Interlude: Baez

[Suellyn]

Authors: Revel, Rath the Whirlwind, Eliza Lacrimosa, Venril, Damask the Minstrel, and Bellona Littlebrush



"I will start as far back as I have pieced together, if there is no dissent."

There was none, if you didn't count Eliza rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"This cave system had been built long ago, by vermin and woodlander alike. The history is etched into the walls themselves, by mole and rat working together. This hall itself - some of it is natural, and some of it is the product of countless seasons of excavation. Most of the tunnels thee have seen were built for mining ore. Almost every chamber where a family now resides has once been home to precious metals: bronze, iron, even gold."

"Gold!" Matukhana crowed. The fox quickly composed himself. "How fascinatin?."

* * * * * *

The bird's words bounced around inside Matukhana's mind. As the fox made his way around the corridors, following the caves wherever they may lead, his mind continued to cut at the Gordian knot of his thoughts.

For one, he knew he couldn't trust the bird. The first time Damask had talked about the caves he was lying, of that there was no doubt. But... You can never be too sure with these old prophecies.

Another dead end.

Cursing under his breath, the fox leaned back against the wall, taking off a boot and removing bits of the cave that had collected there. And there?s the problem. I need that bird around in case there?s more to that prophecy, but he's got the leverage on me.

A pair of runty weasels came out of a nearby residence. One was carrying a most peculiar scent, almost flowerlike. Hmm... that bird?s sweet on Mistress Marten. Perhaps she'd be willin? to cut a deal. But for the moment, more pressin? matters.

The tod slipped on his boot and made his way back to the guest quarters, seeking out a certain brawny ferret who was idly sharpening his axe. "Rath? Have a moment, there?"

Rath narrowed his eye, keeping it on the axe in front of him. "I'm busy."

"While I'm sure your ears play an integral part in blade-sharpenin?, I'm sure you can pry them away for just a moment." That got a reaction; the ferret's head rose as he eyed the fox before him. "Look, we both know Venril's not much of a leader, right?"

"He's coming around, I'd say."

"He's a prat." The fox spat to accentuate his position. "He's effective as a sail with a hole in it." Matukhana leaned in, muttering under his breath, "And he's not about to become a richbeast."

"Not interested."

The fox leaned back and plastered that toothy grin back across his muzzle. "That's just fine. It's good to not have a hang up about swag."

"I meant," the ferret replied, bringing himself up to his full height to look down on the Captain, "I'm not interested in working under you. You?ve already got me playing nanny to that marten. That?s enough of a headache."

"Perhaps I should?ve made myself clear." The fox stood his ground. "Anybeast workin? for that snivellin? wretch will either obey me or die. You?re a clever one. I assume you'll make the right choice."

He spun on his heel and strode out. By the Fates' Masts. If he's goin? to put up a fight, I better make sure he's got a knife in his back. The fox risked a glance back, and noticed the ferret begin to fidget with his whetstone once more. Then again, there's always a chance.

Matukhana was good at games of chance.

* * * * * *

"Back then, everybeast lived equally, where they wished. Some preferred the cool city, others, the warmth of the world outside. The carvings I have noted then tell of a schism between forces. The woodlanders left the caves, and the vermin - oh, will thee pardon the term - remained. Peace soon resumed once more under this new arrangement, and trade began. Woodlanders grew food, and traded it for the metals the, ah - "

"We don't mind," Venril said. "Do go on."

" - vermin, then - the metals the vermin mined. I can only assume this was the fact for most of our history, for the markings following are much, much newer. It seems it was not many generations ago that an earthquake or other disaster caused the caves to begin collapsing, sealing everybeast inside. They were, as thee can see, able to survive, thanks to the underground river providing fish and drink, and of late we have been able to cultivate mushrooms..."

"Those're what brkich is made of!" Revel said.

* * * * * *

Splish, splish, splish.

"Thrg," Revel said, spitting out the fish into the net. "That's 'ow you catch fish. None of this sissy net stuff! Gimme my dress back."

Trpcic and Zhipzi clapped appreciatively, the latter passing Revel her dress pieces after the stoat shook herself somewhat dry. Zhipzi tilted her head and ran her paws down Revel's back.

"What?" she asked, turning around.

Zhipzi held up her paw, showing the clump of fur. "Is falling off."

She tried to put the clump of fluff on Revel's shoulder and pat it back on. It simply drifted off again. The weasel grew agitated, trying to place the fur back on Revel as the stoat struggled back into her dress.

"Oi, knock it off," Revel scowled. "What's th'big fuss? 'm only just losin' my brown.  It 'appens every winter." She grinned. "Th'white's so much nicer an' soft! See? It's growin' in here an' here..."

The other two females peered and patted her all around, marveling. Trpcic attempted to eat some of the brown fur Revel was shedding, while Zhipzi attempted to count all the spots of white that were showing up out of place. Revel enjoyed the attention, though she had to bat them off after a while when it got too ticklish.

They brought their catch of hantz back to the cooking huts, where Vakka-shin made entirely too much use of Deadtail's sword on them. Which, admittedly, was better than not using anything at all.

The huts were warm; Revel kept around them often, helping out with the massive requests for food at all hours. Fritterik would stop by with nets full of hantz and their arms full of strange mushrooms, which Vakka-shin and a host of other self-appointed cooks would take and prepare for the brkich stew.

Revel had single-pawedly turned the whole of Fritterik cuisine on its head - although she swore she could do better if one of the woodlanders had the presence of mind to fall off a ledge and break his neck. Vakka-shin had not taken kindly to her suggestions regarding the one-eyed hedgehog.

She did what she could, however, with a stolen knife from one of the corsairs. She taught them how to gut the fish and extract the bones before cooking. The stoat hummed along as she worked, throwing piles of guts into a large pot of boiling brkich. Strangely enough, it was generally agreed over dinner, that this made it much more palatable.

Revel stopped scraping the latest fish clean and stood up. Leaning out the door of the hut, she barked at the robin entertaining nearby.

"What're you stoppin' for?"

"Dear maiden, no more! I need to rest!" The bird mumbled something beneath his wing, which sounded suspiciously like 'Worse than the dibbuns.'

"Well, I'm still listenin'," she said. "So 'urry up with th'next one. Unless y'wanna rest up in this pot 'ere..."

With a sigh and a mournful gaze at the dark ceiling, Damask launched into a rowdy ballad about otters and ferrets engaged in a cook-off.

Revel wiggled along and continued to dice up the fish, whistling off-key.

* * * * * *

"Indeed. Now, if I may, I would like to begin my story. Attend, my friends, for it closely ties in with the Srechrrl.

"It was just a few seasons ago, when on a journey to a town to trade my produce for gifts for my family, I was taken by slavers. It was during my struggle that I lost my eye to them. They took me north, into Mossflower. I had been hearing awful things about a war going on, so when I had a chance, I escaped. I ran back south along the Broad Stream for a few days. I knew I was being followed, so when I found a crevice in the ground, I crawled inside to hide. I did not believe my nose at first, for I smelled fresh breads and vegetables from inside! It was such a long way to the bottom, I could not imagine anybeast choosing this as their home.

"When I at last reached the bottom, I found not only a multitude of food scattered around - some of it smashed, as if dropped from the hole I had come through - but over a dozen eyeless vermin! Yet they meant me no harm. They sniffed me, and touched me, and took me in. I later learned that I was a Vik'hrr Chivkis - half blessed. Whatever spirits they believe in had sent me, along with the food, from the sky.

"It took me many seasons to adapt to their way of life, and learn their language. Ahahah, but I am a slow learner - and much of my time was spent teaching them our language. For there were many others like me; woodlanders who had come in through the crevice seeking refuge. But it has been a long while since anybeast before me. I believe Tishka's father had been the last, when he himself was but an otter pup. And, alas, none of us have been able to brave the climb back out. Such escape eluded even the squirrels that found themselves here.

"I bet they were just lazy," Birch interrupted.

"Of course," the hedgehog continued, "Fritterik as they are, born inside the caves, are not allowed into the sanctums where the sky lets in. I myself am only allowed during special occasions. Only true Chivkis are allowed unfettered access - and how is a beast to climb out when he cannot see how or where?"

"So, are you telling me that not once has anybeast gotten out of here alive?" Eliza said. Her voice, though icy, cracked slightly.

* * * * * *

Eliza?s eyebrows settled into their usual furrow of disgust. She toyed listlessly with the small knife, and found that if she held it just so, it looked as though Slug-guard was spitted upon the blade?s apex.

Try as she might, the pine marten couldn?t piece together what had happened to her in the caves. She recalled the meeting with the obstinate fox captain, getting that lummox of a ferret assigned to protect her, and then... nothing.

She had awoken some time later, to a pounding headache and a grinning Slug-guard, who had invited her to come and watch the swordplay - if she felt up to it, of course.

She had acquired a poignant distaste for Venril?s training routine, which seemed to generally consist of the twerpy stoat finding new ways to get himself disarmed. It was a dreary, depressing affair, but she stayed only because the other option was to sit about doing nothing.

It was, she determined, almost like a dance. Slug-guard was the lead partner, Venril followed, and between them they wove an erratic pattern of steps and thrusts, set to a beat of clanging weaponry. Eliza had to begrudgingly admire the stoat?s tenacity. With every grunt, every clatter of his sword?s latest attempt at emancipation, every whistling snarl of frustration, Venril seemed to chip away another small bit of the shrimpy weakling persona.

Every now and again the sweaty stoat would lock eyes with her, and she would toss him an obligatory encouraging smile. It was kind of sad, actually. With Matukhana safely tucked away in her pockets, Venril was no longer necessary. She would feel genuinely sorry - for a second or two - when it came time to cut the stoat loose.

On second thought, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to continue stringing him along. There was always a chance that Matukhana might double-cross her, and it never hurt anybeast to have a backup plan.

Another clang, another admonition from Slug-guard about properly gripping the sword handle. Venril adjusted his paws, squared off, and the duel began again. 

Eliza settled back to get a better view. The pine marten sat in silent observance, not watching the fighters so much as the fight. Her mahogany eyes were studying, noting the outcome of every rush, every thrust, every block. Spot the unprotected neck here, the vulnerable stomach there. This attack failed, that one might result in a kill.

She hadn?t had to fight, not yet, but who knew? That knowledge might come in very handy in the days ahead...

* * * * * *

"Oh, not quite. Before my time, a few had indeed gotten out, through the very place thy group came in. Trpcic - " he gestured to the old female stoat who had seated herself beside Revel - "knows of it, but she does not speak of it. Yrika Chivkis told me many Fritterik saw light that day, and became scared and mindless. Yet a few ventured into the light, never to be seen again. Trpcic's family among them. But that was many seasons ago, before many of us were yet born. It does not matter. May I continue my tale?"

"Yes, please," Bellona said.

"Where was... oh, yes. I was not the only one to arrive that fateful day. The two slavers who had tracked me, a ferret and a fox, also arrived. They kept themselves hidden at first, watching the Fritterik. And thee can guess what they saw in them. It did not take long for Fritterik to begin disappearing. Who knows what horrors those two have done to them? For they are the Srechrrl; beasts taken from their chambers and whisked away into the dangerous tunnels, where a wrong footpaw could cause permanent collapse. They are changed then, and when they return they are stronger, vicious, and hungry. They now take other Fritterik, for what purpose I can only guess. To turn them into Srechrrl, or eat them? The name Srechrrl means 'Strong Fangs' - thee have seen them. They are bigger, faster.

"They hunt us at the river, where we catch hantz to eat. They raid our main hall every so often. There is little we can do. They are not normal beasts, content with taking - I have seen them myself, taking... taking very obvious pleasure in the horrors they commit. My slavers have done something inexcusable. And yet, I am not a fighting beast. I could only do so much in teaching the Fritterik to keep themselves safe.

"Thy arrival... everything about it is a miracle. Thee have knowledge! Thee have weapons! And even as outsider vermin, thee have shown thyselves to be... adequately trustworthy. Thee work together with woodlanders to help the other! True, the, er... incident with the wildcat was..."

"Expected," Bellona finished neatly. "We're only working with the vermin out of necessity. There's nothing more between us."

* * * * * *

"Fox." Bell approached Matukhana, Birch and Giddy, the latter looking the worse for wear, backing her up.

"Mouse." The vulpine's grin was too wide as he lounged on a rock pile, watching as the Fritterik scurried about their 'daily' tasks.

"We need to talk," she pressed on, unwilling to acknowledge Matukhana's displeasure. "You know by now that Captain Sailpaw is dead."

"Oh, yes! Sorry, I forgot to congratulate you on your promotion, Captain." The grin morphed into a leer and it was only Giddy nearly jumping at the vermin that stopped Bell from doing it herself.

"Giddy, stand down," Bell commanded, Birch assisting her in holding the snarling hare back. Once the recruit had mastered himself, the dormouse turned her attention back to the amused fox. "Martin's Shadow doesn't acknowledge death as a legitimate reason for advancement," Bell recited, teeth clenched to keep from spitting. "Not that you vermin could understand, but I'm still Leftenant Littlebrush. What we need to talk about is this truce."

"Ah." The fox sat up, his suddenly rigid posture belying the nonchalance of his tone. "Well, that's somethin' you'll have to take up with Captain Venril. It was him you made the truce with, as I recall."

"Aye, but Venril couldn't captain wooden soldiers, let alone real ones." The dormouse snorted and was a bit disconcerted that Matukhana rolled his eyes and half-smiled, nodding quickly in agreement.

"You've a point there, mousey." He shrugged. "Well, then, I figure you'll go your merry way and me and mine'll go ours."

"How very non-vermin of you," Birch interjected.

Matukhana shrugged again, his leer returning. "I'm a reasonable creature is all."

"I don't trust you," Bell stated flatly.

"Mmm..." The fox's cold eyes turned on her, but she did not back down. "I bet you don't. But look at it this way: we'll each find out where the other stands once we're outta here." He winked at her, then relaxed back onto his make-shift throne, chuckling to himself. "Oh, and don't go thinkin? about usin? that birdy for a midnight stabbin?. I'm more partial to cooked robin meself, but if I find one hoverin? over me in the night... well... I've heard raw meat can be good for you now and again."

* * *

"Er... yes," The hedgehog's snout twitched worriedly before he continued. "Anyway, now the Fritterik have not only seasoned warriors to help them survive against the Srechrrl, but as soon as excavation is complete, they will have freedom. Just think of how many seasons they have waited for this..." The hedgehog smiled, tears streaming down his face and cares seemingly forgotten. "And I could return home to my family, my wife. Oh, Suellyn, your Baez is coming home..."

***
Damask was laying on his back in the sleeping chamber he shared with Bellona. It was an odd position, to be sure, but it was the only way to keep those accursed dibbuns away from him for even a moment. When he normally slept -- sitting -- they pounced him. If he wasn't laying like this, he apparently must be awake.

"You look ridiculous."

Damask turned his head to one side and regarded his comrade's footpaw. "Indeed, Bells. Choice between this or those miniature cretins..."

After a moment she hadn't responded. "What is it?"

"Nothing." The mouse shook her head and settled down onto her bunk. "Just... call me Bellona, okay?"

"I suppose, but... why?"

No reply.

"Bell -- Err, Bellona?"

"Just let it go, bird."

"Was it... something about a Fray-er?"

The sound of breathing from the bunk over stopped. After a moment: "What?"

"I... Well, I overheard you and Sailpaw in the tunnel before." The bird paused and gave a small cough. He continued, his voice quieter, "And you've been having nightmares. You talk..."

The mouse waited a beat before giving a small snort as a reply.

Damask sighed and sat up, regarding his companion. With all the insanity that surrounded his maiden, he'd almost forgotten his other duties. He reached his healthy wingtip over, to rest it on her shoulder. She moved it away from him. "I said leave it, Damask."

He pulled it back and stood up, eyes on the figure on the floor. She looked... small, for once. She always took up more space than it seemed, when you added that intensity, but lately--

The bird gave a small cough to clear his throat, then began to sing in a low voice. Not quite a lullaby, but soft and gentle.

I hear you cry for love that you have lost
I hear your whimpers cutting through the night
Oh Bells, you never knew how high the cost
Until they've taken all you knew was right.

You go to sleep, they visit you in dreams
The aspects of the maiden now at war,
A lover or a fighter? Now it seems,
There's no one left to love or to fight for.

Yet I can see there's more than that in you
Oh, Bellona, the world is not so gray.
For you've a heart that's loving, strong, and true --
So listen as your comrade now does say:

There's beasts -- like I -- who need your strength and care
So lead! Protect us from the evil here.

No applause or smiles -- silence was the coda to his performance. Bells settled in further, huffing into her thin blanket. "It's rubbish."

Damask replied with a nod and a wistful smile, then hopped out of the chamber.

***

It was just as well the hedgehog was engrossed with his fond memories, because none of the woodland slaves could stand to look at him. Rugger opened his mouth as if to say something, but Bell shook her head sharply.

A hopeful guide was far more useful than a heartbroken one.