Marduk sat in his tent, reviewing his battle strategies. Gotta learn from the best and the worst, he thought. If I want to beat them, I have to learn where others fell.
His course of action, of which some was undecided, consisted of modifications to the plans of the abbey's previous victims. He had spent and was spending many hours pouring over the scrolls and histories of Cluny the Scourge, Swartt Sixclaw, and Damug Warfang, seeing what worked and what didn't, drawing up and making modifications to his plans as he went. Particularly he was focused on the usage of novel weapons to get what he wanted - if most conventional battle tactics couldn't conquer a stone fortress, he reasoned that he would have to get a little unconventional.
The first of these was the use of a new, but old weapon: the ballista. For generations the design of the weapon had been lost, but recently he had acquired a copy of the rare Chronicles of Mortspear from an old witchbeast in the swamps. Ha! And to think no one else knew about this gem.
He flipped over to the page which described the weapon - its design, usage, construction, and its most famous operator, Timballisto the Destroyer (or so he was known in the lands of Mortspear). He was not completely sure what variant he would build, nor was he sure how it could be used most effectively, but for now even acquiring the knowledge of its workings was enough.
The second of his new plans was for a massive firebomb. He then grabbed his copy of the Early Annals of Mossflower, which detailed multiple uses of this weapon. Something as simple as a log, sometimes with a bee nest inside of it, was doused with oil and set alight. It would then be tossed from the walls onto the horde below, causing mass havoc.
In Marduk's case, he had the low ground, instead of the high. He'd tested a fire log before, and had been able to take out a small band of bandits before they realized what was happening, but the design would have to be modified for his abbey assult. He reasoned that he could build a smaller, paw-sized version capable of being slung over the walls, or - better yet - a larger fireball that could be thrown over the walls using the ballista.
He sighed. I'm not ready to take on the abbey yet. I will need to plan more. Dusting off his stool and his documents, he shelved them in his bag and stepped outside the tent to check on the status of his recruiting efforts.
He slowly panned his gaze across the scruffy landscape of creatures before him. There were less vermin in Mossflower than he expected, but more of them were able-bodied than he originally thought. His eyes turned to his officer, Dipclaw.
"Is that really all of them?"
"Yes, Marduk Gal. That is all of them. About half of the total we found were willing to join, and we brought 'em here, sir." The Taggerung's brow furrowed.
"Willing? What happened to your coercion skills, Hellgates!"
"We tried, sir! Not many had young'ins or partners that we could threaten. They're the wrong generation for this stuff, I guess. We were threatenin' 'em with blood and murder if they didn't join us and most of them sez that they didn't care. Mossflower vermin are weird or somethin."
Marduk let out an internal sigh. "Well, it's not that small of a number of recruits. I see about threescore here. That'll be enough for now. Go tend to your subordinates now, and get some rest."
With that command, Dipclaw scurried off from his commander, leaving the Taggerung. After what seemed like only seconds, the seer fox Eyufei slid out of the bushes, careful to make a small noise in the leaves to alert Marduk to her presence.
"See what I told you?"
"Stay out of this, fox! For all I know, everything is going mostly according to plan. We recruited less than I expected, but threescore'll be enough!" After a few seconds, he added, "Sorry if that sounded a bit harsh."
Eyufei almost let a puzzled look slip onto her muzzle, but she kept her calm and kept her facial expression. It was strange for Marduk Gal to issue such an apology. Was something up with him? Even the sly reasoning of a fox couldn't help her figure out this rat.
"So? Do you accept my apology?" the rat quipped, looking at her expectantly for a response.
I can't let him get to me, she thought. I need to say something before I let him think he has the upper hand. "Quite unusual for you to be so courteous to me, isn't it?", the vixen said with a distinctly nonchalant expression on her muzzle.
"Well, I can't risk offending a Mossguardian seer. You're a valuable asset."
"The correct term is Althulean. And don't worry, you've offended me countless times already".
"Well, if I've offended you so much, what's stopping you from leaving me?"
Eyufei gave no immediate answer. How should I do this?, she thought.
Marduk spoke up again. "Well?" Eyufei responded by stepping back so that they were facing each other. She held up her paw and raised a digit, as if she was preparing to list something.
"Well, first you'd track me down and kill me if I did that. You've told me too much for me to leave, and I think we both know that". She paused briefly before raising a second claw. "Secondly, you provide safety in large numbers. I am much safer among your crew than I am wandering Mossflower alone". She raised a third claw. "Third, you have put me in a position of power. It would not be a strategically sound move for me to leave your horde, as I would be reduced to a mere wanderer. I hold more influence over others this way. And-". Eyufei cut herself off, almost as if she had meant to add something else at the end.
"And?" Marduk asked, with an expectant look in his eyes.
After a small pause, the fox replied. "I've given you three good reasons already. The time of daily performance of the Ritual of the Alavend is growing near." she said as she looked up into the sky to check the sun's position. "I must go." She turned away from the rat and started to walk away.
"See you later, Fei-Fei."
The fox turned her head around. "What did you just call me?"
As hard as she tried to make herself sound dangerous, she was only met with a sly grin from the rat.
"You're really testing me, you know that? If you call me that again I might just go on and actually leave." Eyufei said, with a tinge of annoyance in her voice. But it was just a tinge.
She turned around and continued her departure, slipping away into the woods after another moment's passing. After she had walked far enough to the point where she was confident that Marduk, or any other beast for that matter, could no longer see her, she took several deep breaths.
I'm calm now.
But as she attempted to calm herself, Eyufei felt an ever-growing suspicion that she had almost lifted a fourth claw in her explanation.
Fight! Fight! Fight!
And show your true colors!
Lest they smother thy burning light!
Blades, claws, and screams.
Strike metal upon metal!
For thou art outnumbered!
Fight! Fight! Fight!
And he ducked.
Go, Prince, Go!
Escape their clutches!
Lest they smother thy burning light!
And three blades crossed right where his head was
And woe to your futures!
Lest you forget thy friends!
Fight! Fight! Fight!
And he made his way down to the lower deck.
Go, go faster! Time is fading!
Let not your speed be your unmaking!
Lest they smother thy burning light!
And he found her paw.
Thou hath been slow! Time, and time again
I have rescued you, because the work is not done.
Fight! Fight! Fight!
Lest they smother thy burning light!
And he felt otter paws grab him. Not one, but three.
Fwink Firmpaw was lost. Lost in the day's worries, he had climbed one set of stairs too many, and was now confused and disoriented in the Abbey's upper parts. Having spent all his seasons in Redwall, he'd thought he'd know the place like the back of his paw by now, but as it turned out there were still places within its sandstone walls that even he had no knowledge of.
The Abbey's old attic was like a different world from the floors beneath it. Lost and forgotten, each room gave the squirrel its own sense of uneasiness. Some rooms were dark, dank, and ominous, while other times the terrible misshapen wall boards gave way to paradoxically bright yet faded cobweb-colored walls, as if they wanted to jump out at him, but were too old to do so. No one had been here for a long time. No one had ever been able to see in here, to hear, or to feel in seasons.
Sipping his afternoon honey lemonade, he meandered his way through the hallways. Each and every breath of his blew off a new layer of dust from the old countertops and cabinets. Here, he could feel an odd sensation creeping through him. It was as if he could feel his mother and father, his siblings and friends, others who had lived here, warriors before him, all in one place, beside him, watching. The air was thick with a sense that he was not alone, as if his life was shared with those that came before him.
The squirrel took another sip of his lemonade, and afterwards carefully put his paw on an old wooden door knob, turning it. The door opened, revealing a room with only a bedframe, an old dresser, one chair, several tables, and a small window with nothing in it but a dull white glow. Here he had seen the same things here as he had in his own room, the abbey's own dormitories, yet here they seemed less familiar. Deciding that he had peeked enough, he closed the door and continued to search for the exit.
He stopped at an intersection between a hallway that ran straight through and one that branched off to the side. Ahead of him, he saw a staircase. The light emanating from the bottom of it told him that he had finally found his exit. Taking another look at his surroundings before he left, he noticed a row of portraits to his right, down another corridor. He stepped forward to examine them.
Gonff, Dinny, Brocktree, Urthstripe, Abbess Germaine, oh! Here's one of Martin.
All of the portraits were covered in a thick layer of dust, but Martin's portrait was especially bad. Fwink set his drink on the floor and gently took the portrait off of the wall, lightly shaking it to dislodge the dust. Only some came off, and next he resorted to blowing on the portrait gently, which had a greater effect. Now he could see Martin's face. He closely studied the portrait, letting his eyes wander across its brushstrokes and colors. Remembering what he was taught in advanced abbey school, he tried his best to analyze it.
This was painted during Abbess Bryony's time - the art style matches from that period. It's painted very well, but- and he flipped the portrait over -it doesn't seem to have the painter's name on it.
He turned it over again, this time at an angle, so he could study the brushstrokes more clearly in the light.
It looks really nice. Maybe I should take this down with me, and hang it somewhere. He tucked it under his arm delicately, took one last look at the hallway, and started down the stairs, with portrait and lemonade in hand.
As it turns out, it wasn't that simple. There wasn't much space in Cavern Hole or Great Hall where such a portrait would fit into the aesthetic, and although every Redwaller was eager to admire their abbey's founder, few thought that Great Hall and Cavern Hole were great places to put such a picture. Defeated, Martin wandered into the gatehouse to put the portrait aside. Maybe I could put it here for now. Old Brother Larch always appreciates lost artwork. The squirrel warrior placed the portrait against a table. Tired from his attic excursion, he put his paw, with lemonade in hand, on the stone-masoned walls and leaned on it.
Crash! The stone gave way, and slid out from under his paw. He fell backwards awkwardly, being saved only by his bushy tail. His glass, still half full, squeezed out from his hand and fell, landing on his face. Thwack! Fwink let out a soft cry as the lemon juices stung his eyes. Confused, red-eyed, and dazzled, he sat on the ground for a while, rubbing his eyes and blinking. Well, that's what I get for disturbing Martin, I guess.
After he had regained his composure, he sat up. Endeavoring to clean up the mess he had made, he picked up the dislodged stone tile and looked around for anything to clean up his spilled drink with. It was then that he saw it.
In the chink in the wall where the tile had just been, sat an ancient scroll.
Asaral: Finally! It's over! I really need thank those ot-
A/N: puts hand on his mouth Oi, oi, stay quiet! You're going to spoil the plot!
Asaral: indignant muffled screaming noises
mwahahaha i love bullying my characters