And now for another chapter. This is a pretty long chapter, since I skipped out last week. Heh, exams. :) Anyways, special thanks to all who reviewed since I last updated: Jarrtail, Sanfrasm, Zinachu, Fwirl of Redwall, Awsomewriter123, Cinnamonpool, Lightwatcher, MangaHottie740, Moomoogirl1, Foeseeker, Martin the Warrior, SilverZeo, Persarr, Kylyn, and Red Squirrel Writer. I'm so glad everyone liked the last chapter.
Q and A
Sanfrasm: Yes, the fangs are what Martin prophecized about. Don't worry, you'll see them come to immense use eventually.
Red Squirrel Writer: You ask a lot of good questions. :) Well, I won't really cover the wholebackground story between Rosco and Brook, since it's nothing particularly interesting. They were just childhood friends. And Keetch will care for Clove, but she won't be the only thing he wants to protect. And as for your questions about Jolin and Brink, you'll just have to wait until next week's chapter. :)
Roflmonkeypoop: Thanks for the heads-up. I've changed it so it's not so... spoilerish? Thanks. :)
Contest Info
"Sweet Sorrow is the Gold of Tomorrow" is a quote that states that if you could just get past the hurts of today and put it behind you, you'll find yourself happier than ever. Take it this way, Keetch was in self-denial, thinking that nobody likes him and nobody ever would. But then he found out that he was wrong all along, since Clove loves him more than anything. I can imagine he was pretty touched by this sudden realization, and I guess he would feel a lot more light-hearted, more happy than sad. That was a really crappy explanation and I apologize.
And as for the contest winners, they're Fwirl of Redwall, Awsomewriter123, and Zinachu. Did I miss anyone? Please tell me if you sent it to me and I told you that you had it right. For you winners, I'll send you a DocX invitation when I'm almost done with the mystery chapter. I'm having it set to be publicly released on February 22, the anniversary of this story. :) Wow, one year. Can you believe it?
NOTE: This is going to be an important chapter full of hints to character development and plot, so read VERY carefully. New characters are in here too. Hm, and there's quite a bit of foreshadowing in this chapter.
The Shadows Keep their Secrets
THUNK!
The golden hilt of a blade was half-embedded in the wall, wobbling up and down before it steadied itself, surrounded by a handful of other blades, each one circling the bright red target on the board.
Ragnar slouched over his throne, reaching his arm to a crystal platter of glistening knives, each one uniquely decorated with the finest of jewelry. Without looking, his paw selected another knife, gripping the handle between his thumb and forefinger delicately. The smooth gem-stones on the hilt felt cool to the touch and the silver steel was as clean as the numerous mirrors that adorned the room. He looked at his reflection, eyeing the handsomely bejeweled figure on the cold metal before he flicked the blade into the air, catching it in his paw expertly.
His appearance in check, he turned his attention to his target and looked straight forward, his shoulders relaxed as he narrowed his eyes, his paw shifting forwards and back. Then, at just a swift motion and deadly flick of the wrist, there was a wild blur zipping through the air before another thick THUNK! resounded in the quiet atmosphere, leaving the sharp edge of the blade buried in the bulls-eye.
Sighing contentedly, the weasel king leaned back to glance at his spotless mirrors. Except for his reflections, he was all alone to his peace and quiet.
No more of that stupid Thanatos yelling orders like I would listen. Ragnar do this. Ragnar do that. Ragnar tell the Basilisk this this and that that... I have the right replacement for him in mind, but it would just be a huge mess to clean up if I go through with any plans now...
His stomach suddenly gave a painful twinge, making the Demon King gasp in pain and surprise. Not again... oooh...He felt some hot, thick, sticky liquid force its way upwards and lodge into his throat. Closing one eye with distate, he held his breath and swallowed the raw bile down, tasting the vile, poison-like taste on his tongue. Happens more and more frequently, that. Damn...
He smacked his lips experimentally, tasting the rotten taste in his mouth. Curses curses curses!
Out of the corner of his eye, there was a sudden flicker of black flitting through the darkness.
Instinctively, he sat up on his chair, but eased back in his seat when he remembered who it was. Thanatos, you have your wolf Fenris. And me, I have my own creatures too besides the Basilisk.
"Ah, perfect timing," he remarked, ignoring the toxic taste in his mouth and regaining his composure as he fingered a knife leisurely.
The figure slithered from the shadows in the corner and out in front of him. The heavy dark cloak it wore was trailing on the ground, seeming like shady tendrils that swirled around its master while the hood sagged over the creature's head.
"My king, you summoned me?" the figure asked in a feminine voice, pulling the hood back to reveal the brown fur and pointed snout of a snow fox.
"I have another job for you," he smiled innocently, "And this time it isn't spying on my brother's actions. What do you think about exploring outside the castle, Miska? Do you think you can do that?" He drank in the silence as the snow vixen thought the idea over.
"My lord," she finally replied, "I can accomplish this, though it cannot be easily done. There's no shelter out in the plains, so it's risky."
Ragnar just shrugged and waved the caution aside. It's a chance I'm willing to take. "Good. There are certain beasts I want you to spy on for me," he smirked at the thought of his nemesis.
"Reaverclaw?"
"You know me well," he smirked.
"If my lord commands," she said with a sweeping bow as she merged with the shadows once more.
Ragnar sat in silence, waiting until he felt her presence leave. Except for the fact that she was the Demon King's eyes and ears, nobeast could be entirely sure about Miska. She was a shadow within the night, a breath in the silence. Everything seemed to be getting in place now. He could work his way through this. He knew he could. He leaned back in his throne and took a sip of the light, rich wine next to him, an easy smile hovering on his lips.
But if he thought that his body was done betraying him, he was dead wrong.
His stomach gurgled again, sending a spasm of pain shooting from his belly that spread everywhere, making him grip the arms of the royal throne as he endured the onslaught. It didn't take long for the pain to quiet itself, but the deed was done and Ragnar found sweat collecting on his forehead as he panted.
To hell with this. To hell with it all. He slammed a fist against his arm rest as his mind streamed with curses.
He cursed Sigma the Soothsayer. Ugly crone. The deceased once-soothsayer, Frigg. Accursed sorceress. And last but surely not least, his mother. Vile witch. Demented old hag. It's your fault I'm going to die. You deliberately did this to me! Your fault. I should've given you a worse death. Your fault! He coughed at that thought, slaver dribbling from the corners of his mouth. Without thinking, he rubbed his silken sleeve against his face, only to realize that he'd just dirtied the precious blue fabric. He snorted his contempt as he leaned back against his royal throne, no good mood left in him.
Heaving an exasperated sigh, Ragnar twisted a knife around in his paw, the tip of one finger resting on the point as he thought to himself. Things would change now, he knew that.
It looks like my plans for my dear brother's death will have to wait, just for another week or so. This war can't last too long. Once that Hell Cat and her army are brought down on their knees, I'll just continue with everything I've had planned. I won't fall before him. Never.
Reun leaned back on her rocking chair, cradling the precious bundle in her arms while she her daughter sat curled up on her lap, sucking her thumb as she slept peacefully. Thade, on the other paw, was beginning to stir uncomfortably, struggling with the blanket that kept him warm. She grimaced as she fumbled around, trying to find a better position to hold him.
Her movements were clumsy and numb, her arms tired and exhausted from carrying the infant around whenever he wailed. She didn't know why she even bothered, since doing so only seemed to encourage him. And to make matters worse, he was beginning to make that choked scream he always did whenever he was disturbed. Frustrated and slightly panicked, she moved him around some more, trying to appease him and his appetite for constant and unfailing attention.
"Oh be quiet you," she hissed under her breath as his noise rang louder. "I've just fed you, you're clean, and you were supposed to be asleep." He's even worse than Reis.
At that thought, her daughter stirred in her sleep, a small squeak escaping her lips as her brows furrowed in agitation. Her eyes wouldn't stay closed forever, though, since Thade was about to break the silence that poor Reun had fought so hard to maintain.
His patience finally through, the young princeling set up a shrieking squal, tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes. Immediately, his sister Reis was awake as well, and before Reun knew it, her two little ones were crying in her arms.
I've had enough of this.
"Guards!" she shouted. Immediately, the door was open and a weasel poked his face in, wincing at the volume of the babes.
"Get the wet nurse," she commanded over the ear-shattering noise.
"Right away, m'lady," he replied hurriedly as he shut the door. Scowling, she curled her arm around Reis's tiny body, lifting her daughter off her lap and depositing her on the floor clumsily. The little weasel did nothing to resist her mother. Instead, she sat on the carpeted ground and continued screaming her lungs out.
With her lap now free, the mother stood up slowly, welcoming the feeling back to her legs. With my head pulsing like this, I'm beginning to think my head has its own heartbeat. Ugh, it's like they're competing at who can shriek the loudest and the longest! Just where is that mush-brained nurse?
As if an answer to her thoughts, the door cracked open and a female ferret appeared, waiting patiently for her orders.
"It's about time," she huffed as she cradled her still-unsatisfied son in her arms, "Take Princess Reis to their bedroom." At the command, the nurse obediently did as she was bid and scooped the crying toddler in her arms and carried her out the door, Reun and her bodyguards following closely behind her.
If there was anything that her children had inherited from their father, it was definately their stubborness- and probably his volume of voice. Sometimes they could cry for hours and hours and hours in the middle of the night, their screams never whittling away to something just a tad bit softer. From time to time, Reun would begin to panic, wondering if their ruckus would disturb King Ragnar from his dreams and remind him to pay her family a visit.
To hell with him.
But it was her fear, that she would have to encounter him again without Thanatos by her side. It seemed like her husband was one of the only beasts in the world that could keep Ragnar's malice at some distance. She supposed that there were just a couple others that would make him think twice before offending them, but very few of would ever dare say a word in her defense.
Sometimes she wished that Thanatos would've just gotten her a reliable body guard rather than the pathetic group of nitwits that always followed after her. But then again, she would've been stuck with Fenris watching her. She shuddered at the thought, reminding herself of the the cruel, cold memories that she harbored for the grey wolf.
Things've changed, she reminded herself. You can't fear him now. Unlike last time, he can't hurt you or kill you or anything. Thanatos would never allow it.
And then she felt anger flush up within herself. Why do I depend on him? I took care of myself just fine before I came face to face with him. I even handled my position as lieutenant perfectly before I had his son. And now what? He has his idiot guards herd me off to the nursery every time I so much as pick up a butter knife! Fuming, she unintentionally squeezed little Thade too tight against her, making his screeching rise- something she thought would've been impossible.
Quickly she loosened her grip, cradling him softly in a silent apology. By then, they had reached her childrens' bed chambers and the door was pushed open for her. As she and the ferret nurse walked inside, the soldiers took their positions by the door, still cringing at the ear-shattering wails.
The room was dark when she entered, but the light stretching in from the doorway guided her to the Thade's little cradle. Whispering and shushing at the same time, she laid him between the soft linens and pelts. Miraculously, the infant's cries quieted and his breathing began to slow to something more peaceful as she rocked the cradle gently. Satisfied, she looked over to the wet nurse, who had laid the screaming Reis down on her crib.
"You may leave," Reun said curtly. In the bat of an eye, the ferret had bowed and scuttled out the door. Without a word, Reun lit a lamp and shut the door, alone again to her thoughts and her children. Thade had calmed now, but Reis was still proving difficult, causing an uproar as she stood leaning against her crib's bars.
"MaaaaAaaaaAaaa-Aaa!" she screamed as she reached for her between the bars, the tiny paw clenching and unclenching itself with longing.
Groaning wearily, she picked the toddler up and sat her on her lap. Surprisingly, the child almost instantly quieted as she leaned lazily against her mother, letting her confounded noise taper off into a mild whimper. Finally at peace, Reun allowed herself to relax as she smoothed the fur on her daughter's forehead, smiling as Reis snuggled closer.
Hmm. Sometimes being a mother isn't so bad. It was quite a lonely job, though, caring for the children like this. Her husband had showed little to no interest in his heirs, only questioning her about Thade's health. It didn't quite matter to her though. She never quite expected much from the solemn weasel in the first place.
She remembered how he'd first held their daughter. Reis was so little, just barely a week old and Reun urged him to hold her, if only for just a moment. He was in a perfectly good mood that day and after much careful prodding, he finally consented to the request. Unfortunately, the moment the weaselbabe was nestled safely between his chest and arms, she started squalling, making him grimace with disgust.
"It's the armor you're wearing, my lord," she had said when he placed her back into her mother's arms, watching the infant reduce her cries the instant she was out of his grasp. "She just finds the metal cold,"she finished weakly. Of course, Thanatos only grunted and walked out of the door. That was the only interaction he'd ever had with any of his children.
Perhaps it was because Reis was a daughter when he wanted a son? But no, if that were the case, he'd be willing to take Thade in his arms and father him. Or perhaps it was fragile little children constantly cry? It would certainly wear down his already-thin patience. That's probably it. He's just waiting for his son to grow up, so he can mentor him in the ways of the sword, teach him about armies and tactics, show him the power of discipline, make him a great warlord like himself. Instantly, she felt her heart raise just a bit at the thought. Yes, yes. That might be it. Maybe.
And maybe, if she really wanted a bit of her old authority back, she should put her trust in the subjects worth trusting- if only they existed. She dared not give anybeast with her children for too long- even the wet nurse. There were just too many risks, and Thanatos had warned her of Ragnar's cunning and ill-will (actually, she didn't even need any warnings about that). And with her husband out doing his duties, the children were suddenly her sole responsibility. I don't see why I'm landed with this job. I need something more. I want to go out there and fight and be a part of the war meetings like I used to. But Reis and Thade... they need me.
Letting her mind wander, she wondered what her life would be like if she'd never met the Ice General in the first place. What if she'd just simply done her job as a guard and kept her nose to herself? She had to admit, there were plenty of positives that came with being married into the royal family- plenty of food, luxuries, servants, slaves, power. But then there were the downsides, things that took away her freedom.
For one thing, she was stuck with the tiring job of tending their children. Another thing is that from the moment she'd been by his side, she'd become a walking target to the malicious Demon King. And last but not least, she had to do what was expected of her. Of course, she'd always taken commands throughout her entire life, but it was different if she was married to the prince. When she was a servant, it was more like it was part of the job to listen to the superiors, but as a wife, it was as though she was his property, a closely-watched valuable. Plus, although they'd been together for years now, he did make her nervous from time to time.
But no, he's not that bad.And it was true. Except for the very first time they spoke, he had never once struck her, and he had always been more of a gentlebeast than she had ever expected. She definatelycould've done worse. After all, she'd seen plenty of other females being slapped around by their mates and treated no better than slaves themselves, doing nothing but provide sons and break their backs over chores while the males got drunk.
Yes, she remembered thinking to herself when she had accepted his wedding gift, the beautiful sword he'd had specially made for her. He'd never hurt me. Never abuse me- not even if I rejected this gift. He'd already promised me that and his word has always been good. But sometimes, she just didn't know if the change was really worth it.
Laying back, she couldn't help but think back to that time four years ago, back to where it all started. She was so young back then, eager and ambitious, all risks meaning nothing to her. But that was back then, back where she had been part of the wild and daring plot to assassinate the crowned prince.
---
The shadows flitted in its fickle dance, sending dark looming shapes up against the wall in a mocking imitation of the figure gliding through the halls. There was barely a sound coming from her footpaws, but still all the same, Reun couldn't help but feel as if somebeast was following her. She turned a corner sharply, flinging her back against the wall while she stayed and waited for movement or sound, watching for shadows on the adjacent wall while she took careful, quiet breaths.
It was hard, stifling her panting to something noiseless, forcing her starved lungs to pace themselves, but she managed. And finally, when the efforts ceased being laborious, she peeked over the wall. There was nothing there. But still, she wasn't yet feeling easy about the situation. Perhaps she should've considered the risks more carefully?
But that thought lasted no longer than a bat of an eye before she shook it out of her head. There was no going back now. She was either in the plan or she was out, and if she was out... well, she doubted the rest of her fellow conspirators were going to just show her the door, minding their politeness. It was already too late now, so she might as well attempt it and hope for the best.
Nervously, she crept around the empty halls, the crackling of torches the only sound. The quiet should've calmed her, yet the emptiness made her more suspicious, as if a trap had been set up. But still, she pushed herself forward. More than once, she thought about reporting the entire plot to the royal family. Surely they would listen to her and reward her then. After all, who's to say that none of the other conspiring vermin was a snitch and would beat her to the prize? You might as well be the spy instead of be spied upon.
Then another thought stuck to her mind. If she reported all of this treasonous activity to the officers and guards, what would she say if they questioned her about her knowledge? Then they'd know that she'd been conversing and plotting of assassination all along. No. That wouldn't work. The royal family had never been lenient toward any crime, after all.
But before long, she found her paw straying to knock on one of the thick wooden doors in the abandoned hallway. They had chosen this spot of all places, the old storage chambers. Unless somebeast was drunk or in dire need of crumbly cheese, it was unlikely that anybeast was going to come snooping around here.
Her paw still hovered over the surface, her knuckles just gracing the grainy wood as her entire arm trembled. She bit her lip apprehensively, staring at the blank door dumbly. She inhaled deep, letting her lungs swell before she rapped on the rough surface.
Knock-knock
There wasn't a sound and she'd begun to worry that she'd come to the wrong place after all when suddenly the door whooshed open and she was yanked inside before the door shut just after her tail. Her eyes slowly got accustomed to the faint lighting there, the shapes and empty faces becoming something clear.
"About time," they muttered gruffly, all of them males. Swallowing nervously, she took her seat, pretending not to be worried in the least bit. The last thing anybeast would want to do would be to show fear, show weakness.
"So you're the plucky little weasel that guards Queen Narsca, eh?" She couldn't tell who was asking her, but she could already tell from the voice that the owner had little to no patience.
"That's right," she said with false authority, praying she sounded much more important than she felt. Hopefully, she really was important. Except for her son Ragnar, Queen Narsca trusted no males and would only accept females into her royal guard. Remembering that only made Reun more confident. They need me. None of them know about the queen's agendas half as well as I do. I'm useful to them.
They were being quiet. Too quiet. She swallowed nervously, her eyes picking through the solemn faces in the room, hoping to find one familiar one out of the seven total. Wait. Seven? Those aren't very good odds against the guards.
Finally, her sight locked on to a rat leaning against the wall. Scraptail, the one that had got her into this mess. They never actually knew each other well. They'd never had the pleasure of battling their differences out or swapping insults, but they were of a mutual alliance now. And still, there was something about the rat she didn't like; but then again, she rarely ever liked anybeast.
"I haven't heard... ahem," she cleared her throat, "I haven't heard much about each of what goes on here. What are our motives?"
"To gut the royal family," one of them snorted.
"Yah, they don' treat anybeast right... especially that Demon Prince."
"Basilisk or not, they 'ave ta go. They're getting outta control."
"And we'll take over!"
"Ye see what they did to m'paw?" A scraggly ferret raised his stump of an arm in the air, the bloodied bandages tinged with yellowy puss. Of course, he had gotten off lucky.
But even with these reasons, Reun had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at them. Nit-wits. Kill them and then what? You take the crown? Then who's going to stop the rest o' Greymorg from lopping your heads off?
She scanned the faces once again, noticing how they were now discussing their hatred for the royal weasels amongst themselves. Most of the time, they were squabbling over who had the worst beatings, most humiliations, more rights to vengeance, boring talk. Scraptail, on the other hand, showed no desire to be a part of this and only shot her a secretive wink. She looked away fiercely, furious that he would chance their safety by that. Anybeast could've noticed that!
However, everybeast was so indulged in their conversations, it most likely went by unnoticed. She remembered what Scraptail said to her when he whispered the plan in her ear. He needed somebeast close to Queen Narsca on his side, so he could have the right idea of where and how to attack. That, and he'd thought of her as one of the more intelligent and daring type of beasts than the idiots of the fort- at least, that's what he'd said when he invited her into this half-crazed plot.
---
"You and me, we're smart," he told her in a hushed tone, "I'm surrounded by idiots. They're strong alright, some of 'em used to be higher-ranked in their prime, but there's nothing useful in their heads. If we 'ave your brains in this as well, then we can go along with the plan. Y'don't seem to care much for the queen anyways, so I'm sure you'd like some revenge for anythin' she's done to you in the past."
She remembered striding away, pretending she hadn't heard any of these treasonous whispers.
"Get away from me, rat," she had snarled, "Get some other fool to do this suicide mission. Not me."
But that damn rat was so persistent, following her as he uttered persuading words sprinkled with praise and riches. "But you're not one of the meek little beasts that tend to the queen and stand her barbed tongue and her even sharper beatings. You're not one to accept these humiliations easily- I could see the defiance in your eyes th' moment I first saw you." She sent him a furious, withering scowl at him right there and then, but the scheming rat only grinned his ugly black-edged teeth back at her.
"Yes. That's the look alright! Imagine it. You can get whatever in the castle you want. You might even be queen!"
It was when he had said those words that Reun realized what she didn't like about him. He was one of the smarter, more cunning of the vermin, the type that plots and plans, nursing bitter memories. Of course, she had more than a couple complaints about the commanding queen and she had been tempted to wallop her on more than one occasion. But perhaps, the thing that intrigued her the most was the thought of power instead of jewels and gold, so she agreed on that same day.
But it all seemed to be folly now.
---
Not one to be trusting, Reun made sure she seemed dull and slow as a snail, but fiery and impulsive at the same time, drinking in Scraptail's words and expectations of the future. It shocked her a bit when he leaned close and whispered something in her ear.
"Just between you and me," he began, "You're smart, unlike the others. Once we've sliced the royal family and gotten them out of the way, we can deal with those dunderheads later, jus' you'n'me."
For all she knew, he probably said that to everybeast that listened to his plot.
Well you've got another thing coming, Scraptail. You may have some lousy followers backing your tail, but I'm coming up with my own plan altogether. Just you wait until we get this plan started. If there's going to be any double-crossing, I won't be the victim. I'll be the culprit.
Meanwhile, down by the western coasts of the land, the corsairs were sitting by their fires, singing drunken songs and swapping raucous jokes, laughing uproariously amongst each other. In fact, it seemed almost as if they'd forgotten that they were even at war. Even the numerous slaves plundered in their wild and violent excursions were given a little slack (in a way).
All of them were herded out of their slaveholds, still dragging the chains along with them while they staggered out into the thin, crinkly area of sparse grass. They sighed with relief at finally breathing fresh air and seeing more of the world other than the moldy wood and oars in front of them, finally able to stretch out their limbs and sleep under the stars. But of course, they were out here for a reason, not to dilly-dally all night long.
"Go and bury the dead, worms!" was the command that was barked at them as spades were dumped on the sand. Grumbling, the poor wretched creatures picked them up and began their gruelling task.
Some of the slaves, however, came to be more fortuitous in the end. This special group had their own individual set of shackles, each one charged with running errands and serving food and drink to their masters. "Serving slaves", they were called. They were still slaves, yet it was quite a lofty position compared to callousing one's paws over an oar.
And sometimes, for the captains and those in high command, there were private slaves. Those slaves were either fortunate or doomed, depending on the masters that selected them. Some were harsh task masters, and others were oftentimes too drunk or forgetful to carry out punishments frequently. Either way, the life of a slave was cruel, just as the life of a soldier or a sailor is fickle and ruled by chance.
And somewhere in the center of the horde's masses, a single squirrel was kneeling to give its master a flagon of grog. And this slave was not just a serving slave either, but an unfortunate slave owned by a captain- but not just any captain. It was the second-in-command of the horde, a large muscular rat by the name of Bodan. He was in a rare good mood today, seated by a roaring fire, sipping some wine from a flagon, carelessly tossing the empty containers behind him as he finished them. From the way he was stretched out leisurely on the sand, his head propped up on a log that should've been seated by at least four beasts, one could say that he looked rather kingly amongst his companions.
"Your drink, captain." A hedgehog said in a humble voice, delivering another bottle of grog. The searat accepted it eagerly, laughing along with the other beasts surrounding the fire.
"Whoa- oof!"
He turned his head at the sound, suddenly seeing the lynx in place of his slave, who was lying stunned on the ground. Noticing the rare serious look on her face, he stood up on his paws and dusted the sand off.
"Yes Captain?"
"Where's Slyte?" she asked sharply, as if he was expected to know everything that went on.
"Huh?" he asked, the merriment from his face completely gone.
"I was going to send him off but I can't find that stupid dung-head anywhere," she scowled, looking over the heads of the sea of vermin.
"Haven't seen 'im," he shrugged, taking another swig of seaweed grog.
"But I've got a mission for him! Can't he act his own age? He's been this way since Day One and I'd like to straighten him out and strangle him with that tail of his.... grrrrr..." she ranted, her expressions animated, "And I'll skin him alive, make his fur into a rug, and beat all that dirt out of it! Oooooh!" She clenched her fists tight and together, as if there really was a neck between both palms.
Bodan merely shrugged and continued downing the foul drink, nodding and pretending he was listening to the empty threats and curses that streamed out of the wildcat's mouth.
"Argh! He's never around when I need him," she seethed, gritting her fangs as she finally stalked away, her tail swishing and snapping behind her like an enraged serpent.
"He'd better not be where I think he is!" she shouted to nobeast in particular.
She should watch herself, he thought as he wiped his mouth with the back of his paw. A thousand things could go wrong in the middle of the war. Lots of beasts get hurt, and it might not be so unbelievable if something were to happen to a fearless leader in the heat of battle.He let his mouth split into a yellowed, secret smile as he lifted another bottle to his mouth, letting the bitter taste wash through him.
And unfortunately for Nyara, her assumptions were correct.
Elsewhere, in the shadowy crypt-like wine cellar of Fort Greymorg, cobwebs decorated the well-stocked slender bottles and dust reigned supreme on the shelves. At the moment, all seemed quiet and void of life except for the soft clinking of glasses.
In the seldom-seen corner of the room, a dark-clad wiry figure had uncorked a bottle and took a healthy swig of its contents, smacking his lips as he ranked the taste. So careless and unconcerned he seemed, that one never would've thought he was an intruder.
Hm. Vintage wine. Who'd ever think that the heartless, souless weasels would have this kinda stuff? Well, I can't leave this kind of thing sitting out here all in its lonesome. Grinning, the young pine marten undid the knot in his burlap bag and unceremoniously stuffed the drinks inside, filling it up completely. But it wasn't very big in the first place; any bigger and he'd have difficulty climbing with that thing strapped to his back. At most, he could only fit five bottles in there.
Carefully, he tied the bag to a close and crept around, eagerly seeking greater treasures. Keeping a leisurely pace as he scanned the rest of the shelve's contents with interest. But at last, he'd reached the end of the dreary hall and zipped through the entrance, keeping to the shadows.
He wasn't surprised to see the halls as empty and cold as the cellar. However, he knew that he was nowhere near the Royal Castle. Now thatplace would be crowded. This was just some smaller building on the other side of the more crowded places and he had yet to explore this place. When he'd first clapped his eyes on Greymorg, he was astounded by the sheer size and height. It should've intimidated some other beasts, but not him. No. This place was his new playground. Just looking at the towering walls made him curious for what was behind the grey stone bricks, excited for the potential fun that awaited him in the future.
It wasn't all that hard to enter, he supposed. All he had to do was slink around and get to the wall and climb. That was the hardest part, climbing up and up and up. He'd been trained to be able to scale mountainsides and castles, but this was the greatest challenge by far. He couldn't rest by some windowsill either, since the wall was completely blank and grey. The sentries weren't too hard to avoid, though, since they seemed lazy and shiftless, letting the shadows be shadows and the darkness simply stay as darkness. Huh. Then the're not so different from the corsairs after all.
But when he was finally at the top, he looked out at the scene before him, anticipating someplace amazing. And there, he saw a cluster of castles scattered around the grounds, the center one towering higher than the others. That must be the Royal Palace, then. And covering the an ample portion of land, large squares loamy grounds and farmlands covered the place like patchwork. The place was huge, solid, strong, and somewhat simplistic. What a dump.
So this is our biggest win? This place? He groaned inwardly, ducking down into the darker recesses of the fort. She's been obsessing about this place for seasons, and this is the place? It's more like she's been out for revenge rather than any actual loot. This place is big, but not special. It seemed to him that the entire fort was sleeping, underestimating the power behind the corsairs. Big mistake. Walls are just inconveniences, nothing more. And there was no better time to seek out their plans and secrets other than now.
Minding his vulnerability out in the open, he slunk down to one of the lesser castles, keeping in mind to stay hidden but notice every single little detail. It was strange, the way these beasts lived in their snug little dormatories, sometimes living with their own family. This whole time, Slyte always thought that they lived in barracks instead, or maybe camped out in simple tents. But this? It seemed as everything was actually well-planned here in Greymorg. But he decided not to stay in the living quarters for long and strayed off to the storage rooms. Upon entering the place, it occurred to him that it might not be quite as well-stocked to last a season-long seige. But then suddenly, the pine marten recalled that a large amount of farmland available for harvesting.
I guess those ugly farms have their uses in this war. How long would they last a seige, I wonder... Wish I could explore this place a little more...
Though, of course, Slyte knew that he only had a limited amount of time before he had to return to the coasts and listen to Nyara rant about his constant absence. He would've snorted, but for the sake of secrecy, he stifled it and continued moving alongside the darkness.
Traveling down the halls was not as tricky as he would've anticipated. How disappointing. It was virtually empty, the few guards listless and asleep when he approached them. There was almost no need for caution here, so he abandoned the habit of creeping within the shadows and creeping stealthily along the corners, taking on a confident and casual stride instead. If I've come for some fun, then I've either come to the wrong place or arrived at the wrong time. I'm sure there's got to be more in the daytime. Too bad I don't have that long, though.
"And I tol' ye..." the voice was subtle, almost like a whisper, but the marten's ears never failed him.
Quickly, he scurried up the wall and before long, he was in a well-hidden position. It only took him a matter of seconds before he was on the wooden beams that supported the ceiling. It was a tight squeeze, but he managed, waiting and listening for any information that would prove interesting.
"Shouldn'ta bet m'lucky earring. I tells ya, Scraggletooth just got lucky, 'e did." The dumb voice was getting closer, sounding nasally and low-pitched. An annoying voice for an annoying idiot.
"Y'shouldnt 'ave bet that the battle would last more than an hour," replied an equally stupid voice, "This Nyara cat didn't put up much of a fight. I tell ya, I pictured a large male with bunches o' tattoos and a big sword, not a female."
"I know, but I figgered that this nobeast knew this cat or wot she wanted, so they'd stay around an' sort it out, king to warlord."
"Oh, they sorted everything out, they did," snorted one of the loud-mouths. They were closer now, just close enough for the spy to see that one of them was a stoat and the other a snow fox.
"Too bad the Ice General got into one of his violent moods," the stoat shrugged, "Ruined everything, I'd say." The snow fox only nodded dumbly. Does that mean they'll both shut up now?
Silently, Slyte leaned down from his hiding place to peer closely at the guards who were right under him, oblivious to everything. They seemed so stupid and ordinary to him, just boring. The young pine marten sighed inwardly as he limbered up and jumped to the next beam in a blink of an eye. He turned around to see the hapless soldiers continuing on their way, chatting amiably while he began slipping away silently. Suddenly, something one of them had said seemed to snag his ear.
"Shouldn't last long, ya know." The other was quick to agree.
"Not when we have all the secret weapons we need."
Secret weapons? Now that's something worth hearing about. Still as swift and silent as the shadows, he doubled back and followed them, listening eagerly. Ha! They're too dead-brained to bother looking up!
"Aye. We've got the Basilisk on our side, for one thing. The king would get it ta work later."
"And don't forget the Prophesied One," the other piped up.
"That one too. Shouldn't last too long unless the lynx has got some sort'a plan up her sleeve too."
It's not quite complicated, actually.She's a cat that holds very little secrets right now, though she does have a plan. But what's this Basilisk? And what's the Prophesied One they keep talking about? He kept following after them smoothly, drinking in the words they uttered between themselves.
"So wha' happened to that Basilisk anyways?" the snow fox asked, stifling a yawn. "'E was supposed to be there t'get rid o' those filthy pirates."
"Dunno," the stoat shrugged lazily, "Word 'round 'ere is that 'e finally died. Choked on a slave, 'e did." At those words, the fox stopped to look at his companion, his eyes widening.
"No," he gasped in disbelief. Immediately, the stoat swaggered up to him, puffing out his chest as he defended whatever little "honor" he had.
"Calling me a liar?" he snarled.
"No no," the fox shook his head so fast it looked like a blur. "I was jus' sayin' that of all times ta die, why now? When we finally need 'im?"
"Who knows?" his companion relaxed his muscles and was now talking as easily as he had before. "But there's also rumors goin' round that he's either escaped or trapped in his chambers of death."
"Huh," the fox said sullenly, "If he's escaped then the first thing he'd do would be to feast on that pirate army. They look fleshy enough."
Last time I was back at camp, everybeast seemed fine to me. But just what the hell is a Basilisk anyways?! Somebeast, from the sounds of it. If I don't get any good news, Nyara would probably skin me alive. Maybe.
"So now when's the next battle goin'ta be?"
"Depends. Some say that the pirates will attack, and some say that General Thanatos will throw them off his beaches hisself."
"I hope 'e does."
"It all depends on whether or not that vixen would say he should. You know 'e does whatever she tells 'im."
"But the Sigma is dying. I bet the soothsayer's insane like the last seer, what's-her-name... er..." the fox strained his face so that it looked like the pressure from just recalling a name could potentially make his head explode. "Fligg... yes, yes, that's right. Fligg!" Slyte rolled his eyes at the scene, the fox looking pleased with himself for such a simple task. Well done, Smart One.
"She might as well, with the Prophesied One bein' 'er successor and all," the ferret cocked his head to the side as he scratched his chin leisurely before he continued.
"Also 'eard that this one's going to be special, 'e is. Just a'fore she died, that Fligg seer vixen thing sez that one'a the next seers was to be a malesnow fox. So she died and would'ya know it, seasons later, everything she prophesied came true and Sigma declared Gargo the chosen one and next apprentice." The stoat finished his lengthy explanation with a belch, making the pine marten wrinkle his nose in disgust.
Gargo? Sigma? Fligg? Basilisk? Weirdest names I've ever come across.
Slyte slowed his pace down, feeling the muscles in his limbs tire from leaping from beam to beam continuously, his ears straining to hear the little bits and pieces of half-revealed secrets. The effort was worth it, though, since luck had seemed to grace him with unexpected information from unlikely sources. But just as the information was just beginning to get juicy, they suddenly turned the topic around.
"So what're they serving for dinner t'day?"
"'Ow the hell should I know?"
"'Cause yore always the one in the gossip circle!" the snow fox replied.
"Barely feed us anythin'," the stoat scowled, muttering incoherent curses under his breath. Breathing heavily, the pine marten rested on the beam, leaning against the wall as he watched the two once-useful guards get swallowed up in the darkness, them and their voices.
There was so much he didn't quite understand about this place. He'd never been in a place so huge, so full of ancient secrets and mysteries. And the new snippets of information only intrigued him more. Hm, this place just might be worth looking into after all. But just who was this Gargo? Is he really that special? And what about that other seer? Can she really be the real deal? A real seer? He pondered the last question he proposed on himself. He'd seen plenty of fake seers in his travels, and never a real one to speak of. The corsairs, being the superstitious bunch they were, would hang on every word, but he knew better than that.
And what about Basilisk? What's he like? Is he supposed to be some great warrior?He stretched his muscles as he thought things over. Perhaps he should stay a while longer and see what he could dig up? After all, Nyara couldn't really be mad at him if he returned with good news and a list of weaknesses.
Hm... well spying and climbing are all I've ever been taught. I might as well do my job well, so sorry Nyara. You'll just have to wait for me to take my time. It should just be a while. Just long enough for me to explore the Royal Castle.
I had the most fun writing about Reun, actually. I know how kids are, I babysit, and sometimes you just can't please them. (rolls eyes) I feel for her. Anyways, there is some characterization about Thanatos embedded in her segment, and maybe some hints about their relationship. It's a complex, and somewhat dysfunctional one, and it's certainly interesting. I'll be releasing the backstory little by little as I go along.
And as for Ragnar, I enjoyed writing his part too, but not as much, which explains why it's so brief. Seems that he has a little spy working for him. And he even dropped a hint about his fatal disease (and no, it's no particular disease, I'm just making it up as I go along). As for Miska (20-23), thank you Jarrtail for prompting me to invent her. I don't know if you remember her name or what you told me to do, since it was a long time ago. If you remember, please don't write it in your review. Thanks. :)
And as for Bodan/Nyara's part, that was very short I know, but I wanted to introduce Slyte a little. Heh, it's funny how Nyara rants.
Slyte is a pine marten (26-ish), and one of my favorite characters to come, I think. His name is pronounced the same way you'd say "slight". He has some very interesting abilities, and I'll get to that sometime. Tell me what you think about him. And yes, I'm aware at the whole convenience of the gossiping vermin, but he has to find out something sometime. And in his segment, there are one or two little predictions you could make. One of them might just stand out to you, if you caught something weird that the guards said. Hm, lots of mysteries and conspiracies running around.
So, next chapter is going to focus on Brink and Keetch. I'm done with it, actually, so it'll be up by next Friday or so. ;)
REVIEW! Any comments, ideas, suggestions, questions, constructive criticism, etc. are welcome guys. Thanks for reading.