59. The Last Battle of Many.

Often logistical difficulties prevent action from immediately following even the most resolute decision. Such was the case with both Willag Axehound's decision to make war on Salamandastron and Torbit Streamdiver's decision to leave before this war could begin.

Willag was more than smart enough to not take the Long Patrol lightly, and despite his thirst for revenge he was meticulous in war preparations. A great host had to be assembled, with the Axehound clan itself being only its core: warriors from all the northern otter tribes that acknowledged Willag as their Warchief, as well as fighting squirrels – battle-hardened highlanders and savage tribesbeasts from northeastern forests. Shrew villages were called to provide auxiliary forces: although Axehounds held the fighting ability of shrews in contempt, but in a war like this every meager bit of force had to be brought to bear. Even the most fleet-pawed messengers needed at least a moon to reach the villages and camps farthest from the western coast, and much more time was needed for bands of warriors to reach the place of gathering set by Willag on the bank of River Moss. Provisions had to be stockpiled: the shortest route to Salamandastron led through the barren dune country where hundreds of beasts had no hope to support themselves by fishing and foraging, and a detour to the east would have led the army into swamps and rugged steep hills, hard to traverse and still not remotely bounteous enough to live off the land. Without plundering from local tribes, at least. And Willag wanted none of that: he had hope that woodlanders living under Salamandastron's protection would not rally to fight fellow woodlanders unless provoked, at least not quickly enough to intervene before the battle is decided. Between all those concerns, no matter how hotly Willag's and Akkla's rage burned, they could not start their campaign before the last moon of summer.

Which gave Torbit enough time. Why he needed that, given that waiting for favorable wind and boarding Wavecrest with the few Starscatter survivors shouldn't have required much in the way of preparation, even if he was certain that Willag and Akkla aren't going to let them go?

To understand that, we have to go a bit back, to the day that shortly followed the night of his decision.

"Lady Akkla said to give this to you. Ufffh." The young mouse who spoke these words was all sweaty from carrying a heavy cloth bundle he now presented to Torbit. After handing over his load he leaned on Wavecrest's weather board to take a breather. After pulling some of the cloth that covered the bundle away, Torbit realized why – inside there was an otter-sized chainmail, certainly meant for him, and for a mouse not much above half his size… Torbit suddenly realized that he saw this mouse before, and more than once. In hot summer weather the smaller beast was wearing only a kilt, and the long scar visible under sweat-matted fur on his stomach was unmistakable.

"Trugg? Is that ye?"

The mouse raised his head to look at Torbit's face. "Yes, that is me."

Torbit tried to think of something to say. Not that they ever spoke before – during the only night they spent in the same house, Trugg was barely conscious from his wound. And to be honest at that time Torbit bore him ill will. But now… Ignoring another woodlander from Ergaph, never mind doing or saying something bad to him, felt wrong. Torbit had a suspicion that far too few of them were still among the living. Finally he just asked. "How are you?"

"Better than at the Seacrag Castle. Otters even let us keep families."

Torbit felt a taste of bile in his mouth, instantly remembering certain things Scrimmo was trying to tell him back then during the winter. "Are ye sayin' that ye're a slave here?"

Trugg stared at him and sighed before answering. "Axehounds are saying we must live where they say and do what they say for our own protection. Maybe they're right."

Torbit looked around. As usual in the middle of the day, there were plenty of creatures going about one business or another – repairing boats, smoking fish, and so on – through the waterfront. Nobeast seemed to be close enough to overhear them, but Torbit still felt exposed. He turned back to Trugg. "Ye know what, come here this evenin', I want to ask ye a question or two. Oh, and that stern-looking mouse who didn't seem to like us at all, Dornal, right? If he still with ye? Can ye ask him to come too?"

That evening Torbit and Groundswell sat in Wavecrest's cramped captain's cabin.

"…sometimes – sometimes I thought it was wrong risking my family, living alone, far away from any help in the dune country." Dornal was finishing his story. "But now? Look, we were said to obey and serve the Axehound clan because they protected us from vermin. But what old Willag does once every vermin in Northlands, or at least every one he could find, is dead? Tells us, mice, and voles, and shrews, that we're free to go and live as we please? Yeah, no. He marches off for another war. He says this is the final war Axehounds must fight, the last battle. Hah. Color me doubtful."

Torbit bit his lip, unable to think of an objection.

"And if you tell Willag that we spoke like that," Trugg added, "we both probably would be beaten. Not as hard as Kunas' guards used to beat me, but nothing pleasant still. I remembered you from Ergaph and you don't seem to me like beasts of treacherous sort, or I wouldn't have spoken my mind before you."

Torbit looked at the two mice. "And neither of you thinks of escaping anymore?"

"How?!" Trugg slapped the table with open paw. "They rule all the north and if we run to the south, that's where the war will be, and I heard Willag already has his otters watching River Moss, so that no news can reach Salamandastron before his army marches."

"Well." Even though Torbit was planning to heap extra difficulties on himself, he felt relieved. "If you trust me as you say, I can offer you and your families a way."

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Eikeru Manybattles and her rather small retinue found Captain Windflight in a razed hamlet, which housed maybe a score and a half of voles and hedgehogs this morning. A few sobbing woodlander females were still alive, though they were unlikely to stay alive for much longer if the main body of Plunderer's crew indeed was soon to join the small scouting force with which Windflight went ahead. Eikeru hoped that the corsairs' fun put them in good mood, and indeed Windflight, who set up her quarters in the hamlet's biggest house, greeted the rat captain amicably and listened to what she had to say attentively.

Of course that didn't mean much. The silvery-grey vixen was playing with a curved dagger as they conversed, twirling the sleek blade deftly one way or another, like she had to keep her fingers busy with something. Eikeru knew – this dagger could very easily end up in her throat, particularly as now she did not have much force behind her back.

"So, you want us to shake paws and join forces, because what, girls should stick for each other? And then you're somehow sure that the woodlanders whom you – you – was ordered to catch could be found in this direction, so we can score a big win catching 'em?" Windflight spoke in a bored tone. "But what's in it for me?"

"Somebeast is needed to lead the soldiers, somebeast they know. Sure, they stole much of my power now, but what was stolen can be taken back if only we win a good victory. Besides, ye also need somebeast knowin' enough about land warfare, and siegin' castles."

"And that would be you?"

"Yeah." Eikeru nodded. "With Ubel and his advice on our side we will have everything we need to rule the army and this country!"

"Hrmph." Before giving a more articulated answer, Windflight stretched out her free paw to grab a jar of beer standing on the table next to her and drank noisily, dark liquid spilling on the tattered silk shirt and multiple necklaces that covered her chest. Finally, she spoke. "Look how thirsty all this scheming of yours makes me. I'll think on what you said. And answer by the next dawn."

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Contrary to the expectations of either vermin captain, they did not have time until the next dawn.

"Counting the new band, I saw at least thirty two vermin. At least five captives," Tesak did his scouting duty well.

Captain Aldwin muttered a foul curse, before looking at the razed village from the hilltop, on which he, Kethra and Tesak were crouching and coming to a decision. "We'll strike at them from two sides, there and there. One arrow volley, then charge, yelling warcries as loudly as we can. Fear will make us seem an army."

"Wait a moment," Kethra put her paw on Aldwin's shoulter and turned her head so that she could see him out of her remaining eye. "We're outnumbered quite badly. I say, we wait till nightfall and attack when most of them are asleep."

Captain turned to her as well, their noses almost touching, his voice a low growl. "It's not even midday, and fates know where this band of butchers may be before nightfall. They may reach a fortified camp. They may join with more vermin. Fates only know. What I know is that they may kill all villagers who still live any moment. We attack now."

"Blood and thunder! And how many of us they may kill because of your soft woodlander heart?" Kethra did not share Aldwin's sentiment. But at least she understood it, and looking at the hare captain's unflinching face she realized that this woodlander is not going to be swayed. So she snorted and finally nodded. "Be it as you wish. We attack."

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Everything happened quite swiftly. Then again, skirmishes tend to be swift. Eikeru just managed to find herself a relatively quiet place to sit and get out of armor in one of the looted woodlander houses, when the first arrow whistled and screams began. It took her maybe ten seconds to pick up her weapons and rush outside but by this time chaos already reigned in the captured hamlet. One of her weasels, transfixed by an arrow, fell right under her footpaws, nearly bowling her over. Two rats, one from her retinue and one of the corsairs fought tooth and claw in the dust, apparently both thinking that some treachery from the other side was underway. Eikeru thought so as well at the first moment, but then she noticed armored figures rushed from surrounding bushes and heard thunderous warcries: "Eulaliaaa!", and "Give'em blood and winegar!", and "Death on the wind!"

Blood froze in Eikeru's veins. Yet she was not named Manybattles for nothing.

"To me!" she shouted, waving her spear. "To me, ye bullies! Fight the woodlanders! They're few!"

She could hear Windflight's voice – the vixen was yelling similar commands. Some vermin obeyed. But before they could form anything even vaguely resembling ranks or bring their bows and javelins to bear, the attackers were upon them.

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Their previous fight against Lubrock's score was over before Private Sovna had an opportunity to bloody her blade. This time there were enough foes for everybeast and the young hare was determined to put a better show, charging forward as fast as her paws carried her. A hastily-aimed thrown spear whistled past her ears, then with a deafening clang, she clashed shield against shield with a scrawny stoat corsair and bowled him over. Before the stunned vermin could recover, Sovna stabbed him with her rapier – once, twice. She wouldn't have stopped at that, but another corsair already was upon her – a tall ferret in a stained red shirt, with a slender straight sword in one paw and dagger at another. Sovna barely managed to deflect his first thrust in time.

This sea raider was a skilled fighter, and more agile than Sovna, leaping, dancing and swaying like a tongue of flame, with blade shooting forward like sudden sparks. But Sovna had longer paws and was better trained, so however fast the ferret moved, he could not evade the deadly rapier point. They landed a couple of light strikes on each other – Sovna's rapier left bloody marks on her opponent's fur, while the ferret's sword glanced off her shield and armor. Just as Sovna aimed to deal a more substantial wound, somebeast slammed into her from behind, throwing her off balance.

Not even Sovna herself could tell later if she was saved by instinct or sheer luck when the ferret stabbed at her unprotected face. Her head jerked aside just in time, and caught in the rush of battle she didn't even feel any blow. Then the ferret stumbled in turn, crying out in pain – some missile must have hit his back. Sovna' instant counterattack did not miss, impaling him straight through. The dying vermin tried to swing his sword one more time, but Sovna already jumped away and whirled to see if there was an enemy behind but there was only a dying rat who must have slammed into her the moment after he was transfixed by a spear.

A dozen steps farther, Suran Longspear was fighting with a tall silvery-grey vixen wielding a scimitar, both foxes snarling as they hammered at each other's shields. Sovna spotted a weasel, prowling to strike at Suran's undefended back. Sovna, it should be said, still loathed the one-eared fox after the humiliation of their first meeting. But now the hare warrior didn't even think of that, leaping to intercept the weasel with a wordless yell of fury. The corsair noticed the attacking hare just in time to defend herself, but that just bought her a couple more seconds to live – in five thrusts Sovna pierced her thrice, and then, as she reeled, cut her neck wide open with a vicious slash.

Just as Sovna turned in Suran's direction again, he knocked the vixen's shield out of the way with a mighty swing and before she could recover, landed a blow right under her ribs. Sovna expected the vixen to fall disemboweled, as she wore no armor, but to the hare's absolute astonishment, she only reeled and, recovering almost immediately, struck Suran in the head. Sparks flew when the blade met the helmet. Suran barely managed to remain on his paws. He tried to defend from the second strike with his shield, but not swiftly enough – the blade caught his head again, and this time he fell. There was no third strike, for Sovna already reached them, lunging with all her speed. The rapier struck true, piercing the vixen's right paw just as she was raising the scimitar. Sovna's blood was boiling with excitement of battle, the next rapier thrust was as savage as if with a spear, seeking to slay on the spot – but this time the vixen was ready and thrust her battered shield forward to meet the rapier. The slim blade bent and snapped one-third from the point with an ear-splitting screech of metal. Gritting her teeth in pain, the vixen slashed and though her wounded paw lacked its normal strength, Sovna was driven back to stumble upon Suran, as he attempted to rise from the ground, bringing them both down.

Fortunately for both of them, the flow of battle gave the vixen no time for finishing blows.

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Eikeru was one the first to realize that the fight is lost. Enemies might have been few in number, but each of them was armed like a warlord and fought like a wildcat. Her pike got broken as easily as a toothpick after she stabbed a huge axe-wielding hare in the shoulder. She wasn't even sure if she managed to get through his armor – thankfully, several of her vermin rushed the reeling hare, probably saving her life.

Eikeru, as her moniker attested, was in many battles, but she did not survive all of them because of always fighting to the bitter end. As she turned to pick a spear from a dying weasel, she noticed that one side of the hamlet, where thick bushes came near dwellings, seemed to be free of attackers – and she ran. Crossing the open ground in a quick rush, she dove into the thicket, heedless of branches, stubs and thorns ripping at her clothes and fur. Breaking through with strength given by desperation where she could, crawling on her belly where she couldn't, the black rat swiftly got through – bruised, scratched and ruffled, but still with the spear in paw. Not stopping for a second, she ran, quickly racing across the forest floor.

Eikeru entertained the thought that her getaway was successful, when sounds of battle mostly faded in the distance… and that allowed another sound to reach her ears – thudding a pawsteps and cracking of twigs, close behind her back. Eikeru allowed herself one look – and the sight made her heart skip a beat. There was a large armored beast, some sort of mustelid as far as a quick glance could tell Eikeru, hot on her heels.

Fear gave Eikeru speed – but only for a time. She no longer was as fleet-pawed and vigorous as when she first decided to live by the sword and took to the seas on a corsair ship. Armor, and summer heat, and ache in her footpaws, and lack of breath in her chest, seemed to slow her a little bit more with each step. The pursuer was close, too close for any trick… A growth of tall ferns was right in Eikeru's way – and she rushed straight through. Blinded by lashing leaves and her own fear, she did not notice a gully behind these ferns – and she fell right into it, rolling head over heels down the slope.

The fall dazed her. By the time Eiekeru dragged herself to all fours, the pursuer was standing before her, saber in paw.

"I yield!" Eikeru yelped in desperation. "I yield!"

"Yield, you say?!" The pursuer threw off her helmet and turned out to be a young female otter, so enraged that a jagged scar crossing her brow swelled red. "Do you remember me, vermin? Do you remember what you and your scum did when my mother tried to yield?!"

Stopping for long enough to respond was an error – that gave Eikeru time to notice that her spear fell nearby, within paw's reach. Selvathy stepped forward, raising her saber – with deliberate slowness. There was nothing slow in the movement with which the black rat grabbed the spear and struck. The sharp point pierced the chain skirt covering Selvathy's thigh and dug deep into the flesh. Crying out in pain, the otter stumbled and her slash went wide.

Eikeru was on her paws in an instant, reinvigorated by sudden hope. The otter still was bigger and stronger, but the grievous wound hobbled her. Eikeru thrust again and again, driving her opponent back, spearhead screeching against metal plates. Then she swung her spear like a club, knocking the saber out of Selvathy's paw. The next blow flattened the otter against the gully's slope.

"Nah, ain't rememberin' nothin'," Eikeru grinned, raising her spear to stab at Selvathy's unprotected head. But the otter recovered from stun quicker than the rat thought possible. She jerked her head aside just in time, the sharp metal edge barely nicking her cheek – and caught the spearshaft with both paws. Eikeru jerked the spear back as hard as she could – the polished shaft slid a bit, the spearhead cutting into Selvathy's palm. The otter hissed but held. For a heartbeat the two females froze, straining their muscles to the limit in struggle for the weapon and for their lives.

Then Eikeru's grip slacked and she collapsed, a bloodied javelin protruding below her chin. Now that her body no longer obstructed the view, Selvathy saw two familiar figures up on the opposite edge of the gully.

"Ewalt," the otter breathed out, as the mouse slid down the loamy slope. She tried to stand, but her wounded paw failed her and she collapsed back, clenching her teeth to avoid screaming in pain.

Ewalt ran up to Selvathy and kneeled to look at her wound. "Oh bloody seasons."

"Looks like I got myself all… all messed up."

Ewalt tried to look and speak reassuringly, with limited success. "Don't worry. Rowanbloom will fix you right away."

Meanwhile, Ewalt's companion – Tezza – was checking on Selvathy's opponent. Upon realizing that Eikeru was in all likelihood knocking on Hellgates already, she swore foully enough to wilt flowers. Ewalt looked at her – and saw an arrow pointed right at his face. For what seemed like minutes, but actually lasted only seconds, all three beasts froze. Ewalt's left paw, which the weasel could not see crawled to the hilt of his dagger.

"Death and damnation, Ewalt! I first learned skinnin' because of this rat!" Then, just as Ewalt's claws touched the hilt, Tezza stepped back, lowering her bow, looking as if she wanted to cry. "Look, I'm sorry. Ye was right, nailin' her where she stood. It's just…"

"You can explain later! Now help me with Selvathy. Do you hear?" Ewalt waved in the direction where they came from. "There is something wrong going with the battle."