The prince woke up with a dull headache.
How long was I asleep for? He had passed out on the deck of the Blacksail.
He stood up groggily, and looked around. Behind him he could see Terramort, a dark rock in the distance. A short distance in front of the island was a tiny black dot.
I can't really say I wasn't expecting them to chase me. He stared at the ship, barely discernible from the waves. He wondered if his brother was on it.
His thoughts were interrupted by a faint groan coming from below him. He turned around, trying to see where the noise came from. There was no one behind him. His thoughts scattered, Asaral trudged down the stairs and into the larder, hoping to find something to eat.
Another low groan came from the deck below. Slowly, he scanned the room for anything that could be causing the noise.
Crap. I didn't check there. His eyes widened as he glanced upon the cargo hold door. Cursing under his breath, he slowly approached the small door.
Asaral then proceeded to make his first mistake.
He put his paw on the handle and pulled. It wouldn't budge. He tried pulling on it again. This time, the door slipped about half an inch, but still did not budge any further. He tried a third time to no avail. It was only then that he noticed the small lock holding the trapdoor shut. The prince searched around, looking for anything, maybe a tool, that would help him open the lock. After a bit of searching, he found a decorative cutlass hanging on a wall. Staggering towards the sword, his paws shakily took the blade off of its prongs. He then walked back over to the cargo hold door.
Clink! The chains fell to the floor as he expertly cleaved the chains in two. Even a meek vermin bookworm like him knew how to wield a blade.
Asaral then made his second mistake.
Firmly but anxiously, he pulled open the door and crawled down into the darkness. He didn't know what was alive in the darkness, and he didn't want to find out, but something drew him closer into the shadows. A deafening scream, then a lower, second scream, and then a shuffling noise emanated from the darkness in front of the prince as he felt his footpaw step on something.
"Who's there?" the ferret's gruff voice asked into the darkness. No response came. He wearily scanned around the dark room, but he couldn't see much. He then whipped around, hoping to catch someone staring at him. But no such creature was there.
"I said, who's there?" the Prince asked again.
"Please don't hurt us!", replied a shrill voice. As his eyes adjusted, he could see the faint outline of a squirrel and an otter, bound to a support post. Both of their eyes widened as they too gradually began to see the prince's form.
Asaral made his third and final mistake.
Silently, but surely, he approached the squirrel. She shuddered and squeaked as he slipped his paw in between her fur and the rope. He took the rope in his hands and began cutting through it. Once he had slashed the rope, he moved to the other side and repeated the process.
Why am I doing this? It almost felt like someone was forcing his hand, making him do this that he would not normally do. But he did not try to resist. After a few minutes, he had finished with the squirrel, but she did not move. Asaral moved across the room, towards the otter. Unlike the squirrel, the otter did not make a noise. He quickly cut the ropes holding him. When he finished, he looked up to see his eyes staring intently at him.
Slowly but silently, he slinked away from the pair and climbed back up the ladder that led him into the hold, making sure the door did not close. Once he reached the lower deck, the world started spinning around him, and he collapsed to the ground.
A tattooed rat sat hunched over in his tent. Beside him sat a young, fair vixen, cloaked in a snail-dyed blue robe. As they feasted over the remains of a roasted pigeon, the two began to talk about future plans.
"I do not agree with how you handled the situation. We have only forty-one, and the punishment that you gave to Crinkclaw leaves us with forty." The vixen spoke first.
"I know, but in my eyes, it was necessary. Crinkclaw made an unnecessarily rash decision to bring the fight to the Redwallers. He almost got all of us killed. We can't have addle-brained idiots like him leading our troops." the rat said, with a frown on his face.
"Why did you even promote him to your third in command anyways?"
"He may not have been the brightest member of our tribe, but his prowess in combat was better than anyone in our tribe but me."
"All the more reason why you shouldn't have…" the vixen trailed off momentarily. "You shouldn't have taken care of him so soon. We've lost our best fighter because of you."
"It wasn't because of me, idiot! It was because of his own stupid decisions. He had it coming for him. I only hastened the end result. Besides, we're going to have to recruit hordebeasts from the forest if we want to invade the stone castle."
"I have already told you that I do not think that plan is a good one." The vixen's mouth began to curve into an uncertain frown.
"You've told me that, but you haven't told me why you think that."
"Well… how shall I explain this to you? When I asked the spirits about this plan…. my dreams became unclear. They became…" The fox paused, as if thinking of a way to better word her next sentences. "It was like dreaming in only one eye, and not the other. One eye saw that your plan is sure to be successful, but the other did not see at all. That is not normal, and I am concerned that it is not normal. So I have not recommended to you the implementation of this plan."
The rat walked over to the place where he slept and lay down. "But you have seen success in one eye, yes? Surely that is a good indication? If you saw success that means success. We can deal with whatever the other eye means when we get to that challenge." The rat licked his lips and drank from his canteen before continuing.
"It might not turn out to be something significant at all. It might just mean that you've lost sight in one of your eyes." The rat raised his head to smirk dryly at the vixen. She shot a warning glare back at him as a response.
After about a minute or two, she finally spoke again. "I do not agree with your judgment, Marduk Gal Taggerung. But I will agree that your decision is not unfounded. I will cease to convince you of my convictions further. Implement your plan in whatever way you see fit." The vixen got up and prepared to leave.
"So be it. I have taken your advice into consideration, at least, if that gives you any comfort." the Taggerung lifted the tent flap to allow the vixen to leave. "After you leave, can you tell the others to pack up, Eyufei? We're going recruiting today." The vixen nodded in response and left the tent, leaving Marduk to contemplate the season ahead.
Masorkund the weasel had one mission, and one mission only. Bring the King's brother back to him alive. He still remembered the white ferret's last words to him before he left.
"You know what the punishment is if you fail." the King whispered, slowly drawing his paw across his neck. Masorkund gulped and hastily replied. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Now he sat on the deck of the Deathwind, looking ahead at where the Blacksail should have been. Unfortunately, the angle of the sun made the ship impossible to see among the waves.
He glanced back down at his charts, trying to keep them from blowing away in the wind. He extended a claw and let it wander down the parchment until he found his mark.
There's an island marked here. He quickly looked back up. But I don't see it. He looked down at his papers, then up again, trying to make sense of where he was. After a few minutes of squinting, he saw the island rise in the distance.
This island was no ordinary island. It appeared tall, and roughly cylindrical, as if a giant mountain had risen out of the sea, but with a flattened top. It was too far away to tell if there were any beaches on the island shores. Masorkund looked down again.
What's the name of this land? Ru-.. Rudd-.. aw shucks, I can't read this. Starts with Rudd or somethin' like it.
The weasel glanced back at the map to check on the island's direction. He then stood up, and walked over to a rat, looking out on the side of the railing.
"Milknose, do you see that island?"
"I shore do. Although I ain't never seen such an island in my life before. Looks all strange and rocky." the rat replied.
"I reckon that with the way we're sailin', our traitor might be somewhere near that. Take out yer spyglass and tell me what you're seein'."
Milknose reached into his bag and pulled out a finely crafted brass spyglass. He put it to his eye, winking, blinking, and shifting around as he tried to get his best focus. After a few seconds, his motion settled. Masorkund took that as a good sign, and spoke.
"Milknose, what do ye see?"
"I see 'er. It looks like she's drifting. She ain't going straight right now, and her sail isn't catchin' anythin'."
"Looks like His Majesty's brother ain't so good at sailin'. Let's try to catch 'er, buckoes!". The weasel gave out a hearty chuckle as more of his crew joined him on the upper deck.
"Plundertail, Bailclaw, Halfsnout! Climb up and see what catches the wind best! We've got our target up ahead!" the weasel commanded. His eyes followed his three subordinates until he was satisfied that they were doing their job.
Masorkund let out a sigh. He was finally on track.
But little did he know he was one of only three ships headed the prince's way.
Asaral: You suck. I'm passing out while beasts are chasing me.
A/N: Yeah yeah, whatever. It's to move the plot along.
Asaral: What plot? When you started writing this, this story didn't even have a plot. And honestly, looking at what you have planned, it doesn't seem like that's changed.
A/N: You say that like you've read all of my notes. Which you clearly haven't, because there are none.
Asaral: You- ugh. You disgust me. If you don't remove that part from this chapter I'm going to-
A/N: Shut up. If I hear you complaining one more time I'm removing all of your pagetime for the next chapter. And leave that axe in my room. You're not even supposed to have that weapon at this point in the story.
Asaral: (long pause)... Fine.