"How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?" ~Sherlock Holmes, "The Sign of Four", Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
When Jared arrived at the Skeleton Rocks, a large, corpulent, tan-orange wearet came stumbling up to him. A vile slobber streaked from his sharp yellowed fangs and wide double chin onto his hefty chest. He wore only a thick wide loincloth around his waist and walked barefoot on the dirt-stained grass. Jared stepped back on instinct. The wearet roared at the top of his lungs. It changed into an outrageous full-bellied laugh when the teenage squirrel flinched.
"Stand down, Ripspit," an unmistakable voice commanded from the quarry. "He's here to talk. Let him through."
Ripspit replied with a begrudging grunt. He jerked his head to signal Jared to go on ahead. Jared exhaled and headed further inside the quarry, leaving the wearat behind.
Amongst the rocks and trees, the army of Nagrig Deathblade had gone about setting up their camp in an expansive albeit misshapen decagon. Banners on wooden stakes bearing the crests of the kingdom of Morringtat, the Sampetran Empire, and the Terramort and Green Isles formed the imposing entrance. A few living campfires sat scattered around the campsite safely encircled in rings of rocks and stones. The one in the center crackled away beneath a deep cooking cauldron. Two mindful searats poured entire buckets of water into it. A stoat crouched beneath them stoking the fire. A giant black-and-gold tent at the far end of the campsite loomed over the rest.
A dark brown pine marten swaggered over to Jared from the crowd. He had his paws stuffed in his pockets. His nose had a new noticeable twitch to it, perhaps still reeling from the earlier impact of Jared's punch back at the Abbey. His lips pulled into a sadistic fanged grin when he saw the youngster approach.
"Jared Sandeye."
"Adhuxnuo," Jared hissed in a low voice, clenching his fists.
"Long time no see, little squirrel," the nonchalant Adhuxnuo hung his paws from his pockets, a thumb stroking the handle of his gladius. "How fares your older brother, Edoran?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Jared's hiss grew into a growl. "After you murdered him?"
"Ah, yes, how could I forget that?" the guiltless Adhuxnuo shrugged. "Your brother begged for mercy. He fell on his knees and pleaded for his siblings' lives to be spared, before his own. I recall well how he groveled at mine and Lord Deathblade's feet. That was before I stabbed him through the shoulders and left him to bleed out! How pathetic he was, crying like a little squirrelbabe on his paws and knees!"
"My brother did not grovel!" Jared protested, clenching his fists and baring his teeth. "He certainly would never fall on his knees and plead, either!" Thin orange flames burned in his brown eyes. "Edoran Sandeye was a valiant and courageous warrior who wouldn't have begged for mercy in his life! He would've kept fighting to his last breath, bringing every last vermin down to death with him!"
"Is that so?" Adhuxnuo raised a dubious eyebrow, stroking his chin. "That's not quite how I remember it. But then, memory has quite a way of twisting itself, doesn't it? Oh, well."
He shrugged and put his paws back in his pockets. "What's dead is dead. Your sister would've quickly joined Edoran if you hadn't punched me in the nose. Thanks for that, by the way." The pine marten threw a vicious scowl at the squirrel, who shot a cold glare back.
"Let him come, Adhuxnuo," the commanding voice rang out again from the center of the camp. "Lead him to my side, so that I may see him."
"As you command, my Lord Deathblade," Adhuxnuo called back. He stepped aside, the sadistic grin once more pulling at his lips. An ominous whisper issued from his lips that sent shivers down the squirrel's spine.
"Go on, Sandeye. He is waiting for you. Go on and meet your death. You and your feeble, cowardly family will be reunited soon enough."
Nagrig Deathblade sat beside the central fire on a short stool, warming his paws over the leaping flames. He and his cronies had ditched their "traveling merchant" disguises and now wore their tunics and armor. As Jared drew nearer to the rat, Nagrig grinned from ear to ear and picked up his glass of iced gin and tonic.
"You've kept your looks, Jared."
"You've lost yours," Jared jabbed back.
Nagrig allowed himself a mirthless snort, unfazed by the squirrel's lame attempt at wit. "Ever sharp with the comebacks, aren't you, Jared? If you were half as fast with your sword as you were your tongue, perhaps your family would still be alive."
His horde erupted in full-blown raucous laughter. Zakrul Bloodeyes smiled and chuckled before taking a sip of his gin. The clumsy obese Ripspit came hobbling into the camp. The wearet plopped himself onto his tail in front of his wide tent. Adhuxnuo leaned against a tree and bent over, slapping his knees.
"May I offer you a drink, Jared?" Nagrig stood up and held out a gin bottle. "And a chair, perchance?"
"I'll stand, thank you very much." Jared retorted in an assertive tone. "No drink for me, either."
"You know, I'm awfully disappointed in you, Jared," Nagrig explained, refiling his glass. "Of all the places that you and Madeline could have fled to, it had to be this backwater country far out on the other side of the world. Mossflower Forest."
Nagrig put aside the decanter and gestured unimpressed at the woodlands around him. "How uncreative. It's not even that impressive to look at, if I'm being honest. What, did your raft run out of wind? You and your sister picked the first place you pointed to on your nonexistent map? Terrible name, too."
He couldn't resist showing his malicious fangs as his horde cackled a second time. Ember fell flat onto his tail, holding a paw to his stomach and wheezing. Ripspit threw his head backward and patted his overgrown belly in an uncontrollable guffaw. Near the commander's tent, Khaimtsu and Krodnal snickered as they clinked their tankards of grog together and drank deeply.
"What do you want, Deathblade?" Jared snapped once the laughing had stopped, keeping his voice low, yet furious.
"What do I want?" Nagrig pointed to himself. "What do you want, Jared? I thought I'd already made myself clear back there in your so-called Redwall Abbey."
He made air quotes on the words "Redwall Abbey". "If I must reiterate, that means you weren't listening. I want you and your sister both, for reasons you already know."
"The Prophecy of the Eastern Islands. Is that what this is about?" Jared shot back, glaring through narrowed eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't play ignorant, boy," Nagrig shot Jared an intimidating growl, his nostrils flaring. He drew his hunting dagger and waved it through the air before Jared's eyes. "In the backs of your minds, you and your sister always knew that this day would come. You always knew that I would find you. It was only a matter of time."
He spread his arms out in the same theatrical manner that he had at Redwall, gesticulating to himself. "Now here I am!"
"You didn't answer my question," Jared growled, now gritting his teeth.
"That can come at a later time." Nagrig twirled and sheathed his dagger. "I am a pirate, yes. But the High Lord of Morringtat is not devoid of honor. Answer me first. I demand it. What are you doing in my camp? Why does your sister not accompany you?"
"I'm here to parley for your departure from Mossflower Forest to secure the permanent safety of its inhabitants." Jared's words tumbled from his mouth, demanding and assertive, trying to sound as professional as possible, yet veiled behind tentative insecurity. "I believe the reasons are obvious as to why I didn't bring my sister, for reasons of her security and wellbeing, and the same of those in Redwall."
He folded his arms and leaned to one side. "So, parley, or no?"
He heard a derisive snort to his left and turned to see a broad-chested brown rat. Dark brown leather armor hugged his thin, toned figure as he leaned back beneath the canopy of a mature maple tree. His arms folded over his chest, Baric shook his head in disapproval and patted the hilt of the rapier on his belt, glowering in contempt. Jared's eyes narrowed but forced himself to bite his lip to avoid saying anything out of turn.
Nagrig rubbed his chin. "Parley, you say?" He swirled his iced gin around in his glass. "For our departure from Mossflower and the safety of Redwall Abbey?"
He furrowed his brow, pretending to think. "That's a mighty tall order from you of all creatures, Jared."
A decisive smirk that made Jared jump tugged at his lips. Once more, the tyrant rat showed his fangs. His malevolent eyes glinted in the firelight.
"You know what? I think I'll pass on that offer if you don't mind. I did not sail all the way here across the globe only to be driven away like a pest. I'm not some dust mite that you can sweep out your door. Nor am I a dead branch that you can prune from a tree. I am Nagrig Karthor Deathblade, the Lord of Morringtat and the Southern Lands. I am the Scornful Tyrant. I shall not leave Mossflower or Redwall Abbey until I get what I came for."
He pointed the same accusing claw at Jared that he had at Redwall Abbey. "Or rather, who I came for."
Upon seeing Jared's look of disappointment, Nagrig snorted. "Come now, Jared, did you seriously think that would work? Parley? Did you have any better ideas? Did you not at least consider deliberating this idea before you tried it? I'm far smarter than that, you know. You haven't had as much life experience as we have. You can't even make yourself sound learned, for heaven's sake."
"Please, Jared, if you'd like to continue making an utter fool of yourself," Zakrul gestured to the unoccupied space in front of the fire. "By all means, keep running your tongue. We might just cut it out."
"Who the heck are you?" Jared wheeled around to throw a dark glower at the black-furred rat.
"Did you not hear me introducing myself back at Redwall when I addressed the Abbot? The nerve of the young folk these days!" Zakrul stood and lifted his gin in a formal toast. "Zakrul Bloodeyes. First mate and second-in-command on the Scornful Tyrant, as you already know. But I am also the Prince of Morringtat. Heir presumptive to the Southern throne."
"You're Nagrig's brother," Jared realized, his face falling from the revelation.
"At your service," Zakrul bowed, a smug smile on his face and his eyes glowing. "If that service is obliging your death."
"Charmed to meet you," Jared muttered, not at all bothering to hide his displeased sarcasm.
"So, where cutting out your tongue if you keep on running it is concerned," Zakrul whipped out his own hunting dagger from inside his sleeve. "May I oblige?"
"Yessir, cut out hisss tongue," hissed a tall, hulking, heavyset bright green monitor lizard standing in the shadows beneath a weeping willow tree. "I'll eat it for lunch. Put sssome ssshredded hot peppersss on it." The lizard licked his lips and grinned, showing his white fangs and making Jared shiver and avert his gaze. "It hasss been far too long sssince I lassst dined on tender, meaty sssquirrel flesh."
"If'n you don't want it, Brosk, I'll eat it!" Ripspit blurted out, slobbering all over his fur. "I 'aven't eaten anythin' in 'ours…"
"Ever the cannibals, aren't you, Brosk, Ripspit?" Krodnal rolled his eyes. "Are your bloodthirsty appetites never satiated? Come on, he's only sixteen," the unimpressed stoat snickered, swirling his drink. He shook his head and leaned casually to one side. "How could he have known that it would work? He's clearly never done a parley before."
"Hardly worth the sympathy, if you ask me," the weasel Khaimtsu snorted and chugged his grog. "How embarrassing, the brain of a little child inside a late teenager. Too much talk and not enough brains to back it up. All bark with no bite. Typical."
"Did you say he's sixteen?" Ember piped up. A wicked grin spread across the orange fox's muzzle. "That means he's old enough to pursue the fair maidens. Oi, Jared!" he called over. "You know that squirrelmaid in Redwall, the one who covered up her chest when I looked at her? I'll bet she's the sweetest one in Mossflower! Is she your girlfriend?"
"She's not my girlfriend," Jared snarled back through gritted teeth. "I wouldn't let you lay a paw on her even if she was. Or my sister, for that matter."
"Whatever," Ember scoffed and shrugged innocently."I'll take her if you don't want her; your sister, too. I'll bet they must be the sweetest maidens around." He looked back up at Jared, his eyes sinful. "I'd love to see what they can do in bed; you know what I mean?"
"Madeline and Larina are off-limits to your wandering paws!" Jared blurted out. "Keep away from them! Keep away from all of the maidens at Redwall Abbey!"
"Wow!" Ember scoffed. "Ya really are that immature. Sheesh, so sensitive." He undid the buttons of his emerald button-down tunic and let it hang loose on his body. "No wonder ya can't score a date. Grow up, kid. So much for yar parley, eh?"
Nagrig waved an admonishing paw in an arc through the air. "There you are, Jared. Your blatant lack of aptitude has netted you no success. If only you'd learn to control your tongue, young squirrel, or it might get you into trouble someday. Zakrul was right; perhaps we should cut it out. As far as why you didn't bring Isidith, it matters none to me now. I'll get you both one way or another."
"By the way, don't start thinking that this is all of us, either, Jared," Zakrul added. He sheathed his dagger inside his sleeve and sat back down. "There are over seven dozen more sailing across the sea at this very moment from every corner of the Western Sea. You can even meet them yourself if you and your sister fancy an early death. So, why don't you run back to your pathetic little Abbey with your tail between your legs in the meantime?"
"What an excellent idea!" Nagrig nodded in agreement. "Why don't you take Prince Zakrul's suggestion and scurry back to your little hiding hole you call Redwall?"
The warlord rat waved his gin glass in a departing gesture. "Go, while you still have your legs! Gurutharc! Arvuk! Escort him out!"
The Lieutenant of Morringtat and the Sampetran standard-bearer both swaggered up to Jared. But he clenched his fists and assumed a defensive posture.
"Hey!" Jared exclaimed when the vermin each took him by the arm. "I can escort myself back to Redwall just fine, thank you very much! Get your filthy paws off me! Do you wash them in the same grog that you get drunk on?"
"Wait!" Nagrig sprang back up and approached the trio, drawing his hunting dagger. "Hold a moment. I would say some parting words to our prey before you return him to Redwall."
His corsairs tightened their grips around Jared's arms. Nagrig held the flat edge of his hunting dagger to Jared's neck. The cold metal on his fur made him shudder.
He leaned in close until the two of them were almost nose-to-nose. The squirrel stood transfixed by the icy black pink-tinted eyes piercing like sharp knives into his cocoa-brown.
"You made a terrible mistake coming here alone, Tinarandel." He began lightly stroking his dagger over Jared's neck fur. His prey shuddered and clenched his nostrils to shield them from Nagrig's acrid breath. "An even worse act of foolishness, thinking that you could parley with the Scornful Tyrant of Morringtat. Did you think that you could stall for time? Time was never on your side. It never has been and it never will be. Your time has at last run out. Try as you might, you and Isidith have nowhere left to run. The hunter has found his prey. I'll trap you both in my claws and take you far away from Mossflower Forest, even if I have to grind Redwall Abbey down to a fine powder to do it. I'll take you so far away that no creature in Redwall or Mossflower shall ever find you. I shall finish the work I began all those seasons ago in the Eastern Islands. This world belongs to me whether you and your precious Abbey like it or not. I'll chase you to the very ends of this earth if I must. You'll both die just like your parents and your brother before you. It's too late now, Tinarandel. The Prophecy of the East shall never be fulfilled. I'll make sure of that. Now, get out of my sight! I don't want to see you here ever again unless it's in complete surrender!"
He removed the dagger from Jared's neck and sheathed it. Jared relaxed and exhaled in relief. Arvuk and Gurutharc hoisted him up by his arms, turned him right around, and marched the squirrel out of the camp.
"Come back anytime, you hear?" Khaimtsu called after him.
"Don't be a stranger!" Krodnal added right on cue.
The sounds of the horde's maniacal cackles rang in Jared's eardrums all the way back to Redwall.
"'Ere we are!" Arvuk announced. He shoved Jared forward as they approached Redwall's South Gate. "'Ome sweet 'ome! Though I reckon it won't be tha' fer much longer, eh?"
"You might as well enjoy your peaceful safety while you still have it, Jared," Gurutharc suggested, wearing a cynical smirk. "Know that you and your sister's days are numbered."
The glaring Jared gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. "You won't get away with this."
"Oh, but we already have, Jared," Gurutharc put his paws inside his robe, turning to tail after the departing Arvuk. "You just don't know it yet. Have a nice day, Jared, however haunted it may be!"
Jared didn't even bother to wait for them to leave. He forced open the South Gate and pushed his way through. Once he'd emerged onto the South Lawn, he broke into a brisk walk around to the Front Doors.
Madeline met him outside the Great Hall. She had changed out of her bedclothes into a sleeveless belted tunic underneath her gardener's apron.
"Judging by the look on your face, I'm assuming the parley didn't go well." Madeline approached Jared and wrapped her arms gently around his neck.
Jared held a gentle paw to the side of Madeline's head and kissed her temples. "No, not well at all. I'm afraid Nagrig Deathblade is here to stay."
Resigned, Madeline sighed and gently stroked the back of her brother's head. "Well, Fernleaf went home while you were gone. Abbot Curtis took the Elders into the Gatehouse to deliberate about us and Deathblade. Everyone else is gathering in Cavern Hole for lunch. I saved your breakfast for you if you still want to finish it. We're on our own now. You said Deathblade is here to stay?"
"Yes," the despondent Jared sighed and dropped his shoulders. "There's nothing we can do to make him leave. I knew a parley wouldn't work. I'm only a blacksmith. What do I know about parleying? What a stupid idea. What was I thinking? Now I'm afraid that Deathblade will continue to haunt us forever because of my shortsighted mistake."
Only a strangled sob came from Madeline in response. She shut her eyes tight and hid her tear-stained face in her brother's shirt. Jared cradled her as she cried and decorated her face in comforting kisses. Try as he might, he could not stop the same tears from springing to his eyes. He pulled Madeline close and tight into his arms and rubbed her back and shoulders.
"Oh, Jared," Madeline whispered, horrified. Trembling, she laid her head on Jared's chest, and whispered, "What are we going to do?"
"The one thing we can do now," Jared took Madeline's face in his paws. "We have to tell Redwall Abbey the truth about the Eastern Islands."
"All of it?" Madeline pulled away, her face turning chalk-white as she clutched desperately at Jared's shirt. "No, Jared, we can't do that! It would ruin us - ruin our family, the Eastern Islands-!"
"I know it might, Maddie. But we don't have a choice!" Jared protested, and grasped Madeline gently by the shoulders. "Not after what happened this morning. Please understand, we have to do it. For both of us. For our family. For the Islands. For ourselves. It's the only way we'll ever be free from our guilty consciences."
Worry furrowed his brow and he stared desperately into Madeline's eyes. "I need you on my side on this, Madeline."
Madeline took Jared's paws in her own, interlacing her fingers in his. "I am on your side, Jared. I truly am," she promised him in a soft whisper. "I'll be by your side to tell Redwall Abbey the truth, unless—,"
All of a sudden, an idea twinkled in her eyes. She looked away for a second and held Jared's paw to her chin. A thoughtful expression crossed her face. She rubbed the back of Jared's paw on her chin.
"Maddie?" Jared's worry turned to curiosity. "What's up?"
"I've got an idea," Madeline looked back and squeezed Jared's paws, channeling some of her infectious inspiration into him. "I'll tell the Redwallers the truth."
"You will?" Jared tilted his head to one side, unmistakably skeptical. "Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?"
"Yes," Madeline answered, nodding firmly. "I'm sure about it. I don't expect them to know everything. If I start to feel uncomfortable, at least I'll have the strength of our family and the Sandeye name to help me." She reached up to touch Jared's cheek, stroking his fur the way he liked it.
"I trust you, Madeline, wholeheartedly," Jared closed his eyes. A dreamy sigh escaped him as his sister stroked his cheek. "I'm going to go back into the forest."
"Where?" Madeline now ran her whole palm up and down Jared's face. "Not back to Deathblade, I hope."
Jared shook his head. "No, not back to Deathblade. Not in ten seasons; or twenty, or thirty. No, I'm going to go to my forge. Working there has always helped me take my mind off things. It's never failed me before."
He put his paws on Madeline's shoulders. "Will you be alright?"
Madeline nodded again, more determined this time. Ideas twinkled in her eyes that Jared could not deny. "I'll be fine. You go on to the forge. Here."
She removed the key to the forge's front door from the pocket of her gardener's apron. "I picked this up from our bedroom for you while you were gone. Just in case you decided to go work when you came back."
"Thanks, baby girl," Jared took the key and kissed the paw that gave it. "You're the best."
Madeline leaned in and kissed Jared on his other cheek. "Be safe out there, okay? I'll make sure to have lunch waiting for you when you come home."
The somber Jared wrapped one arm around Madeline's shoulders and the other around her waist. "May our family forgive us."
"And may Martin watch over us," the solemn Madeline added.
"Father Abbot Curtis. You must come to a decision about Nagrig Deathblade sooner or later. This is a serious issue that can no longer wait."
Diagonal rays of golden noontime sunlight filtered in through the windows of the Abbey Gatehouse. Abbot Curtis planted his paws on the wide horizontal mahogany table that stood beside the roaring fireplace. Books, parchment, scrolls, dry quills and closed inkwells, and a world map littered the space. Jonathan and Arland flanked the Abbot. Only Friar Reylia was absent, organizing lunch from the Nameday Feast leftovers.
"We do not yet have enough information about Nagrig Deathblade and his motivations to form an educated decision," Curtis stated, staring lost in thought at an open book cataloging last month's angling catches in the Abbey Pond. "He did not paint the full picture for us; only half. We must wait for the Sandeyes to fill in the rest of the puzzle."
"Begging your pardon, Father Abbot," Jonathan pressed further, putting his paws on the Abbot's shoulders. "But the enemy is, quite literally, on our doorstep! We cannot afford to waste even a second deliberating while Nagrig Deathblade plots to spirit away our innocent creatures! If he decides to declare war on Redwall Abbey, even on all of Mossflower, we will be sorely ill-equipped to defend against him."
"Aye, I agree, Jonathan," Arland stopped swirling his Raspberry Cordial and looked up from the drink, nodding his support. "It's now or never. Protecting the Sandeyes ought to be our highest priority, Curtis."
"I support Arland and Jonathan as well on this matter," Sister Fanistra piped up. She had been using a clean rag to polish a trowel and now dropped both in the pocket of her gardener's apron. "Jared and Madeline are like a beloved son and daughter to me. If something happened to them…"
The black-brown mouse shuddered and wrapped her arms around her body in a protective manner. "Why, I don't know what I'd do without those two. I'd be quite beside myself if they ever came to any harm."
"Please, whatever it takes, Curtis," Badgermum Lunafreya concluded, folding her arms and staring sternly at the harvest mouse. "Please see reason. We must protect Jared and Madeline at all costs. Nagrig Deathblade wants to steal them away for his own vile purposes. We cannot let him achieve that goal for any reason."
She hit one fist into her palm, and then the other. "The Sandeyes need our support now more than ever. At all costs, and by any means necessary, we have to give them that. It's just as Jonathan said: if Deathblade makes Redwall Abbey his target, then we must be prepared to protect it. We must prepare for every eventuality. Don't make any decisions you'll regret, Curtis, for everyone's sakes. For the Sandeyes' sakes."
"Aye," Almoner Mack shook the green novice's habit which he'd been stitching up using needles and thread. "Th' Sandeyes have been a part o' our Abbey an' our family fer this lon'. Don't we owe 'em that much t' be there for 'em now when they need us most?"
"A knock, my friends," Brother Timms' fatigued voice pierced through the loud conversation. He raised his head to stare sightlessly in the direction of the front door. As Abbot Curtis stood up straight and opened his mouth to speak, a soft knock at the door cut him off. Sister Amelia promptly answered the call.
"Well, naow!" Sister Amelia's face brightened, and her lips pulled into a welcoming smile. "Whoi, if'n it t'ain't Miz Madeline Sandeye 'erself! Are yew alrigh', m'dear?"
There stood an anxious Madeline on the threshold of the doorway. Her toes drew misshapen circles in the dirt. One paw stroked the back of her neck. "Um, hello, everyone. I wanted to check on the discussions and see how they came along. I…I also wanted to tell everyone something. I hope I'm not interrupting."
"Coom in, choild," Amelia stepped aside and opened the door wide. "Pull up a churr dere, nice an' comfortable, burr aye."
"Thank you, Sister Amelia," Madeline gave the Orchard Keeper a relieved, grateful smile, and entered inside. She took the available chair beside Brother Timms and put her paws in her lap, staring down at her knees. Brother Timms stared past her through his dark blind eyes. He rested his paws lazily on his long oaken cane, his small rounded ears turned in her direction.
"You're quite all right, dear Madeline." Abbot Curtis's benign smile comforted the squirrelmaid's worries. "You weren't interrupting at all. We haven't yet come to a decision, so you're more than welcome to join us and say what you need to say. But where is your dear brother?"
Curtis glanced at the front door but saw neither hide nor hair of the older Sandeye sibling. "Did he return from his attempted parley with Nagrig Deathblade? I fear the worst if he has not passed through the Abbey Gates safely."
"He did pass through them safely, Father Abbot, don't worry." Madeline reassured him. "I met him in the Lawns by the South Gate. He's gone off to his blacksmith's forge to clear his head."
"That's understandable," Lunafreya folded her arms and nodded. "He's taking care of himself and that's what matters. What did you want to tell us, Madeline?"
"Well," Madeline looked down and wrung her wrists. "Jared wanted me to pass some information along. His parley was not a success. I'm afraid to tell you that…"
She gulped, unable to meet their eyes. "Deathblade is in Mossflower to stay."
Her heart wrenched at the collective groan that coursed through the throng.
"What did I tell you?" the exasperated Jonathan threw up a paw at Abbot Curtis. "While we sat here taking counsel, wasting time, Deathblade has already made up his mind! Redwall Abbey, and now all of Mossflower, are in serious danger, Curtis! Where has all of our deliberating gotten us?"
"Unbelievable!" Arland placed his Cordial aside on the table and facepalmed himself. "Now what do we do? Deathblade will raze the Abbey to the ground! He'll set fire to the whole of Mossflower Woods to get what he wants!"
"Please, please, let's not raise our voices," Fanistra pleaded, raising her paws to pacify her fellow Elders. "Madeline is already very shaken up and sensitive after what happened earlier. Let's keep our composure for the poor girl."
"Yes, you are right, Fanistra," Abbot Curtis agreed, and reached out to the others in a placating manner. "Everyone, let's turn down the anxiety for Madeline's sake. She and Jared have been through an awful ordeal today, so let's not stress them out further."
Jonathan huffed and put his paws on his hips, shaking his head, his grey bushy tail bristling in annoyance. Arland, looking sheepish, picked up his mug of Raspberry Cordial and dropped his snout into it, his quills folding into each other in embarrassment. Fanistra, relieved, exhaled and dropped her paws by her sides. She fetched and placed a third chair beside Madeline, sympathetically taking her surrogate daughter's paws in her own.
"Jared and I have spoken a lot about this," Madeline explained at length, taking everyone by surprise. "What Nagrig Deathblade told everyone was only a partial truth. We both agree that it's time that we told you the full truth."
"What truth?" Curtis settled into the chair situated at the far end of the wide mahogany table, perching one elbow on an armrest and laying his chin in his paw. "What more can you tell us that we don't already know, my daughter?"
"Our life story," Madeline explained, averting her eyes from the Abbot. "Mine and Jared's. You know only what Nagrig Deathblade uncovered for you. My brother and I both agree that it's time to paint the full picture – or at least, as much of our memories as we can remember," she added, scratching the back of her head.
"In that case, we will hear every word you have to say, Madeline; and then Jared later if he feels up to it." Curtis sat up straight, showing Madeline his full attention. "We're all ears. You are in no danger here, nor should you fear any judgment or condemnation. So, speak your mind freely. You are safe as long as you remain in the hallowed halls of Redwall."
"I too am prepared," Recorder Jonathan gathered a dozen leaves of parchment and his favorite quill pen. Seating himself on the other side of the table, he popped open a fresh full inkwell.
Madeline took a long deep breath through her nose, and exhaled through her mouth.
"I'm sure you all have many questions after what happened earlier. I'll do the best I can to answer them. You already know that Jared and I are native to the Eastern Islands, a realm far beyond Mossflower on the fringes of the Eastern Sea."
She drew a large, long arc in the air to illustrate the seemingly immeasurable distance. "It doesn't appear on any map of the known world. That's for good reason. Secrecy and discretion work to the Islands' advantage."
"If that's the case, Madeline, then how exactly did Nagrig Deathblade manage to find the Islands?" Curtis asked, folding his arms. A look of evident, yet unjudging curiosity painted his face.
Madeline cut him off by waving her paw. "We'll get there, Father Abbot. Besides, Jared can tell you about it much better than I can. Anyway…"
She put up a paw and spread her five fingers. "There are five Islands in all. Each Island is ruled by a Chieftain, who governs and oversees the land they live in. They answer to no higher authority, but rule independently and are free to shape their land as they see fit. The Island that my family was born and raised in for generations is called Maraul. The Chieftain of Maraul when my family lived there was named Gillamin."
She briefly stood up to lean over Jonathan's lectern for a moment to check his spelling, and nodded her approval. Jonathan, feeling quite thankful, reloaded his quill of ink.
"Chieftain Gillamin?" Almoner Mack looked up from his habit. "'Ow did yer family know 'im, Madeline?"
A knowing twinkle appeared in Madeline's eyes. "Chieftain Gillamin was Dane's father. As such, he was our grandfather."
"Grandchildren of Chieftain Gillamin himself!" Curtis's eyes widened in wonder. "How fascinating!"
"So," the quizzical Almoner Mack scratched his scalp. "Does that mean ye an' Jared are sum kinda royalty or sumthin'?"
"Well," Once again, Madeline rubbed the back of her head. "Yes and no. Jared can explain it much better than I can."
She let out a deep sigh and directed her eyes away, starting to rub her right arm that she held stiff by her side. Sensing Mack open his mouth to prod deeper, she hastily added, "I'm honestly sorry, Father Abbot. I just don't know if I feel comfortable sharing that truth right now."
"That is quite all right, dear Madeline," Abbot Curtis flashed her another benign smile, and Madeline felt a wave of comforting relief wash over her. "You don't have to tell us the whole truth about Chieftain Gillamin. I think yours and Jared's backstory can be saved for another time as well. Why don't you tell us what you feel comfortable sharing? Your family, for example?"
Madeline gulped, biting back tears. For a moment, she did not speak, shutting her eyes and breathing in and out to calm herself. Fanistra wrapped her arms around the squirrelmaid from behind, pulling her into a comforting hug. Madeline leaned back on Fanistra's chest, who gave her motherly kisses on the forehead and temples.
"It's all right, dear," she whispered softly to the girl, who had started to tremble. "It's okay. I'm here, Maddie; I've got you."
Madeline wiped her eyes on the hem of her apron and hugged Fanistra's arms. "My family..."
The Elders waited while she composed herself. Minutes passed, but out of sympathetic respect, nobeast said a word. At length, she spoke up again.
"Jared and I were born two of three children to Dane and Amida Sandeye," she began, wiping her eyes and summoning as much courage as she could muster. In the spaces between her words, she could hear Jonathan meticulously scribbling away. "Edoran was the firstborn and the eldest; then Jared; and finally, me. The Sandeyes were a well-to-do and well-thought-of family in Maraul. Our parents divided the providing and parenting duties between themselves."
She put her paws together, fingers clenched, then pulled them apart to demonstrate how her parents had divided the family-raising labor between each other. "Dane was Maraul's best blacksmith and metalworker. Amida, not content to be a simple housewife, did gardening and botany. It's not uncommon in the Islands for parents to teach their children the family trade when they grow old enough. Literally, that's how it works in the East! Someone's got to keep the family traditions alive, after all."
"Jared a blacksmith, and you a botanist…" Arland gazed at Madeline, his admiring eyes gleaming. "It can't be a coincidence."
"So, is it safe to assume that Dane and Amida were good parents to you and your brothers, then?" Fanistra rubbed Madeline's head between her furry ears.
"Oh, most certainly," Madeline nodded, the glow of loving admiration on her face growing to an almost luminescent radiance. "If you ever wondered where Jared and I get our big hearts from, look no further than our parents."
"What about Edoran?" Sister Falmur, a dumpy stout hedgemaid who worked as the Abbey's Infirmary Keeper, piped up from where she'd been leaning on the mantelpiece. She wore a white nurse's apron over the dark brown robe of the Order of Redwall. "Was he a good elder brother to you and Jared?"
At this, Madeline found herself laughing, albeit mildly. "Oh, you have no idea, Sister Falmur. Edoran doted on us like you wouldn't believe. Jared idolized Edoran. Not unlike how I look up to him now."
"As I'm sure he looks up to you, too, Madeline," Curtis added, to which Madeline nodded in agreement. The harvest mouse perched his elbow on his chair and laid his chin in his paw, his eyes full of esteem for Madeline and her brother. "Even if he doesn't often say it."
"What strikes my curiosity," Lunafreya spoke, after having remained quiet throughout the whole discussion. "Are these names that you and Jared have? I'm sorry, I've kept silent as long as I could. But now I feel the strong compulsion to speak my mind. Nagrig Deathblade called you by your everyday names; but also, by other, stranger names, the likes of which we've never heard before in Redwall. What is that about, may I ask, Madeline?"
"I knew you would ask about that eventually," Madeline sighed, turning away. She held her left arm stiff by her side and rubbed it up and down. When she suddenly stood up to go stand by the fire, nobeast stopped her. For a couple of minutes, Madeline stood there, staring into the fire, heartily crackling away, her paws behind her back.
"That's a less than simple question, Mother Lunafreya, that requires a difficult answer." She took the fire poker out of the tool stand and absentmindedly stoked the fire. "Suffice it to say that names carry great weight in the Eastern Islands."
She put the poker back in its place and turned back around, still holding her paws behind her. There was a quiet solemnity on her face.
"On their eighth birthdays, Eastern children are given their names in our Eastern language. Our original names given to us at birth are those which we know each other by. But Eastern names are different. They are considered sacred, and to be spoken only in the highest esteem and reverence. As such, only the Chieftain has the holy authority to bestow these names upon the Eastern children. My parents received theirs on their eighth birthdays, and Edoran, Jared, and I were given ours as well."
"You and Jared call each other by both names on the regular, then?" Jonathan asked, dipping his quill in his inkwell.
"All the time," Madeline answered, nodding. "I can only speak for myself and him, but the truth is, that we think of our Eastern names," she put up a finger to emphasize her words. "As our true names."
She lowered her gaze down to her feet, thinking carefully over her next statement. Her face fell, her expression suddenly remorseful.
"Madeline Eolin Sandeye is my birth name. You already know that. My Eastern name – my true name – is Isidith."
All of the Elders gasped as one. Madeline turned her back on them to face the fire once again.
"Isidith…" Fanistra whispered the name humbly, reverently. "It all makes sense now."
"For the most part, at least," Curtis added, sitting up straight in his chair, and putting his paws in his lap. "Your names are connected to the Eastern Prophecy, then?"
"Erm…mostly," Madeline could scarcely meet the Abbot's eyes, and instead resumed drawing misshapen circles in the thin layer of dust that coated the Gatehouse floor. "We each remember different versions. I don't know if I even feel...comfortable...talking about it. Not after…after…"
She put a paw to her aching head, shutting her eyes tight and hiding them behind her other paw. "I'm sorry, everyone."
"Madeline?" Falmur went up to Madeline, kneeling at her feet. "What's wrong, dear?"
"I've-I've…"
Her voice turned soft and dry. She collapsed out of her chair and sank to the floor, wrapping her arms close around herself. All the color drained from her face. She shuddered helplessly, despite the toasty warmth of the fireplace behind her. On instinct, Fanistra and Falmur wrapped their arms around Madeline, making comforting shushing sounds but not saying a word. Amelia and Lunafreya did the same from the side and behind.
Then Madeline dropped her head into her paws and burst into tears. Her sobbing filled the Gatehouse and her body trembled. Tears streaked down and stained her face.
"She cannot go on, Curtis," Jonathan put down his quill, looking grim. "We should take a break and then resume when she's feeling better."
"No, no, Jonathan," Curtis put up a tender admonishing paw as he stood up. "She's had enough. I think we pushed too far. That's on us, not her. For now, let's care for her until Jared returns from his forge. She needs all the support she can get. I will ponder over my decision about Deathblade later."
"Yes, Father Abbot," Jonathan closed his inkwell, organized his parchment, and proceeded to clean his quill.
"My family!" Madeline choked out in between sobs. "Mom! Dad! Edoran!"
"Madeline, we're so sorry," Fanistra whispered in Madeline's ears, attempting to comfort her. "We didn't know."
"Jared!" Madeline lifted her face to call out to the windows of the Gatehouse. But no reply came. Her sobs turned to utter wails, and she buried her face back in Sister Fanistra's chest.
The fallen autumn leaves of Mossflower crackled and crunched beneath Jared's feet. The lighthearted sounds charmed Jared's ears and calmed his heart as he made his way to his blacksmith's forge. He emerged from the canopy of bare branches into the familiar circular evergreen clearing.
The first thing he noticed was that he was not alone.
Beneath the brand-new cloth awning that he had installed over the front door a week earlier, a single creature waited at the door. He turned at the sound of the squirrel's approach and breathed a sigh of relief.
"May I help you, sir?" Jared asked. He removed his key from his pocket and stepped up to the door.
The creature cleared his throat, and bowed his head. "Yes, excuse me. Do you own this place?" He stood upright and pointed over his shoulder at the forge's front door.
"Yes, I do." Jared answered sincerely. He unlocked the door but didn't remove his eyes from the stranger. "This is my blacksmith's forge. Sorry to keep you waiting. What can I do for you?"
"I apologize, I don't mean to intrude on your space," the other creature raised his empty palms to show the squirrel that he intended no ill will. A pair of charcoal-black fingerless leather gloves covered his paws. "I wanted to ask a favor. Do you take personal requests?"
"Again, yes," Jared opened the top half of the stable door and climbed into the forge, keeping the other creature in his peripheral vision. "Although, that depends on why you are asking. I'm sorry that I'm not letting you in just yet."
He leaned on the bottom half of the stable door. His eyes were fixed vigilantly on the other creature. In the afternoon sunlight, he saw the figure of a snow-white canine dressed head to footpaws in a rather strange leather garb.
"I've had a very stressful morning," the squirrel blacksmith explained. "I need to know that I can trust you. I hope you understand."
"Of course," the stranger nodded to show that he understood what Jared had said. "I completely understand. I promise that I mean you no harm."
He unsheathed a basket-hilted steel fencing sabre from the thin leather scabbard tied to his hip, and laid it flat in his palms. Jared noticed how it glinted as the bright early afternoon sunlight danced upon the refined silver. His eyes widened at the sight. An honest awed gasp escaped his mouth unbidden.
The stranger, perhaps sensing his fascination, held it out to him. Jared took the hilt in one paw and laid the blade in the other.
"I'd like to employ your services, if it's not too much trouble," he explained. "Whenever you come back to work, I would like to ask that you sharpen my sword. I would do it myself. Unfortunately, I used up my last sharpening stone on my voyage to Mossflower. Just my luck."
He saw the unmistakable hesitant skepticism on the young blacksmith's face, and tacked on, "You don't have to do it today. Just whenever you have the time. I know that you're busy and I don't want to impose."
"No, it's all right." Jared nodded to reassure the stranger. "You came to me at the right time. I finished my most important commissions last week, anyway. I'd be happy to do this for you. It's been a while since somebeast asked me for a simple sharpening job."
He ran an admiring finger over the flat edge of the saber blade. "To be honest, I've never seen anything like this before. It's impressive."
"Thank you," the grateful stranger bowed low. "It means a lot to hear you say that. I am indeed quite proud of my sword. I've had it for many seasons, and it has much sentimental value to me."
Jared kicked open the stable door and gestured for the stranger to enter his forge. "Quite the unique metalwork indeed. Come on in. I'll put your name down in my records." He made sure to open the single east-facing window above the counter to let the daylight inside.
The creature stepped over the threshold and removed his oak-brown lederhosen hat. Jared noticed that an owl feather stuck out of one corner at an obtuse angle.
Jared opened his commission ledger as his new patron crossed inside. "A sharpening job for a steel sword, due today or tomorrow," he thought out loud, writing down the details in charcoal. He turned around to his new patron, rubbing his chin. "Anything else? I can do two weapons if you need them."
The canine drew a knightly dagger from its sheath on his other hip, and held it out hilt-wise to Jared. "My dagger as well, if that's all right. You know, I was initially concerned that you might refuse me your service because of my race."
"No problem," Jared took the dagger and rested it and the sabre flat on a throw blanket that lay spread out on the counter. "Why would I refuse you my service? I have a personal rule to never turn away a creature in need of my skills because of what species they are, woodlander or vermin. That'd be so selfish of me. I reckon you'll also want to find someplace safe to stay while you've got no weapons to defend yourself during your time here in Mossflower," he added, looking over his shoulder again. "May I suggest Redwall Abbey?"
"Redwall Abbey?" the stranger's face lit up. An interesting excitement glowed in his pale, golden-yellow eyes. "Of course! I was planning to head there, anyway. No need to escort me, I know the place; I've been there a couple of times before."
"Perfect," Jared smiled benignly. "We can head over there together. I'll introduce you to the Abbot personally. We can get you situated in a bedroom and treat you to some food and drink. One last thing."
He raised his pen over the name-space in the ledger. "What's your name, sir?"
"Jacob," the proud creature stated. "Jacob Atherson."
"Jacob Atherson…" Jared wrote the name in the ledger. He stared at the wolf over his shoulder, rubbing his chin with the blunt edge of the charcoal pen. "Have we met before?"
"I'm afraid not," the sheepish Jacob rubbed the back of his head. "Erm…Do you know an otter named Dallas Irontail?"
"Dallas Irontail?" Jared's ears perked up and his eyes widened, his face brightening a bit. "The carpenter otter? You know him, too?"
"Yeah, him!" Jacob nodded and pointed at Jared with unfettered enthusiasm. "He's a longtime friend of mine. We've known each other for many seasons now. He's the one who recommended that I seek out you and your services when I came to Mossflower. How do you know him?"
"I've done some metalwork for him in the past," Jared closed his ledger and put it aside, then turned around to face Jacob. "Mostly fixing or sharpening his carpentry tools, and forging new ones as he needs them."
He folded his arms and looked Jacob up and down, trying not to appear scrutinizing. "He's never mentioned you before. Are you sure you are who you say you are? You said you and Dallas have known each other for many seasons?"
"Yeah," Jacob leaned back against the anvil, looking down to admire it while he racked his brains. "We met overseas on a ship he was working on once. It was headed to Southsward, if I remember correctly. The current king in Castle Floret had commissioned Dallas' carpentry services. This was a really long time ago, mind you."
Jared found himself grinning from ear to ear. "I assume you and Dallas got along well? Was it a 'friends at first sight' sort of thing, or…?" His grin grew into a playful, harmless smirk.
"Very funny," Jacob looked up from the anvil with an amused snort and smiled smugly back. "Pretty much friends at first sight, if you want to call it that." He patted his stomach and chuckled. "Dallas initially thought that I needed to put some meat and muscles on my bones. So, he got me working on his boats with him."
Jared scratched his chin, furrowing his brow in a thoughtful expression. "If you are truly who you say you are, then I hope I can trust you. I'm wary about letting another complete stranger into Redwall Abbey, especially after a scare that we had earlier."
"Oh, did something bad happen?" Jacob's brow also furrowed, his eyebrows drooping in concern. He shot a quick glance at his weapons. "Is Redwall in danger? Should I be concerned?"
"It's a long story," Jared waved a dismissive paw and stood up straight. He put his paws in his trouser pockets and stared into Jacob's pale golden eyes. "I don't want to bore you to death with it. What more can you tell me about Dallas?"
"Well," Jacob rubbed the back of his head and glanced up towards the ceiling, thinking. "I have an awfully long story myself. Dallas and I have been through a lot lately. We've been off in a faraway land involved in some…crazy shenanigans. Some good, some bad, some a little bit of both or in between. Let me think, who else do we know…?"
He stared back at Jared's cocoa eyes. "Do you know Bradley Steelwall? Oliver Swiftstream?"
"Dallas has mentioned them only by name, honestly," Jared shook his head. "Never met them, though."
"And you said you've done some work for Dallas in the past?" Jacob's eyes scanned over the blacksmith's forge, from the counters and drawers, the commission ledger, to the cupboards above, and the bellows and furnace.
"We haven't seen each other face-to-face since last spring," Jared explained, his face falling. "Is he all right? Is he in good health?"
Jacob patted Jared on the shoulder with a soft reassuring nod. "I can assure you that he is all right and in good health. I never would've left his side until I was sure that he was strong enough to take care of himself, after everything he's been through. He's in good paws and better company. I can also tell you that I come to Mossflower Woods in peace. They know who I am at Redwall Abbey, too, don't worry."
Jared nodded back and patted Jacob in the side. "All right. I trust you. I think if we head back to Redwall now, we can make it in time for lunch."
"We'd better shake our tails now," the arctic wolf observed, suddenly perking up and sniffing the air. "I think a storm's coming, Jared. You can smell rain on the wind."
Outside the forge's single east-facing window, dark heavy clouds were rolling into Mossflower Forest. They covered up the sun and turned the sky from clear blue to ashen gray. Before Jared and Jacob could react, the first drizzles dropped onto the forest floor of Mossflower. Jacob quickly shut and locked the window before any rain could get inside.
"C'mon, Jacob!" Jared sprinted out of the forge and scrambled to lock the door. Then he hoisted his blacksmith's apron over his head and took off into the forest. "Redwall Abbey is down the road this way!"
"Where in the world did those clouds come from?" Jacob slapped his lederhosen hat over his head, and held his leather jacket over his ears as he hurried to follow the blacksmith. "It was broad daylight a moment ago! Wait for me, Jared!"