Dawn came over the Eastern Sea. The Sea Horde armada laid at anchor, the air wracked with the creaking of wood, the bellowing of orders from isolated ships, and the billowing of sails. Blacktail watched more ships coming in from the crow's nest of the Pikeshaft, his face lit with a wicked smile. The fleet now stretched to the horizon, and a beast could walk across the water for some distance before coming to water, as the ships were so tightly packed together that it was possible to step from deck to deck with small leaps. He turned west, towards land. A small fortress, isolated, ruined, and forgotten, stood there. But it was under repairs. Several ships' complements of oarslaves, watched over by their masters, worked to restore it. It would turn into an outpost for the Sea Hordes. Blacktail had heard that the fortress had once been ruled by a stoat like himself, but had been taken by a horde of equal size. They had been led by a mouse. A mouse!Such humiliation. More slaves were sent in each day, and the captains estimated that the fort would be ready by the season's end. In four days. Blacktail had to agree. Under so many slaves, the fortress was fairly flying up, as the stone had been mostly intact when the building began. The wood needed replacing as did the longhouse near the west wall, the gates needed to be rebuilt, but other than that, the fort was in good condition. It would need a new name though. It had been called Marshank, but Blacktail had thought of a new name. Fort Hordebeach. That was a name that would strike fear into the hearts of enemies. Blacktail turned to Solan, who was with the other two captains in the original Sea Hordes, a ferret called Sarga and a fox called Darkpaw, and addressed them.

"Get a garrison of two hundred into the fortress upon its completion and roll in two ballistae for each wall. I want this to be stronger than Marshank. A fort that cannot be unmade by ground assault. Also, leave four ships in the cove when we move. Choose ships with good reputations. Go to it."

The captains saluted and went about their duties, Sarga and Darkpaw back to their ships, the Adderfang and the Shadow. Solan walked off the deck onto a neighboring ship, relying on what he heard in order to choose which ships to use to guard the cove.

They were almost ready. A little more time, and they would unleash chaos on the world.

"Overlord!"

Darkness was falling. The first mate of the Pikeshaft ran towards him, and saluted as he spoke. "Three goodbeast ships, coming around the cape, sir."

Blacktail grinned wickedly. "Turn the ship starboard. Unfurl the sails and run out the ballistae and chasers."

The mate nodded. "Yes, sir."

The young mouse was only a cabin attendant, but he had been on a few voyages and had gained some trust with his captain. At the moment he was on stern watch, where two lanterns hung at each edge. The mouse did not trust the night. Savage attacks on goodbeast ships were happening everywhere these days. The crews of the three ships that supported the Northern Sea League, a northern sailing group that had helped chase vermin ships from the majority of the sea, were now always on full alert. Sentries were posted at all times, but all were still nervous. Midnight was approaching when the mouse had the feeling that something was coming. He could barely see ripples on the water, but no ship to connect them with. He cursed, wishing the moon would have been out tonight. The mysterious object came closer. The mouse could hear oars being rowed, and when the object came in the midst of the three ships, he saw things shining. Swords. "Captain!" he screamed, but it was too late.

The Pikeshaft attacked with stunning swiftness, the ballistae on its port and starboard sides breaking the two ships in the rear to pieces, while the bow chasers in the front of the ship tore through the leading ship's stern. The chasers were swiftly pulled back in, reloaded, and fired again. In a matter of minutes, the fleet was destroyed. Goodbeast bodies littered the water, along with debris and the burning hulks of ships that had been set ablaze with fire arrows from the Pikeshaft. The only survivor of the attack: The young cabin mouse.

Dawn broke once more on the Javelin as it lay at anchor in Vale Island's harbor. Two other ships, the two sloops, now named the Tide and the River, rode at docks beside her. The other three ships of the Vale Island navy were at anchor as well. All patrols had been canceled, and Ryon was considering sounding the Call as he paced his study restlessly. More and more goodbeast ships were being attacked. They had received reports from scouts that the Northern Sea League was at war with the Sea Hordes. Though they scored victories against ship patrols numbering no more than five, they were not foolish enough to engage the Sea Hordes in open battle. If the Sea Hordes defeated them, Vale Island and the Five would lose a powerful ally. The squirrel kept pacing, torn between security and action.

The season was over. The fort was finished, and even now the crews were marching through the gates, along with eight ballistae. Blacktail allowed himself a toothy grin. He turned to the enormous fleet of ships in front of him. Their crews filled the decks, their weapons polished so that the sun shone off of every piece of metal, blinding the stoat briefly if he looked directly at them. The crews were roaring for blood. They would have it.

Ryon had finally made up his mind. He had ordered all crews back to their ships, and now stood at the bow, his back turned to the crew of the Javelin. Silver was on his right, with the crew stretching the length of the ship, all within easy hearing distance of one another. Ryon took a deep breath, knowing what he was about to do would possibly change the course of history. He released the breath and, so softly that even Silver had to strain to hear it, he began to sing.

The captains, and their crews,

Chased the rats from the blue.

And fishes fed on their bones.

The oceans are ours, and by the powers,

Where we wish, we'll roam.

Silver harmonized with his captain.

Yo, ho, all paws, hoist the colors high,

The officers began.

Heave ho, thieves and beggars,

Never shall we die.

The entire crew, along with the rest of the navy, joined in.

Yo ho, haul together, hoist the colors high,

Heave ho, thieves and beggars,

Never shall we die.

Across both the Eastern and Western seas, from the shores of Vale Island to lands far away, goodbeast ears pricked up, somehow, against the laws of nature, hearing a song sung miles away. And they all knew that they were needed.

In the fortress of Salamandastron, the badger mountain, Lord Bladestripe caught a whiff of the Call on the breeze. He immediately discerned it and ordered his hares to prepare the two ships that the mountain's forces had captured many seasons ago, the Fearless Frunk and the Purloined Petunia.

On Green Isle, the island of otters, an otter's ears pricked up at the sound of singing. No otter on the island was singing, yet others were crowding around him, gazing about to see who was making the noise. The otter queen, the High Rhulain, Tarea Wildlough, descendent of Tiria Wildlough, turned to her army, the Green Clan Regiment. "Prepare every ship we have. We go to war." The otters sounded their eerie battle cry. "Ee aye eeeeeeeh!"

The four captains on the other islands of the Five heard the sound as well. They immediately prepared their ships to leave. All over the Eastern and Western seas, ships began to move towards a large island, to meet to debate their course of action for the coming war.

I'll post another chapter for the shortness of this one. In the original writing, this chapter would have ended the first section. R and R!