1. The Warrior and the Warlord.

It was a bright, cool evening in early autumn. Ewalt always loved clear autumn days like this one… but this time he'd have preferred rainstorm and hurricane to this pleasant weather. Those might have washed away his trail.

Not that Ewalt left much of a trail to begin with. Very tall for a mouse, but thin and wiry, he stepped lightly, being an expert at passing through forest without leaving any visible traces – one of the reasons why many called him the Ghost. But either he wasn't as good as he thought, after all, or Kunas' vermin brought with them one of those rare beasts capable of following tracks by scent alone. They found Ewalt's forest hideout somehow and pursued him since morning, after he barely avoided their ambush.

The mouse stopped for moment reclining against a three, to catch his breath and weight his chances. He believed there were at least a dozen of pursuers. He could already faintly hear sounds they made, scrambling though the forest undergrowth hot on his heels. Far too many to handle, even with the factor of surprise. A fight would be gambling his life – if the vermin won't falter and run after a first couple of them falls, he would almost certainly die. But… Ewalt was near the limit of his endurance. Trying to outpace the pursuers was just as much of a gamble, and if that gamble was to fail, he was going to be captured without even being able to put up a fight. The decision was not difficult to make.

The vermin soon were at the place where the mouse took his brief rest. Ewalt's assessment was almost accurate, there were eleven of them, mostly foxes and rats, all well-armed and battle-scarred fighters. Two small, savage-looking stoats lead the way crouching and sniffing the ground, dropping on all fours from time to time. Ewalt could congratulate himself on being enough of a thorn in King Kunas's rear – finding and hiring real trail-sniffers probably wasn't simple. Ewalt also could congratulate himself on taking care to hide upwind from his own tracks, when he doubled back.

Ewalt managed to survive over twelve seasons of guerilla war against Kunas' vermin thanks to being exceptionally stealthy. These trackers were veterans, much more keen-eyed and sharp-eared than average vermin, but they still didn't spot him, didn't notice him slipping like a shadow from behind a tree root, didn't hear his steps, until an archer fox, who trudged behind the rest, suddenly gurgled and fell stabbed in the back. Before the vermin realized what was going on, Ewalt threw his small spear, which hit the biggest and toughest-looking fox in the group right in the neck, striking him down like a thunderbolt.

But contrary to Ewalt's hopes, the surviving nine vermin did not panic, and their confusion was very brief; as could be expected from battle-tested beasts. The rat who was Ewalt's next target jumped to the side, and the mouse's short sword only gashed her shoulder. Another rat rushed Ewalt, swinging his spear low, like a quarterstaff. Ewalt jumped over it and slashed in return, but too shallow, ripping through the enemy's long nose, instead of his throat. The rat still stumbled back. Ewalt used this moment to grab a knife from his belt and throw it right into the open maw of another fox, who roared a battlecry charging him with a mace. Instincts warned the mouse that the rat he wounded first is behind him. He slashed blindly behind, wheeling on his footpaws. His blade found flesh... but before he could fully turn, something that Ewalt didn't even see slammed into his head knocking him down. The mouse nearly lost consciousness then and there. In the next minute, he almost regretted that that he didn't. Instead of stabbing Ewalt to death on the spot, the vermin used kicks, spearbutts and flats of their blades – apparently, they wanted him alive. Or, judging by their enthusiasm, maybe they just thought that being beaten literally into a pulp is a much more suitable death for someone who killed or wounded almost half of them.

Then the beating suddenly stopped. Ewalt was busy writhing in pain, and trying to protect his eyes and head, so he couldn't really see, what's going on. Judging by a bleeding rat body that heavily and limply fell on him, and whatever noise he could hear through ringing in his own ears, there was a fight again and his enemies were dying one by one. But Ewalt had no idea who might have rushed to his aid. To his knowledge, for almost three seasons now he was the last remaining woodlander warrior on the Ergaph Island's mainland. Some otters were still holding on the northern coast and on Starscatter Rocks… at least when he was there the last time. But they did not dare to venture inland. Vermin troops of the self-crowned King Kunas were far too strong for them to fight on land. So Ewalt would have preferred to meet his unexpected rescuers, whomever they could be, upright and with his sword in paw, just in case. But even with the supreme effort of will, he could barely move his paws, much less roll away the rat's body lying atop him. When somebeast else roughly pushed the corpse aside, Ewalt, for a moment, managed to focus his vision enough to see, who was standing over him…

And that sight took from him all the strength of will he had left to fight against the smothering cloud of unconsciousness.

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To his own surprise, Ewalt did not come to his senses on a rack, or in a smelly prison pit. He was laying in what seemed a fairly comfortable and warm bed. However, an attempt to move his limbs even slightly immediately informed the mouse that the entire upper half of his body is safely bound to that bed.

"Please, don't struggle. You have a concussion and probably some cracked bones. You might hurt yourself." The voice was surprisingly calm and gentle. Ewalt slowly opened his eyes, and saw a comely female squirrel in a faded once-green garb, sitting next to his bed. She was perhaps no longer young, it was always a bit hard to tell with species other than your own, but her fur remained bright red, and her eyes gleamed green. Such a pretty sight was not the thing Ewalt expected to see in a vermin den. He remained silent, trying to figure out what's going on. When the pause stretched uncomfortably, the squirrel added. "We also don't want you hurting anybeast else out of confusion. You're among friends."

"I… I d-don't know who you are, but friends don't t-tie f-friends," responded Ewalt. He still felt so dizzy that his tongue tripped.

"I'm sorry. This is a simple precaution, so that you won't accidentally kill somebeast after coming to your senses. You will be untied, if you promise not to attack any of the beasts here."

"W-what beasts they are?"

"Mine beasts." Answered a deep voice from the far corner of the room – the room which, as Ewalt now noticed, was somewhere deep underground. There were steps, then another beast appeared in his field of vision – the one he saw just before passing out. A saturnine ferret with dark, nearly black fur and undercoat of deep yellow. The ferret was not especially big, as far as ferrets went, and dressed in well-worn clothes, but there was an undeniable air of authority and menace about him. Ewalt happened to know this beast. He had even seen him in person a couple of times, although not nearly this close. He was called Marroch, or Marroch of the Whiteweir, or – although probably not to his face – Marroch the Cold. Not so long ago Ewalt couldn't have imagined that he will be almost relieved to be in his paws, of all beasts.

"Let me explain your situation, mouse. You are here, because you and I have a common enemy. One against whom we stand no chance by themselves. Therefore I have a proposal that you should hear. Once you can think clearly. And once I am sure you're not going to kill me or any of my warriors. If you swear to not attack us until we part ways, you'll be freed. If you don't, you'll have to be tied for the time being."

Ewalt considered his options, inasmuch as he could gather his thoughts in his present condition. Noticing that he has no chance of surviving without playing along was not hard. He nodded weakly, pain shooting through his nape and neck again from that simple movement.

"Swear an oath by the Dark Forest, and your ancestors, and you'll be free." The ferret's words gave Ewalt pause. Oaths like this were a serious matter among woodlanders of Ergaph, the ferret obviously knew as much. And at the moment Ewalt was clearly unable to think of any clever wording that might have rendered his oath void, even if he was any good at such double-dealing to begin with.

"I… I swear. By The D-Dark Forest, and all my forefathers, let me have no rest till death and after, if I betray your hosh… hospitality!" Talking was clearly hard for Ewalt, but Marroch just listened intently, until he was finished. Then he turned to the squirrelnurse.

"You can untie him. Take care of him, until he's fit for a talk." With these words, the ferret walked away.

The squirrel followed him with a glare before starting to work on Ewalt' bindings. "Please don't talk anymore. You clearly need a couple more days of total bedrest and quiet. So don't you dare to try anything funny and hurt yourself more. By the way, I'm Rowanbloom. I don't think we've met before... if you wonder, what I'm doing here, well, to make the long story short that gloomy ferret saved my life, and hid me here, probably because his band needed a healer, but being his, ehm, guest, certainly beats being dead. Oh, sorry, you need rest, and I've just started blabbering to you… Sorry!"

Ewalt did not answer. He was alone, surrounded by vermin, bound to not harm any of them by his oath. And owing his life to them too, not a debt to be easily forgotten. And he wasn't at all sure if he could trust this suspiciously lively squirrel. Marroch surely wanted him for some twisted scheme. The ferret chieftain of Whiteweir – the former warlord of the fallen domain now – was infamous for ruthless cunning, that brought many victories to his clan in times that now felt like good old days, and Ewalt was sure that this cunning was now at work again. But… this predicament still was better than being dead, never mind brought alive to Kunas. Before worrying about what to do, he had to rest and regain his strength… and so that what he was going to do.