Chapter 26

Hearts of Pitch


I long had thought I would keep quiet, but now I'll sing as I have sung before.

Good friends have helped me change my mind, and can expect much more of me.

I'll sing the poetry I write; and what they want, I'll do, if they will grieve for my distress.

-translated lyrics from 'Lange swîgen des hât ich gedâht', by Walther von der Vogelweide


Being separated from Egil made Kiormund nervous.

Having been abducted from the only sanctuary he had known in the past few years, a part of the young otter missed an old friend all too much, and the pair had much to catch up on. He wondered if a reunion with Graha could yield the same results, but with an ever-present phantom occupying his ear, any level of advanced thought was sadly not possible.

"Stop obsessing over your dearest little friend," said Veil, tailing the otter like a lost bird. "I'm quite sure I'm the only ferret you need in your life."

"I can tell you never had a proper friend before," snapped Kiormund as softly as possible.

Veil twitched. "Of course. You've read about me again and again and again. I don't think you know everything about me, mind you, but look at me - I'm very much dead. I can't really stop you from flipping through old books and speaking with Recorders and Archivists - I can't even swat a fly."

"Have you tried before?"

"Yes!" shouted Veil before he slunk back into Kiormund's head as Daghild turned towards him. With a gentle smile and a wink she turned back to Erlend as the two continued to talk.

"You are absolutely certain that I can trust Lamont on this," said Erlend, eyes devoid of emotion. "How terribly uncharacteristic of him, how typical for you."

"You expect me to offer an oath for two based upon the actions of another beast over which I have no authority?" said the mole, brows furrowing.

The older otter rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"I suppose when the Council session begins you can ask the Steward himself. I am just a mole living here as a salaried official, and I will not play a part in what is clearly a family quarrel, no matter how much you push me."

Erlend snorted as his head turned towards his son. "You've been to one of those council meetings before, unlike your friend. Did anything get done?"

Kiormund shook his head. "They discussed that wolf back in Mossflower, and your journey up towards Floret."

"Hm," grunted the Lord of Kaldos. "Let us hope things stay so boring as that - it is by far better than the alternative."

The journey down the stairs leading to Daghild's tower and all through the corridors did not take long, but every single step filled Kiormund with emotion - he could not tell whether it was dread or excitement. When I have to hold my own councils I will have to learn how to hide what I feel. A leader must observe easily while being hard to observe. The otter wondered how many other lines from Hadagrim and Eucherius he could quote to fit his situation as the guards to the council chamber let the group through.

The beasts surrounding the table at the centre of the room had doubled since the last time Kiormund found himself inside, if not more. There was Kiormund's uncle Lamont, Lady Anzeka and all three sons of theirs, as well as the Aventoft brothers, who had presumably travelled with Blerun and Erlend across the Udso. Squeezed between these two groups of kin was Princess Jacoba, her usual sour expression augmented by events the younger otter was not privy to. Most likely she had a particularly bitter row with another councilbeast, thought Kiormund, or perhaps she had an especially tart cup of lemon tea after lunch.

"You are here, finally!" Lamont got up from his seat, green eyes glowing with hospitality - whether it was genuine or carefully manufactured Kiormund could not tell.

"Where is your king?" asked Erlend, careful to stress the penultimate word.

"Sick," said Jacoba. "Tired."

Lamont nodded. "He's not the youngest of beasts."

"Nor was he ever the healthiest," continued Anezka.

"In any case, take a seat. Your presence is required, gladly if not urgently. We have much to discuss, as always."

Erlend quickly took the closest seat, while Finnbarr Streambattle led his cousin to the one next to him. Daghild, meanwhile, strode around the table to an empty chair just next to Lamont.

"I cannot help but notice that the General is also not present," said Kiormund's uncle, shifting his posture. "No doubt he too is occupied."

"He has beasts to bid farewell to," answered Daghild as she dipped her quill into an inkwell prepared for the occasion and opened her small book of records. "Before departing on a mission that His Majesty has chosen."

Kiormund saw his father look at the mole with a mixture of curiosity and disdain, but if he wanted to say anything, his words were quickly swallowed.

"We can begin regardless." Lamont took a sip out of his goblet. "My nephew will be glad to know that we have news from Helskerland."

Kiormund swallowed as he realised that most pairs of eyes were now trained straight on him. "What sort of news?"

"Well, a very special ship has landed in Eucheria. From Wossaham."

Anezka muttered something rude under his breath, while Erlend's jaw clenched as Kiormund's brows furrowed. "Mother."

Daghild put down her quill. "She has been travelling, as mentioned last time, though not alone."

"Now, however, she is joined by a strange rat," continued Lamont.

"What's a rat doing in Eucheria?" asked Rab.

"They live there," replied Blerun, elbowing his elder brother.

"Yes, but if this one was doing precisely that they would not have been mentioned!" chirped Finnbarr. "Probably, that is."

Lamont nodded. "He's a Laskarine envoy."

"I wonder why Laskaros would be interested in matters of the Strait…" mused Jacoba. "What use do they have for it?"

"Might be Eucheria," answered Rab. "Vermin and vermin tend to stick together."

"But why now?" asked Kiormund, raising his brows. "If the lynxes in the South wanted to act they would have done so long ago."

Erlend scoffed. "Who knows what's going on in Gregorios's head? Emperors are all the same - they act mightier than everybeast else, and in most cases they have the armies to back it up. Inscrutable, all the lot."

"Moving onward…" Lamont shook his head. "The missive stated that they have already left - they stayed in Eucheria for a single night before their departure. The Vicarius alone hosted them, while the Dux was nowhere to be seen.":

"Lady Stenna was very detailed in her report," said Erlend, rubbing his temple.

"You know her?"

"She's the only beast in Helskerland you trust. Despite my best efforts."

"It's not really that much of a secret, but I can always trust my allies to be reliable," Lamont smirked. "Which is often something you wish you could say, do you not?"

"Have you got some other news, dear brother?"

"Well, this might comfort you." Lamont's shining green eyes turned to his wife's grey ones, and she smiled as well, though it never gave Kiormund the impression that it was genuine.

"Back in Szaila my nephew received news that King Gudmund is making plans to come to Gystra for our gathering." The lady grinned as her head spun towards Erlend. "Your wife and other pups will be there as well - it's been a while since you've met, right?"

"Months," barked Erlend.

"Well, you should be glad. I've instructed Rikart to let them pass overland, taking the roads near the coast. It's far too wintery to sail - you are fortunate to leave at the right moment, and if the storms have reached the east, Lady Lorelei will have to take a dip."

"I have a question," murmured Kiormund.

Lamont nodded. "What is it?"

"Wouldn't that make getting to Helskerland impossible?" The otter's cheeks burned with embarrassment. "The weather, I mean. The winds would blow ships north, not south."

"That is very true, yes." The Steward winked as he stood up to grab a scroll. "You will have to spend more time huddled up with all your family in Gystra, I fear."

"Could he not?" asked Erlend. "The longer Helskerland has no lord, the more unruly the local nobility will likely be, not to mention the vermin of Eucheria. Somebeast must be inside Revesvakt to take charge of the situation, and quickly."

"Heh." Lamont unfurled the sheet atop the table. It was a map of the Ring Sea, with Southsward to the top left, bordered by Travrik and Tarelis. Otharn, Ilsadia and Garlesca were on the right, and between these greater locales were the island chains. "Do you see Helskerland here?"

Erlend nodded. "You speak as if thoughts of it have not preoccupied my head for months."

"Good, good. What about Redwall?"

"No - you're fooling with me, aren't you?"

"Why would I ever do that?"

"Because you're you. You enjoy playing with the heads of beasts at every opportunity, and you laugh every single time nobody you see meets your standards!"

"Maybe… but the point is that you haven't actually considered time spent travelling for your new lord to arrive in the islands. Worry not, I have named a regent to manage the land while Kio here is trapped on the other side of the strait."

Venom dripped from Erlend's voice. "Stenna."

"A lord's widow has a right to his estates in the absence of other claimants, provided she remains unmarried."

"This is not the way laws work in Travrik."

"Travrik is dead, brother, except in your dreams. I suggest you wake up from them."

The Streambattles engaged each other in a duel of stares before Erlend's eyes shut as he shook his head vigorously. Without another word he turned away, looked at Kiormund for a few moments, then stood and departed, slamming shut the doors in his wake.

Lamont slumped into his chair. "Well, I suppose he's provided us with some entertainment…"


The rest of the council meeting saw no more outbursts. Lamont and Anezka talked about matters of incomes and expenditures that, of the younger beasts, only Blerun showed any interest in, and the next thing Kiormund remembered was his cousin shaking him awake.

"I'm sorry - I've not been sleeping well, and I-"

"Just don't do that again," replied Blerun. "Do you need a change of quarters? Sleeping in the same room with a ferret may prove to be troublesome."

"I will be fine, cousin," replied Kiormund, picking himself up from his chair.

"Then find somewhere else to drool next time - beasts have to clean that up."

"Sorry. Again."

"Stop apologising to me. Finnbarr had to continue his studies with Daghild, Rab went to see the pups, and Father wanted some private time with Mother. That leaves me with you, and I have reports to look at."

Kiormund yawned. It was already evening. Little could be heard from atop Castle Floret, but as the sun blazed ever weaker on the horizon the young otter could see common-beasts, no more than the size of ants, return home from a day of hard work.

"It isn't common," said Blerun, leaning next to his kin. "For a lordship to pop into your lap. Many would kill just to see the islands come into your possession, but all you did was wait in an abbey up north."

"I never wanted this," confessed Kiormund.

"And yet still it is yours," chuckled Blerun. "Not often does a second son find so much opportunity in life - you should be glad instead of ashamed."

"He does have a point…" whispered Veil, as Kiormund waved him away.

"This is perhaps a personal question," said the younger otter. "Have you wanted anything from your father before?"

"As much as any other child does. He lavished me with attention as much as any Steward could, but I am just one of his many responsibilities, and I doubt I was ever a priority… though Father always preferred me to Rab. When he received news that you of all beasts were to be the next Lord of Helskerland, he thought about getting me there before you did… but he decided to give you a chance. Do not squander it."

Kiormund raised a paw. "How do I govern well then?"

Blerun rolled his eyes. "You'd be better off asking my father."

"I already did."

"And you didn't like his answer."

The younger Streambattle nodded. "He puzzles me sometimes. You don't. You're direct."

"If you say so." Blerun frowned. "I can only give you one piece of advice."

"Which is?"

"Trust your instincts and question everything else… and everybeast else. The rest should follow swiftly and naturally, like a coursing stream."

"Um… thank you," replied Kiormund.

"Are you still puzzled?"

"Er, yes."

"A pity. There is nothing more I can do to help you."


Reasoning that Egil had gotten bored with his books back up in Daghild's tower, Kiormund decided to go back to his guest room.

The ferret was not around the corridors. Kiormund would have recognised his light scent right away, or his always well-groomed fur, or his brown eyes that shone so brightly even in the dimmest light, but all three were somewhere else in the castle.

No, waiting outside his doorway was somebeast else, somebeast less interested in smiles and jokes than scowls and complaints.

"Get in," said Jacoba, grabbing Kiormund by the arm. "Nobeast must hear us."

With a pull the otter found himself back inside his room, standing as the squirrel sat on Egil's bed, crumpling her fine yellow dress. It was, after all, her property. "Sit down. I couldn't wake you up - it'd just draw his suspicion. That just wouldn't do."

"His?"

"Your uncle's." Jacoba frowned. "I can't do much against his current position. He's too strong. It's as if Southsward has two kings at the same time, Lamont and another whose name the common beasts have forgotten."

"And… I assume you have a problem with that?" asked Kiormund, before yelping as Jacoba grabbed his muzzle.

"He's wrangling me out of my position as heir presumptive, as you have no doubt heard."

"There should be laws about this," mused Kiormund, wriggling himself free. "The succession isn't something to be trifled with, right?"

"The last time a female tried to ascend to the throne she was abruptly halted by an army. Granted, she was not a beast you'd want to associate with queenship, but precedent has been set, and not in my favour."

"It's not like there are any other claimants…"

"Of course there are. Remember the squirrel at the top of the Belltower? You never saw his father, did you?"

The revelation hit Kiormund quicker than he would have expected. "You have a brother. Or half-brother, right?"

"Two, actually. The other one's serving in Hildrinn. And even if they aren't legitimised, there's still Erramun of Marratz, the only other eligible male descendant of the line of Gael. If Lamont does not do anything the Tarelians will."

"And how do you think I can help you?"

"Go North with me!" exclaimed Jacoba. "Go to Redwall! You miss it, don't you?"

Kiormund nodded silently.

"Good! Then we can use your contacts to raise an army, come back to Floret, and help me seize my birthright! In return, you can have the Stewardship, and we can right all of the wrongs committed during the last century!"

"And how are you doing to deal with Lamont and the army he already has?"

"I- I know they're no match for the Long Patrol and the Rogue Crew! And we've got justice on our side, so the populace will supply us!"

The otter chuckled wryly. "If you're so confident about your cause, why do you need my help?"

Jacoba stood up, her head narrowly missing the roof of the bed. "Because you know beasts! You've grown up all around the Ring Sea and met all kinds of personalities and cultures! You made friends with Tarelians, Redwallers and even ferrets from Kaldos! You are an otter I can depend on - the only one in this castle!"

Silence blanketed the room as both the otter and the squirrel were lost in thought. Eventually, Kiormund found something to say. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but my duty is Helskerland, not Redwall or Southsward. I will not abandon my obligations for my own pleasure, for I am a Streambattle, a bearer of the blood of wolves."

"What does that even mean?" asked Veil.

I have no idea - it's something Father said a lot to me.

"But-" The squirrel shook her head. "I need you!"

"I am not your vassal and you have no right to command me. And if you expect me to lead my friends to ruin and death you would be wrong."

Jacoba's face seemed to turn a weird shade under her bushy fur. She muttered a few unrecognisable syllables before she returned to the bed, her face awash with resignation. "I apologise. I ask too much out of beasts sometimes."

Kiormund heard Veil's chattering once more. "Of course you do, you're a squirrel - that's all you do, is it not?"

Ignoring the ferret's snide remarks, the otter's head dipped. "It's something us nobles tend to do. We lead without knowing how it is to be led."

"I may not command you as your future queen," said Jacoba. "I could still seek your advice as your acquaintance - friend, even. Is that right?"

"Acquaintance for now."

"Sorry."

"It doesn't matter. I suppose you could come to an understanding with Lamont. He's managing everything well, after all."

"You expect me to suppress my anger for this?"

"He has not moved against your person, he likely never will. You should outlive him, and once his son becomes Steward-"

"Rab? I suppose he is not an ambitious beast…"

"Then you can be a true queen… but not until you learn from what the Badgerlord of Salamandastron has to say. He is a beast of paramount wisdom."

"I shall pay him a visit."

"One last thing.

The squirrel rolled her eyes. "What now?"

"Please don't expect him to lend you his hares. He would not appreciate that."

"Noted." The princess stood back up and made for the exit. "Thank you for everything, and good luck with the Helskers. I have heard they can be a rough bunch."


"That was what she said before she left," said Kiormund, looking at his grandfather.

"Ah, Southswarders…" mused Kiordan, leaning on a great tree in the middle of the Dreamscape-constructed chamber they were in. It appeared to be some sort of meeting hall, but everything else seemed to be in ruins. Stone benches were cracked or toppled, and everything seemed to have a layer of ash coating it.

It was clear that, were this a real place, something terrible had happened to it.

"What is this place?" asked Kiormund.

"And why did we choose to meet here again?" asked Veil, suddenly materialising before he yelped, squirming as Kiordan kept a tight grip on his muzzle.

"If you try to surprise me by popping out of nowhere again, ferret," said the old otter, "I'll kick you so hard you'd end up landing in Redwall head-first. Do you understand?"

The ferret nodded before Kiordan let him go. As Veil wheezed, Kiormund's grandfather turned back to him. "Sorry about that - I tend to get rather irascible when I'm here - a location from my past, and not my most brilliant hour. It's where I must try my best to be serious… and we will be here a lot if you fail to pick up on Conjury again."

Kiormund nodded, embarrassed, as he looked down on the bricks he was ordered to assemble with the winds he could summon. Most of the time they would just not connect, and the one time it did the gusts were so great it toppled and shattered. Kiordan was so frustrated that he ordered his namesake to take a break and explain the day's events as he thought of another sort of training activity.

"As for Jacoba… I have no idea what she could be thinking."

"I just told you about it, Grandfather."

"And she told you about it," Kiordan said with a wink. "Do you think you can trust her? Do you think if you did what she said, she would duly give you what you want the moment you are no longer useful to her?"

"I don't think she's confident enough to stab me in the back," muttered Kiormund. "Nor is she competent enough."

"There's always more to beasts than meets the eye, little one," said Kiordan, reaching a paw up to pat his grandson's head. "Discovering what they want and need is one of the more important parts of rulership, one that can make or break a reign."

"Are you confident in me, Grandfather?"

"I wasn't at first… but I have been wrong before. We'll see."

Veil shook his head. "That's just a polite and roundabout way to say 'no', right?"

Kiordan shrugged. "I'll be ignoring you from now on." His head turned back towards Kiormund. "As for you…back to training - we're not leaving the Dreamscape until you get something done tonight. And trust me, we've got all the time in the world!"


C/N: All the time in the world? This sounds a bit intimidating, but I'll pull through!

Anyway, everybeast in the plot would be leaving Floret soon. It appears that I'm not technically a prisoner anymore, which makes things neat, but I'm still rather nervous about the whole 'Lord of Helskerland' thing. I'm not nearly prepared enough, this much is certain, but I'm a Streambattle. I won't give up.

The Dreamscape is a terrifying place to be in, I must say, but there is so much to be done inside! Maybe if everything goes well I can bond with Grandfather and Mother over it, just the three of us! I can't remember the last time we had fun together, but I'm sure we couldn't use what's basically magic there. Well, I couldn't - I don't know about the other two.

Your author is a bit busy freezing in snow-ridden London as he prepares to cram for exams, so one last reminder that a review would be very appreciated in these trying times is in order! But anyway, thanks for giving this chapter a look, and I hope you have a happy new year ahead of you!