The chase ended on top of a large sand dune, nearly a mile and a half away from the battle. Hunter and hunted alike had run themselves to exhaustion; their lungs filled with pain as they tried to draw breath, chests agonizingly tight. Even standing was a challenge on legs that were almost too weak to support their weight, and so it was by the whim of some strange miracle that the fight began.
Razorclaw was the first to attack, lunging for Kan with claws extended and fangs bared. The young stoat sliced out with his sword, trying desperately to remember what Rinqan had taught him. He caught the oncoming coyote across the muzzle, leaving a deep slash that ran from cheek to throat.
Blood spattered Kan's face as the warlord shook his head, baying his anger.
Ferayor leapt again, this time successfully, knocking the stoat onto his back and tearing into his unprotected chest. Kan howled in pain, struggling to raise his arm and fight back, when Tokala came to the rescue.
Expertly wielding a long, thin scimitar, she gave Razorclaw a deep cut across the back of his neck, which began to bleed, thick and fast, almost immediately. It was an ideal distraction; the warlord released Kan and attacked the vixen instead. She got in one more strike before the scimitar was swept from her paw by his charge. Tokala was no longer visible under the coyote as they rolled around the battleground, though both creatures screeched and roared like demons.
This time it was Sakhyo and Kan who intervened, desperately hacking away with pike and sword. It was a considerable time before Razorclaw reacted, and neither of the two friends were able to assess Tokala's injuries before the coyote was upon them.
By now, the sun had begun to set, and in the fading light the battle dragged on. At one point, while Sakhyo engaged the coyote, Kan helped Tokala upright and returned her weapon. Now all three fought the warlord to the death, feeling as though their limbs had turned to lead, and their strength evaporated like water in the sun. Razorclaw, however, was like a creature from Hellgates, clawing, ripping, and laughing madly all the while. There seemed to be no end to his attacks.
As he fought off another of the coyote's rushes, Kan was racking his brain for ideas, and found none. His mind was a whirlwind of panic, agony, and fear.
Then it came to him, as he recalled Sakhyo's fight with the Corsair.
His voice was hoarse, coming in rasping, labored gasps. "Hoi, y...y' worthless brindled cur! Ca..call yersel' a warlord? Yer nothin' but...but a brainless, corpse-eatin' dog!"
The response was predictable, and as his foe attacked, he feigned tripping and crashed to the ground a second before Razorclaw caught him, sending the huge coyote nose-first into the sand.
Within another heartbeat, his enemy had risen and renewed the assault, and just as the crushing weight pinned him down and the savage claws dug into his sides, Kan flung a large pawful of sand straight into Ferayor's mad crimsoned eyes.
The resulting howl was more of a pained shriek than anything else, and as the warlord fell back, swiping at the air, with another surge of strength Kan was on the offensive. His curved sword seemed to be in five places at once, joined by Tokala's scimitar and Sakhyo's pike until the coyote finally started to retreat, coated in blood and sweat and nearly sliced to pieces. The Shadowtide trio was little better, but they fought on.
As Razorclaw lunged for Sakhyo, for all the world like some creature from the very depths of hell, a mess of bloody foam dripping from his jaws, the mink instantly thrust forward with her pike. She cut deep into the coyote's chest, piercing the heart. He stumbled backward across the dunetop, until his faltering steps carried him onto empty air.
Razorclaw tumbled down the side of the hill, streaking the sand dark red as he fell. He reached the bottom with a sickening thud, having crashed with considerable momentum into a large rock rearing up out of the sand below.
The three friends watched in awed silence as the mangled coyote stumbled up to all fours, coughing blood, and looked up at them with eyes burning like live coals, full of more rage and hatred than anything they had ever seen.
Then he collapsed onto the sand, and did not move.
Kan turned away from the ghastly sight as he felt the gentle touch of a paw on his shoulder. Tokala was there, smiling. "Good job, stoat," she said hoarsely, blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth. "An'...an' you too, Sah'yo, knew ye could do it..."
The mink tugged at her shoulder. "Hurry, mate, we gotta get back and tell the hares! When the warlord's dead, th' battle's good as over!"
The vixen fell to her knees, shaking her head with a wry grin. "S...sorry, friend, but I ain't comin'. Look at me, wot d'ye think?"
Tears filling her eyes, Sakhyo obeyed, reaching out a paw as though to touch the dreadful wounds. Tokala grasped the paw, holding it tightly at first, but her grip was steadily slackening as her eyes began to cloud over. "Tha' rotten coyote cut me inta ribbons," she coughed. "Ah well, 'e'll get punishment enough where 'e's goin'..."
Kan was slightly ashamed to feel the tears building up in his own eyes, hot and wet, as he came forward and laid a paw on the vixen's shoulder. Her smile was faint and crooked as she rasped out a few more words. "Huh, l...looka you, big tough stoat, don' wanna show 'e's cryin'..."
Then her dimming eyes became unfocused, as she looked over his shoulder, murmuring, "Rae, Rin, wot're ye doin 'ere? Came to congratulate us on...the...the big fight, eh?"
She fell back onto the shore, eyes closing, as blood continued to flow unchecked from her lacerated body. Sakhyo threw back her head and howled her grief at the sky; Kan shuddered at the sound of it, tortured and unnatural.
He became aware once more of the battle, and as he listened to the faint, distant noises, the clashes and screeches of metal, the roars and the screams, he suddenly felt a terrible weariness. Too weak to move farther from the battleground, the young stoat fell down where he stood, lying on the cool, blood-stained sand, and closed his eyes.
The heavens, growing steadily darker with the advent of night, slowly became obscured by clouds, so that the moon and stars could not shine upon this sad aftermath of war.