THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Fifty-Four

"And so," Flink the shrew concluded, "Log-a-Log bet me I couldn't make it to Redwall in three days. Wasn't about to let my chief show me up, so I took the bet. He sent along Gloor here to keep me honest, and off we went. That was three mornings ago, and we kept at a half-run most of the way. Ha! Two and a half days! I can't wait to see his face when I tell him he's gotta cook me hotcakes every morning this winter!"

The Abbey leaders sat at a table in the orchard with the two shrews, along with Urthfist, Major Safford and Traveller. The telling of their tale had taken the past hour, and the others had sat spellbound as Flink and Gloor related the adventures of the Guosim's pursuit of the slaver foxes, their meeting with Urthblood's army, and how the Badger Lord had helped to get back Log-a-Log's son Pirkko and the rest of the stolen woodlanders.

"A ship that runs underwater," Geoff murmured. "I never would have imagined ... "

"That's just what Log-a-Log thought you'd say," Flink chuckled at the recorder mouse.

"Who among us could have?" Vanessa echoed. "I don't suppose Tratton's been sending such craft up the River Moss as well?"

"That's why we wanted to get word to you soon as we could," Flink said. "Warnokur and Winokur thought the Moss was easily deep 'n' wide enuff t' handle one of these scurvy rat boats. If there's searats within a day's march of Redwall, we gotta be on the lookout for 'em."

"Yes indeed." Vanessa turned to Urthfist. "Lord, it does not sound to me, from what these shrews have told us, as if your brother is allied with Tratton. He captured this vessel and gave it to the Guosim, freed the slaves who were destined for searat galleys, and interrogated then executed the entire crew. Those certainly do not strike me as the actions of a creature who is in the service of evil."

Urthfist all but ignored her comment, turning instead to the two shrews. "You say my brother was still in Mossflower three days ago? You are sure of this?"

"Sure as I'm sittin' here," Flink said.

Urthfist tapped absently against the worn and weathered tabletop with one claw, his gaze seeing far beyond the orchard. "If this is true, then he may not even be at Salamandastron yet ... or he has only just arrived." He turned to Safford. "Major, is there any chance at all, in your estimation, that Colonel Clewiston's force might be able to hold out for a few days before my brother's horde overruns Salamandastron?"

"Wouldn't count the Colonel out, sir. If he sees 'em comin' - and there's no way he couldn't, not a force that size - he might be able t' bottle up the three entrances we left open tight enuff t' keep that rabble from gettin' inside. For a day or two, anyway, tho' he'd be bound to be overwhelmed eventually, without reinforcements."

"My thinking exactly. Do you concur, Traveller?"

The seasoned scout hare nodded. "If anybeast could keep a horde outta Salamandastron with only twenty hares to defend it, ol' Clewiston's the one."

Urthfist stood, a light of decision blazing in his eyes. "Major, assemble the Patrols at once. We are leaving. Now. If there is any hope at all that we may return to Salamandastron before it falls to my brother, we must not waste it. We will be underway before another hour has passed, and we will travel with all haste, not like that leisurely stroll we took coming here. We will run all the way to Salamandastron, if that's what it takes, and then we will see ... " His massive claws clenched and unclenched at his side. "Then we shall see."

"My Lord," said Vanessa, "did you listen carefully to everything that Flink and Gloor had to say?"

"I heard them say that my brother was still far from Salamandastron three days ago, and that is all I need to rekindle hope."

Vanessa regarded Urthfist sternly. "They also spoke of discussions in which Urthblood declared his desire to avoid bloodshed. Surely now you see that there may be room for a peaceful solution?"

"My brother is a master of deception," Urthfist declared, "and more sly than any fox. Of course he would prefer to capture Salamandastron without bloodshed. But he means to capture it one way or the other, and that is what I must try to prevent, if it is not too late."

Flink gave the badger a hard stare. "Yer brother ain't lookin' for a fight, M'Lord. But he ain't about to turn away from one neither."

"You do not know what he is really like," Urthfist spat at the shrew. "If you did, you would not doubt me."

"Well, I saw him capture that searat boat an' take care of its crew," Gloor said in support of Flink. "That puts lie to yer claim that Urthblood's allied with 'em."

"Perhaps, and perhaps not," said Urthfist. "My brother makes and breaks alliances as it suits him. Perhaps he saw a greater advantage to win the allegiance of the Guosim than to favor the searats in this matter. Perhaps his alliance with Tratton fell by the wayside some time ago when it no longer suited his purposes. Who can say? It may even be that he left this new craft with the shrews because he wants it for himself, and will return to take it back from them once he has Salamandastron firmly under his control. My brother acts only for himself, to increase his own power. The beasts that call him friend today may tomorrow come to curse the day that their paths crossed his."

"Yeah, well, he had his doubts about you, too," Flink wrinkled his nose. "He sounded willing to share power, but only if he thought you was still fit to help him rule ... "

"Do not speak to me about my fitness to rule!" Urthfist exploded at the shrew. "The Lordship of Salamandastron is a great responsibility, not some prize to be won by unworthy creatures. My brother abandoned that responsibility and showed his unworthiness twenty seasons ago, and has proven it many time since in the Northlands. His own prophecy names him as the monster that he is, and the only creatures that follow him are either evil or else misguided beasts who have been taken in by his lies ... as you seem to have been."

"We Guosim ain't very easily duped," Flink protested. "We spent two days with Urthblood. If he's an evil beast, he hid it mighty well."

"Two days, eh?" Traveller stroked casually at one doubled-over ear. "Try trackin' him for twenty seasons, chap. Your opinion of His Bloodiness might drop a notch or three, once you see wot he's really like."

"We are wasting time here. Major, see to the Patrols. Have them assemble immediately in the road outside the main gate, ready to march."

"Yessir!" Safford saluted and was off like a shot to relay his master's orders.

Traveller looked to Urthfist. "Should I go help him, M'Lord?"

"Hold a moment. I require your counsel. You are more widely travelled than any other hare in the Patrols. We must march now with the utmost haste, to arrive at Salamandastron at the earliest possible moment. What route must we take that will get us there the fastest?"

"The way we came, I guess," Traveller replied.

"There is no chance the north might not be quicker? I was thinking of the rivers we must cross."

"That's a point, sir. But ... no, even with no streams in our path, north would still be the long way around the mountains to the coast. And remember, that gang we chased out of here went north. They could have an ambush set up, one we'd be more likely to blunder into if we're movin' at a run. Also, there's no sayin' your brother might not have more o' his reinforcements comin' down from the Northlands. If so, we could run right smack into 'em, an' that'd slow us down, sure enuff."

Urthfist nodded. "So it's south for us. Which still leaves a broadstream to cross. We know now that there is a bridge along this main road to the south which would allow us an easy crossing. Do we avail ourselves of it, or will that take us too far out of our way?"

"Hmm ... would be a bit of a detour, but then again, it would provide us with a sure crossin'. If we set out across the Plains on a more direct southwest course, we'll hafta scout 'round for a ferry, an' that could delay us even more."

"I don't think so," said Urthfist. "Remember, when we were done with that insolent boatshrew Fitkin, we left his ferry on the north shore. We have only to retrace our steps, and that way across the river will be waiting for us when we get there."

"Unless that little ball o' bad manners has brought it back to his side again," Traveller cautioned.

"Fitkin did not strike me as the sort of creature who would swim that broadstream, not even to get his boat back. Besides, we left him sealed in his hovel. He may not even have dug himself out yet."

"Good points, M'Lord. Guess we can count on that way across after all ... in which case I'd say that'd be the fastest way back home."

Vanessa stood, and her fellow Redwallers stood with her. "My Lord, I can see you are determined in this. Before you leave, I would implore you once more to avoid open war with your brother if you possibly can. These shrews have brought us news to suggest the searats are more powerful than they've ever been, and are building new types of weapons that can carry their terror to lands that had always been safe from them before. Surely now, of all times, you and Urthblood should be working together to face this threat, instead of going to war with each other. Please bear this in mind when you approach Salamandastron. If the two of you can put aside any conflict between you for the greater sake and safety of the lands, you must."

Urthfist snorted. "It would not surprise me if my brother helped Tratton to build these underwater ships."

Flink and Gloor bristled with defiance. "Urthblood was as surprised as anybeast when we discovered that craft!" Gloor argued. "I know; I was there!"

"Oh? Then do tell: how did he know to look for such a hidden craft in the first place?"

"Er, uh ... he said he heard rumors that Tratton was workin' on such a thing, 'tho he'd not before had proof of it."

"Really? And how did such rumors reach him? My hares and I dwell along the shores, where the searat threat is greatest. News of their actions and movements reaches us before anybeast else, and we have heard not one word of such things." Urthfist shook his head with certainty. "No, Tratton is not the worst threat these lands face. I must go now to confront the true enemy of all creatures who would remain free, in their minds as well as from the iron chains of slavery."

Vanessa sighed, deeply and sadly, as the badger started to turn away. "One thing more, Lord."

Urthfist looked to her with growing impatience. "Speak quickly, Abbess, for my time grows short and soon I will be gone." Already many hares of the Patrols could be seen crossing the lawns to the main gates in response to Safford's call to assembly.

"I was just going to ask whether you would like us to supply you with any food or drink for your journey ahead? Your supplies must be low, and I did promise to help in any way I could when the time came for you to leave Redwall. I still stand by that offer, if you care for our assistance."

Urthfist showed no chagrin at his brusque manner toward the mouse who was extending him the hospitality of the Abbey. Traveller leaned over to him and murmured, "Wouldn't be a bad idea, M'Lord. If we're gonna be on th' run all the way to Salamandastron, we won't have time to forage fer scoff. Better t' load up here while we can."

The Badger Lord mulled it over for a moment. "As long as it does not delay us too much," he pronounced at last.

"You say you wish to be on your way before another hour passes," said Vanessa. "We should be able to meet that schedule. Don't expect any fresh-baked items, but we should have enough in our larders to fill every one of your hares' travel sacks. And it will be food better suited to a journey of several days. I'll go get Friar Hugh on it right away." She looked to Urthfist. "If this meets your approval, Lord."

Urthfist gave only a grudging nod. "Traveller, call all the hares back inside and have them fill their canteens in the Abbey pond. Then we'll see what these folk have for our haversacks."

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Candied chestnuts. Acorn honey crunch. Bricks and wedges of cheddar, white sage cheese and red beechnut and rosemary cheese. Almond wafers. Mint wafers. Crystallized apple slices. Carrot chews (and more carrot chews). Blackberry and bilberry muffins.

All this and more was carefully packed into the travel sacks of the Long Patrol. It was amazing what could be turned out of Redwall's larders on such short notice. In even less time than the hour that Urthfist had given them, the Abbeyfolk outfitted his hares with enough food to last for several days, and all of it suitable for beasts on the march. Major Safford was most appreciative for the quality and quantity of the offerings and for the swiftness with which the Redwallers produced it. He and Traveller made sure every hare filled its sack, and thanked the Abbess profusely for the supplies even as Urthfist paced back and forth by the main gate, impatient to be underway.

At last every canteen was topped off and every haversack near full to bursting, and the Long Patrol were assembled in a long, southward-facing column in the road outside the Abbey. Urthfist took his place with Traveller and Major Safford at the head of the marchers. The Badger Lord's attention was focused solely upon the return to Salamandastron; so single-minded was he in his purpose that he did not even wave, salute or so much as glance back toward the woodlanders who'd opened their home to him and helped get his army on its way.

The main gate was closed and locked as soon as the last hare had exited the Abbey, and the Redwallers looked on from the walltop in almost total silence as the force from Salamandastron departed for their home once more. It was a very different mood from the send-off given to Machus and Mina the previous day. There was no feeling now that this was a farewell between friends. Rather, Redwall was getting rid of an unpredictable occupation force. As long as Urthfist had stayed at the Abbey, there was a sense of uncertainty about what he might do next, and whether it was safe to have such a beast around. The Redwallers were relieved to finally have him out of their midst, even if the cost of his departure might be all-out war over the Lordship of Salamandastron.

"They're moving at a right good clip," Monty observed. "But I thought they planned on cuttin' straight 'cross the Plains back th' way they came?"

"They are," Vanessa replied. "They came out on the road by the ruins of old St. Ninian's originally, so they're going to follow the path south to that point and then turn onto the Plains. Their forward scouts will literally track backward to keep them to the exact route they took from Salamandastron. Urthfist is leaving nothing to chance, and thinks they can make the best time that way."

"I'm just glad he's gone," said Brother Geoff. "I was worried about what we'd do if he refused to leave. At least now that problem has taken care of itself, before it became an issue."

"Yes," Vanessa nodded. "And now, thanks to our fleet-footed shrew friends here, we know that Winokur and Warnokur are fine ... or at least they were when Flink and Gloor left them three days ago. With Lord Urthfist and his hares here, I doubt they got held up by anything else. They could even be at Salamandastron by now."

Old Arlyn stroked his whiskers as he stood with the others, watching the retreating backs of the badger warrior and his fourscore hares. "That they could be, Vanessa. The question is, if they are, is Winokur now presiding over a battle for the mountain, as Urthfist was sure would happen?"

"Wouldn't be much of a battle," Geoff offered. "Twenty hares against that horde of Urthblood's ... and Urthblood is familiar with that stronghold inside and out. I don't think those hares would be able to hold out very long against odds like that, no matter how well defended the entrances are."

"I hope Urthblood does take over Salamandastron," Flink said sourly. "He belongs in charge o' the place. He's got what it takes t' protect th' coastlands from the searats. Can't say I trust Urthfist t'all. He's so obsessed with his brother, I think he may truly be demented, as Urthblood feared. Wouldn't want anybeast like that in charge o' guardin' the lands from this Tratton. An' I don't know 'bout his hares, neither."

Maura leaned against the battlements just down from the shrews. "Actually, Flink, a few of the children were growing quite enamored of those hares before they had to leave so suddenly. I find that whenever things get confusing, sometimes the first impressions of our little ones are a good signpost to go by. They would never have liked those hares if they weren't worth liking."

"They did seem to be decent sorts," Geoff admitted, "once they got settled in and saw there were no enemies here. Still, I got the feeling they would follow Urthfist anywhere, even to the detriment of the rest of us."

Flink scratched at the side of his nose. "Yeah, well, if'n Urthfist thinks his brother's a pushover, he's in fer a rude awakening. Urthblood's rats fought like demons against that troublemaker Snoga, and the otter cap'n Saybrook assured us those rats ain't th' best of Urthblood's fighters by any stretch. If those two badgers are bound to clash, I think Urthfist is buying 'imself a battle he won't walk away from ... not even with fourscore hares at his side."

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Of all the creatures at Redwall, it was the Abbey's newest resident who breathed the biggest sigh of relief when the last hares in the column turned the bend in the road and disappeared behind the trees.

Smallert stood away from the Abbey leaders on another part of the west walltop. Cyril and Cyrus were at his side, where they'd sworn to stay until the weasel was no longer in any danger from Urthfist. Cyrus had traded in his sickbed gown for a new novice's habit and sandals. The donning of his usual garb was an important symbol to the young mouse, his way of announcing to the world (and to himself) that he'd licked his injuries, beaten back death and was at last ready to rejoin the normal life of Redwall. Sister Aurelia had also granted her patient permission to sleep in his own room tonight - another important step in the recovery of both his body and spirit. The healer recognized that the sooner Cyrus could get back to his regular routine, the quicker he'd be able to put this whole frightful incident behind him.

It was also encouraging that Cyrus - and Cyril too - had bonded so immediately with the creature who was partly to blame for this disruption in their young lives. Neither showed the slightest fear around Smallert. Indeed, now that they knew he was much closer in age to them than they'd first assumed, the two mouse brothers had practically adopted the one-eared weasel as a newfound companion - the first Redwallers to do so.

Smallert supported Cyrus with a paw against the mouse's back as they stood watching Urthfist's retreat; the weasel may only have been a few season older than Cyril, but he was far bigger and stronger than either of the mice would ever be.

"Oh, brother, is that a sight fer this weasel's eyes!" he said. "A real weight off the ol' shoulders. Didn't know what I was gonna do if that brute ever got me in 'is reach. Woulda been my end, I jus' knows it. I thought I might've hadta stay hid up in the 'firmary fer th' rest o' this season. Glad he decided t' make it a short visit. Now I can get about the business o' becomin' a true Redwaller!"

Cyril turned to look up at Smallert. "So, have you given any more thought to what job you might take here?"

"Well," Smallert scratched absently around his missing ear, "I think Sister Aurelia had a right fine idea when we was talkin' to her this mornin'. Since I'm not sure what I'd be good at 'round here, I'll jus' help out around the Abbey as I'm needed 'til I find a chore what suits me best. An' if I don't, then I guess I'll jus' become Redwall's resident handybeast, ready t' lend a paw in anything that needs doin'."

"But, you're a trained soldier," Cyril said, surprised that Smallert was overlooking the obvious. "Why not ask the Abbess to make you one of the Abbey defenders?"

Smallert shook his head. "'Fraid my soldierin' days is done, lad. I never wanna cause harm to another beast ever again, if I c'n help it. I'm dedercatin' the rest o' me days to bein' a peace-lovin' goodbeast, so's you folk never have no cause t' say, 'Why'd we ever let that no-good weasel come stay here?'"

"Oh, we'd never say that about you, Smallert," Cyrus assured him.

"Well, it's up t' me t' make sure you never have reason to. That's my main job from now on; chores'll jus' be somethin' to keep me busy an' outta trouble. I'll be happy t' do whatever anybeast here tells me to. All o' those seasons with Lord Urthblood, one thing I'm good at's followin' orders."

Cyrus gave a guilty pout. "You don't hafta give up your sword just 'cos of what happened to me, Smallert. If that's what you're good at ... "

"I weren't never good with swords," Smallert smiled sadly at Cyrus. "Not my weapon o' choice. Why, if'n I were halfway-skilled with a blade, I prob'ly coulda held my swing when Wolfrum used you as a shield. Only reason I slashed you was 'cos I'm a clumsy oaf with a sword in my paw."

"Then what did you use when you fought battles in the north?" Cyril asked.

"Usually just a spear or javelin," Smallert replied. "Got purty good at it, too. But my real experteese was in paw-to-paw combat. I'm somethin' of a champeen wrestler - one o' the best in Lord Urthblood's service. More'n once, when a foebeast knocked me spear outta my paws an' took me fer an easy kill, why I'd twist 'n' turn 'n' grapple with 'em until I got their weapon away from 'em. They'd go to their graves with such a look of surprise on their faces ... um, this ain't nice talkin' 'bout, so I'll stop now. Hope I didn't trouble you two none with such talk, did I?"

"No, no, I was enjoying it," Cyril said quickly, actually somewhat disappointed that Smallert had stopped so abruptly. "I like stories about battles and adventures. Promise me you'll tell me some of yours someday."

"Well, if ye're sure, Cyril lad. I ain't th' world's greatest storyteller, but I seen some things in my days. I'll try me paw at spinnin' you some yarns someday, if you don't mind hearin' stuff that most decent folk perfer not t' hear. Battles ain't no place fer peaceable woodlanders like you Redwall lot."

"You'd be surprised," Cyril told him. "Many of Redwall's past champions were great warriors in battle. Why, I've even thought about becoming a warrior myself, if I can get the Abbess and Maura to take me seriously and stop thinking of me as just the Abbey bellringer."

"One of the Abbey bellringers," Cyrus corrected his brother. "Now that Mr. Geoff doesn't need me to help him in the archives anymore, I guess we'll be getting back to it soon, eh, Cyr?"

"Guess so ... hey, I just thought of something!" Cyril looked up at Smallert. "If I do start training as a warrior, or maybe as a healer, we'll need a new bellringer. I'm sure Maura won't wanna do it permanently. How'd you like to try your paw at it, Smallert?"

"I dunno. I got no experience with bells 'n' such ... "

"It's easy! Maura got pretty good at it after just one day. Me 'n' Cy can show you the ropes ... you'll get the hang of it in no time, I'm sure you will."

"Well, sure, I'll give it a try," Smallert finally agreed. "Gotta find some way to earn me keep around here. Yankin' ropes can't be as hard as soliderin'. Lead the way, buckos!"