User blog:SaynaSLuke/The Warriors Begining

To my readers:
There are a few things you might want to know about this story, just so it doesn't come as a shock. This is a rewritten version of the three Martin books, (Martin the Warrior, Mossflower, and The Legend of Luke) It has horses in it, and a few rather fantastical things also. But still I think some of you might find this interesting. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Best wishes -Sayna

Sometimes you have to wonder how it could of happened. How it might of happened. How it should of happened. Sometimes you have to ask, Why did this happen? Should this have happened? Did this have to happen? Lend your ears to me for a time, all you creatures who dare to dream, and hear a untold tale of grand old Redwall history. A tale of a forgotten warrior, forgotten happenings, and forgotten truths. Though you have probably heard of Martin the warrior, I doubt you have heard his tale told like this -Sayna S. Luke

Prologue
A little hedgehog crouched next to his mother in a tiny, ramshackle cottage, shivering against the cold. The two creatures were a picture of dejection, skinny and dirty, obviously very poor. The young one looked up at his parent, whispering,

"Mommy isn't there anything to eat?"

The hog wife shook her head sadly. "No dear. You know I haven't hardly been able to provide for us since your father died."

The child murmured, "Tell me a story mother, please. One about how Mossflower used to be."

The hog wife got a far away look in her eyes, and began.

"Once upon a time, Mossflower was free. There were no vermin to rule us, instead there were five wise leaders. Barkstripe the badger, Lord Blacktail the squirrel king, Skipper of otters, Martin, king of Kotir, And Lady Lepus the rabbit chieftain. Our land was happy and prosperous, and no creature suffered want. One summer, King Martins Queen, Sunflower, gave birth to a son. Martin threw a grand feast to celebrate, and invited all his subjects and fellow rulers. Every creature went, from peasant to noble. Then Verdauga struck! He killed Martin, Sunflower, Barkstripe, and so many more. However, Legend says that Lepus and the young prince, who was called Luke, escaped. Now Mossflower waits, silently in oppression, for the warrior prince and princess who will defeat Verdauga, and restore peace to our land."

The little hog babe pressed closer to his mother whimpering, "When will they come mother, when?"

The hog wife stroked her babes head spikes, whispering, "someday my son, someday."

Her eyes hardened. "And when they do, those vermin will pay for your fathers life. Mark my words, they'll curse the day they took Mossflower!" The snow storm howled ruthlessly outside the dwelling, but it couldn't extinguish the small spark of hope that still burned within.

Chapter 1 Maid of Noonvale
Sundew was the eldest daughter of Urran Voh, chieftain of Noonvale. She had golden brown fur, golden head fur, and eyes like chips of jetstone. She was considered by most an unusual maid, rather quiet, very serious, and not quite right in the head. For Sundew was a dreamer, and the population of Noonvale were not. Sadly, this young mouse who had so much potential, was hard put to make use of it. She was a cripple, forever confined to the prison of her chair.

This was the way most of the creatures of Noonvale looked at her, but Sundews few friends saw a very different side portrayed. By them she was called Sally, and was always full of exciting sceams and clever ideas. To be truthful, Sally didn't smile much even for them, but her friends had learned to read her sparkling black eyes. These few playmates of Sally's were, Late Rose, her sister, Brome, her brother, Gruvan, a brown mouse with a taste for adventure, and Ghostdancer, a dark gray filly.

From Sally's point of view, Noonvale was a boring town full of stale, unimaginative old creatures. Sure, the location and cottages were pretty and peaceful, but Sally wanted adventure, not beauty. To her Noonvale was a dusty old gossip strewn place badly in need of excitement.

Urran Voh had never known what to do with Sundew. She was terrible at knitting, sewing, cooking, graces, and all other maidenly pursuits. The only thing she seemed to be able to do was draw, and take care of animals.

Yes, Sundew was a mystery. To her father, to her friends, and even to herself.

Chapter 2 Just a Normal Day
Sally stretched in the pre-dawn light, and opened her eyes. From her bed she could see out her window, which offered a grand view of Noonvale's town square. She sighed. She could see her fathers goat, Tulip, calmly munching grass by the fountain, the squares centerpiece. Sally sat up in bed and hurriedly got out of her night clothes, grabbed her dress of the head board, and pulled it on. Disregarding petticoats, bonnets, and shoes, Sally slid into her waiting chair and wheeled herself outside. Tulip was her responsibility, and her father would be furious to know the goat had got loose.

"Tulip! Tulip you nut! How did you get out this time?"

The goat answered Sally with a friendly

"Maa,"

before heading toward the stable, signifying it was milking time. The mouse rolled her eyes and followed Tulip as quickly as possible.

"Need some help with that?" A voice called.

Sally shook her head. "I can get there myself, Gruvan."

Gruvan shrugged. "OK, but I can get you there faster."

Sally relented, knowing Gruvan's sturdy twelve year old arms were stronger then her already tired ten year old ones.

"OK."

Gruvan seized the back of the wheel chair and pushed it toward Urran Vohs stable. "Why are you always trying to do everything yourself?"

Sally shrugged. "I'm tired of being called a failure."

Gruven snorted. "Who calls you a failure? Not me!"

Sally sighed. "Well I guess they don't say it, but I can tell they think it. You may not think I'm a failure Gruvan, but you pity me. No don't say a word. I can sense it when you look at me."

She looked down. "I'm tired of being pitied and scorned, tired of this chair, tired of boring old Noonvale. I want an adventure! Something exciting!"

Gruven sighed. "Not like there's any chance of that here."

When they got to the barn, Tulip was waiting in her pen. Gruvan fed the goat, and Sally begun milking. With nothing else to do, Gruvan leaned against the back wall of the adjoining stall, which belonged to Urran Vohs horse, Lightingflash.

"I wonder where old Flash and Ghostdancer are this morning?"

Sally looked up. "Oh they just went to graze on the north ridge."

Gruvan yawned. "Well I hope they h. . YIKES!"

Sally craned her neck to see Gruvan over Tulips back. "Whats wrong?"

He shrugged "Oh this wall stones loose. It just startled me."

He pulled the rock inward a little. "Hey it's hollow, and . . . WOW! Sally, come look at this!

Chapter 3 The Sword
Sally quickly wheeled her chair over to where Gruvan was standing, staring into the wall stone he had pulled loose. She peeked into the hollow stone, suddenly understanding Gruvans amazement. There laid a sword of unmatched beauty, a sword kings would have fought for. It's hilt was gold plaited, with a sapphire in its pommel and one on either side of the cross tree. Its blade was mouse sized, and perfectly balanced, but strangest of all was the name engraved on the hilt.

SAYNA.

Sally picked up the sword, and it felt as though she had found a long-lost friend. She polished the blade on her skirt, admiring how it glinted in the early morning sun light. Somehow, she knew she had been born to wield a sword, and this weapon had been made for her.

"I call to order this meeting of the Warriors of Noonvale." Sally stated.

She sat in the club house she and her friends had built. Rose, Gruvan, and Brome sat on the floor, while Ghostdancer stuck her head through the window.

Sally held up the sword. "This morning, me and Gruvan found this in Lightingflashes stall."

Dancer piped up. "But how could you find that in my dads stall? He'd have cut himself on it!"

Sally snorted. "Not in his bedding silly, in a wall stone!"

"Oh." Dancer stated, as if it made perfect sense for a sword to be IN a wall stone.

Sally continued. "Anyway, I say we should keep it."

Before anymore could be said, however, a rustling from outside betrayed a intruder!

Gruvan opened the door a crack, whispering, "There's a big snake out there! It's coming strait for us!"

Sally grabbed the sword. "Open the door."

"But Sally. . ." Gruvan protested.

Sally's eyes held a wild red light. "Open that door NOW!"

Gruven had never seen his friend like this. He quickly did as he was bid.

Sally could hear a voice in the the back of her mind, whispering,

 'Strike the one who would kill your friends, strike now!' 

The door was flung open, Sally LEAPED TO HER FEET, bounded across the room, and brought a swift cut down on the snakes neck.

Gruvan broke the stunned silence. "Sally, you're standing!"

Sally swayed and grabbed the playhouse door for balance as Dancer sniffed the beheaded snake. She took a step back.

"This was an adder!"

Sally took one shaking step before her legs buckled and she fell. She determinedly got to her paws, but fell again. The mousemaid growled and seized a fallen limb, and using it as a walking stick, she managed to stay on her feet.

"We need to bury this thing before somebody sees it."

That night, there was much rejoicing in Urran vohs home. The mouse frowned as he watched his daughter. While he had not heard about the adder, or the sword, something told him sally had a greater destiny then Noonvale.

Chapter 4 The Magician Returns
Sally sat alone on a ridge over looking Noonvale. She polished her glistening weapon and once again stroked the mysterious name engraved on the hilt. SAYNA. Sally scratched her ear. What did it mean? It almost seemed familiar, as if from a dream, or a dream of a dream. One thing Sally knew, however, she was made to carry this sword. The weapon felt as though it was an inseparable part of her.

Sally stood up carefully, still getting used to standing. She pretended to face an imaginary foe, swinging hard to the right. The weight of the sword caused her to spin around three times and sit down hard, making her loose her grip on the hilt. The sword flew across a short expanse and hit a tree, then fell to the ground. Sally was about to scramble up and grab it, when a evil chuckle rang from the woodland. Almost out of nowhere, a dull black fox appeared. He picked up the weapon and examined it.

"Ho Ho me pretty. This will serve me well. It's a pity you won't live to use it, but never fear, old Ferran will!"

Sally began to slide backwards, but the one called Ferran moved like lightning. One second he was forty paces away, and the next he was he was standing over her, pinning her down with a footpaw. Sally shuddered, looking into the pale eyes of one so evil. Her obvious fear delighted the fox. He threw back his head and laughed.

"Har Har! So your afraid mousy! An well you should be."

He lowered his cutlass. "Why does he think you're so special? you're just another miserable coward, like they all are. Well I ain't here to question my master, just to serve him."

He raised his weapon. "Tis Hellgates for you mousy."

Suddenly a silver fox leapt out of the bushes and brought his cutlass up to deflect Ferrans death blow. The clash was so loud it nearly deafened Sally, and both foxes lost their weapons.

Ferran snarled, "Groddil! You traitorous scum! I thought you'd long since gone to Hellgates! But still it shouldn't be to hard to make sure of that!"

The one called Groddil snarled back. "Ferran, you evil, cruel beast! Killing the defenseless! And you might be surprised how well I fight!"

Ferran sneered "Ha brother! Since when did you fight for the helpless? And besides, you're a cripple! What could you do to me?"

Groddil did not give his brother the satisfaction of an answer. He lunged at Ferran and sank is teeth into the black foxes shoulder. Both creatures went down in a jumbled heap of bristling fur and snapping fangs.

Suddenly Ferran managed to disengage himself, leaving large chunks of black fur in Groddils claws. Sally slowly got to her paws, astonished by what she had seen. She ran over to the silver fox, who was staunching the flow of blood from a gash that ran from his nose tip to just under his left eye. Sally ripped a piece of cloth from the hem of her skirt and offered it to him. The fox took it and blotted his wound, before stating,

"So you want to learn sword fighting lass?"

Sally's mouth dropped open. "How did you know that?"

Groddil shrugged. "That was the general idea I got, watching you swing your sword around."

Sally raised an eyebrow. "You were here all along?"

"Yes, I should come to your defense earlier, but ... Well I'm sorry." The fox apologized.

Sally picked up her fallen sword. "It's OK I guess."

The fox closed his eyes and leaned up against a tree, before stumbling over to some bushes and pulling a walking stick from them. Groddil heaved himself onto his paws with a groan.

"Not as young as I once was."

Sally noticed with a start that Groddil was badly deformed. His back was hunched over, one of his back legs was twisted underneath him, and his left forepaw was crabbed.

The fox smiled. "Yes I know. Not the most good looking am I?"

Sally shook her head. "I didn't mean it like that ... What happened to you?"

Groddil grimaced. "It's called 'Don't play with wildcats unless you want to get scratched' but anyway, you want to learn sword fighting?"

Sally nodded eagerly. "Then meet me here tomorrow. We'll make a swords beast of you, never fear. Just one thing. Please don't tell anyone about me."

Sally nodded. "I won't." She promised, before hurrying off.

Groddil stared after her and whispered, "Whoever would have thought I'd find her here."

Sally came the next day, and the next, and the next, until meeting Groddil became a routine. The fox taught her well, and by the time the winter wind blew, she was showing great promise in fencing, knife throwing, and archery. Sally looked up to Groddil and thought of him not only as her mentor, but her friend as well. Little did she know just how valuable the silver fox was.

Chapter 5 An Oath of Vengeance
The winter wind howled viciously around a lone traveler. She squinted her eyes against it, and kept going. While she was an ermine, she was glossy black all over, and her coat never turned to brown in summer. Her blue eyes stood out starkly against her almost iridescent black fur, as did her one white forepaw. She pressed on doggedly, but finally the storm forced her to take shelter in the many rocks on Fort Marshanks shore.

She reached into her satchel and removed a wooden bowl as well as some herbs. The creature mashed the leaves and mixed them with some water to create a dark substance. She plunged her white forepaw in it, smiling with satisfaction as the fur turned black.

"I am coming Badrang. I am coming and this time you can't stop me. This time I am ready. This time, you will pay."

Badrang stood on the wall top enjoying the winter sun on his sleek white fur. He was a true ermine, possessing a white coat and black tail tip in winter, and a honey brown coat in summer. Badrang hated his summer coat so much, he had his former seer Muckfur, create a mixture of herbs to keep it white permanently. Much as he hated to admit he needed anyone, Badrang was at a loss as to what to do without Muckfur, who had fallen ill and died recently.

This was the state of mind the tyrant was in as he watched the lone figure make its way to his fort. It was small, graceful, and almost familiar ... Badrang shook his head. No that was impossible.

Hisk came running up the wall steps. "Lord somebeast's approaching!"

Badrang rolled his eyes "Do you think this is news to me? Get back to your post this instant you nitwit!!"

Hisk was confused. "But sire, what about .."

Badrang shot his captain a look that would freeze the heart of a brave beast, something Hisk was not.

"Do as you're told. I'll see to our guest."

Badrang watched the traveler come toward him. The creature was wearing a hooded cloak, and her voice was soft, almost silky.

"Are you Lord Badrang, tyrant of the north coasts?"

Badrang was pleased by her flattery, but did not show it. "I am. Who are you stranger?"

She removed her hood to reveal piercing blue eyes. "I am Raven, a traveling seer."

Badrang smiled inwardly. A seer was just what he needed. "Then you will join my horde and travel no longer."

Raven held out her right forepaw. Badrang shook the paw, relieved that it was not white. Never the less, he would keep his sights on Raven. He wheeled away, his blue cape swirling behind as he motioned her to follow.

Raven narrowed her eyes. That had been easy, almost too easy. The black ermine resolved to keep a wary eye while in Fort Marshank.

Chapter 6 Raven at Work
Raven sat in the barracks, contemplating her next move. Badrang thought she was a seer, well that had been her intention, but it could get her into trouble. She had never actually had any connections or voices that allowed her to read omens or see the future. This was entirely up to her wit and slyness. She just hoped she could bluff as well as she could scheme. Still, it shouldn't be to hard, if Badrang was as stupid as she remembered.

Raven had taken a scout around Marshank the first day she got there, and it was pretty obvious to her that if she wanted to accomplish anything, she would have to get rid of Scalrag, Badrangs sniveling spy. She carefully pulled a vial from her cloak and poured its contents into a jug of ale. Raven proceeded to set the jug on Scalrags bunk before smiling grimly.

"That poison has been extremely useful to me. You'll go out like a light Scalrag."

The ermine had just made it back to her bunk, when a rat called Grimjaw walked in.

"His Mightiness wants ter see ya in 'is longhouse."

Raven stared at the speaker aloofly. "Very well rat."

As she left, Grimjaw spied the jug on Scalrag's bed. The rat grinned slyly.

"Ho ho Scalrag old matey, ya shouldn't be leaving things around."

Grimjaw snuck from the barracks with the deadly jug of ale in his paws, sniggering at his cleverness.

Chapter 7 The Story
"Once, in Mossflower, which is a great southern land, their lived a great warrior, a mouse called Martin. He was king of southwest Mossflower, and lived in a beautiful palace called Kotir. The land was peaceful, and Martin ruled his subjects well. However, he and his queen, Sunflower, were not happy, for fate had withheld from them what they longed for most. A child. Finally, one summer, Martin and Sunflowers greatest wish was fulfilled, and they were granted a son, who they named Luke. Now one night, when Prince Luke was only a week old, death struck Mossflower. A cat and his minions attacked. They plundered. They slaughtered. They burned. The woodlanders who were left alive, scattered or summited. Martin and his wife were killed, but the legend says that somehow, Luke was saved."

Groddil looked up, pausing his tale.

Sally begged, "Tell me the rest! About the warrior prince and princess."

Groddil nodded. "Fair enough. Mossflower has remained in oppression ever since. But it has been said that someday, four great warriors will defeat the cat. There is a prophesy that goes like this;

The mighty prince carries a sword,

For to defeat the self-made lord.

In the northlands, born of pain,

There he'll leave a flame.

The mighty princess carries a blade,

She is a warrior born not made,

Whose eyes are like night and head fur is gold,

Same as foretold as in days of old.

A mighty warrior from northlands came,

Danger in his very name.

Unmatched in battle, unmatched in war,

Well known from Mossflower to northern shore.

The last warrior is not without power,

Though she is called after a flower,

When hope is no more, when others will fall,

She will save them all."

Groddil smiled. "The last part of the prophesy makes little sense. It goes like this:

And the warrior princess shall live and fight for them over a thousand seasons, making sure no vermin ever rules Mossflower again."

Sally looked wistful. "I wish the warrior princess was real. I wish I was her."

Groddil scratched his scruffy gray beard. "Oh she's real Sally, mark my words."

Chapter 8 Groddils Confession
Sally sipped her steaming mint tea. It was frosty cold outside, but it was nice and warm in Groddil's snug burrow.

Sally studied her mentor as she drank her tea. The fox was on in seasons, and his fur was silver. Whether the color resulted from age, or if it was from birth, sally could not tell. Groddils eyes were fluid, piercing yellow, contrasting drastically with his shimmering coat.

In truth, Groddil was a contradiction. He was a fox, a vermin. Yet he refused his kinds evil ways. Goodbeast's wouldn't trust him, which was why he spent his days as a hermit, farming his land and teaching Sally the arts of war.

Groddil interrupted Sally's reverie.

"What's on your mind, eh lass?"

Sally asked the question that had been nagging at the back of her mind. "Groddil, are you a magician?"

Groddil shrugged. "Depends on what you think a magician is."

Sally frowned. "Well you know, can you tell fortunes, see the future, or read dreams?"

She paused, "Groddil, I know we haven't talked about your past, but let's face it, you're like family to me, and .. well .."

Groddil look down and scuffed a paw on the floor, then spoke. "Yes, you're right. You may resent me after you hear my story, but you deserve to know the truth."

The fox sighed. "It all started a long time ago, when a silver fox was born last in a litter of five. All my life I was bullied and pushed, so in an attempt to make friends, I fell to practicing paw reading.

At first I made it all up, but slowly I began to just .. well .. know. Looking back, I realize how creepy that feeling truly was, but I was young and I reveled in the power I believed I commanded.

When I was fourteen seasons old, a vicious wildcat called Ungatt Trunn captured me and my family. To save myself, I told the cat I could read omens. Being a superstitious creature, the warlord killed all my kin except my elusive brother, Ferran.

The cat crippled me so I couldn't run, and took me with him, making me his magician, or slave, to be more realistic.

When I was eighteen seasons old, Ungatt Trunn attacked the mountain of Salamandastron. He picked a good time too, for the badger and his hares were old. The fortress was in evil paws within a fortnight, but the badger and nearly a score of ancient hares were nowhere to be found.

The mighty one forced me and other vermin to search for them, and after many useless days of looking, we were forced to make a report.

My master was furious I had not fulfilled my orders, and he had a rat called Ripfang flog me."

Groddil winced at the memory, and paused for a time, as if unsure whether to continue. Then he began again.

"There were many struggles for the fire mountain, but I'll never forget the one in which I met Stargazer. That horse is one in ten million Sally. He had compassion on me, a fox, and helped me escape my evil master, throwing away everything he had to do so.

Even though I was free, I had to return. Had to see which side won. The woodlanders did. As I was leaving, I found my master's broken, but living body washed up on the shore.

He begged me to help him. My mind ran through all the things he had done, all the things he had made me do. I felt a burning anger wash over me as I remembered how I had ordered the death of the old badger lord, under his command.

I pushed him into the water, watching as he disappeared beneath the waves. I was half crazy with gilt and sorrow for my wicked deeds, so I chanted what Ungatt Trunn had taken so much pride in. His list of praises."

Groddil got a faraway look in his eyes, chanting in a singsong voice,

"These are the days of Ungatt Trunn.

The fearsome beast,

Oh mighty one.

He who makes the stars fall!

Conqueror, Earth-shaker,

Son of King Mortspear, brother to Verdauga!

Lord of all the blue hordes, who are as many as the leaves of autumn!

Oh all powerful Ungatt Trunn!

The fox looked down. "I wandered until I found this place, and hid from .."

He paused, and Sally thought she heard a hint of fear in Groddil's voice.

"Hid from my past."

Chapter 9 Slave to a Tyrant
TBC~ S a y n a th e W ar ri or  03:51, August 28, 2014 (UTC)