30. Far South: In Pursuit.

Ten seasons ago

Late spring usually was a merry time – flowers, bushes and trees in bloom filling the air with pleasant scents; emerald shine of fresh green leaves and grass, not yet touched by summer heat and dust; sky shining bright blue, with fleeting clouds of pearly white and light grey, bringing gentle rains.

But war left beasts no time for mirth and enjoyment of life. And this spring, war came to southwestern lands. For Khaishan Gan, young chieftain of the Juskagan, named himself the Taggerung, and to prove that the title was rightfully his to bear, he needed ever more victories and plunder. There was no more small Juska tribes left to be easily defeated and incorporated into his horde, south was guarded by fearsome Gillem the badger and his warriors, and the two fellow Taggerung claimants remaining were tough opponents. Khaishan didn't feel prepared to confront either, while too many of his beasts were kept in line more by fear than by trust in their warlord and belief in his destiny. So he led the Juskagan north, where scattered villages and tribes offered easy prey, sparing neither woodlanders, nor vermin who weren't Juska, in his path. Beasts fled before him and his dreaded host, hoping to survive by escaping far enough to the north. But Khaishan Gan did not know that there also were beasts following him.


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Things went wrong very suddenly for a band of Juskagan foragers, just when it seemed that things were going right. They've discovered another woodlander village, whose inhabitants were too lazy, too dumb, or too trusting in remoteness of their location to run away, and took it completely by surprise, so that hardly anybeast managed to escape. Rounded up at spearpoint, the villagers had to gather all their food and scant valuables for their conquerors. Most of them were then herded into the village elder's home. The Juskagan were now tying up the rest, mostly females, with a couple of handsome male youngsters, into a long rope line. The weasel who led the foragers, Ahachu, was an experienced raider, who knew how to avoid hassle and trouble. Even cowardly prey creatures were bound to fight or at least try to scatter, when slaughtered out of paw. But a little patience, and now he had beasts to haul their own goods to the Khaishan Gan's camp, and to provide plenty of fun, while the useless part of the villagers was locked tight, with nowhere to run and no chance to ever warn some other village or to ambush some Juskagan stragglers.

Ahachu took a good look at the big house's straw roof and turned to one of his underlings: "Ushar, go collect more straw from across the village, take…"

Just then a big, long arrow came out of nowhere and slew the ferret he was talking with. In time it took Ahachu to realize that he and his Juskagan were too busy plundering and sorting out the captives, leaving nobeast to stand watch, a couple more arrows buried themselves in their targets. And as Ahachu leapt towards the nearest cover, shouting "Ambush!", he heard the warcry of beasts who already were charging into the hamlet:

"Death on the wind!"

Ahachu, for all his experience, was about to panic, until he realized, that there was only a pawful of beasts shouting.


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Gillem usually marched with the main body of the Vigilants, where he could direct their strength according to whatever scouts reported. But as they followed the trail left by Juskagan, with each passing day, with each burned house and butchered beast, he felt his heart beating faster and harder, until his veins are about to burst – he simply had to take every bit of action he could, to avoid going mad. At times like these almost regretted not suffering from bloodwrath.

So today Gillem was with one of the scouting parties, and to keep pace with them, he left behind his plate armor that made him nigh-invulnerable in battle. Perhaps in other circumstances he would have hesitated to attack a party of Juska at least two dozen strong with only four beasts behind his back. But how could he stand back and watch another bunch of woodlanders be burned alive?

Even if the Vigilants did not have numbers on their side, they had the advantage of surprise. The badger and his companions struck at the foe before the vermin managed to collect their wits. The first Juska in Gillem's way died before even reaching for his weapon. The next one, a thin, ragged rat, tried to turn and run upon seeing a gigantic badger bearing upon him. Gillem's long spear, with broad head, suited for both stabbing and cutting, sank into his back all the way to the cross-tree, before he managed to make two steps.

But nearly all of the Juska who still had a breath were seasoned fighters. Gillem barely raised his round shield in time to deflect a javelin flying at his head. A battle-scarred ferret lunged at him from the side, seeking to stab the badger before he could free his spear, but Gillem lifted the transfixed rat as easily as a wisp of hay, and batted the foe away with a blow so mighty that one could clearly hear the sound of bones breaking. That threw the carcass off the spearhead too – just in time to hurl the spear at an archer stoat, who was putting an arrow to her bowstring – the stoat flew several steps back, before getting transfixed to the house wall behind her.

"Doom is upon you, Juska scum!" Gillem roared, as he drew his sword. "This is your dying day!"

"Death on the wind!" shouted as one the hare cousins, Elroy and Friede, and Odo the squirrel too, as they rushed to cover Gillem's flanks and back. And just with the warcries, the battle was decided. The vermin still outnumbered the Vigilants several to one, but in close quarters none of them individually were remotely a match for the mighty badger and good southern steel, and the shock knocked their fighting spirit out of them. Some simply ran, others still sought a chance to shoot a bow or throw a spear, but could not find it, as Gillem and his followers swept through them like a whirlwind. A weasel who was craftier than others, or thought himself so, rushed towards the bound villagers, perhaps thinking to use one of them as a hostage, but the beast bound to the end of the prisoner line, a tall haremaid, found just the right time to spring into action, laying the weasel low with a well-aimed kick, and following with a flurry of kicks and stomps, until the vermin stopped moving. Not all of the Juska who managed to get out of melee ran far, as Amais who stood behind at the forest edge with her bow, could and did snipe across the whole village.

When Gillem returned from chasing down the last of the vermin he could find, he felt much better, despite hot sweat covering him and a few freshly smarting scratches. The blood was not pounding incessantly at his temples anymore, and he no longer needed an effort to keep himself from snarling.

"You did not seem to take any of them Juska alive either, Commander," Odo noted, as Gillem walked up to him. "Have a drink."

Gillem hastily took the beaker of ale from Odo's paw, and gulped deep, both because he indeed was thirsty, and because he hoped that would cover any momentary traces of embarrassment on his face. A prisoner would have been a much welcome source of information.

"A few seem to have gotten away," he noted after finishing the ale. "We can track them to their camp, once the rest of the Vigilants are here. As for their numbers, this would not be the first time for us to count vermin with our swords!"

Odo tilted his head a bit, casting a skeptical look at Gillem, but Elroy and Friede, who just approached them, let out an approving yell. The badger knew, that for most of the Vigilants, well, for all of them save the pawful of his oldest friends, like Odo and Amais, he was an invincible, infallible hero, a warrior and Commander without reproach. And he could not deny that he enjoyed acting the part – a guilty pleasure.

"I can tell you about the camp and the numbers of these Juskagan, or whatever this murderous bunch of vermin calls themselves!"

Gillem turned to see the pretty young haremaid, whom he spotted before among the prisoners. Upon a closer look, she did not seem to be a villager like the rest. No other hares lived here, only mice and voles. Plus, the well-made tunic which she now recovered from the Juska was dyed blue, unlike your usual homespun cloth, and her blunt claws were too neatly trimmed for a beast who tilled the earth.

As if to confirm his initial observation, the haremaid bowed with well-measured respect. "I'm Rivergrove, a ward of Philbert, Badger Elder of Appleblossom Valley. I left my home shortly before it was besieged by Juska, to warn as many villages as I could, and muster anybeast who can fight – for a proper hare lady, I am a jolly good runner, and I know these woods well. Alas and alack, I've failed quite miserably. But seasons and fates sent you to save us all. At the very least I can tell you everything we know about the foul Juskagan, and lead you straight to their camp."

Gillem nodded back politely. "I am Gillem, the Commander of the Vigilants, and I am lucky indeed to meet a proper lady like yourself," he cast a quick glance at Rivergrove's footpaws, which were indeed worthy of a proper lady, except for the fact that they were still smeared with dried weasel blood. "Your knowledge and help are most welcome."