Chapter 8

Meanwhile, the same night had fallen over the cold Northern sky. Orak's army pitched camp in secret far from the side of the path. Not far beyond the groves of evergreens lay a looming, half-complete stone fortress which stood upon a grassy hill. During a sunny day, the sunlight would illuminate Zaragus' signature red flag flying atop the hill, as the sound of enslaved woodlanders laboring away at the incomplete base echoed throughout the lands.

There was no firelight in Orak's camp – the Assassin had ordered all flames be extinguished so as to remain undetected in enemy territory – save one flame in the commander's tent. Sheltered from the elements, Orak, Deatheye, and Kirsharr sat around a small wooden table upon which lay a map and a candle. The three were hard at work, discussing the takeover of Zaragus' fortress.

"So, Deatheye," Orak inquired calmly, "your plan is to use Zaragus' own slaves to destroy him, am I correct?"

Deatheye nodded. "Aye, my lord. 'Twill save a large amount of my soldiers from dying."

Kirsharr's clenched paw struck the table with a resounding whack. "Arr, 'ave yew gone soft in der noggin, Deatheye? 'Ow will a bunch o' poorly-fed woodlanders rise up when dey can't even feed demselves, eh?"

Deatheye patted Kirsharr's paw condescendingly. "Elementary, my fat companion. I'm thinking we treat the slaves right – sneak food, blankets, and such to them, and make them believe that we're here to save them. Did you hear that hedgepig today…Umbo? He was ready to believe anything. He thinks we've come to help him and his family. What do you think the other slaves will see us as? They'll be grateful as long as we keep up this game."

Orak shook his head. "Deatheye, you don't even know how Zaragus keeps his slaves. What if he kept them in a locked, guarded cabin inside the fort? How will anybeast get food and help to them? Do not think you're so intelligent, Captain. There's a reason why Kirsharr here is leading the charge on the fort and not you."

Deatheye glared once more at a smirking Kirsharr. "So, my lord, you just plan to charge?" he asked, holding back his pent-up fury.

Orak casually flipped out a knife and slammed the point hard into the tabletop to show authority. "You see, my Captain, we're different creatures, you and I. You try to be this cultured beast who goes by so-called honorable warfare. And that is why you'll never get anywhere by yourself. Those who play nice never do. As for me, I prefer the more direct approach – tomorrow, I'm going to march my entire army to the fort and demand its immediate surrender. By the end of the day, Zaragus' head will be on a pike!"

Deatheye said nothing, but Orak knew that his Captain was thinking that this was not a good idea at all.

The ruthless Assassin sighed and turned to Kirsharr. "My loyal Captain, are the troops newly placed under your command ready to march by dawn?"

Kirsharr threw a smart salute despite his brutish appearance. "Aye aye, sir!"

Orak merely nodded. "Good. You two, I want my entire army up and about. That means you, Deatheye. Don't try anything stupid. I'll show that idiot corsair that there can only be one ruler of the Northlands! Get some sleep now. Tomorrow there will be blood! Dismissed!"

Deatheye angrily stalked out of the tent. Kirsharr saluted again and began to leave as well, but Orak stopped him.

"Kirsharr, hold on, my friend," his voice was surprisingly amiable.

The bumbling ermine turned his girth around. "Arr, wot is it, Chief?"

Orak drew close and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Kirsharr, thank you for being such a loyal Captain in my horde. You are far more trustworthy than Deatheye. Say, you think he's very high-and-mighty, don't you?"

"'Course I do, Chief. Why d'yer ask?" Kirsharr inquired, curious.

Orak paused, as if thinking pensively. "I've been thinking. Once we've conquered the Northlands I don't think Deatheye would be of any use to us anymore, eh, my friend?"

"Uh huh huh huh," Kirsharr chuckled, as he saw where this was going. "Yer wants me ter slip a blade 'twixt ol' Deatheye's ribs, don't yer, Chief?"

Orak clapped his Captain on the back. "That's the spirit! But only when I say so. Right now, you'll keep him alive because we need all the leadership we can get. But afterwards…" Orak drew back and slid a finger across his throat. "Kkkkkkkk!"

Kirsharr laughed heartily. "Arr, yer a sly 'un awright, Chief!"

Orak nodded modestly. "Not so loud, my Captain. Here, I'll tell you what. I'll place twenty more soldiers from my command to yours, because I trust you so much. Oh, and, I can't go to sleep knowing Deatheye's soldiers are guarding that hedgehog slave. Go to those guards and tell them that I've transferred them under your command."

Kirsharr practically drooled with gratitude. "Thank yer, Chief!" he nodded vigorously.

Orak seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "No, thank you, Kirsharr. I don't know who I can trust anymore, so I have to say I'm honored to have you in my horde. Get some sleep now. You're leading the troops into battle tomorrow. Deatheye will follow you."

Kirsharr proudly puffed out his chest…or was it his belly? He threw another salute then left the tent. Orak slumped in his chair. He had to play his cards right. Maybe someday he would "replace" both the insubordinate Deatheye and the idiotic Kirsharr with more competent Captains. But for now, he couldn't afford to lose anybeast; not in this critical moment.

Deatheye had been eavesdropping outside the tent. Having heard everything, he slipped off, a plan forming in his brain. He had to get rid of Kirsharr before the bumbling slob got rid of him. Now it wasn't a fight to hold his rank and dignity as a horde Captain; now it was a fight for survival.

The next morning, the entire army of Orak the Assassin showed up in force at Zaragus' doorstep.

The weasel corsair's rats did nothing to halt the advance of the fearsome horde, strangely enough. What was even stranger was that the gates of the half-finished front wall were wide open.

To the surprise of an entire army, the only "resistance" at the gates of the fortress was a single hunchbacked rat, holding a white flag. At this, Orak's entire army stopped.

"'Is Mightiness would like to parley wid yer, sires," the rat spoke in a high voice.

Orak looked at Deatheye and Kirsharr, who shrugged. The ermine warlord stepped forward, preparing to enter the fortress. But the rat stopped him.

"No weap'ns, sire, 'is Mightiness' orders."

Reluctantly, Orak set down his jeweled rapier and his throwing knives. However, under his cloak he hid a single dagger. The rat didn't seem to notice.

"Right dis way then, sire." The rat herded Orak inside as more rats closed the gates to the remaining army.

For the first time since he was promoted, Kirsharr shifted uneasily. "Err, Deatheye, wot'll we do now?" he asked.

Deatheye shrugged. "You're Orak's pet, you tell me."

Thus, the entire army stared passively at the unfinished stone spires which towered above the trees, not knowing what to do.

Zaragus was an odd-looking weasel, to say the least; the sturdy, black-furred corsair boasted a shock of headfur, which he braided into thick locks upon which dangled golden rings. He wore a large, wide-brimmed hat which was adorned with a large feather from a hawk which he had slain. The weasel wore two thick leather corsair boots on his footpaws along with baggy trousers the color of red wine, an unbuttoned purple silk vest, and a pair of crossbelts across his bare chest which carried two wicked-looking scimitars. However, the strangest part was his eyes. Zaragus possessed a pair of big brown eyes which radiated a strange innocence and trust. At least, that's what his opponents thought until he slashed their throats out.

The old rat escorted Orak into a lavishly-furnished cabin – the only finished building aside from the slave quarters and the barracks in this fort. Zaragus was leaned back in an elegantly-carved chair, his hat pulled down over his eyes and his footpaws were up on the table in front of him. He was snoring, and on the table lay an empty cask of seaweed grog.

The rat timidly tapped on the open cabin door. "Err, Yer Mightiness, there's somebeast here t'see yer."

Zaragus sat up and pushed the hat out of his eyes, which lit up upon seeing Orak. "Ah! There y'are, my friend!" he said warmly, standing up with open arms.

Inwardly, Orak was taken aback by the unexpected rapport of the corsair, but from his experience, it was most likely just a ruse. However, the sly ermine decided to play along. He nodded and smiled. "You must be Zaragus. I've heard all about you."

"Harharr, of course. Everybeast 'as, but 'tis nothing." The corsair pulled up a chair. "Come an' sit, Orak the Assassin!"

Distrust flickering in their eyes, the two sat down in the sparsely-furnished room. Zaragus reached over and uncorked a fresh bottle of grog. He offered the bottle to Orak, who flatly refused.

Zaragus took a big swig of grog before he started. "Arr, seaweed grog. Can't git enough o' that. Anyway, why're ye here? 'Ave ye come t'parley wid me?"

Orak feigned surprise. "Parley? Why, of course not, my friend. I wouldn't dream of doing that ever!"

The corsair weasel's brown eyes shone gleefully as he played around with the cask of grog. "Come now, matey, ye must 'ave a reason t'be comin' to my quarters. Just tell me, I swears on me oath that I won't be offended."

"Well, if you put it that way…" Orak stood up resolutely. "I've come to demand the immediate surrender of you and your crew, weasel!"

Zaragus never even stood up to face Orak's challenge. Nor did he reach for the scimitars strapped to his back. The weasel seemed to be at a loss for words, then he laughed heartily. "Arr, yer a hard barg'ner, that's fer sure. Surrender? Wot about my beautiful fortress…and th' pore liddle slaves who don't got nowheres t'go?"

"Don't play games with me, Zaragus!" Orak snarled. "You know all too well only one of us can rule the Northlands!"

Zaragus nonchalantly inspected a paw. "I know that, an' it's goin' ter be me."

In a flash, Orak drew the dagger which he had concealed under his cloak and hurled it at Zaragus. He was too close to miss. However, the corsair's lightning-quick reflexes bade him upend the table with his footpaws. The knife thudded into the sturdy wood. A second later, Zaragus had leaped over the table and was pointing one of his scimitars at Orak's throat.

"Arr, landlubber, where's yer honor, eh? An' I thought that corsairs t'were the sneaky ones. Ha!"

The door behind Orak opened as three of Zaragus' rats blocked the exit, menacing the Assassin with spears.

Orak knew his gamble to kill Zaragus had failed. Now the best he could do was threaten his way out.

"I don't think you want to kill me, Zaragus," he warned. I have a battle-hungry army waiting outside, and your motley crew of rats and your half-built fort won't do anything to protect you against my soldiers."

Zaragus laughed out loud. "Harrharr, threat'nin' me now, eh? Well, you ain't worth my time, anyway." He looked at his rats. "Get this addlebrain back ter his troops so 'e kin go an' cry. But keep me 'is sword. 'Tis a nice sword!"

Seething at his shattered dignity, Orak was swiftly marched out of Zaragus' cabin. As he was paraded through the site, the ever-resourceful ermine examined the layout of the place. Lots of wretched slaves with no food to eat. All they want is freedom. Walls aren't too high. They can be scaled. Slave quarters in the middle of the place. Lots of grass and dry wood…fire would work nicely…

The rats escorted Orak to the door. The Assassin was shocked to find that Zaragus' force had somehow sneaked out and surrounded his entire army. Deatheye's face was ashen as Kirsharr was trembling with fear. The rest of the warlord's soldiers didn't look too great either.

"Ahoy there!" Orak looked up to see Zaragus perched upon a semi-finished battlement, holding the Assassin's rapier. "There's yer army fer ye. Ye can't outsmart me! Harrharr, but I'm feelin' nice an' dandy today, so I'm going ter let ye go along wid th' rest of yer troops. 'Ow's that sound, eh?"

Zaragus waved a paw and his army parted, making way for Orak's soldiers to retreat in disgrace. Orak bit his lip until blood showed. Zaragus had won…for now. "You made a mistake, weasel!" he shouted. "One day, I will be back! And I will kill you!" Scraping together whatever face he had left, Orak barked out orders. "Chest out! Eyes forward! About-face! March!"

Zaragus laughed heartily. "Hoho, that was well-played!" He turned to a rat holding a bow standing next to him. "Oy, Skel, yer see that straggler at th' end of the army? Snuff 'is life out for me, if'n yer please!"

The rat named Skel obliged and fired a well-aimed arrow at the retreating army of Orak the Assassin. He was rewarded with an ermine's scream.

It was dark again. Nobeast dared approach Orak's tent, lest they incur his wrath. Umbo the hedgehog had sat there all day, dreaming of home. Would he ever see his mate and children again? His guards were dozing off, having watched him all day. The ropes seemed loose. Maybe he could…

The hedgehog came alert as Deatheye approached the guards, carrying a haversack. The stoat Captain whispered something to the guards, who nodded and gratefully left.

Deatheye looked around suspiciously before he crouched down next to Umbo, swiftly cutting the slave's bonds with a knife.

Umbo was shocked. "Y-you're lettin' me go?"

"Silence, you fool! Do you want to draw the attention of the whole camp?" Deatheye hissed. "Here, I want to thank you for your help. Nobeast is listening to me, so you'll have to do. Take this haversack for your family. It's the least I could do."

Umbo opened the bag and started crying silent tears of joy as he saw what was inside. Somehow, Deatheye had managed to procure a number of biscuits, dried fruits, and a bottle of cherry cordial.

"Eat up," Deatheye smiled. "Not so fast, you glutton! You'll need to save some for your family and friends. Now, can you do something for me?"

Umbo nodded eagerly, tears still streaming down his face.

Deatheye leaned in. "When you bring the food back to the slaves, tell them it was from the army of Deatheye and that we are their friends and liberators. We will deliver them food daily and see to it that all the slaves under Zaragus' grip will be free soon."

Umbo, who was perhaps too trusting, nodded vigorously. Deatheye continued. "Good. And when you're done, come back and hide on the other side of the path for the next few days. I'll meet you there every day with food and supplies for you to deliver. Punishment awaits you back at the fortress if you return. Stay hidden, away from Zaragus and away from Orak. We'll start delivering food to those slaves. You all look like you could use some food."

Umbo practically hugged Deatheye's leg. "Oh, thank you, Mister D-"

Deatheye nodded impatiently. "You're welcome. Anyway, off with you while it's still dark. Now's the best time to deliver food to the slaves, I'm guessing. The guards should be asleep. And be careful!"

For a hedgehog his age, Umbo disappeared surprisingly fast into the night.

Deatheye smiled. His plan was falling together nicely. Leave it to Orak and Kirsharr to bumble around uselessly. After all, it's brains that win the day. He also put a rift between Orak and Kirsharr. After all, it was Kirsharr's guards who let Umbo escape. Right?

Chapter 8! How did you guys like it? Feel free to leave feedback! I'll be back with Chapter 9 next week! ~The Ghost Writer