Yehaw! We find out about Mulch now!
Mmhmm, so I have now built up a two chapter buffer. I may take it to three or four, just to cover my lazy butt when I don't write for two months or something...
So that is it for intro, enjoy the fic
Read and Review
Man I get sick of reading that.
"Where is that blasted mole!" Grumman seethed under his breath as he paced back and forth across the cobblestone floor in the main entrance. His entire crew had already returned from digging the tunnels long before bedtime the previous night. Except Mulch. "Why did I even let him join? Now he is just causing more trouble than ever because I'm actually responsible for him now."
"Grumman?" a small voice called out from behind him. The Foremole turned to see Sister Gwen, walking slowly, with a puzzled look on her face. "Grumman, are you still out here?"
"Yes" he gruffly replied.
"Grumman," Gwen soothed, "You really should go to bed-"
"No."
"Well, at least have some breakfast then," she motioned with her snout towards the bowl of porridge and biscuit she was carrying.
Grudgingly Grumman took the food, making a show of forcing himself to eat, even though he way ravenously hungry. "Thank you." he grumbled.
"Why are you still out here?" Gwen asked slowly, not wanting to anger the sleep deprived mole.
"Arg, Mulch still hasn't come in from work yet. I've been up all night waiting for him. As much as I dislike the mole, I have to make sure he is alright."
"Well," Gwen paused, "Do you think that maybe he went on and just left after he finished the tunnel? You know he was being very rude, and mentioned numerous times during his stay that he wished he was still in the forest alone. So he may never return Grumman. It isn't your fault, Mulch is an independent mole. He could be leagues from here by know if he marched quickly."
Grumman considered the possibility. It would make his life a whole lot easier, and he would be able to leave the doorway and have breakfast and a nap. "You have a point Gwen. It does make a whole lot of sense that he would leave." he stopped, pondering again, "but why in the middle of a blizzard? That is the worst time to travel."
Gwen considered this. "Ah, Grumman. Sure it is a horrible time to travel, if you are trying to get somewhere. But Mulch is probably trying to escape us. Betcha he thought that if he traveled during the blizzard, the snow would cover up his tracks."
Grumman smiled. "Thank you Gwen. That sure takes a load off of my conscience. Now, what was for breakfast?"
The pair laughed as they headed off to breakfast.
As they reached Cavern Hole, the smell of porridge and fruit preserves filled their snouts and made their mouths water. Gwen began to laugh as she noticed Marta hurrying around scolding the Dibbuns for not eating all their porridge before having some of the sugary preserves. She hurried over to assist her friend in the melee of fur and porridge.
Grumman ignored the pair of Sisters battling with the horde of Dibbuns and headed over to the table where his crew was sitting. He noticed the pride in their eyes, knowing that they had finished their work on time. "Good work lads," Grumman congratulated them with a celebratory salute, "You all have gone above and beyond the call of duty, you are now free to spend the rest of the winter as you wish, because there is no more need for holes to be dug." A guilty look crossed Grumman's face. "Ok, I actually need one of you to go make sure Mulch finished his tunnel, considering he most likely ran off last night. Would someone please volunteer?"
The group looked at him incredulously, as if they were trying to understand a foreign language. "Ok, I'll do it myself then."
Grumman turned around and began to head towards the main doors, where he could access the hallway leading to the courtyard. But before he was able to leave the room, Bart the gatekeeper burst through the doors, his frail form shaking from the exertion. He was breathing heavily and trying to speak, but only gasps and wheezes were coming out. Finally he slowed his breathing and looked at the group of shocked beasts staring at him. "Whew, there is a large group of foebeasts outside the front gates. They say they want in now."
Abbot Steich hurried over from his table. "What? Of course not! Send them away. Besides, we can survive in here for almost two seasons because of our food stores, even if they don't leave."
Bart grimaced as if swallowing an extremely sour chunk of apple, "Abbot, they know about the food stores. And..." he paused, dreading the information he would have to give them, "they have Mulch."
Grumman felt a pang of guilt rush through him and he felt sick to his stomach. His normally steady knees quivered as if an enormous weight had been dropped on his shoulders. Sitting down heavily on a stool beside the nearest table he slowly began to talk, "Bart, did you see him? Was he alive?"
Bart replied quickly pointing out the silver lining, "Yessir, he was alive and wriggling when I last saw him."
Grumman sat up straighter, the load lifted as quickly as I had been dropped. "Well then, we must find a way to save him."
"Absolutely," seconded Abbot Steich.
Grumman rubbed his paws together, "Then we're going to need a plan.
Out with the polecats, Mulch felt terrible. After Jaggar had given him up to the rest of the polecats to tease, cut, savage, and eventually kill, the horrendous beast had turned and told them to stop. "We're actually going to need this fellow." he had told them. Now here he was, being used as bait.
"Why did I ever leave the forest?" Mulch groaned to himself as if repeating a sacred mantra, "Why did I ever leave the forest?"
"Oh, shaddup you stupid mole," his guard commanded. "I should've killed yew before Jaggar went all crazy-like and changed his mind." Looking off into the distance he murmured to himself, but loud enough to Mulch to hear, "I've always wunnered what mole tastes like."
Mulch never ceased to be further horrified by these evil creatures and their evil doings and schemes. "Hey, get up mole, its time to go."
Mulch's guard towed him along behind him, as they followed Jaggar and three other polecats towards the great oaken gates of Redwall. At the front of the line, Jaggar called out to the small figures which topped the wall. "Open up you tiny beasts, or the mole dies!" To exaggerate his point, he grabbed Mulch by his ankle and held him up high for all to see.
Mulch felt the blood rush to his head, as he dangled from one foot paw above the ground. Jaggar continued to speak. "Now, that I have your attention," he cleared his throat with a resounding "Ahem, I demand a meeting with you leader. If you do not meet this demand..." His voice trailed off, leaving the Redwaller's directed imagination to think of the horrors which would befall them and Mulch if Abbot Stiech didn't meet with the cruel looking cat.
Abbot Stiech did his best to hide his excitement; this is exactly how the plan is supposed to go! He thought to himself. Calming himself, he spoke, "Fine, you foul beast, we shall meet your demands only because you threaten the life of one of our own. But now you must meet one of my demands, you will meet me alone in the courtyard of the abbey. You will bring only Mulch and one other of your kind. If you do not meet this demand, I will be forced to let Mulch die to protect the better interest of this abbey."
"Well then," Jaggar agreed, "I guess I have no choice other than to meet your demands." He turned and motioned to the polecat that was carrying Mulch. "Come Tripik, bring the mole with you."
The trio marched towards the abbey gates, leaving the rest of the polecats standing outside the abbey. As they neared the gates, the giant oak doors creaked open, squealing on gritty hinges like a beast resisting capture. Four moles stepped out from behind the doors, and headed into the courtyard. They surrounded Abbot Stiech, protecting him as best as they could, from whatever would come marching through the doorway.
Jaggar mused at this pathetic grasp at power; he could see the moles were visibly shaking. Even the stern looking Abbot who had dealt so roughly with him from a distance now was looking queasy, his eyes darting back and forth, looking for a route of escape. "Look Tripik, these soft woodsbeasts are scared even inside their great fortress." Jaggar said, motioning to the great sandstone walls towering above them.
The two foebeasts and Mulch walked through the gate, the enormous oaken doors seemed to lean over, threatening to fall upon anybeast they disliked. The gatehouse seemed to be in disrepair. The windows smudged and glazed over, a couple even broken. Mulch started to ease as he entered the courtyard. Even in the presence of Jaggar and Tripik, the looming red walls gave comfort to Mulch.
"Alright cat," demanded Abbot Stiech, doing his best to be harsh and unyielding in his debate, "what are your terms for the release of this beast?"
Jagger smiled, and evil grimace showing his yellowed fangs. "You have two options, you can surrender this wonderful fortress to us," the abbots eyes visibly darkened, "Or, you can keep you pretty red house and tell us where the rest of the food stores are."
Abbot Stiech was shocked, how had they found the stores? Did Mulch help them? Did we make a mistake in letting these beasts deliberate with us? His mind reeled full of questions, making him dizzy. Grumman and Trey took a step towards the abbot, ready to catch him if he fell.
"Well, mousie. Do you have an answer?"
"Never!" gasped the abbot, falling back into the paws of Trey and Grumman. As he fell he made a quick but obvious wave of his paw, placing it upon is forehead as if wiping sweat away from his eyes. Jaggar took no notice of this, only seeing it for what it was. But behind him, noticing the signal from their abbot, Dwaka and two other otters came out from behind the open oak doors.
They slunk, blades in paw, attempting to sneak up as quickly and quietly as possible. The plan was to grab Mulch from the big dumb looking polecat and then run, leaving the polecats to be pepper-bombed from the upper dormitory windows while the Redwallers ran to the safety of Cavern Hole. But all that could go wrong went wrong.
As the otters snuck up on the polecats, one of the pepper-bombs that was sitting on the windowsill, ready to be picked up and thrown, was jarred loose by a passing Dibbun. The leaf bag full of the pungent hotroot powder plummeted towards the ground, bursting into a red cloud of eye stinging, fur staining spice. Jaggar stepped back, turning to shield his eyes from the venomous cloud. He turned and faced the three otters, their cover blown. Seeing no other option, the three otters ran as fast as they could towards Tripik, trying to snatch Mulch.
Jaggar reacted much faster than they could think. "Tripik," he shouted, "Pass me the mole."
Reacting out of instinct, the huge polecat tossed Mulch through the air, paw over tail. Jaggar caught Mulch and held him up for the otters to see. He quickly drew his dagger and sliced Mulch's neck. Blood gushed from the open wound, the sanguine liquid staining the cobblestones in the courtyard. Jaggar dropped Mulch and ran towards the otters, dropping his shoulder and ramming Dwaka with a full force blow, nearly snapping the otter's neck. Jaggar continued to run toward the gate. Tripik, seeing his leader flee, drew his own blade and charged threateningly at the remaining two otters. Not wanting the same or even worse fate as their comrade, they hurriedly ducked out of the way. Tripik caught up with Jaggar outside the gates, and the pair turned around, Jaggar shouting at the Abbeybeasts, "You have made a big mistake you pathetic beasts. We will find the rest of your food caches and we will lay siege upon Redwall, until you have no choice but to die of starvation, or surrender your pathetic fortress."
But no beast heard these angry words. All eyes and ears were focused on the courtyard, where Marta and Gwen were trying to tend to the injuries of Mulch and Skipper Dwaka. Marta looked up from the still form of Dwaka, "Gwen, Skipper is going to live, albeit with a thundering headache when he wakes, but he'll be alive."
Gwen looked up, her eyes misting over, "Marta, Mulch is already dead." She began to cry. "He was dead before we even got here."
Marta walked over to Gwen, kneeled down beside the Sister, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. They remained huddled beside Mulch's bloodstained body, quivering with open weeping until the sun slipped behind the horizon. The last beams of light stabbed at the clouds, causing them to bleed red, mocking the congealed blood surrounding the mole's limp form.
Darkness came quickly and quietly, enveloping the abbey with a dread and an even deeper sadness. No light of hope burned through the night.