"In a universe that exists alongside us, yet is just always unattainable, there is a different Redwall world...what is the real universe?"

Contents 1 Chapter One 2 Chapter 2 3 Chapter 3 4 Chapter 4 5 Chapter 5 6 Chapter 6 7 Chapter 7 8 Comments

Chapter One

"Three gold pieces." For a weasel in poverty, the words were music to his ears. Ever since his tribe had been murdered by Guosim shrews, he worked on a farm for hours, to earn a meager salary.

In his tent, he stored away his weekly salary. What an insignificant weasel, the Guosim barely remembered his tribe, much less its sole survivor. But today was different. Today was the day he would make his mark as a raider. Not Blackbane, as he was once called, but Malurax! No need for a title, the only title he would need would be the trail of terror he would leave behind!

Malurax gathered up his savings: three hundred coins. Heading to the blacksmith to buy himself a dagger and saber, he prepared for his first raid- on an unassuming vermin band. He had no friends, for his heart was hardened by the hardships he had gone through.

Impatiently, he paced about in his humble dwelling, waiting for nightfall.

Chapter 2

Malurax came across a few tents. "Five beasts, five beasts who don't know the first thing about combat," he thought. Still, he reasoned, it should not be a bad idea to stay out of a fight. He stealthily snuck into each and every tent, grabbing loot, coins, and the odd dagger.

"Eh? Who's there?" The ferret paid the price for waking up with his life, as the dagger of the dreaded weasel ripped through his throat.

                                     * * *

Five hundred gold coins! After selling his loot at the village market, in the guise of an ordinary laborer, he had struck it rich. To celebrate his new fortune, he headed for the tavern.

"Wahaha! A 'undred coins if I can take on that scrawny weasel? Easy money!" A drunk weasel had challenged his rat comrade to take on Malurax. The whole crowd gathered around, as they loved a good fight. The rat and Malurax were tossed clubs. Jeers and chants rang out, as more bets were made as to who will win.

Club hit club, as both fighters relentlessly battered each other. Suddenly Malurax ducked, and shattered the rat's leg bones with a well-aimed swing. Shouts rang out, some cheers, some jeers, and the drunk weasel doubled up in laughter, too intoxicated to understand anything.

Such was everyday life in the village, only this time Malurax had won. They feared him now. He made his mark twice. But more was to come. The unassuming Guosim shrews, unaware of the threat they left behind many seasons ago, were about to pay...in blood.

Chapter 3

Malurax cackled like a madbeast in his tent. Three shrews, so easily! But no! It was not enough! He would wipe out the entire Guosim, starting with that Log-a-log. Then he would set his mind to bigger targets—badger sized.

Near the Guosim camp, the anguished cries of Log-a-log rent the air. A parrot listened intently to their plans to avert another killing.

                                     * * *

"Rrawk! They gonna move to 'nother place!" reported the parrot.

"Where to, Kraktow?" the sinister voice of Malurax inquired.

"Near the old place of Holt Lutra!"

"Good. You are dismissed."

The parrot flew off to do some more odd jobs. He had just been paid wit a few candied chestnuts. A regular dweller of the village, he was known as the town beggar. The only one without a proper job. He lived by the motto, "The more you earn, the better." And, for a few gold coins, he had warned the Guosim that Malurax was coming!

Chapter 4

Malurax was still on the ground, bleeding. Kraktow was dead! He would not be allowed to live after he betrayed Malurax, dirty little parrot. The Guosim thought Malurax was dead! But, nay! Malurax, after seasons on the farm, had accumulated lots of muscle and constitution. No skinny rapier would end his life! It was as if the Guosim had poked a monster with a stick–Malurax only became more resolute in his goal to eradicate the shrews. He would just crawl back to the village and get medical help...easy. Nay, not easy. There were assassins waiting to kill him in his weakened state. He would have to heal himself. Besides, the village was too pathetic for him...someday he would conquer it.

The cave of Holt Lutra would be a suitable dwelling for now. The female otter-demon, Grit Fongletch...was it? She had not been seen in hundreds of seasons, and the Guosim moved away, just to be safe.

                                    * * * 

"Suitable dwelling...a place for weapons, a place for food, and a medical kit still in good condition." He did not add that an adder just bit him on the leg.

"An adder?! Who bit me? That's The funniest thing I've ever felt!" Now, it was obvious that Malurax was the only to beast to be bitten by an adder, survive–and laugh about it. But how? He had planned for the future. Ingesting small quantities of adder venom every day, he had built up an immunity.

After a swift grapple with the adder, he collared him with some hide and tied it to a tree. The adder resembled a guard–a lethal one–and that was his purpose.

"I like this place. I'm staying here." The weasel turned to the adder. "You," he ordered, "will guard my cave. If you see a Guosim shrew, or anyone with the intention of harming me, kill them." He spoke the last part with a fierce look in his eyes. "In return, I shall give you a Guosim shrew for your services."

"Where issss it?" The adder inquired.

"You will have it soon."

In a few minutes, Malurax returned with a dead shrew–obviously killed by him! Oh, this would be a fine arrangement...

Chapter 5

"We must do something, lest we all die, Guosim!" bellowed Log-a-log. "Does anyone have an idea on how to stop the carnage?"

"We could set up a garrison!"

"We should send an assassin!"

"No, those would never work."

"Whaddya know about plans, puddenhead?" And thus started the bickering.

"Silence!" roared the infuriated chieftain.

"Log-a-log, we could ask Badger Lord Alinius to help!"

And it was settled. A sparrow named Kibbit was sent to Salamandastron with a letter.

                                      * * *

Malurax was napping in his cave-dwelling. Footsteps on a hard rock floor woke him.

"Who's there?" He forcefully inquired, drawing his saber and advancing toward the figure entering the cave.

It was a beautiful, but ill-looking sable. It was a female, but something looked familiar.

"Blackbane?" she asked, shocked.

Chapter 6

Ten seasons ago

"The mole! He's going to kill us! Move, Blackbane!"

Indeed, Ambrevina Rockflash and Axtel Sturnclaw were wreaking havoc among the Ravager army. Suddenly, Ambry and Axtel took off after a fleeing Vilaya.

"She's a deadbeast, Grimtail. I'm deserting."

"Well, yore a coward!"

Blackbane ran, deep into Mossflower. He stopped to catch his breath when a weasel and ferret emerged.

"State yore business, weasel!" the ferret said as he and his comrade were flanked by ten other vermin.

"I—I come in peace."

"Wotcher think, Stinkfur, an extra paw needed inter the gang?"

                                  * * *

As if in a daze, Malurax muttered, "Then five seasons ago, the Guosim killed them."

"Blackbane, it all comes back to me now. You were an officer in the Ravager army."

"Vilaya?"

"Yes, it is Vilaya."

"But you are dead!"

Groaning, she said, "Not yet. but soon to be. The sword wound is getting to me..."

Her eyes glazed over.

It had been many seasons since she had allegedly died. Ten seasons later, she returned to Salamandastron and killed Ambry. She obtained a sword wound in the process, and came here before she died.

"Well, this was a strange day, does this sable have anything useful on her?" Malurax muttered, still unfeeling.

                                  * * *

"What's this? A note?" inquired Badger Lord Alinius.

Dear Alinius,

Our tribe needs help from a ravaging assassin. We cannot handle him. Please help us.

~Log-a-log Tonir

"Round up fifteen of the best Long Patrol rangers! We have an important mission!" he bellowed to Lieutenant Henry Pinicus. "You must come along too!"

                                 * * *

Malurax was on the way back to the village, preparing to carry out the first part of his ultimate plan, when he heard a rustle in the bushes. Alinius had gone ahead to scout, and he found himself staring at Malurax.

The war had begun.

Chapter 7

"A badger, some prize I would get once I'm finished with you," said Malurax calml.

"Nay, vermin, I will not spend time talking with you. Prepare to die."

They clashed swords. Malurax was knocked back by Alinius's sheer power. Just as Alinius was about to deliver the coup de grâce on Malurax's heart, Malurax threw a needle at the badger's paw. A single flinch was all Malurax needed to get back up and rush toward Alinius. With a poisoned dagger!

                                * * *

In another part of Mossflower, three ferrets armed to the teeth were sitting under a tree, talking.

"Oi, Scrath, ye big liar! Ye said that the cave was this way!"

"Liar, eh, Scarface? Why, ye the one who stole half the treasure last time!"

"Will ye two idjits shut it or I'll send you ta swim wid the pikes!"

"Hey, Darkeye, there it is! The cave of Ovian the Seeker!"

"Treasure! I wonder what's inside the cave!" chorused all three ferrets/

As they rushed inside, the sight that met them brought great sadness to their eyes.

Torches provided adequate lighting to the large cave, and there were rows and rows of bookshelves. Nothing of interest to these ferrets!

A chubby mouse greeted the three ferrets.

"Hello, friends! I'm Brouner the scholar, and this is my libr—"

A whack from the ferrets club knocked the poor mouse out cold.

"Well, this is a load of rubbish!" complained Darkeye.

"At least we can steal that vase!" offered Scrath. "We'll sell it at the market."