User blog:Peony Laminar/From the South

Summary: Condemned to a self-imposed exile from Redwall Abbey, Dann Reguba wanders south where he discovers woodlanders held in slavery by wicked pine martens. However, the pine marten Regolith’s cruel green eyes are not only focused on his Castle, he also yearns to venture into Mossflower Country. Dann is forced to venture back to a home he swore never to return and to embroil his friend Thalweg, a ferret, into a nail-biting cat and mouse game with the devil himself. Immerse yourself in Dann’s fantastic adventures together with a group of Long Patrol Hares lead by Major Peony Laminar, an otter named Cinnabar Shellhound and the ferret Thalweg as they all discover the true meaning of duty and loyalty.

Book One The Castle

Book Two A History Better Forgotten

Book Three Familial Bonds

Book One The Castle

“You shouldn’t have come so far south. There’s nothing but suffering and slavery here now.”

Chapter One
''The deep white snowdrifts were piled high on the sides of the paths to the gatehouse and the front gate. Skipper and his otters had toiled long into the night just the day before to fight the quickly falling snow. Swathed in a warm scarlet cloak that the Abbess had given him, Dann Reguba stood at the front gate with his arms crossed over his chest. He was waiting for the Skipper of Otters to open and rebolt the front door of the Abbey for him.''

''The otter hurried over to him with an ice spade in one paw and a bag of scones from Brother Jerome in the other. He studied the Abbey Warrior intently with his dark eyes. “How long do you think you’ll be gone this time, Dann?”''

''Dann sighed irritably and retied the white scarf around his neck. ”Not long, no more than a day and a night.”''

Dragging open the large wooden gates to Redwall Abbey with a groan, Skipper eyed the squirrel warrior and whispered, “You know the Abbess worries when you’re gone.”

''Dann raised an eyebrow at the otter. “What’s the whispering for, mate?”''

''The otter chieftain opened his mouth to reply but another voice cut him off, Abbess Song’s voice. She was standing in the open doorway of the gatehouse with her mother, Rimrose, the Abbey recorder.''

''The Abbess looked through her snow-tickled eyelashes at the Abbey Warrior and Skipper. She smiled at them kindly and said, “Come back soon, Dann.”''

''The cold breeze stung his eyes as he gazed at her. “I will."''

''It was not long after Dannflor Reguba had settled into his role as Abbey Champion that he started to notice a change within himself. All his life he had lived at Redwall Abbey and its safety would always be paramount to him, but new circumstances and feelings were surfacing that created an almost audible dissonance within him between what others expected and what he wanted for himself. He felt himself pulled in all directions by the rules of his position, the loyalty he owed his home, and the feelings quietly suppressed deep within his heart.''

''So the Abbey Warrior would find solace in wandering the verdant greens of Mossflower Woods. Occasionally he would visit with his friend Log-a-Log Dippler or Chief Burble. Together with Abbess Songbreeze Swifteye they had all shared a grand adventure in the southern lands – four chieftains going forth – and it was always great fun reminiscing. However, the shrew and watervole had very little trouble settling into their own respective leadership roles, and Dann felt awkward discussing with them his own very personal troubles.''

''It was only last season that he had discovered a wonderful little copse of trees a little more than a day’s walk from Redwall. That was where he was heading this winter afternoon. Looking over his shoulder at the Abbey, he smiled to himself thinking of Brother Jerome whipping up a batch of chestnut scones just for him. He reached into the bag Skipper gave him and bit into a scone with a sigh. They were still warm from the oven!''

''His ears pricked up at the sound of another creature stumbling about in the snow. From the sound, Dann was able to deduce that there was only one creature, moving about with stumbling steps. But this creature was dangerously close to Redwall. Unsure of what sort of creature it was, the squirrel warrior stood very still and unsheathed Martin’s great sword from behind his back. Treading carefully through the deep snowdrifts, he peered from behind a tree and saw him. It was a red squirrel about his own age, covered in grievous wounds.''

''His own paws slipping in the icy snow, Dannflor Reguba sheathed the sword and ran towards the other squirrel, catching the stranger just as the beast’s knees buckled. The warrior felt himself pulled down by the other’s limp weight. Resting the other squirrel’s head in his lap, he looked in horror at the red squirrel’s dreadful condition. Dann tried to hold back the sick feeling twisting in his stomach when he realized that the large crimson splotches on the other squirrel’s thin blue tunic were blood. The squirrel’s eyes shot open to stare back at him unfocused.''

"What happened?” Dann demanded, grasping the tattered ends of the other squirrel’s sleeves. “Who did this to you?” ''"The raven. I didn’t think…” the stranger’s weak voice faded.''

''“Don’t speak,” Dann said in alarm. “Don’t strain yourself. I’ll take you to the Abbey.”'' ''“Thank you,” the squirrel said with a feeble smile. “My name is Sinon.” With what little energy he had left, he gazed with his bloodshot eyes at the beautiful red gem in the sword hilt visible over Dann’s shoulder.'' ''“Come on,” Dann grunted, pulling the other beast up and putting him over his shoulders. The poor beast was out cold.'' ''Dann thanked his lucky stars had he was still so close to the Abbey. Nevertheless it seemed as if hours had passed before he staggered up to the front doors and beat weakly on them. He prayed that some beast would hear him. Perhaps Skipper had not wandered too far.''

''Almost as if anticipating his request, Skipper himself peered over the wall tops leaning on the spade. He gasped when he saw Dann and the stranger. Dann could hear the otter’s voice calling loudly for a stretcher and someone to open the gates.''

''It was Abbess Song who finally opened the gates. Her father Janglur and his own father Rusval dashed out from the Great Hall with a stretcher to help the unfortunate newcomer. Dann, with his father’s help, moved the injured squirrel onto the stretcher. Thoroughly unconscious, the squirrel didn’t even stir.''

''Abbess Song gasped when she saw the bloodstains on Dann’s cloak. She grabbed his paw as he turned away towards the Abbey. “Dann, are you alright? Is that your blood?”''

''Dann looked surprised that she considered him first. “No,” he said,”It’s his.”''

''The Abbess sighed in relief. She hastened beside him as their fathers carried the injured squirrel to the Great Hall. Dann looked ahead at them and said half to himself, “He said his name was Sinon.”'' ~*~*~

Dann jolted out of his dream. He supposed it couldn’t really be called a dream, not if it was part of his own history. For three seasons now, he found himself constantly rehashing the events the led up to his expulsion from Redwall, self-imposed or not. The event that directly determined his exodus couldn’t be disputed, but the circumstances that lead up to it were less cut and dry. When did it all start to fall apart? What was the point of no return? It had been so long since he had left, but he couldn’t bear to go back. Not yet. How could he face her after what he had done?

Trying to remember what had awakened him from his dozing, Dann shifted his weight between two tree branches. The sun was now directly overhead and the oppressive heat of a southern summer still hung in the air. Dann kicked lazily at a bee tasting the nectar of the pink and white flowers all around him. He chuckled at his own half-hearted attempt to get rid of the insect, his mind wandering again before he realized…

The birds had stopped singing. He readied an arrow on his bow as he heard the shouts and the pounding of rapidly approaching footpaws growing louder.

A young red squirrel in ragged clothes burst from the undergrowth, flying past the tree Dann was lounging in. An arrow embedded itself into the ground near inches from the youngster’s footpaw. Barely halting to take another gasping breath, the young squirrel leapt into the next tree and scurried up surprisingly fast. His frayed brown tunic camouflaged him nicely against the trunk of the oak.

It didn’t take long for the squirrel warrior to piece together what was happening – especially as the vermin came bumbling through the trees and bushes. He sized them up quickly. There were six in all. Dann noticed first that the vermin were surprisingly well organized. They all wore the same gray tunic and pants over sloppily-crafted mail. Their helmets, all of different designs, appeared to have had the same hurried craftsmanship as their mail. However, a stoat stood out from among their ranks. His uniform showed much more care in its making. His garb was supplemented by a resplendent blue cloak attached to each of his shoulders which fell down his back.

Dann took a moment to count the arrows in his quiver; he didn’t have enough to waste multiple arrows on multiple vermin. It would be a close skirmish. He prayed he wouldn’t have to bring the battle to the forest floor.

The young squirrel was hiding in the upper boughs, cowering behind the trunk. His ears pricked up when he heard the stoat captain issuing orders. “Saw the blighter run up that tree,” spat the stoat. “Go get ‘im.” He pushed one of his fellows, a ferret towards the tree. The unfortunate ferret had not yet climbed onto the first bough before he was cut down, an arrow sticking out of his throat.

“Halfear, the damn bushtail’s shootin’ at us. ‘Ow’d ‘e get…” the rat didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before another well-aimed arrow silenced him forever.

The other three soldiers gulped and looked to their captain for guidance.

“Rush ‘im, you lily-livered scum. ‘E’s just a slave!” shouted the stoat Halfear, trying to encourage his nervous band. He took out a long daggar and twirled it expertly at his three remaining troops as they tried to back away from the tree. “Trust me when I say Regolith’ll do much worse t’ ya if you don’t.”

His three remaining followers fearfully approached the oak. A ferret whimpered in despair as he stared transfixed at another of his species lying in a pool of blood. However, he didn’t have the chance to stare for long before he himself was transfixed by a brown fletched arrow.

A third ferret, bolder than the rest, began climbing the tree. However, the tree was slick with the first victim’s blood. Slipping, the ferret landed hard on his backside, an arrow embedding itself in the tree above his head. A moment sooner and it would have gone clear through his neck.

The second arrow didn’t miss.

The last soldier, a rat nearly jumped out of his skin as the last of his companions fell lifeless. Not sparing even a moment for hesitation, he turned and ran towards the stoat captain, Halfear.

“I can’t do it, capt’n!”

The stoat captain kept up his bravado. Pointing his daggar at the rat running towards him, Halfear growled, “Get up that tree now!”

“I ain’t gonna end up like …” An arrow grew out of the rat’s neck, silencing him forever.

Wide-eyed, the stoat dropped the long dagger in fright and ran at a dead sprint away from the slaughter.

A final arrow embedded itself in the ground where he had stood but a moment before.

The red squirrel jumped over to Dann’s tree, staring over at his rescuer as the young squirrel struggled to regain his breath. The archer only appeared to be several seasons his senior and certainly didn’t seem like much. If anything, he dressed like a common wanderer. A simple brown short-sleeved tunic with some insignia or other and a dark green undershirt – nothing worthy of a warrior. But there was the entirety of the search party dead at their feet. Whoever this beast was, he had taken them all on with hardly any effort.

Dann slipped a last arrow back into his quiver and raised an eyebrow at the newcomer. “Alright there?” he inquired kindly.

The young squirrel nodded, staring. “T-That was amazing, sir! I couldn’t believe you’ve did it, but….ya did! Who would have thought. Help’s finally come! ‘S that why yer here? To save everyone at the Castle? Where’d you get that nifty…”

The warrior cut the other squirrel off decisively. Seeking to redirect the conversation, he said, “My name is Dannflor Reguba. What’s yer name?”

“Beech,” said the squirrel now gaping open-mouthed at the golden furred squirrel. The squirrel warrior was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the younger squirrel’s worshipful stare. He cleared his throat, eager to break the silence with some much-needed answers.

But before he could, the younger squirrel blurted out unthinkingly, “Do you have any food?”

Dann blinked, and then realized his inhospitable, though reasonable, manner. “Of course,” he smiled. “We need to put some meat on those bones. I have some rations in my pack, but I suggest we head elsewhere for lunch.” As he spoke, the warrior’s keen eyes scanned the forest floor for movement. “It’s not safe to linger here if that stoat brings reinforcements.”

Beech caught on quickly to Dann Reguba’s suggestion. Halfear would easily recognize the place of this carnage. He looked up at the golden furred squirrel and gestured to the bodies littered below. “Should we…”

Dann wrinkled his nose, “We shouldn’t waste our time on the likes of them. Let the vermin bury their own dead.”

“But, it doesn’t seem right to just…”

“Are you coming or not?” asked Dann impatiently.

“Yesssir.”

Dann considered Beech with an upturned eyebrow. “Enough of the ‘sirs.’ I’m not that much older than you. Please call me Dann.”

“Right, sorry, si--- I mean, Dann.”

Dann laughed, patting Beech on the back before waving him on as they darted gracefully through the trees to find a nice spot for lunch and further conversation.

In no time they were sitting together in the upper boughs of a hickory tree a little bit away. Beech watched in open mouthed astonishment as the squirrel warrior took out all manner of deadly weapons from the fastenings across his back in order to take out his haversack and riffle through it. A short sword, two knives and a scimitar were hidden beneath his quiver, not counting all the weapons hanging from the squirrel warrior’s broad belt. This creature was a living, breathing armory!

Dann pulled out some peaches he had scavenged the day before as well as scones and cheese. “Got these from a lovely mole family. I stayed with them over the winter after I chased away some foxes from their settlement,” Dann said. “I’m mostly a wanderer by nature. Just go where the mood takes me. And I guess on this beautiful summer morn it carried me here.”

“A wandering warrior?” said Beech in wonder. “I like the way that sounds. What are you doing over here?” “Dunno. I’ve never been this far south before. Thought I’d see what ‘tis like,” Dann shrugged. “Who were you running from?”

Beech glared down at his scone. “Halfear and some of Lord Regolith’s filthy vermin. You shouldn’t have come so far south. There’s nothing but suffering and slavery here now.”

“What do you mean? Who’s Lord Regolith?”

Beech puffed up with righteous indignation. “That ruthless green-eyed vermin! He’s the pine marten who rules the Castle. He came to our settlement seven seasons ago with a horde of vermin. He said he merely wanted to coexist in peace,” Beech snorted. “I don’t know why anyone believed him. I didn’t for a second. He commissioned Willow’s father to draft plans for a grand castle.”

“Who’s Willow?” Dann asked.

Beech blushed and murmured, “A squirrelmaid.”

Dann raised his eyebrows amusedly at the young squirrel’s obvious crush. “So Regolith commissioned her father to make the plans for the castle?” asked Dann.

“Yes,” said Beech, pausing as he regained his train of thought. “And when he completed them, Regolith immediately started the construction, hewing vast rocks from the nearby quarries and felling trees like daisies. In no time he had enlisted the help of all the woodlanders. Slavery, I mean.”

“Yes,” Dann replied in wonder. “This was seven seasons ago?”

Beech nodded, taking another bite of his scone. “It’s a huge project. We’ve almost completed it. Regolith crushed every semblance of resistance. My parents died in the first rebellion. After that he didn’t waste any time dallying and burnt down Willow’s house so that no woodlander would possess the blueprints to his fortress. Her father and brother were locked inside.” Beech frowned at the memory but allowed himself a little smile as he recounted what happened next. “But Regolith wasn’t quite quick enough. Willow and I hid a copy of the final plans in a gnarled beech near the southern marshes. In case we ever needed them, ya know?”

Dann nodded, nibbling on a piece of scone. Beech leaned back relaxing. “So what’s it like being a nomad warrior? I bet it’d be lovely. Have you ever wandered over to Redwall Abbey in Mossflower?”

Dann almost choked on a piece of his scone. “Why do you ask?” he wheezed coughing.

“Dunno.” Beech shrugged. He popped the rest of the scone in his mouth before lying on his back and folding his paws behind his head. His dark eyes gazed intently up at the clouds drifting overhead. “It’s all we talk about in the slave compound. Sounds like a lovely place. Overflowing with delicious food, safe warm beds, kind creatures everywhere, the heir of Martin the Warrior protecting the Abbey and bearing Martin’s own magnificent sword.” He sat up and looked at Dann with a glimmer in his eyes. “I’ve heard tales of huge Badgerlords even visiting. How big do you think a Badgerlord would be? At least as big as this tree, right!”

“Don’t forget Badgerladies as well,” Dann teased. “Wouldn’t want to get on their bad side. It might be the last thing you ever do.”

Beech laughed so hard he almost fell out of the tree. “So, Dann. You look like a veritable one creature armory. What are all those weapons? Could you show me how to use some of them?”