This is a note to my readers: The first chapter is taking place on a vermin castle. the second chapter is taking place in the peaceful Redwall Abbey. When the word Dibbun comes up, it is referring to all the toddlers and babes of the Abbey. And when a mole speaks, I will write it’s dialog, but put what it’s really saying in parentheses. Enjoy!
“WHAT?!” Queen Valesque screeched, “You mean to tell the Stiletto Queen, Ruler and blade thrower that her Army of Rampagers is Destroyed?!”
Jikkil moaned as his queen’s claws sunk deep into the flesh of his shoulder. “My queen,” he croaked, “I can explain. The holt of the otters of Lutra were fierce, but we had stolen the granddaughter of Grath Long-“ His report was cut short as Valesque immediately sheathed her claws. The sleek weasel shrank into her throne. Jikkil sighed a breath of relief, she looked calm again.
“Show me the baby. I want this Taggerung to grow strong.” as she spoke, Jikkil tried to motion with his paw. But being the fat and wounded ermine that he was, he only lay flat down, and his eyelids drooped, and his red eyes clouded over.
“Pity,” the Bladethrower smirked, “He died.” Then she called out louder, “Bring me the new Taggerung,” and she added, “Feed Jikkil to my lovely Ripper. My Rippy should have a juicy treat for once.”
Her closest guards stood in shock at their leader’s cruelty.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Do you just want to have the entire Holt of Lutra come and kill me?”
Melgrak echoed her leader, “Yes, what are you waiting for? Thy queen has being waiting to hear my omens on the Taggerung,” the vixen said in a harsh voice.
“Come my seer. Prepare your omens. I want this Taggerung to be the one-beast army that rules the century.” She Pointed a poisoned purple-plated throwing stiletto at the guards. “Get rid of Jikkil. bring me a meal for me and my Seer. And don’t forget to bring in the Taggerung baby. Or else.” The nearest 6 guards saluted and gulped audibly as the stiletto shone threateningly.
“Thou art prepared for the omens, my Lady?”
The Queen was gripping a satin pillow to her chest, because the last time she disobeyed to omens, she lost her famous fluffy tail. “Yes,” her voice quavered.
The vixen cast out a black stone, smaller pebbles, and a brown shell and a peculiar white shell spotted with black.
“Well?” Valesque squished around some blackberry wine in a goblet.
The Seer hesitated. “The omens have spoken. The Taggerung will grow up to be a strongbeast, vermin, or no. Thou shall be separated on the 17th season anniversary of her birth,” Melgrak indicated to the 17 black spots on the white shell. “The Taggerung should escape, leave you not in in Hellgates, but merely chipped,” she said, lifting the brown shell up so that Valesque could she the chip, “You will find her with a black creature, and with an army of Rampagers shall do battle with the holt of Lutra as well as the Taggerung, next to a river.” Sure enough, there was a drop of water that slowly dribbled toward the the foot of Valesque’s throne.
Valesque quivered with rage. “I Shall not fail!” She emphasized the word, ‘fail’, with a pound of her fist, and a splash from the red wine joined the little stretch of water. “but look, my Queen,” The Seer was nearly hopping with excitement, “You will make the rivers run red with blood!”
“Oh, Roasted pigeon! Bring the meal in, guards.”
the blade thrower did not heed to the Seer though, and the seer added to herself, “But whose blood, the vermin or the holt, i cannot tell.”
“Hello Abbess Perrit. Surely you remember me?” a Ginger wildcat sat on the end of a great Hall table.
“Of course, Calmiere, you and your mother, Calayo, defended us from Ventessi the bad!” The old squirrel spoke with such grace.
“Menscessi? I gonna show’m how’s dun. I gonna punsh ‘im smack in de face like dis! Pow!” a naughty mousebabe, Irglo demolished a strawberry cream tart with honey cream in a single fist. And to avoid any punishment, he dived into a maple and mint trifle, twice his size.
“Ventessi the Bad? Oh woe, shall the nights go dark, as his evil shadows dance the moon through? Thou art to die than to suffer the wrath of Ventessi!” it was Tripali, the poetic vole maid who had spoken. Irglo ate himself out of the sticky mint trifle to pop his head out and see the reactions.
A hefty shrewmaid picked up a sturdy bronze pan and said gruffly, “Hmm. If he does come back, I’ll make sure he doesn’t set one paw onto these sandstones.”
Friar Whartle snatched the pan from her grip. “Now what were you thinking, if that pan gets beat up, then you’ll never have vegetable pasties with gravy again!”
15 seasons later.
Taggerung ran fast, then dove into the stream. She cursed herself for letting the Baldethrower raise her as a Taggerung. as she scurried deep into the forest, a frightening purple cloaked figure leaped down and with strong muscles lifted her up the ground. After she caught her breath, she raised an arrow in her fist, making an impression of stabbing the purple cloaked beast.
“W-who are you?”
“Relax, I am friend to the holt of Lutra. my name is Ebony.” A siweny black paw reached out from under the cloak and uncovered the hood. Under there stood a muscular black squirrel maid with a silver stripe across her back. “I believe your name is Ariahn.” But Taggerung wasn’t listening. Her gaze was upon the magnificent but familiar sword that hung by the side of Ebony’s waist.
“w-wher did y-you get that sword?”