Author's Note: This is the final chapter in Part II. It took me three tries to write it the way I wanted it to be written, but I think, in the end, I did it pretty well. By the way, the first little part that's in all italics is a flashback, if you couldn't gather that yourself. It's one of two flashbacks in the entire story, the other happening about half-way through Part III.
XXVI: The Weasels
It is a perfectly normal day at Castle Regner. Golding, already poised for promotion, is marching around the fortress, doing his sentry duty. Everything is as to be expected; there isn't a single creature roaming the halls that shouldn't have been there.
Then Ballantyne comes around the corner, followed by Taroll, Levail, and that new hot-blooded recruit, Deathblaze.
They look as if all they're going to do is pass Golding by. But, just as they near him, Taroll and Levail seize both of Golding's arms, pinning him to the wall. Ballantyne sneers. He's dressed in some sort of fancy outfit that Golding can't really describe.
"So, where is the location of your father, Golding?" interrogates the ferret.
"Why?" replies Golding, a bit frightened, "Whaddya want with him?"
"Your father has been instigating a rebellion," Ballantyne shrugs, as if not knowing the implications of this accusation, "One of his associates betrayed him and told us everything. We have no need for traitors in this horde, Golding. We need to execute your father."
Golding is horror-stricken. This can't be happening! "I… I don't know where he is, okay! I've been guardin' these halls for the past hour or so!"
Ballantyne frowns. "I suppose there is truth in that. Taroll, Levail, take him with us. I want him to see just what happens when you defy the power of Lord Regner the Magnificent."
The two stoats half-lead, half-drag Golding behind Ballantyne as they continue walking. Golding knows where they're going; his father's room. Every step they take fills him with dread. They go down halls, up stairs, down stairs, around corners. Every creature in the entire castle seems to have vanished, except for them. The corridors are silent. Golding is silent. Taroll, Levail, and Deathblaze are silent. Even Ballantyne is silent.
The door to Golding's father's room is up ahead now. Ballantyne nods to Deathblaze. The stoat stomps forward and pounds on the door vigorously. A few seconds pass.
"Don't look like he's here," mutters Taroll quietly. Deathblaze knocks again. Still, there is no answer.
"I was afraid of this," Ballantyne announces, "It could be quite some time before that treacherous weasel decides to show his face again."
Golding is seething in anger. If he weren't being restrained by Taroll and Levail, he'd show the ferret a thing or two about insulting his father.
"Wot if he's jus' hidin'?" asks Levail.
"He very well could be," replies Ballantyne, "Deathblaze, open the door."
The stoat tries to open it, but the door has been locked. Uncaring, Deathblaze simply pulls out his gigantic sword and swings it right into the wooden door. It nearly smashes in half. Deathblaze kicks down whatever is left standing and the five of them enter.
Golding's father is there, sitting on a chair. "Why'd ya hafta break down my door?" he exclaims, "I was gonna get it eventually. An' why do ya have my son all under guard? Wot's goin' on?"
Ballantyne smiles. "Don't act ignorant, Aulder," says the ferret calmly, "I know what you are up to. Shame on you. Lord Regner the Magnificent is benevolent enough to make you his captain of the guard and this is how you repay him?"
"Wot're yew talkin' 'bout?" demands Aulder indignantly.
"Aulder, your fox friend told us everything in exchange for a promotion and prestige amongst the troops," announces Ballantyne with a satisfied tone.
"Wot?! Salze sold me out?! The traitor! Where is he? I'll teach him a lesson!" Aulder suddenly rises from his seat.
"Funny you should react so in such a ballistic manner, considering that you are a traitor yourself," Ballantyne points out, "Oh, and Deathblaze here slew Salze. He was too untrustworthy; first he betrayed Lord Regner by siding with you and then he betrayed you. We couldn't have such an unsavory character in our ranks. You should have taken a page out of Lord Regner's book and not trusted a fox; they're wily and sly creatures."
Golding wants to say something, but thinks better of it. He knows his father could get out of this situation. At least, he hopes so.
"You're lucky, though," Ballantyne continues, "Salze specifically said that your son here was not involved in the plans. That means we won't have to execute him like we will to you."
Aulder grits his teeth. It's the truth; Aulder made sure Golding was kept in the dark in case the plan ever was found out.
"Yew ain't gonna take me down without a fight," growls Aulder, drawing his saber, although he, unlike his son, knows the situation is hopeless. He's seen Deathblaze fight. There's no stopping him in a duel.
"I wasn't expecting to," Ballantyne merely replies, "That is why I brought Deathblaze along with me. Now, I assume you would like some last words with your son, correct?" Aulder looks at the ferret suspiciously, having not expected such an action.
"Son, don't do anything stupid," he says simply, "Don't disgrace my name any more than I already have. An' don't go off an' try to finish wot I started. It ain't gonna work, I tell ya. I should've realized my mistake."
"Father…" is all Golding can say back. There is a silence.
Ballantyne breaks it. "Now, how about we get this duel under way?" He nods to Deathblaze, who already has his broadsword at the ready.
A small group of hordebeasts passing by has stopped to see all the commotion, and have gathered behind Taroll and Levail. Among them are the twin ferrets Valla and Amora, who would later help Golding in his own rebellion.
"I'm ready fer ya, Deathblaze," Aulder growls.
Unfortunately, he isn't. The stoat leaps forward. Aulder's head leaves his body, landing on the floor in a bloody mess. It couldn't even be considered a duel.
Ballantyne notices a speck of blood that has landed on his outfit. Drawing a handkerchief, he wipes it off carefully, and then departs, followed by Deathblaze. Taroll and Levail release Golding, and leave likewise.
The weasel staggers forward into his slain father's room, tears streaming down his face. "Father…" Golding says, repeating the last words he ever said to Aulder. He regrets that he did not say more.
Golding would never be able to forget that incident for as long as he lived. Sitting against a tree, half-dead, the weasel contemplated what he would do next, after he got healed. Because he knew he was going to get healed. He wouldn't allow himself to die, not while Ballantyne and Deathblaze still lived. He had to kill them himself. It seemed like a daunting task; Ballantyne was too smart and Deathblaze was too strong. But Golding knew he could do it. Of course, what Golding thought he knew and what was actually happening in reality were two completely different things.
The weasel, fueled by his quest for revenge, attempted to stand. He found that only one of his legs would actually move at all, and it sent a shock of agony through him when it did. The other just lay limply, alarmingly painless. Golding had been in a horde; he had seen all kinds of injuries and had listened to Ballantyne explain most of them. Of course, he had never remembered any of the educational things the tactician ever spouted, and so whatever was wrong with his leg, he did not know. He didn't quite care; what good would knowing that he had reallylongworditis do for him? None.
Using his relatively uninjured arms, he pushed himself onto his stomach. If he couldn't walk, then he'd crawl. Through sheer determination, he reached out his paws and pulled himself forward slowly. The leg that could still register pain felt as if it were on fire. Golding ignored it as he reached forward again, thinking of the day when he'd be able to run Ballantyne through.
---
Golding was the farthest thing from Ballantyne's mind at the moment; there was no point in dwelling on dead creatures. Right now, the ferret was leagues more interested in the living ones, such as Deathblaze and the twenty or so assorted vermin half-heartedly running behind him, none of them wanting to have to face more hares and probably get killed.
Ballantyne figured that Deathblaze had simply seen them from Salamandastron, as he predicted he would. However, that was not the case. Deathblaze's insanity had simply peaked, and, in a blind fury, he dashed out of the mountain, screaming angrily. The other vermin probably would not have followed if Corzon, thinking that Deathblaze's random outburst actually meant something, had not immediately yelled for them all to charge. But the stupid lizard had, and now most of the vermin found themselves not in a particularly favorable situation, especially considering that most of them were injured in some way.
Colonel Caldwell, immediately forgetting Ballantyne, leaped up and began issuing orders. "Tabbins, get your squad up front with those spears and wait for 'em! Clements, get your archers ready to fire, quickly! Mary, you said that you're our last hope. Time for you to show us what you can do."
The hares ran off to their formations. Mary hesitated, looking at her sword uncertainly. She hadn't ever actually fought before, and she was definitely sure she had no natural talent, considering she was as coordinated as… something that wasn't coordinated. She'd have to think up a fitting simile later. She jogged up in between a line of hares led by Lieutenant Tabbins and a line of hares led by whichever creature Clements was, waiting for when the right moment to step forward would hopefully arise. Caldwell ran up to where Tabbins was, drawing a short, light sword with his one remaining paw.
"Here they come!" shouted Caldwell, even though only Deathblaze was really near enough, as the others were purposely going slowly, "Archers, fire!"
The arrows would have made Deathblaze look like a pincushion if he had not suddenly stopped, frozen in his tracks. Where was he? What was he doing? The arrows all landed at the stoat's footpaws. He stared up blankly.
Ballantyne frowned. He had no clue what Deathblaze was doing, although it was good he had stopped in time to not get killed by the arrows. He had never seen the stoat like this. He knew Deathblaze had multiple personalities from his "psychological evaluation", but Deathblaze never shifted in between them so abruptly before. That had been fortunate; if the horde had seen Regner's captain of the guard break down in a pool of regret and angst, all of them would be laughingstocks. Ballantyne had charted out when it was likely for Deathblaze to shift his personality, using intricate tables and formulas. But this was a very new development. And it could be very bad.
Everybeast was frozen. The remainder of the horde had stopped, thinking that Deathblaze had some sort of strange plan. Caldwell ordered the archers to halt, thinking that Deathblaze wanted to parley or something. After a few moments of silence, the hare turned to Ballantyne and said, "What is he doing?"
"I do believe that he is switching in between his multiple personalities," Ballantyne responded, an unsure tone in his voice, "You see, Sir Deathblaze is mentally unstable. Since I've never seen him switch personalities so quickly, I believe that he experiencing some sort of mental breakdown."
"Wot, so he's off his bally rocker?!" exclaimed Tabbins, "Wot if he switches back to his angry personality?"
"Well, I hypothesize that that would be most unfortunate for you, seeing as Deathblaze is immensely powerful," Ballantyne responded, the gears in his brain turning. What if Deathblaze never switched back? What if he did, and then became docile again right in the middle of the fighting? What would happen then? They'd all be doomed! Ballantyne, however, was not nervous. He always had an ace up his sleeve. "If you wish, however, I can neutralize him for you. Of course, I will not do so unless I receive payment of a sort of my choosing."
Caldwell and Tabbins exchanged glances. "I don't trust him," Tabbins muttered.
"Neither do I," replied Caldwell, "He's probably got some trick planned for us, just like he always has."
"Wait…" Mary suddenly interjected, "I think we should trust him."
"Wot?!" exclaimed Tabbins, "You're the one who's claimed that he'd try to stab us in the back all this time! How could you possibly think that we should trust him?"
"Because I pieced together the last of the riddle," Mary replied, "The riddle that Martin told me in his dream. It didn't make sense until now. It started when I was thinking about how exactly I had been Salamandastron's last hope, because I really hadn't done anything other than catching the ferret. Then I started thinking about the rest of the poem. And… and… um… Well, I can't remember it now… That's funny… I could remember it before… but… It had something to do with… no… um… Funny, all I can remember now is one line, the first one… 'Hold my sword up proudly'… But…"
Mary held up the sword as instructed, as if it would suddenly make her remember the rest of the riddle.
At the exact same moment, Deathblaze's eyes burned red again, and he charged forward, roaring like the madbeast he was. He was at the hares in seconds. The spears jabbed forward at him, but instead of meeting them head-on, Deathblaze leapt through the air, right over the small line of hares. There was a mousemaid in front of him. Ready for the sweet, sweet taste of blood, Deathblaze swung his huge sword horizontally through the air.
Deathblaze's sword went right through the sword of Martin the Warrior. The few creatures who saw the spectacle would have claimed it was an illusion, a mirage. It was if one of the swords wasn't actually there. It was no trick of the mind, however. Deathblaze looked on in confused fury as his broadsword, made of thick iron, separated into two pieces halfway through the blade.
The stoat hit the ground, unprepared for the landing, and slammed into the sand. He was still looking at what was hardly more than a hilt in his paw. Immediately, several hare spears were pointed at his back.
"Don't move!" shouted Colonel Caldwell, "Or it'll be the last move you ever make, vermin!"
Deathblaze thoughts were racing again, but now he had regained his limited control over his mind, and he hadn't even needed Ballantyne to hypnotize him. His thoughts were racing so fast they just made a whirring noise in his brain, but his instincts told him to stay still.
"Deathblaze has fallen!" shouted Levail, his head still aching, "Uh… Throw down yer weapons! We can't fight these hares ourselves!" Quickly, all of the weapons were thrown to the ground, hitting the sand with a plop. The hares quickly herded them over to Colonel Caldwell.
"That was impressive work there," remarked the colonel to Mary as the twenty vermin were moved over to him, "We probably would have lost a lot of hares trying to take that madbeast down. My thanks."
"I… didn't actually do anything," Mary replied, confused, "I just held out Martin's sword… and then that vermin was flying at me… and… I didn't do anything!" While the words sounded humble, there was a tone of disappointment in Mary's voice. When she had heard that she was Salamandastron's last hope, she had envisioned herself slaying legions of vermin effortlessly.
Tabbins held out his spear, the point right under Corzon's neck. "'Ey, I remember this one! Laid him flat with my spear last time he came around here. Hawhawhaw! That was a good time, back then..." The lieutenant's voice trailed off as he remembered that Colonel Caldwell and the abbeydwellers had not had such a good time.
Caldwell ignored him. "So, which one of you is in charge? I want some information, and that ferret seems incapable of giving it to me."
With Valla still a wreck in the back of the group, Corzon decided he would say that he was in charge, considering the fact that Kalzmar was dead. Levail, however, was once again quicker. "I guess I'm in charge," announced the stoat.
Caldwell held his short sword up at Levail's snout. "Now, did you have any prisoners from Salamandastron? Are there any hares left? What happened to Lord Oxpaw?"
Levail cleared his throat before speaking. "Well, ya see, there weren't… any… prisoners… Um… All the hares fought until the bitter end, y'see… Um…" Levail suddenly regretted claiming to be in charge. He had a lot of bad news to tell the hares. Hopefully, they would be sensible enough not to slay the messenger.
Caldwell stared at Levail in a stony, petrified silence. He had seen this coming, but that didn't make him prepared for it. All those hares… dead. They were the only ones left. Twenty of them, mostly hot-blooded new recruits. Only two officers; him and Tabbins. Not even a badger lord. Salamandastron might as well have fallen, for all the good they were worth. How was Caldwell supposed to command the mountain? How could he even bear to go in there? It was his fault that this had happened in the first place. He had tried to prevent Lord Oxpaw from doing something rash and getting them all killed… And it had ended up that Caldwell had been the one who acted rashly, not Oxpaw. And now, they were all dead. Orwell and Gavin and Maudy and all of them. How could he bear to see their slain bodies in there?
The colonel forced back tears and gripped his sword. Levail braced himself for the worst, thinking that he would be cut down right then and there. But Caldwell instead turned towards Ballantyne.
The ferret barely had time to react as the sword flashed forward in a blur. Ballantyne wore a shocked expression on his face, his mouth frozen open.
The bounds tying together his paws had been severed in half, and they floated to the ground gently.
"You… You…" Ballantyne stammered, for once in his life at a loss for words. Caldwell swung again, this time severing the bounds on Ballantyne's footpaws.
"Wot are you doing, sah?" asked Tabbins, "Why are you letting that bally scum go?"
"Be quiet, Tabbins!" Caldwell roared, "You talked me into doing this! You persuaded me to 'spring the trap' or whatever it was you said! This is our fault!! All of it, ours! You stupid vermin, get out of here! NOW!! Before I change my mind!!!"
Levail, Sawdirge, and the others began a mad dash away from the hares as quickly as possible, stumbling and tripping over each other in a frenzy to get away. Deathblaze lay on the floor, motionless.
"Sir Deathblaze, we need to depart now," Ballantyne shouted, "The benevolent hare here had granted us our freedom… I do not wish to stray in the case that he has a change of heart."
"Don't give me that… posh!!!" Caldwell roared, trying to think of the right word, "Just get out of my sight!!!" The small sword swished forward, stopping dangerously close to Ballantyne's nose. Shouting one last time for Deathblaze, he too hurried off.
"Sah, why are you doing this?!" Tabbins exclaimed, "Those scum don't deserve to live! We should have slain 'em all here and now! Vermin will only come back, and I wouldn't put it past that treacherous ferret to already be making some sort of plan for another attack! We may have messed up, but the only reason this happened in the first place was because of that stupid weasel's horde!"
Caldwell shot the lieutenant a glare of absolute hatred. Deathblaze rose silently and slowly walked past the hares. As the stoat passed by the colonel, he muttered one word, indistinguishable to all. Nobeast paid him any heed. The word he had said had been "Sorry".
Behind Caldwell now, illuminated by the rising sun, was the vermin as they headed back to the only other place they knew: Castle Regner. Lagging slowly behind was Deathblaze, who had chosen to walk instead of run.
The colonel marched right up to Tabbins, his glare unfaltering. The other hares shirked away. "Lieutenant! I will not hear any talk of execution! The Long Patrol would never stoop so low as to execute anybeast! Never! Don't you remember that, Tabbins?! Do you want to know why I let them go?! Do you?!"
"Yes, actually, I do, sah," Tabbins replied quickly.
"Because if we weren't going to execute them, which I would never let you bloodthirsty fools do, then I never wanted to see them again! I didn't want to have to throw them in some cell, only to have to look at them every single blinking day of the rest of my life! I don't ever want to be reminded of what happened, Tabbins, because you and I are just as much to blame for this as them. Vermin have attacked Salamandastron before, even greater hordes, even better weapons. But you want to know the difference between then and now? Back then, there weren't stupid hares who decided that they knew everything and went off on their own little stupid tangents and messed up everything!!!"
Caldwell kicked the sand viciously. It flew up in Tabbins' face. Undisturbed, the lieutenant brushed the sand from his whiskers.
"I'm the leader of Salamandastron now," Caldwell growled, although much calmer than before, "And we are going to abide by the laws and codes of honor of the Long Patrol just as we did before, with no exceptions. None whatsoever. We're going to begin by cleaning out the bodies in the mountain. We will bury each hare personally; the vermin we can place in the sea and let the tide take them out. I don't want any complaints whatsoever, you hear me?! None!"
The hares looked at him blankly. Then, they all ran off to Salamandastron in a hurry, leaving only Caldwell and Mary.
"Don't worry, Mister Caldwell," Mary exclaimed innocently, "I'm sure those vermin are gone for good now! I think we've seen the last of them!"
END PART II
Author's Note (again): Yeah, pacifist ending there. Some of you may have been hoping for some gore, but there isn't a single death in this chapter (unless you count Golding's father in the flashback). I did this on purpose. I mean, why does every ending always have to have death and killing? Here's one where everything is resolved... sort of peacefully.
However, I promise I won't do this in Part III. Speaking of Part III, it goes back to some old characters from Part I: Conrad and his crew. It's easily the best part of the entire story, and rightfully so: I spent twenty-six chapters setting up for it. Oddly enough, Part III is also the least epic of all the stories. You aren't going to see giant vermin hordes or whatever. The main villain's army consists of twenty-three members, just to put it in perspective.