Chapter Nine

Kyra awoke to find herself in her own cell, her back searing with pain and her eyes blurred. Though her senses were dampened by the grogginess of just waking up after being dealt a great deal of pain, Kyra heard the door to the cell she and Sky shared slam and saw the last crack of light that shone through from a torch that hung outs Kyra awoke to find herself in her own cell, her back searing with pain and her eyes blurred.

Though her senses were dampened by the grogginess of just waking up after being dealt a great deal of pain, Kyra heard the door to the cell she and Sky shared slam and saw the last crack of light that shone through from a torch that hung outside on a cold metal bracket disappear as the key to the dungeon cells turned in the lock, making sure that there was no way they could ever escape.

Kyra felt extremely disheartened as the key sounded in the lock with a soft click, feeling as if not only the physical door of their cell had shut, but as if the door of hope, which they had been striving to reach with all their strength, had closed and locked itself as well. But, the ottermaid thought to herself, every locked door had a key that will open it.

They still had a chance, however slight, and they couldn't give up now. This was their darkest hour, and if they could survive this, they could survive anything, surely. Vaguely, Kyra remembered many children's stories that she'd listened to with eagerness beyond her comprehension now. As a pup, she had loved the stories about Warlords and Warriors who defeated them.

She hadn't realized how much emotion had been behind them. She hadn't ever thought about how the warriors had felt while conquering, how they had hated their enemies the way she hated Mavarl. Was she a real Warrior? Was this they way they felt all the time? Sad at the world's confusion and pain?

She shook her head. All warriors must feel something like these emotions. They must know the pain that the evil cause, and hate them for it. But, at the same time, they are scared of their own hate for the warlords. The two hates come from the same evil and frightening emotion. Deep inside their soul of souls, were vermin and goodbeasts really that different?

It seemed as if both had many similarities, and what frightening similarities they were to think about. Both killed, and both felt the same soul-blackening hate. All creatures felt hate at some point. Didn't that make them evil? Her confusion momentarily blocked out her pain, but the throbbing welts that Lord Mavarl had left on her back were still present, feeling as if a thousand knives were digging into the tender flesh that covered her aching bones.

She felt the welts on her back with a paw and winced. How long had Lord Mavarl kept whipping her after he had knocked her unconscious? It certainly felt to her like the rat had gone on for a while, whipping her with a vengeance. Soon, new fears crept into her all to vulnerable mind.

What had that red madness that had possessed her been? The question had been at the back of Kyra's mind ever since she had seen that red veil of madness come over her eyes, acting as a blindfold to the world of sense and knowledge.

All she had known was the love of battle and all she had felt was a sick thirst for rat blood. The thought of killing them while in that state of mind made her sick even as she thought about it. What had she been thinking?

She hadn't been thinking. This thought startled Kyra, fully awakening her at last. She hadn't been using her brain. She had been like a mere animal, lusting after the blood of her enemies. She hadn't been thinking at all. It was as if she were some sort of crazed beast during a hunt, tongue lolling and steel blade swinging.

She hadn't thought about risks, pain, loss, or even about what she had been doing. She hadn't thought at all. She had just done as the feelings had overwhelmed. She had been running on instinct.

Kyra shook her head slowly, revising her last thought aloud. Her voice was low and soft, and it threatened to crack. "No." She said softly, her eyes widening as her pupils dilated in shock. "I wasn't runnin' on instinct alone. I felt one emotion. I felt hate. Anger an' hate. S'all I felt. I was mad. Really mad." This realization had a tremendously overwhelming emotional effect on Kyra.

The ottermaid, drained after thinking all of these depressing and confusing thoughts, flopped lazily back onto her pallet of straw and winced as her welts hit the ground. Kyra would have fallen back asleep with her thoughts swirling about in her head had not Sky turned about in her sleep and, hearing Kyra moving about, came slowly to her senses. The haremaid opened one eye and shot up from the pile of straw in her corner.

Kyra yawned and turned over, not wanting to stay in such a confusing and terribly tiring plain of existence. This was a mistake. Sky saw the scars upon her friend's back, fresh blood covering them, and winced. Kyra had received a very bad beating from Mavarl indeed, if that was the condition of the raw flesh of her back.

She wondered what Kyra had done to anger the Warlord into such a frenzy. Not showing signs of pain, most likely. Kyra often did such things when being tortured. "Whipping?" she said, simply. Though the tone of her voice carried an almost emotionless and flat quality, the emotion in Sky's face was read like an open book by Kyra's soft brown eyes.

Kyra knew, without having to speak, how Sky felt. She knew that the haremaid pitied her deeply, but didn't want to show it. Kyra was thankful, for such gestures of kindness were unnecessary in her situation. She didn't need someone sobbing over her scarred and bleeding back. It wasn't as if crying was going to help heal them any faster.

She would deal with the pain, and Sky would try to support her without becoming sickeningly mushy and annoyingly sympathetic. Kyra nodded and turned around, showing her friend her still bleeding back a second time. The tunic was still covering it some, sticking to her torn and bloody flesh. Though Sky wouldn't offer mental relief, as it would annoy Kyra, she could offer physical relief.

They were not in the possession of any medical supplies, but Sky saw no harm in looking at the wound. Maybe there was something she could do to ease the pain. Though the haremaid knew instinctively that she could do nothing to help her suffering friend, her eyes wouldn't peel themselves away from her friend's blood-stained tunic. She sighed, scooting forwards and preparing to at least attempt to dislodge the dirty tunic from the fresh wounds.

Sky peeled apart the flaps Lord Mavarl had made by cutting her tunic apart down the back and shook her head. "He really took out some o' his anger on you, eh wot!" The haremaid stated dryly, examining the wound with a critical eye.

"I'll wager he'll be after me next. But that doesn't matter. 'Fraid there's nothin' I c'n do, wot. Not extremely talented at dressing wounds. M'even worse at dressin' 'em when there are no supplies to dress 'en with, doncha know. Rather hard using invisible bandages." Kyra laughed slightly, though both knew the laugh and the joke had been forced. Neither said anything for a long time.

Kyra, surprisingly enough, was the first one to break the silence that hung over them like a fog, pressing in on their very souls. Her words were not at all cheerful, but who could expect them to be? After all, they were locked in a dungeon without food, water, or medical supplies, and were going to be killed if they weren't rescued soon.

Waggling her rudder and using it to scratch a particularly irritated spot on her welt infested back, Kyra told the haremaid the bad news that she had been trying extremely hard to forget. Eventually, the ottermaid gave in, thinking Sky had a right to know that she was going to be tortured just as she herself had on the morrow.

"Mavarl only did me first," Kyra said, her voice morose and grim. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Sky, but I'm 'fraid that it's your turn t'morrow night. I jus' wish there was I way I c'd get us both out of 'ere 'fore then. Not much fun, just sitting here and waiting for whippings and worse, is it? Mavarl said that we'd be killed next morning, in front of everyone, after both of us've been whipped enough. If the rebellion doesn't work, we're dead, Sky."

Sky nodded gravely. Kyra spread herself out across her pile of straw, leaving her back upward to try and dry the cuts and stop the bleeding.

"I daresay your tunics ruined," Sky stated matter-of-factly to put words into the silence that had followed Kyra's grave announcement. Sky had given no outward sign that she had heard Kyra, but the ottermaid knew her best friend well. She knew that Sky had heard every word she had said. The ottermaid didn't blame Sky for not wanting to discuss the topic she had so unsubtly introduced.

Besides, a ripped top was the least of her worries at the moment. Death was staring her in the face, and who knew how long she would be alive to feel the pain that coursed down her every fiber? The pain was constant. Of course, Kyra had been whipped before, but never for so long or with as much ferocity.

It was all Mavarl's fault, after all. He was the one who had brought this down on all of them. Why couldn't those who thought they were all knowing and all powerful, omnipotent and born to be the leaders of vast hordes of vermin, see how cruel they were? Why didn't they understand that their hate was only hurting others and eventually bringing about their own destruction?

It was then that Kyra was sure that she would kill Mavarl. If it was the last thing she did, she would kill that rat. Even if she died doing it, Kyra Longfletch would kill Mavarl and clear him from the face of the earth forever. "I'll kill hellspawn," she muttered.

Sky cocked an ear and leaned forwards. "What did you say, Kyra m'gel?" she asked, having only half heard the ottermaid when she had voiced her thoughts.

Kyra did not answer at once, and Sky did not comment upon the subject again for several moments. The haremaid knew that Kyra was trying to control her temper, to dampen the inner fire that raged on inside her breast, eating away at her soul. Sky didn't comment, but she could almost visibly see the struggle going on inside Kyra's mind, as if it were almost a tangible thing.

"I said," said Kyra through gritted teeth, "that I'm going to kill him. Don't care how long it takes me, but I'll do it. I'll die killin' that damn rat if I have to. He's got to be killed, and the day I kill that spawn of hell is the day that I will be at peace. You know how I feel, Sky. You know how much he's tortured both of us. I jus' want t'make sure I give the scum back some of what he gave me before I die."

Sky knew when to not use her sense of humor, and this was one of those times. She put a paw on Kyra's shoulder, and pulled back as Kyra winced and tensed her muscles.

"We'll be out of here soon, I daresay, Kyra m'gel! No worries, eh wot! You c'n kill that. . . that. . . I can't think of a word vile enough to describe him. Just give that ratface a few whacks for me. Who knows, if you whacked him in the face, it might act'ly improve his looks a might, wot! Seasons knows he bally well needs the help, eh wot! Just wait for MacThingummy to get us out and then we go rat huntin', y'great lump of an otter! What d'you say t'that, Waterwalloper?"

Kyra looked up at her best friend, and smiled.

"I say, lets do it t'gether. I'd rather die out there fightin' then at Mavarls whim or in this bloody cell. I know you feel the same. T'isn't right fer anybeast to stay cooped up like this. 'Tis un'ealthy. Sometimes I think I'll go mad with the pain an' all. Not even being able to call your own body yer own is hard t'bare. It's hard to believe a beast could be so cruel. . ."

Sky nodded, and went back to her corner, her own thoughts running through her head. Soon, both the friends were asleep. They would need all the energy that they could get for tomorrow night. It would all be over soon!

Kyra awoke the next evening to a scratching at the door. Her ears pricked, and her brown eyes shimmered in the dark. Despite the bravery and courage that the ottermaid had developed over seasons and seasons of slavery, Kyra still felt the fur on the back of her neck prickle at the unwarranted sound.

Sky had also heard, and was pulling herself to her feet. Kyra had slept for the entire time, and Sky, who had awakened often out of nervousness, had not had the heart to wake her. She had thought that Kyra would need time to recuperate some from Lord Mavarl's whipping.

Kyra likewise pulled herself up and walked cautiously towards the door, her senses dragging themselves out of the grogginess of sleep and opening like a flower, picking up every thing that was possible to be sensed. If it was a rat outside, Kyra mused, then they would have used their keys to open the door immediately.

If it wasn't a rat, it must be. . . "MacPhearsome?" Kyra whispered through the door, "is that you out there? Its Kyra and Sky! We're in 'ere!" There was silence for a moment, but then an answering whisper came from outside the cell.

"Och! 'Tis good tah see ya again, Kyra Longfletch!" The voice carried a wonderfully familiar accent and tone. It was MacPhearsome at last! Kyra literally felt her heart jump inside her breast as the voice wound it's way into her ears and finally into her brain.

He continued. "Is yon 'aremaiden in there with you, riverdog?" Kyra grinned, and looked back at Sky. The haremaid bounded forwards to whisper through the door as well. Kyra winked, and mouthed 'its MacPhearsome' to Sky before answering.

"Yes, Sky's in 'ere wid me," Kyra said in a hoarse whisper that she somehow managed to force a businesslike quality on. She licked her dry lips and coughed once, softy of course, before continuing with her brief and quiet message. It was important that she and MacPhearsome weren't overheard. If they were, their entire plans could be ruined!

"C'n you get us out, MacPhearsome? An' are there any guards outside t'hear us?" There was a faint rustling of feathers from outside.

"Aye, so I can," said MacPhearsome in his odd northern accent. "Ah'll be only a moment. Like ye've said, there is still one guard left after I got in 'ere. Ah've got tah go an' take care o' yon longtail guard an' take the keys tah your cell from him. Ah got your reinforcements ahs weel. There are a great number o' hares and seadogs outside with weapons ready t'come in an' help. The slaves have been alerted as well. What you'll have tah do is go an' get them ready. Ah'll give ye the keys to th' compound when I get them."

There was more rustling, and MacPhearsome was gone. Even though she couldn't see what was going on outside her cell, nor could she hear any sounds that might signify a scuffle, Kyra felt her heart pounding inside her head, and was aware of her own loud and rapid breathing. She grinned over at Sky and noticed that the haremaid was in an extremely similar condition.

Then, they both waited.

Sky sat in her corner, nibbling on a piece of straw, while Kyra fiddled with a fraying thread on her torn tunic. "Damn," Kyra muttered, as she tried to find a way to fix her tunic, "Mavarl's really done a number on me clothes, dirty as they are."

"Of course," Kyra drawled in a disgusted tone, "It's not like this rag matters to me. Still, 'tis better than goin' around completely naked, eh? There's no way I'll be able to fix this. I wouldn't want to if I had some decent clothes." Sky yawned and spat out her piece of straw. She rolled her eyes and grinned.

"Kyra Longfletch, why are you thinking of clothes at a time like this. Soon, we'll be free! Aren't you more worried about death an' killin' Lord Mavarl then your appearance, ol' gel? An' another thing, Miss Longfletch, any creature with any decency in their bloomin' hearts would have those nasty rags the slaves wear burned right off. Don't worry. If you're dead, you won't care, an' if you live, you'll get better clothes. Why worry now?"

Kyra laughed too, and nodded.

"Thinkin' about death is too depressing. It's just too quiet in this cell. Me minds runnin' over all sorts o' things." She sighed, finally tying her tunic up below her breasts, knotting it firmly in back. "There" she mumbled as she inspected her handiwork. If she died, would her clothes really matter? And besides, if she was free, she could surely get new, and cleaner, clothes.

"Tunic was getting a mite to small on you anyway," Sky muttered. Kyra giggled, but was silenced at a look from the hare. "Shut up, Waterwalloper, I think MacPhearsome's back!"

Kyra nodded, and crept slowly towards the door, her ear listening for any sound. Then, she heard a scrape as MacPhearsome slid one of the keys in through the tray slot. Kyra grinned, and picked it up. "Thanks, MacPhearsome!" she whispered to the door. "Now, open the door from the outside."

It took a little while for MacPhearsome to find the right key, and to insert it with his beak, but in a matter of minutes the eagle had opened the heavy cell door. Kyra and Sky rushed out, the ottermaid holding the compound key in her paw. She ran up to the golden eagle and threw her arms about his neck. The eagle nudged her off, rather embarrassed.

"Och, lassie, there's no need fer tha' nau. We'd best be goin' tah yon slave compound fer your friends afore yon longtails come an' find you both gone from yer cell!" Kyra and Sky nodded, and ran out of the dungeons. The first part of their escape was done, but now came the even harder part. They had to sneak out of Castle Fortguard without alerting Lord Mavarl or getting killed.

Sky pushed open the door that led down into the dungeons, and stepped out into the sunlit stone passageway of Castle Fortguard. Kyra followed, clutching the key in her paw. "C'mon Sky. First stop, the armory. We've got t'get as many weapons fer the slaves as we can, seein' as we're in here, an' I want to reclaim me granmums bow now. It's been many seasons now."

Sky nodded, and the two headed up a nearby flight of stairs at a swift pace, only slowing down to look for guards at each corner they turned. You always had to be careful in a place like Fortguard. It was well named, and Mavarl always had a regular battalion of guards posted about the place.

The Armory was on the second floor, and both creatures knew where it was perfectly. When they had been younger they had both gone up there to polish the various swords, daggers, spears, and such for Lord Mavarl's horde. A few doorways and corridors later, they were at the door to the armory.

Kyra pushed the wooden door open with a slight creak and stepped in. Sky pushed her friend aside and dove into the piles and piles of daggers, sabers, spears, cutlasses, and all manners of weapons. Kyra grinned, and ran in as well.

Sky picked up a weapon belt, and dug through the piles, looking for blades to fill it. Kyra too chose a weapon belt, and she too dug through the piles, but she didn't touch a single one of the blades that she found. She was looking for one weapon in particular. Sky had filled her first weapon belt and was trying to fill a second.

She strapped the first about her waist and stuck a golden cutlass into the second. If she could fill a few of these, then there would be plenty of weapons for the slaves to use! Kyra wasn't interested in any of the weapons that her paws touched. Her mind was fixed on the image of the weapon she had always dreamed of owning, the weapon that she had loved above all others, her grandmother's bow.

And then, Kyra looked up onto the wall above the door, and her brown eyes locked upon what she saw there. A large longbow hung above the entranceway, a green quiver with green fletched arrows next to it. The ottermaid recognized it immediately, though she hadn't seen her grandmother's bow in years. Ever since she had been kidnapped, in fact.

She walked towards it, and took it off the wall, strapping the bow across her shoulder and putting the quiver over the other. She was still for a moment, savoring the feeling of possessing her grandmothers bow at last. She then started to fill her weapon belt with all manner of weapons to bring to the slave compound.

Soon, Kyra had three weapon belts above her hips. Sky had three too, as well as a saber in her paw and a fourth belt across her breast. She grinned at Kyra, who took her bow in her paws and notched an arrow to its string. Then, both warriors stepped out of the door.