A/N: Once again, thank you to Auda for her review.

Chapter 10

Dawn broke over Mossflower's canopy as Semser and Emroon were cruelly forced to abandon their daughter. Ignoring the slain vermin bodies strewn everywhere - evidence of the Redwallers' determination - they began their solemn journey back to the Abbey. They had emerged victorious in the battle thanks to no fatalities, although there were several injuries that required medical attention, but nobeast felt like they had won. Emroon led the group, the sword of Martin buckled about her middle. Tears of sorrow threatened to spill from her reddened eyes, and she stole a brief glance at her husband. He was faring no better, rudder stirring up dust as he dragged it on the earth. His normally cheerful eyes were clouded with a mixture of hatred and guilt. Hatred for Synno kidnapping his daughter, guilt for not being able to save her in time. Like Emroon, she was his entire world. If anything happened to his child, he doubted he would even be able to continue living.

He sensed she was watching him and squeezed her paw, which he was holding, gently. Smiling weakly, she said nothing and returned the simple but loving gesture. Both their hearts lifted briefly upon seeing their beloved Abbey.

A grunt escaped Culy's throat as she was slammed against the tree trunk. Her warrior spirit rising, she struggled even though a claw was gripping her neck. Vermin totally ignored her as they tended to their numerous injuries, cursing her fellow Redwallers for the damage they had inflicted.

Mortaza, for it was she holding the young ottermaid, spoke in a mocking tone. "Where are your friends now, riverdog? Sulking back to their precious walls?"

Though Culy was terrified, she put up a brave front. "They'll come for me."

"You're probably right, which is why I'm going to make the first move."

Culy's mind raced furiously, and she could not stop herself from blurting out words. "You can't defeat us. Redwall Abbey has stood for generations, and it will continue to long after your bones are bleached by the sun."

She turned her head to one side as Mortaza leaned in close, the fisher's rancid breath washing over her. "Is that so? Pity you won't be around to see your Abbey crumble. You won't be a hostage for long, although methinks you'll want to be after the special plans I've got planned for you."

Culy surprised even herself at her boldness. "Do whatever you want. Slay me if you have to, but remember this: you will die long before you take a single step inside Redwall."

The fisher struggled to contain the rage that was boiling inside her. With the back of a paw, she struck Culy hard on the side of her head and watched joyfully as she crumbled to the ground, unconscious. "And you will suffer a slow and painful death before your idiotic parents and their friends can save you! Synno, take this stupid beast and throw her in the cell. We're finished here."

Emroon could no longer hold back her emotions. The moment she walked through the Abbey gates she collapsed from a combination of exhaustion and anguish. Though he was tired himself and feeling the stress of losing his daughter, Semser picked his wife up in his arms and took her to the gatehouse, where he gently lay her on their bed. She remained there for several minutes, totally motionless except for her chest slowly rising and falling with each breath.

After what seemed like an eternity, she opened her eyes. Semser was right there as always, and she immediately buried her face in his tunic, gripping the material with clenched paws.

Semser whispered soothing words in hopes of calming her. "We did our best to save her."

Emroon sniffed and looked up at him through blurred vision, knowing the answer to the question she was about to ask. "They won't kill her, right? Please say they won't hurt her."

"There's no way of knowing with those scum. But they won't do anything until they have Redwall in their filthy claws. No vermin leader would give up a hostage, not for something as valuable and sought-after as the Abbey."

The ottermaid blinked, allowing more trees to flow freely down her cheeks. "She'll be brave; I just know she will. She's a fighter."

Guilt still flooded Semser's veins, but now he could feel determination taking over his spirit. His words were like a hammer striking an anvil. "I swore on Martin's sword that I'd rescue her, and I intend to fulfill my promise. I'll bring her back, Emroon. I'll bring her back to Redwall and us. You have my word as a warrior on that!"

For the time being, Gala was kept in the Infirmary under the very watchful eye of Mahdis Camberk. The female stoat did not seem to mind her second confinement and instead gazed around at the various herbs and plants that ordained the room, curiosity getting the better of her.

Though none too pleased at the idea of a vermin in his Infirmary - let alone the Abbey - Mahdis allowed her to investigate. She wasn't doing any harm to nobeast, and even if she attempted an escape he could easily overpower her. Despite his attitude, the big badger had to admit that she seemed to have a kinder heart than most vermin. He could not help but inquire about this.

Gala chuckled good-naturedly. "I've been asked that question a lot recently."

Mahdis shrugged. "It's not everyday we have a vermin as our guest. Usually they're either robbin' innocent families or plottin' to conquer the Abbey."

She bowed respectfully, knowing the awesome power he possessed. "I kin assure ye, sir, I'm not like that. Suppose that's why I've been an outcast all me life."

"I must say, that was some bravery you showed earlier. Alddon told me you saved his life."

Gala sniffed a herb, pulled a face, and put it back. "Alddon, eh? Well 'e rescued me as well."

Before their conversation could continue, the Infirmary doors burst open and, with blazing eyes, Semser appeared. Abbot Torlay, Emroon, and Alddon were right behind him, but none could move quickly enough as he stormed over to where Gala was standing. Grabbing her by the neck, he roughly slammed her against a wall. The stoat nearly lost her breath, but she didn't fight back as she knew he was angered at what had happened to his daughter.

"Unless you want a death wish," Semser roared in her face, causing spittle to fly everywhere. "You better start talkin'! What 'ave they done with Culy an' 'ow can I get 'er back?"

Mahdis pulled the enraged otter off of Gala, who was now massaging her throat. "Easy, warrior. I kin tell ye all ye need t'know about Mortaza an' the Hooded Clan."

Semser struggled in the badger's mighty hold and pointed an accusing paw at Gala. "You may 'ave rescued the shrew, but you're still a vermin. Vermin 'ave no place in our Abbey!"

Alddon interrupted abruptly. "She saved me life too. If'n it wasn't fer 'er, I'd be buried in the ground right now."

Gala attempted to reason with the otter Warrior. "I know yore upset about yore daughter, an' I promise I'll do everythin' I can ter 'elp ye. I 'ave me own reasons fer wantin' that scummy fisher an' 'er evil army dead. Let me explain everythin'."

The first thing that came to Culy's mind when she regained consciousness was her aching skull. She was lying on what felt like an itchy blanket, and despite the sun seeping in her surroundings appeared quite dull. The young ottermaid very slowly sat up and clamped a paw to her head. There was a small bump near her right ear, and she gingerly touched it. Pain immediately shot through her skull, and she moaned softly. She opened her eyes and, after allowing them to adjust to the light, took in her current predicament.

It quickly became clear that she was in a small stone cell with rusted iron bars. There was room, albeit not a lot, to move around and stand up. She ran a webbed paw along the smooth wall and realized that it was made from the same stone as the Abbey. At some point vermin - probably the Hooded Clan - must have built it using sandstones from the quarry the first Redwallers had mined to construct the Abbey. The walls were cold and damp, and other than Culy the only things in the cell were the blanket and a small flask. Taking it in her paws, she turned it over in hopes of finding any remaining water. A few pitiful droplets were all that remained, and she tossed it to one side before crawling to the bars and peering out. The vermin camp was right there, soldiers still investigating their wounds and searching for plants and other items to make poultices. They either totally ignored her or, if they happened to walk past the cell, snap their jaws. The tunes of new birdsongs and a fresh spring smell in the air were a stark contrast to her forbidding surroundings.

Knowing there was really not much she could do, the young ottermaid rested her back against the sandstone wall and closed her eyes. She imagined she was back in her beloved Abbey, with not a care in the world as she sang and danced with her friends around the pond. She could see her smiling parents, their paws clasped together, proudly watching over her.

From somewhere far away came a soothing voice. "Do not give up hope, for it is near."

No matter what others thought of Gala, the good Friar Alddon was determined to make her feel welcome. After all, she had rescued him from certain death. It was also obvious that the stoat had not eaten for quite some time, and after asking permission from Abbot Torlay the friendly squirrel prepared his new friend - and all the Redwallers since they had not yet eaten - a hearty breakfast. The mouth-watering scents eventually began to rise in the kitchen and slowly fill Cavern Hole.

Gala licked her lips in anticipation as the wondrous aromas assaulted her nostrils, completely ignoring the glances and whispers from the curious, albeit startled, woodlanders. "Mm, I 'aven't smelled anythin' so delicious in all me seasons!"

Abbot Torlay slid both paws inside his wide habit sleeves. "Come with me when you have filled your plate. We will discuss matters where it is not so busy."

Gala carefully munched on a hot blueberry scone as she peered up at the magnificent tapestry in Great Hall. She made a mental note to ask about the picture of the armoured mouse and turned her gaze to Semser, who, along with others, had joined Abbot Torlay for the important meeting.

Swallowing the scrumptious food, Gala looked squarely at Semser and Emroon. "Mortaza won't do anythin' to yore daughter until she's enslaved all o' ye. That slimy beast wouldn't dare give up a valuable hostage."

Semser's brow furrowed; he already knew this. "Tell us about this Mortaza. What kind o' creature is she, how many soldiers does she command, an' what are 'er weaknesses?"

The stoat spoke slowly and deliberately. "She an' her husband, Kren, they're fishers. 'Eard they're originally from the Northlands but decided to come south to rob an' murder. Not like they did enough o' that up north, eh? As fer 'er weaknesses, she 'as a temper. That's about all I kin think of."

Abbot Torlay uttered the strange word. "Fishers?"

Gala nodded and took a swig of some lemon water from a flask. "Aye, fishers. Normally they're solitary, but these two are different. Known to eat carrion an' beasts larger than themselves. They may not be the biggest vermin, but Kren an' Mortaza are merciless. Swift, wid icicle-sharp claws an' teeth that'll tear ye apart widdin seconds."

The old hare glanced at his friends for a brief moment before returning his gaze to Gala. "Well, at least now we know what species we're dealing with. Tell us, why do they and their army wear hooded cloaks? Is it due to some sort of superstition?"

"Camouflage. Green so they blend in wid the forest, hoods so ye can't make out their faces. The 'orde is made up o' assorted vermin, but Kren an' Mortaza are the only two fishers. She's reportedly the more evil o' the pair. Locked me up simply because I refused to join 'er army. That's when I met Taffa. Er, where is the liddle 'un any'ow?"

Torlay's reply made her worry swiftly vanish. "He's safe with his parents an' sister. Anything else you wish to tell us?"

Gala shook her head. "If'n I think o' anythin' else, I'll let ye know."

The old hare, who had felt a sense of trust with the stoat, glanced at his friends. "Then I think we're done here. Gala, when you're finished please meet me back in Cavern Hole so I can show you your resting quarters."

As the group dispersed, Gala remembered about the tapestry and tapped Emroon lightly on the shoulder. "Sorry to bother ye agin, but I've got a question about yon mouse."

Emroon whispered something to Semser and let go of his paw. He was clearly not happy at leaving his wife with a vermin, but said nothing and left.

After everybeast had disappeared, Emroon turned to face Gala. "You have an inquiry?"

She pointed to the tapestry, transfixed by the sword and picture below it. "Me ole mother used t'tell me about that mouse, although she never knew 'is name. She was a gennelbeast like meself, y'see."

Emroon nodded at this confession. "You are certainly unlike any other vermin I've encountered."

Gala sighed pensively. "'Tis hard, though, bein' good when everybeast expects ye ter enjoy robbin' an' murderin'. Sometimes I wish I 'ad been born a woodlander, then I could 'ave lived in this nice Abbey."

"In all the seasons Redwall has stood, it's never had a vermin living here. Visiting, yes, but never residing permanently. Perhaps that will change now that you're here. By the way, that mouse is Martin the Warrior. He's Redwall co-founder and the saviour of Mossflower."

"Sure is a brave-lookin' mouse. If'n 'e were still alive I'd 'ate to cross paths wid 'im in a dark forest."

Emroon chuckled softly. "Methinks he'd like you. You're a good creature, Gala. I'm sorry my husband doesn't quite see that yet."

The stoat bowed respectfully. "I kin unnerstand 'ow 'e feels. I suppose I would act the same way if'n I came across a beast I don't trust. But I am sorry for the loss o' yore daughter. Ye will see 'er agin, I promise ye that."

Emroon suddenly looked very old, and her shoulders drooped sullenly. "I hope you're right."

As it is with small communities, word spreads like wildfire. Sometimes it can be good, but usually - especially when it comes to vermin armies and their leaders - it means certain death. Such was the case at the camp of the Hooded Clan.

Mortaza's spy, Clawing, had exceptional hearing. The clever raven would pretend to rest in a nearby tree, while in reality he was listening to the vermins' rumblings. At times it was about food or weapons, but today it was about Kren and Mortaza's leadership. Or more precisely, the lack thereof.

A weasel spat irritably into the fire. "I tells ye mates, those two fishers are gonna git us killed wot wid their pathetic attempts at takin' over that Abbey. They can't even slay a group o' woodlanders. They've 'ad plenty o' chances to kill that otter wid the shiny sword, an' each time they come crawlin' back t'camp. Huh, some leaders!"

A nearby fox guard, leaning casually on his spear, nodded in agreement. "Aye, an' those Redwallers aren't as simple as they thought. I reckon they've got a whole bunch o' warriors in there. Who's t'say they won't slay us?"

His companion, a lithe rat, shook his head. "Nah, the two idjits will kill us afore we kin even set paw inside the Red Abbey. They're greedy an' think of nobeast but themselves."

Now feeling even more confident, the weasel spoke in a hushed tone. "Don't say anythin' ter anybeast, mates. We gots ter plan this accordingly. Jus' act normal fer now."

Angling his wings, Clawing swooped down from the tree and landed quietly on the ground behind the large tent, a short distance from where the three would-be mutineers were conspiring. He clacked his beak and waited.

Mortaza's beautiful head appeared from between the two flaps. "It better be good news. I don't like it when others bother me whilst I'm busy."

The wicked raven tapped his beak knowingly with a talon. "Do not worry, my Lady. This is something that may interest you...and save your life."

Sunlight illuminated the dangerous glint in Mortaza's eyes as she strode out into the middle of the camp. Every vermin fell silent, knowing something terrible was about to occur. They all recognized the look in her eyes and what it meant.

She stopped in front of the three vermin who were sitting at the fire and spread her paws wide, addressing the entire army. "It saddens me that my soldiers do not have faith in my command, nor that of my husband. If we didn't lead you, every single creature here would be long-dead by now. Saying that, I have no room in my horde for traitors and turncoats. There is only one place those type of creatures can go."

Without warning she whipped out her sword and whirled around upon the three hapless vermin. "Hellgates!"

As she spoke, she swung the blade. Her first victim, the weasel, still had a surprised grimace frozen on his lips as his severed head plopped to the ground. His fox companion had no time to react as the sword sliced into his midriff like a knife through butter. A gasp of complete horror arose from the onlookers as they watched their fellow vermin being split into two halves. Blood sprayed the nearest witnesses and dripped from Mortaza's lethal blade.

Teeth bared, she turned upon her final victim. The rat was on his knees, paws clasped in an attempt to plead with her. "Please yore Majesty, spare me! I wasn't doin' nothin', I swear!"

His cries fell upon deaf eyes. Mortaza was a cold-blooded killer, and with a vicious snarl stamped on her features she swung the sword for a third and fourth time. The rat didn't even get a chance to stare at his severed paws before the lethal blade cut through his neck. He toppled over, detached head rolling around on the grass.

Seething with rage, the fisher spat on the grisly carcasses. "Tell them Mortaza sent you!"

She turned to face her dumbstruck army. Although all of them had seen and committed murder at some point in their lives, their stomachs twisted at the sight of their slain comrades. Even the most hardened vermin had to tear their gaze away during the killings, but now all eyes were on Mortaza as she whirled upon them.

Her eyes blazed furiously as she hissed at the shocked army, "Anybeast else wish to take a stand?"

Not a single creature dared to move, for they feared it would be inviting death. Mortaza gestured at the grisly scene with her bloody sword. "This is what happens when fools attempt to defy me. Mutiny has no place amongst my army. Consider this your first and only warning: if any of you mudbrains even think about challenging me, I'll rip out your heart and devour it."

Cleaning her blade on the rat's carcass, she barked out clear orders. "Up on your slimy paws, all of you. I'll show you idiots how a real warrior fights with their paws and not their mouth. Clawing, gather some dry wood and branches. Synno, bring me the prisoner."

Culy was rudely awakened by the sound of somebeast banging on the bars with their weapon, and she opened her eyes. Synno's barbaric features greeted her. "Rise an' shine, riverdog! Lady Mortaza wants a word wid ye."

The young ottermaid gave a painful grunt as he lifted her up by the scruff of her neck. Synno laughed, clearly enjoying her distress. "Am I hurtin' the poor maid? Terribly sorry."

She held back a wince as her skin was stretched and pierced by his claws, but she did manage to bare her sharp teeth at him. "When I escape from here you better hope you're far away from Mossflower, because if not my father will hunt you down and slay you."

Synno sneered wickedly, and his next words sent a shiver of fear down Culy's spine. "We'll see 'ow brave ye really are when yore tied to a burnin' stake!"