Chapter 8

Red Fiend


11 seasons before the ship's crash


When he looked back on that day, he remembered it being anything but normal. But why would it be? It was one of the most special days of his life, when he arrived at Redwall Abbey. Even though his memory wasn't the best, he remembered every minute thing about this day to the most insignificant detail. It was that kind of special.

He was 12 seasons old. He woke up a little before noon, it seemed as if he overslept for abbey school. He quickly got dressed in his favourite oversized green tunic and rushed out of the dormitories. He sat down with his parents in the great hall, both of whom scolded him for waking up late. He simply smiled dumbly and grabbed a quick breakfast before leaving, saluting them on the way out. Running through the hallways, he heard some older beasts talking about a rumour of an announcement happening today at lunch.

He eventually found himself at the door to the classroom and walked inside, putting on the most polite smile he could muster. The abbot along with the rest of his classmates all turned to look at him.

"Durkfor, you're late, there are only ten minutes until lunch," the abbot said disappointedly.

One of Durkfor's ears flopped down as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "Sorry father abbot, just woke up a bit late 'tis all."

"I can see that," the abbot said bluntly, "Take a seat, maybe you can learn a bit about this siege before we break."

Still keeping that smile, he walked toward his seat in the front of the classroom. The abbot continued his lesson, talking about some small fox and a searat named Raga Bol. Durkfor wasn't paying attention though, he just wanted to get out of the classroom as soon as possible.

From behind him, Durkfor could hear two of his classmates having a hushed conversation. Tilting his head and his ears ever so slightly, Durkfor was able to hear what they were saying.

"Did you hear about what's happening today at lunch?"

"No? What's going on?"

"I heard new beasts are coming to stay at Redwall."

"Really? Who?"

"No one knows, maybe it's a badger!"

"Where'd you hear about this anyway?"

"Apparently, Florence overheard the abbot talking about a group of beasts heading towards Redwall."

"Are you sure they're good?"

"Yeah, otherwise the abbot prolly would've told us about it."

"Cool! Today at-"

The abbot smacked the lectern loudly with his pointer, getting the attention of everybeast in the room. "Too many of you are talking, we have five minutes left, and we are going to stay until those five minutes are up."

In the back, a couple of beasts groaned. True to his word, the abbot continued teaching for five more minutes, and then, it was lunchtime.


As usual, Durkfor was sitting with his parents during lunch. Both of them were fit-looking hares who look like they'd seen their fair share of battles. But they wouldn't be stepping onto a battleground anytime soon, his father was blind, while his mother had an injured spine and needed a cane to get around. Even now, Durkfor found it amusing that both of them still wore their medals, but he knew they always would. "Remember your past," as they'd always say.

As the abbot sat at his seat, the abbeydwellers looked at him eagerly. The abbot smirked, realising everyone knew. "Good afternoon everyone. Now, as I'm sure most of you are all aware, we have a group of beasts joining us at Redwall."

Durkfor meanwhile continued eating a sandwich he had in his bag since breakfast, it wasn't as if he didn't care, he was just anxious. Two seasons ago, after some urging from their friends, Durkfor's parents decided to head off to Redwall Abbey to raise their son. Durkfor however, was extremely nervous upon arriving at the abbey, and being the over-emotional hare he was, he already felt sympathy for the new arrivals.

The abbot's face grew more serious. "Now, before they come in, I must tell you all something. Be especially courteous to these beasts, they have gone through a long and arduous journey to be here. Treat them with the respect they deserve. Dibbuns, I will especially be keeping an eye on you, don't play any tricks on them."

Several dibbuns could be heard whining. The abbot returned to his warm smile and cleared his throat, "Now, I will tell them they can come in."

As the abbot left, Durkfor and most of the other abbeydwellers watched the doorway in anticipation.

The abbot returned around a minute later with a group of sea otters trailing behind them. Most of them were hunched over, their eyes darting around the room cautiously. The first thing Durkfor noticed were the numerous scars, wounds, and bandages on each of them. It looked as if they had been through a battle before arriving here. Strangely enough, one of the otters looked eerily stoic compared to the rest. The abbot whispered something to the tallest one (presumably the leader?) while she whispered something back. The abbot nodded in understanding. The sea otters then wordlessly took a seat at the long tables.

Without giving any further introduction, the abbot walked back and sat down in his chair. Raising his cup slightly, he nodded, "Let's eat."


Though the sea otters were reserved at first, a few of them became quite cheerful and talkative as the meal went on. One even began a conversation with Durkfor's parents, which he didn't pay attention to. Amidst the smiles though, the otters seemed to have a strange detachment that Durkfor couldn't quite place. Almost as if at any point, they could get up and leave without so much a warning.

Lunch continued when Durkfor noticed something else strange. He glanced over at where most of the sea otters were sitting and noticed that the stoic-looking otter was missing. Curious, Durkfor turned to the otter sitting near him and waved for their attention, asking, "Is somebeast missing? I thought there were more o' you?"

The otter looked over, checking to see who was missing and sighed, "Oh, Borsen? Aye, poor lad, he's 'round yer age I think. He's probably hidin' somewhere. Ye may not see him fer a bit, but he'll come back in a day or so."

Durkfor looked pitifully at the empty seat. He did something similar on his first day when he got anxious. As lunch wrapped up and Durkfor went back to class, he couldn't help but wonder if Borsen left for similar reasons to his.


That evening, Durkfor was walking around the abbey searching for the stoic-looking otter when he found him sitting alone by the abbey pond. Durkfor sheepishly walked towards him, clutching a bag close to his body. The otter turned his head in Durkfor's direction when he got closer, and Durkfor was able to get a good look at the new otter.

His face made Durkfor flinch. His sharp eyes were blank, devoid of all emotion. Besides his head turning to face Durkfor, he made no acknowledgement that anything was happening around him. Underneath the tattered red vest he wore were bandages wrapped around his chest and neck. If Durkfor looked closely, he could see- were those claw marks? Claw marks dotted his arms, neck, and chest.

He sat perfectly still. Nothing in his body language revealed any emotion, intent, thoughts, or anything that could let Durkfor sense what he was feeling. He left lunch and dinner early so he knew Borsen wanted to be alone, but that was it.

Durkfor smiled timidly, sitting close enough to Borsen to hold a conversation, yet far enough to not make him uncomfortable. Hopefully. "Hey there chap, ya doin' okay?"

Borsen stayed silent, completely unmoving in response. His gaze seemed to pierce through Durkfor like a spear.

Durkfor reached into the bag slung around his shoulder, pulling out two fresh scones. Borsen left too early to eat lunch or dinner, so he thought bringing food was a good idea. "Want one? They're pretty flippin' good. Good ol' Tibbins is great at makin' pastries."

Still, the otter did not respond. Durkfor let out an embarrassed sigh and took a bite out of one of the scones, "Look, I just thought that ya seemed… when my parents first brought me here, I was scared, really scared, but I didn't want anyone t'see so I hid. I thought ya hid fore th'same reason and I just wanted t'give ya something. Y'know, t'make ya feel better? Maybe?"

His face was like an iron mask. Borsen really didn't want anybeast to know what he was thinking, huh?

Durkfor gingerly placed the scone near Borsen, his long ears drooping sadly. "I know ya left twice already, so if ya wanna leave, ya can, I just thought, y'know."

To Durkfor's surprise, he didn't leave. Ever so slowly, Borsen cautiously took the scone in front of him. He sniffed it several times and turned it around in his paws suspiciously. Durkfor's eyes lit up as he took the smallest of bites out of it. Alright! That's better than nothing!

Durkfor smiled, "Hope ya like it, 'tis my favourite t'eat when I'm sad. Or happy. Or, well, guess I just like eatin' it."

Borsen took another bite, still staring directly at Durkfor.

"Not much of a talker, eh? That's fine. Do ya want me to stay silent too? Or are ya fine with me jabbering my tail off?" The hare asked.

As expected, Borsen made nought a sound. He didn't try to leave though, so Durkfor took that as permission to keep talking.

"Gotcha, so this here is the abbey pond. You'll prolly like it, being an otter 'n all. Or was it rude o' me t'assume that? Wait a bloody minute, I never introduced myself." Durkfor rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and extended a paw before realising Borsen probably wouldn't reciprocate the gesture. "Name's Durkfor. I know ya haven't said a word, but that's fine, take as long as ya need t'get comfortable. Nice t'meetcha!"


Two days later at abbey school, Borsen was formally introduced to the class. Durkfor didn't remember this day as well; it only popped into his mind after he was chained to the bench in The Twilight Serpent.

The abbot stood in front of the class with Borsen. Most of them were surprised when they saw him as Borsen spent the last two days hiding from everyone, and weren't able to see the otter with bandages and claw scars all over his body. The abbot looked around the class and said, "Today, a new student will be joining us from the group of sea otters that arrived two days ago." The abbot looked down at Borsen and asked, "Why don't you introduce yourself?"

Borsen never gave that introduction. Durkfor noticed his eyes were glancing back and forth between the back of the room and the table in the front where Durkfor sat at. Wordlessly, he walked over to Durkfor's table and sat down, staring dead ahead at the front of the room.

"Erm, okay. Moving on then, continuing off from where we left yesterday, we talked about the history of vermin groups across Mossflower and the…"

Durkfor didn't remember what the abbot said after that, but he remembered how Borsen never paid any attention to the abbot, instead choosing to look around or pick on the bandages on his body.

That is until the abbot made a side comment about the Flitchaye, a band of weasels who'd drug, capture, torture, and loot beasts they'd come across. It was such a small change that Durkfor didn't realize it at first, but while Borsen still seemed to not be paying attention, his eyes would glance towards the abbot for a brief moment before looking away.

It was moments like that, small as they may be, that slowly led to the growing distrust of Borsen. Though he'd never hurt anyone himself, others would notice the faintest grin when others cried, the general apathy he had for others, mysterious wounds he'd brush off after having gone missing, or how he never seemed fazed, not even when a disgruntled marten slung rocks over the walls. Small moments that, while strange at the moment, painted a gruesome picture indeed when put together.

But even with all those, Durkfor turned a blind eye. Yes, Borsen was strange. According to some of the sea otters, he was plenty strange even before they had to leave their old home. But strange as he was, Borsen wasn't dangerous, he couldn't be.

Right?


4:00, Day 1


For the past couple of hours, small memories from the past 11 seasons bounced around in Durkfor Ventultro's mind as he sat alone in a glade. If it wasn't for the situation, Durkfor might've thought it was perfect. The bright green grass and plains were broken only by a small stream that bisected the glade. Apple trees were lined up in a far section of the glade as if this area was used by the previous residents as an orchard. The wind and rain didn't affect Durkfor as he was sitting underneath a quaint wooden gazebo with a bench. Borsen's blanket was still wrapped around his body, keeping him warm.

Yes, it would've been perfect. Nice landscape, wonderful company, but…

Durkfor reached to his neck and touched the metal collar, a harsh reminder of what he did. Even now, he still didn't want to believe it. Maybe he was forced to do this? But even if he was forced to, it doesn't change the fact that he did.

Durkfor began to shiver. How long was he like this? He's been good for as long as Durkfor could remember.

Like the time Borsen helped him forage for mushrooms and Borsen warned him right when he was about to eat a poisonous one. Or when Borsen brought him camping for his birthday. What about the time when he got scared of vermin attacking the abbey, Borsen taught him self-defence.

But now that he looked back, how did he know the mushroom was poisonous, its exact effects, and exactly how long they take to kill somebeast? Where did he get the knife he used to prepare the fish he caught on their camping trip? It didn't look like it came from Redwall. How did he know exactly where the vital spots were, and the exact effects getting stabbed in those areas would cause? Wasn't he only 15 seasons at the time?

Durkfor began to whimper. Looking back, his rose-tinted memories were now cast in a much more sinister light.

The sound of paws walking softly on wood reached Durkfor's ears, but he didn't bother turning. He knew who it was.

"Ye alright matey?" Borsen Stonetail asked guiltily. Durkfor watched as Borsen walked over and sat down on the bench next to him. Sniffing, Durkfor leaned his body against Borsen's while Borsen wrapped an arm around him. The two stayed like that, neither saying another word as the rain pattered against the roof of the gazebo.

"Why?" Durkfor finally choked out. Borsen looked over, preparing to get the worst verbal assault of his life.

"What's wrong with ya? Why wouldja ever do this? These were beasts you've known fer most o' your life. Sure, they might've not been the nicest to ya at times, I know that, but was this what they deserved?" Durkfor practically yelled out. But something felt off. Borsen then realized that Durkfor wasn't the slightest bit angry, in fact, it was more accurate to describe his outburst as a forlorn wail.

Durkfor's voice tore at Borsen's heart more than he expected, and he began to choke out, "Maybe- I don't know, no, they didn't deserve that."

That's right, they don't deserve this at all. Rianne, Farshawn, Kallius, Art, and Thaddeus aren't bad beasts or anything… But that's why it's so wonderful! They did nothing wrong, and they'll still be the ones to suffer. The slightest of smiles crept onto Borsen's face, but it went away as soon as Durkfor noticed it.

Durkfor looked down at the wooden floor. Even with Borsen capturing all these beasts, why? Why couldn't he be mad at him? Borsen did something horrible, he sentenced seven beasts to death, so why?

"Durk, I'm sorry," Borsen muttered.

Durkfor flinched, "Only because I feel bad, right? Borsen, please just be honest, ya don't feel anythin' for the others. I know how ya look at me, but the way ya look at others is…" He didn't want to say it, but over the many seasons he spent with the otter, he picked up small tells in his already minimal body language, enough to recognize that smallest flicker of annoyance whenever he looked at somebeast besides him. But now, he knew that "annoyance" was vastly understating it.

"Well… aye, yer right." Borsen answered honestly.

Durkfor began to laugh bitterly, "I shoulda faced that sooner, so many things flew over me and I brushed it aside. Maybe I could've done somethin' 'bout it." He was mad. Not at Borsen, but at himself. Could he have stopped this entire thing if he'd done something?

"Don't blame yerself matey, something like this was probably going to happen regardless, none o' this is yer fault. If anythin', ye probably stopped it from happening a lot sooner," Borsen said softly, trying to comfort Durkfor.

Durkfor paused and looked up at Borsen. "What do ya mean?"

"I guess ye could say that even before we arrived at Redwall, I… y'know what, I'll tell ye that later." Borsen began hesitantly. "But the moment I learned we were headin' to Redwall, I got… angry."

Though Borsen tried to keep his expression empty, Durkfor could see 11 seasons of built-up rage and malice spill out as he began to snarl. "Forsake all unnecessary forms of violence? Peace and goodwill? It's all useless! If I could, I'd be standing over the abbot with an axe in my paw, watching that bastard beg fer his life."

Durkfor froze in fear as Borsen's rant grew more and more violent, to the point where Borsen's claws began to cut into his palm with how hard he was clenching his fists. "Protect your brethren? I'd rather line up all o' them peace lovin' rotters and run a blade through their stomachs one-by-one! Peace and goodwill? As if! A day hadn't gone by where I didn't think of taking a knife to that tub of lard for an abbot. Forsake all unnecessary forms of violence? Why would I ever want to do that!"


Far away from Redwall, in a dense forest between Mossflower and a village that was now in ruins, a young otter with a bloody axe in his paw was standing over the mutilated body of a fox lying crumpled on the ground. Was it intentional? Or was it an accident? By all rights, the fox was stronger and larger than the otter, yet the otter somehow killed the fox. Blood and gore dripped down the otter's arm as his paw began to twitch. The long and difficult journey the sea otters embarked on to get away from their broken home filled the young otter with a never-ending sense of hopelessness and resignation towards the world, to the point where he'd go off on his own and disappear for several hours. But…

The young otter replayed that moment in his head over and over. The fox begging and pleading for his life, the otter swinging that axe down on the fox multiple times. Blood and gore staining the grass, trees, and rocks around him a beautiful crimson red.

The tiniest chuckle escaped the otter's lips. Soon he broke out into full-on laughter. A wave of euphoria rushed through his body like wildfire. It felt so wonderful! The fox was begging for his life? Against a tiny otter? As the fox pleaded, the otter came to a wonderful realization. In those final moments when his victim was pleading with him, he was the one in full control. Everything the fox did in his life, no matter how great the fox was, it all came down to what he wanted. He finally had control, control over the outcome of an entire life.

And it was intoxicating. His body shivered from the thrill of it all.

The young otter's gleeful laughter filled the night as he swung the axe down on the fox's broken corpse over and over again, revelling in the spray of blood splashing on his body.

At first, he just enjoyed the control he had over his victims. But that twisted mind of his began to take note of other marvellous things.

The fear in their eyes as he picked up a weapon.

That beautiful splash of colour when he tore into someone's body.

The satisfaction of watching them howl in pain.

The thrill when they fought back, feeling that pain burn through his own body like a fireball.

So many small things he discovered with every body he accumulated. Murder became a symphony to him, a symphony that tore away at what little humanity he had left. He never wanted to stop, he wanted to keep it going forever, and ever.

And ever, and ever…

But before he knew it, he arrived at Redwall.


"They can scream, cry, and plead as much as they want, but they're stuck here with me now, eh? Kallius, Farshawn, Thaddeus, Rianne, Art. I can't wait to get my paws on them." His eyes shining with excitement, Borsen pulled out his knife from his bag, staring at it as if it were the sword of Excalibur.

Durkfor quivered with fear as he watched Borsen's mask crack away, exposing the true monster he'd been the entire time. A monster that revelled in the pain he caused to others. A monster that didn't just enjoy pain and suffering, but embraced it.

But… why? What was wrong with him? Why could he not bring himself to hate this monster?

Borsen was surprised when Durkfor suddenly hugged him. The hare's body was warm and comforting, and it sent him to ease, almost as if the bloodlust he felt just moments ago was fading away just from his touch. But…

"Durk? Why are ye doing this?" Borsen asked, confounded. He expected Durkfor to be yelling at him, this was wrong. Durk, please don't try to stick wit' me, it'll just hurt ye.

"Borsen? What are ya gonna do now?" Durkfor whimpered. "Please, promise me ya won't hurt them."

Borsen hugged Durkfor back, his powerful arms pulling the hare in closely. Of course he felt guilty, but all of that guilt was for Durkfor. Thinking about the other prisoners, Borsen felt a steadily growing sense of glee and excitement. "I won't promise that," he muttered as calmly as he could muster.

Durkfor took in a deep breath, shuddering. "Then… I'll try to save them. I know ya hate them, but I love 'em. They're the beasts we've grown up with, how couldja..." Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn't there be a way for everyone to live and be happy?

Borsen smiled at his friend's words, though he didn't feel the same, he admired his friend's determination, "I knew ye'd say that. Not gonna promise I won't try to stop ye, but I promise I'll never hurt ye."

Ya already did. Durkfor thought bitterly.

"Can I ask one more question?" Durkfor asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Borsen responded.

"It's been botherin' me fer a couple o' days now, but why me?" Durkfor began. Upon hearing that question, Borsen's body seemed to seize. "Ya clearly hated everybeast in the abbey and everythin' the abbey stood for. Ya didn't even seem to like the other sea otters much, or at least it seemed that way. So why didja start likin' me?" That first day when I went up to 'im at the pond and started talkin' to him, he could've left. No, he should've left. We were strangers, he had no reason to stay when I asked. His feelings are genuine now, I'm sure of it. I would be dead if they weren't. But why didn't he walk away?

Borsen was at a loss for words. Out of all the questions t'ask, why that one? I can't tell him. Not now, not ever. Instead of an answer, he defaulted to what he did 11 seasons ago and kept quiet. Though he kept his face blank, Durkfor knew enough about his tells to realize what he was feeling. Fear.

"That's fine, ya don't have to tell me." I think I know the answer anyway… "Love ya Borsen," the hare murmured.

"Love ye too," Borsen responded. Separating from Durkfor, Borsen reached into his bag and pulled out a waterskin, flint, and a steel knife. He tossed them to Durkfor who caught it. "Take it. Ye can keep my blanket too, find a good-sized stick and use that to make a bindle, alright? I can show ye how to tie one if ye want."

Durkfor looked at the items in his paws and shook his head, "No thanks, ya already told me how to make one a long time ago."

Borsen chuckled, "I did? I don't remember that."

Durkfor smiled, "Aye, ya taught me a lot." They stayed sitting there for a moment, taking in each other's faces for the last time. Durkfor wiped his face and slung the blanket around him like a bag. "'Right… see ya soon. Goodbye, Borsen."

Just like that, Durkfor ran off, leaving Borsen alone under the gazebo. The otter gazed blankly in the direction Durkfor ran, not moving a muscle. A strange emptiness he couldn't quite place filled his heart.

"What are ya gonna do now?"

Durkfor's words lingered in his mind. What was he going to do now? Nothing more would make him happier than to somehow repair everything with Durkfor. But that meant rejecting the blood-drenched fantasy in his mind that had been beckoning to him for the past 11 seasons.

With Durkfor gone, the darkest recesses of his mind started to bubble back up to the surface. An existence where his sole purpose was to hunt, maim, and kill. It sounded wonderful, even comforting to him.

With Durkfor gone, his mind went to Tiviko. The wildcat entered his mind like some sort of perverse angel. An angel that promised him the existence he longed for ever since he stepped through those abbey gates.

With Durkfor gone, Borsen raised his knife, shivering as that primal desire for blood filled his body once more.

Kallius, Art, Rianne, Thaddeus, Farshawn, and all the rest. I can't wait to hear ye all beg fer yer worthless lives.

He looked up at the sky. Hmm, the rain should lessen to a drizzle soon. Good, he mused. Glancing around, Borsen hopped off the bench and ran in the direction of the ship. The next few days were going to be wonderful. But no matter how much he tried to focus solely on Tiviko and his goal, Durkfor's face and the sadness in his voice burned in his mind.

And for the rest of the time Borsen would be on that island, it wouldn't ever go away.