A/N: Responses here! That's a lot of responses...
Grey 36: Ah well. Focusing on one character is indeed what I should have done. I should have introduced one single protagonist instead of... *counts* nine. Urgh... I'm not too proud of my earlier writing - that's why I need a remaster. Egil and Alfyn not being able to get what they want is quite the part in my story - a running gag, perhaps? Even their first purpose - rescuing Thordan seems to have done nothing in the long term - he's a prisoner again. Arbert and the bandits... an observant reader might have seen something similar in Brendan Sanderson's Mistborn series - three books that I have not read. Coins! Death by materialism - literally, of course.
Keva 36: Two letters... well. In Chapter 34, I mentioned a bit about Arn... Thordan's disfigurement was a matter of great deliberation, and I chose the one least likely to affect him in the future. Oh, and do NOT call him Crookedstar. He won't know the cat anyways.
Abrahem 36: Yay! I'm so glad that I'm finally writing a review response from you. Hmm... this is a long one. I would say that the birds that bear messages won't be the one that are eaten. More Thordan scenes! Yeah, the Redwaller impression of the Southern realms is a bit unrealistic. I'm glad you love my work, and are waiting eagerly for the next one - well, here it is!
Sebias 36: The opening segment was done with humour in mind. Corrado being Corrado again! Thordan did not break his neck (lucky him), and whether his jaw heals properly is a matter of debate - the Waycasters don't know proper healing techniques. Well, Dagbert wanted to torture Thordan so that his mental defences are broken, then Pressure him to use against the ward. Still a stupid plan. Getting beast-napped is a phrase I need to use more often. Lastly, of course, REDWALL! Tarka's back for now! (You'll get to see him and his friends all grown up soon) And what are those visions anyway?
To the Fore
AVRANK BY FERRIM, KINGDOM OF TRIEL
This was it. The final clash.
Avrank was a good place to clash as any other. The town, not to be confused with its Parman cousin with a similar name, was a town bordered by a river, which was in itself bordered by a forest. And that forest was a trap.
Galen knew, the moment the soldiers appeared, that the forest was bait. It was not obvious, Garrion had tried to argue that it was a mere coincidence, or even a mistake on Garmund's part, but no trap that intends to be successful was obvious.
"It is definitely a Garmund thing to use his soldiers as bait!" Dirk affirmed his friend's decision, patting Galen on the shoulder. "He doesn't care if they live or die - only that he wins."
"It does sound like Garmund." Garrion scratched his head.
"Putting your own troops in a sparse forest and hoping the enemy would follow them, only to spring a surprise attack?" Ralos opened his mouth for the first time. "Sometimes I wish I could have thought of it myself." For Galen, Ralos was a mere talker who does not talk much. He was not a good tactician by any means, and his strategy wasn't too expertly planned either. At least his unprecedented expertise had helped in giving the troops full bellies, which was not easy in enemy territory. That probably explains why Dirk liked him so much.
"So they are no threat, I take it." Garrion put a blue figurine on the battlefield map. It was not that good of a terrain representation, but that would do for the time being.
"Unless Garmund changes his plans." Dirk angled his paw to put another of those figurines on the table, but this one was red in colour. "We may think we know, but all is fleeting." He seemed to speak like Ralos for a second here.
"It would be a good idea to clear the forest out before anything happens in the coming days." Galen mused, while knocking Dirk's red figurine away.
Garrion proved much less appreciative this time around. "You said that this is what Garmund wants us to do!"
"We can always pretend to do what Garmund wants us to do." Dirk lifted another blue model of a Southard troop and placed it next to the one Galen held. "Then he can be fooled."
SOUTHERN MOSSFLOWER
Sedjow the fox clambered through the undergrowth, hoping to find somebeast to prey on.
The Juskanarn were not a particularly strong tribe - its days of glory were long behind them, though they were still of importance. Now, they had nothing to do in the usual gap in hostilities between tribes that lasted until summer.
Of course, the Juskajow needed every single bit of advantage they needed. Copper and bronze weapons were welcome, but what can truly turn tides is iron, or better yet, steel.
Which was why Sedjow was here. To find those metal of Southard make, or objects that can be traded with them.
Stepping into a clearing, his eyes opened at the sight. Vermin corpses lay around the copse, paws still clutching their spears and swords. But what was truly interesting was the state of the dead bodies.
A good portion of them were charred to the bone, fur, skin and sinew having simple melted away. Yet some faces have been purple-tinged. Poison? Asphyxiation seemed more likely.
He turned his head, and saw a vixen kneeling over a corpse. Unlike the others, this corpse was easily identifiable - a dogfox. This was probably due to his manner of death - a spear of ice which pierced his heart, and one which entered through the torso and out through the back.
The vixen turned, and Sedjow tensed. Her tattoos told a lot about her - a Juskadef vixen, and not a seer. She was probably a scout as well.
"I mean no harm, fellow Juska." The vixen stared at Sedjow's paw, which was straying towards his blade. "Katchra from the Juskadef I'm calld."
"Sedjow from th' Juskanarn." Sedjow said. "I assume that ye came for t' same reason I did."
"Steel's need'd." Katchra scowled. "But so many beasts dying in these manners? 'Tis strange."
"Sedjow nodded. He recalled his astonishment as he found a gang of woodlander bandits down South, with their fatal wounds narrower than an arrow slit. "First the woodlanders, now vermin bands? Something's up."
"The world is changing, and only Vulpuz knows what will happen next." Katchra put another iron spear into her bag, while Sedjow picked up an arrow of the same make.
"H' must b' laughing right now, the Lord of Hellgates." Sedjow checked his now-full bag. "Attacks like this sweep from the South to the North, stead'ly and slowly. I wonder what t' killers want."
"They mus' wan' something from the North." The vixen took what she can, as did the dogfox. "It mus' be something precious fer them."
"What's precious ter dem mus' be so to us." Sedjow muttered. "We need our seers to present an answer, and we'll go and get what's wanted.
AVRANK BY FERRIM, KINGDOM OF TRIEL
In the Trielian camp, things were seemingly going the right way. Beasts were all too eager to crush the Southard 'traitors', and boasted of their kills that have yet to happen.
Altayras was less than enthusiastic about it all. Unlike before Vernoll or Holminster, there was no brother or mentor to talk to. Holding Heavensward in his paw, he twirled it mindlessly and sighed. All he could do was wait.
His name was called, snapping him out of his thoughts, and he sprinted into the king's tent. King Garmund's axe lay on the ground, like it was watching Altayras' every move. It was carried by all too many Trielian kings, and even more princes - Garmund's namesake carried it into battle, despite renouncing his crown.
Garmund turned his head from Duke Randyll of Limse. If everybeast could be identified by one word, 'slimy' would fit well for him, while 'proud' would assume a solid second. He would make for a better spymaster than general, but Garmund needed his beasts to turn the war's tide. Southsward's forces were in Triel proper, the Dravanians were holed up in a single city, and Denebas was nowhere to be seen. At least Vega is safe...
"Duke Altayras, I have an important task for you." Garmund opened his mouth, though his pinched expression remained atop his muzzle. "You are to lead your troops into the forest round the River Ferrim, and wait for my signal. Then you shall surge forth and pounce on your enemy. The troops are already lying in wait," He put a paw on his table. "This Galen Snowpath is a wily commander, and it is imperative not to underestimate him and his peasant birth."
"I understand, Your Highness." Altayras bowed, then made a motion to leave, only to be stopped by Garmund.
"I have received a letter from your brother." Garmund's face was still statue-like, but Altayras felt his own stoicness fade. "He reports that he has not found his captain yet, and the situation in Kaldos grows worse by the hour, though in Gystra he may be. So-called King Thordan Swalestrom has been missing from his realm for a month and a half, and rumours of every kind has popped up from the peasantry."
Altayras nodded. "This does not bode well for us."
Randyll spoke - a first. "This is perhaps our last chance. A forlorn hope, some may say, but what can be done will be done." Randyll was a mere season older than Altayras, but he was mature enough to start scheming against whatever lay in his way. The squirrel had to wonder: how could such a small body fit so much poison within?
"Peace will come soon - this battle is decisive." Garmund picked up his axe. "The end will be swift for either of us."
KALDOS, KINGDOM OF DRAVANIA
It took a few hours, close to a day, even, before Lorcan was able to drag his brother and Sigrun to a parley.
Alfyn may have been the better warrior between the two brothers, but he had little experience in the noble art of diplomacy. He did not even seem to know that the best way of ending a conflict is by talking, and not by splitting heads apart with swords. Sigrun knows, of course, but was very apprehensive about the idea of meeting with her uncle. After all, them trading insults with each other was an occurrence that had already been observed twice. She had agreed to come though.
But that was the easy part, and now Lord Becker was at a table with Lord Lorents Rueford by his side, and with both sides sipping tea, concerned not to make the first move.
This silence was broken by Alfyn, who seemed to finally know what he was doing - keyword being 'seemed'.
"Lord Becker, why have you come here?"
"Oh! Er, yeah. Yes. I have come to discuss terms for surrender." The otterlord looked from left to right, clearly not in a mood to talk more than was necessary - a far cry from the usual Becker Swalestrom's gregariousness. Losing two children can do horrible things to beasts.
"Surrender?" Sigrun rubbed her chin. "I doubt that will be happening anytime soon."
Lorcan nodded at her statement. "No Thordan, no surrender." He stared at Becker. "Speaking of which, where have you taken him?"
Becker sighed. "You won't be having him back even if I willed it to happen. The last we heard of him was in Viksten two weeks ago - my beasts refused be located."
Alfyn rolled his eyes. "What did you expect to happen when you suddenly decide to kidnap your nephew? Under terms of emissaries? And who just happened to be King of Dravania?"
"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time." Lord Rueford spoke up for the first time.
"And I suppose you desire to exchange him for what we have left here, do you not?" Sigrun crossed her paws, having made no disguise to her dislike for her kinsbeast.
Becker silently nodded. "This war has to end somehow. King Gideon has no wish to rule over a broken Dravania, and I have reason to believe that your half-brother wants the same." He cocked his head to one side. "If Thordan, who calls himself King of Dravania would submit to the mercy of Southsward, Dravania would be left untouched."
Before Lorcan could even react, Alfyn pounded his paw on the table, causing the contents of numerous teacups to shake and spill. "House Stalwart has nurtured and cherished Thordan when abandoned by kith and kin. I swear, he will not die like his father, or worse - become Southard like you. He is one of our own, and we dare you to keep him locked up in Floret at your own peril!"
Becker smiled. "I hope to assure you that he will not be harmed in any way, though this depends on him more than I do." He closed his eyes. "For now, all of us, Southard or Dravain, would have to wait."
AVRANK BY FERRIM, KINGDOM OF TRIEL
The forest was quiet enough for Ralos at first.
He had survived Balv, where King Thordan (the only King named Thordan Ralos has ever had in his lifetime) had first got his crown. Ralos took quite a liking to him, though he had to be killed - the worlds may not be their own, but they were worlds nonetheless.
To be honest with himself, Ralos liked the otterking. His daughter may have been a pain in the tail, and her sons powerful enemies of Southsward in their own right, but they could be managed. Lorelei and Corrado Truetide were far, far away in Parma, and Thordan could have rejoined those he called subjects any time soon - he disappeared from Viksten faster than he had arrived.
Vernoll had been a result of surprise and poor planning, but Garrion said that he more than made up for it at Macolt. Somerled may have been a squirrelseer just like the General of Sword, but he had clearly spent too little time on a battlefield.
"Break ranks." Ralos gestured at his troops, who responded with a sprint into the woods, with paws on their pikes and bows and shields. There was no need for the enemy to find a blue tide in the middle of a green forest, and turn the tables on them.
The squirrel himself found all four paws resting on a tree, working in synergy to propel himself up bark and branches. Age has not slowed him down too much, with Conjuration being accessed by his little brooch Amplifier in his pocket. He could just float up, but why do that when you can feel your own two footpaws on a mossy trunk?
Settling into a cosy position, he wrapped his right paw around the brooch, and embraced Conjuration. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and willed for his beasts to be strengthened. Paws will be steady, arrows and bolts will find their marks, and courage will fill hearts like ale does a stomach.
His eyes opened, and saw. Black and white banners. Crossbowbeasts walking in front, and spearbeasts at the back. An armoured squirrel in a leading position.
Borellers.
"Now!" With a shout by Ralos, arrows flew out of treetops, stones soared from bushes, and Trielian beasts dropped like logs.
Bedric Swalestrom, you shall be avenged.
BERSTRAAT, KINGDOM OF DRAVANIA
"They do say that you named this ship the Rubadub."
Like the first time he was captured, Bodvar's captors refrained from torture. They were mostly polite, though the boredom they had brought was just as brutal as any device they could have used on him.
"Well, I could not think of anything else at that time." Bodvar would have scratched his head if his paws were not tied. "Writer's block."
"Horrible problem indeed. But first, why did you put your companion in a barrel for days?" The grey squirrel blinked mockingly.
Bodvar's eyes snapped wide. To be honest with himself, he didn't know exactly why. He wanted to, and he did, and he regretted it now.
"Er… I don't really know why." Bodvar wished that he could kick himself.
"Well, he just told me that he is King Thordan of Dravania, and he doesn't like you stuffed him in a wine barrel in his own filth for days."
"That indeed happened, though I don't really remember what drove me." Bodvar's eyes rolled to the back of his head, though his memories were all too fuzzy. "All I remember is that there was that little voice driving me, and -"
"I think we've heard enough, Captain Waycaster." The gaunt form of Thordan drifted past the doorway, as if his life was over and he was reborn as something else. His fur was knotted and unkempt, and the broken jaw made him look fearsome, even. At least he had the chance to take a bath and put on something else.
"Were it left to somebeast else you would have been dead long ago, painfully or otherwise." Thordan paced around the room trying to look like a king - Bodvar simply couldn't pick up the nerve to tell him that he is failing miserably. "But I am not inclined to see you dead. Not yet."
"We're sorry for all that we have done to you." Bodvar felt the words linger on his tongue before loosing them out in a barrage. "Please try to understand." Try to understand what? We stuffed you into a barrel bound and gagged!
"Whatever. I'll just turn you three over to the Borellers." The otterking turned to the Boreller squirrel. "I'm sure that Lord Altayras or his brother will be glad to see him again."
"Your Highness, may I please speak?" Bodvar piped up, causing two annoyed stares to be directed at him. Please work, please work, please work...
The squirrel gestured to silence him, but with a swipe of a paw Thordan dismissed the rodent. "Trying to silence the Captain won't work. Trust me on that. Besides, I am quite interested in what he would like to say."
"King Thordan, for your crime of treason against Southsward, I challenge you to single combat!" Please accept, please….
"Very well. May the otter with the just cause triumph." Bodvar had to bite down on his lip to prevent himself from leaping in joy.
Apparently crowns on heads do not increase intellectual potential.
AVRANK BY FERRIM, KINGDOM OF TRIEL
To say that Altayras was afraid was an understatement.
His unit almost got completely wiped out, ambushed by Sword troops. Apparently General Ralos had known of the positioning of troops, and had arrived there long before the Borellers had done so.
Could the Southards have planted a spy in our camp? No, that would not be possible. Besides, if that were true, we would have been attacked on our way to the woodlands, long before we could even have the slightest chance to be prepared.
Altayras looked to the side, and barely succeeded in holding in a gasp. Everything was messy, as a battle should be, but the Southards clearly had the advantage. All but two of Triel's pennants have fallen, either dropped in confusion or captured by the enemy.
Skidding over the battlefield, Altayras crashed into the line of Southards. Plunging Heavensward into the chest of an Otterguard, the grey squirrel turned it like Erlend once did, and rotated it straight into a Swordbeast's throat. The unknown soldier dropped like a stone in a pond.
A blur of red cut through Altayras' vision. Flattening a beast with his axe, King Garmund turned to face his vassal.
"We hold," the mouse king panted. He was decidedly worse for wear. Blood covered him. Some of them were his, though that of those he had slain made their own 'contributions'. His armour may not be elaborate from the beginning, but pieces of it have been damaged, some even lost in the heat of battle.
"You need to get out of here!" Altayras screamed. "Now!" Kings were not to be screamed at, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
"Never!" The mouseking looked into Altayras' eyes with his own bloodshot pair.
"Our position has been given away! Lord Garrion is coming, in greater numbers!"
Garmund's eyes seemed to flash with crimson. "Well, I'll face him, damn it!"
"Listen to me!" The mouseking's eyes seemed to return to normal with Altayras' voice. "The battle is lost. The war is lost! Leave. You cannot be taken prisoner!"
The king turned. Beasts were fleeing in all directions, and the Southards were too busy converging on lone troops who had the courage to resist. That, though, was unable to change his mind.
"I came here for victory." Garmund scowled. "I will not turn tail and flee like a frightened shrew-wife!"
"And I came here to see you safe through every single battle." Altayras stared into Garmund's eyes coldly. Pointing Heavensward inches from this liege's throat, he continued, "If you do not 'turn tail and flee', I swear I'll gut you here and now, and drag your corpse to relative safety!"
The mouseking sighed and nodded. All was lost, but he was still alive and breathing, and his Landwaker was with him.. As long as that is the case, he would see himself avenged.
A/N: Hoo boy, that was long.
I originally wanted to write two more segments here, but it would be perfect to let it end here and now.
All falls into place now… and you haven't seen much of the Ward, yes?
Chapter 38 (Piece of Mind) will be up on 11/12 December!