The Lengthening Shadow

The pirates were now little more than a day’s march from Fernwood. Through several messengers, Thayder and Silderon had received word and were preparing for battle. Carpenters had created wooden shields to reinforce the battlements. The smiths had created an iron framework to bar the gate, along with large locks of steel. They were prepared. The pirates waited just outside the forest along the borders.

Alrack saw in the torchlight a large, asymmetrical stone fortress with a few small towers and high walls. His evil mind immediately set to work on devising a plan of attack. The next morning, the Fernwooders woke to find a huge ring of pirates surrounding the castle. At Uldrich’s command, they had dug and built a network of trenches and barricades, equipped with cannon dragged from the wreck of the Vengeful. The vermin had prepared their supplies and sent out foraging parties to prepare for a siege. The leaders prepared a council of war. Alrack, Waveclaw, Crowblood, Hisser, Uldrich, and Uldrich’s new first mate Rentgorm sat down in one of the small underground rooms.

Alrack began. “All right, me ‘earties, listen up! This place is ripe fer the takin’, an’ it’ll be us ’ere pirates and landrovers who’ll take it! Here’s our plan. We keep ‘em bottled up in there, nothin’ comes in, nothin’ goes out. They send birds, we shoot ’em! They send messengers, we kill ’em! No aid is gonna reach ‘em. On the twenty-seventh day, we will charge. I’ve sent Skoundrel and Twiner ta start makin’ ladders for the charge. They’ll be too weak ta do anythin’ agin our boys. Who accepts this plan o’ attack?” There was a chorus of “Yes” from the group.

As ritual demanded, it was Alrack who fired first. He grabbed an ancient rifle, passed down from the great Captain Malnock himself. The black weasel turned towards Fernwood’s gate, spat on the ground, and fired. The bullet flew through the air, over the walltops, and into the stomach of a vole. The vole gave a small cry, clutched his chest, and fell back into the courtyard, dead as a doornail. Then all was chaos, wakened to action by the shot, which echoed around the still forest, both sides started shooting. A hail of mixed bullets and arrows whistled up from the trenches, met with volleys of the same from Fernwood. However, the Fernwooders were safe in the wooden battlements, while most of the pirates were in the open trenches.

But the pirates were ready.

Under the command of Skoundrel the gunner, the vermin let off a storm of cannonballs, which hurtled up and smashed into the wood, with devastating effect. The barricades on the East Wall were now mostly on fire, allowing pirates a clear shot. One of Skoundrel’s shots blew up a large section of stone, sending masonry and knights down fifty feet into the trenches. The pirates laughed and reloaded. Now some Fernwooders had managed to get some catapults into position on the walls, and were hurling the broken chunks of rock into the corsair forces. After thirteen hours of back-and-forth shooting, both sides stopped to sleep and recover for the night. The casualty figures were somewhat stunning, in the fact that they were not high.

The pirates had seventeen dead and twenty-four wounded. The Fernwooders had twenty dead, two dying, and thirty wounded. The first day was over, but there were twenty-six to go. The next week had less casualties than the first day. It was mostly just waiting. A conversation would go like this: “Hey, ’Atchetback, what’s yer report?”

“No movement today.”

A day later, it would be: “Hey, ’Atchetback, what’s yer report?”

“No movement today.”

Two days later: “Hey, ’Atchetback, what’s yer… oh wait, lemme guess, no movement today?”

“Yup.”

Inside Fernwood, the situation was a bit more serious. They were running out of food, and what was left was thirteen bags of flour, a box of fruit, and two crates of bread. On a happier note, Thayder had perfected a new weapon. He had filled hollow rocks with a fuse and powder mixed with stones and shrapnel, and modified a catapult to fire them. The first test was on the thirteenth day. They hauled it up, aimed in the direction of Alrack’s bunker, and Silderon cut the string. The rope released the huge weight hanging from it, swinging the catapult’s basket, and hurling the explosive rock into the trench. Alrack was out surveying the trenches, but it blew up the cave and a large part of the barricade, killing ten pirates who were on patrol. Immediately, the knights started firing down into the trench.

After a few hours of heavy losses, the pirates managed to hide and regroup. Another boring two weeks passed, until Alrack checked his small, ragged calendar. It was the twenty-sixth day. He grabbed Waveclaw and Rentgorm as he ran out of his cave. “Yew tew! Get the ladders! This is the twenty-sixth day!” The two mates scampered off and got the ladder crews ready. Silderon was doing a routine wall check when he heard the familiar sound of iron ladder spikes clacking against stone. Clack! Clack! Clack! The mouse’s mind ran furiously. Why are they attacking now? What should we do against ladders with our badly damaged defenses? “Thayder! They’re using ladders! Get everyone to the North Wall!” Alrack heard Silderon’s shout and laughed. “Vinsley! Get more ladders to the West and South walls! Hisser, Crowblood! Distribute yer soldiers ta the ladders on the unpertected walls! Uldrich, yer crew’ll charge the gate wid a batterin’ ram and pour in! Get ’em!”

The Fernwooders were taken completely by surprise. They ran to the three attacked walls, leaving some to guard the Gate at the East Wall. Alrack strode through his corsairs, confident of victory. “Whip’ide! Where are yer?” Waveclaw looked down and said quietly, “Whip’ide was killed by Axetooth an’ Finnel three days after we ’eard ‘em eavesdroppin’ at yer cabin, sir.” Alrack didn’t blink an eye. “Well, who cares, let’s get ‘em anyways! Waveclaw, git the boys firin’!” The rat called out to Chopclaw. “Oi! Chopper! Yew an’ Greentooth lead the charge on the gate! Tell Uldrich ta bring up ladders on the Gate Wall!”

“Thayder! Silderon! They’re bringin’ up ladders on the East Wall!” Ian Chalceron, a young stoat taken in by Fernwood, was staring over the battlements at several wooden ladders coming up in the failing light. Ian ran to the courtyard and grabbed a torch out of a small bracket and ran back up. Bladejaw the fox wore a triumphant smile as he clung to the ladder going up on the East Wall. Seeing a stoat, he called out “Hey you! ’Elp us up!” The stoat turned, and too late, Bladejaw saw the Fernwood crest on his tunic. Ian hurled his torch at the fox, hitting him squarely in the face. The fire from the fox’s now-dead body caught on the dry wood.

Soon, the entire ladder was a huge fireball. It toppled over onto the other ladders, and the whole mass was an inferno of death. The pirates ran screaming away, but Uldrich was not deterred.

The fox and his contingent swung the ram into the doors with a mighty thud! They pulled back and swung again and again three times. On the fifth time, the gate broke into splinters. The night was illuminated by torches and the fire from rifle barrels as the two armies fought. Uldrich’s troop almost ran in through the burning gate and into the courtyard. Unluckily for them, they ran straight into the musket fire of Ian’s riflebeasts. Suddenly, the one-eyed corsair got the order to turn back. It was one second past midnight. It was the twenty-seventh day. The pirates on the other walls swarmed up the ladders but waited for the attack signal. Alrack grabbed the bomb that was the signal and walked through the gate under the arch that no foebeast had ever yet passed. He lit the bomb and tossed it.

Then the vermin charged like a black tidal wave. Ian, Silderon, Bernie, and Thayder each took command of a wall, holding the vermin back while the knights regrouped inside. The forces of Alrack attacked the main force of the knights, which proved a costly mistake. The wall forces grabbed rifles and double-barrel shotguns and fired down into the pirates. Flickey the rat tried to get some riflebeasts and fire up, but a blast from Ian’s double-barrel disemboweled him, blowing the guard’s innards to bits, with blood and shreds of intestine flying everywhere. The riflebeasts scattered and were killed almost instantly by other fire. The corsairs didn’t know where to turn! A rain of bullets came from every direction, some shotguns killing two or three with every volley.

Eventually, Uldrich had to call a full retreat. The entire force ran out of the gate, with the ones spit off the back being shot down. The night was a sullen one for the pirates. Alrack had been phenomenally angry when he learned of the invasion force’s defeat. The twenty-seventh day was over, and Alrack did not have enough vermin or supplies to continue besieging the castle. He tried one last trick.

The Bregellach had been fully taken and refurbished by the forces of Thazanc. The contact between Shadow Bastion and the new fortress had been started, and supplies were flowing in. Colonel Neams had been placed in command. He was evil, but even he shivered as two Souleaters arrived on their Wyrms for an inspection of the base. Neams saluted stiffly as the two black-cloaked creatures walked by, surveying the Bastion and its defenses.

One of them strode over to Neams.

We have a message from the Black Master. He requests that he shall come through here on his way to Hydrocaus. Prepare this fortress for his arrival.

The fox shivered. “B-b-b-but sir! The M-m-m-master is stuck in the P-p-p-p-pit, right? How c-c-c-can he c-c-c-ome?”

He has a new bearing case in which he can travel. Prepare, Neams, or else.

Neams saluted again and ran into his tower. Ra’vok was coming!

Two days later, Neams was settling down for the night when a single knock echoed around the still bastion. He threw on armor and ran down to the gatehouse. “Wake up! Open the gate!” The gatekeeper rose and grabbed the crank, lifting up the iron door. A small contingent of Thazancians carrying a strange container marched in. The container was one of the strangest things that Neams had seen in his life. It was a large oval, about six feet long and two feet wide. It was made of black metal with bronze inlay, but the weirdest feature was on the top of the case. There was an iron rod two inches long sticking up, with a mechanical eye mounted on it. The eye was bright red and glowing, while looking around wildly. The voice of the Black Master spoke suddenly.

Who is in command here?

Neams trembled under the eye’s piercing glare. “I a-a-am, sir. My n-n-name is Colonel Neams, of the Th-th-thazancian army, at your c-c-command, sir.”

Very well. Bearers! I wish to inspect this fortress!

One of the bearers, a stoat, looked quizzically at the eye. “But Sire, the Souleaters checked this place yesterday! Is it really necessary to do it again…”

SILENCE! NO one talks back to me! I will check this fortress before I continue on to Shadow Bastion. Anyone who wishes to argue will be put to death immediately. Any questions?

There was a long silence before the voice of Ra’vok spoke again.

Good. Now, will you carry me around to inspect?

The stoat who had spoken before piped up again. “Really, now. Are you, the greatest Destromancer of all time, so weak that you need us to carry you around everywhere…” He never got the chance to speak again. The eye turned to face him, small tongues of fire flickering around the edges. It turned first red, then black, then yellow, a phantasmagoria of dark fiery color. The stoat knew he was in for it. “Master, please, I never meant to offend… you… please!” The eye shot out one beam of energy, then another, and another, until a ray of dark power was concentrated on the stoat. He fell to his knees, growing weaker and weaker, until finally he collapsed to the ground, dead as a doornail.

The rest of the bearers averted their eyes as the body was consumed by the eye, leaving only a small pile of ash. Then they carried Ra’vok’s case up the stairs into the keep. An hour later, the bearers returned.

Neams, your fortress passes inspection. Now, you had better keep it that way, or… the eye’s stare turned towards the pile of ash... you will end up like him. Do you understand me?

Neams nodded weakly. “Y-y-yes, sir! Thank you, s-s-sir!” The fox turned and walked into the keep, running as soon as he was out of sight. The bearers walked back out of the gate into the plain, mounting Wyrms and placing the case in a small steel compartment roped between two of the flying snakes. They flew off into the night, further north to Shadow Bastion. Norsän-Ran was now officially under the control of Thazanc.

Jake did not know how long he had been riding in the small wagon. He guessed it was about a week since the kidnapping. Suddenly, the wagon stopped. The Destromancers set the wagon handles down when the entire party was on a wooden platform set in the ground. It started lowering, down, down, down into caves. The caves of Deadbeast Bluff. Then he knew that he had three days, as soon as he saw the fire-filled pits and the wooden contraptions. Three more Destromancers came over to it using a swinging catwalk attached to a wooden crane. They got off onto the stone pillar and the wooden platform and over to Jake’s wagon.

One of them, a particularly evil weasel named Iolargh, poked at the cart with his wand.

“Is this the one?”

One of the first two nodded. “Aye, brother Iolargh, that he is. In three days, he is the one who will be sacrificed.” He said the word with relish. They hauled the cart over the catwalk and into some rough-hewn tunnels. Two Thazancians grabbed the Maow roughly by the arms and threw him into a cell. Iolargh slammed the barred door and laughed. “Hahaha! Have a nice stay, but you’ll die anyways!”

The Thazancians stayed by the cell, while Iolargh and the other one walked away into another sanctum of the caves.

The weasel slunk onto the catwalk and signaled for it to be moved down to the lower levels. The wooden crane creaked as it lowered rope to move the catwalk down. Iolargh got off at the seventh level and joined the Thazancian officer Captain Vurgal. They walked to a small room with a table and many chairs, in which many officers and Destromancers were already sitting. Iolargh and Vurgal sat down and Iolargh motioned for the meeting to begin.

“Now friends, let this meeting begin.”

A small marten officer spoke up. “It has come to our attention that the Maow is in our power and it is three days till the Eve of Half-Year. I ask all Destromancers this question: are we really sure that this proposed sacrifice will really produce enough energy to heal Ra’vok? I mean, no one has ever really tested it before, have they?”

Iolargh thought a while before answering. “We know that it will work. Testing is irrelevant. Do you really doubt a prophecy like that?”

“But it was a prophecy from Fernwood!”

“Where it came from doesn’t matter right now. If you want our master to be brought back, then you will go along with the fixed idea. Now, does anyone have any other important matters to bring up?”

Fangedeye, a senior Thazancian sergeant, fiddled with a small dagger before speaking. “I recently received news that Captain Rivenhand’s squadron was destroyed by pirates on their way to Fernwood. Should we take this force into account?”

Iolargh answered immediately. “If they are attacking Fernwood, all the better. We can hope that those two forces will destroy each other and get a lot of resistance out of our way. However, we need pirates. You know, for Hydrocaus’s project.” The whole table nodded. Vurgal looked around. “Anything else?” Silence. “Then I guess this meeting is over.” Everyone got up and went back to work.

The siege of Fernwood was over. Beaten within an inch of their lives, the pirates drew back and retreated into the forest. Ian and his friends hunted down any who were still in the trenches and got rid of them. Alrack’s once-great army was reduced to about one hundred and twenty, with thirty wounded. The black weasel’s dream of conquering Greenbloom had been crushed.

In the pirate camp, things were in a horrible state. Ten of the thirty wounded were now dying, and Uldrich’s new mate Rentgorm was now missing both legs and an arm. Uldrich was forced to put the poor animal out of his misery. Alrack called Crowblood into his tent to check over some maps. “Crowblood! Do you know this route?”

“Aye, I do. Why?”

“Because I need ta lead the rest o’ our force outta here before the rest o’ these Fernwooders finish us off. Is it a good route?”

“Yessir. I could lead us out in a week or less.”

“Good. Ye can go now.”

The map, left on the table, showed a dotted line from Fernwood Castle, down South over the Acar Kentís, and into the caves of Deadbeast Bluff. Unfortunately, there was not one beast in the corsair camp that knew the creeping evil in those caves under the hill. The pirates were unknowingly walking into something that would decide the fate of Greenbloom.

At Fernwood, the situation was less severe. The losses of the knights were three times smaller than the pirates, and the walls only had minor damage. Thayder and Ian walked along supervising the repair parties toiling to haul new stones into place and stick them together with thick mortar. One of the pirates, Gaffjaw, had been captured and was being interrogated by Silderon.

“Yer wastin’ yer time. I’ll never talk!”

Silderon reached onto a shelf and brought down a small jar of scorpion venom. “Are you so sure?” He grabbed an eyedropper and sucked up some of the green liquid. Leaning over the pirate, he asked again.

“I said, I’ll. Never. Talk!”

The mouse squeezed the leather casing. Two drops trickled down into Gaffjaw’s eyes. The poison took effect quickly. The vermin’s eyes started to liquify, slowly melting and dripping searing drops of venom on his face. The remnants started to flow out of his eye sockets, burning tracks on his face. He screamed in agony. The sizzling liquid slowly bored into his skull, so painful that Silderon had to stuff cotton in his ears to block out the screaming. The pirate’s face had several holes where the stuff had burned through into his head. The screams increased until the venom melted into his brain, and he fell silent in death.

Silderon gaped. So this was what the venom’s effect was. He needed to find out more. In an hour, he had packed a jar into his saddlebag and rode off to Arvand. That evening, he reached the city, with still three days to save his king. He walked into the Archdeacon’s Square and through the doors. Archdeacon Laburnum was sitting in her chair, looking over a map of Glimroft.

“Milady, I require your assistance.”

“Well? What is it?”

“I need you to help identify this venom. It was gathered from two creatures I slew.”

Laburnum sat up and strode across the room to where Silderon was standing. She took the jar and peered at the green acid inside. “I honestly have never seen this before. Take this to Sir Kallow of the Interregional Committee on Trade and Relations. The ICTR’s office is the grey building on Birchwood Plaza. They can identify this.”

Silderon went out into the paved roads and followed street signs to Birchwood Plaza. Sure enough, there was a large grey building there, with a small hanging sign above the door reading ICTR: General Offices. He knocked on the door, which was promptly opened by one of the grey-uniformed soldiers of Arvand, and went in. There was a side door that led to a large hall, in which Kallow was sitting at a large table.

“Mr. Kallow. I am Silderon Keener, of Fernwood Castle. I must request that you help identify this strange venom.”

The lizard got up from his carved wooden seat. “I muzt inzizt, you give that venom to me, for zafekeeping. I will identify it, if you can but wait three minutez. I think I know what you have. The Zcorpionguard of Deadbeazt Bluff are the only onez with the venom that meltz. If that iz what you have, that iz it. You may go now.” Knowing his audience was over, the mouse ran out into the streets, down stairs to the courtyard facing the gate. Mounting and riding out, he rode as fast as he could, now knowing that Jake had indeed been kidnapped by the forces of Deadbeast Bluff, for the sacrifice on the Eve of Half-Year. At about midnight, he rode back into Fernwood, with information that could prove extremely valuable in the three days they had.

As Silderon rode back through the gates, Thayder ran out to meet him. “Silderon! We have news! Samuel and his company have nearly found that wizard, and will return in a day or two! We must hope that this true, for without Samuel, I know in my heart that the prophecy will come to naught, and Ra’vok will rise again and this way of life will end.”

“I know,” said the mouse as he dismounted and walked over, “We all wish that this had not happened in our time. Yet it has, and we must deal as best we can. All of Greenbloom must rest their hopes upon our Samuel.”

The two slowly went back inside the castle, all hoping that the mouse warrior must return within three days, or the world would fall. All were looking out the windows to the North, hoping beyond hope that Samuel would return, to save all from destruction and ruin.