I am peripheral movement, a figure of not form but intent. I am the ind between your wings, the air you breathe, the worlds you cherish. I see myself in the cracks of your civilization. I am all and nothing, the alpha and the omega.
Heed my message and despair: I am going to end you.
I will become the stinging rain, the hurricane, the purging of Animos. Fauvism. As far as the sun and as fast as time, justice will reign.
The sword that cuts you down will be raised by my hands. Your cloud nine has fallen from grace; Rue the day that you soiled this land.
I cannot, will not, be like you.
I
woke up in a cold sweat, on the verge of tears.
"Strange things happ'n in the nighttime hours," Rask tells me. "Don't obsess over it."
It's early morning on the day we march upon Redwall, the date we make our intentions known. Any other beast should be excited, nervous, ready to write history. Any other beast, I suppose, is excited and ready to write history.
"But I'm not," I think aloud. "Something's out there and I can feel it. Threatening."
"That's change."
Dantalion has somehow crept behind us again. The wildcat seems to always know what's happening. Has an eye and ear on everything at once, as beasts say. Beasts I never knew.
Dantalion casually takes a seat next to us, his strange, off-kilter energy swirling all around us. It's both inviting and disconcerting; you can't help but feel alienated by the feline, but at the same time you're also so very enamored with him, as if you're naturally beckoned to follow him.
Some are born blind, others are born deaf. Dantalion was born an enigma.
"Change scares a lot of beasts," Dantalion says. "They hate it, and hope to stop it, even just delay it if they can. There is only so much they can do, however. The momentum is always in the hands of the initiator."
"I kinda get what yer saying," Rask pipes in. "Like somebeasts only have a little effect 'n not much of a say in things, but us, the fellas that started the change, it's our time, we have the power to make this happen."
I expect Dantalion to agree and tell Rask he gets it, that the ferret is aware of what's at stake and that he's at the forefront. I'm expecting anything but the wildcat laying back and crossing his arms, jade eyes staring into the horizon.
"Your sky is so much bluer than mine."
The march into Redwall territory at dawn is uncomfortable. The whole abbey is larger than I expected- much larger. Even more, the location has a strange aura, one that threatens "you are not welcome". Like I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't. Here, among at least three scores of beasts with a cutlass in my holster, I'm feeling threatened.
Something is wrong and needs to be righted.
We are that wrong.
An aging mouse in a similarly worn robe is peering at us from some sort of watchtower- it's almost comical as you can only see his top half, and at that it's mostly ears, glasses, a nose and whiskers. The old churchmouse resembles a grotesque oversized ragdoll, a puppet with limbs grown in all the wrong places.
This old mouse squeaks, "What is your business?"
Imagine that- politely asking a ton of armed vermin just what they're doing.
You can't hide civility.
Before we can give an answer, the ragdoll mouse lowers himself from view. We're left standing out in the open, idling for what seems like an hour but in reality is probably only a matter of minutes. It feels like eternity, for all the wrong reasons.
It begins to rain. Torrential.
Those enormous blast doors of the abbey swing open- the radius is so big the entire group has to step back. I crane my neck to glimpse at the event, but it's no use at the back of the line, so I'm treated to the back of some weasel's fat head.
"Why are you here?" Someone asks- a deeper voice, I figure it belongs to whoever was behind the doors.
The next voice is clearly Dantalion's- blunt and off-putting. "This is the second death in the exquisite art of forgetting."
Wait.
"You're blind in every other eye."
This can't be right.
The crowd parts ways and I'm staring at Dantalion. He's grinning from ear to ear and his eyes are pitch black. Stepping closer.
And closer.
Closer.
"My child," Dantalion-not-Dantalion says, wrapping his arms around my neck. "Fading faster than time."
I'm trying to break free of his grasp, but it's no use- it's as if trying to pull apart tree trunks. He draws closer, those... Void-walker eyes staring into mine. He kisses me and I try to jerk back out of reflex.
He begins to laugh.
"Hahaha," he says.
"Hahaha.
Ha.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Haha.
HA.
HahahaHAHAHAHAHAhahaHAHAhaHAhaHAHAHAHAHAhaHAAHAhaHAHAHahAHAHa."
"This," he says, finally letting go. I stumble backwards and land on my back, wide-eyed. "This the last goodbye you'll ever hear."
He draws his sword.
I close my eyes. Suddenly submerged. Flooding. Drowning, coughing, brain feeling electrified. Falling into the ocean.
A sharp pain in my stomach.
Everything goes black.
An eternal rest. I will never
Wake up."
"Wake up, damnit!"
It's Rask. The only thing I can really say in response is "whuh", out of pure confusion. My body aches all over, I can only open my eyes to slits. I can see a quarter of Rask looking surprised, then relieved, then upset.
"What the hell were yer doing, Lander? Standin' around gawkin'. Nearly got yourself killed."
"Whuh?" I can only mumble again.
"Long story short, those Redwallers are feisty, hateful little critters. Didn't take kindly to us," Rask chuckles as if fondly remembering the situation, but his face quickly hardens. "We fell back- except for you. Ye stood there like y'was petrified."
"You were shot with an arrow," Dantalion says. I bristle and desperately will my body to work, but nothing happens. Just me lying in camp staring at the sunset. "We almost lost you, Landeskog."
"Iii'm deeaaadd," I stammer. "You killed me. I saw it."
"Yer being ridiculous, Lander, you need to get some rest-" Rask is cut off again by Dantalion, who I sense hissing inwardly.
"What did you see?" He asks.
There's something very wrong with Redwall, as if something- or someone- is possessing that place.
Whatever's there, it knows.