Chapter Fourteen

Elmmarsh was the first squirrel into the Loft, executing a daredevil leap through the portal as she hung from the roof edge by her forepaws. Landing roughly on the hardwood floor, she scuttled aside to make room for her companions who would follow, bracing herself to grapple with any enemy bird that might attack her.

All remained quiet and peaceful, except for the thump of the second squirrel landing alongside her. Just as Highwing had done, she needed a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the shadowy attic space after her rooftop excursion in the bright sunshine. Afraid she might be ambushed before her vision returned to normal, Elmmarsh stood with paws raised to greet the foebirds.

No attack came ... just a surprised and familiar voice out of the darkness:

"Hello! What in the name of fur and feathers are you bushtails doing here?"

Elmmarsh blinked hard at the dim figure standing before her. "Highwing? Is that you?"

"What other bird would it be?"

"But ... but we saw you fall down onto the lawns ... we thought ... "

"That was Grym." The young sparrow's tone was sorrowful. "He attacked me ... he wasn't going to let any outside creature help his ailing kinfolk if it undermined his authority. He was mad with power. I didn't come up here looking for a fight, but he really left me no choice."

A third squirrel leapt through the portal, nearly colliding with the second. Elmmarsh rushed to the opening and stuck her head out, waving frantically at her companions who were still up on the roof. "Don't send anymore down! Highwing's alive! Everything's fine in here, so don't any more of you risk that jump!"

Returning to Highwing, she said, "I don't understand. We saw your green cape; the bird who fell was wearing it ... "

"Not wearing it so much as tangled up in it," Highwing explained, "which was one of the things that tipped the fight in my favor. Another was all the days of practice with Monty and the otters. That skill saved my life. I'll tell you all the full tale of the battle once things have settled down a bit, but right now we have a lot of sick birds up here who need Vanessa's healing skill. We must act quickly, or more will die."

Elmmarsh let her gaze travel over all the occupied nests. "Are you sure none of these'll give you any more trouble? I seem to remember Grym had some cronies."

Highwing shook his head. "They had their chance to side with Grym during the fight, but they stayed out of it. Mostly they're too ill, but I also have the feeling that a lot of these Sparra are glad to see Grym gone. He was a tyrant, who ruled through terror and murder."

Highwing chose for the moment not to share his newfound knowledge that Grym had also killed his parents.

Elmmarsh rubbed thoughtfully at her chin. "Problem now is, how can we get these Sparrafolk treated? You can't expect Vanessa to climb up here, that trek's dangerous even for us squirrels. And the worst-off of these birds can't be in any shape to fly down to the Infirmary, even if they'd be willing to place themselves in our care."

"Not to worry," Highwing said cheerily, "I'll just have Vanessa brew up some of her remedy, and then I'll fly it up in small doses and make sure everybird takes what it needs. No trouble at all for a winged creature."

He strode over to the eave opening, looking out where the squirrels had swung into Warbeak Loft. Inspecting the impossible overhang, where several more faces peered down at him, he concluded, "The real question is how are you three going to get back down? It's far too hazardous for you to try to get back up on the roof this way, but there's no ladder in all of Mossflower tall enough to reach this height from the ground. Too bad squirrels can't fly; that would solve this little dilemma neatly."

"Aye, it would," agreed Elmmarsh. "Well, no reason we can't dwell up here awhile, so long as you fly us up some food an' drink along with the medicine. Mayhap we could even help you out, lend a paw with these sickbirds."

"That would be appreciated." Highwing stepped to the very edge of the drop and called up to the waiting squirrels on the roof, "The rest of you may as well head back down. I'm headed that way myself; see you all down there!" Spreading his wings, he launched himself into the air and spiraled earthward toward his many waiting friends.

00000000000

Evening's deep shadows lay over Redwall, but the twilight gloom was shattered by an ebullient cry.

"Yeeeeaaah!"

Tethered at the end of three long ropes tied together, Elmmarsh descended the west face of the main Abbey building like a giant furry spider playing out its web line as fast as it could go. Her mad, barely-controlled return to earth left her panting in exhilaration - and left more than one onlooker with paws over eyes.

"Weeee, that was fun!" Elmmarsh declared, untying the safety loop from around her waist. Immediately the rope was yanked skyward again so that the next waiting squirrel could make its descent.

"Really, Elmmarsh," chided Abbot Arlyn, "that was a bit much. I think that stunt just made some of the moles faint!"

"Well, it may be the only chance I'll ever get to rappel down from the roof of our fair Abbey, and I was certainly going to make the most of it!"

"That you certainly did," said Brother Trevor. "Gave us all quite a scare."

"Hah! Not half the scare you got, I'll wager, when good ol' Highwing sent that villainous Grym down your way with Highwing's cape flappin' 'round him!"

"Oh, that was a terrible fright!" agreed Vanessa.

"Aye, that it was," put in Montybank. "Luckily, Nessie 'n' me rushed over an' saw rightaways that it weren't our dear ol' matey who made that dent in our lawn with 'is body."

"Still, it was pretty horrible, watching any creature die that way," said Sister Grace, "even if it did deserve such an end."

Elmmarsh glanced around her. "What'd you do with the corpse?"

"Already taken care of," said Monty. "Buried 'im in th' meadow outside the south wall; no reason decent Redwallers should hafta share their 'ternal rest with th' likes o' that. Still, t'were prob'ly a more considerate sendoff from this world than 'ee would've got from 'is fellow bullies."

Sister Grace glanced skyward, squinting in the gloaming, then covered her eyes. "Oh, here comes the next squirrel! Ooo, I can't bear to look!"

"Yes," Elmmarsh nodded and grinned, "that rope Highwing flew up to us sure did the trick!"

Vanessa and the Abbot took her aside from the others. "How are things going up there, Elmmarsh?" Arlyn asked anxiously.

"Better than anybeast had any reason to expect," the squirrel replied. "Grym was as bad for those birds as any plague. Now that he's gone, it's like a shadow's been lifted from the Sparra of Redwall. Most of 'em seem truly glad to see Highwing, and are welcoming his help and ours."

"Well, that's a relief," said Vanessa. "After the risks Highwing took to aid them, it would have been a cruel twist of fate if they still refused his help."

"No chance of that, I can tell you," Elmmarsh said. "They're not mad, like Grym was. They know they're sick, and no sane creature would refuse a cure to what ails them. We've helped Highwing feed the first two batches of your medicine brew to the ones who were the worst off, Vanessa; I would almost swear they were looking better, just in the short time since they drank it this afternoon. I'll wager there won't be anymore deaths in Warbeak Loft this season ... at least not from Greenwood Fever."

"Nor from anything else, we can hope," said Abbot Arlyn. "Although, now that Grym's dead, there will have to be a new leader in Warbeak Loft ... and I'm afraid the Sparra can be less than civilized when it comes to such matters."

"Actually," Elmmarsh smiled knowingly, "that might not be as big a problem as you imagine. Ah, here comes Highwing now; I'll let him fill you in."

The young sparrow corkscrewed down through the twilight in his unmistakable spiral flight pattern, coming to land just as the second squirrel touched ground too. Highwing hopped one-legged over to Vanessa, passing to her the empty medicine pot he grasped in one talon.

"One more batch ought to do for today, Vanessa," he informed her. "Your broth's working wonders; I think we got to those Sparra just in time. Another day or two, and all the care in the world might not have made any difference."

Vanessa smiled broadly as she took the empty jar. "We make a good team. But I must say, those Sparra owe you the greater debt. No other Redwaller could have rid them of that no-good Grym, and delivered the cure to the fever up to them as well. Your name will be revered in Warbeak Loft for generations, just you see."

Highwing hung his head in embarrassment. "I'm afraid you may be right, more than you know. There's a rather strong-willed Sparra matron up there by the name of Tealbottom who's already taken charge of things in Grym's absence. All the other sparrows seem to defer to her. She's been of great assistance in convincing them to accept our help."

"Sounds like a sensible creature," Arlyn commented. "Do you suppose she'll become the new leader of the Sparra?"

"No, that's the thing," said Highwing. "She wants ME to be the new Sparra leader!"

"That's wonderful!" Vanessa clapped him on the back.

"Do you think you'll accept?" the Abbot asked.

Highwing shuffled his talons on the grass. "After getting a taste of Tealbottom's personality, I very much doubt she'd take no for an answer."

Montybank had wandered over to catch the tail end of the conversation; now he joined Vanessa in congratulating his Sparra friend. "See? I knew you was destined t'be royalty th' moment I saw you in that neat li'l cape o' yores! Let's hear it fer King Highwing! Hooray!"

Highwing actually blushed, if such a thing was possible for a bird. "Well, as I told Tealbottom, let's concentrate on healing all the sick Sparra. Then, once they're all well again, if they still want me as leader, we'll see ... "

"Phaw!" snorted Monty. "They'd hafta be daft not to ... and you'd be daft t' turn it down!"

"He's right, y'know," Elmmarsh seconded. "You're a natural leader if ever I saw one. Besides, if you take the rule of Warbeak Loft, we'll have to have a feast in your honor. Isn't that right, Abbot?"

Arlyn gave a smile that almost split his face in half. "Oh, most definitely!"

"See?" Elmmarsh nudged Highwing playfully. "It's official now. Can't deprive all these hungering Redwallers the chance for a feast, now, can we?"

Vanessa threw a paw around her sparrow friend's shoulders. "You've really come full circle, haven't you? From being an outcast babe, now you've cast out the tyrant who terrorized all your kind, and stand ready to take his place. Talk about poetic justice! Sometimes things really do turn out as they were meant to - all you have to do is give it a little time."

The Abbot nodded. "Time ... and friends."

"And Redwall," said Highwing. "I wouldn't be the bird I am today without having had the benefit of everything this Abbey has to offer. I can only hope, if I do become leader of the Sparra, I can continue to live up to the honored Redwall traditions."

"I'm sure you will," said Vanessa. "I know you will."

Elmmarsh glanced skyward once more. "Ah, here comes the last squirrel of us now. And so ends this little adventure. Sunset over the Western Plains was magnificent from up there; that's a sight I'll remember vividly for the rest of my days. Almost enough to make me want to climb up there again sometime to take in the view. But, since I don't have wings myself, it's not something I think I'll be tackling anytime soon. You're lucky, Highwing; you can enjoy that vista whenever you want, with just a few wingflaps."

"What can I say?" Highwing shrugged. "We can't all be lucky enough to be born a bird."