Chapter Seven

The guards weren't polite about dragging Kyra and Sky towards Castle Fortguard, but the two friends didn't expect them to be. After all, they were vermin that worked for the cruelest slavemaster that lived on the western isles. Mavarl only took the cruelest into his employment.

Kyra actually felt a bit honored because of the large escort that she and Sky had received. Lord Mavarl had sent plenty of foul guards with them, as if he feared another attack from the fearsome pair. Kyra had to keep herself from chuckling as her brain ran over these stray thoughts. The rat must think them mad if he considered them crazy enough to try yet another attack!

Actually, Kyra mused, she and Sky might actually be slightly mad. Planning rebellion, freeing a great eagle, attacking guards. . . these were things that only a madbeast would do. Still, both she and Sky had done them, and for these very reasons they were about to be punished.

Of course, Sky had managed to whisper MacPhearsome's message to Kyra as the pair had been dragged out of the fields. Even though Kyra still thought Sky mad for attacking the guards, the ottermaid knew that the haremaid at least had a valid reason for acting like an idiot and throwing herself at armed vermin warriors.

Though Kyra dearly wished that she could tell Sky exactly how idiotic and stupid she was, and how hot headed her action had been, she prevented herself from doing so. It would only make Sky even more furious, and would only cause more unwanted problems. The ottermaid sighed and vaguely glared at a rat, not having anything better to do.

The rat shifted his gaze away and kept his spear pointed firmly at Kyra, as if to warn her not to do anything foolish. Kyra simply walked and turned her gaze away, trying to pay the rat guards no heed. And so the two friends, accompanied by their 'guard of honor', continued forwards, approaching Castle Fortguard and trying to ignore the sinking feelings in the pit of their stomachs.

Even though the journey shouldn't have taken a very long amount of time- the castle wasn't that far away, and the island wasn't that large anyway- time seemed to stretch out as the small group made their way along, the rats armed and glowering and the slave's eyes burning.

Both the minds of Kyra and Sky were working feverishly. As long as the two played their cards right, they might just survive until MacPhearsome brought help to them. Death was certain in the long run, but if they could live long enough for the rebellion to take place, then they might have a chance at life. If Mavarl was overthrown before they perished under his cruel claw, they would live.

The two didn't even bother to complain that they were the only ones picked to see Mavarl out of all the other slaves that had participated in the brawl. They had, of course, started the fight, and the rats didn't fancy taking an entire group of slaves, especially ones that had just attacked them with broken scythes. They had all jumped into the mini-rebellion with a will, and the pair didn't consider the unfairness of it.

They were too busy thinking about MacPhearsome and his message. If they hadn't been, they would have realized that Lord Mavarl couldn't sentence an entire third of his slaves to death. He could just boost security, lower rations, and elongate working hours until the slaves learned their place. Examples would help too.

Since Sky and Kyra had essentially started the brawl, they would be the perfect creatures to set the example. But, without them, the rebellion would not take place! Unknowingly, the rat had picked the two creatures responsible for the rebellion against him to punish. Luck was on the rat's side.

Meanwhile, Kyra had other things to worry about. It was all well and good to have to worry about the rebellion as well as dying and torture, but there was an even stranger matter to be thought over. For instance, what had happened to her out on the field?

The redness had come over her like a blanket, or like a thick fog. The red madness that had made her lose all the control she had worked so hard to build over the seasons. What in the name of the seasons had happened to her out there? Kyra felt strange, and for the first time, felt a very odd emotion creeping into her every vein and fiber.

A very strange emotion indeed.

What could be wrong with her? Was she sick? Was she going crazy? Maybe she was just tired. Yes, that would be it. She was just extremely tired and stressed from all of the extra work they had been doing, and from the rebellion plotting. It was all nervous tension. Though deep inside her breast Kyra knew she was lying to herself, she ignored her fears and continued onwards

The ottermaid had no idea that her friend Sky knew exactly what had happened to her. The hare was, after all, a hare and had been raised around the stories of Badger Lords and their Bloodwrath. And Sky, after seeing her friends eyes turn red and her bloodlust rocket higher than she thought was possible, turned to this childhood explanation for Kyra's behavior.

Though Sky was cocky even in slavery, plotting rebellion, willing to attack guards, and ever ready to withstand torture, she was not brave enough to confront Kyra with her suspicion. For all she knew, the period where the Ottermaid had seen red could have been a complete blank to her. And there would be plenty of time to approach it later.

For all she knew, it would never happen again. Kyra stumbled forwards. Both of her paws were tied behind her back, and both she and Sky had two guards with spears at their backs, along with several other guards surrounding them as they walked.

Sky smiled slightly. Even in this dire position, she and Kyra still had a chance. If they could keep Mavarl from killing them before tomorrow night, MacPhearsome could find a way to free them as well as the other slaves. And if they did die, the help that he had brought would be certain to help the other slaves, even if they were leaderless.

This sudden inspiration comforted Sky. Even if they did die, the slaves still had a chance at freedom, even if it was a great deal slimmer. The seed of hope that she and Kyra had planted was still growing strong in some of the slaves. Maybe, just maybe, one of them would take the vulnerable seed and care for it, allowing it to grow. Hope would pick a new leader for the slaves, even if the rebellion were unsuccessful. In the future, this leader might succeed where they had failed.

The rat guards, meanwhile, were rather bored. From what these chosen few had heard, these slaves were expected to be dangerous, and might even try to attack them on duty! As a result, the rats had been looking forwards to having a bit of fun with them. Fun for the rats, that is. The ideas of 'fun' for each class were completely different.

But, since neither of the slaves seemed willing to pick a fight, it seemed as if the journey would go quietly, to the regret of most of the guards that surrounded Kyra and Sky. Neither of the slaves seemed very angry or distressed. They simply walked forwards, silently, not seeming to care that they faced death within minutes if Mavarl was in a temper.

The rats just looked at them, wondering what by the Fang their overseer could have been thinking when he had said these two were top security prisoners and that they were dangerous! They didn't look dangerous at all. They looked like all the other slaves. Ragged, with all the life beaten out of them seasons ago.

One of the rats behind Kyra scratched at his dirty ear with a claw. He looked much like any normal rat. He was fat, dirty, smelly, and had an assortment of unflattering jewelry on. He, following another characteristic common among rats, had a malicious temper as well and, seeing that neither of the 'dangerous' slaves were going to take the offensive and provide him with entertainment, decided to start a fight himself.

He gripped his spear in his paws, pressing his flesh into the thick wood, and jabbed the butt of it into Kyra's back. "Get movin', Otter. Don't want to keep Lord Mavarl waitin', do we? 'E's in a bad enough temper as it is wivout you bein' late. I don't think he'll be happy when he sees yer, that's fer sure!"

Kyra gave no outward sign that she had heard him, knowing that doing so would only make him more likely to use the butt of his spear again. Or maybe even the sharper and more deadly end. She doubted it though. Mavarl would most likely feel quite miffed if he were cheated of his intended victims because of a pointless brawl.

This infuriated the rat even more. He jabbed her again, eyes glinting maliciously. "I said get movin', riverdog. Can't yer unnerstan' 'ow t'talk? Wouldn't be surprised iff'n ye were too stooped t'know wot I said. C'mon, water'ound, move those feet, or will I 'ave t'kill yew an' carry yer so we c'n get to Fortguard faster? I said move!"

Kyra ignored him and continued walking; holding her head up high. She wasn't about to let some ugly, cowardly, and pathetic rat try and bring her down. She was a Skippers Daughter, and a warrior! Or, she thought, she would be a warrior if she survived this mess. She couldn't really consider herself a warrior yet.

She was still a slave, and this insolent behavior proved it. She was sorely tempted to jump upon the offending rat and make sure that he paid for his crude and completely uncalled for speech, but she didn't. That would only worsen her situation, and besides, a warrior wouldn't do something so foolhardy. Well, on second thought, Sky probably would, and Sky was a beast who would be a warrior somehow.

One of the rats behind Sky nodded in response to his crony's earlier statements. He thought the jest very amusing, and decided to put his own two cents in, even if the two cents took all the concentration his tiny brain could afford. This speaker was obviously not an intellectual or a leader. Most vermin weren't. "Aye," he snuffled, "he will be angry, won't 'e, Bloodclaw?"

The first rat glared at him, obviously not too pleased at having his threats interrupted by the dim witted idiot next to him. The second speaker was tall and fat, with tiny watery eyes and a crooked nose. His head was smaller than his considerably large and unfit body, and one of his ears had been ripped off in some long ago fight.

His fur was matted, and he wore a number of ugly brass and copper earrings in his one remaining ear. All of his jewelry was poor in quality, as was his muscular development, and Kyra almost shook her head at his tawdry tastes in dress.

The first rat aimed a kick at him and missed. This, however, didn't seem to discourage the fat vermin much. The first, seeing this, retaliated with speech as opposed to physical violence, as the latter seemed not to work quite as well.

Speech seemed to confuse the stupid rat a great deal, and the smarter and smaller one obviously knew this too. "Shuddup, lunk'ead," he spat, displaying green fangs. "No one asked yer t'speak, did they? Keep yer bloody trap shut, or do I 'ave t'make yer keep it shut, scumbrain?" The rat wobbled as he stepped forwards.

"Er, sorry Bloody"

Bloodclaw smirked at the two slaves manevolently. "Bet you won't be lookin' too good after Lord Mavarl's done wid ye! I hear he's really mad about you chargin' down all those guards. Wonder which of you he'll kill first." Kyra clenched her paws and grimaced.

She concentrated on the ground ahead, trying to shut out the comments of the rats. She wasn't scared of death, for death had been staring her in the face for seasons now, but she was scared that death would come before the Rebellion, which was something she wanted to take part in, whether she survived it or not.

The Rebellion was the only thing she had to live for next. Otherwise, she would have gladly gone before Mavarl and even begged him to kill her, to end her misery. Sky, however, did not have as much control over her mouth as Kyra did.

"Hey, Rat," she whispered to Bloodclaw. "Did you see what me 'n my matey Kyra did to those guards back there in the fields, y'blighters?" she paused for dramatic effect. "You don't want that to happen to you, do you, eh wot? I think you should shut your mouth before Kyra and I get a trifle mad at you and decide that killin' scum like you is worth getting beaten for, ol' chap!"

Doomfang looked nervous, his eyes shifting back and forth, and his face sweating. "Er, c'mon Bloodclaw. Don' make th' rabbit mad, now. What if they decide they want ter kill us? I don' want t'be killed, mate, even if they is killed afterwards fer punishment anyway? Won't change the fact that we're dead, will it?"

The first rat seemed vaguely surprised that his friend's logic followed a sensible path, and was silent for a moment before regaining his senses after the initial shock of a slightly intelligent statement. Bloodclaw snorted and aimed another kick at his friend's vulnerable shins.

"Shuddup. These slaves won' kill us, mate! We've got spears, an' what 'ave they got? Nothin' 'cept their chains. Iff'n they try an' attack us, we just give em a little prick wid these 'ere frogstickers!" Kyra clenched her paw even harder, and she had to use all the control she had built up over the years to keep from trying to tear her paws free. All she could manage was to vent her anger through her voice.

"Listen, scumbrains," she said in a low, threatening tone. "If you bring those things anywhere near me or Sky, it'll be the last thing you do. Besides, if you'd used the brains you claim you have, then you would realize that Mavarl wouldn't be too pleased if you told him that you had killed the slaves he was going to punish, would he? He might even decide to kill you in our place. What d'you think of that?"

Bloodclaw glared at the back of Kyra's head. "Don' worry, Doomy, they're just bluffin'! Those two ain't nothin' more than a riverdog and a bunny rabbit. What c'd they do to us? Besides, both of 'em are in chains." Sky turned her head slowly around, her ears pricked up and her eyes narrowed. Kyra gulped. That rat, whatshisname; all rat names sound alike anyway, had just made a big mistake. Hares do not like being called rabbits.

"What did you call me, longtail?" the haremaid asked, a smile creeping across her face. "A rabbit? I'm a bally haremaid, d'you hear? An' this 'bunny rabbit' is a sight prettier 'n you'll ever be fleabag! Are you sure you're a rat? You look too ugly to be one, anyway. Besides, most rats have at least some brains, even if they smell awful. What d'you have between those ugly ears of yours? Bits of fluff and a few flies buzzin' around in there?"

Kyra winced and clamped a paw over Sky's mouth before she got any farther. Sky, still angry, pulled it away. "I say, Kyra m'gel, I'm not finished yet, eh wot! Alright, listen here you flea bitten awful smellin' thick'eaded slow witted boulder bottomed droopy fanged excuse for a longtail! Lemme give you a piece of my mind!" Kyra sighed and replaced the paw.

"Sky," she whispered warningly, "if those rats are even half as stupid as you say they are, and I don't doubt your judgment, then they will be stupid enough to kill us before we get to Mavarl! I wouldn't be surprised if your own brain was full 'o flies an' fluff, Skythistle Mornin'dew! Use the little common sense ye have, y'daft hare! Those idiots'd kill us jus' outta pure spite an' make up some story or other. Besides, think of MacPhearsome! D'you really want to even slightly endanger our chances?"

"Stop yer talkin', slaves!" Bloodclaw shouted as the prisoners and their guards reached Castle Fortguard. "Lord Mavarl should be waitin' for ye in there. You'll want t'save yore breath for when you beg fer mercy. Doubt he'll give it t'you anyways, Riverdog!"

Kyra looked straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the heavy wooden doors to Castle Fortguard as the rats ran forwards to open it. The ottermaid took a deep breath, fixed her tunic about her shoulders, and put a paw on the stone steps that led up to the castle looming above them. Then she, with Sky following her, stepped through the double doors that might seal their fate for all of eternity.

Kyra looked about the great entrance hall. It had been many seasons since she had been in Castle Fortguard. Only the very young and the very old were forced to work inside the castle. Cleaning, Cooking, and other such tasks were considered too easy for the middle-aged creatures whose strength would be better served in the fields.

Kyra smiled slightly. No matter what happened in here, she would be out of slavery soon, one way or another. Either Mavarl would kill her, or she would participate in the rebellion. If Mavarl killed her now, or else soon, she would never have to do another days work in her life!

Of course, she would suffer terribly, but wouldn't the pain be worth it? Just to be free at last? Even if the Tyrant didn't kill her immediately, and she did participate in the rebellion, she would be killed if they lost. If, by some miracle, the slaves actually defeated Lord Mavarl, then she would be free as well. She had nothing to lose.

There was only one thing that troubled her. If Lord Mavarl killed her, who would be left to save the other slaves? Sky would, of course, but Sky had an even greater chance of being killed by Mavarl then she did! Sky, the idiot, was the one who had actually started the whole brawl in the fields, the fool of a haremaid!

If she and Sky were both killed, then who would give the slaves confidence? Who would set them free? Well, they had given that hope. That was one thing. With a bit of luck, another slave would assume command. If not, MacPhearsome would still rally the outside help, and the Salamandastron Hares and Ruddaring Otters would break in and free the with assistance or without it.

Kyra continued to think as they walked through the Entrance Hall of Fortguard, but she was pushed back into reality as the rat guards opened the door leading into Lord Mavarl's great throne room. She had been in the Entrance Hall before, and didn't think much of it at all, though it the grandeur certainly impressed beasts who did not see it on a regular basis.

Ornate and decorative relief carvings spread themselves across the walls, and all were painted with intricate designs and shades. Many beautiful trophies of Lord Mavarl's raidings hung about the walls. But, the throne room was even grander than the Entrance Hall.

The stone walls were amazingly tall, ending in a domed ceiling with beautiful paintings covering it; even more grand than the ones in the entrance hall. Kyra looked upwards in amazement. Beautifully woven tapestries decorated the walls and a cloth of red velvet led directly to the huge golden throne that sat at one end of the room.

The large golden throne was bedecked in the same type of red velvet cloth, and the large cushion in the seat was made of the same material. The throne was made of solid gold and was studded with thousands of rubies. Red jewels to match the red and gold throne.

The rat himself was also decked in rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and pearls. The rings that covered his greasy fingers all had magnificent jewels on them, and the huge golden three-pointed crown that sat on his monstrous head was also studded in precious gems. In the center, however, the rat king chose to put a huge, glittering, shining emerald.

Kyra smiled slightly. Her family loved the color green. It was the color of her grandmother's bow, and the color that Kyra loved best of all. Green reminded her of home. The rat guards all saluted smartly before bowing deeply and standing at attention, leaving the slaves standing alone on the red carpet, side by side.

"Bow to your king!" Lord Mavarl said in a low, gravelly voice. Kyra and Sky did not bow. In a mutual agreement, both stood firmly side by side, eyes staring straight at Lord Mavarl's and not wavering in the slightest,

"You won't bow?" the ugly rat said coolly, a small smile creeping across his hideous head. "You must think yourselves very brave, slaves. Why don't I help you?" He waved a fat paw to the guards, and Kyra felt the blunt end of the spear in the small of her back. The rat neatly tripped her with the spear, sending the ottermaid tumbling to her knees.

Sky was receiving the same treatment next to her. The blunt end of the spear crashed into the back of Kyra's head, forcing her eyes down. Then, the sharp metal end of the spear was placed at her neck to prevent her from rising.

"Now," said Lord Mavarl coldly. "Let us get down to business"