A/N:
I HAVNE'T DIED!!!
I am incredibally sorry for this long, long, long, long, eternal wait. I am not going to blame it on anything but myself, though I am proud to say that I wrote basically HALF of it today.
I hope I get reviews, but it serves me right if I don't.
Thanks for hanging on.
Chapter 21:
It had been three full days since Rosilla had lost herself in anger, and had continued bringing the small fork down into Levirkad's flesh. Up and down…..all the while thinking of her son, so small, smaller even with his body curled up and his eyes wide, unblinking, and unseeing in death. So small, so young. A waste of life. And the ferret had caused it, caused his death, even though he had been a little terror in life.
And even then, that little act of wildness and bloodthirst, she still thought she needed revenge, it wasn't enough. She wanted to strike him for every tear that had fallen from her eyes, for every second of sadness and anguish her son's death had caused. There would be no end to the hatred she felt towards him. Her blood, her son, her life. She wanted to kill him.
But Dobane felt that Levirkad would welcome death, would welcome it so that the mousemaid, hysterical, would not cause him any more pain. So, after the two days of care from the fox healer, Jareth, and her daughter, Disiean, and his shoulder muscles healed, he was to be put to work as a slave, and the rats in his army that wanted to join Dobane's joined; the rest settled to either help the slaves, or they taught the members of Dobane's army new moves, exercises, and techniques. Rosilla was not allowed, though, to follow Levirkad around with a whip, though she did find out who struck the blow that stole her son's life.
She woke early, and saw Sandunal's bed empty already. They had been moved to one of the upper floors, so light shone dimly through the half-covered window to the east. Slowly, the mousemaid stood, and stretched, her arms above her head and her back arched inwards. She settled back into a standing position, and fell to her knees on the floor, hard-packed earth. Still half asleep, she shoved her paw under the bed and felt around for something to wear. Her paws brushed an unfamiliar texture; she frowned, and grasped it, pulling it from under the bed.
A tunic had found its' way under her bed, well made and worn. She looked closely at it, looking for signs of its owner's mark. Nothing was there, and even though she could see that the stitches were fine, and were rubbed a little hard in some places, causing the thread to looked slightly frayed. The mousemaid sniffed it, faintly smelling the salty scent of sweat, and a slight flowery perfume. She lifted her head, slowly, eyebrows lowered in confusion. Who's was this? Why was it under her bed? She heard footpaws approaching the door behind her, which she had followed the individual grains in the wood countless times, and faced the door, still in her night-dress, holding the tunic. The door opened.
A rat stood there, a rat she had seen before, or at least heard, because when he saw the tunic in her arms, he spoke.
"Where did you find that?"
She raised her eyebrows, seeing the aggressiveness and resentment in his eyes. "Is this yours, then?"
"Answer my question first."
Her eyebrows climbed higher up her forehead.
He sighed. "Yes, they're mine. Where did you find them?"
"I found them under my bed, for some strange reason. Why would that be?"
"One of my friends stole it from me last night, and I haven't found them for a while. Did he hide them in here?"
"If he did, it was while we were asleep. And if he did hide them while we were asleep…tell me, can your friend step lightly, so light the floor doesn't quiver slightly?"
"I am aware that he can do close to that, yes. Why?"
"Because my sister," she gestured at the other bed a few pawsteps away," is a light sleeper; rarely anything can fail to wake her."
He looked at her, and she saw recognition dawn in his eyes. "Are you and your sister the ones found a little bit away from that mouse clan?"
"Yes. Why?"
"None are to enter your room without permission from yourselves or Dobane. I am sorry. I will leave."
"Well, if you need to, may you tell me your friends' name and where he might be at the moment."
"Sure. But why?"
She grinned. "I want to tell him that he shouldn't enter our room…. Is he aware of this rule?"
"Yes."
"Thank you. Now what is his name and location at this time?"
"Havokcause, and he is currently on duty pushing the new slave Levirkad."
"Thank you. That really makes my day, you know." Giving him a smile, she pressed the tunic into his paws, and, after he left, shut the door, diving under the bed for clothing. She knew Dobane wouldn't find out until, perhaps, tomorrow, for he was gone, summoned by some weird warlord.
Within a minute or two, she was out the door.
---
Sandunal wandered around the intricate web of tunnels and caves beneath the surface, memorizing them hopefully in her head. By the next day, for the last two days, though, she had forgotten most of them, so she kept coming back, just in case she would remember them again.
A pounding of pawsteps on the floor, quickly slapping the surface, echoed through the cavern. She stopped, listening. If she heard right, which was probably incorrect, as the sound would bounce off many surfaces, distorting the direction of which it was coming from, the beast was coming down the….was it the southeast?...passage, to her right and ahead slightly.
The intruder revealed itself, running madly down one of the passages, a grim light of determination radiating from its eyes.
Sandunal recognized it.
"HOLD UP! What're you doin' in these passageways down here? You know you aren't allowed down here!"
The beast ignored her.
"It's for your own safety!"
The beast stopped and looked at her, growling, "I don't care. I have got to do this. Don' care if she kills me!"
Sandunal shook her head. "She won't kill you. Besides, if they catch you away from the workplace, they'll let her torture you."
"Get outta my way, mousie, or I may have to push you against the wall!"
Suddenly, those voices erupted in Sandunal's head.
Once a ferret, always a ferret.
Don't let him do what one did to me!
Don't die…Don't share the same fate as her…Please…
Stay there. You won't die if you take him by surprise. But don't let him get you. DON'T.
Sandunal stood firm, crossing her arms. "I don't think you can do that, Levirkad."
He attempted to push her into the closest wall, but, as he came forward, she kicked him in the stomach
He staggered back, bent over double, clutching his midriff. Sandunal pushed him to the ground easily, overbalanced as he was. Stubbornly, before he could retaliate, she sat on his abdomen, and as he came up, trying to bend double again, she stuck her elbow out, causing him to go back, clutching his muzzle, hitting his head hard enough to knock himself out on the stone floor.
Lightly echoing footsteps, hard to hear, danced down the passageway, reaching Sandunal's ears. She stood, knowing that Levirkad wasn't going to get up very soon, and waited.
A rat, as usual, came running down the passageway, fast but light. Upon seeing Levirkad down on the floor, he slowed down.
"Gave me the slip. Knocked me down and ran." He muttered to no beast in particular, and, looking around the room, saw Sandunal.
"What're you doing out here? Mice don't go out here!"
She looked at him coldly. "What is your name?"
He snorted. "Yours before mine, missy."
"I asked yours first. Go on, tell me." She bristled slightly. 'Missy'? 'Missy'? He was no older than she!
He sighed, giving in. "Havokcause. Yours?"
"Sandunal."
He looked at her for a moment, and then his eyes went wide. "You're not the one who hates him to Hellgates and back, are you?" he jerked a claw at the unconscious ferret.
She rolled her eyes. "No. That's Rosilla."
"And you're not those special guests…." He trailed off.
"Yeah, we are. Why so?"
"Nothing." He mumbled. It was clear he was hiding something.
"What'll happen to the ferret?"
Havokcause sighed. "I believe it has something to do with torture for hitting and resisting a guard, and torture by the…as he calls her, 'madmouse'…"
Sandunal resisted a grin. "She'll like that."
Pounding pawsteps raced down the stone hallway, and Sandunal pricked her ears, listening. She was good at listening while Rosilla wasn't as much so.
She recognized them.
"It's Rosilla."
The mousemaid ran into view, and caught sight of Sandunal. "Hey! Do you know where some rat called 'Havokgoose' is?"
The rat looked appalled.
"Right there." Sandunal pointed at him. "But his name is Havokcause, not Havokgoose."
"Alright." Walking over to the guard, she asked brightly, "Do you know where that-that-ferret- is?"
He nodded.
"Where, then?"
"I may not tell you for the fear of killing him needlessly."
Her eyes, black already, seemed to darken. "No," she spat out. "I won't kill him. I'll do far, far worse than that."
Sandunal rolled her eyes. "Rosilla, you'll get your chance. He tried to escape, but was stopped."
"Where is he?"
"You haven't seen him? Besides, you won't be able to vent your fury out on him. Yet."
Rosilla had spotted him, and was about to slap him awake when she stopped. "Yet?"
"Yet." Sandunal told her firmly. "Rule for him-tries to get away, he gets to spend some time with you."
Rosilla got up, and there was a strange light in her eyes. "Excellent." She faced the rat. "I know what you did last night."
Havokcause paled considerably.
"What'd he do?" Sandunal looked from one to the other.
"Went into the room. Without permission."
Sandunal waved a paw. "Pah! What's all this about permission?"
"We're not allowed to. It was dark and I wanted to hide Surnolit's tunic."
Sandunal frowned, creases creating little mountains on her brow. She had heard his name before…..
While she was pondering this, Rosilla was interrogating the rat."Who's Surnolit?"
"Thintail's brother."
"And who is Thintail?"
"Dobane's son."
Sandunal's head snapped up, eyes filled with comprehension. "Rosilla, you wouldn't have remembered this, you were nearly blind at the time, but those two rats who came to take us down to Shalla-"
"Sharalla." Rosilla interrupted.
"Sharalla, fine."
"Wasn't that the sparrow?"
They looked at Havokcause, and then at each other. Sandunal mouthed 'oops', and walked away.
Rosilla stalled. "Call me when it's time." She then pivoted on her heel, and walked in Sandunal's direction.
He watched them go in confusion, but quickly gave up on it. Besides, he had to drag the ferret back to the slave station- and then somebeast would help him carry him to Il Pozzo di Grida.
---
Mariel continued down the stone steps, where she had tried to escape only a few days earlier. Trentilis wanted to see her in the, if she had heard right, kitchens. Supposedly, he had something to show her, something that he thought she would enjoy seeing.
She thought not.
The Bellmaker's daughter was still wary of the large wolverine, and unsure of his intentions, especially after her attempted escape.
Briefly, she thought about escaping. There were prime conditions-nobeast in sight, no guards, none to witness her pulling open the oak doors that she had heard once of.
She dismissed the idea instantly.
There was no doubt that Trentilis had put guards on duty, or something of that strange force that had prevented her from escaping, and from harming the Lord of the Ever-Burning Flames.
She knew that, contrary to most of the vermin she had ever faced within her life among the living, he actually had brains to go with the whole vermin features. Strange, she thought, that they should have them.
Immediately, she felt prejudiced.
There was that one ferret…the silver one. She liked her, if only as an incredibly annoying (in her opinion) beast. That was for the way she had stood before Mariel, firm and unmoving, preventing her from escaping.
Paws dancing lightly on the smooth stones, wonderfully locked together in near-perfection, she looked within doorways, and sniffed for the aromas that usually came in the package of a kitchen.
Usually. Who knew what it would be like.
She peered into the doorway, and saw an amazing sight.
There were woodlanders in the kitchens.
Instinctively, she looked for chains binding them, but there were none, and all of them seemed healthy, some with bulging bellies.
She caught sight of the massive white boulder before he caught sight of her. Silently, she tip-pawed in, unnoticed by most of the others, and made her way over to the wolverine.
"Hello."
She nodded at him.
He turned to meet her. "So, do you want to go?"
She chuckled involuntarily. "Do you see me going anywhere else?"
The white wolverine smiled slightly. "No. I don't. Unless you want to take a trip to the clothes place." He looked at Mariel's tunic-She hadn't been able to change it ever since appearing here. "Dresses, I think."
Mariel coughed suddenly, bending over and choking in disbelief, while Trentilis looked on with raised eyebrows.
"Dresses?" the mousemaid managed to croak out.
"Of course. Most of the time, everybeast wears tunics, but you're another matter."
"How so?"
Trentilis looked uneasy. "I'll tell you later."
With a noise of disapproval, Mariel turned away. "Come on, then. Unless we aren't going anywhere."
The great Wolverine sighed, and got up. "This way." He strode out of the room, no glances cast at him or the mousemaid, and beckoned with one claw.
With a great 'Humph!', Mariel followed, crossed arms, and one paw at the ready.
You never knew what may happen in this place.
---
Ffindle drained some more of the water out of his flask, where the contents were dwindling swiftly. Wiping his brow, he looked along the hazy horizon, where sand dunes were distorted by waves of heat swirling and rising into the air.
Merrick stood beside him, sparrow wheeling above him a few feet higher. "Where next, then, Perilous?"
Ffindle shook his head. "No clue. I've tracked as much as I can; they seem to have disappeared into the dunes themselves."
Merrick nodded grimly, and looked up at Sharalla. "Can you lead us to where your friends let you out?"
The Sparrow let out a shrill sounding chirp in reply. "Follafolla me, quickquick nowsowe c'n get there fastafast!"
With that, she sped off.
Running to catch up, Ffindle looked back once more. The trees beckoned him back, hopefully, but he shook his head, facing the arid land before him.
The journey continued, and now, unlike the noon sun they had started under, it was mid-way to sunset.
Merrick looked at the young hare beside him running still, thoughts walking politely into his conscious mind without hurry.
How do you know that he is Perilous? What proof is there? One demanded, but, as always, in a civil manner.
We can only trust. Besides, Sandunal…
I get the point, but what if this is some scheming plot of his? The Friar never did like him…
In his mind, the Trusting thought started pacing, something that his thoughts rarely did. Well, Ffindle did steal from the kitchens-
Exactly!
But that is what all hares do.
Merrick was barely able to register the steady rhythm of paws beating sand, sand that shifted and tried to trip those above, listening to his thoughts.
You cannot deny that-
Yes, I can. Ffindle is a respectful hare with enemies and allies-he just happens to have more enemies than allies.
Fine. We'll talk again. For now, there's a bit of a hill coming up again…
They both walked out, well-mannered as ever, while Merrick concentrated on getting up the hill.
"Hurryfastafast, nearnow, closeclose, notfar!"
Ffindle wiped his brow, and looked back again, still running. Mossflower wood was just a green belt in the distance now.
There was no turning back.
Sharalla slowed down, and alighted on Ffindle's shoulder, the hare stopping gradually. Merrick beside him, Ffindle sat down, and unscrewed his flask of water. Taking a couple of sips, the hare turned to Sharalla.
"Where to now?"
The little sparrow took her beak out of Merrick's flask, and answered shortly. "Littlebit findentrance hardworkvery."
Ffindle struggled to translate this particular part of speech. Liddlebid findntrez herdwurkvury?
"The entrance is hard to find?"
Sharalla nodded her head in affirmative at Merrick.
"And it is only a little bit away?"
Once again, she nodded.
"How far?"
Sharalla considered this for a moment. "Twosandahillas farfar. Watchawatch for verminrats."
Ffindle stood. "We'd better get a move on, then, I don't want t' stick 'round when rats are nearby."
Merrick noticed a quick movement, a shadow, disappear around on of the towering dunes. He put a paw on Ffindle's shoulder after slowly standing.
"Wha-"
Shaking the hare slightly, Merrick shook his head and put a claw to his lips. "Somebeast nearby." He whispered.
Nodding his head, Ffindle let his paw stray to the short dagger that he had taken, in precaution for the trials ahead.
All was silent, but for the rustling of some sand brushing other particles as the wind swept them away, molding the dunes once more.
There was a heavy sliding sound behind them.
Ffindle whirled around, back to back with Merrick, dagger out and at the ready. Nobeast in sight.
Another sound. To their left.
Slowly, they started to rotate around. Sharalla pushed off and was airborne, circling as slowly as she could above them.
Without warning, an arrow whistled through the air, barely avoiding Ffindle's arm. Snatching it up, examined it breifely.
"Covered in some sort of powder, don't know if it's poison or not, mate."
The sky rained the same arrows, and one hit Merrick. Within seconds, he passed out, falling down.
A cry filled the air, and the rain stopped falling, arrows sticking out of the heavy sand. Sharalla came down and perched on Ffindle's shoulder, chattering.
"Ratarats herenowhere! Straightsticks coveredinna powder thatamakas you fallasleep! Surroundinusnownow!"
Ffindle's thoughts were panicked, running all over the place.
As one, the shadows, a half-score and two more surrounding Ffindle in a circle, closing in.
Rapidly.
With a cry, he lurched foreward, kicking one of them with both feet, one after the other. The rat flew back, colliding with an immense dune behind him.
At once, the vermin ran at the hare, smothering him in hot, black fabric, and , before he was knocked over the head, he heard a shrill chatter being smothered and felt a fire in him be beaten down to an ember.
---
Gonff padded quietly up to Martin, and put a paw on the warrior's shoulder. "Mate?"
Martin shook his head, paws still covering his face.
The Mousethief shook his friend. "Martin, come on! We've gotta go now! We can't stay here forever!"
Martin looked up at him. "Gonff," he croaked out. "This is the second time. The second time! I can't go on without her."
With a sigh, Gonff sat down. "Yeah, mate, but you got her back again, remember? Before you both died?"
Martin nodded. "But still! She went away voluntarily this time! She wasn't killed!"
"That's because, mate, she had to restrain Mariel. You know how she gets! Remember Dannflower's father?"
"Dannflor."
"No, it is Dannflower. But remember how he got on her nerves?"
"Yes."
"Remember he was out for a season before she could be stopped? She has to be restrained. And Rose is the one to do it."
"So you're turning against me now?"
Gonff stood and hit his head, once, against a nearby tree. "No, Martin! I'm only realizing what you haven't yet!"
"You've turned."
Gonff let out a strangle yell of frustration. "Listen, mate. We need to get to Fairon-quickly. Perhaps he can help us get to Rose as well."
Martin looked up at Gonff. "You don't mean it."
"Martin, you are seriously acting like a Dibbun right now!"
"You don't mean it. You're just saying that to get me to go."
Gonff clenched his fists, and stomped off.
A little later, Methuselah was carefully making his way over to where the warrior sat.
"You too, then?"
Methuselah merely sat beside the mouse, and spoke. "Look into your stone."
Martin's head snapped up. "What?!"
"Look into your stone."
Martin gave him a stare that plainly thought he had gone mad.
"Martin, you can see her if you look into your stone."
"Methuselah?"
"Yes?"
"Have you finally cracked?"
Methuselah laughed a little, but didn't reply.
"You can't mean that all those legends of being able to look through your stone at someone else, alive or dead, are true?"
"Perhaps."
"And you don't expect me to believe that it can shrink and grow?"
"Perhaps."
Martin stared at him again.
"Here, I will take my leave. I presume we are heading out tomorrow? Being tied up saps the energy."
"Yes, yes." Martin waved the old mouse away.
Methuselah stood. "Good day, Martin."
Martin gave no reply, but sat, lost in his thoughts.
As Methuselah looked back, walking away, he saw Martin take out his Stone, and walk into the forest.
Methuselah smiled, and faced the others, waiting for his reappearance.
"Yes," he said softly, to himself, "Martin, they are true."
---
Martin leaned against a tree, holding the stone at arm's length in front of him. He stared intently at the rock, trying to figure out its puzzle, that strange thing about it, the legends and rumors about its powers.
How to work them.
If they were true.
There was a nagging voice at the edge of his conscious mind, saying that these were falsities about the Paw-stone, fantasies of hopeful beings. That whatever he tried, he wouldn't be able to see or hear Rose, for the rumors were just that-rumors.
Part of his brain agreed with this pessimistic voice. But the other part, plus his heart, remained hopeful, optimistic about these legends. For doesn't every rumor, every legend have a basis of fact?
He observed every little thing about the little stone, seeming so ordinary, dull, nothing out of normal. He only knew of its ability to communicate with other Council members, and used even that sparingly.
The warrior mouse perked up ever so slightly. There was a code to talk to one certain council member… perhaps this ability of the stone required the same sort of key to unlock it.
He stared at it, and spoke at last. "Esor em wohs."
Nothing happened.
"Wohs em esor."
No reaction occurred.
Martin continued to try every combination be could of those three words- stringing them together, adding an e every three letters, forwards and backwards, but nothing happened.
More and more of his brain was agreeing with the somehow magnified voice that surrounded the perimeter of his conscious mind now, but his heart refused to give up hope.
Finally, out of half-desperation, half-hope, he said the last thing he could think of.
"Show me Rose."
The stone began to hum constantly, and glowed brighter with each passing second. Abruptly, he set it down, and from there, it grew.
Shining more brilliantly so while it grew, it continued until it was a little shorter than Martin, and a little wider. He saw the scene in which it showed, and paid rapt attention to the mousemaid featured.
Rose.
---
They appeared suddenly in a stone cavern, with four tunnels leading off into darkness, a torch here and there. The circle-shaped area they were now in had more lights than the tunnels, but Rose still had strain to see.
"Welcome to the catacombs of Hellgates." Thairsil's voice echoed loudly, and she gestured at the walls of the circle. "Where those who have done wrong in their lives among the living stay, locked up, and awaiting their turn to slave away like those they forced to."
Now Rose could see the walls properly, instead of the usual stone walls you might find, they were layered at the bottom with cells, with now quiet creatures.
"But I thought all vermin roamed free in Hellgates, in a horrendous heat."
Thairsil smiled. "No. I see that those who are against us have brainwashed the newcomers, though it doesn't help that my kind have made a name for themselves among the living."
Rose smiled back, and nodded in agreement. Looking around, she noticed a feebly stirring pile of something solid. "I presume that that," she pointed at the heap on the stone floor, "is Badrang and company."
Thairsil nodded, and went over to them. She pulled one body off the top, and examined it in the little light she had.
"Boggs." She announced grimly to the mousemaid, who started to pick one of the beasts lying on the top of the pile up. The creature in name leapt up and tried to bite her, but, with instinctual reflexes, Rose leapt back and swung her loaded swing around to land upon the vermin's head.
Laterose went closer, and examined the creature. "Badrang. No surprise there." She picked the stoat's arms up, and dragged him over to Thairsil. "Which cell?"
Thairsil started to say something, then changed her mind. "Cell two-eight-seven. Look at the brass plates above each empty cell." She pressed a ring of keys in her paw. "This'll let you into the cell, and others."
Rose nodded at her, and dragged the stoat halfway around the circle or so before seeing an empty cell. She looked up. Two-eight-five.
The next one was empty. Two-eight-six.
Rose got to the next cell in sight, and pulled out the keys. She glanced on the numbers on them, which went from, it seemed, two-six-oh to two-nine-oh. The key to the cell that was Badrang's jumped out at her; it was copper instead of silver, for some strange reason.
Unlocking the padlock, she dragged him in, still unconscious, and dumped him unceremoniously on the cold, cracked stone floor. Rose exited, padlocked the door again, and returned to Thairsil.
They finished the chore within only a few minutes, dragging the unconscious bodies into their designated cells and locking them back in where they belonged, down here.
Thairsil pocketed the ring of keys again, and beckoned Rose to a flight of stairs. "We have to get quarters for you, and explain to Trentilis why you are here."
The mousemaid smiled, and took Thairsil's paw in her own. Momentarily startled, the ferretmaid looked at her, confusion written over her face. As if reading her mind, Laterose laughed.
"Why not?"
Thairsil let go of the stern face, the serious face, and smiled, letting just a crack of her personality show through.
They climbed the stairs, up many flights, onto the first floor, where they bumped into two creatures.
---
Martin shut off the screen at that moment, causing it to plunge into darkness. He didn't want to know who they were meeting, because perhaps, if it was Trentilis, he would sense Martin's eyes there.
The warrior growled, and paced in front of the stone. If that sorry excuse for a being of the Shadow Realms placed one claw on her, in a threatening manner, and Martin found out, he was going to wish that he had been pushed into the lava instead of what the warriormouse was going to do.
Martin leaned back against one of the trees, and let scenes of him torturing the white wolverine satisfy and relax him, before he averted his gaze back to the stone.
Could it show those up above? In the Living Realms?
He looked at it curiously, and doubtfully. It probably only showed those down here, where he was…
But then again, there was always a chance.
He took it.
"Show me Emerald."
The stone, stretched and thinned to this point, brightened again, and Martin found himself looking at a scene, vivid and bright.
---
Emerald hurried into the dress-like clothing, dark green in color. She strung the wooden flute around her neck, feeling the smooth wood underneath her claws.
She knew that her mother had played it in front of her before she could remember anything, but, deep in her memory, she recalled the first song, the first tune that she remembered hearing.
She would play it.
Emerald made sure that her tail wasn't being hampered by the dresses' length, and glanced over at Sky.
She wore a deep blue tunic with a silver belt keeping it in place, keeping it so it didn't look baggy. There weren't any bumps where they put the dagger and the water pouch, which Emerald was relieved to find. They had spent so much time on it last night, trying to flesh out and make a part of their plan work.
The squirrelmaid had to restrain a bit of a smile when one of the rat guards looked in to see their progress. She fixed him with a glare, and he quickly removed his head from the entrance.
The past few nights she had stayed up long into the night with her friends and her brother. And then, even after they went to sleep, she would go outside, and look up to the stars.
They laughed, they pondered, and they tried to inflict self-harm as a result of frustration from time to time, while illustrating the plan. Building the skeleton, fleshing it out, causing it to be complete.
She prayed it would work.
"Hey, Emerald!"
Nightsnow called her over from the other side of the tent. "I need help here!"
Seeing her, she had to choke back a childish giggle. The elaborate dress, with all these ties and buttons and the like, had Nightsnow looking like a poor soul wrapped up in a length of cream-colored string.
The mousemaid twisted around to see her approach. "I can't get this to work! Why did he have to make mine all complicated and not yours?"
Keeping a straight face, with some difficulty, Emerald proceeded to untie some of the knots that were strung together in the wrong place. "Probably because you're the best behaved, you aren't doing a bunch of aerobics, and you don't have to protect him from potential harm."
Nightsnow looked at her again, and took one of the buttons out of the incorrect slit. "But if you two and Nauru get to wear plain old drab stuff, why not me?!"
Emerald frowned as she puzzled to get the strings put together properly. "He didn't want all of us to look dull, and you were the last option left. He can't look unimportant in front of all of those other Warlords, can he?"
She had just found out about the guests. If they were impressed, they would march to war under Oveline and get a share of the spoils. If not, they would decline and go away with their armies to go and hassle some other poor group of creatures. Perhaps that castle to the south.
"I suppose not. But what about all these ties and buttons? Why not something stunningly simple, instead of intricately beautiful?"
"Warlords like intricate clothing, I guess." From a distance, it would look like, without the sun, that the cloth was only cream colored. But there were faint swirls and flowers made up of gold thread, stitched in so that, when she was put into the sun's light, they would sparkle and show.
"I guess. You serving as well, in the beginning?"
"Nope. I have to stand by the master's," she spat the last word out with undisguised venom, "side. Under the cloak of being most special out of all of us, though I'm really 'protecting' him. When I go up to play, you stand by his side instead."
"So Nauru, Sky, and I are serving."
"I guess so, with the occasioinal slave. I think there was a random drawing to decide for the slaves yesterday."
"Sky goes last, right?"
"Yes. I mean, he wants to show you off last, but I convinced him to let you give yours first, and give 'em all you got."
"Best song?"
"Best."
"Sad song?"
"If it's the best, yes."
"Neutral?"
"Definitely. Sing a song about the woodlanders winning, and they'll decide to not go with him."
The mousemaid looked ahead, deep in thought, paw fisted under her chin. "I've got one."
"And I've gotten all of them in the right spots." Emerald stood up from her crouched position and stretched, admiring her handiwork. "You know, Nightsnow, you really do look pretty in that. You aren't really made as well for simple beauty as extravagant."
"And you're the one to judge this, Emer?"
Emerald whipped around, and smiled at her brother. "No, but I obviously look stunning in this simple outfit while Nightsnow would look far better in her dress than mine." She batted her eyelashes in a joking matter, and laughed. It wasn't like the sound of bells or chimes, but nice in its own way.
"Oh, stop it, Emerald. The guards might look in and find you aren't as firm as they think you are." Sky called jokingly to the squirrelmaid.
"Well, I'm only mean to them because they never found a reason to be considerably nice to me."
"Really?" Nauru raised his eyebrows at her.
"That and I've sworn to hate vermin ever since your capture."
"That's more like it."
The rat stuck his head in again. "Yer requested t'come out."
Emerald stared at him.
The rat gulped.
Nightsnow sighed. "We may as well go, Emerald. He'll get some of his soldiers to drag us out of here, you know."
Emerald nodded. "I'll go last." She sent a glare in the rat's direction, and watched the others file out, following at the end of the line.
They stepped out into the sunlight, and Nauru set about placing platters of food, shipped in from one of Ovelines' fortresses from the south where slaves toiled in fields to produce enough food for the black foxes' liking.
Sky and Nightsnow followed him, while Emerald went over to stand by Oveline's chair.
"Keep your eyes down." He muttered to her when she arrived there. "If they see your insolence, they may not go to war with me."
"Of course." Sarcasm laced the two words, but delicately; Emerald knew that now, if she showed any of this manner to him, she or, even worse, one of her friends, could be punished in return.
Instead, she looked around with lowered eyelids at the other warlords, with a second-in-command standing beside them.
There were many rats, she noted-most looking quite vicious, and battle-hardened. One, though, looked quite nice for a vermin, small, lithe, with a rat of the same build behind him. There were only a handful of ferrets and weasels together, and a couple of stoats sat talking to each other. A few foxes were scattered here and there, but none black like he was.
The small rat looked up at her, and caught her gaze. She held it, challenging him, taunting him, prompting him to fight back. He looked away with a twitch of a smile, and resumed talking to the rat beside him, who glanced at Emerald. She glared in response, and, once he had looked away, searched the long table, chairs only half filled, for her friends.
They were all serving, placing dishes on the table, heads down, eyes lowered. The sight gave more kindling to the fire inside her, and she had to restrain herself from going berserk on them.
She glanced back at the strange rat, who was looking at Nightsnow attentively now. The squirrelmaid saw confusion, and wondering, curiosity in his eyes. What there was to wonder about, she didn't know.
"Squirrel, I need my herald."
She glanced at Oveline, and over his shoulder. "He's coming, right now."
The rat was hurrying over to the chair next to his Commander's, casting Emerald a glance that quickly changed at the hatred in her eyes.
"Tythor, it is time." The sound was a mere whisper, undetected by those sitting closest to him. The rat nodded, and cleared his throat.
"Attention!" Tythor shouted. The little murmurings that had flowed along the table stopped, and all eyes turned to the rat. "His Mightiness would like to speak to you! The slaves may go!"
They all went out of hearing distance, all but the exception of Emerald and the others.
Oveline stood. "My fellow Warlords, let me welcome you officially to my camp!" His voice was as sibilant and snake-like as when she first heard it, only increased in volume. "I thank you for accepting my invitation and coming!"
He proceeded to talk about the attacks on Redwall, and Emerald found herself dozing off slightly, but shook herself awake to listen.
It was very trying. She wondered how the warlords could manage to listen.
"And now, I will ask you all to sit and eat! Shortly we will be having a little entertainment from one of my three slaves here."
Questioning glances were directed at Emerald, Nauru, and Sky, but none at Nightsnow. From her garb, there was no doubt that she was to perform.
The warlords tucked in, and Emerald studied the rat, and his second-in-command. The latter had decent table manners, and the former seemed to be restraining himself from eating it, fast. Why she was thinking about table manners, she didn't know.
After a few minutes of eating and pleasant chatter, Oveline signaled to Emerald, who nodded. She caught Nightsnow's nervous gaze, and nodded, smiling slightly at her.
She went up to the small platform at the end of the table, and silence ensured. She was not to be interrupted.
She cleared her throat, and began to sing.
All were immediately caught on. It was sad, mournful tune, and words didn't matter.
Emerald caught Oveline looking slightly teary eyed, and the water began to seep into hers as well.
The words were so well strung together that she had to listen, hard, to get the tune out and the words in.
"A climbing rose,
A rose of vines,
Blooming late in the summer,
A sword of steel,
A warrior born,
Striking up friendship with this rose.
A rose with thorns,
A dull edge to blade,
Wrapping 'round and 'round.
Friends to love,
For eternity,
For all of lives of both.
Tragedy struck,
A bad bell's ring,
A lightning bolt of destruction.
In halting it,
In stopping it,
The rose was cut
To the ground,
And sword turned sharp,
And wept.
And then it went,
Locking a rose,
Inside its hilt,
A red gem in the center.
No other love,
No other life,
No other did that sword fall for.
And so it dulled,
And past was forgotten,
All but that rose,
And where it grew,
Locked,
Inside the sword's stone."
She stopped, and walked slowly off. The squirrelmaid saw normaly gruff vermin reduced to tears, and some wiping the salt-filled drops out of their eyes.
Clapping started off, hesitant at first, but soon deafening all within hearing range, and hurting Emerald's ears.
Nighsnow did well.
So well that she nearly hit through the last layer of Emerald's casing around her core. A crack was there, a small one, but enough to let tears through.
She let them fall, and didn't wipe them away, her eyes returning to hardened state. She stood straight and tall, all but her head. She let it hang, for who knows what the crazed Oveline might do.
The clattering of silverware against dishes came back, but softer than before. Some got up, and congratulated Oveline on this prize, and some offered a price for her, which he refused politely.
The rat came up, and nodded to Oveline.
"Quite nice mousemaid you got there, Lord of the Diabo. C'n I see her for a minute?"
Oveline nodded, and Emerald caught the rat's eye again, transmitting a message, a threat. The rat frowned slightly at her, though the sparkle in his eyes contradicted it.
As the others came forward to praise him on Nightsnow, Emerald paid attention to the rat and Nightsnow.
He talked to her, and Nightsnow stood straighter, looking at him strangely. He repeated this, and her eyes widened in astonishment. Emerald was itching to go over, but she couldn't. Oveline wouldn't allow it.
She hated how she was controlled by him so. Others would pay for her actions she knew.
Nightsnow came over to Emerald when the rat left. She bowed to Oveline. "May I talk to Emerald, Master?"
"Only for a few minutes."
"Thank you, your grace."
Emerald followed Nightsnow a ways, and studied her. How could she say that with no venom? He was their captor, and she knew that the mousemaid hated him with all her heart.
Perhaps a show.
Nightsnow stopped, and turned to her. "That rat. I saw you watching him."
"Yes?"
"He knows Sandunal."
"Who's she?"
"Cousin. Bad mother and stepfather, ran away to us, and then to Redwall."
"So?"
"He has her. But she and some sort of half-sister are part of this prophecy for his group, and so he's taking care of them. He thought I might like to know, if I was any relative."
"Did you say so?"
"Yes."
"What kind?"
"Cousin. The truth."
"Alright, but I really don't trust him." She glanced at the rat, who was watching them attentively.
Nightsnow watched her, and shook her head. "I know that vermin are usually evil, but your feelings clouds your judgment. There are some vermin who are good and kind."
"Like who?"
"I know some, but I believe Oveline wants us."
Emerald nodded, and jogged back with Nightsnow.
Oveline looked at her, and jerked his head towards the platform.
It was Emeralds turn.
She ascended the steps to surprised expressions. She dealt out glares to everybody, who looked slightly shocked at her manners.
She held the flute up to her lips, and took a deep breath.
It was slightly scary to have all those eyes on her, though half were on their plates. Once she played the first note though, that changed.
She felt at peace playing this flute, its familiar touch, the holes in all the right places. Her mother had taught her long ago, when she was a dibbun.
She remembered all the notes, all the sounds, all the placing of her claws. She knew.
There was breathtaking silence, and the notes echoed around the nearly vertical walls, magnified and fainter with every echo.
She didn't care if they just ate, she only cared that she played all the notes right.
What seemed like hours ended, and were only minutes, seconds.
Clapping came out, and she went up to take her place next to Oveline back. Nightsnow nodded to Emerald, lips quirking up into a smile. Emerald grinned at her, and let the other vermin come up yet again to praise Oveline for her. The fox smiled wryly, and hinted that she had a different talent, a bit more embarrassing to some, hilarious to others, and painful for basically all. And that he didn't know she had this astounding talent. When there was a pause in this, she spoke to him.
"I can only play this one."
"Why?"
"It's my mothers. When they tried to get another for me, I played horribly. So, if you don't want these talents to go to waste, not breaking this is critical."
Oveline nodded, a bit of the old humor in his eyes.
Once again, the rat came up, and asked permission to speak to the performer. Oveline nodded, and beckoned Nightsnow to fill in while Emerald was away.
"What do you want?"She was blunt and to the point. The rat merely smiled.
"I want to tell you that you're good."
"You think I don't know that?"
Again, the rat smiled. "I think you do. But it may have been better to put your talents of sarcasm to use."
"I think not. Oveline-"
"You call him that instead of 'master'?"
"That's off the point. Oveline did not want me to anger possible allies. Tried it once before for his captains, and one tried to kill me. Humorous, but turned dangerous fast."
"Really? How did you get out of that? Oveline to the rescue?"
"No." she snapped at him. "I can defend myself, thank you very much." She turned to walk away, but his paw grabbed her arm.
"Look into my eyes, please." She turned her head around with such force that her neck was heard snapping slightly.
"I don't want that fire in there to go out." He looked at her, penetrating her eyes. She wanted to pull away, but didn't, staring at him. He was slightly shorter than she was, but not to much so. "You could be the spark to a rebellion. Something to override this fox. Yes, I am vermin, and should be vouching for him. But I am not so; my 'slaves' stay, yes, against their own will, but I am kind to them. My soldiers work alongside them."
"And we all want to hear about you being a saint."
"Mark my words, if you aren't careful, that flame will go out, and it'll be hard to get back." He looked at her. "Perhaps too hard. Don't be cocky and don't overestimate yourself. You may not be strong enough to, perhaps, watch a loved one die or be tortured."
"I've already seen my mother die."
"Yes. That is what has turned you totally against my kind, hardened you, caused you to feel anger for basically all. Your hatred clouds your sight."
"It has strengthened me."
"Perhaps it has. But it, while making you stronger, made you weaker. Made you cold and indifferent. That will be your undoing unless you let your feelings loose. Let them go. Crying isn't a bad thing to do. Laughing isn't. Feeling isn't. You need to be able to do this. You'll be hurt if you can't." He looked at her, and strode away.
She walked back to Oveline, contemplating this. It went against almost all that she lived by. Should she follow his advice, or not?
It was time for Sky's performance.
Nauru and Nightsnow went out in front of Sky, and disassembled the stage. Mutterings of confusement enveloped the table, and some stood up to be pushed back down.
Sky stood there, gathering her bearings. The mutterings became louder, until too many were standing up to be pushed down.
There, she began.
As before, she flipped, she twirled, she bent her body in such ways that seemed impossible for anybeast to do.
She leapt on top of Nauru and Nightsnow's outstretched arms, interlocked in an 'x' shape. She was thrown up in the air, turning a couple of flips and straightening. Emerald frowned. It was only about two-thirds up the cliff that had been reached.
She was able to get down without breaking Nightsnow's and Nauru's arms, which was a relief. They weren't sure if they were going to be able to do this.
Emerald watched Sky, who was obviously giving her best. She was sweating, and panting, but didn't stop for water. Muscles stood out on her arms and legs, Emerald now realized. She was an artist, truly.
The vermin seemed to feel the same. Already they were cheering.
Three more times the tossing happened.
It was almost time.
Nobeast saw Emerald give a nod to the others.
Nobeast saw the determined expressions deepen.
Nobeast saw it coming.
Sky pushed off harder than she had all those other times, and was soaring. The delight showed on the vermin's faces, slowly turned to confusion as she continued going higher, straight as an arrow.
Sky twisted one last time and landed nicely on the ground above. She ran from sight, glancing once behind her and below, catching Emerald's eye.
Emerald nodded slightly, and said goodbye silently.
Nauru and Nightsnow looked bewildered, staring at their paws and arms. Nobeast noticed the triumphant look Emerald wore in her eyes, the proud stance, all but the rat that was there earlier.
As Oveline sent soldiers out to catch the ottermaid, the other Warlords came by to tell him their decisions and say goodbye, and good luck.
The rat came by, and asked to talk to her again. Oveline, preoccupied, nodded again.
He looked at her once they were a safe distance away. "Why did you send her away?"
Emerald looked at him. "She has to tell someone about the attack. Oveline doesn't know she knows the intricate plans."
The rat nodded. "Think about my advice?"
Emerald thought a little more. "Yes."
"And what do you think?"
She paused, but went on anyways. "You're right about many things, but I can't trust anybeast I meet. Creatures will take advantage of a trusting soul, and rip it apart."
He nodded.
"I know I need to let my feelings loose. And I will, but now I can't. I can't right now."
He nodded again. "My name's Dobane."
"Emerald."
"I look forward to the battle."
She cocked her head. "You going with Oveline?"
"No. I'm fighting with Redwall."
Emerald looked at him. "Really?"
"Truly."
"Well, then. Good luck."
He nodded once more, then went away.
Emerald turned, squared her shoulders, and prepared to face the consequences for Sky.
She hoped that the ottermaid would make it in time.
---
Martin looked at the stone, darkened, restored to normal size, and looking perfectly normal.
Things were going well. Not perfect, but well.
Now, he needed to set them right down here.
Fairon, he thought. Here I come. I need answers.
And so he walked out of the forest, and into the camp.
A/N:SKY ESCAPES!!!
I have had this in my mind since about chapter ten. FINALLY I get to write it. I lengthened the 'Emerald' part just for this. I hope it didn't bore you to tears.
Thank you again.