Vermin? You sure?
~~~
Chapter Eight
The weasels blinked with surprise. Redwall Abbey truly was an impressive sight.
The buildings they were used to were built to a scale more than twice the size of the abbey - they had been made for humans, in the dim and distant past of Welkin - yet somehow Redwall seemed bigger. The beautiful red sandstone almost gleamed in the sunlight. The small group of vermin had scattered when Tagg and Nimbalo started picking them off, so nothing disturbed the peace of the perfect scene. The weasels held their collective breath, awestruck.
"We'd better leave," Sylver announced, breaking the tension.
"Why?" asked Bryony.
"Because, from what Tagg told me, these creatures are not fond of weasels, and since they've just been fighting off a group of 'vermin', they won't be pleased to see us." He pointed to the walltop, and for the first time, the other weasels noticed the creatures there - obviously defenders. The band took the point and walked quietly away into the trees, out of sight of the creatures on watch on the wall.
Within half an hour, they were lost again. None of them, even Icham and Bryony, who both had excellent senses of direction and tracking skills, remembered passing the areas they were walking through. There were no pawprints to show they had been there - if indeed they had. Luke, the holy weasel, started to pray quietly. Mawk looked as if he was about to have a heart attack.
"There's magic at work here," Wodehed said. "Be careful. I don't know what's going on, but I don't like it."
"How do you know it's magic?" asked Mawk. "Couldn't it just be bad luck?"
"Unlikely. We've lived in woodlands all our lives and we've never got lost this badly before. We know all the country from County Elleswhere to Castle Rayn, and this isn't anywhere near there. Anyway, I'm a trained wizard - I know the signs when I see them. There's magic in the air here, and bad magic at that."
"Well, what are we supposed to DO?!" shouted Sylver.
"I have no idea," responded Wodehed in a calming tone. "I don't even know exactly what happened. I certainly don't know how to undo it." Sylver sighed.
"Sorry. I'm just frustrated - and more than a little scared."
"Can't yer just use yer magic, squire?" Scirf asked Wodehed. "If magic got us 'ere, can't it get us back?" Wodehed shook his head.
"My magic is, um. . . temperamental, as you know," he said, admitting his weakness for once, "and since I don't know what sort of magic brought us here, I can't find a reversal spell in the first place. I would most likely make it worse somehow. It may work, but we can't take the risk."
Sylver didn't say anything - the wizard would either have hurt feelings, or attempt something and prove the hopelessness of his magic, which would be painful for all concerned. He remembered earlier incidents involving Wodehed's dabbling with the occult and winced.
"I suppose we could always try to find another wizard or witch and persuade them to help," Luke interjected.
"Possibly," replied Wodehed. "I don't know if it'll work. Maybe the problem can't be solved, and even if it can it might be difficult to persuade a complete stranger to help."
The weasels took a few seconds to digest these words.
"Well, we can't stay here all day," Sylver said briskly, preventing the band from musing too long on their possible fate. "We should head away from Redwall - hopefully we'll find some of our own kind that can help. Surely they can't all be as evil as Tagg made them out to be. They'll help fellow weasels in distress."
I hope, he thought.
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