CHAPTER IX: BY THE MOONLIGHT
Auhtor's Note: OK, I know that lately, I haven't been updating that often, but I've been working on another story too, and plus I hardly have any free time during the week to write, so the weekends are my only outlet. And I'm usually busy then, too. Need I say more? Yeah, one more thing: the chapter title is what it is, because all the stuff takes place by night, so in other words, "By the Moonlight".
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The inhumane sound just ripped out of her throat as Rani screamed.
She screamed. She screamed with all her lung's power, the shriek drifting on and on, and into the night.
She screamed, because in the end, screaming was the only thing she could do. The only thing left.
And she continued screaming as the dam beneath the holt burned, while her own holt's walls crumbled into ashes and blackened wood from the licking, biting, orange flames that danced across the timber and the across the river's currents, an exact reflection of the carnage.
The otters quickly took to the river, diving into the freshwater in an attempt to escape the flames, but quickly ending up peppered with arrows and spears from their ambushers.
Rani's eyes took this in, but her brain didn't, couldn't. She seemed to be the last otter left, a screaming, burning angel of the night. For she stood on the last piece of lumber still sticking out of the river, now covered in racing flames, who also reared their heads and feasted their mouths on Rani. Fire ran up and down her body, leaving behind clumps of blackened fur, peeling skin, and smoldering flesh.
Darion and his minions stepped out of their hiding place, behind a copse of trees, to watch the female otter. She screamed and screamed as the flames devoured her more, until, finally, her eyes glazed over and a fountain of blood erupted from her mouth and she kneeled back in death, falling back into the river that had been the grave for the rest of her Holt.
"We've killed them all, sir," saluted an infantry soldier, as he walked up to Darion.
Darion had been shaken by Rani's ordeal, but he did not let his emotions run free on his face, simply allowing a grim smile of content to grace his exterior. "Good…"
xxx
"Do you have an appointment with milord?" questioned the bulkier of the two guards barring the beast's way to Dorthin's tent. It was almost midnight and the guards' were getting suspicious of this cloaked, hooded figure that kept on seeking entrance to their leader.
The mysterious beast drew in another frustrated sigh and spoke again his low, icy-cold tone. "Myself thinks, that thou should not care whether myself has an appointment or myself does not. For the information myself carries, is so definitely urgent, that it will benefit thee's lord to hear it immediately." The creature gave a harsh rasp, signifying the end of his talk.
The loyal guards were not so easily put out. "Well, you'll just have to schedule an appointment and then you can tell this 'really urgent information' as you call it," one of the guards concluded.
The cloaked beast gave another rasp, this time of impatience and with an air of determination, he pulled of the hood of his cloak, revealing his face, and, bulling the stunned guards out of the way, he strode into the tent.
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Ujan admired Collin's spartan hideout in the cliffs. It was so simple yet so perfect.
Long ago, either by some natural disaster or a slew of miners, a fissure had been carved in the craggy, sea-beaten cliffs. Whatever force it had been, either beast or nature, had continued its work, until the fissure had turned into a large, spacious chamber. Though the entrance was quite small and hidden to the eye (due to a slab of granite that served as a rough door and gave only thin cracks as evidence of the chamber beyond), inside, the mineral-studded walls stretched out to envelop quite a large space.
And this space was occupied with some basic furnishings (larders, closets, a mess table, a set of chairs, and some bunk beds) and Collin's troops.
As Ujan grudgingly accepted some frugal rations (a small bowl of assorted, edible woodland plants and a few mussels gathered from the nearby shore, along with a small flask of river water), he wondered at the diversity of Collin's small host of warriors. In all they numbered about four scores, but Ujan could tell these were all fighters well versed in the art of war and bloodshed, seasoned and skilled, the cream of the drop. But what surprised him most of all was how different each of them were. A good portion of them were females, all with stoic and harsh faces. And they were also a mix of the races-good beasts and vermin were joined together under Collin. But Ujan could tell that not all were willing to work cooperatively with their one-time nemesis. Collin was going to have problems on his paws soon. Big problems.
The stoat was interrupted out of his brooding by Collin himself. The ragged, but dignified mouse had tapped him on the shoulder twice and now asked a question that surprised Ujan.
"Would you like to be part of my army? I see we have a common enemy that is stronger than both of us."
Ujan opened his mouth to inform Collin of his allegiance to Hakemillion, but another thought occurred to him. Why not spin a web of treachery around Collin and his beasts, to slowly but steadily draw them into serving his Lord? He'd surely be rewarded by presenting him with eighty, hardy soldiers. But this plan needed careful planning. Before he made any direct moves he'd have to get all his troops back.
"Gladly, my friend," said Ujan. "But first, I have some soldiers of my own in Dorthin's camp. They're not the best of the best, but they're all decent fighters, and will help in a pinch. I propose we liberate them from that treacherous camp and bring them here, to bolster your forces."
Collin was taken aback by this proposal. But he recovered, and immediately a wide grin split his weathered features. He grasped Ujan's paw between his own and said:
"My friend, you are a greater blessing than I thought. You do not have to serve me-let us both work together as leaders. We are partners."
Ujan smiled on the outside, but in his mind he whispered to himself, Not for long, mouse. Not for long.
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It was long and arduous work, toiling to dig the grave with bare paws for every beast, from Lukas to Maliana, Devnam to Jarbell. Rocks stung their paws and soil blistered their skin. Fur was ripped off in chunks to insects and gravel alike. But they labored all night, their heart going out to Devnam. The squirrel had been silent since Malik had departed from their world. His face was set like stone, and, so far, not a single wisp of emotion had touched his features. Every beast's (even Maliana's) heart had gone out to him and they helped him dig out a final resting place for Malik.
Now, with earth plastering their raw paws, the beasts drew back from the trench, letting contented sighs whisper among the night breezes. Devnam turned around and with a swift pace, walked back to the smoldering ashes of the extinguished campfire. Along them, lay the deceased body of the ferret. Malik's face was drawn and tight. The skin beneath his fur was a pale alabaster, and the fur around his mouth was a ruby red, due to his convulsion of blood. His eyes were merely blank, staring orbs that seemed to apprehend Devnam as he approached the body. All these signs of death seemed to give Malik and the atmosphere around him a ghastly, spectral sensation.
Disregarding this, Devnam scurried forward and picked up Malik in his arms. He withdrew a roll of cloth from his pack and rolled the body into it. He walked back towards the waiting grave, his head held high and limbs erect in a solemn, sober manner. Without speaking, the other travelers stepped aside to let the squirrel pass through unhindered, and Devnam slowly lowered Malik's body into its eternal home.
He covered the body with soil, carefully and precisely. He then stood up (and after some searching of the nearby grounds), carried a large, flat stone to the mound. He placed it smoothly into the soil, like a gray flag.
"Here's a something that could serve as a chisel," said Wayak, stepping out from the shadows and handing Devnam a strangely formed piece of steel. Devnam stared at it curiously and asked in a harsh voice,
"Where did you get such a thing?"
Wayak shrugged. "Ah always am collecting oddities and whatnot, and savin' 'em in my pouch. They're a pleasure to find, and ye never do know when a one or another may have a use for them."
Accepting this explanation, Devnam set to work. Among the other beasts, there were a lot of muffled conversations going on, but the squirrel paid them no heed and carved away at his task.
When it was done, he stepped away and let the other admire his wok:
Here lies a noble ferret, dubbed the name of Malik,
Who, though led a harsh life, toiled away his energies for Good,
In a dream that all beasts will not be separated and divided,
Stereotyped and categorized by race.
May we do all we can to fulfill his utmost desire.
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Scabiniel walked with his eyes in a turmoil of emotions and his head whirring with the new developments of his life. He was really at a dilemma: he understood the passion he felt for his "slave"-but, surely, she didn't. How could he make her fall for him? Even though, he would, of course, be a lenient master, there was a difference between her feeling thankful towards him, and her feeling love towards him.
He drew aside with a fellow general, the now-mutilated Radden Sikkan. It was really a wonder that the ferret still lived, was Scabiniel's opinion. His appearance was as a mummified, long-dead body, since bandages were placed all over his body, his left leg was in a cast and ice compresses were fastened to different body parts. His visible mouth was merely a thin slit, as the rest had been slashed off by Panias's last actions and hidden beneath layers of gauze dressing.
"Howja?" inquired Radden conversationally, his speech coming across as a harsh gurgle.
"Well enough," said Scabibiel in acknowledgement. "You?"
Radden managed a distorted grin. "Eh, as good as it 'an be, what with all t'is junk that be's a supposed to help me. Might as well w'ap me up in a blanket and call it quits. It'd help t'e bleeding just as muc', thank you!"
Scabiniel managed a rueful smile. "Yah…I'm pretty surprised you're still kicking."
Radden managed to give a nasal-sounding snort. "Hah! It 'ill take more t'an one h'otter to bring me to ete'nal rest. Though t'at h'otter did do a fine good job at trying."
The two broke off as they approached Hakemillion's tent, where their lord had summoned them for another generals' meeting. In a single-file line, they quietly made their way in. They were surprised to find themselves the only ones there besides Hakemillion himself-had Kabbin not arrived yet?
"Be seated, my subordinates." Hakemillion stepped forward, his robe swirling around his body. "I am most displeased that Kabbin is taking his sweet time arriving here. Why I have called this meeting is with the purpose to elect a fourth general, temporarily replacing Ujan, as I find that four generals rule the camp with more efficiency than three."
Digesting this new info, the duo of generals waited patiently for their partner to arrive. But Kabbin remained some place other, as minutes ticked by, until Hakemillion growled impatiently, "Go and find him, you morons. I need EVERY general here. Come on; hustle, hustle."
Brutally shunned out by their masters, the two departed in separate directions. Scabiniel decided to take a tour around his section of the camp before anyplace else. As he neared his own tent, he heard some muffled noise. Perplexed, he crept closer and he started hearing individual noises-drunken, wild laughs mixed with desperate, helpless, stifled screams. With an air of determination in his step, Scabiniel strode forward and ripped apart the cover flap, serving as an entrance, to his tent.
A startling scene greeted his wide eyes. Kabbin, obviously drunk, since cracked flagons of ale rolled about him, was proceeding to strip Scabiniel's slave and himself, with his paw clapped over her mouth. He was fraternizing with her in the worst way possible-he explored private areas with his paws and tongue, and forced her to undergo it, despite her frantic movements at escape.
Scabiniel took this all in with a burning, growing fury in his heart. "So that's where you were," he muttered black-heartedly, and strode forward in a fiery rage. Kabbin dimly (due to his consume of alcohol) turned his head upon the intruder…just in time to do something akin to a back flip, provoked by Scabiniel's kick which landed somewhere around his solar plexus.
Scabibiel continued with this attack, driving the heel of his hand into Kabbin's nose. A resounding crunch echoed around the tent, and blood gushed over the weasel's face. The force of the impact sent Kabbin's head careening into the hard ground, knocking him unconscious.
Scabibiel picked up the unconscious body, and with a mutter ("Wait until Hakemillion sees this") carried it out of the tent. But not before he turned back again and asked his slave in a tender, soft voice:
"Are you okay?"
The young fem, already beginning to redress, gave a shy nod.
"What's your name?"
She was startled by this close question and gathered her wits before replying.
"Miruna."
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Dorthin was startled out of his reverie, by a shadow in the corner of his eye. Dorthin turned around in his chair to watch the hooded figure, which had, in fact, just pulled back its hood over its face. It had a decent amount of girth, stopping at the point of stocky. It was of height a good deal larger than average, but not quite a giant. Dorthin was surprised that his guards had let in an unknown stranger, and readied himself for trouble. He was about to call out for help when the beast addressed his immediate issue.
"Do not worry about thee's guards, they are merely in a temporary trance. Do not worry about thou's safety either, for I am not going to harm you. Far from it, I will present thou with information that will help thee try turning the tide in this war you have."
Dorthin leaned forward, interested. Did this beast tell the truth?
The mysterious guest continued. "Myself knows of a plan that Hakemillion has arranged to bring thou down from within. He has, as one of thee's advisor discovered, hidden various spies in thou's network of soldiers. However, in thou's check for the enemy, the distraction that was caused by one of the enemy allowed the others to get away."
Dorthin was now really interested. He thought he had gotten every beast, but it was possible that some could have slipped. His army was after a very large number.
"But myself knows the beasts that fooled thee's try," concluded the stranger.
"Really? Who, who?" asked Dorthin immediately.
The stranger put a gloved paw in his cloak and withdrew a scroll blotted with ink letters. "Myself has written down the beast's aliases," it whispered.
xxx
It was just after darkness had taken complete hold of the world that Darion and his soldiers returned to Fort Warflash. Loss of sunlight had pressed the veterans to lanterns and torches, as the moonlight was too skimpy.
Darion walked, satisfied, in front of his beasts. It had been a good night to stain his paws with blood. When that she-otter freak had burned, he had lost some of his wits at the sight, but now he had gathered them back, mentally punishing himself. He was a leader of bloodthirsty fiends-he couldn't afford to be that emotional. He may have been only nineteen seasons old, but he had grown up from that innocent babe that Naze had taken pity on and raised as his own. He was now a general of the Murdock Empire, a beast who reveled in blood and cruelty.
"We be's approaching the fort, sir," saluted a scout rushing up to Darion's side. The ferret acknowledged the beast with a nod and walked on. What, he pondered, would the lady say on this? Surely even she couldn't complain!
He was still musing on this when he had entered the fort and walked up to the Lady, who had been waiting near the gate, watching him.
"Any enemy survivors?" she asked calmly. Darion shook his head.
"How may did we lose?" she continued.
"A dozen and a half," was the sharp reply. The Lady seemed to be in a trance until she spoke again.
"Not bad, not bad…in fact, quite good for a start." And she turned on her heel and walked back up the stairs to her chamber.
Darion, flabbergasted, turned to a nearby soldier and exclaimed, "I've probably done one of the greatest feats in 'vermin' history, and all she can say is, 'not bad'! Why, I'll give her 'not bad', what a…" Darion trailed off, still muttering under his breath mutinous thoughts.
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"So when do we attack the camp, and rescue your soldiers?" Collin posed the question that had been gnawing on his mind. He was ready for battle, but he also didn't want to appear too rash in front of his new partner.
Ujan gave a gap-toothed grin. "Ain't no time like the present, matey."
Collin gave a nod in agreement. He was ready and itching to go. He turned back to his troops, ordering in a demanding voice, "Attention, every beast! We're moving outta here and into the heart of the enemy, Dorthin's camp, hisself. Ujan's beasts are on the outskirts of the camp, luckily. Though there be's a counter to that, there is. Ya see, they are on the outskirts of the camp, all right, only on the farthest side from us. So get-sey-self armed and ready, cause we gonna circle all the way around, make a nice loop, snug and tight and then strike." Collin spoke the last word with a ringing determination etched in his tone and his eyes bespoke of a beast that would go down fighting for his cause.
Five minutes later, Collin, Ujan, and their troops were ready for their mission. They were all clothed in black, for even though it was pitch black outside, there were sure to be some light sources around Dorthin's camp, and they wished to blend in as mere shadows in that predicament. They each had two straight knives, stuck in their linen belts, as weaponry-Collin didn't wish the weapons to be big and cumbersome like a sword, axe, spear, bow, or other. They had also brought a small canteen of water and a small pack of food, as Collin had envisioned a situation where they might be trapped somewhere and face starvation or dehydration. Besides this, they also carried some special items that Collin had somehow acquired: a vial of a blue powder, that when mixed with oxygen would explode and cause a big mushroom-like bubble of gas that would cover an escape; a scarlet-looking potion that would blank out any beast's memory; and a sound detonator, a small box, that when triggered would cause an extremely large amount of noise. Ujan seriously wondered about the original whereabouts of these items, and how Collin had come to acquire them.
With Collin leading the fore, and Ujan right behind him, the small militia crept forward, taking every opportunity available to conceal themselves behind shrubbery and any other kind of cover. They slowly inched their way around Collin's camp, keeping a safe distance until they reached a set of clustered tents, which Ujan pointed out.
"That's where my soldiers are," he whispered in Collin's ear, who signaled to his warriors, and they slowly crept forward.
They stopped a few meters before, where Ujan mouthed to the beasts behind him, 'Stay here. I will go and have and seek out my lieutenant first. Here give me some of those curious objects you have. Be ready when I come back.' After his wish was complied, with slow, creeping steps he made his way to the chief tent.
He was thankful that nobody saw him and that when he entered the tent he found Shabinya sleeping. He was extremely grateful to the divine powers, for if she had been awake, the vixen would have probably screamed and blown their whole cover away. He hoped all the others were asleep too.
He carried her out, heavily hoping that no beast beside Collin and their soldiers would see him. He was obliged to God that such an occurrence didn't happen. He went back to collect the other four scores of the spies.
Everything ran as smoothly as possible for the first three scores. Ujan had entered one of about the sixtieth tent, when a scream issued from behind him. He whirled around and his heart almost leapt out of his heart.
Shabinya had awoken to find herself in strange beasts' paws. She had issued such a shrill scream that if there had been a rockslide from the cliffs to the other side of the camp, Ujan wouldn't have been surprised. There had to be at least some of Dorthin's beasts that had heard the scream, if not all. Sure enough, a rumbling noise rolled though the camp-the undistinguishable stamping of paws and screams of bloodshed. They didn't know who had disturbed their sleep, but the wait wouldn't be long.
"Forget the others!" shouted Ujan to Collin and the soldiers. "Let's get out of here with our hides still intact!"
It was too late for an all-out flee. The enemy had arrived.
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Agent D: Man, I haven't heard from you in a while; you still kicking at your stories? Well, I hope there weren't TOO many human characterizations in my chapter. Anyhow, thank you for the compliments and that you are enjoying the story, thus far.
Avelblue: Yeah, I know it was way too convenient for Malik, but I sort of wanted a dramatic ending, instead of just him ending the story and then the chapter ends. And I just sort of wanted to shock my readers a bit with Malik's injuries and all. Maybe it was a bit too…yeah, that. And for the Life/Seeker's path-I'm still working on the ideas for that stuff, I just presented it this way for the time being-I'll probably edit it and all. And this won't be the last you've seen of Malik and Romsca (Foreshadowing alert…dun, dun, dun).
Oh, and Darion's role of killing woodlanders plays a greater role than you would think. Seriously though, he is going to cause a LOT of bloodshed. And making people care about Rani…I tried to do a sort of scene like that in the beginning of the chapter (NORT stands for Northern Otter River Tribes, or something like that not sure, and it was mentioned in a couple of books). Oh, and if you don't mind I'll make an additional request of you for this review: You can still do the scene-by-scene thingy, but I would sort of like, if after that, that you could sort of comment on different aspects of the story, like characters, plot, prose, stuff like that. And, really, what do you think this story should be rated? I started out with a 'T' just to be safe, but I don't want to exaggerate or anything, and I'm a pretty bad rater, really.
Grubswiper: Hey, no problem. Well my updates have been kind of slow, but I hope you enjoy this chapter nevertheless.