Chapter Three
It did not take long for the slaves to get to their compound. Tired though they were, the slaves all used their last strength to reach their shelter as rapidly as possible. All were anxious to sleep, lick their wounds, and eat the day's meal. Therefore, they didn't cause much trouble on the walk back.
They were tired and hardly able to pick up one foot after another, but they didn't seem to notice this as they plodded on drearily, half unconscious because of the hard work that they had done that day. They simply wanted to be able to escape into their dreams.
Soon, the compound loomed in front of them. Kyra sat in a corner, Sky next to her, and both received their meals. Each one was given the simple and tiny dinners that they received every night. It was hardly enough to keep skin and bones together: A crust of bread, a smallish wedge of cheese, and a mug of water a piece. Kyra smiled. They had been given a big dinner that night!
Kyra sighed, picking up her mug and taking only a small sip. She was amazingly dehydrated, but there was nothing for it. She had to use some of her water ration to tend to her bleeding paws. The ottermaid looked at the water longingly, looked away, and poured it over her paws. Kyra winced as she felt the cold water run over the raw flesh of her pads.
She sighed and rubbed her paws together over her head, making sure that she caught every drop of water that fell from her sore and bloody paws in her mouth. It would be another day before she would get another drink. She saw Sky drinking her water and grinned, licking her lips in the most pathetic way she could.
Sky grinned back and drained the last of her cup with a smug look. "You didn't expect me to give you my bally water, did you? How m'I s'posed to keep skin an' bones t'gether without food 'n drink, eh wot! Need m'tuck, doncha know."
Kyra grinned, knowing that Sky probably couldn't go a day without water. She couldn't either. Normally, she would have liked to use all of the water to tend her paws, but she had to drink some, or collapse from dehydration the next day. Many creatures made that fatal mistake. Water was essential for the hot day's labor. If you didn't drink enough, you died.
It was that simple, one of the laws of nature. Their small ration of water had to serve many purposes, including the washing out of any wounds that they acquired during the day. Kyra sighed and turned away from Sky, leaning against the rough wall of the compound and responding in a dry and nonchalant way.
"Aye, Skysthistle. Y'need t'keep all o' your five different stomachs t'gether too, doncha Meadowsong? I've 'eard of hares 'avin' four stomachs, but knowin' you, y'must have an extra."
Sky glared at her friend in mock exasperation and tried her best to look indignant and grievously insulted or wronged. Kyra yawned and pretended to ignore her. Sky decided to respond to Kyra's boredom with a sharp witticism. That would wake her up right enough!
"Only five stomachs, m'dear Riverdog?" She asked innocently. "That's nothing compared to the amount that most Riverdogs have, I hear. Five stomachs is healthy for a hare, eh wot! And besides, if a skinny little ragbag like m'self has five bloomin' stomachs, how many does a certain ottermaid named Kys have, I wonder. Six? Seven, even? She must have more than me! She's nice 'n fat while her best friend Sky is skin 'n bones! Us growin' beasts need our food, doncha know, unlike big fat lumps that call themselves otters!"
Kyra tried hard to keep back tears of laughter, and failed utterly. Even during the darkest days, Sky could always find a witty comment to cheer Kyra up. That was one of Sky's greatest talents. She never let her sadness show. Now, Kyra mused, if the haremaid could only do the same thing with her rather impulsive anger, than everything would be perfect!
She considered voicing this comment aloud. . . and then decided against it. Kyra enjoyed her verbal battles with her dear friend more than anything else at the Slave Compound. They took her mind off of the hard life that she and her friends and fellow slaves were forced to lead. They comforted her in a strange way, though she didn't know exactly why or how.
"You? The one who has a million stomachs at least, sayin' her poor skinny H'Otter friend has only six or seven pitiful excuses for stomachs?" Kyra questioned. "I doubt you c'n even save your food for later tonight, y'great gluttonous longears!"
Sky grinned back and glanced about the slave compound. Most of the slaves were occupied, and the guards were already positioned at their stations, which were on either side of the door at front of the slave enclosure. They were free to move about the slave's quarters. As long as they didn't leave, and as long as they were silent and made sure they were not easily visible, they would be fine.
Kyra gave a small gesture with her head, nodding her understanding. It was time to put their plan into action. On impulse, both stood up together, staying against the shadows and pressing their soft flesh against the hard, rough walls of the slave compound.
They moved out of the compound as softly and quietly as they could. Still being careful, the two friends ran forwards as stealthily as possible, their eyes darting around to make sure that no one was watching them.
Kyra felt the earth with her paws, making sure that she wouldn't trip, and turned to Sky, asking whether anybeast had noticed them. Sky read the message there as clearly as if it had been spoken. She shook her head, mouthing the word 'No'. Kyra smiled at her, nodding. Both continued forwards.
Reassuring themselves of their concealment, they continued onward until they deemed it safe to walk normally and talk. Anyone who saw them would think that they were out for a stroll. Kyra looked at the crust and cheese that she held in her paws longingly. She couldn't eat it, no matter how hungry she was. That food was for the eagle, just in case his freedom was not enough to convince him.
One never knew with birds. She sighed and admired the yellow wedge of cheese, mouth salivating. Sky saw her and laughed. "You look like a family of hedgehogs that haven't eaten in a bloomin' season, eh wot!"
Kyra glared, tearing her eyes regretfully away from the small morsels that she held cupped in her paws. These small crusts were her only ration for the rest of the day. She wouldn't get any more food until the next evening, after another day of hard work and painful sweat. But sacrifices had to be made for the sake of freedom.
If she had to starve one night to get rid of Mavarl, she would starve. She would go hungry for a season if she had to, anything to get freedom. She would die before the season was up, of course, but she would try. Though she acted it, Kyra wasn't mad at Sky. Sky's remarks had given her spirit. Besides, a good argument would take her mind off of the food she was missing.
She gave her friend a mock look of extreme annoyance and gasped as if in offence. "Alright, y'great gluttonous foodbag," she retorted, "why don't ye gimme yer food t'carry to that bird. Never trust an 'are with a meal, eh?"
Sky, catching on to Kyra's joke, gave an equally offended look back to her best friend and constant tormentor. She glared at her friend, and clutched the food to her chest, eyebrows raised over her warm gray eyes higher than could be believed possible.
"Lissen, you great riverdog, otters aren't known to live on water 'n crumbs either, doncha know! How do I know y'wont scoff my bally share before we reach the great eaglethingummy, eh? Great pig, you are, m'dear h'ottermaid! A scone wouldn't last more than two ticks around your type, y'great grubsnatcher."
"Speak for yourself! Grubsnatcher indeed! Hares are the greatest stealers o' tuck ever to walk the planet! I've got an idea, greedyguts. We'll each carry our own ration o' food. That way, if anything be missing from your food, I'll know that you ate it, and you can't blame me for your dirty work! Wouldn't be surprised if all of your rations were gone before we'd gotten half way to that great eagle's cage."
The ottermaiden tried desperately to ignore the rumbling in her stomach as she walked on sore footpaws towards the shadowy edge of the slave compound. The slaves all lived in the center in a few hastily constructed piles of rubbish, but a few various slaves were kept separate for Lord Mavarl's pleasure. The eagle was one of them.
Broken bits of junk were scattered around the compound. Some twisted wire, some pebbles, and some pieces of cloth. The slaves didn't bother to keep their quarters clean, and Lord Mavarl certainly didn't care about their hygiene. Both Kyra and Sky stumbled through the trash and across the uneven ground in the murky darkness of the twilight hours.
It was humid, and insects of all sorts bit at them and flew about their heads and faces. Not that Sky or Kyra minded much. They were used to this place. Sky had hardly known any other life, and neither had Kyra, who had only spent her dibbunhood in freedom.
The insects were a great annoyance- so were blistered paws, sore muscles, little food, and scorching heat- but all were a part of life at Fortguard. One must adjust or die. Kyra and Sky were both survivors and had submitted to the harsh conditions, however unwillingly. Both knew no way of improving things, and even suggesting ideas could mean death for them. Gruesome death.
And so, they put up with constant physical and mental abuse. What else could they do besides curl up in a corner and die? Both had considered the option, but it hadn't appealed to either of them. They were absolutely silent as they approached the cage where Mavarl kept the eagle. Kyra pitied the magnificent golden bird, though she had only seen it from afar before now.
She couldn't even make it out in the darkness, trapped in the ebon hued shadows of its prison. True, the eagle didn't have to work, but starvation and pain were it's daily rations. Kyra was grateful that she wasn't being kept in a small, cramped cage. The Rat Warlord liked to take spears from his guards and poke them through the bars of the cage. Kyra shuddered.
That eagle would be glad to be free, but glad enough to do them a favor?
Kyra stepped forwards, whispering so that only the eagle could hear her, "It's alright, birdie. I have food for you." Kyra put a piece of the bread and a wedge of the cheese in one paw and slowly pushed it through the bars of the cage.
She could hear her heart pounding in her chest, and could feel her throat go dry as she waited for some response from within. A squawk of hatred? Of thanks? The sounds of a beak cutting through food? She yanked her paw back as a tawny eye opened, and a yellow beak neatly snatched the food from her paw.
Though she didn't show any outward signs of fear, she felt her heart hammering in her breast as if it was going to explode. She took a deep breath and looked again into the darkness of the cage. The shadows seemed to have wound themselves into every corner, and made it almost impossible to see. The pair of tawny eyes that presumably belonged to the eagle opened wider in a menacing way.
Kyra began having second thoughts.
"Och!" said a voice from inside the cage, "ah thank ye kindly for the vittles y'have spared me. Mah name be MacPhearsome the Tenth, Wild king o' th' Northern Mountains, d'ye ken?" Kyra listened in wonder to the eagle's voice. What a strange accent! But she could understand the strange golden eagles speech to an extent.
She vaguely recognized the accent as one belonging to the northern peoples: vermin and fierce raptor birds mostly. The creatures of the northlands were a strange lot, bloodthirsty and rugged. The northlanders were warlike. Up there, conditions were harsh. It was either kill, or be killed in their environment.
Many of the enemy hordes that so often plagued Mossflower Wood, a place far across the sea from this island, came from the barbaric north. The harsh and cold land trained equally harsh and cold warriors in its depths. It was a wild and unexplored place, where anything might happen.
Kyra did have a rather heavy accent of her own, though it seemed nothing compared to this one, and found that she was rather good at communicating with the strange bird. After all, she had been forced to adjust to all sorts of different accents. Each slave spoke in their own unique way, and Kyra had to understand them all.
Sky had a peculiar accent of her own, though it was common among other hares. Kyra's was an odd mix of Sea Otter, Vermin, and Slave. She took yet another deep breath and spoke in an awkwardly loud voice, as some people do when they think someone might not understand them.
"Well hello there, Wild King MacPhearsome. My name be Kyrani Longfletch, Daughter o' Ironjaw Trueflight, the son of Grath and Inbarr Trueflight and the Skipper of Sea Otters. This hare is m'friend Sk-"
Kyra closed her mouth at a very affronted and upset look from Sky and had to try hard to keep from laughing. The haremaid liked to introduce herself and enjoyed adding a lot of flourishes to her own greetings. Sky rolled her eyes, smiling.
"I'm not a bally idiot, Kyra! I can tell the big birdy m'own name, riverhound. I think I c'n form a sentence t'gether. Now, if you'll let me continue!" Kyra stifled a giggle with her paw, and motioned dramatically for Sky to speak. The haremaid glared.
Kyra couldn't help adding in a sarcastic comment. "I doubt it'll be jus' a sentence, Skythistle. An' as for bein' smart enough t'say yer own name. . . y'could have fooled me, the way you act sometimes." Kyra let a few soft giggles emit from her paw-covered mouth before she was silenced by Sky's facial expression.
Sky glared at Kyra, and said in a frosty tone, "I can speak for meself, Kyra m'dear riverwalloper! Well, MacThingummy, My name is Skythistle Mornin'dew Meadowsong from th' bally ol' mountain o' Salamandastron, eh wot! Ever heard of the term Perilous Hare? Well, m'friend, Miss Skythistle invented an' perfected it, wot wot! Just Sky f'short if y'don't mind. Righto MacWhatsyourname, we have a proposition for you, don't we Kyra?"
Kyra nodded, grabbing the rest of the food from Sky before the haremaid could protest. "Aye, so we do! Well, MacPhearsome, our proposition is this: we let you out of that cage and give you the rest of our food, and then you fly out to my family's Holt, and to Salamandastron the Mountain Fortress, and you get my father Ironjaw and the current Badger Lord to come and help us. We're goin' to lead a rebellion here and overthrow Lord Mavarl. Will you do this for us?"
The eagle blinked his tawny colored eyes, and nodded once before answering in his peculiar dialect.
"Aye, ah'll do et fer you two beasts. Iff'n you let MacPhearsome out o' this cage, ah'll go an' find help for ye. Ah'd go anywhere ye'd bloody well please t'be free, riverdog! I be not doin' et tah make ye happy, remember! Ah be doin' this tah get mah revenge on Mavarl. Tha' rat's starved this eagle far to long! May ah ask how ye are plannin' to get me out o' this cage, nau?"
Sky smiled and pulled out a long splinter of wood from under the rags she wore, and held it up so that MacPhearsome could see it in the moonlight. She hadn't really thought about how to get the eagle out of his barred prison until that afternoon when she was walking back to the slave compound from the fields with Kyra, but she had found the handy splinter by chance on her way and had eagerly scooped it up.
As soon as she had seen it, a small plan had formed in her mind. And anyway, if she and Kyra couldn't free MacPhearsome that night, there would be other opportunities. This had to be done perfectly, or else the whole plan would crumble to pieces. She leaned in closer to the cage, and whispered her plan to the great golden head of the eagle.
He cocked his head, and listened as Sky laid out her simple, but easy to perform plan. "MacPhearsome, we're going to stick this piece o' wood in the handle of the padlock, and press upwards until it opens, eh wot! That ol' locks got t'be rusty, and it'll snap if it's done right!"
Kyra rolled her eyes, trying to tell Sky that a wooden splinter would not under any circumstances break a metal lock, but Sky was impulsive, and when she latched onto an idea, she kept with it. Besides, Kyra didn't know how to free MacPhearsome herself, and if Sky had an idea, they might as well try it.
Without saying any more, the haremaid took the splinter and stuck it over the lock, and under the arch that held the lock on the cage door handle. Sky pressed upwards, and felt the pressure as the wood pressed down against the lock, and up against the metal arch that held it onto the door at the same time.
Of course, Kyra knew that a splinter would not break a metal lock, and deep down, Sky knew it too. She was too clever to think that it would succeed. Still, it had been a wild hope that the haremaid could not resist trying. However, luck was on her side it seemed, for just as she was about to give up, the splinter- sturdy though it was, snapped in half, sending her flying, and pulling the cage over with her.
And then another stroke of luck came upon them, for the lock smashed against a rock deeply embedded into the ground, breaking it completely. Sky stepped forwards and found the handle with her paw in the moonlight.
The young haremaid held her breath as she slowly pulled open the door to MacPhearsome's cage. CRASH! BANG! BOOM! WOOSH!" MacPhearsome flew out of the cage where he had been imprisoned by Lord Mavarl and landed with a gust of air from his mighty wings.
Kyra, who had toppled over from the force of the crashing cage, leapt too her feet and stared with undisguised wonder and awe at the mighty creature that stood before her now. MacPhearsome was a large Golden Eagle, with glistening feathers and a proud head, sporting a large hooked beak, which he clacked irritably.
He was large enough for even a fully grown otter like Kyra to ride! MacPhearsome closed his mighty wings, and ruffled his feathers as he turned his great tawny eyes to the staring ottermaid slave. "Och, so you be Kyra Longfletch," he commented, studying her closely.
"D'you have any more food lassie? I be fair starved after th' way Lord Mavarl treated me these long days! He starved me, wi' barely a morsel tah eat fer me, an' poked at me wi' spears, d'ye ken? Ah'll help ye t'overthrow that evil rat, so I will! He'll never mess wi' a King o' th' Northern Mountains again!"
Kyra slowly got to her feet and looked at King MacPhearsome. "Aye, I do 'ave some food left." Kyra dropped the remaining bread and cheese upon the ground and watched as the Eagle ate them up ravenously. She nudged Sky, who was standing speechless next to her, and winked. "That bird eats more 'n you do, you 'orrible 'aremaid! He's worse 'n any Salamandastron 'are I reckon!"
Sky puffed out her chest and drew herself up proudly. "That bird may eat a lot, but no MacThingummy King can outscoff a Salamandastron Hare, eh wot!" she grinned back at Kyra, before asking the Eagle, "I say, MacThingummy, ol' bean, d'you know where Salamandastron is? I daresay they'll give you vittles aplenty, and give you directions to Kyra's old Holt, Ruddathing."
"Ruddaring!" Kyra said, glaring at Sky.
"Ruddaring, then" Sky said, defiantly. "Well, the Badgerlord there'll know where Holt Ruddaring is, and the Long Patrol and the Otters can come an' bally rescue us while we lead our own little rebellion in the Castle. Sound good, ol' chap? I think 'tis a jolly good plan myself."
Kyra winked at the bird and pretended to whisper, even though she made sure that Sky heard every word. "Sky, th' braggart! T'was my plan in the first place anyways. I thought it up. Th' great Long Eared. . ."
The ottermaid was then neatly cut off as she felt Sky's cold gaze upon the back of her neck. She lifted her head and put her hands on her hips as she shook her head in mock exasperation. "Don' want me takin' credit fer stuff I did, eh Sky?"
Sky reddened, but, since she was a hare, didn't keep her mouth shut for long. "I bally well think you should take credit. 'Specially if this whole plan blows up in our faces, wot! Don't want t'ruin my good looks doncha know. You don't seem to have any good looks to lose, do you m'dear riverdog!"
Kyra only smiled. She was used to Sky's taunting, and instead of giving a sharp retort, added a dry and somewhat amusing comment. "Impossible for either of us to look good our best in these conditions. S'why we have to go an' get rid of Mavarl; so we c'n be pretty again an' get some meat on our bones an' some food inter our thousands of stomachs, eh Sky?"
Sky grinned and nodded in agreement. Though Kyra's comment was made in a joke like mannerism, she had meant every word, and there was a deeper meaning to it. MacPhearsome, deciding to stop the mock argument, nodded as he finished eating the bread and cheese that the two friends had provided for him.
"Och, ah'll be sure t'go to yon fortress. Ah know where it lies weel enough. After ah go there, ah'll get directions to yer otter friends, an' tell 'em t'come and save ye. Ah've eaten yon vittles, an' must start mah flight. MacPhearsome never breaks a promise! KYEEEEAAAAAAR!"
With this last screech, the great golden eagle launched himself into the air and flew out over Castle Fortguard and towards the sea. Kyra slung a companionable arm about Sky's shoulders and strained her eyes to get a final glimpse of MacPhearsome. "D'you think 'e'll do as 'e promised an' bring help?" she asked.
Sky nodded, and grinned up at Kyra. "O' course the bally great birdie Thingummy will! Lets get back 'fore Somebeast notices we're gone!"