Legacy of the Twin Swords: A Novel of Redwall Chapter 1

The storm was in full swing, and a giant crash of thunder shook the woods of Mossflower. The tall, sinewy otter grasped the handles of his twin swords, gritting his teeth as the rain poured down the fur on his face. A flash of lightning lit up the glade, showing his adversary in full, vile splendor. The wolf, with his pack behind him, was a truly barbaric sight to behold. He stood nearly three heads taller than the otter, almost the height of a badger. With fangs as long as a dagger, and just as lethal, the black canid was a formidable force. With a short growl, the leader motioned for his pack to surround the otter. Worn down from running, the otter prepared for a battle to the death. Shifting his weight, he readied himself. Staring coolly, the otter waited for he inevitable attack. With a howl, the pack rushed him.

The first wolf to reach him came from behind, swinging a large battle axe towards the otters skull. Seeming only to twitch, he avoided the massive attack, and swung his twin blades, dispatching his foe with a stone blow to the back of the neck. Whirling around on the others, the otter began weaving a deadly web of steel, slicing, hacking, and scything through the foebeast. Valiantly, the otter fought, but eventually the number of wolves was too much. He was buried beneath a mass of damp, musky fur, and slid to the brink of unconsciousness. Before fading to black, however, a mouse, a Warrior, appeared in the otters mind.

"Young Padrin, listen to my voice. Friends are coming. Hold on. You still have much work to do. Now, rise! Feel the Galedeep blood run through you!" The mouse thrust his sword in the air, and as it rose, so did young Padrin Galedeep, whose ancestor was the great Finbarr, Protecter of Soutsward.

"Galedeeeeeeeep!!!" The otter roared, throwing surprised wolves from his body. Suddenly, me another shout tore through the night.

"Eulaliaaaaa!! Give 'em blood and vinegar chaps! Show them wot the Long Patrol does to vermin!" A silver hare sprang into view, a dual-tipped lance in its paws. "Forward the buffs! Chaaaarge!" A score and a half of hares in regiment regalia followed the silver hare, charging the wolves. The fight didn't last very long, and soon the pack was routed, the black wolf howling a retreat.

"You alright there, young 'un?" The hare came over to where Padrin was standing, breathing lightly, as though the charge had been a spring stroll. The hare was truly a magnificent sight. Even in the pouring rain, his fur gleamed like the stars on a clear night, silver and bright.

Padrin looked up at the hare.

"I would be better if'n I hadn't just been mauled by a pack of wolves." The hare chuckled, and offered a paw to Padrin.

"So that's what they were eh? They sure were ugly beasts. Strong too. My name is Hayburt, but you call me Burt. Colonel in the famed Long Patrol. Who are you, and what were they doing here?" The otter shook the proffered paw.

"Well met, Colonel. My name is Padrin Galedeep, descendent of Finbarr Galedeep, Protecter of Southsward. I journeyed to this land to track down the swords of my ancestor. I hail from the Northern coast. Those wolves you saw are the Howlpack of Fengris Volk, a vile and evil bunch. They destroyed my home, and my family as well. I was lucky to escape with my life."

Hayburt led Padrin into a canvas tent that had just been set up moments before by a Long Patrol hare.

"That's quite a story there, young 'un. Here, sit y'self down. Oh my, that is a nasty little cut," whistled Burt, eyeing a gash that ran down the left side of his face, straight through the left eye.

"Springfeld, please come and see to our young friend. It seems that he got a little more than we had thought he had."

A pretty young hare came into the tent, toting a large medicine bag with her. She quickly saluted the Colonel, and did an about turn to face Padrin. She immediately dropped her bag to the ground, removed a wad of dockleaves, some thread, and a large needle.