How we came about the giant ("All Hail the River King!" Act 1/2)

[Captain Tammo]

I've been steadily working on a new fan fiction for a while. It's split up into 2 acts - each a fair-sized chunk. Act II is still incomplete, but Act I is finished and is more or less a story on its own, so I thought I'd post it in honor of the festivities the forum has going on. Eventually it becomes about a character that's popped up in one of my other fanfics, but it's not something you need context on. Anyway, here's a teaser. I'll keep adding chapters throughout the month. I hope you like it!

Act 1: How we came about the giant.

"...these mountains breed a special kind of evil." ~Captain Taney Sirgenal, 15th Scouting Unit of the Long Patrol

Chapter 1: Rumors from the North

Chapter 1: Rumors from the North

Lord Barbourn the Brawler did not earn his title for nothing. He was a champion through and through; he never chose to carry a weapon other than the paws he was born with, an unusual decision for a ruler of Salamandastron . Traditionally, the mountain's rulers had a reputation for wielding the most bizarre weapons as if it were a competition with each successor. But not Barbourn, he was a ruler who had a great appreciation for nature, always claiming that it would have given him swords for paws if he needed them.

   The land of Mossflower had been vacant of warmongers in recent seasons, though the land itself was by no means secure. Thieves and bandits were the real rulers of Mossflower country, and Salamandastron had been locked in a war for control since the dawn of time. Such parties of bandits were the very reason for the formation of the Long Patrol. The scouting patrols covered Mossflower like a spider-web. Whenever there was a disturbance in one link, it could be passed along until it reached the center of the web and the threat could be analyzed.

   Lord Barbourn sat in his chamber, a great forge at the top of the mountain, lounging in the sill of a grand, arched window, carved out of the mountain's rock walls. He looked out over the sea. Spring had arrived, which was met with a series of updates from the patrols across Mossflower. It was normal to not get them all on the same day, as Spring does not always appear to begin at the same time everywhere. One thing that had Barbourn concerned was the status of Captain Sirgenal's party, who had neither reported in with a scout nor been seen in over a month. The unit had been sent into the mountains north of Salamandastron in search of a notorious outlaw.

   This outlaw was a rat who went by the name of Orfeo the Contraptionist. He was wanted for designing a series of highly efficient war machines for a now long-defeated warlord. Barbourn had been sending patrols out to capture Orfeo alive for more than ten seasons. He even went so far as to issue a public warrant to all creatures in exchange for a pardoning of past misdeeds and a gold reward. Still, no creature, good or evil, was able to find the elusive criminal and there was no telling if or when the next warlord would rise to power in Mossflower with Orfeo's designs ready to do their killing.

   The lack of information coming back from Sirgenal's patrol worried Barbourn a great deal to the point where he himself considered making a venture into the North. But his duty was to the mountain first and he was thus forced to remain where he could allocate tasks most efficiently. If it were not for his doing, the land of Mossflower would undoubtedly fall into chaos. He decided that there could be no room given for the bands of vermin to expand any further than they already had. That would only mean more warlords, which were no easy burden to deal with when one's force was spread across the land as thin as a table sheet.

   There was, however, some relief over the past season: Leonardo Williams, a mouse whom Lord Barbourn had raised like a son since near birth, had made a return back to the fortress after some twenty seasons of absence. It was a reason for celebration like no other. The proud father-figure listened closely as Leonardo retold events of valiant adventures across the Western Sea. Though he was very clearly worn, and had a pair of ears that were heavily scarred and nearly in tatters from seasons of madness, there was no denying that this was Leonardo, healthy once more.

   Since his return, Leonardo had done a number of small tours at sea in a coastal guard, serving as a commanding officer. At that moment, he was in between tours and resting at the mountain. It was a thrill to have him back. It reminded Barbourn of how old he was starting to become.

   Stopping his thought process with the mention of his age, Barbourn sat up and gave a stretch before chai houg his reflection in a large brass shield and making his way to the door of his chamber. He rapped on it gently. With a grunt of effort from the other side, the heavy door shifted to reveal an attendant in full parade uniform. The hare gave a stiff salute, "Good morning, m' Lord. What may I do t' assist ye, sah?"

   "Good morning, corporal, please bring me Captain Tussock." Sounded the monolith's quiet voice. He then turned back towards the room and walked once more to the windowsill.

   The attendant produced a list from the inside of his parade jacket and placed a monocle over one eye to read it. After a brief moment, he piped up, "No-can-do, m' Lord. Captain Tussock is away on tour at sea, wot. He won't be back for another two weeks, sah."

   Barbourn paused in his steps and raised his head in realization. "Ah, yes, of course. Then please bring me the next in command, Officer Finneck."

   "Forgive me, m' Lord, 'm afraid that Officer Finneck is currently away on duty in the South, sah. You sent him out to check in on Captain Sharpe's patrol, sah."

   "Oh, that's right. I remember, now. What about Captain Lucious?"

   "She is away on tour, sah. Won't be back fer 'nother week, sah."

   "Surely, Warrant Officer Waly is here. What is his current assignment?"

   "Yes, sah, Warrant Officah Waly is present at the fortress. He is currently training the leverets down on the beach, sah."

   "Excellent! Have him come up to my chambers. I can have Warrant Officer O'Donnavin take his place."

   "Impossible, sah! You've sent Warrant Officah O'Donnavin out on the second vessel of the naval patrol, sah.

   Barbourn gave a sigh of frustration and rubbed the corners of his eyes. "Is there any capable beast left at this fortress, currently without an assignment or with one that may be reassigned to a lower ranking official?"

   "Yes, m'Lord. There are many creatures left here at the mountain, wot. But capable and without assignment already, sah? Forgive me, m' Lord, but there are none above or currently at the rank of sergeant, wot."

   Another sigh escaped Barbourn's chest. "Would you please tell me who is available, Corporal?"

   The attendant looked through the list, moving his head from side to side and holding the monocle closer and closer to his eye. "Erm, the only one I see on here, sah, is Lance Corporal Bobo. Her current assignment is guarding the armory, but ye could certainly find a private willing to fill her place if she were away, wot!"

   "That name sounds familiar... Why is she guarding the armory?"

   "Says here, m' Lord, that she's a top notch candidate fer promotion t' corporal, and has been commended twice on being an expert at wilderness survival, sah. I'm not sure why we've put 'er on guard fer th' armory, wot."

   "Very well, Corporal, send for her quick as you can and I will give her the next assignment."

        The attendant threw a quick salute before darting down the long corridor to the base of the mountain. "Yes, m' Lord! Right away, m' Lord!"

        Lord Barbourn turned his back to his chamber and took a look at a large wooden slab at the end of the room that hung from the ceiling along the wall. The age-old wood was draped over with an enormous map of Mossflower. It was a beautiful product of seasons of patient cartography, and it served as the main hub from which Barbourn could stay updated on the most recent positions and status of his patrols. He shifted his focus towards a single blue pin towards the north of Salamandastron— the last known whereabouts of Captain Sirgenal's party. Just a few days more and Barnourn would have to mark the patrol as missing in action. He hoped that wherever they were, they were still on their feet and pressing onward. The Western Mountains that served as a wall to Mossflower's shore were certainly a mysterious region of the world. Peril was no stranger to them, either, especially in the northern parts. Rumors of sudden blizzards, the barbaric Sazaar, avalanches and rugged bandits seemed to crawl around those parts. It was a place where myth and reality seemed to walk hand-in-hand. The most recent news to come out of the mountains was from a wanderer. She spoke of a new potential threat roaming the area: a giant.

[close]

[The Skarzs]

Ohhhh, a giant?
Looking forward to reading more!

[Captain Tammo]

Thank you sir Skarzs!

Chapter 2: The Only One for the Job

Chapter 2: The Only One for the Job

"Carmen O'Foster Bobo, lance corporal of the glor-ious Long Patrol at yer service, Corporal! Seems about right that Lord Barbourn should summon me, wot! Nary a single beast has crossed in front o' this 'ere armory without having t' go through ole Lance Corporal Bobo! M' duty's me life an' m' life's me duty, wot wot!" The awkwardly tall Carmen O'Foster Bobo made a swooping bow to the attendant, who brought word that the badger lord wished to see her for an important assignment.

The attendant was less than amused by Carmen's enthusiasm. Something was not adding up quite right in his mind. "Er, right then, Lance Corporal, follow me, please..."

"Wait, Corporal." Carmen called to him, "Who will we leave in charge of the armory whilst I'm away? Certainly it can't be just anybeast."

"A replacement has already been called for, Lance Corporal, they are on their way— please stop touching my jacket!"

"Apologies, Corporal, sah. I couldn't 'elp but notice that you 'ad a single thread of grey on yer fine military jacket, wot. An' th' Long Patrol Code of Conduct clearly states in entry one hundred— one o' me fav'rite entries if I may add, sah; gives me a chill o' pride e'ry time I read it, wot! It says that 'A force t' be reckoned with must look the part in all ways, shapes and forms. Thus, all patrol units serving under the Badger Lord, or standing general hare, must keep their uniforms in perfect order, keep every hair on their body tamed, keep medals of all forms shined and neatly sewn or stashed and, above all, must maintain a posture that demands both respect and fear from the enemy—"

"—Thank you, lance corporal Bobo, I know what the code of conduct states; I was one of many who assisted in the writing of its most recent revision, wot." The attendant's back straightened, as if he were about to secure a victory. "If I may correct you, however, the end of entry number one-hundred calls for the posture of all hares to 'demand respect, fear and capability beyond even their 'own selves.' That is, if you cannot beat the enemy, appear as if you can, as it very well may save your hide." The Corporal's smile faded as he saw Carmen turn her eyes downward in the corner of his eye, the only sign of disappointment that she must have allowed herself to show. "Eyes up, Lance Corporal." The attendant added, "An' cheer up, you're about to see the Badger Lord for an assignment. Look th' part, wot."

Up, up to the very top chamber of the mountain fortress, the great forge room where, for generations, Badger Lords toiled away at making the most legendary armor and weaponry in the land. All Long Patrol hares carried a weapon from that great room, even Carmen and the attendant. It was a great honor, though this was something that Carmen never needed to be reminded of.

The pair would have walked in silence from then on had it not been for the flurry of questions to come from Carmen about the assignment. Equally occasional replies from the attendant were efforts to convince her that did not know what the assignment detailed ("No, I will not guess what I think the blinkin' assignment is, wot. Please, Lance Corporal, you will find out in but ten minutes!").

Nearing the end of the maze that carried traffic up and down the complex mountain, the attendant took a hard right and the two ascended a very wide set of spiral stone stairs. It did not go terribly far until the two came to a level platform at the top. Carmen stopped just behind the corporal and stood at what she imagined to be the most rigid attention she had ever accomplished. She shifted only her eyes to look herself up and down, as if to verify that she was still there. Once she had made sure that not a single thread on her uniform was out of place, her two bulging eyes returned to their forward, stiff position. The attendant knocked on the great, arched door and stepped back to wait for Lord Barbourn to answer.

"Relax, Lance Corporal." Said the attendant. Carmen could feel herself loosen up a bit at this until the attendant added with a wink, "It's only the most powerful creature this side of Mossfl'wer country, wot."

She wanted to shout, and very well may have had the great door not glided open at that same moment. Lord Barbourn was a ruler through and through, truly a creature that brought about what many hares called a feeling of 'respectful terror'. Badgers were a nearly mythical kind of creature in Mossflower, and Carmen was witnessing one face-to-face. To see a badger from afar is often enough to shock, but to stand so close— to feel the coolness of the shadow that their giant frames cast and rattle about when one sounded their base voice— to experience the presence of a giant was to experience a legend.

"Lance Corporal Carmen O'Foster Bobo, thank you for coming on such short notice." Barbourn did not wait for Lance Corporal Bobo to reply, but he did give a wave to signal 'at-ease'. "Follow me, please—thank you, Corporal, that will be all for the moment."

The attendant threw Barbourn a silent salute, spit on his paws, rubbed them together and pulled on the oaken door until it closed with a muffled thud.
Lord Barbourn led Carmen into the forge room. The young hare could not help but stare about the room in wonder. It was the first time Carmen had ever been in the forge room of the badger lord. They passed the wall of weaponry, which did not do much to calm her nerves. The weapons were not wildly shaped nor bizarre in material and consistency, as could be expected. The Long Patrol was a unit which prided itself in tradition and order; it was only natural to use equipment which reflected their views. Barbaric designs like those wielded by corsairs and vermin tended to disgust the valiant mountain hares. On one such occasion, ages prior when Orfeo the Contraptionist first rolled out his hideous battle machines, a hare by the name of General General (yes, a general named 'General') was the first one who spotted the enemy on the horizon. Peering through his spyglass, surrounding officials saw his jaw drop and thought they heard him gasp as if to vomit. One captain said he heard General General refer to the kinetic armada as 'a rancid insult to the very foundation of the civilized world.' Some went as far to say that General General did not fight that day for the safety of others, but rather to restore a sense of order and uniformity to his world. Now Lance Corporal Bobo was about to learn that her journey would take her straight through Orfeo's territory.

Lance Corporal Bobo tried to listen carefully to Lord Barbourn give his instructions. As soon as he mentioned Captain Sirgenal's missing patrol, her mind erupted into a shower of buzzing. Combined with the burning forge, which kept the great room in a sweltering heat, the intimidating stature of the badger lord, and standing at a stiff attention, the weight of the new environment nearly made Carmen faint twice. Remembering to unlock her knees seemed to do the trick and soon the black stars floating around her field of view faded away.

"...and they haven't been heard from since. We expect them to be somewhere in the northern region of the Western Mountain range, perhaps trapped there by harsh elements or some other unnatural force – those parts are not strangers to the odd and dangerous. I will not waste time on details, as you will have ample opportunity to read up on those on your journey. But if I am to stress any one thing at all, Lance Corporal, it is that time is of the essence. I need Sirgenal back here as soon as possible. I have just received news that an otter clan, situated on a tributary to the River Moss, is on the brink of a civil war. It would not be of any business of the Long Patrol under normal circumstances. But, unfortunately, the situation is by no means normal...

"Please be careful, Lance Corporal. Sirgenal is a strong leader and a seasoned veteran. I can only begin to guess what could possibly be holding up his unit... There's no time to waste. You are to depart immediately and track them down, or what I fear is left of them. Bring as many as you can back to the mountain, safe and sound. Is that understood, Lance Corporal?"

Carmen was fully back to reality. She saved herself the embarrassment of asking Lord Barbourn to repeat the entire mission statement, as he was handing her a written copy and a sealed letter for any who may attempt to detain her along the way (such a letter would never work among bandits, but for territorial settlements, it could create a bit of trust and get Carmen a meal or a place to stay). "Yes, M'lord! Find Cap'n Sirgenal's unit an' bring 'em back safe, M'lord! Won't fail ye, M'lord! Quick's the word an' sharp's the action, I'll hop right to it, M'lord!"

Lord Barbourn smiled, "Thank you, Lance Corporal, you are doing us a great service in taking on this mission. I understand it may be a daunting task to take on alone, however you are the only one here who can take the job. Seasons aid you on your search, you are dismissed."

The attendant opened the door as Carmen was marching out. She turned to give a stiff nod to the Corporal and then continued on her way to the kitchens. The cooks would have a bag of provisions waiting for her.

The afternoon came and Carmen was now over the beach's north horizon. Lord Barbourn's attendant sat at a small writing desk outside of the great forge room, list in paw. He opened his ink jar and reached for a feather quill. Running the pen down list, he checked looked over the running status of each hare at the mountain. Inaudible mumbles sounded from the corporal's lips, "Let's see, here. Ah, Lance Corporal Adley, Lance Corporal Bedwin, Lance Corporal... Bobo – yes here we are... What th' devil?"

The attendant reached for his monocle and held it closely to his eye. Hovering mere inches over the detailed list, he spotted something peculiar in Lance Corporal Bobo's 'promotion status' column. For some reason, it read 'promotion delayed due to incompetence'. The attendant recoiled with confusion. He could have sworn it said 'promotion overdue, exceptional wilderness survival skills'. Unless that was not actually Carmen's status he was reading, but the status of the one below her on the chart... which... uh oh. a cold sweat broke on the back of the attendant's neck,

It appeared that the attendant, had recommended the wrong hare for the job – he had meant to suggest Lance Corporal Crash, who would be returning to the mountain from a patrol that evening. The attendant cursed outwardly. For a few moments, the attendant only stared at the page in disbelief. Perhaps it was only an illusion? Sadly, it was not. "I knew your name was familiar." He said into the page, "The one who knows the Long Patrol forwards an' backwards by the books but can't so much as hit the ground with a sling an' stone, wot!"

Was it worth telling the badger lord about this? He must have passed some fifteen minutes of thinking, sitting perfectly still in the semi-silence of the mountain. Being with no knowledge of what kind of mission Lance Corporal Bobo was now on seemed to only complicate things... Finally, the attendant reached his conclusion. Using many jagged sweeps of his arms, he checked Lance Corporal Bobo off as 'away', dated it, and stuffed the list back into his parade uniform. "She'll be back soon enough an' we can deal with it then." His words were spoken only to comfort his own conscious. Somebeast was going to get demoted, and the attendant was convinced that he had worked too hard to be bumped back down to lance corporal.

[close]

[Captain Tammo]

Chapter 3: Storms in the Mouth of the Wolf

Chapter 3: Storms in the Mouth of the Wolf

Day and night came and went five times without any incident, and Carmen O'Foster Bobo was beginning to feel considerably bored of her journey. She had yet to fall into a groove with her travelling. She would wander indecisively from the wet sand nearest the water, where there was firm footing and a breeze that was still too cold, to above the beach, where the tall grass tickled her legs too much for comfort. Villagers and the like tended to revere Long Patrol scouts as warriors that saw action day and night. The reality of a scouting life was anything but that. Bandits were plentiful in Mossflower country, but Mossflower country was also an enormous region. One could be out on a month-long loop and only find two hours of what could be passed as 'action'. Even though those two hours may be heroic in every way, there was no high for the days upon days of uneventful boredom that one could encounter. At the end of it all, the Long Patrol was a service, not a source of entertainment.

Towards the afternoon of the sixth day, Carmen's indecisive path along the shore led her to Holt Terria, a semi-secluded sea otter settlement that, like most other otter holts along the north coast of Mossflower's encompassing land, thrived primarily off of fishing. Hoping to get a lead on Sirgenal's whereabouts, Carmen asked around if anybeast had seem him or any other hares pass through the area. They all shook their heads at her and cut off any hopes of further inquiry by returning to whatever task Carmen had interrupted. This was normal behavior in the northlands. Dangerous climates tended to turn out gruffer creatures, which was one of the main reasons why Mossflower was such a popular destination. Generations earlier, it was promises of ample food and easy living that pulled beasts from the far North and South in to the so-called 'center of the world'. Naturally, there were more stubborn beasts who were hesitant to let go of their peaceful solitude, and so remained a few holdouts in the more extreme regions. Finding a place to live in the world always had a trade-off: hard regions like the wastelands and mountain ranges had fewer inhabitants but more rugged bandits and thieves; the coasts were wide open and offered opportunities for trade, but also served as a breeding ground for corsairs; and Mossflower woods did not care what kind of creature it was being hospitable to, and so vermin were as fat and plentiful as any other creature in the area.

The chieftain of Holt Terria did not seem impressed by Carmen's letter from Lord Barbourn asking for free hospitality, mumbling something about 'not getting the protection the mountain has given in past generations'. But he allowed for Carmen to stay for the night and had her haversack resupplied with fish. Shortly after dawn the next day, Carmen wasted little time in resuming her grand quest; it would not be wise to overstay her welcome when the settlement already seemed frustrated with Barbourn's strategy for patrolling the known land.

It is worth noting that, with population booms occurring nearly everywhere over the past generation, the world was bustling with more creatures than ever and thus there was bound to be more trouble to follow. Even the numerous, well-trained warriors of Salamandastron were being stretched too thin to do as well a job as the previous generations. This created a mild atmosphere of anxiety in some regions which relied on the Long Patrol's regular passes for protection. It was not long before ragtag militias came about and, while these units did help lift a burdensome weight off of Lord Barbourn's shoulders, settlements that were once reclusive began taking to the idea of expansion to the point of declaring war on one another. The old, simpler way of life in Mossflower Country would be on a steep decline into chaos if order was not restored soon enough. And so the responsibility once again fell to Lord Barbourn.

Carmen marked her map on the fly. She calculated that, if she continued her current pace along Captain Sirgenal's patrol route, one day's time would have her turning East into the mountain range to the last known whereabouts of the patrol. The mountains had been in Carmen's sight the whole way up the coast, but at no place in particular they seemed to change from the tranquil mountains she knew and grew up alongside, to a threatening jumble of jagged points surrounded by black clouds, resembling the mouth of a starved wolf curling back its lip in a snarl. Nothing about the sight brought Lance Corporal Bobo any comfort. Unfortunately for her, it did not matter how monster-esque the lay of the land appeared. She had an assignment directly from Badger Lord Barbourn and she was expected to carry it out with all the professionalism of a Long Patrol hare.

By the time that the day came and went, it was time to make the turn East. Carmen sat down to take stock of her supplies before heading into the mountains. She had enough food for one week, which consisted of the fish given to her at Holt Terria (already threatening to spoil if she did not eat it soon) and the classic 'scout provisions' from Salamandastron: a mix of nuts and dried fruit that one could march on with just a few pawfuls a day. The pack also contained plenty of water and a small flask with a berry wine inside it – something all scouts were given to celebrate special occasions while away, clean wounds, or serve as a means of purifying water. Lastly, there was a small series of items for Carmen's journey: a small-ish rope, travel log and quill, flint and striker, a bag with thirty assorted coins inside (which were always useful despite there being no unifying currency in the world of Mossflower), a frying pan, sleeping mat, her mission statement, map and letter from the badger lord. After moving the rope and coins towards the top of the haversack, Carmen slung it across her shoulder and pressed onward into the northern region of the great mountains.

~oOo~

"Blimey, no wonder the Cap'n got lost runnin' 'round here. Quite a dark region to wandering about in, wot... 'S just my luck." Carmen mumbled to herself. Even still, her enthusiasm was enough to carry her through the first hours in the region. In fact, it may have been what allowed her to spot some of the hidden beauty in the area. Sometimes, along the way, the sun would peek through the clouds just right and patches of the range were lit up like a series of actors on a stage.

Soon after one such occasion, the spotlight columns of light were ushered away in the span of a minute. And, just as suddenly, there sounded a tremendous boom. Carmen stopped dead in her tracks and looked around herself for what she assumed would be somebeast banging a drum or perhaps even a rockslide. Only when she turned around toward the West did she find the source of the noise. An armada of black thunderclouds – as ominous and foreboding as ever – was charging towards her at a breakneck pace. Hurdling over itself, the wall of clouds seemed hardly able to keep up with the wind. They billowed laterally across the range like one would see in the smoke from a wildfire. A heavy thunderstorm had followed Carmen from the sea into the mountains, and it was not much longer after the storm was spotted that it was upon the clumsy traveler.

While not exactly suited for the job ahead of her, Carmen wasted no time in making a bolt for some kind of shelter. It certainly would not be a good idea to sit under a tree when there was thunder, so there was an effort made to find a rocky overhang or something of the sort. To her amazement, Carmen found exactly that and launched herself beneath it with another clap of thunder. The storm came in like a squall and it stayed that way for some time. Wind dashed every which-way, circling about and changing course as quickly as a flock of starlings, blasting rainwater at a near horizontal trajectory. Frigid water came in underneath Carmen's rocky overhang and pecked her all along her side like little birds. At first, she found some relief in moving to the far end of the shelter, where the rain could not reach her, but then the wind shifted and Carmen was once more given a rude dousing from the weather. Now shivering from the cold and seeing no signs of the storm letting up, Carmen returned to the center of the overhang and pulled her parade uniform up and around her head.

"Ooh c'mon, Carmen, you can power through this 'un, yer a Bobo after all! What would Grandpa Bose Bobo say, wot? Wouldn't wanna disappoint 'im, doncha know..." Her voice was hardly audible over the roar of the wind. The young hare curled up in a ball and placed her haversack in front of her (the inside was already soaked at this point; there was no reason to try keeping it dry anymore) in an effort to keep at least some of the weather out of her makeshift shelter.

The thunderstorm howled and wailed, sometimes so loud that it was enough to startle. Then there was the lightning, which, while Carmen kept her eyes shut and face buried in her jacket and haversack, was still enough to deliver a flash at the corners of her eyelids, the longest of which lasting a full two seconds. In the entire duration of the chaos from that point on, the young hare ventured only two peeks. The first of which was coordinated with a flash of lightning which temporarily blinded her. The second glance, a much longer one, showed her a terrifying sight.

Probably the best description available of the storm in the mountains did not come from Lance Corporal Bobo, but the written eye-witness account of one Long Patrol Lieutenant Rene (pronounced 'rainy') Ackerman, who, seasons prior, had ventured through the region as a scout.

It was... the most terrifying experience of my entire life. No band of vermin robbers have ever, nor will ever, take the place of that squall-ish nightmare. Wind blew very hard through the valley between the mountain peaks – so hard that I felt as if the very fabric of the world was being torn apart at the foundation level. [M]ost we could do was sit there in our despicable lean-to of sticks and leaves and mud, cowering before the weather like some kind of pack of creatures seeing the civilized world for the first time. When the violence finally subsided some two hours later, the mountain range emerged heavily scarred. There was no rainbow to greet a weary traveller, but rather a mist that drained all color from the entire region, like a cloud that locals said marked the coming of Sazaar. It was then that it became apparent to me: if this region kept up its resistance to outsiders like us, we may find ourselves leaving with a fewer number than what we came in with.

Carmen woke up some time later. She shifted under a pile of sticks and leaves that had found their way to her in the storm. Aches and pains were all over from being tense, so much so that she had to dedicate a brief moment just to getting motor control back over her body. There was a heavy silence over everything. Carmen looked out and found that the mountains appeared no less ominous than before. Much like Lieutenant Rene had written, all colors seemed to have been washed away and covered in a veil of a mist. Water had filled Carmen's haversack, so she emptied it out and laid her supplies out to dry. She thought it was very fortunate that her ink bottle had not broken; that would have rendered her map and letter from Lord Barbourn useless.

What was much less fortunate was that the air was saturated, which, as Carmen soon found out, meant that her supplies would not be dry for some time. And having not the slightest desire to stick around in the warzone she had just spent an hour and a half in, the young hare threw her wet supplies back into her haversack, left the top open, and went on her way at double-speed. Captain Sirgenal had to be somewhere in these mountains, and it was very clear that the odds of finding the whole patrol alive were now smaller than ever.

[close]

[Captain Tammo]

Chapter 4: The Wunpaw and Carmen's Captive

Chapter 4: The Wunpaw and Carmen's Captive

     Until the early afternoon of that same day, Lance Corporal Carmen O'Foster Bobo's self-proclaimed 'grand search for the missing patrol', which she practiced saying many times to herself with grandeur, should a beast ever stop her and ask what she was doing, had yet to yield a single bit of success. It was so easy in the beginning, but after the rudeness of the otter holt on the north shore, the dangerous squall, and the entirety of her equipment being soaked through and chilling herself to the bone, the very last of young Carmen's enthusiasm had finally left her. She stumbled on through the trees, muttering to herself, "Well what'd ya expect, Carmen, eh? What? That ye'd find the blinkin' patrol sitting on logs 'round a campfire on th' first day out? Bah – outta me way, bloody tree branch. Take that!"
   Thwack!
   Carmen flopped backwards, flat on her back and with fir tree needles stuck to her face like she had run into the back of a hedgehog. It was too much. Still lying down, she held her head in her paws and gave a long shout of frustration, "You bloody mountains an' yer filthy, stinkin' trees! Yer filthy, stinkin' squalls an' yer filthy stinkin... rraaaargh!"
   Had the young hare truly known of what kind of environment she was in, she would have kept her mount shut and pressed on in silence. For not long after she picked herself up did a creature find her and begin following closely behind. Two yellowed eyes with brown irises and tiny, black pupils darted every which way, but always settled back onto Carmen from behind the shrubbery. The creature grinned wickedly: this beast was alone! It was one of those mountain hares, tired and unguarded. The creature licked its lips at the thought of its next meal. Setting back into reality, the savage beast moved forward steadily.

~oOo~

   Back at Salamandastron, Lord Barbourn the Brawler sat staring at his great map. The corporal at the door, the same one who had escorted Carmen into the forge room, had just let a messenger inside. He looked down the corridor to be sure that nobeast was watching him and he pressed an ear to the great door of the forge room. Ever since his mistake of mislabeling Carmen as the lance corporal most likely to get promoted, he had decided to begin listening a bit more intently to the details and happenings both on and around the mountain – beyond the series of notes he jotted down on his master list. Long, slender ear standing flush against the door, brow furled and eyes closed in an intense concentration, the attendant tried to tune out all other minute noises and disturbances around him. Carefully taking note of the conversation inside the forge room, this is what he heard:
   "Yes, m'lord, First Class Runner Flint Northock reportin' in after a two-week loop out t' the east, wot. Spent two days' quick directly east, through the mountains an' Ember Pass. Then took a curve northward up to the River Moss, wot. 'Passed th' village o' Turntokka on me way (no news to report there), an' carried on for two days more until I was met with th' River Moss, sah. From there, sah, I turned westward an' followed the stream back to th' coast. The waters looked to be fairly high until I came across the tributary of interest, sah. I stuck to the brush an' followed it upriver an' what I saw confirmed the recent reports from the surrounding area: a dam 'as been built by the tribe of river otters known as the Wunpaw an' it's blocking most o' the water from flowing downstream. Two distinct subgroups of the Wunpaw have set up camp on the east and west banks of the tributary. Both two sides are locked in a struggle for the River King's throne an' a civil war is likely if action is not soon taken. I spent a day getting a closer look an' spoke with the locals on each side as an official diplomat from Salamandastron, sah, an' I respectfully showed my credentials to all who asked. Through my talks with the elders of the tribe, I was able to learn about the Wunpaw tribe's history and culture, as well as why the situation is so tense.
   "It all started when Sirus Trubac, River King for some forty seasons, suddenly fell ill and died. Most elders on either side of the banks could agree on this, and this alone. However, the cause of River King Sirus's death remains a controversial topic. While some otters believe that his decline in health was due to head injury from a battle with a pike  many seasons prior – you see, in the Wunpaw culture, when there are no heirs to the throne, the council of elders may elect to hold a pike hunt. All who wish to ascend to the throne and become River King (or queen, though there has never been a queen) set out an hour before dawn, armed to the teeth with spears, daggers, nets and the like, and try to locate and kill a river pike. The rules state that no creature may leave the water, else they lose their shot at the throne, and..."
   "Focus, Runner Northock. Just tell me what must be done in order to fix the problem. There are entire settlements along the River Moss who need that water and are counting on us to provide a solution." Said Lord Barbourn. He brought the runner to a long table and offered him a seat at one end.
   The runner blushed and bowed low, "My most sincere apologies, sah," he said taking a seat. "Now where was I? Ah, yes, sah – while some otters believe that River King Sirus's decline in health was due to a longstanding head injury from battle with a pike many seasons prior, others suspect foul play may have been involved.
   "River King Sirus had two heirs, brothers named Prince Ahote and Prince Ohanko. Where the conflict began, sah, was during the onset of illness for Sirus, as, interestingly enough, Prince Ahote also became terribly ill. Shortly after his father's death, it was suspected that Prince Ahote would also die. Ohanko then approached the high council and asked if he could ascend to the throne. The council agreed, but on the condition that Ohanko must wait for Ahote's death. Miraculously, Ahote recovered from his illness, then immediately accused his brother of treason – claiming that Ohanko must have poisoned and killed their father as well as poisoned himself. A divide was made in the community. Some believed that it was suspicious both River King Sirus and Prince Ahote fell ill at the same time, and Prince Ohanko asked for the crown without being the sole heir. Others believed that Ohanko was acting within the best interest of the tribe. One thing, however, was clear – treason was committed. Either Ohanko tried to kill his father and brother, or Ahote lied about the attempt to poison him in order to banish Ohanko and assure his own place on the throne. Anger and tensions grew unhindered until distinct factions beneath each brother were founded. While there has been no violence yet, civil war is imminent if no action is taken, M'Lord."
   "And what of the dam, Runner Northock? Why was it constructed?"
   "It is dictated in the laws of the Wunpaw culture, sah, that the river can only flow under the rule of a River King. While both sides of the clan vehemently disagree with one another under almost all circumstances, something that the Wunpaw tribe holds very dear to themselves is their founding laws. Until a successor is chosen to become the new River King, both sides agreed that no water would be allowed to flow, so they diverted the river and built a dam."
   "Where was the river diverted?"
   "I spotted a large cave that runs underground with some easily distinguished channels dug from there to the river. I suspect that it is being used to divert the river."
   Barbourn thought for a brief moment. Runner Northock watched the giant creature's paw claws tap rhythmically on the knotted surface. "Did you take any action yourself in this situation? I hope that you explained that by depleting the levels of the River Moss, other settlements under my protection would be put at risk."
   "M'Lord, I did all that I could, but the Wunpaw are a stubborn lot – even for river otters, wot. My credentials gave me a hearing with the elders, but not a single creature would take instruction from me so long as I was not a – ah, what was it they said? A 'beast born of the water' sah."
   "They don't want to listen to you because you are not an otter, Runner Northock?"
   "Yes, M'Lord."
   "What about me? Do they not know that you are an ambassador of Salamandastron?"
   "I'm afraid they would not hear even from you, M'Lord. Their culture has all sorts of twists an' turns an' I was only there for a few days. Perhaps they would hear from you if the situation was not so dire for them, sah. They've made sure that they are well grounded in their tradition."
   For nearly half a minute, the runner waited patiently as Lord Barbourn sat in hard concentration. "From what you could gather, how much time do you think we have before a civil war erupts?"
   The runner paused for a moment in thought. He dared not break form in front of the Badger Lord for a more comfortable posture. "It is imminent, sah. It could very well be happening now."
   Lord Barbourn gave a sigh and grabbed a goblet of wine from a nearby table. He went to sip it, but stopped himself short and set it back down with another sigh. "Well," he said "then there is no time to lose." Barbourn traversed the room and whipped open the great oaken door at the end. The attendant on the other side of the door nearly fell forward, having lost the surface he was leaning against. Quickly picking himself up and standing at a stiff attention, the attendant gave a salute.
   "What can I do fer ye, M'Lord?"
   "Corporal, are there any patrols currently available for dispatch?"
   The corporal reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the ever expanding master list. "Ah yes, let's see, sah," he murmured "hmm, I'm afraid none are due back for quite a while still, sah. The soonest is Captain Tussock, who is away on tour – he shouldn't be back for at least a week by these estimates."
   Barbourn gritted his teeth, "What about cadets and privates?"
   "My Lord, with all due respect, the mountain simply does not have the able-bodied beasts it needs to send another patrol. The cadets need more training, they are not yet prepared for any kind of job that would put them in danger and I must stand by that, sah... er, that is, most humbly, M'Lord."
   "Thank you, Corporal, that will be all for now. Runner, Northock, you are dismissed! Go down to the kitchens for double-rations. You've earned it." Lord Barbourn watched the runner throw a stiff salute and run off down the corridor like a flash of lightning. Shutting the door, Lord Barbourn returned to his great map at the far end of the forge room. Pins, representing patrol units, hot spots, outlaw sightings and a host of other information, protruded from all angles and locations around the country like it were a pin cushion. The isolated problems throughout the land were numerous, and while at one time his hares were more numerous, seasons of keeping the countryside safe had done a number on Lord Barbourn's numbers. That dam would create great consequences for the rest of the settlements along the lower River Moss. A Civil War would undoubtedly prolong the drought for too long. No matter what, that dam needed to come down – and peacefully. If Lord Barbourn himself were to march inland and tear away the dam, it would cause unrest among the other settlements and lose the Long Patrol a great deal of honor and trust. As the evening shadows lengthened across the shore of Mossflower, the badger looked to the West. The setting sun behind the Western Mountains gave the impression that the land on the other side was in flames.

~oOo~

   Every time night came in the dangerous north section of the Western Mountains, Carmen could feel a twinge of panic trying to overtake her. Panic not necessarily due to the scenery, but rather the constant threats which the dangerous mountain range possessed. Rumors from this part of the world never seemed friendly: rapidly changing weather (which Carmen had already experienced), bandits, the dreaded Sazaar – a tribe of mountain hares turned dangerous cult and wielders of magic – and, most recently, tales of a mysterious giant roaming the region. Carmen believed that she may have spotted the giant in the mist after the storm. More of a shadow, really, and that could have been made by anything. But it did stand out and it did appear rather giant-like. Perhaps she had avoided it without even knowing.
   The weather was pleasant as the sun set. A round, tangerine sun cast light on a new batch of clouds over Carmen's shoulder. Red and orange light blended together and contrasted rounded shadows at peculiar angles on the clouds, which gave them their tall, cotton-balled shape. There were no other clouds in the sky aside from the ones on the horizon. Looking about, the full spectrum of colors was present in the sky. Right at horizontal, there was red. Moving upward, the light faded to orange and yellow, then the slightest row of green light – really only distinguishable if one were looking for it – then blue for a great deal of the arc moving up towards vertical. Finally, right as one approached vertical, the sky appeared darker. If one thought about it, really it was like the last two colors of the rainbow: indigo and violet. This seemed to calm Carmen down a bit and the panic left her. However, a few minutes later when the colored sky was gone and night began to descend onto her, it returned.
   At least the pretty clouds did not go away. In fact, they came inland and swept over the mountains just as quickly as the squall that same day. They even brought rain with them; an unbelievably poor stroke of luck. Keeping her head down, Carmen pressed onward through the brush, oblivious to the creature that followed not ten paces behind.

~oOo~

   All kinds of sounds bombarded Lance Corporal Carmen O'Foster Bobo as she bowled headlong deeper into the mountain range. Every bird that startled from its nest was another bandit out to get her. Was that rustle of the leaves from the wind, or was that the Sazaar that had found the lone hare? The ghostly trees stretched their branches out to Carmen's long ears as she ran by, scratching and swiping in the wind. Carmen ran aimlessly, desperate to find shelter away from the environment, even more desperate than she was to find the missing patrol. This was an entirely new kind of fear, different from that of the squall earlier that day. This time, the young hare could feel herself running away from something. Taking a sudden turn around an oak tree much too fast, Carmen slipped and fell to the ground. She clumsily pulled herself over to the trunk and sat with her back against the bark. While Carmen was not hurt, she knew it would not take long for that to change if she kept up with her erratic pacing. Deep breaths. Remember basic training, remember basic training... she thought to herself, Long Patrol Code of Conduct entry number three: All Long Patrol hares should know that staying calm in a dangerous situation is a critical step on the road to victory. A glimpse at her parade uniform, soaked through and ripped in a few places, reminded Lance Corporal Bobo that this was what she had signed up to do. Working her way up the tree trunk, Carmen stood and pulled out her scouting knife. Though thought again and instead pulled out her iron frying pan. It would not be smart to run around with a blade if she was slipping all over the place. And the frying pan could at least function as a shield from the rain.
   There came another sound. This time it was not nature playing tricks on her – not a tree shaking in the rain, nor the wind howling through the trees. Carmen was certain of it: she had just heard a creature grunt. It sounded close to her ears, and it seemed to come from right where she was standing with her paw on the oak tree's trunk, clear as anything. It was a short grunt, but undeniably, in every sense of the word, a grunt.
Somebeast was nearby.
What it was, Carmen did not know. She moved away from the tree trunk and held out the frying pan as if it were a broadsword. She scanned the nearby shrubbery for movement: nothing. Side to side, front and back, Carmen looked three-hundred and sixty degrees around herself. There! Some shrubs directly in front of the young hare's line of sight began to move. Carmen did not take a moment to consider whether or not this was simply the wind picking back up again, but regardless of that, she brought the frying pan up and over her head in preparation to strike at the brush.
The Bobo family is made up of a long line of hares at Salamandastron. All of whom are notable for their levelheadedness, tactfulness, and service, but possibly most notable for their awkward lanky builds and clumsiness. In this exact moment as Carmen was preparing to charge at the shrub in front of her, the frying pan in her paws, wet from the rain, slipped away from her, sailed overhead, and went into the branches of the oak tree.
Ping! Thud!
   A thin rat fell away from one of the lower branches in the oak tree, along with an already growing lump between his ears and Lance Corporal Bobo's frying pan. To say the very least, young Carmen was surprised. Not because there actually was somebeast nearby, but because it was in the very last place she would have thought to looked: the branches of the oak tree. Keeping caution, Carmen grabbed the rope from the top of her haversack and tied the rat up (or, one may reasonably argue that the more appropriate description would be 'wrapped the rat up in so much rope that it resembled a cocoon with a bow'), then slung him over her shoulder, picked up her frying pan, and waved it about menacingly at the empty bush blowing in the wind. "If you even think o' comin' after me, I'll thwack you jus' the same, wot!" She then hurried through the brush in the opposite direction in search of shelter.

[close]

[Captain Tammo]

Chatper 5: The Outlaw and the Warlord

Chapter 5: The Outlaw and the Warlord

The rat finally came about some time later and it was dark out. At first, he thought that he had been rolled up in a rug, but quickly found that it was actually somebeast's very thorough work of tying him up. Looking about, the rat saw that he was underneath a rocky overhang, fog was thick in the air – thick enough to cut with a knife, which told him that he was at a higher altitude. For a split second, his eyes widened with panic, thinking that this location may have been the Western Cloud Bowl, the lair of the Sazaar, it was a hare that brought him here, after all, and the Sazaar were known to be hares. Though oddly, the hare that was looking at him and now prodding him with a stick was not wearing a Sazaar's notorious scarecrow-like garb and wooden mask.

"Wake up, chappo, I've got questions fer ye." Said the hare. She was tall, awkwardly lanky, and wore a tattered scarlet jacket; the giveaway that she was a Long Patrol hare, or at least a hare that had taken the jacket from one. He said nothing to her in reply. "Not much of a talker, eh," she prodded him again with the stick like she were stoking a fire, "I 'ope that frying pan didn't give ye so big a lump that ye can't talk anymore, wot." She said and lightly touched the swollen bump between his ears. A lightning bolt of pain went through his body and he fell back with a painful squirm, eyes ablaze.

"Owowow me head! Bloody hell, what didya do t' me?!" He cried.

The hare gave a smile and spoke firmly, "Ah, so ye do talk! That's reassuring t' know. Now listen closely, if ye don't want another lump to go along with th' one you've got, I'm gonna ask you a few questions and yer gonna tell me everythin' you know an' not a word more unless I ask fer it. Understood?"

Now he remembered, and he decided that this hare was terrifying. He found her walking through the brush and decided to follow from afar, hoping to get a chance at catching her off guard and killing her quickly, looting her, and possibly getting a meal out of it to get rid of the taste of plant roots and mountain flowers from his mouth. This beast must have noticed him following along because as soon as night came, she suddenly bolted through the brush. Had he known what was best for him, the rat would have given up the chase right then and there. But pride is a force stronger than common sense, and pride said 'follow the damn rabbit'. After plunging through the thicket after his target for several minutes, he lost sight of her. Cursing his bad luck, the rat climbed up the nearest oak tree. Panting and out of breath, he recalled looking around below to see if he could spot any shrubbery moving around, or possibly some footprints. He could not express his surprise when he saw the very hare he was after jump from the base of the tree, trick him into thinking that she was going to attack a nearby bush, and then threw a frying pan over her head, backwards and without looking, struck him dead center between his ears, and knocked him out cold. Now that he thought of it, what kind of warrior can convince her enemy that she's going to attack an empty bush?! Then, as if to add insult to injury – or rather injury to insult, perform a shot with a frying pan that must have taken months, if not seasons, to rehearse and perfect. No doubt about it: this creature was terrifying. All of this went through the rat's head in a second, so he decided that it would be best to obey the warrior's wishes. He nodded his head.

The hare sat with her back to the wilderness, as if to prevent an escape from the overhang if he, the rat, ever decided to make a break for it, still bound in his cocoon of rope. "Well then." She said in a tone befitting that of the mighty warrior she was thought be. "We'll start with your name."

The rat said nothing for an awkward few seconds of wilting under Carmen's stare, then spoke up "Was that a question or were ye jus' tellin' me that we're gonna start wit'-"

"Tell me yer name!"

The rat was terrified. "Well okay et's jus' that ye told me that I couldn't talk unless you asked me a question an' – yowch! Well why ye gotta go bonkin' me on th' head like that I'm only doin' what y' asked me t' do!"

"Don't try to be wise with me, rat. What is yer name?"

"Well ye see now I'll tell ye because y' asked me an – yagh! Me name's Orfeo – don't kill me, please! I beg of ye!"

Carmen blinked, "Yer name's... Orfeo?  Yer Orfeo the Contraptionist?"

The rat, now Orfeo, responded. "Well yes, that's what I go by, but I 'aven't done a whole lot o' contraptionist-ing these past few seasons."

"Yer the most wanted outlaw in all o' Mossflower an' its surrounding country." Carmen added with another blink, still obviously surprised.

"Well I dunno if I'd say I'm the most wanted outlaw but I've seen a sign here an' there wit' – owowow! Whatdya keep whackin' me for?! I ain't done nothin' bad!"

"What did I tell you about talking when I didn't ask ye to, rat!"

"But you jus' hit me fer not tellin' you me name when I wasn't asked an' I jus' thought ye wanted– Ow! Will ye stop hittin' me head wit' that bloody stick! I'm gonna have a welt bigger 'n me head if ye keep doin' that!"

"Hush!" Said Carmen. "What were ye doing up in the oak tree?"

Another silence. Carmen raised the stick again and Orfeo cowered away with a wince, "Yagh! I'm sorry I jus' don't know when I'm supposed t' talk an' when ye want me t' keep quiet. Ye keep hittin' me whenever I do both an' et's all jus' so confusin'!"

"What were you doing in the oak tree!?"

The confused rat was nearly in tears and it showed in his voice. "I was tryin' to hide from yew. I saw you was a warrior an' din't wanna be slayed – honest that's all! I wasn't followin' ye or nothin' – I swear on me mum I wasn't!"

"An' why should I believe you?" Said Carmen, taunting Orfeo by waving the whacking stick just underneath his nose.

He stammered, "B-b-because I... er, I'm not a bad creature? I've changed I tell ye!"

Carmen leaned back and looked down her nose at the helpless outlaw. "Where 'ave you been hidin' all these seasons? Th' Long Patrol's been lookin' for you, wot."

Orfeo wiggled and squirmed until he was sitting upright with his back against the overhang's back wall. The last thing he wanted to do was give up the location of his workshop, where he earned the title 'contraptionist'. He had both his fortune and many works in progress there, models of past war machines and plans for new ones alike. But when he hesitated to answer Carmen's question, she made a reach for the whacking stick and he reconsidered. Even though he was bound up tighter than a galley's sail in a storm, injured, and now on the brink of crying in front of a Long Patrol hare, which was certainly something that did not help his pride, Orfeo was still a clever rat. He knew that an opportunity to escape his captor would come if he played his cards right (that is, assuming the hare did not rip him apart after she was finished questioning him). "A cave! Et's higher up on th' mountains. Near, uh, th' Western Cloud Bowl – I mean, er... yeah." It was a lie and there was no changing his mind. The Western Cloud Bowl was an area of the northern region of the Western Mountains which was almost always covered in a thick mist. It would be a perfect place to make an escape and hide, except that the Western Cloud Bowl was the domain of the Sazaar, a barbaric tribe of mountain hares that were notorious for abducting wandering travelers. What happened to these creatures was rarely ever discovered, though some beasts have claimed to have seen the ghosts of such beasts, cursed to forever roam the mountains. If Orfeo could manage an escape in that region, it very well could be hopping out of the frying pan and into the fire. At the very least, it would buy him some time, and keep his cave's location a secret if for just a little while longer.

"Th' Western Cloud Bowl, eh?" Carmen had heard of it a few times before, though was not aware that the Western Cloud Bowl was also known as the lair of the dreaded Sazaar, and so her confidence remained. Additionally, even with the great outlaw in her control, her mission was not over. There was still the matter of finding the lost patrol. "Have you seen a unit o' hares pass by within th' past few weeks? An' don't even think about lyin' to a Long Patrol hare, wot. I don't like liars," she taunted him with the stick again.

Orfeo broke into a sweat, "Erm, yea, though twas a good while ago. 'bout three weeks 'r so. Good long while ago, er... marm" –

"That's Lance Corporal, to you." Said Carmen. "Where was it an' which way were they all headed?"

The rat had to think hard. He recalled seeing the hares from the secrecy of his hidden cave, but had not the slightest clue which direction they were marching, other than that it was not toward him. They very well may have been walking in the direction of the cloud bowl. Orfeo continued thinking and put great effort into looking like he was in deep thought for Carmen. Orfeo knew that if he wanted to lure her into a particular area of the mountains, it would be best to say that the hares were marching in the exact direction which he wanted to go. "They were marching deeper into the mountain range, actually not terribly far from me cave. I can show you the spot, it's a smidge over a full day's march from here." He said.

Carmen felt that something was suspicious about the whole thing and she squinted at the rat again, "You're over a day's march away from your own home? What for?"

He pieced together an answer on the fly. "I do lots o' traveling 'round t' find materials, mostly here fer th' wood. I only work with, er, Narrowleaf Cottonwood trees. Good fer buildin' things. Don' grow up where th' cloud bowl is." His face was sweating and his nose was starting to itch.

"Alright then." Carmen stood up and walked over to the bound rat. "We'd best be moving along, then. We haven't much time to lose if we want to get there by tonight; it's nearly dawn." She picked him up and set him at the edge of a long, fairly steep slope on his side.

"'ey, what're ye doin' there? Oh no, yer not doing what I think yer gonna do, right? I'll just hobble behind, really there's no need for thiiiiiiiiiiis..." With a single, swift motion, Carmen loosed one end of Orfeo's rope jacket and grabbed it in her paw. Then she placed her footpaw on the helpless rat and gave a gentle kick that sent him tumbling down the hill. Orfeo rolled over and over, unable to stop himself or slow down. Faster and faster he went, all the while feeling his rope jacket unravel around him. Just as he felt himself about to hurl, it was all over and the rope was gone. Well, almost gone. He was still bound at the forepaws. Struggling to stop the world from spinning, the rat closed his eyes. It was a stupid idea to ever follow this hare in the first place!

As if on cue, there came a sharp tug from the far end of the rope. "Come along, chap. Waitin' on you, that does is; quick's th' word an' sharp's the action, wot!" With a groan and a stumble, Orfeo stood up and followed in the footsteps of his captor.

The journey improved considerably for Carmen from that moment onward. She thought to herself what her superiors would say when they found out that Lance Corporal Carmen O' Foster Bobo had caught the elusive Orfeo the Contraptionist. There would be a promotion in store for her almost certainly! Badger Lord Barbourn himself would probably dedicate a new holiday in her honor: Boboday! What kind of holiday would it be? Whichever kind, it would be an important one. She gave another sharp tug on Orfeo's rope and he stumbled along.

On the other side of things, the journey was only getting worse for the rat outlaw. It is worth noting that, in this particular situation, while Orfeo was subject to much abuse from his captor, Orfeo's life, in full, was most certainly not that of a victim. After all, Orfeo the rat was wanted for a reason. He was wanted for being the mastermind behind designing, constructing, and distributing a slew of war machines to a warlord more than ten seasons prior. Many isolated settlements throughout the land, especially those who had been affected by the warlord's long conquest, had issued warrants for Orfeo's capture. What particularly got creatures' attention was when a warrant came from the great Salamandastron itself with a reward of pardoning for past misdeeds and a trove of gold. While vermin across the land jumped at the opportunity to gain wealth and freedom from their criminal status, it was criticized by many for being a careless move. For what if a murderer, thief or even another warlord found the rat and turned him in? Would they be given the fortune and allowed to go free to cause havoc? Other creatures joked that if they were Orfeo, they would turn themselves in, take the pardon and the gold, then retreat back to the safety of the mountains and build a palace.

Thankfully, there were those who were also on Lord Barbourn's side and praised him for taking such strong steps toward tracking the outlaw down. Most of these creatures were the survivors of the great conquest that followed Orfeo supplying a warlord with his death machines.

The warlord had simply appeared one day, directly from the far south. It is true that a hospitable environment is hospitable to both good and evil creatures, and so the warlord was able to do considerable damage before moving north into Mossflower. Additionally, this warlord did not emerge from the south alone. To accompany him, there were just over a quarter thousand barbaric stoats, foxes, weasels, rats, all well fed, well-armed, and well acquainted with warfare. The crown jewels lead the way: several war machines specifically designed to allow the horde to plow their way through virtually any opponent that stood in their way. The campaign lasted for several months, more than enough time to either immediately destroy and plunder, or lay siege to countless settlements along the way.

It was only the quick thinking of the Badger Lord which saved Mossflower in the end, though not without great losses. A primary reason for why, for seasons after and all the way up to that moment, the Long Patrol had been stretched paper-thin over across Mossflower and its surrounding country. Had it not been for the war machines, it is likely that the warlord would not have even reached Mossflower, and so, after much interrogating and investigation, it was found that a rat named Orfeo was the mastermind behind the horde's success and hence the warrants were issued for his capture.

After his discover, Orfeo's name was known in every home and by every bounty collector from the kingdom of Southsward to the otter holts on the High North Coast. In an effort to find a sanctuary, Orfeo fled from the south and pushed his way northward, being pursued all the way until the trail was lost in the northern half of the Western Mountains. The blood of over a thousand innocents was on the rat's paws, and it had earned him countless enemies. The whole world was out to get this outlaw, and of all the assassins, bounty hunters, badger lords, warriors and rangers looking to turn wear his skull as a belt buckle, he had been caught on a whim by a clumsy hare and a rogue frying pan.

Carmen gave another tug on Orfeo's bonds and he fell flat. But instead of hurling a thousand insults at his captor (whom he was still convinced was a terrifying warrior – quite possibly Orfeo's worst mistake and the only thing keeping him from making a break for it), he kept quiet and struggled to his feet. It was just a matter of time before they reached the Western Cloud Bowl. Once they were there, he would make his move and run to the mist. The rest would be up to how still he could be in hiding whilst the Sazaar dealt with Carmen.

[close]

[Captain Tammo]

Chapter 6: The Missing Patrol

Chapter 6: The Missing Patrol

Shadows were stretching across the tops of the snow-capped mountains when, contrary to what he thought was possible, Orfeo the Contraptionist's luck turned even worse. The Western Cloud Bowl was in sight, still too far away for Orfeo's liking, but there, probably a ten-minute hike uphill. Mist could be seen almost foaming over the snowy ridge as if it were boiling in a giant caldron. Orfeo had been directing Carmen to the supposed whereabouts of his secret workshop, but had actually been bringing Carmen as close to the lair of the Sazaar as he could in an effort to escape and make a break for it, hoping that the Sazaar would pick Carmen off for him. It was a risky plan that had worked perfectly thus far. Though one could say that was the easy part.

Orfeo was leading the way about fifteen paces in front of the Lance Corporal, so very close to the cloud bowl and his goal when Carmen gave a pull so hard on Orfeo's bonds that he fell flat onto his back. "Ow! Well what'd ya go doin' that..." He trailed off, fearing that his shouts would alert the Sazaar to his whereabouts. Suddenly Orfeo felt himself being pulled towards Carmen, like a fish getting reeled in on a hook, until he was at her feet. She glared at him furiously.

"Your workshop is around here, correct?"

Orfeo did not dare budge a muscle. He lay exactly where he was and returned Carmen's glare with a glassy look of confusion. "Yes."

Carmen gestered towards something at her left. "Then what 're those?" She said. Orfeo looked in the direction Carmen's paw was pointing. He saw a long, snowy mountainside on a steep gradient, moving undisturbed down the slope until it encountered the tree line some two or three hundred yards away. Not much could be seen beyond that with the sun shining in his eyes. Orfeo looked back at Carmen and she gave another sharp tug on the rope. "C'mon, get up!" She said gruffly.

The rat had not the slightest clue as to what was happening. As he stumbled down the snowy slope after his captor, he went over everything in his head to make sure that he did nothing that might tip her off. Orfeo was a creature who tended to mumble, but he was certain that he had said nothing which might have tipped Carmen off to his plot. Nor had Orfeo acted in a such a fashion that might appear suspicious. He had been walking in front of Carmen since before noon and had rarely looked back, so it was doubtful she could have seen him smile at the thought of freedom. Just in case, Orfeo ran through everything again a second time, the whole afternoon in his head in a matter of seconds. Finally, he asked, "Erm, Lance Corporal? What's goin' on 'ere? Th' workshop is thataway, up the slope. I c'n see et from 'ere, well, er, almost from 'ere..." He trailed off and started mumbling again. Carmen said nothing in reply. After waiting half a minute, he asked again, "Erm, Lance Corp"–

Carmen gave a very strong jerk on the rope, especially for one so lanky, Orfeo fell off of his feet and landed just beside her. Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, Carmen picked the rat up onto his knees and kept him there. They were at the mountain's very distinct tree line. Carmen gestured in front of her, "What is that? Or rather, what are almost all of these?"

The outlaw was at a loss for words and he shook his head. "Ah... I dunno what I'm s'posed to be lookin' at."

Carmen pointed directly at a short tree in front of her. "That!"

"Erm, looks like a tree t' me, Lance Corporal. I dunno what else t' tell ya." With this reply, Orfeo could feel his captor's grip tighten over him, pinching him a bit in the process and pulling a few hairs out.

"Oh, is that so now, wot." said Carmen, "What kind of tree is it? Eh? Speak up, now!"

Now the outlaw was scared. "A-a-ah it looks like a narrowleaf cottonwood."

"What's special about it?" The reply came immediately and Carmen tightened her grip further.

Orfeo looked the tree up and down and gave a guess, gesturing with his paws. "Et's a... very pretty tree? Yowch! Why ye hittin' me o'er th' head again?! I ain't done nothin' wrong!"

Carmen thumped the rat again between the ears and shook him by the scruff, "Oh, it's a pretty tree, eh, wot? You told me jus' today that ye only use cottonwood in yer builds an' that they only grow in one part of th' mountain which you can't get where you live. Mind explaining why I can see at least five-score o' those blighters all lined up here on the slope by yer workshop?" Carmen did not wait for a reply; she knew something was afoot. "There's somethin' you should know, rat: I am not to be made a fool of. I am a Lance Corporal of the Long Patrol!" She said, her back straightening at the mention of her proper title.

That was it, Orfeo knew the game was up. Lying at this point would only get himself into a deeper hole and Carmen's grip would only get tighter around his neck. If Orfeo wanted to escape, he needed to make his move now. He had noticed the handle of a small scouting knife poking out of Carmen's boot. If he could just...

Just like that, the outlaw was running away, through the trees and down the slope. His now former captor tumbled after him, eyes ablaze with anger and bleeding from the leg. In any normal situation, Carmen would have caught Orfeo within seconds, who was stumbling headlong through the trees and trying to gather up the rope which was trailing behind him. However, a clean stab at the leg had changed all of that and now the Lance Corporal was struggling just to keep even with the outlaw's pace down the slope.

The two stumbled down the mountainside through snow that almost came up to the mid shin, each gaining and losing ground on one another constantly. In one span of a few seconds, Orfeo made a sudden break to the right around the trunk of a cottonwood tree, hoping to reverse the direction of the chase and head back up the slope towards the cloud bowl. Meanwhile, Carmen passed him, unable to stop her momentum from carrying forward. She put both footpaws in front of herself and fell down, sliding on her back further down the slope. By the time Carmen was able to recover, Orfeo was some twenty paces ahead of her and moving up the hill fast. Carmen took off up the mountain after him like an arrow fired from a bow. Both beasts felt as if their legs were on fire and, if it were possible, would have given anything to catch a quick break before continuing onward.

Orfeo knew that he would not be able to beat his pursuer in a headlong sprint uphill, even if she was wounded. The outlaw's advantage was in his ability to make sharper turns than Carmen. So he took his opportunity at every chance he got. His path traced a zig-zag in the snow through the sparse trees. Stumbling was a common occurrence for both beasts. Carmen pressed herself onward, running hard but with a very distinct limp in her stride. All that the hare focused on was keeping up. Orfeo would make a mistake sooner or later - it was all a game of who could outlast who.

Orfeo was not a big creature and he could feel the weight of the rope holding him back, but he did not have the time to stop and try untying himself from his bonds. He pressed on, carrying a tangled mess in both of his paws that was so big, he had to peek around it on either the left or right side in order to see where he was going. Cold air stung the outlaw's cheeks and made his eyes water. Being so high up, it was bound to be uncomfortably winter-like no matter the season. He tried to only breathe through his mouth because it stung to try sucking in air through his frost-bitten nose. The steps of Orfeo's furious pursuer were still audible in his ears, but were fading away. Yet that could have been for one of two reasons: he was gaining ground, or the outlaw's body was starting to shut down. Chancing a glance backward, Orfeo saw that Carmen was losing ground.

It was becoming too much for the mountain hare. Carmen's leg wound was beginning to slow her down too much. Despite the intense cold of the mountains, a hot sweat was thick on the young hare's brow. Boots slipping deeper into the thickening snow powder, Carmen put her head down and pressed onward up the mountain. Lungs sucking in and pushing it out like a bellows, air drying Carmen's mouth until she tasted a faint trace of blood in the back of her throat, head suddenly becoming weightless after a sleepless night and using up so much energy in a single stretch, it was only a matter of seconds until the hare collapsed from exhaustion.

Then, as Lance Corporal Bobo turned her head up to look at her fleeting target, she saw something peculiar: mere paces away from the edge of the cloud bowl, Orfeo had turned and he was running back toward her at full speed.  Behind him, a group of creatures with a rather unsettling masked appearance gave chase. It did not hit Carmen until Orfeo was much closer and she could see the look of pure horror on his face. It was the Sazaar! Why it had taken her so long to catch on, Carmen did not know. But she was smart enough to know that she too should begin running in the opposite direction if ten Sazaar were chasing her.

Odd was the sight of a battered hare and a ragdoll rat stumbling down a mountain slope as ten masked creatures with the looks of scarecrows gave chase behind them. The rope that Orfeo was holding onto steadily escaped from his grasp and began dragging more and more behind him. With caution thrown to the wind, the pair did not slow down just because they fell and stumbled the whole way. As long as it got them far away from their newly encountered followers, it was enough. The sun was beginning to sink slightly and it cast a bright light directly into the travelers' eyes, effectively blinding both of them. Once again, Carmen began to lag behind the outlaw. Still not willing to give him up, she focused on following the rope that dragged behind Orfeo. The blinding glare of the sun allowed her to see nothing else. All the way past the tree line once more, through the cottonwood trees and powdered snow, the rat and the hare did not stop their efforts to escape the barbaric monsters hard on their heels. Every minute or so, either one would take a glance back. Slowly, the Sazaar lost ground, but for only what appeared to be lack of trying. It was obvious that even if they were out of sight, the mountain hares would still be following close behind.

Soon, the tense situation diffused itself, but the two did not stop running. Just because the Sazaar were no longer nearby did not mean that Carmen had forgotten her stab wound. Then, no longer had Orfeo decided to put on another burst of speed did his luck take a turn for the worst: the very ground he was running over opened up and he was swallowed whole. Lance Corporal Bobo saw the rope she was following jerk forward at an incredible speed and pass her entirely. Unwilling to let her prisoner go, she dove after it and caught the fleeing rope in both of her strong paws. Carmen was dragged through the snow and ice like a fisher's boat that had just tangled its net on a shark. With a struggle, she lifted her head up and spat the white powder out of her face just in time to see the sudden crevasse growing nearer with every second she allowed herself to be pulled by the outlaw in freefall. The brave hare dug her footpaws into the ice with one half of her remaining strength, held tight onto the rope with the other half, then mustered up the last of her reserves to pay homage to her home of Salamandastron by roaring its time-honored battlecry at the top of her lungs. "Eulalia! Eulalia! Eulaliaaaaaaa!"

In Salamandastron's history, one that stretched back to the very beginnings of Mossflower country and then some, tales of incredible valiance, determination and outstanding achievement decorated the mountain fortress' name like medals on a parade uniform. Examples included greats like Runner Waly Gowd, who covered the distance between Redwall and Salamandastron in a mere three days by running nonstop to deliver an urgent request for assistance from the Long Patrol. Another was the outstanding bluffer, Colonel William Pear, who was responsible for defending a village of thirty field mice against a wildcat and more than five-hundred followers. Rather than being overrun in battle, Pear ordered his troops to hide and greeted the enemy atop the village's open gate, playing a fiddle. Certain that no beast would willingly give up a village, Pear's act convinced the wildcat that there was a trap laid out and a full retreat was ordered. Gordon Yellowsnout, captain of the Fiftieth Scout Patrol, earned his place in Salamandastron's history when he and his patrol came across a hidden slaver route. Rather than liberating the slaves as they were ushered along a hidden backroad of Mossflower, Yellowsnout ordered his patrol to follow the slave drivers for a week. This lead to the discovery of an entire encampment where many innocent woodlanders were being forced to build a castle for an unnamed rising warlord. Working slowly and methodically, Yellowsnout miraculously assembled a stockpile of makeshift arms, freed the slaves and lead a revolt against the warlord, liberating a hundred woodlanders and preventing a would-be warlord from fortifying a base of operations in Mossflower. Perhaps the newest additions to the list of legends at Salamandastron were two creatures by the name of Captain Dassiter De Fformello Tussock and Captain Leonardo Velox Williams, who had spearheaded a successful hunt against a line of corsairs on the high seas known as 'the menaces', as well as battled and killed a great sailfish known as the Saberfin. Captain Leonardo then went on to save Redwall Abbey from a gang of vermin raiders by feigning himself as a traitor to the Redwallers (which nearly got him killed in the process), and Captain Dassiter became one of a small pawful of beasts to battle the Sazaar and live.

Lance Corporal Carmen O'Foster Bobo, arguably the clumsiest hare at the mountain, was soon to become the stuff of Salamandastron's great history herself by a feat in that twenty-four hour stretch in the treacherous Western Mountain range. For just then, and from not too far off, Carmen heard a reply to her battle cry, and it was another Eulalia! Digging her footpaws deeper into the snow and ice, Carmen slowed herself from sliding over the edge of the crevasse. Then, hanging by only her boots and strong will, Carmen gazed down, past the terrified Orfeo the Contraptionist, who was hanging helplessly at the other end of the rope, at a trio of emaciated hares in faded parade uniforms, huddled together on a snowy bridge some fifty feet deep into the crevasse and shouting 'Eulalia' back at her. Many contents from Carmen's haversack spilled out and fell into the void. One particular item, the sketch of Captain Taney Sirgenal, was caught by a hare farther down. He gave a laugh and held it up next to his face. Even at a distance, Carmen could see that it was a perfect match.

~oOo~

Lance Corporal Bobo acted quickly for she knew that her boots, still stuck in the ice, were the only things keeping everybeast there alive, and they would not hold out forever. "I see you, chaps. Jus' let me get this 'ere maggot pulled up an' then I'll send the jolly rope down to you, wot!" The hares' replies came much quieter than the eulalias they had just shouted, but they could wait. She then turned to the helpless outlaw, who was screaming and pleading for his life.

"Yipe! Gemme outta here! I promise I won't do no more bad, cross me 'eart I won't, boss! I'd swear on me ole mum's grave jus' gemme out o' this stinkin' trap!"

"Shut it, rat!" snapped Carmen. "Listen t' what I've got t' say because I'll only say it once, wot. Flip yerself around so that your feet are against the side of the crevasse. There's a good lad, now I'm gonna pull you up, an' you are gonna walk yer feet up the side nice an' gentle to help keep things steady an' moving. Got it?"

Orfeo bobbed his head uncontrollably and did as he was told. After a few minutes, and a great deal of effort broken only by small increments in order to allow for Carmen to rest a while, Orfeo was back up onto the ridge. Unwilling to give the rat another chance to escape, hardly had Orfeo collapsed onto the side of the ridge than did Carmen dig through her pack for the frying pan, pull it out and give a solid thwack to lay the outlaw out cold. With the ringing still loud in her ears, Carmen too fell back and rested for another moment. "There," she said to herself through deep breaths, "that'll keep 'im busy fer a while, eh, wot?"
Getting the hares out of the crevasse was by no means a simple task, and time was not on their side. While there was still light at the moment, if the process took too long it could wind up costing the group dearly. Carmen dug an anchor to keep the rope steady and positioned herself with one footpaw on each side of the line. She then tested it for strength with a hard tug and threw it down to the hares at the bottom of the rift. This presented the group's first major obstacle: the rope was about five long paces too short – enough for it to be far enough out of reach.

Very few words were passed between Carmen and the patrol in the crevasse unless it was necessary to move the extraction along. At first, Carmen considered propelling down into the crevasse herself in order to help retrieve them, but quickly threw that idea away given the possibility that she too could get herself stuck and out of reach of the rope. When she came across the idea of tying her bed mat to the end of the rope, solving the issue of reaching them, another thought crossed her mind. She called down to the hares at the bottom, "How long 'ave you been down there, chaps?"

"Fourteen nights." Came the feeble reply, so quiet to Carmen's ears that she had wondered for a second if they had answered at all. This presented the second problem: It was safe to assume that, if the patrol had been stuck at the bottom of an active crevasse, then they would not have the strength to hold onto a rope and hoist themselves up. Several minutes passed in which Carmen weighed her options. Occasionally, she poked her head over the edge. Not to reassure herself that the missing patrol was still there, but to reassure them that she was still there.
Finally, she called down to them, "I've got an idea. Stay ready, chaps. Rope 'll be down in a moment, wot!" Shortly thereafter, Carmen passed the rope back into the crevasse. This time, she had cut holes in the end of her bed mat, cut the strap of her haversack in two and tied each end to the end of the mat, effectively creating a swing for the emaciated hares to sit on while they were pulled to safety. This seemed to do the trick and the whole process lasted about an hour.

After the first hare, whom introduced himself to Lance Corporal Bobo as First Scout Rene Ackerman (the same Rene who authored the journal entries previously used to describe the storm in the mountains), had been pulled up, Carmen asked the question that was on her mind since she first spotted them: the number of hares that were originally in the patrol.

First Scout Rene collapsed back in the snow and stared back at Lance Corporal Bobo with a pair of eyes that were sunken in and surrounded by dark circles. A corpse would have been easier to make eye contact with, as at least then he would not have been able to see Carmen look away as soon as their gazes met. It was not intentional, but looking at this wretched creature gave Carmen the same guilty feeling as when she was young and her mother scolded her for staring at a veteran hare's deformed features. "Ten of us." He said. The lips around his mouth were drawn tight and did not move a muscle when he spoke. "Th' other seven 're deeper in the glacier."

"Are they...?"

"All goners. Th' lot of 'em died in the fall or din't make it through the first night. Please, do you have any food at all?"

Carmen was already pulling the next hare up to the top. "Hold on there, sah. No food t' be had until I can get you all t' safety, wot. But ye may find a few pawful o' nuts lying 'round. Had a bit of a tussle with th' lad whose laid out o'er yonder. Give me a shout if he starts moving again, wot." Rene did not respond.

The second hare, Corporal Reginald Ironheart, was in considerably better shape than First Scout Ackerman, though by no means well off. He appeared to have more meat on his bones, which made Carmen infer that he may have been plump to begin with. He was able to stand on his feet upon reaching the top. Whilst Carmen took a quick rest, he tended to First Scout Ackerman, grabbing the lad a few pawfuls of nuts and dried berries he was able to find lying about. He never once mentioned the unconscious rat lying in the snow face-down. As soon as Carmen was ready again, Reginald was at her side assisting with the rope.

"Not needed, Corporal, sah. My orders come straight from Lord Barbourn to get this patrol back to the mountain safely. Can't have you straining yerself now."

"Bah!" Corporal Ironheart's reply came so sharp that it made Carmen jump and stiffen her grip on the rope. "I thank ye kindly, Lance Corporal, fer followin' yer orders, but I'll be damned if I let Cap'n Taney Sirgenal rot in that crevasse a second longer. Nary a single beast on earth who's bolder 'n that one. Save maybe Lord Barbourn hisself! Pass me th' rope an' let me help, Lance Corporal. That's an' order!" Carmen did as Corporal Ironheart told and, working together, Captain Sirgenal was retrieved in a matter of minutes.

Captain Taney Sirgenal of the Long Patrol was hard as a rock and tougher than most corsair. His most popular features included a scowl that sat permanently on his face, dark eyes that almost always appeared half closed in a piercing glare, and a considerably short stature. Among young cadets, such features made him the most favorite officer to impersonate when he was not present, and the least favorite when he was placed in charge of drilling said cadets. Regardless of this, everybeast, whether a new cadet or brigadier general, knew Captain Sirgenal was a perilous beast no matter the danger, and his very presence often brought about a respectful awe. Even after being fished out of a giant mountain crevasse, thin as a corpse and fur more mangled as a wolverine's pelt, Sirgenal was still in fact every inch that which his reputation said he was. Now that all three were safe (or at least safer than lying inside an active glacier), Carmen wordlessly wiped away the snow from her uniform and brought herself to a quick salute in Captain Sirgenal's direction.

"Captain Taney Sirgenal of the 15th Scout Patrol, m' name's Lance Corporal Carmen O'Foster Bobo. My mission, direct orders from Badger Lord Barbourn, states that I am to locate you and your patrol, and escort you all back Salamandastron quick haste. With your permission, Captain, sah. I would like to start the march home immediately, sah, and put as much distance as possible between us and this here spot."

Captain Sirgenal returned Carmen's salute with a shaky paw. He could hardly raise it! "At ease, Lance Corporal. I thank commend you for completing this first part of your mission, but must ask to postpone our departure to once more pay respects to the brave beasts whose bodies are never to leave that damn fissure."

Sirgenal did not take long. He simply stood near the edge and looked down one last time into the void alongside Corporal Ironheart and First Scout Ackerman, who was supported between the two. The three pulled off every medal from their tattered parade uniforms, each brightly polished and a representation of every accomplishment the trio had between them in the Long Patrol. Together and one at a time, the trio threw the medals into the icy crevasse. For Sirgenal, the process took minutes. "I'd give my everything and more if I could just lead you lads and lasses back home safe. Forgive me for living, I implore you..."

Carmen waited patiently for several minutes and did not dare make a move to collect her things, lest she ruin the moment. When all three of them were finished, everything that had not fallen into the rift was packed together once again, somebeast finally inquired about the unconscious rat that Carmen began tying up and shouldered. "Looks like you've made a catch while you were looking for us, wot. May I ask why it is you have that nasty looking vermin captured?"

Carmen winced under the rat's added weight on her wounded leg, which now sported a makeshift bandage. "No, Corporal Ironheart. I stumbled across this 'ere rat in a storm whilst 'e was followin' me." Her chest swelled a bit with pride and she added, "This 'ere is Orfeo th' Contraptionist."

First Scout Ackerman's eyes nearly popped right out at the mention of the outlaw's name and he sat bolt upright with the most strength he had shown yet that day. "Ye don't mean the Orfeo the Contraptionist, wot? You've caught 'im all by yerself, marm?"

"Well, er, yes, I did! Wasn't hard, really, wot. Just pinged 'im with me frying pan an' tied 'im up nice an' good, eh! He lead me straight to ye, though I don't think 'e meant to, wot!"

Captain Sirgenal picked up First Scout Ackerman and carried him over his shoulder. "I know we would all like to hear your tale, Lance Corporal, but the environment is no less harsh now that we've escaped the fissure. We must keep moving, talk along the way if you have the strength."

Reginald Ironheart almost interrupted Taney upon seeing him set out, his feeble legs staggering under the light weight of the scout he carried. "Captain, sah. Very respectfully, sah, allow me to carry young Rene. I am in the best health of the three of us"—

Taney Sirgenal's reply came suprisingly sharp and heavy, "Corporal Ironheart remember your place under my command. It is my responsibility to keep this patrol safe and I have lost seven so far. I would rather die under the weight of this brave hare than share the burden with anybeast else. Let me be the one to carry him the entire way home to Salamandastron. Come along, we have much ground to cover and not much light left to lead us."

[close]

[Captain Tammo]

LAST CHAPTER IN THIS ACT! hope you enjoy it, and a special thank you for reading this far, it means quite a lot!

Chapter 7: At Long Last, the Giant

Chapter 7: At Long Last, the Giant

The five travelers did not get very far down the mountain by the time night was upon them. Seeing only added risk in pressing on in the dark, Lance Corporal Bobo, with permission from the superior ranking Captain Sirgenal and Corporal Ironheart, called the group to a halt. "It would not be wise to light a fire." Suggested Reginald Ironheart.

"I agree," added Taney Sirgenal, "but I fear that young Rene, here, won't last another night if we don't keep him warm. Th' poor lad's been unconscious for nearly an hour, and there's not a spare stich among us that is not already sopping wet or frozen, wot. The risk is foolish but I'll be damned if another hare's life is lost!"

Both Corporal Ironheart and Carmen conceded. The team was now below the snow-line, but the land was still relatively wet from a recent storm. While the missing patrol stayed together at the campsite, young Carmen set out to gather dry wood. With the end of her mission nearly in sight, the normally terrifying woodlands on the side of the mountain no longer scared her. She worked efficiently and returned to camp within a half hour with a small bundle of dried twigs, sticks, and a few leaves. In the meantime, the others had dug out a fire pit and re-tied Orfeo to a nearby tree – his bonds would keep him warm enough.

Gentle tangerine flames licked the air and sent small doses of sparks into the frigid mountain night. The smell of damp soil filled the air more so than that of smoke, and while the travelers were largely uncomfortable, they would make do just fine. Around the pit, three hares sat shivering with their backs turned to the landscape. Young Rene Ackerman lay beside the fire with both his own parade jacket and Captain Sirgenal's jacket keeping him warm. Carmen had just finished retelling her story and now it was the missing patrol's turn. Captain Sirgenal did the talking and tried to keep it brief.

"We had known of the hostility this land held, but nothing could have prepared us for this. Hardly had we crossed the divide into the area when a storm like no other, not too different from th' one you've described, Lance Corporal, swept over us. At first we thought best to press on, but then the wind started whipping things about like a twister. We took shelter where we could and tried waiting it out. Twas more n' just one storm that hit us, too. In one of 'em, I nearly lost an eye when the wind threw an entire branch at me.

"In a cruel twist of fate, those storms were not the worst of the hunt, but rather something I would almost come to miss! Heh, but the mission really began to turn sour when the bandits began hounding us. There was not a single moment where the whole lot of us weren't followed. 'stole our stuff, slowed us down, even tried a few ambushes, heh! I wish I could've called 'em pathetic, but these mountains breed a special kind of evil. It ain't like anything I've ever seen before, wot.

"One day, however, the leaves stopped rustling behind us. All the bandits had given up the hunt as if on cue. Then young Mr. Ackerman, here, found something peculiar – a carved wooden mask lying half-buried in the dirt an' muck about halfway up the base of a mountain. That was almost a full moon cycle ago now."

"I recon that'd be the Sazaar." Said Carmen, drawing herself closer to the fire.

Sirgenal nodded to her across the fire. "Indeed t'was. An' I'd bet ye m' best blade that those bandits knew what territ'ry they were headed towards... Heh, had quite the start later that same day when I turned 'round at the front of the group, looked back and saw one, perfectly camouflaged in the trees staring back at me. I made a motion at m' saber an' that's when everything around us began to move along. It was like we were in a box and th' walls were made o' masks we had not noticed until they started moving in on us. I called th' chaps to arms an' we drew close fer defense, sabers out until we resembled a pincushion. The whole lot of 'em made a go fer us. We fought 'em off, shouting blood n' vinegar the whole way. I killed one with a rock an' sling. Broke its mask straight down th' middle an' it revealed a haunting sight. Have you ever seen the true face of a Sazaar, under their masks, Lance Corporal?"

Carmen shook her head and shivered. "No, cap'n, I have not."

"Well lemme tell ye what they look like, then." Taney Sirgenal leaned forward over the fire and dropped his voice low. Corporal Ironheart, clearly having already heard the story and not wishing to hear it again, turned away from the conversation and tended to First Scout Ackerman. "It ain't pretty, Lance Corporal. Th' hare was hardly recognizable as a creature. Deformed – the whole lot of 'em! Horribly, horribly deformed. Half th' beast's face was eroding away an' the other half stuck to 'is head like a wet piece o' shredded parchment. I wasn't sure how this could've happened, what could've caused such a sickening feature. My first thought was that it was possibly the climate that's dried 'em out, or a birth defect fer jus' this hare in front o' me. But then I kicked the mask over an' there I saw patches o' fur stuck to the inside. The blinkin' savages 've worn those masks so tight an' fer so long that their faces start growin' around 'em! The whole tribe must be the same way – disgusting practice if y' ask me, Lance Corporal. Truly disgusting practice, wot."

Carmen was afraid. To think that those same creatures chasing her and Orfeo down the mountain earlier just this same day were the same beasts Captain Sirgenal was describing. Just then it hit her: they were still in the Sazaar's territory and it was very possible that the Sazaar knew the exact location of the hares on the mountain for they had not traveled far. She raised a paw and began to speak, a twinge of fear in her voice. "Captain Sirgenal, sah, how did ye fend 'em off long enough t' get away?"

Corporal Ironheart, who had been listening to the conversation despite his best efforts not to, returned to his seat and threw a small twig into the flames. "Persistence, Lance Corporal. Persistence, blood and steel. At least, that was what saved us for our first two encounters."

"And the third time?" Carmen could sense that Corporal Ironheart was trying to elude the topic. Taney Sirgenal must have also noticed as well, and he took over the talking from then on, allowing for the good corporal to return to caring for young Rene Ackerman.

Now it was Taney Sirgenal's time to shrug. "We were nearly overrun, probably would not have lasted two minutes more. But they ran off, the whole lot of 'em did. I ordered the patrol into a full retreat. Those who we unable to walk were carried. I myself carried one hare, Runner Josephus Yager, who had taken an arrow to his leg and couldn't move a muscle. Poor lad was just seventeen seasons old..." Captain Sirgenal took a long pause where he did not speak.  Carmen waited patiently; it would have been rude to try speaking at that moment. Josephus Yager must have been one of the hares that did not survive the long fifteen days in the mountain fissure. She counted twenty seconds before Sirgenal started back up again. "That was the last time the Sazaar bothered us. Not so much as a rustle o' the leaves came from those barbarians for the two days that followed. It wasn't because we defeated them. What made those buggars flee is the same thing that stopped the bandits from following us."

Carmen sat back a little. "You mean to tell me that the Sazaar were afraid of something, sah?"

"Aye. An' we think we know what 't was that did it. Would you care to describe what it is that you saw, Corporal?"

Corporal Ironheart, stood up and dusted the snow away from his pant legs. "Heh, more like what did I stumble into is th' question, sah!" He sat back down and dropped his voice low to nearly a whisper. "There was a shallow hole in th' ground which I came across. Now, I would call myself a-a larger hare, big feet n' all that, an' this hole was about big 'nough for me t' fit all four paws in it with room t' spare. I thought nothing of it until I realized that there was nothing nearby to make such a dent in th' snow as this. An' there were more holes leading off in another direction at quite peculiar intervals – too peculiar for nature to make on its own, even in these mountains. Heh, that was when I realized that this was no shallow hole in th' snow that I was standin' in– h'oh, no twas a footprint."

"Great seasons," Lance Corporal Bobo cupped a paw to her mouth and leaned back, "A giant?"

"Aye." Captain Sirgenal's natural scowl and furled brow both sank lower on his thin face. "Corporal Sanders, the most senior tracker in our group, he couldn't make out what kind o' beast it was other than a big 'un. Had we come across the tracks jus' a little while earlier, we would've been able t' make 'em out. Wind and time had done their work on the tracks an' we were not able to discern much."

Unbelievable! Thought Carmen, These mountains just keep getting more and more bizarre. Certainly doesn't leave much to the traveler's imagination. "Did you follow the tracks?"

The fire was getting low again. Taney Sirgenal snapped some fresh twigs and threw them onto the dwindling flame to build it back up again. "The thought crossed my mind and for nearly a half hour we followed the footsteps. We were on a mission to get information. Perhaps the giant would be able to lead us somewhere that no previous patrols had gone before. After that first half hour, Corporal Sanders pointed out that th' clouds were growing dark again; another storm was starting to whip up. It had been several days since the last one an' that meant that the mountains would be giving us a big 'un to slog through t' make up for its stretch of unusually cooperative weather.

I ordered the patrol to start descending th' mountain. Wasn't long before th' storm was upon us."

Corporal Ironheart stifled a chuckle. "More like a white-out, cap'n. Couldn't see two steps in front of us!"

Sirgenal closed his eyes and nodded. His speech slowed and voice dropped lower as he relived the final moments before falling into the crevasse, "Mm, indeed it was... Tied ourselves together at th' waste and stretched out in a line t' keep together... Made it quite some ways through the storm, 'wind blowing ice at us until our skins were raw and numb... I remember, standing at the front, leading th' line forward when I dared a look up at what was in front of us. An' I could've sworn that I saw th' giant's silhouette against the backdrop of white some distance ahead." Captain Sirgenal paused again and closed his eyes. "And that was when there was a loud crash behind me. I felt the rope pull me off of my feet by the waste and drag us into that damn h-hell..." The choking in Captain Sirgenal's voice nearly brought them all to tears. Here was one of the most accomplished hares from Salamandastron, the Captain Taney Sirgenal, weeping like a babe in front of the only two survivors of his unit. Corporal Ironheart sat stone-faced next to him, watching his face closely. Rene Ackerman did not sit up, but Carmen could make out glints from the firelight bouncing off of his tear-stained face as he stared up into the inky sky.

Carmen reached around the outside of the fires perimeter and patted the captain's paw gently. I am so sorry, sah. I wish there was something that could be done. You did nothing wrong – had you been given the same situation again I know that you would've tried getting your unit off the mountain as best you could. Don't blame yourself, blame the mountain."

For the duration of the silence that followed, none of the four hares moved unless it was from shivering in the cold, howling wind that passed through their camp. Finally, Sirgenal wiped his eyes and sat up straight again. He cleared his throat and pushed his ears back with his paw. "Thank you, Lance Corporal. I do wish there was something I could do. I would give anything if just"—

Carmen could see something was moving.

Over Captain Sirgenal's shoulder in the night, out of the ring of light cast by the fire, something was coming forth. It moved forward slowly from trees into the campsite, so horrifyingly slowly and with a stillness, an image and atmosphere that took the breath straight from young Carmen's chest and left her almost choking on fear. A single, wooden carved mask with tall, twisting horns drifted forward, followed by a creature dressed in the attire one would expect to see on a scarecrow. Was this real? What vile creature had ever had the power to remove a beast's ability to speak just by an image? The thing raised its paw toward Carmen. The others had not seen what was happening: Sirgenal was looking at her, half-way through a weary blink of the eyes, and Corporal Ironheart was once again leaning over First Scout Ackerman and addressing his many injuries with what little supplies were to be had. Orfeo was visible in the corner of Carmen's eyes and she could see that his head was slumped down over his chest. She could not tell if he was asleep or dead. Time was passing slowly for Carmen and she fought to regain her breath and make a move at the Sazaar. If there was one thing at her advantage, it was that the Bobo family was a line of hares who worked by the book, so to speak. And even situations such as this were of no exception. There was no more time left for Carmen to do nothing and simply take in new information about the situation. Action was needed and needed at that moment more than ever.

Simultaneous to Carmen making a jump at the mysterious creature, she saw a short, wooden arrow fire directly out of the palm of the masked creature's paw. Captain Sirgenal raised an arm at Carmen, who was now sprawled out over the fire and headed straight past him in a grand leap. The arrow hit its mark, directly in the back of the unsuspecting captain, and he keeled over soundlessly. A look of shock plastered over his distinct features and eyes unusually wide. Meanwhile, Carmen had made a dive at the ghostly figure. But by the time she was just about to reach it, the thing was no more. Either disappeared, retreated, or never real to begin with.

Carmen bolted upright from the ground on which she dove and wiped dirt from her face with one fist, drawing steel with the other. "Eulalia! We're under attack, lads, into battle formation! Give 'em one for an' send th' bastards packing back from whence they came. Eulaliaaa!"

Ironheart was up in an instant with Rene Ackerman at his side, injuries faded into the background with the onset of battle and pure adrenalin. "Where, Lance Corporal! What has happened? Cap'n – great seasons what've they done to my captain!?" cried Ironheart, bladeless in one paw and holding Rene Ackerman upright with his other.

"It's not too late for him, Corporal! There's still a chance if we can fend these blighters off! Eulalia!" As if in reply to Carmen's war cries, the surrounding air became alive with non-discernable chanting and screeching.

Rene, still holding onto Ironheart for balance, gritted his teeth. "Sazaar! Keep strong, Corporal. I think this is the night we join th' rest of our fallen friends." Rene drew a short daggar from his belt and pushed himself off of Corporal Ironheart, standing for the first time on his own in more than two weeks, eyes ablaze with anger at the cruelty of the barbarians. "Strike hard, an' strike true! We'll give 'em so much blood n' vinegar that they'll float on it to the gates of hell!"

The three brave Long Patrol hares threw their heads skyward and shouted together once more the time-honored battle cry of Salamandastron. "Eulaliaaaa!" Sazaar poured in from all sides, horrific spears, tridents, clubs and gnarled weapons of warped shape and size were brandished in front of them. Corporal Ironheart, Lance Corporal Bobo, and First Scout Ackerman fought back-to-back-to-back. Both Carmen and Rene swung at the foes with nothing but knife and daggar, and Ironheart kicked out with his hind-legs. For a short moment, perhaps thirty seconds, the longest thirty seconds of any of their lives, the brave hares of the Long Patrol shouted and battled with all the strength three bone-weary travelers could muster up.

Sazaar pounced upon them, attacked, fell back when wounded and waited to pounce again. The numbers were too much and the hares knew that the battle would not last much longer. All it would take is a single miscalculation by any one of them and the whole group would go under. No goodbyes were exchanged, none of them shouted any secrets as they went under the weight of the enemy, none of them went down without giving every last ounce of their strength to the chaos of war. There is only one kind of creature who honorably fights to the death in battle and it was always thought that, if there was an afterlife like the legends of Dark Forest, that there was an especially comfy sunny hill by a creek dedicated to them somewhere inside.

One masked hare caught Carmen under the chin with the butt of a long stave. Stars danced across her vision and she felt herself sinking to the ground. All audio of the battle going on around her from Corporal Ironheart and First Scout Ackerman began fading away like wisps of smoke in the wind. Head lolling to one side, Carmen saw the clouded eyes of Captain Sirgenal staring back at her. That is going to be me in just a moment. Golly, is this really what it feels like? Consciousness was slipping further and further away, as were the shouts of her comrades. It was not obvious if they were still standing together or on their way down. All was fading away quickly, quickly...

All of a sudden, as quickly as the Sazaar had appeared, there came the sound of a roar. Deep, clear and heavy, like sound one could expect from the winds of a gale blowing through a great brass horn, it thundered across the scene and sent the barbarians scattering away like chaff in the wind. Even Carmen, who was slipping into unconsciousness, felt a chill go up her spine at the long cry.

First Scout Rene Ackerman leaned heavily on the shoulder of Corporal Ironheart, unable to lift his dagger an inch above the waste. Eyes downcast, the thrill of battle no longer keeping him together, he did not look up, but he would eventually swear that he felt a rumbling underneath his footpaws as the roar sounded again. Ironheart's chest rose and sank like a balloon and he kept Rene upright under his arm. Ironheart was a tough creature, one of the toughest to serve the mountain fortress in a long time, but a month long trek in the mountains, fifteen days at the bottom of a crevasse, and three run-ins with the Sazaar had taken a toll on him. He was weary, so incredibly weary. Planted there in a muddy clearing by a dwindling campfire, the good Corporal fell to the ground helplessly without an ounce of strength left to give. Rene too toppled down, but kept himself upright at the knees. Feebly, the young hare raised his chin to the frigid wind and looked upon the creature who had saved them.

And there stood the giant.

Long Patrol hares are known for their perilousness, even in the face of the most fantastic danger. First Scout Rene Ackerman was born at Salamandastron and grew up surrounded by the Long Patrol's militaristic way of life. He had heard many stories of the mountain's greatest heroes. It was always a dream of his to become one of them. Now, having survived so long in the treacherous North Region of the great Western Mountains, confronted by a foe whose size rivaled that of his own badger lord, Rene Ackerman felt his blood begin to boil. "Monster..." was all his lips could muster up. "A bloody monster has come to finish us off, Corporal."

[close]

[The Skarzs]

Just finished chapter five.

Dude.

I want more. I want to hear ALL THE STORIES.

[Captain Tammo]

No way that's awesome I'm so happy you like it!!

[The Skarzs]

Ah, captain Serginal. A man's man in the Redwall world. I already respect him.

He reminds me of a story I was told by a mentor, an ex- army Ranger. Final ranger training, in the Florida Everglades. They had been out there for nearly two weeks, and had lost half their body weight. My mentor had stabbed himself in the leg when he heard they were going back out there, and wanted to call that he had been bitten by a snake, which would take him off the training.
Then he saw another trainee, barely one hundred pounds, trying to lift up a pack that weighed more than him. He fought and fought to roll it over on top of him, then finally was able to stand.
And my mentor was going to be damned if he would quit then. So he taped himself up and went back out.

[Captain Tammo]

Man, what a guy! You know, after the second act of this fanfic, which is making quicker progress than this part, I'm going to try branching out and writing my own original set of stories. A story like your mentor's could be a really cool thing to include as a snippet. Would you mind if I borrowed it?

Also, you aren't military, are you? I've seen your youtube channel - I didn't think you were old enough but I could always be wrong

[The Skarzs]

I'm twenty. But no, I'm not military.

Go ahead!
The point of the story he told was that the mind breaks far before the body does. You can push your body far beyond what you think it is capable of.

[Captain Tammo]

Gotcha, well thanks! That's a good point. Can't say I've been in a situation like that before (unless you count finals week at school... *shudders*)

[The Skarzs]

*Reads last chapter.* TAMMO! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?! EXPLAIN THIS GIANT AT ONCE I MUST HAVE MORE GAHHHHH.