Chapter 3:
Everybeast laughed and ate heartily. It was two whole days after Rose had arrived, and preparations, somewhat spoiled by the antics of Gonff and Martin, had to be redone, though it was very minor.
Martin and Gonff decided not to have their 'feast before the feast', and apologized to Teralose. Martin was confused and still wondering about Teralose, who he thought she was who he thought she was, but didn't know her name, and Gonff was still puzzling over Teralose's song.
A little bird, he thought, sitting down on the stone steps, pushed there by the cooks, and watched to make sure he didn't sneak off to steal anything. Martin……wasn't it another kind of bird, or was it just him? And the mouse……there were two mice. It would be very hard to figure out, that song. But, as the strange mousemaid had said, it was based off of a real occurrence. Or was a summary of that occurrence. Either way, he had to figure it out, if only just for Martin.
That reminded him. He had to tell Martin something. Slowly, he got up, and went over to Bella.
"Oy! Stripe-tunic! Word with ye, please!" he hollered, his voice semi-jovial from old habit. The badger turned around to look at him.
"What is it, Mousethief?" she asked back, a miniscule smile tugging at her lips gently. Gonff usually didn't fail to make her smile, expect in the most sincere times.
"Do you know where the Warrior is? Got to tell 'im somethin'."
Bella closed her eyes, and scrunched up her forehead, delving into some recent memory. "Last I saw, he was over in the Gatehouse, going over some of the parchments put in there."
Gonff started to run in the direction of the gatehouse, yelling a 'Thanks!' over his shoulder. Unfortunately, he had turned his head the other way, and did not keep his eyes looking ahead, for, if he did, he would have been able to avoid crashing into somebeast.
The mousethief twisted his head around just in time for a flash of gold in his eyes before colliding head-on into the beast blocking his path.
They both went flying; Gonff in the direction he just came from, and the other in the opposite direction.
Gonff was first up, his head slightly throbbing. He half-ran over to the other creature, garbed in a gold-ish tunic and robes, most likely in favor of the feast.
"Are you okay? I'm sorry, I really am, it's my fault, are you sure you're alright? I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sor-" he broke off recognizing the woodlander.
"Teralose? Are you alright? I'm sorry, I really am,"
The mousemaid smiled slightly. "I'm alright, Gonff. You don't need to rattle on, but that was kind of you to ask."
"Here, let me help you up. Where are you going?"
"Over to the kitchens to see if they need any help, but I'm afraid that I'm a bit lost. Where are they?"
Gonff pointed to his left, a little behind him. Teralose flashed a quick smile of thanks and jogged off towards the Great Hall, and disappeared behind it.
After watching her 'till she left his sight, he resumed his line of thought before he had gone to Bella to ask where Martin was.
Was she really the one who had been killed, or was she the survivor? Or was she neither?
Shaking his head, he continued towards the gatehouse, walking instead of running. The gatehouse was in sight after a minute or so, and, after making sure that nobeast was in his path, ran as fast as he could to where Martin was.
He knocked on the door, and was answered my a soft voice. It was Martin's, but it didn't sound like it.
"Come in."
Gonff opened the door, and it creaked softly on the way in. When he saw Martin, he was faintly surprised.
He had seen little of his friend in the last two days, and he looked disheveled. Nearby him was a quill and a little pot of ink, as well as some parchment, but there were only a few splotches of ink on it. Martin looked up, and saw Gonff.
"Hello."
"Martin, what's gotten into you lately, mate? Gonff closed the door behind him, and walked over to the warrior.
"Tryin' t' figure out who she is."
"Teralose?"
"Yes. Don't know how her name is spelled, though."
"She told me last night."
"What are they? Please, tell me!" Martin gripped the desk tightly, the pads of his paws turning slightly white.
"T-e-r-a-l-o-" Gonff stopped, and Martin took the quill from the inkpot, his paws slightly black.
"T, e, r, a," he muttered under his breath as he scratched the letters onto the paper one by one in a neat line, and then raised his voice. "What was the rest?"
"L-o-s-e. That's it."
Martin spelled the rest onto the paper, and muttered something to himself. He spelled the letters again underneath the first, putting a dot over each one, and then crossed that word off.
Gonff patiently waited as Martin tried different combinations of each word.
Time passed. The parchment was covered in words, all but one crossed out. Martin started another, L, A, T, and stopped, looking at it, and slightly going pale. With slightly shaking paws, he finished, and then the quill clattered on the floor.
Gonff looked over Martin's shoulder, and looked at the word, though not staring at it like his friend was.
L, A, T, E, R, O, S, E, it spelled. Gonff looked at Martin's face, and saw the pale skin even underneath the fur.
"What is it, Martin? What's the matter."
"Its' all coming back. It's all coming back. It can't be her, it can't be. But it all fits, it does."
"Teralose? How does it fit?"
Martin turned towards the Mousethief. "It all fits. I loved her, and I still do. But I led her straight into danger, into war. She died. It can't be. But it is."
As Gonff stared dumbstruck at the page, Martin whispered a few things. "My Laterose. My Rose. Alive.
"But how?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Martin's thoughts whizzed around in his head like stray arrows bouncing off the corners of his mind.
Rose? How? He loved her, he did. But how did she come back? Did she completely die, or did she not?
"Do you know where she is?" He heard himself asking Gonff faintly, and Gonff's reply.
"The kitchens. Teralose is in the kitchens."
Martin was gone before Gonff had finished his piece.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Boar hit his head with his paw as he watched, through a large oval hoop that was directed by a small stone the size of his paw, the two mice hunched over a piece of paper, looking at it, one staring at it more than the other.
He already knew what was on the paper. He had been watching Martin and Gonff since a little bit after Gonffs' arrival.
"What is it Martin? What's the matter?"
Boar groaned out loud, wishing frantically that Martin wouldn't tell Gonff, even if they were friends.
"It's all coming back."
Boar let out another groan of despair as Martin repeated what he just said again. So much for hoping the impossible, and it happening.
"It can't be her, it can't be. But it all fits, it does."
"Teralose? How-"
The Badger Lord grinned slightly as he remembered the anagram of Lateroses' name. It wasn't impossible to crack. They should've chose something different for her name.
Martin's voice jerked him back to what was happening. "It all fits. I loved her, and I still do. But I led her straight into danger, into war. She died. It can't be. But it is."
Boar watched Gonff return his gaze to the page, while Martin whispered a few things.
"My Laterose. My Rose. Alive."
Boar knew that if he told Rose that he knew who she was, she would never be able to come back. It would tear her heart apart, and she would never be able to be in the Council again, unless she died again, and Martin died with her.
"Do you know where she is?"
Great, Boar thought. She'll HAVE to die again at this rate. And if he finds her, I can't stop him.
"The kitchens. Teralose is in the kitchens."
Boar saw Martin run out right after Gonff said, 'The kitchens'.
"Stop." The badger said to the oval, which darkened immediately. "Track Martin the Warrior."
The oval brightened again, and Boar sat back in the great oaken chair, watching his friend run towards the kitchens.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Rose carefully pitted a peach, and started making semi-even slices collecting the juice in a small, wooden bowl. She dumped the slices into a larger wooden bowl, and was just reaching for another peach as somebeast barged into the kitchen. Looking up slightly, she saw Martin, scanning the kitchen for somebeast.
She felt her heart jump to her throat as his eyes locked on her, and he slowly made his way towards her.
Must be wondering were Gonff is. She thought, but then saw a different look in his eyes.
It hit her.
He knew who she was.
She would love to just jump into his arms, but remembered her duty. She had to return to the Dark Forest after the her quest- whatever it was- and understood that she wouldn't if she acknowledged who she was to Martin.
She scanned the area for the Friar, and, seeing the hedgehog, made her way to her.
A few minutes later, she had gathered her things and made for her room, glancing back at Martin as she left. She was going to have to stay away from Martin, even if her heart would break.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Martin saw her hurry to Gonff's adopted mother, and return to pick up the cloak she had draped over a hook nearby, and hasten out of the kitchen, away from where he just entered.
He saw her look over her shoulder, and saw the regret in her eyes, and the pain, as she left.
She knew.
He didn't know how, but she did. Perhaps it was the way he stood, or something else, but she knew.
But she couldn't be with him. The warrior understood that, at least. Why, he did not know.
Even though it would break his heart, he pondered, as he was dimly aware of being shoved out of the kitchens gently, he would stay away from her if that was what she needed, unless there was a turn of events he could not detect.
A small tear leaked out of his eye as he walked slowly to the battlements, and waited there until the feast.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The oval darkened and Boar sighed. Rose knew what she was doing, and Martin somehow understood. Things were back on track.
But now he had to check on the danger.
"Show me the enemy."
The Stone flashed in his paw once, and the oval brightened up again. He watched as snow fell softly onto a camp of hastily put up tents, and the crunch of snow crushed by hindpaws was almost all of the noise there was in the area.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The ferret, clad in only a few rags, trudged, bare-pawed, in the bitter spring snow. Even though it was the time when snow was supposed to wear off, it was there almost all of the time up in the North; Only early summer to early fall was when the snow was banished.
As he approached the camp, a small robin in his paws, recently killed, he shuddered as a thought ran through his head, but carried on into the camp.
Twoscore of their numbers had died that winter, but there was still eightscore more, mainly hopefuls like himself that they might be able to go south into the sunnier regions, where the cold was not as harsh.
But the Master wanted to Rule.
What they had to do was swear fealty to him, and promise that they would help him gain control over the strange southern areas.
None but the ferret and the Generals, the Master's six most trusted hoardbeasts, as well as the most experienced in battle with the Lowerbeasts, who called the ferret's kind 'vermin', knew what the Master's first target was.
The ferret was not a General, though.
He had just happened to passing by-well, perhaps that is a bit of an exaggeration-when he overheard the Master's conversation with his Generals.
"…….Newly found, sire. Spies say that it took seasons to build up, made entirely of red sandstone." A smooth voice had said. It belonged to Сумматор, youngest of the Generals, in charge of the Spying Network.
"Excellent." A gravelly voice that was rarely heard sent a shudder through the ferret. The Master. "Кров-Похоть, report."
"The armory is filling up well, though we will need more. We need Toil-Beasts, more Lowerbeasts, to make more."
"How many?"
"About…..One to two score, my lord."
There was a pause, and the ferret wondered if he had been observed through the thickly woven cloth.
"That stands reasonable. Нищета, can you get that many within the season?"
"Yes, sire, but I will need more Middlebeasts to help me."
"You may take a half-score with you. Бол-Датель, are all of your testing instruments ready to be used and transportable?"
A strong, stready voice replied. "They are ready to be used, but have need of half a season more to make them fully ready to be transportable."
"You will need to hurry. Ед-Искатель, have you found and scourged enough to last us another week?"
"It depends on how my Gatherers have done. If they have done well, we will have food for two weeks. If not, one day."
The ferret nearly gulped in the silence that followed; for he had only been able to find a few early berries. After all, It was the beginning of spring, and there was little to be found in the case of plant-matter; he would go out again. Nothing would displease the Master more than disloyalty.
"You will have to push them a little harder, though I would be surprised if they got enough for two weeks. Is there enough firewood?"
"Much. Yesterday was spent getting more for our stores." The ferret remembered that, and stopped himself from massaging his right shoulder-it was still sore.
"Good. Now, Сражени-Искатель, how are the tactics going?"
"I will need more information, Кров-Глаза, My Lord. Сумматор needs more information to give to me."
"Of course, my friend. Сумматор, I will give you another week to find more, about this 'Redwall' place. And if you do not have enough, one last, final week to give Сражени-Искатель more information. He will get three weeks to find battle-plan A, then another three weeks for B, and One last week for C.
"I am finished."
The ferret heard the rustling of mats being picked up and folded, and hasty bows being committed. He watched them in the near-darkness, walking to six other medium-sized tents.
He wasn't noticed. As quietly as he could, he stood up, and, aware that the crunch of footpaws would alert the Master of his presence at the very least, strapped on the snowshoes that he had strapped to his back a little while ago, slid through the snow with barely a sound away from the Master's tent.
"Безмолвие, come here."
The ferret paused, and then glided obidently to the Master's tent. How the Master knew his name, he did not know. He stopped at the enterence, unsure of what to do.
"Take the snowshoes off, and enter."
Immediately, Безмолвие shed the shoes and, carefully wiping his footpaws, stepped within, his eyes shut.
"Безмолвие, have you been spying on me?"
"Sire," The ferret paused, knowing that he had to tell the truth. "I was told that I needed to prove myself to the Higher ones to me by them, and to wait an hour outside your tent, at this time, and then report what you said to them. So, Master, I suppose it was spying."
There was silence. The ferret waited for the Master's voice to tell him to kneel and allow him to dis-connect his head. It was the second-lowest way of killing a beast.
"You are holding a fact or more back. Did they threaten you with a weapon?"
"Y-y-yes-s, Sire."
"What with?"
"Beating me with a stave, and then whipping me." The ferret knew that if one word of this incident was revealed to his tormenters, he was literally dead.
He thought he heard a growl. "I shall go back with you for a while. Show me where you camp."
The ferret turned around and walked carefully to the tent enterance, but once out of the semi-warm tent, he tripped and fell face-down into the snow. He did not try to push himself up with his arms, but instead rolled onto his back, and carefully sat up.
A moment later, Безмолвие was on his paws, and walking towards his camp, a black-cloaked shadow following behind.
Later, the ferret remembered, his tormentors were punished, and he was put into two groups- spying, and gathering.
He would spy soon, Безмолвие thought, as he gave the robin, and a couple clumps of something called horsetail, whatever a 'horse' was, he had found on the way to his Gathering General, Ед-Искатель.
For in two days, they would head out.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Boar sighed, and waved a paw at the oval, which immediately darkened. Sometimes, he could hear the beasts' thoughts, which he did with that young ferret's. He checked the ferret's fate-strand, and sat back, looking mildly surprised.
Strange…………This ferret, though he was a 'vermin', was important to both the 'vermin' and the 'woodlanders'.
The fate strand said something strange about the ferret Безмолвие. Something impotant.
Boar looked back at the oval, and gently pressed it with one giant paw. It shrunk rapidly until it fit into a hardly noticeable ring-shaped indenture carved into his stone.
He checked the time by the sun in the Dark Forest outside of his window, and saw that it was time for Rose to be reminded of her mission.
So he sent it.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
A/N-I apologize for not updating-It has been a very, VERY buisy time for me. Moving.
I hope that you get the picture.
Thank you for reading!