Chapter Eleven
The army of slaves had charged out of the gates, yelling and waving their weapons with as much excitement and vigor as they could muster. The transformation in these once meek and mild beasts was astounding! Only a few days ago, they had been bending under the lash without a bit of hope between them. They had been forced to live on scraps of food and work in the unbearable heat.
They had tasted their own blood, and had been forced to ignore the salty sweat trickling into the fresh and gaping wounds on their backs. But now, they were fighting back. Now, they would have their revenge against their tormentors. They would be able to kill the creatures that had discriminated against them for so long, that had kept them in miserable slavery and servitude for seasons.
This day, as red as blood, was theirs. This page of history would be written in gold, and in blood.
Kyra and Sky were at the small army's head, the young ottermaid with her Granddam's bow drawn to the point and the haremaid clutching a silver saber with a jeweled hilt in her paw. Both dived in among the vermin, Sky hacking with her sword and Kyra shooting every which way with her arrows.
The ottermaiden also discovered that the training she had done with her grandmother was quickly returning to her. Her aim was not perfect- it did not take perfect aim to kill a vermin-, but it was swiftly returning to her. She was remembering the eight seasons she had spent training, and the eight seasons that she had spent under the lash.
On occasion, Kyra caught an arrow that a vermin had shot at her, and took pride in the fact that her Grandmother had taught her this child's trick so well. She swiftly nocked the unfamiliar arrows to her bowstring and sent them back at the beasts that had shot them. The senders were always killed instantly with their own arrows.
Kyra took a fierce pride in her fighting ability that day. She hadn't changed much since the last time she had wielded a bow and arrows. Also, the ottermaid discovered that she could draw the bowstring back farther on her grandmothers bow. Kyra had just been able to pull it back far enough to shoot an arrow when she was little, let alone draw it to the point. Her body had not been strong enough.
But now, her field labor had built up her back and arm muscles, allowing her to use the bow with ease and skill. She now had the proper strength to draw the great bow. Before, Kyra had been forced to use smaller bows (very small ones), to train. Though she had been able to use her grandmothers bow- scarcely, since she could hardly draw the arrow back because of her childlike body at that time-, she had not been able to use it well.
Despite the bloodlust and the strange joy that she took in the battle, part of Kyra was still nervous and wary. What if the red madness came upon her again? What would happen then? She shuddered inwardly, catching a black fletched arrow in her paw and notching it skillfully to her shaft, shooting it neatly back at the rat who had sent it, piercing his jugular.
She sighed. If the red madness did envelope her again as it had the one time, what could she do? The first time it had seemed as if she could do nothing to throw it off. All around her, the clashing of blades could be heard. Suddenly, Kyra felt a hot, searing pain shoot up her arm, and noticed a deep, ugly gash on her skin.
She winced and turned around, seeing an evil looking ferret holding a bloody sword. He had been the one to wound her. She aimed an arrow at him, but by the time she had nocked the bow to the string, the ferret had disappeared. She turned and used the arrow on a rat instead, her arm still throbbing.
The ottermaid winced, wishing that she had time to bind the wound. She didn't. Though the cut was deep , she could still fire her bow, and she ignored the blood running through her matted and dirty fur. Another injury that she received was upon her left leg. An arrow, shot by an awful marksbeast, dug itself into Kyra's flesh, right in the middle of her thigh.
The ottermaid stopped as the arrow hit her, crouching down in pain. After she had taken a few minutes to catch her breath, the ottermaid pulled herself back up and counted to three. One. . . Two. . . Three. . . on the count of three, she yanked the arrow out of her flesh, letting out a scream as it tore through her muscle. As she got to her feet, she found that she had trouble walking. She tried to ignore this and limped on, biting her lip to distract her from the throbbing pain in her leg.
Of course, Kyra did have one thing to cheer her up despite her injuries. The help that MacPhearsome had promised them had arrived at last! In the heat of the battle, these ferocious warriors had charged at the vermin, joining in the fray and adding their own warcries to the loud roar: "FREEEEDOOOOOOM!"
That battlecry was still ringing from the dry throats of many fighting slaves. All of the creatures, those who were slaves and those who were not, fought with tooth and claw and with any weapons that they could find. The sight that had met the eyes of the slaves as the relief army started their charge was astounding.
Around 500 Salamandastron hares were all ducking and weaving, stabbing with sabers or kicking out with powerful hind legs. A great number of otters from Holt Ruddaring whirled their slings and shot arrows in the midst of the fray. Even more otters were fighting with the hares at close combat, twirling their double pointed otter javelins expertly.
The slaves hadn't remained stunned for long. As soon as they had gotten over the sight of the trained fighters that had come to aid them in their cause, they had charged past the archers from Ruddaring and into the army of hares and otters, waving their weapons and screaming with the best of them. Sky ran with them for a while, but soon left.
She wished to fight with the warriors from her old mountain home, Salamandastron. Her jeweled saber clutched in her paw and the blade humming with deadly accuracy through the air, the haremaid screamed the cry of the Mountain Hares and the Badger Lords of the past, her voice intermingling with those of her fellow hares: "EULALIAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Sky hadn't seen any Salamandastron hares for seasons, and though she strained her eyes and tried to catch fleeting glimpses at the fighting hares, she did not recognize any of them.
Kyra paused for a moment, watching Sky for a short time before nocking another arrow to her bowstring. She would soon run out of ammunition. Luckily, a few moments later, she stumbled upon the black fletched arrows of a dead rat. She scooped them up quickly and stuffed them into her quiver before turning back to Sky.
The happiness that she saw on Sky's face cheered her greatly. The haremaid was truly happy for the first time in seasons. This was the way Sky wanted it to be, Kyra thought vaguely. She'd want to be fighting some great foe with her family, her saber in her paw and her will as strong as ever. And this was the way Kyra wanted to imagine her forever, too.
The ottermaid took one last look at the battle, sighed, and ran off towards Castle Fortguard, which lay to the left of the fray. She had to find Mavarl. The slaves would be fine without her now that the Hares and Otters had arrived.
Slowly, the Battle for Fortguard- as it would be called afterwards- was turning in the favor of the slaves. Slowly, ever so slowly, they were killing off the rats. Hares stabbed with their sabers, otters swung with their javelins, and slaves fought with any weaponry that they could find. Though Kyra and Sky had taken a great deal from the armory, it hadn't been nearly enough to arm the majority of the slaves.
And so they fought on, some without any weapons at all, and some with weapons taken from fallen rats or hares and otters. They fought with all the fervor that they could muster, teeth bared and blood rising. The heat was unbearable, even in the darkness that was quickly descending upon the Island of Fortguard.
The castle cast a large shadow over the island, making it appear even darker than it already was. The sun was sinking lower in the horizon, this time tinting the sky a bright red. Blood red. The sky knew that much blood would be shed by morning, and had changed its colors to match it. As the poem went,
'When the bloodred sun
shines high o'erhead
many brave fighers
will soon become dead'
It was a well-known nursery rhyme, and many creatures had passed it down from generation to generation. There was no more to the rhyme. It was simply an ode to war, meaning nothing in particular, though it was often quoted. Looking at it from afar, Sky firmly decided that she had never seen a sunset so brilliant a blood red shade.
Sky grinned as her saber flew through the air, stabbing a rat neatly in the stomach. It had been a long time indeed since she had used a saber! As she disposed of another rat, Sky noticed that a group of them were closing in on her.
Twirling around slowly, so she could see all of the rats that were trapping her, she saw the face of a familiar hare! She raised an eyebrow and cocked her ears, trying to place the face that was in front of her. Quickly, the hare jumped amidst the rats to join Sky, eyeing the circle warily and gripping her saber tightly in one paw.
Though she thought and thought, Sky simply couldn't remember who the hare beside her was. The hare smiled at her, ears waggling in a manner that was very much similar to Sky's own. Sky felt the sense of familiarity growing even stronger, but she still couldn't place the face!
The hare spoke. "I say, is that really you, Sky m'gel? Haven't seen you in a jolly long time, eh wot? I see y'don't remember me. I'm Cap'n Claire! You know, the one who used t'babysit you all the time, doncha know? Wager y'don't need babysittin' now, eh wot!"
Sky smiled, and nodded. Clairethye! She remembered Claire for her dibbun days. The haremaid had just finished her leveret years when Sky had left, and had been eyeing the Long Patrol with eagerness and excitement. Sky wasn't surprised that Claire had joined the Patrol. All young hares said their greatest ambition was to join the Patrol, but many had other callings.
But Claire was a fighter. Sky knew that the Patrol suited her perfectly. "I say, Cap'n Claire, didn't know you joined up with the bally Long Patrol, doncha know! Guessed y'would, though. Gone a long way from babysittin', wot!" The two hares crouched back-to-back, sabers whirling with deadly accuracy at the rats that came towards them. Claire nodded her approval as Sky swung the saber.
"Well, young Skythistle, it's been as easy as pie compared t'babysittin' you, you little terror. Glad you're a terror to these longtail blighters instead o' me now, wot wot! I remember the last time that I laid eyes on you, Miss. I'd yelled at you because you'd gone filtching a pastie from ol' Mooneye the cook- he's still around, y'know- an' he'd blamed me and refused me my supper because I hadn't been watching you. You ruined the entire meal that night, y'little glutton."
Sky laughed and they broke out of the circle of rats together, sabers whistling through the air and grins upon both of their faces. The haremaid shook her head, patting her thin stomach and sucking it in to make herself look even more haggard and worn than she already was.
"I daresay, Claire," the haremaid said in wry amusement as she decapitated a rat with her right paw holding the saber. "I'll bet it was that meal that's lasted me these eight seasons, wot. Bally long time since I've had proper food. I ran away shortly after the pastie incident, wot. Had a bloomin' stomachache for a week after, doncha know. I say, Claire, you're a Cap'n now. Joined up with the Long Patrol, an' got yourself promoted. Feel's odd, my old nurse killing vermin with me."
She drew her saber neatly over another rat's through as Claire let out a flying double kick to a rat's stomach, leaving him bleeding and winded. Sky didn't say it, but she was impressed despite herself.
Claire sniffed indignantly as she ran her saber neatly through a nearby rat. "Old nurse yourself, Skythistle Morningdew Meadowsong! Don't you go insultin' Cap'n Claire, wot! I could put you on scullery duty with one wave of my bloody paw when I take you back to the ol' mountain, wot! And I can also go spreading around stories about what you got up to in your younger days, Miss. I daresay they'd make the fur on anybeasts neck stand up. I say, ol' chappess, did I tell you about the time when yo-"
It was then that something unexpected happened. Well, it was unexpected for the slaves. The sun had finally set in the sky, leaving the battlefield dark, making visibility rather bad. Otherwise, the new party entering the war might not have snuck up on the raging chaos in the middle of the island. Amidst the cries of 'Freedom' and 'Eulalia' and 'Ruddaring', there was a different sound.
"Guosiiiiiiiim!"
Sky raised an eyebrow and turned around to look at Cap'n Claire. "Guosim? What's a bally Guosim? Is it bad? I jolly well hope not, eh wot! I'm getting used to the idea of winnin' this war an' getting back to the bally mountain at last, doncha know!"
Claire laughed, her eyes shining. "Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head off about the Guosim! They're shrews, doncha know! A trifle bad tempered I'll admit, and a bit unorthodox, but they are perilous to the end, wot! Ol' Lord Seastripe sent a message to Log-A-Log Raivine and asked 'er if she'd like t'come up and help us free all of you blighters, doncha know"
Sky grinned and nodded, they would need all the help that they could get! Objecting to an unexpected ally would be idiotic, almost imbecilic. Vaguely, Sky wondered if Kyra knew about the arrival Guosim. At the thought of Kyra, Sky began to worry, but her thoughts didn't focus on Kyra for too long. The ottermaid could take care of herself. She'd be fine.
Meanwhile, the Guosim warcry grew louder as around a hundred shrews charged up the island and towards the great battle outside the castle. A rough looking female was in front of them, holding a Guosim rapier and wearing a brightly colored headband about her forehead.
Behind her, all of the Guosim shrews waved their own rapiers and wore similar brightly decorated headbands. They had spiky fur, and were rather small. They were only about half the size of the well-built and rather tall Skythistle. But their size did not affect their fighting skills or bravery, as Sky soon found out.
As the Guosim neared the battle, the vermin all turned their heads to watch the onslaught of miniature warriors charging towards them. A few laughed, but for the most part, they were as silent and as shocked as the slaves. The hares and otters kept moving, however, slaying vermin as they stared at the shrews. Sky almost burst out laughing.
The rough looking female in the front shouted, "Guosim! The wheel!" at this outcry, all the shrews drew together until they had formed a complete ring. This wildly turning ring charged into Mavarl's horde, waving their sabers as they turned counter clockwise. Sky stared with wide eyes as the Guosim Wheel shredded a number of rats to bits.
"It's an old Guosim attack," Claire explained to the bewildered Sky. "Did you know that Raivine's ancestor used that very same attack at Salamandastron when Feragho the Assian attacked Salamandastron during Lord Urthstripe's rule? Bit of history there, eh wot! Really amazin' creatures, shrews. They've got awfully bad tempers though, wot! Stay clear of 'em during a feast, or any other party. The bloody little fiends love to argue, and will shout fit to make your ears go deaf before their time. They talk as much as other creatures say we hares do. Both of us have jolly bad reputations, doncha know."
Then, Sky and Claire dove back into the horde of vermin.
Meanwhile, near the entrance to Castle Fortguard, Kyra wasn't watching the battle at all. The arrival of the shrews had gone unnoticed, even though it was a major factor in the battle. She would find out about them later. The army was pushing Mavarl's forces back well with the newly added reinforcements. Kyra didn't care.
The ottermaid didn't et her eyes stray to the nearby battle. She had a mission to perform before this day was done! Mavarl must die. She notched a green-feathered arrow to her bow and looked up the stairs that led from the Entrance Hall to the second floor of Fortguard.
She knew that Lord Mavarl would be somewhere in the great castle, possibly directing a score or so of vermin archers on the rooftops. He wouldn't risk going down into the battle below. Too many wanted to kill him. The slaves would attack him in masses, wanting revenge. Now, she just had to find him.
The ottermaid slunk up the stairs and crept along the first passageway of the second floor, her arrow drawn to the point and her every sense alert for a sign of the enemy. She knew that it was rather stupid of her to go after Mavarl alone, but she couldn't take Sky with her. Sky needed to be down with the army to help organize the slaves, and she had taken a vow to kill Mavarl herself.
Mavarl had stolen her childhood and her family from her, and had turned her into a coldhearted slave bent on his destruction. By his own cruelty, Lord Mavarl had created a monster, and the monster was determined to kill her creator even if it resulted in her own death. Kyra had the scars on her back, too. They would serve as a constant reminder to her, telling her what this evil rat had done to her for the rest of her days.
Soon, the ottermaid reached the second stairway and after watching for a moment to make sure none of Mavarl's rats were nearby she padded up the steps on silent feet. The only sound that Kyra could hear as she ascended the high stairway was her own ragged breathing and the sound of her heart hammering within her breast.
These sounds wormed their way into her ears, making her head throb. Her brown eyes scanned the next corridor as she reached the top of the stairwell. She licked her dry lips with her tongue and walked on, searching for the rat tyrant, ever searching.
She stayed near the shadows in the corridor, hiding behind statues and anything she could find. She was always alert, always watching for any sign of rats. Her bow was still drawn, and her brown eyes alight with battle. After a few more corridors, Kyra came to the third stairwell. There were only four floors in Castle Fortguard.
After she climbed to the top of these stairs, she would finally be high enough. She just had to find a way out. Kyra took the stairs two at a time, her bow still drawn for the guards. It was a good thing that she had her bow ready when she reached the top of the stairs. Mavarl hadn't thought that anyone would be coming in Castle Fortguard, but, just in case, he had set a trap for them.
He knew that the idiotic slaves would have no interest in taking over Castle Fortguard. The only reason that they would come in was to kill of his remaining rats. So, instead of sending his guards to the lower floors and reducing his numbers, he had kept them with him to crush any enemies that came up to the fourth floor. The empty lower floors would also put them at ease, and give them a false sense of security.
He had the advantage from the top of the castle, and he could also have his archers rain arrows down on the rebellion below.
And so, when Kyra reached the top of the stairs, she immediately saw why the lower floors had been deserted. Rats came pouring at her, waving spears and scimitars above their heads. Vaguely, Kyra wondered how the slaves were even managing to keep themselves alive in the battle below if Mavarl had such numbers at his disposal!
Luckily, all the ones with long-range weapons were on the other side of the castle, shooting at the rebels fighting below. She looked about, watching the onslaught of rats coming towards her in slow motion. It looked as if they were running through water instead of air.
If it were not for her strange power, her red madness, Kyra would have never survived. As she saw the rats running at her, her eyes started to turn red. Kyra pulled back her bow until the string was to the point of breaking, and she let her arrow fly at the nearest rat. The pictures in front of her eyes wavered and disappeared until the only thing she saw was the face of Lord Mavarl.
The rat's maw was open and his greenish fangs glistened. Kyra saw nothing but his face, her vision covered in a red veil. She charged straight into the rats, shooting shaft after shaft after shaft into there midst, plowing her way through them. The ottermaid hardly realized what she was doing. All that she knew was that she had to get to Mavarl. She had to find him and kill him.
The rats all stared in wonder at the ottermaid, not really knowing what to think. What kind of idiotic creature would charge into a whole army with nothing but a longbow? She must be mad! And Kyra truly was mad. Everything she saw was red, her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt as if her every fiber were on fire. Her brain could only concentrate on one thing.
Mavarl!
She watched the rat tyrant giving orders to his guards from a few hundred yards away. All of the vermin turned to stare at her at the same moment, and when they saw the strange ottermaid with her tied up tunic and her longbow with green-feathered arrows, they were all silent. None of them moved.
Mavarl drew his scimitar and stepped back a few paces, while the other vermin made a pathway for Kyra. "Step back," he commanded his rats. "This one is mine."
"My pleasure, Rat!" Kyra spat back.
Everyone was silent. And then, Kyra charged forwards. The ottermaid ran across the battlements while all the other vermin watched in total silence as her feet thumped on the cold stone. Kyra didn't pause as she took a green-feathered arrow out of her bow. This arrow had a golden eagle feather stuck in the center. The ottermaid stepped closer as she nocked the arrow to her bow.
"And now, Kyra Longfletch is at last at peace," she whispered, and fired the arrow into Mavarl's back.