It was afternoon, a day after the horde had set off on its final march. Now the entire army was massed around the mountain, leaving no escape routes, as there were enough soldiers to almost completely surround it.
Ferayor Razorclaw stood at the front, facing the huge main doors. He paced back and forth, snarling, full of a restless fury. The monolith seemed deserted; nobeast peered out of windows, and no arrows or slingstones had been fired. The entire army was completely silent as well, with no yells or rattling of weapons.
Anybeast could tell that this was a standoff, of sorts- would the horde make the first move, or would the hares have to do it for them?
Earlier in the day, something had been puzzling Kan, and he had finally gotten the chance to ask about it. Weaving through the moving army, he fell in beside Sakhyo. "Hey, mate," she murmured softly out of the corner of her mouth, keeping her eyes on the path ahead.
"Listen, Sakhyo," he began. "Ever since I joined this thing, everybeast 'as been teachin' me all about spyin', assassinatin', an' the like. But all we did was join th' horde an' get ter know a couple of soldiers. Didn't report what the big coyote told us, didn't assassinate anybeast. Wot's goin' on?"
"That's an easy one, mate," she muttered. "Look around ya. This 'orde got movin' so fast, by th' time we sent a report back t' the mountain they'd be there already. There ain't any time fer spyin' and secret killin's, so all we c'n do is get in the battle, pretend to kill hares 'n fight fer the other side when nobeast is lookin.' Clear?"
He nodded, and they marched the rest of the way in silence. Drift and Jiha found them and walked alongside, and even the talkative ferret was quiet for once, though his eyes were gleaming with excitement.
Now they stood there, quiet as the grave. A place that many, on both sides, would doubtless find themselves in before the season was out.
Without warning, a roar came from the head of the army, shattering the eerie quiet. A wordless, primitive sound, full of rage and bloodlust. Razorclaw howled again, and again. The horde gave a collective shudder.
On the fifth roar, the doors of Salamandastron opened, and the hares marched out. Rank upon rank of stone-faced warriors, perhaps forty or even fifty score, though the enemy still outnumbered them.
The hares halted the second they arrived, forming a living barrier between horde and mountain.
The silence continued.
The horde shifted their weapons, and the coyote at their head bared his fangs. When he howled a final time, the fight would begin. It was a perfect signal, as sometimes the fearsome sound itself was enough to stop the enemy for a few moments.
The ranks of the mountain's defenders abruptly split in two, forming a clear path as somebeast came forward.
Ferayor's madness intensified as he saw who dared to face him. In an instant, signals and battle plans were forgotten. He laughed and laughed, the screeching, grating sound slicing through the air like a knife. Finally, he had won.
"So, brother," he growled. "Why come you here? Indeed, why came you to this mountain? Do these longears follow you?"
Calm golden eyes met maddened orange ones, and did not look away. "No, brother," he replied quietly. "They do not, and I know that some wish that I were not here at all."
Indeed, although some of the hares looked horrified, others were muttering among themselves.
"Always knew there was somethin' bad about him... T' be related t' that monster!"
"Bet he's gonna turn on us now, eh, old chap?"
"Never trust a vermin, that's wot I always say! Go on, old lad, be with yore kin!"
Razorclaw laughed again. "See, brother, you have grown even weaker. Even the beasts you control will despise you, for you lack the strength to rule them properly. But worry not, I will do you a favor. All these insolent longears will be dead before the season is out, and we will rule this mountain together."
"Do not kill the hares," he replied. "It is me that you want, they have done you no harm."
The big coyote wanted nothing more than to begin the slaughter; it was evident in his face and the frantic twitching of his muscles. He managed to control himself, though, and announced in a voice that all could hear, "Very well, if you would come with me, my soldiers will prepare a tent, and we will talk. Perhaps an agreement can be reached."
His brother nodded, and stepped forward. The horde ranks closed around him.
Near the back of the mighty army, Sakhyo frantically attempted to restrain a struggling, biting Kan. "He can't do this!" he hissed. "Not to Ri-" The last word was muffled as the mink hurriedly slapped a paw across his mouth and held it there, effectively silencing him.
"Retreat!" the captains barked in unison. Like a single organism, the army drew away from the mountain and flowed off across the shore, to halt in a flat area well out of arrow range.
The battle would commence tomorrow.
As Ferayor Razorclaw gazed across the fire at his brother, an idea came to him. "So..." he whispered slyly. "You would surrender, on the condition that I will leave this place?"
The second coyote nodded.
"As you wish, brother," Razorclaw rasped. "I will leave... after there is nothing worth staying for. I care not for a mountain now that I have you here before me, cringing, helpless. The fields will be put to the torch, the stronghold plundered and ripped apart, rock by rock. The longears will die, all of them, or they will gladly accept slavery after they witness what I am capable of. And at dawn tomorrow, brother, you will aid me in that."
"I will not help you murder honest beasts," he muttered. "Never."
Razorclaw gave a low, feral chuckle as he reached forward, cupping his brother's chin in his claws and forcing their gazes to lock. "And misunderstanding it to the last... You never were the most clever of creatures. Imagine it, brother, would the longears want to fight a creature like me? One who needs no army to kill, who can rip even a coyote limb from limb with just claws and fangs? Once they see you, shredded to mere pieces, the crows and flies swarming over what remains?"
Laughing softly, he turned away and entered his tent. He could barely wait until dawn.
The flames reflected in Rinqan's golden eyes as he stared into the fire. Above his bowed head, the sky slowly darkened, as afternoon gave way to dusk, and dusk to evening.
A ring of Captains and other elite hordebeasts surrounded him, weapons at the ready. There was no entry, and certainly no escape.
Night fell. He did not move.