Chapter Twenty-Nine: Nettleclaw's Revenge
Beechtail was dumbstruck, "What? How did you…"
Nettleclaw grinned evilly, "Oh, it wasn't so hard, especially since you only left your pretty little friend here to guard the gate," his eyes narrowed, "Drop your weapons, or no more pretty little friend."
"Just give up, it's over. You lost," Adarcor responded.
"Over? It's not over. I didn't have time to gather every Rapscallion. I'll have another army. Now, drop your weapons, or I kill the squirrel," to prove his point, Nettleclaw moved his sword a fraction. Maplefur gurgled as the sword pressed into her windpipe, making it hard to breathe.
Beechtail reluctantly placed both of his swords on the floor of Great Hall, as all the others did the same, "What do you want?"
Nettleclaw kept his sword at Maplefur's throat, "This squirrel here will not be harmed, as long as you do what I say."
"And what do you want?" Beechtail repeated.
"My sword, squirrel, and passage back south. You will not follow me, or try to find me, understood?"
"Understood," Beechtail saw a flash of movement.
He realized two things. One, Aspen was sneaking up behind the ferret, and second, Nettleclaw didn't know that.
Nettleclaw relaxed his grip on Maplefur, "Good, now slide my sword acr-"
He got no farther, because at that moment, Aspen leapt on him. The squirrel grabbed the blade with both paws, regardless of its keen edge. Wrapping his legs around the ferret's middle, he hung on like…well, a squirrel as Nettleclaw tried to throw him off.
Maplefur ducked under the sword, which Aspen was holding away from her neck, and scrambled away towards Beechtail.
Adaracor was the first to get over his surprise. Swinging his flail, he charged at Nettleclaw.
Nettleclaw had often told his first group of followers that he was the most cunning creature alive; the claim was not without reason. Spinning around, he put Aspen in between himself and the onrushing badger.
Adaracor stopped abruptly to avoid crushing the squirrel. He lost his balance, and pitched forward; smacking his forehead on the stone floor of Great Hall. Looking dazed, he lifted his head a few inches, and then fell back, stunned.
Aspen, with a yell of triumph, wrestled the sword from Nettleclaw's grip. His victory, however, was short-lived. Drawing his dagger, Nettleclaw twisted around and plunged it into Aspen's chest. Aspen gasped, then his eyes clouded over. The brave squirrel fell lifeless to the ground; still holding the sword.