51. Before Setting Sail.
The Seacrag Castle bay was crowded with ships. Plans of great conquest, backed by a captain as famous as Enjo Greencloak, were quite alluring. A number of seavermin crews, who only intended to visit Ergaph briefly for resupply, got enamored by the idea. Next to Enjo's own Sea Princess and Sharkmaw of Captain Saltwhisker, the Bloody Arrow of Captain Sharwan Snakebite, Butcher Bird of Captain Grimclaw, and massive three-mast Plunderer of Captain Gatlonk were now berthed, as well as the three relatively small longships belonging to the band of Lurthen Longneck that set out from the Land of Ice and Snow to find their fortune on the high seas and foreign coasts just this season. The four more newly built ships that were going through the final stages of outfitting under the expert guidance of Enjo's beasts completed the picture. The bay had turned into a small forest of masts.
Silverbrush hoped slightly than one of the new ships would sink on the way and take Ubel with it, but although these hastily constructed hulls were unlikely to serve long, they seemed more than sturdy enough for a season of travel.
Of course, drowning was not the only way fate could claim the white ferret. Silverbrush never heard of any beast, no matter how magical, surviving a blade in the heart, and at the moment there were plenty of blades around Ubel, many belonging to dangerous, short-tempered beasts, and some already unsheathed. The first council of war was set neither on a ship nor in the castle but in a neutral place: under the open cloudy sky, on a small green hill with a decent view of the harbor. About thirty vermin now crowded around a table set on the top of the hill. The corsairs wore colorful garbs, once expensive and luxurious, now generally stained, torn and poorly mended in many places; absolutely tasteless amounts of glittering jewelry, from rings to ear hoops, amplified their barbaric appearance. Clothes of the officers from Ergaph were much simpler, but cleaner and better fitting. Yet both sides were equally well-armed – swords, cutlasses and daggers of all sorts.
Was it impossible for one of the thirty swords to end up sticking in Ubel? So Silverbrush thought as she watched Captain Gatlonk, a big brown rat, past his best seasons and weighted down by the sizeable gut, but still full of vigor, pointing his cutlass right at Ubel's face.
"Ye must be bloody mad. Ye must be bloody mad t' even think of sailin' through the Roaringburn, th' current hungrier than a bloody shark!"
"Not at all," answered Ubel, unperturbed. Then again, it was easy being calm with the imposing figure of the tall, masked black fox bodyguard right behind you – no other vermin around the table was as big and impressive as Rugger the Black. "Through the hidden reefs, the insidious, shifting shoals and the labyrinth currents there is just a single secret path. The Roaringburn. Yes, the great Green Maelstrom awaits the sailors there. But depending on the season and the phase of the moon, a good ship with a good captain can easily get past it."
"And how do ye, limp-limbed landlubbin' ferret, know that?"
Gatlonk's indignation led him to a mistake. He thrust his cutlass too far, almost chopping off Ubel's nose. Then everything happened very fast. The black fox shoved the white ferret aside. His own curved sword flashed, and quite a few gasps were heard, as Gatlonk's blade flew upwards in a high arc, knocked out of the rat's paw with a single stroke. Gatlonk's companion, a tall silvery-grey vixen very familiar to Silverbrush rushed to help her captain, a scimitar in her paw. Later some beasts swore that the whole fight was over with Gatlonk's cutlass still in the air, but Silverbrush remembered it already quivering at the center of the table as Gatlonk fell backwards, his throat opened to the very spine, and the blades of the two foxes clanged against each other. Both foxes were unusually colored, tall, fast and clearly skilled with their blades, but Rugger was bigger and brawnier. They exchanged half a dozen strikes faster than Silverbrush could formulate a single thought – and the vixen staggered several steps back, thrown off-balance but seemingly uninjured. Rugger raised his sword in a mock salute, and then, to Silverbrush's relief, Ubel decided to interfere.
"Enough bloodshed! Rugger, both of you, please."
For a moment it seemed that both of the foxes are about to disregard Ubel's words and leap at each other, then Rugger shrugged and lowered his blade. His expression was impossible to discern under the mask, but the vixen looked relieved for a moment, despite objecting vocally. "After this brute killed Cap'n?"
"Everybeast saw that Gatlonk drew his weapon against us first. Is that not right?" Ubel looked around the table.
"Sure as tide we did." Enjo Greencloack smiled like a lazing cat. Enjo and Gatlonk were old rivals – quite possibly Gatlonk wouldn't have been so vehement in denigrating the whole plan, had Enjo not supported it.
"So he merely got what he asked for." Ubel made a pause and looked around again inviting anybeast to contend his words, before continuing loud and clear. "Maybe I, Ubel, was not born a great warrior, but I am not a preybeast either. All of you would do well to remember this. Maybe I am not strong and fierce, but my hearts beats with the same desire of battle, victory and glory as any of yours. If by fate I stumbled on such a secret, such a chance for great and glorious conquest, then may Vulpuz gnaw on my bones for all eternity if I let it go to waste! Do you want a proof that I am not merely a rambling madbeast? As you wish. I, Ubel, swear to be onboard of the first ship heading towards the Green Maelstrom!"
Silverbrush cursed silently as she saw quite a few beasts nodding with approval. Within a couple of minutes, the hapless rat's corpse was dragged away, and the council continued as if nothing significant has happened.
Silverbrush was sure all of this played right into Ubel's paw. Sure, there was a possibility of Plunderer's crew seeking vengeance. But corsairs weren't exactly famous for their loyalty to dead captains. And as far as Silverbrush could hear, none of the remaining vermin now doubted that the white ferret knows what he's talking about. Pretty typical for seascum and muscle-brained thugs in general, she thought with no small amount of frustration. The apparent ability to control a beast as dangerous as Rugger the Black and the apparent willingness to risk his own hide just lent more weight to Ubel's words than any reasoning ever could. With Enjo Greencloak also arguing for the expedition to Southsward, the corsairs' allegiance was as good as won.
Silverbrush also had another worry on her mind. But she was Enjo's advisor, and had to wait at Enjo's side in case he'd suddenly need her advice. Only after all the important discussions were over she finally had a chance to talk face to face with the vixen who tried to protect Gatlonk so unsuccessfully.
"I'm glad you weren't hurt, Windflight."
"Oh, really? Coulda fooled me. What do you want?"
Silverbrush clasped her paws behind her back to avoid accidentally slapping her younger sister. Nowadays Windflight was the bigger and stronger one, very much so. As their mother sometimes said, seer vixens were ill served by being big and tall, by looking predatory and vicious, by dressing garishly and slovenly. Windflight was all of that, born a brutish and blunt fighter rather than a dignified and mysterious Seer. A bad apple in the family, certainly. But still, family.
"Just to see if you're your usual self. Maybe check if you need any help. I wondered who's going to take Gatlonk's place."
"Not me. Yeah, sure, I can whack any of the crew – any three of 'em at once, I bet – but a captain needs to know all that smart stuff. Winds, and waves, and whatever. I'm only good for leading boarding parties. And do I need help? Hmmm." Windflight moved her claw along the blade of her scimitar that was lying on her knees, and frowned upon meeting a fresh notch. "Do you, per chance, know that black fox, Rugger? You spent the winter here, I mean. And if yes, care to introduce me to him?"
"What?" Silverbrush couldn't help but raise her voice. "Did you finally go completely mad? He nearly killed you, and, just so you know, he would fix that "nearly" part for fun!"
Windflight shrugged. "So? Killing is pretty fun, sis. Few things in the whole stinking world make a fox's heart beat as fast. Your blood is sure thin if you still haven't found that for yourself. I just wonder if Rugger might be more interested in another sort of excitement."
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The harbor town was in chaos this evening. To a creature looking from above it seemed like a smashed anthill. Within days the great flotilla was to set sail, leaving the island behind, and heading towards the tribulations of sea and war, and whatever outcome awaited them, nobeast onboard expected to see Ergaph again. Those among the vermin running taverns and other places of entertainment, who were smart, knew what that meant. They kept their noses to the wind and disappeared just in time, taking with them whatever treasures they managed to save up. Those who weren't smart were just now in the process of discovering that nothing, neither the King's will, nor the common sense, gave them any more protection against being looted, beaten and worse. Of course, even the smart ones were exceedingly likely to be murdered by those village vermin who were unfit or unwilling to join the departing army. Or starve to death in the forest, alone with their silver and gold. If any creatures in the town were wise, they'd try to keep themselves attached to the army by hook or crook, as camp followers, servants or whomever the fighting vermin would like them to be. Maybe some did. Not that Ubel, who observed the commotion from the castle wall, particularly cared. The fate of the harbor town was just another amusement, an entertaining example of short-sightedness in other creatures that contributed to his good mood.
And in a good mood Ubel was. Everything was proceeding smoothly towards the war. And now he most likely had another piece of the fate's grand puzzle. Of course, there was a possibility that Rugger had some deeper part to play in it, of course. But today the black fox already was instrumental enough to recoup all the efforts Ubel put into saving his life. In the new royal guard Ubel had at least a score of vermin ready to fight for him as if for their own lives – if only because their lives hanged on the same thread as his – and there was Sheska too, with her peculiar loyalty. But sometimes one powerful battler was of more use than a score of mediocre ones. Rugger didn't even made any noise about extra price for protection afterwards. The black fox too seemed to be in a good mood – because of finding the small fight today unusually exciting, as far as Ubel could tell.
And even the oncoming struggle for captainship on the Plunderer was going to work out in Ubel's favor. The winner did not require prophetic abilities to predict – Scrubtail, Gatlonk's helmsbeast was the only one with skills and knowledge to navigate the ship anywhere but straight to the bottom. Ubel was also sure that once Scrubtail is a captain he would remember who correctly predicted his sudden ascension almost half a moon before. And that the same prediction also promised him, Scrubtail a dire fate were he to refuses joining the expedition to Southsward. All in all, the day went well. Finally, after so many seasons, the conquest of Southsward was turning from a distant dream into reality. And after the conquest… just as in the case of townsvermin, survival was the matter of disappearing in time – with the treasures Ubel wanted. Except, much unlike those fools, Ubel knew what he was going to do afterwards.
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At Salamandastron, a ship was being prepared for departure as well. The Sealark was the result of Violet Wildstripe's belief that Salamandastron should maintain at least some naval force – a small galley painted bright green, looking more like an enlarged version of an elaborate and beautiful toy than a warship. It was fast under oars, agile, and easily capable of sailing up rivers and crossing shallows, but, unfortunately, less suitable for crossing open sea than even the longboat in which the unlikely companions made their voyage from Ergaph to the mainland. And her usual hare crew had only the most basic idea on how to navigate once the land disappears beyond the horizon, clearly not the beasts one could expect to survive truly dangerous waters. Captain Heorik and the Northwind were gone, no longer willing to delay their overdue return to Riftguard, lest their families decide to mourn them as lost. Thus sailing all the way to Southsward was simply not possible.
But at least sailing could do some good here, take travelers past the areas settled by sworn enemies of the Long Patrol, like Juska vermin and reptile tribes. Sailing to Ergaph, as it happened, never had much chance of resulting in anything good.
"I have talked with travelling birds." Violet explained to Rowanbloom once. "They saw a good number of corsair ships gathered in the Seacrag Bay, and it did not look like those ships congregated there by accident. So whether or not I could spare you a hundred hares in all likelihood is irrelevant and was never relevant to start with: even if I convinced Heorik to load them on the Northwind and take them to Ergaph, even if they arrived in time, despite the winds; with a Seer on the enemy side that would have ended in corsairs intercepting and sinking them. The Long Patrol can easily defeat vermin ten times their number on land, with the power of better trained, better equipped warriors fighting in proper formation, but on a ship's desk? Unfortunately, we cannot work miracles."
Sealark was not big enough to lift a hundred hares. It was going to be cramped with just the Ergaph survivors and the Patrollers added to its normal crew. At least the Patrollers were going to join the expedition, just as Violet promised once. But circumstances have changed since then. The threat of war loomed over their own home. Maybe that's why Captain Aldwin was morose these days, and trying hard to keep bad temper in check, Rowanbloom wondered. Or maybe not. The rest of the Gallopers didn't seem unduly worried.
"Why?" Sparth responded when she asked him one day. "There's no army in the whole wide world that can beat the Long Patrol led by a Badger Lord, erm, Lady. Pffft, even these Axehounds upstarts must jolly well know that. If they're mad and bad enough to try… they are in for a drubbin', with or without us, Gallopers, on the Mountain."
Rowanbloom had her reservations about the Long Patrol's invincibility. Hares of Salamandastron would have been destroyed more than once without help of other woodlanders, though admittedly that was before the times of Matthias the Warrior, thousands of seasons ago. And the very thought of woodlanders warring against woodlanders was repellent. Despite practicing with her new crossbow a few times, despite witnessing enough bloodshed for three lifetimes, Rowanbloom still felt uneasy when she imagined shooting it at a living creature. How horrible striking down a fellow woodlander, your own ally not so long ago, should feel then?
Speaking of weapons, her crossbow was far from the only gift from Salamandastron – if not many warriors could be lent to their cause, at least Lady Violet generously allowed them to take whatever they wanted from the Mountain's famous armories, stockpiled through many successive reigns, and added fine new travel clothes for everybeast on top of that. So their small party looked quite different, and more formidable than before, as it lined up on the Sealark's desk before departure. Ewalt now was the second lightest armed creature among them, right after Rowanbloom herself. The mouse distrusted armor, so he only picked a new spear, a new mouse-sized dagger to match his short sword, and a couple of smaller knives, fit for throwing or hiding them under the clothing. Kethra boasted a new sword, and the same plate armor she wore in the duel with Heddin, still bearing some of the scratches from that day, though all of the real damage was repaired by hare smiths. Finding more armors fit for mustelids – rather than hares and badgers – was not easy, but Selvathy, Tezza and Smalltooth all wore chainmail now, and carried round shields behind their backs, with Selvathy also boasting a fine helmet. All three had blades on their new belts, in addition to their favorite ranged weapons – javelins for Selvathy, a spear for Smalltooth, and a new, shorter but more powerful, double curved bow for Tezza. Suran picked a leaf-headed spear, not very long, despite his monicker, but stout and finely crafted, and a big tear-shaped shield. He also found for himself a fine dagger, decorated with pearls and rubies, which sheath was attached to a wide gold-embroidered belt. Rowanbloom somehow doubted that this last choice was dictated by the needs of battle. Curiously, the fox was still wearing his old cloak, once green and no doubt luxurious, now patched and faded to greenish-grey. But all in all, they looked like – using Kethra's words – a whole troop made of warlords and chieftains.
The Gallopers armed themselves more heavily as well, adding pauldrons and faulds to their breastplates: a real war waited ahead, rather than a search and retrieve mission. And though under the armor they still wore dull, uncolored clothes that did not stick out in forest, each had a cloak dyed in the defiant red of the Long Patrol – for important occasions, like a proper battle. Or their departure from Salamandastron. Lined up on the deck of the Sealark the Gallopers looked magnificent, despite being one short of their normal number. Only one new hare answered Aldwin's call for volunteers – Shotel, a young buck, who matched Selvathy in the dart-throwing contest during the spring feast, and became her friend since then. At least he seemed skilled enough to not be rejected immediately had he tried to join the Gallopers' ranks in better times, but with him there still were only eight hares, not counting the captain, and Rowanbloom heard some murmurings about bad luck.
Not today, though. Today all the hares of the small unit stood proud and confident, as they waited for their captain.
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"I bet everybeast are already on the ship. Makin' them waitin' would not be very polite for me, I say."
"Certainly." Lady Violet nodded to Aldwin, then looked at him critically for a moment and tweaked his sash, bright red to match his dress cloak, a little. "Perfect. Now you're the very image of a heroic hare captain."
"Oh, it's quite painful to see my Lady thinkin' I need all those trinkets to be the very image of a heroic captain, and, I might add, her most loyal hare." Aldwin puffed up in mock indignation. Violet sighed in equally mock exasperation. She knew that Aldwin was not so jovial on the inside, but appreciated the effort – which could not be easy for the gallant hare.
"Please, Violet! I know, I know, Southsward will need help, I blinkin' believe that, but send somebeast else! Any other officer! I smell somethin' terrible comin'. The Axehound clan, they live and blinkin' breathe revenge. Heddin was the apple of Willag Axehound's eye and Akkla Axehound's beloved son. I dread to think of the lengths they would go to avenge him! War, or even treachery and who knows what foul tricks! In times like this, my place is here, at your side, my Lady. Please, I beg of you!"
Only once before Lady Violet Wildstripe saw Captain Aldwin Nightfur so abjectly desperate. And he was not wrong too, given his knowledge. Saying what she had to say was going to feel as pleasant as driving nails into her own paw. But she was a Badger Lady of Salamandastron, a creature of fate and destiny, not a creature of feelings. Perhaps her answer ended up rather stiff because she had to keep repeating that in her mind. "Aldwin. Do you presume I am not aware of the danger? Do you think I would not prefer to keep you at my side, if I had a choice? In the whole Long Patrol there is no other hare I can trust with this task. And this task is more important than…"
"There is nothin' more important to me than protectin' you! Nothin'!"
"Not even following the wish of your Lady? Not even honor or duty?"
That stopped Aldwin. The hare's breath was as heavy, as if he just ran halfway around Salamandastron, his look wild.
"Once again I have to ask you, Aldwin: do you remember the night of the big autumn feast and our talk on the balcony?"
"Ehm? Yes, I do." Suspicion crept across the hare's face.
"Do you remember what you swore on that day when I asked you to choose your duty over your loyalty to myself, when the time to choose comes? The time has come. Do you remember what you promised?"
Aldwin remained silent. For a long, long time. And when he finally spoke, his words were quiet.
"You've planned. You've planned pinnin' me down to my word back then, two seasons ago."
Even Violet, for all her self-control, shrunk a bit, expecting the worst, a terrifying explosion of wrath.
But Aldwin just gave a short laugh, dry like a snapping twig. "I guess I deserve that, what with throwin' a tantrum before my Lady and Ruler I ought to obey for the last half an hour, wot? Just tell me – is it all about destiny again?"
Violet wasn't sure if she wouldn't have preferred wrath to this. But she answered, calmly as always.
"Yes. Two winters ago, in the Secret Chamber of Badger Lords, I saw a choice of two ill fates before me. I could let our lives go their normal course – and let the world go its normal course, with everything outside of our small circle of light remaining one big Northlands. I believe you sometimes still have nightmares about things you saw – you helped to happen – up there in your youth, haven't you? Or I could plunge us all into the time of great peril and trial, chasing a glimmer of hope for the better future. However I think of it, that choice was never a choice for any creature who knows courage and duty. I chose trial and the part of this trial was sending you away to Southsward at the time when I would rather have parted with my own eyes. I doubted you would go easily. And so I wronged you. Forgive me for my mistrust. I should have known that there is no need to trick any more oaths out of you, when it cones to following your duty."
Aldwin looked at her unblinkingly for a time, before finally stepping forward and picking up a fairly small blade that was lying on the anvil between them. "My mind, heart and sword are yours to command. And always were. I'll do as you wish, and I'll do it well, my Lady."
"Don't we both hate long farewells, wot?" asked Aldwin in the present
"And not without a reason." Violet placed her big paw on Aldwin's shoulder. "I'll say just one more thing: stay alive, you black-eared rogue. Stay alive and come back to Salamandastron one day."
"The same to you, old iceheart. Stay alive." The captain squeezed her paw lightly.
Violet felt a pinprick of strange fear. Could it be that Aldwin figured out her reasons and still decided to play along? No. It couldn't. Aldwin was a honest beast, something Violet could no longer say about herself, and whatever masks he donned in life, they always were transparent to anybeast who knew him at all. There was nothing insidious beneath his attempt to look bold and stalwart.
"And one day we'll see each other again," Aldwin finished, before turning away and walking out of the door.