"But these ghosts come alive, like water and wine.

Walk through these streets singing songs and carrying signs.

To them these streets belong."

'To Them These Streets Belong', Rise Against, "Siren Song of the Counter Culture" (2004)

"Camp…At last…"

Nagrig half-slumped, half-slipped onto one knee, heaving for breath. Zakrul took his brother's arm and slung it over his shoulders. Together they limped towards their tent.

Dragel and Adhuxnuo took up the rear. The sable grumbled colorful profanities under his breath. The helmsbeast, however, had remained eerily silent and stoic throughout the return trip.

Zakrul wasted no time. He sat Nagrig down on his throne and hurried around the room. He gathered all manner of healing supplies. Poultices, bandages, herbs, and roots.

Dragel dropped to his knees in front of Nagrig's chair. The rat placed a paw of comfort on the sable's head. Adhuxnuo fetched the gin.

"Curse those blasted shrews to HellGates!" Nagrig seethed, spitting. "I'll throttle every last one of them with my bare paws! Mark my words!"

"Stay still, brother," Zakrul applied a poultice to Nagrig's diaphragm. "You'll only aggravate your pains further if you keep stressing." Nagrig grumbled but bit into a root, chewing with frustrated displeasure.

With a pained groan, Dragel fell onto his back. Adhuxnuo brought iced gin glasses for everyone. Nagrig's paw trembled, the clear liquid and misshapen ice cubes sloshing from side to side.

"So, the Sandeyes have allies on their side," he mused aloud, swirling his drink around in his cup. "The Guosim and the Guoraf. A squirrelmaid of Redwall with a wooden staff. And that damned white wolf…Bloody Northerner, by the look of him."

"Nearly clawed me open, that wolf did!" Dragel propped himself onto his elbows and pushed himself upright. He ran a paw up and down his abdomen. "I can still feel 'is paws on me…" He shuddered and took his gin and a pawful of herbs. The sable reached under his armor to rub them on his bare fur.

"It will behoove us little to ruminate on our defeats," Zakrul started wrapping a bandage around Nagrig's right arm and shoulder. "Our mental acuities would be best directed towards how we're going to repay them." He tied careful knots to secure the bandages in place. "For such public humiliation."

"Aye, ya're righ'!" Dragel sprang to his feet. He hoisted his cup of gin up in the air. "We oughta be takin' the figh' straigh' t' Redwall! Th' sooner we catch those ignorant, lazy, complacent fools unawares, th' better!"

"I'm of a mind to agree with Dragel, milord," Adhuxnuo told Nagrig, sipping his drink. "'Twould be wiser to attack the Abbey while they're defenseless. The shrews might not join them for another day or so."

"They're right," Zakrul nodded in agreement. Adhuxnuo too dropped to a cross-legged position with a relieved sigh. Zakrul worked a bandage around his ribs. "We can't afford to wait until they accumulate their allies. The shrews have strength in numbers."

"But so do we," Nagrig snarled through gritted teeth. "If not greater." He drained his drink in a single gulp, followed by another bite of the root.

"All of our forces are present and accounted for, except-"

Zakrul stood and dashed to the tent entrance. He glanced every which-way, scanning the camp.

"That's…odd. It would appear that Ember is missing. As are Mudclaw and Skullback."

"Aye, I saw that as well," Adhuxnuo nodded,, the unfinished bandage hanging from his torso. "They aren't at their usual posts, and their tents are empty."

"I'm sure they've just gone on an exploratory jaunt about the forest." Nagrig waved his gin glass from side to side in a dismissive pendulum arc. Zakrul spun round to face him. "Just like Baric and Ripspit did. If Mudclaw and Skullback are off trying to gang-press more vermin into our numbers, then they can do that, too. They'll be back before we know it."

He stood up and bent down to grab his armor which lay beside his makeshift throne. "Aaargh!"

All of a sudden, he grimaced in pain and shut his eyes tight. He collapsed in a frustrated heap back onto his chair. His spare paw flew to one of his shoulder blades.

"Brother, you are not well!" Zakrul held up a palm to pacify his younger sibling. "You must recover your energies before you return to the hunt." He returned to Adhuxnuo's side to resume working on his bandages.

"How dare those upstart shrews fight back against us!" Nagrig shouted now. "The nerve of those stuck-up, defiant, braggadocious Log-a-Logs! Some 'masters of Wungkan' they are! But I'll get them back…No good deed goes unpunished. No crime does not beget consequences."

"So what now?" Zakrul asked, finishing with Adhunxuo. The pine marten returned to his drink.

Dragel too crossed the tent to fetch more poultices. These he wrapped around his chest and stomach. Then he poured himself a second cup of gin.

"For the moment, we must consider our options," Nagrig leaned forward, cupped his chin in his paw and rubbed his jaw. "We should not make any rash decisions. The Sandeyes are smart and the Redwallers are crafty. The shrews are adept in the ways of Wungkan. Regardless of whenever we choose to attack the Abbey, we won't be met with light resistance."

"We may have lost that battle," Dragel murmured, narrowing his eyes and hissing. "But we haven't los' th' war! Sire," he stood before Nagrig's throne and bowed, a paw to his heart. "I can go an' brim' me army 'ere if'n ya wish it."

"We had the Sandeyes in our grasp!" Nagrig lifted his free paw skyward and clenched it into a tight fist. "We could've taken them right there if those meddling shrews hadn't gotten in the way! We could've ended our hunt prematurely!"

"Hope is not lost, Nagrig," Zakrul nodded to reassure him. "Our final siege on Redwall is nigh at paw."

He dropped to one knee, a paw on Nagrig's shoulder. "Go and check on your forces, Dragel," the black rat ordered. "Bring them here so that we may get a full count."

"I shall, milord Zakrul." The poultice-decorated sable bowed and left. "I won't be lon'..."

"Go and see if Ember and his lot might be back at the ship," Zakrul instructed Adhuxnuo. "Report back here posthaste if not."

"Aye, sir, right away." Adhuxnuo too genuflected and wasted no time exiting.

"All right, Nagrig," Zakrul exhaled in relief. "What do you propose we do now?" He approached the wicker throne and sat down at his sibling's side.

Nagrig's spare paw strayed to the hunting dagger on his waist. This he unsheathed, its slim yet keen blade glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

"Back to basics." He spoke at length, examining the blade. He ran his fingers along the dagger's thin metallic edges. "To the hunter's craft. Less is more; simplicity is complexity."

Zakrul nodded, though his contemplating brother did not see it. He too drew his dagger. His fingertips ran flat along the length of its blade.

"The hunters must not give up the hunt. Spill the details, brother. Leave the execution to me."

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the camp…

"Malgumm! Psst, Malgumm! Oy, Wegendell!"

Elrion Hackadale scooted through the dirt over to the weasel's side. Malgumm sat in a darkened corner of the armory tent, shuddering. He had his legs pulled up to his chin, his arms wrapped around his bony shins. He shuddered and shivered. But whether of abject terror, or the growing autumn chill, Elrion could not tell.

"Didja see Nagrig Deathblade an' his crew when dey came back inta camp?" The stoat kept his voice half a whisper. "Looked all ban'ed an' beaten up, didn't dey? Must've gotten one 'eck o' a thrashin' from dem shrews, eh?"

Malgumm muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Elrion leaned in to whisper in the weasel's ear.

"Weakbeasts, dey are." The stoat cupped his paw around Malgumm's ear. "Dem Sandeyes, too, must've really beaten dem up. Now I dunno about ye," He snuck a furtive glance out of the tent.

"But methinks dis may be our chance! While Deathblade an' 'is crew are lickin' der wounds afta whatever der woodlanders gave dem! Our chance ter 'scape!"

"A coup?" the weasel spoke up, his voice hoarse and cracked from longtime lack of use. He hadn't spoken a word since Mudclaw and Skullback had dropped him in the tent. His eyebrows rose in realization of the stoat's plan. But then he shook his head. "No. I don't want any part of a rebellion. I can't imagine what Deathblade'll do to us if he finds out about it."

"Malgumm, we've got der perfect opportunity righ' 'ere!" Elrion pressed him further. "Ya saw 'ow messed up Deathblade an' Zakrul an' everybeast looked! When dey came 'obblin' back in 'ere! Dis could be our one chance!"

He took Malgumm's paws on his own, shaking them with encouraging fervor. "We could be free, Mal! Free ta go back ta our normal lives! Free as der win'!"

"Do whatcha wanna do, Elrion." Malgumm inched away from him. He turned away, leaning his head on a wooden post that held up the tent, and closed his eyes. "I just wanna go home."

Elrion's heart sank, and his face fell. But he too shook his head.

"Lissen ter me, will ya, Malgumm? Don'tcha rememba when Deathblade's cronies dragged ya outta yarr 'ome an' brought ya 'ere? Ain'tcha tired o' dem forcin' weapons an' armor on ya, tellin' ya all 'bout how he's gonna make ya a fighter? Do ya not miss yarr 'ome? Yarr carpentry?"

He looked the weasel dead in the eyes.

"Wouldn't ya wanna figh' fer 'em? Fer yar fellow vermin, too? Fer Mossflowa?"

"Aye!" A pine marten spoke up from the opposite end of the tent. "No more 'Hail Deathblade' this an' 'Hail Zakrul' dat!" He shook a fist, the other paw rubbing his shins. "We can't sit 'roun' an' let dem bully us any lonner! We've gotta stan' up an' figh' back!"

"Rupiyr's righ'," Elrion nodded at the stoat in agreement. "We need ter make our stan' righ' 'ere, righ' now. Fer our families. Our frien's. Our 'omes! Fer alla Mossflower!"

"I…I can't!" Malgumm half-shouted. "I-I'm too scared!" He wrapped his arms closer round his legs, now shuddering a tad more uncontrollably. "I wasn't strong enough to fight back against his corsairs. I'm not powerful enough to stage an entire coup! No." He shook his head again, more adamant. "I'd be no use to you, Elrion. You'd have to do this without me."

"Worra? Dat's it?" Elrion's eyebrows raised in disbelief. He held out his palms in a half-shrug. "So yarr just gonna give up? Just like dat?"

"Gerroff my case, Hackadale!" Malgumm snarled, inching away from the stoat. "Leave me alone!"

"See?" Elrion pointed an emphatic finger at the weasel. "Dat's exactly da kin' o' energy we need! Yarr can use dat temper 'gains' Deathblade!"

"Aye!" Rupiyr shook his fist again. "Let out yar frustrations an' stress an' whateva other 'motions on 'im! An' his cronies what dragged ya 'ere!"

"What about Jared Sandeye?" From the shadows deeper in the tent, a lanky, dark-brown, middle-aged polecat interjected, outright arguing. "The blacksmith who made your tools for you? What do you think he would say if he were here right now?"

The weasel perked up at the mention of the squirrel's name. "I…I guess he'd say…" He turned away to wrack his brains. "Not to give up. Not to back down. To stand up and fight for what I believe, and to protect what matters most. To myself and to others."

"I couldn't have said it better myself!" A shifting of dirt and cloth. The polecat stood up and crossed the tent. He dropped to a squat before the weasel, holding out his paw. "Delnok Rottail."

"M-Malgumm Wegendell." The weasel shook the polecat's outstretched paw with some reluctance. "There's so few of us and so many of them. We don't stand a chance."

"An' dat otha pine marten, dat Dragel fellow," Rupiyr spat at the ground outside the tent. "'E said 'e was brin'in more troops! Dat cheater!"

"Maybe we don't have strength in numbers," Delnok glanced round at the tent and the many assembled vermin. Some armed and armored, and some not yet. The majority were alert; others half or full dozing.

"But what we do have are brains," the polecat continued. "We've just gotta use them exactly right." He turned back to the other two and nodded. "Deathblade won't know what hit him before it's too late."

"So we've gotta work togetha," Elrion nodded back.

"Aye," Delnok confirmed, and knocked on his right temple. "We'll be stronger as one than as if we were separated."

"Malgumm?" Elrion asked the weasel. "Yarr in or yarr out?"

Malgumm looked back and forth between the expectant faces, watching him with bated breath. Rupiyr too came shuffling towards in a plate armored tunic.

At length, he nodded vigorously. "Aye, Elrion. I guess I'm in."

"Smashin'!" Elrion exclaimed, pumping his fists in the air. "Erm…sorry…" He instantaneously dropped his voice to a discreet whisper. "Jus' over'xcoited, heh." He pressed a finger to his lips. "Mum's da word an' all dat."

"So, what do we do?" Malgumm asked nobeast in particular.

"First things first," Delnok stood up and glanced about the tent. "We gotta get outta this armory. Any ideas?"

Malgumm turned to look up at the wooden posts holding up the tent. "We could bring the tent down from the inside. Perhaps if we chopped through the pillars?"

"Weakenin' th' supports?" Rupiyr pivoted to examine the wooden posts. "Malgumm, yarr a genius! Everybeast grab a weppin!"

They began to scour the space. Over and under and around the racks of swords, daggers, spears, bows and quivers with arrows, and shields. Around them, other vermin stirred from sleep. They lifted their heads, blinking and smacking their lips.

"Clyde," Delnok squatted to pat a snow-white ermine on the shoulder. "The coup is a go. Help me and Rupiyr out once you're fully awake, mate."

"Aye, aye, Delnok," Clyde managed to say before he let out a long, wide yawn. "I'll go wake Lon'fan' an' Wuuzir up…"

The two beasts in question, a rat and a ferret, joined the search. Elrion turned to Mallgumm and held out his paw. Mallgumm took it, and the stoat helped him to his feet. He wasted no time taking up a woodcutting axe.

Whack! Whack! Whack! He whacked with all his might into the wooden post.

Whack! Whack! Whack! Arrhythmic chopping from all sides soon filled the tent. Bits and shavings of wood flew in every direction. Whack! Whack! Whack! Before long, Malgumm had made a profoundly deep crack in his.

"What in blazes is going on in here?!"

Rushing into the tent came Khaimtsu with Krodnal and Arvuk at his back. Everyone flinched; Wuuzir and Clyde nearly dropped their weapons.

"Savages!" Khaimtsu snarled through gritted fangs. He crossed the tent and snatched up Malgumm by the collar of his tunic. "Fighting back, are we? You're destroying Morringtat property!"

"Rebels!" Krodnal spat. He made to disarm Delnok. But the polecat ducked underneath him and rolled forwards. He swung his left leg out to trip the stoat's from underneath him.

"Oof!" Krodnal slammed flat on his spine and cranium on the armory floor.

"Stagin' a coup!" Arvuk cried out, aghast and angered. He ripped Wuuzir's sword from his paw. "Betrayin' yar lords an' commandin' officers! We'll execute y'all fer this!"

"Oy! Gerroff me!" Malgumm fought against Khaimtsu's vice grip. But his villainous counterpart proved stronger. Khaimtsu dragged him around behind the tent.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Khaimtsu gripped Malgumm by his front tunic collar. "We give you an opportunity to make something of yourselves! To fight for a great and noble cause! To give your meager and monotonous existences purpose! And this is how you repay us?!"

"Aye!" Malgumm barked back. "By sabotaging you! You can't stop us now that we've already started!" Straining his ears, he could hear the others protesting as they too were dragged out by Krodnal and Arvuk.

Khaimtsu's eyes flared. He lowered his gaze and glared darkly at the other weasel. "I won't let you get away with this! Besides-," he nodded to one of the wooden supports. "That's maple wood. Won't come apart easily."

"Really?" Malgumm shot daggers in a confident defiance that surprised himself.

"Clearly you've never met a carpenter."

He kicked the support in its brittle crack.

Crack! The blow cleaved it in two separate halves.

Surprised terror crossed Khaimtsu's face a split second before-

Cccrrraaassshhh!

"Yipe!" He yelped and leaped back in surprise as the armory tent collapsed in on itself. Malgumm seized his chance. He leaned back and-Whump!

He headbutted Khaimtsu hard in the face. The mustelid stumbled backwards, tripping over a small boulder and sliding on his back through the thick dirt.

Malgumm circled back around the remains of the tent. Delnok held Arvuk in a secure headlock. Longfang and Clyde had Krodnal on the ground, each pointing a spear at the stoat.

"Hahah!" Longfang laughed out loud. A hearty, mocking, cynical laugh. "Not so much a Captain now, are ya? Eh?!"

Wuuzir beckoned Malgumm over. The weasel obeyed without hesitation.

"Malgumm, ya and I are gonna rescue our frien's who got taken ta da other armory. C'mon!" He led the way through the camp.

The second armory tent was only half a yard due west of the first. Wuuzir and Malgumm burst in to find a few other fellow vermin there.

"Swoos! Mananagal! Smackpaw!" Wuuzir called out. A rat, sable, and a third weasel imperiously jumped up. All three were armed and armored. "On yar footpaws! We're gerrin outta 'ere!"

"Let's go, Saltface," Malgumm approached a second sable in the corner and offered his paw. Saltface took it and climbed to his feet.

"You, too, Unkkt." He passed a bow and quiver with arrows to a pine marten, who nodded in thanks. Wuuzir led the way back outside. Malgumm and the rescued vermin followed.

By now, Delnok and the others had Khaimtsu, Krodnal, and Arvuk on their knees. Their wrists were bound in thick rope. Rupiyr, Longfang, and Clyde each held a blade or spear at one of their throats.

"Now you know how it feels to be the victim, don't you?" The polecat paced back and forth in front of them. He stopped at the sight of his fellows and breathed a sigh of relief.

"The time is upon us, my friends! Today we shall be freed from the oppression of Nagrig Deathblade! And his unjust dragooning! Let's show him-and his despicable slave drivers-what happens when they mess with the working common folk! We're gonna kick up a real stink!"

He raised his sword high in the air. "For Mossfloweeerrr!"

His fellows picked up their captives by the armpits. They dragged them towards the collapsed armory tent.

"Scummy, treacherous, dung-brained idiots!" Khaimtsu spluttered, thrashing against Rupiyr's grip around his elbows. "I'll gut every single one of you! With the blades we gave you!"

"Rebellious ingrates!" Krodnal gobbed, stamping his feet to try to push himself free from Longfang. "Misbegotten, muddleheaded, mite-bitten muckers!"

"Ya won't get away wit' dis!" Arvuk roared at the top of his lungs.

Saltface and Unkkt lifted the tent cloth. Rupiyr and the other two tossed their former armorers and the standard bearer underneath. The cloth dropped, trapping them amongst the wood, nails, and weapons. Then everyone instantly dispersed around the camp.

Smackpaw made an immediate beeline for the mess tent. "Outta my way, potbelly!" He seized and pulled a gorging Ripspit out of the way.

"'Ey, wot th'-?!" The wearet dropped the half-block of cheese he held and staggered backwards. "Okay, that's uncalled fer!" He shook his free fist at the weasel.

"Shaddup, ya overgrown cheese-chomper!" Smackpaw shot out a leg; Ripspit tripped and landed flat on his rear with a pained yell.

Smackpaw grabbed a lemon which he cut in two with a nearby knife. Then he filled a mug with greensap milk. Half the lemon he squeezed into it, mixed with a whole teaspoon of fresh vinegar.

"C'mere, ya pudgy bucket-butt!" He grabbed Ripspit's spare paw.

"Oy! Gerroff!" Ripspit objected as Smackpaw used his claws to vigorously stir his sour concoction.

"Mmmfff!" The weasel stuffed the wearat's milk-riddled paw into his mouth.

"Ooofff!" A single kick to the diaphragm knocked him backwards onto the floor, winded.

"Smell ya later, tub-tummy!" Smackpaw left his mixture on a nearby table. He winked and pretended to salute Ripspit, then dashed out.

Breathless, Ripspit could only watch as Unkkt dashed into the mess tent the next instant. The pine marten scooped every cooking pot and pan within reach, and hurried out. But not before blowing a mocking raspberry at the fallen wearet.

Ripspit moved to stand. But his sheer girth caused his legs to buckle beneath him. He staggered and slipped back onto his fat rear.

Unkkt dashed towards the bonfire in the camp's center. Clatter! Clang! Clank! He spilled his armfuls of pots and pans all into the roaring flames.

"Wot?" he glared when the others stared at him a tad befuddled. He began feeding logs to the already blisteringly hot and lively leaping fire. "All due r'spect ta Mistah San'eye. But he ain't da only blacksmith' in Mossflowa, doncha know!"

"Oh, no, ya don't!" Darksnout came rushing in from his tent, dagger drawn. "I won't let me 'ard work-an' Mudclaw's and Skullback's-be undone by yar anarchy!"

Bong!

A cast-iron skillet struck him full-force in the scalp. He collapsed instantly in the dirt, unconscious. His dagger dropped limp from his paw. Unkkt laughed out loud, then dropped the skillet back in the fire.

"I'll put ya all down!" Baric sprinted out of his tent. He brandished his rapier at Smackpaw and Mananagal.

But the duo ducked underneath and kicked his legs out from under him. Mananagal grabbed his rapier.

Bump! Beaned him on the cranium with the hilt.

Baric fell in a crumpled heap. Smackpaw and Mananagal dragged him back into his tent and threw a blanket over him.

"Lookee 'ere, mateys!"

All turned to see Swoos holding up a pair of garments. In one paw, a plain white sleeping shirt and long trousers. In the other, a casual taupe button-up tunic and matching pants. Both made to fit a rat more heavyset than himself.

"Looks like Deathblade's garb, don't it? Expensive, I'll bet! Well, norra anymore!"

He tossed the priceless royal garments into the bonfire, opposite the pots and pans, and kicked sediment and ash onto them, cackling.

Delnok spun back around just in time to dodge the horizontal swinging sword of Lieutenant Gurutharc, who had entered the scene too late.

"Hyah!" He shoved his shoulder, hip, and elbow into the ermine. Gurutharc stumbled but regained his footing after a full second.

"Traitors!" he seethed through gritted fangs. "The whole lot of you! Were we in Morringtat, Deathblade would've seen you all hanged, fired upon, and guillotined!"

"Oh, why doncha go get summa dat yarself, Gurutharc?!" Mananagal spat. He splashed a mugful of grog into the ermine's face. "Ya antbrained flea-bitten crummy excuse fer a Lieutenant!"

"Aaagh! Bleh! Yuck!" Gurutharc reeled away, dropping his sword, and spitting and wiping grog out of his eyes. "Ptooey!" All the other vermin pointed and laughed.

"Ooh, whadda we got 'ere?" Saltface bent down to pick up a pair of night-black socks.

"Hey!" Gurutharc reached out a desperate paw. He blinked through the grog stinging his eyes. "Those are Lord Deathblade's! He dropped them on his way back into camp! Put those back where you found them, now!"

"Put dose back where ya foun' em, noaw!" Saltface repeated his words in a sardonic mocking tone. "Nyehhh!" He stuck his tongue out the ermine and pocketed the socks in his tunic. "Well, dey're my socks naow!" His lips pulled into a devious ear-to-ear fanged grin.

"No-!" Gurutharc moved to grab Saltface. But he had already turned tail and ran off. He dashed behind the tents, crouched, and reached into a hollow log. He re-emerged carrying a medium-sized oilcloth sack.

"Special gifts t' 'onor 'is so-called Lord Deathblade!" He knelt on the ground to open the sack. A nostril-stinging stench like rotten eggs and sulfur emanated from it. "From me beloved cows! Rhystic, Axlise, an' Briecat!"

He tipped the sack, and cow dung poured from it into the sock. First one and then the other. All the while he laughed maliciously. Gurutharc cringed and groaned under his breath. His grip tightened on his sword.

Saltface stood up holding the cuffs of the dung-filled socks. He swung them together in circles, then-

"Yaaaaaahahahahaaaaaah!"

He flung them through the air. They rolled no less than four times before landing with a thump! at the entrance of Deathblade's tent.

"Special delivery for 'is 'ighness, da Scornful Tyran'!" Saltface stood to attention in a mock sarcastic salute. Then he pivoted to return his sack of cow dung back to where he'd found it.

"To HellGates with you riotous lot!" Gurutharc snatched Swoos and Unkkt by the collars of their armor. "I'd be honored to send you all there myself!"

Shhinngg! Ssst!

A parrying dagger sliced straight through the fallen armory tent fabric. It ripped a single crooked vertical line. Two paws clasped each side and-rrriiippp! It rent it clean in two.

Khaimtsu emerged first, grousing and holding his dagger. Krodnal second, teeth clenched and already drawing his steel longsword. Gurutharc waited a second. Then a panicked but muffled screaming came from within, followed by a frantic ruffling of the cloth.

Gurutharc kicked his two charges in the lower back. They both cried out in pained surprise. Each dropped to their knees one after the other.

The Lieutenant drew a hunting knife from his belt and hurried over. He leaned down to put his knife to the cloth.

Shrip! He cut a new slit and ripped it asunder. Then he reached inside to draw the whimpering Arvuk out.

"Thankee so much, Lieutenan'!" Arvuk's eyes were wide, and all could see the whites round his irises. His breathing was quick and shallow. "From th' bottom o' me 'eart! I do not like enclosed spaces, no sir!"

"Heh!" Delnok stomped his foot. "You think you all can stop us? That was just a simple appetizer; a taste-test of what's to come!"

Crrraaassshh!

All of a sudden, the other armory tent came crashing down. In same fashion as the first. Malgumm, Wuuzir, and Elrion all cheered and high-fived each other. Each was armed with woodcutting axes and small paw-sized saws. Rupiyr, Longfang, and Clyde stood off to the side, forcibly dismantling the weapon racks.

"Oh, come on!" Krodnal moaned, his heart sinking. He clapped his paws to his head, his eyes wide with shock. "We spent half a day putting those up!"

"We've got loads more ideas where dat came from!" Elrion hit the side of his saw to his elbow. "An' dere ain't nuttin' yarr can do ta stop-!"

"ENOUGH!"

All eyes and ears turned towards the large tent. Nagrig Deathblade stood there.

All the good vermin dropped their arms. Gurutharc dropped to one knee and bowed his head, dagger point to the ground. Arvuk, Khaimtsu, and Krodnal all did likewise.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Nagrig bellowed. He stared round at the scene. Zakrul came abreast of him.

"By Morringtat!" The black rat's eyes widened in alarmed shock. "What in the four seasons happened here?"

"What in the world is this?" Nagrig bent down to pick up his socks. "Yuck!" He recoiled after a single sniff. "Must be cow dung! That's atrocious!"

He tossed the socks aside out of sight. "Waste of a perfectly good pair of socks." Saltface turned away to conceal a snicker behind his paws.

"Who is the ringleader of this chaos?" Nagrig pointed a finger round at the good vermin soldiers. "Bring them to me! Now!"

"Hey! No-! Lemme go!"

Delnok cried out in protest when Gurutharc and Krodnal grabbed him by the shoulders. They marched him up to Nagrig.

"Aagh!" They both kicked him in the lower back. He dropped straight to his knees.

"Suppose you think you're smart, huh?" Nagrig clenched Delnok's neck. The polecat only glared back up at him. Not the vaguest trace of fear in his eyes. "Riling up your fellow vermin? Inciting rebellion? Destroying Morringtat-owned property? Assaulting your superiors? Explain yourself! What right did you have to do all of that?!" Tongues of amber flame burned in his black, pink-tinted eyes.

"Oh, don't give me that talk about 'rights'!" Delnok narrowed his eyes at the High Lord of Morringtat. "You encroach upon our territory! Impress your sovereignty upon our lands! Our livelihoods! Mossflower is our home! Not yours or anybeast else's!"

Nagrig tightened his grip. Delnok choked but did not waver. Nagrig leaned in close until they were nose-to-nose.

"But Mossflower is mine, polecat." He spoke in a hissing whisper. Delnok shuddered inwardly but did not change his expression. "As are the Eastern Islands. As are all other lands of this world. But first I have to crush all opposition. Tie up loose ends. Shred my way through all the red tape."

He straightened up, still clenching the polecat's neck. "And you're going to help me with that. Whether you like it or not."

"We…" Delnok snarled, breathless. "Will never help evil!"

For a split second, Nagrig's face contorted in anger. But then he suddenly removed his paw from Delnok's throat. The polecat exhaled and coughed. Nagrig ignored him.

"You've never listened to force." He folded his arms over his chest. "Nor to reason. So perhaps some flattery is instead in order."

He began pacing back and forth. "Your cunning is to be admired. That much I can say with the utmost honesty. Planning all this in secret behind our backs and with the utmost discretion. All that is commendable. Your fearlessness, as well. You all performed your tasks of sabotage to the letter. Without the slightest personal reservation or fear of the consequences. These instincts of yours will aid you mightily in battle. Keep you focused amidst the entropy of combat.

"Your strategic thinking, too, is praiseworthy." He tapped his temple, still pacing. "I can make much good use of it when it comes to outsmarting those accursed Redwallers. Perhaps I shall task you to tear Redwall down, stone by stone. Then you can do with its denizens as you please. Like you did with my soldiers. Wouldn't you like that?"

"We are not possessions to you, Deathblade!" Delnok growled through gritted fangs. "We're not trophies to be paraded through your kingdom! Nor tools to be kept in the closet to collect dust until you have need of us!"

Hisss! "Raah!"

Nagrig's middle and index fingers struck Delnok's windpipe. The other palm slammed into his forehead. A side kick to the ribs knocked him onto his back.

He lay there gasping for breath. Krodnal pointed and laughed at him. Gurutharc only folded his arms and shook his head in amused disappointment.

Nagrig lifted his chin and stared down at the breathless Delnok. His lower lip curled in scornful disdain.

"Listen to me, all of you!" Now he raised his voice. All attention turned back to him. "We shall soon make our final assault upon Redwall Abbey! But they will not be defenseless!" He held up an emphatic, commanding finger. "They have allied with the Guosim and Guoraf! Neither of them shall go down without a fight! Take heart, however! We have allies of our own! The King of Searats himself, Grimscar Ragthorn, has blessed us with reinforcements from his own ranks!"

He gestured towards the northeast. The direction of the ocean."

"My point is," he dropped his arm by his side. "I will need all paws on deck for when the time comes to bring down Redwall! Any desertion, slothfulness, or hesitation will be punished!"

He folded his arms over his chest and resumed his pacing. "I can promise you will all be handsomely rewarded for your services. Each and every one of you. On that you have my word. Regardless if you be of Mossflower, Morringtat, Terramort, or Sampetra. Once everything is said and done. Rewards and riches beyond your wildest imaginings await you. Your strength, your quick thinking, and especially your occupational skills would best be put to use against the Redwallers! Now, I know you've probably made friends with some of them."

He practically spat the word "friends" in utter contempt. "But now is no longer the time for blood bonds! Treachery is not a sin, but a weapon! To be used in the absolute direst of needs! There is no shame, no guilt, and no remorse in betraying your friends in Redwall! Furthermore, I am also aware that some of you are patrons of Jared Sandeye, the squirrel blacksmith."

Here he raised a finger of warning at his eye level, shaking it at them for emphasis. "Be it known to you now that he is my prey. He is not all that you think he is. He hides a secret that has the power to change the very fabric of the world itself. Should it be unleashed."

He jabbed the finger at himself. "I cannot allow that to happen! Break your ties with him!"

He bent down to pick up a long stick off the ground. He snapped it in two over his knee. All the good vermin flinched. "Let your precious patronage with his metalworking services be rendered void at this very moment!" Nagrig continued, not even having noticed their reactions. "Moot! Null!"

He tossed the two stick halves aside. "Jared Sandeye, and his sister, Madeline, are our true targets! We should not hesitate to raze Redwall Abbey to the ground to get to them!"

One paw pointed to the southeast, the direction of Redwall Abbey. "We cannot-will not-allow their great and terrible secret to be exposed to the globe! Your friendships with them mean nothing now! This is where it all ends! For our endeavor to succeed. For your impressment into my service to have purpose! For my grand hunt to ensnare its prey!"

He hit his fist to his chest. "We must abolish all relationships! The Sandeye are not all who you've thought they are! When will you wake up and realize that?!"

"Never!" Malgumm charged towards him. His woodcutting axe was raised over his head. "You cannot make us betray the Sandeyes!"

Gurutharc and Krodnal all cried out. Zakrul lunged forward in front of Nagrig.

Two haymakers to Malgumm's ribs forced him to drop his axe. Malgumm collapsed onto his side, whimpering and holding his ribcage.

"Is dat all ya truly are, Deathblade?!" Elrion seethed, gripping his axe in an aggressive stance, prepared to pounce. "All talk an' no bite?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Nagrig's lips curled into a sneer. "You weren't there to behold my great strength at Brockhall."

He raised a paw, index and middle fingers extended. The snake's tongue. "Perhaps you'd like a demonstration? Of the lash of the serpent?"

Elrion tightened his grip on his axe and moved to advance on Nagrig. But Wuuzir grabbed his shoulder to stop him, shaking his head at the stoat.

"That's what I thought," Nagrig dropped his paw by his side, loosening his fingers. "Pathetic." He hissed with deep contempt.

"We'll never stop…" Delnok propped himself onto one paw, staring at Nagrig threateningly. "Defying you! Standing up to you! Rebelling against you! Mossflower is our home! Our land! And we will never stop fighting for it!"

"Aye!" Rupiyr pointed a spear he had ripped from a rack in Nagrig's direction. "We'll organize a protes' march if'n we 'ave ta! If'n we 'ad da resources, we'd make signs an' banners an' walk an' sin' an' shout aroun' Mossflowa! Protestin' yar rule, Nagrig Deathblade!"

"T' us Mossflowa belon's!" Longfang hit the hilt of his sword rhythmically against a shield. "Yar rule is over, Deathblade! Yar ghosts are comin' alive, back ta 'aunt ya now!"

"Mossflower Fores' will be ours 'gain!" Clyde pumped two shortswords in the air. ""Protec' th' weak an' liberate th' captive! Modern vigilantes, I say!"

"See?!" Nagrig hit a fist into his palm. "This is what I need from all of you! This energy! You could grind Redwall down to dust with your voices alone! Think about it!"

"This is getting us nowhere, Nagrig," Zakrul facepalmed himself. "Just kill them all and have done with it!"

Nagrig opened his mouth to answer. But a sudden approaching sound cut him off mid-breath. The sounds of marching from the southeast.

"Company 'alt!" Dragel's command broke through the din. The marching stopped in place. "At ease, soldiers! Gorsespot, Vadír, wit' me!"

Dragel emerged from the brush the next instant. Two other vermin flanked him.

A tall, lanky, taupe-furred rat put one paw on a decorated steel saber with a curved, brass, turquoise-painted hilt. An ink-black eyepatch covered his left eye. Red war paint coated the right side of his face, like streaks of blood dripping down from his forehead to underneath his chin.

The other, a ginger, dark-spotted wildcat. A sleeveless brown leather jerkin and knee-length tan trousers hugged his muscular figure. A kilt of steel rings over the trousers jingled and jangled with his every step. A large steel two-headed battleaxe lay strapped to his back.

"Great seasons!" Gurutharc exclaimed. "Your Grace," he asked Zakrul, pointing to the wildcat. Zakrul leaned in to listen. "Is that…Vadír? King Ragthorn's personal executioner?"

"Aye, the very same, Lieutenant." Zakrul nodded to confirm. "Let this moment dash any doubts that His Majesty is taking this hunt as seriously as we are!" Gurutharc could only stare agape.

"Milord Deat'blade," Dragel held a fist to his chest and bowed his head. "My reinforcements."

Nagrig deflated in relief. "And not a moment too soon, Dragel. It seems our conscripts got up to some destructive shenanigans while you were out. Did you see Adhuxnuo at the shore?"

"I sure did," Dragel straightened up and nodded. He turned over his shoulder to beckon to the shadows. Adhuxnuo emerged from the back ranks a moment later.

"My Lord Nagrig! Lord Zakrul!" Adhuxnuo hurried to Zakrul's side.

"It is as you feared, sires." He put a fist to his chest and inclined his head. "Ember, Mudclaw, and Skullback are not at the Scornful Tyrant." He looked up and shrugged. "I didn't see either hide or hair of them both ways."

He looked up past Zakrul and his jaw dropped. "What in the name of Morringtat happened while I was gone?!"

"To put it simply, a lot," Gurutharc sighed and shrugged. Krodnal seized Delnok's arms and put them behind his back. Delnok grimaced and screamed in utter pain.

"But we'll set things right." The Captain nodded to reassure the helmsbeast. "This anarchic rebellion won't go undisciplined!"

Nagrig nodded back, then turned to Gurutharc and Krodnal. "Keep an eye on him." He gestured to Delnok.

Gurutharc held his longsword horizontal across the polecat's chest. He did not shudder, but glared coldly back at the ermine.

"Milord. Gorsespot, my first mate," Dragel indicated the tall and lanky rat. "Kin' Ragthorn's second-best mercenary. Besides me, o' course." He put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest.

Gorsepot turned to spit on the ground. Nagrig chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"It's my pleasure, Gorsespot." They shook paws with enthusiastic vigor. "Glad you're here. My own soldiers have turned into rebels, as you can clearly see."

"Rebels, eh?" Gorsespot peered over Nagrig's shoulder at the coupsters. By this point, they'd all been disarmed and forced onto their knees. Khaimtsu, Krodnal, and Ripspit held them at blade or clawpoint. Baric and Darksnout stood there as well. Both were rubbing their heads and wincing.

"Selfish curs!" Gorsespot spat at them. "Stop rebellin'!" They stuck their tongues out or darkly scowled back.

"Executioner Vadír," Nagrig shook the wildcat's proffered paw. He clasped it in his own and shook it with even greater vigor. "This is truly an honor."

"Lord Nagrig Deathblade of Morringtat," Vadír knelt and kissed the back of Nagrig's paw. His voice was like the hardening of water into frozen icicles. "The honor is mine." He stood back up and unsheathed his battleaxe. Nagrig and Zakrul half-recoiled at the lengthy-and deadly-weapon.

"Just tell me who needs execution, sire," Vadír ran his palms along the twin heads of the battleaxe. "And I will get the job done. In the name of His Majesty, Grimscar Ragthorn!"

"For the now, nobeast needs execution," Nagrig chuckled and pushed the battleaxe downwards. Vadír stood his ground, only stroking the double heads with admiring pride. "There will be plenty of fighting to go around for all of you." He raised his voice for the whole of Dragel's army to hear. "Never fear."

Vadír and Gorsespot both shook Zakrul's paws. Then Dragel motioned for them to withdraw.

"Go on! Get camp set up an' fires goin'! Blackwhisker! Stumpbag! Fleaskin! Start foragin' fer dinner!"

Gorsespot and Vadír turned tail, and the army scattered to their various tasks. Dragel rounded on the others and pulled his britches up.

"So, what 'appened?"

Gurutharc and Khaimtsu explained everything that had gone on with the conscripts. Dragel and Adhuxnuo both shifted between fiery anger, overblown amusement, and offended disbelief.

"Well, ain't that a real large boulder in th' road!" He wagged a finger at the captive vermin, shaking his head and tsk-tsking. "Should I punish 'em for ya, milord?"

"Oh, if only we had some pillories here!" Adhuxnuo snapped his fingers, grumbling. "I'd love to stick them all inside!"

"No," Nagrig shot him down, and he sounded adamant. "Neither of you will do anything of the sort. I still have use for them. But there must be some way to keep them all in line."

"I agree," Zakrul nodded, tapping his chin. "Can't risk this happening again. There must be something we can use against them."

"It just occurred to me," Nagrig scratched his head. "Where's Brosk?"

"I haven't seen him since we came back from Brockhall," Zakrul glanced around the camp. But the monitor lizard was nowhere to be seen.

"Nor have I, Your Lordship," Adhuxnuo shrugged, clueless. "I didn't see him on the ship."

"Same with me, sir," Dragel added with a nod. "Notta scale or a tail or even that big cleaver from 'im."

"Blast it," Nagrig swore through gritted fangs and clenched his fists. "He could've put a swift end to the coup if he had been here."

"So what do we do about them?" Zakrul gestured to the coupsters.

Nagrig's eyes widened. "Hold on. I have an idea."

He drew his hunting dagger as he approached Delnok. Gurutharc removed his sword from the polecat's chest and sheathed it. Nagrig grabbed Delnok by the chin and forced his face upwards. Delnok yelped, only to be silenced by the cold blade resting against his neck.

"Tell me, polecat." Nagrig's voice came colder than his dagger. His eyes were icy now, emotionless and unsympathetic. "Do you perchance have somebeast you love? A spouse, perhaps? Or siblings? Children? Parents? Relatives of any kind?"

"I…" Delnok gulped and glowered at him. "I'm not telling you anything! And my name is Delnok Rottail!"

"Is that so?" Nagrig scoffed, and pressed the blade deeper until it rested on Delnok's vocal cords. "Nobeast special, Delnok? Are you certain?"

"Agh…" Delnok choked and blinked once. "Fine! I do have a lover! Brawnhilda! I was gonna propose marriage to her in a week's time!"

"Brawnhilda, eh?" Nagrig sneered, and all the others laughed and chuckled with him. "Good, good."

He leaned down to Delnok's eye level. "Then you'll have somebeast worth fighting or dying for. Cross me and my troops again, and Brawnhilda will never see a ring on her finger. Do I make myself clear?"

"Clear as mud," Delnok gritted his fangs and narrowed his eyes. "If she were here, she'd snap you like a twig."

"You underestimate the power of the Snake, Delnok." Nagrig hissed, serpentlike. "Do not make the same mistake the Guosim and Guoraf did. I have more poison in me than simply my words."

He withdrew his dagger, twirled, and sheathed it. "You're dismissed. You and your accomplices shall spend the rest of the evening restoring the armory tents. I don't care how long it takes you. Just get it done! And no supper until you're finished! Go!"

Gurutharc and Krodnal picked Delnok up by his armpits and forced him back onto his feet. Their fellow soldiers did the same.

"So, Darksnout, Baric, and Ripspit also failed with that Fernleaf fellow…" Nagrig thought out loud, scratching his chin. "No matter." He shook his head dismissively. "We'll have to make do without a healer. Still, that being said…"

He crossed the camp to the bonfire and bent down to gather pawfuls of rocks. When Darksnout, Baric, and Ripspit returned, Nagrig tossed his rocks straight at their heads.

"I told you failure was not an option!" Nagrig bellowed, his expression a white-hot fury. "You failed to gang-press the most valuable vermin in Mossflower! Now we won't have a healer because of you blundering, clumsy, substandard nincompoops!" Darksnout and the others all cried out in surprise and pain. They ran in all directions, shielding their heads.

"You three will repair the armory racks and stock them all over again!" Nagrig commanded. He pointed to the dismantled racks lying there pitifully on the ground. "Get to it! Or I'll break you so hard even that accursed Fernleaf won't be able to fix you!"

Grumbling in stressed exasperation, he cupped one elbow in his other paw, bowed his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"As if I didn't have enough problems already. Then all this happens. And we've got beasts missing on top of it all. So thanks a lot! Thank you for kicking up a stink!"

When he wheeled back around, he saw everybeast's eyes upon him. Even those of Dragel's army.

"What are you all looking at?! Get to work!"

In an instant, everybeast disassembled to their various tasks. Zakrul disappeared inside his and Nagrig's tent. Adhuxnuo left to assist Dragel and his army.

"Methinks the Sandeyes knocked His Lordship's brain loose," Krodnal whispered to Gurutharc behind one paw.

"Wouldn't be surprised if they'd knocked out more than one," the ermine murmured back, and the two took off to the mess tent.