Chapter 1

The Tug of the Whorl

Up the stairs Kiormund went, slow step after slow step.

The Father Abbot of Redwall occupies a higher position than the Brothers and Sisters, the otter thought, figuratively and literally. Being invested with such an important position warranted privacy, and so Abbot Cuthbert had his own room on the second floor of the abbey complex.

A few knocks on the door quickly brought out a voice. "Come in!"

Kiormund nodded at the abbot's voice, before he forgot that a door was between them. Grunting at his own stupidity, he quietly pushed the door open.

Abbot Cuthbert greeted him with a wave of the paw. "Oi! Kiormun'!" A smile indicated that the sea otter was in a good mood, despite the mounds of paperwork in front of him. "I almost forgot that yer supposed to be here now, matey! Time really flies when yore workin'."

"I suppose that's so," Kiormund replied, nodding. "Three seasons is too short a time for one to get used to your position."

"Indeed, indeed," said Cuthbert, taking his eyes off his pen and papers. Unlike Kiormund, the abbot was a sea otter, as his dense fur would indicate. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't argued on behalf of those vermin way back when."

The younger otter shook his head. "You saved a few dozen lives there, Father Abbot. You shouldn't regret that. I know I wouldn't hesitate."

"I know, I know." The abbot stood up. "Who knew the Brothers and Sisters would use this act of mercy to place me in this room?" Cuthbert shook his head before he opened a drawer, deft claws revealing a letter. "While you were off visiting Brockhall, a Southswarder gave me this, and he told me to give ye this as soon as possible."

Kiormund stepped forward, receiving the letter in both paws. Separating upper and lower flaps was a seal, with a wolf rampant etched upon it. The smile quickly faded from the river otter's face. "Father."

"Lord Erlend?" Cuthbert interjected. "Yore going home?"

"It seems so." Cracking open the seal, the young otter revealed the letter's contents. "I need to give this a read." Kiormund took a deep breath before he proceeded to do exactly that.

Kio,

Things have changed much since I have left you in Redwall. So it is that I have to call you back to Kaldos sooner than expected. My purpose is not in this letter, as it could be intercepted by anybeast with an agenda. Besides, Sigurd and Sigrun would like to see you again after these three long seasons, and I presume your mother would as well. Leave as soon as possible, and do try to be discreet. The Roaringburn would impede you in this weather, and journeying on land would be dangerous. Pass through Floret, then take the eastward road to Travrik. Be safe.

Lord Erlend

"This is bad," moaned Kiormund. "Very, very bad."

"What's it about?" Cuthbert's brows furrowed.

Kiormund sighed. "I have to go home as fast as possible. Something's happening back in Southsward."

Cuthbert's whisker twitched. "War? Famine? Or is it something else?"

"It does not say," Kiormund shook his head and frowned. "Father was vague as usual. It could be anything."

The abbot rubbed his chin. "The last time we met, I heard from yer uncle that Southsward and another kingdom were on the brink of war. Starts with a T…"

"Tarelis." Kiormund raised a claw. "But Father's not on the Southswarder side. He's allied with the Tarellers against the Southswarders."

"Oh." Cuthbert plopped right down onto his chair. "I thought otherwise. But if it really is war, then Lord Erlend would've specified it. Southsward's probably at peace. Why else would yer father tell you to go to Floret?"

A tense silence followed. It was normal for Kiormund to be silent, but Cuthbert was as well. Finally, the former spoke. "I should go back to my room and pack, Father Abbot."

Cuthbert nodded, and Kiormund turned away and walked through the door and down the stairs.

The younger otter wasn't expecting the abbot to know anything about politics. Born in Green Isle, the abbot had sought adventure in Mossflower as an adolescent. It was unlikely that he ever had to live under any lord or king, nor care about what happened in castles and courts. He was free to choose his own path - until he became Father Abbot of Redwall Abbey, of course. Even so, he took everything in stride, and remained much the way he had always been.

The otter's head spun as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Why? Why have I been called back? Lord Erlend had cared little for him ever since he was born, nor did he keep his wife close to him. I wonder if Mother knows that I'm coming back at all…

"Kiordan Gudmund Streambattle!" A familiar voice rang out from the other side of the corridor, and the otter's ears perked up. "What's with the long muzzle?" Graha was the sort of vixen who would stick her snout into the business of others without even a thought.

"I know that you foxes don't have middle names and surnames, and so it's hard for you to understand," Kiormund recited, rolling his eyes. "But do please call me Kiormund."

Graha chuckled. "It is always fun to see your little recitation." The fox was one of those beasts that Abbot Cuthbert provided sanctuary to, and she wasted no time in showing her gratefulness. "In my eighteen seasons of life, I've never met a beast like you." Seeing Kiormund's expression, her eyes widened, then quickly returned to their original state. "And no, I am not in love or anything. Do not be ridiculous! So what's going on with you?"

"I- I'm leaving Redwall soon." Kiormund confessed. "I told you before that I could leave at any moment, and now my father's calling me back."

"Oh." The vixen's tail twitched. "You did say so. It is hard to think that you are leaving so soon. I thought you would at least get to see the ceremony of me joining the Order… what is it called again?"

"That would be ordination," said Kiormund. "I thought you would have memorised it by now, to be honest. Can't make a fool out of yourself in the next three months."

Graha's ears suddenly perked up. "Oh! How about I go with you?"

"What?" Kiormund gasped. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Southsward doesn't take kindly to foxes. I told you about the whole business with Urgan Nagru a season or two before, did I?"

It was Graha's turn to roll her eyes. "Oh please! A fox does not simply walk into Southsward. I was just talking about going with you to Salamandastron, then seeing you off at the ports. Besides, we will probably pass through Mossvale. Visit my family and all that."

Kiormund nodded. The former hordebeasts Abbot Cuthbert had spared had decided to move west down the River Moss and establish some sort of community there, with the ability to defend itself. Mossvale was a way of dealing with former hordebeasts, while creating a bulwark for Redwall.

"That would be a nice idea," the otter said. "I've never been there before."

"It is not anything special, mind you." Graha spoke slowly. "You would get bored if you stayed there for more than a day or two." The vixen had never used a contraction since Kiordan and her first spoke all those seasons ago, when they were both trying to grow out of their shells without the other knowing. She might not have been as talkative as Egil, but she was just as good a friend regardless.

"We'll see when we get there." Kiormund nodded, then grimaced. Packing! He had forgotten again! "I'd best be going! See you at supper!"

"Do not forget to be there, Kior… mund!" said the vixen, her tail twitching madly.

The otter smiled. He wouldn't miss another supper ever again - not since last time. "Will do!"

Kiormund didn't miss supper. While he and Graha were having their hotroot soup, Abbot Cuthbert publicly announced his departure from Redwall in mere days. The otter had to rush his meal and depart Cavern Hole with his rudder between his legs. He had no desire to be asked questions that he didn't know the answer to.

But at least some good came out of it.

Two days later, he was in the Great Hall, gorging himself on more soup, bread and Deeper'n'Ever Turnip'n'Tater'n'Beetroot Pie. It was very kind of Abbot Cuthbert to provide Kiormund (and by extension Redwall) with a feast of departure, and it was even kinder for Friar Rocco to allow Kiormund to select the courses himself.

"Take care not to overstuff yerself, matey." The abbot chuckled, gulping down his October Ale. "Ye've gotta be hale and hearty, but you're going to be sick if you eat too much!"

"I understand, Father Abbot." Kiormund nodded, then turned to take a sip of his strawberry fizz. "I'll take care."

"Moderation is a virtue," said Cuthbert, wolfing down more shrimp and hotroot soup. "Not that I possess it or anything. But a virtue nonetheless."

"It would be better if you held onto your appetite, Father Abbot," said Friar Rocco. "Shrews like I don't have much room to stuff food into, so all of you had better start off slow!"

"Understood, Friar," nodded Kiormund, who turned back to his food. It was only a few seconds before the otter felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Are you going to miss everything here?" asked Graha.

"Huh?" Kiormund wasn't sure. "I'm surely going to miss a lot. It's the best place I've ever lived in - that's for certain."

Graha turned back to the otter from her blueberry tart, her muzzle still stained indigo. "Do you not feel that it is a bit boring here?"

"Boring?" Kiormund rubbed his chin as Graha reached for more tarts. He hadn't considered that. In his three seasons here, he had been very busy enjoying himself, taking on a hobby or two on the side. Life was never boring here.

But it will be when I get home.

"I suppose it could be worse," said Kiormund.

"Well, at least the food is nice." Graha licked her lips, and picked up another tart. "Would you like one of these?"

Kiormund shook his head. "I'm not feeling hungry."

"More for me then, I suppose." Graha chuckled. "You really should not be that somber every hour of the day. This is Redwall, Kiormund!"

Kiormund forced a smile. "Thanks for getting the name right after three seasons, Graha. I appreciate it. And I suppose I should treasure the remainder of my days here - all one of them."

"Oh, Kiormund!" A grey-furred squirrel approached the pair.

"Good evening, Brother Leonard." Graha stood up almost instantly. Leonard was the Recorder of Redwall. The greying squirrel had seen much, and passing down his knowledge to future generations was his duty. The vixen would not be so close to ordination without his help.

"I just came here to say goodbye," said the Recorder, brushing off the vixen. "You're an intelligent beast, and I often wish that you were a full Brother of Redwall."

"I'm not happy to leave the Abbey," said Kiormund. "But I fear my duty is elsewhere."

"You'll be stuck with me then, Brother," Graha chuckled, little bits of tart still in her mouth. The Recorder nodded, then walked away without another word, coaxing a grimace from the fox.

Abbot Cuthbert stood up at that exact moment. "Attention, Redwallers!" The tables in the Great Hall suddenly became silent as the abbot spoke. "As ye know, one of our own, Kiord - sorry." He looked at Kiormund, who nodded. "Kiormund Streambattle is due to depart tomorrow. Lord Erlend is quite anxious to meet his son, which will brin' his time in Redwall to an end. Frankly, I am not happy with how abruptly things had to end, but I am very glad that he was here in the first place." The sea otter turned to Kiormund. "Ye might want to make a speech here."

Kiormund gulped. If he had wanted to make a speech, he would have rehearsed for one! The otter stood up, his rudder shaking like a leaf in a storm. He took a deep breath.

"Er… um… how about a toast?"

Kiormund sighed in relief as the sound of seventy-three beasts shouting 'cheers' echoed through Redwall Abbey.