4. The Reasons for Revenge.
The next morning was bright, despite the thick rain that showered throughout most the night. The beauty of the early autumn forest and freshness of the morning were completely lost on the two woodlanders and one vermin, as they walked away from the underground hideout, followed by glares of Marroch's entire small band, and consumed each by his or her own deliberations. Ewalt counted about a score of vermin in the camp, a few clearly young and green, but mostly seasoned slayers. He even recognized a couple of them, some by description, some from personal experience. Gripclaw, Spikepelt, Suran Longspear... Those were not the beasts to be taken lightly. This led Ewalt to another thought...
"I wonder why none of your beasts had yet sold us to Kunas." Ewalt had recovered near-completely now, and walked swiftly.
The ferret snorted and kicked a small toadstool out of his way. "Don't hold me for a fool. All of them have their own grudges against Kunas. I still could have mustered thrice this number but I picked only the most reliable beasts."
As they agreed, Marroch was unarmed, while Ewalt carried his entire arsenal – a small straight sword, a couple of daggers and a spear with leaf-shaped head, slightly shorter than himself. The mouse warrior suspected that Marroch hid a knife under his jerkin, but against a spear that was about as good as bare paws. So Ewalt decided not to press the issue; Kethra and most of the other vermin already looked very eager to rip him apart. But despite this, as far as Ewalt's sharp senses could tell, they weren't being followed after leaving the camp.
"Good to know. Now, Rowanbloom, don't you want to tell me anything?"
Rowanbloom didn't answer right away, and it took her half a minute to finally speak. "It is plain as day, that you want to know how I was treated here and if I want to escape, oh please, I have head on my shoulders too."
The squirrel put a paw on her forehead, trying to pick proper words for relaying her thoughts. "I don't even know what to say, that's strange, never thought to have this problem. Surely, I'm a prisoner, merely a valuable slave, and some of the beasts here can be quite brutish, no need to frown, Marroch, not you or your sister. But somehow, I feel like escaping from here will be like running away from the battle... as if serving them as healer and cook is something I can do… need to do… Oh, I'm sorry, I'm babbling again"
Rowanbloom took a deep breath. "Let's put it that way. I told you already, Ewalt, I was first captured by Kunas' soldiers when the ship I sailed on was wrecked by a storm, and I ended up on this island. I've met that King. And I've met his captains and Seer. My fellow survivors died screaming at their command. I was the last crewbeast kept alive, and in all likelihood not for long. You can say that I want revenge for my comrades or that beasts, who saved me from whatever fate I was set aside for, deserve my gratitude. I guess that all will be true. But that is not all… When I saw them that huge pine marten and his retinue, the black fox, the white ferret, I've felt terror beyond terror. I don't know how to put it in words. As if I stood at the edge of an enormous crack, going to the very bowels of the Earth, and that edge was crumbling beneath my paws. At that moment I knew, don't ask me how, that every horrible thing that they have done on Ergaph is only the very beginning of what is yet to come. I'm not strong or brave, about fighting I only know that you have to stick the enemy with the pointy end of your weapon. But here I at least can help those who do know how to fight. My freedom and my life are not a big price, even for just slowing that terror a bit, if you ask me."
"I say that again – you have a Seer's gift." Commented Marroch. "Even thought it is unheard of for your species."
"Oh please. Everybeast knows that only great badger lords and spirits of our heroic ancestors can see the future, and my mind probably just made things up to justify my fright, and I'm just bad at explaining what I felt then, and anyway, as I said, it can't really be put into words. But..." She shrugged. "I'd like to run away and return to Redwall, but I can't. And that is it."
"I'm surprised that you, of all ferrets, believe in future-seeing." Ewalt stopped for a moment, to choose the path.
"Because I seem too smart to believe in superstitions and deceit?" Marroch scowled. "True Seers exist, mouse. Hope to never have one tell you your fortunes."
For a time, all three walked silently, until Ewalt finally stopped next to a rocky slope of a gullet that was cut through the wood by a fast, prattling creek, running down from the mountains. In two jumps, he was at the bottom, drank a few pawfuls of tasty, ice-cold water, and ran back to his companions almost as swiftly. His body clearly obeyed him well now. "Let's sit and talk here."
Marroch looked around. The bottom of the gullet was reasonably hidden from accidental prying eyes, and there were a few boulders to sit on down below. Somehow the mouse managed to find a secluded spot despite hardly visiting these parts before. So before long all three beasts made themselves as comfortable as it was possible on bare stones. Ewalt spoke first.
"You know, ferret, I thought hard how to test your heart. But really, I'm not a weaver of words who can trick the truth out of a beast like you, and even if I was, such trickery just strikes my fur the wrong way. So I'll ask you one thing. You said you really hate Kunas. Why?"
Marroch looked straight into the mouse warrior's dark blue eyes. "Are losing my power, my land, most of my family to him not reasons enough to hate him?"
"I don't know." Ewalt made a helpless gesture. "In the times before Kunas rumors said that more ferrets of your clan died to each other's blades than in battles with your enemies, so I'm not sure how much you liked your family. And if it is just the matter of power and domain, why throw yourself against the False King and his army, instead of trying to find a ship and seek better fortunes in some softer land?"
Marroch kept staring at him for several moments then made a decision. "Well, as beasts say, one look is worth a thousand words."
The ferret rose, removed his jerkin in a few forceful motions – there were no hidden weapons, despite what Ewalt thought earlier – and turned away from the mouse. And though the latter was no stranger to ghastly injuries and mutilations, the sight gave even him pause. Marroch's back was a mess of scars and welts, the luxurious coat of fur torn apart so much that only a few clumps of hair still grew among nauseous pink and grey scar tissue. The ferret must have been subjected to a truly brutal lashing, and Ewalt wondered how he even survived it.
"Okay. Now I understand your grudge. Among slavers like you, being lashed to death, as a mere slave, is the most humiliating execution, isn't it?"
Marroch slammed his fist into his palm. His emotions were getting the better of him, however he tried to keep his famous ice-cold demeanor. "Spare me your irony! Kunas, when I was taken before him, said, that the world is too small for the two of us. I agree. His mistake was appointing lazy executioners, who got tired and left me to bleed out before I was dead, so I still drew breath, when my sister raided his camp in the evening."
Rowanbloom rose, to help Marroch put his jerkin back. "I was taken from Kunas' paws on that evening too".
"And then you helped me recover." The ferret nodded. "But the only thing Kethra managed to save was my life. She is brave but not smart, and after she brained a wrong ferret in a quarrel, while I was still half-dead, most of our remaining beasts turned coats, so all was lost. Or maybe not all, for I have a plan to bring Kunas down now. But I need a beast of your caliber for it to work. So, what do you say?"
Ewalt remained silent.
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Meanwhile at the Marroch's camp, some of his underlings had a lively conversation, regarding their chief's chances to return alive, and to recruit the infamous Ghost to his service, if he does. Life in the secret forest hideout was truly boring, and any form of excitement was welcome. A bunch of older veterans, fierce-looking and battlescarred beasts who fancied themselves an elite part of the small gang, and therefore usually pushed any and all work that had to be done in the camp on weaker and less experienced vermin, sat together in a circle to talk.
"Eh, methinks our chief will get what he wants. Ain't he the smartest ferret on the island?" The thin rat scout called Luggun always supported Marroch, at least out loud. "Doesn't he have his warlord's luck?"
"Luck, shluck. Did ye see how that Ghost glared at everyone? Such hate! Mark me words, he'll rather chew his tail off than work with our kind. I'll bet tis favored dagger of meself on that." Spikepelt, another ferret, brandished said dagger, and Luggun backed a bit away, to avoid having his nose cut off accidentally.
"Oh? Then I accept that bet." The small circle of gathered vermin raised their heads, to see another member of their gang, who just walked up to them – a tall, sinewy middle-aged fox with thick fur of brownish rusty-red, garbed in a green cloak, once luxurious, now worn-out and patched many times. "And I'll bet my old trusty sword against your dagger."
Spikepelt hissed something unintelligible, but hateful. It was not hard to see that the fox is very sure to win this bet. Yet taking it back was now impossible. While Spikepelt was a tough, double-dyed raider, with claws of eight slain foes hanging from his necklace, he didn't feel bold enough to challenge Suran Longspear, the most infamous vermin warrior on the whole Ergaph. Of course, some beasts these days said that Suran was losing his grasp, due to age catching up with him. But they always checked if the fox was within an earshot first.
"You said something?" No doubt, Suran enjoyed seeing his lesser afraid.
"Me said, how can ye be this sure?" Spikepelt grumbled.
"Huh? What your ears are for, if you haven't even heard how Ewalt the little mouse, Ewalt the Earnest, became Ewalt the Ghost?"
Spikepelt snarled, his anger overcoming his fear for a moment. "Why don't ye tell us, ye were then in Kunas' ranks and saw it yerself, ain't ye?"
"Sure I was." Suran easily agreed. "That's why his army was invincible in the field, after all. Ewalt and his tribe lived on the southern shore when Kunas marched on them. Bold fighters all, at least for mice, and they did not submit to any warlord before. We won, of course, but seven or eight of their fiercest warriors escaped when we razed their caves. By the teeth of the dead, that bunch gave us more trouble than the entire rest of their tribe, striking in the night, always hiding just out of sight, picking off foragers, sniping sentries, setting fires, and befouling water with our own dead. And Ewalt, then called Ewalt the Earnest by his tribebeasts, was the chief of those guerillas. Kunas, and his brother Mirgas – you all remember that he had a younger brother, right? So, both of them were frothing with rage every bloody day because of Ewalt, and it was then when I starting thinking that fighting for them ain't fun anymore. Maybe that's why I spent most of my time on raids and wasn't at the castle, when somebeast there had a bright idea. Kunas gathered all the surviving prisoners and slaves from Ewalt's tribe and swore, and proclaimed far and wide, that he will kill all of them, unless Ewalt and his warriors give themselves up, to buy lives of their tribemice with their own heads."
"And Ewalt was fool enuff to do dis?" Asked the big, dimwitted weasel, named Gripclaw, shaking his head incredulously.
"Oh yes!" Suran laughed. "And then, I was said, Kunas commanded to make a big fire pit, and threw first hostages, and then Ewalt with his warriors into it. I don't know why, maybe he was still smarting from all the times Ewalt gave him the slip before."
Other vermin met the story with silence, even those who already heard it. None of them were strangers to cruelty, calculated or wanton, but such atrocity gave even them pause. Suran, however, remained cheerful, as if he was cracking jokes.
"But, you see, Ewalt refused to stay dead. Kunas ordered a feast in Castle Seacrag that evening, to celebrate his victory. Or maybe he didn't want all that roasted meat to go to waste. Either way, everybeast got drunker than searats on their first night back at home port. And on the next morning a half dozen of guards were found dead as dust, and so was King's own brother, Mirgas. The mouse that killed them all aimed for the King himself, I think. They told me that Mirgas, drunk as he was, grabbed his big brother's cloak, when going out in the cold of the night. No one wanted to tell me where exactly his corpse was found, though."
This time some vermin sniggered, and the fox continued. "So that's how they first found that Ewalt is back and that's why Ewalt is called the Ghost – they say, he returned from the ice of Hellgates to avenge his kin. Since then, I recon, he harried Kunas' horde all alone for seven seasons. So, do you really think there is something he won't do to take the head of that fat joke of a King?"
Then Suran turned and bowed with a flourish to Kethra, who just came to see what the commotion was about and heard the end of his story.
"I hope my little story allayed your fears, my beautiful warlady."
Kethra bristled. It was no secret at all, that she didn't like the turncoat fox and thought that he is up to no good. "I fear nothing! I trust in brother knowing what he's doing more than in your tales! But," she added, as her curiosity outweighted anger, "do you think that Ewalt is a deadbeast walking for real?"
Suran shrugged and scratched his chin, thinking. "Sure, he looks like a mice of that dead tribe. And they said, Ewalt the Earnest had dark blue eyes, the same as him. But if deadbeasts could return from the other side for revenge, why I am not haunted by a bunch of them yet? Maybe not all of the mice warriors surrendered to Kunas that day, who knows how many they really numbered and if one of them was smarter than the rest?"
"And who said Ewalt, if he's truly a ghost, is not going to take his revenge on you as well?" Kethra chuckled. "You were fighting against his tribe in Kunas' ranks too, ain't you?"
"Your desire to see me dead pains me, my ruthless mistress, oh yes, it does. But even if Ewalt indeed crawled from that firepit by some witchery, we all saw that he still can bleed and be beaten, like all beasts. So if he comes after me, I'll just lop his head off, and we'll see if he can come back from that."
Their conversation was interrupted by shout from a stoat soldier, who was left staying on guard. "Ahoy! Errybeast! Master Marroch is back!"
The entire group of vermin was instantly in motion, everybeast wanting to see if their chieftain was alright, Kethra ahead of others. Not that most of them liked the saturnine ferret that much, but everybeast knew that without Marroch and his cunning mind their perspectives were grim indeed: Kunas, of which character they were just reminded, was not likely to accept surrender from his most persistent vermin enemies, even if a number of them weren't deserters from his army in the first place. Many also were in haste to see whose predictions will come true.
Indeed, Marroch was coming back, walking up the trail with both Rowanbloom and Ewalt in tow. Kethra ran up to them, almost jumping on Marroch to hug him, but stopped in her tracks upon seeing a disdainful look on the older ferret's face.
"What's up, little sister? Did you really think I was wrong enough to get myself killed?"
"Ehm... nothing!" Kethra protested, backing away, as Marroch continued walking. "Is he... are you with us now?"
This time it was Ewalt's turn to look at her as if he was trying to explain something to a stupid babe. "Why would I be here otherwise? Make no mistake, we're not friends. Our paths just go the same way until our revenge is complete."
A couple dozen paces away, Suran turned to Spikepelt. "Looks like I won the bet. My dagger?"
Spikepelt felt a little braver now, as two of his old buddies, Gripclaw and Farool, were right behind his back, and he was pretty sure than even Suran won't dare to start a fight right before Marroch and Kethra.
"Yer dagger?! Ye… urgh!" Just when the ferret started sticking out his chest and pumping himself up, he swallowed the rest of his words, as Suran socked him straight in the belly, with a short, almost unnoticeable from aside but a frighteningly powerful blow. Before Spikepelt managed to take a breath again, or Gripclaw and Farool figured out what's going on, Suran already snatched the contested dagger from behind Spikepelt's sash with another lighting-fast movement.
"Why, thank you." Other vermin around laughed uproariously at these words, even Gripclaw and Farool couldn't help but snigger. Marroch, who looked in their direction for a second, to see what's happening and whether he needs to break up a fight, saw that and decided that whatever the incident was, it was not worthy of his attention. Spikepelt's nose and ears turned red with rage, but it didn't take a genius to recognize that the crowd now was on Suran's side – even those who feared him and didn't like how eager he was to pin Spikepelt to his words, had to appreciate his quick action and brutish humor. And of course, no one here had much sympathy for losers. So the ferret turned and stormed away, to spare himself further humiliation.
Suran looked at his back, then at the dagger he just gained – a good, sharp straight blade, with carved wooden handle, polished by paws of several owners – shrugged and walked back to the camp. Taking what he wanted by force was his way of life ever since he first took up the sword, so what was the point of worrying about making enemies now?