Harlequin

The strong autumn breeze ruffled the church mouse, Abbot Hawthorn’s habit as he watched the young Dibbuns play acorn ball on the lawn of Redwall Abbey. He chuckled as Grubbo threw the acorn up in to the air, aiming to hit it with the knotted rope but instead it landed on his velvety black head. 

" Ur, that’n acorn ‘it moi ‘ead,!" he said in his rustic mole speech. 

The chuckling Abbot shifted his gaze to the elders of the Abbey who were helping Friar Reeve set out a picnic lunch under the shade of a peach tree. Pansy, Redwall’s apprentice recorder, a very peaceful hedgehog walked over to the watching Abbot. 

"Abbot Hawthorn, would you care to join us for lunch?" she asked as she fiddled with the kingcup crown, on her head spikes, that the Dibbuns had made her. " Friar Reeve has made some Mossflower Wedge and there are some gooseberry scones hot from the oven too." she added.

"Well hot gooseberry scones, I haven’t had those for seasons! And is there some raspberry jam to go with them?"

"Oh yes Abbot, sir!"

"Well then we better go over there now because those Dibbuns have spied that picnic and there will be hardly any left for us when they get to scoff’n."

"Tish, ‘ts not them, tis that stomach on legs, Norbert Sr. Wackle, never seen a beast scoff so much in one sitting!"

"Now, now," hushed the Abbot as the lanky hare dressed in a plum jerkin passed them, heading straight for the picnic. 

"Now there’s a beast who knows where he’s going!" giggled Pansy. 

The two friends went off to join their fellow Redwallers in the picnic lunch, on the warm autumn day.

~

Far away from the happy, frolicking Redwallers panic was creeping towards the Abbey and its fair loving woodlanders. Fire. A forest fire raging and sweeping in a low, wide wave of burning orange, licking flames, that were charring everything in its path. Trees were burnt to a crisp and the grass was smouldering, giving off a putrid grey-black smoke that added to the already massive smog cloud.

~

That night, when the Abbeybabes had been tucked into bed, Abbot Hawthorn and Thistle, who was a fat little dormouse, took a walk about the Abbey. The cool night air nipped at the two mice’s faces and paws, and a low wind ruffled their fur and cloaks, but they didn’t notice. In the orchard, the fruit trees cast long weary shadows on the pair as they peacefully wandered through the piles of leaves. 

"Winter is coming,"the Abbot told Thistle, his breath becoming puffs of steam. "Fall has almost left us, with its bright colours, harvesting time..."

"Oh, ‘e don’ta wanna furget ‘e Octoba Ale!"said the dormouse, licking his lips. "Oy can almost taste it!"

"Ah yes, the October Ale, how could I forget! I’m sure this was one of the best brew in seasons!" the Abbot agreed.

"Ye. Frurly and Frim are one o’ de best pair o’ cellar ‘ogs the Abby hasa had."Thistle responded. 

As they reached the front lawn, the same spot where the Dibbuns had played acorn ball that very morn Abbot Hawthorn looked up into the sky. What he saw was very strange and it almost looked as though it didn’t belong. It was a huge, dark cloud that looked as though it held a thunderstorm inside its massive, churning coal black body.

"What’n the name o’ Marstin te Warrior isy thata thing?" asked Thistle following his friend's stare.

"I don’t know. It seems far to late for a thunder storm, hail maybe?"questioned the Abbot.

"Oh, oy ‘udn’t be so sure. Strangey things can’a happen wid ‘e weadder."answered Thistle, tucking his cloak tighter to his chubby body. "Bud as nowan cana do nut’n ‘bout ‘e weadder dona truble yeself wid dit." 

The Abbot knew his friend was right but he still felt that he should do someting, though he didn’t really know what he could do.

The cloud had now covered the moon and it seemed to drink up its rays for the front lawn had just become quite dark. Even though the Abbot knew he and his friend could see in the dark perfectly he thought it might be best to go inside.

"I think it is time we went in, how about you?"

"Oh, oya iggriey. Gett’n too’a chilly fer me ol’bones." agreed Thistle who was shivering a little. 

So the two friends made their way back to the Abbey, and as Abbot Hawthorn held the oak door for his friend, he looked back at the dark cloud.

"Mmmm" he though as he slipped inside the warm Abby, "It looks like it is heading towards Redwall."

~

As the two Abbeybeasts entered their home , an old, plump squirrel named Mother Goodum came scurrying out with a tray of scones and two hot mugs of hot rose and Elderflower tea. She set them down on the nearest table and then went about scolding the two mice as though they were not even season old Dibbuns.

"You could have caught your death out there!’ she exclaimed as she swept of their cloaks and ushered them into comfy armchairs by the roaring fire.

"And we didn’t even know where you were!" 

She then went on to name all the things that could have happened when Thistle interupted her.

"Wella we’rea botha back, so stopa fussin’ "said Thistle who seemed to have had quite enough with the old squirrel’s pampering and lectures.

"Bedsides, the tea isa gett’n cold."

The Abbot suddenly produced a small giggle.

"You should have seen yourself, fussing and all," he said, his giggles now had become tears of myrth which caught on and then Thistle started to laugh. Soon the three friends were all hooting, tears streaming down their faces and just having a jolly good time. At last, when the trio could laugh no more and they were stuffed to the brim with scones and tea they silently made their way to bed. But as Abbot Hawthorn was about to blow out the candle to the sitting room they had just been in, he paused.

"If that cloud does come to Redwall, well, we won’t know what to expect," he thought "And I feel as though I should do something for my Abbey."

Suddenly he thought of something and someone. "I do know that there is nothing no one can do to change the weather. But there is some one who can watch over it and help the Abbey too." He walked swiftly down the corridors until he reached the Great Hall. He eased the door open, his candle reflecting on the large supper table and chairs which were of course empty. He then went about lighting the wall brackets until he could plainly see the Martin Tapestry. It was a beautiful wallhanging that had been made in the brave warrior's honor. He had saved the woodlanders from Kotir and the evil Queen Tsarmina, a wildcat who killed her father, chained her brother and tried to take over Mossflower and its creatures. 

The Abbot ran his hand over the different materieals that made up the mouse warrior's body.

"If only you were with us today,"the Abbot sighed, as his hand passed over Martin’s glittering suit of armour that seemed almost real. "The Abbey may need your help if the cloud passes over us. We don’t know what it carries and that makes us defenceless, please send us a sign!" After a long break of silence the Abbot rose to his feet, blew out the lamps in the room and then left the chamber to go and get some well earned sleep.

~

The next day at breakfast the Abbot stood up at the head of the large oak table and tapped his spoon to his glass. All of the beasts at the table stopped their eating and talking to listen.

"Please pay attention, today I have decided will be ... Harvest Day!"

The animals cheers reached the ceiling, Harvest Day! It was a day of fun for every beast. 

"Frim and Frurly, would you please get the baskets from the cellars?" 

"Aye, Abbot Hawthorn, would ye like to use the cask cart too?"

"Splendid idea! Now we won't have to carry them!" the Abbot said as he watched them rush to get the baskets and cart. "Friar Reeve, would you be able to get the kitchens to pack a cold lunch for us all?" 

"O’ coarse we can! I’ll see to it myself!" and the fat Friar waddled away to his kitchen quarters. 

Galla, the Mother badger strode towards the Abbot with almost half a score of Dibbuns hanging onto her fur. 

"What shall I do with these little mites?" she growled, and secretly winked to the Abbot.

"Oh, well maybe they should stay behind and help scrub pots and pans." 

A look of horror appeared on the Dibbun’s faces. "Well maybe they could come.... but only if they promise to not eat a single fruit until we get them back to the Abbey." Galla said looking at the Dibbuns. They all nodded and then scampered off. 

"Hopefully that should work, last year I would bet that half the harvest we eaten by those little mites!" Galla exclaimed, " But they do work hard!" 

~

In the orchard Brother Ash was handling the giving of the baskets. Dibbuns were crowded around him like bees to honey, while the elders waited patiently for their basket. Finally all of the animals had a basket of some sort and were out collecting the season's harvest.

"Oy! Dann, catch this!" shouted Thatcher, a huge hedgehog with a rattling back of spikes, as he threw a turnip to his squirrel friend.

Tucker and Tess the field mouse twins were helping each other with an oversized pumpkin. Stumbling along they were relieved of their burden as Galla swept it up and tossed it onto the cart with her huge paws. 

Dwopple, a young, mischievous mouse, like his grand-sire, had been rolling his pumpkin when it suddenly got out of control and started to roll down the hill towards the luncheon set out on the lawn. Appearing out of no where Norbert Sr. Wackle lunged for the rolling vegetable, stopping it right in its path, a few feet away from the precious lunch. 

"Got ta save the tucker wot, wot!" he said in a gallant manner.

"O’ course ye must! That was yer lunch and o’ course we all know that food is yer first priority!" Ferdy commented, taking away the pumpkin to the cart.

"Hunger is not ta be fooled with!" Sr. Wackle retorted, slightly miffed. He went back to helping sack turnips, but keeping an eye on the lunch area. 

The harvest was soon picked and put on the cart. Exhausted, Redwallers sat on the grass and ate their fill of lunch, talking to one another about the day's events. 

Urila, a small molemaid, sat down in between the Abbot and Dann the Abbey Warrior. 

"Good heavens child what have you got on your smock?" asked the Abbot looking at the black smudge marks on Urila’s clothing.

"Burr, durr wind blew dis arn moi smark" she said pointing to the black spots with a digging claw. "Loittlil blark flakers are droiffen boiy the gate, zurr."

"Mmm," Dann said as he touched the smock, "It looks like soot, but what creature is having a fire now?"

"Maybe it’s the watervole bands... they usually have great fires at the time of a celebration." explained the Abbot. "Well Urila, you go with Sister Bluebell and get cleaned up before you eat." The little molemaid was ushered away by the young mouse sister.

"I wonder what that was about?" Dann asked, his eyebrows raised. "Should I check it out, Abbot? I think that it’s just coming from Abbey kitchens, but there’s no harm." 

"Of course! But I suspect that it won’t cause any trouble." Abbot Hawthorn then turned all of his attention on a large helping of Woodland trifle that had been placed in front of him.

~

"Soot in the air... as Dann thinks it is probably just from a small fire, but what if that storm cloud had something to do with it?" These thoughts puzzled the Abbot that night as he lay in his bed. "Well I have asked guidance from Martin the Warrior and there isn’t anything that I can do..." The Abbot softly fell into a deep slumber.

And that night in his dream Abbot Hawthorn was visited by The Warrior mouse... and like usual he had something of great importance to share.


The autumn has been dry and crisp,

Not a drop fallen yet.

But tis able to burn quite easily,

Unless water is what we get.

Three fighters are coming to warn you,

But if they appear to late,

Then my beautiful Redwall Abby,

Will be unleashed to this dreadful fate.

So, stock well from ponds and rivers, 

Wet cloth and extra sacks.

For this burning melee,

Has fourteen moons until attack.










Chapter 2 

Away in another part of the land, inside a great mountain known as Salamandastron, Lord Raydash the Brave and his army of hares, the Long Patrol, were recovering from a suprise attack lead by Scarchest, The Warlord of the Flesh Feeders. The vicious hoard was mostly made up of searats and a few stoats but Scarchest was the only fox, and that may have been why he was the leader.The fox was evil to the core and very clever, which had kept Lord Raydash and his hares guessing what the vermin might do next. As they sat around a large pine table each hare told his or her story about what they had done in the fight.

"I jolly well almost got me tail sliced right off, wot!"exclaimed a young hare named Furngrass.

"Well that ain’t nothin’ compared to Roofy’s ol’ story, tell ‘em Roof!"a hare named Grundle encouraged.

"T’was nott’n, ye young laddie buck! An’ if ye gabb one more word out that mouth o’ yours yer gunna wish you’d never been born!" the elder hare named Roofarn shouted, glaring at the young one, and then he went back to eating his fourth helping of hazlenut and blueberry cumble.

At the other end of the table there was a hare who was telling his heroic story to a group of youngsters. Just as he was about to tell them how he had managed to get away from a searat that had cornered him when he had no weapon a large hare called Ramjaw came bounding through the Mess Hall’s doors. Panting hard he poured himself some dandielion cordial, gulped it down and then gave his interesting report to the badger Lord.

"Ye know the fire balls those filthy scumbags threw at the mountain?" the hare asked, the badger nodding. "Well, it seems that the fire has caught onto the dry grasses, and, well, er, turned it into a sort o’ forest fire,wot!"

"I hope it burns the lot of them and sends them to Hellgates," Lord Raydash growled, his eyes glinting. "But it ain’t going to get us! Stone mountains don’t burn! But they are ruining land that others dwell on, so it must be stopped!"

"Oh I’d suggest that! Ye see the fire has bally well gotten out of hand and is heading southward!"

"Right for Redwall Abbey!!!" the badger thundered, causing the hares to jump and the food on the table rattle. 

"Ah, yes’em sir right to Redwall Abbey, sir," the hare reported meekly.

The badger pounder the table with his fist. " Those pesky vermin are going to pay for this! My mother, Cregga lived there. And a place that she loved so much isn’t going to be burned while I’m around! Now we must concentrate on saving the Abbey. Ramjaw, could you and two others go and warn the Abbey about the fire? Choose the fastest! There isn’t any time to waste!"

"Yes sah!" the hare snapped to attention and gave Lord Raydash a salute.

"How long will it take you to get there?" Raydash added.

"If we moved out tonight we should get there in a day and a half, sah!"

"Good. Pack some provisions and you can leave now, " and the badger dismissed him. "Now we need about a four score or so to come at the fire from behind and try and stop the fire from spreading, Colonel Saxsin, could you get a group ready?"

"Yes, sah!" the elder hare replied.

"Oh, take Remina. She can help heal any wounded animals the fire may have wounded. All of the injured or homeless are welcome in the mountain. Also, take some wet burlap bags with you. Saxsin knows what these are for. You may leave now." said the Lord. "Now the rest of you prepare for a battle. We are going to pay Scarchest a little visit and make sure that he will sleep deeply for his distruction of our lands with fire and for keeping us cooped up inside Salamandastron until we fought him off. Moondew, get a council of war ready and meet me with them after dinner tonight."
The hares cheered. Fighting vermin was what they were born to do.

As the badger was getting up a little baby hare who though he was going to fight tugged on Lord Raydash’s smock.
"What ‘bout weapons?! I got no weapon to fight de vermin wiff!" he blurted out, not knowing how he badly he was embarrassing his mother.
The badger Lord gave the Dibbun a very rare smile and swung him up onto his great lap. "Well now, where do you think you’re going?" he asked in a soothing voice.
"Ta fight off de vermin like me Pa" the youth answered.
"Oh well, that’s too bad. I was hoping that you and the other, um youth," the badger Lord looked up at the other young hares who looked very interested and then went on "could stay here and help guard the mountain in case other vermin came along while we are fighting," continued the badger. "Because if you and the others stay, I could make you all official ‘Guarding the Mountain Captains’ and you can issue all the orders you like!"
The young hares had taken the bait and were now swelling out their chests with pride. 
"You’ve made an offer that is hard to trow away. So sure, we’d love to stay behind and make sure ta jolly mountain is safe," the young hare said, speaking for the others, and then he jumped off the great badger’s lap and strutted off with his nose in the air, leading the others new ‘captains’ in snake fashion out of the Mess Hall.
The elder hares chortled at the gullible young ones and at how easily they had been fooled. 
"And as that little one reminded me, how many of you don’t have a good blade or weapon?"Lord Raydash asked the group of hares. About two score rased their paws. 
"Well then after you’ve finished your breakfast come to my forge room and choose yourselves a weapon. I will be up there now if anyone needs me." he stood up again from his head chair and strode from the room.

~ 

The badger’s forge room was a very private place and hardly any hares got to go in it. It was where the badger Lord would sleep, on a stone slab that to tough badger warriors was quite comfortable. At the forge the badgers would create magnificent weapons, dirks, lances, spears, swords, arrow heads, axe blades, and many more vicious weapons that were used by the badger Lords themselves or by the Long Patrol hares. These weapons were the best of the best, they never broke or chipped. On the opposite side of the room there was a secret door, that was covered with pebbles to make it look like the rock walls of the room. Behind the door was a very special treasure that was famous amongst the past and present badger Lords. Lord Brocktree, the first badger Lord of Salamandastron. But because he had long since passed away, only his skeleton, sitting in his stone throne, dressed in his full war armour was left.

~

Lord Raydash had set to work on a brand-new weapon. It was a battleaxe, with a smooth hilt, and a paper thin blade that could slice others to tiny bits. Raydash was pounding on what would soon become the tip of the axe when there was a knock at the door and a feeble squeak. 

"Your Lordship sir, um we were a coming to, get, pick our... weapons."

"Well come right in," Lord Raydash bellowed. 

Outside he could here the hares grunting as they tried to open the heavy oak door. So Lord Raydash opened it for them.

"Oh, my Lord, we could have moved that" a young hare named Harrowsmith guffawed. "We were just, er, getting warmed up!"

"Well you needn’t get warmed up. The forge is a plentiful heat source!" the badger Lord said, as he summoned the small group of hares into the well heated room. 

On the far wall hung hundreds of weapons that shone brightly from the morning sun coming through the open window. On the floor, piled below were stacks of bows and arrows.

The hares went about testing them all and seeing which felt the best in their paws. Many chose a blade or spear but others chose bows and full quivers of arrows. 

A young hare named Harlequin was having trouble deciding between a dirk with cedar root weaving on the handle and a short dagger with what seemed to have a smooth copper hilt when she noticed a leather cord under a small pile of two headed lances. She carefully pulled it out, making sure it didn’t catch and rip on a blade. When she finally got it out Harlequin realized it was no cord but a awesome weapon. For the most part it was a long braided cord of leather, which was what had misled her. But at the end there were three balls of stone. The handle had been wrapped with leather which had then dried and made it tight and hard. 
Harlequin held this new weapon in her paw, it felt great. Even without swinging it she knew that this was the weapon she wanted. And before she could change her young mind she lined up with the other hares to show the badger Lord what they had picked and to thank him. As it came nearer and nearer to Harlequin’s turn a sort of dreadful thought washed up on her like the icy waves of the ocean. 
"What if this was not one of the weapons to be chosen? It was sort of hidden. No one else chose a weapon like this! And what if he gets mad at me, in front of everyone else?" these thoughts hit the hare like a faceful of pebbles. But before she had time to worry anymore, it was her turn.

She stepped feebly in front of Lord Raydash, holding the weapon in front of her.
"Well, well, well."the badger Lord said, lifting the weapon out of Harlequin's paws. "I haven’t seen this for seasons, forgot I’d even had it." he smiled, turning it over in his paws and looking at it as though it was a lost friend. Finally he spoke again. "This weapon, this very weapon use to be owned but my great, great grandfather, Stormstripe the Whip Wielder." The great badger paused.
"Well I don’t have to have it, I mean it must be very special ta ya sir," Harlequin stammered.
"Oh no! I trust you will take very good care of it," Lord Raydash snorted. "But do remember the word wield. This weapon can be used in good or evil, it just depends on who wields it." the badger dropped the weapon back into Harlequin’s paws and then added "If you need some lessons on how to use it I would be happy to show you, after lunch, in here?"
"Yes sir, thank you, sir, be hear then, wot, wot!" Harlequin said. And then giving a short salute she bounded off feeling quite anxious to try the weapon out. She was also thinking about the word wield. "If this was used for evil I wonder what it could do?"

~

After a lunch of a leek and paisley paistie and some left over crumble, Harlequin made her way up to Lord Raydash’s forge room with the whipy stony thing in her paw. 

Thud! Thud! Harlequin bangged on the solid door with the back of her paw. After a moment the large door swung open and Raydash stepped out.

"Come in, I’ve cleared some space so we can work properly," and as Harlequin stepped into the forge room she could see what he had done. His work table had been pushed up against the far wall and the forge tools were gone entierly from the room.

" How old are you Harlequin? Ever used a weapon in battle before?" the badger asked.

"I’m 4 seasons sir, and I’ve only fought with a bow against the bally Flesh Feeder chappies..." she fidgeted under Raydash’s stare. " Is that alright, sa?"

"Of course! But you will have a bit of work to do beacuse this whip is more like a sword than a bow. Shall we get to work?"

Harlequin nodded and the great badger started his leason. He tought her to wrap and unwrap the whip with a flick of her wrist, to twirl it above her head, strike fast with the stones, to wrap something and bring it to her, aiming it and to stop it from getting tangled. In that afternoon Harlequin had found that when Lord Raydash used the whip it seem that he was the Whip Weilder, Stormstripe. And when she left the forge room that afternoon she felt as though she had used the whip for a long time. In her room she tested the ‘grabbing’ movement to pick up a dirty plate at the foot of her bed. The whip lashed out and wrapped around the plate, launching back to her opened paw. She caught it and a rush of excitement flooded her, she could use this whip, she was in control! 

~

Ramjaw, Cornilius and Floren had already started on their journey to Redwall Abby. They had packed light, on the tools that is. Cornilius had the food haversack to carry and after an hour or so he was quite tired.
"Bally tucker weighs as much as a badger at a Summers feast!"Cornilius panted as he sat to rub his aching foot paws. The trio were in a small valley, in the grasslands. They had been following the fire’s messy trail and were now about seven miles from the mountain though it was still on the horizon. Ramjaw decided that they should camp there for lunch, seeing as there was all open space so no one could sneek up on them. But just as they were about to open the haversack the ground started to shake and suddenly the earth was rising out of the ground in front of them! 

Chapter 3

A little while away from the mountain Salamandastron, Scarchest and his evil hoard were camped out in another small valley, and also licking their wounds, but not planning another attack. When Scarchest had first seen the great mountain he charged not caring what might be inside. But the fight didn’t go his way. Many losses had come in the battle to the Warlord, his tail chopped off, half of his hoard killed, his pride, ...all of this gone! But this didn’t get the devil of the fox down. Oh no! Instead he was planning, planning about how to get away from the mountain, far, far away. It seemed stupid at first to tell the hoard they were going to ‘run away’. But after looking around at all his wounded vermin he thought that they would probably like to leave this land. Quite a few of the hoard were searats, maybe they could swipe a ship and sail on the sea. "And besides, neither I or the hoard is ready to go into a battle with that bulk of that badger," he thought plainly. But of course that was not to be if Lord Raydash and his hares had their way.
But as the great and powerful Warlord was about to summon his Joker to cease his miserable mood with entertainment, a token of luck fell on Scarchest and his hoard.

Coming into the vermin camp, dawned in a coal black cloak and hood, armed with nothing, or so in seemed was the biggest weasel that Scarchest and his hord had ever laid eyes on.

Through the hood’s opening large black eyes, like the blackness of night was staring. White scars coved his paws and there was a huge, thick scar that ran from the nightmare’s chin to his cheek bone which was bright white and framed in a bloody, scabbed border. He was standing at the crude entrance when Hookfang, one of the Captains of the hoard spotted the intruder and with a quick pounce he landed directly in front of the weasel.
"Ahaa! Intruder eh? Well there ain’t no intruders in Scarchest’s camp that ever come out alive! So I suggest you turn back now!" he said menacingly brandishing his sword in the weasel’s face.
Quick as lightning, taking the rat Captain by surprise, the large weasel grabbed the rat’s sword arm, turned the sword around so it was facing the rat and plunged it deep into Hookfang’s body.
He didn’t even have time to yell, just sat their with a stunned expression on his face and a sword trough his middle, the Captain Hookfang was dead.

"Hey, look! A weasel just killed Hookfang!"
"That wasn’t Hookfang, wormbait! He was just standing here a minute ago!"
"Ooh wormbait yer’self, matey! That’s Hookfang out there an’ that’s that!"
Bursting out of his tent to see the cause of the uproar, Scarchest got his first look at the weasel intruder.
"Who is this!?!" the Warlord asked his hord, pointing a claw at the hooded figure.
"He’s the scum that killed me matey and your Cap’n, Hookfang!" a bold stoat spoke out.
Scarchest took a glimpse at his dead Captain and then looked back at the weasel.
"What do you want with us?"Scarchest demanded to the weasel. 
"Oh, just passing by" the weasel said in a sly voice as he boldly eyed Scarchest’s purple velvet cloak.
"Who are you?"the chieftain of the Flesh Feeders snapped back.
"I am a great seer in these parts." he answered majesticly. "You look as though you need some help." He motioned to the hoard, who were now watching him with great interest. "I see all and know all and I am willing to share it for a small price."
"Price?"asked Scarchest.
"Yes, a tent, food and your trust in me that I will help " the weasel bowed deeply, but kept his eye on Scarchest 
"Alright then, I accept. Do you know anything about healing ?" Scarchest asked drily.
"Indeed I do, Master."the weasel said and then bowed again.
"Well then fix up my crew and then come to my cabin. I want you to tell me everything you can fore-see about Raydash, his mountain and his hares. We will defeat them and make up for the way we lost before! Ah, yes, what is your name?"
"Shadow, master."
"Shadow, eh? Well ye better be a use to me Shadow, or you may just find yerself fish bait!" Scarchest spat. "You there, Blackblood! Clean up Hookfang’s carcass, do what ye like with him but bring me back his Captain’s cape because I’ve appointed a new Cap’n, Shadow!" he turned to Shadow.
"Thank you, Scarchest. I promise you you will never regret this!"

~

Scarchest and his newly appointed Captain sat down in the Warlord’s tent, both eating dried fruits and sipping elderberry wine. 
"Well, now that I have made you Captain I would like to see your skills. And if you have a good mind it shall be none of the pulling-fruit-behind-your-ear tricks, because that is no magic!" the sly fox put his paw up to the weasel’s ear and out appeared a dried apple slice. "It is as simple as that," he added dryly as he popped the fruit into his mouth, chewing noisily.
"Of course, Master." Shadow whispered as he undid a pouch from his belt. The contents were a few pebbles, five long sticks of hickory, string and a crushed mixture in a parchment packet.
"These are my seeing tools, Master," Shadow showed Scarchest the sticks and pebbles. "Ask me a question, about the future or what is happening right now and I shall tell you the answer."
"What is my servent Gogro doing right now?" Scarchest asked. The sly fox could see his servent from a rip in the tent, he was sleeping. If the weasel got the answer wrong Scarchest would know, he needed to see if he could count on this hocus-pocus.
Shadow dropped the sticks, and they formed a loose dimond shape. He then threw the shiny pebble into the air and it landed in the middle of the dimond.
"Your servent Gogro is sleeping, on a cask of ale." Shadow reported. Scarchest peered through the rip in the canvas and found that it was an ale cask Gogro was sleeping on!