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Abbot Daucus took up the tale. "We knew you had to be rescued, so the Tabura and I took a chance. I marched from the Abbey, taking every able-bodied beast with me. The Tabura, with only the Dibbuns and old ones, stayed back to guard Redwall. He sounded out an alarm on both our Abbey bells. Such a din! I wonder you didn't hear it back here. The Tabura made those bells ring! They never have been so powerfully tolled.
"As our friends arrived to answer the call, from all over Mossflower, they were sent to join with us. We arrived in sight of the plateau, surrounded by a veritable army. Kin-beasts, tribal relatives, some we had helped or befriended in bygone seasons, even a bunch of Riverdogs and some roving Guosim. It made my heart soar to see so many who love Redwall!"
Maudie came running to congratulate Orkwil. "By the left, right, front'n'centre, you've done us proud, young Orkers. What a show, hoorah to you, sah!" She threw a paw around Rangval's shoulders. "Well, well, what d'ye think, Rangee, isn't our little pal the absolute bloomin' bees' knees, wot?"
The rogue squirrel agreed heartily. "Ah, t'be shure he is, miz, but yore only lookin' at half the crowd him an' the good Father Abbot fetched with 'em. Hah! The other half of yore warriors are chasin' the tails off Brownrats an' vermin all over the woodlands, aye, an' I'll stake me tail they won't be takin' many o' the bad ould scum prisoners. I think by nightfall that Mossflower won't be bothered by invaders an' plunderers no more!"
Maudie chuckled. "Especially if friend Gorath is huntin' 'em, wot wot! By the bye, has anybeast seen him of late? He's partially my responsibility y'know."
Osbil pointed with his rapier. "Here comes Salixa, she'll know if anybeast does!"
Abbot Daucus took the badgermaid's paw. "That was a brave show you put on up there at the plateau, miz, and your friend Gorath. Where is he?"
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Salixa explained in a word. "Gone!"
Maudie's ears stood up like pikestaffs. "Gone? Where's he flippin' well gone to, who's gone with him, is he on his own, why didn't you stop him? Gone, is that all you've got to bloomin' say, marm, gone?"
The Abbot stared Maudie into silence before turning to Salixa. "I can tell by your eyes that you know where Gorath has gone. Pray, would you enlighten us?"
The badgermaid explained, as briefly as she could. "Gorath has gone to fulfill a dream he had last night. I, too, had a dream, I must follow him. Orkwil, if you wish to regain Martin's sword you'll come with me. Maudie, you must come, too, if Gorath is to realise his destiny. Now we must go quickly."
Benjo Tipps enquired, "Who sent your dream, miss?"
Salixa replied tersely, "My Tabura and your Martin."
The Abbot settled any further comment. "Then you must go right now. Good fortune attend you!"
Rangval grasped his dagger hilts. "I'm with ye, missy, if'n ye'll have me along?"
Skipper Rorc nodded to his cousin Barbowla. "I've been out the action too long, I'm comin', too, are ye with me, Barb?"
As Barbowla picked up his javelin, Osbil spoke out. "Looks like ye be needin' a few Guosim to round the feast off, we're with ye!"
The slender badgermaid bowed gracefully. "My thanks, friends. Follow me!"
Gorath the Flame was following his fate. The big badger's footpaws pounded the earth like triphammers as voices echoed through his head, directing him. North through the vast tract of Mossflower he raced, with a speed which was surprising for one of his size. Pictures raced through his mind, the flicker of firelight and shadow, a smiling fox swinging a spiked metal ball at his head. Once! Twice! As he lay helpless on the floor of a little farmhouse.
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Gorath the Flame was following his fate. Like a runaway juggernaut, smashing through bushes which barred his path, plunging through streams in a welter of icy spray. The coarse laughter of Sea Raiders rang in his ears; branch, twig, plant and thorn were crushed in his headlong flight through the silent woodlands. Mingled with the laughter, he could hear the anguished screams of two ancient badgers, his blood kin, struggling feebly in the locked and burning building.
Gorath the Flame was following his fate, still directed by unseen forces. Nausea, an iron chain, a padlocked waist manacle. The ship plunging wildly over the cold Nothern Seas. Starvation, a flailing rope's end, the pain lancing through his head. More laughter, the glitter of a golden fox's long fangs, the taunts and insults he was forced to bear in silence.
Weaving around the moss-clad trunks of mighty forest trees. Breath rising like a bellows in his cavernous chest. His paw grasping the pitchfork like a vise. Sunlight and shadow racing by, fernbeds that his footpaws bulled a swathe through. Startled birds flapping skywards, to avoid this giant, heading onward to the river, like a coming storm. Aye, Gorath the Flame was following his fate!
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When he was confident that they were not being pursued, Vizka Longtooth slowed his pace. The fact that his ambitions of conquering Redwall, plus the cowardly, cut-and-run retreat he had been forced to make, rankled him deeply. Now he had to reestablish his authority over what was left of his once-numerous crew. The stretch of ditchbed they were travelling now was nettle-free, and drying out nicely in the late summer sunlight. The golden fox seated himself on a stone, allowing the crewbeasts to continue onward before he called to them.
"Where are ya runnin' to, dere ain't no 'urry. Sit ya down an' rest awhile, mates."
Sheepishly the five vermin came back to sit with him.
He stared pityingly at them, there was contempt in his tone. "Hah, wot are ya all dashin' off like frightened liddle insects for, eh?"
Jungo, who was not the brightest of weasels, said by way of explanation, "Yew said ya wanted t'get away quick, Cap'n. Prob'ly 'cos ya was scared o' dat big stripe'ound follerin' ya."
There was a sickening thud as the mace smote Jungo. He crumpled, lifeless, to the drying mud. The golden fox
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did not even rise, he grinned as he turned Jungo facedown, with a shove of his footpaw.
"Wot's dat ya said, scared? Me, Vizka Longtooth, de greatest o' Sea Raider cap'ns, scared! Ahoy, speak up now, anymore o' yew mis'rable scum wants ta call me scared?"
Knowing there would be no response, Vizka put aside his mace and drew Martin's wondrous sword. He waved it, making the blade flash in the sunlight, then thrust it, point first, into the ditchbed. Watching the weapon quiver, he ignored the four remaining crew, speaking to Jungo, whose lifeless eyes stared up at the sun. "Dis is der greatest sword I ever seen, but I ain't slayed anybeast wid it yet. Haha, mebbe I shoulda tried it out on yew, eh? Nah, a pretty blade like dis is too good fer a fool weasel. But der next one who strokes me d'wrong way, dat'll be der beast who'll taste der sword, right, shipmates?"
There was, however, no reply. Whilst Vizka had been admiring the sword, and addressing the dead Jungo, the four vermin had crept away and climbed out of the ditch.
The golden fox stood on the stone, which had served him as a seat, and peered over the ditchtop. They were not on the path, or in the woodland fringe. Turning, he saw them, running off over the flatlands to the west. The golden fox would have traded either of his weapons for a longbow and quiver of arrows at that moment. Instead he was reduced to shouting after them.
"Git back 'ere, ya cowards, I'm yer cap'n, an' dat's an' order. Git back 'ere right now!"
But they had a head start and they kept going. All but one, the small rat, Firty. He halted and yelled aloud, "We ain't comin' back, Longtooth, let's see 'ow far ye'll get wid-out a crew, go an' sail yer own ship!"
Vizka waved the sword and mace aloft. "Git back 'ere, ya gutless worms, or I'll slay youse all!"