The Shell of Who I Want To Be

[Alan]

When faced with an entire army rushing towards you, there a choices a beast has to make.

You could fall down as if dead, clutching your chest, and hoping hard that no one steps on you with a spiked boot.  Then plan to sneak away when things have died down a bit and vanish, never to be seen again.  At least not under the same name, and possibly under a different fur color.

You could charge forward fearlessly, sword swinging heroically in paw, mouth open, screaming the name of your king and master, swearing liege to your castle.  These tend to survive until a stray arrow hits their heel.  Heels are very vulnerable.  Once hit, even the most heroic tends to fall, clutching their injured foot, and may be cut down by anyone with half a brain who takes advantage of that.

Or you could run away screaming.   

Alan did none of these.  He reached out and put a paw on Rousseau's shoulder.

"Steady," he said.  "Wait."

Beside him, he could feel Tobias tensing, the fur on the back of his neck rising as the screaming hoard drew closer.  Alan raised his sword, never taking his eyes off the approaching rats.

"What're we waitin' for?"  Underneath his paw, he could feel Rousseau's muscles bunching as she fought the urge to charge after Morleo's retreating back.

"Their eyes."  Alan lowered his voice further.  "Wait until you can see their eyes."

"I can bloody well see their eyes." Tobias muttered.  "They mean to kill us."

"Us, yes."  Alan paused and smiled.  "And when they're on top of us, we can vanish into their midst, as they barrel forward, we move in.  Three beasts amid a thousand.  They'll hit each other trying to hit us."

Tobias shifted.  "Isn't that a bit of a heavy bet?"

Alan grinned tightly.  "I never bet on a sure thing soldier."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I suggest you get your sword ready."

The rats were seconds away now.  Alan moved to where he and Tobias were flanking Rousseau.  He looked over to the younger mink.  Tobias was a pale shade of green beneath his fur.  Alan tilted his head towards the coming threat.

"Scared of a few rats?"

Tobias swallowed.  "Never."

"That's my boy."

"I'm not-"

His words were lost in the clash of steel as the first runners reached them.  Alan leapt up, catching a spear on his shield that was meant for Rousseau and dealing out swift vengeance as he parted the rat's head from his body.

Alan glanced over at Tobias who had barely managed to keep from getting decapitated himself and was struggling to keep a water rat at bay.   

"Slash low!" he shouted.  "It distracts them!"

Tobias nodded, but his ears were tucked back hard against his head.  "Toby you have to-"

His words were lost as another rat came at him.  Under his paws the ground was becoming slick with blood.  The metallic stench of it filled his nostrils and sent it's rush of adrenalin through his veins.  He forced his sword into the yielding space between a rat's ribs, and reveled in the dying scream.  Ripping his sword free, he waved the bloody weapon high, giving the enemy a sight of what their own insides looked like.

Alan looked back over to Tobias.  The younger mink was still struggling with the rat.  Narrowing his eyes, Alan picked up a fallen spear, and taking aim, sent the weapon hurtling into the offending beasts side.  It fell with a scream of rage and pain, still slashing at Tobias's footpaws as it went down.  Tobias jumped aside just in time, and stared panting at Alan, his eyes glazed with confusion and the lust for battle.

Alan leaned forward, grabbing him by his shoulders, and forced his face inches from the younger minks.  "Listen to me!" he bellowed.  "What is our mission?"

Tobias swallowed.  "Not die?"  he ventured.

Alan slapped him.  "No."

The blow surprised Tobias, and his lips drew back in a snarl.  Alan grinned.  "What is our mission?" he asked again.

"Kill Morleo." 

Alan slapped him again.  "No!  What is our mission?"

Tobias snapped at him this time, his teeth flashing centimeters from Alan's paws.  Alan jerked back, his own teeth barred in a ghastly smile.  "We protect Rousseau."  he yelled.  "She will kill Morleo.  And if she doesn't, then we will.  Am I clear?"

"Crystal," snarled Tobias.   

Alan slapped him one more time for good measure, and jumped backwards as Tobias's sword came up to slash at him.  He turned him to face the rats.   

"Go," he whispered.  "And may Vulpuz be with us."

Together, they moved to once again flank Rousseau, and the three of them moved into the heart of the hoard.  Behind him, Alan could hear his soldiers moving forward with yells of;

"Kotir!"

"For the Northlands!"

"Onward ya blaggards!  Taste the steel of Tirian's army!"

The tight smile that had been fixed onto his face drew his lips back further, becoming a grimace of bloody madness.

As his blood raced, he felt almost elated as an arrow tore through his ear, and a spear ripped a long gash into his side.  He could feel the howls of battle queuing up in his throat, demanding to be unleashed, set free with the madness of death.

It was a wicked dance.  He stabbed, he parried, he dodged, ducked, watched Rousseau's blind side, and tried to keep his footing amid the fallen.

And then, ahead, he saw him.

Morleo stood atop one of the huge boulders that sat beside the wall gates of Kotir.  His sword was raised high in the air, urging his forces on to victory from the safety of numbers.

Alan jumped atop a fallen body, and held his sword high.   

"Morleo!"  he screamed.  "Your time has come!"

Morleo looked down, and sneered.  "And what makes you think you could possibly win?"

Alan spun, taking another head off, and flinging the blood on his sword at Morleo's raised figure.  The drops found the rat's tunic, putting ugly red stains on the fabric.   

"The will of Vulpuz," he shouted.  "Or do you fear us?"

Morleo's lips drew back in a grin.  "I fear no one!"

"Prove it!"  Rousseau shouted.  "How about ya come down 'ere t' our level then!"

Holding his own sword high in one paw, and brandishing his club in another, Morleo leapt down , a sudden circle of a total lack of beasts appearing as his paws touched the ground.  There was an eerie silence in the immediate vicinity as Morleo took a step towards the three of them.  Alan spared a quick glance around.  The rats surrounding them drew back, leaving the four of them in a bristling circle of weapons.

Alan nudged Tobias.  "Ease off, draw back a little."

Tobias's eyes were flashing, his breath came hot and heavy.

"But we could kill him now."

"Yes, but I made a promise."

Tobias laughed outright.  "Since when do you, of all beasts, keep your promises?"

Alan turned to look him full in the eyes.  "Never.  But this time, I'll keep it."

"Why?"

Alan stared into the eyes looking back at him.  He saw the distrust, the grudging respect, and the hatred.

"Just remember this," he hissed.  "I left Adrian for you."

"That's not what she said."

Alan laughed.  "Trust me.  If I'd wanted her..."  He let the sentence trail off.  He stared into Tobias's eyes.  "You're a good soldier."

The younger mink stared at him.  His expression unreadable.   

Alan glanced up, and froze.  "And now," he said, "you'll have to be the best."

"What the hell are you talking about?"  Tobias asked.

"We've walked into a trap."  Alan returned.  "Look up.  But don't let them know you know."

He saw Tobias's gaze travel upwards, and freeze.

"It's-"

"Yes."

"What do-"

"Tobias look at me."

The younger mink dragged his gaze back to Alan.  Alan put a paw on his shoulder.  "You have to stop it."

"But-"

"We don't have a choice," Alan whispered.  "And we can't let Rousseau know."

"But-"

"I have to stay here."  Alan had to fight every fiber in his being not to send his knife flying through the air into Morleo's black heart.  "If Rousseau fails, I have to kill him."

Toby swallowed.  "I can't."

"You can.  I trust you."   

For a moment that stretched into eternity, Tobias stared at him, and then turning, ducked into the surrounding rats, and vanished.  They ignored him, thinking he fled from the mighty strength of their chief.

Alan looked back up.  He saw the smoke from the fire on the wall above the gates rising into the sky.  He saw Morleo circling to force Rousseau back against the gates, into the perfect position to have the hot oil in the cauldron on the walls pour over her in a stream of death that armor would have no protection against.  He clenched his teeth, stifling the urge to scream out a warning.  If she knew, she would be distracted, giving Morleo the perfect opening.  He swallowed, watching as they traded blows.  Rousseau was taking heavy hits on her blind side, and even with her years at sea, wiry build and swiftness of paw, she was no match for his heavy muscled bulk.  Alan fought the urge to step in.  To end it now.

Carefully, trying to avoid drawing attention, he began easing himself around the cleared space. If he could get in front of the gates, Morleo wouldn't be able to force Rousseau there.  Not with him standing in the way.  If Tobias failed to stop the burning death from raining down, at least it wouldn't touch herAnd with the gates at his back, he wouldn't have to worry about a rat slipping a knife into his ribs if he needed to -

Alan screamed.

Something cold, hard, and agonizing shot through him.  Looking down, Alan saw the business end of a broadsword protruding out of his chest.  He stared at it, at the red blood dripping off the end of the blade.  He turned his head to look into the eyes of the old rat who held the other end.  With a grimace, the rat pulled, wrenching the weapon free of Alan's body, letting the mink fall to his knees.  Alan felt his breath coming labored and fast, felt his blood pouring hot from his body and dripping down to the ground.  The rat leaned forward, putting her mouth near Alan's ear.

"Kotir, must fall," the rat said.  "There is no other way."

Alan stared at her.  "I remember you."

Seren smiled at him.  A bitter, angry smile, full of hate.   

"I'm not easily forgettable.  But now, with you out of the way, my grandson will destroy your pathetic resistance."

Alan felt his eyes blurring, and fought for the precious ability to breathe.  He coughed, and tasted blood.  It filled his throat, choking him.  He spat, the red tainted spittle staining Seren's dress.   

"What does it feel like vermin?"  Her eyes were cold and merciless.  "To taste defeat?"

Alan tried to focus on her face, but it blurred before him.   He took as deep a breath as he could, and with his last remaining strength, lifted his sword, and plunged it into her stomach, forcing it up as she fell forward on top of him. Cutting through her heart.

"It feels like this," he hissed.  "But that's not defeat.  This is death.  Let me introduce you to Vulpuz."

He fell backward, her blood pumping out over him, and her heavy body pinning him to the ground.  Alan's head lolled to the side, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rousseau and Morleo still fighting.  Each focused on the ugly task of death.   

Struggling to fill his lungs, Alan blinked slowly, the edges of his vision darkening.

"Save her Toby," he whispered, and then smiled. "And Vulpuz," he murmured, "I have a bone to pick with you." 

He let his eyes close, and blackness took over.

For a moment, there was nothing, and then a familiar voice said;

"I must say Captain, I didn't expect to see you here."

Alan turned to face the fox with the glowing red eyes.  His own narrowed.  "Lets just say I wanted to discuss a deal."