A/N; Ding! Round two.

9.

Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat

"Nnnooooooo!!" Brome watched in helpless horror as Rassk's sword flashed down. The pain of his failure in his duty fell as quickly as the Masked One's sword. Brome shut his eyes unable to witness the terrible sight.

Clang!

Brome's eyes snapped open at the sound. A sword of wondrous beauty had flown out from the dark woods and turned Rassk's blade. The sound of the steel on steel was like the first note of a chorus of hope to the beleaguered Noonvalers. What was even more impressive was the sight of the armored warrior who dashed in and claimed the singing blade.

From head to toe he was garbed in bright plates of steel. Those in the Refuge couldn't see his face since the visor on his helmet was lowered. Just the sight of him though, sent shivers down the spines of all who looked at him. A red cape billowed out in the gusting wind as the Warrior and Slaver looked at each other.

Suddenly all beasts that were watching the two threw their paws to their eyes as sheets of lighting rained down.

Craaaack!! Booom!!

Brome blinked his eyes to clear away the after image of the blinding lightning bolts. When he looked out the window again all he could see was a wide circle of flames. No hint of the two battlebeasts was visible through the wall of fire. The hot wind caused the tree limbs to sway and crackle. Combined with the roar of the inferno in the common area, Brome couldn't hear any sounds of combat coming from within the conflagration. Questions from those around him were audible though.

"Was that Martin?"
"What a sword! Did you see that sword?"
"Did the lightning kill them?"
"Where did they go?"

"Quiet everybeast!" Brome had to raise his even his considerably loud voice in order to be heard over the clamor. "We don't know if that was Martin or not. I can tell you I never saw Martin wear armor. Also that is not the sword I remember he won back from Badrang. Whoever that is we owe him a debt of thanks, should he survive against Rassk."

More shouts came at Brome. "We need to help him!"
"Aye, we can't just leave him out there alone."

It was as if the fighting spirit of the armored warrior was empowering the defenders of the Refuge. Above the commotion a loud shout was heard outside.

"Redwaaaallllll!!"

The defenders looked at each other in puzzlement. One young mouse turned to Brome. "Mister Brome sir, what's a red wall?"

But Brome wasn't listening. He quickly turned to a nearby squirrel. "Oakson quick, climb out onto the roof and tell me what's happening."

It was the work of a moment for the agile climber. He called down to Brome. "It's an otter crew sir! They're attacking the rest of the slavers!"

"How are they doing? Are they winning?" called a voice from inside.

"Aye, they've got the slavers hiding behind their shields. By thunder you should see this crew work. It's like a hail of sling stones. All the slavers have their backs to us so they can show more shields to the otters!" Oakson's voice then grew very concerned. "The Slavers are looking ready to charge them sir!"

Brome called back up to Oakson. "Can you see how far away the Slavers are Oakson? Could we hit them from here with our bows?"

Oakson quickly judged the distance. "Aye sir I think we can. We won't be very accurate at this range, and the smoke will block most of our line of sight, but we should be able to give them something to think about. Send up a score of archers with full quivers!"

Skipper was in complete control of his crew. While Martin had made the main assault on Rassk, Skipper and his otters worked silently around behind the Slavers lines. As planned, Skipper had waited until Martin was fully engaged with Rassk before he made his move.

As soon as the unexpected, yet highly fortunate, lighting and ensuing fire had blocked Martin and Rassk from view Skipper went into action. "Let 'em have it buckos! Redwaaaallllll!!"

A rain of heavy sling stones flew straight and true at the unsuspecting Slavers. Several were felled before they turned as one and presented a wall of shields to the otters. The Silent Slavers began a slow march toward the line of the otter crew, but launched no missiles of their own. Their training and experience had been against vermin and searat foes. They had never before faced an enemy that relied solely on cast weapons. As such the Slavers had no slings or arrows of their own, and their heavy spears would never carry the distance to where the otters bravely stood their ground

Skipper called out commands as he whipped off another stone. "All back slow crew. Keep slingin' hard but don't let 'em in close!"

Sensing the new tactic the Silent Slaves broke into a fast charge at the otters. With spears bristling from between their shields they quickly closed the distance. Skipper and the otters met the charge with loaded slings. The tough woven vine slings did little against the iron shields of the Slavers though. The natural agility of the otters saved many from certain death at the ends of the Slavers spears. Still several of the otters soon had serious injuries. The vermin were just about to press home their attack when arrows came speeding out of the darkness.

While not very accurate the darts caused much confusion in the Slaver lines. The smoke of the common area fire had obscured the Refuge and prevented the Slavers from knowing where the arrows had come from. A second volley of lethal shafts poured in, cutting down several more Slavers. Throwing their shields over their heads the Slavers looked frantically about for the source of the missiles.

Seeing his enemies thrown into confusion Skipper roared out more commands. "Fall back smart like lads and lasses!" The otters fell back to a position where they could again bring their slings into action. "Let fly mates!" Once more a hail of hard river rocks was sent flying into the slavers with devastating accuracy.

Now it was the Slavers who were in trouble. In front of them they faced the competent fire of the otter crew. To the rear arrows were flying in from the smoke cloud with such randomness that it was impossible to dodge them. The raging fire prevented the Slavers from a run to the right, and the steep valley sides cut off their left flank. With their leader gone and multiple holes already in their lines, the Silent Slavers were hard pressed to keep up a solid defense. As more sling stones and arrows rained in the number of Slavers fell quickly.

Skipper sensed victory but held his crew from a direct charge. "We got 'em now mates! Keep a slingin'!" The last Silent Slavers fell under a furious hail of missiles from the otters and defenders.

"Put up y'slings mates!" Skipper looked in the direction of where the arrows had come from. Cupping his paws to his mouth he shouted, "Hold your fire! That's the last of 'em! Hold your fire!" Turning to his crew the brawny otter was pleased to see that the injured otters were starting to be cared for. Skipper glanced around and saw Gonff and Columbine working to free the slaves behind a large building. "Ahoy Gonffo me lad! How goes the liberatin'?"

Gonff shouted back at the otter chieftain as he worked to pick the locks of the slaves. "Makin' headway but there's a lot more slaves than we were countin' on matey. Most of 'em are in pretty bad shape too. Tis more than Columbine and meself can handle. Send over to that big place by the waterfall. There's got to be somebeasts 'round here who can help. Haha there we go you old lock you, opened up for the Prince of Lock picks you did, thankee kindly."

Skipper shook his head at the always jovial Gonff as he and the uninjured otters came over to help. Turning to Streamer, Skipper gave swift instruction. "Shift yourself over that pig place by the rocks. There's to many injured crew and others for us to deal with." Streamer touched his rudder to the brow in salute and ran off.

On the roof of the Refuge the squirrel archers herd the shout to cease fire. Oakson called out the commands. "Down bows! Hold your fire!" He then called down to Brome and the others inside. "I thinks they're done for! It must have been one of those otters who called for us to stop shootin'."

A mouse standing next to him wasn't so sure. "It could be a trap. We don't know that was one of the otters."

"Silent Slavers don't shout mate," said Oakson with a twinkle in his eye.

The mouse turned somewhat red. "Oh, right."

Great cheers met the squirrel's words. Brome's voice called up for more information. "Wonderful news Oakson! Can you see Rassk or that armored warrior?"

"Sorry sir, it's still just flame and smoke from all that lightning. Hold on. There's a beast runnin' this way. It's one of them otters! Open the tunnel! I think he needs help!"

Brome quickly shouted down to the pair of moles who were guarding the entrance as he rushed for the entrance. "Get that boulder out of the way! Hurry!"

With a quick shower of earth and rubble the two moles dug a neat trench. The boulder rolled to one side into the new depression leaving the tunnel open.

Brome rushed out as Streamer came running up. "Sir!" shouted the otter. "We need help sir. The Slavers are all dead, but the slaves themselves and several of our otter crew are in bad shape. Please sir as many as you can, send them behind that big building on the other side of the clearing!"

Brome turned back to the Refuge tunnel. "All beasts to the far side of Council Lodge! Bring any food, drink, and healing herbs with you! Hurry!"

A flood of willing paws thundered out of the Refuge heading to the scene, led by Streamer. Soon all the slaves had been freed and were being cared for by the kind Noonvalers. The injured otters, likewise found the healing skills of their new friends more than up to the job of binding their wounds.

When he was confident all freed slaves and otters were being cared for Brome sought out Streamer. "Thank you for coming when you did sir otter. We would have been in desperate trouble without your brave actions."

"Thankee kindly sir," said the otter. "But it's Skipper, Gonff, Columbine, and of course Martin who you really should be thanking."

Brome's face went white and his eyes wide as he heard the name of the fabled Warrior Mouse. "Martin did you say? Martin son of Luke?"

Seeing the shock on Brome's face Streamer began leading the mouse to where Gonff, Columbine, and Skipper stood staring at the flames still raging in the center of the valley. "Aye sir, that's the one. Ahoy Skip! This one's been asking after Martin. I'm thinking you can help him better than me."

Brome walked in a daze towards the otter and two mice. He found his voice shaky with disbelief. "Is that warrior in armor really Martin the Warrior, son of Luke? Did he really come here?"

Columbine turned her kind eyes to the shaken mouse. "Yes sir, it is. Emalet gave him your message and we all set out for this place as fast as we could to….oh my!"

As she had been talking Martin's sword was seen spinning above the flames through a gap in the smoke. The eyes of all gathered watched in shock as lighting again struck the valley.

Craaakkk!

The white-hot bolt caused the blade to glow for a moment, before it was sent shooting back down with tremendous force.

A/N; Okay so that was fun. The next few chapters might be a bit slower coming out, since I've felt a dire need to re-write some major sections. Add in my 55-hour workweek at two jobs and it takes quite a bit of time away from writing. That and the lack of a computer for the next several days adds to that dilemma.

Also if you can correctly translate the title of this chapter, send me your guess via PM and I'll let you in on a secret from an upcoming chapter.