A Tomb with None to Mourn
A Tomb with None to Mourn
~~//~~ A Tale of [[Order_Redwall_0%25E2%2580%259D|Redwall]]~~//~~
Starring:
Magramba, Traveling Warrior
Flicktail, Abbey Champion
In the Ruins of Kotir
Much time has passed since the little band of adventurers descended into the tomb-filled ruins beneath the south wall. A small candle in a weathered lantern lights the way as Magramba rounds the corner into this short corridor, cut off at the end. "Hm. Maybe that’s it?" It’s the fifth such corridor they’ve found today. "I wish Aden was with us," the warrior mutters under his breath, picking his way over the rubble towards the end of the corridor. "There’s something carved there, I think," he observes, nearing the end.
Flicktail moves along, his eyes shining blood red in the darkness, his nose in the air. He says nervously, "Smells like... dead things down here," his fur standing up to make him look like a red-eyed snowball in the dim light of the lanterns. "And me footpaws keep steppin' in...something...." He looks around. "You can see that?" He moves over, putting a warm paw on the squirrel’s shoulder, muttering, "I sure am glad yer me /friend/ and not someone after me....”
"I think it’s dust," Magramba observes, glancing down at his own booted feet. "/Old/ dust. And yeah, can’t you? Look at it, the candle’s shining right on it." They’re not close enough to make out words, yet, but the shadows of an inscription of some sort is pretty clear. "Probably just more accolades like the last seventeen we checked." Seventeen may be an exaggeration.
Flicktail looks at Margamba. The fox, of course, is more concerned about DEAD things. "Are you kiddin’, this is a /tomb/ Mags... I think I’d know the scent of dust." He nods. "Yes, I see it now... maybe it says somethin’ about squirrels… you think?”
"Seems unlikely... they weren’t the biggest fans of squirrels here." Magramba wanders up to the wall, holding the candle high to cast plenty of light over the carvings. "Here lies - that sounds like the right track - here lies Ver-duh. Hm. Verdaga? Verdauga. Verdauga Greeneyes, master of the thousand eyes, lord of Moss... it’s missing here, but that’s probably Mossflower, something of enemies, and ruler of Kotir. Oh. Well, we’ve found it, Flick!" The squirrel takes a step back to admire the inscription in its totality, grinning from ear to ear. "...now what?"
Flicktail shrugs. "I like Lord of Moss better meself," he says, standing on his tippy-paws over the squirrel, reading it with squinting eyes. He looks at Magramba, who backs into the fox’s midsection. "Um... well we should open the tomb... take a look at wot ol’ ‘Ver-duh’ looks like after all these years....”
"Oh." Right. Duh. "Do we just... I don’t know, push on it?" It looks like any other wall, but for the inscription. Magramba steps closer again, holding the candle right up against the stone surface. "I guess it does look kind of loose. Maybe that /would/ work."
Flicktail says, "Yeah Mags, let's try, I want to see wot a wildcat who's been in there that long looks like."
Magramba says, "Alright, let’s give it a shove." Magramba spreads his feet a bit, setting the candle down, and braces his arms against the wall for a good push. "Here goes nothing...""
Flicktail leans in with the squirrel, his tail flicking as if to help him push. "Do ya think 'e will still have green eyes?"
After a few moments of hard pushing, nothing seems to happen, but then suddenly the wall gives way, and the pair find themselves in a sloping secret tunnel. "Green eyes, I don’t know. Maybe from jealousy that we’re still alive." Magramba brushes his paws off, snagging up the candlelit lantern and heading deeper inside. "...where’s the body? This is just a tunnel. "
Flicktail looks around, sniffing here and there. "Even in death 'e be a lyin' beast..."
"You know, I’d like to find a story just once in the Abbey records where Martin’s clues were straightforward directions, and everything worked how it seemed on the surface, and nothing was a riddle that needed to be solved." Magramba grumps away, stalking down the tunnel. "I think I see a door. Let’s check it out. Maybe he’s lying in state with all his wives and treasures." Sounds weird, but it’s happened.
Flicktail asks, "You mean that rascal actually 'ad WIVES?" He says incredulously, not watching where he is going out of nervousness and running right into Magramba.
"Didn’t he have a daughter?" The squirrel asks, pushing the door open. "Cross your fingers," Magramba murmurs, stepping inside.
Flicktail says, "Aye, I have a daughter, plus several adopted daughters."
"No, I meant /Verd-/uh. Wow. Look at that." Magramba stops just inside the door, holding the lantern high once again to cast light on the sarcophagus that dominates the room. A construct of stone and various precious metals, it can hardly escape noticing. "I think we found him."
Flicktail’s eyes widen. "You think we kin get the top off? I wanna see this...." His tail flicks excitedly. "I bet 'is eyes still be green."
Magramba’s nose rankles from the smell of decay and rot, making his way towards the sarcophagus in the center. "We should check this thing for the riddle first," the warrior suggests, scanning over the carvings that festoon its surface. "Mostly pictures. See if you can find any words." He’s adopted a squat next to the construct to better search.
Flicktail walks over and begins looking at the other side, grumbling. "Musty ol' cat, bet he smelled this same way when 'e were alive." He looks over. "We can still open it though, right?
"After we check for the riddle," Magramba agrees, not looking up from his task. "There’s got to be something here... I don’t think he’d have put it inside, do you?"
Flicktail says, "That's where *I* would ave put it" she says, as he circles the sarcophagus around the opposite way, in danger of knocking heads with Magramba as they search.
Luckily for both of them, the squirrel’s head is much lower to the ground in his squatted position. "Wait. Here, what’s this." Magramba scrubs at the sarcophagus with a finger, trying to clear away some of the dust and grime that’s accumulated over the seasons. "I think I’ve got something, Flick." He starts reading. "‘Take up arms’- that’s the middle. Hang on." More scrubbing.
Flicktail says, "Er er..yer not scrubbin' right, let me." He moves in, trying to help the squirrel.
"It’s just-" Magramba protests, then relents, scooting aside. "Fine, you do it. Just be careful, this thing is older than Oz and Benar put together, and that’s /old./"
Flicktail is being careful and his black furred paws do not show dirt as he rubs and polishes gently, rolling his eyes. "Squirrels," he sniggers.
Phrase by phrase, the inscription becomes legible, and shortly the whole verse is clear on the tomb. Magramba is rummaging in his sack, finally coming up with what he’s looking for; a sheet of paper and a charcoal stick. "Here, let me." Rather than writing the verse out, the squirrel stretches the paper over the text and rubs his coal stick horizontally across the surface; the letters remain neutral while the tomb fills in black, leaving him with a perfect copy of the inscription. "Now, let’s see what Martin has to say." Clearing his throat dramatically, he reads aloud:
"'If you now would share my name,
Take up arms against my foes.
There was evil put to shame,
There where virtue’s triumph came,
Freedom’s vict’ry o’er our woes.'
That is... delightfully vague. This is what I’m talking about," Magramba complains, rolling up the sheet.
"If you like," Flicktail says, rubbing the pommel of Martin’s blade, "I can see if I can call 'im from the Dark forest and you can give 'im a peace of yer mind."
"Probably unnecessary," Magramba replies. Probably. "Well, we got what we came for. Let’s pack it up and head back to the mail hall. We still need to find Aden, or at least make sure she made it out before we leave." Oh wait. "Did you still want to open it?"
Flicktail says, "Aye, we need to see that mangy ol' cat." He smiles excitedly.
"Alright then." Magramba shoulders his pack, leaving the lantern on the ground and inching his fingers under the ledge of the lid. "On three. One. Two. Three!"
Flicktail lifts with the squirrel. "Come on, ya weak lad," he jokes.
It’s more of a slide than a lift as the heavy lid of the sarcophagus shifts, and Magramba strains hard against the weight, shoving it out wide to the side to reveal the corpse within. Withered and rotted, decayed and dusty, little more is left than a few bones and the skull. "Looks like he’s lost the green eyes," the squirrel observes, peering inside.
Flicktail shakes his head. "I still say 'e smelled this way in life." He reaches out to touch the skull /very/ gently.
"Satisfied?" Magramba watches as the fox reaches out to poke at the bones. "We really ought to be getting back in case Aden comes looking for us."
Flicktail says, "Aye, get to say I actually laid paws on ol' Greeneyes." He smiles happily. "You can’t say that."
"I saw him, that’s enough," the squirrel replies, heading for the door. "I’ll let you keep your claim to fame." There’s a little grin for the fox. "Come on now." Raising the lantern, the warrior leads the way back the way they came.
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