Tales of Iffrit

Of the Struggle With Grueson Flickblade, Noguos Defector

(Part V)

In the Tradition of Brian Jacques's Redwall Novels

"Whoooa! Look out!"

Loach threw himself to the side as a short barbed arrow hissed over the walls in a tall arch, missing the packed mass of beasts but scaring the young ferret witless as it buried itself in the ground a few pawslengths away from where he'd fallen. The commoners broke formation in a panicked scurry, dashing several dozen yards further from the south wall before they stopped and turned about, waiting for direction from Vautanna or Raegnor. The golden-eyed weaseless ducked behind a stack of wooden crates off to the side in avoiding another of the shafts.

The militiabeasts, however, made a uniform move for the wall's shadow, knowing that there was no arching pattern possible that was tight enough to cause arrows to land there, even if the icevoles firing them were standing just on the other side of the gates. Raegnor issued his orders swiftly and with military precision, pointing with his drawn blade.

"Kirtt, take yore squad t' th' walltops an' spy out exactly what th' foebeast's doin'." The large weasel whirled about, now facing Snowheron and her squad of fifteen, "You take yores an' begin movin' that rubble up th' south wall t' th' gate arch. Put it on broad, it'll catch as many enemy troops as possible if they try anythin' with that door. Thurna!" He barked, searching the crowd. Thurna, a husky female rat, trotted up from the back with her group of fifteen Light Infantry, "Make a circuit 'round th' interior an' check f'r grapnels or anythin' else suspicious."

"Sir, I thought Sherpp already went t' do that with three others," Thurna objected, mitigating her words heavily. Raegnor tapped the tip of his blade on Thurna's shield and gave her a sharp look.

"Those're my orders. Do it again." he commanded, leaving the rattess to bow her head slightly and swiftly move to obey. As the squad trotted off in a unified step, split into three columns, the large weasel cast his gaze over to where the non-warriors were grouped, standing hesitantly back from the wall ten or eleven yards from where the icvole arrows fell short. To his great surprise he did not see any casualties lying or limping about. The lemming weren't aiming true for some reason.

And where was Sherpp Fogrunner? It was not becoming of a squad leader to not be punctual in his duties. A worry creasing his already wrinkled and weathered face, Raegnor watched as Vautanna slipped out from behind the crates she had taken cover in and made her way to the commoners' area. The golden-eyed weaseless was telling them all something that could not be made out at that distance. There was his son Iffrit, near the front but shuttled to the side by several of the older beasts. The young one was glaring and scuffing at the ground. The Wuulvite Captain let out a low growl of stress as his hawk-like eyes bored into his son's moping figure.

"Son," he rasped suddenly, causing the dark-furred weasel to flinch slightly and look over, "pick four and get over here."

A stunned expression on his face, the young weasel looked back over his shoulder at his bunch of friends, who were just as dumbfounded as he. In an effort to not appear as confused or doubtful as they he waved a claw over at them.

"Er, Loach, Violet, Doulthe... an' you, Sleetpad." he chose carefully. Raosk stared at him, wanting to glare at not being picked at first, but then realizing that he was pretty sure he did not want to be involved in whatever ask the Chieftan of Norwood had for his fiery-tempered son. It was probably dangerous. Either that or it was menial, a punishment for acting out and breaking Wuulvite code by in-fighting without it being a formal duel. He waved a limp paw at them as they hurried off, following the Ranger Captain as he swept through the left flank of remaining soldiers like a storm, heading towards the west part of the village.

"Where are we going?" Loach gasped out as he nearly tripped on a garden rake somebeast had dropped, "What the devil did you pick me for?"

"I dunno, you're smart, I guess," Iffrit shrugged, his face reddening under his fur. "You figger it out!"

"Hunh," Loach panted. He had a small frame and thin lmbs, somewhat unused to heavy activity like jogging pell-mell across the entire village, "I know that's a brazen effort to both shut me up and insult me, but I'll ignore it."

"Will y' stop talkin' like that t' each other?!" Sleetpad whimpered, clutching her sling in her right paw until her joints hurt, "'Tain't fit fer a pair o' friends! You're friends, remember? Act like it, please?!"

"I'm tryin'!" Iffrit growled, his teeth clenched to avoid shouting, "I just said 'e was smart. It's a compliment! Hellsteeth!"

Up ahead a few yards Raegnor skidded to a halt, bending on his armored knee to examine the ground just below a ladder leading to the wall ramparts. The five youngbeasts halted too, several paces before smashing into him. Loach eyed the ladder base curiously and tentatively stepped forward.

"S-sir? Would you kindly tell us what our task is?" Raegnor looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes, "Ah, er, there is some task you wanted us to do, yes?"

"Come here, son." the Captain muttered gruffly, seeming to ignore the young ferret for now. He patted the ground lightly with his hefty paw as Iffrit approached. "Tell me what you see on th' ground there."

Iffrit stared at the patch of silty ground where his father's paw was resting. Squinting, he leaned closer and closer, until he was forced to kneel. He blinked in confusion.

"It's a weasel's track. An' some of a rat, too." he stated blankly, "Why do you ask this, father?"

"Ye want t' be a militiabeast, son, you show how much ye want it." Raegnor said levely. He gazed up at the other four, who stood dazed and uncomfortable by the sudden cryptic actions of the town's leader, "This goes for all of ye," He stared back at the track, "Sherpp fogrunner an' his reconnasaince squad 'aven't come back yet. This is his track, I know it. What I want ye t' do Iffrit is this. Find them."

"J-just us five, then?" Iffrit stuttered, kicking himself for letting his voice shake. Raegnor did not seem to notice.

"Don't go outside th' walls, keep t' th' village an' ramparts. Send a bird when you've found 'em, alive or not."

The Captain stood, and Iffrit with him. There was a certain coldness that had come about his father. Iffrit had never seen it before--and it scared him to death. Was this what being a fighting beast was like, to stay still in the fray with nary a snarl or twitch of the lip? Was this what strength was? His eyes focusing on nothing in particular, the young weasel stood still as his father turned on his heel and began making his way back to the south maingate.

Ten paces away, he looked over his pauldron-clad shoulder, his eyes softer.

"Take care, son." he rumbled, "Talk t' me when this is over."

"I will," Iffrit murmured automatically. Then, the spell of self-doubt was broken. Iffrit stared down at the pawprint in the silt and studied it. Odd, it was pointed towards the wall, but there was no returning step down. Was Sherpp still up there? Mayhaps the foebeast had taken him by surprise, or captured him and his little troop. The dark-furred youngbeast took a deep breath and turned to Violet, Loach, Doulthe and Sleetpad.

"Let's not split up, too dangerous," he suggested. Violet nodded.

"Aye, whatever happened to Sherpp and his bunch might happen to us if we're not stealthy and careful." she added, twanging her bow.

"D'you lads think he's still atop the wall? It looks that way to me." Loach pondered. Sleetpad started up the ladder, peering cautiously over the top of the battlements as she reached them. She shuddered.

"Ughh, it looks so high, tho' I know it isn't."

"Focus, love. Don't get yore whiskers in a tizzy." Doulthe laughed softly. Sleetpad glared at him.

"I am not yore "love", now knock it off, before I knock you off." she retorted. Iffrit resisted the urge to chuckle as he called up.

"See anythin'?"

"Not a solitary clue," the ratmaiden sighed, peering on, over, and around the battlements' walkway. "He didn't fall off here, I'm sure."

"Then let's check somewhere else. Anybeast 'ave trouble, give a crow call. We'll know it's you, an' mayhap some Crowclan are in th' area. They usually help a Wuulvite out."

Grueson's party was nearly ready. More than seventy Noguos shrews had congregated in a grove just south and east of the township's main wall. They crept northward along the wall in groups of two or three, just as they had silently used the high crops of their enemy to their advantage earlier. A shrew named Reedblade poked his head up, giving the walltops a swift glance. He ducked back down fearfully as the silouette of a rat in light chainmail tunic carrying a spatha sword hurried along up top. Once the rodent had his back to the shrew Reedblade stood slowly again, a hard round pebble fitted to his sling.

"Wait a tic," another more wizened shrew whispered. Reedblade obeyed, and a moment later the lithe figure of Sherpp Fogrunner could be seen amongst those of two more rats. They appeared to be conversing hotly with each other, but the echoing quality of the walls and woods obscured most of the words.

"Defenses...ready for...naught to do but."

"I told him t'...slings an' bows ready...in that case."

"What of...never came this far south... retaliate?"

"Nay, soldier, 'twouldn't be... We are Wuulvites, mate... Captains."

"Now," the older shrew directed Reedblade and a group of six others who had congregated around him. Seven slingstones flew upwards at the four Norwooders. Taken unawares, they were all struck with at least one of the projectiles, Sherpp and one of his rats with two and three, respectively.

The weasel staggered, stunned by the force of the stones crashing into his head and shoulder. Off balance, he toppled over the wall into the shrubbery, mere yards from his attackers. The rat that had caught the worst of the salvo slumped over, motionless against the ramparts and stuck against an archer slat in a way that prevented his fall. The other two rats shreiked and stumbled, disappearing behind the raised ramparts, presumably falling inward into the village's grounds. Reedblade rushed forward with rapier drawn. Sherpp, still consious somehow but bruised and battered into a stupor, struggled to get upright but failed, his single-headed axe held up awkwardly to fend off the blows.

"Wait!" the old shrew interrupted the hasty move again. He used his own rapier to turn aside Reedblade's in mid-thrust, "Think a minute, ye milksop. This'n's clearly some officer or somthin'. He'll be good fer a ransom."

"What?" Reedblade blinked, looking a bit insulted, "How d'you gather that? Ye think vermin like them'd even care what 'appens to their underlings? 'Sbetter if we just kill it, ye know vermin are naught but trouble an' trickery!"

"Thought before action, shrewbabe," the older one wisely retorted, placing a footpaw hard on Sherpp's fractured paw as he tried reaching for his targe. The squad leader howled in pain, forced to lie flat and grit his teeth for the pain, "We dunno 'ow these vermin'll act. That's why we try everything. Guirella shrews, remember?"

"Fine." Reedblade conceded, snatching the axe out of the much larger beast's weakened paw, "Will someshrew get us some line t' tie up this villain?"

Four other shrews hopped to it. Up on the wall, the still carcass of the unlucky rat sentry slipped slightly and was sent hurtling to the ground a few yards from the gathering. Sherpp gave a moan as the lashings tightened painfully.

I know, I know, very short this time. It's a miracle I could even do this much. Next chapter pending, probably due in a week and a half. Probably another shortie the way school is going... Happy trails!