CHAPTER VI: REUNION ON THE SLOPES

Author's note: After this chapter, I think it will take me a longer time to update-I don't know I just sort of think it will. However, after this chapter and the next chapter, there won't be any more human mistakes cause I hadn't written that far in my human fic. YAAAAYYY! Also a few other notes for this chapter-the riddle is really bad, I know, I suck at rhyming and stuff like that, so sorry. Also I know the Lady was too easily convinced by Darion and that scene wasn't very realistic but I can't help it. Also some of my character's accents like Maliana's may have become more pronounced cause that happens when someone is scared, surprised, excited, etc.

xxx

"Shi-…" Lukas trailed off in exasperation. He did not like mountains. Why did he have to save any supposable survivors and act the dashing hero?

Because it's your fault if they don't get out alive, so shut the bloody hell up and keep going, he chastened himself sternly. Taking his own advice to heart he continued his way across the mountainside, calculating his footing trepidatiously. below him a few ravines extended in chains and numerous boulders marked their banks.

"Stop. R-r-right there." The voice tremored fearfully, its origins untraced. Lukas glanced around, uncertain what action to establish. As he was not very experienced in the likes of danger and perils on the road, he didn't have a spot of knowledge on what he should do. Was it a surviving bandit, lying in wait, to put an arrow through his skull? But then why would the voice of a seasoned veteran tremble uncertainly?

Well, Lukas was at least correct in assuming it was a bandit.

Beneath one of the rocks nearest to Lukas, Wayak swore foully, as his stone went off mark and whirled an inch to the right of Lukas's whiskers. lukas jumped in fear and surprise and whirled around. Taking luck in his hand, Wayak lay in the dust underneath the rock that had been entrenched in his spine, pretending to blend in with his surroundings. At least he'd had time to get the rock out of his back.

Finding Wayak wasn't a particularly difficult job for Lukas. Though Wayak had been able to remove the granite from his open wound, he had not yet attempted to staunch the gush of blood. Crimson dust identified Wayak's surroundings, but Lukas did not yet show any sign to let the former bandit learn that he had identified his position. What was he supposed to do now? Running away seemed to be all Lukas's frosted brain could register to his limbs. But then the sniper would get him good that time! Lukas retreated back into the shadows of the towering, granite formations of the mountainside.

Wayak watched Lukas's actions from underneath the dust. He realized what was unfolding, and grinned feral-like. The little twerp was going to get it. Wayak loved nothing better than a successful kill…

Stop, Wayak commanded his brain. He was supposed to be reformed after the rockslide. The bandit life was over and now he was a kind soul. Right…?

Wayak walked up the frightened mouse, stumbling momentarily over by hte serious wound in his back, and said, "Hi, I'm Wayak; what's your name?" Yeah, brilliant introduction, thought Wayak.

xxx

"What the?" Devnam struggled in the rising dust, as his squirrel assailant pinned him between two rocks. She slowly cradled his feet and arms in a well-known wrestling move, pinpointing his physical limits so he wouldn't be able to move a muscle. There was no chance if he wasn't going to speak up. Grunting with exertion, he squealed out words in a ramble of almost incoherent syllables.

"Help…stop, what…are you…do-…-ing…?"

At this unexpected retort, Maliana loosened her grip and tried her own verbal skills, "What'd ya mean! Ya're th' un' that jus' like, attack'd meh! And now ye're asking meh tah stop!" The outburst was followed by an unsatisfactory response from Devnam's part.

"Sorry." The word was emphasized at the end of the syllables giving the impression that the word had been said as a last resort, a haughty defeat. All in all, it was not Maliana's idea of a 'sorry'. Despite that, she released him and clambered to her feet.

"Ye kno', the only reas'n I'm lettin' ye away, is tha' prolly there ain't nobody els' that a survived," Maliana stated in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Thanks for the reassurance," intoned Devnam sarcastically. "Now what say we check if there is anybody else with a beating heart." Then as if a light bulb had gone on in Devnam's mind, he turned around. "Are you the famous Darkstorm assassin?"

Maliana looked resentful at being called by her last name. "Ye, that's mah but I do prefer bein' called Maliana?"

"But-but you're a squirrel. What are you doing fraternizing with the scum of the earth, those unclean vermin?"

Maliana sighed-this occasion had arisen to her on previous encounters with the so-called good beasts. "Look, ya buffoon-I'm a cont'act kille'. Sometime's I'm 'ired by them goody-goody beas-yah know mouse, squirre', o't'rs, badge's, 'ares and their lot-kill one of those "vermin" leaders or sumthin' like that. Other times "vermin" to kill anothe' contender or a goodbeast or sumthin' like that. So they be all equal im my eye'."

"Yes, but, good beasts would never hire you to kill another good beasts but vermin would have no conscience about it," retaliated Devnam.

"Don't matter, they all pay me pretty well. And if ye keep chattin' away I'm gonna put a knife through yous heart." And with that agreement set they continued in silence down the mountain slope seeking other survivors.

Some strange power drew them to their recent battlefield. Encountering dead corpses with colorful odors and negative images was not a pleasant experience, but with a hand clasped to their nostrils, they ploughed on. However it was worth it as they did encounter one living scholar.

As Kendall's sight returned, he felt hands grab his limbs at pull him upwards. At this unexpected occurrence he blinked blearily and dished out his most brilliant remark, "Whotsit?"

xxx

Jarbell's senses came back in a dawdling manner, blaringly explosively at him. Scenes came rushing back at him, from the attack on the caravan to his fall from the ledge. This event still confused him- a dagger buried itself in his arm and then he slammed to the ground. Who had thrown the dagger? He didn't have the inkling of an idea.

And then-Ouch!-he'd fallen to his 'welcoming' platform. When he came awake he could still feel the teeth of granite wedged in his back. It hurt like hellfire! He squirmed uncomfortably on the spikes, when bloodcurdling screams tore through the air like loose javelins. A form appeared at the corner of his field of view. It was screaming in the most terrifying manner, cries emitting from his throat in a rapid, unstoppable routine. Only after a few moments did Jarbell realized that the figure was screaming at the sight of his wounded body.

The next few scenes were dully mesmerized by Jarbell's mind. The hare (for it was obviously a hare judging by his voice and appearance) had been hooting for a few minutes when another hare intruder entered the stage. He also seemed horrified at the display that lay before him, but he recovered more swiftly and attempted to soothe his comrade. Then he approached Jarbell. Before the anonymous hare reached him, Jarbell lost his grip on consciousness and promptly blacked out.

It seemed like a few minutes, but in reality it was a row of hours before Jarbell began twitching his way back to the real world.

He was on a long length of cloth attached to four poles, one at each corner, dug firmly in a patch of soil in the midst of rocks. The two hares hovered over the edge, doing something to his back. They turned him over and began a 'unique' medical episode that Jarbell remembered through orbs peering under heavy eye slits.

Cyan withdrew the point of a broken sword that he had recuperated from a stretch of land stretching amidst the battlefield. Though the past soldier had no experience whatsoever in medical procedures, he started cutting into the flesh of Jarbell's back in order to recover the spikes of rock imbedded inside, while Jarbell retched in agony. If Geoniyo (who was alongside Cyan) had had any more experience in medical/surgery procedures, he would have reprimanded Cyan for digging the possibly dirty shard of sword in their victim's flesh, who could possibly get infected, and possibly die from an infected wound. But since Geoniyo did not have any so-called knowledge, Cyan wasn't warned and continued on recklessly.

Even the burly guard was smart enough to cut an "X" mark over his chosen place when he couldn't reach far enough. Blood gushed out drenching both "surgeons" in dripping liquid.

"Ewww," recoiled Geoniyo instantly. "I'll sit right over there, and he's all yours, Cyan."

"Gee, thanks," japed Cyan sarcastically. "I'm jolly honored."

After retrieving all the jagged pieces of rock out of Jarbell's back (Jarbell ran out of saliva from too many screams), Cyan was mystified in the decision of his next move. This time Geoniyo came to the rescue.

"I hope you don't call that a job done," he glanced at Jarbell's back. "It looks worse than before."

"Well, what do you flippin' propose?" Cyan snapped back moodily.

Geoniyo was quick with a response. "I think we should like maybe get somthing like some water to pour on his back...you know cause there is probably some garbage left over from dirt and busted veins and some rocks you probably overlooked. How 'bout you go get a liter or two of water from a near stream using your ruined clothes as a makeshift bucket?"

Cyan nodded and hurried off, unsure if he was doing the right thing. Geoniyo had his own doubts, too.

A minute or two later, Cyan arrived in a pant, trying to avoid too much water to penetrate through his 'cloth' bucket. While the ex-guard applied the freshwater to Jarbell's back Jarbell had now passed out cold due to pain (which helped the duo greatly) while Geoniyo began unrolling strips of cloth for bandages.

Roughly ten minutes later and as the sun set behind the horizon, Jarbell was unconscious and firmly bandaged. Geoniyo was the first one to question their situation.

"Now what do we do?"

xxx

The figure crept beside the open barrack door, listening to the steady thrum of footsteps from inside. The ferret from inside, Major Jievasco, walked outside in a casual manner, to be met by the form shrouded in an ebony cloak.

Darion withdrew a glistening knife in one lightning quick move. He pinpointed the blade, and thrust the slice of steel at the Major's chest. The aged veteran was quick in his response, and with the sword knot still shaking, he had a saber in his hand, slanted so it covered his chest.

Darion had expected these types of reflexes, and had stopped his knife a few centimeters from the ferret's chest. Now he twisted the hilt and swiftly plunged it under the sword in the Major's abdomen. The soldier did not even have time to register the face of his attacker clearly, before he fell against the frame of the door. Stone dead.

The young mink ticked of his fingers the numbers of assassination attempts he had caused today. His victims were all his adoptive father's most trusted friends/advisors. Tuckalinger, Molh, Fabya, Lingol, and now Jievasco. All dead. Now Darion had a clear slate for rebellion in his command.

But it was not his command yet. Nobody yet new of the events that had come to grant in his father's room. However, when Darion planned something big, he planned well.

Tomorrow at the hint of dawn, the Lady would come and visit this fortress along with her other six generals. It would be something known as the "Con-Clave". There, Darion would have a chance to get his bearing as general. While the Lady had thought of Naze as a fair general, she also admired ruthlessness and ambition in a body. Darion hoped she would see it in him.

Humming to himself, Darion made his way down the dimly lit corridors of the fortress. When he got his position (which he hoped he'd get) his first move would probably be…maybe massacre a famous tribe to show the world his power? He didn't know. But one thing he told himself was to be patient and not plan too much ahead. That could lead to disaster.

xxx

Night hovered like a devious wisp, slipping away through the landscape and clouding the air with darkness. When dawn cast its brilliance of happiness over the series of mountains, as dew hung suspended from granite spikes and chirping birds plummeted airborne over a picture of serenity and refreshing cheerfulness. However, this emotion was not shared by everybody, as Maliana grumpily shouldered past her two companions.

"Come on," she spoke tetchily dragging both Devnam and Kendall by their ripped shirts. "If ye wan' tah find those two peopl' I saw, ye better hurry." That evening (after they had gotten acquainted with Kendall) Maliana had sighted the figures of two survivors. Now they endured the twists and turns of their chosen path, descending in high hopes.

And they were not disappointed, at least not at first.

Wayak glanced at Maliana, a surge of familiarity reflecting off her. As he had not still recovered from his hit, he couldn't sort out all of his memories. However, the same could not be said for Maliana as she dropped to one knee, clasped her hand over her head and mumbled through her wall of draping hair the sacred testimony to the leader of the bandit clan. Though she sorely did not believe in this ridiculous religion of the bandit clan she had momentarily joined (she was just trying to have some company while getting away from this godforsaken desert) she went along with the ridiculous chant for the leader just to be safe.

"Oh, Lord of my devotion, soul of my love, star of intellectual, King off all evil, undisputed leader of-"

"That's enough," commanded Wayak; how in the name of Dark Forest was he supposed to live up to his name? It wasn't as easy as just telling his group that he had resigned on his role of evil. "I want to introduce my new friend, Lukas."

"Yeah, were such good friends we almost killed each other a few hours ago," grumbled Lukas drolly.

"Hey, that was a mistake-don't hold it against me!"

"Lukas," burst out Devnam excitedly, "Where have you been? Did you really kill Joluff? You know we have to bring you back…"

"Hold your beans, old squirrel." Lukas stemmed the throw of outburst. "Er, well that was an accident…and you know I really would prefer not…going back-"

Devnam stared back defiantly. "You know, we-or at least our survivors-came all this way to get you back, and by hells-teeth, you're going to come back with us all the way! I don't care if they hang you on the spot-"

"Well I do care!" Lukas hollered with all the capable velocity of his lungs. His face turned red in a spite of anger as he glared daggers at Devnam. he clenched a fist and shook it impudently in the old squirrel's face. "You're taking my dead body back."

"Well that's all right with me," snarled Devnam, "it sems you don't have a problem with killing beasts."

"That was manslaughter!" Lukas yelled back and whirled around and stalked off, his fists whitening from the pressure he was putting on. he would never cry, not for anything since he had become an orphan, but he could hate the old beast to the dredges of his power...

"Well, that helped a lo'." Everybody turned to look at Maliana, who had just spoken. "Seriously, why do the lucky o'es always 'ave to be idiots? We don't even 'now where we ar', and you're already creatin' dissent among our own team! To get out of t'is o'e 'eck of a mess, we'll have to work 'oget'er, despite past differences. And to do that we first 'ave 'o round up any possible survivors, and t'en t'y to find out our location. Screaming at eac' other isn't a great start for t'e plan.

"I know most of you 're gonna to retort to t'is, since I'm a notorious assassin. Yes, it is tru'-I've probably killed more people t'an you've seen in the past decade. It is mah profession. But like I mentioned before, we'll 'ave to forget about our background and focus on the present. And when a better time to start t'en frickin now?"

There was a lingering silence, until Wayak began to applaud. "Wonderful speech, Mal." Then mentally, She's right. I do have to put my background behind me.

Over the reunion of sorts, Kendall had been as quiet as a mouse, a dead mouse. This was not the prime condition for a scholar of his level. He was thrown in a death trap with a bunch of shifty types, renegade killers, cutthroats, and assassins. And the worst of it was, he wasn't showing off his intelligence, but instead hiding in the shadows of killers!

And with a few arguments and bristling fur, the small band decided to sweep the mountains one more time for missing survivors. It sure was a good thing they did.

The crimson sun was already weaving the opaque swath of light over the granite region, when the quintet (with Maliana leading the way) reached a small grotto in the side of a length some cavern they were following. At first, they passed over it taking it as an insignificant discovery. That was before incoherent noises began drifting from its entrance.

xxx

768x + 4532a, a x, x11

When Kendall was bored, he resorted to mathematical challenges. It was his best subject, after all…

'kay, let's see. 768 times 11 would be (7680 + 768) 8448. 8448 + 453 would be…8901. Then 89012a. So, 8901 divided by two would be 4450.1. So…4450.1 a. La-di-dah, case solved.As routine as that,Kendall switched his brain mode to the present. Call it perfect timing, but the fact remains the same; Kendall raised his head just in time to witness the arrival of Cyan.

The brawny hare guard left Jarbell and Geoniyo in the cavern they had taken as temporary shelter, to scout for other survivors-one last time before they'd leave.

Shreds of stained pallid uniform hung on mud clots in the guard's wake, as Cyan bulled his way through a puddle of dirt and muck. Keeping his eyes on the grass-trampled earth in front of him, he did not foresee the attack at his midriff coming from the side.

Wayak buckled a knee over Cyan's chest and rasped in his face, "State your name, business, and…past whereabouts."

"Cool yer jets, old sah," gasped Cyan despite the knee on his chest. "I ain't mean ya or yer jollymates any harm. I'm with another two, and we was looking fer any absobally lutely survivors. Lee'me explain…"

Meanwhile, in the slim grotto on the mountainside, Geoniyo huddled in a shuddering ball of thriving life as Jarbell began to cough and sputter, kicking in his awakening bell. It was a few minutes later that he actually awoke. "Ain't ye the one that took that rock outta mah back?"

"Ye could say so."

Jarbell struggled with the confusing wisps of remembrances that he collected from his ordeal. His back still sizzled from his injury. Even though Jarbell wasn't seasoned in the ways of slaughtering, he had the common knowledge of healing grievous injuries-to some limited point.

"Did ye put maggots on my back?" Jarbell held his breath expectantly; every veteran knew the help of maggots in ones' flesh wounds as it ate away the bad flesh, leaving the good intact; it also sucked out the infected blood.

"Heck, no," replied Geoniyo puzzled (Why would he even ask such a question?). "All I did was take the shards out of your back, bathe the wound, and bandage your back! What, you want to get infected with insects crawling over your muscles-"

Jarbell let out an almostferal roar. "God dam$ you!" he shrieked, his voice pitching even another few levels of volume. "I'LL BE PROBABLY DEAD AND PALE BEFORE THE SUN RISES TOMORROW, THANKS TO YOU! I DON'T NEED TO LOOK AT THE WRINKLES IN MY PALM TO FIGURE I HAVE A SHORT LIFELINE!"

xxx

The Lady had come to Fort Warflash!

The news sprouted wings and soared with the excited fortress inhabitants. Preparations immediately gave underway. They would surely welcome their leader with open hands!

Every brick and stone was polished 'till its luster glittered like a bucket of diamonds. Banners with positive comments about their chief hung from numerous pedestals and balconies, statues and columns were painted with a fresh powder mashed from pyrite gold, and studded with gems and crystals. Sculptures of quartz shone at every doorway and all the residents were bursting with their best military (and elegant) uniforms, buttoned tight and filled with golden threaded shoulder caps. At the last minute, a huge silver and red flag was mounted on the highest balcony. Caught in the fiery breeze, it flashed its red jaguar on a silver background-the Lady's symbol of power and cunning. the jaguar was a thing of legend and myth from the times of past, but the Lady believed its race still thrived in the present...

As the morning sun beamed its brilliance of heat and light over the rim of the faraway mountains, the Lady's carriage drew to a close in front of the moat.

And what acarriage it was! With wheels of curved, alabaster platinum and frames of molten quartz, the silk sunshades gleamed in the spectacular sunset. Dazzingly clothed huge badger slaves worked the wheels, their eyes downset in the splendor of evil. Buckles of iron chains, rusting at the tip, had their muzzles clamped together in an albeit form of cruelty as blood pooled ,from their many wounds endured by the whips, dripped off their bodies and collected to the ground in a crimson puddle. Their once glorious striped fur had now the effect of an ancient, rotting stump-something that had once benn big and tall had been subdued to a shell of its former shelf now that nobody had taken care of it. meanwhile, in the background of this barbarism, chosen soldiers scurried all over the chariot shouting orders, relaxing, or whipping the badgers for a running spree. Bodyguards guarded their Lady or even the other six generals that accompanied them in the back of the vehicle.

As those ashen wheels stopped rotating in front of the moat's edge, Fort Warflash's ramparts spewed alive with anxious soldiers. The drawbridge was immediately released. The Lady parked the chariot in front of the moat and assigned some veterans to guard it. Then, with her generals and remaining bodyguards/soldiers, she proceeded across the wooden plank.

Darion watched it all from a high balcony, leaning casually against a window frame. From the eyes of a casual bystander he would have appeared confident about his ordeal, but inside his heart was fluttering like a sizzling pancake.

How would she actually react? How would the soldiers react? Well, he felt more confident about the latter. The warriors under his command had always been negative about Naze, but obeyed him to sacrificing themselves for their young god. But what about the Lady and the other generals; would they feel the same way? He hoped so. But he needn't worry too much now-the Con-Clave would take place around noon. Before that the Lady and her procession would eat lunch, and view what condition the fortress and its residents were in. He'd just enjoy himself until then…

However, when he saw the Lady he began to forget his worries.

She was a tall stature of a ferret, a feminine figure of great beauty. No comparison to all the other pretty ladies Darion had seen at court. Her perilous green eyes glinted dangerously, and her pale face was perfectly designed, more beautiful than anything an expert artist could have even thought of, covered with a light silver fur that semi-glowed in the sun. Her clothes were made of sturdy silk extracted from silkworms and it portrayed her in an elegant figure, but also protecting her from any attack-silk armor was one of the best in the world. Hanging from her ray-skin belt were two light, throwing anelaces. On her back was sheathed a jeweled baselard. The sword was simple and light, but keen and effective.

For the next few hours, the Lady and her delegation patrolled the corridors and hallways of the fort. Tapestries, defense mechanisms, attack mounts, barracks, stables, rooms, and even the kitchens were admired, criticized, commented on, and praised by the visitors. At around noon, a feast was set and the starving allocation fell on the achievements of the kitchen staff. There were several types of breads, each one creatively baked, studded with edible pigments and spices, and stuffed with a concoction of creamy vegetables dipped in gravy sauce. Plates of salads were passed around, crispy, green lettuce leafs in a mix of spinach, chard, mizuna, arugula, frisee, and radicchio, bathed in various vinaigrettes, and sparkled in a down shower of blue cheese with diced nuts and tart berries. There were cheese turnovers with slices of spicy mushrooms drifting in a basin of various creams and sauces, popovers filled with a paste of beans and nuts…and steaks of woodpigeons, squirrels, and other scrumptious woodland animals giving of tantalizing aromas and shimmering with a sheen of sauce.

And the masterpiece of the banquet sat on a crystal plate, surrounded by chopped garlic and baby lettuce: a huge, male grayling. The sleek curves of his body beckoned with a ravenous lust, and even Darion had to withstand extreme pressure to not grab at the delicacy with a passion, as in order to not execute his chances of sparkling in the Lady's eyes.

Dessert was also a big success: jellied croissants and berry tarts were a warm-up for the runner up cranberry flans and the cake. It had cinnamon flavors blended with the vanilla and chocolate layers, with a few tinges of custard and fruits here and there. Multicolored frosting covered it like an oil spill on a batch of cookies. Some soldiers dozed off, filled to bursting with food-but not Darion. He was eagerly awaiting each of the Lady's moves, waiting for her notification so the Con-Clave would begin.

"Naze…" The sweet rhythm of the Lady's voice trailed off. Darion's cords tensed. Then he nudged a servant seated next to him he had chosen elaborately for this moment. The servant rose to his feet, trembling out of control.

"General Naze Arron is in his quarters," he stated in a shaking tone.

The Lady raised one dignified eyebrow. "I would have thought he'd show more respect for his commander and get hishide down here. But never mind-he will feel the consequences at the Con-Clave." And with that, the woman and her cohorts swept away.

Darion stayed behind for a few seconds, which, he reasoned, would be enough for the supposedly alive Naze to rise from his room. Then Darion rose from the apprehensive table (they had been announced about the 'change of position' a few minutes before the Lady's arrival) and walked down the passageway the delegation had disappeared.

He had never been allowed to eavesdrop on the other Con-Claves his adopted father had participated in, so the tunnel he crept through stank of dampness, gloominess, dankness and unfamiliarity. Embers glowed in a pile of ashes that overflowed the mahogany torches which were bolted to the walls of the passage, lending a few blazes of flickering light to illuminate Darion's way. After a few minutes, he arrived at the door that led to the chamber where the Con-Clave would begin, apprehensively jittering around.

Calm down, ye fool, he chastised himself, this ain't the time tah wet yourself. But he didn't calm down as he saw what lay beyond the corner. A virtual war ensued in his mind as he came face to face with two highly armed guards and their grim frowns.

"What in the name of the Jaguar are you doing down here?" said the guard on the right in a deep, deep voice.Darion quailed a tad then he regained his composure and turned on what he called "The Stare"-a look in the eyes that he found most comon soldiers couldn't avoid and would give in to his demands.

"I have come here for the Con-Clave," he staed in a ringing voice still looking them in the eyes.

Handpicked by the Lady as bodyguards-these obviously weren't common soldiers as they refused to yield. Darion quickly pulled two daggers out of the air and pulled them in front of him and stated in a flat tone:

"You have two options-you yield or you die!"

A guard snorted and they pulled out their swords. The fight was on!

xxx

The eight survivors (including Lukas) sat around a blazing bonfire. After the introductions spread around like wildfire, the group began settling in a more serious argument of what their next move would be. Everybody seemed to have different opinions of what was smart and what was hare-brained (no offence meant to any Cyan or Geoniyo or any of their friends back at the fire mountain).

"I say we head back to the mountain Salamandastron!" Devnam spread his opinion loudly around the group his eyes blazing into Lukas's.

"Er, my dear fellow," cut in Wayak. "Maybe you haven't realized this, but I doubt that Maliana, Jarbell, and myself would be welcome in your home."

"Yeah," put in Lukas feebly, frightened at the prospect of returning to the place where he had murdered a beast. "Plus, we don't know how to get back there."

"Is that an excuse, you felon?" sneered Devnam, "Or can we really not follow the tracks that we left getting here?"

"Desert winds are stron', especially at night, yah eejit," Maliana informed him scornfully. "Any tracks made will 'ave been a wiped out by now."

"Then where should we jolly go?" asked Cyan in a gruff voice. He was not used to getting a ton of people out of a sticky situation that baffled them. Well, of course, the only logical course was to travel until the desert ended, but nobody really knew how to fo that, how long it would take. Plus, Devnam had been the only one out of desert territory in his life and that had been seasons and seasons ago.

"Wait a second," interrupted Kendall. He had finally decided to put his brain to use. His idea had struck him long ago, but he had not voiced it aloud, being to shy and thinking that someone else would come up with the idea. It looked like he would have to talk anyways. "Wayak, you and your band of bandits came from somewhere into this forsaken desert. Devnam, that goes for you and Lukas too."

"Well actually, me and mah group were born and raised in this desert, our headquarters are not far from here. We never asked ye others tah come since ye wouldn't be welcomed there-"

"Wait a second-what's all t'is talking about us staying in a group w'en ahr lives could go separate." Maliana interrupted Wayak. "Us bandits could go to ah clan and ye ot'er guys could a'hitch yer bottoms to yer frickin mountain."

"But…we're still lost," argued Cyan. "Except…if Devnam can help us…" And at this, everybody turned to the aged squirrel.

"Er…well it was a long time ago, you must understand…Okay, okay I'll get on with it. At my approximation, the desert reaches as far as about sixty kilometers…" Devnam stopped and scuffled in his pocket. He came out with a grubby piece of paper. "A friend of mine handed me this riddle that was supposed to guide me through the desert.

Unfortunately I never got to use it, since I was kidnapped by a band of trident-carrying toads and they carried me most of the way on chains and shackled to a pole. When I broke loose and joined Lukas, we were already very close to the fire mountain. I'm sure it'll be able to help us now, though:

"League by league, dune by dune, wind scores sand,

Leaving no track to mark this dry land,

Nothing to follow, no escape,

Except if you pit yourself in this riddle, hopes agape.

"The desert is sighted from above, stretching a score of leagues forth,

Starting from a mountain in the north.

Warlike hares will greet you,

But you must continue through."

Here, Devnam stopped at mid-point looking implausible. "Well, I guess everybody knows about Salamandastron. But why did they start there?"

"Our luck," retorted Jarbell who was feeling better. "Now kindly continue on." Devnam shot him a glare, but continued nevertheless:

"Into the probing wild,

You will find a band of evildoers compiled,

But let yourself not be tricked,

Or you will be nicked."

Devnam stopped again and scrutinized the former bandits carefully. Letting them away with a spiteful glare, he continued on:

"Your life hangs on a strand of thread,

Chances are lost, for the solitary who will soon no longer have a head,

But if you travel in a crowd,

Some might be alive at the end, to see a cloud. "

Devnam stopped for the thrice time. "Well that sounds sorta depressing, and I don't like the emphasize on 'might'…"

"Just get on with it," Geoniyo silenced him. "There hasn't been much talk of getting out of here just threats and warnings." As Devnam was about to start again, Geoniyo chastened him one last time, "And next time don't stop again; read the whole thing through!" The riddle commenced:

"Set a course for 7 by 5 degrees to the direction,

In which the setting of the sun is in a reflection.

Traipse forward but beware the lizards,

Who will feast and capture you even in the middle of a blizzard.

"The clan of the reptiles and their leader,

May be found among the decomposed remains of a cedar,

Which you will stumble upon,

Where the sands turn red but not from blood of a don.

"Fight fatigue and thirst as you press on,

For the weak will die, while the strong will see the next dawn.

Leagues forward, you will see your utmost desire,

But you cannot halt for your life will go up in fire.

"The civilization you seek,

Will greet you as deceased or weak.

You have reached your goal,

But to what extol?"

Devnam glanced up, finished. "That's it. We better start cracking up the fifth verse so we can see what direction we should go in. I was never good at geography. Anybody got an inkling of an idea where we should head?"

Everybody shook their heads. Kendall got the impression it was up to him to get everybody out of this forsaken landscape. Clearing his throat, he explained the aspects of the first two lines in the fifth verse, "Well 7 by 5 is obviously 35, degrees in this case. And the sun sets in the west, so 35 degrees to the west would either be around northwest or southwest, and it obviously can't be southwest, because then we'd be going in the direction we just came from, so it has to be northwest.

"We can find out the exact direction if I was provided with a slender piece of metal like a needle and a piece of lodestone, which has a magnetic iron ore, and a basin of water…"

He was brought a shell of rock that resembled a basin, filled with water, a needle from Cyan's uniform, and he himself found some lodestone at the mountain's base. He felt like a schoolmaster as he explained everything he did, "Well, see I'm magnetizing the lodestone by rubbing this needle against it, and if I can place it in this basin of water without breaking the surface tension…" And he lowered it carefully in the basin and gave a small shriek of delight. He broke off a small piece of rock from an outcrop and started scribbling numbers along the rim of the basin. After a small lapse of time, he sat up, delighted and gestured in a direction on the frontier of the desert. "My dear gentlemen," he concluded, "What are we waiting for! Hitch up and let's go!"

xxx

The Con-Clave chamber was a spacious room carved out of obsidian, with a wide, cedar table dominating the center. At the head of the table sat the Lady herself. The chair at the other side of the table was vacant, and Darion, as the host general was supposed to occupy it. There were three chairs on each side of the table, each one occupied by each of the other six generals. Darion registered all this through under his eyelids as he stumbled forward and fell, two daggers in his hand, each covered in blood. But they were not the only thing covered in blood as his whole body was drenched into the crimson liquid and ribbons of flesh fell to the ground. There was a sharp intake of breath all around the room.

"You're not Naze, you're his brat," the Lady denounced him. Uh-oh, thought Darion. He needed some quick interruption.

"I killed Naze and his lackey...and the guards outside this door single-handedly!" added Darion as an afterthought. "He gave hints of not being loyal or useful to you anymore, growing to old, gray whiskers on the outside, fuzzy brain on the inside. My soldiers can vouch for me since their respect for Naze dwindled because of his poor military abilities-"

"You know," the Lady interrupted thoughtfully. "You're right. Last time I went to Warflash, the soldiers were losing respect for Naze and he was getting terribly old. And I remember you, young, superiorly skilled, good leadership, and ambition. And that was quite impressive with the two bodyguards out side the door. Very few beasts in the whole army besides the ones in this room could have done it single-handedly. Well…alright you're General Darion of Fort Warflash, but next time one of my generals is killed by one of his lackeys without my approval, he'll be executed for high treason!"

Darion sat in his chair, feeling a little apprehensive about the other general's actions. He had no need to be scared; the worst was over. In fact, the other generals congratulated him as the news went around the table:

"Hah, killed by his own bred spawn, the irony of the sorts, eh?" guffawed one ferret.

"Blimey, ah never liked that snot-nosed Naze; I hope you'll fare better as his replacement. Hahaha!" chortled another stoat.

In fact, they found Naze's predicament hilarious. Unfortunately, the Lady did not share their optimism. She glared at Darion from the other side of the table, and even though she had pardoned him, the young man knew he would have to prove himself in her eyes to be accepted. And that was just what he wished to accomplish.

"Now, please," chastened the Lady. "Let's get on with the meeting. Haten, you wanted to say of some going-on's in your territory?"

"Oh, yeah," replied Haten, the one who had first guffawed at Darion's deed. "There's a royal feud going on south from here. There is this arrogant fellow, Hakemillion, that's waging war on Lord Dorthin. I sent a few espionage scouts to check the place out when there was a short battle epic. From what's been reported Hakemillion seems to have Dorthin on a thread."

"Hmmm, this is certainly interesting news," mused the Lady. "News we could benefit from. It's true that the monarchy has never bothered us, and we've never bothered them. But this is a prime chance. With two armies battling on the battlefield and dwindling away their forces, we could sweep the 'minefield' and usurp the the greatest army in running. Our power would dominate the land." As she spoke, her lips drew to reveal a feral grin.

Her audience gasped. Never had they contemplated such supreme power and ambition. But Darion voiced his thoughts, "A superb idea, milady!"

She glanced at him. "Yes, of course," she continued, "If things turn out well, I only need to send one contingent of soldiers to overpower Dorthin…"

"I'll go," volunteered Darion eagerly. Here, at last, was a chance to impress his leader…

The Lady studied him, "But you have to realize that this notion can only come in play in about a fortnight, since Dorthin is not yet weak enough…" And her voice trailed off to other subjects, minor in importance compared to this one, Darion felt, but he no longer payed attention. He would not lose this chance; it would have to come out in his way, he felt sure…

And it would! He'd make it so! Anything, but the disaster of his plan…

xxx

Agent D: No the stoat was reciting all of it and Wayak just sort of made up the last line like I mentioned in my review response thingy. And I agree with avelblue it's not exactly patricide as he wasn't his biological father. And you know there's this one guy who wrote all his chapters in his story in mole talk as the mole was telling the story to an audience. The mole talk was pretty good only I could understand about half the story.

Grubswiper: Well, it's really your choice but I thought four chapters would be pretty short so I would advise to make it four 'parts' not four 'chapters since 'parts' are generally longer than 'chapters'.

Avelblue: well, I'm gonna edit all myy chapters once I've posted this chapter and the next one so thanks for bringing up that thing with Cyan-I'm gonna keep your anonymous review to remind me. You have an email at gmail. That's awesome-I'm thinking of getting one there.