Part Nine
Darkest Night
Chapter I
Ghost stared at the flickering watchfires, far enough that they did not bother him, but close enough that he would need to start worrying in just a few moments. The time had come for the rescue, and everything had fallen into place. Standing to his left, for the first time since the defeat of Eagle Watch, stood Trent, who was clad in a dark, forest green robe. For Ghost, it felt awkward to be standing next to the one he hated as an ally, and every other thought was turned towards forgetting the pact and killing him on the spot.
"It won't be easy, Ghost. I would expect trouble."
Ghost nodded slowly. "In situations like this, Trent, we both know that it is normal to expect trouble. Is Foxtribe in place?"
"Is your group?"
The two glanced at each other and seemed to think the same thing. On any occasion but this, I would kill you in an instant. Ghost nodded slowly, both as an answer to Trent's question, and in affirmation to the desire for revenge he had running through his mind.
"When you are ready, Trent." Ghost walked into the trees to get in place. "Just get the signal right."
Trent chuckled. "I'm Foxtribe's leader, Ghost. When have you ever seen me fail in a fight?"
Ghost shuddered. "Unfortunately, never. Don't die here, Trent. I want to see it happen."
Trent laughed. "Not if I can help it. Get in place."
Ghost made his way through some trees, closer to the campfires, and met up with Myriad and Mantis. Giving the two a nod -they were too close to say anything- he offered a grin and drew his daggers. Mantis nodded and patted his own under his robe. Myriad simply pointed to the tent that belonged to Scarstripe. Ghost studied it for a moment, sheathed his daggers, and nodded. All around the camp, members of Foxtribe were in place, ready to unleash two waves of their trademark black arrows, which would hopefully cause mass confusion. During this, Ghost was to take his small group and rescue Amethyst while Montel, Arkain, and Solace took care of the rest of the slaves in another part of the camp. Lady Flynt, not wanting to miss out on anything, had challenged one of the foxes to an archery contest, and stayed back to help with the first assault. They were ready.
Trent detached a small adder skin pouch from his belt and drew from it an oil-soaked rag, which he wrapped around the tip of his arrow. Patiently, he set about with a small flint until the cloth caught fire, and was burning bright. He notched the arrow, drew the bow back to its bent, and loosed the shaft so it flew over the enemy camp. Immediately after, the first wave of black darts streaked into the unsuspecting horde, and their were screams of pain and shouts of surprise as the arrows did their damage.
Alarms rang and defensive positions were taken as the Bloodslayers prepared to retaliate. Several fired back, but to no avail. Foxtribe waited, as ordered, until the time was right, and as if cued, the second wave struck, dealing more damage than the first. The Bloodslayers had prepared to advance towards the tree line and spread the watchfires for better visibility when the second wave of arrows struck. Immediately, the horde shrank back and took the defensive.
Trent laughed and whistled, signalling to Ghost that he was free to go. From this point on, Foxtribe would not attack en masse, and the archers would pick targets and fire on their own. The rescue party was in no danger of being hit by their own.
Scarstripe growled when the alarm rang and jumped for his chain-mail armour jacket. Outside he could hear the shouts for order in the ranks, and the shrieks as another beast fell. He knew who it was without seeing, as he knew only one who would dare attempt an attack.
Foxtribe.
The weasel narrowed his eyes and stepped out of his tent to join his troops.
Amethyst watched him leave in silence and shuddered. If somebeast were able to defeat the horde, what would they do when they found her? The urge to panic gripped her, and she started pulling at the anchor that held her prisoner to the ground. The steak was driven in too deep, however, and it failed to even budge. Another idea, a more sensible one, came to mind, and she crawled on the ground and stretched to reach Scarstripe's chair.
Ghost's ear perked as it caught the whistle travelling in the wind. With a faint nod and wave, he motioned for Mantis and Myriad to follow him. The three moved with all the skill in stealth that they knew, keeping low to the ground and hugging whatever shadows could be found; at times moving on all fours to keep from being seen. When they passed the outer fringe of the defensive line, Mantis took the lead and set a course for Scarstripe's tent. Ghost watched him and noted with some concern that his arm was still bothering him. It would probably need to be checked back at Loamhedge.
Myriad tapped Ghost on the foot, and he turned to see what she needed. She pointed to Scarstripe, who had just left his tent and was joining the ranks. He nodded and passed the sighting up to Mantis, who just eyed his former leader for a brief moment before moving on.
Montel waited until he was certain that Foxtribe had the full attention of the horde before leading his group on towards the stockades. Arkain and Solace were ready, keeping an eye out for guards and letting Montel lead. Things seemed to be going well; There were no casualties that they could see, and the first two waves were effective in what they were meant to do.
Solace chuckled inwardly, but outwardly wore an expression of worry. Nothing went completely as planned. A mistake or mishap was inevitable, and if it did not happen during the beginning, then there were only two places left. During the extraction operation, or during the get away process. She wondered which it would be, and hoped that for once, everything went right for a change.
Deep in the shadows, admiring the entire scene from a safe perch, Darkbane allowed himself a faint chuckle. Scarstripe and the Bloodslayers were getting a long needed lesson, and Foxtribe was, once again, enjoying the ability to destroy another horde. He, however, still had to wait. His time would come, and revenge would not be a trivial matter. His trained eye focused on the three figures making their way towards the stockades. Maybe his time had come, and the opportunity was presenting itself. He drew his daggers and began walking towards the badger and two hares.
Chapter II
"Keep your bloody heads down! I taught you more sense than that and I know it. Archers, return fire. Up and fire, keep it fast and furious. I want to see the carcasses of foxes all over these woods when the sun rises tomorrow." Scarstripe growled and kicked a stoat who was pressed to the ground in fear, his bow and arrows lying unused beside him. "Get up and fight. You don't see me cowering like a little mouse, do you?"
He left the stoat where he found him and continued down the line. A rat fell back, struck by one of the black arrows, and into the warlord who casually pushed the body aside as if he did not notice it. His eyes burned and told everyone that to approach him or to disobey his orders would end in nothing but pain and public shame.
"You there,"
A ferret gulped and pointed to himself, giving his leader a questioning look.
"Yes, you. Go to the stockades and make sure everything is all right over there. Kill anybeast that does not belong. Don't die on the way."
The ferret nodded and crawled off towards where the slaves were kept. Scarstripe hardly gave him a second glance as he continued his walk of the defensive line.
Trent watched the weasel carefully; biding his time until he deemed it fit to make an approach. Foxtribe was under strict orders not to harm the horde leader, as he had plans with how he was going to dispatch Scarstripe himself. He had lost sight of Ghost, Myriad, and Mantis a while back, and admitted to himself that the three had a shared talent that they were remarkably skilled at.
"It is a lovely sight, is it not?"
Trent nodded slowly and looked over his shoulder at Slyver. "Aye...a very nice sight indeed. You are not attacking?"
The black vixen shrugged. "I was never skilled with a bow and arrow. My place is behind enemy lines, not on the front."
"True," Trent nodded and studied the defensive line again. "Could you wreak havoc in that line?"
Slyver chuckled. "Easily. They have no order or defence against a skilled infiltrator. Shall I?"
Trent pondered the idea for a moment before shaking his head. "No. The arrows are enough. Besides, I would hate to see one of our foxes mistake you for a target."
She smiled slightly. "Then shall I keep the leader company?"
Trent nodded. "Yes, please do. I have the best seats in town to the show of a lifetime."
Mantis, Myriad, and Ghost drew up alongside Scarstripe's tent and made a quick check before Mantis cut a small back door with his dagger. After a slight nod from the other two, Ghost crawled in and was met by the puzzled, exhausted, and frightened face of Amethyst.
"Hello Amethyst, how are you today? Care to join me and some of my friends for a nice dinner?"
Amethyst was so shocked by the arrival of Ghost that all she could manage to do was nod and watch as Ghost crawled through the opening, followed by Myriad. Myriad found the keys to the shackles and freed Amethyst, while Ghost offered her some water and briefly explained what was going on. All the abbey mouse could do was nod, drink, and nod again, constantly glancing at her own escape plan, a piece of Scarstripe's chair that doubled as a means to dig the steak out of the ground.
Free from the chains, she ducked through the small opening, where she was met by Mantis. The assassin motioned for her to keep quiet and handed her a dark green cloak that he had borrowed from Loamhedge. She donned it quickly and nodded to Myriad and Ghost as the two exited the tent. Her sense was returning, and she gave the three a grin. She was free, and it was time to go home.
Montel set his axe aside as he reached the first of the chained up slaves. The stockades, which were in actuality nothing more than long lines of chained slaves anchored to the ground, housed a small group of no more than fifteen woodlanders. In a quick scan, the badger had picked out a few mice, some shrews, a mole, a couple of young squirrels, and a vole. Upon seeing him and the two hares, the chained slaves all began to mutter excitedly. A quick shushing from Solace brought everyone to an abrupt silence, though. Arkain gave Montel a nod, and the badger quietly set about pulling the anchors out of the ground.
Solace wandered from slave to slave, making mental notes of those who needed medical attention, and comforting those who needed it. The two squirrels were young, and probably taken as slaves not too long ago. Solace found out that they were two friends who were playing when a pair of stoats jumped them. She told them to keep quiet, that they were going to Loamhedge, and then continued on.
Arkain stepped back to let the other two work and kept an eye out for guards or scouts. One caught his eye, a ferret wandering over from the defensive line. He chuckled and took to the shadows, drawing a dirk from the sheath behind his back.
The ferret, feeling he was far from the fight, finally stood and spotted the badger and hare. He opened his mouth to say something, and Arkain sprung into action. The dirk glinted, and the ferret collapsed to the ground, his mouth still open in a silent cry. Arkain wiped his blade clean and straightened up to move on.
"Not so fast, killer."
Arkain spun to face the voice, drawing his second dirk, but was only met by a wall of shadows. "Who's there. Show y'self an' maybe I'll go easy on ya."
Darkbane chuckled and stepped out of the shadows, tossing a dagger from one paw to the other. "You don't scare me, hare. If you want to fight, then so be it, but I guarantee you will lose."
"Not bloody likely, chap." Arkain narrowed his eyes.
Darkbane shook his head and caught something out of the corner of his eye. He turned and watched Ghost, Mantis, and Myriad escort the slave mouse, Amethyst, away from Scarstripe's tent unnoticed by the horde. He looked back at Arkain, gave the hare a wave, and stepped back into the shadows.
Arkain growled and looked around for the assassin, but to no avail. The black rat had vanished into the shadows. He sheathed his dirks, puzzled as to why the rat had suddenly vanished. After a while, he shrugged it off and moved back towards Montel and Solace. The slaves were free, and it was time to start escorting them back to the abbey.
Chapter III
Trent's eyes glinted with the sheer pleasure derived from watching Scarstripe's Bloodslayers hiding from the occasional sniper arrows fired by Foxtribe. All was going like any well planned scheme would, and there was yet to be a loss for his numbers. He laughed and shouted to the warlord.
"Scarstripe!"
The weasel answered with an arrow, which missed terribly, before speaking. "Trent. I thought we were allies in this war. You betrayed me."
"You betrayed me. You wanted to start this game, and I warned you about trying to pull anything over on me." The Foxtribe leader traced a line into the dirt with his rapier, pondering over an idea. "Scarstripe, how much do you want to live?"
There was silence as the warlord considered his answer carefully. "What's your proposal, beast?"
"A fight between you and me. We go to a clearing I know of nearby, just the two of us, and the one who walks away lives to see tomorrow. Are you game?"
"I can't trust you for anything, Trent. You'll have somebeast ready to ambush me."
Trent chuckled. "You can trust me. I fight fair and you know it! How about it, weasel. It is your only chance to walk away from this alive."
Scarstripe glared at where Trent's voice was coming from. The fox was up to something, he knew it, and there was no way out but to walk into whatever trap Trent had placed for him. Still, there was a chance. If he did beat the fox, and he had no doubts that he could under the circumstances, then he would be able to walk away and gather a new army.
"Trent!"
"Yes, your stripedness?"
Scarstripe growled. "I'll do it."
Trent grinned and sheathed his rapier. "Good. Take a torch and follow my voice."
Ghost had led Amethyst outside of the camp, and now the group was ready to cut around the outer fringe and back towards Loamhedge, and hopefully rendezvous with the other group along the way. Mantis was leading them on, with Myriad bringing up the rear. All of them were feeling comfortable away from the camp, and stealth had stepped aside for use of speed. In the distance, Trent's challenge to Scarstripe could be heard, and Myriad stopped a moment to hear the exchange of words better.
"Sounds like Scarstripe's gonna get his worth t'night."
Mantis cocked an ear and nodded. "Yes, it seems so."
"Myriad, let's get moving so we don't fall back. I want to be well clear of this by daybreak." Ghost paused and glanced over his shoulder. "Myriad?"
The other ferret had seemingly vanished form view. Sensing danger, Ghost drew his daggers and whistled for Mantis to stop. The ermine drew his daggers as well and moved up alongside Amethyst. Ghost scanned the surrounding trees and shadows for any sign of Myriad, or a potential threat, before lowering his gaze to the ground. The sight made him freeze.
"Oh no...."
Lying face down, not moving, was Myriad. Ghost dropped down at her side and searched for any wounds, finding one in her back caused by a dagger. More fearful that she was dead than a potential stalker, he checked her vital signs and allowed himself a sigh of relief.
"Ghost?"
"She's alive. Dagger wound to the back."
"Who?"
"Don't know, Mantis."
A low chuckle caused both of them to freeze and look towards the darker shadows around them.
"Ghost, we meet again. Surely, you recognise me. At least my voice. Skullrag talked much about his most disappointing pupil."
Ghost stood, daggers ready. "I know you, but not by name."
Mantis bared his teeth and nodded slowly. "He may not, but I do, Darkbane."
"Ah, Maester, is that you?"
"You're not worthy enough to be my pupil, Darkbane." Mantis motioned for Ghost to take Amethyst and Myriad away. "What do you want?"
Ghost shook his head and pointed to the ermine's injured arm.
"You'd better listen to him, Ghost. Who else can get Myriad to a healer before she dies from that wound?" Darkbane stepped out of the shadows and leaned against a tree, twirling one of his daggers idly in his paw. "Mantis, I simply want to kill you. There is no other way for me to put it."
Mantis narrowed his eyes at the rat and nodded. "Try me. Ghost, get Myriad out of here, and take Amethyst home. That was our mission, and it needs to be finished."
"You're in no position to fight. You take them and if he tries to go after you I'll slit his throat."
Mantis shook his head at Ghost. "That is too impractical. It would not work, and I can't carry Myriad back with one good arm. She would die. Besides, she needs you, Ghost."
Ghost nodded slowly and cut a strip from the base of his robe, which he used as a temporary bandage and wrap for Myriad's wound. Picking her up, and nodding to Amethyst, he left Mantis and Darkbane alone to fight, knowing that only one would come out alive, and fearing the truth that Darkbane held the advantage.
Mantis hissed and gripped his daggers. "Alright, Darkbane. Show me the best you've got."
Darkbane dropped to an attack stance and laughed darkly. "Alright, Maester. I'll show you that and then some."
Mantis dropped his robe to reveal his shockingly white fur. "Try me, Darkbane. I'm all for a good challenge."
The black rat hissed, raised his daggers, and attacked.
Trent nodded to Scarstripe as the weasel stepped into the circular clearing. "Well, well. We meet again, Scarstripe."
"Aye, and much too soon for my liking." The warlord drew his rapier and levelled it at the fox. "Shall we dance?"
Trent drew his own rapier and nodded, pointing the blade towards the ground. "Lets do, weasel, and we'll soon see who the best is."
Scarstripe dropped his torch on the ground and started forward to meet Trent. Something snapped under his feet, but he ignored it. It was his final mistake. The ground dropped and the warlord found himself falling into a dark hole. He splashed down into a liquid, which he quickly identified as oil from its taste, and felt a searing pain in his back.
First instinct warned him he was going to drown, but that was soon proved false, as the oil was not deep enough to cover his face fully. With strenuous effort, Scarstripe managed to pull himself up and he felt the cold steel of a blade sliding from his back. He leaned against the wall and looked down at the point of a rapier protruding from the pool of oil.
"Scarstripe, are you still alive?"
Scarstripe looked up and saw the flickering light from his torch outlining Trent's face.
"Ah, good, you lived. I rather hoped you would. Guess what you just fell into. Would you believe a pool of your very own oil? You should never try to outfox a fox, we're naturals at that game." Trent cocked his head. "Not saying anything? You must have found that rapier, then. It didn't hurt too much, did it? Oh, guess why I asked you to bring a torch."
Scarstripe started to shiver uncontrollably as Trent's plan donned on him. The fox had lured him to the clearing where a trap was already placed, and now.... He could not bring himself to think about it.
"Scarstripe, guess what. I win!"
Trent's laugh echoed in the pit as the torch was released and fell towards the pool of oil. Scarstripe thought better of trying to catch it, as he was covered in the oil and to do so meant death any way. Instead, he tried to scramble up the steep sides of the pit. The pain from his wound, though, prevented him from getting anywhere. Everything was moving slowly, and he looked up as the torch fell and struck the surface of the pool. Fire exploded and spread faster than Scarstripe thought was possible. The flames touched his fur, which was soaked in the deadly oil, and instantly ignited. Death was coming, but not without its cruel pains.
Trent laughed as he walked away from the pit. Scarstripe's screams were enough to confirm the deadly effectiveness of his trap. Sheathing his rapier, he cut across the clearing where he met up with Slyver and nodded.
"Spread the word to the archers to kill them all. If you run into Lady Flynt, inform her that her friends have already started their return to Loamhedge."
Slyver nodded and walked off to fulfil her orders, leaving Trent alone once more. Without fail, his Foxtribe had come through yet again, and another horde had been laid to ruin by the combined cunning skill and comradeship of his foxes. Comradeship was, without a doubt, the reason why Foxtribe succeeded where hordes failed, and Trent had known this from the beginning of his reign. Foxtribe was not just a leader, it was everyone.
Chapter IV
Ghost slowly stirred the fire as he looked about the deathly quiet camp. Amethyst was curled up nearby, dozing away, exhausted by the hard, nightlong journey. They were close to Loamhedge, but she could not have gone on without a rest. They would move again soon, after she woke up and had something to eat. Myriad was sleeping next to the fire, wrapped in Ghost's dark green robe. Her still form was where his gaze rested.
Already he had lost Celleste, one with whom he had felt he could have spent the rest of time with and not have had any complaints about an uncertain future. She was gone, though, and that life had gone with. Last night he had come close to losing another, whom he felt strongly about, and that had shocked him into a deep thought about what his current future held. After a moment of gathering his thoughts and organising them, he reached into his pack and pulled out the unfinished journal that he had started with Celleste. The first page held the familiar Loamscript riddle that had been written by the Badger Lord of Salamandastron. He could read it now, and his eyes trailed down the page and stopped at a single passage.
He who leads shall know great pain
His past is far from gone.
His victory shall come at a great price;
And a great war shall spare none.
Ghost turned past the riddle to the final four pages, which were still blank and worn from time, abuse, and neglect. He stared at the first of the blank pages and pulled the small pencil he always carried in his pack. Placing the tip on the page, he began to write.
Celleste,
Time will never heal the pain I feel whenever I think of you. The times we shared together are forever etched into my memory, and I doubt that even the most profound events possible could ever erase them, as I doubt few will be as profound as the day we first met.
Much has happened since you left, and I am beginning to realise and understand some of what you tried to teach me. You told me once that I needed to stop living in the past, and just remember it for what it is. I now know what you were trying to teach me, and I see the value in it. You also told me to move on, and I have decided that I am going to do just that.
I have found a new companion for my travels, if indeed I do decide to take up that profession again. Eagle Watch is gone, and I feel most of us will be going our own ways, so I am not looking towards them for any travel companions. I could always stay at Loamhedge, and I know I would be welcomed there, however I also feel that I cannot stay, as I am a born traveller, and I am unable to stay anywhere for too long unless a part of me is there. There is no part of me at Loamhedge, so I believe I will not be staying there very long.
During a long walk last night, which was part of a rescue mission, I passed a stream that flows south, though I am not sure about its final destination. I am thinking that it might be worth it to follow the Southstream, as I called it in my mind, to wherever it may go and seek a place of my own there. Perhaps then I might find some place to settle down and live the rest of my life.
I have also met someone, Celleste, who is not you, yet I know has the same...I am not sure how to put this. She I special, just as you were, but not the same as you. Both of you are unique, and I will always reserve a place in my heart for you.
Celleste, I loved you dearly in life, and evermore as I continue to live without you. However, I know you would have wanted me to move on, so I will do what I can to move on, and I will not continue to live in the past. Trent, though I feel the strongest urge to take my revenge with him, is in the past, and I will leave him where the past belongs -behind me.
I am nearing the end of this book, the very one we started together, and I only have one final thing to say. I miss you terribly, and I cannot wait until I meet you at the gates of the Dark Forest. There is much we need to catch up on, even though you are probably watching me this very moment. I am sorry, Celleste, that I did not believe what you told me about Trent, and I pray you can forgive me. Now, though, as this book is finished, and a new one comes to continue where it left off, I am going to move on and leave the past in the past. Farewell, Celleste, and may peace forever be with you.
Ghost
Eagle Watch
Ghost closed the journal and ran a paw over the rough cover before sliding it into his pack. The book had been closed on his past, and it was time to look forward to a new beginning.
Chapter V
Trent stared into the grey morning mist. Foxtribe had won, and the members of Scarstripe's horde that had not been killed had fled into the night. The war was over. Scouts had searched for any forming pockets of possible guerrilla forces, but had nothing more to report than the sole casualty, Mantis, who had apparently died from a dagger wound to the gut. It was a trivial matter, though, as he was not a member of Foxtribe, and Trent had never known the ermine well enough to care.
Now, the Foxtribe leader was seated on a stump, in the middle of an entirely dead camp, watching the smouldering remains of a campfire. Propped up next to him, eyes glazed and lifeless, and a black arrow protruding from his chest, was a ferret and former member of the Bloodslayers.
"Seems a shame, does it not?" Trent chuckled and glanced at the dead ferret. "You never had the chance to put up much of a fight."
There was an audible silence during which Trent stared into the fire and acted as though he was listening to another speak. It had become a way got him to pass the time, as well as speak his mind freely and without worrying about someone questioning him.
"You know something, you are funny, in a way. I have killed ferrets before, but they tended to put up more of a struggle than you did. If that is any evidence of Scarstripe's leadership, then you are all better off dead." He frowned slightly and looked at the dead ferret. "No, of course not. I am leaving. No, we have been north already. I would like to go south." He paused and grinned. "No, home is in the south for me. I would like to see what my old rivals think of me now. They would not dare to deny me my rightful place now, not with the backing of my tribe."
Slyver laughed and came up behind Trent. "Talking again, Trent? You always were the sociable beast."
"Yes, so I am." He smiled and looked over his shoulder at her. "Did we get them?"
"Most, not all. There were some that didn't want to be found." She sat down. "Who's your friend?"
"A ferret, no beast of importance. What became of the ermine, Mantis?" Slyver shrugged. "We buried him, no marker, he's gone as far as anyone is concerned."
Trent nodded. "Are we all nearby?"
"Yes, and ready to go."
Trent glanced about the devastated camp. "Let's salvage this and use it for what it is worth. It would be a shame to let this go to waste. After that, there is a stream I would like to follow that leads south."
"If we stay, won't we risk running into Ghost and his group?"
"They won't attack us. If they ask, though, we are going north. I do not want to be hunted down should they change their minds about leaving the Tribe in peace."
Slyver nodded. "Should I spread the word?"
"Please do, then come back here."
She paused and glanced over her shoulder. "Does that mean we are not going to attack Eagle Watch?"
Trent shook his head.
"What about the plan you put forth?"
Trent shrugged. "It worked, to a degree, and still is. Myriad fell in love with a personal hero, and she is still Ghost's weakness. Darkbane, wherever he went, should still know that. Let him exploit it if he truly wishes to. I'm satisfied with defeating Scarstripe; Eagle Watch and Ghost no longer appeal to me."
Slyver nodded and walked away, leaving Trent alone with his ferret companion again. He scratched his head and looked down at the still form, whose lifeless eyes were locked on him. Trent snorted and glared at the ferret.
"What are you looking at?"
Chapter VI
Ghost roused Amethyst from her slumber and stretched. Although he had not slept himself, his muscles had stiffened somewhat from sitting still for so long. Myriad was still sleeping soundly beside the fire, and though he felt it was a shame to disturb her, he was more worried about the dagger wound and getting it treated by Nativa back at Loamhedge.
"Don't worry, Amethyst, not too far off now. It's near mid-day; I'd wager a guess that we will arrive before the afternoon tea."
Amethyst nodded and glanced over at Myriad. "How's she doing?"
"Slept all night, I'll carry her again." Ghost looked around and sighed. "No sign of the others. I hope Mantis got out alright." Amethyst looked around and nodded slowly. "He might be at the abbey."
"So might everyone else. No matter, though. If they are not, I know we will." He knelt beside Myriad and checked the dagger wound in her back. "Let's get moving, I want to get there as soon as possible."
"Ghost?"
Ghost looked up and folded his ears back against his head. He recognised the voice, but it took him a while to place it. "Arkain?"
The black hare bounded into the clearing and laughed cheerily. "Good, here y' are. Took me a while."
"Where is everyone?"
"Back at th' abbey, chap, save Solace." He whistled hollered off to his left. "Got 'em here!"
Ghost stood and shook the hare's paw. "How did it go with you?"
"Good. Ran int' some black rat, but he left." He glanced at Myriad. "Guess I know where he went. Where's Mantis?"
Ghost shook his head. "Stayed back to fight off that black rat."
There was the sound of crackling bush, and Solace ran into the clearing.
"Solace, Arkain, give me a hand. Myriad needs to get back to Nativa."
"No problem, Ghost." Solace smiled and waved Arkain over. "Y' get Myriad, I'll carry Amethyst. How d' y' mind walkin', Ghost?"
"Not at all."
Solace nodded and snatched Amethyst up. In a wink, she was gone and headed towards the abbey.
Arkain chuckled and picked up Myriad. "I'll keep y' company, chap. We're close t' th' abbey, it's just after that line of trees."
Ghost nodded and yawned. "Let me know when it's safe to fall dead asleep."
Arkain laughed and shook his head. "Not fer a while, there's a big feast waitin' back at th' abbey. No chance of sleepin' just yet."
Ghost sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Great." A bell tolled up ahead, and Ghost looked in the direction of the sound. "Guess Solace got back."
"She's fast." Arkain chuckled and stopped. "Here, carry Myriad. I'll run ahead an' make sure Natura's ready."
Myriad was transferred over to Ghost, whose arms felt like lead and hardly able to support her weight, and Arkain bolted off towards the abbey. Ghost sighed and trudged on, wondering if Arkain was right in saying the abbey was nearby. Again, the bell tolled, and the closeness of its ring was enough to urge Ghost onward. He broke through the dense line of trees and into the clearing that surrounded the abbey. The sight brought a new surge of energy within him, and he pushed on. Two figures were leaving the gates at a run and heading in his direction. It was Arkain and Natura.
The two were on him in a rush, and Ghost found himself immediately relieved of the task of carrying Myriad. He heard Natura say something, but was too tired to comprehend what it was. Arkain rushed off with Myriad, and Natura jogged off after him. Montel had shown up somewhere during the rush, and after giving his friend a clap on the back, the badger slung the tired Ghost over his shoulder and marched off towards the gates. Ghost was too tired to care what was going on, and somewhere between the Gate and the Main Hall, he found himself wandering in dreams.
Darkest Night
Chapter I
Ghost stared at the flickering watchfires, far enough that they did not bother him, but close enough that he would need to start worrying in just a few moments. The time had come for the rescue, and everything had fallen into place. Standing to his left, for the first time since the defeat of Eagle Watch, stood Trent, who was clad in a dark, forest green robe. For Ghost, it felt awkward to be standing next to the one he hated as an ally, and every other thought was turned towards forgetting the pact and killing him on the spot.
"It won't be easy, Ghost. I would expect trouble."
Ghost nodded slowly. "In situations like this, Trent, we both know that it is normal to expect trouble. Is Foxtribe in place?"
"Is your group?"
The two glanced at each other and seemed to think the same thing. On any occasion but this, I would kill you in an instant. Ghost nodded slowly, both as an answer to Trent's question, and in affirmation to the desire for revenge he had running through his mind.
"When you are ready, Trent." Ghost walked into the trees to get in place. "Just get the signal right."
Trent chuckled. "I'm Foxtribe's leader, Ghost. When have you ever seen me fail in a fight?"
Ghost shuddered. "Unfortunately, never. Don't die here, Trent. I want to see it happen."
Trent laughed. "Not if I can help it. Get in place."
Ghost made his way through some trees, closer to the campfires, and met up with Myriad and Mantis. Giving the two a nod -they were too close to say anything- he offered a grin and drew his daggers. Mantis nodded and patted his own under his robe. Myriad simply pointed to the tent that belonged to Scarstripe. Ghost studied it for a moment, sheathed his daggers, and nodded. All around the camp, members of Foxtribe were in place, ready to unleash two waves of their trademark black arrows, which would hopefully cause mass confusion. During this, Ghost was to take his small group and rescue Amethyst while Montel, Arkain, and Solace took care of the rest of the slaves in another part of the camp. Lady Flynt, not wanting to miss out on anything, had challenged one of the foxes to an archery contest, and stayed back to help with the first assault. They were ready.
Trent detached a small adder skin pouch from his belt and drew from it an oil-soaked rag, which he wrapped around the tip of his arrow. Patiently, he set about with a small flint until the cloth caught fire, and was burning bright. He notched the arrow, drew the bow back to its bent, and loosed the shaft so it flew over the enemy camp. Immediately after, the first wave of black darts streaked into the unsuspecting horde, and their were screams of pain and shouts of surprise as the arrows did their damage.
Alarms rang and defensive positions were taken as the Bloodslayers prepared to retaliate. Several fired back, but to no avail. Foxtribe waited, as ordered, until the time was right, and as if cued, the second wave struck, dealing more damage than the first. The Bloodslayers had prepared to advance towards the tree line and spread the watchfires for better visibility when the second wave of arrows struck. Immediately, the horde shrank back and took the defensive.
Trent laughed and whistled, signalling to Ghost that he was free to go. From this point on, Foxtribe would not attack en masse, and the archers would pick targets and fire on their own. The rescue party was in no danger of being hit by their own.
Scarstripe growled when the alarm rang and jumped for his chain-mail armour jacket. Outside he could hear the shouts for order in the ranks, and the shrieks as another beast fell. He knew who it was without seeing, as he knew only one who would dare attempt an attack.
Foxtribe.
The weasel narrowed his eyes and stepped out of his tent to join his troops.
Amethyst watched him leave in silence and shuddered. If somebeast were able to defeat the horde, what would they do when they found her? The urge to panic gripped her, and she started pulling at the anchor that held her prisoner to the ground. The steak was driven in too deep, however, and it failed to even budge. Another idea, a more sensible one, came to mind, and she crawled on the ground and stretched to reach Scarstripe's chair.
Ghost's ear perked as it caught the whistle travelling in the wind. With a faint nod and wave, he motioned for Mantis and Myriad to follow him. The three moved with all the skill in stealth that they knew, keeping low to the ground and hugging whatever shadows could be found; at times moving on all fours to keep from being seen. When they passed the outer fringe of the defensive line, Mantis took the lead and set a course for Scarstripe's tent. Ghost watched him and noted with some concern that his arm was still bothering him. It would probably need to be checked back at Loamhedge.
Myriad tapped Ghost on the foot, and he turned to see what she needed. She pointed to Scarstripe, who had just left his tent and was joining the ranks. He nodded and passed the sighting up to Mantis, who just eyed his former leader for a brief moment before moving on.
Montel waited until he was certain that Foxtribe had the full attention of the horde before leading his group on towards the stockades. Arkain and Solace were ready, keeping an eye out for guards and letting Montel lead. Things seemed to be going well; There were no casualties that they could see, and the first two waves were effective in what they were meant to do.
Solace chuckled inwardly, but outwardly wore an expression of worry. Nothing went completely as planned. A mistake or mishap was inevitable, and if it did not happen during the beginning, then there were only two places left. During the extraction operation, or during the get away process. She wondered which it would be, and hoped that for once, everything went right for a change.
Deep in the shadows, admiring the entire scene from a safe perch, Darkbane allowed himself a faint chuckle. Scarstripe and the Bloodslayers were getting a long needed lesson, and Foxtribe was, once again, enjoying the ability to destroy another horde. He, however, still had to wait. His time would come, and revenge would not be a trivial matter. His trained eye focused on the three figures making their way towards the stockades. Maybe his time had come, and the opportunity was presenting itself. He drew his daggers and began walking towards the badger and two hares.
Chapter II
"Keep your bloody heads down! I taught you more sense than that and I know it. Archers, return fire. Up and fire, keep it fast and furious. I want to see the carcasses of foxes all over these woods when the sun rises tomorrow." Scarstripe growled and kicked a stoat who was pressed to the ground in fear, his bow and arrows lying unused beside him. "Get up and fight. You don't see me cowering like a little mouse, do you?"
He left the stoat where he found him and continued down the line. A rat fell back, struck by one of the black arrows, and into the warlord who casually pushed the body aside as if he did not notice it. His eyes burned and told everyone that to approach him or to disobey his orders would end in nothing but pain and public shame.
"You there,"
A ferret gulped and pointed to himself, giving his leader a questioning look.
"Yes, you. Go to the stockades and make sure everything is all right over there. Kill anybeast that does not belong. Don't die on the way."
The ferret nodded and crawled off towards where the slaves were kept. Scarstripe hardly gave him a second glance as he continued his walk of the defensive line.
Trent watched the weasel carefully; biding his time until he deemed it fit to make an approach. Foxtribe was under strict orders not to harm the horde leader, as he had plans with how he was going to dispatch Scarstripe himself. He had lost sight of Ghost, Myriad, and Mantis a while back, and admitted to himself that the three had a shared talent that they were remarkably skilled at.
"It is a lovely sight, is it not?"
Trent nodded slowly and looked over his shoulder at Slyver. "Aye...a very nice sight indeed. You are not attacking?"
The black vixen shrugged. "I was never skilled with a bow and arrow. My place is behind enemy lines, not on the front."
"True," Trent nodded and studied the defensive line again. "Could you wreak havoc in that line?"
Slyver chuckled. "Easily. They have no order or defence against a skilled infiltrator. Shall I?"
Trent pondered the idea for a moment before shaking his head. "No. The arrows are enough. Besides, I would hate to see one of our foxes mistake you for a target."
She smiled slightly. "Then shall I keep the leader company?"
Trent nodded. "Yes, please do. I have the best seats in town to the show of a lifetime."
Mantis, Myriad, and Ghost drew up alongside Scarstripe's tent and made a quick check before Mantis cut a small back door with his dagger. After a slight nod from the other two, Ghost crawled in and was met by the puzzled, exhausted, and frightened face of Amethyst.
"Hello Amethyst, how are you today? Care to join me and some of my friends for a nice dinner?"
Amethyst was so shocked by the arrival of Ghost that all she could manage to do was nod and watch as Ghost crawled through the opening, followed by Myriad. Myriad found the keys to the shackles and freed Amethyst, while Ghost offered her some water and briefly explained what was going on. All the abbey mouse could do was nod, drink, and nod again, constantly glancing at her own escape plan, a piece of Scarstripe's chair that doubled as a means to dig the steak out of the ground.
Free from the chains, she ducked through the small opening, where she was met by Mantis. The assassin motioned for her to keep quiet and handed her a dark green cloak that he had borrowed from Loamhedge. She donned it quickly and nodded to Myriad and Ghost as the two exited the tent. Her sense was returning, and she gave the three a grin. She was free, and it was time to go home.
Montel set his axe aside as he reached the first of the chained up slaves. The stockades, which were in actuality nothing more than long lines of chained slaves anchored to the ground, housed a small group of no more than fifteen woodlanders. In a quick scan, the badger had picked out a few mice, some shrews, a mole, a couple of young squirrels, and a vole. Upon seeing him and the two hares, the chained slaves all began to mutter excitedly. A quick shushing from Solace brought everyone to an abrupt silence, though. Arkain gave Montel a nod, and the badger quietly set about pulling the anchors out of the ground.
Solace wandered from slave to slave, making mental notes of those who needed medical attention, and comforting those who needed it. The two squirrels were young, and probably taken as slaves not too long ago. Solace found out that they were two friends who were playing when a pair of stoats jumped them. She told them to keep quiet, that they were going to Loamhedge, and then continued on.
Arkain stepped back to let the other two work and kept an eye out for guards or scouts. One caught his eye, a ferret wandering over from the defensive line. He chuckled and took to the shadows, drawing a dirk from the sheath behind his back.
The ferret, feeling he was far from the fight, finally stood and spotted the badger and hare. He opened his mouth to say something, and Arkain sprung into action. The dirk glinted, and the ferret collapsed to the ground, his mouth still open in a silent cry. Arkain wiped his blade clean and straightened up to move on.
"Not so fast, killer."
Arkain spun to face the voice, drawing his second dirk, but was only met by a wall of shadows. "Who's there. Show y'self an' maybe I'll go easy on ya."
Darkbane chuckled and stepped out of the shadows, tossing a dagger from one paw to the other. "You don't scare me, hare. If you want to fight, then so be it, but I guarantee you will lose."
"Not bloody likely, chap." Arkain narrowed his eyes.
Darkbane shook his head and caught something out of the corner of his eye. He turned and watched Ghost, Mantis, and Myriad escort the slave mouse, Amethyst, away from Scarstripe's tent unnoticed by the horde. He looked back at Arkain, gave the hare a wave, and stepped back into the shadows.
Arkain growled and looked around for the assassin, but to no avail. The black rat had vanished into the shadows. He sheathed his dirks, puzzled as to why the rat had suddenly vanished. After a while, he shrugged it off and moved back towards Montel and Solace. The slaves were free, and it was time to start escorting them back to the abbey.
Chapter III
Trent's eyes glinted with the sheer pleasure derived from watching Scarstripe's Bloodslayers hiding from the occasional sniper arrows fired by Foxtribe. All was going like any well planned scheme would, and there was yet to be a loss for his numbers. He laughed and shouted to the warlord.
"Scarstripe!"
The weasel answered with an arrow, which missed terribly, before speaking. "Trent. I thought we were allies in this war. You betrayed me."
"You betrayed me. You wanted to start this game, and I warned you about trying to pull anything over on me." The Foxtribe leader traced a line into the dirt with his rapier, pondering over an idea. "Scarstripe, how much do you want to live?"
There was silence as the warlord considered his answer carefully. "What's your proposal, beast?"
"A fight between you and me. We go to a clearing I know of nearby, just the two of us, and the one who walks away lives to see tomorrow. Are you game?"
"I can't trust you for anything, Trent. You'll have somebeast ready to ambush me."
Trent chuckled. "You can trust me. I fight fair and you know it! How about it, weasel. It is your only chance to walk away from this alive."
Scarstripe glared at where Trent's voice was coming from. The fox was up to something, he knew it, and there was no way out but to walk into whatever trap Trent had placed for him. Still, there was a chance. If he did beat the fox, and he had no doubts that he could under the circumstances, then he would be able to walk away and gather a new army.
"Trent!"
"Yes, your stripedness?"
Scarstripe growled. "I'll do it."
Trent grinned and sheathed his rapier. "Good. Take a torch and follow my voice."
Ghost had led Amethyst outside of the camp, and now the group was ready to cut around the outer fringe and back towards Loamhedge, and hopefully rendezvous with the other group along the way. Mantis was leading them on, with Myriad bringing up the rear. All of them were feeling comfortable away from the camp, and stealth had stepped aside for use of speed. In the distance, Trent's challenge to Scarstripe could be heard, and Myriad stopped a moment to hear the exchange of words better.
"Sounds like Scarstripe's gonna get his worth t'night."
Mantis cocked an ear and nodded. "Yes, it seems so."
"Myriad, let's get moving so we don't fall back. I want to be well clear of this by daybreak." Ghost paused and glanced over his shoulder. "Myriad?"
The other ferret had seemingly vanished form view. Sensing danger, Ghost drew his daggers and whistled for Mantis to stop. The ermine drew his daggers as well and moved up alongside Amethyst. Ghost scanned the surrounding trees and shadows for any sign of Myriad, or a potential threat, before lowering his gaze to the ground. The sight made him freeze.
"Oh no...."
Lying face down, not moving, was Myriad. Ghost dropped down at her side and searched for any wounds, finding one in her back caused by a dagger. More fearful that she was dead than a potential stalker, he checked her vital signs and allowed himself a sigh of relief.
"Ghost?"
"She's alive. Dagger wound to the back."
"Who?"
"Don't know, Mantis."
A low chuckle caused both of them to freeze and look towards the darker shadows around them.
"Ghost, we meet again. Surely, you recognise me. At least my voice. Skullrag talked much about his most disappointing pupil."
Ghost stood, daggers ready. "I know you, but not by name."
Mantis bared his teeth and nodded slowly. "He may not, but I do, Darkbane."
"Ah, Maester, is that you?"
"You're not worthy enough to be my pupil, Darkbane." Mantis motioned for Ghost to take Amethyst and Myriad away. "What do you want?"
Ghost shook his head and pointed to the ermine's injured arm.
"You'd better listen to him, Ghost. Who else can get Myriad to a healer before she dies from that wound?" Darkbane stepped out of the shadows and leaned against a tree, twirling one of his daggers idly in his paw. "Mantis, I simply want to kill you. There is no other way for me to put it."
Mantis narrowed his eyes at the rat and nodded. "Try me. Ghost, get Myriad out of here, and take Amethyst home. That was our mission, and it needs to be finished."
"You're in no position to fight. You take them and if he tries to go after you I'll slit his throat."
Mantis shook his head at Ghost. "That is too impractical. It would not work, and I can't carry Myriad back with one good arm. She would die. Besides, she needs you, Ghost."
Ghost nodded slowly and cut a strip from the base of his robe, which he used as a temporary bandage and wrap for Myriad's wound. Picking her up, and nodding to Amethyst, he left Mantis and Darkbane alone to fight, knowing that only one would come out alive, and fearing the truth that Darkbane held the advantage.
Mantis hissed and gripped his daggers. "Alright, Darkbane. Show me the best you've got."
Darkbane dropped to an attack stance and laughed darkly. "Alright, Maester. I'll show you that and then some."
Mantis dropped his robe to reveal his shockingly white fur. "Try me, Darkbane. I'm all for a good challenge."
The black rat hissed, raised his daggers, and attacked.
Trent nodded to Scarstripe as the weasel stepped into the circular clearing. "Well, well. We meet again, Scarstripe."
"Aye, and much too soon for my liking." The warlord drew his rapier and levelled it at the fox. "Shall we dance?"
Trent drew his own rapier and nodded, pointing the blade towards the ground. "Lets do, weasel, and we'll soon see who the best is."
Scarstripe dropped his torch on the ground and started forward to meet Trent. Something snapped under his feet, but he ignored it. It was his final mistake. The ground dropped and the warlord found himself falling into a dark hole. He splashed down into a liquid, which he quickly identified as oil from its taste, and felt a searing pain in his back.
First instinct warned him he was going to drown, but that was soon proved false, as the oil was not deep enough to cover his face fully. With strenuous effort, Scarstripe managed to pull himself up and he felt the cold steel of a blade sliding from his back. He leaned against the wall and looked down at the point of a rapier protruding from the pool of oil.
"Scarstripe, are you still alive?"
Scarstripe looked up and saw the flickering light from his torch outlining Trent's face.
"Ah, good, you lived. I rather hoped you would. Guess what you just fell into. Would you believe a pool of your very own oil? You should never try to outfox a fox, we're naturals at that game." Trent cocked his head. "Not saying anything? You must have found that rapier, then. It didn't hurt too much, did it? Oh, guess why I asked you to bring a torch."
Scarstripe started to shiver uncontrollably as Trent's plan donned on him. The fox had lured him to the clearing where a trap was already placed, and now.... He could not bring himself to think about it.
"Scarstripe, guess what. I win!"
Trent's laugh echoed in the pit as the torch was released and fell towards the pool of oil. Scarstripe thought better of trying to catch it, as he was covered in the oil and to do so meant death any way. Instead, he tried to scramble up the steep sides of the pit. The pain from his wound, though, prevented him from getting anywhere. Everything was moving slowly, and he looked up as the torch fell and struck the surface of the pool. Fire exploded and spread faster than Scarstripe thought was possible. The flames touched his fur, which was soaked in the deadly oil, and instantly ignited. Death was coming, but not without its cruel pains.
Trent laughed as he walked away from the pit. Scarstripe's screams were enough to confirm the deadly effectiveness of his trap. Sheathing his rapier, he cut across the clearing where he met up with Slyver and nodded.
"Spread the word to the archers to kill them all. If you run into Lady Flynt, inform her that her friends have already started their return to Loamhedge."
Slyver nodded and walked off to fulfil her orders, leaving Trent alone once more. Without fail, his Foxtribe had come through yet again, and another horde had been laid to ruin by the combined cunning skill and comradeship of his foxes. Comradeship was, without a doubt, the reason why Foxtribe succeeded where hordes failed, and Trent had known this from the beginning of his reign. Foxtribe was not just a leader, it was everyone.
Chapter IV
Ghost slowly stirred the fire as he looked about the deathly quiet camp. Amethyst was curled up nearby, dozing away, exhausted by the hard, nightlong journey. They were close to Loamhedge, but she could not have gone on without a rest. They would move again soon, after she woke up and had something to eat. Myriad was sleeping next to the fire, wrapped in Ghost's dark green robe. Her still form was where his gaze rested.
Already he had lost Celleste, one with whom he had felt he could have spent the rest of time with and not have had any complaints about an uncertain future. She was gone, though, and that life had gone with. Last night he had come close to losing another, whom he felt strongly about, and that had shocked him into a deep thought about what his current future held. After a moment of gathering his thoughts and organising them, he reached into his pack and pulled out the unfinished journal that he had started with Celleste. The first page held the familiar Loamscript riddle that had been written by the Badger Lord of Salamandastron. He could read it now, and his eyes trailed down the page and stopped at a single passage.
He who leads shall know great pain
His past is far from gone.
His victory shall come at a great price;
And a great war shall spare none.
Ghost turned past the riddle to the final four pages, which were still blank and worn from time, abuse, and neglect. He stared at the first of the blank pages and pulled the small pencil he always carried in his pack. Placing the tip on the page, he began to write.
Celleste,
Time will never heal the pain I feel whenever I think of you. The times we shared together are forever etched into my memory, and I doubt that even the most profound events possible could ever erase them, as I doubt few will be as profound as the day we first met.
Much has happened since you left, and I am beginning to realise and understand some of what you tried to teach me. You told me once that I needed to stop living in the past, and just remember it for what it is. I now know what you were trying to teach me, and I see the value in it. You also told me to move on, and I have decided that I am going to do just that.
I have found a new companion for my travels, if indeed I do decide to take up that profession again. Eagle Watch is gone, and I feel most of us will be going our own ways, so I am not looking towards them for any travel companions. I could always stay at Loamhedge, and I know I would be welcomed there, however I also feel that I cannot stay, as I am a born traveller, and I am unable to stay anywhere for too long unless a part of me is there. There is no part of me at Loamhedge, so I believe I will not be staying there very long.
During a long walk last night, which was part of a rescue mission, I passed a stream that flows south, though I am not sure about its final destination. I am thinking that it might be worth it to follow the Southstream, as I called it in my mind, to wherever it may go and seek a place of my own there. Perhaps then I might find some place to settle down and live the rest of my life.
I have also met someone, Celleste, who is not you, yet I know has the same...I am not sure how to put this. She I special, just as you were, but not the same as you. Both of you are unique, and I will always reserve a place in my heart for you.
Celleste, I loved you dearly in life, and evermore as I continue to live without you. However, I know you would have wanted me to move on, so I will do what I can to move on, and I will not continue to live in the past. Trent, though I feel the strongest urge to take my revenge with him, is in the past, and I will leave him where the past belongs -behind me.
I am nearing the end of this book, the very one we started together, and I only have one final thing to say. I miss you terribly, and I cannot wait until I meet you at the gates of the Dark Forest. There is much we need to catch up on, even though you are probably watching me this very moment. I am sorry, Celleste, that I did not believe what you told me about Trent, and I pray you can forgive me. Now, though, as this book is finished, and a new one comes to continue where it left off, I am going to move on and leave the past in the past. Farewell, Celleste, and may peace forever be with you.
Ghost
Eagle Watch
Ghost closed the journal and ran a paw over the rough cover before sliding it into his pack. The book had been closed on his past, and it was time to look forward to a new beginning.
Chapter V
Trent stared into the grey morning mist. Foxtribe had won, and the members of Scarstripe's horde that had not been killed had fled into the night. The war was over. Scouts had searched for any forming pockets of possible guerrilla forces, but had nothing more to report than the sole casualty, Mantis, who had apparently died from a dagger wound to the gut. It was a trivial matter, though, as he was not a member of Foxtribe, and Trent had never known the ermine well enough to care.
Now, the Foxtribe leader was seated on a stump, in the middle of an entirely dead camp, watching the smouldering remains of a campfire. Propped up next to him, eyes glazed and lifeless, and a black arrow protruding from his chest, was a ferret and former member of the Bloodslayers.
"Seems a shame, does it not?" Trent chuckled and glanced at the dead ferret. "You never had the chance to put up much of a fight."
There was an audible silence during which Trent stared into the fire and acted as though he was listening to another speak. It had become a way got him to pass the time, as well as speak his mind freely and without worrying about someone questioning him.
"You know something, you are funny, in a way. I have killed ferrets before, but they tended to put up more of a struggle than you did. If that is any evidence of Scarstripe's leadership, then you are all better off dead." He frowned slightly and looked at the dead ferret. "No, of course not. I am leaving. No, we have been north already. I would like to go south." He paused and grinned. "No, home is in the south for me. I would like to see what my old rivals think of me now. They would not dare to deny me my rightful place now, not with the backing of my tribe."
Slyver laughed and came up behind Trent. "Talking again, Trent? You always were the sociable beast."
"Yes, so I am." He smiled and looked over his shoulder at her. "Did we get them?"
"Most, not all. There were some that didn't want to be found." She sat down. "Who's your friend?"
"A ferret, no beast of importance. What became of the ermine, Mantis?" Slyver shrugged. "We buried him, no marker, he's gone as far as anyone is concerned."
Trent nodded. "Are we all nearby?"
"Yes, and ready to go."
Trent glanced about the devastated camp. "Let's salvage this and use it for what it is worth. It would be a shame to let this go to waste. After that, there is a stream I would like to follow that leads south."
"If we stay, won't we risk running into Ghost and his group?"
"They won't attack us. If they ask, though, we are going north. I do not want to be hunted down should they change their minds about leaving the Tribe in peace."
Slyver nodded. "Should I spread the word?"
"Please do, then come back here."
She paused and glanced over her shoulder. "Does that mean we are not going to attack Eagle Watch?"
Trent shook his head.
"What about the plan you put forth?"
Trent shrugged. "It worked, to a degree, and still is. Myriad fell in love with a personal hero, and she is still Ghost's weakness. Darkbane, wherever he went, should still know that. Let him exploit it if he truly wishes to. I'm satisfied with defeating Scarstripe; Eagle Watch and Ghost no longer appeal to me."
Slyver nodded and walked away, leaving Trent alone with his ferret companion again. He scratched his head and looked down at the still form, whose lifeless eyes were locked on him. Trent snorted and glared at the ferret.
"What are you looking at?"
Chapter VI
Ghost roused Amethyst from her slumber and stretched. Although he had not slept himself, his muscles had stiffened somewhat from sitting still for so long. Myriad was still sleeping soundly beside the fire, and though he felt it was a shame to disturb her, he was more worried about the dagger wound and getting it treated by Nativa back at Loamhedge.
"Don't worry, Amethyst, not too far off now. It's near mid-day; I'd wager a guess that we will arrive before the afternoon tea."
Amethyst nodded and glanced over at Myriad. "How's she doing?"
"Slept all night, I'll carry her again." Ghost looked around and sighed. "No sign of the others. I hope Mantis got out alright." Amethyst looked around and nodded slowly. "He might be at the abbey."
"So might everyone else. No matter, though. If they are not, I know we will." He knelt beside Myriad and checked the dagger wound in her back. "Let's get moving, I want to get there as soon as possible."
"Ghost?"
Ghost looked up and folded his ears back against his head. He recognised the voice, but it took him a while to place it. "Arkain?"
The black hare bounded into the clearing and laughed cheerily. "Good, here y' are. Took me a while."
"Where is everyone?"
"Back at th' abbey, chap, save Solace." He whistled hollered off to his left. "Got 'em here!"
Ghost stood and shook the hare's paw. "How did it go with you?"
"Good. Ran int' some black rat, but he left." He glanced at Myriad. "Guess I know where he went. Where's Mantis?"
Ghost shook his head. "Stayed back to fight off that black rat."
There was the sound of crackling bush, and Solace ran into the clearing.
"Solace, Arkain, give me a hand. Myriad needs to get back to Nativa."
"No problem, Ghost." Solace smiled and waved Arkain over. "Y' get Myriad, I'll carry Amethyst. How d' y' mind walkin', Ghost?"
"Not at all."
Solace nodded and snatched Amethyst up. In a wink, she was gone and headed towards the abbey.
Arkain chuckled and picked up Myriad. "I'll keep y' company, chap. We're close t' th' abbey, it's just after that line of trees."
Ghost nodded and yawned. "Let me know when it's safe to fall dead asleep."
Arkain laughed and shook his head. "Not fer a while, there's a big feast waitin' back at th' abbey. No chance of sleepin' just yet."
Ghost sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Great." A bell tolled up ahead, and Ghost looked in the direction of the sound. "Guess Solace got back."
"She's fast." Arkain chuckled and stopped. "Here, carry Myriad. I'll run ahead an' make sure Natura's ready."
Myriad was transferred over to Ghost, whose arms felt like lead and hardly able to support her weight, and Arkain bolted off towards the abbey. Ghost sighed and trudged on, wondering if Arkain was right in saying the abbey was nearby. Again, the bell tolled, and the closeness of its ring was enough to urge Ghost onward. He broke through the dense line of trees and into the clearing that surrounded the abbey. The sight brought a new surge of energy within him, and he pushed on. Two figures were leaving the gates at a run and heading in his direction. It was Arkain and Natura.
The two were on him in a rush, and Ghost found himself immediately relieved of the task of carrying Myriad. He heard Natura say something, but was too tired to comprehend what it was. Arkain rushed off with Myriad, and Natura jogged off after him. Montel had shown up somewhere during the rush, and after giving his friend a clap on the back, the badger slung the tired Ghost over his shoulder and marched off towards the gates. Ghost was too tired to care what was going on, and somewhere between the Gate and the Main Hall, he found himself wandering in dreams.