Chapter Seventeen: A Crushing, Ruinous, Defeat
Currare was on morning lookout duty at Salamandastron, he was sitting at the crater rim, with his eyes fixed on the horizon, looking for any sign of the patrol returning. He suddenly noticed a dark blot that was rapidly approaching, a bird he realized. It was swerving from side to side, as if it couldn't see where it was going. It was Ghan Cloudcleaver!
Ghan dipped lower, and half-landed half-crashed on the mountainside, a few feet short of the crater. Curra called for help, and scrambled down to the bird. An arrow protruded from his leg.
Minutes later he was in the sickbay, tended to by several hares. Adaracor arrived a short time later. One of the medic hares saluted and gave her report, "Still unconscious, sah, the bally leg is hurt pretty bad, and he's probably exhausted and dehydrated. He'll live, but we won't know what happened until he revives, sah."
"Let me know the second he awakes, in the meantime, triple the guards and lookouts, have the garrison on red alert. This is not a good sign." In several minutes, Salamandastron was prepared for war.
Curra stayed up on the crater rim all day. However it was past mid-afternoon when a figure was seen staggering towards Salamandastron, it came slowly, and it was still a long way off, when it collapsed to the ground and lay still. Curra was the first one out of the main gate, and took off sprinting towards the creature.
When Adaracor, and several other hares, caught up with him, they found him sobbing and holding the limp form of Celeriter. The pretty haremaid was lying still with an arrow protruding from her side; the tunic around it was stained with a dark liquid. "I think she's dead," he sobbed.
An old hare, carrying a medical kit, pushed his way forward, "Let me see," He felt a vein on her wrist. After several seconds, he smiled slightly. "She's still alive…barely. Let's get her back to the mountain.
Cel opened one eye a fraction, "Water," she rasped.
The medic hare gave her a sip from a canteen. He pointed at the arrow, "How much blood have you lost?"
The wounded hare struggled to speak. "Not…blood…mostly," then she fainted.
Back in the sickbay of Salamandastron, a medic cut away part of her tunic around the arrow wound. Cel shifted as the medic examined the wound. He paused, a look of puzzlement crossing his face, and, from the inside of Cell's tunic near the wound, withdrew an extremely mangled slice of blackberry pie. "Oh, it's juice, not blood."
Cel woke up, and raised her head. Seeing the pie, she commented, "Should've eaten that and saved the bloomin' pastry instead, it was solid as a bally rock."
The medic looked up from the wound, "It's not bad; the arrow barely hit her."
Cel nodded, "It's not bad, and I'm just tired, and thirsty, and starving."
Seeing that the haremaid was awake, Lord Adaracor stepped forward, "What happened, where is the rest of the patrol?"
Cel sighed, and leaned back, "It was all a trap. We got right up to the bally vermin, and before we knew it, we're surrounded; there must have been hundreds of them hiding in the bloomin' woods. There were archers too. The must have killed at least half of us on the first volley. Major Dilworth ordered anyone who could get away to jolly well escape, we fought our way out, only a couple score made it, but they were all shot before we had gotten away. There must have been at least two thousand vermin blighters that attacked us. I would guess that we killed a few hundred."
Everybeast in the sick bay was stunned. Lord Adaracor was the first to speak. "Colonel, Lieutenant, meet me in the forge room for a council of war at dawn tomorrow. Currare, you might as well come too. A young brain might be of some use," he carried on talking, to himself now, "Two thousand! Not even the Rapscallion army was that large-,"
"Oh," Celeriter exclaimed, as if suddenly remembering something, "their leader, a ferret, he had the Rapscallion sword."