Chapter 2
A couple of hours after twilight a great commotion arose by the slave pens. Yells and shouts woke up Smargren and the other corsairs. All of them jumped up from beside their campfires reaching for their weapons in the process. They rushed over to the slave enclosure. Within seconds the pine martin had assessed the situation; one of the prisoners, the old squirrel, had escaped. In a slightly trembling voice that betrayed his growing fury Smargren spoke over the noise of the crew and slaves, "Hilth, report to me." The only other pine martin in the whole band was Hilth, Smargren's nephew. He was second in command and looked exactly like his uncle, save his eyes, which were an ordinary liquid brown. The young pine martin made his way through the crowd of corsairs.
"Yes Ruthless One."
Walking a short ways from the group of beasts, Smargren Dagra addressed the younger pine martin, "How did this happen! Who was doing guard duty for the slaves?"
"Stin, the weasel."
"Bring him here, now. I see that a little demonstration is in order. Bring the slaves to the main campfire. Send out a dozen of our beasts, all our best trackers after Stin is dealt with. The squirrel is old but he knows this area. He will probably be hidden in the forest." As Hilth turned away to follow his uncle's orders, a blade flashed in front of him. A strong paw clamped onto the back of his neck as Smargren whispered in a chilly voice, "Don't forget Hilth I have a reputation to up hold." Smargren dismissed his nephew and sat on a rock, polishing his silver handled dagger. He continued to sit as the guard, Stin, was brought up, shaking uncontrollably. Without looking at the weasel, Smargren began to sharpen his dagger. "Stin, a slave escaped. We can't have this happen, now can we." Pointing the blade at the trembling weasel the pine martin looked into Stin's terror filled eyes. "Do you want to live?" Stin nodded his head quickly. "I am willing to forgive this error, if, if you are able to defeat me in battle." Stin's eyes widened, first in surprise and then in terror. Smargren was lethal with any kind of weapon, while he, Stin, was only a moderate swordbeast. Smargren's supposed show of mercy was only a cruel joke, a hopeless battle. "We will fight by the slave pen. Stin get what ever weapon you desire." All the corsairs and slaves formed a circle around the two combatants by the main campfire. The firelight gleamed against Smargren's curved blade. His eyes shimmered in the light turning them a bright gold color. He smiled slightly showing pearly white fangs. Stin arrived in his hands he held an old but serviceable spear and shield. Stin was shaking even more then he had before, barely able to hold onto his spear because of his sweaty paws. His eyes were filled with fear as his captain said icily, "Let us begin." The two combatants circled blade and spear held ready. Suddenly Smargren darted forward with the speed of a striking snake, his sword taking the tip off the weasel's left ear. The next second Smargren lunged back, his eyes cruel and amused. The weasel lowered his shield slightly and charged. Smargren sidestepped and hit the weasel with the flat of his sword as Stin's momentum carried him past the pine martin. The weasel turned and charged again, his spear aimed at the pine martin's heart. Smargren knocked the weapon away with his sword and kicked the weasel down. Stin jumped up as fast as he could, but he could not escape his leader's blade. The sword came whistling down and took the rest of the weasel's left ear. With a howl Stin dropped his shield and spear falling on bended knee before the tall pine martin while nursing his stump of an ear.
"Mercy, Sire! Please! I won' do anythin' wrong ever again! I promise!" Weeping the weasel begged repeatedly for mercy. Smargren's eyes were hard as flint as he spoke softly to the kneeling beast, "You ask for mercy---I am not merciful." The last thing the weasel saw before Smargren swung his sword was the pine martin's satisfied smile.
It was dead silent as Smargren spit on his former turned from Stin's still body to the horrified onlookers. He looked at the stunned beasts and said in a loud voice, "That will be you lying at my feet if you make any mistakes." With a swirl of his cloak, the vermin leader walked back to his bed by the fire.
Deep in the forest the old squirrel, Lignutt, was running as fast as he could away from the corsairs and their evil leader. His breath was heavy and ragged; he had been running all night. He ducked under a low hanging tree branch, almost tripping over a rock. An ache began to build in his side and paws yet he staggered on. Thinking he heard paw steps behind him, he tried to run even faster, fearing it would be Smargren Dagra, coming after him. Everything became blurry from tears as he remembered the look on his daughter's face before she was killed and the calm, deadly voice of the pine martin sneering, 'Never lie to me again'. The recent memories of the early morning flashed through his mind. Suddenly, Lignutt tripped over a large tree root and he went sprawling. His head hit against a large stone and he was knocked out instantly. As he lay there unconscious several bright eyes appeared in the darkness.
Far away to the west lay the mountain Salamandastron. The badger lord, Russano the Wise, grimaced slightly as he looked out to sea. Where is he? The badger lord thought worriedly. The corsair, Smargren, and his crew were missing. Their ship, Wavebane, had not been seen for a full season. "Where is he?" Russano murmured.
"He who, sire?" A curious voice behind the badger asked. Lord Russano turned around to face a young, bright-eyed leveret.
"Never mind, Frey. It is nothing you have to worry about. Head over to breakfast if you want."
"You don't have to ask me twice, sir." With a smart salute, the young hare whirled around and trotted off to the mess hall. Russano smiled and shook his head. Turning to the window to look at the sea he sighed. It would do no good to brood, he knew, but he had to find the pine martin. The corsair was pure evil, merciless, and cruel. He would enslave or kill any beast he found, like all vermin. Turning away from the window, the large badger walked off to the mess hall for breakfast.
A couple of hours after twilight a great commotion arose by the slave pens. Yells and shouts woke up Smargren and the other corsairs. All of them jumped up from beside their campfires reaching for their weapons in the process. They rushed over to the slave enclosure. Within seconds the pine martin had assessed the situation; one of the prisoners, the old squirrel, had escaped. In a slightly trembling voice that betrayed his growing fury Smargren spoke over the noise of the crew and slaves, "Hilth, report to me." The only other pine martin in the whole band was Hilth, Smargren's nephew. He was second in command and looked exactly like his uncle, save his eyes, which were an ordinary liquid brown. The young pine martin made his way through the crowd of corsairs.
"Yes Ruthless One."
Walking a short ways from the group of beasts, Smargren Dagra addressed the younger pine martin, "How did this happen! Who was doing guard duty for the slaves?"
"Stin, the weasel."
"Bring him here, now. I see that a little demonstration is in order. Bring the slaves to the main campfire. Send out a dozen of our beasts, all our best trackers after Stin is dealt with. The squirrel is old but he knows this area. He will probably be hidden in the forest." As Hilth turned away to follow his uncle's orders, a blade flashed in front of him. A strong paw clamped onto the back of his neck as Smargren whispered in a chilly voice, "Don't forget Hilth I have a reputation to up hold." Smargren dismissed his nephew and sat on a rock, polishing his silver handled dagger. He continued to sit as the guard, Stin, was brought up, shaking uncontrollably. Without looking at the weasel, Smargren began to sharpen his dagger. "Stin, a slave escaped. We can't have this happen, now can we." Pointing the blade at the trembling weasel the pine martin looked into Stin's terror filled eyes. "Do you want to live?" Stin nodded his head quickly. "I am willing to forgive this error, if, if you are able to defeat me in battle." Stin's eyes widened, first in surprise and then in terror. Smargren was lethal with any kind of weapon, while he, Stin, was only a moderate swordbeast. Smargren's supposed show of mercy was only a cruel joke, a hopeless battle. "We will fight by the slave pen. Stin get what ever weapon you desire." All the corsairs and slaves formed a circle around the two combatants by the main campfire. The firelight gleamed against Smargren's curved blade. His eyes shimmered in the light turning them a bright gold color. He smiled slightly showing pearly white fangs. Stin arrived in his hands he held an old but serviceable spear and shield. Stin was shaking even more then he had before, barely able to hold onto his spear because of his sweaty paws. His eyes were filled with fear as his captain said icily, "Let us begin." The two combatants circled blade and spear held ready. Suddenly Smargren darted forward with the speed of a striking snake, his sword taking the tip off the weasel's left ear. The next second Smargren lunged back, his eyes cruel and amused. The weasel lowered his shield slightly and charged. Smargren sidestepped and hit the weasel with the flat of his sword as Stin's momentum carried him past the pine martin. The weasel turned and charged again, his spear aimed at the pine martin's heart. Smargren knocked the weapon away with his sword and kicked the weasel down. Stin jumped up as fast as he could, but he could not escape his leader's blade. The sword came whistling down and took the rest of the weasel's left ear. With a howl Stin dropped his shield and spear falling on bended knee before the tall pine martin while nursing his stump of an ear.
"Mercy, Sire! Please! I won' do anythin' wrong ever again! I promise!" Weeping the weasel begged repeatedly for mercy. Smargren's eyes were hard as flint as he spoke softly to the kneeling beast, "You ask for mercy---I am not merciful." The last thing the weasel saw before Smargren swung his sword was the pine martin's satisfied smile.
It was dead silent as Smargren spit on his former turned from Stin's still body to the horrified onlookers. He looked at the stunned beasts and said in a loud voice, "That will be you lying at my feet if you make any mistakes." With a swirl of his cloak, the vermin leader walked back to his bed by the fire.
Deep in the forest the old squirrel, Lignutt, was running as fast as he could away from the corsairs and their evil leader. His breath was heavy and ragged; he had been running all night. He ducked under a low hanging tree branch, almost tripping over a rock. An ache began to build in his side and paws yet he staggered on. Thinking he heard paw steps behind him, he tried to run even faster, fearing it would be Smargren Dagra, coming after him. Everything became blurry from tears as he remembered the look on his daughter's face before she was killed and the calm, deadly voice of the pine martin sneering, 'Never lie to me again'. The recent memories of the early morning flashed through his mind. Suddenly, Lignutt tripped over a large tree root and he went sprawling. His head hit against a large stone and he was knocked out instantly. As he lay there unconscious several bright eyes appeared in the darkness.
Far away to the west lay the mountain Salamandastron. The badger lord, Russano the Wise, grimaced slightly as he looked out to sea. Where is he? The badger lord thought worriedly. The corsair, Smargren, and his crew were missing. Their ship, Wavebane, had not been seen for a full season. "Where is he?" Russano murmured.
"He who, sire?" A curious voice behind the badger asked. Lord Russano turned around to face a young, bright-eyed leveret.
"Never mind, Frey. It is nothing you have to worry about. Head over to breakfast if you want."
"You don't have to ask me twice, sir." With a smart salute, the young hare whirled around and trotted off to the mess hall. Russano smiled and shook his head. Turning to the window to look at the sea he sighed. It would do no good to brood, he knew, but he had to find the pine martin. The corsair was pure evil, merciless, and cruel. He would enslave or kill any beast he found, like all vermin. Turning away from the window, the large badger walked off to the mess hall for breakfast.