Part Four
TWILIGHT
Chapter I
Ghost had quickly tired of the uneventful life in the infirmary and had taken it upon himself to find out more about the structure of Loamhedge. He had seen very little of the abbey, having first wandered outside and finding the view from the ramparts. This had been during dusk, and now it was twilight; the span of time not truly belonging to day, nor falling under the title of night. The dying sunlight was fading on the distant horizon in the east, and the first glowing stars were faintly shining behind an early rising moon. That, Ghost saw, would not last long. Clouds were gathering in the sky promising a storm. As he watched the small clouds form, something seemed to come over him. He felt small compared to what he could see from his perch on the ramparts.
Now he was gazing north, his eyes locked on the distant horizon and his mind focused on all that could have been. He despised fate for destroying his life, and he vowed vengeance on the fox that had betrayed him. Thoughts of revenge raced through his mind so fast that he was scarcely aware of some of them, and completely unaware of most. Then, with a suddenness and subtlety that rattled him afterwards, a silence hushed all but one thought in his mind. He was aware of the silence first; as it was abrupt, yet only after he forced his mind to focus on the thought did he hear it. He blamed himself.
Trent had killed her, but it was he who had told her to go. She warned him about the Foxtribe, yet he had failed to listen. Trent was not to blame for deceiving him, but rather it was his own fault for being blind to the trap that was being set before him. He had promised to lead the Watch, and he had led them to their downfall.
A paw strayed to where he usually kept his daggers, only to find they were not there. He looked down and sighed. Twilight was gone, the glow on the horizon had faded and died. The night creatures were slowly starting their usual chorus, filling the air with music. His ear twitched as is caught an out of place sound among the harmonies; a faint scraping sound almost like footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the small figure of a mouse coming towards him. It took him a while to recognise the figure as Amethyst. When she saw him, she paused, as if contemplating turning back, and then continued on until her smiling face was clearly visible beneath the moonlight.
"You found my favourite spot."
Ghost nodded thoughtfully. "I'll have to remember that. Be warned, thought, that it may become mine as well."
"You seem sad."
He nodded, but said nothing.
"Would you want to tell me why?"
A deafening silence fell between the two, neither making any sign of breaking it. Ghost took a deep breath and sighed it out.
"I was supposed to lead the group, and they trusted me. Now they could all very well be dead because I didn't catch on to a fox's game."
Amethyst nodded and reached into her habit sleeve, producing his journal. "The Abbess told me to give this to you." She handed it to him and her heart skipped a beat when he tossed it over the wall. "You shouldn't punish yourself so much."
Ghost stared at the black earth below, the journal hidden from view by the shadows. "I killed them."
"No you didn't." Amethyst was becoming upset, but tried to hide it in her voice. "That fox killed them, not you. If anyone should be punished it would be him and his band." She pointed down in the general area of the journal. "I think you're just hiding from the past because you don't want to face it. I'm going to tell you something, and I hope that it does something for you." She paused for a breath. "Loamhedge had two visitors arrive in the past few days. One was once a proud warrior, surrounded by friends, and ready to fight for whatever was true and just. The other was a slave, beaten by a whip and at the mercy of a cold-hearted slaver. The former has done nothing but mope, and the latter can't wait to deal justice. I would think that both of you would have met by now to discuss the topic, seeing how our last notion was that the slavers were heading this way." She shrugged. "I guess that's what a true warrior would do."
Ghost glared at her. "You speak of me as a warrior," he shook his head. "I was never more than an assassin. There's a difference. Your bold words don't apply to me." He stood up straight and started walking towards the eastern wall. "I do despise slavers; I don't think there is anything lower in this world. However, I do not think I want to rush off to war either." He brushed past her and vanished into the shadows.
"Fine then, Ghost." Amethyst darted down the stairs and crossed the courtyard, heading towards the main gate. "Ghost," she called up to him. "Mind if I read that journal of yours?"
"Go ahead," came the reply. "I just don't want to see it again."
Amethyst pushed the two gates open just enough for her to squeeze out. A faint light was cast by the moon, which was now covered by a curtain of clouds, making it difficult to see. She trekked along the northern wall until she found the beaten journal and she brushed the cover off as she picked it up. She slowly started her way back to the gates, studying the journal in the dark.
"Well, what have we here?"
She froze and instinctively glanced behind her. "Who's there?"
"Oh, no one of importance. My name is Blythe."
Amethyst glanced around; it was still too dark to see anything. "Where are you?"
"Over here."
She was starting to get nervous. The voice sounded friendly enough, but a small alarm was telling her that running would be the wisest choice.
"You must be from Loamhedge. What's your name?"
"Am.... Amethyst. My name is Amethyst."
"Amethyst, could you help me?"
She gripped the journal tightly and took a step towards the voice, trying to see who it was. "What do you need?"
"Oh, nothing much...just you."
The voice had turned cold with the last two words, and Amethyst turned to run.
"Not so fast."
A rope was thrown around her and pulled taught, catching the journal in its coils and pressing it hard against her. She opened her mouth to scream, but a paw clamped over it, keeping her silent. She started to kick and fight, but it was no use. She growled as a gag was tied over her mouth. As suddenly as they sprung on her, the two animals had her and were carrying her off into the forest. One of them pulled the journal from the rope and held it up.
"Look at this, Blythe, a book. Too bad you can't read."
Amethyst tried to look towards the second voice, but could only make out the silhouetted outline of a fox. She gulped and felt the fight evaporate in her.
"You shut your mouth, Trent. Which one of us caught her? I don't think you're in any position to act cheeky towards me."
Amethyst's heart froze as she heard the name. It suddenly dawned on her that she was in the paws of killers, not just slavers. She heard a thud and the rustling of bushes.
"Well, no more book. Now you keep quiet and just worry about getting her back to camp. I know someone that would enjoy speaking with her."
The two chuckled softly as they dragged their prize further into the forest.
Chapter II
Myriad glanced around the camp for what was probably the twentieth time that night. Everything was suddenly happening fast, and her mind was still reeling from the change in pace. After the arrival of the Foxtribe, Scarstripe had ordered a march, which stopped less than a day's travel from the abbey. After that, a meeting had been held between two of the foxes, the leader and some other whelp, and Scarstripe. She was never able to figure out what it had been about because her invitation had been cut, and when she tried to enter the tent a guard had pushed her back roughly. Then, without warning, the two foxes had vanished. Myriad had wanted Mantis to follow, and had sought him out among the horde, only to find that he too was missing. She asked around and quickly found that no beast could tell her his whereabouts. To avoid raising suspicion, she quickly ceased her questioning.
Now, the camp was a bustling hive of activity. Everything, it seemed, was gearing up towards war. Because she had nothing else to do, Myriad simply kept out of the way, watching the rest of the horde working away while she anxiously waited for Mantis to show up.
"Having fun, Myriad?"
She spun around to face Scarstripe and smiled. "Oh, yes, o' course." She raised both eyebrows and cocked her head comically to one side. "Aren't ye?"
He nodded, his expression cold and calm. "Always. War is such an exciting event."
She nodded, striking the smile from her face. "Can I be o' service, I am yer advisor."
Scarstripe chuckled and patted her on the shoulder. For some reason, she could not help but feel slightly uneasy under his gaze.
"Myriad, my long trusted advisor, I am afraid you have been replaced. We are in a time of war, and I know how much you dislike the process as a whole, so I have moved Trent into your position and title. Sorry."
Myriad narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "I don't suppose ye had any qualms about makin' that decision, m'lord?"
"Troubles? Of course I did." Scarstripe kept his voice calm and soothing. "You have been a long time friend and advisor. Replacing you was the hardest thing I ever had to do."
"Don't waist yer breath, m'lord. Th' consolations fall on deaf ears."
Scarstripe narrowed his eyes. "You would do well to remain silent."
"Ye appointed me as yer advisor 'cause I couldn't shut up. Now ye want me t' be silent?" She chuckled and smiled. "Ye always had a way with words, m'lord. I willingly step down. Let Trent deal with yer problems now."
Scarstripe chuckled. "Glad to see you respect my decision. Now go and get some rest."
She nodded, glancing about the camp once more in search of Mantis. "Aye, m'lord. Might I also say, as my last bit o' advice t' ye get some rest as well."
Scarstripe placed a paw on her shoulder. "I will." He watched her turn to walk away. "Oh, before I forget to ask later," he cleared his throat. "Have you seen the new assassin, Darkbane?"
Myriad turned, yawning and scratching the side of her head. "Nay, but I haven't been keepin' an eye out fer him. Ask Mantis, it's his field."
"Well, that's a problem, you see. I would ask Mantis, but Mantis is not here. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"
She shook her head. "I haven't been lookin' fer him either." She yawned again. "If ye'll excuse me, I'm goin' to go sleep, m'lord."
Scarstripe nodded and watched her vanish into her tent. Once she was gone, he allowed his grin to turn into a light sneer. "If I find out you are conspiring with Mantis, Myriad, I will be sure that it becomes the death of you."
He grinned and started walking back towards his tent. He would tell her tomorrow that the advisors tent was no longer hers.
"Scarstripe!"
The warlord's ears perked up, and he smiled at the Foxtribe commander. "Trent! How went the mission?"
"Better than we thought. Come, a present awaits you in your tent." Trent grinned slyly and motioned the weasel to follow. "The walls are thick, and I would not assault them directly. The gate, though it will prove formidable, is the weakest point in the wall, and a good battering ram should take care of it with minimal troubles. I would report on the military status, but as you will see, there is none. If all of the abbey dwellers are like this one, we are in luck." Trent bowed and pulled the tent flap back to reveal Amethyst, who had been bound and tossed to the ground. "I present Amethyst, member of Loamhedge Abbey. They don't even know we're coming."
Scarstripe chuckled. "Good, how very comforting to know." He knelt beside the mousemaid. "Amethyst, such a nice name." He studied her for a moment. "You can replace my otter, who ran off a few days ago. You wouldn't happen to know who I'm talking about, would you?"
Amethyst glared at him, but said nothing. Instead, she grinned and gave him a look of defiance.
"You defy me?" He pushed her back and stood. "Trent, I do hope your assumption that all of the abbey mice are like her is wrong. It would be a shame if none of our captives wanted to work as slaves." He nodded to one of his guards, a stout rat with a deep scar running down his face. "Let her rest tonight. If she does not work as a slave tomorrow morning, then she will work as a target for the archers in the afternoon." He grinned at Amethyst and shrugged. "We all serve some purpose here in the camp, whether it be while we live or while we die."
Scarstripe nodded to Trent and his guards, and they exited the tent, leaving Amethyst alone on the ground. When they had left, Amethyst allowed her shoulders to sag, and she curled up on the ground, whimpering. There was nothing she wanted more than to be back at Loamhedge, among friends, instead of here with a horde full of vermin. She silently cried herself to sleep; wondering what would happen in the morning when the abbey realised she was not there.
Chapter III
Solace tossed the empty haversack to the ground and looked up at her two travel companions, Montel and Lady Flynt.
"That does 't for th' food, eh wot! Guess we'll have t' forage th' rest o' th' way."
Montel stared into the fire. "Or, we turn north and follow a trail we know, leading to Salamandastron. I think that is better than trekking across unknown territory without food. It is better to be hungry than it is to be hungry and lost."
Lady Flynt sucked on a pebble. "Well, if worse come to worse, we just shout very loudly and hope some beast hears."
Montel chuckled. "That could work." He looked over at Solace. "Don't you think so?"
Solace's ears were perked up and she shushed the other two with a wave of her paw. "Do y' hear that?"
Montel shook his head. "There's nothing out there that's going to attack us here." He patted the haft of his axe. "If they do, I'll deal with it."
A twig cracked, and Lady Flynt glanced at Montel. "Maybe she was right."
The three stood, Montel resting his axe on his shoulder.
"Who do y' think 't is?"
Lady Flynt shook her head. "I don't know, but if it's got food, I'm happy."
A figure clad in a dark robe stepped into the firelight; paws outstretched to show it meant no harm. The hood was casting shadows on its face, keeping its identity hidden from the trio.
"Are you the remnants of Eagle Watch?"
Solace studied the figure. "Aye, we are. Who's askin'?"
"Promise you will hear me out, first."
Solace glanced at the other two. "What d'y' say?"
"Hear him out." Montel lowered the axe, resting it on the ground.
"I agree with Montel, let's hear him out." Lady Flynt stepped forward. "Before we begin, do you have any food?"
The robed figure nodded and vanished into the trees. He returned after a short while with a haversack and tossed it to the squirrel.
"It is not much, and I am not sure if you will enjoy it."
Lady Flynt started to reach for the sack, only to be stopped by Solace. The hare picked up the sack and studied it.
"Alright, who are ya?"
The three watched as the figure reached up and drew his hood back, to reveal who he was. Montel immediately raised his axe and rested it on his shoulder.
"Call me Mantis."
Solace dropped the haversack. "Don't bother eathin' it, Lady Flynt. It's probably poisoned." She took a step towards the ermine. "Wot're y' doin' here?"
"I've been following you. I have news you might be interested in hearing." He pointed at the sack. "And the food is not poisoned. I guarantee that on my honour and life."
Montel lowered the axe again. "What news could you possibly have that we would want to hear?"
"Many things, badger. Do you wish to hear it, or shall I leave now?" Mantis looked from one to the other. "Which will it be?"
"Tell us, you got me curious." Lady Flynt crossed her arms and waited for him to respond.
Mantis waited until he received a nod from the other two before he spoke again. "Your friend Ghost is alive and living in Loamhedge. The abbey mice treated his wounds, and he now lives within its walls."
Lady Flynt was on her feet immediately. "He's alive?"
Solace was still sceptical and shook her head. "How can we trust that what y' said's true?"
"You do not have to if you do not want to. But I will tell you something else," he paused. "Loamhedge is about to be attacked by a slaving horde. They will need all the help they can if they wish to survive the attack. You can turn and start back now, and maybe arrive before the attack begins, or you can carry on to wherever you were going and never look back again." He raised a paw as Solace started to speak again. "I know that this is true because I am a member in that horde. I tell you this now because not more than two days ago, a band of foxes led by one named Trent allied with our horde. The fox is manipulating our commander, and I can tell that Trent is a cold-blooded killer. I have enslaved others, and killed others, but never in cold blood. It goes against what I stand for."
"An honourable vermin?" Solace rolled her eyes. "I still don't trust 'im."
Montel placed a paw on Solace's shoulder. "I do. I've known honourable vermin in my life; another one does not seem entirely unlikely." He opened the haversack and pulled out an apple. "Besides, what would we have to lose by going to Loamhedge?" He took a bite and looked at it. Seeing it was fine, he pulled out a second and tossed it to Lady Flynt. He offered a third to Solace. "Want one?"
Mantis watched the hare decline the offered food. "I am an assassin, hare. A true assassin does not use poisons to achieve what skill should be used for. The food is safe." He walked over to Montel and took the third apple. He bit into it and swallowed a piece. "If you don't mind, and if you are going towards Loamhedge, I am no longer able to return to my horde. Scarstripe and Trent are both untrusting, and my prolonged absence has no doubt betrayed my conspiring. I would like to journey alongside you three until we reach where my path diverges on its own."
Montel and Lady Flynt nodded, then turned to Solace to see her response. The hare frowned, but nodded.
"If th' two o' y' trust 'im, then I trust yer judgement." She walked back to the fire and sat down. "We'll spend th' night here an' pack up tomorrow. I suggest we all get some sleep. It's goin' t' be a long walk back."
Chapter IV
Blackstrike woke early the next morning, yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She did not rise out of her bed for w few minutes, during which she tried to recall that night's dreams. It was to no avail, all had faded into the corners of her mind where they would be forgotten, or remembered and thought to be new. It did not matter; there were other things to do than trying to recall forgotten dreams.
She got up out of the bed and glanced around the room she shared with Amethyst. The other bed was empty and made, so she figured that her friend was already up and about. With another yawn threatening to rise, Blackstrike shuffled out the door and into the hall. Out of curiosity, she stopped by the infirmary and peeked in. The ferret was sleeping in the far corner. She shrugged and continued towards the main hall. The other early risers were busy making breakfast and setting the tables. The Abbess was among them.
"Good morrow, Abbess Arum."
The Abbess looked up and grinned. "Good morrow, Blackstrike. I trust you slept well?"
"Yes, I did, thank ye. Have ye seen Amethyst?"
The Abbess shook her head. "No. I thought she was still sleeping. Is she not up in her bed?"
"No. I just woke up and she wasn't there."
"Well, she does have the tendency to vanish. Did you see her come in last night?"
Blackstrike shrugged. "I fell asleep early. She could've come in later. Where'd she go last night?"
"To talk to Ghost out on the ramparts." The Abbess frowned. "Forgive me for asking this, but, have you seen Ghost?"
"He's sleepin' in th' infirmary. Ye think he did somethin'?"
"No, not yet. I doubt it, but..." She shook her head. "No. I wouldn't expect him to do anything. I'll ask him, though, later today."
Blackstrike glanced in the direction of the infirmary. "I'll take care of it. Ye seem busy enough."
"Oh, could you do that for me? Thank you so much. Let me know what he says."
Blackstrike looked towards the doors. "Could she be outside?"
"Well, the only ways out are through the back door in the kitchen, the infirmary, and here. She usually comes through here to grab some breakfast before going out, and like I said before, I haven't seen her and no one has gone outside yet to my knowledge."
Blackstrike nodded and walked back towards the infirmary. When she opened the door a crack and peeked in, she was somewhat surprised to see that Ghost was awake and sitting up in his bed. She pushed the door and nodded to the ferret.
"Good morrow, Ghost. Mind if I ask ye a few questions?"
Ghost shook his head. "Not at all...Blackstrike is it? I don't believe we were ever formally introduced." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood. "What do you need?"
"A few answers, nothin' too serious. Would ye care t' take a stroll along th' ramparts while we talk?"
"No, not at all." He yawned. "Besides, I could use the wakeup call." He grinned and started walking towards the back door of the infirmary. "You've never spoke to me before. Why are you so eager to now?"
Blackstrike followed him out the door and into the courtyard, which was basking in the glow of the morning sun. "Ye met with Amethyst last night, am I correct?"
"Yes. I did, last night." He started up the stairs to the ramparts. "I'm still curious, even more so now that you've brought her up."
"She wasn't in her room this mornin', and no one saw her come in last night, or out this mornin'. Yore th' last one t' see her."
Ghost stopped in mid-stride and turned around to face the otter. "She's gone?"
"Did she go anywhere last night?"
Ghost nodded and ran the rest of the way up the stairs and to the northern wall. "She went to get my journal; I had thrown it down there." He looked down and searched the ground for the book. "It's gone."
Blackstrike came up alongside him and looked down. "Yore certain she came back?"
A thought struck Ghost, and his heart skipped a beat. "No." He ran back tot he stairs and took them two at a time. "Who's been outside since last night?"
Blackstrike ran after him. "No one 'cordin' to th' Abbess."
"Good!" Ghost sped towards the main gate. "She left the gate open when she left to get the journal. If she came back, then it should...." He slid to a stop in front of the gate and felt his stomach turn. "It's open."
Blackstrike came up alongside him, panting, and placed a paw on his shoulder. "Don't run like that again, mate." She looked at the gate, which was slightly ajar. "We should get a search party put together. I'll get Arkain, ye go and tell th' Abbess."
Ghost nodded. "Aye, do that. Could you tell the Abbess, please? I want to check something outside."
He looked back at her and received a nod. Without a word, he pushed the gate open and walked out into the open ground. It was the first time he had set foot outside the walls of Loamhedge since his arrival, and to do so felt odd to him. He shook it off and made his way around to the base of the northern wall. His eyes darted across the ground, looking for signs of something, anything, that would drop some hint about Amethyst's disappearance. He cut into the surrounding forest, checking for the telltale signs that someone had travelled through recently, but still found nothing. Several minutes passed without any luck, and just when he was about to turn back, he saw it. Resting in the mud, cradled by the gnarled roots of a tree, was the journal. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and looked around for a landmark so he could find the spot again. Leaving the journal as a marker in case he needed it, Ghost jogged back to the abbey.
Chapter V
Scarstripe paced back and forth in his tent, mentally going through everything that needed doing that day. Trent was going to discuss tactics for overthrowing Loamhedge, and that was probably going to be the highlight of the day. Following that was a check on the new slave, he wanted to see if she would survive to see nightfall or not. Darkbane was on the lookout for Mantis, and under strict orders to report if any sign of the missing assassin turned up. Myriad was set for eviction from her tent, which was going to be turned over to Trent. He grinned; it was going to be an exciting day.
One of the guards walked through the flap of the tent and saluted. "Comrade Trent Silverblade t' see ye, Cap'n."
"Send him in." He dismissed the guard with a wave of his paw and watched as the Foxtribe leader silently came into the tent. "Trent, comrade, it is good to see you. We have much to discuss, it seems."
"We do, Comrade Scarstripe." Trent closed the tent flap behind him. "But first, I think we need to discuss something more immediate."
Scarstripe paused, intrigued by the fox's quiet manner. "Alright, what is it?"
"Conspirators. Your former advisor, the ferret, I don't trust her. Darkbane has been watching, as you probably know, and he told me that she meets often with this Mantis character." Trent casually strode over to the map table and looked at the large chart of Loamhedge. "I don't think it would be wise to leave this matter unattended."
"You are right, Trent. I don't think it would be wise either. However, I have the situation taken care of. The idea of those two conspiring against me has not been a new one, and I am working on finding out just what it is they are up to. Thank you, however, for your concern." He walked over to the map table. "Now, however, I want to speak of war."
Trent grinned and pointed to the map. "Before I tell you my idea, tell me yours. I can tell you have something in that conniving mind of yours."
"You know me better than my mother, Trent." Scarstripe pointed at the pile of maps. "I cannot conquer all of these lands. I simply do not have the numbers. What I do have, Trent, is the method. Have you ever seen a forest literally reduced to ash in a week?"
Trent straightened up and eyed the horde leader. "No, nor have I heard of it happening."
"Well, it can. I have, and always try to have, a vast amount of lamp oil. It is very useful for its obvious purpose, but I have never used it for that." Scarstripe ran a tongue over his teeth. "What I like to do is fill large pots with the oil, light them on fire, and simply hurl them wherever there is resistance. It is simple and effective. Any beast can stand and fight against another beast, but no beast is truly capable of winning a war against strong fire."
Trent stared at the weasel in disbelief. "Even I don't use fire, and that is saying a lot. It is a general understanding and point of honour that one does not use fire; not in woodlands and especially not against harmless beasts."
Scarstripe shook his head. "You don't understand, Comrade, what I am. For one to use fire, one must be a murderous, treacherous, villainous, lying, cold-hearted scumbag." He grinned coldly. "I am not like that; I am worse. Use of fire is not something that will bring me guilt. But come now, I've told you my idea, what's yours?"
"I think we can play with Ghost."
"Who?"
"The ferret in Loamhedge. You are aware that he lost someone very dear to him, right. Well, I believe we can play on that."
Scarstripe nodded slowly. "I see. You're a bit more creative than I originally gave you credit for. Tell me more."
Trent grinned and outlined his plan in full detail to the warlord. When he had finished, Scarstripe grinned and chuckled. Giving the fox a pat on the back, he began ushering him towards the tent flap.
"Trent, you truly are a genius. Go fetch them, one at a time, and bring them here. We'll have that abbey before long, I can taste it."
I
I
TWILIGHT
Chapter I
Ghost had quickly tired of the uneventful life in the infirmary and had taken it upon himself to find out more about the structure of Loamhedge. He had seen very little of the abbey, having first wandered outside and finding the view from the ramparts. This had been during dusk, and now it was twilight; the span of time not truly belonging to day, nor falling under the title of night. The dying sunlight was fading on the distant horizon in the east, and the first glowing stars were faintly shining behind an early rising moon. That, Ghost saw, would not last long. Clouds were gathering in the sky promising a storm. As he watched the small clouds form, something seemed to come over him. He felt small compared to what he could see from his perch on the ramparts.
Now he was gazing north, his eyes locked on the distant horizon and his mind focused on all that could have been. He despised fate for destroying his life, and he vowed vengeance on the fox that had betrayed him. Thoughts of revenge raced through his mind so fast that he was scarcely aware of some of them, and completely unaware of most. Then, with a suddenness and subtlety that rattled him afterwards, a silence hushed all but one thought in his mind. He was aware of the silence first; as it was abrupt, yet only after he forced his mind to focus on the thought did he hear it. He blamed himself.
Trent had killed her, but it was he who had told her to go. She warned him about the Foxtribe, yet he had failed to listen. Trent was not to blame for deceiving him, but rather it was his own fault for being blind to the trap that was being set before him. He had promised to lead the Watch, and he had led them to their downfall.
A paw strayed to where he usually kept his daggers, only to find they were not there. He looked down and sighed. Twilight was gone, the glow on the horizon had faded and died. The night creatures were slowly starting their usual chorus, filling the air with music. His ear twitched as is caught an out of place sound among the harmonies; a faint scraping sound almost like footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the small figure of a mouse coming towards him. It took him a while to recognise the figure as Amethyst. When she saw him, she paused, as if contemplating turning back, and then continued on until her smiling face was clearly visible beneath the moonlight.
"You found my favourite spot."
Ghost nodded thoughtfully. "I'll have to remember that. Be warned, thought, that it may become mine as well."
"You seem sad."
He nodded, but said nothing.
"Would you want to tell me why?"
A deafening silence fell between the two, neither making any sign of breaking it. Ghost took a deep breath and sighed it out.
"I was supposed to lead the group, and they trusted me. Now they could all very well be dead because I didn't catch on to a fox's game."
Amethyst nodded and reached into her habit sleeve, producing his journal. "The Abbess told me to give this to you." She handed it to him and her heart skipped a beat when he tossed it over the wall. "You shouldn't punish yourself so much."
Ghost stared at the black earth below, the journal hidden from view by the shadows. "I killed them."
"No you didn't." Amethyst was becoming upset, but tried to hide it in her voice. "That fox killed them, not you. If anyone should be punished it would be him and his band." She pointed down in the general area of the journal. "I think you're just hiding from the past because you don't want to face it. I'm going to tell you something, and I hope that it does something for you." She paused for a breath. "Loamhedge had two visitors arrive in the past few days. One was once a proud warrior, surrounded by friends, and ready to fight for whatever was true and just. The other was a slave, beaten by a whip and at the mercy of a cold-hearted slaver. The former has done nothing but mope, and the latter can't wait to deal justice. I would think that both of you would have met by now to discuss the topic, seeing how our last notion was that the slavers were heading this way." She shrugged. "I guess that's what a true warrior would do."
Ghost glared at her. "You speak of me as a warrior," he shook his head. "I was never more than an assassin. There's a difference. Your bold words don't apply to me." He stood up straight and started walking towards the eastern wall. "I do despise slavers; I don't think there is anything lower in this world. However, I do not think I want to rush off to war either." He brushed past her and vanished into the shadows.
"Fine then, Ghost." Amethyst darted down the stairs and crossed the courtyard, heading towards the main gate. "Ghost," she called up to him. "Mind if I read that journal of yours?"
"Go ahead," came the reply. "I just don't want to see it again."
Amethyst pushed the two gates open just enough for her to squeeze out. A faint light was cast by the moon, which was now covered by a curtain of clouds, making it difficult to see. She trekked along the northern wall until she found the beaten journal and she brushed the cover off as she picked it up. She slowly started her way back to the gates, studying the journal in the dark.
"Well, what have we here?"
She froze and instinctively glanced behind her. "Who's there?"
"Oh, no one of importance. My name is Blythe."
Amethyst glanced around; it was still too dark to see anything. "Where are you?"
"Over here."
She was starting to get nervous. The voice sounded friendly enough, but a small alarm was telling her that running would be the wisest choice.
"You must be from Loamhedge. What's your name?"
"Am.... Amethyst. My name is Amethyst."
"Amethyst, could you help me?"
She gripped the journal tightly and took a step towards the voice, trying to see who it was. "What do you need?"
"Oh, nothing much...just you."
The voice had turned cold with the last two words, and Amethyst turned to run.
"Not so fast."
A rope was thrown around her and pulled taught, catching the journal in its coils and pressing it hard against her. She opened her mouth to scream, but a paw clamped over it, keeping her silent. She started to kick and fight, but it was no use. She growled as a gag was tied over her mouth. As suddenly as they sprung on her, the two animals had her and were carrying her off into the forest. One of them pulled the journal from the rope and held it up.
"Look at this, Blythe, a book. Too bad you can't read."
Amethyst tried to look towards the second voice, but could only make out the silhouetted outline of a fox. She gulped and felt the fight evaporate in her.
"You shut your mouth, Trent. Which one of us caught her? I don't think you're in any position to act cheeky towards me."
Amethyst's heart froze as she heard the name. It suddenly dawned on her that she was in the paws of killers, not just slavers. She heard a thud and the rustling of bushes.
"Well, no more book. Now you keep quiet and just worry about getting her back to camp. I know someone that would enjoy speaking with her."
The two chuckled softly as they dragged their prize further into the forest.
Chapter II
Myriad glanced around the camp for what was probably the twentieth time that night. Everything was suddenly happening fast, and her mind was still reeling from the change in pace. After the arrival of the Foxtribe, Scarstripe had ordered a march, which stopped less than a day's travel from the abbey. After that, a meeting had been held between two of the foxes, the leader and some other whelp, and Scarstripe. She was never able to figure out what it had been about because her invitation had been cut, and when she tried to enter the tent a guard had pushed her back roughly. Then, without warning, the two foxes had vanished. Myriad had wanted Mantis to follow, and had sought him out among the horde, only to find that he too was missing. She asked around and quickly found that no beast could tell her his whereabouts. To avoid raising suspicion, she quickly ceased her questioning.
Now, the camp was a bustling hive of activity. Everything, it seemed, was gearing up towards war. Because she had nothing else to do, Myriad simply kept out of the way, watching the rest of the horde working away while she anxiously waited for Mantis to show up.
"Having fun, Myriad?"
She spun around to face Scarstripe and smiled. "Oh, yes, o' course." She raised both eyebrows and cocked her head comically to one side. "Aren't ye?"
He nodded, his expression cold and calm. "Always. War is such an exciting event."
She nodded, striking the smile from her face. "Can I be o' service, I am yer advisor."
Scarstripe chuckled and patted her on the shoulder. For some reason, she could not help but feel slightly uneasy under his gaze.
"Myriad, my long trusted advisor, I am afraid you have been replaced. We are in a time of war, and I know how much you dislike the process as a whole, so I have moved Trent into your position and title. Sorry."
Myriad narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "I don't suppose ye had any qualms about makin' that decision, m'lord?"
"Troubles? Of course I did." Scarstripe kept his voice calm and soothing. "You have been a long time friend and advisor. Replacing you was the hardest thing I ever had to do."
"Don't waist yer breath, m'lord. Th' consolations fall on deaf ears."
Scarstripe narrowed his eyes. "You would do well to remain silent."
"Ye appointed me as yer advisor 'cause I couldn't shut up. Now ye want me t' be silent?" She chuckled and smiled. "Ye always had a way with words, m'lord. I willingly step down. Let Trent deal with yer problems now."
Scarstripe chuckled. "Glad to see you respect my decision. Now go and get some rest."
She nodded, glancing about the camp once more in search of Mantis. "Aye, m'lord. Might I also say, as my last bit o' advice t' ye get some rest as well."
Scarstripe placed a paw on her shoulder. "I will." He watched her turn to walk away. "Oh, before I forget to ask later," he cleared his throat. "Have you seen the new assassin, Darkbane?"
Myriad turned, yawning and scratching the side of her head. "Nay, but I haven't been keepin' an eye out fer him. Ask Mantis, it's his field."
"Well, that's a problem, you see. I would ask Mantis, but Mantis is not here. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"
She shook her head. "I haven't been lookin' fer him either." She yawned again. "If ye'll excuse me, I'm goin' to go sleep, m'lord."
Scarstripe nodded and watched her vanish into her tent. Once she was gone, he allowed his grin to turn into a light sneer. "If I find out you are conspiring with Mantis, Myriad, I will be sure that it becomes the death of you."
He grinned and started walking back towards his tent. He would tell her tomorrow that the advisors tent was no longer hers.
"Scarstripe!"
The warlord's ears perked up, and he smiled at the Foxtribe commander. "Trent! How went the mission?"
"Better than we thought. Come, a present awaits you in your tent." Trent grinned slyly and motioned the weasel to follow. "The walls are thick, and I would not assault them directly. The gate, though it will prove formidable, is the weakest point in the wall, and a good battering ram should take care of it with minimal troubles. I would report on the military status, but as you will see, there is none. If all of the abbey dwellers are like this one, we are in luck." Trent bowed and pulled the tent flap back to reveal Amethyst, who had been bound and tossed to the ground. "I present Amethyst, member of Loamhedge Abbey. They don't even know we're coming."
Scarstripe chuckled. "Good, how very comforting to know." He knelt beside the mousemaid. "Amethyst, such a nice name." He studied her for a moment. "You can replace my otter, who ran off a few days ago. You wouldn't happen to know who I'm talking about, would you?"
Amethyst glared at him, but said nothing. Instead, she grinned and gave him a look of defiance.
"You defy me?" He pushed her back and stood. "Trent, I do hope your assumption that all of the abbey mice are like her is wrong. It would be a shame if none of our captives wanted to work as slaves." He nodded to one of his guards, a stout rat with a deep scar running down his face. "Let her rest tonight. If she does not work as a slave tomorrow morning, then she will work as a target for the archers in the afternoon." He grinned at Amethyst and shrugged. "We all serve some purpose here in the camp, whether it be while we live or while we die."
Scarstripe nodded to Trent and his guards, and they exited the tent, leaving Amethyst alone on the ground. When they had left, Amethyst allowed her shoulders to sag, and she curled up on the ground, whimpering. There was nothing she wanted more than to be back at Loamhedge, among friends, instead of here with a horde full of vermin. She silently cried herself to sleep; wondering what would happen in the morning when the abbey realised she was not there.
Chapter III
Solace tossed the empty haversack to the ground and looked up at her two travel companions, Montel and Lady Flynt.
"That does 't for th' food, eh wot! Guess we'll have t' forage th' rest o' th' way."
Montel stared into the fire. "Or, we turn north and follow a trail we know, leading to Salamandastron. I think that is better than trekking across unknown territory without food. It is better to be hungry than it is to be hungry and lost."
Lady Flynt sucked on a pebble. "Well, if worse come to worse, we just shout very loudly and hope some beast hears."
Montel chuckled. "That could work." He looked over at Solace. "Don't you think so?"
Solace's ears were perked up and she shushed the other two with a wave of her paw. "Do y' hear that?"
Montel shook his head. "There's nothing out there that's going to attack us here." He patted the haft of his axe. "If they do, I'll deal with it."
A twig cracked, and Lady Flynt glanced at Montel. "Maybe she was right."
The three stood, Montel resting his axe on his shoulder.
"Who do y' think 't is?"
Lady Flynt shook her head. "I don't know, but if it's got food, I'm happy."
A figure clad in a dark robe stepped into the firelight; paws outstretched to show it meant no harm. The hood was casting shadows on its face, keeping its identity hidden from the trio.
"Are you the remnants of Eagle Watch?"
Solace studied the figure. "Aye, we are. Who's askin'?"
"Promise you will hear me out, first."
Solace glanced at the other two. "What d'y' say?"
"Hear him out." Montel lowered the axe, resting it on the ground.
"I agree with Montel, let's hear him out." Lady Flynt stepped forward. "Before we begin, do you have any food?"
The robed figure nodded and vanished into the trees. He returned after a short while with a haversack and tossed it to the squirrel.
"It is not much, and I am not sure if you will enjoy it."
Lady Flynt started to reach for the sack, only to be stopped by Solace. The hare picked up the sack and studied it.
"Alright, who are ya?"
The three watched as the figure reached up and drew his hood back, to reveal who he was. Montel immediately raised his axe and rested it on his shoulder.
"Call me Mantis."
Solace dropped the haversack. "Don't bother eathin' it, Lady Flynt. It's probably poisoned." She took a step towards the ermine. "Wot're y' doin' here?"
"I've been following you. I have news you might be interested in hearing." He pointed at the sack. "And the food is not poisoned. I guarantee that on my honour and life."
Montel lowered the axe again. "What news could you possibly have that we would want to hear?"
"Many things, badger. Do you wish to hear it, or shall I leave now?" Mantis looked from one to the other. "Which will it be?"
"Tell us, you got me curious." Lady Flynt crossed her arms and waited for him to respond.
Mantis waited until he received a nod from the other two before he spoke again. "Your friend Ghost is alive and living in Loamhedge. The abbey mice treated his wounds, and he now lives within its walls."
Lady Flynt was on her feet immediately. "He's alive?"
Solace was still sceptical and shook her head. "How can we trust that what y' said's true?"
"You do not have to if you do not want to. But I will tell you something else," he paused. "Loamhedge is about to be attacked by a slaving horde. They will need all the help they can if they wish to survive the attack. You can turn and start back now, and maybe arrive before the attack begins, or you can carry on to wherever you were going and never look back again." He raised a paw as Solace started to speak again. "I know that this is true because I am a member in that horde. I tell you this now because not more than two days ago, a band of foxes led by one named Trent allied with our horde. The fox is manipulating our commander, and I can tell that Trent is a cold-blooded killer. I have enslaved others, and killed others, but never in cold blood. It goes against what I stand for."
"An honourable vermin?" Solace rolled her eyes. "I still don't trust 'im."
Montel placed a paw on Solace's shoulder. "I do. I've known honourable vermin in my life; another one does not seem entirely unlikely." He opened the haversack and pulled out an apple. "Besides, what would we have to lose by going to Loamhedge?" He took a bite and looked at it. Seeing it was fine, he pulled out a second and tossed it to Lady Flynt. He offered a third to Solace. "Want one?"
Mantis watched the hare decline the offered food. "I am an assassin, hare. A true assassin does not use poisons to achieve what skill should be used for. The food is safe." He walked over to Montel and took the third apple. He bit into it and swallowed a piece. "If you don't mind, and if you are going towards Loamhedge, I am no longer able to return to my horde. Scarstripe and Trent are both untrusting, and my prolonged absence has no doubt betrayed my conspiring. I would like to journey alongside you three until we reach where my path diverges on its own."
Montel and Lady Flynt nodded, then turned to Solace to see her response. The hare frowned, but nodded.
"If th' two o' y' trust 'im, then I trust yer judgement." She walked back to the fire and sat down. "We'll spend th' night here an' pack up tomorrow. I suggest we all get some sleep. It's goin' t' be a long walk back."
Chapter IV
Blackstrike woke early the next morning, yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She did not rise out of her bed for w few minutes, during which she tried to recall that night's dreams. It was to no avail, all had faded into the corners of her mind where they would be forgotten, or remembered and thought to be new. It did not matter; there were other things to do than trying to recall forgotten dreams.
She got up out of the bed and glanced around the room she shared with Amethyst. The other bed was empty and made, so she figured that her friend was already up and about. With another yawn threatening to rise, Blackstrike shuffled out the door and into the hall. Out of curiosity, she stopped by the infirmary and peeked in. The ferret was sleeping in the far corner. She shrugged and continued towards the main hall. The other early risers were busy making breakfast and setting the tables. The Abbess was among them.
"Good morrow, Abbess Arum."
The Abbess looked up and grinned. "Good morrow, Blackstrike. I trust you slept well?"
"Yes, I did, thank ye. Have ye seen Amethyst?"
The Abbess shook her head. "No. I thought she was still sleeping. Is she not up in her bed?"
"No. I just woke up and she wasn't there."
"Well, she does have the tendency to vanish. Did you see her come in last night?"
Blackstrike shrugged. "I fell asleep early. She could've come in later. Where'd she go last night?"
"To talk to Ghost out on the ramparts." The Abbess frowned. "Forgive me for asking this, but, have you seen Ghost?"
"He's sleepin' in th' infirmary. Ye think he did somethin'?"
"No, not yet. I doubt it, but..." She shook her head. "No. I wouldn't expect him to do anything. I'll ask him, though, later today."
Blackstrike glanced in the direction of the infirmary. "I'll take care of it. Ye seem busy enough."
"Oh, could you do that for me? Thank you so much. Let me know what he says."
Blackstrike looked towards the doors. "Could she be outside?"
"Well, the only ways out are through the back door in the kitchen, the infirmary, and here. She usually comes through here to grab some breakfast before going out, and like I said before, I haven't seen her and no one has gone outside yet to my knowledge."
Blackstrike nodded and walked back towards the infirmary. When she opened the door a crack and peeked in, she was somewhat surprised to see that Ghost was awake and sitting up in his bed. She pushed the door and nodded to the ferret.
"Good morrow, Ghost. Mind if I ask ye a few questions?"
Ghost shook his head. "Not at all...Blackstrike is it? I don't believe we were ever formally introduced." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood. "What do you need?"
"A few answers, nothin' too serious. Would ye care t' take a stroll along th' ramparts while we talk?"
"No, not at all." He yawned. "Besides, I could use the wakeup call." He grinned and started walking towards the back door of the infirmary. "You've never spoke to me before. Why are you so eager to now?"
Blackstrike followed him out the door and into the courtyard, which was basking in the glow of the morning sun. "Ye met with Amethyst last night, am I correct?"
"Yes. I did, last night." He started up the stairs to the ramparts. "I'm still curious, even more so now that you've brought her up."
"She wasn't in her room this mornin', and no one saw her come in last night, or out this mornin'. Yore th' last one t' see her."
Ghost stopped in mid-stride and turned around to face the otter. "She's gone?"
"Did she go anywhere last night?"
Ghost nodded and ran the rest of the way up the stairs and to the northern wall. "She went to get my journal; I had thrown it down there." He looked down and searched the ground for the book. "It's gone."
Blackstrike came up alongside him and looked down. "Yore certain she came back?"
A thought struck Ghost, and his heart skipped a beat. "No." He ran back tot he stairs and took them two at a time. "Who's been outside since last night?"
Blackstrike ran after him. "No one 'cordin' to th' Abbess."
"Good!" Ghost sped towards the main gate. "She left the gate open when she left to get the journal. If she came back, then it should...." He slid to a stop in front of the gate and felt his stomach turn. "It's open."
Blackstrike came up alongside him, panting, and placed a paw on his shoulder. "Don't run like that again, mate." She looked at the gate, which was slightly ajar. "We should get a search party put together. I'll get Arkain, ye go and tell th' Abbess."
Ghost nodded. "Aye, do that. Could you tell the Abbess, please? I want to check something outside."
He looked back at her and received a nod. Without a word, he pushed the gate open and walked out into the open ground. It was the first time he had set foot outside the walls of Loamhedge since his arrival, and to do so felt odd to him. He shook it off and made his way around to the base of the northern wall. His eyes darted across the ground, looking for signs of something, anything, that would drop some hint about Amethyst's disappearance. He cut into the surrounding forest, checking for the telltale signs that someone had travelled through recently, but still found nothing. Several minutes passed without any luck, and just when he was about to turn back, he saw it. Resting in the mud, cradled by the gnarled roots of a tree, was the journal. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and looked around for a landmark so he could find the spot again. Leaving the journal as a marker in case he needed it, Ghost jogged back to the abbey.
Chapter V
Scarstripe paced back and forth in his tent, mentally going through everything that needed doing that day. Trent was going to discuss tactics for overthrowing Loamhedge, and that was probably going to be the highlight of the day. Following that was a check on the new slave, he wanted to see if she would survive to see nightfall or not. Darkbane was on the lookout for Mantis, and under strict orders to report if any sign of the missing assassin turned up. Myriad was set for eviction from her tent, which was going to be turned over to Trent. He grinned; it was going to be an exciting day.
One of the guards walked through the flap of the tent and saluted. "Comrade Trent Silverblade t' see ye, Cap'n."
"Send him in." He dismissed the guard with a wave of his paw and watched as the Foxtribe leader silently came into the tent. "Trent, comrade, it is good to see you. We have much to discuss, it seems."
"We do, Comrade Scarstripe." Trent closed the tent flap behind him. "But first, I think we need to discuss something more immediate."
Scarstripe paused, intrigued by the fox's quiet manner. "Alright, what is it?"
"Conspirators. Your former advisor, the ferret, I don't trust her. Darkbane has been watching, as you probably know, and he told me that she meets often with this Mantis character." Trent casually strode over to the map table and looked at the large chart of Loamhedge. "I don't think it would be wise to leave this matter unattended."
"You are right, Trent. I don't think it would be wise either. However, I have the situation taken care of. The idea of those two conspiring against me has not been a new one, and I am working on finding out just what it is they are up to. Thank you, however, for your concern." He walked over to the map table. "Now, however, I want to speak of war."
Trent grinned and pointed to the map. "Before I tell you my idea, tell me yours. I can tell you have something in that conniving mind of yours."
"You know me better than my mother, Trent." Scarstripe pointed at the pile of maps. "I cannot conquer all of these lands. I simply do not have the numbers. What I do have, Trent, is the method. Have you ever seen a forest literally reduced to ash in a week?"
Trent straightened up and eyed the horde leader. "No, nor have I heard of it happening."
"Well, it can. I have, and always try to have, a vast amount of lamp oil. It is very useful for its obvious purpose, but I have never used it for that." Scarstripe ran a tongue over his teeth. "What I like to do is fill large pots with the oil, light them on fire, and simply hurl them wherever there is resistance. It is simple and effective. Any beast can stand and fight against another beast, but no beast is truly capable of winning a war against strong fire."
Trent stared at the weasel in disbelief. "Even I don't use fire, and that is saying a lot. It is a general understanding and point of honour that one does not use fire; not in woodlands and especially not against harmless beasts."
Scarstripe shook his head. "You don't understand, Comrade, what I am. For one to use fire, one must be a murderous, treacherous, villainous, lying, cold-hearted scumbag." He grinned coldly. "I am not like that; I am worse. Use of fire is not something that will bring me guilt. But come now, I've told you my idea, what's yours?"
"I think we can play with Ghost."
"Who?"
"The ferret in Loamhedge. You are aware that he lost someone very dear to him, right. Well, I believe we can play on that."
Scarstripe nodded slowly. "I see. You're a bit more creative than I originally gave you credit for. Tell me more."
Trent grinned and outlined his plan in full detail to the warlord. When he had finished, Scarstripe grinned and chuckled. Giving the fox a pat on the back, he began ushering him towards the tent flap.
"Trent, you truly are a genius. Go fetch them, one at a time, and bring them here. We'll have that abbey before long, I can taste it."
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