The End, Part II: We've Got Everybody Singing

[Revel]

Authors: Bellona Littlebrush, Eliza Lacrimosa, and Revel


"For Jurin!" Sagaru howled, hacking into a nearby Srechrrl ferret. His blood splashed into her face as she ripped her blade from his shoulder and moved to the next enemy. The vixen she turned upon fell as easily as the ferret, and then the mouse began to encounter some resistance.

The Srechrrl screamed at one another in their unintelligible language, backing up and spreading out to avoid falling into the quarry pit they were pressed up to like so many pike in a feeding frenzy. They were warrior enough to always keep their weapons close to paw, and now that the surprise of the combined woodlander and vermin assault had worn off, they put their violent training and superior numbers to use.

A group of five spear-wielding Srechrrl charged Sagaru and the mouse felt the first butterflies of panic setting in - three she could take, maybe four, but five? They were upon her, stabbing at her with their primitive, deadly spears.

Sagaru blocked two spears with her sword, kicked away a third, sucked in her stomach to avoid the fourth, but the fifth embedded itself in her thigh. The weapons drew away for a second assault and the mouse swung with all her might, beheading a rat and warding the others off as she twirled in a dangerous circle.

I can do this! she thought, then snarled as a weasel stabbed her already-wounded leg. She managed to hold herself upright, panting, then one of her attackers squealed and went flying away, pinkish bits of bone and flesh trailing him through the air. Another was tossed to the side a second later, hacking blood as her chest caved in.

The remaining Srechrrl dodged the next blow that came from Root's metal-studded club, but failed to avoid Sagaru's sword as she ran him through.

"Burr!" Root's eyes were tinged red and his breathing labored. "Ee varmints is - hurr! - more'n us'ns," he growled. "Oi doan't know if'n - urgh!" The mole blocked a spear and swung out at the owner, turning so that he was now back to back with Sagaru. "If'n we'm c'n win this."

Sagaru looked up and back after slicing open a weasel's chest. A chunk of Root's shoulder had been ripped out by a pair of very strong fangs. She turned her attention back to the weasel Srechrrl and continued fighting doggedly.

-----

All around the quarry pit the battle raged. Oasis beasts and former slaves found themselves back to back with corsairs and hordesvermin, but their numbers were dwindling as the Srechrrl threw spears and bodies at their sickly, ever-smaller force.

Kirby rallied a pawful of beasts and pinned seven Srechrrl between two pillars where they couldn't make full use of the range of their spears, then, with the melee fighters keeping the primitive vermin trapped, he instructed two archers and a slingthrower to wipe the Srechrrl out. They fell like hatchlings from a nest -- no Srechrrl had ever laid eyes on proper long-range weapons.

The ferret tried the tactic again, but before the next group could be contained, one of the archers began panting hard and gnashing his teeth. He threw aside his bow and lunged at the Srechrrl with his bare claws and swiftly became a yowling, bloody pin-cushion. Then, a wave of ferrets and weasels and stoats washed through Kirby's miniature force; the slingerthrower gurgled and dropped as a spear went through his throat.

Kirby defended himself as best he could as more of the vicious little things came at him, then the ring of light he'd been in disappeared.

Somebeast had begun dousing the torches that provided scant illumination to the combatants, plunging more and more of the battle into darkened chaos.

-----

On the spectator's ledge, Bellona and Birch were doing their best to keep Adriak and Kelly under control. Adriak had come around again, after Birch tugged one of his less offensive pelts off to bandage the wound in her leg. Revel sat hunched over against the cliff, as if she were trying to melt into the rock. Eliza was doing the same, albeit with a little more dignity.

A wet skweck! sounded above as a Srechrrl tumbled over the lip of the pit, knocking the ladder askew. He landed on the hard stone on the next ledge just below them, the ladder clattering down and pinning him. He groaned feebly.

Eliza did her best to ignore this and focus on finding an opportunity to get the Hellgates away from all this madness. The darkness on the far side of the quarry pit looked like a good place to hide out for a bit...

"Don't even think about it, marten," Bellona growled, grasping Damask's bracelet and squeezing, exactly as Matukhana had little more than half a day ago. Before either marten or dormouse could trade further comment or insult, a ragged hare landed in their midst. He'd doubtlessly jumped from above.

Bellona released Eliza's wrist and turned to the woodlander.

"Leftenant," the hare said, saluting Bellona, "Sagaru and some of the vermin are here to fight these rotten blighters. I say! Wot are these two, then?"

"We're the slavers," Adriak explained groggily, as if this should be obvious to everybeast.

Birch kicked the back of his legs, forcing him to all fours. Kelly quickly followed under similar duress.

While the dormouse and hare talked, the former exchanging her knife for the latter's short sword, Eliza began to edge toward the lip of the ledge once more.

"I do believe she told you to stay, wench. Sit, wench. Fetch, wench. There's an ugly little wench!" Kelly tittered.

"What?" Eliza's eyes narrowed and her tail bristled.

"Oh, she's deaf, too, love," the vixen continued, grinning at Adriak. "I think it's the scars. Probably caused some sort of trauma to her hea ? Ugh!"

"Don't you ever speak to me again, you vile, Vulpuz-spawned harlot!" the pine marten snarled, flexing her paw and grimacing as tiny bolts of pain ran up her arm.

"I didn't think you had it in you to fight, Lacrimosa," Bellona observed as Kelly picked herself up.

"You don't know me," Eliza shot back.

The dormouse's lip curled upward in a sneer. "No, but I know what you're going to do." She grabbed the front of Eliza's dress and dragged her unceremoniously to the back of the ledge. "Climb."

The marten's brows drew down in confusion. "You want me," she pointed at herself, "to go up there?" she indicated the chaotic battle above their heads. "You really are insane."

"You're not going to cower down here while the rest fight your battles," Bellona growled. "You've proved you've some spirit in you, so you'll fight. Or you'll die. I can make that happen now, or you can try your luck with our friends up there."

Eliza considered the dormouse for a moment, staring down her slender snout at the scar-faced-barbarian. "Fine. It's better than being stared at by your hideousness anyway." She put a paw on the rock face, then stopped. "Oh, and while I'm up there getting hacked to bits, what will you be doing? Sitting on your fat little bottom playing crosses-and-draughts with your scars?"

Bellona quirked an eyebrow, but did not rise to the bait. "Following and watching out to make sure you and the rest of the beasts on my side don't lose the bits important to fighting... like life."

"Hmph! Doesn't seem to have done that incoherent hare you were looking after much good." Before the warrior could formulate a response, Eliza scrambled to the top of the quarry pit, looked around, and then hauled herself up when there were slightly fewer beasts about likely to run her through.

Once over the rim, she stood, and then ducked as a spear went sailing over her head. Somewhere safe. She needed somewhere safe to hide until this madness was over.

Grabbing up a discarded spear for protection, the marten bravely ran as fast as she could away from the action. Sensibly, she kept her head low.

-----

"Where's Eliza goin'?" Revel demanded.

"To fight. Like you should," Bellona growled. She was less inclined to force the stoat off into battle, though, given the likelihood that she would attack as many woodlanders as Srechrrl. At least with Eliza, one could trust that she would act in her best interest, which meant aligning herself with Sagaru's forces for the moment.

"Don' wanna..." Revel mumbled, and then her head shot up. She stared at Adriak. "What 'appened t'those kits? Th'little ferret an' th'rat?"

"Are they not in your coat?" Adriak said. "That was our deal! I spare you, you look after them!"

"They're not mine!"

"They're not anybeast's, anymore," Kelly growled. The vixen's face went blank, and then she smiled sweetly at Revel. "Eliza -- Pretty Eliza -- won't you convince your friends to let me go? My son is out there, just a kit, really. His name is Randall. My sweet little Randy. He was burned recently, so he?s...not looking his best..."

"Melt-face?" Revel said, nonplussed.

Kelly hissed at the nickname. "Yes. You, as a mother, know the terror I feel for him - please, let me go, just so I can find him..."

"Stop right there," Bellona said, stamping down on the vixen's paw as Kelly reached out to tug pitifully at Revel's skirts. The dormouse glared down at Revel. "If you turn on us, I will not waste one second before shoving you off to be with that Srechrrl, stoat."

Revel leaned against the wall, one paw tucked inside her coat, stroking a kit's head. She didn't say anything for a while, simply ignoring Bellona's threat as she stared at the rock in front of her.

"I say we just pop her now!" Birch stage-whispered. The squirrel started as Revel stood up, but rather than retaliate, the stoatmaid scrambled up the ledge and vanished.

"Don't kill any woodlanders, stoat!" Bellona shouted. "They're on our - your side!"

"Way to keep your team together, eh, squirrel?" Adriak snorted. Birch struck him across the nose with the haft of her hammer.

"Keep them quiet," Bellona instructed Birch, motioning to Adriak and Kelly. "And make sure nobeast kills them. They might be useful later."

"Okay..." Birch replied simply. The squirrel became much more at ease now that Revel was out of the picture, though she was still coughing and groaning from her pains. Bellona was somewhat impressed by Birch's fortitude, though it was probably also due to her being in possession of her hammer at last. She clutched at her weapon now as if it would disappear the moment she let go.

"You can rough them up a bit, though, even if they don't need it," the dormouse whispered to the hare, jerking her claw at the vermin. He nodded and Bellona quickly climbed out of the pit and into the fray.

She dodged to avoid a Srechrrl who charged at her, then began cutting her way across the battlefield toward a raised ledge on the cavern wall. The dormouse stabbed a ferret in the back, and while he was still upright, climbed his body and used it to jump up onto the ledge. The warrior did not like what she saw.

Roughly sixty Srechrrl fought against thirty-five or forty non-Srechrrl vermin and woodlanders. The attacking force had been separated into small groups that were now under constant assault by the Srechrrl. In addition, she noted that the fighting was concentrated in the small pools of light remaining. She realized that the Srechrrl must have strategically darkened the field to force the woodlanders, corsairs, and hordesvermin into weaker positions - they had to use their eyes to fight, the Srechrrl ?

"For Rivvilllll!" A voice cried from the darkness on the north side of the quarry pit cavern. Bellona's head jerked sharply toward the noise, as did that of many of the combatants. Then, in the fire's glow, small silhouettes appeared waving rocks, knives and fishing spears, and babbling utter nonsense.

Bellona could honestly say that she never thought she would be so happy to see the Fritterik again.

-----

Zhipzi led the charge of the Fritterik, her teeth bared at the larger creatures and a stone knife clutched in her claws. She and another weasel jumped on a Srechrrl ferret and stabbed his face and chest until he tumbled over backward with a shriek. Then, they scampered over him and onto their next victim.

A hail of rocks flew from the rest of the mostly stoat and weasel mass. Deadtail's teachings had not been forgotten. Although many fell short of their marks, others banged off of paws, noses, and chests, driving many of the Srechrrl backward and over the edge of the quarry pit. They had not expected the sudden reinforcements and their response was as sluggish as it had been in the initial onslaught.

Still other Fritterik, young creatures with their dibbunhood barely a season behind them, dashed forward to cut and slice and parry, and drop and roll to dodge. They had watched Rath the Whirlwind teach Venril and practiced in the dark tunnels with one another, preparing themselves for the next Srechrrl attack. They did not want to just run and hide. They wanted to protect their food and families!

Rallied by the influx of assistance, the remaining woodlanders, corsairs, and hordesvermin cheered and attacked with renewed vigor. At least, it might have been renewed vigor... many of them were panting hard and drooling. They threw their weapons aside and attacked the Srechrrl with tooth, claw, and unholy strength born of disease and adrenaline.

-----

It had been the oddest thing. A Srechrrl had come racing at her, spear raised -- and then stopped. It had cocked its head to the side, blinked once, and then turned around, only to be beheaded by an axe-wielding corsair.

Revel could have sworn it had been Rath's axe.

The stoatmaid had ducked and weaved through the worst of the fighting, seemingly not a target to either side, so long as they recognized her. She'd picked up a spear, and then exchanged it in favor of a short sword, and then exchanged that in favor of a cutlass.

The ferret and the rat had not been there when she'd found the small prison chamber again. There was no sign of bloodshed, except for the throne room, which had dyed her footpaws dark red. She could only assume they'd been taken away and spared from the fighting.

She shrugged her coat off, laying it gently in the corner of the chamber, letting the kits spill out into the center of the folds. They mewled and wobbled, but she turned away and took a stance in the entrance, cutlass held straight in both paws.

She made no distinction. Anybeast who came close was cut down; woodlander, corsair, Srechrrl. Whether they were trying to escape the fighting to a safe haven, or curious about what she was protecting, or just flying at her because she was a target, she let none through. Their blood flecked the walls on either side of her, pooled around her footpaws, and dabbled mystic tattoos on the blank white canvas of her winter fur.

Eventually, they stopped coming. She was visible from a good distance -- a haggard, bloodied stoatmaid, cutlass in one paw, Srechrrl spear in her other, heaving with exertion and wild-eyed for more. Her headscarf hung about her neck, having fallen down past her ears; her dress hung limp, supported now by just one shoulder strap. A semi-circle of bodies and parts of bodies barricaded her from the rest of the fighting in the throne room, which by now was receding to scattered private scuffles.

Zhipzi clambered over and stood just out of range, staring at the monstrous apparition that so closely -- and yet in no way -- resembled her friend.

"Rivvil?"

The stoat uttered a primal hiss, lunging at the smaller weasel. Zhipzi scampered away as the spear clattered after her.

-----

From her vantage point, Bellona watched the tide of the battle turn and smiled grimly. She dropped down from the ledge, driving her short sword into a rat's head as she did so. Thank the Fates the Srechrrl wore no clothing. It made them easy to identify as her foes in this mad battle where she fought alongside vermin and woodlander alike.

The warrior yanked her blade from the Srechrrl's body and plunged it into a ferret. Before she could free it this time, though, a weasel clamped his jaws down on her arm. She punched his face, paw becoming bloodier with each pass, until he released her, then whirled and sliced open a macabre smile low on his belly. His guts oozed out like drool.

Trying to ignore her new wound, Bellona pressed on.