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Chapter 38. You Know You're Judas, and I'm the Priest

by Brull

Out of everything he had counted on, somehow the appearance of guards, inside their own headquarters, doing their job, had completely eluded Brull's planning. With the prisoners already outside of their cell, there wasn't much chance of talking things over with the woodlanders. Only one thing for it. "Get 'em!"

No matter how brave they might have been, the two guards didn't seem to fancy the prospect of tackling an oncoming stampede of escaped prisoners, and dashed out of the hall. Sadly for Brull, it was soon revealed that the door was too small to allow the mass of vermin to continue the charge, and the scene soon degenerated into pushing and shoving to try and squeeze beasts out of the portal.

"Stop! Wait! Hold on, you're all... will you stop your bloody mulling around and let me through?!" Shoving aside those in his way, the rat forced himself out of the hall, only to find that the guards had long since vanished. "Oh, lovely," Brull growled. "That's just lovely." Pushing back a smaller rat who was standing in the doorway, the Sheriff shook his head. "Good news, mates. If our friends come back with some of their pals, you don't have to leave your warm, comfy cells. Now ain't that nice?"

The groan that seeped like toxic fumes out of the prisoners was loud enough to alert any guard in the city. "Some rescuing job this is!"

"Might as well go back now."

"Why don't you and the lizard go back where yeh came from?"

The weasel who had spoken last soon found his neck encompassed by a rapidly tightening fist, attached to the arm of a rapidly angering Sheriff. "Listen, you half-brained, sorry-excuse for a throw-rug! The only reason I'm here is to help you lot, and I'm not doin' it because I'm warm and fuzzy inside. Now we're going to escape, and you're gonna like it, or you'll be one head short of a weasel, understand?!" Without waiting for an answer, Brull threw the wretch to the ground and addressed the rest of the malcontents. "Next beast to whine and snivel gets eaten by the lizard! Everybody got that?"

Not many nods, but the overall absence of moaning indicated the message had been received.

"Lovely. Now we're gonna get outta here, so just sit tight while my friends and I work something out." Amidst the general grumblings of the crowd, Rekkua and Zula found their way to the Sheriff's side. "All right, who's got some ideas?" Brull mumbled quietly.

Zula opened her mouth, but was cut off by Rekkua. "Ztop calling me 't'e lizard!' It makez it zound like I'm t'e only monitor in t'e world."

Trying not to roll his eyes, Brull forced an apology. "M'sorry. Now, are we gonna argue titles, or are we getting our tails out of here before the entire guard comes back with a vengeance?"

Zula shifted uncomfortably. "S'pose we should go back for Ms. Pearl? She might be lonely."

"Oh, I bet she has more company than she knows what to do with," Brull coughed, though even he couldn't overlook the tastelessness of his own joke. Shouldn't say those sort of things about Pearl, especially when she might actually be in trouble. "She'll be fine. Got a good head on her shoulders." He hoped she'd be fine. He didn't fancy coming back to get her if she was in trouble, but then, he didn't relish going on without her. Too valuable in the planning department. This whole break-out had been her idea, after all. Wonder where that kid of hers is? He couldn't see a young kit anywhere at this moment, but then the room was so crowded, she could be anywhere. "She'll be fine."

"Will we be?" Rekkua asked. "Zeems we have more beastz t'an we can manage."

Brull bit his lip. "Well, I'm usually up for fighting it out, but the way this lot is in a funk, most of 'em will probably get themselves killed and we'll be right back to where we started. How are those lizard buddies of yours in a scrap, Reks?"

"My brother iz zick, I don't know why. Zavak iz weak alzo. Not enough proper zunlight. And don't call me Rekz."

"'Pologies. So we run for it, and that's fine. But where? Can't keep a horde of prisoners in the streets, and I don't fancy going back to Sarkleyet's place just yet." Unless I can punch him too, he thought, wondering if Nevyeer's face had healed yet. Didn't seem right, now, beating up on the wretched ferret while the marten got to live high-and-mighty in his mansion.

Raising her paw in the air and hopping up and down slightly, Zula happily announced, "I know! We can take 'em to Miss Pearl's! 'Oasis' it's called. It's in town, it is, not too far. 'Less she locked the door. Hope not." Zula trailed off, scratching her chin and contemplating the complications of opening a door that was locked.

Brull glanced at Rekkua, who shrugged. "Zeems fine."

Nodding slowly, Brull tried to piece together details in his head. He hated planning in a crisis. Too much uncertainty, and too much need for speed. Solving a crime, he could take his time and think things over, consider the possibilities. Producing things on the fly was unnatural. "Right." Turning his attention back to the prisoners, the rat raised his voice. "All right, you lot, listen up! We're getting outta here, and we're doing it smart-like. No more running helter-skelter. You're gonna form a line and follow the liz... Rekkua, who's gonna lead you out the way we came in. Any one steps out of line, and she eats you. Got it?"

"I'm not a walking pile of teeth, you know."

Ignoring his partner, Brull continued. "Now, how many of you know where the Oasis is?" Considering the majority of the prisoners seemed to be male, the flurry of paws that shot up in the air wasn't that surprising. Coughing into his own paw, the Sheriff waved for the arms to go down. "Fine. That's where we'll be meeting up. When you get out, I want you all to break up into smaller groups and head in any direction you please, so long as you find your way to the Oasis. It'll be harder to track down a bunch of small groups than it will a single big one."

"An' what if we don't feel like showing up at the Oasis?" sneered the female rat from earlier.

"Then I kick your head in!" barked the Sheriff. When you were being rescued, you were supposed to keep your mouth shut. Where did this rodent crawl out from under?

"'ow will you kick our 'eads in if we ain't there?" a dim looking weasel queried.

"Shut up!"

"Sorry."

"And where'll you be during all this? At the front of the line, I bet."

Brull couldn't detect who had spoken, which did nothing to improve his mood. "I'm going t'be hanging back and making sure your lousy hides aren't killed. Speaking of which, if any of you fancy staying behind with me, instead of slinking off like ungrateful slugs, it'd improve our odds."

Apparently, being called slugs didn't stir the hearts of the prisoners, who shuffled their paws uncertainly. Brull sneered; they wanted their cake and to eat it, too. "If no one steps up, I'll just have to change some minds, and I don't think any of you want that."

After some worried looks were exchanged, a taller stoat with a scar on his nose shrugged and stepped forward. "Eh, why not? Felt like offing a guard or two, anyway."

Trying not to show his relief that he wouldn't be holding off the entire garrison by himself, Brull nodded curtly. "Glad t'hear it. What d'you go by, mate?"

"Scarnose."

Brull couldn't help shrewdly eying the scar on the stoat's nose. To which the stoat replied with a glare that practically said aloud, "I know. Don't bring it up." The rat obliged. "So that's two versus every other beast. Shall we go for three?" The Sheriff had seen brighter faces at a lynching. "Alright, mates, guess I'll just volunteer one of you." Of course, that meant finding some one in this rag-tag mob that didn't look like a spineless worm, or about to drop from sickness, and that didn't leave a whole lot of candidates.
"You, Pretty-ears!" Brull pointed at a slender, handsome looking fox near the front of the crowd. "Consider yourself drafted."

The fox looked at those around him for support, and found a myriad of averted stares. Sighing, the draftee sauntered to the other dup. "That's what I get for being first in line, I suppose," he remarked fatalistically.

He didn't look like much, the Sheriff thought, but at least he was healthy. "Name?"

The fox gave a coy smile that, for some reason or rather, irritated Brull. "Keep calling me Pretty-ears. I like the sound of it."

Shrugging it off, the rat turned to the rest of the ungrateful louts. "Fine, now here's what we're going to do. You'll form a line, and then we'll…"

Adding to his infuriation, not a single beast was looking him in the eye. Damn it, he was talking! They should be paying attention! Not gazing wide-eyed at the door behind him. "Right, good work, we're gonna head out that door…" he gestured, pointing at the gap in the wall, where a confused looking mouse stood with a spear. "Oh."

The woodlander started to back away but this time Brull's instincts kicked in before it was too late. Catching the retreating rodent by the tail, the rat dragged him back with a squeak. "It's true! The prisoners have…" The crack of Brull's fist on the side of the mouse's head rang louder than his screams, and the guard fell in an unconscious heap. Outside of the hall, the audible noise of metal clanking and feet shuffling was starting to grow louder.

"All right, tea's over, let's go!"

The prisoners seemed eager to listen when it involved their own well-being. Another mass charge seemed to be forming until a harsh "Linez! Or no one leavez!" sounded. Thank Fates for Rekkua, Brull thought as he himself jogged out of the hall. At least he could rest easy knowing she had things under control. Strange, didn't think much of lizards before…

His thoughts were interrupted by a bright flash and a heavy "clang" noise, and for the first time in a long time, Brull fell to the ground in a daze. What in the blazes was that? The rat would like to know but a flurry of white lights hanging around his face was making that tricky. Something strange happened: he could feel his muscles tightening and perhaps just a tad more sweat than usual forming on his back, but he didn't know why.

Somewhere outside the haze, he heard a gasp of surprise (right over top of him? How long had some beast been there?) and a metallic punching noise, followed by a "Ha. Hee hee!" Scrabbling back up to his legs and leaning against what he assumed was a wall, Brull shook his head hurriedly; why wouldn't these stupid glowing things go away? He wasn't sure if blinking rapidly was actually helping, but the dots were at least starting to flit away, revealing a surprising scene. An otter with a gaping hole in his chest was laying on the ground, a steel shield with a dent in it fallen beside him. Looming over the dead body was a grinning Scarnose, holding the bloodied spear the mouse had dropped. "Hee."

"Ought to look both ways before crossing the street, Boss," Pretty-ears chided cheerfully. "How's the head?"

Brull groaned. "It'd take two of me to feel any worse." He barely had time to realize that the fox had called him Boss before a rumbling of paws started to assail his headache with renewed vigor. The hallway leading away from the prison cells was straight-forward enough: it looked like a giant letter T, with the route from the prison to freedom forming the top tier, and an adjoining hall forming the stem. Presumably, the latter was where any guards would come down. "Where's that noise comin' from?"

Pretty-ears smiled knowingly. "Right behind us." It seemed that the prisoners had finally gotten organized enough to start moving. "I can pick out some paws coming up from over there, though," he added, indicating the long passageway, where shadows were starting to form at the very end.

Grunting, and wishing more than ever for a drink, Brull picked up the fallen otter's shield. Gates, his head hurt. "Scarnose, give me a paw." The shield was more like a large sheet of metal, nearly as tall as the Sheriff. He presumed the dent in its otherwise unblemished surface was where he had hit his head. "Hold it sideways." The shadows at the end of the hall were growing heavier. "Now, run. Oh, and scream real loud, too."

The paw-ful of guards that appeared with faces of fury soon turned to shock as the howling metal wall charged into them. Brull was thankful his view was blocked as the makeshift weapon connected, hammering the bodies into the wall. The sound was akin to melons being crushed with a hammer. "Hee. How many we'd get?"

The Sheriff wasn't comfortable about the amount of fun Scarnose was getting. At least some beast was enjoying themselves. Gates, his head hurt. "Thought it was four. Didn't get a good look." Paws were aching from the recoil, too. "S'pose I'm not the only one with a bad head-ache now, eh?"

It wasn't much of a joke, but Scarnose seemed to appreciate it. "Hee."

Any further mirth was cut off by the sound of an arrow ricocheting off of the shield, sending both vermin scrambling back to safety. Hugging the side of the wall, Brull waited for the would-be sniper to poke his nose around the corner before grabbing the unfortunate woodlanders head, and with a yank, breaking its neck. "Heh… ain't so tough," he mumbled.

"Neither are you, rat!"

An otter burst from around the corner, tackling the rat and bringing both beasts to the ground. Stunned as he was, Brull had a hard time blocking the rain of fists descending on his skull. Why was everyone and their mother bent on destroying his head today? Without thinking of his own well-being, the Sheriff drove his claws into the otter's ears and delivered a savage head-butt, once again delivering a snow-storm of white sparks into his vision. "Dumbest thing I ever did…"

Once again, Pretty-ears dragged the rat back to his feet. "You need to stop doing that, Boss. I hear fists are effective as well."

Retaining some of his vision, Brull nodded absentmindedly. "Fine. How're we doing?"

"Well on our way to getting most of the others out. No one seems to want to mess with the lizard."

Good. Brull was glad Rekkua was on his side. "Lovely. Now, I think we have…"

A gurgling scream and another collapsing body brought the fox and rat to stare at Scarnose, with a re-bloodied spear, standing over a freshly slain squirrel. "Hee."

Well at least they didn't have to worry about being snuck up on. Picking up a discarded bow from the unconscious otter, Brull nodded to Pretty-ears. "Now, we have ourselves two…" The weapon snapped as the Sheriff gripped his fist too hard. "We've got one bow," he growled, hauling the broken-necked archer over, handing the weapon gingerly to the fox. "Any one pokes their whiskers around the corner, shoot 'im."

Checking the string on the bow and ripping the quiver off of the corpse's back, Pretty-ears nodded. "It's been a while, but I think I can still shoot nicely. Might want to get Scarnose out of the way."

"Hoy! Scarnose!" the Sheriff hailed the stoat, still diligently guarding the end of the hall. "Take a breather." The stoat seemed put out, but obediently shuffled over to the rat's side. "How many shots d'you got, Pretty-ears?"

"Enough for a party, not enough for a war. Fancy you should think of an escape plan before push comes to shove." He ended by planting an arrow in the chest of a hedgehog who had braved the corner, and fell to the floor.

Another plan on the fly? This was getting old. "Right give me… give me a minute or two." Strangely, the other vermin didn't seem concerned. Usually, beasts looked at the Sheriff skeptically, or worse, with condescending undertones. But Pretty-ears and Scarnose seemed practically… trusting.

Weird.

"How's it going, Mister Sheriff?" After the screams, sound of battle, and a splitting headache, Brull was surprised that it was the unexpected sound of Zula's voice that made him jump. The spectacled fox was staring up at him, completely oblivious to the danger they were in. Or maybe she knew, and her face just didn't show it. Really, it was hard to tell whether or not the young vixen was aware of much anything.

The calm in her voice was almost as distressing. "How's it going? I've probably smashed my brains to mush, we've got a bloody army coming after us… Why are you even here?! You should be escaping by now!"

Zula waved dismissively. "Oh, I'm not afraid, Mr. Brull. Thought I could help out. I've got a plan, see, and I thought it over, and I think it's okay."

Oh, boy. "That's… nice. But I really don't have time to listen how to catch flies, or whatever else it is you do."

"Oh." The vixen blinked owlishly, pondering this over, and then smiled at the Sheriff. "Okay, I'll save that for later. Can I tell ya me plan, though?"

Rubbing his brow, Brull nodded reluctantly. "Alright, fine. What d'you got, Zula?"

Clapping her paws, she explained. "Well, I'm not sure, but I don't think those guards would keep running over here like that if they were running somewhere else. So I found me a hole in the prison wall, I did, over on the far end. Think it used to be a window, but it got boarded up, pro'lly so no one could peak through it. Leads further into the tower. So I think, what if I slip on through and make a destrackion, an' then the guards'll be too busy to follow us?"

Brull had been prepared to dismiss anything Zula said. Indeed, he had even opened his mouth to sigh. But the sounds of dismay failed to appear as the rat's mind ran over what the young kit had said, and found, to his surprise, that the words that came out of his mouth were, "That… actually makes sense. Might even work."

Hopping excitedly, Zula dashed back off towards the prison hall. "Great! I'll make ya proud of me, Mr. Sheriff, sir!" she called as she darted back, shoving her way through the procession of escaping vermin.

"Wait! Hang on, Zula!" What did that feather head think she was doing? She could get killed! The rat paused. So she'd get killed. Why did he care? Just another dumb kid. Lots of them. Why get worried?

The vision of the young fox, ridiculous spectacles broken, lying in a broken heap with half a dozen arrows in her, resonated in Brull's mind. He felt a strange sensation in his stomach that he hadn't felt much in his life, and an unpleasant shaking feeling in his shoulders. "Sheriff Brull's good at helping creatures." Strange thing to remember at a time like this. Brull wasn't sure what it all meant, but he there was no denying that for some reason or rather, he did not want Zula to die. "Oh, for the love of… Scarnose, Pretty-ears, hold the fort," he ordered as he lumbered in the wake of the young fox.

The line of prisoners had finally ended, now hustling back down the way the rescue group had come. Rekkua, still making sure that no one had tried anything funny, looked aghast at the Sheriff. "Why iz Zula running back? We muzt go!"

"I've got it under control, don't worry. Everything smooth on this end?"

"Few ztragglerz, but t'ey all moved in the end. T'e Martiez are leading t'em out. And you?"

"Well, we made the furballs nervous, so I don't reckon we have to worry about anything unexpected, and Pretty-ears and Scarnose have got things pretty well under control, so we shouldn't have company for a minute or two. But Zula said she had a plan to get us out of this in one piece, so she ran back."

Rekkua blinked. "Zula had an idea?"

Brull shrugged. "I've got a feeling there's more in that noggin than she's letting on. C'mon, let's see what she's up to before she gets herself killed."

The unorthodox duo hurried into the prison hall, where, without the masses of vermin to crowd its walls, it actually looked overly large. And yet, even with this expanded visibility, it was impossible to see a small, bespectacled fox anywhere in the room. "Where did zee go?"

"Said something about a hole." Couldn't have been a big hole, otherwise no one in their right mind would build a prison in this place. "Hang on, there's something over at that end." Closer inspection at the rear of the prison hall revealed a small duct carved into the base of the stonewall, with torn wooden planks cast onto the ground. "Gates, she can slip into this?" Brull marveled. "It ain't exactly spacious. Not even that snake from last night could get in their without holding her breath."

Rekkua didn't seem pleased with the idea that there was something a furred-beast could do that a reptile couldn't. "Iz not zo zmall." Kneeling down to the floor, the monitor peered into the hole. "Zula! Are you there?"

"Hello!" Rekkua leapt backwards as Zula's head popped out from the duct. "Oh, Miss Rekkua! I thought it was you. You sound more lady-like than Mister Brull."

Coughing, the Sheriff crossed his arms and tried not to look like he was glad Zula was still alive. "You do what you aimed to do?"

The fox tried nodding, but wound up smacking her chin on the floor, so she settled for a smile. "Yup, sure did. Didn't take nearly as long as I thought. Biggest thing was findin' out where I put my sparky-metal."

Brull blinked. "Sparky-metal… hang on, you mean a flint? What in blazes did you do?!"

"I found the place where they keep their grog, an' lit a few boards. Have y'ever seen what happens when those things get on fire? It's pretty neat."

"For the love of…" Brull's mouth went dry as the consequences of Zula's plan slowly dawned. "We… out… now! Move!"

With a strained expression on her face, Zula managed to wiggle two paws out of the hole, but stopped short. "Er, I don't think we can."

"Why?!"

"I reckon I'm stuck."

"Then how'd you get in there in the first place?!"

Zula bit her lip. "The usual way. Crawling. Wish I was a snakey now." Wriggling back and forth, she managed to inch slightly further out of the duct, though speed was not forthcoming.

They needed to get out before the place became a living furnace, and Brull knew it. What if the dim-wit was really stuck? There'd be no chance of getting her out. Better just dash. Saving his own skin was his priority, every time. "Rekkua, grab an arm, we'll heave her out." Without waiting for the monitor to comply, the hefty rat grabbed one of Zula's outstretched paws and pulled. The young fox squeaked unpleasantly, which wasn't made any better when Rekkua grabbed the other hand and added her strength to the issue. "How in blazes can a shrimp like you get yourself into so much trouble," the rat groaned.

"Not certain, Mister Sheriff, si-eeeeek!" Zula's voice became shrill as the wall released its hold on her, sending the whole group tumbling backwards. Laying on top of both rat and monitor, Zula grinned pleasantly. "Oh, lookit that."

"Gerroff!" Brull barked, rolling the vixen off of him. That last tumble had not helped his head-ache at all, and had, in part, maimed any sentimentality he had been feeling at the moment. That's why you don't get attached to goofy little twerps, he chided himself mentally. Ought to know better. "Right, every beast up, we've got second or two until the end of the world."

The young fox frowned. "But that hole put me legs to sleep. They're all wobbly, they are."

Brull glanced sideways at the rising Rekkua, who glared daggers at the rat before he could speak. "No! I am zick of carrying her!"

Sighing, the Sheriff picked up Zula like a rag-doll and tucked her under his arm. "You're damn lucky I like you, or you'd be dead ten times over." Hustling out of the prison hall, Brull yelled out to Pretty-ears and Scarnose. "Beat it, mates! We've done all the damage we can do!" The duo was quick to oblige, and followed the retreating group with the utmost speed.

A squirrel, cautiously looking down the hallway-battlefield, waved his fist at the backs of the vermin. "That's right, you run like the cowards you are!"

Then the world exploded in a flash of white heat.