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The Ashleg Chronicles, Chapter Ten: The Hunt

It was ironic, thought Caelan as she looked out over the valley in the bright noon sun; that the first time Noonvale faced a direct threat, its first consideration should not be either attack, nor defence, but to deal with a crisis within. A crisis which could never have been anticipated. Or maybe it wasn't ironic – maybe it was just as well. For the indigenous Noonvalers, who lived there all four seasons round and counted it their true home; well, for them, a war like this was an alarming concept, which could only be dealt with by depending almost entirely on the counsel of others. The otter, squirrel and shrew tribes dealt with dangerous circumstances for most of their lives, the season and a half at Noonvale being a welcomed respite from the risky nomad life. But what if the vermin had come during the seasons the tribes were away? Caelan shuddered to think of it. Voh and his councillors could not have held out for long. In fact, it was doubtful they'd have even survived the decoy attack. One of Tesey's favourite sayings was 'A rainbow cannot exist without both sunshine and rain'. Caelan thought she now knew what the elderly seer meant. Urran Voh's ideal of a community of complete peace and harmony was admirable, and certainly very attractive; but it could never be attained without struggles and discord, whether large or small.

But she couldn't think this deep for long right now, Caelan reminded herself. There were things to be dealt with, in the here and now.

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Urran Voh had had a sleepless night, wondering what in all the fates he was supposed to do in the coming conflict. But for all his musings, the answer was no clearer that midday than it had been the previous night. The ageing mouse stood, paws behind his back, at the stone on the hill over Noonvale, looking out over his vale as he waited.

Soon, a group of figures from the other end of the valley approached him. They climbed the hill and faced Urran over in front of the stone – Brome, Caelan Riversword, Ashleg and Tesey. That other squirrel, Ley, was nowhere to be seen, he noted.

At first, when Urran had found out the pine marten had gone missing, he'd been angry. But as he was about to issue a search party, Brome had come back to the house and explained – coolly and without emotion – that he and his friends had rescued Ashleg and were now in a safe place. He hadn't said where. But it seemed that Ashleg had requested a peaceful meeting with Voh, to present his case and ask for a pardon. Urran had agreed; but he was surprised to see the elderly seer in the group.

"Tesey," he greeted her gravely, bowing his head briefly. As usual, the otter didn't return the welcome – even before all this had started, she'd never been the politest of beasts. She stopped on the other side of the stone, Ashleg, Caelan and Brome staying a little behind her.

"Chieftain Voh, you know why we are here," Tesey said curtly. "I told you at the council that I could not share my visions while this inner strife goes on; that still stands. But we both know that age such as ours brings wisdom – even," she said acidly, "if yours has been temporarily blinded."

Urran stiffened. Normally, no Noonvaler would even have thought of insulting him so – but after all, this was Tesey. She was a paradox, a mystery, and most definitely a law unto herself. Allowances had to be made for the extraordinarily gifted.

"So," the otter continued, "I feel bound to advise you, Chieftain – things are conspiring that even I cannot see." Here Tesey became almost agitated, the first time Urran had ever seen her so. "Ashleg's coming here was not pure chance. "Neither was this Owlrider's. The clouds are gathering, and I fear…"

As her voice trailed off, Ashleg stepped up and put a paw on her shoulder. "Thanks, Tesey, but I can go on from here."

The old otter moved his paw away from her, but gently, without reprimand, and turned away. Ashleg faced Urran Voh, his scarred face completely unreadable. For the first time, the mouse chieftain really noticed the reach of the disfigurement, and had to keep from wincing at the thought of the pain it must have caused.

"Chieftain Voh," said Ashleg, putting a paw to his heart in a gesture Urran did not know. "I know you consider me a threat to the peace of your valley, which I respect. I know you worked hard, and suffered personal tragedy, to get the stability you had before I came. But I promise you that I seek only the same peace now. I was, until a few months ago, the advisor to a warlord, and I accept and admit I killed innocent creatures during that time. That part of my life is over now, and I do truly regret it. I haven't done anything since I came here that merits punishment. What I ask now is: will you forget my appearance, and my past, and acknowledge me for who I am now?"

Urran didn't know what to say to that. None of his former plans seemed to make sense any more. Hardly able to look the marten in the eye, he took a breath to try and speak –

And then a shriek split the air.

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Tynos shouldered his gleaming axe and made off for the west end of the camp at a fast trot. But as he passed a ditch close to the Owlrider's tent, his eye was drawn to a pitiful, bloodied, crumpled figure curled in the muddy rut. He looked closer, and saw with shock and a touch of macabre satisfaction that it was the spy weasel, almost certainly dead.

"Hah!" He spat on the prone weasel. "Justice has caught you at last, scum."

Tynos wasn't stupid. He'd known about the weasel's petty withholding of information from his master, and had done some spying himself in the last few days. Only yesterday, well, he might have accidentally let slip something that condemned the idiot weasel. The Owlrider had no mercy for traitors.

But as the grinning fox turned away, the weasel in the gutter moved. Tynos watched in horror as, blood streaming down his face, the weasel dragged himself up, his face twisted with a demented, agonised hate. His mutilated paw – several claws missing – reached to his waist, and Tynos saw with astonishment that he still had a dagger at his side. The weasel threw it, the very action squeezing his eyes shut in pain.

Tynos looked in bewilderment at the serrated blade growing from his shoulder joint. Then, with a roar of fury, he swung his battleaxe and cleaved the dying weasel in two.

For a heartbeat he stood there, pain and anger clouding his head. But then his mind took control, and he got away from the scene as quickly as possible. The punishment for killing a spy was death – even though it was certainly Owlrider who had tortured him in the first place, Tynos had no doubt the Owlrider's mind was twisted enough to still order his execution.

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Caelan's heart stopped for a beat as she looked down the hill.

Down by the waterfall, a group of vermin emerged from the trees, blades in paw. One had the Chief's wife Aryah with a sword across her throat – it was she who had screamed. A golden figure, double shortswords flashing in the sun, was trying furiously to fight her way to the centre; it was Treequeen Kayja. Other Noonvale warriors had noticed the commotion and were running to the battle.

Brome gave a strangled sound and dashed off down the hill unarmed, with no regard for his own safety. Caelan unsheathed her sword and bounded after him. Her heart pounded; how could the vermin have got so close? To strike so near to the heart of the vale? Visions of disaster sprung into her mind, almost as if she had inherited her aunt's gifts. What if there were more attackers elsewhere? What if one of the principal tribe leaders was killed? What in all the earth would Urran Voh do if his wife was taken from him, when he had already lost so much?

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The calamity hit Ashleg at the same time, but he managed to stay calm. His long seasons as a tactician had not been for nothing; instinctively he swept the tree line all around the valley for signs of lurking hordebeasts, and caught a glimpse of a red headband and black fur up on the west side. He yelled to Caelan and pointed, and she nodded, dashing off through the houses to hold them off with a bunch of otters. He took a swift estimate of the vermin's numbers: there weren't so many of them this time for some reason, and it looked like the Noonvalers would be able to deal with them easily enough.

Ashleg turned quickly to Urran Voh, who was staring down at the conflict in utter shock. "Get down to the houses and make sure all the warriors are out," he said. They might not need all of them to hold back this sudden attack, but it would be useful to have everyone's opinion on exactly how the assailants had got right into the valley without being noticed.

But as he ushered Voh, who was too shocked to protest at him giving orders, down the hill, out of the corner of his eye something moved. A small thing, blue and brown – but when he looked round at the trees where he'd seen it, it wasn't there.

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The vermin were soon driven off. It seemed their only target had been to cause panic, not directly overrun the valley. Ashleg was puzzled at the strange tactics of the enemy; they were effective, but totally nonsensical. They followed none of the usual patterns.

Caelan stood nearby, cleaning her sword diligently. But as soon as she sheathed it, another otter came running up to her. Ashleg vaguely recognised her as one of Caelan's closer relatives.

"Caelan – I can't find him, he's not anywhere, I looked all over the valley –"

"Holle, calm down!" exclaimed his friend. "Who are you talking about?"

"Jegg," gasped Holle. "He's gone missing, I lost track of him when Scira went off to fight the vermin…"

Something cold clawed its way into Ashleg's throat. It grasped his windpipe with icy paws and squeezed hard so he could hardly breathe…

Caelan put her arms around her cousin as she sobbed into her shoulder, and as he shook himself from the shock that gripped him, Ashleg couldn't help but notice the first person she looked at was him. Her dark eyes were wide with the same cold disbelief he felt.

Then, suddenly, a jolt of clear recognition ran through Ashleg's body. He almost lost his grip on his crutch as he remembered – that small figure he'd half-seen before! Last time he'd seen his little friend, he'd been wearing a blue smock. It must have been Jegg.

"Caelan!" He stumped over to her and explained what he'd seen. Brome was nearby and turned to listen. When Ashleg had finished talking, he nodded. "He must have run into the forest. A Dibbun would probably panic at the battle."

"But that's in the direction of the vermin camp!" wailed Holle.

"We have to go and find him," said Caelan, looking at her companions seriously. Ashleg and Brome nodded.

"It'll be best if we go straight away," suggested Ashleg. "Then there's a better chance of finding him before something bad happens, and anyway, your father might not want you to go, Brome."

Caelan nodded her assent and gently sat Holle down. "Holle, we're going to go and find Jegg. Try not to worry, we'll find him in no time. Just wait and see."

The tearful otter smiled tremulously. "Thank you."

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A little later, Brome, Caelan and Ashleg stood at the wood's edge, making final checks that they had everything they might need. But just as they were about to set off, Ley came up, also holding a haversack.

"Ley, what are you doing?" asked Caelan.

"Coming with you," said the small squirrel busily, fastening her rucksack round her thin shoulders. "I know the little otter's missing, and – well," she looked straight at Ashleg, "I wanted to help. You're a good creature, Ashleg, and I'd be proud to throw in my lot with you."

There was silence for a second, and Ashleg smiled. "Thanks, Ley. It'll certainly be easier with more searchers."

And with that, the small, odd search party entered the forest.