Chapter Four
When Lord Tairan Windblade had been young, and only just recently taken up the rulership of the fire mountain, a fleet of corsair ships had arrived upon the shores. A great battle had ensued. Many lives were lost; much blood had been spilt. Yet the numbers of the dead Salamandastron hares were nothing compared to the pirate vermins'. Not one of them had survived.
After all of the other bodies had been buried, Windblade sent some of the hares onto the pirate ships to search for captives or slaves.
That had been the first real battle that Windblade had ever been in. He had always wondered before what they would be like, but now that he had been in one. . . .
The young badger lord's musings were interrupted by one of the hares he had sent out to the ship.
"Sah, we found no slaves or prisoners, but. . . ." at first, the hare couldn't finish. He could see that the badger was troubled, and that his information would only upset him further.
"Speak on," Windblade told the hare, his voice firm and steady.
"Well, you see, sah," continued the hare. "We found a body . . . it . . . well, it was a mother."
The dead ferretmaid was laid before Windblade's feet. She wasn't like the other sea-vermin that they had only just minutes ago fought. She was a lot cleaner than they were; with no tattoos, no piercing, and no trace of ugliness.
Even in death the ferretmaid was extremely pretty. Her fur was a soft, creamy gold, with a mask black as charcoal. Her eyes were still open; they were as blue as the sea, and shining brightly for tears had been fighting their way out before she died.
The babe that she had once held in her arms was undeniably her son. He possessed his mother's eyes: sea blue, only his eyes sparkled because he was alive.
Nobeast knew what the story was with the ferretmaid and her baby, though they were quite sure that she was the mate to the ships' captain, who had also been a ferret. The maid had been found in one of the cabins, laid out on one of the cots, already dead. The babe had been lying in some old basket in a dark corner, wrapped in old rags, crying for his mother's milk.
Windblade held the tiny ferretbabe in his paws; the babe was so small he fit into the badger's massive paws perfectly. Carefully, Windblade moved the old gray rags that the small form was wrapped in, revealing fluffy brown fur with a mask that was an even darker brown.
"Well, sah, what shall we do with the little rogue?" asked a younger Clary.
There was a moment of silence as the big badger began to gently stroke the ferretbabe's head. The baby stared up at Windblade with a solemn expression on his angelic face.
"We'll keep him," said the badger lord softly.
Clary, along with all the other hares, were a bit surprised, but they all nodded their heads in solemn agreement with their Badger Lord.
"We shall raise him here, in this mountain," said Windblade in his big, firm voice. "And he will be treated as an equal around here," he added with a trace of iron.
Windblade almost immediately fell in love with the ferretbabe, whom he decided to name "Gerrith" after his father.
Taking baby Gerrith to his room, Windblade bathed him carefully in warm water, swathed him a blanket of red velvet, and brought out a bottle of warm milk.
The harenurses' insisted that they were capable of doing such things, but Windblade detested the idea of having the ferretbabe out of his sight for a moment. The hares were all filled with wonder that a Badger Lord of all creatures should set such great store by a vermin, even if it was a baby.
All the time Windblade had washed Gerrith, the baby had simply sat, the same solemn expression on his face. He allowed the big badger to wash him and clothe him without complaint.
However, when Windblade tried to put the bottle in the baby's mouth, Gerrith squeezed his mouth tight and yanked his head away, making a small squeaking sound.
"Mmf! Mmf!"
Windblade smiled at the baby's antics while he tried to feed his charge. But the tiny ferretbabe adamantly refused, his mouth a small line, his large eyes narrowed.
Finally Windblade began to softly sing a lullaby that his mother had once sang to him when he had been a babe. It was a soothing song, in which the singer told his audience that he loved them more than anything and that he'd do anything for them.
While the badger was singing, Gerrith tentatively put his mouth on the bottle, and began drinking.
Three seasons later, Windblade found himself speaking with Clary about scouting affairs, when he saw little Gerrith come dashing by, a free, careless grin on his face.
A harewife came scurrying after him, a suspicious, disapproving look on her stern features.
A crowd of leverets brought up the rear, all of them giggling. One of them was holding what looked like to be the harewife's favorite comb. . . .
Ten seasons later, Gerrith stood on one of the tables during a performance time.
The young ferret was clad in ragged silks, with a scarf tied around his head, a seashell patch over one eye, and a saber thrust through his waist sash.
One would think that he looked every inch a sea vermin, but actually, he looked more like a sea otter than anything else. It was his tail that helped him in this.
Unlike most ferrets, Gerrith's tail had grown quite long and hefty, and since his fur was brown, many had mistaken him for an otter if they saw him from the back.
The young ferret was singing a raucous ditty for his hare friends. It was a song that he had learned from a real actual sea otter. It was about how lovely it was to be at sea, and all the adventures that one could have. It also spoke about how one could slay numerous vermin.
Occasionally everybeast wondered how Gerrith would be able to sing that song about creatures that was his kind like that. But then they remembered that Gerrith grew up with the knowledge that most vermin were evil and wily creatures, always ready for plunder and murder.
The young ferret also grew up the knowledge of how his mother had died, and that had made him great friends with many of the hares.
All of the younger hares were in awe of Gerrith, mostly because he was so witty and audacious. The young haremaids, however, liked him for other reasons.
All of the older hares thought of him as a mischievous little scamp, but one that didn't mean any real harm.
Colonel Clary was probably the one hare that ever showed any dislike for Gerrith (and that was little), for the young ferret was constantly arguing with him. But Gerrith didn't bare a grudge against the hare colonel. He just liked to fluster him.
Windblade looked upon Gerrith as both a son and a brother. The two were extremely close, which was why it was said that Windblade would go down in history for being friends with a vermin.
Yet, in his heart, Gerrith was an adventurer.
Living in a mountain was not the life for the young ferret.
Tonight was going to be the last dinner he was going to have at Salamandastron for a long time. Even though he was very young, he had been deemed capable enough to undertake his journey.
However, a few hares would be going with him, just in case.
"Take care of yourself," Windblade whispered as he tightly embraced the young ferret.
"I would, except you're squishing me," wheezed Gerrith as he looked up at the Badger Lord with his large sea-blue eyes and gave a smile, trying to contain the tears that threatened to spill.
Windblade released Gerrith and after a long, tearful farewell, the young ferret turned began his journey.
It was not long after that, that Horty's parents were murdered and the young hare came to live at Salamandastron.
An eagle had come to Windblade, telling him that over the past five seasons, Gerrith had formed up an army of woodlanders, of which he was the leader. The eagle had arrived right after the badger lord had heard word of the corsair ships making their way down to the mountain. Windblade had been surprised at the coincidence, but nevertheless he sent word to Gerrith, begging for assistance.
Gerrith answered.
And now the threat against the mountain was gone.
And now Windblade had to deal with another issue: his two sons, Gerrith and Horty.