Chapter 3:
The Horde Leader
Stepping off the final stair, the young mouse found himself on the second floor of the deserted Abbey. He felt as though he was being watched. Touching the bow on his back to make sure it was still there, the mouse looked around.
Across the hall there were two doors. One was open, leading to an extremely dark room with an organ. Possibly the study of someone important? the mouse asked himself. Whatever, doesn't look like that room'll be of much use to me.
The other door was closed. Above the door handle was a keyhole. The mouse reached into his pocket and felt for the key the ghost of the hare had dropped when fleeing his Spirit Bow. This key must lead to that room, the mouse thought. Yes, that's very likely. It's the only place I haven't been.
Gulping, he looked up, as if for some sort of reassurance from on high. What he saw were the rusty hinges to an attic. Once again, he pulled out his fishing rod. Thunk! His cast was true, and he caught the attic door-handle. He tugged. The door didn't budge.
Frustrated, he unslung the Spirit Bow. Pulling back, he fired an angry shot into the door, muttering to himself. For some reason, he felt that the attic might hold the key to this mysterious puzzle. Thud! The arrow hit the door with such force that it was knocked upwards, falling into an open position. An old rope ladder fell from the attic.
Grabbing the ladder, the mouse ascended into the attic. It was pretty dark up there. Looking around, the mouse could make out something in the rafters. As he was about to step out, however, he looked down at the floor. It looked extremely unstable.
Best not to test it, the mouse thought to himself. Pulling out his fishing rod, he cast it at the roof beam on which the object, which he could now make out to be a sheet, was perched. The rod knocked the parchment into the air and - miraculously - it fluttered right to the young mouse. He looked at it.
It was blank, except for a single R adorning the top. He pocketed it along with the other two he had collected.
Descending the rope ladder (there was nothing else for him to see here), the mouse went back to the second floor, closing the door behind him. Gulping, he moved toward the closed door with the keyhole.
Slowly, he removed the brass key from his pocket. Fitting it carefully into the keyhole, he cautiously turned, and was rewarded with a click. The door had opened! Steeling himself, the mouse entered the room.
The room seemed to have at one point served as a dormitory. The first thing the young mouse noticed, however, was a skull mantel, nearly identical to the one in the main hall. There was something the mouse didn't like about those mantels, especially the writing on their sides. They seemed...sinister, in some way.
The mouse took his eyes away from the skull mantel and looked around the room. Above the beds was something that forced the mouse to repress a scream. There were ghosts, floating above the beds! However, their eyelids were shut; they didn't seem to have noticed the mouse.
On the other side of the room was another thing that forced the mouse to repress a scream...a scream of joy! It was a door, onto some sort of balcony. Perhaps it led to a way out!
To get to it, however, the mouse knew he would have to get past the sleeping ghosts. Somehow, he felt they wouldn't sleep for long once he ventured near them.
But I have to get out of here, he told himself. Running his fingers over the arrows in his quiver, he stepped out into the room.
Fitting an arrow to the string, he let fly at one of the sleeping ghosts. Nothing happened. Maybe the spirits have to be awake to flee the Spirit Bow, the mouse told himself. Nothing for it now....
He broke into a dead run. As soon as he passed within three feet of the closest ghost, it sprang to life; its evil red eyes showed none of the mercy and kindness they would have shown had it been the same beast it had been in life. The young mouse, however, had no time to feel sorry.
The ghost tore at the flesh on his shoulder. Looking down, the mouse saw he had suffered no injury, yet the pain was greater than any he had ever felt in his life. It felt as if his very core was being gnawed at.
Dodging ghosts, and only receiving the occasional bite, the mouse sprinted through the dormitories. Still at a dead sprint, he flung himself out onto the balcony.
At last, freedom...or perhaps not. Upon second examining, it appeared that the balcony was much higher than the young mouse had originally estimated. He knew he would certainly die if he jumped. Turning to head back and face the dormitories again, the mouse put his hand on the door handle. He couldn't budge it! Perhaps the ghosts were barricading him outside.
And then, from behind him, he heard something that made his heart stop and his blood run cold. The most diabolical laugh he had ever witnessed rang across the balcony. It echoed in the deepest depths of the young mouse's soul.
Turning, he saw the pale ghost of a weasel, wearing rusted, dented armor. "THIS PLACE...IS MINE..." he gurgled. "I PAID WITH MY LIFE FOR THIS PLACE. THIS PLACE IS MINE. AND ALL WHO COME HERE MUST PAY MY PRICE...MY PAIN...."
Cold sweat covered the mouse as he unslung his Spirit Bow. Clenching his jaw, he fitted an arrow to the string. He knew the weasel was going to try to kill him.
The spirit materialized to his right, and came spinning towards him, armed with a knife in each hand. As soon as it started moving, the mouse let fly an arrow. It went straight through the weasel with no effect.
He had no time. Jumping to the right, the weasel's knives bit into his side. The spirit went spinning toward the dormitory wall and vanished. Looking down, he saw that again no physical damage had been done. The pain, however, was unbearable.
He was snapped out of the haze caused by the pain, however, when he saw the ghost of the weasel materializing again, this time to his left. Wasting no time, he let fly an arrow. The spirit of the weasel fled.
So that's it, the mouse thought to himself. I have to hit him as he's materializing...before the armor takes effect.
Again, the ghost materialized, and again the mouse fired an arrow though him. Again, and again, and again the mouse hit the weasel, but it kept coming back for more.
The weasel materialized and laughed. It was a gurgling, spine chilling laughter, though not as scary as when the mouse had first heard it, behind him. The mouse let fly with the Spirit Bow. It hit the ghostly weasel again. This time, however, the effect was much different.
"NOT AGAIN! NOT AGAIN!" the weasel screamed, clutching his head. "HOW MANY TIMES MUST I BE DEFEATED?" Ethereal blood began to pour out of a hole in his chest armor, dissolving into red mist before it hit the ground. Soon, blood began to pour out of his mouth, and then his eyes.
The mouse heaved, but as he hadn't eaten in a day, nothing came up. The mouse's eyes bugged out as his body desperately searched for something to throw up. Still, blood poured from the weasel until finally the disgusting spectacle of a specter hurled himself over the edge of the balcony, falling out into nothingness.
Turning back toward the dormitories, the young mouse spotted something lying on the ground in front of the door. It was a piece of parchment, completely blank except for the letter R on the top. Pocketing it along with the three others he had collected, the mouse turned the door handle to the dormitories cautiously.
Pushing the door open, he saw that all the ghosts had gone back to bed. Tiptoeing cautiously through the room, the young mouse slammed the door behind him. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, he headed downstairs.
Stepping off the final stair, the young mouse found himself on the second floor of the deserted Abbey. He felt as though he was being watched. Touching the bow on his back to make sure it was still there, the mouse looked around.
Across the hall there were two doors. One was open, leading to an extremely dark room with an organ. Possibly the study of someone important? the mouse asked himself. Whatever, doesn't look like that room'll be of much use to me.
The other door was closed. Above the door handle was a keyhole. The mouse reached into his pocket and felt for the key the ghost of the hare had dropped when fleeing his Spirit Bow. This key must lead to that room, the mouse thought. Yes, that's very likely. It's the only place I haven't been.
Gulping, he looked up, as if for some sort of reassurance from on high. What he saw were the rusty hinges to an attic. Once again, he pulled out his fishing rod. Thunk! His cast was true, and he caught the attic door-handle. He tugged. The door didn't budge.
Frustrated, he unslung the Spirit Bow. Pulling back, he fired an angry shot into the door, muttering to himself. For some reason, he felt that the attic might hold the key to this mysterious puzzle. Thud! The arrow hit the door with such force that it was knocked upwards, falling into an open position. An old rope ladder fell from the attic.
Grabbing the ladder, the mouse ascended into the attic. It was pretty dark up there. Looking around, the mouse could make out something in the rafters. As he was about to step out, however, he looked down at the floor. It looked extremely unstable.
Best not to test it, the mouse thought to himself. Pulling out his fishing rod, he cast it at the roof beam on which the object, which he could now make out to be a sheet, was perched. The rod knocked the parchment into the air and - miraculously - it fluttered right to the young mouse. He looked at it.
It was blank, except for a single R adorning the top. He pocketed it along with the other two he had collected.
Descending the rope ladder (there was nothing else for him to see here), the mouse went back to the second floor, closing the door behind him. Gulping, he moved toward the closed door with the keyhole.
Slowly, he removed the brass key from his pocket. Fitting it carefully into the keyhole, he cautiously turned, and was rewarded with a click. The door had opened! Steeling himself, the mouse entered the room.
The room seemed to have at one point served as a dormitory. The first thing the young mouse noticed, however, was a skull mantel, nearly identical to the one in the main hall. There was something the mouse didn't like about those mantels, especially the writing on their sides. They seemed...sinister, in some way.
The mouse took his eyes away from the skull mantel and looked around the room. Above the beds was something that forced the mouse to repress a scream. There were ghosts, floating above the beds! However, their eyelids were shut; they didn't seem to have noticed the mouse.
On the other side of the room was another thing that forced the mouse to repress a scream...a scream of joy! It was a door, onto some sort of balcony. Perhaps it led to a way out!
To get to it, however, the mouse knew he would have to get past the sleeping ghosts. Somehow, he felt they wouldn't sleep for long once he ventured near them.
But I have to get out of here, he told himself. Running his fingers over the arrows in his quiver, he stepped out into the room.
Fitting an arrow to the string, he let fly at one of the sleeping ghosts. Nothing happened. Maybe the spirits have to be awake to flee the Spirit Bow, the mouse told himself. Nothing for it now....
He broke into a dead run. As soon as he passed within three feet of the closest ghost, it sprang to life; its evil red eyes showed none of the mercy and kindness they would have shown had it been the same beast it had been in life. The young mouse, however, had no time to feel sorry.
The ghost tore at the flesh on his shoulder. Looking down, the mouse saw he had suffered no injury, yet the pain was greater than any he had ever felt in his life. It felt as if his very core was being gnawed at.
Dodging ghosts, and only receiving the occasional bite, the mouse sprinted through the dormitories. Still at a dead sprint, he flung himself out onto the balcony.
At last, freedom...or perhaps not. Upon second examining, it appeared that the balcony was much higher than the young mouse had originally estimated. He knew he would certainly die if he jumped. Turning to head back and face the dormitories again, the mouse put his hand on the door handle. He couldn't budge it! Perhaps the ghosts were barricading him outside.
And then, from behind him, he heard something that made his heart stop and his blood run cold. The most diabolical laugh he had ever witnessed rang across the balcony. It echoed in the deepest depths of the young mouse's soul.
Turning, he saw the pale ghost of a weasel, wearing rusted, dented armor. "THIS PLACE...IS MINE..." he gurgled. "I PAID WITH MY LIFE FOR THIS PLACE. THIS PLACE IS MINE. AND ALL WHO COME HERE MUST PAY MY PRICE...MY PAIN...."
Cold sweat covered the mouse as he unslung his Spirit Bow. Clenching his jaw, he fitted an arrow to the string. He knew the weasel was going to try to kill him.
The spirit materialized to his right, and came spinning towards him, armed with a knife in each hand. As soon as it started moving, the mouse let fly an arrow. It went straight through the weasel with no effect.
He had no time. Jumping to the right, the weasel's knives bit into his side. The spirit went spinning toward the dormitory wall and vanished. Looking down, he saw that again no physical damage had been done. The pain, however, was unbearable.
He was snapped out of the haze caused by the pain, however, when he saw the ghost of the weasel materializing again, this time to his left. Wasting no time, he let fly an arrow. The spirit of the weasel fled.
So that's it, the mouse thought to himself. I have to hit him as he's materializing...before the armor takes effect.
Again, the ghost materialized, and again the mouse fired an arrow though him. Again, and again, and again the mouse hit the weasel, but it kept coming back for more.
The weasel materialized and laughed. It was a gurgling, spine chilling laughter, though not as scary as when the mouse had first heard it, behind him. The mouse let fly with the Spirit Bow. It hit the ghostly weasel again. This time, however, the effect was much different.
"NOT AGAIN! NOT AGAIN!" the weasel screamed, clutching his head. "HOW MANY TIMES MUST I BE DEFEATED?" Ethereal blood began to pour out of a hole in his chest armor, dissolving into red mist before it hit the ground. Soon, blood began to pour out of his mouth, and then his eyes.
The mouse heaved, but as he hadn't eaten in a day, nothing came up. The mouse's eyes bugged out as his body desperately searched for something to throw up. Still, blood poured from the weasel until finally the disgusting spectacle of a specter hurled himself over the edge of the balcony, falling out into nothingness.
Turning back toward the dormitories, the young mouse spotted something lying on the ground in front of the door. It was a piece of parchment, completely blank except for the letter R on the top. Pocketing it along with the three others he had collected, the mouse turned the door handle to the dormitories cautiously.
Pushing the door open, he saw that all the ghosts had gone back to bed. Tiptoeing cautiously through the room, the young mouse slammed the door behind him. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, he headed downstairs.