Prologue
Sea gulls cawed harshly in the blistering heat. Three limp forms lay half-buried in sand, fur drenched from the waves. Salt water splashed in their eyes, but they refused to awaken. No sign of life remained in them except for the steady rise of their chests as they took shallow breaths of air. Exhaustion kept them down, exhaustion from continual harassment, exhaustion from months on end without proper food in the sea, exhaustion from the horrible storm that destroyed their ship, exhaustion from wearied swimming into the shore. They barely clung to their miserable lives that were slowly escaping their grasps.
An inquisitive gannet circled slowly down to the three figures. Landing a short distance away, it hopped over to the nearest figure. After a cautionary peck, it strode boldly forward, cawing triumphantly over the fallen animals. It leaned in closer to test the next one.
A clawed hand shot out from the limp body. Razor sharp claws sunk deep into the gannet's throat. Before the gannet could respond the claws whipped out again, taking a great portion of the bird's flesh with it. Amber eyes snapped open. A wolfish grin spread across the creature's features as it hastily gobbled down the meat from the dead bird. Blood dripped down its chin, leaving dark marks around his throat. It warily examined the shoreline.
Satisfied by the refreshing meal, the creature stood on its formidable hind legs and drew itself to its full height. Throwing back its head it let out an unearthly screech of accomplishment. Nearby gulls scrambled to escape the harsh cry. Only one fearsome creature could let loose such a terrifying cry.
The wolverines had arrived on the Eastern shore!
Chapter One
Martin hacked fiercely at the fallen oak tree. Splinters and foliage flew in all directions as his sword fell again and again into the brittle wood. Oblivious to the pain searing through his hands, he continued, shouting to his trapped friend.
"Hold still, Ferro! I'll get you out soon!"
An anguished voice came out from under the oak. "Hurry, Martin! This branch supporting the tree is weakening. It won't hold out long."
Shaking with adrenaline, he renewed his onslaught on the branches blocking his path. The dried wood shattered under his vigorous assault. Sweat sizzled on his fur under the intense sunlight. Fatigue began to wear on his arms, but he struggled on as the tree trunk weakened. With a victorious bellow he lopped off the last branch.
CRACK!
The oak dropped like a rock as the damaged trunk snapped off at the base. Falling branches buffeted Martin high in the air onto his back. A small dust cloud enveloped him as the trunk smashed into the dusty soil with a muted thud. Sand filled Martin's mouth, choking his horrified cry.
With a howl of rage he leapt onto the tree, blade flashing in the sun as it rose and fell on the shattered trunk. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pointlessly beat the fallen tree. After several minutes the sword slipped out of his sweaty grasp and buried itself in the tree. Sobbing into his tunic, Martin collapsed on the trunk, mourning his friend.
"Gud day, zurr. Moight you'm is looking fur thiz hur mousey?"
Martin wiped away his tears and turned to address the speaker. The mole Gurbber waddled into the clearing, accompanied by...
"Ferro!" Martin rushed to his friend and grabbed him joyfully. Ferro shoved him aside playfully and shook dirt off of his fur.
"Hey, mate. You didn't think that I'd leave you to live without a responsible companion, did you?" He reached across the log and heaved the sword out of the trunk. It took him a good deal of effort to free the blade. "Phew, that was some plunge you put in." He wiped his paws on Martin's tunic and laughed. "I feel sorry for that tree, mate. If it hadn't expired when it fell, it sure died by the time you finished with it."
Martin recovered from his shock and neatly tripped Ferro, sending him sprawling in the dust. Hiding a smile, he gruffly cleaned off the blade in a nearby patch of grass. "Aye, I killed it. Killed it good and proper, too. We won't need firewood for a while with this lot."
Grubber guffawed at his remark. "Oye. Boi 'eckie this'l zurr larst urs'n all wunter." He nodded wisely as the two mice stifled laughter. Grubber was a good mole, although prone to repeating what others said. Martin admired the mole's simplistic style.
Ferro pointed to the sky. "Looks like a big storm is brewing to the east. We had better get back now. This log here will do for now."
Sheathing his sword, Martin lifted Ferro off of the ground. Together the three friends hefted the chunk of wood and carried it back to their village. They chatted amiably, completely ignorant of a large pairs of eyes watching their backs.
Glucagon the Marlfox howled wildly into the raging tempest. Ferrets dashed to and fro on the ship as the waves battered it mercilessly. One unfortunate ferret squealed in terror as the wind swept it off of its feet. Before anyone could blink he disappeared over the edge and into the raging waters. The other ferrets ignored the loss of their shipmate and continued struggling against the forces of nature.
A wizened rat crept up beside Glucagon. Ignoring the ferrets' cries of indignation, he fought his way to Glucagon's side. The rat tugged his own cap respectfully and shouted to be heard over the storm. "Sire, our ship will not last through this storm! We must turn back!"
The Marlfox coldly shoved him backwards into the ship's railing. "Nonsense. We have seen worse so far on this hunt. I will not stop until I have their blood."
The rat shrugged submissively and scrambled off back to the forecastle. Behind him Glucagon continued shrieking into the gale. "You won't escape me, Ganerfur! Nobody escapes Glucagon the Hunter!"
Opening the door, the rat staggered into the cabin. Four Marlfoxes and a dozen ermine sat around a dying fire. Heavy cloaks and sheets draped their bodies as they shivered against the cold. The foremost fox leaned back and stretched semi-luxuriously. "What's his answer?" She blinked lazily at the rat. The ermine turned to face him, curious to hear their commander's orders.
The rat quailed under the gaze of the sixteen pairs of eyes. He stuttered helplessly and gave his report. "He said to continue west and to not stop until we capture Ganerfur's…"
"It is as I thought." The smallest Marlfox spat into the fire. He reached out and beckoned the rat to come closer. The rat gulped nervously and approached, shaking like a leaf. The Marlfox played with a skinning knife on his belt as he turned his gleaming eyes onto the rat. "At least you tried, Cutsnout. Have a swig of grog for your efforts."
Seeing the rat hesitate, he smiled innocently and took a sip. "It is alright. I promise that it isn't poisoned. Go on, try it."
Cutsnout reached for the beaker eagerly. At the last moment the Marlfox threw his blade. Cutsnout was dead before he hit the floor. The oldest Marlfox shook her head disapprovingly.
"That was a waste, Zandle. He still could have proved useful."
Zandle pulled a face and grinned evilly. "Yah, who cares? You are too cautious, Thistleclaw. We still have plenty of crew left. One oafish rat won't make a difference. There'll always be more to take his place."
The other female, Sarigna, agreed. "No one will miss that rat. The only thing he ever did was complain. I'll wager that no one will notice that he's gone."
Farlblade, the last Marlfox, stood up and plucked the blade from the dead rat's body. Wiping it off, he pointed out two ermine near the door. "Huskgaw, Justhagore, dump this corpse over the side. His stench offends me." Turning to Zandle, he offered the blade. "This is yours."
As Zandle reached out to retrieve his skinning dagger, Farlblade reversed the blade and rapped his paw sharply. Zandle yelped and snatched the blade.
"Don't do that again, or you'll be the one going over the side."
Zandle scowled angrily and rubbed his aching paw. Sneering at his older brother, he mocked him.
"I'd like to see you try it, bladder-guts. You may be bigger than me, but my knives are faster that your silly axe."
The Marlfoxes watched Farlblade apprehensively. The two male foxes had grown up pitting strength against strength, and a fight was inevitable. However, he seemed to ignore the remark. Casually he returned to his seat, acting as if he hadn't heard. Then Farlblade kicked Zandle's chair from under him. Farlblade hissed dangerously at Zandle and feinted for a quick thrust. Zandle yelped and stumbled backwards into the fire. The ermine watched impassively as he rolled on the ground, crying out in pain. Lashing out with his feet, he caught Farlblade in the knee. He fell on Zandle and the two went at it with a will, punching, biting, and kicking ferociously.
The fight was interrupted when the door flew open. Glucagon strode boldly into the room, grinning wickedly at his siblings. "Arguing already, are you? I came in to tell you that we have sighted land. It won't be long before we can start the real fun of this hunt."
He winked at the ermine as they shuddered in anticipation. The others grimaced and turned their backs on him. They saw what was coming and prepared for the worst.
Glucagon continued his cheerful charade as he crossed the room to where they sat. Zandle shivered nervously as Glucagon's cloak brushed his shoulder. Not only his enemies feared his deadly reputation.
"Your rat isn't a good spy. I saw him reporting to you three. If Zandle hadn't killed him I would have." He placed one foot on Zandle's upturned chair and laughed. "I'll forgive you for that. I wouldn't trust myself either."
Thistleclaw leaned forward. She could sense that he had a plan. "What are we going to do once we hit land?"
Glucagon smirked wolfishly at her. "Well, first we'll find his tracks. Then…"
The raging storm howled outside as they drank in his plan.
Rain splattered on Ganerfur's cheek. A pleasant sensation tickled his face as he took in his surroundings. It had been two days since he had washed up on this foreign shore. His two sons lay opposite him in the cramped cave. One's head lolled limply to the side. The other moaned and whined in his sleep. Ganerfur brushed tears from his eyes as he watched them fighting for life. They would both be dead before the sun set.
Ganerfur had carried them from their place on the hostile beach. Struggling through a blinding rain, he had discovered the cave, nestled snugly between two enormous boulders. It had been too late. Nothing that he could do eased the pain of his dying children as they courageously hung onto their shattered bodies
Only two seasons ago they had been spry little things, proudly wandering through their small empire. Now they were fugitives, hounded by the most horrible creatures ever to haunt the earth. Hot tears flowed down his cheeks unashamedly as he remembered the horrifying day that the Marlfoxes had taken control. At the head of over two thousand ferrets, they had swept down on his lands. Ganerfur had watched helplessly as his army, castle, and family vanished under the might of the cursed scum. Only a handful of loyal soldiers and family had escaped the Marlfoxes' claws. As they snuck out of the land, they had been hunted down one by one by the vicious ermine employed by Glucagon. By the time they had escaped from their old lands, only two score remained alive.
He would bide his time, gathering troops and vengeance until he had the strength to fight back. Then he would avenge his fallen family. Then he would wreak havoc on the murdering scum that had destroyed the peace of his realm. But now he was helpless, starving, and without aid.
His last son gurgled fitfully in his sleep. Ganerfur crawled over to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He patted him softly on the back and cradled him in his arms. His son opened his eyes for a brief moment.
"Father." He coughed violently. Ganerfur silently closed his mouth and rocked him back and forth.
"Shh. Everything is alright. Father's here. Go to sleep, Startooth."
Startooth slipped back into his father's arms and shuddered one last time. His arms fell to his side and brushed the fire. The fire licked at his paws, scorching his ripped flesh. Ganerfur shut his eyes tightly and cried to himself. Time passed by as he rocked back and forth, clutching his son. Eventually his head drooped to the side, sleep overcoming his body. He tumbled over onto the ground and fell asleep instantly, oblivious to the pounding rain.
Ferro yelped in pain as his paw caught on a jutting stone. Sucking his injured paw, he moaned comically, "We'll never get this back. We have been at this for three hours, and the village hasn't even been sighted yet."
Martin wiped a hand across his brow. Flies swarmed around him in the early evening light. One bold gnat hovered just out of his reach. It zipped in to check him out every time his hand fell to his side. The constant buzzing irritated him to no end.
"We've got to make it. If we come back without it, then Riggoul will get another shot at us. Did you hear him yesterday? He bragged about that fish that he caught, the grayling. I thought he wouldn't shut up."
"Hmm, you might have a point. I don't think I could stand another session of his bragging." Ferro hefted the log with renewed strength and pushed off of the soft loam. Leaves churned as he bulled his way through the knee-deep foliage. Martin and Grubber stared open-mouthed as he paved a clear path with his slight frame. Ferro continued on oblivious to his friends' absence. Only when he reached a waist high boulder did he pause his advance. Martin and Grubber hurried forward and took over for him as he caught his breath.
Martin laughed heartily at his pal. "My, my, Ferro. If I had known that you could do that I would have brought Riggoul up earlier."
Ferro ground his teeth and assumed a position behind the tree, where he could lift it for Martin. "If you had done it before I exhausted myself, you would still be back there where I found the tree. Right now I'm too tired to slug you."
The three companions laughed hard at this comment. All of them knew that Martin was by far the strongest of them. Ferro spent most of his time studying in the village's tiny library. When it came to matching strength, Martin won hands down.
Grubber wiped a tear from his eye. "Oie thinks thart oie's be seeing the village."
Ferro breathed a long sigh of relief. "That means that they can see us…"
Martin looked up from the log to the village. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight. Fire rose from nearly every house. Mice, voles, moles, and squirrels ran to and fro in the village, pursued by a mixed band of vermin. A lone figure stood in the village's center, armed to the teeth and fighting for his life.
Martin tore past the others, running pell-mell for the village. A war cry erupted unbidden from his mouth as he focused on the image of his father, standing with his back to a wall, fighting dozens of rats.
"Death to vermin!"
A blur shot past Martin, knocking him flat on his back. He stared in amazement as a colossal creature launched itself into the vermin ranks, scattering them left and right. Rats flew in the air as it batted them aside with its claws. The villagers cheered as it slew a score of the rats by itself. Finally it reached the main square. Three-score rats formed a phalanx in front of it, hedging it off with a wall of spears.
The wall of spears halted the creature momentarily as it prowled close in front of them, growling savagely. Then the creature reached into its cloak and drew forth a weapon that chilled Martin to the core. Attached to a handle larger than most staves, a long iron chain hung loosely by his side. Connected to the chain was a mace-head larger than a full-grown shrew. The vermin quailed before the terrifying weapon.
Seven rats flew up in the air at the first stroke of the mighty morning-star. Five more bowled through the rats' ranks, slain by the iron head. The rat formation disintegrated before the creature. Three dozen rats were strewn about the square before they had all disappeared into the woods.
Martin, Ferro, and Grubber hurried into the village, log forgotten in their haste to check on their families. Martin paused as he approached the carpet of slaughtered vermin. Surprise and horror were stamped firmly on all of them. Martin watched one survivor begin to crawl away, moaning and shaking from the recent massacre. The rat ignored everyone in its attempt to escape. Compassion began to fill Martin as the rat rounded a corner that led out of the village.
WHAM!
The iron head of the morning-star crashed down piteously on the rat, breaking every bone in its body. The owner of the vicious weapon stepped out from the alley, wiping blood and fur from the mace. Seeing Martin, it stopped and jerked a thumb back towards the rat. An eerie light flickered in his pale blue eyes as he laughed.
"Shame, really. I thought I had finished that one off already. Oh well, next time I won't make that mistake."
A shudder of revulsion quivered through Martin and he turned away from the ghastly scene. His father approached him, leaning wearily on his sword.
"Glad you could make it," he said. "I was running out of rats to leave for you when this big fellow came in. Handled them pretty nicely, he did. Unfortunately, he killed the rats I was fighting too, and scared the rest away."
Martin suppressed a gag at the stench of the rats and shook his head. "Thanks, but I would have been okay if you had taken them all yourself." He pulled an overturned barrel over and sat down. "I found that tree you were speaking about; that old oak, near the coast. It took us a while to chop it down."
His father, John, chuckled. "That doesn't surprise me. I've tried to chop it down many times, but that tree wouldn't give an inch." His cheerful pretense fell away as he wiped blood from his sword. "The elders are most likely going to host a meeting today after these events. You need to come, as it will be your first meeting since you came to adulthood."
Martin bowed low and signaled to Ferro and Grubber. "Right. I'll wash up once we get that tree down to the square. If I have time I'll help you clean the dead bodies."
John waved off the offer. "Thanks, but I think this big fellow will take care of them."