PROLOGUE
CHAOS
The searat watched the scene before him with a spiteful hatred. Fires reflected in his eyes, one black and one a pale white. He watched the flames jump and leap about the camp, wreaking havoc wherever they went. Left and right his horde scattered and rushed about, some battering away at the fires and others sending scores of arrows and javelins at anything that appeared to move in the surrounding trees. He locked his eyes on a large weasel that was shouting out orders.
"Warspite, come here."
The second in command turned and started for his commander. The weasel had proven himself countless times on the field, and even now had taken charge and was directing the horde in battling the fire and the unseen enemies.
"Yes sir, you called?"
"Warspite, listen to me good. I want whoever is responsible for this dead at my feet. Take no prisoners, kill them all."
The weasel gave a brisk salute and turned to leave. Something whistled past the sea rat's ear and struck Warspite with a thud. The second in command staggered forward a step and fell to the ground, dead, a black shaft protruding from the centre of his back. The searat drew a rapier and swung it about in a wide arc. The top half of the shaft jumped into the air as the blade cut cleanly through it.
"We finish it now. Turn and fight, rat."
The searat hissed and whirled, drawing his second rapier as he faced his adversary. The sight before him made him seethe. "You are a traitor to your kind."
The ferret drew a pair of long, thin-bladed daggers from under his dark green robe. "To the death. Only one of us leaves alive."
The searat narrowed his eyes. "Who are you, ferret?"
"Naught more than a ghost, Starbane."
A second black arrow streaked past Starbane's head and struck a stoat who had been about to ambush the ferret. The would-be ambusher dropped dead with a shaft in his throat. The ferret paid it no mind and started moving in for the attack.
"You will die tonight, ferret."
The ferret's expression was calm as he locked his dark amber eyes on Starbane's white and black ones. "A ghost can never die."
Starbane felt a shiver course through him as the cold eyes bored into his own. He gripped his rapiers and readied for the coming attack.
EAGLE WATCH
GHOST
By Matthew Vazquez
PART ONE
THE GHOST
Chapter I
The waves crashed lazily into the shore and ran up the slight slope, washing over the still form of a young ferret. The dark brown and black beast did not even flinch as the cool saltwater rushed over him up to his neck. There, the water ceased moving up the shore and began to recede back into the eastern sea. Still, the form did not move. Resting further up the shore, a safe distance from the water, were a dagger belt and a dark green robe. Both items were cast aside carelessly and sat in the sand.
Another wave crashed into the shore. This one carried more force than its predecessors and washed over the ferret completely. He was quickly lost beneath the water. With a splash he sat up and blew the seawater from his nostrils, then set about shaking his ears dry. The water receded back into the sea.
His rest ruined by the large wave, the ferret sat further up on the sand, allowing the warm sun to dry his fur. His amber eyes roved across the horizon, watching for the telltale sails that meant a ship. The seas were empty. He shifted his gaze south and saw the stream of black smoke from the mountain Salamandastron. He had never seen the summit but from a distance, but he had heard the stories. Rumours had reached his ears that claimed the mountain was a fortress, ruled by a fierce badger lord and his army of merciless hares. Though he had never seen any beast near the mountain, he still chose to believe that the rumours held some truth in them.
"Where th' devil are ya, ye li'le backstabber."
The voice rang out across the beach to the ferret's ears. He growled and stood, fastening the dagger belt around his waist and throwing the robe over his shoulders.
"Ghost, where are ya! Answer when I call ye."
"Over here," he lowered his voice to a mutter. "ye ugly ignoramus."
Skullrag the Assassin appeared over a small dune and cuffed Ghost. He was another ferret, like Ghost, only lighter in fur colour. His cold eyes seldom missed anything that went on around him, and few had the ability to hide from his view. Ghost was one of those few, and had been named 'The Ghost' for his stealth ability. However, he was still an amateur assassin, and Skullrag never hesitated to remind him of that. "What'd I tell ye about sneakin' off like that. It'll get ye killed. Salamandastron's not more 'an a small run away fer a hare, an' they'll skin ye alive if they catch ye. Now come on back t' th' house."
"Yes, Maester."
The assassin cuffed him again. "I'll let ye off this once. Be home in an hour."
Ghost waited for Skullrag to disappear from view. "Ha, home indeed. Not mine. An' ye ain't be my proper father either, beast." He drew one of the daggers he had been given for his training. Though it was old and cheaply forged, the blade was keen and lethal, and when used correctly was capable of killing any beast with one blow. "One more week, Maester, and we shall see who is the better of us two."
Ghost struck out south along the beach, not paying any mind to his surroundings. The only thought on his mind was what he planned to do once his training had been completed.
"I say, look at what I've got here, wot!"
He spun and faced the voice only to find empty air.
"Over here, ya bally fool of a vermin!"
He pivoted again and saw a hare hopping in place on the sand not twenty paces from him. He gripped the dagger tightly as he held it ready in case he had to defend himself.
"Come now, ya wouldn't attack an unarmed fellow like young old Acer now, would ya?" The hare gave him a lopsided grin.
"Who are you?"
"Already told ya m'name, but I'll say it again. Acer of Salamandawassit over yonder. What do they call ya where you're from?"
"Ghost."
"Ghost. Interesting name, wot. Come now, put that ol' dagger down. I ain't gonna attack ya. We're both too young for that killing bit yet."
Ghost twitched his ear. It was true; the hare in front of him was no older than himself; maybe his junior by a few seasons. He lowered the dagger. "What do you want?"
"Come now, I can tell just by looking at you that you're a prime sneaker an' sorts. How about a game?"
The chance to test his stealth skills intrigued him. If he could hide from the hare, he would be able to boast about hiding from a hare from Salamandastron. Of course, that meant another tanning from Skullrag, but it would be worth it. He sheathed the dagger. "Name the terms."
"Beast of few words, wot. I hide first, you give me a one-minute count to hide, and get fifteen to find me. After that's up, your turn to hide, and mine to find."
"What does the victor gain?"
"Tomorrow, if you win, I'll have a right proper picnic out on the beach, and I'll supply the tuck. If I win, you supply."
"Deal." Win or lose, he did not have to show up tomorrow anyway. "I am starting the count."
The hare shot off across the sands and soon vanished from sight. Ghost spent the minute searching the beach for prime spots he would be able to use when his turn came and running tactics through his head. The hare was naturally coloured tan, great for hiding in the sand, and that would make the search a challenge. He finished counting and climbed to the top of a dune to get a good look about. He searched for and checked all likely spots that the hare would hide in, as well as spots he would have hidden in if given the chance. He narrowed his eyes on a spot and began walking towards it. Upon arriving, he hissed; there was nothing to be found save sand. He turned and checked other spots, most of them at random. The fifteen-minute deadline arrived, and he had not seen any trace of Acer.
"Over here. You must have missed me by an inch or two, wot!"
Ghost turned and saw the hare standing next to the small dune he had scouted first. "Good job. I had a hunch, but I should have stuck with it."
"Your turn now, good luck!"
Ghost grinned and started for the water while the hare covered his eyes and started counting. Ghost allowed the water to run over him, and then he rolled in the sand. The grains stuck to him and gave him a dark sandy colour. He stepped into the shadows of a dune, making sure he trailed his robe down far enough to clean the paw tracks he would have left in the sand otherwise, and pressed himself up against the cool, sandy side. There was nothing left to do now but wait.
Five minutes passed before he saw the hare appear. He held his breath and tried to stand still, allowing his dark colours and natural camouflages to hide him in the shadows of the dune's crest. The hare stopped moving all together and stared off to the north. He hopped once, twice, and then vanished in a blur. Confused as to why the hare had done this, Ghost stepped forward out of the shadows.
"GHOST!"
The voice sounding loud over the surf made him freeze in his tracks. He turned to face Skullrag, who was standing with a bow in paw, an arrow notched and ready to fire.
"I warned ye about Salamandastron. One o' their murderous hares was lookin' fer ye."
Ghost knew better than to take to the hare's side. "I know, that is why I hid. He did not even know I was here."
Skullrag stared off south, towards the mountain. "I don't want t' hear o' ye comin' down this far south again. 'S that clear?"
"Yes, Maester."
"Come, we're goin' back home."
Ghost glanced over his shoulder at the distant mountain fortress. No doubt about it, he would be back tomorrow, with or without the consent of his mentor.
Chapter II
The following day was heavily overcast. Dark clouds piled on the horizon, threatening to unleash a storm if they drew near enough to land. Still Ghost insisted on his daily walk along the beach. After much debate, he got his wish, only not by permission from Skullrag but rather because he stormed out in anger.
Now he sat on the sand near where he had first met the odd hare from Salamandastron, watching the land-bound storm and listening to the crashing surf. Far off he could see the bright flashes of lightning, and he made a mental note to give himself ample time to return home before the storm hit.
"Dare say, bally fright that ferret gave me, wot!"
Ghost glanced over his shoulder as Acer hopped up alongside him. "Yes, he is my mentor."
"Seems more like a slave driver to me."
The ferret pursed his lips. "Sometimes. I am sorry we never finished the game."
"Well, I figured that a good sport like yourself would show up again anyway, so I brought a little bit o tuck along with me."
Ghost chuckled. The hare had a temperament that made him forget about the troubles back home. "How do you do it?"
Acer cocked his head to the left. "Do what, sir?"
"Just, be so cheerful all the time. How do you manage that?"
"Ah, I see. Well, it all has to do with how you take things into stride. I never let anything get me down, and I am surrounded by none but the friendliest of beasts." He noted the grim expression on Ghost's face. "I take it home is not like that for you, eh old chap?"
Ghost snorted. "Not even home, as far as I am concerned. It is an assassin's school, and the mentor is a slave driver. No one cares what you think, and your life is as lonely as can possibly be. There is nothing to laugh at, although Skullrag does make a casual joke or two about Salamandastron and its Long Patrol. None of them are worth laughing at."
"Run away then."
The abruptness of which the concept cam out of the hare's mouth surprised them both and they stared silently at each other for a moment. Ghost finally shook his head, but it was Acer who broke the silence.
"Not an option?"
"Not as long as Skullrag lives. He would have every assassin he knows in the lands hunting me down, and he knows the best in the trade."
"Sorry, chap. Afraid I'm not quite familiar enough with your situation to give advice like that."
Ghost waved it off. "No apology needed. You are doing more to help me than any other beast who has seen me."
"Does Skullthingy know you are here now?"
"Yes, he knows I am here, but he will leave me alone. He will wait for me to return and then carry out the punishment; I stormed out of the house against his orders. But he does not know I am talking with you." A thought came to him. "Do any at Salamandastron know about me?"
"No, and I would invite you over but they do not think highly of you vermin type, pardon the expression."
Ghost shook his head. "Quite alright. That is what I am, and it was not meant to be an insult."
Acer frowned. "Ha, you are unlike any other vermin I've heard of, really quite the opposite of what you are called."
"You do not know that. I am a trained assassin; I kill for a living."
Acer was young, but he was sharp and his mind was quick. "How many beasts have you killed in your life? None? Well, then, you may be a trained assassin, but you do not kill for a living. Watch what you say about yourself."
Ghost watched as lightning streaked down from the sky and struck the water, a low rumble followed it sometime later. The wind was starting to pick up, evidence that the storm was drawing near. Acer had been right in saying he was not a killer. Not yet, at least. "You should start for home before the storm comes, it will be a bad one."
"Don't worry about me, I can beat that storm home even if it was five heartbeats away. What about yourself; you're not going to sit out here and wait for it to strike, are you?"
"Maybe, Acer. It might solve a lot of problems."
At that, Acer cuffed him sharply. "Listen up. Leaving yourself to die never solves a thing. If you are intent on sitting through the storm here on the beach, than so am I. You are acting like the biggest fool I have ever clapped eyes on, sitting about moping on the shore. If you want things to change, make them. If you want something to happen, get up and make it happen. Nothing was ever achieved sitting about on your bum watching the clouds roll by."
It was the first time someone had ever spoken in such a way to him, and yet Ghost knew it was all too true. He looked down at the sand, digesting what the hare had said. "You are right, again, Acer. You have a sense that I have seen in no other beast."
"I do not care much for praise at the moment, I just want to hear you say that you will make something happen."
Ghost nodded slowly. "I will. By my honour, I will."
Acer looked up as a loud thunderclap roared down the beach. "Now run along home, and I will see you again soon."
Ghost stood as the first drops of rain fell, driven at a hard slant by the winds from the west. "Acer, you are a true friend. I shall see you again in the future. Until then, safe travels be with you."
He turned and ran north along the coast, his robe flailing in the wind. Acer watched him go and waited until he vanished over a dune before turning and streaking off towards the great mountain stronghold of Salamandastron.
Ghost pounded on the wooden door. Skullrag had barred it as his punishment, no doubt, leaving him outside to wait out the storm. The rain was coming down in blinding sheets, and the violent wind had forced him to tie his robe down with his belt. He drew his dagger and drove it halfway to its hilt in the doorway.
"Leaving your prized pupil to die, mentor? I'll survive and make you wish I hadn't!"
Had the howling of the wind and pounding of the rain not drowned out his voice, he was certain he would have been killed on the spot by the assassin. He made his way to the leeward side of the house, where there was some shelter from the wind and rain, and hugged his knees to his chest, too keep warm. As he sat out the storm, he thought of the day when he would be free to leave.
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"Ghost, get up. The dirt is no place for an assassin." Skullrag dropped a dagger at Ghost's feet. "Tomorrow you will repair the door. Today we have a meeting with a customer."
Ghost stood without speaking to his mentor, sheathing the dagger at his side. The house had sheltered him from the wind, but he had been soaked through overnight by rainwater. He locked his eyes on Skullrag's, waiting for him to continue.
"Next time you will obey my orders, Ghost. Rangear the Pirate has sent a summons requesting our services. I think it is time you tested your skills."
"Why does he want us?"
Skullrag was about to correct the young assassin for not using the title 'Maester,' but refrained. There was a hatred that seemed harboured behind Ghost's eyes, and it was useless to stoke it with harsh words. "His ship was beached south of Salamandastron, and the Long Patrol hares, along with that badger Lord of theirs, attacked the wounded ship. I do not know the details, but he wants revenge."
Ghost spat on the sand. "Lead the way, Maester."
Skullrag hesitated, noticing again the coldness in Ghost's voice. "Control your appearance and actions, Ghost. That way you do not give away too much to your enemy."
"Where will we meet our customer? Surely they moved since the attack, otherwise the Long Patrol would have slaughtered them."
Skullrag motioned Ghost to follow him and started east. "First off, Ghost, he is your customer. I've decided that th' time 'as come fer ye t' take yer final test, early. I'll oversee th' operation an' make sure ye don't mess things up completely. O' course, bein' my apprentice, ye should perform marvellously if ye paid attention t' my teachins. As fer Rangear, he 'as moved 'is crew up north, near th' river. He visited while ye were out yesterday." He left the rest out, how Ghost should not have left and could have missed out on a paying job. No doubt his student knew that already.
Ghost kept behind his mentor as he followed, his eyes focused on the ground in front of him. His mind was elsewhere, not on the task at hand. "Of course, Maester," he answered automatically. The time was drawing near when he could leave the assassin's house and live on his own. It would be a dream come true.
They entered the flatlands and cut north towards the River Moss, following a fresh footpath that had been trampled into the ground by a large group. A weasel appeared from behind a hill, a drawn bow and arrow levelled at Skullrag.
"Who goes?"
Skullrag held his paws up to show he was no threat. "We are here t' see yer captain, Rangear, on business."
The weasel relaxed the drawstring. "Who's callin' on the Cap'n?"
"Skullrag the Assassin, and his student Ghost," he answered.
"Aye, told us t' watch out fer ya. North a li'le ways, ye'll find 'im."
The two ferrets continued in silence until they came to the rag-tag camp of Rangear the Pirate. Upon their arrival a stoat, who had been standing in the centre of the camp, made his way towards them, his assortment of daggers complimenting twin rapiers glinting majestically in the sun. A crimson cape flowed behind him, flapping slightly as it caught the breeze. Unlike the others around the camp, the stoat had no earrings or tattoos, but a single scar running from the base of his right ear down to his throat was a trademark that identified Captain Rangear immediately. The pirate captain clapped Skullrag on the shoulder and stared down at Ghost.
"So, this 'ere's th' little bugger that ran off. Ye know, Skully me rag, what I'd do t' any beast that deserted my ship. Carve 'em up alive with me best dagger and leave 'em to die in the sand."
Ghost was unaffected by Rangear's attempt to intimidate him; he even faked a yawn before speaking. "I was informed that you have a job for me."
Rangear grinned. "Aye, Salamandastron attacked me crew an' me vessel. I want to get back at them. One of the hares, some odd young scoundrel, killed me first mate, an' I want 'im t' die fer it."
Ghost drew a dagger and idly cleaned some of the dirt under his nails. "I need a name and description; I cannot simply march into Salamandastron and kill every hare I meet."
"O' course. Darkbane, come 'ere."
A black searat jogged up. "Yea, Cap'n?"
"What was th' name o' that scum hare that killed ol' Sullie?"
The rat bit his lip as he dredged his memory. "Acer, m'thinks. Th' young'n, right? Yea, Acer. 'Twas 'im. Bet my soul on 't."
Ghost's heart skipped a beat, but his surprise remained hidden. "When do you want him dead by?"
Rangear dismissed Darkbane and smiled disarmingly at the young assassin. "Two nights from now, three at most. That means dead th' third mornin' from today, an' I'll be wantin' t' see proof 'e's dead. Got that?"
Ghost gave a nod and turned to leave. "I understand completely what must be done."
Chapter III
Acer stamped the dirt in frustration. "Where are you hiding at? Come on out, we finished playing that game a while ago, wot."
"I am sorry, Acer. I cannot be seen with you at the moment." Ghost watched the hare try to lock in on the direction of the voice. It was a useless thing to do, Skullrag had taught him how to throw his voice.
"Well, mind telling me why I can't see a bally friend?"
Ghost swallowed hard. "I was hired to kill you this morning. My mentor is searching for you to make this an easy kill. I came to warn you. Heed the warning. Run back to your fortress and stay there. I am sorry, but I do not think I can see you any longer."
Acer had stood dumbstruck by the ferret's words and it took a moment to sink in. "Would you?"
"Would I what?"
"If Skullrag had me cornered, would you kill me?"
Ghost did not answer right away. "I cannot say. You are a good friend, but if I did not kill you, Skullrag would."
"Maybe I was wrong about you not being an assassin. You are just as cold as some of the ones I've met before."
Ghost said nothing as he watched the hare vanish from view. Acer was right, he was an assassin. There was no way he could lie to himself about what he was. It was all for the better, no use making friends of your enemies.
A sudden ear-piercing shriek made him cringe and he left the shadows of the dune to see what it was. The sight made his heart skip a beat, and then sink. Hovering over a stunned Acer was Skullrag. The ferret tossed the stick he had used to club the hare aside and looked up at the approaching Ghost.
"Got him for you. Now all you have to do is slit him with your dagger. I made it nice and easy for you." The mentor grinned and threw the hare against the side of the dune.
Ghost drew his dagger and stood between Acer and Skullrag, looking down at the one he called friend. His mind was racing with mixed emotions about how to handle the situation. "Either I kill him, or Skullrag kills him," he thought. "I kill, Skullrag kills." The words played through his mind repeatedly. "I kill Skullrag." His mind went blank and only those three words remained. He clenched the dagger tightly as he raised it over the hare.
The attack was a swift one; Ghost was even surprised himself. With speed and agility he did not even know he possessed, he spun, bringing the dagger about in a wide arc. Skullrag was fast too, and had started to draw his own blade, shouting some curse at his student, but the words went unheard as Ghost drove the dagger straight into the chest of the assassin ferret. The force behind the blow drove the blade in up to its hilt, and then out again as the limp form fell backwards as if punched in the chest, the half drawn dagger still in paw.
Ghost stood motionless for a while, staring at the bloodied blade he held in his paw. He did not even notice Acer had come too and was staring, wide-eyed, over his shoulder. Acer put a paw on Ghost's shoulder. With a rage that shocked both of them, Ghost violently batted the paw away and stepped back from the hare.
"Ghost, come on. I can talk the chaps back home into giving you shelter for a while."
Ghost shook his head. His breathing was heavy and he was near tears. "You don't understand, I just killed Maester."
"Shows you how good he was. Listen, you killed a murderer and saved another's life."
Ghost threw the dagger down and washed his paws of blood in the surf. "Just leave me be."
Acer started to say something, thought better of it, and started towards Salamandastron. When he had gone a ways, he glanced back, hoping to catch a glimpse of his friend. There was nothing to see; Ghost had gone.
CHAOS
The searat watched the scene before him with a spiteful hatred. Fires reflected in his eyes, one black and one a pale white. He watched the flames jump and leap about the camp, wreaking havoc wherever they went. Left and right his horde scattered and rushed about, some battering away at the fires and others sending scores of arrows and javelins at anything that appeared to move in the surrounding trees. He locked his eyes on a large weasel that was shouting out orders.
"Warspite, come here."
The second in command turned and started for his commander. The weasel had proven himself countless times on the field, and even now had taken charge and was directing the horde in battling the fire and the unseen enemies.
"Yes sir, you called?"
"Warspite, listen to me good. I want whoever is responsible for this dead at my feet. Take no prisoners, kill them all."
The weasel gave a brisk salute and turned to leave. Something whistled past the sea rat's ear and struck Warspite with a thud. The second in command staggered forward a step and fell to the ground, dead, a black shaft protruding from the centre of his back. The searat drew a rapier and swung it about in a wide arc. The top half of the shaft jumped into the air as the blade cut cleanly through it.
"We finish it now. Turn and fight, rat."
The searat hissed and whirled, drawing his second rapier as he faced his adversary. The sight before him made him seethe. "You are a traitor to your kind."
The ferret drew a pair of long, thin-bladed daggers from under his dark green robe. "To the death. Only one of us leaves alive."
The searat narrowed his eyes. "Who are you, ferret?"
"Naught more than a ghost, Starbane."
A second black arrow streaked past Starbane's head and struck a stoat who had been about to ambush the ferret. The would-be ambusher dropped dead with a shaft in his throat. The ferret paid it no mind and started moving in for the attack.
"You will die tonight, ferret."
The ferret's expression was calm as he locked his dark amber eyes on Starbane's white and black ones. "A ghost can never die."
Starbane felt a shiver course through him as the cold eyes bored into his own. He gripped his rapiers and readied for the coming attack.
EAGLE WATCH
GHOST
By Matthew Vazquez
PART ONE
THE GHOST
Chapter I
The waves crashed lazily into the shore and ran up the slight slope, washing over the still form of a young ferret. The dark brown and black beast did not even flinch as the cool saltwater rushed over him up to his neck. There, the water ceased moving up the shore and began to recede back into the eastern sea. Still, the form did not move. Resting further up the shore, a safe distance from the water, were a dagger belt and a dark green robe. Both items were cast aside carelessly and sat in the sand.
Another wave crashed into the shore. This one carried more force than its predecessors and washed over the ferret completely. He was quickly lost beneath the water. With a splash he sat up and blew the seawater from his nostrils, then set about shaking his ears dry. The water receded back into the sea.
His rest ruined by the large wave, the ferret sat further up on the sand, allowing the warm sun to dry his fur. His amber eyes roved across the horizon, watching for the telltale sails that meant a ship. The seas were empty. He shifted his gaze south and saw the stream of black smoke from the mountain Salamandastron. He had never seen the summit but from a distance, but he had heard the stories. Rumours had reached his ears that claimed the mountain was a fortress, ruled by a fierce badger lord and his army of merciless hares. Though he had never seen any beast near the mountain, he still chose to believe that the rumours held some truth in them.
"Where th' devil are ya, ye li'le backstabber."
The voice rang out across the beach to the ferret's ears. He growled and stood, fastening the dagger belt around his waist and throwing the robe over his shoulders.
"Ghost, where are ya! Answer when I call ye."
"Over here," he lowered his voice to a mutter. "ye ugly ignoramus."
Skullrag the Assassin appeared over a small dune and cuffed Ghost. He was another ferret, like Ghost, only lighter in fur colour. His cold eyes seldom missed anything that went on around him, and few had the ability to hide from his view. Ghost was one of those few, and had been named 'The Ghost' for his stealth ability. However, he was still an amateur assassin, and Skullrag never hesitated to remind him of that. "What'd I tell ye about sneakin' off like that. It'll get ye killed. Salamandastron's not more 'an a small run away fer a hare, an' they'll skin ye alive if they catch ye. Now come on back t' th' house."
"Yes, Maester."
The assassin cuffed him again. "I'll let ye off this once. Be home in an hour."
Ghost waited for Skullrag to disappear from view. "Ha, home indeed. Not mine. An' ye ain't be my proper father either, beast." He drew one of the daggers he had been given for his training. Though it was old and cheaply forged, the blade was keen and lethal, and when used correctly was capable of killing any beast with one blow. "One more week, Maester, and we shall see who is the better of us two."
Ghost struck out south along the beach, not paying any mind to his surroundings. The only thought on his mind was what he planned to do once his training had been completed.
"I say, look at what I've got here, wot!"
He spun and faced the voice only to find empty air.
"Over here, ya bally fool of a vermin!"
He pivoted again and saw a hare hopping in place on the sand not twenty paces from him. He gripped the dagger tightly as he held it ready in case he had to defend himself.
"Come now, ya wouldn't attack an unarmed fellow like young old Acer now, would ya?" The hare gave him a lopsided grin.
"Who are you?"
"Already told ya m'name, but I'll say it again. Acer of Salamandawassit over yonder. What do they call ya where you're from?"
"Ghost."
"Ghost. Interesting name, wot. Come now, put that ol' dagger down. I ain't gonna attack ya. We're both too young for that killing bit yet."
Ghost twitched his ear. It was true; the hare in front of him was no older than himself; maybe his junior by a few seasons. He lowered the dagger. "What do you want?"
"Come now, I can tell just by looking at you that you're a prime sneaker an' sorts. How about a game?"
The chance to test his stealth skills intrigued him. If he could hide from the hare, he would be able to boast about hiding from a hare from Salamandastron. Of course, that meant another tanning from Skullrag, but it would be worth it. He sheathed the dagger. "Name the terms."
"Beast of few words, wot. I hide first, you give me a one-minute count to hide, and get fifteen to find me. After that's up, your turn to hide, and mine to find."
"What does the victor gain?"
"Tomorrow, if you win, I'll have a right proper picnic out on the beach, and I'll supply the tuck. If I win, you supply."
"Deal." Win or lose, he did not have to show up tomorrow anyway. "I am starting the count."
The hare shot off across the sands and soon vanished from sight. Ghost spent the minute searching the beach for prime spots he would be able to use when his turn came and running tactics through his head. The hare was naturally coloured tan, great for hiding in the sand, and that would make the search a challenge. He finished counting and climbed to the top of a dune to get a good look about. He searched for and checked all likely spots that the hare would hide in, as well as spots he would have hidden in if given the chance. He narrowed his eyes on a spot and began walking towards it. Upon arriving, he hissed; there was nothing to be found save sand. He turned and checked other spots, most of them at random. The fifteen-minute deadline arrived, and he had not seen any trace of Acer.
"Over here. You must have missed me by an inch or two, wot!"
Ghost turned and saw the hare standing next to the small dune he had scouted first. "Good job. I had a hunch, but I should have stuck with it."
"Your turn now, good luck!"
Ghost grinned and started for the water while the hare covered his eyes and started counting. Ghost allowed the water to run over him, and then he rolled in the sand. The grains stuck to him and gave him a dark sandy colour. He stepped into the shadows of a dune, making sure he trailed his robe down far enough to clean the paw tracks he would have left in the sand otherwise, and pressed himself up against the cool, sandy side. There was nothing left to do now but wait.
Five minutes passed before he saw the hare appear. He held his breath and tried to stand still, allowing his dark colours and natural camouflages to hide him in the shadows of the dune's crest. The hare stopped moving all together and stared off to the north. He hopped once, twice, and then vanished in a blur. Confused as to why the hare had done this, Ghost stepped forward out of the shadows.
"GHOST!"
The voice sounding loud over the surf made him freeze in his tracks. He turned to face Skullrag, who was standing with a bow in paw, an arrow notched and ready to fire.
"I warned ye about Salamandastron. One o' their murderous hares was lookin' fer ye."
Ghost knew better than to take to the hare's side. "I know, that is why I hid. He did not even know I was here."
Skullrag stared off south, towards the mountain. "I don't want t' hear o' ye comin' down this far south again. 'S that clear?"
"Yes, Maester."
"Come, we're goin' back home."
Ghost glanced over his shoulder at the distant mountain fortress. No doubt about it, he would be back tomorrow, with or without the consent of his mentor.
Chapter II
The following day was heavily overcast. Dark clouds piled on the horizon, threatening to unleash a storm if they drew near enough to land. Still Ghost insisted on his daily walk along the beach. After much debate, he got his wish, only not by permission from Skullrag but rather because he stormed out in anger.
Now he sat on the sand near where he had first met the odd hare from Salamandastron, watching the land-bound storm and listening to the crashing surf. Far off he could see the bright flashes of lightning, and he made a mental note to give himself ample time to return home before the storm hit.
"Dare say, bally fright that ferret gave me, wot!"
Ghost glanced over his shoulder as Acer hopped up alongside him. "Yes, he is my mentor."
"Seems more like a slave driver to me."
The ferret pursed his lips. "Sometimes. I am sorry we never finished the game."
"Well, I figured that a good sport like yourself would show up again anyway, so I brought a little bit o tuck along with me."
Ghost chuckled. The hare had a temperament that made him forget about the troubles back home. "How do you do it?"
Acer cocked his head to the left. "Do what, sir?"
"Just, be so cheerful all the time. How do you manage that?"
"Ah, I see. Well, it all has to do with how you take things into stride. I never let anything get me down, and I am surrounded by none but the friendliest of beasts." He noted the grim expression on Ghost's face. "I take it home is not like that for you, eh old chap?"
Ghost snorted. "Not even home, as far as I am concerned. It is an assassin's school, and the mentor is a slave driver. No one cares what you think, and your life is as lonely as can possibly be. There is nothing to laugh at, although Skullrag does make a casual joke or two about Salamandastron and its Long Patrol. None of them are worth laughing at."
"Run away then."
The abruptness of which the concept cam out of the hare's mouth surprised them both and they stared silently at each other for a moment. Ghost finally shook his head, but it was Acer who broke the silence.
"Not an option?"
"Not as long as Skullrag lives. He would have every assassin he knows in the lands hunting me down, and he knows the best in the trade."
"Sorry, chap. Afraid I'm not quite familiar enough with your situation to give advice like that."
Ghost waved it off. "No apology needed. You are doing more to help me than any other beast who has seen me."
"Does Skullthingy know you are here now?"
"Yes, he knows I am here, but he will leave me alone. He will wait for me to return and then carry out the punishment; I stormed out of the house against his orders. But he does not know I am talking with you." A thought came to him. "Do any at Salamandastron know about me?"
"No, and I would invite you over but they do not think highly of you vermin type, pardon the expression."
Ghost shook his head. "Quite alright. That is what I am, and it was not meant to be an insult."
Acer frowned. "Ha, you are unlike any other vermin I've heard of, really quite the opposite of what you are called."
"You do not know that. I am a trained assassin; I kill for a living."
Acer was young, but he was sharp and his mind was quick. "How many beasts have you killed in your life? None? Well, then, you may be a trained assassin, but you do not kill for a living. Watch what you say about yourself."
Ghost watched as lightning streaked down from the sky and struck the water, a low rumble followed it sometime later. The wind was starting to pick up, evidence that the storm was drawing near. Acer had been right in saying he was not a killer. Not yet, at least. "You should start for home before the storm comes, it will be a bad one."
"Don't worry about me, I can beat that storm home even if it was five heartbeats away. What about yourself; you're not going to sit out here and wait for it to strike, are you?"
"Maybe, Acer. It might solve a lot of problems."
At that, Acer cuffed him sharply. "Listen up. Leaving yourself to die never solves a thing. If you are intent on sitting through the storm here on the beach, than so am I. You are acting like the biggest fool I have ever clapped eyes on, sitting about moping on the shore. If you want things to change, make them. If you want something to happen, get up and make it happen. Nothing was ever achieved sitting about on your bum watching the clouds roll by."
It was the first time someone had ever spoken in such a way to him, and yet Ghost knew it was all too true. He looked down at the sand, digesting what the hare had said. "You are right, again, Acer. You have a sense that I have seen in no other beast."
"I do not care much for praise at the moment, I just want to hear you say that you will make something happen."
Ghost nodded slowly. "I will. By my honour, I will."
Acer looked up as a loud thunderclap roared down the beach. "Now run along home, and I will see you again soon."
Ghost stood as the first drops of rain fell, driven at a hard slant by the winds from the west. "Acer, you are a true friend. I shall see you again in the future. Until then, safe travels be with you."
He turned and ran north along the coast, his robe flailing in the wind. Acer watched him go and waited until he vanished over a dune before turning and streaking off towards the great mountain stronghold of Salamandastron.
Ghost pounded on the wooden door. Skullrag had barred it as his punishment, no doubt, leaving him outside to wait out the storm. The rain was coming down in blinding sheets, and the violent wind had forced him to tie his robe down with his belt. He drew his dagger and drove it halfway to its hilt in the doorway.
"Leaving your prized pupil to die, mentor? I'll survive and make you wish I hadn't!"
Had the howling of the wind and pounding of the rain not drowned out his voice, he was certain he would have been killed on the spot by the assassin. He made his way to the leeward side of the house, where there was some shelter from the wind and rain, and hugged his knees to his chest, too keep warm. As he sat out the storm, he thought of the day when he would be free to leave.
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"Ghost, get up. The dirt is no place for an assassin." Skullrag dropped a dagger at Ghost's feet. "Tomorrow you will repair the door. Today we have a meeting with a customer."
Ghost stood without speaking to his mentor, sheathing the dagger at his side. The house had sheltered him from the wind, but he had been soaked through overnight by rainwater. He locked his eyes on Skullrag's, waiting for him to continue.
"Next time you will obey my orders, Ghost. Rangear the Pirate has sent a summons requesting our services. I think it is time you tested your skills."
"Why does he want us?"
Skullrag was about to correct the young assassin for not using the title 'Maester,' but refrained. There was a hatred that seemed harboured behind Ghost's eyes, and it was useless to stoke it with harsh words. "His ship was beached south of Salamandastron, and the Long Patrol hares, along with that badger Lord of theirs, attacked the wounded ship. I do not know the details, but he wants revenge."
Ghost spat on the sand. "Lead the way, Maester."
Skullrag hesitated, noticing again the coldness in Ghost's voice. "Control your appearance and actions, Ghost. That way you do not give away too much to your enemy."
"Where will we meet our customer? Surely they moved since the attack, otherwise the Long Patrol would have slaughtered them."
Skullrag motioned Ghost to follow him and started east. "First off, Ghost, he is your customer. I've decided that th' time 'as come fer ye t' take yer final test, early. I'll oversee th' operation an' make sure ye don't mess things up completely. O' course, bein' my apprentice, ye should perform marvellously if ye paid attention t' my teachins. As fer Rangear, he 'as moved 'is crew up north, near th' river. He visited while ye were out yesterday." He left the rest out, how Ghost should not have left and could have missed out on a paying job. No doubt his student knew that already.
Ghost kept behind his mentor as he followed, his eyes focused on the ground in front of him. His mind was elsewhere, not on the task at hand. "Of course, Maester," he answered automatically. The time was drawing near when he could leave the assassin's house and live on his own. It would be a dream come true.
They entered the flatlands and cut north towards the River Moss, following a fresh footpath that had been trampled into the ground by a large group. A weasel appeared from behind a hill, a drawn bow and arrow levelled at Skullrag.
"Who goes?"
Skullrag held his paws up to show he was no threat. "We are here t' see yer captain, Rangear, on business."
The weasel relaxed the drawstring. "Who's callin' on the Cap'n?"
"Skullrag the Assassin, and his student Ghost," he answered.
"Aye, told us t' watch out fer ya. North a li'le ways, ye'll find 'im."
The two ferrets continued in silence until they came to the rag-tag camp of Rangear the Pirate. Upon their arrival a stoat, who had been standing in the centre of the camp, made his way towards them, his assortment of daggers complimenting twin rapiers glinting majestically in the sun. A crimson cape flowed behind him, flapping slightly as it caught the breeze. Unlike the others around the camp, the stoat had no earrings or tattoos, but a single scar running from the base of his right ear down to his throat was a trademark that identified Captain Rangear immediately. The pirate captain clapped Skullrag on the shoulder and stared down at Ghost.
"So, this 'ere's th' little bugger that ran off. Ye know, Skully me rag, what I'd do t' any beast that deserted my ship. Carve 'em up alive with me best dagger and leave 'em to die in the sand."
Ghost was unaffected by Rangear's attempt to intimidate him; he even faked a yawn before speaking. "I was informed that you have a job for me."
Rangear grinned. "Aye, Salamandastron attacked me crew an' me vessel. I want to get back at them. One of the hares, some odd young scoundrel, killed me first mate, an' I want 'im t' die fer it."
Ghost drew a dagger and idly cleaned some of the dirt under his nails. "I need a name and description; I cannot simply march into Salamandastron and kill every hare I meet."
"O' course. Darkbane, come 'ere."
A black searat jogged up. "Yea, Cap'n?"
"What was th' name o' that scum hare that killed ol' Sullie?"
The rat bit his lip as he dredged his memory. "Acer, m'thinks. Th' young'n, right? Yea, Acer. 'Twas 'im. Bet my soul on 't."
Ghost's heart skipped a beat, but his surprise remained hidden. "When do you want him dead by?"
Rangear dismissed Darkbane and smiled disarmingly at the young assassin. "Two nights from now, three at most. That means dead th' third mornin' from today, an' I'll be wantin' t' see proof 'e's dead. Got that?"
Ghost gave a nod and turned to leave. "I understand completely what must be done."
Chapter III
Acer stamped the dirt in frustration. "Where are you hiding at? Come on out, we finished playing that game a while ago, wot."
"I am sorry, Acer. I cannot be seen with you at the moment." Ghost watched the hare try to lock in on the direction of the voice. It was a useless thing to do, Skullrag had taught him how to throw his voice.
"Well, mind telling me why I can't see a bally friend?"
Ghost swallowed hard. "I was hired to kill you this morning. My mentor is searching for you to make this an easy kill. I came to warn you. Heed the warning. Run back to your fortress and stay there. I am sorry, but I do not think I can see you any longer."
Acer had stood dumbstruck by the ferret's words and it took a moment to sink in. "Would you?"
"Would I what?"
"If Skullrag had me cornered, would you kill me?"
Ghost did not answer right away. "I cannot say. You are a good friend, but if I did not kill you, Skullrag would."
"Maybe I was wrong about you not being an assassin. You are just as cold as some of the ones I've met before."
Ghost said nothing as he watched the hare vanish from view. Acer was right, he was an assassin. There was no way he could lie to himself about what he was. It was all for the better, no use making friends of your enemies.
A sudden ear-piercing shriek made him cringe and he left the shadows of the dune to see what it was. The sight made his heart skip a beat, and then sink. Hovering over a stunned Acer was Skullrag. The ferret tossed the stick he had used to club the hare aside and looked up at the approaching Ghost.
"Got him for you. Now all you have to do is slit him with your dagger. I made it nice and easy for you." The mentor grinned and threw the hare against the side of the dune.
Ghost drew his dagger and stood between Acer and Skullrag, looking down at the one he called friend. His mind was racing with mixed emotions about how to handle the situation. "Either I kill him, or Skullrag kills him," he thought. "I kill, Skullrag kills." The words played through his mind repeatedly. "I kill Skullrag." His mind went blank and only those three words remained. He clenched the dagger tightly as he raised it over the hare.
The attack was a swift one; Ghost was even surprised himself. With speed and agility he did not even know he possessed, he spun, bringing the dagger about in a wide arc. Skullrag was fast too, and had started to draw his own blade, shouting some curse at his student, but the words went unheard as Ghost drove the dagger straight into the chest of the assassin ferret. The force behind the blow drove the blade in up to its hilt, and then out again as the limp form fell backwards as if punched in the chest, the half drawn dagger still in paw.
Ghost stood motionless for a while, staring at the bloodied blade he held in his paw. He did not even notice Acer had come too and was staring, wide-eyed, over his shoulder. Acer put a paw on Ghost's shoulder. With a rage that shocked both of them, Ghost violently batted the paw away and stepped back from the hare.
"Ghost, come on. I can talk the chaps back home into giving you shelter for a while."
Ghost shook his head. His breathing was heavy and he was near tears. "You don't understand, I just killed Maester."
"Shows you how good he was. Listen, you killed a murderer and saved another's life."
Ghost threw the dagger down and washed his paws of blood in the surf. "Just leave me be."
Acer started to say something, thought better of it, and started towards Salamandastron. When he had gone a ways, he glanced back, hoping to catch a glimpse of his friend. There was nothing to see; Ghost had gone.