Yes yes I know I took forever. Sorry . . .
Chapter Eleven: Unexpected
"Cum on, Shawna, get da baww!"
The Dibbuns had tried to play ball (note the keyword "tried") but it had ended up almost at the water, due to a wild throw. Shawna, the thrower, was trying to retrieve (note: keyword again)
"I twying, I twying- OUCH!" The three otter babes saw their friend fall with a squeal down the rocks. "I alwight. Boy, dis is messy!"
"Get the baww Shawna! I wanna play!"
The Dibbun responded with a panicked scream. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
"Shawna!" The oldest of the Dibbuns, Milon, grabbed a piece of driftwood. "Get Skippa!" The others Dibbuns took off without hesitation as Milon slid down the embankment, prepared to fight to the death.
***
Midday's searing heat beat down upon the five questers. Salamandastron was at their backs, ahead they faced ice-capped mountains- mountains that seemed no closer than when they had begun the next stage of their quest hours ago. In between, stretching ahead of them like an ocean of gold. The sinister lines of the prophecy kept running in Brome's head, endlessly repeating:
Tarry not, continue on your way,
When two have fallen in the land without rain.
He clenched his stave in a death grip. Don't think about it!
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that all the questers, even Celandine, had their paws near their weapons, or as near as you could get them while trying to keep your balance in this infuriating sand. The sand, which was piled into dunes by the increasing wind, was constantly moving, shifting and sliding so that it was nearly impossible to navigate. Brome, Grumm, and Celandine had the best of it, being shorter and equipped with staves. For Keyla and Tullgrew, however, it was a completely different tune. They were taller and supportless, the result being they often tumbled down a sandy slope, occasionally taking out one or more of the other questers,
It was slow going.
"Grr This isn't working! Isn't there another way?" Keyla growled after what seemed like the thousandth fall, spitting sand out of his mouth and wiping it out of his eyes.
Brome shrugged helplessly. "Not that I know of."
The otter groaned and struggled to his knees, just as as Tullgrew lost her pawing and careened into him, knocking them both off the dune.
Celandine ran ahead, flying over the sand like a bird, then leapt into the air, landing gracefully on her feet.
"Show-off," Keyla muttered as he helped Tullgrew up.
The squirrelmaid jogged back. "There's smooth sand by the sea shore, about half a league that way," she reported.
"Hurr, we'm save toime, ee mountains r against ee bogland," mused Grumm.
"He's right. We can go faster through marshland than through this- we just have to watch our paws," Tullgrew added.
Brome, who was rather fed up with the sinking sand himself, nodded. "Come on then, we're wasting time!"
Time. One of the many things they were running out of. Patience, stamina, and time.
Tarry not, continue on your way,
When two have fallen in the land without rain.
***
From her place in the camp, Zounzdican scowled at the wooden walls of Noonvale. They stood there, taunting her long after she had challenged them. She ran through the things they had tried already. Intimidation, a full frontal assault, grappling, surprise attacks, and fire.
She narrowed here eyes. She had gotten lax in her battles. She needed something those woodlander bumpkins would not expect . .
The solution to her problem dawned beautifully in her mind like a glorious sunrise. She swept out her tent, barking orders.
"You there! I want to talk to you!"
***
Maris dead.
Those words rang in his mind, repeating over and over hauntingly.
Maris dead.
Like his brother-in-law, and most of his crew, and . . . and . . . and Kay.
Unbidden, a memory he had long fought to keep from his mind broke past his barrier . . .
I restlessly paced outside the cabin, feeling the cool air ruffle my fur. I felt a mixture of emotions- joy, anxiety, and fear. Joy, because today I would become a father. Anxiety, that I would lose one or both of those I love most: my unborn child or my gentle wife.
Fear, that I would fail her. Or him. Terror that I would be unable to be there for s/he when s/he needed me the most. That I would be a terrible father. That I would fail.
A scream of pain had me freeze, heart lurching with terror. Another scream sounded, then a thin wail echoed throughout the ship.
I was a father.
The door opened and I pushed past the midwife. My heart swelled at the scene unfolding. Maris lay on the bed, glowing both with sweat and with joy. A small, squirming bundle lay in her paws. "It's a he," she whispered, eyes shining with pride.
A male! I had expected a maid, but secretly hoped for a male. I walked to her side, suddenly afraid. Of what I hadn't the slightest idea, yet there it lurked, tearing at my spine. "You alright?" I asked her, running my paw down her face. She beamed at me and gently placed our son in my paws.
"Perhaps Kay?"
I considered it, avoiding my child's face.
"Kay? That's a girl's name. No, something else. Hmm . . . Dannblood?"
"Gammage!" Her voice was drifting. Afraid for a moment, I looked at her and realized with relief she was only falling asleep.
"G'night Maris," I said softly. I turned to leave when the bundle in my arms yawned. I couldn't help but look down. He was a blend of myself and Maris. He had my face, while retaining Maris' dark fur and delicately curved ears. When he opened his eyes I realized they were a startling shade of blue, extremely rare among woodlanders. He yawned again, and his eyes began to close as he snuggled deeper into my arms.
A lump formed in my throat. Already he trusted me and I had done nothing to earn it.
I swore than that nothing would ever harm him.
Gammage exhaled, and the white-hot pain from the memory slowly faded. He had failed.
A fire of resolve kindled in him. Today was the last day he would mourn for the lost.
Then only revenge was left to him.
***
The wind was rising at an alarming rate. Sand was beginning to blow into their faces, blinding them. "Sandstorm! Find cover!" Tullgrew heard Brome howl over the rising wind just before it consumed her vision.
Brome felt a paw grasp his tunic and pull him steadily underground. Blackness swam at the edge of his eyes and he gasped for air, receiving only sand.
Then glorious air swept into his throat and he tried to sit up, gulping in air. Something held him down. "Loi still, zurr Brome, ee tunnel moight not 'old up. Hurr. drink ee watur."
Brome accepted, the cool water feeling like heaven. "Keyla, how you holding up?" he gasped.
There was no response.
"Keyla?" the mouse sat up, eyes adjusted to the light. The only person in the little mole-dug sand tunnel besides himself and Celandine was Grumm. Brome gave a strangled gasp and instinctively started for the entrance. Grumm grabbed his tunic and pulled him back. "Zurr Brome, bain't nuthin' ee kin do." Tears leaked from the mole's eyes.
All fight went out of Brome and he collapsed, sobbing. No. Felldoh, Rose . . . Keyla, Tullgrew. No. How many more must die? How many more?
***
The goose flew, intent on his mission. He was to bring news of the questers to Noonvale, as well of the approaching Long Patrol. Lord Sunflash had personally entrusted him with this mission, as Skarlath had sprained his wing during his last flight in a battle with a goshawk and would be travelling with the Long Patrol. He must not fail!
Unfortunately, he didn't see the hungry rat wearing the silver cobra of Zounzdican's horde aim at him then release the arrow with a twang.
Anybeast want goose?
***
Night had fallen upon Redwall Abbey. Ivy, Chugger, and Gonflet lay snuggled together on the floor, snoring uproariously. Jeod gave a small smile and covered them with his cloak. A single tear made its way down his cheek and he hastily wiped it away.
The guilt and sorrow in his eyes were plain in the flickering firelight.
He walked over to a chair and sat in it by the fire, staring into the flames. After a moment he looked at Gonff, a sad smile tinging his face. "He's a beautiful child. Clever 'un too."
"What's your song, Jeod? You don't seem like the kind of person who likes to be alone," Martin said softly.
Jeod's face went deathly still. His eyes were bright with tears."I was kicked out my tribe when I was near-full grown, along with my little sister Maris because she pledged her troth to a sea otter named Gammage. To marry out of the tribe was bad enough in their eyes, but out of the species . . . they cast us out, but we didn't care. We wandered the seas with Gammage and his crew, fighting vermin and just having a good time." He smiled, lost in the past. "Ahh, yes, those were the days. Vermin didn't know what hit them! When we weren't fighting, we had our paws full to control Maris' son- my nephew. He was a scalawag just as bad as that little 'un ye have now, Gonff. If he wasn't in time-out or the infirmary with some ailment due to his overly inquisitive nature, he was up to some prank or other."
Jeod paused. He looked back at the sleeping Dibbuns and sighed. "Guess the warlords figured that sooner or later we'd go after them. One night, they ambushed us, Vilu Daskar an' Zounzdican."
He said nothing more, staring into the flames with intense rage and sorrow. Finally, he spoke again, his voice low and thick. "I'm only one warrior. What can I do against a horde of scum? Nothing. Blasted ''nothing!''"
Before anybeast could think of anything to say, a shout rang from the outer Abbey Walls. "Ahoy, Redwall! Cue yer infirmary!"
Lady Amber was the first beast out there. "What happened, Skip?"
"No time to talk. Get her to the infirmary straight aways!"
Lady amber gasped and covered her mouth. "What happened?"
"I don't know, She's not one of ours- a stranger. Shauna found her on the tideline. Crabs were crawling all over her back. Not a pretty sight for her."
Jeod, not quite sure what was happening but ready to help, opened doors for the stretcher as they made their way to the infirmary. As they laid her on the bed, he finally laid eyes on her.
Her back was torn to shreds, muscle and flesh putrid and caked with salt. But that was not what made him stare, eyes filled with fear, joy and hope.
"What is it, Jeod?" Martin asked.
Jeod took a breath, eyes locked upon the prone form.
"She's . . . she's my sister, Maris."
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