Le Jour de Gloire Est Arriv

[Cricket Argyll]

Marchon, marchon!




Twice. Twice Broo-haha dared defy the Queen of the Rats with her insolence. An? twice I let her get ?way with it. Tch! Stupid Meanystripe jumpin? in like that when he ain?t never stood up fer nobeast ?cept hisself. An? why?d he call me by my name? He ain?t never done that afore. A conundrum no doubt. The badger was being a moody git. First it?s ?Hurry up! Let?s go beat the snot outta that Seaking thing!? an? now he?s happy as a clam t?lay ?round an? listen t?that dirt-digger. Woodlanders don?t make no sense!

But she listened to Brooga, too, and it galled her because her new found minions were more scared of the badger than they were loyal to her. Worthless, the lot of them. Well, for the time being, anyway. Once they actually did something instead of lazing about on their--

?What happened to your tail?? Dyera?s voice shook the sulking Cricket from her reverie. The marten had set herself against the wall on which the piebald rat now leaned.

?What?s it look like, ya fool?? the child spat as she drew her shortened tail into her paws to hold by her side and out of sight. ?Got cut off.?

?For the love of the Fates!? the marteness rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. ?You?re impossible, you know? ...Be quiet! Don?t answer that.? Cricket smirked, but held back the retort on her tongue curious as to how else this prissy little thing would mis-speak.

?You shouldn?t bother with such creatures, my dear one,? Jonas put in snidely. ?You?ll only end up bothered in the end by their utter lack of appreciation.?

?I know, Daddy,? the lass shrugged. ?But I can?t help that I like children?even detestable ones like this.? She turned her attention back to the now-annoyed and embarrassed ratmaid. ?Look, all I was getting at was?if you want me to bandage it properly, I can. I?m not like Daddy with history, but I was training to be a healer before we came on this-this Fates? forsaken voyage.?

?Why ya gonna help me?? the rodent demanded, annoyance giving way to suspicion. ?Ain?t gonna give ya nothin? fer it an? I ain?t gonna thank ya neither.?

?I-I want to be helpful,? the martenmaid laid back her ears and stared at the ground, drawing her matted tail into her paws for comfort. What a baby! ?I know I can?t fight and that I?m rather useless when it comes to plots and such,? there was great frustration and passion in Dyera?s voice, ?but I do know how to do some things. Like you said, you vile little thing, don?t just dismiss me out of paw because of my looks or speech.?

Cricket?s expression grew sour again as she realized her own clever words were being used against her. Still, going into battle while wounded would make things harder. ?Fine!? The child stuck the still-oozing stump in Dyera?s face. ?Make me better, then the rats. Don?t ya dare try t?fix Meaystripe or Broo-haha first, ?cause they?re jist slaves.?

?Ex-slaves,? Jonas, Brooga and Ulrick chorused. The adults shared a private look that only further infuriated the child. What? What could it be they were thinking at one another and not including her? That was not fair at all!

?Chah!? the Queen stuck out her tongue at the lot of them. ?A woodlander ain?t good fer nothin? ?less he?s in a pot o? stew or in chains!?

?And a vermin?s good for nothing save the end of a pike or shaft of an arrow,? Ulrick rumbled. ?Now shut up. I?m trying to rest.?

-----

All the wounds were tended to better than they had been considering the haphazard way the islanders treated the various sword, arrow and dagger wounds they received. Cricket?s shirt and Dyera?s skirt were also notably shorter, but at least now, neither the little rat nor the prissy princess would be tripped up by their oversized and cumbersome clothing.

And still they sat. And sat. Cricket paced, her mis-matched gaze fixed on Brooga, waiting for the lazy-pawed fatty to shift herself as both Ulrick and Jonas were backing her. I hope Whacky?s wrong ?bout that prophecy o? the three o? us livin?, the rat thought darkly. Why d?they gotta be the ones still ?live anyway?!

Cookie should have been among the living?and Mama, too, but no. Cricket Argyll, last of the Black Brine?s regular crew was stuck with an incompetent captain, his simpering brat and two woodland oarslaves. There were the rats, but even then, they were not much use if they could not even overcome a badger. Tch! S?much fer fearless fighters. Wastes o?skin an? bo--

The molemaid stood up. ?Oi feel rested, Maister Ulrick,? she drawled in that moronic accent. ??Ow do ?ee feel??

?Like removing that eyesore of a monster before I press on to smaller matters,? the badger growled, rising and balling his paw into a fist.

?Good then, we?re agreed to leave,? Jonas nodded with a handsome smile.

?Hey! I?m the Queen!? Cricket interjected. ?I say when we go!?

?Hmm?what?s that sound I hear?? the marten turned to his daughter, brow furrowed. ?It sounds just like a petulant little cricket chirruping. Hahah??

?Wakeeha say Bookworm shut up or lose tail,? the old shaman squeaked menacingly. ?Have no time left. Rest necessary, but waste no more.? Nobeast argued.

-----

For the second time that day -- Day? What time?s it? Ugh! I hate tunnels. Can?t tell the day from the night down here. -- Ulrick Hammerpaw, Brooga Delfan, Cricket Argyll and Jonas and Dyera Lowri entered the Devourer?s cavern. The remnants of the islanders joined them on their dark mission, if for no other reason than there was nothing better to do.

Silence pressed on their ears even as the pungent odor of decay invaded their noses and mouths. The taste of death was not a pleasant one without proper seasoning and Cricket longed once more for the ability to vomit. Other creatures really did not know how good they had it when it came to things like nausea and seasickness.

Around them, high walls, slick from the trickle of hundreds of years of water, rose with jagged stalagmites, stalactites, pillars and piles of fallen stones. To the right of the tunnel entrance and further toward the deceptively calm waters of the lake, the ledge that Cricket had seen in the fleeting moments between arriving in the cavern and being thrust into battle waited. Atop the glistening shelf a stalactite as tall as two badgers and as wide as a 200-seasons-old oak was wedged with the point down and perched precariously close to the edge. It looked as though a stiff wind might even be able to knock it free, so hopefully the force of two scholarly pine martens and the faith of a blind Seer, who could no longer fight, would be enough.

Cricket pointed and Jonas and Dyera nodded, the male marten taking Wakeeha?s paw and leading her silently along the wall to a place where they could begin their perilous climb. They had discussed everything earlier with each beast offering as much as he could remember of the place. In that, the young ratmaid had to admit grudgingly, the princess had been very useful. You could not spend a week in a dank, smelly hole without getting to know it a little better, no matter how well-bred you were.

While the vermin were off in one direction, Ulrick signaled the rats and stomped away as quietly as his girth and gait allowed the opposite way. They would make ready to spring their attack from behind the stone piles to the left once the Devourer was sufficiently distracted.

This is it, Cricket realized, her small body beginning to shake a bit as her fur stood on end. Her dirk was out of its sheath and in her paw while Brooga wielded the discarded portion of staff.

?Doan?t ?ee be a?frighted, Miz Cricket,? Brooga?s whispered words caught the vermin child off guard and she turned to look at the trembling woodlander incredulously. ?We?m ?ave a gudd plan an? that?s all we c?n ask furr. Oi doan?t want t?die. Oi doan?t want ee or any o?us?n t?die, either. Burr aye! But if this be ee day ee Fates decoide it?s moi time, Oi?m glad t?ave known ?ee. Even if ?ee are a rotten likkle choild.? Her face crinkled into a nauseating smile and the rat only felt her trepidation grow as an eerily familiar farewell echoed in her memories.

?I'm sorry, Cricket,? Spikey was practically sobbing, but so was the ratmaid. ?I don't want to die! I don't want any of us to die!?

Now Spikey was dead at the paws of the thing they were to play wildcat and mouse with in less than a minute?s time. ?I-I ain?t afraid, Broo-haha,? the child choked out in what she knew was a wildly unconvincing voice. ?An? I ain?t-ain?t gonna d-die ?cause I still gotta kill ya an?-an? Meanystripe.? Unexpectedly, the mole placed her digging claw on the rat child?s back. Cricket jerked away from the touch and screamed, running forward toward the lake.

?I hope ya get eaten, ya feather-brained, baggy-eyed dirt-digger!?

The waters boiled and splashing filled the cavern as seven massive tentacles and an eighth not-so-massive, sliced-in-half, tentacle burst from the lake and shot toward the abrasive child. Before they could grab her and end her altogether short life, Cricket dodged behind a stalagmite and cowered for a good fifteen seconds until two of the tentacles came searching around her hiding place and she lashed out at them instinctively.

There was some sort of gargling snarl, then her stalagmite was pummeled until two of the tentacles punched through it. By that time, the desperate rat had moved on to the next available barrier. Have t?distract it. Have t?get it t?come outta the water more. Have t?not die. Have t??have t?do it!

Eleven mortals versus a mythical sea beast. If Cricket knew anything about odds, she would have certainly betted against herself.