Prologue:
The young wildcat walked down the road, hurriedly. There were dark clouds coming and he had to make it home before the storm. Home: just a month ago it would have meant the school of fencing where he had lived for 10 years, having left home when he was 8. He fingered the rapier at his side, it’s golden basket hilt inscribed with badger runes. He had taken it from a hare he had killed, it was a Salamandastronian blade. He walked faster, hurrying to be home in Shilheistra, his tribe’s lands. He saw the oaken long houses up ahead and began to run, seeing a gathering of wildcats in the main square. They were circled around something, shouting and cheering. The young wildcat walked up, wanting to see what was going on. He looked through the ring and saw his father! His father was the clan leader but looked nothing like one now. He was drooping and weary, sweat soaking his once fine clothing, now stained with blood. He was holding his weapon, a staff, and looked ready to fall over. Then the young wildcat noticed his father’s opponent. A calico wildcat three years his senior, JaGoman Lichtsmagg was dressed in blood red robes, his deep blue eyes glowing dangerously as he shouted above the crowd, “LoMinang Onstane, you were our clan leader, we trusted you! And now we learn that to achieve your position you Murdered our former leader! How do you plead?” Lichtsmagg’s smirk told the young wildcat that his however his father pleaded, it would not matter. His fate was sealed. “Guilty. But would you have done any differently yourself?” His father’s deep voice rang out, still strong. Lichtsmagg smiled and his two-handed longsword, shining with blood, swung up, cleaving the young wildcats father in half. “Sentence, death.” He whispered, smiling. The young wildcat’s heart was in turmoil, he knew what he must do. “JaGoman Lichtsmagg,” he shouted over the crowd as he stepped into the circle, “I do challenge you for the position of clan chief that you have earned by slaying my father!” Lichtsmagg turned, no longer smiling, he studied the young wildcat. “Hmmm... the grey fur, black stripes, the green eyes... I believe you are the son of this cat. You cannot challenge me though, youth. Last I heard you had not even yet earned your name LoMinang Son!” Lichtsmagg spat out the taunt but the young wildcat stood firm through the crowd’s laughter. “You are wrong, on my travels I have earned a name, I am LoMinang Swanswone, and in this name I challenge you!” he pulled out the rapier, pointing it at Lichtsmagg. Lichtsmagg smiled, coldly, “I guess I’ll have the pleasure of wiping out your entire bloodline in one day then.” As he lifted his sword, Herald of Death. “Did you steal that blade boy or does it have a name?” he taunted. “It is called Swanswone,” the young wildcat proclaimed, “and it sings your death.” The combatants moved together as the crowd yelled, cheering. Then the thunder came and the rain started to fall, lightning making their wet blades shine. Lichtsmagg swung his blade in a low sweeping blow at the young cat’s legs. The young wildcat leapt up and came down on the blade, his right foot thrusting out to catch Lichtsmagg in the chin. The he danced back in time to avoid a sidekick from his opponent. His blade tip flickered in towards Lichtsmagg but his blade was turned away by the bigger sword. They continued like this for some time, questing blade point turned aside by flat of blade. Then the older cat spoke, “I am tiring of these games, men, seize him!” Then the younger cat felt his arms grabbed by two cats, who, taking his sword, threw it, landing point first and sticking in the earth on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. “What!” the young wildcat screamed, “I demand fair combat you cheater!” The older cat smiled at him, “Sometimes you have to cheat to win.” He whispered in his ear so no one else could hear. The young wildcat’s fists clenched and unclenched in impotent rage and then he lifted his legs up, supporting himself on the arms of those restraining him and he kicked backwards, feet connecting with their stomachs. He rushed at Lichtsmagg, flexing his fingers so that two inches of ebony claw slid out, feeling the indent on the back snap onto his finger bone tips. He jumped into the air as Lichtsmagg brought his sword up, pointing it so that the young cat would impale himself on it. The young cat’s legs swung out in front of him and he grabbed the blade with the inside of his feet, ankles in a position impossible for one without his training. He used his momentum to flip over Lichtsmagg’s blade, claws reaching out for the sides of his face, carving four bleeding horizontal lines on each side of the older cat’s face. He flipped over Lichtsmagg and rolled of the ground to his sword. He grabbed it by the hilt and then was blinded as lightning struck right in from of him. His last sensation was that of falling and the sound of vicious waves beneath him.
Chapter 1
He awoke in bed, sheets damp with sweat. He twitched the muscles in his fingers, 2 inch claws sliding back underneath his fingerbones, brushing some of the feathers from his shredded pillow off of his chest. He groaned and rubbed his temples, the same dream, again! He sat up in the small bed in the Rusty Raven and stared at the wall, trying to find meaning in the knotholes in the plain wood. He got up and pulled on his pants and boots, buttoned up his shirt, tucked it in and put on his belt. He donned his overcoat and pulled on his leather gloves, as a final touch he picked up a cloth by his bedside and shined the rune-covered blade of his rapier, making it gleam. He strode down the narrow wooden steps, creaking in protest. The plump female ferret behind the bar shook her head sympathetically, her rotund body jiggling. “The same dream, eh Cap’n?” Captain LoMinang Swanswone of the Abyss, INSU smiled sadly, flicking a feather off of his shoulder, “How did you guess?” The ferret’s tone changed “That’s the 15th pillow in one month! This is going on your tab!” The old grey wildcat nodded tiredly, “Yes Mrs. Deathblade.” He sat at the bar and stared at the countertop, “A glass of the strongest you have.” He said, flicking a few copper coins onto the counter. The ferret waddled off, coming back with a bottle of golden brandy. She put it down on the bar and he poured a glassful, put his lips to it and took a deep drink. He sighed and shuddered and sat up straighter, glancing around the tavern at the empty chairs and tables. The nautical paraphernalia decorating the walls was a familiar comfort. He barely looked up as a stoat entered the tavern, throwing him a casual salute and sitting beside him, “Hey Cap’n,” he said, then glancing at the wildcat’s haggard appearance he remarked, “The same dream, eh?” The wildcat nodded “How’d you guess Tammet,” he sighed and took another drink from his glass, “, It’s been happening, again, and again, since that mouse…” His voice trailed off as he recalled that hellish night. The mouse and the otter, the blood, and… and Ublaz… he had tried to get to him but… with the Monitors crowding the hallways, his friend had died alone. Tammet nodded understandingly, “Yeah, Things haven’t been the same since then, have they?” Swanswone finished his drink and shook his head, “No, they haven’t, Sampetra was a great empire… if only Ublaz’s greed didn’t get the better of him, he was changing towards the end too, turning harder, meaner.” Tammet put a kindly hand on the old cat’s shoulder, lifting him up, “C’mon Cap’n, the crew are waiting outside, you said you’d have the decision of where to go by today.” The wildcat got up and put an arm around the stoat letting himself be guided out of thetavern.
* * * * *
As the old grey wildcat stepped out of the tavern he saw heads lift; he stood erect, majestically surveying those around him. The crew of the Abyss, saved from the slaughter of the rest of their comrades by some quirk of fate. They were a crew of assorted stoats and ferrets, with the occasional fox. They stood outside the worn down tavern, some sitting among the blackened ruins of the other taverns, some standing at attention, lined up along the seashore. Those not lined up with the others quickly did so, snapping to attention. He allowed himself a brief smile, he had trained these kids well, he hadn't wanted to see them die. They were the elite of the elite. He stood in front of them, Tammet to his right, and he addressed them. "You have done well my children. That is why we are the Survivors, when all others are merely dead." He spoke in short clipped tones, hard, rather than reverting to his normal soft, slurred Shilhesistran accent. These children respected power. He strode in front of them, Tammet in tow. "You have been waiting for a long time for my answer on what to do now, yes? I have given it much thought and decided." He paused, seeing them waiting, tense, but not showing their anticipation. Yes, he had trained them well. "I have decided to leave this island." He saw disappointment in some of their eyes, pity in others. They knew that re-building Sampetra had been his dream. It was good that they shared his visions but, he could not seem weak. "Sampetra is desolate. There is Nothing here for us. We will journey abroad. Maybe try to earn some honest money, maybe come back here, someday." He saw them agree, silently in their eyes, the only sound was the seagulls. "There are plenty of creatures out there that need an army, we could be mercenaries." I don't really care what we are, he thought, as long as it gets me away from this island. This island soaked in blood and tears.
* * * * *
He looked back on the rocky shores, desolate and lonely. He saw Mrs. Deathblade waving goodbye. The blackened ruins of the old castle stood on a blackened and bare hill. He had not dared go to there since it happened, fearing his own reaction. Now it stood there, like a big lonely skeleton on the hill. He could hear a mocking voice, the voice of his old friend Ublaz, We’re all dead, it said, you couldn’t save us so we’re all dead! He lowered his head, blinking back the tears, as he stood on the back of the Abyss, sailing away from Sampetra. But the voice wouldn’t stop, You think you know everything, it said, only the dead know all! You think you strive for worthy causes only to realize that it’s all for Nothing! Nothing! The voice dissolved into laughter, fading away, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, seeing Tammet at his side, concern printed all over the stoat’s face "Are you alright Captain?" he asked. Captain LoMinang Swanswone wondered why he couldn't stop laughing.
* * * *
Tammet shut the door to the Captain's cabin softly behind him; the Captain wasn't in very good condition and needed his sleep. He took a deep breath of the night air and wandered to the front of the ship, sitting on the figurehead of a huge wave. The stars were bright with no lights to dim them. He just stared at the sky, with no purpose, just remembering the days on Sampetra. He had liked it there, it had been a cause to fight for. But it had been only a place. He loved the sea, he loved the waves. He would miss Sampetra but, not as much as the Captain did. The ocean spray hit his face, and he got up. He walked along the deck, hearing it creak on top of the waves and he heard his shipmates having fun in the galley and he wondered, as he saw the warm glow of lights and heard their laughing voices, why it had to end?
Chapter 2
The creaking of the ship woke him up. As he lifted his head from the pillow, wet with tears he couldn't remember crying, he rubbed his eyes. He stretched, feeling his aching muscles scream in protest. He heard the creak of footsteps running up to his door. The door burst open in a blaze of light that made him shield his eyes and a cream colored stoat burst in, and stopped short, "I'm sorry, sir,", he said, "Did I wake you?" The captain stood and began dressing, "No," he said, "It's alright Tammet." Seeing the look of barely constrained excitement on the stoat's young face he smiled, "What is it?" Tammet looked grateful and blurted out, "The sentry has spotted land, sir!" The wildcat's eyes were instantly alight as he pulled on his overcoat and dashed out the door past Tammet and ran to the front of the ship, eyes straining for sight of land. Suddenly he spotted the green streak on the horizon! He sensed Tammet's presence at his shoulder as the stoat, in awe, said "Isn't it beautiful?" The captain smiled, caught up in the youth's joy. He had forgotten that Tammet had grown up on Sampetra after Ublaz's decline and had never really seen trees before, or anything but Sampetra's desolate, rocky shores. His eyes scanned the trees, wondering where he was. He had never seen it before, the tall trees, the broad opening to the river leading far into the woods, it was beautiful. It looked like a new home.
* * * *
The ship glided into the mouth of the stream, the thick woods bordering the riverbank made shadows dance on the dark wood and silver wave figurehead. It was a magical place. He reached out to grab an apple from an overhanging tree limb and took a bite, savoring the bitter juices. It had been a long time since he'd seen a place as beautiful as this, having spent most of his time on the island. The wildcat took a deep breath, tasting the cool, moist air. The cream colored stoat stood beside his captain, likewise emersed in his surroundings, eyes aglow with wonder. There was something about this place, the wildcat thought, something that made him want to take off his weapons and throw them away, making him want to never see a weapon again. The brown ferret to his left died silently, the arrow in his throat making a sound on the deck as he fell. The wildcat spun, an arrow grazing his cheek as he fell down, seeking cover. He shouted, "Everyone! Down! Return fire! They're in the woods!" He saw Tammet firing off arrows at fast as he could, all those armed with a bow were, but it wasn't good enough. They couldn't see where their enemies were and were just being sniped until suddenly something bounced on the deck and he smelled something sickly sweet as smoke filled his gaze. His last thought before the sleep overtook him was that the forest didn't seem as friendly anymore. The dark shapes boarded the ship and guided it, as the ship full of sleeping stoats, ferrets and one old grey wildcat drifted down the Mossflower River.
* * * * *
He awoke. He was thirsty. His back hurt. The birds were chirping. As his senses rushed back he blinked and looked around. He was puzzled by the fact that he was bound to a tree, he was sure this wasn't usual. Also as suprising was the horde of little creatures surrounding him. They were small and covered in assorted patches of shrubbery. They were everywhere, in a huge circle around the tree that he was tied to so that you couldn't see the end of them. One of them came up to him and, seeing he was awake, shouted something and prodded him with his own rapier. He growled and showed him his fangs, mumbling behind him, "Tammet?" When Tammet didn't answer he mumbled, "Vaidace?" he heard the female ferret answer back, worry tingeing her gravelly voice, "Captain? What's the plan?" He was flattered that she thought he had a plan so he made one. Sliding his claws out of his sheath he sliced through the ropes holding him to the tree, shouting "Fight! Now! Work your way to the outside and run!" Then everything turned to a blur. he saw a creature run towards him and snapped out a front kick, cracking his neck. He felt little paws on his coat and slashed out, raking their faces with his claws. He dashed forward, seeing on in front of him he slashed low, hitting the stomach. He grabbed the little creature's small rapier and as they jumped on him he slashed up in a shining arc, bloody leaves and twigs showering him. The sword flashed to his right and left as he waded through them. he kicked out to the left and right and scored hits, sending them flying on all sides. Then he was face to face with a big on, a stiff tail sticking out from under the leaves. The others backed off, forming a circle and he swung an underhand blow, trying to cleave the creature open. The creature sidestepped and brought his double javelin up to stab. The wildcat sidestepped and brought his right footpaw down on the creature's foot paw, left-handedly stabbing him through the middle. He thought he heard someone screaming as they all piled on top of him. He rose like a mighty behemoth and threw them off of him. He was almost to the outside. He saw Vaidace, the brown and white ferret covered in blood, and then all went red as the ground rushed up to him.
* * * * *
He tasted salt on his lips. His tongue tip slipped out to lick his lips. He felt some rough cloth against his skin. His head throbbed and he wondered if he should open his eyes. He did and after a few blinded blinks he could discern his surroundings. He was in a bed, it's white sheets were washed clean. There was someone in the bed next to his. He recognized the brown and white ferret after a few seconds of thought. "Vaidace?" the wildcat said in a horse voice. The ferret's eyes opened slightly, her deep gravelly voice sounded slightly weak. He noticed the red staining her sheets. "Captain?" she said "Where are we?" he asked. "I don't know" she answered "I just picked you up and ran and then fainted." He smiled faintly, "It is kind of handy having a 6 ft. ferret around to get you out of trouble." She laughed, a deep chuckle, "Yeah. You sure are heavy for 5' 8"." The door in the wall opened and a small mouse walked in, her white dress as cleanly scrubbed as the sheets. She escorted in a wizened old mouse and a muscular young squirrel. The wildcat started and sat up in bed, getting ready to run when the old mouse held up a paw. "Rest easy, my son." he said in a clear voice, "I am Abbot Benedict. You were found out in the woods being chased by a tribe of creatures called the Flitchaye. We fought them off and brought you here." The wildcat thought this over and then, slowly, as if afraid of the answer, asked "What about the others? Were there any others?" The abbot lowered his head and said softly, "There were no others." The wildcat nodded shortly, briskly. He could not show weakness. He must be strong. Vaidace asked, in disbelief, "No Others? There were fifty of us! They couldn't just disappear!" The squirrel stepped forward and said, disdainfully, "Maybe they ran for it when they saw a battle." Vaidace sprang out of bed and leapt at the squirrel, teeth bared. The squirrel put up his arms, their arms bulging as the abbot pulled them apart, shouting, "Kerian! Stop that! These are our guests!" The ferret slipped back into bed, whispering, "They would never run, we are not cowards!" The abbot looked apologetic. "You must excuse Kerian. His family died at the hands of a band of vermin. He is our abbey warrior but a little rash.” The wildcat looked on. He saw the ferret and the squirrel arguing, the old mouse trying to separate them. He didn't feel much. He supposed that the shock would come later. Suddenly, as the fight escalated, he stood. All eyes turned to him as he pulled on his shirt, buckled his belt on, put on his overcoat and started to the door. Vaidace jumped out of bed and followed him, walking fast to catch up. The abbot followed the two of them, shouting "Where are you going??" The wildcat hadn't thought of that but suddenly it became clear as he shouted back, "I'm going to get my crew!" The old mouse had caught up by then and protested "You can't just leave! You're injured!" The wildcat came to an abrupt stop, his face looking down into the mouse's as he bared his teeth and growled "Listen mouse, my crew is out there. I'm finding them and either you can help or not!" The old mouse spluttered "But, but, but, they could be Dead by now!" The wildcat smiled grimly. "If so then I'm as good as dead." Those kids were his life. He turned back down the halls, leaving the abbot speechless behind him. They walked into a big hall of some sort with a big cloth on one wall. The squirrel, Kerian walked up and offered his hand to the wildcat. "I admire bravery in even vermin. Who are you?" The wildcat took his hand and shook it. "I am Captain LoMinang Swanswone of the Abyss. Will you aid us?" The squirrel gestured to the suit of armor that he wore, "Why else would I be dressed like this?" He led them over to a small room where a pile of weapons lay on the ground. "These were found where you were, maybe you'll find yours?" the wildcat reached in and brought out a rapier with a golden basket hilt, inscribed with badger runes. It was his. It seemed relatively undamaged. Vaidace had already found hers; the huge mace and chain's head was about the size of hers. She felt the spike tips; they were still sharp as ever. "We are armed," the wildcat said. "Good," said the squirrel, "Now let's hope we don't need them." They walked out into the garden, there were mice, squirrels and moles everywhere, playing in the sun. The wildcat noticed a sword at the squirrel's belt. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn't figure out what. Just as he was about to ask, an otter ran up to Kerian. "Hey! Where are you goin, matey?" he said, "It's not every day you dress up in full armor!" The squirrel smiled bitterly "I'm goin off to kill some Flitchaye." The otter grinned, "Well... I guess I'll see you later then." The squirrel smiled "Right Skipper, later." The otter walked off, and as he did, the wildcat was puzzled to see a expression of grief on the otter's face as he fingered his battleaxe. Vaidace noticed the look on the wildcat's face and frowned "Are you all right Captain?" the wildcat blinked and shuddered. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just the rush of things, that's all." He wondered why he didn't tell her about the sword and the look on the otter's face. She grunted and strode off after Kerian, who was walking towards the gate. They walked through the orchard, the inhabitants of this place stopping to stare at them. It was a peaceful place, not like the cool peace of the river that made you want to just sleep. It was a sweet, sticky peace that just made you want to dance. They reached the gate and Kerian saluted the guard on the wall. The guard saluted back and the gate swung open, revealing the thick walls, the road, then the forest. Somewhere in that forest were his men. He would find them. The Abbot watched them go.
Chapter 3
They stepped carefully through the forest, the pine needles made small whispering sounds beneath their feet. They walked, weapon at ready, until Kerian suddenly stopped. "This is the place where we found you," he said "Can you find your way from here?" The brown and white ferret nodded "Yeah. It's over this way." She led them to where a big tree lay, deserted. They looked around, hopelessly, hearing no sound. "I guess they're gone." the squirrel stated unnecessarily. The ferret slammed the head of her mace and chain into the dirt and swore. "They were here just a few days ago! Where could they have gone?" The wildcat, meanwhile, was investigation the ground over to the right of the tree he paused, "Here," he said, "Tracks. Thisway."
* * * * *
A few hours later they were still following tracks. Suddenly the wildcat rushed forward, kneeling by a tree. The others rushed over there. On the ground was a child, a dark brown weasel. He was sleeping, and the noise awoke him. The wildcat slashed the ropes binding him. Vaidace looked suprised, "Fao? How did you get here? Where are all the others?" Fao, smiled, "Captain! I knew you would find me! The creatures sold us to a band of wildcats that came from south of here. They were just takin’ us to the wildcat's ship when I took the chance to sneak away. I was just despairing of anyone finding me!" They helped him up and Kerian handed him a dagger, "Lucky I thought to bring this along," he said. All four of them rushed forward through the woods, at Fao's direction. They almost stumbled in on the enemy's camp. Kerian suddenly stopped them and hid behind a bush. "Look," he said, "There they are!" The creatures were seated around a fire, talking. There was a ship in the background, sailing off in some direction. "That must be the boat they're on" the wildcat whispered. Suddenly more creatures surrounded the three of them. "Run, follow the ship!" Kerian shouted as he gestured to a small sailing ship on the sea shore. The wildcat, ferret and weasel all dashed for it, jumping aboard. They pushed off, leaving millions of angry creatures yelling on the shore. They sailed towards the ship.
* * * * *
Kerian was surrounded by the creatures, none of them making a move. He slid his sword out of his sheath and smiled. He thought of his family, laying dead on the ground as the Flitchaye had left them. He knew he was outnumbered, but then, he wasn't planning on going back to the Abbey. The sword of Martin the Warrior glittered dangerously and, as if on cue, all the creatures drew weapons, and the battle was on. He ducked a short rapier swing and blocked a slingshot. He wove in and out of the enemies, sword flickering among them. H e whispered himself, "My parents died. Now I revenge. My sword, my tool. I am Death." Now binding himself, he let the anger, the hate, flow through him like a reviving fire. His vision dulled and all he saw was his enemies. And he killed. It seemed to go on for hours. Just killing, his feet slipping in the blood as he went. Suddenly it was over. He stood there, panting, as he cooled down. His sword was held at the throat of the last of the scum. The eyes showed no fear. The voice that spoke showed none either. "Well Kerian. You are truly a fell warrior. Go then, complete your mission. It is in his plan." Kerian gave the sword point one flick and smiled as the vermin went down. Then he paused, the creature had called him Kerian, how would it know his name? Feeling dread he used the sword point to slip the mask off of the creature. It was Skipper. Kerian fell to his knees, trying to staunch the flow of blood flowing from his friend's neck. The otter mearly smiled at him and repeated "It is in his plan." Then the otter died, smiling still. A nausea of terror washed over the squirrel as he ripped the masks off of the creatures, there were shrews, hedgehogs, mice, his friends. He stood , gazing around him at the many who were slain there. He stared at the sword, the beautiful weapon in his hand. The sword of justice, defiled in murder! It slipped from his hand as he fell to his knees head buried in his hands. Then, slowly, a chuckle came forth, then another. Suddenly he threw back his head, laughing insanely. Here he stood, the just warrior, here he stood, in the midst of the bodies of his friends. The King of the Corpses! The Lord of the Dead! The murderer. And then it came to him. He knew what he must do.
Chapter 4
The sea whipped the wildcat's face, the salty water running through his fur as the wind whistled in his ears. There was nothing on earth like sailing a small boat in a raging storm. The old grey wildcat's mind was full of the pleasure of it all. He reveled in nature's fury. The ferret concentrated on survival. Her hard heart was grim. The young weasel just thought. His mind was at peace as he worked automatically. They worked on throughout thenight.
* * * * *
They landed on the third day. It was the old island, Sampetra. It’s hard, rocky shores were a cold welcome. Almost as cold as the autumn wind that whipped their faces, the salt of the sea tangible in the air. The old wildcat stepped out of the boat and looked around himself in the stillness. There was no sound except for the wind. No birds, no trees or grass. Just the solid rocks. This island was truly long dead. He felt tears well up in his eyes but he turned to the ferret and said in a voice choked with tears, “Come on.” And the ferret followed in silence.
* * * * *
They camped on the hillside. There were no trees to offer cover so they camped as low as they could. Late that night the ferret went carefully up the hill and looked over the side. She smiled as she saw the light of the enemy’s campfires. They were camped just on the other side of the hill. She took a deep breath and slipped off into the night. The weasel watched from where he lay and then rolled over and slept.
* * * * *
The wildcat woke up early in the morning. He donned his overcoat and looked around the camp. The others were gone. He sat and took out some food, barely even wondering where the ferret and weasel were. The ferret was up on top of the hill, sitting on a rock. There were several items on the rock in front of her and her hands moved methodically, purposefully. Then a noise came behind her and the weasel-child’s voice came out, tentatively “Vaidace? What are you doing?” She made sure she was smiling when she turned, she didn’t want to scare him anymore. “Nothing” she said, “I’m merely preparing for battle.” She gestured to the items in front of her. “What’s that for?” asked the child, pointing to a sliver mask, smooth except for two eyeholes. “It’s my battle mask.” She answered amiably, hoping he didn’t go on, he was so young. “And what’s in that?” he asked, pointing to a clay pot. She sighed inwardly but could not lie to him. “The enemy’s blood.” She saw the shocked look on his face and hurried to explain, he was just a child. “You see kid, my family has a very strong battle background. Your anger makes you strong y’know. It fuels you. Nothing can stand in your way!” She took a hand full of the blood and smeared it on the inside of the mask, covering it. He was silent for a while, thinking. Then he asked, in a voice stronger and calmer than she had though, “Is that what you were doing last night? Getting the blood?” The answered simply, “Yes.” The child thought a little while longer and when he spoke again he sounded worried “What’s down there? Who will we be fighting?” She shrugged “Some sort of big cats. A whole bunch of them. It was dark so I couldn’t see very well.” He stood behind her as she painted her face with blood, massaging it into her fur. He listened and watched, thinking all the time.
Chapter 5
The wildcat found them on the hill and stood behind the ferret. “Anyone want some food?” he asked. The ferret sat with her back to him, looking down at the camp. “No” she said. The weasel nodded and the wildcat handed him a ration bar. He turned to the ferret and asked her “Did you see what’s down there?” The ferret turned, the familiar silver mask on her face, red rimming the eyeholes and edges. “Some sort of cats. A whole clan of them.” The wildcat nodded. Suddenly he dived to the side, into some bushes. He dragged out a small young yellow cat, his hand over the frightened cat’s mouth, silencing any screams. He set him down and, drawing his rapier and setting the edge to the small cat'’ throat, he asked “Are you from the camp down there? Were you spying on us?” The small cat nodded twice. “Who’s your leader down there?” The small cat opened his mouth, obviously frightened, and whispered “JaGoman Lichtsmagg.” The old wildcat drew back, shocked. “Him? Here?” he whispered, “Is he in the camp now?” The little cat shook his head and whispered “No, he’s off hiding from you.” The old wildcat thought and then nodded to Vaidace, who took the small cat off into the woods. The old wildcat sat down on a rock and thought. So his old enemy was here. And hiding from him. Then he must draw him out. The ferret returned and, sitting, began to clean her small dagger. She looked at the wildcat and nodded. “We have to draw the leader out,” the wildcat stated unnecessarily. The ferret knew what they had to do. He had trained her well. “We have to attack the camp, and draw him out to save his people,” he continued. She nodded. He turned to the young weasel and said, “Stay here.” Then the ferret picked up her mace and chain and, smiling under her mask, she followed the old wildcat down the hill, towards the camp.
* * * * *
He stood in the blood, it was two inches deep. He felt nauseous. He looked at the bloody rapier in his hand and cast it to the side, falling to his knees, regardless of the blood covering the ground. He buried his head in his hands, in shock. He had had to do it, he persuaded himself. It had been necessary. He knew he had needed to kill, but he hated himself for doing it. All he could remember was the blood, the slaughter, Vaidace laughing, a hard laugh. They hadn’t even fought back. The worst had been the children, little cats, jumping at him, claws and teeth flashing. The children being cut down by his blade, it sickened him. They had needed to draw JaGoman Lichtsmagg out from hiding but, had they needed to massacre his people? He knelt there, sobbing in the blood. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. Vaidace was there, impartial mask of anger on her face, she asked him, “Captain? Are you alright?” He looked at the sword lying on the ground in the blood. He hated the sword, the weapon. He picked it up and stood, saying as calmly as he could “Yes, I’m fine Lieutenant, just fine.” And he held the sword tight.
* * * * *
They decided to leave the child on the cliff, to search for the leader by themselves. They strode along the cliffs, looking for any sign of movement. Suddenly there he was. He was on the top of a cliff overlooking the sea, crimson robes encircling his tall, fit body. He had aged but, not much. His blue eyes still held the contempt, the arrogance. He held the two-handed longsword in his hand, beckoned with the other. Vaidace glanced over at the wildcat, eyes ashine beneath the death-mask, “My hate makes me strong. I am death to my enemies. Live on, Captain. Live on!” Then she rushed at the calico wildcat, her huge mace swinging out in front of her. The older wildcat ducked under the whirling weapon and lifted his sword, the blade cutting through the chain with a discordant clang. The ferret pulled out a small dagger and stabbed. The older wildcat merely smiled as he slew her with one thrust. Then he beckoned to the old grey wildcat. “Come young one,” he said “Come and let us do battle. My blade longs for your blood.” The old grey wildcat’s voice rang out, “And mine sings your death!” Then the battle was on as the two met, circling, the mocking blue eyes meeting the smoldering green. Steel rang on steel, the only sound in the air. The wind had ceased, the old wildcat noticed. The world was still, but for the clang of blades. After a long time, an hour, maybe two, they separated, breathing heavily. “You have grown, Son of LoMinang.” The older cat said. “Aye, that I have,” responded the younger cat in turn, “And you should have reason to fear me.” The older cat smiled mockingly and shrugged. “Ah, but this fighting is getting us nowhere, look, all this time and not a scratch!” The younger cat raised an eyebrow “What then do you suggest, my foe?” “Well,” the older cat said “I propose a duel of fists, no blades or weapons other than your body. To the death. Do you accept?” The younger wildcat nodded and they both threw away their swords. The younger wildcat took off his overcoat while the older cat stripped off his outer cloak. Then they met, in a fury of fists and claws. The claws scored hits, but they took them as scratches and battled on. The dust flew and the air was loud with grunts. Then the younger wildcat slipped on blood and landed right next to where Vaidace lay. She was still alive! The ferret winked and whispered, “Live on, Captain.” Then he felt warm metal in his hand and he was up at the older cat. He shoved what his fist held hard into the older cat’s unprotected belly and held him over the cliff edge, over the boiling waves. The older cat stared in shock at the small dagger protruding out of his belly and then at the younger cat. He said, in a voice horse with shock, “You… you… Cheated?” The younger cat smiled and, in the silence so dark and heavy he whispered in return. “Sometimes, my foe, Sometimes you have to cheat. To win.” And then he let go, letting the older cat fall to his death. Then he slumped down, worn out. His life felt empty. He realized that he had been living his life to the sad requiem of the past. And that his foe was now gone. But… “Yes Vaidace,” he whispered. “Yes, I will live on.” Then he got up and strode away. The next few hours were a medley of hope, of joy. Most of his crew had been killed wantonly by the wildcat’s but Tammet was there! He would never forget the tears in the stoats eyes, repeating “I knew you would come, Captain. I knew you would come!” So he and Tammet and Fao built a fire and camped there. And as the sun faded, they smiled.
Epilogue:
He smiled at the parchments he held in hand. He had just received word from his friends the birds. The Shilhesistran tribe was wiped out and the Sampetran Remnant reduced to an old wildcat, a weak stoat and a young weasel. Nothing could harm him now! Yes, everything was going according to His Plan! He was safe now! Then the door creaked open behind him. “Good Evening Father Abbot,” said the squirrel, blade in hand.
* * * * *
The young weasel stood on the cliff that evening. He watched the sun set. His life had been ruined for the second time. He had had hopes that the Sampetran Remnant would go far but, again his life was over. He picked up the silver mask, stained with blood, that was lying on the ground. He picked up the rapier, left there by the old wildcat, who had sworn never to use it again. He watched them catch the sun and glitter. “Your anger makes you strong,” Vaidace had said. “Nothing can stop you”. He could take the sword and put the mask on and carve a place in history for himself! His enemies would go down by the millions! He looked at the blade and the mask. He could not, would not, use them. He had had enough of war. He threw the mask and the rapier over the cliff and, as they spiraled down to the waiting sea, the old blade caught the sun and… It Shone like Salamandestron’s Flame!