Tao's Ferreteers in –
"Into the Spotlight"
A Road Rovers spin-off written by 3StarvingArtist.
Author's Notes: I am pleased as punch to present my first ever completed work of "Road Rovers" fan fiction. It took roughly three to four years to finally get this story (plus the Tao's Ferreteers series as a whole) just right in my eyes. The Road Rovers themselves don't appear in this particular story, I'm afraid, though they will in the third story in the Ferreteer series. If you're confused by the French and Italian words in the story and would like to know what they mean, then there's a reference guide at the bottom. Also, if you're curious about that number one there above the main body of the story, it just represents this particular story's place in the series' timeline.
I'd put "Spotlight's" rating at a strong PG-13 for some violence (namely two battle scenes near the end), some rough language, and Adagio's and Palmer's rather… raunchy senses of humor (but that incident doesn't occur until later either), but overall, it's nothing like an animal-version of "Pulp Fiction". Last but certainly not least, I'd like to thank my beta readers Eric Sharp and John "Catman" Butler for taking the time to read and properly critique my story.
Finally, see if you can spot some of the references in here that I make to another cartoon and a comic book series!
Legend:
Word indicates the place and date.
Word indicates character thoughts, including telepathy, a heavily stressed word, or a foreign word or speech, like "Bonjour."
Word indicates noises or actions such as sighing.
1
Chapter One
Wicklow, England, the mid-1300's
Our tale begins in a bygone age, long before the Road Rovers and their archenemy General Parvo were born or even existed. It begins in England's medieval era, when knights still roamed the land and King Allan ruled the kingdom of Wicklow with a fair and steady hand. But now, a literal cloud of darkness hung heavy over the kingdom, and the king and his family were at the heart of it.
In the safety of his castle stronghold, King Allan stroked his beloved queen Helena's slender hand, staring numbly at his comatose wife while the royal physician performed a checkup on her. Around them, a few of the king's closest courtiers and servants stood in somber silence, their moods matching the gray sky and wet, ominous weather outside, which was dragging into its sixth day now.
The doctor looked up at King Allan, sighing. "To be honest, sire, I haven't the foggiest what's happened to the queen. It looks like a possible case of poisoning."
"Poisoning?" gasped King Allan. "Doctor, those are very serious charges indeed."
Standing, the doctor fastened the rucksack in which he carried his medicines and other supplies as he prepared to take his leave. "That's what it looks like to me. There are no sign of violence to her body. Er, one of the cooks could've accidentally gotten something poisonous on their hands, and then handled your food..."
"Then how come we all are not ill?" asked a courtier.
The doctor sighed, his wrinkled face creased in confusion. "As I said, this is a most puzzling malady. I've never seen anything like it before."
If it weren't for the doctor's prognoses, people who first saw Queen Helena would have thought she was merely sleeping. The queen's long dark brown hair framed her beautiful face, and, in combination with her mystery illness, made her skin stand out and appear even more pallid then it already was. Her hands were folded on her chest, which was slowly rising and falling with the motions of her shallow breathing. As he stared down at his wife, for a moment the king almost expected her to wake up and tease him for worrying about her. If only.
After the doctor had left, there was a knock at the door. A dumpy, short woman entered after the king invited her in. The governess of the king and queen's two children, Prince Tristan and the princess Morrigan, she respectfully bowed to the king, and began speaking.
"Your majesty, I've just put your son to bed. The lad is doing quite nicely; he is really quite a brave young man. He'll make a fine ruler some day. I also peeked in on Morrigan. She's apparently gone to bed."
King Allan smiled briefly at the mention of his children. "Thank you, Mariel." He turned back to look at Queen Helena, his brown eyes becoming moist with tears again. He loved the both of his children dearly, and had informed them about their mother's recent take of bad health. As if he didn't already have enough on his plate, there was also the matter of his daughter. In the last few months, Morrigan's behavior had become erratic and bizarre, and whisperings had begun around Castle Wicklow and the village saying that she had taken up witchcraft. Everyday he prayed to the Lord, asking that she be returned to her old self and to keep her soul safe from the forces of evil.
At the moment, sleep was the last thing on Prince Tristan's mind. Instead, escaping his pursuers was the seven-year old's present concern. Many people thought that the prince strongly resembled his father, right down to his dirty blonde hair (presently, Tristan's own was quite unkempt-looking, but then again, that was something to be expected of his young highness), but he had his mother's light blue eyes.
Hiding behind a tapestry, Tristan watched as the shadows in his bedchamber detached themselves from the dark corners and advanced on him. Each of the four living shadows had eyes that glowed a different color -- golden-yellow, scarlet, green-gold, and pinkish-green.
Tristan sprinted through the menacing phantoms' midst – he was moving too fast for them to grab him – and jumped onto his bed. Remembering that he was supposed to be asleep right now, he made a mental note to take care to be more quiet and careful in his movements. Tristan giggled at the thought of tricking his governess like this, but remembered the searching shades and covered his face with one of his pillows.
The shadows, meanwhile, silently swarmed towards the bed. Tristan remained still and listened carefully for them, knowing that they could appear anytime from out of nowhere. Hearing nothing, he finally sat up, and taking the pillow from over his head, looked for his hunters. Had they hidden themselves somewhere again?
"SNEAK ATTACK!"
Tristan suppressed a squeal of delight as four small, slinky, furry bodies suddenly pounced on him from all sides. The shadows playfully nibbled at the boy and licked him, making noises that resembled odd clucking/chortling sounds. The four shadows were, in actuality, domestic ferrets. The four weasel-like animals were the personal pets of Prince Tristan, and even though Tristan had his human friends around the castle, his ferrets would always hold a special place in his heart.
"Listen up gang! Sheila, nibble his fingers, Palmer and 'Dage, tickle him! I'll search his pockets!" A male ferret sitting in Tristan's lap by the name of Dante ordered his other three comrades (in a language that only they and other animals could understand, mind you).
The biggest of the quartet, Dante also had the distinction of being the oldest, about twenty-four in human years, and the one who had lived at Castle Wicklow the longest. He was husky and stout in build, as opposed to the wiry, lithe form of many ferrets. He was a sable ferret, which meant that his fur was warm brown with a black "bandit" mask over his eyes; he also had black-furred limbs and a matching tail-tip, and white fur covering his muzzle that extended onto his cheeks, throat, and underside. Dante searched the boy's tunic pockets and retrieved his intended prize – a cookie. Grinning triumphantly, he sat on his haunches and happily began taking big bites out of the treat.
After removing his ferrets from his person, Tristan hopped off the bed, beaming at his pets. "Tell you guys what – close your eyes and count, and I'll go hide!"
The ferrets all complied as the six-year old ran around the room, giggling. Finally choosing his hiding spot behind another wall tapestry, nothing but Tristan's stockinged feet stuck out from behind it. The youngest ferret, Palmer, laughed aloud at this. A half-grown hob (male ferret), his coloration was what was referred to as dark silver-mitt – mostly mouse-gray fur with white "socks" or "mitts" on all four paws, as well as a white head, throat, and underbelly. Palmer's otherwise white-furred face had a gray mask, and his eyes were a dark burgundy color.
"Oh yeah, he isn't too obvious!"
Sheila, the jill, or female ferret sitting next to him, nudged her friend with paw. "Just play along, Pal. Don't wanna deflate this child's ego." she said with a throaty chuckle.
Adagio, the final ferret to round out the quartet, nodded in agreement with Sheila. A handsome hob originally by way of France, Adagio had red coloration – his fur was largely reddish-brown, with white highlights on his face and underside, and he had a darker reddish-brown facial mask and tail-tip. He was watching Sheila adoringly, admiring her snowy-white pelt, the way she moved, her graceful, supple physique, and her eyes, which were the color of the sky on a summer day.
Ever intent on pleasing his love interest, he clambered down from his spot on the bed next to Palmer and to the floor. Casting a glance at his compatriots to make sure they were all watching him, Adagio began to walk slowly around the room, pretending to thoroughly sniff for the prince's scent and padding right past Tristan's hiding spot as though completely oblivious to his presence, much to Tristan's amusement.
"See? Like this, mon ami. Tristan loves it!" Adagio instructed Palmer, whom he had taken under his wing as his protégé when Palmer was but a wee kit. "Not to mention Sheila as well." Adagio thought, beaming with glee.
The others laughed as Tristan, obviously pleased with himself, peered out from behind the tapestry and crept away in the opposite direction of the French ferret, who was still pretending to look for Tristan in all the wrong places. Turning around, he then stole up behind Adagio and scooped him up in a hug. While parading his captive around, Tristan and his four friends were unaware of an intruder in their midst.
A tiny but deadly looking spider perched on one of the intricate iron curlicue designs of the window frame, watching the playing quintet. The spider crawled from her perch to the windowsill and down to the floor. Creeping behind a toy chest, a very brief and very small flash of deep gold light enveloped the spider, which suddenly became a large black rat with icy green eyes. The stealthy rodent kept to the edges of the room, well away from the gamboling friends and moving closer to a third wall tapestry. The rat's attention was actually focused on a secret door that was hidden behind the tapestry. When Castle Wicklow had been built, the door had been added in case there was ever dissension either outside or within the castle walls and the castle's occupants needed to make a hasty getaway.
Meanwhile, Dante doted on Tristan. "He's such a smart human."
"Yep. We've trained him well." Sheila agreed, languidly stretching. "Too bad the same can't be said for his sister."
In the past, Morrigan had generally tolerated the ferrets quite well and had even played with them on occasion. But lately she had ignored them, treating them like annoyances, even chasing the explorative animals away whenever they ventured too close to her personal bedchamber.
Palmer glanced up at his two friends from playing with a spinning top, a scowl on his face. "Ugh, Morrigan? She makes my fur stand on end whenever she looks at me." He shivered.
"The lightning outside makes you do that." Dante said, a mirthful twinkle in his light brown eyes. The big ferret then suddenly grabbed Palmer in a playful wrestling move. "Hey, I'm only kiddin', paisano. You're the bravest lil' ferret I know."
"Ah-hem."
As the two hobs roughhoused, Dante let Palmer go as he glanced at Sheila over his shoulder. "Sheila? Why, you're just a jill." He slyly replied, still in "play" mode. Sheila's response was to leap straight at his head, but Dante had already sidestepped and bounded away in anticipation of his friend's attack. A game of tag ensued, with Tristan and Adagio joining in.
The sudden sound of a door opening caused all four ferrets to snap their heads up in the direction of the sound. Two strangers had just entered the Prince's room from the secret door.