73. The Hosts and the Commanders.
Few things in the world are as striking and impressive as formations of soldiers arrayed for battle, at least soldiers not yet worn down and scarred by long campaigning, but only preparing to begin a war, that Violet had to admit. The actual Long Patrol hares looked finest of all, their armor plates and mail gleaming under the morning sun, their cloaks of bright pink and magnificent red setting them apart from common beasts – pike hares standing in a perfect rank, their long weapons rising high over their ears, less numerous archers in a loose line before the main host. Behind them were the rest of able-bodied hares of Salamandastron. Even with arsenals of the ancient fortress mountain swept clean, only a few of those had real armor, but all were armed with pikes, spears, halberds and lances, polearms rising like a thick metal-tipped forest on the mountain slope, and all have donned their best clothes suitable for a summer day. The mosaic mass of green, white, and poor hare's brown backed up the line of red. To the right of them, farther from the sea, where the mountain slope was rougher and more broken, Violet and Greyfield positioned the colorful crowd of volunteers from various tribes that long enjoyed protection and friendship of Salamandastron – mostly squirrels, with some otters and country hares, and a sprinkling of smaller creatures, all sturdy beasts who came with his own weapons to offer their friends and allies help in the hour of need, most of them probably brave fighters, but without discipline and mutual bonds to fight together in formation. All in all about fifteen hundreds of beasts, a number that would have seemed much more awesome if not for the fact that less than one in seven of them was a proper Patroller.
And if not for the fact that Axehounds brought more than twice as many to array against them, on the sandy plain below the Mountain. Line upon line of shrews, with some mice and voles in the mix, with slings, javelins and short bows. Behind them, the main force, mighty battalions of otters and squirrels, even more colorful than the Salamandastron army, with brightly painted shields, and dozens of fluttering green banners, most of the beasts in front ranks also gleaming in the sun, their metal armor cleaned and polished before the battle. The great formation stretched from the shoreline to the low hills in the east, and predatory birds circled above it. Since the days of Ungatt Trunn, no host so mighty had ever come to challenge Salamandastron.
With a shiver, Violet, who watched it from a high rock above the Long Patrol's ranks, realized that this host may be able to prevail. Yes, attacking up the slope, where terrain would force them to either narrow their front, not allowing them to envelop their outnumbered foe, or split their army dangerously, they would be at a disadvantage. But there were far too few bowbeasts among the defenders. Even despite their armor and good cover, provided by rocks and large wooden shields, the Long Patrol archers eventually would be suppressed, and then her army, too big and mostly too poorly trained to orderly retreat through the few entryways leading within the Mountain, would be pelted with missiles, until the ranks melt or she orders an attack. It still would be costly and risky, for a rout of skirmishing archers and slingers caused by a surprise charge could turn into a rout of the entire army, but it would not be impossible. Violet looked at the small group of otter, now moving forward under the white flag of parley. She had no choice but to meet with them.
"You're in command, while I'm doing the talks," she said to Brigadier Greyfield. "Remember, do not start a battle without my order. And do not order an attack, no matter what."
As she knew before looking, Willag waited for her under the white flag, in the middle between the two armies, four more otters accompanying him with large shields, to cover the Warchief from arrows in case of the parley going wrong. But upon seeing Violet walking down the slope alone, the closest hare thirty steps behind her, he left his bodyguards behind as well, and strode boldly to meet her.
"Greetings to you, Willag the Warchief. You've changed since we last met." Indeed the old Warchief was showing signs of his age, his beard and even the rest of his fur graying noticeably, and he got more deep scars since he and Violet met many seasons ago, but in his shining mail, chain links reinforced with square metal plates on the chest, his heavy green cloak, embroidered with golden stars and flames, his broad belt, bedecked with pearls, his kilt of the finest stoat hides, his broad necklace of fang he looked even more magnificent and terrible than in his younger years, the very image of a barbaric warrior king. With a sick feeling in her chest, Violet noticed that Willag was actually taller than her, though not as wide in the shoulders.
"You've changed too, the Badger Lady, if only on the inside." Willag's voice however, became raspy and harsh with age, and his eyes now were two polished emeralds, cold and unblinking. "None of my scouts had seen Aldwin or your pet vermin anywhere. Beasts we managed to question say that you've sent them away."
"I've sent everybeast I could send to fight an army of vermin invaders far down the coast in Southsward. If I say, that I never expected an army of woodlander invaders coming to my own doorstep to attack while they are away, I would be lying. But still, to this moment I cannot quite believe my eyes!"
"Spare me this rubbish," Willag growled in response. "So, it is as I feared. You cannot give me those who killed my son. And you sent them away in the first place because you resolved to never do so. Do you truly want war, Violet Wildstripe?"
"If I say "no" would you believe me? And if I say that Heddin Wintersky wanted to stop you from doing what you're doing now in his last moments of consciousness, would you believe me?"
Willag stared at her so long and hard, that, Badger Lady or not, Violet struggled to keep calm and stare back. Good thing that under full-body armor nobeast can see your fur bristle.
"I've heard that Heddin did not die immediately. Tell me what you can about his final days."
After Violet retold what she saw and heard, Willag kept staring at her for almost half a minute more, before speaking. "I believe what you say. Heddin would never want to see woodlanders killed for the sake of avenging him. He always was too kind for a warrior, and never truly learned how to hate. Even when dealing with vermin he could only be ruthless by convincing himself that there is nothing but evil in them, and then still tried to find exceptions and spare whomever he could, like those wildcats. But I am not him. I look at you, and listen to you, and my bile is eating through my stomach, and my heart burns in my chest, and I want to drink your blood and eat your liver to soothe my pain. I offer you a duel of commanders. Let nobeast say that we sent woodlanders to slay each other in our names, while standing safely behind."
"Twice since the last autumn we tried to settle differences through a combat by champion, and both times the outcome was not respected, what makes you…"
"I do not hope for our duel to stop the war! Death of just one beast will never be enough for that now! I want to prove that my cause is right by killing you. I want to make my victory easier by killing you. And I offer you a chance to do the same. Even you must understand that each of our armies will be placing their heads under the axe by going forth and attacking, more so if attacking in rage without a commander. My army will certainly attack to avenge my death, loss of their Warchief and terrible omen nonwithstanding, the same, I believe, goes for your Long Patrol. Whomever wins our duel will win the battle!"
He was right, of course. And so, it was all going to happen as she saw. Incomprehensibly, Violet felt as if a weight lifted from her shoulders. There was no reason to avoid antagonizing Willag further too, so she said. "You're right. I accept your challenge. But before we announce the duel to our armies, can I ask you a couple of questions?"
"What there is to ask? Do you still hope that a few words can maybe patch everything? But go ahead, a creature facing death can have a last wish."
Violet sighed, but spoke calmly. "Do you understand that your sister, Akkla, wanted Salamandastron and the Axehound clan to get at each other's throats? Maybe she did not want things to go as far as this war, but demands she made to me were intended to only make our quarrel over death of Scrimmo the otter bigger, not to settle it."
Willag snorted. "Do I really look senile already? Of course I've shaken the full truth out of Akkla long ago. True, from the start she wanted to see your high and mighty Mountain taken down a peg. But why you're accusing her, if you never bothered to counter her shameful demands by offering a honorable redress for killing one of our otters? Heddin would have accepted, and Akkla had neither power to command him, nor resolve to even try, when he had his mind set!"
Violet froze. "I didn't because I knew talks will fail, I knew that because I saw that, but why had I to accept fate so easily in that exact thing?"
Willag did not notice that, or interpreted her astonishment incorrectly. "And then, I can only blame her for the results, not the intent. Do you know how her husband, Ellke, and her younger cubs died? It was when Ajorsh of the far north mountains first tried to wipe us out, because he thought that fighting against a common enemy is a better way to unite vermin tribes into a kingdom than relying on fear alone. They came with great force in late summer just before harvest, and breached our walls in two places. Akkla was nearly killed defending the northern breach, and we only held there because when she fell Ellke became possessed with warrior spirit of our ancestors and fought with immeasurable fury, pushing the vermin back beyond the wall and routing their whole assault almost alone, with only a couple warriors so injured they could barely walk and Heddin who was only a cub at the time to protect his back. We counted eighteen big wounds on Ellke's body when we buried him. He and Akkla had twins half a moon before that battle, and that time cubs looked healthy enough to survive. But when Ajorsh realized that he can't rally his vermin for another assault and there is fever in his camp, he burned whatever parts of our fields and orchards his horde could not strip bare, before turning home, so the winter after that our clan starved, and the cubs did not survive. That winter, as you must remember, was the winter we sent a plea for help to Salamandastron – had Ajorsh managed to muster a horde of such size again the next summer, we would have been massacred to the last. What did you sent us then? Barely a score of hares. And nearly all of those who survived went back far before the war was decided."
Violet could not keep a hint of venom from her voice. "Aldwin, and the rest of survivors, never talked about what they saw up North, even though all of them knew before leaving that since the times of your grandfather, since before the Rogue Crew became the Axehound clan, you spared no vermin, without distinction of age or sex. I can guess what they witnessed, but sometimes I still wonder about the exact details."
Willag shrugged. "We had to make smaller vermin tribes fear us more than they feared Ajorsh, else we would have been swamped with numbers before finding enough allies of our own. A beast won't quench a forest fire with his bare paws and won't win a war against vermin with kindness. You and your hares can only afford to even try keeping your paws clean because of all the Sunflashes, Rawnblades and Creggas before you, who spent hundreds upon hundreds of seasons cutting down every vermin they could find. And in any case, vermin lives are worth less than sand on the beach and snow in the winter for you. Since the times of my grandfather, since before the Rogue Crew became the Axehound clan, you were fine with our way of war. The whole quarrel is about your beasts going wherever you please and doing as you please, about power, about being on top, for you moreso than for Akkla, isn't it?"
Violet did not change in the face, but had to count in her mind to five before answering. "You are measuring me by your own yardstick. Destroying vermin is one thing, seeking to rule over fellow woodlanders as a king is another."
"You did not mind that either while we kept order among empty-headed shrews and lizards who would have troubled your borders otherwise. But I guess now you would have preferred to see all these rodents in vermin stewpots rather than working my fields and marching under my banner."
"You are trying to anger me, so that I won't be able to fight calmly, aren't you?"
Willag shrugged again. "Of course. But did I say anything untrue? And I will say more: at every point and every turn you acted as if you wanted to butt heads with my clan, starting from the day you sent your hares search for those four vermin. For what seasons-forsaken purpose you even needed them?"
Violet sighed. Willag was trying to get under her skin, but what was she doing here if she already accepted the inevitable? Yet she said. "Two winters ago I've entered the secret chamber of Badger Lords where a Ruler of Salamandastron can sometimes see what destiny has in store for us. I saw more than I wanted. I saw that the travelers whom I've sent Aldwin to save, woodlander and vermin alike, will not only merely be carrying news I needed to hear – great and important destiny awaits them. I saw that they will survive, and I saw that their very arrival on out shores will cause a quarrel between Salamandastron and the North, which will end with us standing here, ready to raise arms against each other." Violet did not mention that the worst parts of her vision by far were to take place after the day of their confrontation, for she doubted Willag would believe her. "I knew well about the resentment you were talking about, I knew that if I move to search for them openly and in force, you and Akkla will think that I'm merely using the pretext of prophecy to do as I please in the lands you considered yours and hoped that maybe Aldwin and his scouts will be able to avoid trouble with you by moving swiftly and stealthily. But one cannot run from her fate."
Willag shook his head, and for the first time his expression softened slightly. "Females. Do you know that Akkla put stock in a prophecy too? And yet that prophecy came to naught when Heddin died. But you are still worse than her, for Akkla expected a great boon, and you saw a great evil and refused to fight against it. But enough of that! I don't care what you saw in your mad visions and the only fate I accept is fate I make with my own paws, while you must have resolved to follow yours long ago, and my words won't shake you. We have nothing more to talk about."