Chapter Ten
Kyra sat in a corner brooding, waiting for some sign from the wildcat. She felt that she had to talk to Lucien, Kestral, Raze, and Brindor, but the ottermaid knew that the slave compound wasn't safe with a guard on duty. Of course, she could always see if the guard had nodded off. Deciding to do so, the ottermaid stretched her arms, getting the kinks out of her muscles.
Kyra smiled slightly as she got to her paws. She nodded at her friends and walked up to the door, looking outside to see if the guard had left his post, or if he had dozed off. After all, there wasn't usually much action in the Slave Compound this time of night. Or any time of night. The guards were not very careful or energetic about their jobs.
As the ottermaid peered through the crack under the door, she frowned as she saw a pair of feet and the butt of a spear resting on the ground. But, then, as she examined the feet more closely, her heart leapt. They were wildcat paws! Tawny fur, and extra large pads. The ottermaid gulped, her mouth and throat suddenly dry.
How could she tell if it was him? THE wildcat? How could she know? Throwing luck and change to the winds, the ottermaid gulped, licked her dry lips, ignored her pounding heart, and spoke loudly, so that the guard through the door could hear her. "Oh, if only my friends Rhyna, Raivine, and Skythistle were here. They would be able to comfort me in this life of slavery..."
Brindor stared at Kyra, wondering what on earth had gotten into the ottermaid. His train of thought was abruptly interrupted as Kestral bounded up and knocked him head over rudder from behind, playfully pinning him to the floor. The singing had boosted her spirits and restored some of her former playfulness, a trait that had vanished the day she had lost her family.
Brindor smiled lovingly up at his daughter, one paw reaching up to fondle her ear, a gesture that reached back to Kestral's dibbun days. With a weary grin, he tackled her in return, but like the grin, it was only half- hearted, for he could not find the heart to play in the currant situation of events. Meeting his eyes, Kestral understood, and subsided.
Outside, Delagor was smiling thinly to himself, a smile that usually meant someone else was about to be very unhappy. He was leaning back against the door to the slave compound. The wildcat had been right in assuming that the job was easy, even if it was slightly tedious. He kept up his languid appearance as a few lone rats scurried to wherever they were supposed to be, before he came on the alert.
His claws clicked gently against the ground as he shifted slowly upright, and it was then that Kyra's voice floated into his furry ears. Delagor had no difficulty in connecting the voice with Kyra. Who else could it be? As any tactical mover should, she was assessing whether or not he was sent by Rhyna. His smile became more pronounced, as he spoke softly. "What would you pay for freedom, Kyra Longfletch?"
Kyra heard the reply so aptly spoken, and stepped forwards, lips almost touching the door as she whispered back, "my life, Stripecat." And it was true. Kyra Longfletch was willing to risk her life to gain the freedom she and her friends so craved and lusted after.
"I'm on guard duty tonight, Kyra Longfletch. Rhyna Reguba hired me to act as a spy in Mavarl's horde. I accepted because of the challenge. I am a reliable link between you and the slaves, and the rebel forces waiting to help you. Skythistle Morningdew Meadowsong has organized a rescue party to assist you, and she has also gotten Salamandastron hares and Sea otters to add to the army. What message would you like me to convey to Skythistle?"
Kyra grinned despite herself. "'E certainly doesn't beat 'round the bush, does 'e?" She said, whispering to Lucien. The otter grinned back at her, and Brindor, Kestral, and Raze joined in the silent laughter. Kyra took a deep breath and stepped forwards, almost pressing her lips to the door as she leaned in. Hopefully, the wildcat would be able to hear her when she gave him her instructions.
"Fine, Stripecat, I'll trust you. Tell the army to be ready t'morrow night. We've rallied the slaves somewhat. Nothin' more we can do. I'll give the eagle cry once we're locked in the compound for th'night tomorrer. Once if we're preparing, twice if all is not well, three times if we're ready. When you hear it, get your tail over 'ere and help us. I'll pick the lock to the compound an' get us out. Understand?"
The wildcat nodded even though Kyra couldn't see it. "Until tomorrow, Kyra Longfletch," was all he said before departing silently and swiftly to relate the news to Sky before daybreak. He would be back at his post before anyone noticed he was missing. Most creatures would be in bed about now in any case, and this was more important than getting caught away from his post.
Raze grinned widely, wicked fangs gleaming in the dark. "Yew all 'eard that, tomorrer night we're gettin' outta here! Be ready. Now, get some shuteye. Tomorrer's gonna be a long day... "Suiting the action to the word, he padded to his corner and curled up, his matter-of-fact air reassuring the other slaves as he lowered his head to the floor and closed his eyes for what would hopefully be his last sleep as a captive.
Kyra woke early that morning. Earlier than usual, that is. The sun was not yet up, but they were usually up before the first light of dawn touched the island anyway. It was still night. She had a few moments to herself before the guards would come bursting in; only a few moments. So she sat, eyes adjusting to the dark, half closed in weariness.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark, the ottermaid watched a form that had gone to sleep in another part of the room move up and down, breathing softly and slowly in a peaceful sleep. Lucien. She watched him for a while, slightly envying his peace of mind. He rarely enjoyed such a moment, and neither did she. Even in slumber, both of them were haunted by nightmarish ghouls of their pasts and of their futures.
Yawning silently, Raze uncurled with a stretch and looked around him. When he saw Kyra, he grinned and stood up, stretching again to ease the kinks out of his muscles. Padding over, he winked and gave her a relaxed smile, truly at his ease for once.
"Well, mate, today's the day, eh? Y'ready? We got us some work t'do." Scratching absently at the scars on his back, now all but healed over, his eyes hardened. "An' some scores t'settle."
Lucien stirred slightly at Raze's words. He opened one eye, the baby blue one. He grinned. "Indeed we do, Raze, m'friend. . . indeed we do." He slowly rose from his spot sleeping against the wall, staggering to his feet awkwardly, almost too drowsy from last night's late hours to move. His only comfort came from his next statement. "But t'day we're getting freedom, and it's worth the work we went through."
Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Kestral sat up and turned to the small piece of sky she could see through a crack in the compound wall. A slight smudge of gray tinged horizon, heralding the coming day. Today all their plans would go into action. The outcome would either be Freedom, or death. There was no turning back.
Kestral shook herself. She would not think like that. They had to win. They had to. By the end of today, Mavarl would not be alive to choose whether they lived or died. That thought gave her a sickeningly pleasant feeling, too. Mavarl would be punished for his many, many felonies. Brindor, who had woken soon after Kestral, came up behind her and put a paw on her shoulder, drawing her out of her thoughts.
"Kestral. . . during the battle tonight. . . I want you to stay on the ship. We can sneak you over there beforehand, and you can be ready to help the slaves when they arrive." Kestral turned to look at him, her expression carefully blank.
"You don't really. . ." Realizing that he did really mean it, Kestral shook her head and said quietly, "I'd go mad within five minutes, cooped up there while the rest of you fought. You know that."
Brindor sighed. "You'd have an important job, Kes, I'm not just-"
Kestral turned her back to him, voice flat and emotionless. "No."
"Kestral Riversplash, listen to me," Bindor's voice was full of urgent worry- and love. "I lost you once, I don't want to lose you again! You could be killed-" Whirling around, Kestral cut him off once again, eyes and voice hard with barely contained anger.
"I am no longer a dibbun, Da! I may not be full grown, but I am not a kit, to be coddled and protected and hidden away at the first sign of danger. I am not the best warrior in the world, but we need all the help we can get, and I will not be shut away while the rest of you fight for what is right and true!"
"Kes, don't you see? I am only trying to protect you. You still have a lot of life ahead of you-"
"Then why did you an' ma teach me staff and sling and bow?" Kestral asked, eyes narrowed. "You taught me to protect myself, to stand up for myself. What good is life if it is lived in slavery? If we do not win, Mavarl will kill me anyway. I cannot sail away from here on my own."
Father and daughter locked eyes for a moment or two, one angry and stubborn, the other weary and sad. Finally, Brindor nodded. Almost inaudibly, the otter spoke. "Very well. You may fight."
Kyra smiled slightly, nodding at Lucien and Raze, hardly hearing Kestral in the background as she argued with her father, who seemed to be reluctantly losing this family battle. "Lucien's right. We do 'ave a long day ahead of us. 'Member what we're supposed to do? If all goes according to plan, I give three eagle calls. If all is wrong, I give two calls. One if we're locked in the compound and are preparing."
Lucien nodded, hearing the directions again, though not really listening. Out of the corner of his eye he had been watching Kestral argue with her father. He watched the old Otter's face, his features aged and tired. His frame was exhausted, and he obviously wanted his daughter safe. He just then realized what they were arguing about: whether Kestral was to fight or not!
He was used to bow and circular blades, so maybe Kestral, who was trained with a staff, could teach him a thing or two 'til he got his own weapons back. And so, he approached Kyra with the thought in mind. "Kys, d'yeh think we could see iffen the rescue party could bring us any weapons, two staffs also iffen they could. Or should I just keep m'big fat mouth shut?" he said, with a grin and a wink.
Kyra shrugged. "We're out of here t'morrow, Lucien. I doubt they'll reach us before then, but you can always just pick up some of the bigger sticks from outside." The maid smiled as an idea formed in her mind. "Or you could look for two broken scythe handles in the rubbish heap in the corner of the compound. Get an' extra staff fer me too, if y'don't mind, Lucien," she said, smiling.
Raze, overhearing the conversation, grinned viciously, his eyes feral- looking in the predawn light. He now resembled the vermin he truly was. "Those scythes're fine weapons, mates - long 'andles t'use as staffs, an' nice sharp blades. We kin get our own stuff back after it's all over." Raze licked his teeth and grinned nastily. This was going to be a day to remember.
Kyra nodded, smiling with eager anticipation. She could almost feel her heart accelerating, and the blood running through her veins. She could almost taste the salty sweet flavor of blood in the air. . . on her tongue. . . she could feel her arrow plunging into the soft flesh of Mavarl. . . Kyra shuddered, clutching the smooth stone wall for support. She couldn't let the bloodwrath take control.
"Er. . . Lucien. . . Raze. . ." she said cautiously, "I need t'tell you two sommat. . . after we get our weapons, make sure y'don't come anywhere near me. Just stay as far away from me as y'can. Far away. I don' want any of you hurt. Tell Kestral and all the other slaves too. Once we start, don't go near me. I might take off a head before I recognize who it belongs to."
And then she was silent, still clutching the stone wall, her heart slowing, and her mind frightened. Blind terror was not unknown to Kyra, and the thing she feared the most wasn't death or Mavarl, pain or torture. The thing that Kyra was frightened of most was herself. Kyra nodded, smiling slightly.
"Good. I know you'll understand, Raze. You too, Lucien. Kestral and her father won't come near me. Rhyna's seen what happens to beasts who come near me when I'm fighting. Log-A-Log Raivine has seen it first hand too.
"I'm more worried about that idjit of an 'aremaid Sky! I know she's smart, but she does have a habit of running into idiotic situations. My bet's she'll run after me the entire time because she's worried ratface will kill me. Don't blame her. I'd do the same. Proves we're both idiots. But I'm worried she won't listen to me. That hare will 'ardly listen t'anyone."
Raze shrugged, trying to sound confident for Kyra's sake. The ottermaid needed all the confidence that she could get for the day ahead, and he wasn't going to refuse her a little comfort when she so needed it. "Aye, mate, I know. I seen it afore. But Sky knows too, an' she ain't stupid enough t' go that close. We all know t'keep clear o' yew in the battle now, the slaves as well. Don't worry."
Kyra shook her head. "I would like to believe you, but I know Sky better than you do. She'd go after me, especially if I told her not to. The guards'll be comin' soon. Raze, Lucien, I want you two to keep an eye out. I've got a feeling... somewhere in the pit of my stomach... a feeling that somethings goin' to go wrong. Make sure nobeast is missing. . . I don't want us betrayed."
Raze nodded once, to show he understood, and stood up to take a head count. All the slaves were awake by now and watching the leaders in silence, waiting. Everyone was present, yet Raze felt something was wrong as well. A feeling of foreboding had settled on him, and he gritted his teeth determinedly. He'd go ahead regardless.
Darkness had recently blanketed the sky, stars popping out. It was time. Lucien rose from his spot in the corner of the slave compound. This was it. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. He quickly wiped it away, taking a slow, deep breath and exhaling, walking towards the rest of the slaves.
"Rouse y'selves now. It's time," he said in a low tone, tapping every slave until he saw their eyes open, leaving out Raze, Kestral, Brindor, and Kyra. He'd wake them in a moment. He then came to the scythes, all stolen from the fields, gathering them up and passing them out amongst the slaves. He ended up getting a scythe himself, as well as one for Kyra, Raze, and two staffs for Kestral and Brindor.
He stopped a moment after passing out all but these 5 weapons, he stopped to take a look at Kyra. Sleeping. He smiled, and stepped first to Kestral, tapping her on the shoulder and handing her a staff, likewise with Brindor. He then approached Raze, tapping him on the shoulder and handing him a scythe. He nodded and winked, continuing lastly to Kyra.
He shook her sleeping form lightly. "Wake up, Kys. 'Tis time." He put a scythe in her lap and put an arm on her shoulder. "Time fer yew t'go kick that filthy rat's 'ide," he said with a grin. "Time fer us t'get free."
Kyra opened one eye and smiled. "Aye, 'tis time indeed. Thanks, Lucien."
The ottermaid wandered up from her position on the floor. The day's labor had been a long and hard one. But, thankfully, it would be her last. It was time. The time she had been waiting for. She stood up, watching as all the other slaves lined up neatly near the door. She looked outside the door. One guard. Good. She had thought Delagor would be there, but no.
The ottermaid smiled at the slaves, feeling responsible for them. It was time to say a few words. "Well, mates, this is it. It's time. We all hate Mavarl and his rats. You've all got weapons. Anybeast not fit to fight should stay in 'ere 'till someone comes for you. Sky will know what to do. She'll send someone up to collect you and bring you down to the ship."
"You others," she continued, "Are t'wait until I say it's time. I'm goin' to give the eagle call. The rat'll come in to investigate. Then, it'll be time. Take a moment to prepare. Then, we start. Lucien, a word, please?" Not waiting for Lucien to answer, the ottermaid drew him aside, partially out of view. "We don't have much time, so m'goin' to say what I've been wanting to say. Lucien. . . well. . . er. . ."
The ottermaid froze, the entire speech she had planned out freezing on her lips. "I. . . er. . ." Gathering every ounce of courage the possessed, the ottermaid stepped a pace forwards, heart beating frantically. "Well. . ." She paused, took a deep breath, and continued. "I. . . I guess I'd better show you."
Taking a final step forwards, the ottermaid pressed her lips to her dear friends. A soft kiss, and a sad one. She pulled back immediately and took a few steps towards the door, one shoulder of her tunic lopsided. She didn't notice. "In case. . . in case we don't meet again, Lucien Streambed."
Kestral was entirely awake and alert almost immediately, her nerves had been tight as a drawn bow all night, ready to spring forward. Now though, as she accepted the staff from Lucien with a nod of thanks, she felt oddly calm. Stretching, she ran through a few of the basic staff drills.
Brindor too was awake, holding his staff awkwardly in one hand. Staffwork had never been his strongpoint. He did not want to be rude, they had obviously gone to some trouble to get this for him, but all the same he would probably do more harm then good if he tried to wield it. A sudden idea struck him, and he sat, setting the staff down and undoing the battered rope that served him as a tunic belt.
Listening to Kyra's speech with one ear, he tugged at a section in the middle of it, loosening it until it was enough broader that it would hold a stone. Feeling around on the ground for a stone, he found one and fitted it into the makeshift sling. Whirling it around unobtrusively, the otter tested the weight. Satisfied, he nodded. This would do nicely.
Brindor then turned to Kestral. He hugged his daughter, then, one last time, asked "You're sure y'want to do this? It's not too late to send you to the boat." Kestral nodded again. He had not really expected her to change her mind. She was able to take care of herself now. He had realized that in the past few days.
Soon after, Kyra let out the eagle call. "KYEEEEEAAAAAAAAAR! KYEEEEEEAAAAAAR! KYEEEEEAAAAAAAR!"
Once. Twice. Three times. It was done. As Kyra had predicted, the rat banged on the door. "Shuddup, yew lot, or I'm comin' in."
"Come in and get me, longtail," she retorted.
The rat unlocked the door and stormed into the room. Swish! Crack! Thwap! Kyra brought the blunt end of the scythe down on the unfortunate rats head as he charged in the door, whip raised. She smiled, and wound the whip about one paw. "Alright you lot. We're ready. Remember what I told you, and good luck! Remember. . . Mavarl's mine."
With these words, the last rebellion against Mavarl the Tyrant had started.
The hills just beyond Castle Fortguard were teaming with goodbeasts, but none could be seen. Each was well hidden, waiting, some impatiently, some nervously, for the cry that would signal the battle's beginning. It was upon one of these hills where Sky found Dunner. She sat off to the side, laughing softly beneath her breath as she watched him show off before a group of shrews.
Dunner was thoroughly enjoying himself, having waited like this many times before. To pass the time, he had removed six daggers from the belt he kept slung across his chest and was juggling them, attempting an extra trick every few minutes.
The eagle cry rang from the castle: once, twice, thrice. In an instant the daggers were back in the belt, the hare darting over the hill, careful to stay hidden. The army was after him in a flash, Sky speeding up to run by his side, a grin flashing across her face. Finally, it had begun.
Meanwhile, Raze tightened his grip on the scythe handle, teeth bared in a snarl, fangs gleaming malevolently in the torchlight. He raced out of the door and darted silently away from the compound, following his own route as the slaves split and hunted down one vermin after another.
As the face of a newly slain rat blanched, the ferret ran past him and straight into a guard stoat. He swung the scythe and beheaded the unfortunate stoat instantly, screaming aloud as he saw another figure in the distance. "SCRAAAAAAAW! YORE MINE, SCUM!"
The ferret's eyes blazed yellow with battle light as he charged forward. Scraw's eyes widened, and he turned and fled deeper into the fortress, leaving Raze to hunt him down. The ferret pursued, laughing wildly and killing every vermin he passed as he ran after the rat.
He eventually cornered Scraw on the deck of their old ship, the Darkwave. Scraw was cowering against the mast, cornered and desperately seeking for a way to stall the now grim-faced ferret who stalked towards him.
Scraw sniveled and cried, trying desperately to think of a way to stall the ferret, for he knew that otherwise he would kill him eventually. Distract him and the rat stood a chance of escape. His mind raced, and finally he managed to gasp a phrase. "Coward or no, I still managed to off yore parents, yew worthless gutter trash!"
The blade clattered to the deck, dropped from nervelsss paws; the whip went the same way. Raze stared at the rat. "Wot did you say?" he asked quietly, his voice laden with menace. "Tell me, rat, or you'll scream fer a season an' beg me fer death afore I let you go." Raze's voice was ice cold, and Scraw's resolve faltered before he sneered.
"I said that yer sire an' dam was bilge scrapin's like yew, not fit ter lick a decent searat's paws. I knew 'em well enough. Knew 'em fore yew was born. I killed 'em, too, an' t'was the best thing I ever did." His voice cut off at the look on the ferret's face.
Scraw's laughter, wicked and cruel, faltered slightly as he saw the look on the ferret's face, and he began to back away nervously, laughter dying away. Truly scared, Scraw backed up and his back hit the mast. Nowhere to run, and he stared ashen-faced at the ferret, trembling and scared, watching those grim eyes turning blood-red.
Raze stared at him, a look of savagery on his face. Then something snapped within his brain, and he heard himself screaming as a red mist blanketed his vision, covering everything. All he could see through the red mist was the rat against the mast. He charged forwards, feeling his teeth come together and rip, and felt the blood flowing thick, hot and fast between his clenched jaws as red fog covered everything.
The red mist faded slowly, and he stared impassively down at the searat's corpse, noting in a detached way that Scraw's throat had been ripped out and that a look of terror was on his face.