ANOTHER Zubat?!?

[Venril]

Venril groaned as he rolled over under his thin blanket. He was still surpised at the ability of the desert, so hot during the day, to become quite cold at night.  The skinny mustelid felt cramped, sore and uncomfortable, and it was becoming obvious that he wasn?t going to be able to go back to sleep. 

Besides, might as well set a good example for the other hordebeasts by being up bright and early.  Venril almost snorted at the thought.  Fat chance.  The other hordebeasts didn?t look at him as an example of anything other than a joke.  It was truly disheartening how many times he had wound up as a laughingstock for them.

Let?s see?there was that first day when they were betting on when I would die, the time I dived for cover and stated yelling at them to throw their spears when a bird swooped down at me, the time a bug got into my tunic during the night and I jumped up and started yelling, the time I got groped by that stupid drunk in the tavern and Verand had to rescue me...  Taking stock of his shortcomings in the area of being taken seriously was even more disheartening. 

Giving a frustrated sigh, the stoat got out from under the blanket, and put everything back into his rucksack after getting dressed.  The tunic he wore had been clean to start out with, but he could feel the grit of sand between his fur and the fabric, and the once-crisp color of the shirt had been dulled somewhat.  The blasted sand had succeeded in getting into his pack, into his pockets and into his fur, and the stoat was becoming increasingly resigned to the impossibility of keeping himself or his equipment as clean as they would normally be. 

Venril stepped outside the hut where he had been sleeping, fastening his sword and dagger belt.  That was about as far as he got before the uncertainty of what a captain was supposed to do this early in the morning settled in.  Should he go check on his hordebeasts, or even wake them up and make them exercise?   They needed to keep their skills, such as they were, sharp, but even Venril had enough sense to know the risks of alienating them when he was so far away from horde discipline.  The stoat was still considering his options when his attention was diverted by a sudden cry followed by a clanking whumph sound. 

Frowning, Captain Venril was walking over to investigate when he heard the sound of subdued molespeech.  ??Oi bee'm sorry, miz! Oi bee'm gurtly sorry! Oi tripped an?-?

Venril?s frown deepened as he picked up speed, rushing to a vantage point overlooking one of the paths away from the village.  He was shocked to see a large cluster of chained beasts, mostly woodlander, trying to stealthily make their way from the camp.  Mustering his most commanding tone of authority, the stoat issued a challenge to the wayward woodlanders.

?Hey!  What are you doing??  It sounded a bit silly even to him.  This feeling was compounded when one of the escapees, the pregnant female stoat, actually smiled and began waving at him until her rodent companion yanked her arm down.

Why that little...  Venril may not have been the world?s best horde captain, but he had enough pride in himself to not want to stand for the outright mockery of a slave!  Giving a snarl that would have been more threatening from most other beasts, the stoat stormed into the nearest hut. 

?Wake up, everybeast!  The slaves are escaping!?  Venril  jostled the vermin in the hut awake, earning a yowl of protest from a fox as he accidentally stomped on a red-furred tail. 

?Come on!  The slaves are escaping!  We need to stop them, or else it?s going to be us doing the rowing!?  The stoat recognized the wildcat, Keane, who he had met in the tavern. ?You too, cat!  We need all the beasts we can get to chase them down!  The slaves are escaping!?

?Heard you the first time, Venril,? the feline muttered.  Venril didn?t respond to the lack of decorum, however, because he was busy dashing into the next hut, where Verand, damn him, was already awake and rallying the hordebeasts in the hut for the pursuit.

The woodlanders were already well on their way to the caves when Venril and his disorganized band finally began to chase them in earnest.  The pre-dawn air was still cool enough to allow them to run with minimal discomfort, although the sand gave them what was rather unsatisfactory footing.  They finally reached the entrance to the caves.  However, shortly after the group managed to enter the cave, the entire structure began to shake and rumble, knocking several vermin off balance and causing others to freeze in place.  Even after the tremor subsided, the vermin stood in place, many of them looking around in confusion.  That?s when Venril heard something he could have happily lived without ever hearing.

?Blood?n?vinegaaar!?  Venril barely had time to shout out half of a warning before a hare, a shrew and an otter, bound together by lengths of chain, came barreling down the tunnel, blades ready.  Though outnumbered, their sheer ferocity as they rushed right into the thick of the vermin created a considerable amount of confusion as several hordebeasts fell to their blades. 

Venril felt a fog creeping up through his mind, a fearful uncertainty of what to do, coupled with the temptation to just step aside and let the professionals handle this.  But then he gathered all the willpower he could muster and shoved those thoughts away.  Pressing into the crowd, he saw that the otter was currently locked in a life or death struggle with a weasel from the crew, his back exposed.  Venril pulled out his saber and stabbed as hard as he could at the otter?s lower back.  The otter howled in pain, shoved the weasel away and turned on Venril, giving a bellow as he rushed the stoat. 

Venril dropped his sword, still embedded in the otter, and pulled his dagger as quickly as his paws would allow, almost getting it out before the otter?s full weight slammed him to the ground.  The powerful woodlander wrapped his paws around Venril?s narrow neck, but he made the fatal mistake of ignoring Venril?s paw, which now grasped his dagger.  Freeing it from its sheath, he stabbed the otter in the side once, then twice, then one more time, the knife sliding in with a sickening noise each time.  The otter?s eyes bulged as he collapsed off Venril.

?Sc--scrawny liddle v-vermin?c-couldn?a?.even---?  the otter never got to finish his sentence as his life force ebbed away.

Venril didn?t even notice as the hare joined his two companions in death.  Kneeling by the side of the otter, there was only one thing going through his head as the stoat?s voice nearly broke with relief.   

?IkilledhimIkilledhimIkilled---Seasons!  I killed one!  I got a woodlander!?  The stoat?s relief turned to joy.  A happy little ball of pride welled up in him.  He wasn?t a total failure after all!  He had fought a woodlander, and now the woodlander was dead and he was alive.  He was a real vermin now! 

?Captain, are you going to stare at him some more, or are we going to go catch the slaves??  Leave it to Verand to bring Venril back to earth.  The stoat was so worked up he barely even noticed the decided edge of sarcasm in the ferret?s voice, and couldn?t bring himself to care.

?Right!  After them!?  Venril continued to lead the hordebeasts down the tunnel, trying not to grin.  I?m a real hordebeast now!

It took them a long time to catch up to the woodlanders.  The tunnels were winding and narrow, difficult to navigate, and the slaves had made good use of the delay bought by their three dead comrades.  Twice during the pursuit the vermin column slowed or halted as tremors shook the cave.  The second time around, the vermin seemed especially uncertain.  But Venril was not going to let his chance at actually succeeding slip away because Mother Nature was in a bad mood.  Urging the vermin forward, the stoat remained near the front of the column. Not the very front, as even in his excited state he had enough sense not to do that, but certainly not as far from the action as he had tried to be the first time he had gone into the field with his hordebeasts.

Deeper and deeper into the cave the vermin traveled, rushing past a set of cave paintings that would have attracted much more curiosity from the vermin had they not been so close to their prey.  Finally, they found the slaves mustered in a large cavern full of stalactites.  A cheer went up from the vermin as they began to charge towards the now defensive slaves, but that cheer quickly faltered as another rumble, louder than any that had come before, shook the cave and everybeast in it.  Venril yelped as a stalactite slammed to the floor only a few feet ahead of him, and gasped in horror at the sight of an unfortunate weasel who screamed and collapsed to the floor, a stalactite embedded in his chest. 

What had begun as a charge quickly turned into a game of ?avoid-the-deadly-projectiles? as vermin and woodlander alike began to search desperately for any sort of shelter they could find from the death raining from above.  The rumbling in the earth only intensified as slaves and crewbeasts alike fell, transfixed by skewers of stone.

?Move to the back of the cave!  There aren?t as many there!?  yelled a dormouse, the one Venril had seen leading the woodlanders earlier.  Everybeast, woodlander and vermin alike, decided to try to obey this directive, but it was a perilous run to the comparative safe area.  Venril barely leapt out of the way of a falling stalactite, stumbling and falling before being kicked back down, either by accident or design, by a squirrel running in the same direction.  The stoat struggled to his feet and kept running. 

Meanwhile, near the entrance of the cavern, there was a thunderous sound as the stone wall of the cave completely collapsed, sealing the entrances to the cavern.  The rumbling spread spiderweb fissures began to appear in the ceiling of the gave.  Venril had just reached a mixed clump of vermin and woodlanders when a large pile of dust, grit and pulverized rock fell from the ceiling and floored him. 

The stoat wasn't sure how long he lay in a daze under the rubble.  The next memory he had was of hearing the sounds of  beasts fighting to extricate themselves or their companions from the cave-in.  He could also feel the movement of the beasts next to him as they, too, began to struggle to escape.  Venril began to stir as well, digging himself out of the pile of debris that had fallen on him and the beasts in front of him.  The rubble had been enough to bruise the stoat but not to break any bones.  Struggling to his feet, the stoat dusted off his filthy tunic. 

Around the cavern, beasts were starting to emerge from the wreckage.  Venril recognized Verand, the wildcat, Keane, Rath, and several others.  However, he was shocked to see just how many horde and crewbeasts were still under the rubble.  Even worse, the vermin were not alone.  To his disappointment, Venril saw several slaves rising out of the wreckage as well, their present condition making them look downright sinister. 

At the far end of the cavern, he could see an angry squirrel and the dormouse who had told everyone to run to the rear of the cave.  The dormouse was pointing to the front of the cavern, and Venril's eyes followed her paw.  His heart sank as he saw that, as bad as the rear of the cavern was, the front was far worse, with heavy rubble and large chunks of rock blocking the way they had come in.  The squirrel made several wide gestures, and became increasingly agitated, while the dormouse tried to calm him down.  Suddenly, the squirrel looked past his companion, and gave a snarl as he saw Venril.

"Leftenan'! I ken we've soom vermin beasties still breathin' in the cave with us. I reckon we'd best be rid o'em afore we goo anywhere else."  The squirrel and several others pulled their weapons and tried to wade through the wreckage towards the vermin, who also armed themselves.  Ironically, the wreckage of the cavern prevented any immediate bloodshed, as combatants had to struggle to get within striking distance of one another.  Before they could go any further, the dormouse raised her voice.

"Stow those arms, everybeast, we've got more pressing things to deal with."  The woodlanders immediately paused, hesitating to press on.  Several hordebeasts glanced at Venril (or Verand, much to the stoat's chagrin) and then themselves stopped in place.

The squirrel wheeled on her.  "Bell, have ye gone daft? Wha' could be worse'n a horde o' vermin standin' within strikin' distance an' no' a s'ard run through 'em?!?"

"Captain, we're deep underground with many of our comrades trapped and possibly dead. We have no way out that I know of. If we fight now, we won't have enough beasts left to dig or find an alternative route out. The more dead, the lower everybeast's chance for survival."

Venril swallowed a mixture of grit and saliva, and spoke up.  "Err, I think she's right."  Vermin turned to stare at him, and he winced a little bit, but did not back down.  "I see only one way out of here, that little tunnel off to the side.  If we fought, whoever won--well, we would win, right?--would probably be injured and almost alone.  With all of us here, we can dig out a lot faster when we have a chance, and it will be easier to explore and see if we can find a road to the surface."

The dormouse nodded in approval.  "You're not as dumb as you look, stoat.  State your name and rank."

"Captain Venril, from Baron Proklyan's Army."

"A captain?"  Venril bristled as the dormouse gave a derisive scoff at his title, but she continued speaking before he could object.  "Very well. I'm Lieutenant Bellona Littlebrush of Martin's Shadow in the Northern Reaches. My commanding officer, Captain Sailpaw--"

"Aye, a bonnie wee in'erdooction, lass--"

"Sir, a word?"  The squirrel's bluster faded, and he went into a quick whispered conference with Bellona.  Out of the corner of his eye, Venril was sure he saw a smirk flirt across Verand's face.

Finally, the squirrel and the dormouse finished their brief conversation.  The squirrel looked unhappy, but resigned.  "A'righ', laddie, I'll swallow a temporary truce. But I'm warnin' ye, the firs' time any o' ye puts a footpaw outta line, I'll -- Weel... let's jist say it's in yer best intrest no' t'try, ye ken?"

Venril paused, then waded through the rubble to the squirrel, extending a hesitant paw.  "Okay.  I...uh, well I accept."

"Very wise." Bellona turned and indicated the expanse of rubble that beasts were still searching through. "Now, order your subordinates to search for survivors."

Venril stifled a sigh.  Even that simple set of instructions had an air of condescension about them.  When even beasts who under ideal circumstances would have wanted to kill you could not take you seriously, you knew you had a problem. 

But...  Venril suppressed a tiny smile as he recalled the events in the tunnel.  She doesn't know I killed the otter.  I'll show her.  I'll show everybody.  I'm a real hordebeast now.