Author Note:
Before I move on to review responses, I'd like to give a shoutout to Grey for helping me with a few things from the Urthblaze/Rockfur twist. *Hands Grey a cookie*
Abrahem: From the very beginning, I had been tinkering with the idea of killing Urthblaze instead of Rockfur (I knew that one of them would have to die for… *Glances around* …plot reasons), and needless to say, Rockfur is the one who will have to fight another day. (Unless I kill him to… *Gazes skyward innocently*)
One-Eye the Wildcat: *Grins* Well, I'm glad I caught you by surprise.
Waycaster: Ah. So you suspected it was him all along. *Hands Waycaster a bowl of rice with a cherry on top* Good work! I normally like the idea of having two plot twists at the same time if possible. That way, just in case any of my readers figure out one, hopefully they wouldn't see the other…until it was too late.
The Grey Coincidence: Once again, thank you for the help! As for the Long Patrollers and Brewster: … Yes, he'd probably agree with you. :-P Also, thanks for waiting to review (That way, nothing would be spoiled for the other readers )
And without further ado: the next chapter…
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TERRAMORT
It was the night after Slisk's execution when Abe received the message; everything was ready. Tonight was the night.
The hedgehog whistled quietly to himself, trying to steady his nerves, as he helped Grubbypaw push the trolley down the castle hallway. He had tucked a bundle of make-shift weapons underneath the wooden trolley, hiding it under a stack of bowls. Broken mallets, small kitchen knives, and anything else that the kitchen slaves could lay their paws on were in the cart.
Their vermin guard escort called up to the corsairs on the walltop, and a few seconds later, Fort Bloodgard's side gate opened with a loud rumble, permitting the creatures pushing the cart to pass. Pushing the trolley down the dirt path that led to the Slave Pits wasn't easy, but the two slaves managed.
When they arrived at the Slave Pits, the slaves were waiting in a huddled group inside the caves, peering through the barred doors that kept them from freedom. To a casual observer, everything appeared normal, but Abe knew that the peacefulness of the night wasn't going to remain for long.
As the head slaver saw them coming, he barked out an order for the first cave door to be opened then turned back to Abe and Grubbypaw.
"Make sure you hurry up with that." He yawned and scratched his chin with his whip's handle. "Honestly, I don't see why we even bother feeding these slaves in the first place. They're flat-out lazy and slow!"
Rolling the trolley over to its usual position, the two woodlanders began to scoop out food to the waiting slaves.
Broge was the first one in line. Leaning over, he whispered into Abe's ear as casually as he could.
"Did ye bring th' weapons?"
"Aye."
As Abe handed the scarred shrew his meager bowl of scraps, he subtly passed him one of the short knives.
Broge gave a small nod then continued down the line.
They had discussed and practiced as much of the escape plan as they could. The ringleaders had selected a small group of tough, able-bodied beasts who would take out the guards. If anything went wrong, then the chances of any of them surviving would be nearly impossible. Thus, picking out creatures to trust had taken a long time.
Abe would secretly pass out weapons to the selected beasts as he handed them their food.
Broge slowly walked up to the head slaver – where he stood a little ways apart from the other four guards. The shrew held up a questioning paw. "Excuse me, sir?"
"What?" the vermin snapped out. He was tired, and was looking forward to having a nice sleep. He folded his arms impatiently. "What is it now?"
"Well…" Broge cast a hesitant glance around at the nearby creatures. He began to whisper in a low tone – making a gesture for the head slaver to lean in closer.
As the slaver leaned forward to listen to him, Broge's right paw shot up, punching the vermin hard in the snout. As the vermin jerked back and instinctively threw his paws up to his now-bleeding nose, Broge put him in a headlock and held a kitchen blade to his neck.
"Anybeast move an' I'll slit his throat!" The shrew added pressure to the knife. "Hand over th' keys if ye 'ave any wish tae live."
The head slaver gulped as he tried to stop the blood running down from his nose. He fumbled at his belt and held up a ring of keys. "Take them!" he managed to choke out.
Broge kept the weapon close to the vermin's neck, and used his free paw to toss the keys to Slashblade. The one-armed stoat caught them deftly and ran over to cave door, and he began to unlock it. The other guards moved as if to stop him.
"Move 'n' your leader dies!" Broge yelled out, effectively stopping the vermin dead in their tracks.
As fate would have it, the Head Master was related to Bruggor – King Bloodfur's personal captain of the guard, a position of influence. None of the corsairs present wished to risk being blamed if the shrew carried out his threat. Besides, they were armed lightly since they hadn't been expecting any trouble.
Once the barred doors were opened, the mob of slaves stumbled out. Slashblade ran to a few more of cells and a few minutes later, more groups of slaves joined the throng as they were released. In all, the slaves numbered over six score. They overpowered the startled guards and – after relieving them of their weapons – locked them in the cells.
One of the slaves, an otter with one eye and a scarred face, scowled and spat at the cringing vermin.
"I say we kill 'em all!" the otter said loudly, "Make 'em pay fer what they did to us!"
As bitter mumbles of agreement followed the woodlander's words, Broge waved his paws in the air, trying to catch their attention.
"No! That would jus' be stooping down tae their level!"
"Besides," Slashblade added loudly, standing by the scarred shrew, "We 'aven't got th' time fer that. If we want t' get out of here, we'll 'ave to work together to take over one of the ships! We only 'ave a few minutes afore word breaks out that we've escaped."
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FORT BLOODGARD
King Bloodfur's fitful sleep was interrupted by the sound of somebeast pounding on his door.
"Sire! Sire!"
The searat king grumbled an oath under his breath as he stumbled out of bed. Grabbing his axe, he walked over to the door.
"What do ye want?"
"It's Captain Bruggor, Yer Majesty. The taverns an' wharfs are under attack!"
Now, fully awake, Bloodfur grabbed a shirt of chainmail and threw in on and then swung open the door. Bruggor and a company of guards were standing out in the hallway, their faces nervous.
"Who's attackin'?" the king snapped out, "How many?"
Bloodfur made his way down the hallway, Bruggor and the guards following close at his heels. The captain of the guard picked up his pace until he was beside the ruler.
"We don't know," Bruggor replied, "Some beasts are sayin' that the slaves are escapin', others say that Slisk's followers must've stirred up the rabble. Th' crews stayin' in the taverns aren't any help either. My rats tell me that most of 'em are takin' advantage of the confusion t' steal 'n' loot what they can."
"I want all of the soldiers to report back into Fort Bloodgard. Keep any of th' independent crews and captain not under my command from enterin' – Just in case this is a rebellion of some sort. We'll stay 'ere until we can figure out what in 'ellgates is going on."
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ABOARD THE GUTKEEL
Deathclaw the ferret had been one of the ten creatures charged with guarding Slisk's former ship. King Bloodfur had ordered it confiscated, and it was his job to make sure that no beasts would crawl aboard until the king had picked a worthy crew. So far, that had been extremely easy, if not a little boring.
The ferret was in, what used to be, the captain's quarters. He and a few of his mates were gambling with a pair of dice.
"Ha! I win!" Deathclaw grinned, grabbing at the contents on the cabin table. "Hehe. I always knew I was born lucky."
"Hmph," one of the rats grunted, crossing his arms over his chest, "Yer luck jus' might run out sooner than ye expect unless ye sharrup."
Since the head sergeant was out on official business, the ten sentries had taken their watch below deck. They didn't want to stand around in the dark unless they were forced to. After all, they reasoned, it would be likely that anybeast would be eager to cause trouble after what had happened to the late Captain Slisk. The only creatures that the vermin would have to worry about was the still-chained slaves on the bottom deck – and they definitely weren't going anywhere.
However, the vermin's carelessness would prove to be the end of them.
If they had been on the top deck, they would've spotted the large house fires that had suddenly sprang up in the village close to the docks. But, as it was, the sounds of their drinking and gambling had drowned out any noise from outside the cabin.
Deathclaw took a swig of grog and, wiping his mouth, let out a loud belch. "Aaah. Ye all can keep at it, lads. I'm going t' get some fresh air."
Grabbing his bag of newly acquired loot, the ferret walked out of the cabin and onto the deck. He blinked slowly as he saw a large, orange-red, flickering light coming from the shoreline.
"That's strange… What's that?"
He didn't see the long, sleek shapes of otters climbing over the ship's railing behind him.
He suddenly felt strong paws clutch his throat from behind, and he tried to gurgle out a muffled cry. He went limp as the otter twisted the ferret's neck sharply, breaking it easily. The woodlander slowly let the dead body of the corsair drop to the wooden floor then gave a nod to his companions.
The otters grabbed a nearby walking plank and brought it over to the edge of the railing. Staying as quiet as they could, they lowered one end of the ramp down to the wooden dock where Broge and the rest of the slaves waited.
The other ships' crews had gone on shore for the night, so the nobeast spotted them as the slaves filed up the plank.
Broge let out a sigh as his footpaws stood on the ship. The last time he had been on a vessel, he had been chained to an oar. He turned his head as Abe walked up beside him.
"What do we do now?" the hedgehog whispered, casting anxious glances around the deck. "There are bound to more vermin onboard."
"Then let's go pay them a visit."
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It seemed that luck was with the slaves' cause… for now, at least. Slashblade had taken a score of newly-freed slaves and attacked the village and taverns, while Broge led the rest to the docks. The one-armed stoat had personally paw-picked his beasts – Creatures who he knew that hated the corsairs for what they did. Hungry for vengeance, they had crashed down upon the unwary vermin, catching them by surprise.
"Burn th' houses!" Slashblade called out, running a pleading rat through with his weapon, "For freedom!" The stoat stretched his shoulder as he looked around for more opponents. "Mmm. It feels good t' be fightin' again."
One of the slaves came running over, a worried look on his face.
"Slashblade! The signals been lit! They captured a ship!"
Before they had departed, Broge had told Slashblade that he would signal him with a torch if they managed to seize a vessel.
"Are ye sure it was them an' not somebeast else?"
The woodlander nodded his head wildly, still panting from his run.
The one-armed vermin slave raised his weapon in the air and barked out orders to the surrounding creatures.
"Fall back! To th' docks! If ye stay here then we're gonna leave ye behind. Pass th' news on!"
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Nine limp bodies were thrown over the side of the ship. The woodlanders had caught the corsairs by surprise and killed them down to the last rat. Three mice and a squirrel had been slain from the slave group.
Broge had been the first mate on a small sailing ship before he had taken up wandering the Northlands. He picked a pawful of creatures who knew what they would be doing and set them to work.
"Ready the sails! We'll leave the moment Slashblade an' the others get back from causing our diversion. Ye there, take some strong beasts 'n' bring up the anchor! Abe, Kullum, Finback, you three go down an' tell the chained slaves that they're free beasts now. An' tell 'em that if they want tae remain free then they'll have tae row for all they're worth!"
The scarred shrew went over to the railing as he heard a shout ring out from the dock.
"Ahoy! Beasts coming aboard – we've got company!"
The woodlanders on the ship immediately lowered the ramp once more, and Slashblade's party scrambled up. They were being closely followed by a small group of vermin pursuers.
Broge shouted orders to the otters guarding the plank. They were armed with an assortment of long shafted weapons –such as spears and pikes– that they had found in the ship's hold, and held them ready.
Slashblade was the last of the slaves to run up the plank. "Drop th' ramp!" he barked out, "Quick! Afore all of Terramort realize what's going on!"
The pack of corsairs had paused once they reached the dock. They could see that they were outnumbered, and none of them wanted to attempt an attack on the vessel. They were content to throw weapons up at the woodlanders from the safety of the dock.
Ducking low, Broge and two otters heaved the end of the heavy ramp over the side, where it splashed into the sea water.
Slowly but surely, the vessel pulled away from the wharf. In all of the confusion, nobeast heeded the Gutkeel and her crew as they rowed their way to freedom.
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When dawn finally came, the inhabitants of Terramort were surveying the full effects the fires had caused to the buildings.
An entire section of the market place had been burn to the ground, along with a tavern. Only blackened husks remained of the huts caught by the flames. The air was thick with ashes, causing creatures to cough as they searched among the rubble.
King Bloodfur's eyes were a fiery red. It was hard to tell whether it was from rage or lack of sleep. His nose twitched as he surveyed where buildings had been only a matter of hours ago. He kicked at blackened piece of rubble with his footpaw angrily.
How did it come to this?
His ears perked up as he heard Bruggor walk up behind him. The captain's footfalls were heavy, and his breathing sounded raspy.
"Well," Bruggor said cautiously, trying to gauge his liege's mood. "At least this 'orrible night is finally over."
"Yes, thank ye fer that very enlightenin' fact." Bloodfur spat out sarcastically. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes with one paw and sighed. "Anythin' else fascinatin' t' report?"
"Er..." Bruggor took a small step back. "All of th' mining slaves escaped durin' th' commotion. Whether or not they did before everythin' happened is still unknown. The night watch said that th' slaves had taken over one of th' ships an' fled. We don't know which one though, because a third of th' independent captains left during th' night with their crews." He scoffed. "Apparently nobeast wanted t' help clean up th' mess."
Bloodfur was dangerously silent.
Finally, the rodent heaved out a loud sigh and slowly shook his head. "Season upon season I've been king of Terramort. In all that time, I've done all in my power t' bring glory to th' corsair world. I've experienced setback after setback, but every time I've beaten my way back t' th' top. Nothin' will stop me from expanding my empire. We will recover from this. An' this will never happen t' us again."
Turning around, he walked grimly toward the towering shape of Fort Bloodgard.
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Footnote:
This chapter was a lot less…heart breaking to write than my other chapter (I'm sure you can guess why.) This will actually be the last we get to see of Terramort (At least until the sequel.)
Happy reading to you all!