Chapter Two: Prophecy
Extract from the writing of Germaine, first Abbess of Redwall, as dictated to Bella of Brockhall.
Life at our abbey has been calm for many seasons now. Gonflet and Chugger, along with a season old named Ivy have become tight friends- there is a constant watch on the Abbey kitchens now. Trimp the Rover, Vurg, and Beauclair Frethringsol Cosfortingham have made their permanent home here at Redwall. Beau has become Assistant Cook to Goody Stickle. Despite his age, he is still an excellent cook, one that Redwall can be proud of.
Martin, our Abbey Warrior, has been spending much time with the Dibbuns lately. I notice that he always seems melancholy round this time and season, though I have no idea why- even he seems to have no idea himself. A drought has come upon us. I incorporated the pond into the plans for the Abbey- all that is left of the flood tunnels we used to bring down Kotir. Now even if the generations to come have a drought this terrible, they will have an undying source of water.
***
"An army, you say? How many?"
"Ten thousand, at least."
There were gasps of horror around the council room. Urran Voh sighed and put his head into his paws. First Badrang, now this.
"Ten thousand? We'll be massacred!"
"Our children!"
"We must leave!"
"I'm not going!"
"SILENCE!" Everybeast turned in surprise to the normally soft-spoken Brome. "Shouting and panicking won't get us anywhere. My father-your chieftain- is talking, I suggest you listen." He nodded to Urran and sat back down.
Urran Voh turned to the populace. "The situation is grim, my friends. We are not warriors. We are healers, thinkers, creators. We know little of such matters. And so I have decided to reinstate the Fur and Freedom Fighters. Barkjon, Keyla, Ballaw, and Rowanoak know more on this subject than we do- you'll be in good paws. Now, does anybeast have any other ideas?" Almost immediately, Keyla's paw was in the air. "Yes, Keyla?"
The young otter stood and surveyed the populace. "Eight seasons ago, we faced a similar threat to our freedom. We faced Badrang the Tyrant, but overcame it with help." The otter's cerulean eyes were determined. "I vote we seek out that help." Urran Voh felt cold anger ignite with in him as he realized what the young otter was saying. Keyla's sea blue eyes met Urran Voh's. "I move we go to find Martin the Warrior." Conflicting murmurs ran through the populace.
Urran Voh, nearly blind with anger, managed to speak calmly. "Keyla, I need to talk to you in private." Almost as soon as they were out of earshot he turned on the young otter. "Are you mad? I wouldn't let Martin within a thousand miles of Noonvale if he was the only hope of peace!" Keyla waited while Urran continued his rant.
When he reached a stopping point, he spoke his argument. "That just shows how bitter ye are." Urran Voh opened his mouth to respond, but Keyla continued. "You're looking for someone to blame for Rose's death, and Martin makes a logical scapegoat. But he had nothing to do with it. He put her as far away from the action as possible. I know. There was little fighting where she was."
"Then how come she died?"
Keyla fought to control his rising temper. "Because Badrang was such a coward that he tried to escape through the tunnel dug. He hacked at Grumm, and Rose hurled herself at him. He threw her against the wall and you know the rest."
"If you know so much about it, where were you during all this?"
"Saving Brome's hide!" Their voices had both raised a few decibels by now, but they were too angry to care.
"I can't. You don't know what it's like, Keyla. To lose one you love."
The otter's blue eyes were filled with grief. "You at least remember Rose. I have few memories of my father and mother. Snippets of a lullaby, a voice, the rocking of a ship- scattered fragments of a previous life." Keyla laughed bitterly. "At least you were spared the sight of seeing Rose die. The only memory I have with clarity is seeing my father fall to the deck, covered in blood. At least you did not see that happen to Rose. Why can't you give Martin a chance?"
Urran Voh shook his head. "My verdict is final."
***
"Make your report." Her voice was curt.
"My Lady, we found this at a rocky outcropping just above our landing place." He handed her Keyla's sling. She examined it critically then sniffed it. "An otter's sling. Of otter make, and it reeks of otter too." She threw it over her shoulder carelessly. "Were there any footprints?" she inquired.
"Yes, my lady."
"Where did they lead?"
"We thought we'd report before we followed it, my l-" She slew him on the spot, the barbs on her sword ripping through his flesh. He didn't even have time to gasp, and if he did, he never heard it. She glared at the rat behind him.
"Congratulations. You've just been promoted. Now follow those footprints! Do you understand?"The last words were a full-throated roar. The scouts fled. She settled back with a sigh. Idiots. They were the younger, unexperienced vermin. She'd have to keep them on their paws.
***
A door slammed and all of Noonvale looked up as Urran Voh walked into the room, with Keyla in tow. The way his father ground his teeth and curled his lip, the way his friend's blue eyes sparked and his fists clenched was like an open book to Brome. Both were angry, presumably at each other. Keyla stalked over to Brome and sat next to him, still muttering angrily under his breath. Urran Voh stepped back up. "We decided that getting Martin was not a good idea, for tactical reasons-"
"More like personal reasons," Keyla wrathfully growled.
"-And we have no idea where he is," finished Urran Voh. "Now if anyone has any other ideas-"
Without warning, Brome shrieked, a high, piercing, heartbroken sound, and fell off the scaffolding to hard rock where he lay unmoving.
***
Brome saw it happen, plain as day. The pine marten from last night was laughing like a maniac. Her sword was covered in blood, and at her paws lay corpses. Dad. Mum. Grumm. Keyla. Ballaw. Rowanoak. Tullgrew. All these and more lay dead, slain by the pine marten. He screamed and felt a paw on his shoulder. "This is what will happen should you fail."
"Martin?"
The other mouse had an apologetic look about him. "I'm Matthias, not Martin." For the first time, Brome saw the female standing next to Matthias. Rose! Before he could say anything, she began to speak.
"In Mossflower Wood, which grows thick and deep,
Where is the Warrior who will answer thy call?
To lose to the Warbeast shall demand a cost steep;
You shall find the Warrior at the Abbey of Redwall"
Rose stopped speaking, and Matthias took over:
"To seek the Warrior, who shall proceed?
Which five travel forth through danger at need?
First of the five, the first to be shown-
Healer of Wounds, thy skills will be known.
Next, Otter the swimmer, slinger of stone.
Your constant companion, whether you laugh or moan.
Player must go, though she be filled with fright,
Singer of song, and dancer of light.
Then the thrower of javelins- my words thou shalt heed,
Freed slave from Marshank, your presence we need
Lastly, the strong, loyal digger of rows,
A great friend to Rose- in his heart still she grows."
An eerie silence followed. After a minute, three voices spoke in unison- Matthias, Rose and Felldoh. It was a little eerie; the way they spoke in unison- a dead healer, a slain hero, and an as of yet unborn Warrior. That just made the chanted lines all the more terrifying:
Tarry not, continue on your way
When two have fallen in the land without rain,
Beware the little folk, flee away,
Do not trust their sweet refrain.
One more shall be lost at the River Moss,
An expense to Stormfin but to thee a gain.
Brome had a bad feeling about the days ahead.