11. The Heroes and the Cowards.
Ilmo Wavedog with about a dozen of his beasts stood not far from the walldoor, through which they entered the castle. The otter chieftain was lecturing a sorry bunch of newly freed slaves – mice, dormice, voles, hedgehogs, a couple of moles and shrews. They were not quite starving, from the first look at them, and dressed in smocks of rough sackcloth that, at least, remained largely intact – but clearly afraid of their own shadows. Against Ilmo's hopes, none of his own kin were found – if they were alive, they were kept in slave stockades in the small settlement that sprawled on bay shores below the castle. Now those were almost certainly unreachable.
"… so haul yer tails, lest ye be in chains again 'afore this mornin'!" finished his short motivational speech Ilmo. And in that very moment he spotted Rowanbloom, who was running towards their group. Judging by her haste something just turned from bad to worse.
"Captain Ilmo! Captain Ilmo!" shouted the squirrel on the run.
"Somethin' wrong?" The crowd of slaves promptly parted before Ilmo, as he moved to meet her.
The question was answered before Rowanbloom could stop and say anything else.
"Enemy! Help! Enemy is here!" The shrill scream came from the central tower. As everyone turned towards it, they could see a stoat stumbling from its door. Tripping on something, as he ran, saved his life – a spear that was going to transfix him flew over his back, burying itself deep in the ground.
"Enemy!" screamed the stoat again, scurrying away on all fours. But everybeast on the walls and in the courtyard could see the enemy already. Vermin spilled from the tower's door – foxes, ferrets, weasels, rats, all well-armed and ready to kill.
In that moment, when other beasts were still frozen in shock, Ilmo acted, as the instincts forged by many years of fighting and commanding kicked in. "Take aim! Volley!"
Most of the otters around him obeyed the command reflexively. Javelins and slingstones flew. A rat was laid low by a heavy pebble to the head. Most missiles went astray in the moonlight or struck shields harmlessly.
"Get 'em!" roared he large black fox, who was leading the group, before charging straight towards Ilmo, the rest of the vermin not far behind. Just the sight of that was enough to send nearly all of the slaves running in panic, like shards of shattered glass. Ilmo could understand them. Everybeast on the island knew Rugger the Black, and almost nobeast relished the prospect of facing him in battle.
000000000000000
Marroch's eyes widened, as he saw what was happening in the courtyard.
"Suran! Suran, take…" But the warrior fox did not listen. He already rushed to the stairway knocking aside beasts, who were too slow to move out of his way, and disregarding the danger of being shot, as he ran past embrasures. Marroch clenched his fists so hard in an attempt to contain his rage that claws nearly pierced the skin.
"Kethra! After him! All beasts from here to stairway! Follow her! Wipe them out!"
000000000000000
"Rugger and his beasts are there." Ubel Fireeyes smiled with very corners of his lips. "You too will near the battle in a moment. We can attack."
Eikeru Manybattles eyed the Seer mistrustfully. Her very limited goodwill towards him was running dry since the morning, on which the albino ferret declared that he saw a new vision and that they need to return to the castle immediately. The fact that his prediction proved accurate this time only fanned the flames of suspicion, if not about his prophetic ability then his motives.
But she could not find any reason for him to lie now, so she turned towards officers who awaited her command. "Stagradd, Blackear, take yer scores and go around the castle, don't let them get away through the walldoor. Everybeast else – forward!"
000000000000000
Ilmo knew that the more fearsome a vermin leader is, the sooner vermin will lose heart if their leader is slain. He seized a heavy javelin right from paws of the nearest otter, waited a couple of heartbeats until the foe was too close to miss, and hurled it with all of his might right at Rugger's heart. The black fox was prepared for battle, heavy chainmail protecting him head to knees, small round shield of oak and iron on his left arm. With that shield he defended himself just in time. But so tremendous was the force of Ilmo's deadly missile that it pierced right through thick wood and stopped the charging fox in his track, even forcing to stumble back a step. Ilmo was upon him before he regained balance. The big otter's saber struck with enough fury to split an unarmored fox from shoulder to thigh. And again Rugger raised the shield to protect himself, but no shield could stop such strike completely! The iron rim cracked, wood splintered... then the broad blade of the saber met the chainmail sleeve covering the fox's shoulder and clanged upon it, stopped. Rugger did not miss his chance. Snarling from numbing pain, he yanked the shield, tearing the saber stuck in it from Ilmo grasp, and slashed with his own curved sword.
Starscatter otters wore no armor. The only thing between the blade and Ilmo's neck was his pearl necklace. And in a burst of red, pearls scattered across the courtyard.
Ilmo had fierce and valiant tribebeasts. Instead of panicking when their chieftain fell, they set upon the hated foes with greater rage. But they were outnumbered and underarmed. Rugger threw away the wreck of his shield to wield the sword in both paws. The first otter to attack him lost her head in a second. Charging vermin were quick to press the advantage created by their leader. Javelins, loaded slings, and daggers were no match to spears, axes, and large shields.
But the help was already coming. Otters scattered across the courtyard, those who were busy freeing slaves and checking if any of the castle soldiers hid anywhere, rushed to help their comrades without hesitation. Torbit, being faster – or closer – than others, reached the tower just in time to see Rugger striking Ilmo down. With an inarticulate yell of rage he barreled towards the nearest vermin. A rat archer took aim to shoot him, but before the bowstring was drawn, a spear, thrown by someone in the shadows beneath the wall, took the archer through the both thighs. As the rat fell wailing in pain, Ewalt the Ghost clenched his teeth – he aimed at the chest! A second later Torbit crashed into another rat bringing him down and falling on top of him. Between Torbit and Ewalt a smaller otter clashed with a weasel, stabbing with a short harpoon-like spear while trying to deflect the enemy's own spear with a small round shield, and the warrior mouse moved from the shadows aiming at the weasel's exposed back.
Smalltooth was scared out of his wits, but then again, even if he could think clear battling bigger, stronger, better armed, and crueler beasts, led by a blood-mad killer would be very low on his list of priorities. While otters fought, the small stoat aimed only to escape, eyes wide with fear, panting. He had to get around the tower and rush for the walldoor before foes will be there! In his fright, he didn't even saw a beast in his way before getting roughly seized and thrown back.
"Stop, you coward!" In this desperate situation Rowabloom suddenly found in herself more strength, that she thought she had, and as Smalltooth tried to lunge again for the imagined safety beyond her, she barred his way, suddenly seeming to him much bigger than she actually was. "You're going with me!"
"Are you mad?! Run! Or we'll die!" The stoat half snarled, half sobbed, instinctively backing away from the enraged squirrel.
"Shut up and move! We won't die! Not tonight!" With no hesitation, she grabbed the stoat by the scruff and literally dragged him towards the infirmary.
Not so far away from them, Rugger was enjoying himself. Without their chieftain, otters could offer no resistance to a swordbeast as skilled as him! One of them tried to crack his skull with a loaded sling, but the black fox was much faster, with longer reach – in one slash he cut off the otter's paw, then dispatched the pain-shocked foe with another lightning-fast swing of his blade. Now if only he had only one last thing to make this night perfect, the foe he long dreamed of facing for one last time!
"Suran!" Rugger roared. "Suran, you toad-spittle! Come and die!"
Not known to Rugger, Suran Longspear already was closing fast from the right. However, the veteran fox did not believe in courteously announcing himself to his enemies. Certainly not to this particular enemy. If only he had his old trusty spear, it would be the first thing to inform Rugger of his presence, but that weapon was shattered by Captain Yellowang. Now Suran had to get just half a dozen steps closer, to be sure he would not miss the black fox with a spear he appropriated from the tower's armory. Unfortunately, Rugger looked around just as he was making those last steps. For most beasts in such position this wouldn't have earned anything more than an instant of fright before getting pierced. Rugger, however, had reflexes of a striking adder, and just as Suran's spear took flight, the black fox instantly turned on one pawtip. The spearhead's edge screeched against the metal rings of chainmail, as the deadly weapon only brushed its target.
"Missed me, old dog?" Rugger smiled showing all of his teeth and spread his paws wide. "Here I am!"
Suran just spat and raised his long, straight sword with both paws. A number of Rugger's vermin moved rather cautiously to surround him, but backed away, when they saw beasts, who followed Suran from the wall on Marroch's order, charging into the fray. As the small forces clashed with each other so did the two foxes in the center of them, the red versus the black, the straight blade versus the curved one.
In height, bulk, and ferocity Suran and Rugger were equal and both had taken equally numbing blows this night. But Rugger was many seasons younger, at the very prime of his life, and when, for a moment, the foxes froze with blades locked against each other, this told. Putting all of his strength in a single titanic effort, Rugger pushed, making the older fox stagger back, out of balance. Before Suran could recover, Rugger struck, a simple and fearsomely powerful downward slash.
Suran survived only thanks to the smooth, rounded iron helmet he wore. The black fox's blade slid from it, slicing Suran's left ear not covered by the iron plate clean off and hitting his mailed shoulder with a clang and a crack. Few beasts had constitution to remain on their paws after such blow, armor or not, but Suran was among these few. Hissing, dazed, he struck back at Rugger, who already raised his blade for a finishing blow, aiming at the head more by a warrior's instinct than by thought.
And while Rugger wore a chainmail cowl, it lacked a mask to protect his face and snout. Had Suran not been barely able to remain upright, both would have been gone. As it was, Rugger recoiled screaming, spitting blood and shards of teeth, whirling and flailing madly without noticing through whom his sword ripped. Suran hardly was in a better state. His vision swam and the whole left half of his chest felt on fire. A weasel whose greed for fame outweighted fear of the famous warrior closed on him raising an axe, and he backed away, with no strength to do much more but point his sword and snarl threateningly. Thankfully this alone sufficed to keep the weasel away for a couple of seconds, just long enough for another vermin, one of the Marroch's beasts, to attack him.
Now Rugger's small group was outnumbered – and dispirited, as vermin scattered from their own leader, who seemingly went insane from pain. In the midst of battle, Kethra saw their chance to survive the night. If only they could seal whatever hole Rugger used to get inside the castle...
"Onwards! To the tower! Kill!" Each cry she punctuated with a hefty axe chop, and splinters flew from the shield of her enemy.
Luck was not on her side. Either Rugger managed to get a grip, or his instincts led him in the right direction, but he staggered back to the tower door. A few of his vermin, who saw that, rushed after him. Seeing them others turned tails and though most were immediately cut down by relentless foes, no less than half-dozen reached the safety of the tower, and the last one hastily locked and bolted the sturdy door in the face of pursuers hot on his heels.
"Maggots and rot!" Kethra yelled. If only her opponent took a little less time to dispatch! Ignoring a couple of foes, who failed to reach safety of the tower and now tried to sell their lives dearly, she charged straight to the tower door and whacked it all of her might. But even the finest axeblade on Ergaph couldn't cut through the sturdy door of thick wood and iron meant to withstand such assaults. Not swiftly. Of course, the door could be eventually chopped through, or battered down with an improvised ram, or defenders could be smoked out from the tower, but that required time. Scream of a rat, who took an arrow sent from one of the tower's arrow slits and warcries of the army behind the wall told Kethra clearly that time was not something they had.
000000000000000
From his position on the wall, Marroch saw that the Seacrag Castle is lost. Fighting off a horde that probably outnumbered them ten to one now, while being shot in the back from the tower, was just not possible. Strangely, the warlord still felt only burning anger, not fear, and his own soldiers didn't dare to approach him at the sight of something that Marroch rarely allowed other beasts to see – his visage of fury. But the dark ferret prided himself on not allowing his emotions to override his logic, and the only logical course of action now was trying to salvage whatever he could including his own hide.
"Everybeast – follow me! Retreat from the wall!" Marroch shouted, as he took off.