Chapter Five
The enraged cry of the weasel tore through the air, ripping through the once calm atmosphere of the vermin camp. It was louder even than the waves pounding mercilessly on the soaked shore, not ten feet from the fringes of the camp, and rent the air in a broken dissonance that sent birds flying off in utter alarm.
Vartun the Slicer was mad.
His mouth was rimmed with froth as he pounded madly about the shore, tramping on the tails, paws, and even snouts of waking vermin who were unfortunate enough to be situated in the Warlord's path. His eyes searched madly about for one individual. As they darted back and forth along the campsite, his paws clenched and unclenched furiously, as the weasel tried to sedate his temper.
Drawing from his belt one of his daggers, he bore his eyes onto the old stoat Kedra. Roughly hauling her up, only a hairsbreadth from his snapping fangs, he snarled at her in his rough, menacing voice, "Where is that dratted son of yours?"
Kedra shrugged, her shoulders trembling as she stared into the furious eyes of her leader. "I know not, Lord. While we was asleep, 'e must've run off!"
Vartun's reply was scathing. "Run off, eh? Run off, how? Run off, when I, Vartun, am leader of the 'orde? I, Vartun, who had never let an escapee go wid their lives?" He bared his fangs viciously and clenched the dagger's hilt tighter. "Well?"
Kedra was literally trembling from ear to tailtip. She licked her suddenly dry lips, answering as pleasingly as possible to Vartun, hoping to veer his temper off from herself. "Lord, yes, 'e did run away, but I know ye'll be able to catch him, like you did all those others. I swear it by my loyalty to ye!"
Abruptly, Vartun released his hold on the old stoat, leaving her to fall flat on her rump and scramble upwards again, still shaking. He tested his dagger's edge nonchalantly, his mood suddenly changed. He eyed Kedra, pursing his lips like a babe who could not get a treat before suppertime. "Yeah, I hope so," he muttered, still pouting slightly. Vartun's eyes traveled downwards slowly back to the dagger, and he watched the reflection of his face bounce around as he twisted the weapon slowly. The midmorning sunlight poured onto the shining metal as well, casting glints of light on the burnished dagger blade.
"Tell me, Kedra, was it? How loyal are ye to me?"
Kedra was taken slightly aback by the question. She stopped herself from biting her lip as she replied shakily, "I serve only you, Lord Vartun, sure as sun turns to night."
The weasel flashed a smile at Kedra, nodding with utter approval. His eyes twinkled as he nodded. "Aye, ye've been with me since I became Warlord, eh, stoat?" he asked. When Kedra nodded vigorously, he chuckled. "Well, you know what they all say." He brandished his dagger lovingly. Then, with one lightning-swift movement, he stepped forward and ran it through the stoat's heart in one great thrust. "A dead beast can never betray a great leader." He laughed menacingly and withdrew the blade, blood glistening off of it. Vartun watched idly as the slain body of Kedra fell backwards lifelessly, her eyes forever open in shock.
"Well now, anybody else want to cross me?"
An icy silence fell over the camp.
Vartun wiped his blade against the rags of a nearby rat. "Good." He whipped his head around, searching. There was still no sign of the stoat Porran, and that made Vartun's lips slobber a bit of froth once again. Narrowing his eyes, he swiped an arm across his mouth, flicking the foam from his lips. Sheathing his dagger back into its slot in the belt slung across his shoulder, he whirled upon the horde with renewed vigor.
"Ye all are part of my horde, eh? Wot happened to the bloodthirsty, savage killers I used t'know? What I sees in front of me is a big group of babes, slobbering, slack-jawed babes wot don't know plunder nor killin' no more! All of ye have been lazy, the whole lot, an' I'm not about to let that slide." He cast about until his penetrating gaze rested upon Heflo. "Git these slackers into line; crack their backs, smash their skulls, I don't care! Break camp, post-haste, an' git to my back afore I slay the whole lot of ye!" During the last couple sentences, he addressed the whole horde. Seeing as Vartun was in a dangerous mood, the vermin scrambled away to obey him, with the rat Captain Heflo watching them maliciously, waiting for anybeast to stumble or fall.
Moments later, weary with the forced speed of breaking camp, the vermin horde stood to stiff attention, striving to control their breaths as they half panted, half breathed normally in the presence of the Warlord. Vartun eyed them with clear disdain.
"Yore all outta shape! This isn't the 'orde I used t'know." He growled at the front ranks of vermin, and indicated his belt. "An' I thought I could measure up to the great Ferahgo of ancient times, weasel assassin and Warlord!" The muscles underneath his searat clothing flexed as he clenched his paws tightly. "If I have such a buffoon-filled horde, then 'ow kin I compare to him, eh? Yew answer me that!" He stamped his paw against the ground, and sand flew everywhere, showering a couple unfortunate vermin.
Vartun continued with his speech. "An' now, a traitor has escaped! Wot's become of you, eh? Are you all going to become traitors? Mutineers?" The horde knew better than to answer. When there was a long stretch of silence, Vartun continued. "I'm going to get this traitor, Porran, was 'e? I'm going to git him back here and make an example outta him! Never again will the vermin of Vartun the Slicer desert me, for your fears will be too overpowering to even have the thought cross your mind." He cast a jaundiced eye about the sweating vermin. "Now, we'll tackle that Salamandastron fortress later. Now, we go after that stoat deserter! On the double, we will march. Where's Yinta?"
A nervous shuffling of paws followed, then the yelps of vermin as their paws were treaded upon carelessly. Shortly, a thin, scraggly fox emerged from the group, snaggle-toothed and unkempt of fur. Her left ear was nicked from an old injury.
Yinta bowed her head. "Yew called, Lord?"
Vartun sniffed airily. "Yes, I called," he growled impatiently. "Ye're me best tracker. So, do your job: Git tracking!" He indicated the wide area of land with a sweep of his paw, forming an arc from shore to shore.
Yinta nodded solemnly. "As ye say, Lord." Without another word, she bent nearly double and began examining the ground.
Vartun sneered. "And you'd better do it right."