Chapter Twelve
Tears of Blood Blackness overcame the ottermaid as she thudded to the ground, flames still vibrant in their fiery red brilliance. She saw Dark Forest's gates in front of her. A voice behind her laughed. Kyra turned to see Mavarl. "So, you're here too, otter? Good. At least that's one small consolation. I killed you after all."
"At least you're dead too, you filthy rat," Kyra responded. "Leave me alone. I don't want to see you, even in death."
The rat rolled his eyes. "Foolish young pup. We aren't dead. The gates haven't opened. We're only on the brink of death." Kyra nodded slowly, understanding it. So, she wasn't dead. She hadn't entered the gates yet. She still had a chance. A chance to kill Mavarl, that is.
"Aye. And I intend to send you beyond that gate, Mavarl." Mavarl looked at her coolly.
Suddenly, the air about her turned red with flame. The air about her grew denser, and she started to choke. Kyra looked down beneath her feet. A gaping pit of flames had opened between her and the rat. "Hellgates..." she whispered. She looked down, eyes stinging, at the flames below her.
Mavarl sneered. "It seems that we are at an impasse, Riverdog. I cannot reach you, and you cannot reach me."
Kyra shook her head again. "Yer wrong, rat. You can't reach me over 'ere, but I can sure as the season get to you. Or die trying. I'm goin' to kill you even if I fall into that accursed pit!" Kyra ran backwards. Mavarl was speechless. Closing her eyes, feet gripping the ground, she took another few steps back. "This is for all the friends that rat killed, and for all my friends that are trying to overthrow him now."
And those were Kyra Longfletch's last words before she started running. The otter ran as she had never run before, gaining momentum as she ran faster and faster and faster, never stopping, teeth gritted, heart pounding, eyes watering, muscles burning inside her. It was as if her whole body was a mass of pain. She didn't stop.
Faster and faster, harder and harder she ran, her speed increasing. She was going faster than any hare had ever gone, even the young gallopers. She was going faster than was possible by normal standards. She was a blur as she pushed off with powerful legs and sailed over the pit.
Kyra's feet hit hard ground, jolting her teeth. The ottermaid ignored the pain and charged. Mavarl put up no resistance. He was staring in shock at Kyra. Nobeast could have made such a jump. Nobeast! It was impossible, and the befuddled warlord said as much. "It. . . it's impossible! Inconceivable! How. . ."
Kyra cut him off by clamping a paw over his mouth. A hard, cold paw. "Do you really want those to be your last words, rat?" She asked calmly, clamping her other paw over his neck. Mavarl had regained his senses.
The rat jumped up, wriggling free of Kyra's death grip somehow, and kicking her in the stomach. Kyra got up slowly, eyes burning. For the first time, her head was clear of Bloodwrath, even as she was facing her enemy. Mavarl, for one of the few times in his life, was terrified. The rat didn't know what to do. He charged at Kyra, intending to take her off guard by swirling around to kick her from behind.
With catlike agility, the ottermaid jumped forwards, gripping Mavarl again by the throat. The rat was in a panic now, fighting out of desperation. He continued his attack on Kyra, jumping on top of her, biting, kicking, spitting, clawing, and cursing as hard and fast as he could.
Kyra did not retaliate. She simply held him, slowly squeezing him as she rose to her feet, carrying the rat with her. Mavarl knew in which direction she was heading. He struggled to free himself from Kyra's grasp, but to no avail. The rat was locked firmly in her embrace. Kyra had reached the edge of the gaping crack that was Hellgates, watching the fire below. She stopped abruptly, turning Mavarl to face her.
"Look at me, rat," she commanded. Mavarl looked away. Kyra shook him. "Look. . . at. . . me!" Mavarl cautiously turned his eyes to meet hers. They locked. The rat could not tear his gaze away from the flames that were dancing in them, the background of her irises shining red. Kyra was expressionless. Slowly, Kyra lifted the rat over her head, and threw him as hard as she could. Kyra stumbled.
For a moment, Mavarl sailed in midair, and then, just as suddenly, he reached out and gripped Kyra's foot, his paw surrounding her ankle. Kyra was taken by surprise, and was pulled downwards, partially into the pit. Only her upper body was still touching the ground. Mavarl's weight began to pull her down slowly.
The ottermaid searched frantically for a rock, branch, anything to grab. Her groping paws found nothing. Soon, her pelvis disappeared, followed by her ribs, shoulders, and chin. She was almost in the pit, her paws clinging to the edge of the crack with the strength of desperation.
Mavarl looked up at Kyra, hatred burning in his black eyes. "If I have to go down to Hellgates, I'm making sure I take you with me, otter!" he spat. Kyra looked at Mavarl and then at her paws. The rat was helpless. Kyra smiled. "I've waited for this moment for a long time, Mavarl. I'd like to say, you've been a cruel but worthy adversary. This ends now, rat. Goodbye."
She let her paws drop from the edge of Hellgates.
Kyra was in a world of pain. She fell into the fire, endlessly falling, falling, falling... never any peace. So, this was what Hellgates was like. This was where all the villains went after they were killed. Into this place of. . . she couldn't describe it.
The pain was constantly there, burning and eating away at her flesh. She was dead now, the pain boring into her soul. Kyra looked down at herself. She was a mass of fire. Just fire and spirit flesh, merging together. She suddenly looked down. She could see Mavarl's grip on her ankle, though she couldn't feel it. The rat was burning too, forever burning and tormented. And then. . .
Thump
They landed on solid ground. Fire spurted up at random for the bare, dry wasteland that stretched out as far as anyone could see. Mavarl got to his feet, letting go of Kyra's ankle. Slowly, shadowy forms started to appear around them, countless vermin closing in on them, and even the more civilized species, a very small number of hares, otters, shrews, mice, ect. that had turned bad were among them.
Their eyes peered at the newcomers, staring at them oddly. Kyra looked at them in astonishment. A few of them were bolder and came closer. And, to her amazement, she recognized them! Not from personal acquaintance, but from stories. A rat that held his tail like a whip stepped forwards. Kyra had studied the history of Redwall Abbey well, and recognized Cluny the Scourge when she saw him.
"Well, it seems you both have come to join us," he said in a thick accent.
"Yes," nodded a weasel with bright blue eyes. Feragho the Assassin, of course. The weasel tilted his head and studied them both hard.
"This place is a place of honor in Hellgates," said a ferret with six fingers on his demolished left paw. "Only the most evil are admitted into this part of Hellgates. You both must have done something horrible to get here. We all did, eh? It's torture. But there's no way out. Brace yourselves."
Kyra glared frostily at the ferret. "I've done no wrong, Swartt Sixclaw. Well, ferret, does it comfort ye t'know yer name 'as been recorded in history t'this day? You others too. Cluny. Feragho..."
The three held smug looks. "Have you heard of me?" a small vixen stepped forwards. Her fur was grey, and she carried a double handed axe. There were a few others like her in the crowd.
"Aye. . . Lantur. I know ye, though 'ow I remember yer name I 'ave no idea, or 'ow I know that's the one you are. It's jus' a feelin', vixen." Silence reigned for a long time. A rat stepped forwards, holding a hook in place of a paw.
"You must 'ave done somethin' to get down 'ere, H'Otter. Something. Tell Ragga Bol. I'm mos' curious." Kyra shook her head.
"I didn' do anythin', Cap'n Bol. That wretch Mavarl the Tyrant brought me down 'ere." A stoat stepped forwards carrying a sword. He smiled wickedly.
"Tyrant? I was once called that. Badrang the Tyrant, they called me. That is, until Martin the Warrior slew me after I killed 'is girlfriend. I didn' live to get my revenge. But I still curse 'is memory. Martin the Warrior. Huh! He was the one who sent me down here."
A wildcat stepped forwards, agilely leaping behind Kyra. "That mouse killed me too, Badrang. Drowned me. I deserve revenge as much as you, and am willing to prove it to you. This place is full of pain, and it's all his fault. It's all the fault of you goodbeasts. Who are you, anyway? Any relations up in Dark Forest?"
"Aye," Kyra spat. "I'm Kyrani Longfletch, and you c'd use some manners. . . Tsarmina." There were murmurs, but the murmurs did not speak the name of Longfletch. The spoke the name of Madeyes. Slowly, the crowd parted, a pine martin stepped through the crowd, eyes blazing.
"So. . . Grath Longfletch lived. I, of course, knew her. She and I were only slightly connected though. I ordered my vermin to raid her Holt. I see you goodbeasts were successful in conquering my island. And that otterbrat lived long enough to reproduce. Quite well, if I can say so. Not many could take on that rat over there."
Kyra glared at Mavarl. "Even if I have to stay here for eternity. . . even if I have to leave all those I love behind. . . at least that accursed rat is here too."
"Well?" Asked Tsarmina, green eyes as narrow as slits. "What did you do to get down here? There must be a reason."
Kyra shook her head. "No reason. That rat pulled me down here with him. I am a warrior. I kill to protect myself, and to help others. I am good. Once I thought that vermin and goodbeasts weren't so different, that we were all evil. Now I know why you are all down here. You were warriors too. But you wanted power. Goodbeasts help the weak and innocent. That's why I shouldn't be down here. I'm innocent."
And with those words, Kyra Longfletch began to rise in the air. Higher and higher she rose, a bright white light surrounding her. The silvery light was so bright that none could bear to look at her. She was like a tiny sun in a world of darkness, rising higher and higher until she was almost invisible. Mavarl watched her go.
"Kyra Longfletch. . ." he muttered to Cluny, "at least I lost to an amazing creature. To believe I fought the first beast to ever go to Hellgates and come back to tell the tale." All were silent for a long time, thinking about past decisions that had gotten them into this land of torture.
"Oh my God." Lucien smelled smoke. He coughed, sprinting towards the room. The door was wide, the flames having gone down slightly. But they still lingered. Ignoring the fact that they burned into his skin, he ran to her.
"Kyra!" he shouted, kneeling down by her side and taking his good arm around her back. He was breathing hard, shaking his head as he lifted her up. "No..." he whispered, cradling her head and gazing down at her limp form. He kissed her forehead, raising his head and looking around. Sky: dead. Marval: dead. Everywhere the scent of it clung to the air, filling his senses. She was dead.
But it wasn't possible. . . it couldn't be. . . not like this. All this time she had been worried about him, when she had been the one to go. He picked her up, and held her cold, cold body in his arms. He hugged her body to his chest, doubting he'd be able to go further than a few steps before his strength gave out. His arm throbbed, his leg threatened to twist again, and his footpaws burned with the remaining fires.
But he strode on, through the corridors, up the stairs, to the very roof of the fort. Lucien stood, the wind, ruffling his fur as he held dead center, looking out across. A tear flew from his cheek and into the wind. The breeze swirled leaves around him and Kyra, as he looked down into her face. He shook his head.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why you? Why now?" he said, repeating the words he had said before. His voice grew angry, and steadily quieter, softer, more loving. "Why, when my life was finally going right? Why now? Why ever?"
Kyra's eyelids fluttered. "'Ello, Lucien. Sorry I can't think of an idiotic phrase to say after a faint, like 'where am I' or somethin', but I'm too tired. . ." Kyra's lips turned up into a faint smile as her eyes opened wider. Lucien was with her. Well, more than with her. Holding her to his chest with tears running down his face. Kyra was moved, shocked, happy, embarrassed. . . and a lot of other things besides.
It was all too complicated. Imagine, she thought to herself, to be talking to warlords of the past and rising out of hellgates to be held in her friend's arms. No. Lucien was more than a friend. She might as well admit it, if only to herself. She did not bother to ask Lucien to put her down, or let go of her. She was perfectly happy exactly where she was.
She put her arms, burned and sore as they were, around Lucien's neck, blood from the battle spilling onto his fur. Of course, Kyra should have been receiving medical treatment, but she didn't care. Sky, Kestral, Raze, Mavarl, all were forgotten for the moment, though the ottermaid would have cause to think about them later.
Kyra had nothing to worry about, though. And why should future thoughts disturb her perfect contentedness? And why shouldn't she be content? The war was over. . . she presumed. She had escaped Hellgates. Mavarl was dead. She was free. . . and she was in Lucien's embrace. Lucien's eyes grew wide as hers came open
"Kyra. . . but. . . how could that. . . ?"
But it didn't matter. Nothing did, except for the one being he held in his arms at that very moment. He stared straight into her eyes, half unable to believe it, half rushing to accept it. "Am I dreaming?" he murmured quietly, so only she could hear. "No, surely no dream could be this sweet." His eyes scanned quickly over her wounds, then back up to her face. "You look beautiful," he said quietly. And he didn't lie.
Lucien hugged her even closer to his chest, bending his head down towards hers. Then, he let his lips descend gently onto hers, swept over them. He shut his eyes, living only for this moment. If he died now, it wouldn't matter! He lifted his head again, and opened his eyes. Tears sprang forth, and streamed down his cheek. They were tears of pure joy, but even more than that, they were tears of love.
It was then that his legs decided to give out. With a slight laugh, he was kneeling on the ground again, ignoring the searing pain in his right leg as he held her inn his embrace. He shook his head, sniffing. "You did it," he said.
Kyra sighed. The ottermaid sat at the bow of the ship, sea spray arching like rainbows in front of her, the sunlight catching their glimmer as droplets of water cascaded down upon the bright blue depth that was the ocean. Kyra felt no such joy, however. Something wasn't right. Kyra hadn't seen Sky since the Rebellion, and whenever she had asked about her, creatures had pointedly ignored her.
Did they know something she didn't? She had tried asking Lucien, but that otter had only silenced her mouth with a kiss and refused to answer. Kyra was feeling the absence of her friend in her soul like a deep, bottomless void that couldn't be filled.
Even her reunion with Ronil hadn't cheered her completely. Was Sky mad at her? Was she wounded, and no one wanted her to know? But she was determined to find out. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago, the night before, there had been a great and bloody battle. Everything was so peaceful now! It seemed as if nothing could go wrong. . . but soon, Kyra would find out about the loss of her best friend.
Lucien was at the back of the boat, staring at the shore with a face of stone. He had his gaze locked onto the sands, an array of poles lined up in rows. Buried there in were all their fellow comrades. The flags were green, fluttering in the breeze. He watched the one section of the Fort engulfed in licking flames. He shook his head, sorry he couldn't have retrieved Sky's body to give her a proper burial.
He had deliberately avoided the subject around Kyra, simply because he wasn't ready to tell her what she had done. He shuddered slightly, not realizing until then how bad the bloodwrath was. He shook it off and tore away from looking back at the Fort. He turned his eyes straight towards the water. As he stared at his reflection he felt a shiver crawl up his spine. He had left with more and less than he had come with.
Kyra watched her friend brooding, eyeing him strangely. She had known something was troubling him, and was ready to find out what it was. What could be so bad that it was bothering Lucien so? Wasn't he happy that this was all over? Wasn't he happy that the rebellion was over and that both of their enemies were dead? Didn't that fix everything?
No, she decided. If she could be upset after killing Mavarl, so could Lucien. Deciding to approach the subject once and for all, the ottermaid stepped forwards, sneaking up behind Lucien and resting a paw on his shoulder.
Her face was the picture of concern and sadness, of worry and regret. She knew that Lucien would not want to tell her what was bothering him, but she also knew that she had to know. Somehow, she had to know. And she wanted to hear it from him. No one else.
"Lucien?" She asked, her voice soft and consoling. "Tell me what's wrong. I've waited long enough." Kyra felt her heart grow numb as she saw the expression on Lucien's face. A strange ringing echoed in her ears, and her eyes began to sting as her temples throbbed. Something was wrong.
Lucien looked up, his eyes glazed over. He shook the film off and sighed, walking away from the railing. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, turning around to face her. His quiver of arrows was strapped to his back again, his bow slung over his shoulder. Inside the arrow pack was an arrow that didn't fit.
He looked her straight in the eye and said it, said what he and all the others had been dying to tell her. But he knew something they didn't know. He knew who had killed Sky. "Kys. . ." he began, wiping off his brow, and keeping his steady gaze. "Sky is dead, Kyra. That's why no one's been a- talkin' about her. But what they don't know is. . ." he trailed off, stopping dead.
But he had to tell her. "Kys. . . you wouldn't believe how hard this is to tell you. Kyra, you were the one who killed her." He pulled out a green fletched arrow from his quiver, handing it to her. He hadn't bothered to wash the blood off the tip and a piece of the shaft. He held it out her.
"Kyra," he stammered, "I'm so sorry." He embraced her, glad he had told her, but not happy she knew. She had to hear it from him though. She had to. She had to. But now she would never be the same. And he wouldn't be able to tell her what else was troubling him. Not for a long time. Now, she needed some time to recover.
Kyra looked shocked, not speaking at all, her mouth dry and her heart drumming inside her chest. She swallowed once, her eyes wide open and her pupils dilated. A rush of sound was pouring into her ears, and it took all the willpower that the young otter possessed to keep from falling to her knees and gripping her head with her paws. She made not a sound, her heart jumping up into her throat.
Sky was dead. Sky was dead. Sky was dead. And Lucien said that she had killed her! All this time, she had worried about their safety, and she had hardly given a thought to hurting Sky! What had she done? Just when everything had seemed to go right, just when everything seemed perfect, it was ruined. Not only was Sky dead, but she had killed her!
Lucien had proof! A bloodstained arrow! Besides, she had not used any other shafts that Lucien would have come across. He hadn't passed the vermin she had slaughtered on her way to the armory. And she had collected those arrows herself. After that, she had only shot Mavarl, and she had used her golden arrow for that. The Golden Arrow. . . where was it? But it didn't matter now, did it? It was entombed with her best friend now. The one she had slain with her own paws under the bloodwrath.
Kyra gasped and stared at Lucien, hardly daring to move. "I. . . Lucien?" Her eyes were tear-filled now, wide and imploring, pleading for him to fix things. But he couldn't. "Lucien. . ." she whispered, her lips dry and her head feeling as though it was being attacked by a thousand sharp hammers.
She knew it was true. Lucien would never lie to her. And she knew that this was something that could have happened. Wasn't this what she had feared? Yes, but she had been secretly confident that she wouldn't ever hurt her friends. She had wished and hoped that this would never happen. And now. . . what now?
Kyra broke down completely. Her body shuddering, her legs buckling underneath her heavily breathing chest, her lips quivering, her mind repeating the information that it had just gained over and over and over again in a painful taunting way. She flung her arms around Lucien's neck, collapsing onto his chest, burying her face into his neck.
Kyra would have felt perfectly fine if not for the news about Sky. She had gotten her long- awaited freedom, had cleaned and bound her wounds, as well as the rest of her body, and had Lucien. But. . . Sky's death, by her paws, took away all of her former joy. She kept her face in his shoulder, not bothering to move; not having the strength to move.
The pain, numbing her muscles and forcing her brain to repeat the same startling and depressing words over and over again. 'You killed Sky. It's all your fault, Kyra. How could you kill your best friend?' This was the second time that she had cried in her life.
The first time had been after she had killed Mavarl, and had been reunited with her brother. Being crowned Skipper of River Otters hadn't been a hindrance for her tears of joy either. But, this was different. These were her first sad tears. They were tears of blood. She let them run down her face, leaving damp streaks on her cheeks. She said not a word.
Lucien returned his thoughts to Kyra. With some difficulty, he kept her up, hugging her tightly. The last thing she needed right now was for him to be blabbing on about himself. A gust of wind blew by, ruffling his and her fur, and threatened to knock the two otters over. But he held on tight, not daring to let go.
"There, there, now, Kyra, H'I know yer angry with yerself. But blamin' you ain't makin' matters better, now, is it?" he said, still keeping her in his embrace. He kept himself pressed to her, whispering his words of comfort and making sure no other beast would bother her.
"Now, I betcha yore mate Sky knew yew was under the bloodwrath. An' I betcha she'd do whatever it took, jus' t'see you beat Marval. An' I doubt she's angry with yeh. You know what Kys?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "I think that from where she's lookin' at you, I betcha she's proud."
Kyra did not speak for a long while, tears streaming down her face. "Proud, Lucien? How c'd Sky be proud after bein' murdered by her best friend? All this time I was worried about ye, an' all the other slaves. All this time, H'I hardly ever thought of Sky. An' now she's dead. Dead an' gone forever. An' I killed 'er, too. D'you know how she mus' have felt, seein' me kill her?"
Kyra was silent for a long while then, not sure of what to say. "Lucien," the ottermaid said tentatively, her brown eyes shining with unreleased tears, "I. . . I didn't mean what I said. I was jus' really upset about Sky an' all. I didn't mean t'sound so ungrateful. You've 'elped me so much, an'. . ." Kyra could hardy bring herself to say the words. "I love you."
Lucien smiled, first time in a while that he had smiled a real one instead of the half-hearted ones he had worn during slavery. He kept her at gazing level, not glancing out at the rainbow that seemed to have dazzled the rest of the crew.
"I love you too, Kyra. But you know why I said what I said, don't you? Don't think that Sky had no flippin' idea of what could happen when she charged in after you. She knew her risks, and she took them."
Kyra nodded at him, seeing some sense in what he said.
"You're right, Lucien. You're right. . . it's just that she didn't deserve to die. She didn't deserve to be killed so painfully. An' at her last moments, I think she knew that I was mad. . . but. . . I still think she felt betrayed. It's jus', I loved Sky with all my 'eart. She was my best friend, an' I hate to think that she hated me in her last moments. And that I was the one who stole everything she loved from 'er.
"With Mavarl, t'was different. I'd no qualms about killin' 'im. He had to be killed; t'was the only way of stopping him. But Sky. . ." Her voice trailed off as she pulled herself slightly out of Lucien's embrace. She grinned at him slightly, even if it was a bit half-hearted, and leaned against the banister of the ship, allowing him to do the same next to her.
She sighed, a sigh of sadness and restlessness as well as happiness and contentedness. She was so confused! She was with Lucien looking at a rainbow. That made her happy! But Sky was dead. She wouldn't ever see a rainbow again. She wouldn't feel joy, and she would never allow laughter to penetrate her dead lips again.
"I can't honestly say I know whether or not that's true, Kys. We all loved Sky, prolly no one more than you. But she's not gone. She's still there," he said, pointing at her heart. "Doesn't that mean more than anything? To still love her while she's gone, instead of beatin' yerself up over it? Wouldn't that make her feel less betrayed?"
Lucien grinned, gazing at the rainbow. So beautiful. . . it had come at the right time, too. Whether Kyra denied it or accepted it, she seemed to be enjoying looking at it too. Vibrant colors, a gorgeous sun, and the perfect day to be sailing. . .
Kyra nodded to Lucien, his words creeping into her very soul and healing it. The words started to patch up the large rip that had appeared in her heart. Of course, the rip would never completely go away, and it would fester often, but it would heal slightly. And it would get better and better as the seasons passed.
And then she thought of something she had told Sky long ago, and had used to comfort herself many times in the past when all hope seemed lost. "A soul isn't meant to be kept in a cage," she murmured to herself, the words rolling off her tongue as the grief and anguish rolled off of her like water. "It's meant to be wild and free. No one should keep it pent up."
A slow smile spread across her face. Why was she sad? Sky was free. Her soul was at rest, and she no longer had to face fear and sadness. "Stay there, Lucien. I'm jus' goin' t'get something from my chamber. Won't be but a moment." Without another word, Kyra disappeared below the decks of the tossing ship.
The cabin that Kyra was currently occupying was simple: a small wooden room with a bed that was more like a bunk than anything else, covered with a simple sheet. There was a dresser next to it, attached to the wall, and not much else. There was also a round window.
Kyra pulled out a fresh tunic from the drawers in the simple dresser. This tunic, however, was not one of her usual garb. Kyra usually donned green, her family color as well as the color of her arrows. This tunic was white. She sighed as she held it in front of her, examining it shrewdly. It would do. Quietly, the ottermaid stripped off the rags that she had kept on without realizing it for quite a long time.
Also among her possessions were a necklace of sea coral, which she adorned; a fish bone bracelet, which she also adorned; and the emerald crown that she had taken from Mavarl so long ago. Why the otters she commanded had brought these things, she knew not. But, she was glad they were here.
Walking up the stairs seemed to take a much shorter time than she had thought. The journey seemed to last only seconds. Once she again reached Lucien, she looked immediately to his feet. There it was, just where it had fallen. The arrow that she had killed Sky with. A green one, though it was just as important as her golden one.
She silently picked it up, notching it to her bowstring neatly. Then, she took off the fishbone bracelet, wrapping it around the arrows feathery plumage. Her apology. Her eyes shining with tears, Kyra again set the arrow to the bowstring.
The saber lay in front of her. She would keep that, and learn to use it properly. She would wield that blade in Sky's memory. But for now, she still had a tribute to perform. Kyra closed her eyes and shot the arrow into the depths of the sea. . .
It flew until it could no longer be seen.