"Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always gotten there first, and is waiting for it." ~Terry Pratchett.
Silent and swift as a midnight shadow, the Scornful Tyrant sailed on the Western Sea. The three-masted barque's massive wooden hull made no sound as it drifted almost weightlessly through the vast waters, leaving no turbulence in its wake. Over a dozen native soldiers, hired mercenaries, bloodthirsty pirates, and conscripts from both the mysterious land of Morringtat, the distant Terramort, and the kingdom of Sampetra comprised its leader's bloody, barbaric, corsair crew.
Upon the stern there stood a tall, stocky, muscular black-brown swamp rat. He was clad shoulders to toes in gleaming silver steel, and sported a green leather belt fashioned of monitor lizard scales around his waist. He fingered the hilts of the steel falchion on his left hip and the hunting dagger on his right. Small rounded ears partially concealed by matted headfur did not twitch at the slightest sound of the waves lapping against his ship. Black, pink-tinted eyes stared fixed to the golden horizon ahead of the blue sea waters. The rat's scaly, dark grey, sparsely-haired tail curled in a meditative loop beneath his legs. He perched one foot on the bow, stiller than a statue as his majestic ship cleaved the thick waves beneath it.
Nagrig Deathblade was headed to Mossflower!
After a couple more minutes, Nagrig dropped his leg beside the other and turned on his heels. He rested his paws on the hilts of his falchion and dagger and walked over to the ship's wheel. "How's your head, Adhuxnuo?"
"Plain sailing, Lord Deathblade," the helmsbeast, a dark brown pine marten named Adhuxnuo, replied, nodding towards his leader. "Running downwind with the wind at our backs. If this smooth weather holds up, we should reach Mossflower within the hour or less, milord."
"Excellent, Adhuxnuo," Nagrig nodded approvingly. "Keep on this course and let me know when we've reached Mossflower Forest."
"Aye, milord," Adhuxnuo confidently tightened his grip on the wheel. "Let go and haul!" he ordered the crew on the main deck. The crew hurried to adjust the sails to match the fixed course.
"As you were, Adhuxnuo," Nagrig patted his helmsbeast on the shoulder and left the stern.
As he stepped onto the main deck, one of his corsairs bellowed, "Commander on deck! All hail to his great majesty, Nagrig Deathblade, the Lord of Morringtat!"
In unison, the corsairs raised whatever they held in their paws high in the air and shook them, cheering and roaring to the skies. Some drew their weapons and reflected the shining sunlight off their metal blades. Nagrig stepped atop a closed crate and stood to his fullest height, puffing out his chest out and basking in their adulation. They fell silent and returned to their work when he raised his armored paws.
The Southern stoat who had announced his arrival sauntered up to him when he dismounted the crate. He was dressed in dull grey chainmail and had a paw wrapped around a longsword on his belt.
"Hail, Lord Deathblade," the stoat addressed and bowed formally. "I would ask a question of my liege."
Nagrig gave the stoat a cordial smile, barely concealing his smugness. "The same to you, Captain Krodnal. I sense your curiosity is sincere. Ask away."
Krodnal straightened up and struck an attentive pose. "My liege, I would inquire as to your exact reasons for going to Mossflower Forest, of all places. I understand we are on a mission of sorts. But precisely how are we sure that Mossflower is the optimal place for you to hunt for your…chosen prey, for want of better words?"
Nagrig's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I am more than certain that our quarry hides in Mossflower Forest. Rest assured, Krodnal. The hunt is already underway. We also know where and how to find Redwall Abbey. We won't have to search far and wide, never fear."
He began pacing down the deck, Krodnal falling flawlessly into step beside him. "Now, then, once we've found Redwall, we'll need to either convince its denizens to turn over the prey to us, or sneak inside and steal them away when nobeast is watching. If push comes to shove, we'll need to make threats, or worse. But I hope that it never comes to that."
"Everything depends upon stealth, as Your Lordship made adamantly clear before we set off on this voyage no less than three days ago." Krodnal remembered, walking unhurriedly abreast of his horde leader.
"Indeed, Krodnal." Nagrig bade the stoat follow him up the steps to the bow, and raised an emphasizing claw in the air. "We get in, take what – or rather, who – we need, and then leave Mossflower with nobeast the wiser. The hunt must go precisely as planned, or all of this journeying will be for nothing."
"What if the locals fail to cooperate, milord?" asked a swarthy, slender ermine cloaked in obsidian hard leather armor. He'd been listening to the conversation from the railing above.
"As I said, we make threats and use force, Lieutenant Gurutharc," Nagrig regarded him. "Discretion, stealth, secrecy are our watchwords. We cannot allow the prey to evade us, or worse, be alerted to our presence in Mossflower before we can ensnare them in our traps. Remember, my warriors," he planted his palms on the semicircular railing, gazing out over the ship. "We are on a mission of the utmost importance greater than words can accurately measure. But this mission is not to allow something to happen; but rather, to prevent it from happening."
"Failure is not an option," Gurutharc remarked. He cupped his elbow in his paw and scratched his chin, thinking. "We'd be tragically remiss if we shirked our duties and lost the prey. If they escape, then so does the hunt after it."
"I couldn't agree more," Nagrig agreed, his eyes scanning the main deck, on which his corsairs scurried about in every direction tending to the needs of the ship. "If we play our parts just right, they won't know what hit them."
"Do they even know, milord?" Krodnal asked, looking curiously at Nagrig. "That we're coming, I mean?"
"I doubt they suspect a thing, Captain," Nagrig flashed that same knowing smile from earlier, chuckling haughtily, his voice coated in a veil of excessive overconfident pride. "Time has dulled their senses and tunneled their vision. They won't know we're in Mossflower until it's too late."
"Right, milord. As you say." Krodnal shook his feet, then turned and bowed. "Well, my inquiries have been satisfied. I'll return to my duties." He nodded at Gurutharc and left.
"Fair winds and blue skies, milord," Gurutharc casually gazed upwards at the bright sky empty of clouds. "Smooth, tame waters beneath us and not a reef in sight." He glanced back at his lord, grinning hopefully. "Won't be long 'til we reach Mossflower."
"Of that I have no doubt, Gurutharc," Nagrig acknowledged with a nod. "Keep me posted. I'll be in my cabin."
Back on the main deck, the corsairs had returned to their original duties after trimming the sails. Nagrig's ears caught snatches of their conversation.
"I just thought o' sumthin," a red fox wearing a longsleeved emerald button-down tunic and tan knee-length trousers remarked to a yellow-brown weasel as they coiled a mooring line together. "We've been on th' sea fer nearly four days with nary a sign o' dry lan' in sight. Lord Deathblade's got us sailin' east fer no reason at all. I'm gettin' bored o' seein' nuthin' but endless blue waters as far as th' eye can see."
The weasel scoffed and hung the coiled mooring line on a hook, shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh, spare me, Ember, isn't this what you signed up for? If you didn't want to consign yourself to a life of sailing across the vast ocean, then you should've just stayed home in Morringtat, you small-brained landlubber."
The fox named Ember glowered at the weasel and folded his arms across his chest, looking rather cross. "Fer yer information, I didn't sign up fer this at all, Khaimtsu. I was pressed into Lord Deathblade's service, ya know. But I expect t' be well compensated fer my 'elp."
He stuck an assertive claw in the air and narrowed his eyes. "I expect t' be most 'andsomely rewarded fer lendin' my blade an' arm t' Deathblade's cause, against my will an' better judgement, o' course."
"Then you'll work on earning your keep while you're in my service, Ember," Nagrig interjected suddenly, causing the startled fox to flinch. "In the time that you remain in my employ, you'll follow all of my orders to the letter. Do you understand? I'll abide no slothfulness onboard the Scornful Tyrant!" He patted the hilt of his falchion as a warning.
Ember growled, showing his fangs, and wrapped a paw around the hilt of his cutlass. "My Lord Deathblade, with all due respect." His face contorted into an impatient, angry expression. "I made it clear that I've been gettin' so bored from seein nuthin' but water fer leagues on en'! I want t' get t' th' fightin' already—hurk!"
Suddenly, Nagrig's paw shot up and clamped around Ember's neck. The rat's sharp claws dug into the fox's throat as the grip tightened, squeezing his windpipe. Ember grabbed at his neck and fought Nagrig's vice grip to no avail. He only thrashed in place as Nagrig slowly applied pressure.
"You've got quite the nerve to talk back to your commanding officer, Ember; even more so to grow a mind of your own." Nagrig snarled at Ember intolerantly, ignoring his attempts to free himself from a clutch tighter than iron. "It must be hard for you, living every day with a brain the size of a peanut. Perhaps you've forgotten your place. Allow me to remind you."
He laid Ember vertical over the railing of the ship. "Remember that you were conscripted into my service, Ember." He stared down at him with dark scrutiny, icy-cold scorn filling his eyes. "Absolute loyalty is expected of you. Your compensation will be dependent exclusively on your fidelity. I am your superior, Ember. I give you orders and you are required to obey them."
Ember shuddered and gulped, staring deep into Nagrig's unempathetic eyes. He could say nothing, however, through the steel clutch constricting his esophagus.
"Yes, fighting is what you want, isn't it, Ember?" Nagrig curled his lip and snorted in derision, disdainfully turning up his nose. "That, and perhaps a much baser need of yours that wants – needs – satisfying. Rest assured, young one. Once we arrive at Mossflower, there will be plenty of fighting – and rewards – to go around. You'll get a chance to wield that cutlass in the heat of battle very soon. But understand now that I make no promises."
Nagrig straightened up, bringing Ember with him. "For now, be patient and do your work."
He removed his paw from Ember's neck. Ember coughed and staggered clumsily until he tripped and fell flat on his tail. Khaimtsu pointed and laughed mockingly at the dazed gasping fox.
Nagrig turned on his heels to walk away and waved a paw dismissively. "Carry on."
Ember begrudgingly got to his feet, massaging his neck and watching Nagrig head towards his cabin, eyes narrowing and face darkening. "He truly is a scornful tyrant, ain't he?"
Khaimtsu responded by punching him hard in the forearm. "Not your place to question, conscript. Now get back to work!"
Inside the four, slanted, large-windowed walls of his captain's cabin, Nagrig poured himself a cup of iced gin and tonic and sat down at his wide rectangular maple desk. He traced a thin line on his map southeast from the Ruddaring mountain to the flatlands of Mossflower. A similar note went on his nautical chart.
"You seem so remarkably confident about this whole venture, Nagrig," a black rat standing by the window remarked. Like Nagrig, he too was clad in shining silver steel armor, but hung a longsword on his belt in place of a falchion. He had pitch-black fur and eyes of blood red that stared nonchalantly out the window, watching the waves roll around the walls of the cabin.
"Are you absolutely sure that we'll find them?" He put one paw in his pocket and leaned casually to one side. His other paw held his own glass of gin and tonic. "The siblings, I mean?"
"They can't hide from us forever, Zakrul." Nagrig retorted back without hesitation, sipping his gin. "The Eastern Islands couldn't keep them safe before; nor can Mossflower keep them safe now."
"What if you're wrong, Nagrig?" Zakrul Bloodeyes, Chief Mate of the Scornful Tyrant, turned away from the window to face Nagrig. He cradled his gin glass in his palm and raised a skeptical eyebrow.
Nagrig scarcely reacted to the anxious eyebrow the other rat raised. "You know full well, Zakrul. I'm hardly if ever wrong. The signs can no longer be ignored." He raised a knowing claw in the air. "The time is forthcoming."
"The Eastern Islands…" Zakrul nodded contemplatively, swirling his gin around in the glass in a deeply thoughtful manner.
"Exactly. There can be no more coincidences, Zakrul." Nagrig reminded him, standing up and putting his map and nautical chart aside. He opened his desk drawer and placed his writing tools inside, then joined Zakrul at the window. His upright stiffness made a stark contrast to his companion's more relaxed informal gait.
"Now that you mention it," Zakrul furrowed his brow and drank thoughtfully. "The signs are already beginning to show themselves. The stars, the sky, the movements of the sun and moon, the waters, the very dirt of the earth itself; even the wind has whispered its truths into my ears."
"You joined me on this virtuous hunt, this high-born venture, because you believed in that legend, Zakrul," Nagrig reminded him cordially, a layer of deep respect layering his voice.
"Oh, I believe in it, all right," Zakrul hissed back in an aggressively low voice. "I've never much been the type to take stock in ancient legends or old fables passed down through generations. Yet this one is real, and undeniably so, for more reasons than one. I assure you I will do everything in my power to help you prevent it, Nagrig."
He gave the swamp rat an affirming nod. "You have both my blade and my loyalty."
"Never did I doubt you, Zakrul," Nagrig patted the black rat on the shoulder. Turning back to the window, he spread his arms wide over the waves in a dramatic manner. "This world is ours, Zakrul. It belongs to us and us alone. We will not allow some measly, misbegotten, fabricated ancient legend steal it away from the rightful sovereignty of Morringtat."
Zakrul spun around on his heels. The black rat chuckled as he paced the width of the slanted rectangular cabin, drinking his gin. His mind wandered off in flights of musing as if carried away by the waves. "About those signs you mentioned, Nagrig. You are right, they can no longer be ignored."
"I highly doubt they're even aware of the signs, or of our inevitable coming, you know," Nagrig grinned amusedly, not bothering to hide the hint of dripping cynicism lacing his voice. "How can they be, living complacently as they are in their Redwall Abbey?"
"I feel I must confess," Zakrul stared idly at the colorful ceiling to floor banners hanging on the cabin walls, his mind carried off in thought. "As far as Redwall is concerned, I've only heard the obscure legends, and even those are dubious at best."
"From what I've heard through the rumors circulating throughout the Far West," Nagrig unsheathed his hunting dagger and twirled it confidently between his fingers. "The rewards of attacking Redwall Abbey far outweigh the risks. The creatures of Redwall are pathetically few in number and pitifully deficient in combat experience. So we should expect little to no opposition."
Zakrul returned to Nagrig's side. He wore an evilly crooked and fanged smile with a crystal-clear layer of malicious excitement. "We'll be able to sneak in, steal the siblings, and disappear like ships in the night without those Redwallers ever knowing we were there. It will be a most righteous hunt worthy of the history books."
"Can I depend upon your unwavering fidelity, my brother?" Nagrig raised his glass to Zakrul's level.
"To the end of the hunt and beyond, Nagrig," Zakrul lifted his glass to Nagrig's reassuringly.
Both rats clinked their glasses together and drank deeply.
"Land ho!"
As the long-awaited cry shouted from the crow's nest reverberated across the Scornful Tyrant, Lieutenant Gurutharc knocked on Nagrig's cabin to deliver the news. He promptly emerged from his cabin, followed by Zakrul, and strode across the deck, barking orders to his crew.
"Ripspit! Baric! You're on anchor detail." A large corpulent tan wearet and a broad-chested brown rat hurried to the hawsepipe. "Ember, Khaimtsu, prepare to launch the dinghies."
Nagrig set out to the Mossflower shoreline with Zakrul and fourteen other corsairs at his back. When they landed on the ocean banks, Khaimtsu pored over the map from the captain's cabin.
"We appear to have landed at the flatlands, my Lord," he explained to Nagrig, seated on a log. "On the banks of a tributary called the River Moss."
The weasel traced a claw across the map and slightly downwards. "If the map measurements are correct, then that Redwall Abbey place ought to be somewhere to the southeast of here."
"No time like the present to get started, then," Nagrig hefted the falchion on his belt. "Hide the boats! Fall in ranks and prepare to march!"
The army began marching in lines of five. Nagrig marched at the head with Zakrul and Krodnal on his left paw, and his standard-bearer, a Sampetran sable named Arvuk, and Khaimtsu on his right. After about three miles, they reached a massive quarry with towering rocks and a circle of trees.
As his horde rested, Nagrig climbed up atop a large boulder to face the sun as it approached its noontime zenith, reaching out and curling his clawed fist over the shining golden orb.
"Let the hunt begin!"
Friar Reylia had been right about the Autumn Nameday Feast. Redwall Abbey indeed ended up with more leftovers from the Feast than anticipated. Their visitors took home entire bags and baskets of extras to last mostly half the new autumn season. Only Fernleaf had stayed the night. The ferret was more than happy to show up for breakfast the next morning.
"Now, don't you be acting like a stranger from here on out, Fernleaf," Reylia encouraged the ferret, placing a bowl of oatmeal beside his plate to complement his hash browns and buttered toast. "You're a part of our Abbey family, just as Abbot Curtis said. So from now on, you'll always have a place here in our sacred welcoming halls, whether you believe it or not. Eat up!"
Fernleaf, though thoroughly surprised, gladly picked up his knife and fork. "Thank you, Friar Reylia, and your chefs. I am ever in awe of Redwall Abbey and its homeliness and generosity." He began eating his hash browns.
Reylia winked reassuringly at the ferret. "As ever, Fernleaf, your presence here at Redwall is welcomed and cherished. Enjoy your breakfast! When you're done, we can put together a basket of food for you to take back to your humble hut." She skipped merrily back to the Kitchens holding the pot of oatmeal.
Suddenly, Wyatt came running into Cavern Hole right up to Abbot Curtis' chair at the far end of the breakfast table. "Hey, Father Abbot, sorry to interrupt you. There's a quintet of strange masked and fancy-clothed beasts at the Front Gate; say they're some kind of band of simple traveling merchants that want to barter and bargain. Can you check them out with me? I don't feel confident about letting them into Redwall."
"Traveling merchants, you say, Wyatt?" Curtis put down his mug of pumpkin spice tea, looking partly grim and partly curious. "They're not uncommon around these parts, but all the same, we should go investigate them. I understand your hesitance, Wyatt. We'll go check them out together if that'll make you feel better."
He turned to his company at the table. "Arland, Mack, Jonathan, accompany me. The rest of you, stay here and continue breakfast."
He drained the last of his tea and joined Wyatt out of Cavern Hole, followed closely by Cellarhog Arland, Almoner Mack, and Recorder Jonathan.
"Traveling merchants?" Madeline furrowed her brow in confusion at Jared, who sat across from her, holding a slice of toast with apricot jam halfway to her mouth. "In Mossflower?"
"I highly doubt it." Jared shook his head in outright stoic disbelief. "We should go check it out, too."
"Wait!" Larina instinctively called and reached out her paw after the siblings. "But the Abbot said to stay here and continue breakfast!" But they had sprinted out of Cavern Hole before anybeast could stop them.
Atop the western ramparts, Abbot Curtis, Wyatt, and their company stared down with curious trepidation at the group of beasts standing on the dirt road below.
"Hallo!" Curtis called out. "I am Curtis, Father Abbot of Redwall Abbey! Who goes there?"
A figure dressed in silver steel, an expressionless sky-blue full-face silk mask, and a high-collared turquoise cape stepped forward and waved back at Curtis. "Good morning, my fellow beast! My companions and I were traveling the long winding roads of Mossflower when we chanced upon your monastery! We are a group of mere traveling merchants wanting to trade with you and your creatures. May we perchance enter your holy place? We only come in peace!"
Curtis hesitated for a split second before raising a finger to the masked and caped figure. "One moment, please, good merchants, while we deliberate this!"
He ducked beneath the stone wall and the others did the same.
"Traveling merchants in Mossflower?" the elder harvest mouse rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a confused expression crossing his face. "They didn't seem to be carrying any goods or supplies with them. What do you make of this, my brothers?"
Almoner Mack, a tall and slender pale brown otter, shook his head. "I dunno, Father. This all soun's a little too good t' be true, if'n ya ask me. I don't thin' they be real travelin' merchants, if'n I'm bein' honest. They don't even look th' type."
"They did sound quite convincing, though," Jonathan also rubbed his chin. "Finely dressed, modest gait, passive choice of words, awfully polite and respectful tone of voice. I say they're telling the truth and that we oughta let them into the Abbey."
"Aye, I agree with Jonathan, Father Abbot," Arland jerked his thumb at Jonathan in solidarity. "If they've been traveling on the road all morning, they must be parched and starving. I'd gladly give them a mug of my best October Ale and a glass of my finest white wine."
"It's your call, Father Abbot," Wyatt encouraged Curtis.
Curtis glanced back and forth between his company, thinking deeply on their words. Finally, he nodded his head. "All right. We'll let them into Redwall. But somebeast ought to keep an eye or two on them."
On the Front Lawn, Jared and Madeline hid behind a tree and listened to the conversation on the ramparts. Jared climbed the tree to the middle branches, concentrating his ears to the voices deliberating on the walls, while Madeline stayed on the ground crouched amongst the roots.
"They're going to let those traveling merchants into the Abbey?" Madeline thought aloud, confused. "What could they possibly offer us that we don't already have?"
"Cookware, metal utensils, relics and treasures from other lands across the sea, simple working tools," Jared perched birdlike on the branch above his sister's head. "But I don't know. Something feels so…off about all of this."
Wyatt stood up first on the ramparts and waved at the quintet below. Then he dashed down to the Front Gate and wrenched it open, aided by Abbot Curtis and the others.
"What the heck are they doing?" Jared whispered sharply. Madeline only shrugged cluelessly. Jared carefully stepped off his tree branch and began scaling to the ground.
When the merchants had entered through the Gate, they were met by the enthusiastic Redwallers, who welcomed them warmly and invited them to enter the Great Hall. They were dressed in peculiarly expressionless masks and long cloaks and capes, and didn't appear to be carrying weapons of any kind. After they disappeared into the Abbey proper, Jared and Madeline stealthily trailed behind.
In the Great Hall, one of the creatures dressed in a charcoal-black mask and cape, stopped and stared at the banner on the wall. "My, oh, my, now what is this masterpiece?"
"That is our proud Tapestry," Abbot Curtis explained, stopping in place and beaming at the large woven banner taking up the length of the wall. "It tells of the long and storied history of Redwall Abbey." He folded his paws inside the sleeves of his habit. "It is our crown jewel, our pride and joy, our most priceless and invaluable treasure. Each successive generation has added to the tales and histories. The mighty figure you see in the center there is of our staunch and fearless protector, Martin the Warrior. He watches over our graceful Abbey, our watchful guardian and noble champion."
"Interesting…" the creature in black looked Martin up and down, but made no further comment on it.
"Now, then, I'm sure you must all be utterly famished from your lengthy journey, so allow us to tend to your needs." Curtis turned to Jonathan, Arland, and Mack. "My brothers, why don't you go fetch some vittles and bring them out for our guests to partake in? Wyatt," he patted the young mouse on the shoulders. "You should go take a break and treat yourself, too. You've earned it, my lad."
Curtis folded his paws inside his sleeves and bowed courteously to his guests. "I should let my Redwallers know that traveling merchants have come to our land, and we shall see about trading. Please wait here; your refreshments will arrive shortly." He walked beside Wyatt on the way back to Cavern Hole.
The black-cloaked beast leaned in and whispered behind his paw to the one in the sky-blue silk mask. "Now they're gone. This is the perfect opportunity to search for our prey!"
The one with the blue mask shook his head and glanced over his companion's shoulder, his eyes glinting. "Oh, we won't have to search for the prey. When they have already come to us."
All five turned to the pair of squirrels standing near the opposite end of the Great Hall. In the late morning sunlight, their faces drained instantly of color.
"Now!"
The squirrels screamed out loud as the quintet forced burlap sacks over their heads. But before they could bind their prey's paws with rope, Jonathan came descending the stairs, balancing a silver tray of leftover October Ale and white wine, toast with cheese, and fresh fruits.
"Oh, my goodness!" Jonathan almost dropped the tray on the floor at the sight of his fellow squirrels being hauled away by their masked strangers.
"Attack! Assault!" Mack cried out behind him down the hall. "Kidnappin'! Alarm!"
The creature wearing the blue mask tore off his disguise and laughed evilly, his maniacal cackling resonating through the Great Hall. He tossed his accoutrement aside while his accomplices led their captured charges out of the Abbey.
Jared's ears rang with the terrified screams of his sister. An unbidden yet strangely familiar anger began to boil in his blood. He dug his claws into his burlap sack and tore it straight open with a furious yell at the top of his lungs. He pressed the sack into the chest of the nearest creature, a fiery-red fox. Then he spun around on his heels to throw a punch right in the face of the pine marten who held Madeline's paws behind her back.
Adhuxnuo reeled backward, holding his nose. Jared swooped in and threw the sack off of Madeline's head. He took his horrified, hyperventilating sister into his arms and carried her to Arland and Mack's side.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Curtis bounded down the stairs. At the sight of the unmasked beasts, a shocked gasp escaped him. He clapped both paws to his mouth. "Vermin! In Redwall Abbey! In our sacred Great Hall?!"
"Traitors!" Arland pointed an accusing finger at the five vermin, who all smirked or sneered unapologetically back. "We take you off the road and offer you food and shelter, and this is how you repay our generosity?! By trying to spirit away two of our innocent creatures?!"
"Innocent?" the swamp rat grinned, showing his fangs. He gestured to the others to stand down. Then he stepped forward and spread his arms wide in plain sight of the two squirrels standing across from him.
"Hello, Jared and Madeline Sandeye. Nice to finally meet you again after all these long seasons."
The shocked, shaken Madeline gasped out loud, and her face turned to abject horror while Jared's contorted into outright anger.
"Nagrig Deathblade!"
"What's the matter, children?" Nagrig grinned even wider, flexing his claws in a rather theatrical manner. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."
"Did I not ask a question first?" Curtis pointed insistently at Nagrig. "Explain yourselves this instant!"
"Gladly," Nagrig gestured assertively to himself. "I am Nagrig Karthor Deathblade, the Lord of Morringtat in the South. I have sailed the seas of our world over the space of four days searching for these two."
He turned his claw towards the Sandeye siblings, making Madeline hide behind her brother, who threw himself protectively in front of her. "Suffice it to say, the three of us have – and to use your own words, Abbot Curtis – a long and storied history together."
"He's a murderer!" Jared blurted out. "A bloodthirsty corsair and an evil pirate!"
"He killed our family in the Eastern Islands!" Madeline added from behind his back. "And many more like them!"
"For reasons beyond your feeble comprehension, or concern, for that matter," Nagrig added hastily to Curtis, who furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "Did you truly forget why your family had to die, Sandeyes? Has it slipped your minds? Has it never haunted the dark and secretive corners of your subconscious? Have you forgotten…about the Prophecy?"
By this point, the rest of Redwall Abbey had turned out to see the source of the commotion. The Dibbuns hid frightfully near Mother Lunafreya and the Abbey Sisters, who took them into their arms. Fernleaf gasped and seemed to shrink silently into the corner at the top of the stairs. Larina briefly locked eyes with the red fox. Ember grinned wickedly in return and raised his eyebrows at her. She quickly turned away, hugging her chest uncomfortably. Sister Fanistra came up from behind Madeline and held the frightened younger Sandeye sibling from behind, holding her close to her gardener's apron. Within Nagrig's numbers, Krodnal rested a paw cautiously on his longsword, as if anticipating the breakout of a fight.
Jared threw his arms up on either side of Madeline and Fanistra like a shield. "That Prophecy is nobody's business."
"A Prophecy?" Curtis glanced back and forth between Nagrig and Jared. "As in, a legend?"
"More than that, Curtis," Nagrig put his paws on his hips and shook his head disapprovingly. "A reality. The signs of the times, you could say."
"What is this Prophecy?" Curtis asked the siblings as benignly as he could, trying not to sound like an interrogator. "Please explain to us what it is!"
"Later, Father Abbot!" Jared barked in response, not meeting the harvest mouse's eyes.
"Is your memory seriously so pathetically fallible, Jared and Madeline?" Nagrig folded his arms and fidgeted, tapping his foot on the stone floor. A devious smirk pulled at his lips, and he could not resist showing his fangs in the sunlight. "Or should I say...Tinarandel and Isidith?"
Recorder Jonathan gasped and looked wide-eyed at Jared. "Tinarandel?"
"Isidith?" Mother Lunafreya also gasped and stared agape at Madeline. Fanistra wrapped her arms around Madeline's chest, as if guarding her.
"I-it's not what you think it is, I promise!" Madeline waved her paws defensively, trying to divert the subject.
"We'll explain later!" Jared quickly added over his shoulder.
"About this Prophecy, Abbot Curtis, to satiate your justified curiosity," the black-cloaked creature stepped abreast of Nagrig and removed his mask. "It is a legend that was conceived many ages ago in the Eastern Islands, the homeland of Jared and Madeline Sandeye, a place far off the edges of your known maps and even further beyond the many oceans of the world."
He smoothed out his collar and stood to his fullest height. "Zakrul Bloodeyes, Nagrig's second-in-command. Many seasons ago, news of this ancient divination reached Morringtat and many of its smaller provinces. We took it upon ourselves to prevent it from coming to pass. So, we traveled to the Eastern Islands with that goal in mind to do exactly that. But it seems that despite our best efforts, our work is not yet finished."
He shot yet another disdainful glare in the siblings' direction. "Our intended prey escaped from our grasp, and fled to Mossflower Forest, and to your precious Redwall Abbey. We have returned to finish what we started. They are tied to this Prophecy; its subjects, even. It is a legend meant to change the entire world if fulfilled. We are here to prevent its fulfillment."
"This is outrageous!" Curtis threw his paws in the air in blatant disbelief. "Absurd! How dare you lay these oversized accusations upon our innocent Abbeydwellers without the proper evidence!"
"Don't shoot the messenger," Nagrig threw a paw up vigilantly in front of Zakrul. "Not when he speaks the truth."
He folded his arms over his chest and leaned casually to one side. "I'll make this real simple for you, Redwallers. You hand Jared and Madeline Sandeye over to us, and we will leave Redwall Abbey in peace. None shall be harmed. No blood shall be shed, and no lives lost or taken. This is our deal. Take it or leave it."
Curtis withdrew timidly onto the stairs, thinking deeply. For a solid minute, no one said a word. Fearful whimpering and shivering could be heard and seen from Madeline and the Dibbuns. Jared clenched his fists aggressively and glared wordless daggers at Nagrig and Zakrul.
"No," Curtis declared in a tone of finality, shattering the tense silence. "We won't hand Jared and Madeline over to you demons. You invaded their homeland. You murdered their family and more like them, all in the name of some legend. Leave Redwall Abbey while you still can and do not trouble its doors or its halls ever again!"
At these threatening words, Nagrig's expression turned from warm casualness to tranquil fury. "That's your final decision? Then consider this encounter a warning."
He turned his gaze upon the squirrels for the final time, who noticeably shuddered at the cold heartless eyes. "If you change your minds, find me and my army at the Skeleton Rocks to the northeast of your Abbey."
He turned on his heels and began marching towards the doors. His corsairs tailed right behind him, picking up their discarded disguises along the way. As they filed out into the Front Lawn, Nagrig turned over his shoulder once more.
"You Redwallers stand on the wrong side of history. Don't make that mistake lightly. Be prepared for the consequences."
With a dramatically intimidating swish of his cloak, he disappeared and led his corsairs out through the Front Gate onto the forest road.
Inside one of the common rooms, Jared paced restlessly, holding his paws behind his back. Every so often, he'd bring them out and clench them into fists, and angrily kick at the foot of a chair or a wall. Madeline sat closest to the fireplace, her face a stained portrait of dread and shock, tears streaming down her face. Larina, Weonsia, Bethany, Diana, and Avacyn sat around her. They rubbed her back and shoulders comfortingly and wiped away her tears.
"How could this happen?" Madeline whispered, her voice short and hollow, staring distantly into the empty and lifeless fireplace. "We thought we'd escaped from him. We thought we'd run away from our past. But now it seems our past has caught up with us, and that maybe we never really ran away from it in the first place. Perhaps we'll never be free from Nagrig Deathblade."
When Jared kicked a chair for the half-dozenth time, Abbot Curtis immediately stood up and held out a pacifying paw. "Jared, please, you must relax!"
"Don't tell me to relax!" Jared exploded, making everyone in the room jump except for Madeline as he rounded on Curtis. "The ruthless pirate who invaded our homeland, killed our family, and hunted us across the seas for Martin knows how long has come back to haunt us! He's returned to finish the job! He exposed us for who we truly are in front of the entire Abbey! He plans to kill my sister and me so he can finish the work he started many seasons ago! All to prevent a legend from coming true that our homeland invented! So don't you dare tell me to relax!"
Jared roared in stressed frustration and sank defeated into a chintz armchair, dropping his face into his palm and sighing stressfully. Abbot Curtis took a deep breath and exhaled, calming himself from the surprise of Jared's anger-filled tirade. Then he sank back into his chair at the fireplace parallel to Madeline, and laid his paws into his lap.
"I think we are all surprised and shaken by today's revelations. I understand that what Nagrig Deathblade, as he calls himself, told us weighs heavily on our minds. We must approach this problem using an open mind and even more open hearts. Let us take it one step at a time."
He glanced at Madeline first, then Jared. "First, please tell us about this Nagrig Deathblade. Who is he and how do you two know him? More to the point, how does he know you?"
Jared put his arm down on the armrest of his chair, opening his eyes but not meeting the Abbot's. He returned to his feet and resumed pacing around the common room, his paws on his hips.
"They call him the 'Scornful Tyrant' in the Western Sea," he explained, staring down at the floor. "As he said, he is the Lord of a mysterious land far in the South called Morringtat. Nobeast knows what family he came from, or when he was born, or to whom. All we do know is that he wants the whole world for himself, and he was willing to raze the Eastern Islands into the ocean to do it."
"He would have destroyed the Eastern Islands to smash out opposition to his rule?" Jonathan piped up near the window.
"He wanted to rule the entire world, long story short." Jared nodded stiffly at Jonathan. "The Eastern Islands were simply another spot on his map. But he saw them as a threat to his nation, not another territory to conquer. All because of that Prophecy."
"That's so stupid!" Larina interjected from one of the round tables, throwing her paws up in the air in honest skepticism. "World domination is his motivation? As if nobeast has anything better to do with their lives these days!"
"He came to the Islands searching for you?" Curtis asked, recalling the conversations from earlier in the Great Hall.
Jared returned to his chair and sat back down in it. "Yes, Father Abbot. It's quite a lengthy story, but that's the general gist of it."
"So, if I understand this correctly," Curtis leaned back in his chair and put his paws together. "Nagrig Deathblade first came to your home of the Eastern Islands because of an ancient Prophecy that is destined to change the world. Because he saw it and its subjects as a threat to his crown and sovereignty, as he wanted to claim the entire world for his own, deluding himself entitled to it?"
"That's the long and short of it, yes," Jared nodded, answering Curtis' questions.
"But you escaped from him," Curtis remarked bluntly. "Now he's found you, and he plans to finish what he started before."
"Yes, Father Abbot," Madeline spoke up in her full voice for the first time since they'd gathered in the room. "That's the whole truth."
Curtis rubbed his chin thoughtfully, thinking deeply. "Prey…He called you his prey. He thinks like a hunter, almost."
"He certainly acts like one, too," Jared growled through gritted teeth.
"How could we let this happen?" Arland chimed in, scratching his spiny head quizzically. "How could Nagrig Deathblade even know that you were here at Redwall Abbey?"
"Who knows?" Jared shrugged, clueless. "How did Cluny the Scourge find Redwall Abbey? How did Slagar the Slaver? What about Gulo the Savage? How did all of the villains of Redwall's past ever find it? Does it even matter? What matters is that Redwall and Mossflower are in danger, and there's not a darn thing we can do about it! None of you here know what happened in the Eastern Islands all those seasons ago! None of you know what Nagrig is capable of! The combined might of the East couldn't even stand against him! So what hope does Redwall possibly have?"
"If anything, I am responsible," Fernleaf interjected, pushing himself off the windowsill on the far side of the room that he'd been leaning on. It was the first words he'd said since breakfast. "I found Jared and Madeline on my doorstep not two summers ago. They'd both collapsed from heat exhaustion. Madeline had altogether passed out. I took them into my care and nursed them back to health. Then I sent them to Redwall Abbey for more complete medical treatment."
"So, it's your fault, then, Fernleaf!" Wyatt pointed a blaming finger at Fernleaf. "You led Nagrig Deathblade and his corsairs right to us!"
"I did no such thing," the older Fernleaf put his paws on his hips and frowned reproachfully at the young mouse, keeping his voice soft, yet reprimanding. "I only saved Jared and Madeline's lives. If I had known earlier about their origins in the East and their connection with Nagrig Deathblade, I still would've sent them to Redwall to be protected and cared for regardless. Besides, none of this would have happened if you had been a better judge of character, Gatekeeper."
"You're vermin, Fernleaf!" Wyatt fumed, advancing on the ferret. "Vermin lead other vermin!"
"That's enough!"
Curtis had jumped up again and thrown out his palms to pacify Wyatt and Fernleaf. "Don't you see, my friends? This is exactly what the enemy wants us to do. He wants us to be turned against each other, fracturing our Abbey, tearing it in two. When we are torn apart, that is when we will be most vulnerable for him to swoop in and take what he wants right from under our noses. We must tread through these issues rationally."
"But—,"
"Wyatt, sit down and shut up!" Larina snapped firmly at the mouse. The sheepish Gatekeeper went back to his chair and plopped back into it, staring awkwardly at the round table he shared with Anthony and Rudmir. Jared glanced majorly surprised at Larina for a short moment before collecting himself.
"Fernleaf is not the one to blame for what's happened," Jared nodded reassuringly. "He did not cause any of this. Madeline and I are the ones most responsible. Nagrig knows who we are; who we truly are."
He hung his head apologetically at Abbot Curtis. "Father Abbot, we're sorry. We haven't been completely honest with you, or all of Redwall."
"Yes, Father Abbot," Madeline nodded, moving to sit on the edge of her seat. "We've kept secrets from you and everyone else."
"For our safety, and now for yours." Jared stood up and went to sit at his sister's feet, planting comforting kisses on the backs of her paws. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us. I promise, we will explain everything to you in due time."
To their surprise, Abbot Curtis's face was full of warmth and sympathy, his tone of voice light and delicate. "I am not heartless, my children. I am compassionate, not insane. You did not intend to deceive or mislead, only protect and spare. You will not be punished, because you told no lies and created no deceits. I forgive you both wholeheartedly, Sandeyes, and I await your explanations with full curiosity."
"So whadda we do now?" Rudmir asked, shrugging. "Do we sit aroun' an' wait fer Nagrig Deathblade t' kill us an' raze th' Abbey t' th' groun', or what?"
"Perhaps we can parley with Nagrig?" Madeline thought aloud. "Perhaps we can come to some kind of compromise. Maybe he'll leave us alone."
"Parley?" Jared furrowed his brow, then shook his head in disagreement. "No way! He'll never listen to reason. He didn't back then, and he certainly won't now."
"It's still worth a try, Jared," Madeline shrugged cluelessly. "Can you do it?"
Jared did not speak for a short yet deafening moment, then, "Fine." He got to his feet and put his paws again on his hips, determined and assertive. "I'll see if I can go parley with Nagrig Deathblade."
"No, Jared, no!" Abbot Curtis took Jared's paws desperately in his own. "What, are you mad, boy? He'll kill you on the spot! We cannot take that risk!"
"If it means securing the peace and sanctity of Redwall Abbey, then I'm willing to take any risk necessary, Abbot Curtis," He squeezed the Abbot's paws comfortingly, then faced the remaining Redwallers on his way to the door. "I'm going to negotiate with him. Don't try to stop me."
Larina also got to her feet and nodded supportively. "I'm glad you're stepping forward to take a stand against Nagrig Deathblade and his evil corsairs. To be honest," she shuddered and wrapped her arms self-consciously around her chest. "I didn't like the way that one red fox was looking at me."
Jared patted Larina comfortingly on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I won't let any of those immoral pirates lay a paw on you, Larina, or the other fair maidens in this Abbey. That's a promise that you can count on."
Outside in the hallway, Madeline and Jared shared a tight, close, soothing hug.
"I can't believe this is happening," Madeline half-cried, her eyes glistening with new tears as she lay in her brother's arms. "I can't believe he actually found us. You should go and talk to him, Jared. He might listen to reason. He'll listen to you, if not anybeast else."
"I don't know." Jared shook his head and turned away from Madeline, still cradling her in his arms. "I highly doubt he'll understand. If Nagrig declares war on Redwall Abbey and Mossflower, we don't stand a chance. I won't let this nightmare become real, Maddie," Jared held Madeline close to his chest and stroked her hair. "If you think it's best, I'll convince Nagrig to leave us alone."
Madeline thought of the Tapestry in the Great Hall. "This must've been what Martin meant. 'Autumn is coming.' It's as if he knew Nagrig Deathblade was coming to find us! It was only a matter of time!"
"At this point, I'm inclined to believe Martin about that," Jared held Madeline by the shoulders. "We won't let this get worse, Maddie. We won't lose Redwall the same way we lost Mom and Dad and Edoran. I promise you; I will fix this."
"I hope you do, Jared," Madeline's tears flowed freely down her cheeks, which her brother wiped clean away. "For both our sakes."