THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Thirty-Eight

The new day's march took the army of Northlanders once more into the deep woods of lower Mossflower. If anything, the trail twisted and turned even more than before, hindering the marchers' progress. The edge of the Western Plains may have been a mere half-day distant, but the forest gave no hint of any change in the landscape that lay ahead. Far from thinning out, the trees and undergrowth grew even denser, as if they knew their territory would soon reach an end and they wanted to pour forth all their energies into one last stand against the open Plains. The morning mists lay thick against the forest floor, wreathing the trunks and branches in their damp, clinging blanket. Little of the morning sun penetrated the leafy layers overhead, and even the usual insect noises and birdsong seemed dull and muted in this region of shadows.

"Egads!" Warnokur murmured as he and Winokur marched along at the head of the much-narrowed column. "As if gettin' underway without a decent breakfast wasn't bad enough, now ol' Mr. Forest has gone an' swallowed up Mr. Sun!"

"Could be worse," Saybrook said from behind them. "At least there's some good wet in the air here. Try strollin' yer flippers around in the wastelands north o' Mossflower. Dry as bones, an' not so much as a puddle fer three day's journey. I'll take a cool, misty summer forest any day. An' tomorrow we should be back at the river's edge. Get in some more good swimmin' then."

"I'll be looking forward to - "

"Logalogalogalog!"

The shrill voices of many creatures, chanting a united war cry, suddenly shattered the subdued calm of the morning. Captain Saybrook, javelin clutched tight in one paw and loaded sling in the other, threw his alert gaze this way and that as others in the column reached for their own weapons. "What the sludge was that?"

"Friends, I think," Winokur replied. "I hope. I know that call ... "

"Me too," said Warnokur. "'Cept they don't sound very friendly just now."

All along the southern edge of the trail, a phantom army was emerging from the forest growth. Scores of beasts, perhaps hundreds, swiftly converged on the now-halted column. But if they'd hoped to catch the Northlanders off guard, they were bound to be disappointed. The moment of warning was all Urthblood's soldiers needed to draw their weapons and assume battle stances.

Saybrook scanned their would-be ambushers, lined up along the path edge with shortswords brandished threateningly. "Blimy! They're shrews!"

Urthblood had unsheathed his mighty broadsword at the first sign of attack, but now he held it lowered at his side upon seeing the identity of the newcomers. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "Why have you stopped us?"

One of the shrews yelled out, "Y' got vermin in yer troop! Why?"

"They are part of my forces, and more than that I do not have to explain, until you do some explaining of your own."

The shrew snarled. "No vermin will leave this forest alive!"

Urthblood leveled his sword at the shrew strangers. "Mine will. I have no desire to slay goodbeasts, if you be such, but I will do so if you press an attack on us. I am Urthblood, Lord of Salamandastron, on an errand of great importance. I seek only to pass through these woods. Your matters are of no concern to me. But if you think to interfere with my mission, I will not hesitate to destroy you."

"Guess again, stripedog. We got you surrounded. Won't be us that gets destroyed."

For several tense moments no word was spoken, no move made, as the two armies stood locked in their hair-trigger standoff in the forest gloom. For most of the way back along the column, Urthblood's soldiers found themselves squared off against a skirmish line of grim-faced, fiery-eyed shrew fighters. Any misstep or false move could unleash a bloodbath. And both sides would certainly suffer heavily in such an event, no matter which was victorious.

"This is bonkers," Winokur muttered in disgust, then sucked in a deep breath and stepped forward. ""Redwaalll!" he bellowed. "Redwall, I say!"

The shrew chief threw his gaze the otter's way. "What beast is it that gives the Redwall cry?"

"Winokur by name, and an Abbey novice by my habit," the young otter said, puffing out his chest. "And since when does the Log-a-Log of the Guosim waylay innocent travelers?"

The head shrew narrowed his eyes. "Wink lad? An' yer Pappy Warnokur too? What in blazes are you doin' in this mixed-up convoy?"

"Trying to stop a war. And tho' this wasn't the one I had in mind, I guess I could use a practice run. Now, please lower your blades before somebeast gets hurt."

Urthblood lowered his sword and looked at the two Redwallers. "These are the Guosim?"

"Aye, M'Lord," Warnokur nodded, "the Guerilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower. Old friends an' allies of ours. Spend their winters at Redwall an' the warmer months wanderin' far 'n' wide throughout Mossflower. Wouldn't 'ave expected to run into 'em this far south, but they go where they will."

"That we do." Although the shrew Winokur had address as Log-a-Log had relaxed his stance somewhat, he still held his shortsword at the ready. And his fellow shrews continued to maintain their battle footing, weapons raised. "An' now that we've been introduced, p'raps somebeast can explain what this train o' vermin's doin' in our neck o' the woods?"

Winokur came forward toward Log-a-Log. "Like Lord Urthblood said, we're on a mission to the coastlands. Salamandastron, to be exact. We're not looking for any trouble, and I'm sure you don't want any either, so let's just put all our weapons down, okay?"

Log-a-Log shook his head. "I still don't unnerstand. I see a badger an' otters, but I also see weasels, an' I know you got rats 'cos we been watchin' you all morn. If'n they ain't yer prisoners, an' you ain't theirs, then what gives?"

"Um, well ... " Winokur stroked at his whiskers, as he had seen Brother Geoff and Abbot Arlyn do many times, hoping it would make him look more thoughtful and mature. Even friendly shrews tended to be argumentative, and Winokur knew the Guosim had no love for rats and other vermin. It would be a tall order, trying to make them understand that old enemies were now allies.

"It's like this, you see. These troops are all from way up in the Northlands, far from Mossflower, and up there, vermin and woodlanders get along together. That's why Lord Urthblood has both in his army."

"Oh? Then, what're you doin' with 'em?"

"They stopped at Redwall on their way south," Winokur explained. "Lord Urthblood has been given a prophecy of great doom, that could affect the fate of all the lands. He came to the Abbey to warn us and to help strengthen our defenses. But it turns out his brother Urthfist might have come to view Urthblood as an enemy, and be mobilizing the forces of Salamandastron against him. Abbess Vanessa has sent me along to act as Redwall's envoy and mediator, to try to head off any conflict before it comes to open war."

"So this stripedog's a friend? An' his vermin too?" Log-a-Log's voice held suspicious disbelief.

"Would my Dad and I be marching with enemies?"

"No. No, I reckon not ... "

"Then let us be on our way," Urthblood commanded of Log-a-Log. "I have no time to tarry here. Lower your weapons, and we will be gone from here."

The shrew chieftain returned Urthblood's steely gaze, his jaw set stubbornly. "Lower my weapons? Not with armed vermin pointin' their swords at us, I won't. These're our woods. Show us ye're as friendly as ye claim, an' then mebbe we'll consider it."

"It was you who were the aggressor," Urthblood reminded Log-a-Log. "I will not put my forces at ease while they are under threat of drawn weapons. We were merely marching, causing harm to nobeast, when you ambushed us."

"Ambushed you? Stripey, if we'd really meant to ambush you, ye'd all be layin' slain right now."

"I tend to doubt that. Your bravura is impressive, but you could stand some improvement in your hospitality toward strangers."

The Badger Lord's imperious attitude did little to improve Log-a-Log's dangerous mood. "Oh, yeah? Well, there's strangers, an' then there's armed vermin. You got beasts here who ain't welcome in Mossflower."

"In the Northlands, I have slain many creatures who thought they could tell me where I could and could not walk."

"This ain't the Northlands, you big red oaf. Try us, if you want this day to be yer last!"

It was at that moment that Winokur - aggravated by Urthblood's stubbornness and Log-a-Log's aggressiveness, and terrified that the situation could lead to bloodshed at any moment - discovered he could bellow almost as loud as any badger. Stepping halfway between them, he held up a paw toward each of them and shouted, even more loudly than he'd given the Redwall cry earlier.

"STOP!"

The arguing between badger and shrew ceased immediately, and both stood staring at the young otter.

"Everybeast, on both sides!" Winokur yelled, invoking the tones of command he'd heard Montybank use many times. "Take three steps backward, away from the line of confrontation, and sheath your weapons. Right! Now!"

The two leaderbeasts regarded him for some moments. Then Urthblood spoke.

"A sound plan. I will agree to it, if these shrews do."

Winokur looked at Log-a-Log. "Well?"

The shrew scowled. "How d'we know we can trust 'em all?"

"My soldiers obey when I command them," said Urthblood. "Do yours?"

Log-a-Log gave Urthblood an acid glare.

"Log-a-Log of the Guosim!" Winokur intoned. "Do you recognize the authority of Redwall, whose sanctuary you enjoy every winter and whose Abbess you swear loyalty and obedience?"

"Uh, yeah, but - "

"Then do as I say, old friend! Step back and lower your swords!"

Log-a-Log's mouth worked wordlessly as his scowl deepened. But at length he turned to his second-in-command. "Flink, pass the word along the line. Three steps back, and swords down."

"Y' sure 'bout this, sir?"

"Give the order, Flink!"

"Uh, aye, sir." Flink barked the command to the nearest of the shrews. The same order was already well on its way down Urthblood's column, and the Northlanders were standing ready to make their token retreat as soon as the shrews did likewise.

"Anytime," Urthblood prompted.

"Might as well start here, and let the separation work its way down the line," Winokur said. "Perhaps on the count of three ... "

"Not necessary." Urthblood raised his voice. "Column! Fall back!" The Badger Lord followed his own order, taking three long strides back from the line of shrews even as his troops did the same. Log-a-Log, not to be outdone, took his three shorter shrew steps backwards, and immediately all the rest of the Guosim followed his example.

Winokur and Warnokur stood in the middle of the path, gazing back the way the army had come. For as far as they could see, the fighters on both sides parted, leaving the heart of the trail empty. It was like some bizarre slow-motion dance, snaking its way gradually toward the rear of the column. And as the two sides drew apart, blades and slings and clubs and spears came down, sliding into scabbard or harness or driven into the ground. The Redwall otters had a view about a hundred beasts back along the column, before it vanished around a bend in the trail.

The tension of the situation seemed to have been defused, at least here at the head of the column. Enough of a gap separated Urthblood's ranks from the Guosim so that there would be little chance of accidental bloodshed. Warnokur looked at his son, quite impressed. "Seasons o' shrimp, Wink lad! If'n you can do that, then jus' mebbe you can stop a war 'tween these two badgers after all!"

"Guess you never know wot ye're made of 'til ye're put to th' test," Winokur said, slipping momentarily back into otter lingo. "But this isn't settled yet. Let's get those two together out here in the middle of the path, so they can have a more cool-headed chat and work out their differences like proper goodbeasts."

With the urging of the two Redwallers, Urthblood and Log-a-Log were soon standing face to face in out in the path, while the two armies looked on.

The shrew chief appraised his counterpart with a long gaze. "So, ye're a Lord of that Salamandastron place. Never met one of 'em afore. What're you doin' with all these northerners?"

"For many seasons I have followed a prophecy of great fate, and it has taken me far and wide throughout the lands. I raised this army in the north as a strategy to meet this crisis that my vision foretells. And I am always open to new alliances with any goodbeasts who would join my cause."

"But, didn't Wink jus' say ye're on yer way to hash it out with yer brother? What's that about?"

"There are signs that my brother Urthfist may have fallen to evil or misguided ways during my absence from Salamandastron. If he has become unfit to rule the mountain and needs to be removed from the throne, it could come to war between us."

"A Badger Lord gone bad?" Log-a-Log gave a low whistle. "I heard stories 'bout what you badgerfolk can do when you get yer dander up, an' I can't say I care fer th' ntion o' such a beast in the service of evil. Then 'gain, never thought I'd see a Badger Lord wi' so many vermin in 'is train. But if young Wink sez ye're okay, I guess I gotta berlieve 'im."

"So, may we pass unmolested?" Urthblood asked. "Now that you know my purpose, you must understand that I cannot tarry here any more than I already have."

"Hold a moment, My Lord," Winokur held up a paw. "There's more going on here than just a simple misunderstanding. I know these shrews well, and they are goodbeasts, even if they are a little scrappy. And they never would have attacked us like this under normal circumstances, even with vermin in our troop. These beasts are allies of Redwall, and if they need our help with anything, we should hear them out." The young otter turned to Log-a-Log. "What's going on here, old friend?"

The shrew leader looked at Winokur in a new light, surprised at the air of authority the youngbeast had assumed in his current role. "It's ... it's slavers," Log-a-Log said. "They've taken scores of the smaller beasts, mostly shrews, from this part of Mossflower. Including my son Pirkko."

The two Redwall otters were aghast. "No!" Warnokur exploded. "Not dear liddle Pirkko!"

Log-a-Log hung his head. "Aye. T'was to be the scamp's first full summer of wanderin' with us as a full member of the Guosim. I shoulda left him at Redwall. Now, he's gone!"

Winokur and Warnokur stepped forward and offered consoling hugs and pats to the shrew. They both knew Pirkko very well from the time of his childhood at the Abbey where he'd been raised; Pirkko was every bit as much a Redwaller as Winokur was.

"T'weren't yer fault," Warnokur assured their old friend. "Them vile villains are t' blame, an' no mistake!"

"Lots of youngbeasts have been stolen from their parents by this slaver scum, and some who tried to stop 'em have paid with their lives. The only way t' get my son back is for th' full force of the Guosim to hunt them down." Log-a-Log cast his gaze toward Urthblood. "An' if we can get some help from these stout fightin' beasts, all the better."

"Slavers are an especially loathesome species of villain," Urthblood said, "and one I despise above all others. In the Northlands, I have put many of them in their graves. But I cannot involve my forces in a chase which might take days, or longer, as much as I would like to. I am sorry."

"With all due respect, My Lord," Winokur protested, "this is probably just a small band of slavers causing this trouble. I bet we could track them down and dispatch them in just a day or two."

"Two days is what it's been since Pirkko got snatched," Log-a-Log said. "They can't have gotten far, but if we don't catch up with 'em soon, we may never get that li'l rapscallion back. Time's of the essence. Only reason we came your way at all is 'cos we saw you had rats in yer force, an' thought you might've been the enemy we were after, even though our reports said th' slavers were foxes."

Urthblood levelled a gaze at Winokur. "You yourself are under no obligation to accompany us all the way to Salamandastron, and are free to remain here to help the Guosim if that is your choice. But I will not be delayed. Whatever trouble your friends - "

The badger warrior was interrupted by the sound of distant shouts and cries from farther back in the column. Nothing could be seen, but the noises that reached them through the forest were nearly those of full- throated battle.

"What in the name of swampmuck is that?" Log-a-Log craned his short neck in the direction of the ruckus.

Two shrews came bustling through the trees, excited and out of breath. "Log-a-Log! That suethead Snoga wouldn't back away when the order reached him," one reported. "He led an attack on the rats!"

Urthblood and Log-a-Log traded grim glances.

"I would strongly suggest," the Badger Lord said to the shrew chieftain, "that the two of us proceed there at once and put an end to this right now."

"For once, badger, we are in total agreement. Oh, that stupid Snoga! Let's get a move on, before there's a bloodbath!"

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Log-a-Log gritted his teeth as he stood watching the Guosim corpses being stacked at the foot of an ancient oak. To Urthblood he said accusingly, "Didn't yer rats realize we were tryin' to work out a truce?"

"I see seven dead shrews, not seventy," Urthblood replied coolly. "Considering that it was your side that violated the truce, I would say my soldiers demonstrated admirable restraint."

Log-a-Log clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay silent. He knew Urthblood was right, and nothing would be gained by further argument.

Urthblood looked to his own ranks. "I see the renegades among your shrews slew three of Captain Cermak's rats. That is not easily done. The attack must have caught them quite off guard."

"Not necessarily," Winokur said. He and his father stood squarely between the badger's forces and the Guosim to help keep them safely separated, although it now seemed unlikely that hostilities would flare up again. Each side had gotten a taste of what the other could do, and nobeast present was eager to add more casualties to the ten who already lay dead.

"Yeah, don't sell the Guosim short, M'Lord," Warnokur agreed with his son. "They may just be shrews, but they can battle with th' best of fightin' beasts. Don't reckon they'd need total surprise t' do what they did here."

"Tell me of this renegade who caused this," Urthblood said to Log-a-Log.

"Snoga?" Log-a-Log snorted. "A real troublemaker, that 'un. Been challenging my leadership all season, without ever makin' it a formal challenge, o' course. Too spineless fer that. But 'ee won't follow any order without arguin' it first."

"Sounds like a real rotter," Warnokur opined. "Where's th' blighter now?"

Log-a-Log stood with paws clenched angrily at his side as he surveyed the carnage. "Not among the dead, though by all rights he oughtta be. You, Molk! Tell me how this happened!"

The dazed shrew Molk sat nursing a shoulder wound he'd suffered in the altercation. "Snoga told us these were th' slavers! He ordered us to attack!"

"I gave orders to disengage!"

"Snoga said they was bad orders! He said you'd been fooled, or mebbe killed, an' we hadta act fer ourselves! These vermin was gonna try an' surround us 'n' take us by surprise, so we hadta attack first!"

"Sounds like that rottenguts told you everything but the truth," the shrew chief snorted.

"How was we t' know we could trust vermin? By fang, Log-a-Log, these rats fought like demons! We thought they was gonna kill us all!"

"Lucky fer you, this badger's got 'em well-trained. So, what, you charged these beasts as they were lowerin' their weapons?"

"T'weren't lowerin' nothin'!" Molk protested. "I swear, they was gettin' ready to attack!"

The rat captain Cermak stood near Urthblood. "We was waitin' to pull back, M'Lord," Cermak told his master, "but these shrews opposite us were all fidgety an' riled up. One of 'em was eggin' th' rest on, sayin' how they hadta ignore stupid orders an' attack. We only slew as many as we hadta to hold off the assault, Lord. When they broke an' ran, we didn't pursue. Didn't think you'd approve."

"You did well, Captain," Urthblood said. "These shrews are potential allies. It is unfortunate that any at all had to die, but they pressed the matter. You were left no choice but to defend yourselves."

"And what about the shrew that caused all this?" Log-a-Log demanded of Molk. "Where did Snoga go?"

"I dunno. Things were confusin' in the thick of th' battle. I guess he led the retreat ... "

"That figgers. Snoga's real good at startin' trouble an' then leavin' it to others to get it sorted out." Log-a-Log glanced around. "Looks like he took most of his gang of troublemakers with him ... those that're still drawin' breath."

He looked to Urthblood. "Sorry this all hadta happen. Helluva way to start out a friendship."

"Yes, it was most unfortunate," Urthblood agreed. "But it could have been much worse."

"Well, what do we do now?" Winokur asked the two leader beasts, turning away from the bodies of the slain. This was the young otter's first sight of battle deaths, and he didn't care for the experience at all.

"We bury our dead," Urthblood announced simply.