As dawn arrived, the two armies faced each other once more. Hordebeasts and Long Patrol engaged in silent staring contests, each trying to intimidate the other with the force of their gaze. A few nervous hares looked away; a few soldiers did likewise. No sound was made.
Then the warlord returned, shoving his brother in front of him, bound and gagged. His golden eyes showed no fear, only regret and a solemn acceptance. The hares were evidently beginning to regret their previous comments, the ones who had condemned him ashamedly shuffling their footpaws and staring at the ground.
Though no signal was given, as one the armies suddenly shifted into a ring, surrounding the two coyotes. Razorclaw sliced away the ropes from Rinqan's arms and legs, and the gag from his mouth, so that they faced each other with some sense of equality.
Kan had shouldered his way to the front of the assembly, and as he saw this he dared to hope that the fight could be a fair one. As is customary in duels, the two combatants reached out to shake paws. As Ferayor's paw gripped that of his brother's, he dug his claws in viciously and threw him to the ground single-pawed.
The horde cheered and whistled, while the hares and few Shadowtide creatures moaned. Then the fight truly began.
Razorclaw leapt at the fallen Rinqan with a roar, but the smaller coyote scrabbled to the side, sending his brother crashing onto the shore. As he howled in fury, clawing at eyes and nose and spitting out grit, Rinqan pounced on his unprotected back. He managed to inflict a few minor slashes before Ferayor reared up and threw him off. Both coyotes vanished in a whirlwind of screeches, howls, flying fur, and slashing teeth and claws.
Kan was trembling all over; mighty shakes wracking him from head to footpaws. What he could see of the world through his remaining eye seemed to have gone slightly crimson. His body felt superheated, adrenaline powering his system till he felt almost invincible. The young stoat's mind barely registered what he was doing before he leapt into the ring.
Sakhyo and a few other creatures cried out in horror. He did not hear them, or indeed anything besides a fearful, keening howl; and was unaware that the sound belonged to him. He leapt and missed, though the sound of his crash onto the shore was enough to distract Razorclaw from his intended victim. The huge coyote writhed free of Rinqan's attacks in time to see the stoat rise, shake himself, and leap again.
Cunningly, Ferayor waited until Kan was nearly on top of him before slashing out, ripping into the young stoat's shoulders and chest. As he struggled to disengage, the movements only inflicted deeper wounds from the coyote's embedded claws.
With a snort of derision, Razorclaw released his temporary foe and turned back to the fight at hand... to find the rest of the arena deserted.
A screeching roar ripped from his throat as he whirled around once more, intent on finding the stoat who had destroyed his victory. But Kan had crawled away, to be seized and hidden among the mass of hordebeasts by a horrified Sakhyo. Drift was there as well, awestruck by the fact that his friend had dared to challenge Ferayor Razorclaw.
The warlord roared again, but this time the bestial sound held a command. "Attack! "
Amidst wild battle cries, the clash of weaponry, and the eerie howls of those who would be the first of many casualties, the war began.
Sakhyo barely had time to pull her friend upright before they were lost to each other. Kan slashed at any hare within range; he or she would then fall to the ground, pretending death, only to pop back up in another place and continue fighting. This strategy worked for the most part, though a few were trampled underfoot in the ongoing chaos.
The world had turned into nothing more than a desperate struggle for survival, filled with blood and deafening noise.
At one point, the young stoat glimpsed Sergeant Merrond, dealing out a swift and brutal end to any hordebeasts that came within the reach of his saber. The blade, once fanatically polished, was now stained a dark red and dripping with gore. One of the unfortunate soldiers was a tall ferret, his pelt a mix of brown and gray, who had been trying to run rather than attack. With a jolt of horror, Kan recognized Drift.
Somehow, he fought his way through the melee and reached the ferret's side. His friend had fallen to his knees, begging the hare for mercy.
The sergeant's face was terrible to behold, twisted almost beyond recognition with cold anger. "Stand aside," he snarled, in a voice far removed from its normal tones. "Or have you forgotten which side you're fighting for?"
Drift looked from hare to stoat in confusion, his panicked mind somehow managing to process the question. " 'Alek, mate, if yer on 'is side, please, let 'im spare me, I ain't done nothin'!" he pleaded.
He desperately stretched out a paw, eyes filled with terror. Kan was reaching down to grasp it, to save him, when he heard the shrieking whistle of the saber slicing through air, and then a horrible ripping sound as it sliced through flesh.
The supplicating paw went limp and collapsed to the ground, along with the rest of the ferret's body. The young stoat wanted nothing more at that moment than to look away, but he could not. His eyes were locked on the body, and the head that now lay a few feet to the side, an expression of mingled fright and confusion still frozen on its face.
Forgetting everything, Kan turned and ran.
The coyote staggered through the mayhem, taking no notice of the creatures killing and being killed all around him. Finally he made his way out of the battle, and fell onto a patch of open shore, blood streaming from his wounds.
A shadow fell across the ground, inches from his muzzle. With a great effort, he raised his head and saw a creature standing over him. For a moment he thought it to be his brother, then realized that it was a fox, though a large one. A fox that he recognized.
He managed to stand, though the movement caused him agony. "Arif," he rasped, voice hoarse and labored. "Quickly...we mus' find th..th' others..."
The fox did not react. His voice was cool and emotionless, without the customary accent, as he slowly padded forward. "Calm yourself, Rinqan. There is time enough, never fear..."
Kan's body was close to its breaking point. His run had gradually slowed to a trot, and then to a frantic walk. Now he was nearly crawling, bent almost double, lungs afire and his gait jerky and weak. He was at the fringes of the battle when he blearily made out a shadowy figure, standing alone in the open. He called out, a desperate, tormented cry that lacked any real words. Whether it was friend or foe did not matter now; a quick death would be just as welcome as help.
The figure turned and headed toward him, and even through his clouded half-vision, Kan recognized Arif. Any ally, though, he decided, was better than none.
"A...Arif!" he gasped. "Wh..where's Rinqan? I saw Razorclaw...but.."
The fox smirked, and as he gestured behind him with his sword, Kan saw that it was stained a glistening crimson. "Ah, you were looking for our fearless leader, without whose cunning and fighting skill we could never even hope to win this battle? He's right over... there."
Kan looked...and saw a crumpled form, lying huddled and still on the ground in the middle of a thick, dark pool.
Arif was still smiling as he slowly edged closer to the young stoat, sword held deceptively low. With a piercing roar, Kan leapt for the traitorous fox. It was what his enemy had been waiting for; like lightning the blade swept to meet his attack, missing any vital areas but slicing a long gash into his side.
As Kan collapsed onto the ground, he realized far too late that he had lost his own sword. After Drift's death, it had fallen from his nerveless paw, and he had completely forgotten it in his panic.
Arif stalked slowly forward, his smirk replaced by a wide predator's grin. "Well, little stoat," he hissed through savagely bared teeth. "Your coyote isn't here to save you this time, and do you know why?"
Lost for words, all Kan could do was snarl in fury.
"Lord Razorclaw would never have known if it were not for me. I, his most loyal and trusted spy, the best of his warriors. That foolish marten figured it out as well, and she has been dealt with."
Kan's powers of speech returned with the shock of this new revelation. "Raeyari!" he spat. "Why? She helped you after your family was murdered... led you to where you could get help and rest..."
The big fox laughed. "It amazes me that no matter what you do, you always manage to show boundless stupidity. Have you not realized anything? There were no Corsairs; my family is presumably alive and well, though I can't say I care. The story of your little massacred army is true enough, but that was carried out by me. Lord Razorclaw sent an entire battalion to escort me, so much did he value my services, and along the way we ran into some minor... problems, shall we say. I kept the marten alive so she could show me the way back, but it was a long while before she was...persuaded... to obey.
Ah now, see what you have done?" he continued, still remorselessly coming closer, sword at the ready. "I have wasted valuable time relating this, and there will be no chance for you to remember any of it..." He bent down, staring maliciously into Kan's eyes. "Goodbye, worthless little stoat."
He raised the sword, slowly and triumphantly. Blood dripped off of it in small rivulets, falling onto Kan's fur to mingle with that of his previous wounds. For a second or two, he wanted desperately to leap up, to save himself for a few more moments and avenge his murdered friends. But strength was rapidly flowing out of him, leaving his body to dissolve into the ocean and the blood-stained sands.
The setting sun was hot against his face, and the sounds of the raging battle were no longer audible. He felt the individual agony of every gash and cut on his body, and closed his eyes.
A furious roar rent the air, followed a few seconds after by a horrified choking noise. Kan blinked and somehow, sat up. The sword lay abandoned before him, leaning against one of his footpaws. Arif was screaming, pleading, the sounds growing ever more ghastly as whatever it was tore into his throat, before they halted altogether.
He turned, and saw Razorclaw shaking the limp fox, fearsome teeth fastened in his neck. The rest of his body was almost cut to pieces by the coyote's claws, his chest ripped open to reveal a nightmarish canvas of blood and fractured bone. With a final growl, Ferayor released the broken carcass and bounded off to rejoin the fray, taking no notice of the wounded stoat lying close by.
Adrenaline rushed through Kan, his new energy fueled both by horror at the carnage all around and at the sight of the figure now racing toward him, waving its paws frantically in the air and yelling his name in a voice like thunder.
Sakhyo cannoned into her friend, knocking him backwards across the shore. "Kan! Kan! Yer alive? I lost sight of ya a long time ago, an'..." Her words trailed away, as a stricken cry tore from her throat. Before he could do anything, she raced over to Rinqan's body, tears coursing down her face.
Slowly, painfully, he got to his footpaws and staggered over to her, rasping out a single word. "Arif."
He collapsed once more, the world darkening and fading away. Sakhyo's words seemed to come from a great distance. "Yer...yer tellin' me he's a traitor?"
With awakening, the pain returned, and he groaned as something wet and cold trickled down his face. Sakhyo withdrew the canteen of water she had been pouring gently over his head when she saw him move. Turning away, the mink stared off towards the battleground, her expression unreadable.
Kan struggled to rise, but the effort was far too much for him. "Sakhyo..." he coughed hoarsely. She whirled around, concerned, and bent to raise him up, supporting his back with a sturdy paw till he could, shakily, support himself.
The young stoat was shocked almost beyond belief when his friend handed him his sword. It was dirty and slightly scratched, but at least it was in one piece. "Sarge Merrond gave it ter me," she remarked. "Didn't say why yer lost it, though, mate."
A pang of grief, mixed with anger, shot briefly through him as he recalled Drift's final moments. He did not reply.
Without warning, Sakhyo gripped him by the shoulders and stared into his face, speaking urgently and low. "Lissen, Kan. I've got an idea. If we c'n do fer the big coyote, Razorfang or wotever 'e's called, the 'orde will be seriously weakened. You 'n me, we gotta lead 'im away from the mountain. Do ya understand?"
Kan nodded, though inside he felt weaker than ever. Both of them were severely injured and beaten, exhausted by the war. Their wounds from the fight with Kasivar Steelwave were only just starting to heal, and scores of new ones had opened since. His eye was still afire with pain; with his luck it would have become infected by now.
As the mink released him, she abruptly started and turned around, hefting her pike in bloodstained paws. "Somebeast's come t' join the party, mate," she called harshly. "Let's give 'em a proper welcome!"
In the next few seconds, though, she had dropped her weapon and was bounding forward to embrace the approaching figure. "Toka!" she screeched. "Kan, mate, look, it's Tokala!"
The vixen seemed equally worn out, bruised in a dozen places and bleeding from a long rip on her shoulder, but she was smiling. "Hey there, stoat. Ain't seen yer in a whi- By the eternal fires, wot 'appened to yer eye?"
"Long story," Sakhyo interjected before he could answer. "Now, we gotta hurry! Toka, mate, are ya up fer another battle? We're goin' after the warlord!"
Tokala blinked. "Just us three? Where'd Rin and Raeyari get to? Oh, an' old Arif, too, I suppose."
"There's no time fer that," the mink snapped, her voice turning harsh. "Just move!"
As the trio raced off across the shore, back into the thick of the fighting, tears were trickling down the vixen's face as she realized what Sakhyo's refusal to answer meant. It was all up to them now.
Everywhere, hordebeasts and Long Patrol fought and died. The three friends swiftly added to the carnage, which was by now so great that nobeast even noticed which side they were fighting for in the struggle to fend off death.
They tried hard to keep their minds blank as they thrust, parried, and dealt fatal strikes. Giving in to grief would mean losing their sanity.
They were killing machines, carrying out their gruesome task without compassion or feeling, and not paying attention to the wounds they recieved in the process.
That was, of course, until they spotted Ferayor Razorclaw. The coyote was locked in combat with two hares, snarling as he fought. His teeth and claws were scarlet with blood, matching perfectly the color of his maddened eyes.
As he brought one of the hares down, rending and tearing, Sakhyo, Kan, and Tokala arrived on the scene. The mink sliced at his exposed shoulder with her pike, inflicting a nasty gash, though the coyote was too gripped by bloodlust to notice.
The three friends slashed at any part of Razorclaw they could reach, shouting insults or challenges in ragged voices, while trying to avoid hurting the still-alive hare underneath. Finally the pain and noise penetrated the coyote's brain, and he leapt off his prey to pursue them with a roar.
They ran through the chaos, leading him farther and farther away from the mountain. None of them dared to look back and make sure he was still following, too scared of the demon they would see.