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Chapter 50. Pioneer to the Falls
by Kriley
Right, then.
The pit had contained ten corpses, which meant that if everybeast did their part, they would have them all hanging shortly. If the crewbeasts worked in pairs, then perhaps they'd have an even easier time of it. He opened his mouth, remembered he wasn't bosun anymore, and shut it again, fiddling anxiously with the hilt of his saber.
Bother. That was at least the fourth time he'd forgotten today.
When it came down to it, Kriley hadn't the least notion of what a first mate even did. A beast might imagine that a Duke in house Clover, one of the most esteemed families to be a part of the Imperial Navy, would know about that sort of thing. But Kriley had never particularly cared for the sea, and whenever he tried to think back on any "navy-ly" conversations he'd heard his father in, it all boiled down to something resembling, "Batten the boingo boingo starboard whoopsy knickers." Or something.
A random thought tip-pawed to the forefront of his mind and timidly raised a paw. What would Nemik do?
Kriley gnawed on his lip and furrowed his brow; the grizzled stoat would have probably ordered somebeast else to do all the work while he took a nap. But the rat suspected that, somehow, that wasn't really the right thing to do. Kriley blinked suddenly. If I'm not the bosun, then who is? Now that, he thought, seemed like a good thing for a first job as first mate; find a suitable replacement for himself.
He was just glancing toward Sasha the wildcat when Wazzock called his name.
Kriley jogged toward the captain, etching a quick salute. "Hello, Captain! I've got just the-"
"Why, yes you do! I've got a bit of a seventh sense for this kind of situation, Mister Kriley, and I just know that you're the right beast for the job of helping Mister Arant up."
The first mate blinked. "Mister Arant? Who... Oh."
He frowned as his captain blithely pointed to the pit. He tried his best not to let disappointment drag his ears down, but he'd figured that, as first mate, he'd be above things like graverobbing and heavy lifting.
"Don't look so glum!" Wazzock said, giving Kriley a hefty slap on the back. "If the whiskers on your maw get anymore droopy they shall be tickling your boots. I'm certain wherever these the souls of these bodies may be, either pass the 'gates or in the Dark Forest, they are quite happy that their former homes are being made use of for the Imperium greater good."
Kriley nodded silently and followed his captain toward the ditch. There had better not be any worms in there, he thought. They make me crazy.
--
"How're ye faring with Mr. Arant's remains, Lord Clover?" Gloria asked, leering as the rat helped to haul another body upward.
Kriley blinked and twitched his snout, although it was partially from a good deal of snow in his eye. Still, he did his best not to actually look the weasel in the face as he struggled under the beast's weight. "Oh, splendidly, Milady," he responded, his tone as colorful as the trampled snow. "Would you mind lending a paw? This chap's all dead weight... pardon the expression."
"Not a'tal!" she said. "Team player, I am." Gloria stooped to pick up the rope, then paused, the leer sliding off her face. She glared at her hook as it slid smoothly off the woven fibers, then snorted and grasped the rope more firmly with her right paw. As if to distract herself from her handicap, the stoat slinked forward until she was close enough to breathe on the back of Kriley's head. "On the count of three, then, m'Lord?"
"Right." The rat grit his teeth through the pleasantries, the twitch in his eye now having nothing to do with the cold. He found that his fear of the lady stoat was, more and more, becoming tempered by a burning defiance. He would not allow her any more pleasure than strictly necessary, and so he concentrated intently on the rope in his paws as he awaited the countdown.
"One." She had never been very nice. "Two." Pushing him back and down. "Three!" Kriley jerked the rope and felt the presence behind him disappear. The rope was still taut, though. He glanced around and saw Gloria struggling on the ground. Apparently, the stoat had not been expecting the rat to use such force. She righted herself, the red blush flaming through the white fur on her cheeks and ears. "Ye don't seem t'need my help, m'Lord," the captain sneered. "And Mr. Arant's high enough. Tie him off and let's be on our way."
Kriley might have won the award for most blinking in under five minutes for various reasons. He cleared his throat, a great rush of blood flushing against the white of his ears and face in kind. "O-of course." Nearly letting go of the rope in his haste to tie it, he secured the dead weasel in place and stood back. The work was very nearly done, and even he had to admit that the entire image teetered on the line between horrifying and incredibly silly. "...Balloons. Like at a festival." He said suddenly, his paws behind his back.
"Hmm?" Gloria followed his gaze toward the sky.
"I still rather prefer the image of puppets, but novel thinking, Mr. Kriley," Wazzock chipped in, startling the pair as he walked up behind them.
"Look t'me like the spirits during Costumenach Mum and Da' used t'hang outside our windows," Gloria observed, looking anywhere but at Wazzock. Presumably waiting for her blush to fade.
"Oh, I rather liked Costumenach as a rattling." Wazzock nodded. "Never did get scared to be early. Hah! Didn't have much the rest of the year, but Ma and Pa always did deliver on the Quite A Lot of Candy and Staying Up Indefinitely bit."
Kriley remained silent, although he'd always been fond of Costumenach as well. Why, the last time he'd dressed up as a... a...
The first mate shut his eyes tightly, trying to force the memories back, but they danced just out of sight. Taunting him. It was all so close that he could smell the caramelized sugar on the candied chestnuts, but why couldn't he think of what he'd dressed up as?
"Well, I didn't think that checkered pawsocks were that bad," Wazzock said, raising an eyewhisker. "I'll remember not to bring them up around you in the future, Mister Kriley."
Kriley opened his eyes quickly, blushing once more. He caught Gloria's eye, and the stoat bared her teeth in a particularly nasty grin. Oh, aye. Lord Clover was allus good at pretending on Costumenach.
The rat was about to snap back a reply when Wazzock cleared his throat.
"It's absolutely splendid seeing the two of you get along so well. I would love to hear all sorts of stories, but I think the stage is set nicely, don't you?"
Both Kriley and Gloria offered grudging nods. Wazzock nodded pleasantly.
"Fancy! Now, I'd best get the crew ready to mosey!"
Gloria snorted. "'Mosey'?" She snorted. "Wazzy, yer the only daft prissy-paws cap'n who'd ask his crew, nice as ye please, t'mosey."
Wazzock blinked in a way that even an owl would find excessive. "Oh? What would you say, Rusty?"
The stoat waved a non-committed paw, but Kriley interrupted. "Perhaps a 'let's move out!' would suffice, Captain."
"Oh, of course." The captain grinned widely. "If only Mister Soriss was here, I'm sure he'd quite agree with you. Now, if Captain Rusty finds it all to her liking...?"
Wazzock neatly parried Gloria's violent response, his grin not faltering a bit as Kriley gawked at the pair. "Very good! Now, let's move out! I say, I do like the sound of that. I knew I did well to promote you, Mister Kriley."
--
The forest gave way, eventually, to rolling fields of perfect white. Kriley kept an eye on the crew, but found his attention kept dragging his eyes toward the scenery to the side of the road. The fields and trees had a skeletal solemnity that seemed almost chilling, but underneath the ominous wind was a lilting song, a sweet scent promising warm apples and soft grass to cushion a tumble down one of the small hills.
The snow-covered path passed to the side of a cozy farmhouse, its orchards napping peacefully, and the nearby stream a glassy mirror of ice. It seemed so peaceful, so right that Kriley very nearly forgot that he was involved in a brutal war.
"We'll be getting close t'the Clover Estates, then, won't we, m'Lord?"
Although it made his fur stand on end, he forced himself to take a pace toward the Captain of the Guard. "Yes, although we won't be at the mansion itself yet for a good while."
It was hard enough for the rat to march calmly down the familiar road and ignore the urge to slide down one of the snow covered hills that he'd grown up around. It had been "unsightly" as a young rat, and probably even more so as a bos-first mate. But his soul ached for it. He knew upon seeing the open meadow and the tiny bridge ahead that it would be nearly unbearable. He almost wished they didn't have to get so close, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop. He only wanted to bury himself in the soft confines of his feather bed, his favorite book at paw and covered in his beloved blanket, and not have to worry about Gloria or the war or being first mate or anything.
And yet...
C-captain! (Er, excuse me...) Captain Ruston! (Oops! Sorry, didn't mean to step on yer tail) I need.. I must... You'll never believe...!"
Gloria heaved a mighty sigh, rolling her eyes. "Sil, ye'll calm down and talk sense, or I'll have yer pretty little pelt for a new cloak, ye ken?"
"Ma'am!" The wildcat nodded, her tongue lolling. Once she had gained a semblance of normal breathing, she continued, wringing her paws in a distracted way. "As you're no doubt aware, Captain, I caught sight of the Southern Army where you left me on the road leading out of Bully Harbour. I was half an hour out when a Missertross Gull caught me up to deliver a message, ma'am. You'll never guess who it was from!"
Gloria tapped her hook against Sil's pink nose, causing the cat to flinch. "We don't have time for guessing games, Sil. Just tell me, eh?"
"R-right!" The wildcat gulped. "From Admiral Jelliko himself! H-he said he and the rest of the Fleet are engaging the peripheral forces of the Southern armada just outside of Bully Harbour. He wants us to prevent the capture of Amarone. We'd best hurry if we want to make it ahead of General Lock with time to spare to prepare a defense. He's about four hours behind. Perhaps a bit more with the... interesting exhibit in the forest back there."
The lady stoat cursed under her breath. "Not four hours b'hind. Blasted woodenleg... We've barely arrived at the edge of the Clover Estates. We'll need t'step up the march."
Kriley had been listening the entire time, eyes narrowed and paws behind his back. Suddenly, he spoke up. "That might not be the case."
It took quite a bit of energy for the rat not to quail under Gloria's icey gaze. "Pardon me, m'Lord," she snapped, "but if ye've any clever ideas, I'd love t'hear 'em!"
Tapping the hilt of his saber, Kriley nodded. "Indeed, Milady. I'm not entirely sure if it will be helpful, but perhaps it might be. Just a littler further along the path, there's a pair of hills, plateaus almost. The only way around is, at present, through the snow and a good bit of pine woods. And even then, there's Duffy Hill, about as tall as those plateaus, in the woods, so even if they try to go through there, we'd see them from atop it."
The glint in Gloria's eye had turned from murderous, to skeptical, to filled with vicious glee in the blink of an eye. "So, all we need t'do is lay claim t'the top of 'em first, aye? Like a rooftop in Marketsquare. We'll take the heights and fire down on those Southies like s'many Slurpees in a riot." She grinned. "Fine bit of information, m'Lord. Ye've a good head on yer shoulders after all. Inquiring minds were beginning t'wonder."
Kriley was about to mention that his plan had only involved checking to see how far behind the army was, but decided that this plan sounded a lot better. He nodded sagely.
"Ye'd best be leading the way, then," ... "I'm not terribly familiar with the Clover Estates."
"Of course." Kriley dipped his head, and then scurried off to find Wazzock. He considered scampering for a moment; he had a feeling that would attract the captain a little more.
Once he'd found the captain, Kriley quickly explained the situation. "And we'd best hurry," he added.
"Ah, well that's certainly clever thinking," Wazzock said, "but do you remember exactly how far those hills are?"
Kriley nodded. "Of course, they're not far at all. The path goes through a bit of forest after the mansion, and once the trees clear you'll be able to see them, plain as day."
"Egg-salad!"
Kriley blinked. "Sir?"
Wazzock chortled. "Excellent. Don't they sound alike?"
"R...right, I'll... er, just be on my way, then."
They passed more snow-covered fields and the husks of several great apple trees, then past a ditch, black ice glistening against the bottom. Kriley listened intently as Gloria and Wazzock went over the battle plans, although it was mostly Gloria talking and Wazzock intervening about spinach puffs and how much he could go for one right about now and wouldn't Gloria like one, too? And that she had also been working on her upper arm strength.
The plan seemed to run somewhat thus: Wazzock would be in charge of the defense of the forest and Duffy's Hill with the assistance of the Stormchaser crew and mixed Guard and Wotfers. Wright would be in charge of the top of the plateaus and would have forty archers and forty Wotfers up there defending it. Gloria, Kriley, and the remaining Wotfers, Stormchasers, and Guard would be in charge of defending the Farm and the ditch that ran from the farm to the edge of the plateau.
As long as Kriley didn't have to remember it all except that one bit, he was happy.
As soon as the path entered into a copse of pine trees, Kriley ran.
He knew the others had to see him in order to actually lead properly, but at the moment, he didn't care. One thing, above all else, was at the front of the rat's mind as he practically skipepd through the snow, his heart beating wildly in his ears; he needed to be there first, before the others. He had to feel the wind tussle his ears just as he had as a ratling. He needed it with a frenzy that could have melted all the snow in the enveloping fields.
And there they were in front of him, twin plateaus gazing down upon the land like two princesses sitting upon great pedestals of stone. Disregarding all sense of dignity, the rat loped toward them, huffing and blowing, and didn't stop until he had crested the top of the right-most hill (his favourite). From there, he could see the Clover manse on the hill to his left. His paws hurt, he'd scraped his arms in a tumble or two on the way up, and the cold air stung his throat as he inhaled, but it was worth it.
Mouth open, the rat collapsed in the snow, panting. He let his footpaws dangle off the side, watching the ground below. The rat was sure that he'd be seeing Wazzock and Gloria and the others through the trees soon, but for now, everything was his. As it should be.
He curled up in his cloak and let his eyes droop...
--
"Wake up, dozypaws."
Kriley shifted. "No, thank you," he murmured. "Couldn't eat another bite."
Somebeast was poking him with something. He pawed at whatever it was, irritated. And then gasped when the something sliced a blazing path across his face.
He snapped his eyes open, and was hit by a wave of agony. Hissing the breath out, he saw a sneering Jibfang's face in his own. He reached for his own saber, but before he even touched it, the weasel's paw snaked out and Kriley howled, clutching at his face.
"How nice o'ye to go ahead of the others," Jibfang snarled, lashing out with his cutlass again. "The high 'n Mighty Lord Clover. Ye should have never taken my position away from me!"
The weasel aimed a kick at the rat, who attempted to curl up into a ball to protect himself. Jibfang laughed, a harsh croak not unlike a raven's. "Get up, ye lilly-liver! Get up!"
Kriley, seeing his enemy in a world swimming with red, rushed forward with a snarl, knocking the wind out of Jibfang as he headbutted him in the stomach. He finally unsheathed his saber, but the weasel suddenly kicked his footpaws out stiff, knocking the rat into the air.
The rat crashed to earth, and nearly rolled over the side of the plateau. With a panicked squeak, he clung doggedly to the edge, footclaws scrabbling for purchase against the side. Jibfang had recovered, however, and strode toward him.
"Won't you do me a favor an' just let go, Milord?" He spat. Kriley spat back, and nearly pulled himself over the edge when Jibfang slashed out again at the rat's unprotected face. The weasel giggled at the resulting yelp. It was all Kriley could do to close his eyes and try to ignore the pain, his claws digging into the cold earth.
Ignore the pain, she said it would...
"Oh, this will be lots of fun. If you won't let go, I'll just carve out yor 'andsome face bit by bit. May'ap I'll start wid the ears?"
He sliced, and Kriley grit his teeth, digging his claws in further. Another slash followed, and then another.
"Bloody... It ain't fun when ye don't scream." The weasel sighed, and raised a seabooted footpaw. "I'll just end this now..."
We'll end it now, my luv.
Kriley expected it to end, this time. But, instead, there was a great "whuff!" and a thump, following by a vulpine snarl. Kriley opened his eyes with difficulty and pulled himself painfully onto solid earth, watching as Sunyl engaged Jibfang in a deadly dance, the snow underpaw thrashed a muddy red as they parried and thrust.
"Don't interfere, brushtail!" Jibfang snarled, thrusting expertly with his cutlass. The vixen gave just as good as she got, forcing the weasel toward the edge of the cliff, until she failed to parry, gasping as the blade found its way into her side. With a bark of rage, she bulled forward and shoved as hard as she could.
Jibfang tottered at the edge, paws flailing, but lost his balance and plummeted to earth, his unearthly shrieks punctuated by a sickly thud.
Kriley stood on shaky footpaws, grasping at what was left of the right side of his face with one paw. He stumbled, and Sunyl came running toward him. "Hold on, sir! I'll be ther-ah!"
The vixen slipped on a patch of ice, but before she could fall, Kriley suddenly found his paw shooting out and he caught hers before he could even think about it. For a moment, time seemed to stop, as both beasts, bloodied and exhausted, stared at the other.
"S-sir! You..."
"I don't..." Kriley gulped. He had saved his crewbeast from harm. That was all. That was it. He smiled.
Before he could stop her, the fox threw her arms around him. Their blood mingled and swarmed and surged. A wave. Drowning him. Crushing him. The limbs, the blood...
"Get off of me!" The rat squealed, and threw her to the ground. There was a harsh crack. Her eyes rolled in their sockets. He snarled, punching her in the face. He drew his paw back bloody. "This is all your fault! You... You! You did this to me!" He grabbed her by the front of the tunic and slammed her head against the ice. "I won't! Let you! Kill me again! Florina!" He punctuated every bark with a blow until each one sounded like a plank of wood hitting a rotten coconut and his paw was in too much pain to lash out anymore.
Odd. Wasn't her name Sunyl.
Kriley looked down at the vixen's crumpled body. Oh gatesgates no I.
He tried to speak again, but only a ragged sob made it out, and he threw himself down against the snow, the world reduced to a spinning mass of crimson.
I should have died instead, he thought blearily before darkness closed in. But I was already dead, wasn't I?
