Chapter Six

The Last Straw

Martin leaped back in shock as a wall of flames went up in front of him. He stumbled backwards, losing his balance and fell on his back. Sitting up, he scooted away as the intense heat became nearly unbearable. He was so shocked by the inferno that he didn't hear the screams until creatures ran past him, running so fast that he couldn't make out their blurred faces or even tell what kind of beasts they were. He didn't even know where he was.

He struggled to his feet to avoid getting trampled, his ears ringing as dozens of voices echoed in his ears, screams of terror and pain.

Struggling to see due to the blinding light of the flames, he went to intercept one of the shadowy figures in an attempt to get answers but the beasts ran right through him. He froze in shock, looking down at himself in confusion before looking over his shoulder in disbelief.

It seemed he was only a ghost to them. He didn't exist in this nightmarish world.

Hearing distant battle cries coming from behind, the warriormouse spun around, his heart skipping a beat when a horde of armed vermin raced towards him. They too rushed past him or through him, oblivious to his presence.

His warrior blood boiled within him at the sight of innocent lives being threatened. He reached for his sword but only grasped empty air, finding himself weaponless.

He looked up to see where they had gone but the unfamiliar beasts and the pursuing vermin had vanished as quickly as they had appeared. He was about to head in the direction where they had gone to when a familiar voice called his name, stopping him in his tracks.

He turned, his eyes widening when he recognized the pretty mousemaid standing a few feet away. He shook his head in disbelief. "Rose?"

The mousemaid was clothed in a simple white dress, looking exactly the same as she did in the last moments of her life. Rose gave him a small, wistful smile, her hazel eyes reflecting the wall of flames. "I need your help, Martin."

Martin stepped back warily, puzzled by her sudden appearance and her odd request. "But... you're..." he couldn't say it. The painful imagery of her being tossed away like a ragdoll, the crack her head made when it hit the palisade wall... he shut his eyes and shook his head to clear it. When he opened them again, Rose was gone.

He looked around, turning himself in all directions. "Rose!" He called out above the roar of the orange and yellow flames. Like the fleeing beasts and horde of vermin, she too had vanished.

A harsh, evil cackle made him jump. He looked all around him, searching for its source. He called out for Rose again, sweating from the intensifying heat of the flames.

Some unknown, invisible force suddenly grabbed ahold of him and started to shake him. He fought back, hitting out defensively with his arms and claws.

"Martin!" Gonff shook the warriormouse again, trying to avoid his friend's flailing arms. "Martin, wake up!"

Hearing Gonff's voice, Martin's eyes shot open and he sat up, breathing heavily and sweating. Once his vision cleared, he could see Gonff and Dinny's concerned faces in the glow of a lantern light, staring at him in bewilderment. It took Martin a few moments to process where he was and that he had been dreaming again.

He ran his claws through his sweat-soaked hair, his injured shoulder throbbing painfully after thrashing around in his sleep. "What's wrong?" He asked drowsily.

Dinny raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "Who is Roser- OW!" The mole yelped as Gonff's elbow jabbed him in the ribs.

Dinny shot a glare at the Mousethief and rubbed his sore side.

"Never mind that, Din!" Gonff said impatiently before turning back to the warriormouse. "Martin, Trimp is gone."

Martin came fully awake, quickly forgetting the frightening images of his dream. "What?" He struggled to his feet. "What do you mean she's gone?"

Gonff and Dinny stood up from where they had been crouching next to him. "Sister Fern sent her to fetch water and she hasn't come back yet." Gonff explained. "So when we went down there to check on her-

"Only hur buckets wuz thur." Dinny broke in. "An' a bunch o'tracks."

"We haven't found a trace of her yet, but the entire place wreaks of vermin. It's obvious they took her." Gonff added as Martin pushed through the tent flaps and into the snowy clearing, looking up in surprise at the half moon in the darkened sky. "How long have I been out for?" He asked.

"Since noon. The sun just set about a half hour ago." Gonff replied, having brought Martin's sheathed sword out with them.

Martin scowled and took the weapon from him. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

"Because you needed it!" Gonff snapped back.

As Martin strapped his sword to his belt, he jerked his head towards the camp. "Gonff, you and Dinny get a search party together. I'm going down there to see if I can find where their tracks lead to." He was gone before the other two could get a word out.

Trimp stared wide-eyed in terror at the red-hot iron poker hovering just inches from the tip of her nose. She was being held tight with a spear at her back, unable to move.

Upon waking up from her drugged state, she found herself in the custody of the vermin horde, tied down in the brig of a ship. For the first time since Redwall and other Mossflower inhabitants joined the war, she found herself face to face with the evil Caliban whom she only recognized because of the descriptions given to her, poked and prodded to get information out of her. When she still refused, the Warlord had her dragged into the galley, taking the iron poker from the cookstove. He stood in front of her, holding the poker dangerously close to his captive's face, his yellow eyes furious.

"I'm losing my patience with you, hedgepig. You're not giving me the answers I want."

Trimp swallowed nervously, too worried to give away anything else the war council had planned. "I've already told you what I know." She replied tactfully, fighting to keep her voice even. "He's not going to let your son go."

Caliban snorted impatiently. "I know that!" He pointed an accusing claw at her. "And I also know, for a fact, that if you woodlanders killed my son there'd be none of ye left to scrape off the forest floor when I was through with ye!" He snarled. "I wanna know what yer warrior's next move is."

"I don't know what Martin's going to do!" Trimp raised her voice, slightly annoyed. "Honest I don't!"

The weasel captain shook his head, weary of the pointless interrogation. "Sir, you won't get anything else out of her. She's probably just one of their nursemaids."

Reluctantly, Caliban dropped the poker to his side, making Trimp lean back against her captors with relief. "Aye, yer prob'ly right." Caliban replied flatly. He raised a brow. "Didja send a messenger out?"

"Yes sir."

Caliban glared down at Trimp, stroking his straggly beard. "You better start prayin' fer your friends, pretty one. They have until sunset tomorrow to release my son before I set my bullies on 'em again. And I'm goin' t'be sure... that it will be the last battle we'll ever fight with you landbeasts."

Trimp gulped, unable to look away from the black rat's yellow eyes. He meant it. This was the last straw. It was kill or be killed now.

Martin studied the streambank where Trimp was last seen for the fourth time that night, trying to trace any more tracks in the yellow lantern lights held up by his friends. Large snowflakes had begun to fall with the promise of another blanket of snow.

Gonff met Dinny's worried face and shook his head, not sure what to say without angering Martin any further. Everybeast could sense the tension in the air and wisely kept their mouths shut as the abbey warrior searched the streambank. Not only was he worried sick about Trimp but his warrior instincts had heightened and the Mousethief knew that there was no stopping Martin when he was in that state.

Martin rose to his feet and looked around at the rest of the searchers in his party. "Well, we've searched every inch of these woods on this side. She's not here." He tossed a rock back on the pile at his feet.

"Hopefully the others found clues." Gonff commented gravely, looking around at the snowy forest.

Martin was about to reply when he heard his name echoing from the darkness of the woods. The group turned to see more lanterns coming towards them. Ava, a young squirrelmaid from Redwall pushed her way through the bushes and met Martin on the bank, flicking her bushy red tail in agitation. She was holding a piece of paper in her paws.

"What did you find, Ava?" Martin asked her as she handed the paper over to him. The squirrelmaid nodded at it, clearly disturbed by what it said. "Some vermin shot this into a tree tied to an arrow. About took our heads off with it!"

The others crowded around Martin curiously, straining to see what the paper said. Gonff held up his lantern. "There, can you see, Martin?"

The warriormouse read over it silently to himself, his face grim.

"Wot's it say?" Dinny asked apprehensively.

Martin dropped the paper to his side and rubbed the side of his head. "Caliban has Trimp." He announced grimly, inciting worried whispers from his companions. "He wants us to bring Aynon down to the shore at sunset tomorrow and they'll do a prisoner exchange."

Gonff frowned, glancing around at the others' lantern-lit faces. "He's a crafty old rodent. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if we were walking right into another ambush." He met Martin's gaze. "He's trying to put you in a tight spot, Warrior."

Martin clenched the paper in his fist and crumpled it up. "We don't exactly have a choice, Gonff. He'll kill her if we don't release him." Without another word, he turned and headed towards camp. Gonff and Dinny looked at each other before following him.

"Where you going?"

"To do something that I should have done earlier." The warriormouse replied coldly.

Aynon knew he was in for a good throttling when Martin suddenly appeared from the shadowy trees and stalked towards him, his blue-gray eyes had the light of battle in them, his fists clenched tight. Despite being chained by the neck, the captive rat tried to dodge out of his way but Martin was quicker. He grabbed Aynon by the shirt collar and slammed him up against the tree with fury fueled by resentment and hatred for the vermin horde as well as worry for Trimp's wellbeing.

Aynon stared down at him, eyes wide with terror, choking for air as Martin tightened his grip on his throat.

"I told you I'd be back for answers!" Martin snarled, his temper finally boiling over. "And I'm going to get them!" He released his hold so Aynon could breathe and speak easier. "Right now!"

The black rat gulped in air, shaking his head. "You'll have to kill me then."

Livid and trembling with anger, the warriormouse drew his knife and pressed the blade to Aynon's throat. This action made the rat chuckle. "You don't have it in you to kill me in cold blood like this."

"You wanna bet?" Martin dug harder, drawing blood from his neck. The rat's wide eyes widened even more when he realized Martin was serious.

"Now wait a minute, Martin!" He began to protest, his voice trembling.

"Shut up!"

The search parties appeared from the treeline behind them, stunned by what was occurring as their Warrior interrogated the prisoner in a brutal manner that they had never seen him do.

"You better be listening because I'm in no mood to repeat myself." Martin's voice was rougher then usual. "Caliban has Trimp captive. He wants to trade her for you." He explained briefly about the evening's recent events. "But he's got something else on his mind and you know how he thinks. It's not just a prisoner exchange, is it?"

Aynon swallowed, feeling the edge of the knife blade. "No." He replied weakly.

"What else is he planning?"

Gonff sidled up to Martin's side, staring at his best friend in horror. He had never seen Martin act this menacingly before. "Martin..." he attempted to calm him but the warriormouse shot him a glare, silently signaling the mousethief to stay out of it. Gonff backed away slowly, sharing an uneasy glance with the others. Martin turned back to Aynon and nodded. "Go on, what's he planning?"

Aynon closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the punishment for relaying information to the enemy, even under pressure. It wasn't pretty. He opened them, swallowing hard. "He's launching a full attack. Even on your camp." He paused before going on. "He was going to do it after he killed you." He looked over Martin's shoulder at the woodlanders standing nearby, silently listening. He nodded at them. "Caliban figured with you out of the way and launching a full attack on your camp would give your beasts cause to surrender."

Martin tightened his grip on the hilt of his knife. "They do well enough on their own without me." He replied tensely. "It wouldn't have made a difference."

Aynon shook his head slightly. "Destroying your camp, your supplies, everything you need to survive... just think about that for a minute, mouse."

Martin knew the black rat was right. Doing that would have devastating results but he wasn't about to give Aynon the satisfaction. "I suppose he's planning to do all this while we exchange prisoners?"

"Most likely. Since I wasn't able to keep you captured long enough to bring you to him, I imagine he took your "Trimp" in retaliation for taking me." To Aynon's surprise, Martin dropped the knife from his throat and let go of him. As relief flooded through him, the rat leaned against the tree and clutched his throat, but he still eyed the warriormouse warily as Martin walked back over to his friends. Some of them backed away nervously as he approached, their eyes looking downward at his paws stained with Aynon's blood.

Gonff broke the uneasy silence. "Well, you got more out of him then I thought you would."

Martin shook his head and looked down at his bloodied paws. Seeing the cause of his friends' nervous stares, he swallowed hard, mentally kicking himself for almost losing his head. Finally, he responded to Gonff's comment, raising his eyes to meet the Mousethief's. "Just enough."

Without another word, he dropped the bloody knife from his paw and walked away, vanishing among the swirling snowflakes as the wind picked up, leaving his friends staring after him.

Gonff swallowed before turning to his waiting friends. "Dinny, Ava. Take everyone back to camp."

"Hurr, wot are ye doin'?" Dinny asked.

"I'll tell ye later." Gonff replied before following Martin into the forest, not waiting to make sure his orders were followed.

Gonff found Martin leaning wearily against the trunk of a tree, still trembling from the intense fury he had unleashed on Aynon just moments earlier.

"Martin." Gonff began gently, waiting until Martin raised his head and met his gaze. "We need to talk. About you."

Martin's expression morphed into suspicion. "Why?"

Gonff grit his teeth. "Because yer not yerself, matey. And everyone just witnessed that. You're so exhausted you're starting to unravel like a spool of thread."

Martin shook his head. "I've got nothing to say to you."

Gonff snorted. "Fine. I've got things to say to you and then we'll go from there." He could tell from Martin's stiffening posture that his best friend was becoming defensive.

"When Dinny and I woke you up from... whatever dream you were having... you were shouting a name."

Martin swallowed, wrapping his paw tightly around his sword hilt.

"Will you tell me who Rose is?" Gonff paused, trying to find the right words. "Is she the reason you're acting this way?"

Martin looked away, staring off into the darkness. Gonff waited patiently, judging from Martin's pained expression that Rose was a difficult subject to talk about.

Finally, Martin shook his head. "She's someone I knew a long time ago, Gonff." He replied softly. "But I can't tell you any more than that."

Gonff narrowed his eyes. "Why not?"

Martin straightened up, his voice choked with emotion. "Because I promised I wouldn't." Without another word, the warriormouse walked away, leaving Gonff behind to wonder what he meant by that cryptic reply.

He almost went after him but decided that the warriormouse needed to cool off some before coming back to camp. And the mousethief trusted his friend that he wouldn't be away for too long. Not with Trimp still in Caliban's clutches. As soon as he settled down, Martin would return levelheaded and with a well-laid plan.

Hopefully.