Insomnia

[Tooley Bostay]

It couldn't have gone wrong. It shouldn't have. Yet somehow, it did.

And all it took was three words.

"Yes. That's it."

The world had been a blur after that. He felt himself being unshackled, ripped away from the stake. Away from stillness and down deep into the mountain, where the twisting webs of tunnels and caverns were endless. Then there was the heat. The ever-present, stifling heat that seemed to grip at his very heart. He was lost, and he was all at once alone.

The Strange-Eye priest had said the mountain was a portal to Hellgates. Tooley believed him.

---

Tooley stared at the crackling, blazing fire. He blinked as one of the coals popped loudly, but he didn't flinch. Slowly, he turned around the end of the metal rod he'd been tasked with heating in the forge. He watched the way it brushed aside the coals, sending hundreds of little embers up into the air, escaping through the chimney shoot and into the crisp, free air outside of the mountain.

He watched one of the embers as it spun and curled up into the chimney. He'd forgotten what the outdoors felt like. What the sun on his fur felt like, or how the breeze ruffled his fur. Here in the mountain, there was only darkness and fire. It had been too long.

"Tooley!" came a shout. "Make sure th' rod don't burn out!"

Tooley glanced over to see an older weasel seated on a stool, gesturing urgently at the rod in his paw. He pulled back and removed the rod from the fire, then walked over to the other weasel who continued to wave a paw.

"Hurry, hurry!"

As soon as he was near enough, the older weasel reached over and grabbed the rod from Tooley's grasp. He held it over an anvil and slammed a hammer down upon the white-hot end. Sparks flew from the blows.

Tooley blinked at the weasel. What was his name, again? Run... Rol... it started with an R. He reached up, brushing past the dozens of new holes that scored his hat. Save for several sections, his cap had turned more into a mess of frayed strings than an actual cap. After a moment of searching, he found it. Rindclaw, that was the weasel's name.

The weasel who was shaking his head at the rod. "Agh, y'left it in there too long. It's useless."

Tooley watched the rod clatter noisily into the corner of the forge, useless. Unwanted. Unneeded.

Rindclaw ran a paw over his forehead, the gray hairs around his eyes and snout shimmering silver in the harsh firelight. "Go 'head an' put another in," Rindclaw said, gesturing over to the corner.

Tooley shuffled over to where Rindclaw gestured. He approached a large barrel where the rods were stored, pausing in front of it. No rods were poking out like they normally did. He looked inside to find that the barrel was empty. For a moment, he was unsure what to do.

"What's th' matter?"

"Ain't any more," Tooley said, pointing.

Rindclaw clicked his tongue in thought, and his whiskers twitched. After a moment, he tossed his hammer onto a nearby table, twisted around, and rested his back against the anvil. He shut his droopy eyes, then with a satisfied groan announced, "Welp, sounds like it's break time, then."

Tooley trudged forward in a listless daze. As he passed Rindclaw, he felt a paw grip his arm.

"Not you, lad," Rindclaw said. "I'll be needin' more ore for th' bloomery if we hope t' get this job done in time for Blade." Rindclaw reached into his heatstained apron and withdrew a small scrap of cloth. "Go find Stagumm, he's th' overseer down in th' iron mine. Tell him I need twice th' load from him. If it's beasts he needs, then tell him t' go bother Greffick about it. Got all o' that?"

Tooley nodded, taking the scrap of cloth and slowly biting a hole into its center. "Aye."

"Good." Rindclaw folded his arms and regarded him carefully. "Y' know th' way?"

Tooley shook his head.

Rindclaw reached up and tapped out a square shape on his head. "Long tunnel, down th' shaft, up th' wooden staircase, an' then through th' cave on yore right. Can't miss it."

Tooley followed Rindclaw's motion, pressing down on four holes at each corner of his hat. The image of a long, narrow tunnel, an old shaft, a wooden staircase, and a large cave entrance filled his mind. He nodded.

Rindclaw's lip twitched with a smile, and he clapped a paw against Tooley's shoulder. "Hurry along, now. Haven't even started on fixin' that bucket full o' forks fer suppin' time."

Tooley stuffed the cloth note into the pocket of his smith's apron and proceeded out of the door and into the cavernous hallway outside of the forge. Most of his time had either been spent within the forge or on a direct route from it to the pirate's quarters. He hadn't had time to wander around the Dead Rock, and part of him was glad for it.

Reaching an intersection, he looked for the first direction he had to take. He reached up to the corner of his hat.

"Long tunnel first..." he muttered to himself, turning down and hurrying along the tunnel.

He was where he needed to be.

---

This was supposed to be the right place. It wasn't.

Tooley bit at his lip. Had he taken a wrong turn somewhere before? He looked back down at the winding, wooden staircase, then back at the large, imposing set of doors at the end of the hallway.

Some part of him wondered if he'd come here on purpose. Here, there were answers.

Whether it was that, or curiosity, Tooley moved forward. He gripped the grand handles to the door.

He shouldn't be here.

The door groaned heavily as he pulled it open, peeking a head into the room.

Blade's office was a far cry from the forge. Candles dotted the room upon ornamental holders, their soft flames flickering at the disturbance of an intruder. Tooley took a step in, his boots sinking deep into a lavish rug that covered the entire floor. He scanned the various paintings that dotted the walls, shying away from those of beast's that seemed to be staring at him.

Despite there being none of the oppressive heat of the forge, Tooley felt no safer here.

He stopped as he saw something crimson shimmer in the corner of his vision. He turned to see the Fire God's outfit hanging up upon a stand, as vibrant and strange as it had been those many days ago. Tooley walked over to it, rubbing a paw across the rough, golden hem of the cloak as he stared through the empty sockets of the skull mask.

Beside the outfit, Tooley noticed a shut door against the wall. He glanced back at the massive doors, considered for a moment, then stepped up to the new door and wrapped a paw around the handle.

It opened with a creak, and Tooley took a tentative step through. He shivered as the cold of the room caressed him. It was completely dark, save for a glimmer to his left. Several flickering fireflies buzzed and clinked inside a large, glass bulb. Tooley peered inside the bulb, taking note of the small pile of dead fireflies that had amassed at the bottom.

What little light the fireflies cast revealed that the room was small and circular, with a shut door on the other side. Tooley looked up, and ended up craning his neck all the way back. There was no ceiling, only dark expanse. He took another step forward, pausing when he heard a wooden creak beneath his feet. He looked down and gasped. Below him was a wooden catwalk, and on either side, much like above, there was only black.

Unlike above, however, there was something down there. A heavy gasping sound reverberated from beneath.

Courage failing him, Tooley whipped around to leave back through the door, and he saw the rat too late.

Both beasts let out a surprised grunt as they collided with one another, falling to the ground in a tangled heap. Tooley hurriedly scuttled back, wide-eyed.

The rat, a pudgy, sour-faced beast, hit the ground on his rump. A wooden plate he'd been carrying fell from his grasp and rolled off into the darkness below , and Tooley saw several rotten fish follow it.

The rat seemed dazed for a moment as the silence was punctuated by the clatter of noise below. Eventually, the rat seemed to gather his bearings.

"Lookit what yew did!" the rat shrieked, hopping up to his feet and staring down at the foul-smelling juices that now stained his shirt.

Tooley tried to say something, but found that no words could come out. He scurried back and tried to get back up onto his feet. The rat snarled in response and took a step forward. Before he could react, Tooley felt a pair of paws slam flat into his chest. He stumbled back, footpaws pounding against the wooden catwalk, then the plank disappeared.

For the briefest moment, he saw the rat's eyes bulge in surprise, then he was falling. He didn't have time to cry out before his back struck a wall. He twisted harshly as gravity took effect, and began to tumble down a steep incline. Jagged rocks ripped at his arms and legs all the way down, and it was an agonizing second before he rolled to a stop on a cold, stony surface.

For a long time, he lay still. Between his heavy breaths, he heard the rat rush off above him and a door slam shut moments later. As soon as the world stopped spinning, he rolled over onto his side.

That's when he heard it. A cracked, rumbling breath. It repeated, and Tooley realized it was a voice.

"Who is it?"

Tooley looked up.

It was him. The Waverunner captain. The maddened beast from the slave pit. The "badger," as the pirates around the Dead Rock called him. He was sitting on a large stump of a rock, which seemed small in comparison. His back was turned to the weasel, but even at a distance Tooley could hear how his heavy breaths echoed up through the chamber.

He had thought the captain had died when Blade struck him with the mace. But here he was, and the badger had asked him a question.

"M'-m' name's Tooley, s-sir," Tooley croaked.

The badger raised his head and sniffed at the air. "You brought food."

Tooley looked around him, spying the faint form of the wooden plate at one side of the pit, and several fishes at the other.

"Just put it over there." The badger pointed a claw over to a rock shelf that jutted out next to him.

Understanding that the badger could turn and pounce on him at any time, Tooley complied with the command. Crawling forward, he picked up the overturned, wooden plate, then scooped three greasy fishes onto it. His paws were shivering as he slowly shuffled forward, waiting for a paw to suddenly lash out and clutch his throat. The badger remained still. Soon, he was within grasping distance of the massive beast. He could see the rise and fall of the badger's chest and hear the heavy, rasping breaths.

He held the plate out by its rim and stretched his body out as far as he could. The plate hovered just in front of the rock shelf for several seconds. Biting his lip and hoping his death would at least be swift, Tooley tossed out the plate and curled up. The plate clattered loudly against the rock, echoing up through the pit.

No pain came. Tooley glanced through a gap in-between his fingers. The badger hadn't moved. Slowly, almost lazily, the beast reached a massive paw out and rested it against the edge of the rock shelf. He began to pad at the surface in odd, uneven motions. Tooley watched with a confused expression as the beast continued to do this for several seconds, stopping only when his claw clacked against the rim of the plate. He reached over, wrapped a paw around the fish, and turned his head around.

Tooley looked up and had to choke back a shriek as he looked into the black, empty sockets where the badger's eyes should have been. Dried blood caked the raw rim of the badger's left eye. Deep gashes trailed down his cheek where the mace had gored him. His right eye was no better. Where the eyepatch used to be was pink, puffy skin, the fur long ago rubbed off and showing the beginnings of infection.

Tooley tried to look away, but found that he couldn't, watching as the badger drew up a fish and sunk his teeth into its head. He chewed slowly, unbothered or uncaring at the crunch of bones with each bite. He took another bite, ripping off a slimy peel of the fish's skin. Tooley took note of the droop of the badger's brow, the sunkenness of his cheeks, the dullness of his fur... Defeat scored every facet of the badger's eyeless expression.

This was the fearsome captain who had carved his way through dozens of pirates. Whose roars brought fear into even the eyes of the Strange-Eye warriors. And suddenly, Tooley was no longer afraid of him. He no longer saw a furious captain, or a maddened warrior. That beast had died.

The beast before him was nothing more than a broken husk.

In that moment, the heat from the forge, the darkness of the caves, and the betrayal of the captain seemed to disappear. It was simply Tooley and the badger, and deep within him, clutching at his heart, Tooley felt a pang.

This is wrong.

He didn't know what to do, but something had to be said--the silence was choking. Something to somehow justify the situation and make everything right. Someone like Vasily could have known how to encourage the badger. Ciera would have had him back up on his feet and working within the minute. Daggle could have convinced him that his situation was a blessing and not a curse.

But they weren't here.

Tooley reached out a paw and rested it on the badger's shoulder, and in a voice barely above a whisper, said the only thing he could think of, "'M sorry."

A long stretch of silence followed. Tooley saw the badger dip his head in a nod, then he resumed eating the fish.

Before Tooley could do anything else, he heard sounds above. Footsteps. They neared, then stopped on the catwalk above. There were hushed whispers, then the dark outline of a beast appeared over the wooden catwalk above.

"Ayy! Someone down there?"

Tooley hesitated, glancing back at the badger.

"'Ang on!" the voice said before Tooley could respond. "We'll get ye out!"

Shortly, a bucket tied to a rope was lowered down. Slowly, Tooley placed one foot into the bucket, then held tightly to the rope. He kept his eyes on the badger as he was pulled up. Removing his hat, he found an unmarked spot and chewed a hole into it.

He flipped his cap back onto his head just as he reached the catwalk and an arm reached down to help him up.

A lean searat pulled up him onto the catwalk, his chapped lips curled back into a broad grin as he said, "Well toss me 'eart!" He turned to look through the doorway. "Blade, lookit 'ere! We got ourselves a survivor!"

Tooley followed the rat's gaze and froze. Standing outside of the doorway was a lean, tall ferret. Captain Blade. The Fire God himself.

"So we do," Blade said, a curious grin playing upon his lips. He stepped forward. "What's your name?"

Tooley blinked. "T-Tooley."

Blade leaned a little past the doorway, glancing down into the darkness. ?Tooley... Tooley, ah yes, you?re one of the new recruits, from the last sacrifice. Rindclaw's new assistant, yes??

Tooley nodded slowly.

?Quite the dark place for you t? be wandering into, Tooley," Blade said, reaching a paw down.

Tooley looked at the paw, then slowly took it. Blade heaved him up onto his feet.

"How'd ye manage t' get in there?" the searat asked, blinking at the pit.

"Err, I bumped inter a rat who were deliverin' some fish."

The searat's snout curled derisively. "Skidgel, the lout. Allers gettin' inter trubble."

Blade folded his arms. "I'm more curious why Skidgel even bumped into you in the first place."

Tooley felt his throat go dry. He felt his paw reach into the pocket of his apron and pulled out the scrap of fabric Rindclaw had given him. "I-I was lookin' fer a Mr. Stagumm."

Blade took the scrap while the searat guffawed loudly.

"Har! Well if that'll be me luck!" The searat plucked off his tiny, moth-eaten hat and did a wobbly curtsey. "Mr. Stagumm at yer service, me mate!"

Blade examined the scrap of cloth carefully. "What is this?"

"It's 'ow I remem'er things." He reached up and touched several holes in his hat. "Like me 'at. I know 'ow t' get to th' forge, an' where t' find me gloves... an' that th' mushroom soup ain't vury good."

The searat belted out another laugh, slapping Tooley hard on his back.

Blade smiled. "Well, Mr. Stagumm, how about you go gather Mr. Rindclaw? I'm sure he'd like t' hear that his new assistant is alive and well, and I'd like a chat with our survivor friend."

"Aye, cap'n!" Stagumm strutted over to the door, shoulders still shaking with mirth.

Once the door clicked shut, Blade walked over to his desk and took a seat. He gestured to the empty chair on the other side.

"Have a seat, Tooley," he said, his tone cordial. "You can shut the door behind you."

With a final, lingering glance at the pit, Tooley shut the door and walked over to Blade's desk. He took a seat in the large, wooden chair, feeling dwarfed by the large armrests and ornate backrest. His gaze trailed up, and he noticed some details he hadn't seen before. Like how the ceiling was actually covered with a smooth, wooden dome. Morever were the etchings marking over half of the ceiling--ships and various beasts, with intricate, sweeping waves and flames between them.

"Ah, you noticed my bannerwork," Blade said. "It's a work in progress, as you can tell, but I think you'll appreciate it."

Tooley continued to stare. There were so many details to get lost in. He saw islands and docks, fleets and armies, gold and jewels. And among them all, he noticed one beast in particular kept showing up. A ferret, with the shadowing on his face delicately carved into the wood, seemed to be involved in every different moment captured upon the ceiling.

?Everyone has their own story, Tooley. This one is mine, a reminder of where I came from, and everythin? it took t? get here.? He chuckled. ?I guess you could call it my ?hat.??

Tooley started at a corner and then began to follow the carving. The ferret first appeared on the deck of a small ship. He carried what looked to be a book in his hand, and was always following a rat who carried a dagger. Then there was a sudden splatter of ships and beasts, and fire cut through it all. It was a mess of details, with none of the prior care put into it. Finally, Tooley found the ferret on the other side. The rat was missing, but the ferret now held the blade as well as the book. Soon, another ferret appeared as well, and together they both held up the blade, no matter where they went.

Tooley looked down for a moment to find that Blade was staring up at the etching, a wistful smile on his face. "Reminds me of the sacrifices, the pain. Those who were my friends..." Blade's gaze shifted, and his smile faded, "and those that tried to stop me."

Tooley followed his gaze, stopping on a carving of a frightening looking badger hefting a great sword. A lightning bolt ran down his forehead. The badger continued to appear at different points, constantly running up against the ferret. Wherever the two met, there was fire. In the center of the ceiling, there was a great swirl of ships, with hundreds of beasts aboard each. Water crashed up and around the scene, culminating around a large, island-shaped fortress. Atop the fortress, he saw the ferret slamming a mace down upon the the badger's face.

?But despite the beasts who stood in my way and the obstacles they set before me, here I am. I found what I wanted. And let me tell you, Tooley, I will not let anyone take it from me.?

Then, the carvings stopped. Tooley looked back down to find that Blade was staring at him evenly.

"Every beast is destined for great things. Including you, Tooley. You just need to figure out who your friends are." Blade smiled reassuringly.

Tooley blinked, and suddenly he was back at the sacrificial grounds, paws tied to the stake.

"Yes. That's it."

Friends didn't say that. More than that, Ciera had been his captain. She was supposed to be more than a friend. She was his family. Yet she had let him and many other beasts be cast straight into Hellgates.

His mind went to Crue, who had cared enough to return his hat to him. Of Robert, who'd comforted him and helped him bury Daggle. Where had they gone? Were they all right? Were they his friends?

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Tooley was once more back in the ornate office. Blade looked up.

"Enter."

The door opened, and Tooley leaned over the arm of the chair to see a familiar weasel and rat enter in.

"Ah, Rindclaw," Blade said. "I think I found somethin' you lost."

"Aye, was wonderin' where he ran off to," Rindclaw said, his tone easy.

Blade looked between Rindclaw and Stagumm, and Tooley noticed the bitter expression on the latter's face.

"I trust you two were able t' work out your business?"

"Aye, that we did," Stagumm said, his tone having a marked less amount of enthusiasm.

Blade folded his paws together. "No problems, I hope?"

"Nay," Stagumm muttered. "We'll get what ye need when ye need it, cap'n."

"Good." Blade relaxed back in his chair. "Exactly what I wanted t' hear." His gaze shifted to Tooley. "Tooley, after your run-in today, I don't think you'll be in any condition to assist Rindclaw in the forge. Report to Fishlug in the kitchen. They're low-staffed as it is." Before Rindclaw could speak, Blade continued, "Skidgel will be replacing Tooley in the forge. I find that appropriate, given his temperament."

Rindclaw nodded in agreement, sparing a glance at Tooley.

Blade smiled at Tooley. "Tooley, it's been a pleasure. Try not t' fall into any more holes if you have the chance."

Recognizing the look that said "leave now," Tooley pushed himself up from the chair and started walking back, wincing at the soreness of his legs. Rindclaw reached out an arm to assist him, and together they started to the door.

"Oh, by the way, Tooley," Blade began, prompting both he and Rindclaw to stop. "If you were looking for Stagumm, how did you end up in my office?"

Tooley felt a shiver run over him. He bit his lip. Blade knew, and there was no point in trying to hide it. Captain's always figured things out, anyway. Before he could move, however, Rindclaw turned around.

"I told him t' come here," the older weasel said. "I know you've been keepin' a close eye on the ore operations, so I figured Stagumm would have a better chance bein' up here. He certainly hasn't been overseeing th' mine at every moment."

The rat bristled next to him. Blade meanwhile, watched Rindclaw for a drawn-out moment.

"Very well. You're dismissed."

Rindclaw nodded. "Thank you, captain."

The three beasts turned and left Blade's office. Rindclaw held an arm under Tooley's shoulder for support, and their pace was slow in comparison to the rat, who trudged onwards moodily. Suddenly, the rat whipped around and stuck out a claw.

"If yew think we're done wit' this, yer gonna be dead wrong, weasel."

Rindclaw sighed. "We'll discuss it in th' mornin'."

The searat snorted, then turned and proceeded down the stairs.

Tooley went to continue walking, but felt Rindclaw suddenly pull him back and spin him around to face him.

"What were you doin' in there?" the weasel snapped.

Tooley blinked up at the weasel's narrowed eyes. "I... err..."

Rindclaw tightened his grip and gave Tooley a shake. "Lad, y' know how many beasts I've seen throw away their lives doin' somethin' stupid?" He glanced back. "I don't care if it was for gold, or food, or curiosity--Blade ain't a beast you trifle with. Y'jus' be a good worker, an' that's good enough, all right? Y've got a chance here. Don't ruin it."

Tooley shook his head. "I 'ad to do somethin'."

Rindclaw's grip loosened. "What?"

"Th' badger. 'E needed help, 'e were... sad."

There was no response from Rindclaw. The older weasel's gaze grew distant, and oddly soft for the blacksmith.

"Every beast's got regrets, mate. Best t' leave 'em in the dark where they belong." Rindclaw breathed out a long sigh, then clapped a paw against Tooley's shoulder, a thin smile on his face. "'Nuff about all that. Y'look like Hellgates. They're jus' startin' t' pull out the dinner carts, and you should be able to make it in time. Go grab yoreself some grub then get yoreself cleaned up. Y'still know the way, aye?"

Tooley searched his hat before finding the hole for the mess hall near the top. "Aye, I think I know th' way."

Rindclaw shoved his shoulder. "Then get goin'!"

Tooley nodded, heading to the stairway and beginning the long trek to the mess hall. And with every step, Captain Blade's words rang in his mind.

"You just need to figure out who your friends are."