Chapter Six

The sky outside shone with a radiance that a creature could only see in the far west, a soft red sun tinting the ebony blackness of the night sky red and gold, and making the blue hues of the sky grow lighter and lighter. Kyra had seen such dawn sunrises many times, but they did not bring her much joy any more.

Soft dawn light shone down from the rising sun, worming its way into the Sleeping Quarters in the Slave Compound through chinks in the badly- carpented woodwork. The early morning light lay on the ottermaid's face, casting it into shadow. The heat of the already warm air intensified, making Kyra stir as the temperature changed.

Though she might welcome the warm climate now, she knew that she wouldn't in a few hours time. The days on Fortguard were unbearably hot, as they were on every of the Western Isles. Though Kyra would have liked to curl back up in her corner and sleep again, she knew that she would soon be awakened.

Kyra groaned and opened one eye to see Sky's face looming above her. "Go 'way," she mumbled, before turning over and tensing her muscled form in her corner. Sky didn't 'Go 'way' but instead pulled Kyra's eye open with her paws. Kyra glared, rolling over. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes to rid her fevered brain of its sleepy state.

"Gerraway from me, Sky. I don' have strength for this fight. Lemme be; jus' a few more minutes?" Of course, Kyra knew that Sky would not let her fall peacefully back into her night's slumber. That would have only meant a whipping from one of Mavarl's guards. Better feeling Sky's gentle paws then their searing whips in her flesh. Sky pulled Kyra to her feet, glaring at her in mock anger.

The two often woke each other and the rest of the slaves from the depths of their slumbers, so that they would be awakened by gentle voices as opposed to stinging lashes. It was a courtesy. Anybeast that was rude about being awakened abruptly, even if in a gentle way, was politely pardoned when they were in a better mood later.

Sky tried to keep a grin from spreading across her face. She knew that she could be even worse than Kyra when she had been interrupted in the middle of a good dream. Sky stood up and put a paw on her hip, keeping a firm hold on Kyra's shoulder to keep her from lying back down on the ground and going back to sleep.

"Y'great lazybones! If I don't wake you up, the slavers will, an' I think I'm a better face t'see in the mornin', eh wot! An' besides, don't fancy you'd want to start a brand new day with a bunch of bloody cuts on your back. Keep a low profile, m'dear." Sky managed to flash Kyra a quick wink. It was enough to keep the ottermaid upright without assistance.

The ottermaid yawned and continued rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, stretching to relieve her muscles of the kinks they had acquired over her limited hours of sleep the night before. "Sometimes I think t'would be better to be whipped awake, if only t'get a few more minutes of sleep before the punishment," Kyra mumbled. Sky grinned, knowing that her otter friend did not mean what she said in the slightest.

She had to stay strong, and to help others who were weaker than herself. Kyra nodded, and stumbled on the cold floor of the compound, yawning again. She sighed and stumbled about, waking other slaves up. She was in a bad mood, but not in a bad enough mood to be gruff or assertive with her waking.

As she gently nudged beast after beast, they grudgingly got up, pulling yesterdays clothes about them and blinking the sleep out of their eyes before walking about to help wake the others. The 'wake up crew' saved the dibbuns for last. The little ones would need as much sleep as they could get before their work.

Even the tiniest were made to work. If they were too young to be of any use in the fields, they were set to cleaning Castle Fortguard, or picking the crops.

Kyra began to notice that many of the slaves got up without protest. A few even gave her small winks or nods. She smiled a bit, being cheered by their hope. For seasons she had tried to help them to keep their hopes up. Now, they were helping her, and what was how it should be. All the slaves were obligated to help each other and to stand by each other.

After all the hardships and torture, they were repaying her for helping them by slipping her a secret smile to boost her morale, or giving a friendly wink in the fields. And it was having a tremendous effect on the ottermaid. She had been getting subtle signals from the slaves ever since their meeting many nights ago.

It had indeed been a while since MacPhearsome had left, and doubt was starting to creep into Kyra's heart. Would the eagle honor his word and come back to them with help? The argument that Kyra had with herself- and with Sky- on the subject seemed to be a never-ending battle, and one that could not be won. All they could do was trust in the eagle and hope.

Every night, she and Sky would have the same conversation before bed:

"D'you think MacPhearsome will come back?" Kyra would ask.

Sky would snort, and turn over, pretending to want to get to sleep. "'Course he will Kys! 'Course he will. Said he would, didn't 'e?"

Kyra would frown, and nudge Sky, who would by this time pretend to be asleep. "How do you know he told the truth?"

Sky would grumble, and glare at her ottermaid friend. "Shuddup Kys. He said he'd come back, and he will. G'Night!"

Kyra would be silent for a while, before nudging Sky again. "Sky."

Sky would open one eye, glare, and say in a threatening tone: "Go to sleep, Kyra Longfletch."

Then, Kyra would leave her alone 'till morning.

"MacPhearsome should be back any day now, eh?" said Kyra as Sky passed her in the cramped compound. Sky wiggled her ears, and yawned hugely. She nodded, and continued. None of them were supposed to talk about MacPhearsome, or the rebellion, but they often slipped each other subtle hints anyway. They couldn't help it!

The excitement that was still brewing among the slaves despite the long wait had not in the least been dampened. They had taken to the newfound emotion called hope with tremendous effects. Their weapon supply was growing too. Even though MacPhearsome had not returned to the slaves yet, that did not mean that they could not start helping themselves.

Many times throughout the long days that they had waited for some sign of their messenger in the blue sky, other slaves had come up to Kyra or Sky, subtly slipping them a stone, a discarded arrow, a bit of metal, or even a dagger or two. These were all added to a big pile, which was hidden in a corner of the compound under a heap of dirt.

The slaves had made crude slings out of anything they could find. There were plenty of stones to be found in the fields, so ammunition wasn't a problem. They would soon be prepared for Rebellion; with, or without MacPhearsome.

Kyra fervently hoped that the answer would be with MacPhearsome. She knew that if the eagle flew to Salamandastron, Lord Seastripe would send his hares to aid their cause... that is, unless the Badger Lord had died and had passed the rule of the fire mountain on to another... Kyra reassured herself mentally, dispelling these depressing and discouraging thoughts with more pleasant ones.

She had to keep her spirits up, if not for herself, than for the other slaves. They needed all the encouragement that she could give them. Even if Lord Seastripe was no longer Badger Lord, the new Lord would help them. Right? She covered her head with her paws, and shook it. Damn! She always had a long, winding list of 'What If." questions in her head, and she couldn't seem to stop them.

The slavers came in then, carrying whips and swords at their belts. Unfortunately, the whips didn't stay in the belts for long. Kyra winced as she felt the sharp tip of the whip tear the ragged garments on her back and work its way into her flesh. She didn't bother to turn around and see who had whipped her. It didn't matter. She would have her revenge on them all soon, and what did one rat matter?

Mavarl was the one who commanded thousands of the evil creatures. It was he that she wanted to kill. She felt the blood seeping through her ragged, battered, tight fitting tunic. She didn't care. It wasn't as if she could run up to Mavarl and ask him politely for a new one. She smiled a bit. That would be an amusing scene.

She would walk into Mavarl's room and smile broadly, holding up her ripped and bloodstained tunic. In a polite voice, she would tell him that the slaves were tired of such conditions, and wanted less working hours as well; even more food. Imagine the look on the tyrant's face then!

A scythe was shoved roughly into her hands. Field duty again. Damn. It was as if Lord Mavarl knew she was leading a rebellion against him. Even without meaning to, that rat tormented her. She saw Sky looking at her own scythe with an angry expression upon her face. Kyra waited for the haremaid to catch up and laid a firm hand on her shoulder.

She saw Sky eyeing the nearest captain with a hungry look. The haremaid was hungry, but not for food or drink. She was hungry for the taste of blood on her tongue. Kyra shook her head, and gave Sky's shoulder a warning squeeze. "Don't do it, Meadowsong. Wait 'till MacPhearsome comes," she muttered in the haremaid's large ear, hoping that Sky would listen.

Then, she walked off. If the guards saw her whispering to Sky... she didn't want to think about what might happen. And it would ruin all of their plans. Of course, their plans would also be ruined if MacPhearsome didn't keep up his part of the bargain! Why did her thoughts always revolve around that bloody bird?

It didn't take long for the ragged line of slaves to reach the fields. Groups gradually broke off to head towards Fortguard, or to do other chores, until only a third of the slaves were left with scythes in their paws to work the fields that Lord Mavarl owned. Kyra picked up her scythe and started to swing it, her muscles automatically jumping into the rhythm of the work, as they had done every day.

She shook her head, and prepared her body for another day of arduous labor in the fields. Time passed. It could have been hours later, or it could have been minutes later. It could have even been moments later. There was no time in the fields. You had only the sun and your shadow for a clock, and only the feeling of tiredness to determine how long you had been working.

After she had been working steadily for quite some bit, Kyra looked up at the sky above her. She put a paw over her eyes to shade them from the sun. Then, she saw it. She thought it might be a dream. She wasn't even sure that the sight she saw was real until Sky worked her way over to her and whacked her legs with the wooden end of her scythe.

The pain made Kyra come to herself, and a large grin crept across her face. High above her, the black silhouette of a large bird flew in front of the sun. Kyra held her breath. Of course, it could just be a seabird. They often saw a lot of seabirds in the sky, flying about the island. It was impossible to tell what the bird was from that distance. "

If it flaps its wings constantly, it's a seabird." Sky whispered in her ear. "They don't ride the wind like Hawks and Eagles and such do. Watch its wings." She said no more. Neither of them wanted to raise their hopes to high. Kyra bit her tongue to prevent the question that was pounding in her brain from coming out of her dry lips. Was it MacPhearsome?

They watched the bird for a long time, until they felt the eyes of the guards on the backs of their necks. Both friends looked away from each other, picked up their scythes and continued working. The bird didn't flap its wings more than a few times. Kyra smiled. Now, if there was only a sure way to know if this was MacPhearsome? How would the great bird give them a message if it were him?

High above, MacPhearsome's brain asked the same questions. A few nights ago, he had left Salamandastron and flew, with directions from Lord Seastripe, to Holt Ruddaring to warn Ironjaw and his Otters about Mavarl. He had left them swiftly so he could fly back and rendezvous with Lord Seastripe and his hares at the Island.

The ships of Ironjaw's otters would meet them there in two nights. He hadn't counted on being so early. Down below, Kyra's brain was racing as well. There was no doubt in her mind that the bird up in the sky was indeed MacPhearsome! The only problem was how to meet him or at least talk to him to get whatever news he brought back. If only she could talk to him.

Sky, however, had a different plan in mind.

Sky's plan was simple: Start a scuffle with the guards, cause a lot of noise, and let MacPhearsome scream down his message amid the chaos. She didn't tell Kyra her newly developed plan. The ottermaid would object to it immediately. Sky was too angry with Mavarl and his minions to really care what became of her, and was too young and impatient to think of a better plan.

And so, she took her scythe, gripped it tightly, and charged at the nearest group of guards. All of the slaves stared, stunned, as Sky ran forwards and swung her scythe at the nearest rat. The rat squealed as the blade sunk into his neck. All of the other guards drew their weapons while a few archers pointed their arrows at the charging Sky.

The haremaid lifted her head, her eyes burning with hate and anger. Her lips parted, and she let loose a warcry she hadn't used in years. "EULALIAAAAAAAAAA!"

Kyra gripped her own scythe, and broke the blade off. She held the blade in her teeth as she swung the newly made quarterstaff expertly in her paws. Then, she charged towards Sky. Kyra instantly knew what the crazy fool was trying to do. What an idiot! Couldn't that confounded haremaid keep her big mouth shut and her fiery temper at bay for one second?

Kyra had learned control. If there was one thing she had learned from Mavarl's torture, it was control. But now, all control was abandoned, and her eyes started to haze over. She couldn't think! This hadn't ever happened to her before. She felt her heart hammering in her chest, and all the noise around her dimmed. Everything was silent.

Her vision became distorted, and a red film seemed to clap itself over her eyes. She gripped the Blade in one hand, the quarterstaff in the other, and charged into the fray. She lifted her head high, and let the warcry of her ancestors sing over the Island for the first time since the night she had been captured. "HOOOOOOLT LUTRAAAAAAAAA!"

Quite a few of the other slaves joined in, grabbing their scythes and charging into the fray. Kyra ran about with her broken scythe like a madbeast, and truly, she was mad. Her eyes watered, her heart hammered, and her ears were filled with a wordless roaring. She struck down every guard she came in contact with, intent on killing them all. The controlled Kyra was gone.

The ottermaid stabbed her blade again and again into the various vermin that tried to subdue her while fending off others with her twirling quarterstaff. An arrow whizzed straight towards her head, and she dropped her wooden staff to the ground as she twisted in the air, catching the arrow in her paw.

It was a simple trick that she had learned from her father when she was just an otterkit, but now, the game had saved her life. She continued battering and slicing and hacking at the guards, oblivious to everyone and everything else.

Sky watched Kyra with amazement. When she was only a leveret, she had heard of a madness that infected a beast's brain when they were in battle. It wasn't just the bloodlust that normal beasts had. It was the crazy infection that Badger Lords were said to possess. The red madness that took over your brain. The madness that sent lone warriors into hundreds of thousands of vermin without fear.

But the Bloodwrath as it was called had been found in others besides Badger Lords. She saw hundreds of archers coming towards them from Castle Fortguard. Somebeast had set off the alarm. She looked up at the sky and smiled. MacPhearsome was circling high above the battlefield. She saw him swoop low, and open his beak.

Even as she continued to fend off Rats with her scythe, she kept her focus upon him. He had to give her the message before the rats came to help their comrades! Kyra was too crazy to hear him anyway, thought Sky ruefully.

She waited for the message to be delivered, knowing that the eagle understood that this scuffle was his only chance. Even though her idea had been crazy, it was going to work! Sky could not dampen the sense of pride that swelled up in her breast. Her plan had worked!

MacPhearsome swooped lower, knowing what Sky had been trying to do. He shook his golden feathered head, not approving of the reckless haremaid's plan at all. What had she been thinking? The idiot should have known better than to start a fight! But, of course, Sky was young and foolish. MacPhearsome knew that if either of them had taken the time to think the situation out properly, that he, Kyra, or Sky would have come up with a better solution, but time was something they did not have.

Sighing, MacPhearsome took in a deep breath and prepared to let out his simple message. This part, at least, was not hard. He simply had to tell her that, in two nights, Claire as well as her regiment of hares would be ready to launch an attack with the rebel slaves on Fortguard. Now, he just had to combine it into a simple message that would easily be heard by the waiting Sky.

He just had to make sure that he did it at the right time. Seeing Sky turn towards him and give him the slightest inclination of her head, he knew that it was time. Gathering his breath, the eagle let out the loud cry, which contained his message.

"Salamandastron shall be upon ye in two days, Meadowsong! Be ready! KYEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAR!" This brief, and not at all subtle, message was all the eagle had thought necessary to say. His mission completed, he flew off to find a suitable hiding place on the island.

The aptly delivered message floated across the sounds of the battling guards and slaves into Sky's ears. She smirked. Mavarl would get what was coming to him then. But now, she had other problems to worry about. Problems with dark fur, a broken scythe, and the bloodwrath.

She sighed as she ran over to her still battling friend, and raised the wooden end of her Scythe high up in the air above Kyra's head. She brought it down with a sickening crack upon the ottermaid's head. Kyra dropped the scythe blade, and slumped onto the ground just as a group of archers encircled the slaves that had managed to continue fighting.

"Sorry 'bout that, Kys!" Sky muttered to her unconscious friend. "Couldn't have you made these archers put more points in you then a hedgehog, eh wot!"