Redwall: War of the Four Banners

by PepperDeadSworn

"Young as autumn, old as summer, from sea to forest the cries of war shall come Four armies, one outcome, in ruin you shall find the truth Look to the place of my rest, for friend shall be foe, and foe shall be friend." A epic tale of Redwall in which four great factions battle for the fate of Mossflower itself.

49. The Long War

Chapter 48: The Long War

Pelma yawned as she slowly awoke, looking around at the ground. It was a dense forest field, separated by a small spring. She uncovered a small blanket, glued with sticks and leaves as it tumbled to the side, as she laid on her back. A couple other yawns across the field followed, as the entire otter army began to stir rather suddenly. Sentries from the army tumbled down silently, giving a signal to their replacements that none of the enemy was spotted. Pelam cricked her neck and got up, with Papet coming up to her and getting her up.

"Were close to home, mam." Papet smiled. She nodded back, looking incredibly tired. She gripped the javelin in her paw and dusted off her blue armor. "I didn't know pa even used these. I thought they were just used to hide the holt."

She referred to the strange stringy blankets they had been wearing. Papet shook it off a bit and folded up quickly. He gave a little chuckle as he remembered something fondly "Your pa said to me once 'Papet, if you wear these in the field, I will cut off your bleeding nose'. He didn't really like them, cause he was a tent loving beast. Said we shouldn't hide as much as we do, ya know?"

Papet hoped such a story would cheer her up, but Pelma only frowned. Papet quickly apologized "Oh, sorry mam. I di-"

"No, it's okay Papet." Pelma sighed. She looked about "Let's just get home. It's not far now."

Papet dropped his attempt at cheerfulness as he gathered the others. Their march through Mossflower and towards the River Moss was a long and difficult trip, as now it was through enemy territory. Mossflower's otters did not have one Holt, but rather many. Each tribe had its own home along the rivers or sea, but it was Pelma's home which had been the first among equals. It was where Dakan gathered the entire holt to move to Redwall for the festival, and they had temporary stopped there to pick up armor and weapons when heading to Moss Field.

Pelma and Papet guided themselves towards the familiar River Moss, although they kept looking around for danger. This was now Markem's territory, and they knew if one of the vermin spotted them, the rat would wipe them out. Pelma and Papet dove into the river first, swimming silently as a small group swam after them. She dove, spotting a familiar entrance hidden by seaweed and reeds as she and Papet went through the hidden underwater entrance and arose back up into an illuminated hovel.

Pelma partly smiled to see a couple small, curious pups staring back at her as she dove up from the water and shook herself off. The dirt and hollow mound was brought to line by some a couple of torches, a dirt floor beneath the holt which opened into a small otter-made pool. The entrance to this little covered bay had a bright wooden door which led into the small barracks found throughout the underground lair. Teams of otters and their families began to come up from the pool, with Papet awaiting for his missus and pups. One of papet's little ones coughed a bit as he patted his back and smiled "Yer doin well there, bucko. See? Isn't all that scary." The pup smiled as he cuddled him in his paws and brought them back to his family's room. Pelma awaited, making sure her warriors, captains, and those who went to Redwall all surfaced normally.

Pelma didn't speak, and didn't know how to. She just held her breath as her warrior appeared, she nodded her head, and saw them leave. Most reunited with families, while other families soon began to weep when they heard their kin were now dead or captured by vermin. Even if alive, most knew that being captured by vermin may as well have been death, as for a people who resisted them so much, the vermin could be more than cruel towards them if they were ever made prisoners.

Pelma walked amongst her Holt, witnessing her clan finally resting while others were getting ready. Pelma walked into the barracks where Papet had settled in. Pelma couldn't help but smile as Papet had dragged his pups over to him, giving them a little lesson.

"Alright, you little devils are quite old enough now. Pema, Para. Ya see dis, tis not a toy but a tool. Ya take this and scratch it along the edge, like this!" Papet was using a knife, edging the blade along a long wooden pole as he pups watched on with amazement as little by little the little pole was turned into a basic javillen. Papet's three little ones got a hold of one of the knives, as one tried to wave it around like a sword. Harshly, Papet withdrew the knife and gave a friendly growl at him as the little one yelped.

"Tools aren't no toys, I ain't mad, but ya gotta know that these things hurt. Now, again. Follow an' listen."

Pelma couldn't help but smile as Papet showed them how to do as any otter warrior expected of their youngest. Like teaching them how to swim for the first time, it was a joyous sight for Papet to see his little ones get the hang of making wooden javelins. When one struggled, he calmly helped them. He looked up, a bit surprised to see Pelma looking for him as he stood immediately to attention.

"Yer little ones, Papet. Better luck to have you, considering how pa treated me an' Kasser to it."

"I remember, he could have a loud yelp of pain when Kasser accidently stuck him in the paw." Papet gave a wide smile. At the time, Dakan had been absolutely furious and frustrated, but he would calm down and take his shaking youngsters to the surface to do a little work to calm his own nerves. Pelma slowly frowned again as she awkwardly stood there. Papet could only guess something was wrong.

"You needed something, skipper?"

"Y-yes, a meeting. We need to discuss how to deal with the vermin Papet."

"Oh, then when is it?"

Pelma frowned a bit harder and more dramatically as she somewhat admitted "Well, thats the thing, Papet. I don't know. Pa usually held these meetings, and Kasser knew somewhat. I don't know who to ask first, or where to even go. I was, kinda hoping you would help."

"Of course, mam." Papet grabbed her paw and held it. "Your doing a lot finer than you think, mam. You led us here successfully, and quickly. Now that the families are home, we can focus on the real threat at paw." Papet showed her about as he herded his leader to another barracks, giving a friendly glance at his missus who took over making sure his three pups didn't start accidentally stabbing each other.

Papet brought her to one barracks after the other, talking to respectful and sometimes reluctant captains. Pelma felt meek having Papet speak for her, but Papet's encouragement got her to speak quicker and more authoritatively.

"Trick is, these are your friends an' comrades, unlike how the vermin see their own as tools an' minions. You have to talk to em' with a friendliness and a firmness, like a pa speaking down to pups, ya know?"

"I'm surprised they have all been so calm about all this." Pelma admitted "I thought only males could be Skippers, or that is how pa always explained it."

Papet shrugged "Its an old tradition, mam. Though, not many beasts seem to give much mind to it. We are in the midst of war and they murdered our chief an' his son. If there is any grumbling, its being set aside. Traditions won't destroy Markem any faster."

Pelma slightly nodded, although she had so many questions, which could have only ever been answered by her father. Though, it pained her to think she would only get those answers when she herself perished. The two continued on, formulating meetings and talking with captains. Pelam got to learn more about her subordinates, and it surprised her. She had no clue that Captain Wolt had lost his brothers in the battle, and it pained her to hear how such good and vital fishers were now gone. She talked with the misuses of the Holt, worried and sorrowful in different ways. She and Papet had to slap down a few far too young otters, now recently missing loved ones, from joining the ranks of the warriors in a desperate need for vengeance. Each interaction made her more determined, more angry at that accursed warlord.

"Papet, I swear by the blasted seasons." She said suddenly, going to a farther end of the Holt alone, her confidence gained "We'll kill Markem, and every blasted hordebeast who swears to him."

Papet nodded as she stormed off, and before he could say anything in confidence, he somewhat smiled. He said to himself, hoping the ghosts of Dakan and Kasser were with him "She is turnen into a fine beast like you were, Dakan, ya ol' water dog. Just need time."
_

The otters gathered and crowded in the central chamber of the Holt, a huge cavern beneath the ground with a small, beautiful pond in the middle. The otters may have grass and dirt over their heads, but most of it was covered with cloth and held up by wooden planks. The ground was shined with a mix of various carpets, with enough room for chairs and tables, one of which Pelma had occupied and had maps and various geographic tools strewn about. On normal days, this place was busy with otter families raising their pups in their community, where games were held, or where storytellers would speak of the mighty deeds of their ancestors. Now, it was occupied by a mass of otter warriors with their weapons in their paws. Swords were held to their side, a mix of spears, javelins, bows, maces, hatchets, and even a few blow darts were strewn about. Pelma felt almost a little nervous to speak up, with so many eyes upon her and Papet, but she worked up the courage to speak up as loudly and firmly as her father used to.

"First things first. We must recap what has happened, so we are all on the same page, since some of you were here when me pa, our skipper, fell at Moss Field along with my brother." Pelma frowned a bit, trying to block that terrible set of memories from her head. After a brief pause, she continued "Markem Brownnose has obliterated us, driven us and the shrews back into Mossflower, and now Naus and his hares are being besieged in Redwall."

There were a couple horrified gasps from the warriors who stayed behind, many regretful for not joining their Skipper when they decided to hold down the holt.

One of the captains spoke up "Aye, that wretch Markem. I say we ambush him in the night, an' cut his throat for Dakan's sake!"

Pelma liked the enthusiasm, but quickly shot it down "I'd love to join you on that, captain, but Markem's army is too big. Far too large and intimidating to sneak into. Skirmishing them won't do much but annoy them, because they are too thick with vermin from all across Mossflower, the east, and now the north. Jusbrag vermin swarm these forests now, and no doubt Markem's evil creatures butcher and enslave our fellow friends an' kin."

Pelma gave a deep sigh, and thought. One of the other captains spoke up, somewhat concerned "We can't just do nothing! We have to ambush an' fight em! I say we throw javilens an chase them all the way to the bleeding river!"

There was a murmur of agreement, but Papet spoke up "Enough. Pelma be right. Markem just proved we can't fight'em traditionally. We need a new plan."

"Like what?"

Pelma spoke up, having a sudden realization "Markem's army is large, huge even. He no doubt has armies of slaves tending to fields or has large stores of grain to keep his beasts alive an' well paid. Vermin don't fight for just gold, they fight for food. Redwall is their treasure, but even vermin can starve." Pelma got a wicked grin slapped onto her face, proud of her new idea "We attack their supply line, cutting off Markem's access to food. As his army starves, they'll weaken and start to kill themselves."

There was a positive murmur from the crowd and nodding heads, although one of the more skeptical captains spoke up "Can't they just forage for their food, or raid for it?"

Papet answered him, proudly looking at his skipper before returning his attention to the crowd. "They can, but it would be pointless. There isn't enough food on this side of the river from the vermin's territory for them to eat. They could have every berry in the bleeding forest, every flower, and that army will still struggle to stay afloat. We can't butcher them in the field, but we damn can do the next best thing."

The other captains thought, making suggestions "I say we deal harshly with their caravans, build traps an-"

"No, its out own kind they use to transport their foodstuffs to them! We need to occupy their wagons, bring em' here."

"What? Are you crazy! That'll take too long an' attract their attention! We need to sabotage dem, poison their food."

Pelma and Papet slowly began to frown as the once united holt captains began to bicker. Each one had a different idea on how to deal with the vermin, and the ethics of doing so. One suggestion was casted down by another as the stressed and frustrated otters squeaked and growled angrily at one another. Thankfully, there was no pushing and shoving, but Pelma grew furious and slammed her paws down which got them to be silent.

"Enough!" The other otters waited for her to respond, but she honestly had no clue what to say. Each plan had its merit, as she looked around. She blinked, and realized something as she looked down at her map.

"Vermin can't swim." She blurted out. There was an exchange of confused looks from the vermin, and even from Papet. She stiffened up and spoke again. "The vermin can't swim, except for maybe a few water rats, but when we crossed the river with Logis and Naus, the vermin had to cross the river. So do their supplies. We can cross the river with greater ease than they can, and we can swim it without much effort. If we can skirmish them on the river, we can trap Markem on the southern side of the River Moss, with his starving troops."

The grim thought of Markem crawling on the ground, barely a skeleton, was a dramatic show which Pelma wanted to see. She smiled gleefully as the other otters nodded in agreement. She spoke up again, hyping them to war.

"Your skipper, my pa, was beloved by all of you. We have seen our own clan butchered and taken away in chains by vermin like this, but the Mossflower Holt will stand against this tyranny. As it did before, as we will do so again. For Dakan and Kasser, we will spill vermin blood till we make our river red!"

There was a bloodthirsty cheer from the otters before her as she smiled in great pride. Papet patted her calmly on the back and she accepted it as such. There was much to prepare for, and Markem did not even know it yet!
_

Pelma slowly opened a familiar door and stepped inside a dark room where she lifted a candle, lighting a torch which illuminated the small homely room. It was a special room, reserved only for the Skipper, but she knew it all too well. There were several rooms aside from it, with a big nesting bed in the center and a couple smaller ones to its side. Drawers were a little dusty, with a small hatch at the far end leading to the outside. Pelma never went through it, but was not tempted to, as Dakan had forbid her and Kasser from ever going through the emergency exits across the Holt in case it was ever invaded. The floor was carpeted, but instead of a dirt floor it was made from stone. Moles occasionally came every season to help expand and build upon the old Holt.

There was so much history in the room, and Pelma had no clue what to even do first. Her eyes wandered to a dresser her mother owned, one of several artifacts she had left behind. On it was a small shrine of sorts, a necklace she dared not touch, made from string with a silver locket with a crude etching of a heart. In the middle of that heart was the phrase 'Be Loved Thrice'. She looked at it, the last memorabilia of her mom which she had long since dried her tears for.

Her eyes peered to her parents bed, empty as it was, half expecting to see her father there at least. She closed her eyes, trying to not even weep at the sight as she continued on her tour. This was all hers now, and she had no clue what to even do with it all.

There was Kasser's old toys she now owned, Dakan's favorite clothes and bracelets, his unfinished pride and joy which was this armored outfit, there was Kasser's collection of funny looking sticks. She wanted nothing gone, even if their owners were forever away from her. Yet there was one artifact she collected, one which she got from Kasser's trunk which was situated in their own room.

A small and simple fish bone comb.

Pelma smiled at the memory of her father having chastised Kasser when they were little pups for being so dirty and messy, when Kasser used to grow his fur out. There was a time when his head fur was so overbearing, it nearly blinded him. It didn't matter to him much, he often liked to escape and roll in some mud and rush into the river to see it flake from his body. Her father made this comb for him, forcing him to use it, but he eventually became quite a clean and well built beast. She saw her brother in this little thing, but then that memory of Moss Field returned in vengeance.

Of Markem cutting him down so cruelly in front of not only her, but her father.

Crunch!

Pelma's eyes widened in terror as she looked down, seeing it now broken in her paw. She didn't know how to react, looking around for anything to help fix it as she paced uncontrollably. She realized what she had done as she slowly slumped and sat with her back against a wall, pleading to Kasser's ghost "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Over and over again as she held the broken comb close to her. Her eyes watered as she lost control, crying softly alone.

It took time before she heard a beast walking in, as she looked up. Papet was there to greet her, pitying her as he looked down. They said nothing, but Papet slowly brought himself over to her and sat down with her, as Pelma gave said chuckle to break her mood.

"Seasons, if pa were here, he'd call it pathetic." She only frowned as she looked at her brother's comb. "I-I was looking for something, to take with me. Something to remember him by. Both of them. All three of them. I don't think this'll do." She put the broken comb on the ground, but Papet picked it up and looked it over. He finally spoke.

"You wanna know something funny, Pelma?"

"What."

"You see that little locket over there?" Papet pointed to the old necklace which Pelma stared at. Papet told his story, with a faint sadness "Tis a replica. Only original thing on it is the nice twine rope."

Pelma looked shocked, Papet continued and explained "Your Pa an' I weren't always just a bunch o' captains under your gran'pa. We were rascals, much like you an' Kasser were. Your pa fell in love with your ma, a beast from an eastern holt whom he fell over his rudder for. He spent a lot o' his favors an' resources making something nice for her, had this whole ding planned out for a nice golden chain, golden etchings, mole made thing. Something decent fer yer ma to wear. He got the base of it, but he could never find the good jeweler in this side of the forest to help him out. Your ma wore his little etched thing, an was so proud of it."

Papet slowly frowned, remembering some fateful and accursed day. "When your ma passed, twas the saddest day I saw your pa. He held onto that locket and took it with him everywhere, but one day, he just up an' lost it. He doesn't know if he was swimming, or if he just dropped it while it hanged from his belt. He went crazy looking for it, but after a fruitless search he and I gave up. He was sad for a time, but me and my missus found a nice replacement. It wasn't exactly like it was, but your pa was happy to at least have it in sight again."

Papet turned to her, putting his paw on her shoulder and smiled "No beast ever truly be gone, Pelma Whitewhisker. They may be dead, but gone? Just cause you lost him don't mean he never existed, an you can hold onto those memories at least. Tis sad he and your brother went the way they did, but not all things that break remain broken. Here."

Papet drew the comb close and gave half of it to Pelma "Now we both got something to remember him by."

Pelma couldn't help but smile at Papet's enthusiasm as she sighed deeply, putting the small bone comb into a pocket of her tunic. Papet did the same, as she looked down at her paws and moped. She realized it must be silly for a captain to see his skipper in such dismay, but she tried to hold firm. "I don't know how you do it Papet, but I really wish I was even half as skilled as you. Or even a quarter of the skill as Kasser was. He joked once if I were to ever lead the otters, pa would elect a mole to lead."

Papet chuckled a little at it "Kasser was a good beast, a cruel joker, but a good beast. Yet, he be wrong in that sense. Pelma, your not as alone or as uncertain as you think you are. Your pa wasn't perfect either you know. He always asked for help, believe it or not, he could barely function without some captain telling him where the heck he was even goin. You will improve, cause we are all a lot like you. You are amongst friends and comrades, and we will be here for you, all you but have to do is ask."

"Ya but, I'm not ve-"

"Oh hush now." Papet chimed with a fatherly voice "If you were goin to say 'I'm not very skilled' I would be kicking you all the way to the river! You are a talented beast much like Dakan was. Did you know your pa couldn't throw a javelin straight even if he tried? Kasser, oh he fumbled a lot with his words. No beast be perfect an' don't think of them as such. Ya gotta stop beating yourself up, mam. Don't make order you to smile."

Pelma let out a small smile at Papet's joke as the two got up. Papet and Pelma entered the main room as they explored around a bit. Papet was more used to being in here as he collected a few things from the drawer, having his own sad memories flood back to him. The two were about to leave when an otter quickly rushed into the room, wet and breathing heavily.

"Skipper! Papet! Ya won't believe who we just saw near der banks of the river! Headen towards us!"

"Vermin?" Pelma asked worryingly. The otter shook his head, and then smiled "Nay! We saw the Gousim on their bleeding logs!"

---

The shrews had rowed on their logs down the River Moss, their eyes averted to the northwest where their camp used to be. Many of the political officers called out for missing shrews, with many awkwardly giving 'ayes' or raising their paws. Shrew logs were joined by small rafts and boats, most carrying the militias which had joined them, although they now seemed more unsure with how the Gousim had once again we're on the retreat. Spirits were low, as the captains of the Gousim guided their families and friends along the River Moss and towards safer lands.

Or well, 'Safer' lands.

The Gousim know the vermin well enough to not restrict themselves to raiding just villages, staying long enough in vermin territory puts the entire tribe in danger. It was shocking for the Juska, alongside new and terrifying allies, would be so bold to come out of their hovels to attack them. As the group rowed down the river, they were met with a less than relieving sight. At the edge of the north side of the river, a blood covered Logis and Sagad stood, bandaging wounds. The shrews quickly began to paddle to him, and picked him and their warriors up. Logis silently got onboard his own log as Sagad joined the other militias, and the shrews paddled down the river to a new camp.

The shrews paddled all the way towards the farther end of the central river, but had sent an army of scouts and warriors ahead to make sure the area was lacking the taint of the vermin. Once the scouts returned, the depressed shrews once again began to set up camp as Logis got out of his log and stood at the shore, frowning. He was quickly approached by groups of shrews.

The other higher members of the Gousim.

"Logis! Oh by the seasons, you're alive!"

"Alive and blood covered, you must clean yourself up! Code 44 of Log-a-log civility dictates th-"

"Damn your 'Code 44' this and 'Code 77' that! Our log-a-log is alive! Logis, our defeat at the Juska can't be understated, while you were gone, we were am-"

Logis cut them off "I am aware." He wiped blood from his face as he took water from the river and began to clean what he could. He sighed, knowing he would need a change of clothes to remove the stench of vermin bile and grease from his beloved brightly colored garments. Logis breathed in deep, joined by Sagad who noticed his friend struggling to face his fellow shrews.

"We retreated as far as we could, but when we came back to see how the evacuation went, we found only Juska sentries waiting for us. We followed you towards Burnald's Shallow, where we knew you'd spot us. I didn't see Bigoar with you, but one of the groups who got away from the camp met up with us and told us what has happened; that he fought bitterly to defend the Gousim. Oh my good brother, to think the last thing I said to him wa-"

"Logis!"

"Snot nosed weasel!" Logis said instinctively as he heard his brother's voice. In surprise and shock, Logis turned as Bigoar and another small group of logs full of shrew arrived, quickly ramming onto the shore. Bigoar looked fine, a bit battered from battle, but lacking in blood. Logis didn't seem overjoyed, as the two brothers quickly were face to face.

"The hells, where have you been!? How are you alive!?" Logis didn't sound very overjoyed as his surprised brother was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and shaken by the log-a-log "Blast you, ya stupid, snot infested rat! You had me worried fer longer than one should allow! How'd ya get out!"

Bigoar grunted and pushed Logis away before speaking firmly and professionally, impressing on his fellow shrews "Well, unlike you Logis, I had a plan of escape. The Gousim, as you see, are safe, but it was a hard fought way out! We wouldn't be there is the first place if we had just been a bit more diligent on where we needed to encamp!"

"Oh, don't you start with me!"

"Oh I will, you fatherless shrew!"

"That insults you as well, ya idiot!"

The shrew council and Bigoar's loyalists could only blink and stare awkwardly as the two laid into one another. This was a common occurrence for shrews, constantly arguing over something. Some calmer beasts may be concerned, but it was rather just an embarrassing sport for the Gousim. Eventually, both calmed down enough for Bigoar to lay out his concerns "Our retreat wasn't perfect, the Juska took prisoners, and you can either consider them dead or gone for now, and families will need to be informed. Lest you wish to do so. We need to retreat north, and into the hills where it is safer."

"Safer? The enemy is here Bigoar, and we can't ignore them forever, especially for our friends sake. Those vermin will come for us eventually."

"Eventually? If they come for us at all. That army the Juska have at their back no doubt marches to Salamandastron, and we would all be safer keeping our paws clear of this fighting, and make peace with whoever comes out on top."

Logis would have been angry at any other shrew for mentioning it, but he rolled his eyes "If you wish for such stupid pacifism, you can vote on it in the next election." Bigoar grunted and shook his head, and began to go off. Logis gave a temporary and wide smile, confusing his fellow shrews. He suddenly spoke up "Bigoar! Come here!"

Bigoar turned and expected further troubles from his brother, but Logis came forward and embraced him heartily, surprising him a bit "Don't you go dying on me and not telling me!" Logis realized he was being a bit too affectionate and let go swiftly, before rounding back with another cheap insult "And don't you do such a thing as not seeking me out after such battles, you fly ragged dirt sniffer!"

Bigoar blinked and gave a short nod before heading out. His fellow loyalists kept their heads down, taking a peak back at Logis watching them leave. One of the shrews came close to Bigoar and spoke up with a whisper.

"You think we should tell'em about that fox's deal?"

Bigoar gave him a dark look and he frowned. He stopped and stared at his loyalists and spoke up with a dark warning. "None of you will speak of what happened, and you owe me your lives. If it weren't for me, you'd be wolverine food. You all took that deal, and if my brother ever finds out about it, you will go down with me. You can either survive and be rich with me, or suffer like those poor fools we had to leave behind."

The other shrews looked at one another and gulped. Bigoar kept his voice as low as he could, as he patted his saber. "Now, I don't like them either, but what we do, we do for the Gousim alone."

There was a nodding of heads. Bigoar wasn't done, looking around "We need to find one particular troublemaker first. Vorgos. Lagre. You'll inform the families of those lost, we have more important things to do."
_

Pelma and Papet's forces hid in bushes, looking out at the huge shrew encampment on the beaches of the River Moss, with Pelma almost amazed how the Gousim could turn a small empty field surrounded by trees and small cliffs into a bustling tent city within a few hours. Although friends, the Gousim had a temper one could not overlook, as Papet advised Pelma not to be too eager to walk into Logis's camp. The shrews had a very fickle way of diplomacy, and if done wrong, an insult could result in a soured relationship. Sour relationships could turn into brawls for the insult laden shrews.

Pelma was somewhat confused how the Shrews could live like this, it was strange to see the center of the camp not occupied by Logis and his loyalists but with Logis arguing and yelling over his fellow shrews. Pelma looked to Papet, wondering quite loudly.

"They look recently damaged, Papet. The battle feels so long ago, was it only that recent?"

Papet shook his head "No, your eyes don't deceive you. Those are recent wounds, must have gotten into another tussle with the vermin I imagine. This is the entire tribe, so no doubt their kin were targeted and they had to retreat. Though, the Gousim retreating down river towards the east is the real mystery." Papet looked out at the waters, seeing logs full of shrews and supplies still being brought on in.

There was an awkwardness with Pelma, as she was unsure how to proceed. Logis had always been friendly to her, and her father considered him a friend. Yet, now she felt like she was spying upon some vermin camp, She held her javelin and paw as Papet guided her "Your move, mam. We can go out and greet them, but we have to be cautious. They are friends, surely, but also unpredictable. Shrews have, erm, a lot of rules."

"Ya, that's what I am afraid of." Pelma sighed

The shrews guarding the edge of the camp were shocked when from out of the bushes came a small army of otters who stood and revealed themselves. The shrews were in almost a panic, taken by their sudden appearance. The guards bumbled and eventually got into a more professional salute and spoke up with their paws raised to stop them.

"H-hold on! W-wait!" Pelma and Papet were at the front of their host, looking down at the two shrew guards who were soon joined by a growing number of others. "Y-you didn't send a warning, this is shrew land! By executive order 12, you must give a waiting period of at least two hours after the afternoon to introduce yourself to the Gousim's toll officer! Y-you come with a huge host too! Most unprofessional!" The shrews were frightened, with Pelma trying to get a word in, but the gathered shrews continued to speak nonsense at her.

"Furthermore, as good beasts and allies, you are going against diplomatic treaties 44 through 59! In-erm-" The shrews began to list off all these legalistic formalities as they began to argue what exactly these treaties even were. Pelma frowned, unable to even raise her voice to calm them. Then the shrews began to argue over which subsection went with each listed treaty, and one got confused between treaty 44 and 43. Papet yelled up, getting the shrews to be silent for once.

"Enough! We are here to see your Log-a-log on business and as friends! You can direct your complaints to me later-"

"Pelma? Papet?" Pelma looked to the familiar voice as Logis came bounding from his personal tent, with Sagad at his back. Logis pushed aside the group of gathered shrews and came up to them as he laid out a friendly and loud welcome "Oh by the bleeding of the seasons! You two make sorrowful beasts happy once more! Ha! You there, warm some fish for our good ol' war pals, eh!? What the hell do you mean we don't got fish? Find some then!" Logis shooed his fellow shrews as the guards argued over treaties and orders, and Pelma and Papet looked on amazed as he explained to the guards the error of their ways.

"Treaties 44 through 59 have not been broken, you mud eyed fools. How can you mistake the treaties of cordially introduction and Gousim authority for surprise or sudden gathering? That is treaty 77, which stipulates that an ally of the Gousim needs written permission from the log-a-log to make sudden entrance into the camp of the Gousim, which is what I gave Dakan several times over. No need for all this foolery, off with you." The guards frowned and looked a bit embarrassed as Logis came up to Pelma and nearly threw her over as he hugged her and slapped her back harshly "Data girl! You couldn't imagine how much I wanted to see ya! Now where be my dirt furred friend, eh? Wheres Dakan?"

Pelma began to frown as she guided Logis back to his own tent. The otter began to pitch camp and get comfortable as they returned to find old mates and battle partners scattered about. Logis listened, much to his own sadness as Pelma explained all that had happened. Logis explained his own troubles in turn, and by the time they had gotten to Logis's personal pavilion, the two were in dark moods. Logis looked more serious as he cursed that hated and most terrible foe.

"Damn that rat! Damn him and his ilk straight to the hells which spawned them." Logis looked to Pelma and nodded to her "Whatever deals I had wit your pa, Pelma Whitewhisker, you'll have em' with me. To think that accursed rat stole the best warrior in all of Mossflower from us, he an' his ilk will pay in blood. I swear it."

"You'll have to get to him first then." Pelma gave a warm smile. Logis's mood brightened, smiling grimly at the morbid humor. Pelma sat as Logis ordered his shrews to bring wine and fine meals for Pelma and her captains. Soon enough, the captains of the Gousim were all present as they sat around the campfire as Pelma explained her plan.

"Naus and his Long Patrol still live, but they are under siege in Redwall. I don't know how long an abbey like theirs can hold out against that tide of vermin, but we do got a plan to deal a harsh blow to them. The vermin have an overstretched supply line, one which we wish to steal from Markem and entrap his army on his side of the river."

"How?" One of the shrews spoke up. Logis rubbed his chin and shrugged "Bold, and we'd be going back to our own tactics, but Markem's forces are big. Forest be big, but we can't retreat anywhere now-a-days. Salamandastron is under siege as well. Fighting them in the forest is risky."

"Who said anything about a forest?" One of the otter captains proudly stated. Pelma explained "Markem relies on ferrying his supplies from his core territory across the River Moss. Vermin like him rely on large forces, but they are slow and burdened. They can't just cross the rivers as we do. We don't need to engage him, just trap his force in a death spiral and fight him on supplies, and wipe out what remains."

There were nods from the shrews as Logis drew his saber and began to draw a crude map of the river in the dirt. "There are villages and small fishing settlements here, here, and here. If we are to do this, we'll need to rescue them an' prevent the vermin from keeping hostages along the river. We'll need to sink their boats, an' the boats of any beast we can get our paws on. There are shallows we'll need to avoid, but not very suitable for dragging a wagon across with ease. We'll need to make it too difficult for Markem to use em'."

Pelma nodded in agreement, and smiled. Logis continued, putting his saber back into his sheathe "We'll avenge our dead an' fallen from Moss Field, an' drive the vermin in the blasted sea! For Dakan and Kasser both! For Naus! For every blasted beast harmed or captured by them!"

Unknown to the cheering otters and shrews who raised their weapons in a mix of war cries, a singular shrew looked on nervously at the otters. Bargol slowly backed away, unable to even look at the otters he knew would tear him limb from limb if they knew his dark role in all of this.
_

Try not to panic Bargol, its just a few stupid sentries, a couple river dogs, and a few days march all the way to that ferret's camp. Ohhh, if I am right, likely all the way in Redwall by now. Bargol continued to sweat, his paw clinging to the expensive things on his person. The shrew shifted his eyes all around, bumping into other shrews going to the middle of the camp. One shrew stopped a confused and terrified Bargol and said to him "Oy! Bargol, me matey, Logis is that'a way!"

Bargol ignored him at first, but quickly turned around and informed the confused and suspicious shrew who was watching the rich marchant look like he just saw an entire vermin horde. "Oh, need to box up some onions to send down river! Yes, thats it, need to buy off meself to get the coffers an' supply for the Gousim all squared away! Log-I mean, erm-" Bargol had to breath in and out to get his story straight. "Yes, Logis's captains are sending me to recoup our supplies. It won't be long now, gotta buy a few things, hmph."

Seasons! Why couldn't the Log-a-log take a bleeding hint! Markem an' his little ferret pet already won! Bargol was quickly exiting the entire camp, his eyes shifting everywhere as he was nearly past the first set of bushes. He would just have to bribe one of the sentries again, a sizable bribe this time to keep their silence. He went a little ways, finding the sentry who was a little surprised to see him.

"Y-your'e new!?" Bargol was surprised, he usually knew all the sentries as the fellow shrew explained himself "Aye, took up dis job just recently, mate. You're named Bargol?"

Bargol's eyes widened as he was frozen in terror. The sentry came over, giving him a nice pat on his back as the scared merchant was herded back towards the camp "Aye, no need to be afraid, the other lad explained a few things to me. Boss wanted to talk to ya."

"B-boss?"

"Aye, Bigoar was looken for ya, said he needed a loan or two." The shrew prodded "An I might need a few ducats meself. Say, aren't you supposed to be with that whole band in the middle of the camp? Bigoar was kinda hoping to find you there. Not in your tent either." The shrew sentry was starting to ask questions as he was surprised when Bargol pulled out this huge and shiny necklace from his neck, etched with silver and gold. It was attached to a large amulet, with a big pearl in the middle. "Look, I don't got much time, an' I am not staying. Take this an' please, let me pass! Tell Bigoar he can find one of me stashes not far off from here!"

The sentry gave him an odd look. Bigoar was confident that Bargol would run since he couldn't find him in his tent or just traveling casually with his pack of brutes. Now the sentry was getting a little concerned, mostly as he took the amulet in paw and noticed just how noble it looked. It was of some kind of custom Southsward design, and no doubt what he held in his paws was worth far more than his life, his pa's life, or even his grandpa's life combined! Yet, how could a common merchant afford such a thing?

Bargol was grabbed by the shrew and dragged along, as he fought and resisted as he grabbed the ground. The sentry was stronger and a skilled warrior like any member of the Gousim should be, as he dragged the silenced Bargol all the way back to the camp, whispering to him and begging for his life. The shrew only stopped when he was forced back into the camp, and directed not towards Logis, but into a small barracks.

Bigoar was passing out slingshots, shortswords, and slings to his fellow loyalists. He retracted one shortsword from one warrior who wasn't loyal to him, extending his paw and expecting a bribe. Annoyed, but not wishing to cause trouble, a small nugget of gold was placed in Bigoar's paw who pocketed it before casually giving the warrior his things. He grunted and looked at his loyalist who came in with a shaking Bargol.

"Ah. Bargol, I was hopen we cou-" Bigoar paused as the sentry threw the amulet down at Bigoar's feet. He looked at it and picked it up, amazed by its size and design. "Oh. Having a sudden taste in the expensive I see?"

"He was tryen to leave camp, Bigoar. Boss, offered me a pretty substantial bribe."

"Leave camp? I knew you were a pathetic coward Bargol, bu-" Bigoar caught onto his subordinate's thinking as he gripped the amulet. He looked down at Bargol and darkly commanded him "If I like what I hear, Bargol. I might let you live."

"B-bigoar!? I thought ya be dead?" Bargol tried to sound friendly, now only made aware of Bigoar's sudden and mysterious return. Yet, the shrew quite casually spoke. "Bargol, no need for such things. I am an honest shrew, truly. Like for instance, yes, I should be very much dead along with me friends, quite a nasty battle we had with the Juska. Weird though, a fox offered a devil's deal to me for such a small price for me own life. Kick the Gousim rightfully out of these problems in Mossflower, and in return we get to do as we have always done. Logis doesn't know just yet. Nor will he ever know if I can help it. You make any devil's deals, Bargol? Like with a very specific rat for instance?"

"H-how?" Bargol was shocked as he sat and tried to back away in terror, but Bigoar just shrugged "How? I didn't. You revealed it yourself, you stupid fool. Besides, not like there is anyone else besides the horde in the east or west. Unless you really are relaying something to someone else we haven't seen? Right?"

Bargol gulped "Y-yes, you are right, boss."

Bigoar looked annoyed as he demanded the shrew traitor to speak. Bargol spilled his beans as he begged and moaned for Bigoar's mercy "Look, remember when I was missen during that winter? No one really remembers, cause I wasn't really all that rich then! Well, a couple vermin grabbed me, ya see! Dragged me to some place called Gholand, told me I was a slavebeast now! Wells, one beast takes notice when I tell them I am Gousim, some ferret called Scarl! I-I spied for him, me good Bigoar. He gives me all kinds of money, cause they got a mint and just spit it out left an' right! Whe-when the rat wins, I'll be truly rich, and you can be too if yo-"

"I don't need your life story, Bargol." Bigoar came close to him, seeing him shrivel. Bigoar grinned at the sight "Though, now? You work for me. Me an' my new benefactors."

Bargol blinked as Bigoar circled him and thought "Well, I needed your money, Bargol. I need to start making some back paw deals and do a few things to get me brother off the war path. Your going to help with that, for the Gousim's sake."

Bargol looked relieved, but a quick smack across his head from Bigoar sent him flying for cover "Don't get comfortable just yet, comrade. You are after all a traitor to the Gousim, and you will be paying the biggest tax of your life to me! Now, you are going to go to this 'Scarl' and get him to chase my idiot brother out of here, so I can lead the clan to a better and safer place. I need eyes in this horde." Bigoar spat angrily.

The political offer grabbed onto the merchant's shirt collar and lifted him up the ground harshly, and forcefully dusted him off. Grabbing him, he pushed him outside the barracks and grunted "I will expect you to come back once you are done, Bargol."

"Y-yes." Bargol was unsure if he wanted to, as he slowly nodded and was escorted back into the forest by one of Bigoar's thugs. The shrew grinned to himself, but stopped when he heard something get knocked over. He quickly turned in wide eyed fear, looking towards the alley at the side of the barracks tent. He and his shrews went to look, but only found a spilled bowl. Bigoar looked around, and investigated, but could see nothing.

"Bigoar!" The distant shout of Logis came in the distance. He snapped back to attention and grumbled, before motioning his shrews with him. Bah, nothing but ghosts.

A smaller shrewess crept out from a nearby tent to the side of the barracks, keeping her mouth covered by her own paws. She was wide eyed with horrible fear, and quickly went in another direction, as far away from Bigoar as she could.
_

"But I heard em'!" Ganla continued to plead. She kept up pace with Logis who was beginning to look more and more annoyed, glancing down at the smaller weapon bearer who kept up pace with him. Logis shook his head "Whatever ya heard, Ganla, twasn't trouble."

"B-but. Bu-but-" Ganla had been trying to explain to the log-a-log for hours about what she had overheard. She had gotten to the part where she was grabbing a meal from her home, and was pushing her way past shrews to get to the meeting. She tried to explain what she heard while taking a short cut, and fearfully she was not explaining it very well. Logis grunted and spoke before she could speak up "Enough, we are on campaign, Ganla. There is no need for childish tricks, looks back on the records!"

Ganla frowned, as she continued to march beside the log-a-log, with the loud sounds of marching behind her.

The shrew army crossed the river alongside the otters who went up a little ways to scout out potential targets. Luckily, some of the riverside villages were untouched by the vermin, as Pelma and her otters combed the river for Great Vermin Band activity. The shrews were a slower and much more terrifying force, marching along with war drums to their back and making ruckus. There was a method to the madness, as the shrews would distract the main bulk of vermin scouts and responses, unaware the otters were picking them off. One by one, each village was evacuated or reclaimed as the shrews drifted villagers to safer places towards central Mossflower, and then smashed up their boats as best they could.

Ganla tried to tug at the cloth belt of her log-a-log, which Logis ignored "Sir! Log-a-log, I don't mean to prod, but dis is important! B-bigoa-Bigoa-"

"Bigoar may be a troubled brother of mine, but he ain't no traitor youngster. Whatever you heard between him an' this Bargol is likely not what you thinks. I've known him for much longer than you have, and no doubt he was just shaking down that shrew for information as he always does." Ganla couldn't help feeling sad by Logis's distrust. She was about to speak up again, when Bigoar came bounding up from the soldiers, angrily spitting at the Log-a-log "Logis! Can you bleeding slow down for just a minute or two!"

"No time, Bigoar, no time." Logis grunted. Ganla felt a chill in her spine looking at Bigoar who didn't even notice her, and in fact pushed her lightly to the side to march alongside his brother. Logis was quick to notice and growled at him "You can push me around, Bigoar, but do it to one of our junior members and you'll be knee deep in legal troubles, an a few blackeyes to boot."

Bigoar looked at Ganla who was quite frightened of him. He shook his head as the young shrewess kept her mouth shut as Bigoar returned his attention to his brother. "Log-a-log, we are too much in the open, we should be heading towards safe zones in the hills, not campaigning so foolishly along the river!"

"The enemy isn't in the hills, Bigoar, der on the river." Logis already knew what his brother was going to say in response, and he couldn't help but scoff. Bigoar kept being pushy "We can't fight em even with an army of hares an' otters at our back, what makes you think a few damaged otters and our damaged forces are goin to do now?"

"We fought Markem in pitched battle, an it didn't work out. The Gousim will be fine if we keep our distance from the main vermin army, we can't beat em in pockets. I already keep the Gousim's families in the back an' far off, in case anything goes horribly wrong. Besides, if things do go horribly wrong, we can just retreat to the river. As we have always done."

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Bigoar growled at him "The amount of moving we need to do won't make anything we do easy. The otters got us into this mess, an-"

"I won't have you speak ill of them, had we'd been the same situation Bigoar, I'd have probably done so against better judgment." Logis spat. "Besides, what manner of fear got you wrapped up into this? The decision is already made."

Bigoar continued to grumble "Logis, we lost, big time. We lost at Moss Field, we lost at the river retreat, and we'll lose again. This isn't our blasted fight. If we continue to lose, the Gousim will look poorly on you, and when they look poorly on you, what do you think happens, brother? They'll vote in some incompetent, or maybe some genius, but it won't be one of us! Have some thought towards our careers at least, brother."

"Career, shamreer." Logis kicked a rock in front of him, sending it flying outward. "We won't lose, not again if I can help it! Besides, when have the vermin ever been able to deal with the likes of us, hmmm? Naus wanted to prevent them from laying siege and taking Redwall, and we overplayed our paws. Now those vermin are at Redwall, struggling to likely even get inside! You need to worry less about the vermin, and more about me, Bigoar."

The two shrews continued to bicker as Ganla gave the two a frightful look. Although one last attempt to tug at Logis's paw got his attention for a moment, Logis pulled away and grunted. She frowned and went to his side, gripping his sword which she helped carry. Bigoar was less impressed and continued to complain "I'll worry more about you when we actually have something under our belts brother. Until then, don't think yourself immune, I beg of thee."

"The vermin aren't invulnerable." Logis reminded him. It wss at that moment, he slowed down alongside his army, as Pelma and Papet quickly swam out of the nearby water and shook themselves off. Papet looked concerned, ordering his otters out of the water as Logis looked at them confused.

"Something wrong, I take it? An army?"

"Worse." Pelma took up her javelin and pointed ahead "Much worse."

The two armies continued on as Pelma explained, and Logis could hardly believe what he heard. They passed the trees and bushes until they came upon a large clearing, which ran down from a knee high beach cliff and towards the river's shore. Logis and Bigoar looked at what Pelma and Papet had just found, the group collectively looking about it both impressed and angry at it.

It was a massive and fortified mound fort of a sorts, still under construction in some areas with a small moat and gate where supplies from across Markem's realm were pushed on through and ferried across the river. The fort encircled all the way into the river and then some, with many makeshift piers and rowboats lining a wooden dock which mixed in with mud and sand. What looked like over a hundred vermin were holding down the fort, with earthen hills being built with a scrappy looking wooden palisade with four watchtowers to dot each corner of the fort. Logis was surprised at just how organized this fort was, but he broke the shocked group with a grunt.

"Tis just a fort ya fool water dogs. Forts burn like anything else."

"It'll be a siege then. If we can dismantle this thing, we can knock Markem's supply lines into chaos." Papet grinned, pointing to various small mistakes in the construction. "We can breach there and there if we need to, but lets not start doing anything too risky."

"Aye." Logis was about to say, but Pelma quickly spoke up, an anger in her voice "Papet, camp our warrior around this monstrosity. Were going to burn it, and every last beast inside." Logis was a little taken aback, but couldn't help but be proud of such zeal. Papet was less sure, but he nodded and got up. Logis turned to his shrews. "Long siege den, lads! Smash up their patrols an' send em' running back into their wee little ferry!"

The vermin in the ferry watched horrified as if from the shadows themselves, a vast host of otters and shrews broke cover, and began to skirmish at those outside of the fort. The vermin yelled for orders, closing the gates on several unfortunate sods who were stuck with otter spears. The captains in the fort yelled out horrified, noticing otters going into the waters, and tried to assault on the very docks themselves, held off in time by archers who drove them back. Logis and Pelma looked at their work, as Papet and Bigoar stopped and confiscated a caravan from one of Markem's tributaries.

I hope you come Markem, so I can drown you in the Moss myself. Pelma gave a dark smile, looking south towards Redwall.

---

The Great Vermin Band camp was not as happy as it once was, as it had gotten so busy after such a great victory. The sweetness of their butchery of the rebels and degenerates was now soured with Great Marsh's betrayal. Of those in her camp, only her slaves were lucky as they were given over to loyal captains. Of the vermin who followed her, confused and dismaying as they were, Markem and his captains had debated their fate throughout much of the morning. Two were immediately sentenced to become fish bait in front of their comrades, and another was beheaded. Markem didn't like the captains of other hordes, he liked their soldiers more and felt more kinship with them, so it came as a massive relief to most that they were just being conscripted into different bands instead of sharing the fate of their now rotting superiors.

Markem stood in his tent, grunting as 'Dirt' put on his armor. He shifted uncomfortably, complaining loudly to the bored 'Dirt'. "Yer doin it wrong, 'Dirt'! I told ya, stop tryen to strangle me around der waist! I ain't out'o'shape, just ya tighten it too much."

'Dirt' just slowed in tightening Markem's belt as he helped the rat into his chainmail, as Markem did his usual speel. The otter gave only a bored expression, knowing no matter what he did when it came to putting on his master's armor, Markem wouldn't like it. Markem partly understood this was something he could be very unreasonable with, but 'Dirt' never complained about it. Once his armor was on, 'Dirt' asked a weird question.

"Sir, about the serving beast from earlier, he isn't go-"

"He'll be fine, cause if his story be true or not, he decided against it." Markem quickly reiterated his point "Though, Scarl is likely goin to be breathen down dat beast's neck fer der rest of this blasted campaign from now on. Not dat ya should worry yerself for it, 'Dirt'." The otter sighed and nodded.

Markem exited his tent and looked at a gathering of slavebeasts who were waiting on him to leave, some looking annoyed. Markem nodded to them as they quickly went to pack up the pavilion, and were a little surprised when Markem and 'Dirt' did not join them. Instead, Markem was going straight over to Scarl who was looking north and rubbing his chin.

"Ya sent scouts after her?"

"Twice over, Kyth sent his fastest to hunt her down, doh I doubt dey'll find em both."

"Both?" 'Dirt' instinctively asked. Scarl looked to him and shrugged "Parb's personal slavebeast be missen as well. Weird an' strange dings all around."

Markem grunted "We could reach Great Marsh by a few weeks, drag dat witch out of her little hole an' make her fishbait." Markem sounded furious, his lip trembled a bit as Scarl could see. He raised an eyebrow "Markem, ya usually ain't angry about beasts tryen to kill ya. Parb really dat difficult fer ya?"

"Its her horde which is the problem Scarl." Markem admitted, sighing as he paced a little with impatience "We only spared her cause she gave us coinage an' Karlgo had dat weird scheme of his of tying all dem tributaries back to us with debts an' what not. We overlooked her degeneracy fer seasons, Scarl. Seasons. We all heard der rumors, of her forcen vermin an' entire kin into dat death pit she calls a mine. Jarolom's description of dat place still gives me der chills. If der be a hell, Parb goin in a place below it, dat be fer certain."

Scarl shook his head a little, somewhat suspecting Markem's soft answer. "Well, dis was bound to happen. If it wasn't Luzgot, it'd had been Parb or Resker. Or hell. Hazul."

"I shudder to dink where'd we be without Hazul an' his rats, thank goodness dat beast is delusional as all heck, otherwise he'd be quite a threat." Markem continued to look north as Scarl spoke up.

"I'll send a courier to Luzland, have Luzgot act der sheriff fer once, put her little fort down. Might even get on his good side at long last, give him Great Marsh fer a bit, till we can steal it back. Hells. If we could, i'd love to give dat whole ding to Kylan!"

"Whatcha mean?" Markem gave Scarl a weird look, as Scarl in turn began to frown "I ain't letten dis go. I dun' like it. She murders her own cap'n inside her own tent, she takes her own slave wit her, an' her own troops go half mad dinken dis is all a big mistake. She fled me camp, an' in a hurry. I dun' like it. We need to go to Great Marsh an-"

"Well let me stop ya den."

Markem listened, as Scarl explained "Markem, me friend an' warlord, yer dinken small here. Dink big, like when we first discussed taken over Mossflower. Parb is no longer a threat, she barely even got a horde anymore, an' Luzgot will likely love to siege down her little fort himself an' waste his own horde getten on in! Tis a win, win. All dis business, ya leaving the knowen to me. I'll have me spies in Luzgot's little court tell us all we need to know as dat big ol' bully chokes der life outta her."

"I made a blasted promise to end her, I intended to keep it." Markem pouted a bit, patting his sword. Scarl then looked back south "Markem, we came up here to defeat a bunch'a bandits, an we did dat. Let Parb languish behind Great Marsh's walls, we got bigger prey. Once we deal wit Redwall an' Salamandastron, we can liquidate all our less den loved acquaintances."

Markem thought it over and frowned "I hate it, knowen she be out der close to me own kids an' wife. Scarl I-"

"Markem, let Luzgot take care of it." Scarl patted his warlord's back. Markem relented and was about to shout out orders to his gathered forces, but then one of the vermin came sprinting from the bushes. Scarl's eyes opened with shock as a more meekish and lighter looking rat bounded towards them and panted. He spoke up with a fright "Sirs! Sirs!"

The scout coughed as he tried to blurt out "Sirs! Der is an enemy on the otherside of the blasted river, sirs! An enemy, we saw's dem!"

"I know dat." Markem blinked "Yer one of the scouts? Which one ya seen? Lefen? Zangan?"

"N-no! I saws dem, I saw-" Scarl smacked his scout harshly as he firmly held him, looking less than pleased "Spit it out! I ain't got time fer dis, an nor does yer great warlord. Ya were sent out to find Parb, ya found her trail right?"

"We did, boss! She made it towards der shallows, but we went by der ferry, der be a huge army surrounden it! Not a friendly one eder! Saw one of our banners flying, bein waved upside down!"

"Lefen couldn't have gathered a force that quickly." Markem said a bit surprised. He knew of all of his enemies, only Lefen was capable of recruiting at any decent speed. The scout gulped and spoke up "No, sir! Its dem shrews, an dem otters! Lots of dem!"

Scarl put his paw to his face and growled. He quickly turned and began to bark orders as if he were in charge. "Get der captains right away ya slack jawed idiots! We need dem moving out north! Get em' into line, an get em Jarolom! Damned it!" Markem didn't look as surprised as the scout continued to explain what he saw to Markem. The rat cringed at a bit at the thought of facing down shrews and otters again, but he simply put on his horned helm and marched off with his horde at his back.
_

Markem and his army marched at a fast pace towards the river, many were silent as they did so as the vermin scanned the trees for enemies. Gousim and Otters were rightfully feared by any hordebeast, with their exploits of death being the stuff of nightmares. Some told tales of shrews magically whisking away lazy vermin sentries to be torn asunder in a slow manner by dances of death, while vermin mothers told children to not play near the shallows lest an otter come up and drag them beneath the waters to never be seen again. Markem knew better, but even he kept a lookout at the trees with a twinge of fear. Hares were not the only masters of hit and runs, the Gousim could take down vermin with slings and could go toe to toe with any vermin who dared oppose them before scurrying back into the forests as if they never had existed to begin with.

When Markem got to the river, he paused as his army began to scatter and set up their camp, watching as the massive otter and shrew hoest were digging in around his ferry. Their tents were quite colorful, with the otters near the river and the shrews having begun digging trenches along the front of the ferry. The captains on the other side, looking anxious and worried, turned to see Markem's army now encamped on the opposite side of the river. They waved frantically to Markem as the Great Warlord quickly made orders.

"Cap'n Blued, take a few rowboats an' start crossing der river at once, dem otters are all snug in der tents, an help reinforce our position!"

Markem looked at the vermin captain quickly packed his beasts into three rowboats, as Markem lined his end of the shore with archers. The rat and his otter bodyguard looked all over the river as Bleud was soon making his way towards the ferry. They kept their eyes on the water below them as they rowed quickly towards the ferry, with Markem watching.

Bleud was smiling as nothing happened, seeing the otters only having just noticed him apparently as he was half way across. Yet, what he didn't suspect from almost out of nowhere, he heard a crash as a log smashed into a boat beside him. Several shrews, having hidden in some nearby reeds, rolled their log into one of the rowboats, catching Bleud by surprise. He tried to reach for his weapon, only to hear splashes behind him, and by then it was already too late.

Markem was horrified by what he saw as the vermin could do nothing but watch the otters suddenly surface, having awaited this kind of maneuver. The vermin archers were beyond range as they watched hordebeasts get grabbed by otters and pulled off their rowboats screaming, and be suddenly silenced as they were dragged under the River Moss. The shrews were not any less cruel, butchering the vermin soldiers who were surprised and some even trying to surrender only to be cut down. Markem turned away as Bleud was grabbed by an otter and stabbed over and over again, his death not being a quick one. He cursed himself as he called out new orders.

"Set up camp, an' get yer beasts out of der water!"

Markem set his mind away from the gruesome fate of his captain and soldiers as he worked on refitting his tent, with some of the otter and shrew laborers fearfully trying to avoid his gaze just in case Markem snapped at them. Markem felt at a loss as he tried to think things through. Once set up, he entered his command pavilion, and was joined by Scarl and Kyth as Markem rubbed his head with frustration.

"I know what dey be doin, an' I got no answer fer it."

Kyth raised an eyebrow "Chief, what are dey doin?"

Scarl nudged him a bit "Simple, der goin to cause havoc. Aye, I see through it as well. Dey know we can't cross der River an-"

Kyth interrupted "Listen to yerself, der be plenty o' shallows on der River Moss. We'll just cross it, it'll take time, but we can break up dat circus on der other side of der river!"

Markem shook his head "Kyth, ya don't understand, dey likely know dat an' are countin on it. Dem Otters can skirmish an' slow us fer each crossing an' just retreat. Even wit a perfect crossing, dey'll just cross der river faster an' cause havoc on dis side. Dey'll do dis till were all old an' gray. Clever trick, but we'd need two whole blasted armies to deal wit it, an' if we divide up our armies, dey'll just take one out wit even basic coordination. Gousim held back Hazul's tribe at Moss Field, dey'll cause use trouble again here."

Kyth frowned and nodded "I see. Tough spot indeed, chief."

Scarl pondered, pacing as he shook his head "Hmmm, maybe we'll need Luzgot's forces down here fer a little bit."

"Nay, we need em' killen Parb, last ding we need is given her even a chance." Markem grunted "Could we buy mercenaries? Or build a lot'o rafts? Find scraps an' fishing boats?"

"Even if we crossed der river, it would need to be as one big force, Markem. Our strength is in our numbers. Otters won't attack if dey know we'll just pelt dem wit arrows."

The group was interrupted when they heard a commotion outside. Zuag's voice was obvious as swords were drawn and 'Dirt's' voice was heard in a harsh yell "-I don't blasted care, rat. No one enters the tent unless Markem says so! You and your prisoner can wait for five bleeding moments!"

Scarl raised an eyebrow, having never heard 'Dirt' as frustrated as he was, or even heard him curse. An annoyed looking 'Dirt' peaked his head into the tent as Markem blinked at him, but the otter twisted his rope collar awkwardly and spoke up. "Scarl. Erm, sir. Zuag is outside."

"Ya, what about em?" Scarl asked equally annoyed. 'Dirt' frowned "He has, your, ummm-"

"My what?" Scarl opened the tent flap fully, seeing Zuag harshly grabbing onto a rich looking shrew. Bargol stared up at a surprised Scarl as Zuag growled "Dis spy be mine to present to the chief, ferret! Tell dis stupid slavebeast to mind his own blasted business!" Zuag grunted. 'Dirt' and Scarl exchanged looks, both shrugging as Scarl faced Zuag "Danks fer der spy, but not you fret, dis one be ours."

Zuag looked confused as Bargol tried to speak up "As I was telling you, ya stupid rat, I'm here to see Scarl! Hells, you need to give me something to get in and our your camp easier, you blasted vermin!" Bargol's brave words were quickly silenced when Scarl gave him a scornful look, taking him suddenly inside. Zuag and 'Dirt' continued to bicker outside the tent with Zuag trying to join on in, but Scarl angrily plopped the shrew on the ground and chastised him.

"Ah, Bargol, me favorite shrew. Yer very, very late." Scarl tapped his foot as Bargol shifted his paws and looked awkwardly around the room. He gulped "Y-yea, about that. I tried to get here as early as I could."

"If yer looken fer silver, dis ain't der time or place Bargol." Scarl frowned in a moody manner. Bargol also frowned and tried to speak up. "Look, tis not like the log-a-log intended all this! We got attacked by the Juska, and then those otters came an' got us all into a war fever, and there was my very justified delay, an-"

"Shut yer trap." Markem ordered, and Bargol did. Markem prodded for information, more so than Scarl who only listened on in. They learned of the Juska, aided by far northern vermin, attacked the shrews which got concerned looks from Kyth who had to make sure Bargol was telling the full truth. Scarl rubbed his chin again, and then smiled.

"I dink I got an idea!" The collective group looked at Scarl who awkwardly gave a cheery speech "Bargol, ya wanna earn some good pay, I got a job fer ya! If ya excuse me chief, I need to find Jarolom an' his sister, cause I dink we can deal wit dis mess and put dis lot into der nice dirt naps before der end of de week! Doh, we will need a lotta boats."

Markem was about to question him, but Scarl was already off. Markem felt like he could lose control over his whole horde, but he allowed the ferret to do what was needed. He began to ask Bargol questions again, but the shrew was looking more and more unsure by the hour. Kyth asked "Ya got any clue what dat long neck be talken about?"

"Ya dink he tells me anyding?" Markem joked.
_

Markem stood at the edge of the shore, a younger rat next to him. Markem didn't know his name well, he was clearly the son of one of his captains in some capacity, but he couldn't tell which one. He had a worried and anxious expression, as he held only one thing in his paw, which was Markem's brown banner. The younger vermin raised it and waved it across the river as 'Dirt' shaped up his cloak and stood beside his master, looking out over the waters. He commented "Sir, you think this is, uh, wise?"

Markem was taken aback, looking at 'Dirt' and putting his paws to his hips. 'Dirt' didn't flinch, giving him a cringed look.

"If yer questioning me wisdom, 'Dirt', den how do ya dink me own vermin feel?" Markem wasn't really prepared to lay out punishment for him, at least just yet, for asking such a thing. Yet, it did make him curious as to why his slave and bodyguard would even ask such a thing. 'Dirt' realized his mistake and apologized "Sorry, sir. It's just, ummm, ehhh-"

He looked at the gathering of rowboats and logs being roped together in front of them. Markem could partly understand as the rats, shrews, otters, and some stouts were all overseeing this warped project. It was this overly wide transport, which could hopefully bring a large part of the army to the other side in one go. Markem cringed himself, understanding 'Dirt's' concerns. "Look, it ain't pretty, but it gets der job done. We need to be in dat fort, an dis is der way to do it."

Markem could see his bodyguard wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. Markem nudged him "Look, don't ya fret about what I be sayen when i don't always be meanen it. Its just, erm, well-"

"Look, sir, I understand." The otter continued "it's just, uhhh, this is a bit-" 'Dirt' had no clue what to even say! It sounded all so stupid, as he sighed "We really have to get on it, sir?"

"Yes, an no complaints. I gotta get on it too, an so can ya. Ya got less trouble to worry about, 'Dirt'. Ya can swim."

Markem watched the waters with a grim stare, having believed he saw a bubble rise from it where one of his captains had been dumped into. The water ran red temporarily, but now it was clear again. The thought of a pile of bodies below the water gave Markem anxiety, which didn't help when not too long ago one one of his hordebeasts pulled a corpse from the river. It amused him a little, that in all of his years of blood and gore which he strewn about with the chopping and swiping of his blade, it was the idea of the dark water which made him squeamish. 'Dirt' simply shrugged and remained silent. Both heard a noise to their right, and both nearly jumped to see Scarl just casually standing there.

"Seasons damn you, Scarl!" Markem complained. He calmed himself as Scarl simply smiled "Sorry boss, but I'd think to let you know that our divisions are on der move. Made sure of it meself!"

"Dey got our secret, erm, 'weapon' I take it?" Markem asked, half tempted to chide his spymaster for his sudden appearances. Scarl nodded "Aye, dey got it. Once we cross der river, we'll be peachy."

"We'd best be, cause dis is all rather, erm, risky. Even by me standards." Markem stared across the water, noticing the host of shrews and otters looking back. Their weapons were at the ready as both armies looked eager to contest Markem's landing on his ferry. Seasons, tis gonna be a close one.
_

Niala and Jarolom had both of their vermin forces with them, slowly crossing the shallows of the river which came up to the length of their stomachs. Niala at first attempted to hold her halberd over her head, carefully looking with fear at the water below her, unable to see her feet pad across the rock, sand, and mush. All of the vermin were doing the same, ever fearful of an ambush by the otters in their home turf, being dragged underneath without even a sudden yelp. The group heard a splash, and turned around with shock and surprise, only to be partly relieved when Murg sprung her head above the water and coughed. The ratess apologized "Sorry, slipped!"

"Shhhh!" Jarolom angrily hushed as he looked around. "Last ding we need are otters looken about, come now!"

The two forces were far off from the army and a little tired, having marched away without light in the darkness and were far off. They passed by one shallow, no doubt being spied upon by a woodlander scout, and crossed a less than known one. Niala looked behind her, seeing Wesk struggling to hold onto a couple bags which dipped into the water, not able to hold on for very long as he tried to keep pace. It would have amused her enough to mock him had she not been struggling herself. Even Tactum seemed annoyed, having been told not to awkwardly splash across the river.

Yet as they slowly trudged the River Moss, it surprised both Foxtrot siblings to see Wulvog and his vermin not struggling at all. Wulvog barely seem affected, but his personal cook Kag seemed to almost be enjoying himself. Murg continued to trudge with greater caution, only to scornfully look at Kag who floated with his belly towards the surface, guiding himself across the water with his cookery pack on his stomach. He looked rather joyful, as Murg cursed him "Oh don't ya smile, ya blasted slavebeast! Just cause we be strugglen don't mean ya get to smile o'bout it!"

Kag shrugged and just continued to bring himself to shore with a few thrust of his feet and glided towards the opposite end of the shore. The northern vermin didn't seem to mind as they shook themselves off as the two forces crossed the river unopposed. Wulvog couldn't help but ask "These shallows. Why didn't the vermin or woodlanders use them? Seems easier to cross."

"Seems be der key word." Jarolom spat, wiping his tail angrily "We got big rafts dat can bridge der gap, an as ya can see, de's shallows aren't friendly to most vessels or wagons. Easier to ferry across a wagon on a rickety cross den some of de's minor swamps." Jarolom felt down his leg, grunting in annoyance as he pulled at a leech which stuck to it. He yelped before throwing it aside. "Besides, der be all manner of blood sucken vampires in dis blasted ding! Why couldn't Scarl grab Turbas or somethen!"

Tactum cricked his neck and twirled his axes as he looked down the river "Tactum bored, need beast to fight. Glad the small ferret chose you. Now we get to kill real prey. Otter. Not so sure about shrew though."

"Ye'll like'em." Jarolom rolled his eyes. "Shrews got more temper den sense, an' dey can turn even bigger vermin into mince meat if dey get der paws on us. Now continue to hush. Wulvog, ya got Scarl's-" Jarolom felt embarrassed to even say it. "Secret weapon?"

"I'm not a blasted weapon!" Bargol exclaimed. He had been gripping for dear life onto the back of Wulvog's cloak as the wolverine harshly grabbed him and sat him down on the ground. Bargol looked about frightened, specifically at a cynical looking Jarolom. Tactum raised an eyebrow "Tactum confused. Do we tie him to stick and beat them with it? Why small ferret use this beast as weapon?"

Bargol yelped, but Niala tried to explain "Not like dat, Tactum. Tis more like a, erm, deception. Dat ferret has a mission fer him, an' were apart of his plan to deal wit dem shrews."

"Ya, an' we gotta be silent about it." Jarolom added. He lightly nudged the shrew "Ya know der plan, yer gonna bring a chunk of dem beasts to dis place an' keep em' busy while we dismantle dat siege. Once Markem crossed der river, we can meet up wit him an' entrap der remainder on dis side of the river. Now get to it."

Bargol cautiously nodded as he turned to his vermin "Now, der rest of ya! Get yer packs on yer backs an lets move out! We can't face dat army alone, were gonna need backup, an its all commen from der boss! Move it!" Bargol watched as the vermin began to make for the forests, leaving him partly alone. He sighed, and began to head towards the shrew camp.
_

Pelma looked out over at Markem's little project on the southern shores, almost amused as Logis couldn't help but giggle at the sight. The vermin tied their boats close together, while others commanded slaves to construct rafts. It was a huge process as Pelma looked to Logis "Bold of them to think they can cross like that. We could fight them all the way to the shore and butcher them when they climb onto the beaches! Strange they would even consider it."

Logis pointed to some of the ferrets struggling to tie proper knots "Aye, strange indeed! They'll likely try to land their forces inside the ferry to reinforce it. Markem can't fit his entire force onto it, an' likely knows if he abandons half of dem here, we can just swim over and knock out his other half of his little force! There be cunning in what he does, but not cunning enough." Logis then laughed "Though, warms me poor heart that we will get to see the vermin try this whole thing! Even if they succeed, even better! We'll take'em out an' burn the ferry regardless!"

Pelma was brightened by Logis's spirit, as he turned about "No doubt that blasted beast will send one of his captains to reinforce em, an' we'll get the nice opportunity to puncture his guts right in front of that murdering horde!" Logis felt spirited and young as he wandered about the camp. The warriors had just finished making defenses in front of the ferry, completing surrounding it. A couple vermin attempted to try to use arrows to get off pot shots, but were discouraged as they landed peacefully farther off. It was a nice to know they were far out of the range of the skirmishers. Pelma couldn't have been more joyful to see Markem again, likely seething on his side of the river as her otters killed one of his captains. She had beasts all across the river, waiting for Markem to make some desperate crossing, but it was even better to know the rat was instead intending to send a section of his army to their doom defending a soon to be burnt out ruin.

Their siege had gone well, as the vermin commander inside was more panic than brains. The vermin were tired, being paranoid of an impending attack as the otters and shrews prodded at their defenses. Logis would have led an assault himself had not his council advised against it. The ferry was very well defended, and he was there to deal out damage to the horde, not be wasteful with lives in perilous assaults. Besides, even if them damned vermin do cross the river, we'll just cross it again ourselves!

Pelma and Logis went into the Gousim's large command pavilion, which acted as quarters for their council. Pelma rested as she and Logis continued to discuss the developments, but were swiftly interrupted by noise outside.

"P-please, I gotta speak with the log-a-log!" A meekish voice rang out. One of Logis's guards growled, drawing the two leader's attention. Logis grunted and spoke silently "Dat would be Bargol, rich merchant an' our quartermaster. Throws quite a party." Logis stood and spoke up "Let'em on in. It'll be quick."

Bargol entered as he tried to speak up, but Logis was more busy in his interests, pointing down at a crude map of Mossflower, his paw finger going along the river "We should be cautious about the whole thing, lass. We can't afford Markem getting the upper paw on us and dividing us. If we can butcher this ferry, he'll likely rebuild along a shallow, but that wil-Oh right, Bargol. If this is anything to do with our supply situation, we can speak of it later. You are dismissed."

Bargol frowned, trying to get a word in as he frighteningly spoke up "S-sir, I-I wasn't here f-for that, I had business down the river you see, an-"

Logis gave an annoyed stare "Business? I ain't got time for that. Were you missing, I swore I saw you at our meeting."

"A common mistake, sir." Bargol begged "B-but, I got-"

"Spit it out." Logis demanded. Bargol calmed himself and sighed, trying to be cautious in his words just in case Logis already had some clue to what was going on. He was about to speak when Bigoar quickly entered the tent, and froze when he saw Bargol. Bargol tried to speak up "S-sir, Log-a-log! I saw them, a bunch of vermin an-"

"We know." Logis scoffed "There are a bunch of vermin on the otherside of the river, Bargol, now please l-"

"Brother, blasted listen and let the poor creature at least speak, eh?" Bigoar grunted. Bargol continued "They are crossing the shallows! A large force, I saw them! They just started when I fled beyond that vermin fort, cause I ain't never seen it before in me life! I thought I could get to one of our safe zones up the river a ways, but I noticed a sizable force crossing! Huge even! Sir, it's, erm-"

Pelma raised an eyebrow with concern and then immediately stood up "That flotilla their building is a diversion. Logis, we should battle them before they get on this side of the river."

Logis looked at Bargol with suspicion "Why haven't any of my scouts returned, or any of Pelma's for that matter, on the nearby shallows? I know this blasted river off the back of me paws, an those scouts aren't incompetent. If there was a crossing, we'd have known."

"B-but-"

Bigoar finished his sentence for him "What this blasted fool be trying to say is that there is likely an army crossing der river farther up. Past our scouts, Logis. Clever, but not clever enough." Logis looked at both of them, but his suspicion fell on Bargol. He had questions, like as to how Bargol got past the fort, and why he fled that far up river. He began to question the shrew harshly, but only found Bigoar speaking for him.

"He was doin something for me, Logis. Sent him ahead to see how much of our assets Markem has touched or removed. Poor fool should ran straight to me, but didn't." Logis grunted and accepted the answer, and his acceptance made Pelma quickly storm out. Logis followed as Pelma began to command her otters about "We march up river! If we can get at them in time, we can drive them back!"

Papet already gathered many to him as Pelma sought to join him. Logis was about to join them as well, with a small division, but Bigoar stopped them. He looked back at Bargol who stood next to his Bigoar's thugs, as the angry shrew turned his full attention to his brother "Hold now, we can't sent all of ya off. What if they already crossed the river?"

"They'd be fairly fast. That merchant said they only started. The shallows aren't exactly safe." Pelma informed. A confident shine was in her eyes and smiled "We could make it there in a timely order."

"Aye, but what if not? Logis, leave a force here and have em' dig in to the back side of our camp. Just in case." Bargol frowned at this, at first not sure what Bigoar was doing. Yet, a reminder of his beliefs was shouted between the two feuding brothers.

"Not necessary, we'll beat em' to it. I got not time fo-"

"Stay for the Gousim, you moron. The lass Skipper an' her otters can deal with them on their lonesome without shrew help. If they already crossed, we need the log-a-log here. Besides, I'm certain the otters can do things on their own without us."

Pelma sighed and spoke "Logis, we can handle it. Once we get enough kills in, we'll retreat to the camp. If things go wrong, we'll at least have a place to run to."

Logis huffed but accepted this reasoning. He watched and waved the otters a fair march as Pelma and her otters rushed into the forests and river. Bigoar watched as his brother commanded his forces to dig new trenches and set up stakes along the edges, as Bargol came over and wearily tapped at Bigoar's shoulder. Bargol sighed and spoke "Mate, this isn't apart of that ferret's plan, he want them cap-"

Bigoar closed his mouth harshly, gripping his snout and squeezing. In privacy, with his thugs acting as a barrier, a furious looking Bigoar spat "I do this for the Gousim, you blasted fool. Keep your mouth shut, or you'll have your head thrown beyond that ferry's gates." Bargol winced and whined, being let go as he was dragged along by Bigoar's thugs who went about their business, watching as the camp began to expand and shovels dug into the earth.

---

Markem cautiously stepped onto the middle boat of his flotilla of row boats and rafts, looking out at a gathered force along the opposite bank. A large row of otters were on each side of the bank, hiding in the reeds. War logs, fitted with small shields and sharpened ends were being loaded with Gousim archers and marines. Markem gulped looking at the large force as his vermin stepped onto the rowboats, all chosen by him and his captains. The first few rafts to go ahead of the flotilla were more experienced soldiers, but the majority of those stuck onto the boats were archers and javelin throwers. Markem would take no chance as he raised up his sword and spoke.

"Tie em' slavebeasts to the oars an' get us to the ferry!" He rang out. The soldiers pushed a few of the slaves forward, tying their paws to oars as the boats shifted awkwardly being tied so closely together. Paddles broke into the water as Markem stood in the center of the boats. The woodlanders awaited them to be out into the middle of the river as the boats awkwardly pushed and pulled at one another, each captains synchronizing with the splashing of others. Under pain of severe punishment, the slaves kept pace as Markem kept his sword and shield in paw, awaiting the woodlanders to make their first move.

There was a warshout which rang all across the hostile shore.

"Logalogalogalog!"

The shrews paddled forwards with otters on their side who took a dive underneath. The vermin grew tense as Markem ordered his beasts "Shoot into the water, drive em' off!" Turbas and Kyth appeared on opposite sides of the flotilla, and ordered a volley into the waters and onto the war logs heading towards them. First contact was made against an outlying raft which sunk quickly, but the vermin were able to leap to safety onto the flotilla and move about without sinking the rowboats. From out of the watters, javilens and spears were exchanged on both sides as the flotilla slowly made its way towards the ferry.

Markem nearly panicked, backing up into 'Dirt' and kareening over the edge of the boat he was on when one otter swam up and bravely tried to throw a short spear into him. Markem's soldiers killed the brave beast, but was thankful when 'Dirt' grabbed onto his master's tunic and pulled him forward into the boat. Markem got up and grunted, turning fearfully in all directions as the attack faltered against his flotilla, but casualties were clearly being taken. The otters and shrews got wise and began to skirmish as a distance, and some otters began to try to slash at the ropes to pull less fortunate ships away.

After a tense hour, Markem was the first as he sprinted onto the land, but not before turning and pulling fearful soldiers from the rowboats. Gathering their packs of supplies and gathering the slaves who rowed them, Markem saw a terrifying scuffle when a group of otters saw one of their captured own and rushed to save him. Turbas was able to retreat onto a pier in time, but an unfortunate archer was grabbed by the otters along with the now former slave and pulled beneath the waters, the volley in response did not do much to help him.

"Pull yer lads into the fort! Hurry!" Markem barked out orders.

Zuag was the next to get onto the shore, hurrying about as he and his vermin rushed head first onto the driest land their could. Of the casualties they had taken, two whole boats were now gone. Of the woodlanders, one overly eager shrew vessel crashed into their flotilla and was butchered to the last. Markem looked almost relieved as the last of his flotilla were on shore, staring across the river towards the rest of his army which had watched. He was looking for Scarl, but a less than wanted voice was behind him, nearly shooting the rat into the stars with fright.

"Phew, not many losses? Good!"

"Scarl, der hell! Whatcha doin here!" Markem was shocked, he had ordered Scarl to stay behind, but he only shrugged "Yer other captains can take care of dis, Markem. Besides, dis is me plan." Markem only blinked, but as much as he wanted to be angry at his friend now, it would have to wait. "I'm surprised ya even decided to join us in dis crossing, I thought ya hated dis river."

"I do! I just don' want Jarolom or Kyth or ya mucking up me plan! It all has to go well, ya know. You even being here is difficult enough." Scarl scoffed as he climbed up one of the watchtowers, and Markem joined him. The two overlooked the shrew and otter army, although now both were lessened the last time Markem could remember. He frowned, knowing the shrews would no doubt be now more than eager to kill him once they figured out he was inside. It wouldn't take them long at all, as he half realized he was now revealing himself so high up in the wooden stand itself.

Markem could see his enemy returning to their camp, not in poor spirits, but were already sharpening their weapons. Logis looked on surprised from the edge of his tent, shocked to see the rat having done something so bold.

"Lets be done an' over wit." Markem huffed. "Once Jarolom an his sister get into position, we can crush de's woodlanders an' return to der original plan."

Scarl nodded and looked out at the tree line, as Markem began to climb back down. The woodlanders didn't know it just yet, but Markem was already prepared to begin his attack as soon as his soldiers were ready.

"Captains Turbas! Kyth! I need me shield beasts to der gate, an' me archers in line! We need to draw a line der camp an' meet up with Captains Jarolom and Niala once dey begin der attack!" Markem shouted orders, with 'Dirt' barely able to keep step with his owner who marched up to the gates.

Scarl continued to look out at the tree line, and as if on que, Jarolom and Niala's heads popped up of the bushes and stared out at the camp below them. Wulvog hid behind a tree, as the vermin got into a comfortable position. Markem prepared himself below the ferret, as Scarl squinted in the distance. Something was off, as Jarolom and Niala looked around at something that Scarl couldn't see. It should have been quite simple, an easy charge downward into the main camp. Yet, instead, Niala began to wave her paw back and forth at Scarl, indicating that they were not ready.

"Just tell us when der ready, Scarl!" Markem shouted up at him. Scarl didn't answer, as he continued to look to see what made the two vermin captains stop. He looked a bit closer, and was somewhat surprised. He began to see the outline of ditches farther off. What he thought was just some supplies were barricades connecting between the small lumps of dirt, acting as hills, as Scarl shouted down "Wait! Hold!"

Markem relaxed himself, looking up a bit annoyed at Scarl who quickly began to climb down. "Markem! Wait! Dey ain't ready yet!"

"Ya seen dem, what makes dem delay!" Turbas called up. Markem let down his sword a bit, as Scarl panted. He scowled at a few vermin trying to open the gate, only for them to pause and quickly start to lock it again. Markem found himself going up the tower stand with Scarl and looked over the force. The shrews and otters were unaware, too far to hear or see them. Markem peaked and could see Jarolom and Niala who continued to wave at them with signals.

"Sir, we gotta wait fer dem. Shrews built defenses around der back side."

"I mean, sure, but ho-" Markem would have asked as it was pointed out to him. He could see the extending defenses and he frowned, especially as a few shrews began to build a small palisade and a sentry tower of their own. Markem sighed "Hells, dis is gonna take a lot longer den I thought."
_

Time passed as Markem had retreated into the ferry's main pavilion, once occupied by one of his captains who organized the whole affair. Markem was rather proud of his little system, as it was all run by two beasts; one of Hazul's water rats who willfully joined him and knew a few things about rafts and water transport, and an enslaved otter who was given to him to help organize everything. These two mostly sat out in a corner, as Markem occupied the tent with his spymaster and his other captains. Only one was not with them, as Zuag had taken leave to personally command the sentries, looking for any sign of movement from Niala or Jarolom.

Tactum angrily slammed the table, growing more and more impatient "der hells, chief! Dat foxess be a horrible cap'n if she be delaying us like dis! I know ya like Jarolom an' all, but lest ya forget, we be relying on dem to start der attack! Dey got a blasted wolverine wit dem! It won't take dem shrews long to know der is likely a small camp of our supplies bein held up elsewhere, before dem blasted shrews steal an' pilfer our goods!"

Markem shrugged, trying to calm his captain "We were told to wait, an dats what we'll do. Jarolom knows what be at stake, but if dey rout were doomed."

"Exactly, chief." Kyth grunted "We can't stay like dis forever, not even fer a week. Most of our food in back in der camp, an dem shrews know we don't got a lot of supplies in dis ferry to feed even our own slaves we brought wit us. We may have to sally forth ourselves without dem, or we'll be starving in here."

Markem was about to speak up, but he paused and thought. "Aye, ya got a point der, but we can't be runnen dat low, are we?"

Kyth made his point by taking up a pouch and tossing a piece of bread onto the pavilion's table. It was just a small amount "Yer dinner, chief, an der last one. Dey didn't got much in here anyway, as dey were all on half rations since der shrews arrived."

Markem stared down at the small piece of bread, and frowned heavily. Turbas growled "Chief, we can't wait on dem forever! We have to do somethen. Even if we started to butcher vermin to keep ourselves alive, it'd do no good! Not unless yer a big fan of cannibalism."

"Seasons! Lets not speak of dat!" Markem shouted. His captains silenced themselves as Markem calmed himself "Yes, I know were in a tough place, but we can't do much anyhow. If we try to fight der shrews without Jarolom or Niala, den we'll have bad losses fer sure."

"Bad losses be better den total defeat, chief." Kyth reminded him. Markem shook his head, not wanting to even think about "I know, I know. Going out or abandoning dis ferry is difficult enough. If ya dink we stand a chance, Kyth, den-"

"Now hold on one moment!"

Scarl entered the tent, as he quickly swaggered up to it and got comfortable. Turbas and Kyth stared anxiously at him as he smiled. He began to speak "I know what ya folk are dinken, but lets not get too hasty. Dem Foxtrots haven't failed us before, dey won't fail us now. Going forth without sticking to der plan would be stupid." Scarl tapped his head, mockingly looking at the annoyed Kyth and Turbas. The Stoat couldn't help but grumble.

"Kyth and Turbas got a point, Scarl." Markem defensively spoke "Once morning comes, we won't got der food to even feed ourselves. We gotta engage dem now or soon, with or without dem."

"Ya speak true, but do consider dis." Scarl got comfortable, and spoke with an almost happy tune. "Jarolom haden't failed ya before, an his sister wit her streak ain't half bad eder! Our plan is to keep our casualties low an' we should stick to dat, we can't give into impatience unless we truly do get desperate. Even if dey get cold feet, we can just evacuate as we did across der river and make a new plan. Besides, Jarolom be more impatient den ya lot are, not doubt he'll improvise."

"Ya put a lotta faith in him comen up wit somethen." Kyth crossed his paws "It won't get rid of our food situation. We can't afford a siege, or an assault fer dat matter."

"Just keep alert, lads. Besides, we got through worse den dis."

Kyth gave Scarl a poisoned look, knowing full well they had not been in a situation as grim as this. He was quick to remind the ferret "Ya can be less grim about it, ferret, but I ain't foolish. Markem, we need a plan, or somethen."

Markem sighed as his captains continued to bicker. He held up his paw, silencing them as he spoke up at long last. "We'll wait. We can't signal dem to hurry it up, uderwise dem shrews will get wise to der fact we got a division behind dem. If Jarolom hasn't done anyding by tomorrow morn, we'll just have to take a bite of our fur an salley out. Kyth. Turbas. Get yer beasts ready. I want our best spotters on der towers, looken out fer our comrades."

Kyth and Turbas left, as Markem slapped his face with his claws and pressed into it, a nervous tick as he breathed heavily before speaking to Scarl "Seasons, were in a bind, we-"

"Oh get over it, ya blasted creature." Scarl snapped. Markem's eyes widened, and he grew silent. Scarl slapped the table and spoke with an annoyed tone "Have some blasted faith in yer ol' spymaster, we'll get through dis as we did at Tussock. Jarolom will dink of something, but ya gotta pull yerself together, specially in front of dat lot."

"I dink I know dem well enough, Scarl."

"Ya do?" Scarl questioned. He looked between him and 'Dirt' before speaking further "Yer captains don't follow ya cause ya be a big ol' softie, dey follow ya cause ya got a plan an' yer smart. Tellen dem two idiots ya got nutten don't do much, just grin an bare it, Markem."

Markem was a little shocked as Scarl began to pace. He continued to rant, until Markem began to realize something. He'd be angry and comparative with any other vermin, but even his infamous master of intrigue was sweating "Jarolom can pull on through, cause he knows our plans all too well and he ain't failed us before. We just need time."

"Scarl."

"Aye?"

"We'll be alright." Markem tried to say in comfort, but Scarl scoffed "Of course we'll be alright, Markem! Cause our plan will succeed as it always done before!" Scarl left, eager to check on the progress of the sentries. 'Dirt' spoke up once he was gone, looking a bit surprised himself.

"Sir. Should we be worried? I've never seen Scarl like that before."

"He just don't know, 'Dirt', an it scares him. An it scares me. We'll just have to hope Jarolom does somethen soon, cause we depend on him to defeat dis lot before dem otters figure out der shallows are empty."
_

Niala was looking upon her mighty plan with a smile, and Murg joined her. Jarolom and Wulvog stood next to her, scolding and frowning as they overlooked their grand weapon to break the shrew defenses in one mighty swing.

"Just give it some finishen touches, Wesk! Dump all of it!" Murg commanded.

"I can't believe I agreed to this." Jarolom blinked with partial amazement, even if his voice seethed with utter bafflement.

"Well." Niala began "Ya did. Lets get it into position, yer vermin be ready?"

"Oh, do you have to use my poor wagon?" A meekish voice of a dormouse was heard. Jarolom growled at him and he silenced himself as Niala spoke up "Aye, yer doin yer great warlord a great favor!"

Niala and Jarolom turned their attention to a large wagon, full of supplies. When Niala and Jarolom bore witness to the camp's fortifications, the Foxtrots were in partial despair. Neither was confident, even with Wulvog with them, that they could break down the defenses in time and rush towards the central camp. The shrews would have seen them right away, and likely killed them. They were far enough away from the sentries to not notice, and Jarolom went to see if he could pull some reinforcements. They found a camp where some of the supply caravans had parked, and Jarolom tried to pull the guards into aiding them. Niala and Murg spent a part of that afternoon looking at one wagon, and had a sudden and strange idea.

Wesk was continuing to pour vermin grog and lamp oil all over the cart, the poor dormouse watching his village's supply of clothes, ropes, and some boxes of apples now soggy with the fouled and greasy alcohol. Wesk waved in front of his nose, somewhat confused as to the plan. "Is this good, mam?"

"Aye, ya can get down, an' stay away from fire if ya can." Niala asked concerningly. Wesk nodded as he shook off what he could of the foul smelling liquid from his clothes. Vermin grog, mythical in its mysteries of being the most vile thing a woodlander could taste but a delicate desert to wash down one's meal for vermin kind. Yet, it was known to Niala for a more specific purpose as she commanded about. "Wulvog, pull it towards an upper hill near the shrew camp, we'll need make it go down hill real fast like. Dink like its a boulder."

Wulvog nodded and pulled the cart as the vermin moved out. Jarolom couldn't help but ask "Alright, but why dis? How'd ya even come up wit dis?"

"Wells, a long story." Murg was the one to answer "Me ma and pa used to have a wagon demselves till dey lost it in der river. One of my cousins unlatched a stopper on der wheels and der whole think moved down a hill an into der water. Made a big ol' splash. It'll make a big ol' splash as it smashes into dem shrews I bet too."

"Add fire to it, an' suddenly ya got a smoldering camp. It'll distract der shrews long enough to get to Markem's gates.

It was getting towards morning, but the sun had not come out just yet. Wulvog pulled the wagon towards a small mound not far from the shrew camp. Their movement was shallow as Jarolom separated from the main group, dispatching some of the shrew sentries as the vermin force crested upward and took positions. They looked down at the shrew camp, knowing that battle would commence soon. The wagon was in position, as Wulvog held on as it leaned down the hill.

Murg lit a torch and threw it upon the cart, and flame consumed the grog sogged wagon.

Wulvog let go and then pushed the wagon down the hill, and drew his weapon. The vermin advanced slowly at first, as the skirmishers came forward at Jarolom's command. The nearby shrews looking out only noticed as the wagon lit up of the impending danger, unable to call out in time as the wagon crashed through one of the barricades and continued to roll through the shrew camp till it crashed on top of a few tents where it was smashed to pieces, leaving a trail of burning cloth and embers all around. The shrews went into a panic, as arrows and javilens flew down at them as the vermin charged through the gap and began to fight.

The vermin were at an advantage, as the shrews had no clue what was going on. Some scurried to the gates, thinking Markem was sallying forward, but only then noticed a wolverine lumbered through the camp and stomped the ground so hard that it shook the Gousim from their feet. Niala and Jarolom fought their way through the camp which rallied to checkpoints, as the vermin faced off against the Gousim warriors who matched them.

Yet the Gousim were not ready for Tactum.

The weasel tore like a dancer in the air with his axes through lines of shrews, killing some with each terrible strike. The warrior looked around, doding out of the way of rocks as he over extended himself and dove into the shrew lines and drove them away. Tactum was a horrifying figure, as he cut a swath for the vermin to make their way towards the ferry. The fighting grew more brutal as Niala and Jarolom were a bit confused. They had hoped for reinforcements by now, surely thinking that a giant burning wagon would be noticed by the ferry's watchers. Tactum continued to fight his way through the enemy, and even came up a bit annoyed at the gates of the ferry and began to pound on it.

There was no response.

Zuag looked down from his perch, silent as he looked on with partial amazement at the boldness of Jarolom fighting his way through the shrew camp, it was just a shame that they had to bring Tactum with them. The rat gritted his fangs as he watched the savage retreat from the fruitless attempt to awaken the army inside to action and return to turning shrews into mince meat. Zuag kept silent, and so did his vermin.

"Zuag! What goin on outside!" Markem had just woken up, sweating as he had slept in his armor. The captain quickly recouped and turned to face his boss, and quickly yelled "It's Jarolom, sir! Get der warriors ready, dey be attacken now!"

Zuag gave a grim smile as Markem's eyes widened and he fled back inside the tent, grabbing his sword and yelling orders. He climbed down and joined Markem as the gates opened and the vermin rushed outside, seeing Niala and Jarolom now struggling to deal with the mass of the shrews. Zuag was happy to see Tactum retreating, rejoining Niala as he fled from an enemy.

The smile went from his face when Pelma and her otter showed up, their first volley of javelins missing Tactum by a hair, as she yelled out her battlecries and Markem responded in kind.
_

Logis yelled at Ganla "Hurry it up lass! Grab the banners an' things! Get to the logs at once, missy!" Ganla did so as Logis kept his bloodied sword in paw, watching the edge of his tent and hearing battle outside. Ganla gathered what she could as he escorted her outside, only to find themselves face to face with some ferret. The ferret swung an ax at them both, but was deflected by Logis with his saber before he lunged into the creature. His strike did not slay the beast, as he backed away quickly. He nearly smirked, only to hear a thud and see himself fly down into the dirt, with a javelin sticking out of him. Pelma grabbed her javelin, angrily speaking "They already crossed the river."

"I noticed!" Logis growled in kind as he joined her. The two went towards the middle of the camp where it was safer, as Markem continued to lead his charge. The vermin on the outskirts had regrouped with those at the ferry, as Markem led his forces in a concentrated push. The vermin intended to overwhelm parts of the camp and surround the woodlanders, while others wrested control of the river to prevent their escape. Logis began barking orders at his captains who joined him.

"Grab your best slingers an' slow down the vermin advance! You and you, grab our warriors an' find Bigoar! Tell him to chase those verminous lot away from the blasted logs! We'll need them to escape. Get me a scout, tell the Gousim citizens to start crossing the river before the main vermin host decides to go after them next!"

Ganla kept close to Logis as she shook as she heard the screaming and dying around her. They were joined by Papet who wiped blood from one of his paws and sneered at the battle behind him "Markem is amongst them I see, we tried to get closer but we couldn't get within range. He's clearing the camp."

"We at least were able to resist their advance down the middle, maybe we ca-"

"Nay lass." Logis pointed to the river "This battle is lost, we need to retreat."

"We achieved nothing!" Pelma said frustrated "We lost more, we need to at least fight him while we can, we can't ju-" Pelma calmed herself as Logis squinted his eyes at her. He spoke up in a more authoritative tone "We'll lose more if we stay, Pelma. No need to dismay or another loss, we'll recover as before. Grab your otters, Pelma, we need to go." Logis hated to even say it, as he watched his camp burn. The shrews and otters kept the vermin contained to various parts of their camp, abandoning their supplies as they rushed into the river.

Turbas met them, but a short skirmish had the Stoat retreating. Markem regained the initiative, driving the vermin forward with a final push into the camp, and eventually commenced a melee with the otters. The woodlanders continued to disengage until cornered, but by the time Markem was in the midst of their central camp, most were already gone. Markem cursed himself as he could see the mass of woodlanders were now already at the river, and continued to drive his host forward to them.

The otters began to swim en masse to the opposite side of the river as Logis and Bigoar stayed behind to organize the retreat. Pelma and Papet led their warriors to the other side, fighting off another vermin host which had assembled to contest their crossing. That battle was short and one sided as the otters chased them off as Pelma and Papet watched the siege get dismantled piece by piece from the safety of the southern forest.

The shrews fought with bravery and tenacity, as the vermin struggled to dislodge the small woodlanders from their own camp. The otters had fully retreated, leaving only the shrews to contend with. It soon became a race to find the shrews' logs and burn them before they could further retreat, but time was not on his side. Cutting down beasts left and right, the vermin were delayed by skirmishes and the chaos of their attack made them vulnerable to the shrew warriors scattering them about. Markem noticed the shrews retreating beyond the camp, and he ordered his vermin to follow, only for a contradictory order from Jarolom was to head towards the shore. Markem paused as he watched his vermin fruitlessly chase at two groups as Logis retreated with Ganla in paw with his warrior to evacuate the tribe further off.

Markem decided to give chase with what vermin he could control as he took Niala along. Jarolom and Wulvog charged towards the waters, trying to breach into the muddy water's edge of the river to contest the shrew's escape, but were knocked away by Bigoar and his warriors. The shrew had already evacuated the most crucial of them, and retreated onto a log while nearby battle rafts were filled with slingers who kept the enemy at bay. Jarolom could only cursed as he nursed his shoulders, bruised and bleeding from an encounter with a lucky slinger, as the full force of the Gousim's warriors escape. He only barely noticed Markem charging off down the river before he realized his chief's own intentions.

"I want blasted prisoners!" Markem screamed at his warriors, his shield raised as he gave chase to Logis. Yet, his heart sank as he could see logs full of shrews were already in the water, paddling across or up the waterway. Markem increased his pace, only to have to stop when a hurling of stones bounced on his shield.

Logis and his warriors stood their ground as he released one volley of stones from slings, only to retreat further into the camp and unleash another. Markem angrily shouted at his vermin to rush forward, but it was far too late. Logis was the last crawl onto a long in time as the remaining shrews fled across the river, with markem kicking the mud and water by the shore in anger. He calmed himself, breathing heavily as he watched his foe escape.

He looked about the shrew camp, his soldiers frowning from their failure as Markem only gave a loud sigh "Loot der camp, lads. Take what we need an' don't be long. Were chasen dat lot, an' we can't be delayed." Markem looked back across the river as Logis met up with Pelma and Papet on the otherside, looking at him also angrily curse and kick the water. Well, if der be one thing good about all dis, we got der tents an' viddles.

---

Markem and Scarl stood silently at the edge of the boat as they ferried across the channel, the rat looking back south with a dark look to him. Scarl didn't wish to even speak up, even though he tried to be in a happier mood than the Great Warlord. 'Dirt' and another slave rowed the two across the waters, being a bit more chatty than the two vermin itself. 'Dirt' looked across the waters, seemingly content "I still don't get the whole log thing, you know? Like, is it just a literal log, or do they have a process to it?" The other slave only shrugged and spoke up to 'Dirt', trying to be informative "Its a process, they need find a log that they can float on an' make measurements such as weight. It's convoluted I think."

Scarl grunted "Ya two can be silent." The ferret folded his paws, but 'Dirt' spoke up in partial defiance "Apologies, sir. I thought you'd be a bit more overjoyed to be honest, Scarl. You still won, and deprived the Gousim of all of their, well, things."

Markem breath in and out which was loud and auditable, being informative to his bodyguard as he continued to look forward towards the shore "Aye, but we can't delay in defeating dem. Dey are nomads, dey'll get more stuff. Maybe not anytime soon, but we now got new issues an' new problems. It'll be a cat an' mouse game, cause dem otter and shrew folk are goin to return in force wit der forces an' cause use trouble. Its gonna be a lot of river jumpen, dat be fer sure."

Markem cringed at the thought. His meeting with his captains and the ferry's overseer was not a happy one. Turbas and Kyth were exchanging yelps and growls with Niala and Jarolom. Scarl tried to spin it into a more positive light "Well, der plan at least partly worked. Dey won't be attacken our caravans anytime soon. Left a larger garrison dis time, an some builders to shape up our fortifications der."

Markem nodded as the boat came to shore. He looked about, and saw Jarolom and Niala's groups bringing their boats further into the land, as the rat turned to see the traffic of his army crossing the river once more. 'Dirt' came to his master's side and shrugged "So, what now, sir?"

"Now we wait, an rest. We can regroup an' start hunten fer Gousim."

Markem wandered about his camp with Scarl by his side, but was soon joined by Niala and Jarolom who were in a far better mood than he was. He couldn't help but ask the two smiling foxes "Der hells ya get dat idea to use one of me wagons like dat, Jarolom?"

"Twasn't mine, was her's." Jarolom pointed to Niala. Markem blinked and spoke with a seriousness to his voice "Owe ya once again, Niala Foxtrot. Though, I wish we'd were better informed."

"Odd dat ya weren't." Niala shrugged "Ya'd think your sentries had noticed a big flaming wagon hurled at der enemy like it was. Thankfully, Tactum kept der shrews on der toes, an we were able to regroup before dem otters returned in force. We saw Scarl's scout escape I believe, headed out towards the main tribe once dem Otters returned, if ya must know Scarl."

Scarl nodded "Hopefully he'll be more useful. I heard Kyth and Turbas gave ya two trouble?"

Jarolom scoffed and mockingly spoke of his fellow captains "Aye, but I took care of it. We weren't goin to get ourselves killed cause der shrews decided to dig in for a long haul. Though it be a bit odd that they did at all. They built der camp defenses in der front of the ferry first an' den around der camp. Couldn't have been less lucky."

Markem and Scarl nodded, as the rat attempted to add to the conversation "Regardless, get yer vermin ready cause we-"

"Sir! Sir!" One of Scarl's scouts ran up and spoke quickly to them "Der is beasts approaching, woodlanders!"

"How many?" Markem suspected the worst. Gousim couldn't have regrouped already, maybe der badger lord finally shows himself? Seasons, I hope not.

"Only three, boss! Dey carry a big white flag, an' dey approach. Dey got a badger wit dem!"

The intrigue alone got their attention as they followed the scout to the far end of the camp, and they were surprised to hear the sound of a lute being played and a joyous chorus in the far off distance. A mouse in a feathered cap played his lute, annoying one of his guards. Markem could see three woodlanders; a mouse, a hare, and a badger all which were accompanied by two of Hazul Leffer's rats. Markem looked to Scarl, hoping he knew whom they were, but the ferret could only scratch his head. "I mean, dey look like clowns, dey gotta be entertainers or-"

"The Companions."

Markem and Scarl turned to Jarolom who had spoken, looking frozen and staring with a blank and long look at the woodlanders. Niala frowned, looking almost guilty and keeping her halberd in paw at the ready. Hesam called out to the group, speaking with a fineness in his voice as he approached rather suddenly with his friends in tow "Oh? Oh! You must be this 'Markem' fellow we've been hearing so much about, eh!"

Hesam came up to the rat extending his paw, but stopped when 'Dirt' instinctively reached for the handle of his blade. Hesam let down his paw and huffed, before giving a dainty bow "My good chief, I am Hesa-"

"Hesam Whiteflower. Vogar. Malgor." Jarolom spoke. The group was a bit surprised, and then a little worried. Jarolom squinted his eyes, speaking for Markem with a clear spite to his voice. "You are of Redwall, are you not?" Jarolom turned to the group's guards "Has the abbey already fallen?"

The water rats shook their heads as Hesam slid himself into a comfortable position, speaking with an feigned interest "Ah, you must know of us all too well, hmmm? We are quite famous, as you must well know."

"Aye, I know of you." Jarolom grunted. Hesam gave Jarolom a strange look, unsure of what to make of him. He somewhat looked familiar in a weird way, but not in a way that matter to him much. Scarl interrupted, as he shifted his eyes between Hesam and Malgor "Companions, eh? I dink I heard of ya now dat I remember, ya were travelen buddies wit der Warrior of Redwall. I'm surprised yer heads weren't sent back to us by our all so loved Hazul."

"He nearly did." Vogar grunted "Played a nice game of chance for that one."

"Why are you here, are you prisoners?" Jarolom demanded to know.

"Talkative for a fox." Malgor responded in kind. Jarolom was nearly reaching for the sword at his side, but Markem took his paw and shook the fox's shoulder. Jarolom calmed himself as Vogar had a sudden realization. Although neither Hesam or Malgor seemed to care, the hare was shocked. Markem raised his voice, demanding answers of them.

"I am Markem Brownnose, chief of dis horde. Great Warlord if ya be looken fer bigger titles. Dis is Scarl, me eyes an ears. Jarolom and Niala Foxtrot, me captains. Tis odd ya even arrive in such a friendly mood. Are ya respresenten Redwall in some way?"

"We represent beasts, but not of Redwall." Malgor explained. "We come on the behalf of an emperor, our benefactor."

"Ya three? Traitors?" Niala meekly spoke "I thought ya were der friends of dat warrior fellow?"

"Were is the keyword, foxess." Hesam said with a less than friendly speech. He tried to approach again to be more friendly with Markem and speak at less a length, but 'Dirt' stepped forward. He looked tense, having his fur sticking up behind his neck. This isn't real, is it? I mean, they are the warrior's comrades? This had to be some trick. Markem was in agreement and put his paws to his side "Benefactor, an whom'st might it be?"

"The horde putting up a siege at Salamandastron." Malgor grimly smiled. There was a pause amongst the group as the companions began to explain their actions and deeds. Jarolom and Niala were deadly silent, as they heard of their betrayal of Redwall, the botched assault, and of what was happening in the home of the Long Patrol. Questions were raised and then answers in almost a rhythm or song by the mouse bard. Scarl's eyes could have nearly popped out of his head in amazement, and a smile came across his face. In many ways, he looked utterly relieved. "Seasons, a horde like dat? On de's shores as we invade!? Markem, we'd can't have asked fer anyding more!"

"We'll discuss dis in our usual place." Markem nodded. Jarolom and Niala watched as the Companions were escorted further into the vermin camp, giving them a poisoned look. Markem and Scarl stayed with them and turned to them in particular. Hesam looked behind him as an argument shot out and less than good words were said between the Foxtrots and Scarl. A sword was nearly wrung out of the sheath, but only the calmness of the chief seemed to prevent further trouble. Hesam scoffed and silently spoke to Malgor.

"Beast has an attitude like a drunk sea rat."

"Don't speak ill of that one." Vogar warned. Hesam gave a strange look to his companion as the hare reminded them of one particular dark deed.

"Must be the kinsbeast of Jacks Foxtrot, the one we chased off a blooming cliff." Hesam and Malgor became a bit more serious as they all turned their heads. Jarolom and Niala marched off angrily as Markem and Scarl looked on with sadness. Hesam gave an awkward smile "Oh, joy."
_

Hesam sat in front of Markem with his bodyguard to one side, and Scarl to his other. Markem flicked his whiskers impatiently as he got comfortable and Hesam awaited. Malgor and Vogar were not alone, with a number of guards in the tent surrounding them. Hesam was informative as always, and gave a rogue's smile as he talked down to Markem in a way the rat could not exactly understand, but pretended to.

"You see, our true overlord is Milo Greeneyes of Sandbeach. Yes. That Greeneyes. The former rulers of this land long ago in those tales of yore and wonder, where our dear friends of the abbey adored their destroyers? Our benefactor's sons now wander about in this land, reclaiming all in his name, to return this land to its rightful rulers with the aid of some, oh so special thralls of his. The Northern vermin. The Juska. All had come to his beck and call, so it was quite a surprise to see that when your beasts came upon the abbey, it was a true and honest mistake on our part to think you knew where our true allegiance lied."

"Yer mistake can be forgiven if Hazul spared ya." Markem retorted. Hesam spoke with a sad and low voice "Oh, I so wish I had known, otherwise many more of your soldiers would have not marched off so dearly into the dark forest, and for that I am most truly sorry. As representatives of our lord's demands, we can only provide our emperor's most sincere regrets of such things."

Markem blinked, and nodded. Scarl then asked, rather quickly "Demands? Ya come here as envoys of this horde, so you may as well be honest to what der demands are."

"Oh?" Hesam's mood changed a bit "Our lord is of course ruler over this land, often calling himself the Lord of all Vermin, and Master of all Slaves. He is surprised and deeply troubled that he had not noticed this great horde you have built, oh mighty warchief. Even with his most cautious planning and many eyes, he-"

"Was his beasts kidnappen vermin folk, cause we had trouble wit dem." Markem interrupted. Hesam silenced himself as his two friends sweated. Markem explained "Niala had some of vermin kidnapped by beasts wit green cloaks, an' we found empty burrows across southern Mossflower. Is this yer lord's doin?"

"Aye, of course." Hesam smiled. Vogar gave a horrified glance at his friend as Hesam got comfortable, explaining to a less than pleased Markem "Our lord sent out beasts to conscript and recruit, bringing them to Sandbeach to join his vast horde, where they were to be taken care of. You should see Sandbeach, practically a paradise away from our beautiful Mossflower. Naturally you must understand, it is simply the way of things with vermin hordes." Markem wanted to speak up, but he couldn't as he thought it over. Hesam continued, laying out the grand plans of his master.

"So, once Salamandastron was conquered, Milo planned to conquer the remainder of this country. Now naturally of course, our lord wants nothing but peace between you and him, which is why he had sent us. He offers you a place by his side, as not just a friend but a vassal to his new domain. The lands you have gained already you can keep to do with as you please, and my lord will extend it within a reasonable frame. Redwall and Salamandastron can belong my lord, but as ruler of the siege there, he will offer you considerable concessions for its ownership."

"Why does yer lord want Redwall?" Scarl asked.

"Simple, it is a shrine to his dynasty's murderer and he, to quote, would destroy it brick by brick."

Markem shook his head "I ain't benden me knees fer a beast I ain't seen. I'm sorry, but w-"

"We'd love to talk about it furder of course." Scarl interrupted. Markem gave a deadly look, but Scarl quickly shot back, almost excited "Markem, wit de's beasts aiden us, we'd already have won! Der badger lord is trapped in his own mountain, der seas belong to der vermin, and der only foe we got is trapped behind walls wit no one comen to save dem! Der shrews an otters we fight? Der only foe we need to worry about, an' one we can kick out of der river an into a bad spot to wipe em out. Lets reason wit dis Milo, an his horde."

Markem blinked and then sighed. He believed Scarl was right, as he returned his attention to the three woodlanders. He spoke up "Der badger lord is our foe as well, but vassalage is out of der question. Me horde is made up of fellow warlords an I am der chief among many. I am willen to listen to yer lord's demands, but I will need to meet'em first an foremost."

"Naturally, of course." Hesam smiled. Vogar looked relieved, but Malgor corrected Markem. "You are wrong, rat. The badger lord is gone. You would be wise to accept the deal as it stands."

"How'd ya know?"

"I killed him." Malgor almost sounded prideful as he spoke. Markem was shocked, and didn't have words to speak. 'Dirt' gave the badger a less than pleased look, looking down at the ground. He had always suspected there was little hope against Markem, but Malgor's words were like a knife through his buttered heart. Scarl was near speechless, as it took him time to return to speaking. "Yer der son of dat lord, ya sayen ya killed yer own pa?"

"I will inherit the mountain regardless of what happens, ferret." Malgor yawned "Besides, it won't matter soon. The Greeneyed Horde will butcher any inside that mountain, and will make its way here. You may be at peace now, but we both know two vermin bands of size won't let the other to live. Milo is willing to hear you out, but I do so advise you take up his offer with speed, warlord."

'Dirt' couldn't stand it no more, speaking out of turn and in anger "How do we know you won't turn on us?" 'Dirt' felt a harsh paw grip his arm. He turned, gulping to see the angry stare of his master back at him. Silently, he pointed to the tent flap and 'Dirt' apologized by bowing and leaving in a slow pace. Scarl grumbled as Vogar spoke up once the awkwardness had passed. "Quite a lad that one, interesting you'd keep such a creature so armed with you."

"He speaks out of turn, but he has a point." Markem grunted "I know vermin all too well, an I survived more den my fair share of attempts on me life. Yer offer interests me, but we'd need to talk it through."

"Oh do not be so harsh on your servant." Hesam added "I'd be suspicious as well in your shoes. Or sandals. Either or. I cannot handle ya now, but ya will be honored fer ya to go to Gholand where will discuss de's dings after me campaign. Ya have me attention."

Hesam only gave a big and wide grin, and clapped his paws together "That is most great to hear, of good Markem. Let us drink to our good healths to you and Milo both!"

Scarl slapped the table with honest enjoyment "Aye! Lets!"
_

Pelma and Logis hid in the bushes just beyond the vermin sentries, spying upon the camp. Pelma was disgusted by all the things she saw, each victorious burst of song and marching foot on her beloved grounds was an insult to her. To Logis, he was more calm as he looked about, used to such sights. Both remained silent, keeping an eye personally on Markem and silently wondering where he would go next. Pelma believed they would chase after them from the southern river, but Logis believed he would be smarter and wait for them to attack first. If the vermin began to pack their tents and move into central Mossflower looking for them, then they'd know for sure.

Pelma had to avert her eyes when she saw some of her own warriors, recently captured, now put to work on loading wagons for vermin masters. It was a tale as old as time, of vermin cruelty and brutality towards her people. Logis pointed to some of his own, captured shrews who were being given rope collars about their necks. One was being harshly beaten for speaking back against one of the overseers, which only got a vicious grunt from the Log-a-log. The drunkenness mixed in with shanties and morbid jokes.

She spotted Markem, exiting his tent with Scarl behind him. She could see the two approach that odd but familiar otter bodyguard who held his paws behind his back and his head looking down at the ground. Markem was yelling something, and they could barely hear.

"Yer a blasted idiot, ya know dat?! Yer suppose to just stand der an' protect me, not interfere in de's discussions!" Markem put his claws beneath 'Dirt' rope collar and pulled him to his level, anger in his eyes and continued to yell "Ya hear me!? Explain yerself, or I swear der beating ya got in Pelg's camp is gonna feel like a blasted comfort to ya!"

Logis couldn't help but smirk at the creature's unfortunate situation, commenting in silence "Blasted and stupid beast indeed, eh? Has a blasted sword beneath that belt, and all he'd have to do to end our troubles is use it."

"Aye." Pelma nodded. They stared, seeing what the otter bodyguard would do. 'Dirt' frowned, and spoke up, and the rat warlord calmed. He shook his head, letting go and beckoned him and Scarl to him as they neared the forest line farther off. Scarl looked baffled, speaking in a low tone himself as they unwillingly were soon not far from the foliage that Pelma and Logis hid beneath. They heard Scarl speak first "Just cause ya got a bad feeling, otter, don't mean ya get to speak up."

"I'm sorry, I truly am, sir." 'Dirt' frowned "I'm just thinking is all. I'm here to protect you after all, right?"

Markem sighed "Yes, yes. Just cause dey betrayed Redwall, don't mean dey are gonna stab us in der back. Were senden to me missus after all."

"They betrayed Redwall while surrounded by the Long Patrol, and betrayed Redwall's warrior whom we nor the Redwallers could not find. The badger was son of it's lord, and he quite proudly said he opened the doors for them. These woodlanders murdered woodlanders, sir."

"So have ya." Scarl reminded him. 'Dirt' frowned further, trying to speak up a bit "I know, I have killed woodlander folk, but-"

"No buts." Markem cut him off. "De's folk represent another powerful horde, a vast one at dat, an ya should have known better to challenge dem in me own tent. Just-Just don't do it again, 'Dirt'." The otter slowly nodded as Scarl huffed "Ya need to trust our own, ya blasted thing. Besides, we got guards back in Gholand an' several blasted armies. What are a bunch of woodlanders goin to do?"

"I'm truly sorry sir." 'Dirt' continued to apologize to Markem, but it was more directed at Scarl. Scarl partly frowned himself as he realized something. "Ya two go on ahead, I need to distract Jarolom an' Niala. I don't want to break der news to dem."

Markem nodded "Aye. Out of all der envoys to send, de's two were der least suspected, an least wanted. Hopefully dis 'Milo' is a bit more agreeable, eh?"

They went in different directions of the camp as Pelma and Logis's eyes widened, and looked beyond the tents. Pelma was horrified when Hesam joyfully came out of Markem's tent, followed by Vogar and Malgor. Markem and 'Dirt' went up to them, as it was clear that Vogar was not done trying to tempt the otter into some confrontation with the way he moved, pointing in a friendly tone to him. 'Dirt' stood still as Markem didn't look pleased with this attempted bullying. Hesam and Markem shook paws as the rat showed him to some of his soldiers who would escort them through his realm, making their way towards the river.

"Oh seasons, the abbey." Pelma said in despair, almost tempted to get up and run to Redwall. She was held by the paw by Logis, staring with anger at Hesam leave. "Der safe, otherwise dat water rat an' dem Jusbrag folk would have been up here. I can't believe it."

"Neither can I." Pelma said with a hopelessness in her voice. The two snuck their way out of the camp to rejoin their respective forces. Pelma was angry "Those cretans. They sung all those nice songs at all those festivals! How could they betray the beasts who gave them so much!?" Pelma was beside herself, not even sure what she saw was real. "Th-they weren't prisoners, Logis. Were they?"

"Not from der way dat rat talked." Logis grunted. He turned to Pelma and pitied the otteress, who looked horrified and unsure. She tried to piece things together "It just can't be, woodlanders betraying one another. They just don't do that. Maybe its some kind of trick. It has to be, isn't it? If so, we need to find out, we need to-"

"Lass." Pelma stopped herself as Logis spoke up, sighing "They betrayed us, no doubt about it. No doubt it is Markem's fault dat they align themselves with our foes. The corruption runs deep, and beasts just lose hope. We cannot afford such things, Pelma. We survived, an' we'll beat them in due time. Just not today."

"Seasons, I just hope the abbey is alright." Pelma muttered. Logis nodded "I hope so to, but we gotta return. Dat camp is settling down, der vermin drunk off der victory. We need to use dat time wisely an' move up river to safer place." Logis led Pelma on into the grand forests of Mossflower as the sway of the eastern winds blew a coldness across. Clouds of darkness formed over their heads, disheartening them both.