Chapter 4

The Unheard Horizon

The woods of Mossflower seemed infinite for Kiormund. There was a tree in sight every step the otter took, and there was nothing to do. Not to mention the autumn rains pouring down upon their heads.

"Are we-" Kiormund asked, only to get a paw shoved across his muzzle.

"Shush!" said Graha. "You have asked 'are we there yet' since the day we left." The vixen, as usual, spoke the truth. Kiordan had done nothing but pester her for the largest part of the journey, but the otter simply wasn't suited to long-distance travelling without his kin. Boredom set in quickly.

"Then how long would the remainder of the journey be?"

"Arrrrgh!" Graha screeched. Drenched in rain, the fox looked more like an orange towel than anything resembling a beast. "If it will shut you up for five minutes, then we're a day away! Happy now?"

"More than before," said Kiordan. "Sorry for riling you up. The rain's making everything gloomy."

"It would help a lot if you would kindly shut your trap for once," replied Graha. "You've complained a lot since Day Two."

"I'm sorry for the complaining-"

"And stop APOLOGISING!" Graha took a deep breath, then another. Her tail shook madly. "Three seasons, Kiormund! Three seasons of apologising, and you've never known to stop!"

A tense silence returned to the woods, save for the pitter-patter of rain and the chirping of birds.

"We should probably make camp," said Kiormund. Graha nodded, and unpacking began.

Two beasts could only carry so much, so Kiormund and Graha brought with them only seven days of supplies for a five-day trip. It wasn't that there were lots of beasts who would covet them. After their last disastrous attack on Redwall, vermin marauders would not be threatening travellers for some time. Kiormund could think himself lucky.

The duo got under a tree with quite a bit of shade, as they scrambled out a bit of food. Oatcakes were not glamorous, but they were sturdy and reliable - not to mention light.

"As I was saying, Kiormund," said Graha. "You really need to stop with the apologies."

"Why?"

"Because you're not beholden to anyone." Graha pointed at the otter. "You, Kiordan Gudmund Streambattle, have done nothing wrong. Why apologise?"

"Because it's polite?" asked Kiormund.

"It is not so when you keep on doing it!" exclaimed the vixen. "How do you expect other beasts to take your apologies seriously if you keep making them?"

Kiormund once again felt the urge to apologise, but that did not seem like the best of ideas at the moment. He decided to hold his tongue.

"Oh, and I am sorry for shouting at you earlier. I did not mean for that to happen," said Graha. She smiled at Kiordan, who repaid the favour.

"Now you're the one apologising?" asked Kiormund.

"Oh, shush," the fox replied, then tensed. Her ears turned to the right, and Kiormund gasped. "Something's coming. Or somebeast."

"Can't you-" Kiormund saw Graha's stare, and immediately decided that silence was the best course of action.

A few seconds passed, and Kiormund could hear the rustling of leaves just as well as Graha. It was followed by the squelching sound of pawsteps on mud. Holding his breath, the otter managed to adjust his walking stick into a more defensive position as the fox unsheathed her dagger smoothly - almost too smoothly for a novice of Redwall.

"Who's there?" asked Graha, her voice betraying the first signs of fear.

"Graha?" A faraway voice wandered into Kiormund's ear. "Issat yew?"

"Yes!" shouted the vixen, who decided to give Kiormund a mean stare when she caught the otter responding as well. Twitching, Kiormund apologised. This time Graha didn't complain.

"Yer brought sumbeast wid ya?" the voice, evidently female, replied. "I hear a male! Thought yer was joinin' the Order, Gra!"

Graha crossed her arms. "He is just a friendly companion."

"Pah!" Another vulpine head peeked through the foliage. "Tis nice ter see ye, Gra!"

"It is nice to see you too. Rak!" Graha and the newcomer quickly embraced. She turned to Kiormund. "Kio, this is my sister Rakshasa."

"It's nice to meet you." Kiormund offered a paw, which the second vixen took. "I'm Kiormund."

"Kiormund." Rakshasa smiled as she shook the otter's paw. "'Tis an ottery name alright."

"Wait til you know his full name!" said Graha whimsically. "Come on, this way."

The rain pattered on and on, and it was almost as loud as the two sisters talking.

"And every few months there's a massive feast!" exclaimed Graha with a smile on her face.

"Really?" Rakshasa seemed not to believe her eyes. "I thoughts yer were sending yer letters just 'ter make me jealous!"

The two giggled while Kiormund hollowly mirrored them. To be fair to the vixens, Kiormund would also have much to say once in the company of friends and family.

"So…" Kiormund stuttered, "are we there yet?"

"Knew you would ask!" Graha giggled. "Yes. We are here!"

Through the rain, Kiormund saw a cluster of houses around both banks of the Moss. Watermills turned with the flow of the river, and the faintest gleam of smoke was visible from chimneys.

"Welcome to Mossvale, Kiordan Gudmund Streambattle!"

Kiormund was quite surprised by what Mossvale had to offer. The rain may have driven away most of the inhabitants, but the scale of the settlement was large enough to signify that quite a lot of beasts lived here.

"Come here, Kio!" Graha waved a paw towards a building, and the otter followed her and her sister. While nothing compared to Floret or Wossaham, Mossvale was the largest collection of buildings in one location Kiormund had ever seen in the last three seasons.

"And here it is! The Cushy Tunnel!" Graha smiled at her place of abode. It was a standard two-storey house, not quite the ones typically seen all over Tarelis, but sturdy and strong regardless.

"Sounds like a tavern or an inn," said Kiormund. His legs were sore from days of nonstop travelling, and a rest would be most welcome.

"Dat's cuz it's both!" Rakasha hollered, then rapped on the door.

"Who'sat?" A short fox opened it, and he smiled at the sight of Graha. "Grah! Yore back! Ye've grown taller!" His eyes squinted at Kiormund, who felt himself twitch at his gaze. "An' who in Hellgates did yer bring with' ye?"

Graha pointed at Kiormund. "This is Kio, Father."

"Oh." The dogfox seemed to remember something. "So that's him". He looked up and down. "I thought yer'd be taller."

"And I expected you to smell much more," said Kiormund without thinking. Still, he was quick to realise that everybeast was staring at him. "I meant that as a joke of sorts. I apologise."

Graha rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "If that is the case, there's a distinct lack of comedy in the air, Kiordan Gudmund Streambattle. At last you finally managed to apologise at the right time."

"Iffen ye think we smells so much, let's all go an' take a wash." Graha's father smiled. "Ye otters do like water, don't yer?"

Kiormund looked at his muddy clothes, then nodded. "Thank you for the offer."

Two beasts stood amidst the misty ethereal pines of the Dreamscape. One was an otter with a smile on his muzzle, while the other was a significantly less amused vixen.

Despite what Daghild had taught her about controlling herself, the rage Urza felt towards the otter was not insignificant. Anger can only be bottled up for so long, especially when both of them were technically asleep at the moment.

"You again," said the vixen coldly. "I thought you knew when to quit."

"Of course it's me!" said the otter in comic exasperation. "You expected to meet my daughter Lorelei, but it is me, Kiordan, that shall stand before you today! Or is it tonight? Whatever." He scratched his head. "And I don't believe we've met. Who might you be?"

"You know me."

"Not really." Kiordan rolled his eyes and pointed a claw at Urza. "I do know something about those tattoos of yours. You're from the Juska, aren't you?"

Urza nodded. There was no point in denying that. "You seem to know a lot about things you should not know," she said coldly, suppressing the urge to draw her weapons.

"That brain you possess isn't useless after all! Wonderful! I shall have lots of fun with you." The greying otter clapped his paws in false glee, before his smile suddenly faded like a piece of bread in a room of hares. "Oh, and one thing."

Within a sudden, the rest of him disappeared as well. Urza gasped in surprise as she felt a shiver travel up her spine.

"If you're going to assassinate me, do be more direct." Kiordan's voice emanated from right behind her. "Try to be considerate enough so as to not waste my time."

Urza grabbed her sword and swung, but Kiordan was no longer directly behind her. The vixen grimaced. "Daghild, what is ass-"

"Murdering somebeast famous, Urza." A mole stepped out from the nothingness surrounding both beasts. "Or, in this case, infamous."

"I doubt the vixen cares about the difference, Daghild." Kiordan's stupid grin reappeared, larger than before. "And it scarcely matters. All three of us are not to live long, after all."

"Stop acting like you could will us to death in the Dreamscape, Kiordan," said Daghild. "We both know that's impossible."

"Judging from where we have been and what we have learned, mole, it's quite obvious that the word 'impossible' has lost its meaning somewhere and somewhen." The otter reached out a paw, and a sword popped out right into it. A sword with a red pommel in its hilt.

A twinkle of fear seeped into Daghild's eyes before disappearing, and Urza could feel the worry travel up the bond. "Where did you get your paws on this? Off a warrior's corpse?"

"To tell you the truth, I do not remember. Isangrim did most of the hard work. Maybe you would know if you could fish him out of Hellgates."

"Optimally with you as bait." Daghild winked at Urza. The signal was given, and Urza's blades materialised right beside Kiordan's neck. She commanded them to swing inward, and so they did, cutting through fur, skin, flesh - except they did not, and Kiordan just wasn't there.

The otter materialised a few paces away, with his paws behind his head. "A sublime effort that proved to be useless. Still sublime though." His eyesight shifted towards both of Urza's swords, one after the other. "Finnbarr and Fatch. Interesting. I assume you got this 'off a warrior's corpse' too?"

Daghild cocked her head to the side. "Let's just say it was not attained through the legal procedure of-"

"We stole it," said Urza, earning her an irritated stare from the mole and an amused smirk from the otter.

"Yes," Daghild admitted, "exactly as Urza says."

"You know, you two are fun to talk to," said Kiordan. "But I fear I must depart. You two have fun!" Then suddenly he was gone, back into the world of the waking.

Daghild looked into Urza's eyes and shook her head. They had failed.