9. Revenge.
Ewalt the Ghost had seen many terrible battles and mind-numbing evil deeds, had slain more beasts than he wanted to remember. Yet the memory of what happened in the tower of the Seacrag Castle, albeit hazy, jumbled and unclear, remained among the worst in his head.
King Kunas' guards were doomed from the beginning. Outnumbered and caught by surprise, some died in their beds before getting awake enough to reach for their weapons. Yet the royal guards were seasoned veterans, and their fighting spirit was not that of your average hordebeast. In a desperate situation they fought back desperately, with anything they could reach for and even bare paws, slashing, stabbing, throwing, slamming, biting and clawing.
The tower's first two floors were a living nightmare. Cramped quarters, suddenly filled with too many beasts. Darkness on the first floor, where even Ewalt couldn't see beyond two steps. Dancing, uneven light of burning oil from a broken lamp on the second. Screams, snarls, wails, roars, mixing in a horrible cacophony within the small, enclosed space. The acerbic stench of well over a hundred beasts in rage, fear and pain, mixing with the nauseating odor of blood and guts.
Through this chaos, Ewalt weaved and squeezed, trying to get up, up where Kunas should be. His spear was lost before he got to the fist stairway, stuck in a stoat, and now the mouse furiously slashed with his short sword. All thoughts about the accord everybeast agreed to before the battle – no duels, no chasing personal revenge and trying to claim Kunas' head by himself, among other simple rules, like no plundering until fighting is fully over – have disappeared from his mind, and so did most thoughts of self-preservation.
Fury and blind luck, rather than skill, kept Ewalt alive, as he forced his way to the second floor, jumping over an otter and a ferret who were rolling on the floor trying to tear out each other's throats. The only thing he looked for, in the flickering glare of burning oil, was the King. Marroch's crimson cloak flashed ahead, Kethra was here too, slashing her way through a tangle of battlers… and then Ewalt saw.
Kunas' fears were forgotten now, when his blood boiled with rage. The King just took a moment to grab and pull on a chainmail, and then he descended upon the battle brandishing his battleaxe, like a swooping raptor. Marroch noticed him too late, barely in time to raise a shield in defence. Splinters flew as Kunas landed a tremendous blow, and Marroch was thrown aside, half-stunned.
Ewalt screeched incoherently, and charged forward. A weasel, the mouse didn't even notice whether she was from Marroch's beasts or from the King's guards, stumbled in his way, he threw her aside like a straw doll. The murderer of his kin was so close, just a few more steps and one swift stab…
Something slammed Ewalt from the right, and the world went black for a second. Then he found himself crumpled against a wall, body suddenly limp as if made of dough, no sword in paw. And a huge, snarling cat was descending upon him, claws and teeth bared. The tales said that in such moments a beast can see all of his life flashing before his eyes. This didn't happen to Ewalt. All he had was a moment of terrible clarity, when time seemed to slow down just enough for him to realize clearly that he is a deadbeast.
King Kunas was in the middle of the fray swinging his axe frenziedly, as if in bloodwrath, and despite all odds, for a moment he alone almost turned the tide of battle and drove foes before himself. Griplclaw the big weasel, eager for glory, did not back away, but as his hefty warclub arched through the air to crush pine marten's head, it accidentally caught one of Kunas' vermin, spoiling the deadly blow, while the King's axe struck true, splitting Gripclaw's head and neck.
Before Marroch managed to rise, a wild-eyed rat lunged at him raising a spear. With the speed born of pure reflex, rather than conscious thought, the ferret warlord kicked at the enemy's footpaw making him stumble and miss, so that his spear only pinned Marroch's cloak, instead of body, to the floor, then grabbed a heavy wooden stool lying nearby and threw it right at the rat's head shattering both wood and bone.
Just when Ewalt was about to lose his life, a heavy spear pierced the cat's ribcage with a wet crack, throwing him aside from his prey as the green-cloaked fox, who wielded it, pushed on the spearshaft driving it deeper. Captain Yellowfang roared, more in rage than in pain. Suran Longspear snarled.
Spikepelt raised his barbed-tipped spear, but hesitated for half a second, unsure if he wanted to hurl it at Yellowfang or Suran. Then somebeast he didn't even see leapt at him. Thrown flat, the ferret screamed, as burning oil on the floor seared his back. The beast who knocked him down, a fellow ferret, landed right upon his chest, pinning his neck to the floor with one paw, raising a dagger for a fatal blow with the other.
Kethra charged Kunas, just as the King freed the axe from Gripclaw's body, aiming her sword to stab right in the face beneath the chainmail cowl, but the strike wasn't true and the blade screeched uselessly against metal rings that protected the pine marten's neck. With no space to swing his weapon, Kunas punched Kethra with his left paw knocking the ferret warriormaid down.
Most beasts would have been slain immediately by Suran's spear, but the cat was far bigger than those most and clung to life tenaciously even mortally wounded. Suran's eyes widened, as one stroke of the huge paw broke his weapon in two. Hissing and spitting blood Yellowfang reached for the fox's face – just a tad too slowly. Faster than eye could see, Suran drew his sword and slashed. Four claws flew away, cut off cleanly. And yet the cat was not finished. Before Suran could swing the sword again or jump away, Yellowang struck with the other paw catching the fox across his shoulder blade.
Blood showered Spikepelt, as his foe lost his heas to one swift saber slash from Ilmo Wavedog, who just stepped onto the second floor. Wailing, the ferret threw the headless body off him and rolled on the floor trying to extinguish his burning fur. Ilmo paid no heed to that, rushing to the King with a yell of challenge. Kunas whirled to meet the new foe. Too late – before he had a chance to raise his heavy axe for a good whack, the old skipper was already swinging the bloodied saber. Yet the pine marten had not only strength and fury, but also experience of many battles – he blocked the otter's deadly slash skillfully, so that the broad blade only left a small notch on his polished axehaft.
Suran's cloak was easily torn by vicious claws, and while the chainmail beneath it saved the fox from a horrible injury, the blow spun him around and threw to the floor. But Ewalt was already up. Before Yellowfang had a chance to finish off the fallen fox, the warrior mouse jumped on his back with a dagger, stabbing again, and again, and again with speed of a mad woodpecker. The cat yowled, unable to tear the smaller creature, who was hurting him, away with only one good paw and threw himself against the wall, trying to squash Ewalt with his bulk.
Kunas screamed, as terrible pain drilled into his knee. A lanky, small stoat, one of the lowliest beasts from the Marroch's band, perhaps more cunning or luckier than others, found just the right moment to attack the mighty pine marten King from behind. The stoat had no better weapon than a humble javelin, a mere wooden stick with sharp, fire-hardened tip, but it slid right below Kunas' mailed skirt! The King stumbled, lost his footing, as the maimed footpaw failed him. And then Ilmo's big saber fell down like a lighting striking a tree.
Ewalt didn't saw when the battle ended, because he blacked out briefly again – the next thing he remembered was the big, rusty-furred fox heaving away the massive carcass, which was smothering him with its weight, suffocating him. For a second the mouse wondered numbly why a fox is helping him.
"Hey, are you wounded?" The fox's voice barely reached Ewalt through ringing in his ears. Now he remembered who this fox was – Suran Longspear. An ally. The battered warrior attempted to rise. He was dizzy, his body felt like after being caught in a rockslide, but it still obeyed him, none of the many pains he felt were paralyzing, and all the blood staining his fur and clothing seemingly came from other beasts… well except the blood from the not-so-old wound on his ear that got torn open again. Focusing his gaze and fighting off queasiness was possible, and that meant the harm likely was not too severe.
"Not… really." Slowly said Ewalt. "Kunas?"
"Very dead." Suran answered rather crossly. "Wanted a shot at the mongrel too, eh? Well, at least you helped me to bag this cat brute of a captain…"
Suddenly words froze in Suran's throat. The big vulpine was not used to being scared, it was he who casually invoked fear in others, since the days of being young and not even fully grown, but now one glance from Ewalt made his fur bristle. The mouse looked verifiably insane: eyes bloodshot, teeth bared, whiskers twitching, breath ragged. Suran said no more, as Ewalt shambled past him, to where the fallen King's carcass was still spread on the floor, so mangled, that it was hard to recognize – when Kunas fell, Marroch's vermin swarmed the once-fearsome pine marten like vultures, hacking and slashing far past the moment the body stopped twitching. A few beasts who were busy ransacking the room backed away cautiously, not sure what to expect. Marroch and Ilmo Wavedog who were arguing with each other turned to see, what is going on.
"The battle is over, Ewalt. We won. Now let me see to your wounds." Under normal conditions, the warrior mouse couldn't have missed a beast approaching him from behind. This time he only realized that Rowanbloom is there upon feeling her paw on his shoulder and hearing the words. Ewalt froze for a second then whirled, knocking the squirrel's paw away. Then he took a step back and his shoulders slumped, as the maddened grimace slowly disappeared.
"I'm fine." Ewalt's voice was flat. "Blood is not mine. Go help the others."
Rowanbloom looked at him doubtfully, but now, when the mouse seemed to calm down, she indeed had much worse injuries to tend. "Sure, but you should just sit somewhere, don't move much. You might have broken bones."
Ewalt just nodded and waved her away. A minute latter, just as he found a bed that wasn't broken or too bloodstained to sit on, another beast approached him.
"Marroch." Ewalt acknowledged the obvious. The dark ferret's muzzle and chest were bloodied, thanks to the gash on his chin left by the tip of Kunas' axeblade, but otherwise the only thing on him that seemed harmed was the crimson cloak.
"Me. I want to say you one thing. Mine… this victory was only seized with your help. If you think that you owe me something for saving your life, now we're even." The warlord spoke loudly, so that everybeast in the room could hear him.
Ewalt just stared back blankly. Then, before Marroch thought of something to add, a loud noise from the stairway to the floors above, louder than moans of the wounded, commanded their attention.
"Look who we found here, chief!" Two vermin soldiers were roughly hauling Marda down the steps. Although the pine marten female was larger than either of them, she slumped in their paws like a doll, too scared to fight. "Ain't that Kunas' own mate? And what we gonna do wit' her?"
"Thunder and fire! What, you ask?" Kethra, who was trying to alleviate the pain from the King's blow that nearly squashed her right eye by placing a cold knifeblade against the swell, rose to her paws and pointed said blade at Marda. "Hold the wench."
Unlike Kethra, Marroch could see most of the room, illuminated by the couple of torches that the victors kindled now. And actually cared to look. He did not miss that Ilmo and a group of otter warriors, who gathered around him, all suddenly tensed. That even Ewalt clenched his fists.
"Stop!" Barked Marroch, rushing to his sister. "You fools! "Mate", you say? Don't you see that she is just a bed-warmer, hardly more than a slave?"
Looking at Marda, the ferret warlord realized that he hadn't actually lied right now. The pine marten was young and still could be rightfully called beautiful, but he knew this air of despair and surrender that he often saw in broken slaves. She hardly struggled even after hearing Kethra's words.
"But." Marroch suddenly remembered something else, a fact that hardly concerned him before. "Kunas had two surviving sons, I believe, Kopek, and this one's little whelp. Find him."
"No!" Apparently there were things that could spurn even a beast like Marda to action. For a moment she tried to break free, then Marroch slapped her, without even looking but with enough strength to knock her head about.
"And bring him to me alive. A hostage might be useful. This slave should live too. Revenge or not, anybeast who spills their blood will eat own paws, have my word on that."
"Ohoho! Aren't you in a kind and gentle mood today, chief?" Chuckled Suran, who, like everybeast around, watched Marroch now.
Marroch ignored the bait, and turned to Ilmo. "As we agreed, all woodlander slaves are yours to free. But we'll hold those two. Or do you have objections?"
As Ilmo pondered on the answer, Torbit who stood next to his chieftain had a piece of his mind to give. "So ye'll have yer way with them later, nice and slow, as yer sort say?"
Marroch made a helpless gesture. "Don't hold me for a fool who gets entertainment out of pain of others. Ask any creature who knows me – I'm a pragmatic beast. Besides, what do you want to do, give them shelter?"
"I'd let 'em go!" blurted out Torbit, slamming the butt of his spear on the floor to underline the words. "Real warriors should be sparin' defenseless creatures, not enslavin' 'em!"
Marroch looked at him, and explained slowly, as if talking to a particularly dim-witted creature. "Then, if they are lucky, one of the remaining captains will use the whelp as a talisman. A father's good luck can pass down to a son, you should know. Much more likely, Kopek or said captains will quietly kill them. No one needs future contenders."
Before Torbit – or Ilmo, or Ewalt – answered that, a sharp sound rent the air. The sound familiar to Marroch, that of the small iron bugle he gave to Luggun this evening when assigning him to taking the gates and keeping lookout there. And now somebeast at the gates was blowing in it. Once. Then again and again.
"What's going on?.." Muttered one of the vermin who held Marda, as he looked around fearfully.
Unlike him, Marroch already could guess an answer. Or at least had enough resolve to admit it. Somehow, his plan was going wrong.
"To the walls! Move your paws! To the walls, everybeast! More enemies are coming!"