyne. The ferret bowed elaborately.
"Ballantyne!" Regner growled, "Why did you have to do this whole plan without telling me?! I thought I was dead!" He looked at the ferret with some intrigue. How did he just appear like that? He knew that the tactician enjoyed making dramatic entrances, but sometimes he was a little over-the-top in the times and locations he appeared at.
Ballantyne was unphased. "Well, My Lord, I attempted to tell you, but due to your impulsiveness when reaching for your axe, I am afraid I was allotted absolutely no time to inform you of my plan. That was why I wrote you that letter, which I am assuming you received with no qualms, correct?"
Regner frowned. "I still would have liked to know what you were planning on doing before you just poisoned me like that. I mean, I have a few complaints about you letting Golding wear my armor and control my army."
"Exactly," Ballantyne replied, "You would have complained, argued, ordered me to alter my plans as such. But I assure you, if you had done so, then the plan would not have been anywhere near as effective as it has been so far. Thusly, I was forced to poison you so suddenly, and without warning."
Regner seriously doubted that it was completely necessary for Golding to wear his armor, but he said nothing on that matter. "So what's Golding doing now? Why's he standing out in the open like that?"
Ballantyne chuckled. "Sir Golding believes that he is going to reinforce Sir Deathblaze. I told him that both he and I would lead forces to the left and right of Salamandastron, and then perform a sort of three-pronged pincer attack on the mountain. However, I feel he will be in for a surprise when he realizes I led no such force and that Deathblaze has no intention of charging the stronghold without my signal. However, the Long Patrol will see him, and, believing him to be you, instantly mobilize their entire army to vanquish his 'horde'. Once they realize that it was merely a ploy, Deathblaze will already have moved into the unguarded mountain. I believe I told you all of this in my letter. Did you by any chance forget?"
The weasel warlord muttered something to himself about how the armor that Golding was wearing was going to be ruined, but it was primarily incomprehensible. Ballantyne smiled knowingly.
"Now, shall we view Golding's slaughter, My Lord?"
---
Inside Salamandastron, Lieutenant Tabbins dashed into the room of his superior, Colonel Caldwell. There was dire news.
Caldwell was sitting in a large oak chair, leaned over his desk. He was dressed in a pale gray that fit his morbid demeanor. The problem with King Kirrent and the lizards had troubled him immensely. In the end, there had been twenty-one dead Redwallers, as well as the three hares in his own squad that had been killed. Caldwell had taken the blame for it all himself, claiming that if he had just listened to Gavin and Maudy and taken more soldiers with him, all of those deaths could have been averted. Maybe that was true, maybe it wasn't. After hearing the whole story from Maudy, who told it to anybeast that would listen, Tabbins decided that the lizards had been able to conquer Redwall due to their own dumb luck, not because of a deficiency in soldiers assisting the colonel. However, Caldwell refused to listen.
"Sah," Tabbins announced, catching Caldwell's attention, "There's some bad news. That one weasel, Lord Wot's-his-face the Magnificent, just showed up to the right of us, along with forty vermin, all ready for combat."
The colonel rose, and turned around. The incident with King Kirrent had changed him not only emotionally. His face was badly scarred, and there was a long, curved hook where his paw should have been. If Tabbins didn't know better, he would have thought Caldwell had turned into a corsair.
"Why, please tell me, are you informing me of this?" Caldwell shot grimly, "Go tell Lord Oxpaw."
"Well, that's the thing, sah," the lieutenant looked down at his footpaws, "I think it's a trap. We all know that blinking weasel's got a bigger horde than the one he's got with him now, and that one ferret, the one that pretends to look like us, is noticeably absent. But if I told Oxpaw that, you know how he'd act, he jump right up and attack, trap or not. So, I can't tell him, not yet."
"Tabbins, I once did something without consulting Lord Oxpaw, and look where it got me!" Caldwell held out his iron hook, shaking it menacingly. Tabbins didn't flinch, however.
"Sah, please!" Tabbins shouted, "We need to go out and spring the trap. Or else Oxpaw will do something really stupid and get us all killed! The vermin's plan is to get him to do something stupid, and it's gonna work! You must be able to see this!"
Caldwell paused. Yes, he knew that Tabbins was right. Oxpaw was impulsive and explosive. Regner no doubt knew this. And yes, the plan seemed like a perfect way to exploit that weakness.
"Wot you're suggesting we do is probably suicide," Caldwell murmured, "Is that the reason you're talking to me? You think that I'll be willing to throw my life away to help Salamandastron?" Tabbins was silent. "Because if you are, then you're right."
"I have a good amount of hares who share those convictions," Tabbins muttered back, "All fresh new recruits looking for blood and glory."
There was a silence. Both of them knew the implications of this. Tabbins was going to exploit the new recruits' bloodlust to have them spring a trap. It was something neither of them, being honorable Long Patrol hares, should have ever even considered. But neither of them had ever really been honorable, and they both knew it.
"We're too immoral for this job," Caldwell said.
"No, only I am," Tabbins replied, "You've always genuinely cared about the lives of your soldiers. You've always been devastated whenever any of them have been slain. You're only going along with this now because you know that a lot more lives will be lost if you don't, aren't you?"
Caldwell was silent for a long time. Finally, he murmured back, "I assume that you'll be going along with me, yes?"
"Of course," Tabbins responded, nodding, "It's the least I can do. There's no way I could hide in here like a blinking coward while the rest of you die because of my plan."
"Good, then," Caldwell said, closing his eyes, "Then let's do this. For Salamandastron."
"For Salamandastron," Tabbins repeated. Then, the two of them went off, hoping that whatever they did would not be in vain.
---
Golding stood at the very top of his sand dune, holding his saber up proudly. Backing him were about forty of his personally selected soldiers. None of them were his captains, however. He had left them all with Deathblaze, in case Ballantyne tried anything funny. Unbeknownst to him, however, Ballantyne had tried something funny, but his dim-witted captains hadn't even noticed.
Ignorant of his impending doom, he scanned the mountain he was sure he was about to conquer. It looked very strong, a symbol of power and integrity. Golding loved the name: Salamandastron. It just rolled off of the tongue quickly and smoothly, each syllable flowing into the next flawlessly.
Golding wished his father were here to see him now. But no, Deathblaze had killed him in a humiliating duel a few seasons ago. The only regret Golding had about this plan was that he couldn't be the one who delivered the finishing blow to the crazed stoat.
"Golding!" exclaimed a meek-looking rat named Bugo, "We have trouble! Longears are marching towards us!"
Golding was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts. Hares? Where? Then he saw them, all pouring out of the mountain he intended to conquer. There were about twenty of them. Golding was no fool; he knew that the hares were immensely better trained than any of his soldiers, and they would be slaughtered. There was no way he could fight them and hope to win. Maybe he could send for help from Deathblaze—
And then it hit him. No wonder he had failed to see Ballantyne's group go to the left of the mountain; Ballantyne had no group. Deathblaze wasn't going to come to his aid. This had been the ferret's plan all along, to use him as… as…
Bait. The word rang out in Golding's head menacingly. Being a creature that enjoyed fishing, Golding knew the implications of that word. Sometimes the fisher got his catch, and sometimes the fish got away, but never did the bait come out victorious. In fact, most times, the bait was killed as soon as it was skewered on the hook and dropped into the water.
"No," Golding said blankly, "No. No, no, no, no, no. No!"
This couldn't be happening. He was so close to his goal now! He didn't care about the hares, they could keep their lousy mountain! Just let him go, so he could exact his revenge on Deathblaze and Ballantyne! No!!
Golding realized that he was crying. Shying away from his troops, he wiped his eyes with his paw. Then, the hares came to a halt. The one in the lead, who had a heavily scarred face and a hook where his paw should have been, began to speak.
Whatever he was going to say, Golding cut him off, crying out in a strangled sob. "I ain't Regner, okay? They set me up! They put me out here as bait!! Just let me go, please! Please!"
That was what Golding attempted to say, anyways. All that came out was a flood of tears and sobs. The hares below pointed and laughed, although the one in front held his somber expression.
Bit by bit, Golding began to get a hold on himself. He stopped crying, wiping the tears away from his bloodshot eyes. A plan was beginning to formulate in his mind. He could escape, and he knew how.
Without even bothering to hear whatever the hare below had to say, he held his saber forward and shouted, "CHARGE!!"
The forty or so vermin behind him, oblivious to their predicament, all rushed forward over the sand dune at the hares. They were met with arrows and spears. Golding, however, turned and ran in the opposite direction, away from the small army. Going down the dune, he tripped over his own cape and rolled down it in a heap. Wasting no time, he leapt back up, tearing the cape off of him, and continued his retreat.
The rat Bugo saw this. "'Ey, everybeast!" he shouted, "Golding's runnin' away! We gotta follow him, I bet he has a plan!" The vermin who had not been slain immediately began retreating as well, dashing after their leader.
Caldwell paused, turning to Tabbins. "Regner ran away… I wonder if maybe we messed up his plans."
Tabbins shrugged. "Let's find out," he replied. Then, the hares began dashing after the retreating vermin.
I feel sorry for Caldwell. Every time he tries to do something right, he just makes it worse than it actually would have been...
One last thing I'd like you guys to notice is that Ballantyne's plan is incredibly half-baked. His Romeo & Juliet manuever may have seemed intelligent, but it really doesn't amount to much.