The deck was clear when Matiya made his move the next day.
"What do you think of Fret?" He asked cautiously, expecting a full on rant from them all.
Momchillo sighed in frustration. "Why are you suddenly obsessed with him? We went to bring him back to Redwall, because you convinced us to. We would have gone home if it weren't for your obsession with him back at the tent. And now, you want us to talk about him. Okay. Let's talk. Why do you care so much?"
"Well... Fret is a... Complicated beast." I should have payed more attention to the recorders. Talking is so difficult.
"Oi. He be moighty difficult to be a thoinkin' about."
"He thinks we hate him." Matiya finally blurted out.
"And we do!" Momchillo snapped. "Or did you by chance not notice that we are tied to a mast?"
"I'm angry at him too!" Matiya shot back. "But-"
"And before he sold us to slavery he was mean and weird. He kept looking at me!" Hawthorn added.
"Well yeah but-"
"But what do you expect? He's vermin Matiya!"
"But he was hurt when-"
"When what? Everybeast feels pain you idiot! Stop acting like he's our friend. He's with them and that makes him an enemy!"
"But he's a good enemy-"
"The only good enemy is a dead enemy." Sharpfur grinned.
"Don't you have some village to raid?" Grollo grumbled.
"Me? Nah, I'm too little." He chuckled, laying safely against the mast. "Please continue debiliating vermin psychopathy."
"We're not 'debiliating' we're 'debating'." Matiya corrected icily.
"That's what I said!" The weasel snapped.
"Liar. Liar, liar, liar, liar!" Hawthorn sung in sing-song.
"One day my lying tongue will save yer pretty hide. Shut it princess."
Before Hawthorn could reply, Matiya interrupted. I swear the word 'liar' should be burned off the dictionary! It's going to drive me mad. "Look Fret has problems expressing himself. It's why he gets all snappy sometimes-"
"Bahahahahaha!" Sharpfur was thumping the floor with his legs as he laughed his head off. Matiya desperately wanted to kick his tail.
The squirrel tried to continue explaining. "He thinks that everyone hates him because he's vermin-"
Sharpfur started laughing even louder.
"And it's hard to explain to him that we don't. This thing was an accident! He's as captive as we are-"
"Stop!" Sharpfur shrieked from under his laughter. "I'm gonna wet meself hahahaha!"
"Nothing is funny!" Matiya bellowed, making the weasel squirm harder. Then he stopped and waited for someone else to resume the conversation. Everyone was silent, save and except for Sharpfur, who was still laughing. Eventually he composed himself. Giggling occasionally he opened his mouth to say something-but his words fell short when something ploughed into the underside of the ship and he fell on his rump. Suddenly very annoyed.
"Hey! Do you miiii-oh um hello." He gulped weakly as a massive rat clambered silently onto the deck.
The deck became deathly quiet as the rat approached slowly, an axe hanging loosely from his belt.
Sharpfur flattened himself against the floor of the ship. "P-please great one-t-take them! I'm just the watch-beast. Mercy, great one. Mercy."
The rat stomped forwards, giving a dark chuckle. He made to unbuckle his axe.
Sharpfur was quicker, and pounced forwards, his small claws freeing his dirk and plunging it into the invader's throat.
Hawthorn screamed. Rosebrush almost fainted. The rest were drawn to the loud, gruesome spectacle and could not look away.
The big rat struggled weakly, but Sharpfur was quicker, sliding and twisting and sawing his dirk into the flesh, while blood emptied itself all over, spilling around his paws, splashing around his dirk and staining his cloth. The battle was over though, the second the dirk tore the rodent's windpipe. The rat fell, gurgling and twitching frantically as blood filled his lungs and the air he gasped in flew back out his throat.
Nobody could stop staring at it. Sharpfur was shivering, though it was not cold and was wide-eyed and horrified by the sight. Evidently the young weasel had not killed before. He looked wordlessly at the bound woodlanders, his mouth open but no words coming out-his cocky demeanour entirely gone.
Then a hundred hooks flew from the side of the ship and sunk into the wood. From the way they strained it was evident someone was climbing aboard.
Sharpfur froze,his eyes wide with fear. The dirk remained in the rat's throat.
It was Matiya who reacted first. Complain all they wanted, the vermin hadn't been cruel to them-there was no telling what these other ones would be like and it was not a risk the squirrel was willing to take. "ALL PAWS ON DECK! YOU'RE UNDER ATTACK! ALL PAWS ON DECK!"
Sharpfur looked at him, utterly speechless.
"Cut us loose!" Jack hollered at him. "We're no good being sitting ducks!"
Sharpfur didn't move. Then the first black rat popped it's ugly head overboard just as Threeclaw burst from the cabin, armed with his broadsword and rapier. The stoat wasted no time cleaving the rat's head in two, and was just as fast at slicing the ropes. But he was not fast enough to prevent a fight.
Fret woke from his first-thankfully dreamless sleep to the sound of shouting. Confused he sat up suddenly as the crew around him suddenly milled about in a drastic frenzy. Threeclaw shot up to the deck first and soon everybeast was arming himself. What was going on? Gulash gave him an accidental shove and barged past, the rest of the Honest Bunch came racing out, hollering madly.
Then he heard a distant voice yelling about 'attack' and stood up with a jolt. Then Grey was looking up at him.
"Frettie! Where's Sharpie? Have you seen him?" Fret shook his head dumbly. Would it be the hares? Would they kill him? And Grey? Or Sharpfur...
"I-I don't know." Anything. It was tempting to sit and cry-but the only one who he cried to was Constance and she was back at Redwall... If I ever go back. I'm going to sit in the cottage and cry till it floods.
"Well, let's go find him to make sure he's safe- and and we can bring your friend too. The squirrel and them."
"He's not my friend." Fret snapped automatically. "I- it's-complicated."
"I heard you, you know. Talking to him. You want to go back, don't you?" Grey tried to hide the hurt in his eyes. He wasn't very good at doing it.
Fret opened his mouth, he didn't know how to respond. Luckily, he didn't have to. Unluckily, it was because a black rat dropped down from the deck in a shower of splinters.
The fight was the most gruesome thing any of them had ever seen. Even Sharpfur-who threatened to gut them all at least twice- was frozen by the gruesomeness of it all. Blood sprayed and fell like rain, vermin rolled around on the deck, clawing and biting. Heads lay slit and bodies fell and made pools of red.
Sharpfur had not moved an inch and Matiya had stopped yelling after he'd seen Gulash crush a rat's skull bare-pawed. They had all seen the Honest Bunch, singing their shanties and joking and laughing. But this reminded them heavily that they were surrounded by killers.
Freedom came in the form of an axe that missed Deathglare's skull and split the rope inbetween Grollo and Rosebrush. The mole had already fainted and now fell forwards as the rope no longer bound them.
Still stunned, the youngsters all shared looks of shock. Then suddenly, Momchillo was struck by a great idea.
"This thing has a dinghy, right?"
Tibbers nodded incromprehensively.
"Let's get out of here!"
The group blinked and then faint smiles grew slightly. Home, was tantalisingly close.
"Hey!" Sharpfur shouted distractedly. "Y-you're-"
"Leaving." Matiya finished coldly. "Going to stop us?" The weasel made no move to do so. "Guys, our best hope is to crawl towards it, otherwise we won't get far. Grollo, help Rosebrush, Jack-"
"Don't worry, I've got the shrew."
"Okay. Right. Let's go then."
And so they bent forwards and crawled forwards one by one, leaving Sharpfur to stand there trying to say something.
It was hard work, crawling. Matiya was at the back of the line and the constant movement of the rolling and clashing vermin was difficult to navigate. The dead bodies were even harder.
Matiya had always dreamed of fighting, of being the Abbey Warrior, of slaying countless villains with a mighty swing of his sword. Yet the stories had never been like this and he was starting to believe what Sharpfur had said about vermin tales being more realistic. He caught sight of Threeclaw, frantically battling three at once. He had never seen anything like it. With small, sharp and sudden movements of his paw the stoat could parry any attack thrown at him. And with broad stroaks and decisive jabs he ended any who faced him. He danced over the carnage, light on his feet and fast, not slipping on any stray guts, hopping nimbly above a still-breathing comrade. It was the most beautiful thing he had seen-and it was butchery. He found suddenly that being a warrior was perhaps not the best career choice. Matiya forced his eyes away and made faster work.
He reached the dinghy last. Tibbers, Jack, Grollo, Rosebrush and Hawthorn were ready to leave and already on board. Momchillo looked relieved at the sight of him.
"Come on. Let's get out of here." The mouse said, and together they joined the others on the smaller boat.
The dinghy was held up by two ropes to either side and now they lowered it, one rope at a time. Slowly, gently. An eighth of the way. Heave. Ho. Slowly, surely. A quarter of the way down.
"Wait!" Yelled Matiya suddenly. "What about Fret?"
The looks he got varried from Matiya's scowl to Tibbers and Jack's appalling attempt at not making eye contact.
"What about Fret?" Momchillo asked through gritted teeth. And for a moment Matiya was filled with righteous fury.
"Just because you don't care about him!" He snapped. "We left Redwall to bring him back. I'm not leaving without him!" He scrambled the ropes they had been tugging low with the worthiness of his species.
Momchillo growled. "Idiot. What an idiot!"
The rat swung at Fret first and likely would have killed him in one move had the ferret not managed to flatten himself backwards. The dagger stuck in the wood, and the rat left it there swinging bare-pawed he dealt a mighty blow to Fret's nose. He followed up by grabbing him by the throat and squeezing cruelly.
He had forgotten Grey, and while he himself was no warrior, if not for his mismatched buckteeth Fret would likely have died.
The black rat hollered as the smaller one's teeth tore into his shoulder. His grip loosened and Fret managed to slash open his cheek, creating three, short gashes on his face. Acting quickly, the rat kicked the ferret off of him, and tore his shoulder out of Grey's mouth. Pain fueled his power and with a vicious backhand the rat tumbled away.
Fret helped Grey to his feet as the black rat freed his dagger.
"What do we do?" Grey whimpered.
Fret noticed that they were right in front of the staircase.
"Run!" He yelled, dashing forwards and up the ship with speed he had not known he had. Then again he had never quite felt fear like this before either. He reached the cabinin record time and vaulted up, he snatched the trapdoor and prepared to slam it shut. Grey burst through, panting madly and Fret slammed the door shut as the black rat's face came into view. Then he bolted it shut and breathed deep sighs of relief.
"Frettie, are you okay?" Grey asked tenatively.
Fret nodded.
"Okay. Let's go find Sharpie." He said simply.
Sharpfur was in the same spot as before. He willed his body to move, to help, to do something... The look of pain and fear in the black rat's eye froze him once more. Why couldn't he move? He had hurt people before. Once, he had pinched Grey's belly until the rat had cried, yet that hadn't frozen him and he actually cared about Grey. Why couldn't he just move?
He managed to shift his paw slightly and promptly slipped on a pool of blood. He landed hard on his rump and the sudden feeling of something helped him regain control of his body. And it was a good thing too, since at that moment a black rat with a dirk that looked remarkably like his, noticed his existence.
Going back through the chaos was the hardest thing Matiya had ever done. The stench of death was thick and heavy and made his head spin around. He could see no familiar faces, probably since every face was splattered heavily with blood and gore. He thought he saw Threeclaw once, but he hoped it was not the stoat, for what he had seen was a writhing corpse. He stumbled forwards as a horrible thought gripped his mind. What if Fret was dead? He shook his head wildly and continued. The heroes never died-he tried to assure himself. But that was a lie. Felldoh had died. Boar the Fighter had died. Skarlath the hawk... The list went on and on.
It was then that he noticed Fret.
Fret spotted Sharpfur, scrambling and slipping away from a black rat. The weasel's face radiated a panic that had not been there before. Then again neither had the threat of death.
"Sharpie!" Grey yelled in anguish, trying desperately to reach his friend. Sharpfur dodged another knife and lashed out, sinking his sharp little teeth into the rat's stomach, his head tearing from side to side. Grey fell trying to get to him.
"Fret!" Fret turned and Matiya was scrambling towards him. "Fret, we're leaving. Come on we're at the dinghy! We're going home!"
Home. Redwall. It was so close he could feel it. Don't think. Just go home.
"Help!" Sobbed Grey as a rat advanced on him, dirk drawn. Fret froze. Go home. Forget Grey. Go home. But he could not forget Grey, Grey who had been nice to him, who didn't want him to leave.
"Fret! Come on Fret! Let's go!"
Fret barged the rat on the side. The rat turned to him and Fret lost his courage. He turned tails and ran, slipping, tripping, he ran away as the rat slipped and tripped after him. Then as he reached the dinghy he realized that he had run out of boat. He swerved to the side just as an axe plunged into the wood of the deck. He tried to run, slipped and tried to scramble backwards on all fours. The rat towered over him. Sharpfur was running forwards, tripped on something and fell overboard. The rat slammed a foot over Fret's chest, making him cough. The rodent bent to pull the axe free.
Sharpfur hit the dinghy's deck headfirst with an almighty thud. Dizzily, he reoriontated himself and blinked at the confused faces that surrounded him. He was followed by Grey Claw-who lannded right on top of him.
Matiya plunged the sword through the rat's throat, where the blade appeared on the other side,splattered in blood. The rat fell to the side. Dead.
Matiya was frozen for a moment, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins helped focus him. He reached a paw out to Fret.
"Come on. Let's put this... Behind us." He panted.
Fret reached out to take his paw. Then the ship lurched violently and Fret's skull hit the side of the boat and knew nothing more.
Momchillo was stunned. "What are you doing here!?"
Before he could get a reply the boat shook, launching the dinghy forwards. Then it swung back. Hawthorn hit the boat with her head and slumped. Jack lost balance and teetered. Tibbers grabbed him by the front and then they both fell. Then one rope snapped. The dinghy swung, now held up by the other and spilled Sharpfur and Greyclaw into the water.
"Matiya!" He shouted, holding onto the remaining rope for dear life. That was when the squirrel's form flew off the side of the ship. "Matiya!" He hollered desperately. Then the last rope snapped. The dinghy fell down and Momchillo was tossed into the air. The deck came up to meet him, it seemed. There was pain, and then he knew nothing more.
Footnote: There you go. Monthly Update achieved!
Now I'm going to say that until later on the story will be entirely from the viewpoint of the kids. Makes surprises more surprising. Also don't worry. None of the dibbuns are dead. I just had to split them up so that they can have their separate adventures.
The next chapter will be pretty soon as I already have most of it written. It's gravitating towards comedy to balance out the depressive vibes you must be feeling right now.
Enjoy.