The Lengthening Shadow

Maria could see a small outline on the horizon. Shielding her eyes from the seaspray, she could make out the shape of a ship, a small, two-masted schooner. Finally, she thought, someplace where we can help Malcolm in a bit more peace. The mouse’s condition had been steadily worsening, for the poisons of Havaraa ran deep. Worse, Malcolm, along with half of the escapees, had developed seasickness. Animals spent hours leaning over the edge of the raft and vomiting into the water. They had managed to recover a few floating packages of food from the Alrack’s sunken vessel, but they were quickly running out. On the fifth day since they had fled, the mysterious ship pulled up alongside them.

“Ahoy!” a loud voice cried out, “Who are you?”

Maria squinted her eyes against the sun, she replied “We are escapees from the ship Ragsail, trying to reach land. One of our number has a poisoned wound and needs medical help immediately. Are you friends or foes?”

“We are friends, if you are friendly to the woodlands,” the voice on the boat replied, “We are the Oak Limb, a ship sent from Greenbloom Castle to seek the ferret Havaraa. Do you know of him?”

Maria called out to the ship, telling them of her imprisonment and the long months at sea, how Havaraa had wounded Malcolm before they escaped, and how they had been at sea for five days. They were hoisted aboard in a matter of minutes, and brought to the chamber of the Captain, a Maow named Gharris. He sat Maria and Bladeberry down in small wooden chairs before his desk and leaned over it at them, glancing from side to side with keen green eyes. “Now, who are you, and where do you come from?”

Samuel, Morgan, and their friends had camped at the foot of the Bridge spanning the great width of the Undercrag. Samuel was talking to Morgan and a few others, such as Greddez. “In the morning, at first light, we shall attempt the perilous crossing of this gorge. In a day’s march, we should get to the other side. Then, we can continue on to Brushtipp.”

Morgan chanced a morbid question: “Wot if the pirates ’ave gotten there afore us?” Samuel looked down into the huge canyon. “We can only hope that they haven’t Morgan, we can only hope that they haven’t.” The rest of the night was spent uneasily, with everybeast worrying, worrying about the journey to come. The Undercrag was there, and it seemed to be waiting, watching with eyes of its own.

The next morning, the company woke and started on their journey. It was a long walk, with nothing but the smooth stonework of the bridge under their feet. When they paused to eat a meager luncheon, they were only about halfway across the Bridge, with a long trek before them until they were on the other side. More hours passed in silence, the only noise being the pattering of their weary feet. At long last, at the end of the day, the other side of the gorge was in sight.

Suddenly, the Bridge started to rumble, and a huge chunk dislodged a few yards behind Samuel! The two lizards who were on it struggled to cling to the stable part of the Bridge, but slipped and fell screaming into the seemingly bottomless abyss. The lizards behind them called over to Samuel’s side, yelling “Zamuel! We need to jump!”

A few tense seconds later, the first lizard jumped. The rest followed suit until all of the marchers were on the good side of the gap. Samuel wiped sweat from his forehead with a tired paw, wheezing “Thank the fates that the gap wasn’t larger! I say we march on until we’re at the other side, then stop for the night.” The decision to do this was unanimous.

The march of the pirates never halted. For four hours straight they marched through the night, keeping in sight the flickering lights of Fort Brushtipp. They walked until they could discern the outline of the fort. Alrack spoke quietly to the crew.

“Alright, this is the place we ‘ave to go through to reach Fernwood, alright? Now, this is also a chance for some lootin’ an’ killin’. Now these ‘ere squiddles are the ones ownin’ this place, I knows this ’cause I ‘eard it from some owls I met in me landrovin’ days. I also knows that this place is made of dry birch planks an’ logs, three hunnerd seasons old.”

“Now, ’ere’s my plan. We goes up there, gets in, and kills ‘em all, every last squiddle, warriors, women an’ children too. Just think, with what we’ll gain from the lootin’, Fernwood won’t stan’ a chance agin us!”

“But ’ow are we gonna git in?” ventured Norc the rat, “I’ll be durned as to ’ow we’ll get past those squiddle guards.”

Alrack chuckled evilly. “I’ll show yer ‘ow it’s gonna be done. Watch an’ learn, Norc, ya idiotic rat.” He said no more, but grabbed a stick of wood. He turned his back on Norc and stalked over to one of the vermin’s fires. Thrusting the stick in, he took it out as a torch.

“This’ll show these woodlanders that fire trumps wood an’ trees! Hahahahahahahaha!”

After an hour of questions under Gharris’ keen eyes, Maria was beginning to get a little bit tired. Finally, he wrapped it up, saying: “Well, that’s all that I need. Thanks.” She walked off to her cabin to get a well-earned good night’s sleep. In the morning, the squirrelmaid was wakened by an urgent cry. “Come quickly! It’s that mouse, Malcolm!” Throwing on a gown, she raced to the sickbay. Malcolm was clearly in pain, writhing and throwing the sheets all over the room in his convulsions. Glid Swiftbrush hurried in, holding a small bauble. “This is a Vrandeyl from Korana. It should draw out the poison!”

He placed the bauble on Malcolm’s wound and muttered something in Koranan: “Hasr thrant vran. Thrana rentsa vran, alorna! Deya yanwe honlera vran unu!*” The bauble turned black as Malcolm’s wound became less infected, sucking Havaraa’s poison out of the bleeding gash. Eventually, it stopped bleeding altogether! In three minutes, it was nothing but a reddened scratch. Glid bandaged it, then leaned back against a wall. “Phew, that was hard! It took a lot of my power to do that, but he’ll heal now.”

Maria breathed a long, slow sigh of relief. Now they had nothing to worry about! Little did she know that the next five minutes would prove her wrong.

Samuel and his crew had navigated over the treacherous Undercrag, but now they faced another challenge. The high peaks of the Acar Kentís, the Green Mountains of the South. Their lofty summits and deep valleys had been the death of many a mountaineer. The small company had made good progress so far, but there was still a long way to go. The only real path was across the Calad Ventuur, the Pass of the Wind, and then up Ecerlind, Icetop in the common tongue. Two days into their progress, they sighted the ancient rune-inscribed gate of the Pass of the Wind. Passing through, they found themselves on a thin, winding path, so narrow that they could only cross it in single file.

Before them stretched the huge and lofty summit of Ecerlind, rearing up a thousand feet into the clouds. The path wound up its sides like a stone serpent. “That, my friends, ” said Samuel, pointing at the mountain, “is our path. That night, a blizzard raged on the mountain. Morgan, peering off into the darkness, heard something that made his blood run cold. “Samuel!” he cried, “There is a fell voice in the wind!” Samuel cocked an ear, and could discern a deep chanting voice. Rocks started to fall off the sides of the mountain, and Samuel wondered if they would actually make it off Ecerlind alive.

At Fort Brushtipp, the squirrels were sleeping peacefully, unaware of the terror and brutality that was to come in the night. Alrack crept through the woods with his team. The crew had split into four parts, Alrack and Uldrich had one each, along with Waveclaw and Zanter. They were armed with torches as well as their weapons.

Sedi woke to the sound of screams. He jumped out of bed and scrambled to the window. Dark shapes moved quickly over the now burning outer wall of Brushtipp. They killed everyone on the ramparts, then moved down into the courtyards. Sedi ran to the great tower of Brushtipp, and blew the great horn of Furbrush. The squirrels in the barracks hastily donned their armor and grabbed swords, shields, spears, and guns. They engaged the foebeasts already inside the fort.

Nightlock’s contingent grabbed water from the well and attempted to douse the flaming wall. Waveclaw’s band ambushed them, and Nightlock fell with Waveclaw’s silver knife in his chest. He struggled, coughing up blood, until Waveclaw beheaded him with his cutlass. Saxifrage tried to fight his way to Nightlock’s side, but was cut down by Chopclaw. “Och, me bonny wee squirrel,” whispered the ferret in the dying Saxifrage’s ear, “Ye’ve lost this round o’ the game.”

As the king watched his squirrels falling one by one, creatures he had known his whole life, something sparked. Sedi donned the ceremonial armor of the King of Brushtipp, grabbed his sword, and ran down the tower into the palace. He ran until he came to the palace, and the body of Downybrush fell at his feet. As he looked down at his slain queen, the spark went out. His sword clattered at his feet as Alrack entered the room. The black weasel sneered at the helpless Sedi. “Ha,” he started laughing, “Hahahahahaha! Idiot, now you will witness the power of the Ragsail. Watch your fortress BURN!” With that, he strode across the room and, meeting no resistance, stabbed the king through the heart. Yanking his sword out, he stabbed him again in the chest.

The mortally wounded king, with his last sight, gazed on his ruined home. Thus died Sedi, greatest of the squirrel kings of Brushtipp.

Aidan, from a high window, watched his father fall. He grabbed a sword from a wall-mount and ran up to the watchtower. He climbed down the outside and scurried along the burning rooftops of the squirrel palace. Suddenly, Bladejaw the rat guard popped up in front of him. The squirrel prince ran him through with a single thrust; the first beast he had ever killed, but not the last. As the vermin pirates Finz, Onehook, and Norc advanced from all sides, the rest of Flickey’s team, Aidan dropped his sword and beat the tar out of the corsairs. “For Maria!” he cried as Finz fell into the flames below with two broken ribs. “For my father!” Norc crumpled with a crushed skull. “For Brushtipp!” Aidan lifted Onehook off the ground, grabbed the vermin’s sword, ran him through, and tossed his carcass off the roof.

Some fleeing squirrels finally found him on the roofs. Crackwillow and Felixa, along with a score of soldiers, had escaped the fighting and ran to the palace. One of them presented him with Sedi’s sword. “This belongs to you now, my king.” Aidan suddenly realized that he had just inherited the kingship of Brushtipp. He grasped the golden hilt and slid the scabbard into his belt. He and his companions rushed to the armories. They saw the squirrel Greenthyme at the doors, falling to Zanter’s blade. Aidan ran up and slew the weasel with a single thrust. Once inside, he slammed the door, locked it, and barricaded it with furniture. He slipped on a chainmail tunic, a leather tunic, a belt, gauntlets, and greaves. He drew his sword and grabbed a shield and helmet from a rack.

Another of the squirrels, Verbena, ran out into the courtyard. He had not gotten ten yards when Venge lunged at him. The ferret stabbed the unfortunate squirrel through the chest. Venge pulled his cutlass out and grabbed a rifle. He shot at the young prince, who dodged quickly. Aidan ducked his head, as more bullets came whistling through the air. One lodged in the door. Another smashed through a window and killed Sedi’s pet goldfish. Aidan and his team fought their way to the gates and rushed out. When they were a safe distance away, in the watchtower of Ecer Veren, built near the fort, they turned and watched the flames consume their ancestral home.

Aidan forced a weak smile. “I knew we should have built it closer to water.” As they watched, the tower of Brushtipp cracked and fell in ruin upon the palace and houses. Fire consumed all that was left of the once-great fortress of the squirrels. Then he looked down at his feet. “King of Brushtipp,” he said bitterly, “Ha! More like king of nothing!” Then he saw the pirates at the base of the watchtower.

On board the Oak Limb, all was peaceful. That is, until the black ship came again. Malcolm and Maria woke to the sound of gunfire outside. They grabbed swords and rushed up to the deck. Smoke filled the air. The night was punctuated with blasts of cannons and yelling voices. They nearly ran into Grace, who was running up from the kitchen, with sword drawn and a rifle slung across her back. “I thought,” said Maria, “That you didn’t like swordfighting.”

“I do now!” she answered, and ran off again into the fog and bursts of light. A plank was lowered, and several Thazancian soldiers boarded the ship. Malcolm and Maria, swords flashing, ran to combat the invaders.

Three minutes later, the black ship had pulled away into the night, leaving about a hundred soldiers on the Oak Limb. Malcolm, completely recovered from his poisoned shoulder wound, went about waving his sword wildly, decapitating several Thazancians who were sneaking up behind him.

Maria hacked a grappling hook, sending the line, a plank, and several foebeasts tumbling into the water. Two hours later, all of the attackers had been slain or driven into the sea. Everyone on board was wondering: why had they been attacked?

Crowblood and his gang had been traveling for days. When they finally got to the southern shores, they saw smoke in the distance. They traveled towards it. When they reached it at night, the first night since the burning, it was a pile of ash and broken timbers. Hisser looked through the remains of a tower, found nothing, and was about to leave when something caught his eye. A small golden crown was lying on the embers. Hisser snatched it up and inspected it closely. A strange sort of power seemed to be emanating from the crown. The marten immediately knew what it was: one of the Three Fallen. He put it into a small pocket in his coat and walked away.

Aidan and his crew had been holed up in the watchtower for a day and a night. Crackwillow and Felixa had several packs of food, but it was swiftly running down. All the while, the combined forces of Alrack and Uldrich were shooting arrows and bullets up into the small fortress. Aidan had barely poked his head out of the watchtower when he was hit with a club wielded by Uldrich Onefang. He fell unconscious out of the fort.

When he woke up, he was tied to a post in the pirate camp. His companions were in a similar state. Uldrich stood in front of him with a box of rusty, evil-looking devices. He selected a tool which looked like a pole with a needle on one end and a saw on the other. He jabbed the needle into Aidan’s arm.

Aidan gritted his teeth in pain. Uldrich took out a bottle, dropped some liquid into the needle, and poked Aidan again, a little harder this time. Aidan knew poison when he felt it, and this was not a lethal one, but a pain-inducer, and a strong one. He writhed and squirmed as the venom entered his body, but to no avail. Uldrich selected a many pronged spike and took it out of the box. At that moment, an arrow pierced Uldrich’s paw. He screamed and dropped the spike. Samuel, Morgan, and their crew stood at the crest of a hill, with Swoop fluttering above them. Samuel, bow in hand, stared with fury at Uldrich.

“It’s payback time, pirates!”