Prologue

Prologue

The sun shone off the sandstone bricks of Redwall Abbey on a bright winter day. Wind blew gently against the face of a young otter maiden dressed in a greenish-brown habit and matching scarf standing alone on the ramparts, staring off into the horizon. The silence was disturbed by the sudden crash of the sound of breaking wooden planks and a scream of a young one rushing out the abbey's front door moments later.
"Mother Abbess! Abbess Mhera!"
The otter descended the wallsteps fast enough to be at the young mouse's side in a mere second. "What happened, Trey? What was that noise?"
Trey explained, gasping between every few words with exhaustion from the rushing.
"Well, huff huff, you see Mother Abbess, me, Durby and Feegle were looking through the things in the attic, huff huff, when Durby stepped on what I think was some, huff, rotten boards." He eventually caught his breath. "I came out as fast as I could to tell you." Mhera put a paw on Trey's shoulder. "Calm down, Trey. I'll see if Deyna can help us. Come on." The two creatures walked quickly into the main building and met up with a burly male otter, slightly younger than Mhera. Deyna was just about to sit in front of a long tapestry that wove across the entire perimeter of the Great Hall of Redwall when the abbess, who was his older sister, and Trey entered. "Deyna! Can you help us with something?" Mhera asked the otter as she approached him. Deyna turned to face Mhera and Trey. "Sure thing, sis. What do you need? Does it have anything to do with the commotion I heard upstairs?" Trey spoke up suddenly. "Durby might be hurt in the attic! We have to hurry!"
Deyna chuckled. "Don't fret, little one. Durby is a strong mole, he can't be too badly hurt. Come on." The trio ascended the stairs to the attic, where they met Feegle, a mousemaid the same age as Trey, who had a worried expression on her face. "Trey! Thank goodness! Durby doesn't seem hurt, but I'm not entirely sure. I can't lift those floorboards by myself!" Deyna shuffled past Feegle and went over to the crashed gap in the creaky wooden floor, several boards jutting outward from the floor. Deyna crouched down beside the hole and began speaking to the young mole beneath them. "Durby, can you hear me? It's Deyna. Don't move around too much, I'm going to get you out of there. Are you hurt?" Durby responded, weakly and fearfully, "Burr, no zurr, jus' gurtly uncomf'torble. 'Urry oop, yurr." Deyna nodded and lifted each beam with surprising strength. Eventually, all the boards were cleared, and the young mole was lifted from the hole. He wasn't harmed, as
he said, just covered in enough dust to fill an entire closet. "You look okay. No scratches or bruises. Nothing a bath can't fix." Deyna glanced toward the hole in the floor. The boards were definitley rotten, so Durby's weight was enough to snap them. But that wasn't what caught Deyna's attention. He crouched down and lifted a large book from the hole. The book, like Durby, was enveloped in a thick layer if dust, eliminating any way to identify what exactly it was. "We best take this to Brother Hoben. He might be able to identify it. Come on, young'ns. Mother Abbess, may we be excused?" Mhera huffed. "Yes, you may. And, Deyna, you don't have to call me 'Mother Abbess', I've told you over a dozen times." Deyna shrugged. "What can I say? Others call you that, it just sticks after a while, I guess. Durby, mate, could you hold this? We're going for a ride to the Gatehouse." He placed the volume in the mole's claws and then placed Durby on his broad
shoulders and scooped Trey and Feegle up into his arms and took off down the stairs, all four giggling all the way to the grounds outside. Mhera sighed as she descended down the steps herself. Upon entering Great Hall, she met up with a teenage male mouse carrying a little squirrelbabe bundled up tight in a white cloth. "Good day, Abbess. Just bringing little Rosabel back to her parents. I was looking after when she said another new word. Rosabel, what color is this?" He pointed to the cobalt robe draped over his shoulder. The little squirrel squeaked out, "Blue!" Mhera laughed. "Only a few seasons old and she's saying a new word every week! Wasn't it last week at lunch that she shouted 'spoon!' when she saw the bowl of porridge that was made for her?" Rosabel then shouted, "Nimbalo, snow!", a combination of words she had learned in the weeks before that, pointing to the stained glass window. The mouse chuckled, remembering when the young one had
learned his name last month. "Not only that, she's saying whole sentences! Very good!" He turned to Mhera "Deyna went out a second ago, laughing so hard it was almost contaigious. What's that rascal up to now?"
As Mhera explained, the four creatures outside banged loudly on the gatehouse door. Soon after, a gruff voice replied, "Oh, hold on a moment. I'll right back." An aged mouse wearing crystal spectacles opened the door and upon seeing Deyna and his young friends, ushered them inside hastily. "I was just greeting some travellers when you arrived, young ones." He pointed toward an open window where a cloaked beast, a fox by the look of it, and his badger companian, stood in the snow. "Hoben, zurr, we founded ee book in ee h'attic. Lookit, yurr." Durby presented the book to the old recorder, who eyed it in wonderment. He wiped a streak of dust from the front cover and examined how it was layered. He the blew all the dust off the volume and revealed a topaz colored cover holding the book together. Embroidered into the cover was a caption.

The Journey to the Tree of Life

Deyna looked on and brushed away a spot of dust that Brother Hoben had missed. When he saw what was underneath, he gasped.

A Warrior's Tale compiled recorded by
Martin the Warrior

Martin the Warrior. The Abbey's famous co-founder, a mouse whose bravery and strength knew no bounds, had written this. Deyna held the volume as Hoben let the badger and fox into the gatehouse. The three young ones looked in awe at the cover of the book. "Martin the Warrior wrote all that?" Trey said, amazed. "He must've had a lot of time on his paws, when he wasn't fighting vermin like rats, weasels, stoats, foxes-" "What's so bad about foxes?" A chill ran down Trey's back as he turned to face the fox who had entered the gatehouse. The fox was a light orange, a color indicating that he was either beginning to age or was just starting to gain his winter coat. He leaned on a mahogany cane he held with his right paw, which was shriveled by muscle disease. His eyes were covered by a red cloth, which he explained was because of an infection. A second reason for the cane.
Deyna flipped through the book and saw images paw-drawn every few pages. Images of Martin, a peculiarly dressed mouse who had to be Gonff the Mousethief, and several others he could not identify. "Brother Hoben, can we have a reading of this book? I'm curious to know what happened." Hoben was given the volume to examine once again. He looked back to Deyna and replied, "Absolutely! Maybe or guests would like to hear it as well." The recorder turned to the two travellers, who said, "It would be a privilage."
A few hours later, Great Hall was filled with every creature inhabiting the Abbey, all eager to hear the tale. From Abbess Mhera, Deyna, and their mother, Filorn, to little Rosabel and her parents, Fwirl and Friar Broggle.
Brother Hoben opened the book to the page dated about a month after Martin the Warrior returned from a journey to the Northern shores, where he has born. Hoben adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and began to read aloud...