Blood Ritual (Brooga Delfan)

[Substitute Author]

Feel the terror draw ever nearer
The more you stare in the mirror.




?Mizz Kelsey, that be enough. Bain't any gudd to be foightin' amongst ourselves.?

Brooga stood still in the flickering torchlight shadows, arms crossed and with dust and dirt coating her from the tip of her nose to the end of her stubby tail. Had it been any lighter in the cavern, the mole wouldn't have looked half so impressive. But for now, the darkness hid the tear streaks that ran through her velvety fur, and she almost looked tall.

?Zurr badger, if'n 'ee be able to, Oi'd loike 'ee to 'elp us foind them and rescue Mizz Tassle.?

She had not mentioned Cricket's name. She was not going to mention Cricket's name. Reminding Ulrick of the rattess would hardly do them any good. More than likely, the badger would go mad like before, and there was almost no chance that they would be able to stop him again. That was her reason for the omission, she told herself. It was a good reason, too.

Never mind the fact that there was another reason that she was doing her level best to ignore. She had just never guessed that the little rattess would have been that wicked.

?If the rats have her, she's as good as dead, isn't she?? Ulrick's low growl rumbled through the cave, and the badger remained lying where he was.

Brooga almost quailed then. Almost gave up and sat down. He was right, after all. What good could such a small pawful of weakened former slaves do against a whole colony of mad rats?

Plenty. That was what. They had already escaped from a whole crew of sane pirates and slavers, hadn't they?

?No, zurr, Oi think we can save them still.? The molemaid stood just a little bit taller.

The badger let loose a sudden sarcastic laugh. ?You never give up, do you??

?No, zurr. Oi doan' think Oi ever give oop.? She still stood tall, and though it might have been nothing more than a trick of the torchlight, the ghost of her old, cheerful smile seemed to pass over her face for a moment before it was replaced by a look of unaccustomed bravery.

Ulrick snorted and shook his head in disbelief. ?You'd... you'd risk all of us to go after that idealistic shrew. I say we go on now, while we still have some little chance to make it out alive.?

?Maister Ulrick, 'ee know we wouldn't be out 'tall if Mizz Tassle hadn't led us. It be the least we can do for her.?

?And if I hadn't done the fighting for you, you wouldn't have gotten any farther than the edge of the corsairs' swords. Let's remember all the facts, shall we??

The look of bravery twitched in the darkness as an indignant light flashed through the mole's eyes. And somehow, even though nobeast would have thought it possible, she stood still taller. ?Zurr badger, 'ee shood be ashamed of 'eeself! Oi know 'ee be moightily 'urted boi that rock, but if 'ee can walk, Oi expect to see 'ee 'elpin us foind the others.?

Brooga then paused and looked down at the ground as if she was listening to something important. A few seconds later, when she looked up, her impressive stance had vanished. Her brief indignance had faded entirely away, and her old cheerfulness had at least partially returned, even if it was distinctly colored with a tense and uneasy sadness.

?Hurr, Oi... Oi do be sorry, Ulrick. Oi fear Oi got a wee bit carried away.?

She stepped forward and gently offered her digging claw to the badger. But he never got a chance to accept it, if that had ever even been his intention, because just as she reached forward, the eerie wail returned.

It was louder, longer, than before, was beautiful and yet too terrifying to be admired, was so dreadfully unlike anything any beast of the little group had ever heard before this accursed island. The velvet fur all along Brooga's spine spiked up with a vigor that would have made any shrew proud.

?Help me up, now.?

Several sets of paws simultaneously reached towards the badger to pull him to his footpaws, and an instant later he stood upright once more, though swaying in his weakness.

And thus the dwindling group of dirty, ragged woodlanders set off into the darkness. Ulrick stumbled along, held up by Brooga and Kelsey. They were driven by fear, but they did not know whether their weak tottering carried them away from the unnatural cry or, Fates forbid, towards it. And to make it all worse, they traveled in silence. They dared make no sound, and the caves around them followed suit.

It felt like a small eternity had passed by the time noises once more meandered and rustled through the stony corridors. The little group stopped and unwittingly clustered around the wounded badger, listening and hardly daring to breath for the fear of whatever terrible creature wailed its way through the tunnels.

And then the chanting began.

At first Brooga thought she was imagining the low, pulsing hum that constantly strummed towards them.

Blood! Blood! Evil want blood!

It rose, ever beating, ever growing, ever ominous. The woodlanders hardly dared to breath. The vain hope that the terrible words came only from their own minds fled before the wicked chant.

Blood! Blood! Evil want BLOOD!

The uttered words grew louder, faster! Either courage or some helpless curiosity drew them forward. Creeping. Dreading. They came around a corner and found wildly quivering torchlight clawing at their eyes. Tall stakes rose from the ground, decorated with pearly, polished skulls. The rat tribe waited between them, chanting, bowing, shrieking. Wakeeha stood before, wild-eyed, emaciated limbs splayed out with staff clutched in one skeletal paw.

?Blood! Blood! Evil want blood! Evil need blood! Blood!?

And there they found Tassle and Cricket. Bound before the crazed tribe, backs pressed against a knotty post, eyes fixed in terror on the black and cavernous opening that yawned before them.

?Evil need blood!?

Wakeeha leaped past the prisoners, shook her staff wildly, at once quivering and undaunted as she screamed once more: ?BLOOD!?