When hope is gone and midnight stays,

Throughout the day and sunlight fades,

The Mighty Sword its friendship bades.

A star for love, a star for life,

A star to end all pain and strife.

Where heavens cry and sunsets shine,

The midnight cuts in three new lines.

A friendly blade, for life and love,

Is split apart so high above.

And from one blade comes three new names:

A coward, a spy, and a cloud of shame.

I remember when I was in Redwall as a Dibbun, and the Recorder of the Abbey lit a red candle in his parchment-filled room. At first the tiny flame flickered and jumped, and we thought it would stay stuck in place forever.

But then a small bead of red wax began to slide down the side of the candle, pooling in the round top of the candleholder. More beads began to follow, and I could not turn away from them, even going so far as to ignore the Recorder’s tales. I don’t know why the red wax grabbed me so.

I would not know the answer for ten more seasons. When I finally discovered what it reminded me of, everything had changed. No more stories, no more quiet nights being read to by candlelight.

-----

Marcus was my best friend. He and I had been friends since Dibbuns could possibly understand the meaning of the word. We two squirrels did everything together – from eating together to singing together to getting into trouble together. Unfortunately, I was never truly sure of why Marcus was in Redwall. He had no parents like I did, he had no sisters or brothers, and he had no real home that he could remember. I later discovered that Marcus’ mother and father had been killed shortly after Marcus was born, and that if it were not for the Long Patrol, Marcus would have fallen victim to the same killers.

And so he was taken to Redwall Abbey, where a good woodland creature could always go when in need. He took an immediate fancy to fighting, and quickly realized his position as Redwall’s Abbey Champion.

I was never interested in fighting like he was. I was pretty good at it, but whenever real danger rolled around, I found myself freezing up in fear. Marcus never had that problem – he was always the first on the scene, and the last to leave. He was pretty much what you would expect from a creature imbued by the spirit of Martin the Warrior.

I remember when Marcus first showed me Martin’s Sword. He had just been properly sworn in as the Red Warrior, and was formally given the mighty sword to carry around with him. When I held it, I could feel something… like lightning. It coursed through my body like greensap milk poured into a bowl of water – tendrils of something crawling through me, making me grab the hilt so tightly that when I finally managed to pull my paw off it, I had a blister the size of an acorn on my paw pad.

Marcus pulled it away and never let me touch it again. I was fine with that. I mean, he was the Red Warrior. I was just his friend with no real title. Officially, I was the head Chef’s personal assistant. I can cook like a fiend, you should see me sometime.

But yeah, he was the Red Warrior, so Martin’s Sword was his own business. It’s not like I had to worry about hefting swords anytime soon.

When Kadran came to Mossflower, though, things began to change.

The first scouts to give the news merely shrugged it off, saying that a group of vermin led by a wildcat was making their way south from Gabanzir, a fortified stronghold to the far north. Most beasts laughed it off – Gabanzir was a large fortress with walls as thick as Redwall’s and twice as high, and nobeast had ever seen one leave or enter, as there were also no gates or doors to speak of. It was an anomaly – a place of secrets, where even the birds that flew overheard knew naught of what was going on within.

After about half a season, the messages changed. It wasn’t a ‘group’ of vermin – it was an army. An army of over one thousand, to be precise. Their leader had been identified as a wildcat named Kadran by one of the Long Patrol’s best spies. No history had been given, but the name was enough. Woodlanders knew their new enemy.

After another half season, the army had made camp near the old ruins of Deltrada, about two days northwest of Redwall Abbey. That was when things got serious.

There was an emergency meeting in the Great Hall where all the resident warriors, strategists, and planners debated on what was to be done. Marcus was to be in attendance, obviously, and suggested I come to help. He always thought I had a good mind for war. I always thought he was crazy.

The beasts in attendance (who numbered about thirty) were seated in a large circle of moved chairs and sofas. The fire was roaring behind them, as the last snow of winter was currently blasting away outside.

“We simply can’t fend off an army of a thousand,” Marcus said loudly, standing from his chair at moving to the center of the circle. Debate had sprung up when the Skipper of Otters, a burly sea otter named Hagan, had suggested we simply hold out as had been done countless times before. When Marcus shot that down, everybeast went quiet. Marcus took the opportunity to outline his own plan.

“We can’t do this alone, but if we get the Long Patrol, the otter clans, and the squirrel tribes from Mossflower Wood together, we might be able to stand our ground.”

I quickly dashed that. “We don’t have enough time to get a messenger out past Mossflower Wood, Marcus,” I said. “They’re two days’ march from us.”

Marcus frowned lightly and nodded to me. “You’re right, Connor. But just because we can’t get there in time doesn’t mean we can’t get there at all.” He turned to the rest of the group. “We can hold out for a short while, most definitely. We have enough in the stores and enough warriors to stay alive until a messenger can bring back the necessary reinforcements.”

The others nodded – that was the best idea, by far. Negotiation would have been discussed, but there were too many stories of these vermin burning and pillaging, so we did not wish to risk a negotiator on them. Besides, the last time Redwall tried negotiating was with Hardin the Taggerung thirty seasons prior. The ensuing war spanned an entire volume in the Recorder’s office.

“So,” Marcus said, obviously moving along, “who will be our messenger?”

I raised my paw immediately – I didn’t want to have to stick around during the battle inside Redwall. Marcus noticed this, but quickly waved a paw dismissing me. “Connor, we can’t send you! You’re a chef! We need somebeast who knows how to talk with others.” He was trying to be nice, but I felt hurt regardless. I lowered my paw and crossed my arms in dismay.

“How about Macenroe, eh, wot?” A hare near the front (a vacationing Long Patrol officer named Dubin) quickly suggested.

Macenroe was an older mouse who had worked under the head Recorder of Redwall for quite a few seasons and had recently assumed the coveted position. He was well versed in public speaking and had a knack for making other beasts like him, and it seemed like to not send him would be a mistake. Especially on a mission of such importance.

“Who’ll escort ‘im?” Hagan the Skipper asked quickly. “I can’t, and Marcus sure can’t, and neither can anybeast that hasta help in th’ defenses of the Abbey.”

Once again, I raised my paw. “Well, I can-”

This prompted a few laughs from the others and Marcus gave me a wink. “What’s the matter, Connor? Afraid of some vermin?”

“Not just ‘some vermin,’” I clarified, “but a thousand of them. And I’d really like to help in any way I can…”

“Yer fine just here!” Hagan clapped my back with his strong paw, knocking me forward a step. “We’ll need ye to help out in the kitchens, matey! Ye make the finest strawberry scones I’ve ever eaten, an’ that’s sayin’ a lot!”

The other beasts nodded in agreement, all smiles. I guess they were right – a besieged Abbey needs to be fed, and without good chefs, the food would be gone in a matter of weeks. We were able to keep a small amount going for a long time, thanks to spices and different cooking methods. A pinch of derry power in a bowl of stew can make a spoonful feel like an entire bowl’s worth.

As much as I appreciated all this, and was flattered about Skipper Hagan’s words, I really did not want to be in the Abbey during the siege. There was something foreboding about one thousand vermin being camped right outside our Abbey…

“How about Blair?” A hedgehog strategist suggested. Blair was the son of Quinlan the Second, and the grandson of Calder the Red Warrior. Blair was a decent fighter, but a much better scout. Everybeast in the Abbey was disappointed to discover he would not become the Abbey Champion like his grandfather and father before him. I knew Blair quite well – us both being squirrels – and immediately knew he’d be better at the mission than I would.

“I think that’s a good choice,” Marcus said.

Blair had been standing near the back of the crowd, watching the proceedings from a distance. He frowned a bit when his name was brought up. “You want me to leave Redwall during this most important time? I’m one of the best scouts here! I’d be of much better use spying on Kadran’s army!”

Marcus held up a paw, silencing him. “I know you want to help, Blair, but I would highly suggest you consider this: Macenroe can’t make it to Salamandastron by himself, that’s for sure. Second, the squirrel tribes will listen to you, as your family is rather popular amongst their ranks. Third, you can move quicker than one of us ordinary warriors can, and you’ll make better time. And time is definitely of the essence.”

The scout was silent for a moment, thinking it over, then shrugged. “If you command it, Red Warrior, then it shall be done. I’ll go inform Macenroe of the mission and we’ll prepare right away.”

“Thank you,” Marcus nodded to Blair, who smiled a little in return, then turned and jogged out of the room to tell Macenroe about what was going to happen.

“Now,” Dubin leaned forward, “what are we going to do about the defenses? I had a few ideas about how to split the reserves...”

“Connor, wait up!”

Marcus was chasing after me as I walked through the cloisters out of the Great Hall. I had left the meeting prematurely when the topic moved to splitting the defenses. I wasn’t sure why Marcus had left. Of course, I stopped and waited for him.

“What’re you doing?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you be in that meeting? Don’t you need to know that stuff?”

He laughed and waved a paw. “Bah, they’ll explain it to me a million times over before anything gets done anyway.” Suddenly, my best friend looked serious. “Connor, listen,” he walked beside me and put an arm around my shoulder, prompting me to walk with him. “I want to know why you’re so desperate to leave the Abbey.”

“Why do you think?” I asked. “Kadran’s army is huge! I’m just a chef, Marcus… I don’t want to have to deal with a siege.”

Marcus sighed deeply and we took a left turn at the end of the cloisters, heading towards the dining hall. “It doesn’t matter whether you go or stay, Connor, the siege will be here when you get back. I don’t know what this Kadran scum wants, but if it’s Redwall Abbey, we’ll have to be fully prepared to take his army on. That means having fully nourished troops when the going gets tough. You may not know it, Connor, but you’ve got a very important job here.”

I shrugged his arm off and turned us to the right, up a spiral staircase. I didn’t feel like going back to the dining hall just yet. “Maybe… but that’s the whole point, I guess. When the war’s over, you’re the one who gets remembered because you killed the warlord with Martin’s sword. I just make the food that keeps you and everybeast going.”

Marcus stopped me in the stairway, holding a claw up at me. “Don’t think that, Connor. You know I’d never let you slip through the cracks when Macenroe writes about this! Your name will be right up there with my own, I promise.”

There were some very obvious doubts, but Marcus was my friend and I knew he’d try his best to get me into Redwall’s tomes.

“I just want to be remembered as something more than a chef,” I said quietly.

I felt my friend’s paw on my shoulder once more. “Look, as the Red Warrior I’ve got a few ideas about things to come. I’m not supposed to talk about them, but I want you to know that I think a time is coming very soon when you’ll have your moment of glory.”

I frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Had he been visited by Martin the Warrior? Most Red Warriors saw him at least once, but Marcus had not officially seen him at all. Had he been keeping it a secret?

Apparently Marcus could see the suspicion in my face. He grinned and leaned in close, whispering into my ear. “Martin told me that you’ll find a new recipe for butter cream custard and we’ll give it to Kadran in return for his surrender!”

I laughed and pushed him away. “Go kill something with your magic sword, tree jumper!”

He could not stop his laughing as he went back downstairs. “Oh, wow, Con! That was some of my finest work! Anyway,” he cleared his throat, his laughing tapering off after a few moments, “I’ve got to get back to that meeting. I just want you know that what we said in there was true. You are needed here more than at Salamandastron.”

I nodded in response. “I know. But I’m still worried about this whole thing. Redwall hasn’t been truly under siege since…”

“It’s been a while, yes,” Marcus said solemnly. “But we’ll get through it alright. Redwall’s only fallen to vermin once, and even then it was only for a day. How many armies have tried to defeat us?”

“A lot,” I said.

”A lot,” Marcus repeated. “Kadran doesn’t have anything special except numbers, and our archers will make quick work of those. Don’t worry so much.” He saluted a bit, and then waved. “Catch you at dinner, alright? You still owe me some of that new damson wine for when I pretended your grayling recipe tasted good.”

“What?” I roared. “You were lying?”

More laughter.

I smiled fleetingly, waited in the staircase for a short while, then went back to the dining hall to help prepare dinner.

It was only a few hours later when dinner was over and I had retired to my dormitory bed. There were ten beds in my room, and the large bay window on the far wall was where mine was located. The glass pane was rattling from the wind, and it was almost possible to make out the flurry flakes of snow just outside the glass window, but the darkness swallowed them up a few inches out. Further below, globes of torchlight could be seen, filtered by so many layers of snow. Marcus was somewhere down there, I realized, working with the sentry guards on something. The torches moved around quickly, frantically. I turned away and walked over to my bed.

The heating slats in the floor that let in the warm air from the kitchens were situated near my bed, thankfully, and I was able to stay rather toasty despite my close proximity to the drafty window. After throwing on another blanket just to be safe, I slipped under the covers and lay back against my pillow, staring up at the stone ceiling as I had countless times before. I had memorized the number of cracks in the stone (somewhere in the vicinity of four hundred and seventy) and what all the cracks looked like when I relaxed my eyes and dazed slightly (one set of cracks actually took the form of a smiling otter’s face if I focused hard enough). I knew everything there was to know about that ceiling, which is why I got bored quickly and rolled onto my side, my back facing the window.

There were a lot of things on my mind that night. It wasn’t just the inevitable siege, either. There were unanswered questions about what Marcus had said about me having my moment of glory, for example. What did he mean by that?

Memories of my first encounter with Martin’s sword crept into my mind and I got the shivers. I don’t know what that feeling was, but it was most uncomfortable.

It was power.

I blinked in shock and shook my head quickly. Where did that thought come from? I was silent for a moment, waiting to hear if maybe somebeast in the room had said it and maybe I mistook it for a thought. There were two other beasts in the room, but they were both sleeping soundly in their beds on the other side of the dormitory. The door opened quietly and I shut my eyes – if this beast entering the room saw that I was awake, he might try and strike up a conversation, which was the last thing I wanted.

I heard the beast come in, shut the door, and climb into one of the beds near me. Judging by which bed the beast climbed into, I figured it must have been Fress – an otter a few seasons younger than I. In a few minutes, there was silence, save for the sound of peaceful, heavy breathing.

For a few minutes, I tried to emulate the pace of the breaths, trying to get myself to sleep, but nothing came of it. If anything, the focus made me more alert than before. My mind began to wander to earlier that evening at dinner, after I had helped serve the main course and was permitted to enter the dining hall and sit down to enjoy the meal I had helped to prepare.

Marcus and I always sat across from each other. When we were younger, we would throw food at one another and generally make a ruckus until a Brother or Sister told us to calm down and eat our meals peacefully. When Marcus had become the Red Warrior a few seasons prior, he stopped playing his food. I stopped as well.

This past evening, Marcus looked as if he was trying to say something to me. Every time I looked up from my food, I could see him look back down to his own plate. He was watching me eat, which made me somewhat uncomfortable.

“Marcus?” I asked. “Something wrong?”

He sighed and said nothing, opting instead to pick away at his meal with a fork.

“You don’t look well,” I said, leaning toward him and trying to get him to make eye contact. “You feeling alright?”

Marcus shrugged and again said nothing.

I gave up and went back to eating, feeling a little depressed at that moment myself.

“Have you ever had a feeling that something bad…?” Marcus spoke suddenly, but trailed off. When I looked up at him, I could see that his eyes were watered, as if he were on the verge of tears.

“Marcus...” I stood up slowly and nodded to the stairway leading to the Great Hall. “C’mon, let’s get some fresh air.”

He nodded and stood up from his seat, avoiding the stares of the other Abbeybeasts as he and I made our way out of the dining hall. A Dibbun behind us asked rather loudly, “Is somefin’ wrong wif Marcus?”

The Dibbun’s mother shhhed and responded in a lower voice. “Just leave him be, dearie. Don’t worry about it.”

I closed my eyes momentarily – the feeling was always the same from the Abbeybeasts – let the warriors sort out their own problems. But Marcus was still so far away from being one of those hardened warriors that knew everything about everything, and he still had problems like any other beast, warrior or not.

I wrapped myself in a cloak (a number of which were hanging on a peg by the Abbey doors – there were multiple sizes for everybeast and they all fit around our green habits), while Marcus merely tossed his cape around his body and cinched it shut at his side. Marcus didn’t wear our green habit. The Red Warrior was not allowed to wear it – and instead wore a green tunic with a red vest – as every other Abbey Champion had worn in times of peace.

We nodded to the door guard, and the doors opened quickly for us. We scampered out the door and it eased shut behind us.

Darkness had fallen a few minutes prior, and a few last wisps of light could be seen trying to climb over the tall Abbey walls. Numerous torches cast shivering globes of light onto the freshly fallen layer of powdered snow. Numerous paw prints could be seen in it from the patrols that rounded the Abbey constantly, but many of them were already being covered by the ongoing flurry.

The cold was a bit shocking to my footpaws – no matter how many seasons of heavy snow I’d been through, I never managed to get used to it. Marcus didn’t look troubled by it at all.

We walked toward the rampart and slowly began to ascend the stairs, side by side. Marcus was silent, so I decided to break the ice. “You were asking me if I’d ever had a feeling where I thought something bad would happen?” I asked.

The Red Warrior exhaled sharply in a huff, his breath coming out of his nostrils in a fog. “I don’t know what came over me, Connor… sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said. We were at the top of the ramparts now. One of the perimeter guards saluted to Marcus, who nodded to him. We walked past him to a vacant part of the rampart. A small archer’s platform was situated nearby, and, like we had as Dibbuns, Marcus and I climbed onto it and stared out into the darkness that would have been Mossflower Wood had the light been present. By the time we got to the top of the rampart, the light was quite gone. The only light we had was from the collective of torches set into the main wall on our left and right.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked, patting the snow off of a small stone bench within the archer’s shelter and sitting down.

Marcus did the same on the other side of the small cylindrical room. He was quiet for a moment, but I knew he would tell me what was bothering him. We were best friends, after all. I leaned close and smiled a bit. “Something with Tara?” That would be Marcus’ love – a squirrelmaid who worked in the infirmary

“Pfft…” Marcus rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Connor, that’s definitely the problem.” He waited a moment for the sarcasm to sink in, then sighed and leaned back against the sandstone. “If that were it, I wouldn’t be crying out in public. You know me, Con. C’mon…”

I nodded and pursed my lips a bit. I felt pretty embarrassed. “I know, Marcus… I know. But unless you tell me what’s going on-”

He leaned in quickly, cutting me off. “Did you just hear something?”

That got me nervous. Marcus looked deadly serious all of a sudden. I perked my ears, but still couldn’t hear a thing. “No. Why? Did you-”

Marcus was up all of a sudden. Ignoring me, he leapt out onto the rampart and looked to his left and right for a sentry. Finding none, he dashed to his left, back the way we had come, hoping to catch somebeast during their rounds.

I had followed my friend out onto the rampart, looking more than a bit confused. I could see him conversing with a sentry guard a few paces away. I caught a little bit of their whispered conversation:

“… heard somethi…”

“What did... it a voice?”

“No… something el…”

“Connor!” Marcus turned quickly and jerked a claw back to the Abbey. “You’d best head inside and get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning, alright?”

Blinking in shock, there was little I could do but comply. The sentry guard was looking very serious as well. I nodded once and walked past them, back into the Abbey, up to the dormitory.

The following morning, I awoke to a strange and unusual draft coming from the window. Actually, I quickly realized that it was not morning yet at all. Everything was dark.

What had woken me? Maybe the draft…?

But something was wrong. The window by my bed had been bolted and locked shut. What had opened it?

Then I realized that there was somebeast standing next to my bed. I could hear him breathing, and I realized with a start that his paw was on my shoulder, shaking me violently. That’s what had woken me up.

“Connor!” I knew that voice.

“Marcus…?” My voice was groggy with sleep. I couldn’t see very well or think straight. “What…? Lemme go back to sleep.”

“No can do, buddy,” he was pushing me to sit up. “We’ve got to go. Now.”

“Go?” I asked. “Go where?”

“We have to leave the Abbey. We all do.”

I was awake suddenly. Was this a nightmare?

“Marcus,” I asked slowly, “what’s going on? Could you light a candle, please?”

“Nope,” the Red Warrior whispered to me, crouching down by my bed, away from the window. “They’ll be able to see us if we light a candle in here. Connor, listen, I know that you’re going to think I’m joking, but it’s the truth, I swear on Martin.” His voice dropped low and he made sure I was paying attention to him. I could see the whites of his eyes just barely in the darkness. “Connor, we’re being attacked. The walls have been breached and the vermin are already inside the Abbey.”

“What?” I sprang up and Marcus forced me back down.

“Listen,” Marcus whispered, “I’ve got a job to do, but you don’t. I’m going to lead you and any other beasts I can to the secret passage near Cavern Hole. That will take you to the underground lake and from there you can make it to the swamps outside and hopefully make it to Salamandastron.”

“Marcus, what’s going on…?” My voice was weak with fear. My eyes were getting more accustomed to the darkness and I could see that the window next to my bed was no longer there. The snow had stopped some time ago, but the chill in the air was more than noticeable. Somebeast had broken the window.

“Get dressed quickly,” Marcus said, throwing my habit and a cloak on the foot of my bed. “And don’t look around the room. Just keep your eyes on me, okay?”

Instinctively, I looked around the room before I even bothered to ask ‘why’. It was still dark, but I could see the other occupied beds. Before I could ask Marcus why he hadn’t woken them, I could see the hundreds of arrows littered about. They stuck up from all of the beds like pins in a pincushion. My head snapped back to the broken window. “They… they shot arrows into the…?”

Marcus sighed and nodded sharply. “Yes, they did. You’re safe because you slept under the window and the arrows went right over you. The others are dead. I checked.”

“Dead?” I would have recoiled in fear, but Marcus was dragging me out of bed.

“Dammit, Connor! Get dressed! We don’t have time for this!” He threw my habit at me. “Hurry!”

I put the habit on quickly and grabbed the cloak as Marcus clasped my paw and led me out of the room. Had a little bit more light been present, I would have been able to see the pools of blood paired ironically with the peaceful and sleeping faces of the beasts in their beds, now sleeping for eternity.

Does anybeast really die in their sleep?

Marcus led me out into the darkened passageway and hefted Martin’s sword with his right paw, my paw in his left. “They took out a few of the wall sentries first,” he said softly as we began to walk toward the spiral staircase at the end of the hall. Shouts and cries could be heard coming from every direction. Shadows of running beasts were dancing across the walls ahead from torch and candlelight.

“Once they took out a few sentries, they sent their assassins to clear the rest of the ramparts. If we hadn’t heard them in the archer’s tower, I don’t know what would’ve happened. After you went inside, I split up the guards and we began to search the rampart walls. We found a few of the dead sentries, and found paw prints leading off the wall and into the orchard.”

We went downstairs via the spiral stairs. There was a sudden blood-curdling scream somewhere in the Abbey. I froze, but Marcus pulled me along. “We followed the paw prints for a little bit,” he said, trying to get me to pay attention to him, “then we started getting picked off, one by one. I got inside with a few other sentries, and then the arrows started coming in through the windows. I don’t know what kind of arrowheads they’re using that let them pierce through glass so easily…” He shook his head and we got off the staircase on the first floor. A large number of Abbeybeasts were waiting by the locked door to the Cavern Hole. One of the sentries must have done that. There were screams and shouts coming from the other end. Death was on the other side of the door.

“My daughter is on the other side!” One hysterical haremaid was gibbering as she clawed away at the door. An otterguard held her back.

“Easy there, marm! Stay calm!”

“Mom!” A muffled voice on the other side could be heard. There was a frantic knock on the large wooden door. “Mom! Open the door! They’re coming! MOM!”

“Please… Please…” The haremaid was looking at Marcus with teary, pleading eyes. “My daughter… please…”

The Red Warrior grit his teeth. “If we open that door, then they’ll kill all of us.”

“They’ll kill all of us anyway!” The haremaid screamed and lunged for the bolt.

Marcus got to her in time, forcing her back.

“Mom! Mom, help! They’ve got me! MOM! MOOOM!”

“Shaddup, ya whelp!” A husky voice could be heard on the other side of the door.

There was a sickening high pitched scream and a strange squishing sound on the other side of the door. Then there was a thump.

I looked down and saw blood seeping in underneath the door.

“Dat’ll teach ya!” The husky voice sounded agitated. “Damn rabbits.”

The haremaid went limp in Marcus’ arms. She had fainted. Marcus gave her to an otterguard nearby and turned to the Father Abbot. The mouse looked shocked beyond words. “Father Abbot,” Marcus said breathlessly, “is there another way out of Redwall besides the secret passage?”

“She’s… she was killed…” He was pointing at the puddle of blood forming near the locked door.

“Yes, she’s dead,” Marcus said softly, “but unless you want all of us to share the same fate, I’d really appreciate it if you listened to me. Father Abbot,” he snapped his claws in front of the old mouse. “Is. There. Any. Other. Way. Out?”

“No…” Father Abbot answered quickly, shaking his head slowly. “No way out… The kitchen… the main doors, the back entrance… the secret passage… they’ve trapped us here. They’ve sealed all the exits”

“OPEN THIS DOOR!” The locked door jostled and bulged under the weight of many polearms and fists. “By order of Kadran of Gabanzir, open this door and surrender, or be killed!”

Marcus sneered at this. “Go back to your poorly built Gabanzir and hide there for another hundred seasons ya backstabbing vermin murderers!”

The voices on the other end erupted into a cacophony of dismay, shouting obscenities at Marcus and us Redwallers as we stood dumbly behind the locked door to Cavern Hole.

“We’ll have to find another way,” I said quickly. “Marcus,” I grabbed his arm. “We have to get out of here. They might take me if I surrender, but they’ll kill you! You’re the Red Warrior!”

“I know that!” Marcus snapped at me, quickly recovering with. “I know, I know… You’re right, though.” He looked up to the rest of the Redwallers. “If you’re caught trying to escape, they’ll kill you. But if you stay here, you’ll be caught for sure and I can’t guarantee your safety. We’re going to try and find another way out. Come with us, or stay and be caught. Regardless, I will be back for the rest of you. You have my word. I will not think ill of you if you surrender.” He winced a bit. “It would seem that our fortunes have quickly gone from good to bad.”

He turned and ran for the spiral stairs. All of the Abbey warriors came with us, including Skipper Hagan. Dubin was among us, as was Blair. Father Abbot, Macenroe, and all the other beasts waited, shocked, right where they stood.

“Father Abbot…” Marcus pleaded, “Father Abbot, please… get the others to come with us.”

I felt obligated to say something, but no words came out of my mouth. I couldn’t stop staring at the other Abbeybeasts. They were huddled together, beasts of all species and ages, staring at us with wide, teary eyes.

Old Father Abbot hung his head in defeat. “My boy, I will never leave this Abbey to vermin. And neither will any of these beasts. If we must live in servitude, we will. But this will always be our Abbey, and Martin will protect us. Just promise me one thing,” he looked up at Marcus, tears streaming down his cheek. “Promise me that you’ll come back with help and free this Abbey.”

“I promise,” Marcus said with a resolute nod. “I’ll be back, and I will bring the whole of the Long Patrol. I will bring the squirrel tribes and the otter clans. I will bring everybeast in Mossflower and we will take Redwall back. I promise.”

“Then go,” Father Abbot’s voice became strong once more. “Go! Go! May Martin’s soul and sword guide you!”

Marcus grabbed my paw and we took flight, dashing back up the stairs to the second floor. I could see the first rays of light beginning to shine through the window by the infirmary. The fresh snow outside was reflecting it tenfold, making it look much brighter than it actually was.

Our small group went down the hall and stopped before the first window. It was riddled with holes and many arrows lay strewn about the floor. Some had entered with such force that they were lodged into the cracks in the stone wall opposite the window.

Marcus quickly spied a glance out the window. “It’s clear… they’re all downstairs,” he said. “C’mon, Hagan, help me with this glass.”

The Skipper complied wordlessly, hefting his metal spear and cracking open the holes in the glass so that we could jump to the ground below.

“It’s a long way down,” I said softly. “Are you sure we’ll be able to get out this way?”

Dubin hummed pensively and looked out the window as Marcus and Hagan chipped away at the broken glass, widening the gaps, breaking away large pieces of glass that had been there for hundreds of seasons. “The snow should help break the fall, me lad. And we can climb down a ways, too, I’m thinking.”

Hagan shook his head as he pried a large pane of glass away. “Nah, can’t climb down. The stone’s too smooth here. Best just jump, lad. Ain’t too far down anyways.”

I nodded and waited for the two beasts to finish their work, clearing all the jagged edges of glass from the sides of the window.

It was only a few seconds later when the window was safe to climb through. Somewhere downstairs, the screaming began again. I could hear something crack and snap. Marcus winced. “They’re through the barrier! We don’t have much time. Get through the window and make your way through the side exit of the Abbey.”

Marcus stepped to the side, ushering us through. “Hagan, old friend, you first.”

The otter snorted and, without hesitation, leapt through the open window. There was a feeling of sick fear when I saw how fast he dropped out of sight. There was a moment of unreality as his form got farther and farther away from me, like I was the one slipping away, and not him.

He hit the ground with a soft thud, rolling onto his side as he did so to help soften the impact. The otter stood up, obviously unhurt, and waved towards me with his right paw while patting snow off of his clothes with his left. Why was he waving to me?

Oh, that’s right - he needs his spear.

I picked it up and dropped it just outside the window. Too close to the wall.

The metal shaft struck the red sandstone and sent a very loud clack through the chilly air. There was nothing to stop the sound from traveling in every direction, and any of Kadran’s forces nearby would hear it. I knew that for the rest of my life, I would regret that mistake, and I knew that it would haunt me and my name and my family for seasons.

Marcus shot me a look and immediately nodded to the window. I leapt without hesitation, as Hagan had. The fall was rather frightening, as I had a distinct urge to reach out and grab for a tree branch (despite there being none) the entire way down. I hit the ground with such force that a tingling feeling took over my footpaws as I dragged myself away from the landing spot so the others could jump.

When we were all through the window and safely on the ground, I counted fifteen otters, twelve mice, Hagan, Dubin, Blair, Marcus, and myself. Blair quickly pointed to the side door of the Abbey – it was no more than twenty paces away. “Is that your alternate exit, Marcus?”

The Red Warrior nodded once and hefted Martin’s sword. “C’mon, let’s hurry up and get out of here. The sooner we get to Salamandastron, the sooner we can return here and rout this army!”

We ran for the door, Marcus at the front, sword at the ready. He was ready for anything.

He wasn’t ready for this.

The door flew open before any of us even got to it. On the other side was not a group of vermin, but a veritable wall. They stood so closely that they looked solid. At their front was a weasel dressed for war, wielding a massive poleaxe with a sharp bottom end. Like a spear and an axe in one.

We stopped and Marcus held up Martin’s sword in a fighting stance. “Back away, you guys,” he said softly to us, “give me some space.”

The weasel smirked lightly and stepped through the now open door, adjusting the straps on his armor. “Who needs space, my warrior friend? We managed just fine in the confines of Gabanzir. One does not require space to do what must be done. They require something less tangible.” He stamped his weapon into the ground. It dug into the hard soil a few inches – the end was quite sharp. “You need things like devotion. Skill. A drive to win.”

“Save it, vermin,” Marcus hissed. “You won’t take our Abbey from us.”

“Oh, but we already have! Lord Kadran’s army is undefeatable. Of course, this is our first actual battle… though I wouldn’t really call it that. Your sentries and outer guards were not exactly the most threatening of foes.”

Hagan growled and spun his spear around in his paws. “We’re beasts of peace, ‘ere! Why attack us?”

The weasel shrugged as if it were nothing. “We needed practice. We plan to move on to Mossflower Wood after we’ve secured your little Abbey. It is in a prime location, as well. Right near the Wood, right on the River Moss… it is a perfect spot to begin a new Gabanzir.”

“You will do nothing of the sort.” Marcus stepped forward, holding Martin’s sword up threateningly. “I am Marcus the Red Warrior, and I challenge you!”

There was a moment of hesitation from the weasel, who, after a moment, merely smiled and shook his head. “My boy, I admire your courage, but that is not a smart idea. Magic sword or not, you can’t defeat all of my soldiers.”

Marcus was unnerved. He stood his ground. “The spirit of Martin has slain more foes than these, vermin scum! Stand and fight, or be gone!”

The weasel shrugged once more. “Very well.” He stepped forward, but he did not raise his weapon. Something was wrong.

The weasel lifted his left paw.

No!

The weasel dropped his paw. An arrow shot out from somewhere in the crowd. Marcus took it in his right leg.

“NO!” We the Redwallers screamed it out and rushed to Marcus, who quickly knocked us away.

“Leave me be!” He slowly turned his gaze to the weasel. “I’d expect nothing less from vermin like y-”

Another arrow shot out. This one missed Marcus entirely. I quickly discovered it wasn’t aimed toward him – but it was aimed toward Hagan.

The otter blinked in shock as he felt a sudden tickle in his throat. Then there was a feeling of weightlessness. The arrow lodged into his neck had been fired with perfect precision.

Hagan fell onto his back with a gurgle. Just like that, he was gone. I quickly went to his side, but felt a wind around me all of a sudden. Screams, screams, screams.

I looked up. The Redwall warriors had rushed the vermin guarding the door. The vermin were taken by surprise, it seemed, and the Redwallers pushed them back a ways. Enough to escape, perhaps.

“Marcus!” I abandoned the now dead Hagan for my quite living friend. With an arrow in his leg, he could not run. “Marcus! Oh by the seasons…”

“Connor!” He looked up at me and reached a paw towards my own. I took it and helped him up.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” I shouted, placing his arm over my shoulder and helping him walk.

“Wait!” Marcus looked around in a panic. “Where is Blair?”

“If he knows what’s best for him,” I said, “he’s probably long gone by now! We have to get through this door before the vermin push back in again!”

Marcus did not complain or argue. We quickly made our way through the door, through the tunnel of Redwall’s main wall, and were out at the edge of Mossflower Wood.

I counted two otters and five mice. The others were quite dead. Blood was spattered all over the freshly fallen snow, and their still bodies were a testament to the wintry stillness that would have been had Kadran’s army not been present.

Dubin’s body was hanging from a nearby tree, a sword lodged into his throat and into the trunk of the tree keeping him suspended in the air. Blair was nowhere to be seen. I figured he was probably watching us from a nearby treetop. He was definitely not among the dead, though.

Marcus growled and struggled against me as I tried to lead us away – he actually wanted to fight! “Connor! Leave me! I must-”

“Shut up, Marcus!” I yanked him along, turning a sharp left into the dense Mossflower Wood. “We’re leaving! I won’t let you die like everyone else! I won’t!”

He continued struggling against me, though his weakened leg did not help him any. “It’s my destiny! I must fight them!”

“You’ll die, you idiot!” I continued pulling him.

He did not fight me.

“Thank you,” I said exasperatedly. “C’mon, now, they’ll be following us and… Marcus?”

He was not speaking to me. “Marcus?” I looked at his face. Blood was running out of his mouth. In his back were three arrows.

“NO!” I lay him down on his side. “Marcus? Marcus!”

The Red Warrior frowned a little. The shouts of the vermin warriors were getting closer.

“Not like this…” His eyes rolled up. “Aaaahhh… Connor… Martin was supposed to protect me…”

I didn’t know what to say. Marcus was right – Martin was supposed to protect him! Martin was supposed to protect our Abbey!

“Marcus…” I pleaded with him, my eyes filled with tears. “Marcus, don’t die. Please don’t die… you’re my best friend… you’ve still got to save the Abbey! Father Abbot, my parents, and what about Tara?”

My friend coughed up more blood. An arrow struck a tree trunk a few paces from my head. I did not even notice it.

“Tara’s dead…” He whimpered a little. “Everybeast’s dead, Connor… What… what happened to us? Is it… is it really our time?”

“Sssh… Marcus, sssh…” I didn’t know what to do. Never before had I felt so helpless.

He suddenly reached up – his paw shaking with weakness – and grasped my cloak collar. “Connor… you must go to Salamandastron… you must… you must take Martin’s sword… It must never fall into vermin paws!”

“NO! Marcus, no!” He collapsed and I cradled his head in my arms. He was slipping away – his strength had completely left him by then. “Marcus, it’s all a bad dream… it’s all a bad dream…”

“No, Connor…” Marcus coughed again. More blood came out of his mouth. “It’s not a dream. You must go. Don’t worry about me.” He forced a smile and tears flowed down his cheeks. “I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always be your best friend… whatever happens.” His paw went limp and fell on top of Martin’s sword. “Connor… take it… take it and… and run…” His eyes glazed over and he went limp in my arms. “Run…” His last word was barely audible, whispered with his final breath.

Another arrow came. This one hit the ground right next to me. I did notice this one.

I pondered just staying where I was – maybe letting the vermin take me.

No, Connor! RUN! RUN!

“Marcus…” I closed my eyes and felt his warmth slipping away. When I opened my eyes, I could see the trickle of blood coming from his mouth. It slid down his chin and dripped to the ground, pooling onto the snow like wax from a melting candle.

I had a memory of the old Abbey Recorder for some reason.

I stood up and grabbed Martin’s sword from Marcus’ dead paw. “I will keep this for you, Marcus… I will do what I must…” I ran a few paces, then stopped and turned back. I could see the vermin coming through the trees. “Goodbye, Marcus…” I looked up at the Abbey, which poked through the trees in the distance. “Goodbye, Redwall…”

I turned and ran, crashing through the trees, trying to evade the vermin behind me, Martin’s sword clasped tightly to my chest.

When the sounds of screaming and arrows striking the nearby trees disappeared, I stopped running. The vermin were gone. I was lost in Mossflower Wood.

Lost…? No, I was not. That would mean that I knew where I had to return to. I couldn’t be lost if I had no home.

I fell against a nearby tree and slid to the ground, propping Martin’s sword between my knees. I grabbed the hilt and pressed my face against it, and began to cry. For many long minutes, all I could do was sob uncontrollably, my tears warming then immediately chilling my cheeks in the cold morning air.

That was the morning where I lost everything. The Abbey was gone. Marcus was gone. The Skipper and Tara and Dubin and my parents and everybeast… they were either dead or well beyond my physical grasp. With a strange and sickening fear, I realized that I would be unable to hug my parents goodnight when I went to sleep that evening. Where would I sleep?

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I stood up and looked around. I was alone in the wilderness, with no noticeable paths in sight. But just because the path is hidden, it does not mean that one cannot forge their own.

I knew where I needed to go. I knew where I would be safe for the time being.

The Mossflower Wood Trading Post. Due West.

Putting the sun to my back, I began to walk.