Chapter 3 Flight through Shattered Pass

The sun mercilessly beat down upon the backs of the vermin. Dust was kicked up in great mots, forming a seemingly permanent haze around the small sea of creatures. From his vantage point up on the rocky slope that formed one side of the large mountain pass, Vaz Darkeye surveyed the procession with a look of annoyance stamped upon his grim visage.

Beside the hulking rat, Halftail and a score more of armed vermin stood. Like Vaz they were all garbed in pieced together bits of armor. A rough leather breastplate, a dented iron helmet here, not a one had anything that matched together. They also carried equally drab weaponry, mostly poorly worked swords, axes, and the occasional spear. Each one had shown at least a general enough competence that they had been paw picked by Vaz to act as his captains for this horde…this rabble, a term Vaz thought suited them better.

He had forgotten how long it had been since he had started this desperate plan. Having led his small shattered horde west into the mountains, he had hopped to merely get as far away from the great plains as possible, and hopefully without encountering and of that cursed legion of steel!

The only problem as that as time passed Vaz found that his horde had hardly been the only one to be attacked, and that in these mountains there were countless scores of vermin who had fled the onslaught of the steel demons. In small bands, and some not so small, they came, countless vermin who were leaderless and looking for any kind of sanctuary. And against his better judgment they had found it in Vaz Darkeye's ever growing horde.

This posed countless problems. First and foremost was the fact that there was simply not enough food in this region that could be scavenged to support this many creatures. Already dozens had fallen to starvation, and those still standing were so bone thin that they appeared to be walking skeletons than living creatures. Vaz imposed strict rations on whatever food they could find, trying to keep those who were still strong as fit as possible, and giving the rest to the starved masses.

It had gotten to the point that most preyed on each other more than anything else, the dead becoming just another source of meat. And food was not the only logistic problem Vaz faced. The weather up in the mountains was cold and unforgiving, and with no settlements to raid it was impossible to gather more clothing than what they had on their backs, and for many that consisted only of tattered rags and if one was lucky a hole filled pair of shoes.

To make matters worse sickness was a common problem, and many poor wretches feel as much to mere colds or coughs as to lack of food. So many creatures in so close quarters with very little of any available form of personal hygiene made for a perfect breeding ground for disease.

For a time Vaz and those he placed in charge managed to maintain order. Organizing the so-called horde into one large marching line that spread for almost a mile, Vaz's 'captains' kept the line moving and in relative order. Vaz conscripted creatures still in good health to be soldiers, arming them with whatever weapons they had salvaged from the throng of refugee's. The soldiers, about a dozen under each captain, made sure that the horde did not dissolve into a mob. At times, though, Vaz was convinced it was more just the demonstration of even illusionary order that kept the lot of them in line, instead of any real possible order that his 'army' could actually keep.

Things had changed drastically not more than an hour past, when a group of stragglers that were being left behind had suddenly come running with renewed vigor. Wild shouts of the 'Steel Monsters!' from the stragglers soon sent a panic through the horde that Vaz knew he'd never be able to control. Like a wave of flesh the mile long mass of vermin were fleeing. To compound the problem they had come upon a narrow pass through the mountain, making it so only a few could get through at any one time. This created a huge backup, a massive flowing crowd of creatures at the bottleneck of the pass, each shouting and pushing to get through.

In the pass itself was no better, as Vaz could see from where he stood up high on the slope. Crazed with fright vermin dashed along the canyon floor, carrying whatever belongings they could clutched to their chests or strapped over their backs. If more than two-thirds of that mass were not females or young, Vaz might have attempted to army the lot and turn them about to face the foe. From what he'd heard there really weren't that many of the steel beasts pursuing them, barely more than a hundred…but memory of the blood those monsters could spill was firmly etched in many of the mind's of the vermin and Vaz knew that it was unlikely he would have been able to convince any more than the bravest or most foolish make a stand. And assuming he could have, with the few bits of armor his 'soldiers' had and even fewer decent weapons, Vaz doubted they would last long against the blasted woodlanders.

And that led to why he was standing up here with his captains, Halftail looking particularly nervous as the large rat turned to look at all of them.

"Alright now, you all be knowin' what the plan is?"

There were a few doubtful looks among them, but for the most part each nodded or gave some sort of acknowledgement that they understood what was to be done. Vaz didn't particularly care if they fully understood the plan, just as long as his orders were carried out. There was no time for questions.

"Right then, get a' movin'! Don't none of ya be doing anything else till' I give the signal!"

With that the band quickly dispersed, running to their positions along the loose rock formations along the canyon wall. At each of these positions a group of a dozen strong backed vermin picked out of the horde by Vaz waited with stout wooden poles.

Vaz himself was followed by Halftail as they too took up a position near one of the looser rock formations. The whole plan was risky at best, and none too polished, but Vaz couldn't think of anything better and they were out of time. Even now he could make out in the distance to the east the tell-tale glint of metal that meant those steel clad bastards were on their way. The flowing mob through the canyon seemed like a slow trickle to Vaz from where he watched it, and there were just too many still trying to get in at the bottleneck for there to be any chance that all would get through before those monsters arrived.

"How long should we wait chief?" asked Halftail, shifting on his footpaws nervously. Vaz snorted and said, "As long as we can be affordin' to do so. Might as well be lettin' as many as possible get themselves through the canyon."

And so they waited. Minutes seemed to stretch out into hours as they stood there under the scorching rays of the sun, with clouds of kicked up dust getting into their noses and fur, causing some to go into coughing fits. As miserable as the wait was Vaz knew it was twice as bad down below in the horde, with all those creatures crowded together in a panic. The thought made him all the more set in his belief that his plan was for the best. It would cut down on their numbers and help ease the pressure on their food supply.

Just as minutes became a full hour and it seemed like two-thirds of the massive horde had made it's way through the canyon a few shouts from the nearby vermin caused Vaz to look back to the east. There was no mistaking that line of gleaming silver. There could not have been that many, barely more than a hundred Vaz would guess…but the sight of those woodlanders, those merciless steel woodlanders, caused an even greater panic among those vermin who were still not in the canyon. Shouts and screams doubled and it seemed the ground itself shook with the frantic press to get through the bottleneck.

His expression set to that of stone, Vaz drew himself up "It be time. Send the signal."

Halftail nodded with a visible gulp and drew a blade, holding high in the air and reflecting the sunlight off it towards the group further down the line. Vaz did likewise to another group, and quickly the signal was spread to all the teams at each position. Now with the signal given, Vaz and each of the other vermin around him took up wooden poles. Each side of the canyon had these large sloping rock formations, most likely long forgotten rock slides. Vaz intended to make good use of them.

Poles dug into the crevasse around the looser rocks and with their newfound leverage the vermin started to pull. For a time nothing happened, just a warm wind blowing through the canyon. Then, gradually, there was a loud grinding sound as rocks started to come free. Vaz was the first to free a rock, a huge boulder nearly half his size and probably twice his weight, but the muscular rat prevailed and soon the rock was sent bouncing down the slope, shaking loose lesser rocks upon it's path. Instants latter more rocks followed, broken free by the other vermin. Soon the other teams on both sides of the canyon started to pry loose boulders and it was not long before the rumble of the fleeing horde was replaced by a far louder rumble of renewed rockslides.

Vaz, along with the other vermin on the slopes, were quick to scramble up to the more solid ground of the canyon top. From there they all turned to watch the carnage below with mixed looks of awe, fear, and on a rare few, disgust. For those on the canyon floor who had not gone far enough through, there was nothing to do but watch in terror as it seemed like the whole canyon wall descended upon them. The screams were sickening, the sights even worse and many of those watching looked down or away…but not Vaz Darkeye.

It had been his plan, his decision...so he forced himself to watch the results. He was surprised in fact that when the rumble stopped and the thick mist of dust cleared, that a fair number had actually managed to survive. Now where the canyon mouth had been there was a towering wall of fallen rocks that sealed up a good fourth of the canyon floor. Among these rocks there were actually a few vermin picking themselves from the rubble and either limping or hobbling towards the rest of the horde as it cleared the canyon to the west.

The survivors did not hold Vaz's attention for long, however, as new screams started to permeate the air. A third of the horde had still been left behind when the small army of those vicious woodlanders arrived on the scene. Vaz looked and felt blood draining from his face as he watched the cold, calculated precision of how those woodlanders started to systematically slay the remaining vermin. Something about it just…felt wrong to the rat warlord. He was used to seeing death, even slaughter, but this…this went beyond that. The woodlanders moved as one unit, one large circle that twisted through the screaming mob, and in it's wake only blood and death were left behind. Inside the circle Vaz could see that a pawfull of woodlanders were directing things, giving orders that were followed immediately and to the exact letter. It was incredible that any army could posses that kind of discipline. The entire idea seemed ludicrous to Vaz, and he wondered how it was even possible to train creatures to obey like that without the use of absolute fear as the tool to insure loyalty.

Shaking his head in wonderment, or disgust, or perhaps both, he turned from the sight and looked at Halftail. The ferret was also pale faced, but at least he wasn't shaking. "Get the captains back on their jobs." Said Vaz, "We're going to be needn' to regroup on the other side of the canyon. That pile a' rocks won't hold off them bastards forever, so we need to be movin' as soon as possible."

Halftail had a dulled expression on his face, but his voice was surprisingly clear. "Yes chief, at once."

As the ferret turned to bark out orders, Vaz took one last look at the gruesome scene below. It seemed like the woodlanders had finished their slaughter and were mopping up the remnants of the horde as prisoners. What they planned to do with those prisoners Vaz did not want to know. Blowing out a low growl he wheeled from the sight and stalked past Halftail, heading along the canyon top towards where his horde was awaiting somebeast to lead it. He'd clear up any confusion and get them all moving, moving as fast as they could west...west and away from this blighted blood soaked land.

Vincent's nose wrinkled at the stench. Not that he was unused to it but it seemed that no matter how many times you experienced it the smell of butchered bodies cooking under a noonday sun never became less stomach wrenching. And the fact that these Unclean had stank as badly in life as they did now in death made not for a pleasant experience as the First Captain picked this way through the carpet of bodies, his steel boots making a loud squishing noise in the ground. With the blood of so many slain in it the dry dirt of the mountain valley floor had become almost like mud, a sickening red mud.

It had been almost too easy, dispatching so many Unclean, but this had been even more of arable than usual. Exhausted, mostly unarmed, and panicked as well, they had been easy targets for Vincent's well disciplined company.

It was unfortunate that the Unclean had had the competence to block the Legionbeast's path further by causing the rockslide. Vincent did not like thinking that any of the Unclean could have that kind of foresight. It would take his company days to clear away the rocks. Going around the canyon was not an option for it would take even longer than clearing enough of the rockslide to get through.

Vincent's Second, Corporal Ulgart Bram, came walking up beside the otter. Bram stood a good head shorter than Vincent, not uncommon for a mouse, but he wore a demeanor that made others forget his height instantly. His long nose always slightly turned upright, with his slanted blue eyes always seeming to stare, Bram kept an air of supreme confidence, as if he knew that he was right were he belonged. He also had the air of one who was used to giving the commands and expecting them to be obeyed. Ulgart Bram had not taken entirely kindly to having a high-ranked First Captain come down and take his company out on some wild hunt of rouge Unclean. Clad fully in the silver plate-mail of the Legion, the sword and sun crest proudly displayed on chest and helmet, Bram did have the look of a dedicated Legionbeast.

"If it would please the First Captain, would he come with me to see to the prisoners?" from Bram's haughty tone the mouse obviously possessed no doubt that it would please the First Captain.

Vincent held back a sigh and nodded his head, gesturing with one gauntleted paw for Bram to lead the way through the tangle of corpses. The company, a hundred and thirty-two beasts in total, waited in a straight double ranked line near base of the huge rock pile that blocked the way into the canyon where the majority of the Unclean had fled. A small group of the filthy things stood tied together a dozen paces from the Legionbeasts, placed there upon their capture.

Bram walked past the side of the company's line, turning and walking down its length to its center, Vincent calmly following behind. Reaching the center, Bram stopped and made a steady about face. Vincent stopped as well, eyeing the ragged line of Unclean.

They had been taken almost as a formality than anything else. After the mob had stopped its panic and had merely turned to begging for their lives Vincent had ordered as many to be rounded up as possible. Of course a few overzealous Legionbeasts had cut down a few extra Unclean, a little excessive but Vincent could not fault them since these things were after all just Unclean. Vincent wanted a few alive at least to question as to where their fellows who had fled might be going and who was in charge of them. All in all a few had now totaled to perhaps three score of the pathetic things.

As Vincent looked he saw that most were female or young, few males had been suffered to live long it seemed. They were clothed in rags that were so stained, tattered, and dirt ridden that it practically blended in with those filth covered bodies. Huddled so close together, shivering, females clutching wailing young, they did look every inch the wretched things that Vincent had been taught his whole life to hate. It was the Unclean that had ravaged the land so long ago, savagely destroying all in their path. Without the blessed Light brought by the great family of the Lightstripes, then Vincent's ancestors would have remained slaves and the Imperium, may its glory never fade, would never have been created.

One of the Unclean, a male, Vincent identified the species as weasel, shouted something, perhaps at him. Vincent did not know what it was, had no desire to learn their corrupted language, but he gestured to Bram.

"Get Jai up here, she can translate as we question."

Bram saluted, arms crossed over chest, "As you command my Captain." And walked down the line until he came upon a stocky female squirrel. Jai Owens was young for one of the Legion. Exotic jade eyes peered out from a dainty triangle of a face. Vincent supposed she might be considered 'pretty' among squirrels, though that big dusty brown bush of a tail did nothing for him. Vincent preferred a good strong plank tail on his females. He grinned slightly, wondering what Ralmsa would say if he knew Vincent let himself be distracted by such thought. The otter almost laughed, knowing the aged Lord Commander would probably encourage Vincent just to see the young otter squirm.

Bram came to a halt in front of Vincent, standing at attention. Jai was right behind him, saluting the First Captain. Vincent noticed she was actually smiling and seemed altogether more cheerful than the situation would allow.

"And what does Private Jai Owens find amusing?" Asked Vincent in a cool tone.

Jai's smile faded a tad, but just a tad. She shifted as if nervous but her voice was calm enough, and clear as the chiming bells of the Great Cathedral back in the capital.

"Begging my First Captain's pardon, it's just that this was my first assignment you see and…" she trailed off, giving a shrug of her oddly broad shoulders and letting her smile brighten a bit. Vincent raised an eyebrow, "I see. And you find the smell after a purging to your liking?" Not that Vincent doubted the need for these purges of the Unclean, but he did not smile in the aftermath. Jai shook her head, a firmer look taking a home in her jade eyes. "No, of course not sir…but…but this is what I have spent my whole youth training for. It is my honor to be doing the work of the Light and the Imperium here today."

Vincent managed not to snort. Her youth could not have been more than half a season ago. "Very well. Private Jai, I need your expertise in the translation of the tongue of the Unclean."

Jai saluted again, "As you command so I obey."

Vincent looked to Bram and nodded. The mouse practically hopped as he shouted out orders to a detail of the company. Four Followers marched forward to the crowd of Unclean, the lot of which seemed to flinch away, trying to press themselves further against the wall of fallen rocks.

Out of the prisoners the four brought out a pair, one male and one female. The male was a rat, tall and lanky, with wiry limbs. It wore a dirt encrusted green jacket and torn trousers. Vincent guessed its age at around forty years by the bits of gray in it's fur. The female was significantly younger, probably not more than twenty. It was a ferret, about half a head shorter than the rat and so rail thin it might not have eaten in days. Bristly dark fur made it's even darker eyes seem like black pits. Vincent frowned. Those eyes held a lot of challenge for a ragged and brain dead Unclean who had it's paws tied to it's sides.

Brought in front of Vincent, the two Unclean were made to kneel with swift kicks from the guarding Followers. Bram looked at the two with unhidden disgust, and Jai still had that eager and cheerful look.

"Ask them where it was they were going before we took them." Vincent ordered Jai. The squirrel nodded and a stream of garbled and odd sounded words came out of her mouth, directed at the two Unclean who were on their knees. Both Unclean's eyes went wide upon hearing Jai speak. The rat breathed something under its breath and the female looked like she wanted to spit at something. When it became apparent neither was going to talk out of surprise, Vincent nodded to one of the guards, who promptly hit the rat on the back of the head. Not hard enough to knock out, but hard enough to remind it that it was supposed to answer the question.

It babbled in its barbaric language for a little while. Jai listened, and translated to Vincent. "It says that it doesn't know where the lot of them was going, just that this Vaz it mentioned was leading them west away from the mountains."

Vincent's paws crossed over his chest and his brow creased in thought. "Vaz? Ask if that is their leader."

Again the strange mess of words left Jai's mouth and this time the rat was quick to speak. The ferret on the other paw had no lost its look of defiance, and Vincent was beginning to find the female annoying.

"It said that Vaz Darkeye is the one in charge of them, a rat apparently."

Bram spat in disgust. Mice carried a special dislike of rats, and the Followers were even more fanatic in that dislike than normal Imperium citizens. "Then the filth have no leadership at all my First Captain. I think we've learned I we need to from these things, they obviously don't really know anything of importance and with a rat," Bram made the word sound a curse of the worst kind "leading the rest of that lot who escaped I doubt they'll get far."

Vincent eyed the mouse with a level gaze. A cold and hard gaze. "I hear your words Corporal and will take them under advisement. However, I shall be the one to decide when these Unclean have told all that they can."

Bram stiffened, but the mouse swallowed his pride and stood quietly as Vincent continued the questioning. Despite what he had said, Vincent knew that there was little else that the Unclean could tell him. A few more questions revealed that there were maybe up to ten thousand of the Unclean, a number which made Vincent wonder just how many of these things might have actually escaped into the mountains. It was a daunting number, but nothing Vincent worried much about. It would warrant a stop by the 11th Legion, which Vincent new was encamped twelve miles to the south by the base of the mountains. He could requisition another company or two there and be back here to clear the landslide in two days. His orders had not specified acquiring more troops, but under the circumstances Vincent was sure Lord Commander Ralmsa would agree that it was a warranted precaution.

He was about to order the two Unclean to be placed back among their kind when the female snarled and spat out a stream of words.

"What did it just say?" Vincent asked, an amused smile planting itself on his face. Jai gave him a nervous look and translated. "It said…that it doesn't matter how many of them we…we murdering bastards kill…" Jai swallowed, hard, "It says one day they will gather together and fight us and murder us as we murder them."

Vincent threw back his head and laughed. So, this female Unclean though that it's corrupt and disfigured kind could ever match the Legions of the Light? An idea brewed in the otter's head, one he found to his liking. Vincent's paw went to the scabbard on his right hip, and with a chill ring of steel his long sword came free. The female flinched, but it's steady dark eyes kept defiance in them as he approached. In a flash of sunlight of metal Vincent swung his blade, veering clear over the female's head and in one quick swoop removing the head of the rat next to the female. The surprise on the rat's decapitated head as it rolled on the ground only served to heighten Vincent's amusement.

"Tell it," he said to Jai "That I personally intend to show it the error of its words. Bram, have this female ready to march with us when we leave." The mouse's face tightened as if to argue but was stopped by a single look from Vincent. "As you say so shall I obey." Said Bram with a salute and bow. "And what of the others?" the mouse asked, indicating the other prisoners who were now all looking on in fright upon seeing the rat's grisly demise.

"We cannot afford to take too many prisoners with us," Vincent said with a rueful smile "Purge them. Have the rest of the company prepare to march."

Those were orders the mouse had no qualms in obeying. Soon most of the company was formed up, prepared to march. They stood in neat ordered lines by the detail, each of which numbered a score. Between the intervals were the wood wagons drawn by the larger more burly members of the company stripped of armor down to the waist. The wagons carried tents, supplies, food, water, and spare weapons and arrows all under tanned canvas lashed tight with rope.

Vincent was by the lead wagon, awaiting Bram to finish business by the rockslide while he watched a Follower tie up the only prisoner Unclean a iron peg in the wagon's side. The female ferret was a satisfying site to behold, though Vincent, seeing the look of horror in its eyes mixed with that oddly enjoyable defiance. He realized the female likely could hear the screams echoing down the valley from the canyon mouth. Where Bram and a detail of Followers were conducting their purge of the Unclean. Vincent closed his eyes, savoring those sounds and savoring the look of anguish on the ferret's face even more when he opened them again. Yes, he would show this spirited Unclean just how grievously wrong it's words were. Vincent imagined taking this prisoner Unclean with him during the entire campaign, forcing it to watch as its kin were cut down one by one by the glorious Legions of the Light. A voice in the back of his mind shouted caution, that this was foolishness what he was doing. He ignored it, seeing no harm one mere Unclean could do bound and tied to wagon.

Noticing that the faint screams had ceased Vincent looked to see that Bram and the rest of the company was returning. It was time to go. "Make sure those bonds are tight," he told the Follower as the male squirrel finished tied the ropes on the ferret, "and get to your detail quickly."

The squirrel bowed and saluted, scurrying off to his comrades. Vincent looked to give the ferret a final departing cold grin, but found the ferret was smiling at him. A smile that was disturbingly honest to be matched with those dark eyes. Odd but those eyes almost seemed to hold fire in them. Vincent dismissed it as just another part of a misplaced look of defiance and walked away to take his place at the head of the company. What Vincent Clive did not see, what he should have seen, was that in those eyes was a solemn promise of his own death.

Teresa didn't know that pain could be felt anywhere but on the outside. Now she knew better. Her chest felt like a great paw was squeezing her heart and would not let go. Her stomach roiled and she felt as if she was about to sick up. Nibs…oh Nibs…I hope your somewhere better than where I am now. The thoughts were bitter and brought new sobs to the young female ferret's throat. Her little brother was probably dead, along with all the others. Slimpaw had sung like a blue jay when those bloody woodlanders asked their questions, but Teresa would not have wished death on him. At least his death had been quick.

Teresa had been fleeing for what felt like an eternity, fleeing with her brother along with all the countless other vermin. She had no real family to speak of, just Nibs, who was such a quiet and sickly one. Had been. Another sob racked her chest as she staggered alongside the wagon, her paws bound together in front of her and leashed to an iron peg in its side.

Her paws ached at how tight the bonds were, the rope digging into her fur and skin, drawing blood. Her legs ached, a fiery pain that throbbed with each passing moment. Her middle felt hollow with hunger and her mouth dry as sand for need of water. It was unthinkable to her that "They" could march like this under that unrelenting sun.

Ahead and behind her that despicable line of monsters marched like a uncaring steel wave. They were a thing Teresa could never have imagined in her worst nightmare. And she was in the thick of them. Somehow that gave her some small measure of contentment. She was alive and as long as she clung onto that she might just have a chance to pay each and every one of them back for what they did. Especially that otter. The thought of his throat clenched firmly between her paws was part of what kept Teresa firmly placing one footpaw in front of the other when her exhaustion continually demanded she stop.

At the moment escape seemed impossible, and Teresa could see no good it would do even if she could get away from this lot. In this land she'd likely starve to death by herself in less than a week. As a prisoner she at least could count on that she'd be kept alive, if not well taken care of. She clung to that, even as her footpaws started to blister and her head started to feel light from the heat. As long as she lived she would have her chance at vengeance. It was just a matter of how long it took for her captors to make a mistake…