Part Seven
DAYBREAK
Chapter I
Ghost sighed heavily as he leaned against the parapet's ledge and gazed northward at the forest below. The sun was just rising in the east, and brought with it was a sense of a new beginning. Old friends were reunited, and new friends gained, and for once, since the fall of the Eagle Watch, Ghost felt at peace and eager to look beyond tomorrow.
"Ghost, thought I'd find ye up here."
Ghost smiled at the otter and nodded once. "I enjoy the view from here. How goes, Blackstrike?"
"All's well with me." She returned the smile and leaned up against the parapet next to Ghost. "Solace an' Lady Flynt are down in th' kitchen helpin' wi'th' cleanup. Her an' Arkain promised not t' touch any more food."
"Don't believe them for a second. They'll tuck away anything they deem edible." Ghost chuckled. "What about Mantis and Myriad?"
"Myriad's sleepin' in th' guest dormit'ry, Mantis is in th' archives chamber. Never thought a vermin would take interest in th' ol' lit'rature."
Ghost nodded and shifted his gaze westward. "You know, this is where I was standing the night Amethyst disappeared. She went down to get my journal after I threw it from the wall."
Blackstrike raised an eyebrow. "When was th' last time ye read or wrote in that, by th' way?"
There was a moment of silence as Ghost frowned and shook his head. "I haven't touched it since I first arrived here."
Blackstrike produced the journal from the sleeve of her habit and set it down in front of him. "Ye should read what ye write. It's good t' have memories."
Ghost stared at the weather and timeworn book. "The past belongs in the past."
"I'm not tellin' ye' t' dwell or live in th' past, just t' remember it. Once ye lose a memory, it's gone forever." She frowned and opened the journal to the first page. "At least find out what that says."
"It's Loamscript. I don't read it."
"We're in Loamhedge, Ghost. Find someone t' teach ye." She turned to walk away. "It'll be worth it, trust me."
Ghost picked up the journal and thumbed through it. "What did you write in it?" He came to the last page with writing on it.
"Words t' live by, Ghost. They kept me alive as a slave, an' they can do plenty for anybeast who heeds 'em." Blackstrike stopped and turned back to face him. "Read 'em to me."
Ghost stared numbly at the single line that was scrawled across the otherwise blank page. "Never..." He paused for a breath and started again. "Never give up hope that an ember can turn into a spark; the spark into a fire; the fire into a blaze, and rekindled will be the spirit you believed was dead."
Blackstrike nodded and started to walk off again. "Jus' somethin' t' think about."
"Blackstrike,"
The otter turned to face him again. "Yes?"
There was an awkward silence as Ghost closed the journal. "What was the final say on Amethyst?"
"Mantis said that when Myriad's awake, they'll talk with Arkain an' think up somethin' of a plan. It might help if yore there too."
Ghost nodded. "Thank you."
Blackstrike tapped the side of her head. "Think about it, Ghost, an' read what's been written for ye."
Ghost watched her leave and then looked out across the forest again. In the distance, a solitary bird glided effortlessly over the trees, circling and diving in the air, probably amusing a potential nesting mate with acrobatic skill. He followed the flight in silence, idly tapping the cover of his journal with a single claw. Ghost was so lost in the silence, that he failed to notice Myriad approach him from behind.
"Mind if I join?"
Ghost was startled out of his reverie and nodded. "Of course...you startled me."
"Sorry 'bout that. Didn't mean to." She leaned against the parapets and looked out at the forest below. "What're ye thinkin' of?"
"Things. Whatever chances to cross my mind." He tucked the journal into the pocket of his robe. "I thought you were sleeping."
"I was, but ye can't sleep th' entire day away." Myriad grinned and shoved him lightly. "Others, though, need t' sleep once'n a while. Ye can't stay on yer feet all th' time."
Ghost managed a faint grin and nodded, his gaze resting on the ground in front of him. "Of course not. I plan to sleep soon enough. First, though, we need you and Mantis to help us discuss our friend, Amethyst."
"I'm barring ye form th' meetin' 'til ye get some rest. I'll talk t' th' others, an' they'll side with me." She took him by the arm. "Come on, say goodbye t' th' view."
Ghost yawned and was suddenly aware of how tired he was. He had not enjoyed a good rest in a while, and now, the thought of sleep had only served to make him drowsy. With a slight shrug, he allowed Myriad to pull him towards the door.
Chapter II
Trent stood motionless, one eye closed while the other sighted down the black shaft of his arrow. Both in range and in sight, a single rat, cutlass drawn, made his way through the trees, stopping every few steps to search for the trail left by Foxtribe. At his side, with his bow drawn and ready as well, Blythe followed the progress of a second tracker, a weasel, who was following a short distance behind and to the side of the rat.
"Where are the others, do you think?" Trent whispered to his comrade.
"Spread out, following a search grid. I'd venture ten to fifteen total." Blythe gritted his teeth. "The weasel's getting close."
Trent nodded. "Three count; release. One, two, three."
The two arrows streaked silently towards their victims, and both trackers fell to the ground, dead. Blythe darted to the weasel and made a quick check before moving on to the rat. He gave a wave, confirming both were dead, and started digging the shallow grave. Trent moved over and gave the rat a kick.
"They moved faster than I thought they would. The rest of the tribe is in hiding?"
Blythe nodded. "They're holed up in that rabbit den. Khale's guarding."
"Good." Trent relieved the rat of his cutlass and studied the blade. "I've seen better come out of woodlander forges. Still, it will serve its purpose well. You wager to guess around thirteen left?"
"Any more, and I'd call that Scarstripe a fool. No tracking party works well with too many." Blythe grinned as he kicked the rat's body into the small ditch he had dug and kicked the dirt over it. "We'll take care of them, though. Ain't no beast better at stalking than us."
Trent glanced back at the weasel. "Don't forget to bury that one as well. I have to return to the den and fine tune the plan I have. Scout onward for the rest of the trackers, but do not engage. Return with your findings as soon as you can."
The Foxtribe leader walked away, still studying the cutlass. He paused at the weasel's body and stooped down to pick up the ill-fated creature's rapier. Then, without a sound, he vanished into the forest, leaving Blythe to his job.
Blythe chuckled as he watched his leader leave. "Fine tune a plan...heh." He kicked the last of the dirt onto the rat's grave and started digging. "How are ya, weasel? Looks like you need some rest." He gave the body a kick. "Don't worry, I'll have you put away soon enough."
His thoughts were interrupted as an arrow embedded itself in the ground in front of him. He stared at the quivering shaft for a moment before letting out a low growl.
"Who's there?'
"No one of consequence, fox. Just know that you're our bait. We won't kill you, but we can see to it you know what true pain feels like if you give us a hard time."
Like ghosts, two stoats appeared at his side, one carrying a rope, the other a drawn dirk. Blythe frowned and shook his head.
"You are not seriously considerin' tying me up, are you?" Blythe chuckled and offered his paws to be bound. "You know, you can't tie up a fox."
One of the stoats chuckled as he looped the rope into a noose. "We're not tyin' yer paws."
A sly grin crossed Blythe's face as he realised their mistake first. "That's too bad."
A dagger flashed from its sheath, and one of the two stoats fell dead. The second hissed and attacked, drawing a rapier and slashing down at Blythe's back. The fox fell forward and hit the ground with a grunt.
"Now, fox, you will pay." The stoat raised the blade.
Trent was running a paw over the rough edge of the cutlass when he heard the twig snap. Pressing himself against a tree and gripping the cutlass in case he needed it, he scanned the surrounding forest for any sign of a tracker. Something, almost like a whisper, caught his ear behind him, and he became aware that something was moving towards him. Trusting his instinct, he tightened his grip on the cutlass and readied to attack.
"Drop th' blade an; I might let ye live till t'morrow."
A low growl made its way up Trent's throat, and he looked again in vain for whoever it was as he set the cutlass on the ground.
"Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to, might I ask?"
"None o' yer concern, fox," the voice answered.
The voice was close, Trent could tell, but where still remained a mystery to him. Something in the back of his mind told him that things were not right, and to use caution until he found out more.
"I'm going to set my rapiers on the ground too, just don't take it as an attempt to attack."
The reply was short and sharp. "Do it then."
Trent drew his rapiers and set them next to the cutlass. He then pulled his cape around him, hiding his dagger from view.
"Good. Now step away from th' tree. Ye must be somebeast important, Scarstripe wants ye alive."
"Alive? I guess that means you can't kill me then." Trent took a few steps away from the tree and tried once more to locate the tracker. "Just out of curiosity...where are you?"
"I'm right where I ant t' be, an' don't think I can't or won't kill ye. Do anythin' I don't like, an' I'll stick an arrow in yer back an' answer t' Scarstripe later."
Trent rolled his eyes and caught a glimpse of something in a tree over his head. An idea entered his mind, and he decided to play on a hunch. "You are going to have to come down and escort me, you know."
"I'm fine up here, thank ye. I'll tell ye where t' go, an' ye'll do what I say."
A faint grin spread on Trent's face and he scanned his surroundings for proper cover. He had no doubts that he was fast enough to run, so long as it was to a nearby spot where he would be safe from the arrow that was certain to come. He spotted a half-hidden log, but it seemed too far away to be of much help. After his search, though, the log was the only thing that offered the cover he needed. In an effort to close the gap, he took a few steps away from the tree and in the direction of the log.
"So, where are we going?"
"First, yer gonna turn around an' start in th' opposite direction. Camp's not that way."
"Aye you serious? I wanted to go get some travelling supplies before we started."
"Don't get smart with me, fox."
"Sorry, it just comes naturally to me." Trent changed his plan and started walking in the direction he was told to. "How long is this going to take."
"As long as ye want."
"Good."
Trent broke into a run and circled around the tree. There was rustling in the leaves above him, and he was able to guess which side of the tree would still offer safety. All he could do was keep the thick trunk between him and the archer, and it would give him time to think. Until an idea came, or, at worse, he was outsmarted, it would be a stand off.
Chapter III
Amethyst was roused from a fitful sleep by sunlight streaming in through the tent flap, and the dark shadow of Scarstripe falling over her. She opened her eyes slowly and rubbed them until they were able to focus on his grim face.
"Slept well, I take it?"
"Hardly," Amethyst pushed herself up into a sitting position and yawned. "Floor's too rough to be used as a bed."
"You will learn to make do. In time, it will not matter where you sleep." He gave her an unsympathetic grin and moved to his desk. "Today I will let you rest. I was going to have you work, but things happen, and I've since changed my mind. I am going to ask you a few questions, and you are going to answer."
"If it's about Loamhedge, I'm not answering." Amethyst grinned. "But otherwise, I'll be happy to answer."
"Well, I'm not going to ask about Loamhedge." Scarstripe rubbed his paws together. "I am going to ask about some property of mine that is missing, though."
Amethyst shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I haven't seen anyone come through here but you."
"I never said another horde beast did it. I think it was you."
Amethyst glared at him. "Well, I can assure you that I hold no interest in your property. What could you possibly have that I want?"
Scarstripe growled. "Quit playing me like a fool. I have plenty that you would want." He pulled a small key ring from a pouch on his belt and let the keys dangle for a moment. "Freedom, for instance."
"Well, you're not getting me to admit to anything...because I did nothing. There is no way I could have taken something from you." She held up her chained wrists. "I can't move from this spot unless you let me...and you never do when you are gone. Common sense is a miraculous thing, I suggest you find some."
Scarstripe slammed his fist down on his desk and stood, walking over to the mouse and glaring down at her. "You're lying! I can tell. No one else would have taken the Loamhedge map. I know you did it thinking it would keep your pitiful friends safe, but be quick to realise that nothing can help them. You would be wise to return the map to me before I decide on a punishment."
Amethyst shuddered and shrunk away from the enraged weasel. "I swear, I don't have your map! Did it ever occur to you to sort through your pile for it?"
Scarstripe seemed to freeze, but continued to glare down at her. "There is no need...I left it on top."
Amethyst allowed herself a soft chuckle. "You put another map over it when you told your officers to hunt down Trent. Did you switch them back after you were done? It's worth a check...setter than making a stupid mistake because of blind rage."
Scarstripe walked back to his map table, where his dagger still held the map of the surrounding area in place. He freed the dagger while glaring at the mouse and lifted the map aside. Underneath, a hole in its middle from where the dagger pierced it, was the rough map of the abbey. Scarstripe let the map fall back onto the table and stormed out of the tent without a word. Amethyst breathed a sigh of relief. Scarstripe was getting too out of control. She needed to find a way out, and quickly, before she ended up dead.
Chapter IV
Solace, Arkain, and Blackstrike made their way down the abbey's corridors, Arkain leading the way to his quarters. All three were focused on the pressing matter concerning Amethyst, and none bothered to hide their disliking towards the vermin horde leader.
"Daresay, if I get a hold o' that vermin, I'll skin 'em live." Arkain curled his lip back in a snarl. "Ain't no slaver that deserves t' live."
Blackstrike nodded. "Just save me a piece, mate. I owe 'im for a few 'lessons' he gave me."
'Ghost'll figure summat out, he's a bright chap." Solace grinned as she trailed behind the two. "We'll make 'em pay dearly, no doubts 'bout that, eh Arkain?"
"None whatsoever." He stopped in front of his door and pushed it open, leading them all in. "Welcome t' m' humble abode. Have a seat."
Blackstrike settled herself in the only chair available, so Solace had to settle for the bed. She plopped down onto it just as Arkain closed the door and walked towards the bed.
"Pardon me, m'lady," He knelt down and fished under the bed, bringing out a wooden case with gold hinges and clasp. "Never thought I'd use these again."
He set the case down on the bed next to Solace and opened it to reveal twin dirks. The two silver blades glinted as they caught their first light in ages, and the smooth, polished cedar handles, though worn from use, reflected a dark image of their surroundings. Arkain stared at himself in the blades' reflections as he lifted them from their velvety bed and admired their cool, lethal appearance.
"Show me where th' weasel is, an' I'll teach 'im a thing or two 'bout close quarters combat." Arkain sheathed the daggers into the back of his belt, which had been made to accommodate the two blades, and put a black longcoat on. "Come on, let's see what Ghost's thought up of for a plan."
Ghost, Myriad, and Mantis were in the Main Hall, hovering over a map and muttering to themselves. Arkain, Blackstrike, and Solace walked in just as Ghost was pointing to a spot on the map with his dagger.
"You are certain this is the place?"
Malice nodded. "Of course I am! I know where my own camp is."
"Just making sure." Ghost grinned as he spotted the two hares and otter. "Glad to see you finally decided to join us."
"Where're Montel an' Flynt?" Solace came up alongside Ghost and glanced at the map. "Is that wot we're gonna go 'gainst?"
Ghost nodded. "That's the camp...according to Myriad and Mantis." He pointed towards the kitchen. "Flynt's in there...I'm not sure where Montel ran off to."
Ghost glanced up from the map and counted everyone that was involved, a faint smile playing across his face. Solace eyed him curiously.
"Wot y' be smilin' 'bout, Ghost?"
"Eight. Perfect size. Not too big, not too small." He pointed back at the map. "Alright, let's get a plan going."
"Wait, yore not going to start without Montel and Flynt, are ye?" Blackstrike started walking towards the kitchen. "I'll find Flynt, someone, find Montel. Arkain, check the courtyard."
The black hare nodded and was off like a shot, leaving Myriad, Solace, Mantis, and Ghost alone in the Main Hall.
"Well, I guess it would not hurt to think ahead, right Ghost?" Mantis drew a dagger and pointed to the map. "If I'm not mistaken, the best tactic would involve this, right here." He slammed the dagger down, pin-pointing the spot he was referring to on the map.
Chapter V
Trent frowned as he stood silently, the tree acting as a natural barrier between himself and the unseen archer in the branches above. The sniper had tried on countless occasions to sneak around, but Trent's careful ear had heard him every time, and the standoff continued to draw on.
"Ye can't hide ferever, fox."
"You can't run around in circles forever, either." Trent picked up a stone and threw it at something he thought he had seen move. It clattered back to the ground, striking the soft dirt with a thud. "Face it, you'll just have to give up."
"Never."
There was a moment's silence, followed by a piercing whistle. Trent froze and listened into the wind. Only when a sharp whistle echoed back did the worry begin to show on his face.
"Ye hear that, fox? That's my partner. He'll be along soon, so just sit tight."
Trent growled and patted the still sheathed dagger at his side. There was a soft rustling of leaves, and the fox glanced over his shoulder in time to see a rat creep out of the bushes, cutlass drawn and held at ready.
"Ye called?" The rat glanced up at the tree, then back at the fox, still keeping his distance.
"Aye, I called. Ye got rope?"
The rat nodded. "I've got rope."
"Keep an eye on th' fox. I'm coming down."
The rat stood motionless, his gaze cold and foreboding as he stared at the fox. Trent stood up, drawing his height up full and returning the rat's glare with his own. The two carried on with the contest until a soft prodding from an arrow tip forced Trent to look down at his side. Standing, bow drawn and pointed at the fox's side, was a small, wiry ferret.
"So," Trent said coolly. "You're the tree climber."
The ferret nodded. "Now, are ye gona get movin'?"
Trent nodded. "Lead the way."
The ferret stared at him, trying to decipher the message within the words. Then, with a shrug, he started to walk past, brushing his shoulder against Trent. The red fox moved like a blur. Reaching under his cape, he drew the dagger and drove it at the ferret's chest, while at the same time grabbing the ferret by the back of the neck and throwing him into the blade. The ferret howled and slumped forward, though was spared instant death by chance. The rat charged, swinging the cutlass about in a wide arc, trying to avoid hitting his companion. Trent pulled the ferret up by the back of the neck and used him as a shield. There was a soft whimper and a thud as the ferret's body hit the ground, and both rat and fox were staring each other down, both with weapons held ready.
"You will die, fox."
Trent shook his head. "You first."
The rat snarled and stepped forward. Then, to Trent's surprise, he dropped the cutlass, staggered back a few steps, and fell to the ground, dead with an arrow in his back. The Foxtribe leader stared in bewilderment at the body, and then he slowly brought his gaze up to the area behind where the rat had been. Leaning heavily against a tree, a bow held loosely in one paw and the second still back near his ear, where it had been when the shaft was released, was Blythe. Without walking up to him, Trent could tell something had gone terribly wrong, and that his comrade was wounded.
"Blythe, what happened?"
Blythe just smiled weakly and let the bow fall to the ground. Worried for his fellow fox, Trent ran over, and became aware of his friend's problem. Blythe's fur, which was normally clean and well tended, like his own, was instead matted with blood from several wounds, three of which were deep and had undoubtedly been caused by a blade. With nothing more than a nod between them, Trent put one arm around Blythe's shoulders and bean to lead the wounded fox back to their hideaway.
Khale frowned slightly and stared skyward. "It's not like him."
"Of course it is. For as long as he's been leader, he always has made his own agenda." A black vixen peered out of the rabbit den and tapped Khale on the leg. "Now come on before some beast sees you."
Khale glanced down at the vixen. "Ain't no one's gonna notice me." He ducked down all the same. "Somethin's not right in my bones."
"I can scout, if it would put a troubled mind at ease."
Khale nodded. "Do so, Slyver. Report back as soon as you can."
The sleek, black vixen slunk off without a sound. Khale watched her leave and retreated back into the rabbit den. He knew, somehow, that things were not all proper. Something had gone wrong, and he was going to find out what.
"Comrade Khale, come quick."
Khale jumped and turned, his eyes settling on the vixen immediately. "I thought you were going to go scout."
Slyver shook her head. "They're back. Come quick, Blythe's wounded."
Khale shouted down to the rest of the foxes for a healer before darting out of the den to meet his commander. When he saw Blythe, he knew what had gone wrong without having to be told. Instinct told him all he needed to know. He silently walked up to Trent.
"Trackers?"
Trent nodded, passing Blythe over to the two foxes that had emerged from the den to treat Blythe's wounds. "We got six of them, might be as much as ten more out there. They're getting close, so we need to keep a watch up at all times, and no one is permitted to leave on their own."
Khale nodded and watched the two foxes half lead; half carry Blythe into the den. "Understood." He bowed slightly, excusing himself, and vanished into the rabbit hole.
Trent sighed heavily and looked at his blood-caked cape. "This'll never wash out, will it."
Slyver chuckled at the statement. "If that is foremost on your mind, then you have a lot to learn, Comrade."
Trent nodded and looked up at the black vixen. "It is the least of my concerns. Come, we have much to discuss."
The two left the small clearing, vanishing into the den.
Chapter VI
Ghost stood once more at the gates of Loamhedge, gazing out at the forest before him. On his left stood Myriad, who was also admiring the world outside of the abbey's walls. Montel and Mantis were carrying on a conversation somewhere behind him, as were Lady Flynt and Blackstrike. Solace and Arkain were bringing up the rear, and, much to Ghost's chagrin, were as flirtatious as he had been with Celleste. He leaned over and half whispered to Myriad.
"It seems that no sooner do I arrive here, than I am off on another trek through the woods."
She chuckled. "A look into th' future, perhaps?"
Ghost hoisted his haversack up onto his shoulder, they had all packed light having not planned to be gone for more than three days at most, and gave Myriad a curious glance. "How so?"
"Have ye ever stayed anywhere fer long, Ghost?" She smiled over at him. "I think ye were born t' wander."
Ghost pointed a finger accusingly at her. "I'll settle down one of these days, you'll see."
Her smile faded into a slight grin. "Will I?"
The two stared at each other in silence, Myriad grinning, Ghost looking as if he had fallen into a state of mild shock. Ghost broke the spell with a wave of his paw. Turning back to the rest of the group, he whistled to get their attention.
"Are we ready to go?"
"As ready as we'll ever be, sah!" Arkain called up from the back of the group.
Montel nodded slowly and patted the haft of his axe. "Let's get 'em."
A nod from the rest quickly announced they were set to go. With a grin, Ghost strode out of the gates, waving to the two abbey mice who were standing, ready to close the massive doors once everyone was out. With hardly a word passing between them, save for the hushed exchange taking place between the two hares, the small group crossed the clearing that separated Loamhedge from the forest, and like phantoms in the morning mist, they vanished into the dense foliage. The only sound audible to those in the area that announced the group's departure was the soft boom as the two doors closed off the abbey from the outside world, and the clank of the locks, securing the massive gates in place.
Hidden in the shadows, black robe drawn about him tightly, Darkbane watched the eight beasts leave the abbey. A paw strayed to his belt and gave one of his daggers a reassuring pat. From deep within his black, cold eyes, something seemed to glint.
"So it goes," he whispered to himself. "It was once said, Mantis, that a land-raised fox would perish at sea, as everything he knows to be true holds false on the free waters, no matter how cunning he may be. He could try to outwit the fishes, but they would answer with a cold, uncaring glare. So will I with you, Maester. Our war is just beginning." He chuckled low and dark as he turned and started walking in a direction that would soon have him on their trail. "And Ghost, if only you knew." He drew the hood of his robe over his head and face and rubbed his paws together in rapt anticipation. "If only, but alas, you do not. What a pity."
DAYBREAK
Chapter I
Ghost sighed heavily as he leaned against the parapet's ledge and gazed northward at the forest below. The sun was just rising in the east, and brought with it was a sense of a new beginning. Old friends were reunited, and new friends gained, and for once, since the fall of the Eagle Watch, Ghost felt at peace and eager to look beyond tomorrow.
"Ghost, thought I'd find ye up here."
Ghost smiled at the otter and nodded once. "I enjoy the view from here. How goes, Blackstrike?"
"All's well with me." She returned the smile and leaned up against the parapet next to Ghost. "Solace an' Lady Flynt are down in th' kitchen helpin' wi'th' cleanup. Her an' Arkain promised not t' touch any more food."
"Don't believe them for a second. They'll tuck away anything they deem edible." Ghost chuckled. "What about Mantis and Myriad?"
"Myriad's sleepin' in th' guest dormit'ry, Mantis is in th' archives chamber. Never thought a vermin would take interest in th' ol' lit'rature."
Ghost nodded and shifted his gaze westward. "You know, this is where I was standing the night Amethyst disappeared. She went down to get my journal after I threw it from the wall."
Blackstrike raised an eyebrow. "When was th' last time ye read or wrote in that, by th' way?"
There was a moment of silence as Ghost frowned and shook his head. "I haven't touched it since I first arrived here."
Blackstrike produced the journal from the sleeve of her habit and set it down in front of him. "Ye should read what ye write. It's good t' have memories."
Ghost stared at the weather and timeworn book. "The past belongs in the past."
"I'm not tellin' ye' t' dwell or live in th' past, just t' remember it. Once ye lose a memory, it's gone forever." She frowned and opened the journal to the first page. "At least find out what that says."
"It's Loamscript. I don't read it."
"We're in Loamhedge, Ghost. Find someone t' teach ye." She turned to walk away. "It'll be worth it, trust me."
Ghost picked up the journal and thumbed through it. "What did you write in it?" He came to the last page with writing on it.
"Words t' live by, Ghost. They kept me alive as a slave, an' they can do plenty for anybeast who heeds 'em." Blackstrike stopped and turned back to face him. "Read 'em to me."
Ghost stared numbly at the single line that was scrawled across the otherwise blank page. "Never..." He paused for a breath and started again. "Never give up hope that an ember can turn into a spark; the spark into a fire; the fire into a blaze, and rekindled will be the spirit you believed was dead."
Blackstrike nodded and started to walk off again. "Jus' somethin' t' think about."
"Blackstrike,"
The otter turned to face him again. "Yes?"
There was an awkward silence as Ghost closed the journal. "What was the final say on Amethyst?"
"Mantis said that when Myriad's awake, they'll talk with Arkain an' think up somethin' of a plan. It might help if yore there too."
Ghost nodded. "Thank you."
Blackstrike tapped the side of her head. "Think about it, Ghost, an' read what's been written for ye."
Ghost watched her leave and then looked out across the forest again. In the distance, a solitary bird glided effortlessly over the trees, circling and diving in the air, probably amusing a potential nesting mate with acrobatic skill. He followed the flight in silence, idly tapping the cover of his journal with a single claw. Ghost was so lost in the silence, that he failed to notice Myriad approach him from behind.
"Mind if I join?"
Ghost was startled out of his reverie and nodded. "Of course...you startled me."
"Sorry 'bout that. Didn't mean to." She leaned against the parapets and looked out at the forest below. "What're ye thinkin' of?"
"Things. Whatever chances to cross my mind." He tucked the journal into the pocket of his robe. "I thought you were sleeping."
"I was, but ye can't sleep th' entire day away." Myriad grinned and shoved him lightly. "Others, though, need t' sleep once'n a while. Ye can't stay on yer feet all th' time."
Ghost managed a faint grin and nodded, his gaze resting on the ground in front of him. "Of course not. I plan to sleep soon enough. First, though, we need you and Mantis to help us discuss our friend, Amethyst."
"I'm barring ye form th' meetin' 'til ye get some rest. I'll talk t' th' others, an' they'll side with me." She took him by the arm. "Come on, say goodbye t' th' view."
Ghost yawned and was suddenly aware of how tired he was. He had not enjoyed a good rest in a while, and now, the thought of sleep had only served to make him drowsy. With a slight shrug, he allowed Myriad to pull him towards the door.
Chapter II
Trent stood motionless, one eye closed while the other sighted down the black shaft of his arrow. Both in range and in sight, a single rat, cutlass drawn, made his way through the trees, stopping every few steps to search for the trail left by Foxtribe. At his side, with his bow drawn and ready as well, Blythe followed the progress of a second tracker, a weasel, who was following a short distance behind and to the side of the rat.
"Where are the others, do you think?" Trent whispered to his comrade.
"Spread out, following a search grid. I'd venture ten to fifteen total." Blythe gritted his teeth. "The weasel's getting close."
Trent nodded. "Three count; release. One, two, three."
The two arrows streaked silently towards their victims, and both trackers fell to the ground, dead. Blythe darted to the weasel and made a quick check before moving on to the rat. He gave a wave, confirming both were dead, and started digging the shallow grave. Trent moved over and gave the rat a kick.
"They moved faster than I thought they would. The rest of the tribe is in hiding?"
Blythe nodded. "They're holed up in that rabbit den. Khale's guarding."
"Good." Trent relieved the rat of his cutlass and studied the blade. "I've seen better come out of woodlander forges. Still, it will serve its purpose well. You wager to guess around thirteen left?"
"Any more, and I'd call that Scarstripe a fool. No tracking party works well with too many." Blythe grinned as he kicked the rat's body into the small ditch he had dug and kicked the dirt over it. "We'll take care of them, though. Ain't no beast better at stalking than us."
Trent glanced back at the weasel. "Don't forget to bury that one as well. I have to return to the den and fine tune the plan I have. Scout onward for the rest of the trackers, but do not engage. Return with your findings as soon as you can."
The Foxtribe leader walked away, still studying the cutlass. He paused at the weasel's body and stooped down to pick up the ill-fated creature's rapier. Then, without a sound, he vanished into the forest, leaving Blythe to his job.
Blythe chuckled as he watched his leader leave. "Fine tune a plan...heh." He kicked the last of the dirt onto the rat's grave and started digging. "How are ya, weasel? Looks like you need some rest." He gave the body a kick. "Don't worry, I'll have you put away soon enough."
His thoughts were interrupted as an arrow embedded itself in the ground in front of him. He stared at the quivering shaft for a moment before letting out a low growl.
"Who's there?'
"No one of consequence, fox. Just know that you're our bait. We won't kill you, but we can see to it you know what true pain feels like if you give us a hard time."
Like ghosts, two stoats appeared at his side, one carrying a rope, the other a drawn dirk. Blythe frowned and shook his head.
"You are not seriously considerin' tying me up, are you?" Blythe chuckled and offered his paws to be bound. "You know, you can't tie up a fox."
One of the stoats chuckled as he looped the rope into a noose. "We're not tyin' yer paws."
A sly grin crossed Blythe's face as he realised their mistake first. "That's too bad."
A dagger flashed from its sheath, and one of the two stoats fell dead. The second hissed and attacked, drawing a rapier and slashing down at Blythe's back. The fox fell forward and hit the ground with a grunt.
"Now, fox, you will pay." The stoat raised the blade.
Trent was running a paw over the rough edge of the cutlass when he heard the twig snap. Pressing himself against a tree and gripping the cutlass in case he needed it, he scanned the surrounding forest for any sign of a tracker. Something, almost like a whisper, caught his ear behind him, and he became aware that something was moving towards him. Trusting his instinct, he tightened his grip on the cutlass and readied to attack.
"Drop th' blade an; I might let ye live till t'morrow."
A low growl made its way up Trent's throat, and he looked again in vain for whoever it was as he set the cutlass on the ground.
"Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to, might I ask?"
"None o' yer concern, fox," the voice answered.
The voice was close, Trent could tell, but where still remained a mystery to him. Something in the back of his mind told him that things were not right, and to use caution until he found out more.
"I'm going to set my rapiers on the ground too, just don't take it as an attempt to attack."
The reply was short and sharp. "Do it then."
Trent drew his rapiers and set them next to the cutlass. He then pulled his cape around him, hiding his dagger from view.
"Good. Now step away from th' tree. Ye must be somebeast important, Scarstripe wants ye alive."
"Alive? I guess that means you can't kill me then." Trent took a few steps away from the tree and tried once more to locate the tracker. "Just out of curiosity...where are you?"
"I'm right where I ant t' be, an' don't think I can't or won't kill ye. Do anythin' I don't like, an' I'll stick an arrow in yer back an' answer t' Scarstripe later."
Trent rolled his eyes and caught a glimpse of something in a tree over his head. An idea entered his mind, and he decided to play on a hunch. "You are going to have to come down and escort me, you know."
"I'm fine up here, thank ye. I'll tell ye where t' go, an' ye'll do what I say."
A faint grin spread on Trent's face and he scanned his surroundings for proper cover. He had no doubts that he was fast enough to run, so long as it was to a nearby spot where he would be safe from the arrow that was certain to come. He spotted a half-hidden log, but it seemed too far away to be of much help. After his search, though, the log was the only thing that offered the cover he needed. In an effort to close the gap, he took a few steps away from the tree and in the direction of the log.
"So, where are we going?"
"First, yer gonna turn around an' start in th' opposite direction. Camp's not that way."
"Aye you serious? I wanted to go get some travelling supplies before we started."
"Don't get smart with me, fox."
"Sorry, it just comes naturally to me." Trent changed his plan and started walking in the direction he was told to. "How long is this going to take."
"As long as ye want."
"Good."
Trent broke into a run and circled around the tree. There was rustling in the leaves above him, and he was able to guess which side of the tree would still offer safety. All he could do was keep the thick trunk between him and the archer, and it would give him time to think. Until an idea came, or, at worse, he was outsmarted, it would be a stand off.
Chapter III
Amethyst was roused from a fitful sleep by sunlight streaming in through the tent flap, and the dark shadow of Scarstripe falling over her. She opened her eyes slowly and rubbed them until they were able to focus on his grim face.
"Slept well, I take it?"
"Hardly," Amethyst pushed herself up into a sitting position and yawned. "Floor's too rough to be used as a bed."
"You will learn to make do. In time, it will not matter where you sleep." He gave her an unsympathetic grin and moved to his desk. "Today I will let you rest. I was going to have you work, but things happen, and I've since changed my mind. I am going to ask you a few questions, and you are going to answer."
"If it's about Loamhedge, I'm not answering." Amethyst grinned. "But otherwise, I'll be happy to answer."
"Well, I'm not going to ask about Loamhedge." Scarstripe rubbed his paws together. "I am going to ask about some property of mine that is missing, though."
Amethyst shrugged. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I haven't seen anyone come through here but you."
"I never said another horde beast did it. I think it was you."
Amethyst glared at him. "Well, I can assure you that I hold no interest in your property. What could you possibly have that I want?"
Scarstripe growled. "Quit playing me like a fool. I have plenty that you would want." He pulled a small key ring from a pouch on his belt and let the keys dangle for a moment. "Freedom, for instance."
"Well, you're not getting me to admit to anything...because I did nothing. There is no way I could have taken something from you." She held up her chained wrists. "I can't move from this spot unless you let me...and you never do when you are gone. Common sense is a miraculous thing, I suggest you find some."
Scarstripe slammed his fist down on his desk and stood, walking over to the mouse and glaring down at her. "You're lying! I can tell. No one else would have taken the Loamhedge map. I know you did it thinking it would keep your pitiful friends safe, but be quick to realise that nothing can help them. You would be wise to return the map to me before I decide on a punishment."
Amethyst shuddered and shrunk away from the enraged weasel. "I swear, I don't have your map! Did it ever occur to you to sort through your pile for it?"
Scarstripe seemed to freeze, but continued to glare down at her. "There is no need...I left it on top."
Amethyst allowed herself a soft chuckle. "You put another map over it when you told your officers to hunt down Trent. Did you switch them back after you were done? It's worth a check...setter than making a stupid mistake because of blind rage."
Scarstripe walked back to his map table, where his dagger still held the map of the surrounding area in place. He freed the dagger while glaring at the mouse and lifted the map aside. Underneath, a hole in its middle from where the dagger pierced it, was the rough map of the abbey. Scarstripe let the map fall back onto the table and stormed out of the tent without a word. Amethyst breathed a sigh of relief. Scarstripe was getting too out of control. She needed to find a way out, and quickly, before she ended up dead.
Chapter IV
Solace, Arkain, and Blackstrike made their way down the abbey's corridors, Arkain leading the way to his quarters. All three were focused on the pressing matter concerning Amethyst, and none bothered to hide their disliking towards the vermin horde leader.
"Daresay, if I get a hold o' that vermin, I'll skin 'em live." Arkain curled his lip back in a snarl. "Ain't no slaver that deserves t' live."
Blackstrike nodded. "Just save me a piece, mate. I owe 'im for a few 'lessons' he gave me."
'Ghost'll figure summat out, he's a bright chap." Solace grinned as she trailed behind the two. "We'll make 'em pay dearly, no doubts 'bout that, eh Arkain?"
"None whatsoever." He stopped in front of his door and pushed it open, leading them all in. "Welcome t' m' humble abode. Have a seat."
Blackstrike settled herself in the only chair available, so Solace had to settle for the bed. She plopped down onto it just as Arkain closed the door and walked towards the bed.
"Pardon me, m'lady," He knelt down and fished under the bed, bringing out a wooden case with gold hinges and clasp. "Never thought I'd use these again."
He set the case down on the bed next to Solace and opened it to reveal twin dirks. The two silver blades glinted as they caught their first light in ages, and the smooth, polished cedar handles, though worn from use, reflected a dark image of their surroundings. Arkain stared at himself in the blades' reflections as he lifted them from their velvety bed and admired their cool, lethal appearance.
"Show me where th' weasel is, an' I'll teach 'im a thing or two 'bout close quarters combat." Arkain sheathed the daggers into the back of his belt, which had been made to accommodate the two blades, and put a black longcoat on. "Come on, let's see what Ghost's thought up of for a plan."
Ghost, Myriad, and Mantis were in the Main Hall, hovering over a map and muttering to themselves. Arkain, Blackstrike, and Solace walked in just as Ghost was pointing to a spot on the map with his dagger.
"You are certain this is the place?"
Malice nodded. "Of course I am! I know where my own camp is."
"Just making sure." Ghost grinned as he spotted the two hares and otter. "Glad to see you finally decided to join us."
"Where're Montel an' Flynt?" Solace came up alongside Ghost and glanced at the map. "Is that wot we're gonna go 'gainst?"
Ghost nodded. "That's the camp...according to Myriad and Mantis." He pointed towards the kitchen. "Flynt's in there...I'm not sure where Montel ran off to."
Ghost glanced up from the map and counted everyone that was involved, a faint smile playing across his face. Solace eyed him curiously.
"Wot y' be smilin' 'bout, Ghost?"
"Eight. Perfect size. Not too big, not too small." He pointed back at the map. "Alright, let's get a plan going."
"Wait, yore not going to start without Montel and Flynt, are ye?" Blackstrike started walking towards the kitchen. "I'll find Flynt, someone, find Montel. Arkain, check the courtyard."
The black hare nodded and was off like a shot, leaving Myriad, Solace, Mantis, and Ghost alone in the Main Hall.
"Well, I guess it would not hurt to think ahead, right Ghost?" Mantis drew a dagger and pointed to the map. "If I'm not mistaken, the best tactic would involve this, right here." He slammed the dagger down, pin-pointing the spot he was referring to on the map.
Chapter V
Trent frowned as he stood silently, the tree acting as a natural barrier between himself and the unseen archer in the branches above. The sniper had tried on countless occasions to sneak around, but Trent's careful ear had heard him every time, and the standoff continued to draw on.
"Ye can't hide ferever, fox."
"You can't run around in circles forever, either." Trent picked up a stone and threw it at something he thought he had seen move. It clattered back to the ground, striking the soft dirt with a thud. "Face it, you'll just have to give up."
"Never."
There was a moment's silence, followed by a piercing whistle. Trent froze and listened into the wind. Only when a sharp whistle echoed back did the worry begin to show on his face.
"Ye hear that, fox? That's my partner. He'll be along soon, so just sit tight."
Trent growled and patted the still sheathed dagger at his side. There was a soft rustling of leaves, and the fox glanced over his shoulder in time to see a rat creep out of the bushes, cutlass drawn and held at ready.
"Ye called?" The rat glanced up at the tree, then back at the fox, still keeping his distance.
"Aye, I called. Ye got rope?"
The rat nodded. "I've got rope."
"Keep an eye on th' fox. I'm coming down."
The rat stood motionless, his gaze cold and foreboding as he stared at the fox. Trent stood up, drawing his height up full and returning the rat's glare with his own. The two carried on with the contest until a soft prodding from an arrow tip forced Trent to look down at his side. Standing, bow drawn and pointed at the fox's side, was a small, wiry ferret.
"So," Trent said coolly. "You're the tree climber."
The ferret nodded. "Now, are ye gona get movin'?"
Trent nodded. "Lead the way."
The ferret stared at him, trying to decipher the message within the words. Then, with a shrug, he started to walk past, brushing his shoulder against Trent. The red fox moved like a blur. Reaching under his cape, he drew the dagger and drove it at the ferret's chest, while at the same time grabbing the ferret by the back of the neck and throwing him into the blade. The ferret howled and slumped forward, though was spared instant death by chance. The rat charged, swinging the cutlass about in a wide arc, trying to avoid hitting his companion. Trent pulled the ferret up by the back of the neck and used him as a shield. There was a soft whimper and a thud as the ferret's body hit the ground, and both rat and fox were staring each other down, both with weapons held ready.
"You will die, fox."
Trent shook his head. "You first."
The rat snarled and stepped forward. Then, to Trent's surprise, he dropped the cutlass, staggered back a few steps, and fell to the ground, dead with an arrow in his back. The Foxtribe leader stared in bewilderment at the body, and then he slowly brought his gaze up to the area behind where the rat had been. Leaning heavily against a tree, a bow held loosely in one paw and the second still back near his ear, where it had been when the shaft was released, was Blythe. Without walking up to him, Trent could tell something had gone terribly wrong, and that his comrade was wounded.
"Blythe, what happened?"
Blythe just smiled weakly and let the bow fall to the ground. Worried for his fellow fox, Trent ran over, and became aware of his friend's problem. Blythe's fur, which was normally clean and well tended, like his own, was instead matted with blood from several wounds, three of which were deep and had undoubtedly been caused by a blade. With nothing more than a nod between them, Trent put one arm around Blythe's shoulders and bean to lead the wounded fox back to their hideaway.
Khale frowned slightly and stared skyward. "It's not like him."
"Of course it is. For as long as he's been leader, he always has made his own agenda." A black vixen peered out of the rabbit den and tapped Khale on the leg. "Now come on before some beast sees you."
Khale glanced down at the vixen. "Ain't no one's gonna notice me." He ducked down all the same. "Somethin's not right in my bones."
"I can scout, if it would put a troubled mind at ease."
Khale nodded. "Do so, Slyver. Report back as soon as you can."
The sleek, black vixen slunk off without a sound. Khale watched her leave and retreated back into the rabbit den. He knew, somehow, that things were not all proper. Something had gone wrong, and he was going to find out what.
"Comrade Khale, come quick."
Khale jumped and turned, his eyes settling on the vixen immediately. "I thought you were going to go scout."
Slyver shook her head. "They're back. Come quick, Blythe's wounded."
Khale shouted down to the rest of the foxes for a healer before darting out of the den to meet his commander. When he saw Blythe, he knew what had gone wrong without having to be told. Instinct told him all he needed to know. He silently walked up to Trent.
"Trackers?"
Trent nodded, passing Blythe over to the two foxes that had emerged from the den to treat Blythe's wounds. "We got six of them, might be as much as ten more out there. They're getting close, so we need to keep a watch up at all times, and no one is permitted to leave on their own."
Khale nodded and watched the two foxes half lead; half carry Blythe into the den. "Understood." He bowed slightly, excusing himself, and vanished into the rabbit hole.
Trent sighed heavily and looked at his blood-caked cape. "This'll never wash out, will it."
Slyver chuckled at the statement. "If that is foremost on your mind, then you have a lot to learn, Comrade."
Trent nodded and looked up at the black vixen. "It is the least of my concerns. Come, we have much to discuss."
The two left the small clearing, vanishing into the den.
Chapter VI
Ghost stood once more at the gates of Loamhedge, gazing out at the forest before him. On his left stood Myriad, who was also admiring the world outside of the abbey's walls. Montel and Mantis were carrying on a conversation somewhere behind him, as were Lady Flynt and Blackstrike. Solace and Arkain were bringing up the rear, and, much to Ghost's chagrin, were as flirtatious as he had been with Celleste. He leaned over and half whispered to Myriad.
"It seems that no sooner do I arrive here, than I am off on another trek through the woods."
She chuckled. "A look into th' future, perhaps?"
Ghost hoisted his haversack up onto his shoulder, they had all packed light having not planned to be gone for more than three days at most, and gave Myriad a curious glance. "How so?"
"Have ye ever stayed anywhere fer long, Ghost?" She smiled over at him. "I think ye were born t' wander."
Ghost pointed a finger accusingly at her. "I'll settle down one of these days, you'll see."
Her smile faded into a slight grin. "Will I?"
The two stared at each other in silence, Myriad grinning, Ghost looking as if he had fallen into a state of mild shock. Ghost broke the spell with a wave of his paw. Turning back to the rest of the group, he whistled to get their attention.
"Are we ready to go?"
"As ready as we'll ever be, sah!" Arkain called up from the back of the group.
Montel nodded slowly and patted the haft of his axe. "Let's get 'em."
A nod from the rest quickly announced they were set to go. With a grin, Ghost strode out of the gates, waving to the two abbey mice who were standing, ready to close the massive doors once everyone was out. With hardly a word passing between them, save for the hushed exchange taking place between the two hares, the small group crossed the clearing that separated Loamhedge from the forest, and like phantoms in the morning mist, they vanished into the dense foliage. The only sound audible to those in the area that announced the group's departure was the soft boom as the two doors closed off the abbey from the outside world, and the clank of the locks, securing the massive gates in place.
Hidden in the shadows, black robe drawn about him tightly, Darkbane watched the eight beasts leave the abbey. A paw strayed to his belt and gave one of his daggers a reassuring pat. From deep within his black, cold eyes, something seemed to glint.
"So it goes," he whispered to himself. "It was once said, Mantis, that a land-raised fox would perish at sea, as everything he knows to be true holds false on the free waters, no matter how cunning he may be. He could try to outwit the fishes, but they would answer with a cold, uncaring glare. So will I with you, Maester. Our war is just beginning." He chuckled low and dark as he turned and started walking in a direction that would soon have him on their trail. "And Ghost, if only you knew." He drew the hood of his robe over his head and face and rubbed his paws together in rapt anticipation. "If only, but alas, you do not. What a pity."