XXIII: The Conquest
Golding was running as fast as the armor he had strapped to himself would allow him. He was deathly tired: he hadn't ceased his mad dash for nearly thirty minutes. He had smashed through tree branches, crashed through tangled bushes, and bashed through hanging vines. Suddenly, the dense jungle he was racing through ended, and he sped directly into a large clearing.
He stopped in the center, getting down on his knees to catch his breath. His mouth was terribly dry; he needed something to drink. He contemplated taking off the heavy golden helm he wore, and almost did, but then thought better of it and left it on.
He was propped on his saber. A few minutes passed; his breath began to return to him very slowly. It was perfectly silent other than his rapid, hoarse breathing. For a second, he actually believed he had escaped the hares.
Then, the rat named Bugo smashed out of the jungle, along with maybe ten other assorted vermin. All of them were screaming hysterically. "No…" Golding choked out, "Please." Then, without hesitation, he leapt back up, and continued his dash painfully.
He glanced behind him. Sure enough, about a score of hares emerged out of the jungle, still led by the gray one with the hook for a paw. Golding moaned. Why? Why did this have to happen?
A large stream appeared ahead. Golding thought nothing of it beyond the fact that it would probably slow him down a tad. It was just another obstacle, something he would smash and crash and bash through in his attempt to escape death.
He soon found out that he was horribly mistaken.
Golding leapt into the stream without hesitation, and dashed across it quickly, haphazardly, and noisily. The other vermin followed as well, all of them still screaming.
Golding got halfway through the stream when a set of razor-sharp teeth tore into his leg and ripped out a chunk of his flesh. He screamed in agony as the leg gave out and he dropped into the water.
The other vermin all suddenly realized with horror that they had just leapt into a stream filled with carnivorous fish of some sort. The water began to splash and froth as the fish all clamored for their next meal. Golding was bit again, and then went under, submerged in the water that was rapidly turning red.
Caldwell ordered all of his hares to halt. Somberly, they watched as all of the vermin were ripped to shreds, screaming and crying out in pain and fear. The spectacle went on for a few minutes, before very last vermin had vanished under the water and the stream ran red with blood.
"Wot a horrid way to die," Tabbins murmured. The stream was silent once more for a brief period of time. Then, yelling something unintelligibly, Golding burst out of the water, swinging a blood-stained saber.
Golding had always liked to eat fish, and now the fish were eating him. But the weasel was not about to let them be his end. He slashed downward with his sword, impaling a fish that had gone for his tail. He was pulled down again as another ripped at his legs, and one fish tried to take a bite out of his head, only to be repelled by the large golden helm.
Golding burst forward, out of the stream, safely on the other side. A fish had bitten his arm and hung on voraciously. Golding skewered it with his saber.
The weasel looked pathetic. He was torn up in all sorts of places. The only thing that had saved his life was Regner's shiny gold armor, now filled with dents and scratches. His upper body was in decent shape, but his lower body looked like it had gone through a meat grinder. Flesh hung to the bone in strips and pieces, and he found he couldn't move his legs.
Using his arms, he pulled himself forward, up to a tree trunk. He craned his head over, facing the hares, which were all lined up on the other side of the stream.
"'Ey, look! That isn't Lord Wot's-His-Face after all!" announced Tabbins.
"Of… course… not!!" Golding shouted back, every syllable causing him agony. Only now did he remove his large golden helm, which was covered in dents and was no longer very shiny or polished.
"Then where's the real one?" Caldwell asked.
"It… was… Ballantyne. All… Ballantyne. Yew… all… fell for… his… trap!!" Golding shouted back.
There was a murmur of discord amongst the hares. "So there was a blinking trap, just not the kind we expected…" Tabbins muttered, suddenly realizing that they had made a very bad mistake.
"I… don't know… wot… he plans… to do…" Golding spat out, along with some blood, "I… was just… a pawn…"
"We don't have any time to waste," Caldwell shouted, "We have to get back to Salamandastron as quickly as possible!! Let's MOVE!!" The hares all began to turn and run, leaving Golding on the other side of the stream.
The weasel yelled after them, "Tell… Ballantyne… I'm waiting… for him… in Hellgates! Heh… Heh… Heh…" He snickered, but with each laugh he just spewed more blood. He reclined against the tree trunk, hoping that by some miracle of fate he would not die that day.
---
Deathblaze saw Ballantyne waving his unnecessary cane in the air. A split second later, he was charging at the mountain. Finally, he would be able to kill. The battlefield was the only place where he was he was not afflicted by nerves or racing thoughts. His anger took over as he bolted down the beach, kicking up sand wildly. His eyes were tainted red, and suddenly all thoughts left him other than kill.
Ballantyne and the very lucky Levail stepped to the side as Deathblaze hurtled past them into the open doors of Salamandastron. Levail paused briefly, and then dashed after him, his spear at the ready. Ballantyne casually strolled away from the mountain as an army of perhaps two hundred and fifty vermin charged into the mountain as well. Now, the ferret mused to himself, all he would have to do is wait, and then Deathblaze would conquer the mountain. If only Regner hadn't died, then it would have been perfect.
The tactician strolled up to the top of a dune and turned to face Salamandastron as the horde poured into it. He placed his cane down as if to lean on it, but it sunk into the sand. Ballantyne frowned and pulled it out.
Suddenly, he felt the tip of a blade against the back of his neck. Turning around, he saw that right behind him was a young mousemaid, holding the sword of Martin the Warrior right up to his nose.
---
There was nothing to Deathblaze except the foes before him, which he cut down swiftly and efficiently with his large broadsword. The hares were all clambering out of the rooms, confused and wondering what all the commotion was about. Most opened their doors just to be cut down by Deathblaze as the crazed stoat charged by. He was running down a hallway now, slaying anything in his way.
The rest of the horde, however, had been met in the main hall. Deathblaze missed a lot of hares that were too slow in getting out of bed or leaving their rooms, and those hares had managed to pull together a strong force. They lined up in formation, blocking the hallway, and attacking the horde as they ran up one by one. There just weren't enough of them, though, and the horde was pushing them back quickly.
With Deathblaze wreaking havoc farther in the mountain, Hairmold had assumed command of the forces. Leading courageously from the back of the horde, where not even the farthest thrown javelin could reach him, he barked out orders left and right to anybeast that came near.
"Warsey, what are you doin' pullin' back like that?!" he screamed at a dismal-looking weasel who was cradling a bloody arm.
"They took off me paw, Hairmold!" Warsey screamed back, holding up the bleeding stump for the rat to see.
"I'll take off yer other one if ya don't get back there and start fightin' this instant!" Hairmold shouted, waving his cutlass menacingly. Warsey swiftly ran back to the front lines, where he was swiftly slain by hare's spear.
Amora and Valla ran up. "We're takin' too many casualties," Amora reported, "They're killin' us by the dozen!"
"We keep pushin' 'em back," Valla continued, "But we can't seem to slay any of 'em! They fight like madbeasts!"
"That's cuz there ain't no good leaders up there directing the horde on wot to do! Get up there and lead 'em!" Hairmold ordered, ignoring that fact that he was also a leader and not really directing the horde. Muttering curses, the twin ferrets dashed back to where they had come from.
Then Kalzmar and the rest of the lizards all dashed up to him. "Um… What we do?" asked Corzon, who was holding a wooden hammer (the Long Patrol had never been nice enough to return him his long, curved sword).
"I can tell ya wot not to do, an' that's stand 'round here like the dumb lizards yew are!" Hairmold festered, "Go an' take on the front lines!" He waved his cutlass at them, and wordlessly, they ran off.
---
The hares, however, were not being afflicted by such poor leadership. While Hairmold led from the back, the hare's commanding officer, a stalwart old veteran named Major Orwell, commanded from the front lines. With Tabbins, Caldwell, and Oxpaw all absent, the major had taken command, organizing the hares into formation, blocking off the hallway and keeping the horde only able to attack in relatively small numbers, which stopped the vermin from using their only advantage: the size of their army.
"How many of these are there?" shouted Sergeant Maudy, who had been promoted after the incident with the lizards roughly a season ago.
"Too many!" shouted back Sergeant Gavin, who had received the same promotion, as he lanced an attacking weasel.
"Stow the gab, lads!" ordered Major Orwell, "Keep focused on the enemy in front of you!"
Ironically, it was the enemy behind them that did them in. Deathblaze had charged down the entire length of the very long hallway, slaying hares along the way almost effortlessly in his blind rage. Then he reached a wall; the hallway ended. He paused for a split second, contemplating what to do in a crazed, psychotic way. Then he turned around and began running back the way he came.
The hares Deathblaze had missed the first time were all cut down on his second dash down the hallway, most never even knowing what hit them.
Then Deathblaze hit the blockade at the end of the hallway. None of them heard him coming over the roar of the battle. The stoat cleaved right through the middle of them, cutting them into two divisions. The unfortunate hares that were stuck in the middle of the force were skewered on Deathblaze's broadsword.
The formation broken apart, the battle descended into an all-out brawl, every creature for itself. The hares fought like mad, but they just didn't have the numbers. It was very clear that they were losing the battle.
Deathblaze almost began killing his own soldiers, but he suddenly turned on a dime and began to attack the rest of the hares one by one. In the back of the horde, Hairmold began to praise the stoat's fortunate timing. The one thing they didn't need right now was for that monstrosity Regner had called "captain of the guard" to turn on them.
Major Orwell found himself suddenly surrounded by maybe ten vermin. Yelling wildly, he thrust his spear at them, ignoring the injuries he himself received. He crashed and smashed his way through the vermin wildly and perilously.
Valla and Amora found themselves being charged by the major. Amora leapt forward, attempting to skewer the hare before he did likewise to her. The plan was unsuccessful. Valla stared in shock at her twin sister's corpse, hanging lifelessly on the end of Orwell's spear.
Orwell was about to finish off the other twin, too, when suddenly Deathblaze's broadsword sliced through his back, slaying the major instantly. The crazed stoat withdrew his blade and smashed his way forward at other hares, ignoring everything else around him.
With Orwell slain, the hares began to realize that they were not going to win this battle without anything short of a miracle. But that did not deter them to stop fighting; rather, it made them fight even more madly. The vermin fell in huge numbers. However, there were just too many of them to make a difference.
Corzon suddenly saw two familiar faces- Gavin and Maudy. If only he had stopped them a season ago… If only he had managed to catch up to them… Then maybe King Kirrent and Davian and all the rest wouldn't be dead. Maybe they'd still be living in the red fort. And maybe he'd have been able to fill his bag with all kinds of shiny and interesting things.
The former general of an army dashed at the two hares without hesitation. He swung his wooden hammer at them, as if they were just standing there, completely still. He didn't expect them to move. Both leapt out of the way and Corzon flew through the air, smashing into a wall and landing in a heap.
Gavin and Maudy shared a brief, triumphant glance. Then, suddenly, Gavin's eyes went blank as a spear was shoved through his stomach. Maudy, in horror, looked up to see who had slain his friend. It was Kalzmar, looking both menacing and somber at the same exact time.
Kalzmar didn't care if she died in the battle. The nightmares were so horrible, and they'd only gotten worse… And, sometimes, they came to her during the day. When they had been seated around the fire, just before Ballantyne had given the signal and Deathblaze had taken off in a furor, she had thought that Hairmold was King Kirrent. They seemed to have looked exactly the same for an instant. And then, it had looked as if Hairmold's head had been sliding off…
Why had this had to happen to her? If only Marclaw hadn't spread the seeds of discontent… If only King Kirrent hadn't said all those insults… Then maybe King Kirrent wouldn't be dead. Maybe they'd still be living in the red fort. And maybe she wouldn't be plagued by these horrible delusions.
Maudy charged at Kalzmar. The lizard withdrew her spear and readied it half-heartedly, not really caring all that much. Maudy leapt forward, his spear hurtling towards Kalzmar. She suddenly batted it back with her own spear.
Maudy whipped his lance around like a club, striking Kalzmar in the head. She recoiled like a rag doll. Maudy brought his spear back and plunged it straight through the lizard. Kalzmar also swung her spear, impaling Maudy through the side. Both of them fell over, dead.
The hares crumbled. Each one individually took out more than their fair share of vermin, but they all died one by one, until not a single one was left.
Deathblaze ended his rampage, the blood seemingly disappearing from his eyes as he took quick, rapid breaths. He had done what he had promised; he had taken over Salamandastron.