Chapter Nineteen: Two Swords
"That sword, that's the Rapscallion sword." Skipper rasped; his voice a mere whisper.
Log-a-log glanced at it, "Ah, so it is. I didn't notice."
"What's the matter, Skip, you look like you've seen a ghost," Aspen commented, "granted, his fur is a bit lighter than an average squirrel, but it's not white."
"Rapscallion sword? What's that?" Beechtail asked looking confused.
Skipper explained, "The Rapscallions were a large group of vermin, who invaded Mossflower. They were known for two things, their numbers, and their leader's sword. Unless I am much mistaken, you're holding it. Where did you get it?"
Beechtail told his story, "Me and Maplefur here, we're from Angdelve. Several days ago it got attacked by vermin. As far as I know, we're the only survivors. I took this sword from a ferret. I think he was a leader, he said something to the others, and they all went back to the village."
Skipper thought hard, "Angdelve, isn't that the iron mine, south of Mossflower?"
"Yeah, that's it."
Skipper looked worried, "You better see the Abbot. I've got a bad feeling about this."
Skipper led the way across the grounds to the Abbey building. Beechtail was looking all around, everybeast had heard legends of Redwall, but he had never been far from Angdelve. They entered Great Hall, Beechtail was walking just behind Skipper when he stopped abruptly. Log-a-log collided with him, as did Aspen and Maplefur. Zik took the opportunity to flee to Cavern Hole, unluckily for him at the same time Abbot Thren and Sister Acilla came down the dormitory stairs. The squirrel was hauled off to bathtime, still struggling.
Skipper turned, Beechtail's eyes were riveted on the Tapestry of Martin the Warrior. The squirrel walked slowly to the tapestry. He stopped and stared at the image of the armored mouse. It was the one from his dreams!
Abbot Thren took in the situation at a glance. His eyes shot from the sword to Skipper. Skipper nodded, they were both thinking the same thing. Thren walked up to Beechtail, "I take it that you have seen Martin the Warrior before?"
Beechtail replied without taking his eyes off the tapestry, "Twice, in dreams."
Abbot Thren gestured to Skipper, pointing at the sword hanging above the tapestry. Skipper pushed a chair against the wall. By climbing on it, he was just barely able to reach the sword. He took it down, and handed it to the Abbot who presented it to Beechtail.
"Martin also spoke to me in a dream. He told me to give his sword to a warrior who would come from a lost village, carrying a vermin sword. He spoke of war, and of two swords that were our only hope of victory. This is one of them, you have the other."
Beechtail grasped the hilt of Martin's sword. The black leather hilt showed no indication of the blade's age, or the battles it had been through. The red pommel stone glowed like a ruby, but the blade surpassed them both. It glittered like an icicle, shone like the star it had been forged from, and seemed to move on its own. It was perfectly made to be able to use with only one hand, or both. Beechtail swung the sword in a figure-eight, marveling at its balance and lightness. He drew the Rapscallion sword. The Sword of Martin was so…so…perfect, it would be just as easy to fight with both at the same time, than with only one.
He turned to the Abbot, "What was the other thing in the dream?"
Abbot Thren uttered one word. "War."