Fate Lays In The Hands That Clap...

[Eliza Lacrimosa]

Eliza huddled in the darkness, unable to sleep. She didn?t know that she wanted to. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Venril.

Fates, but I wish you were still here, Venril. You were an idiot, but you meant well, really you did, and I?d give anything to have you here. I wish you were here to hug me again, and to promise that everything?s going to be okay, and we?re going to get out of here, and it?ll all turn out right in the end. It wouldn?t be true, and I know that, but it would be nice to believe that it was, even if it was just for a little while. 

But Venril wasn?t here, and things weren?t going to be okay. Venril was dead, and she hadn?t even gotten a chance to say good-bye.

After tossing her and Matukhana into this cramped little cave, Adriak and his harlot had facetiously wished sweet dreams upon them both, and opined that they?d really be better off getting some rest, because tomorrow was going to be a big day. Then they had laughed nastily, while some brutish Sretch-things had pushed a stone across the entrance, sealing off all but a sliver of faint orange light.

By the dull glow, Eliza reached into her bodice and fished out a mushroom. She twirled it about. 

Curious. Such a fragile, delicate thing, yet it holds such commanding power over life and death. She ran a clawtip along the underside of the cap, ruffling the little white gills. They felt for all the world like the folds of an elegant nightgown. 

She could have eaten the mushrooms back in the caves. Could have cured herself of the plague, and reveled in that assurance. But she hadn?t thought to, and it didn?t matter, not any more. The stupid plague was nothing compared to the kinds of tortures that the old hedgehog had alluded to. Tortures that promised to make up a very large portion of a very short future.

She could eat this one, give herself at least that last little vestige of control before everything went black.

Perhaps...

?Holdin? out on yer Cap?n, eh?  I shoulda known ye?d try t?pocket th?cure f?r y?self.? 

Eliza froze. She could have sworn Matukhana was asleep. ?No, I...? she started to say, and faltered. What?s the use?

Portions of the blackness warped together into a vulpine silhouette. It held out an expectant paw. ?Give it ?ere.? 

Wordlessly, she extended the mushroom. It was plucked from her grasp. Slow, deliberate chewing sounds floated through the darkness... a faint gulp.

?Now, th?rest?f ?em,? he rasped.

?There aren?t any more. I only had the one.?

Eliza gasped as an unseen paw crushed her windpipe. Her footpaws scrabbled in the gloom as she struggled for breath.

?Y?sure about that, wench? Think ?ard.?

?Alright,? she gurgled. ?Alright, I?ll gi?m to you.?

The pine marten dug a trembling paw into her bodice, and produced a small clump of green and white.

Matukhana snatched it greedily.

?Good. There?s a clev?r lass.? 

Not particulary, as it turns out, Eliza grimaced to herself as Matukhana devoured the mushrooms. Sometimes it?s just dumb luck.

During Adriak?s pompous introductions, she?d crammed a few more futile pawfuls of fungus into the sack, just for the look of it. Then, while everybeast?s attention focused on the other pine marten, she?d spotted the opportunity, and snatched a few mushrooms for herself. 

They?d patted everybeast down, snatching away anything that looked like it could be utilized as a weapon. Matukhana lost a pair of wicked curved blades, and the bratty squirrel had to relinquish a dagger. A search of the prone dormouse turned up a short knife, belted to her leg. The molesting paws had moved onto Eliza next. After forcing her to hitch her skirt unnecessarily high, spidery claws had crawled up and down her sides, and pronounced her harmless. They moved on to the mole.

Her heart didn?t regain normal rhythm until they confiscated the mole?s flint knife, and a similar blade from the otter. Incredibly, they had missed the mushrooms. As they were led away, Eliza kept her breathing even and slow, and tried not to even think about the cloth-wrapped dagger nestled within her upper sleeve.

It was amazing what a dress could hide. 

===

Adriak had chosen an old quarry to serve as their arena. The stone pit, roughly the same size as a large ballroom, didn?t offer much in the way of cover. A few lumpy mounds of rock jutted up from the floor, but that was about it. That?s probably why he chose it, she?d thought. If there?s nowhere to hide, there?s no option but to fight.

Eliza glared at Adriak. What a preening dandy. He?s even got thrones set up for himself and Lady Harlot to sit upon and preen while we get slaughtered.

?Unfortunately, I?m afraid I shan?t be able to provide you with weapons, after all.? Adriak?s tones took on an insipid, mocking lilt. ?As much as the spectacle may suffer for it, I just can?t see any sense in arming the condemned. But, never fear, I?m quite sure you will be able to provide enough entertainment without them.?

Good. No weapons for the others means that they won?t be expecting me to have one, either.

?How do you expect us to fight without weapons?? the squirrel demanded, eying her hammer.

?There are plenty of stones scattered about,? purred Lady Harlot, the embodiment of loathe at first sight. ?And in a pinch, bare paws should suffice.?

Adriak clapped brusquely at his primal brigade, and Eliza found herself escorted to the crumbling rim of the pit.

?Let the fight commence!?

Somebeast shoved her, and Eliza plunged into the quarry. She hit the stone with a smack, and pain lanced up her leg. Gritting her teeth, the pine marten stumbled to her footpaws and looked around. No sign of the others. Eliza made her way to the rear of the pit, where the torchlight ended and the shadows began. 

She scanned the walls briefly. A wan smile teased at her lips. Fortuitously, whoever had excavated this pit here hadn?t cared a wit for aesthetics. There were crags and gouges everywhere, where chunks of rock had been hewn away. Eliza pressed herself into the darkness beneath a rock ledge, trying to keep perfectly still.

Inhale. Beat. Exhale. Beat. Repeat, as many times as possible. Don?t make a sound, or the woodlanders will hear you. And if the woodlanders find you, they?ll kill you. So you?d better think of a way to kill them first.

She clutched her dagger like a talisman. The handle felt reassuringly solid in her paw. How useful the thing would be in a combat situation was debatable at best. But for now, it was an advantage, and an advantage was a very, very good thing, considering what she was up against.

The others were fighters, beasts who had been trained in battles and skirmishes. Eliza?s battlefields had, up to this point, featured polished floors, and the combatants came armed with pointed gossip and cutting insults. Eliza knew how to scar hearts, but the others knew how to stop them from beating.

Something went tick. Eliza stiffened, clutching the dagger handle.

Tick. Tick.

Tick.

Somebeast was skulking about in the shadows. The tick was footclaws, tapping against the floor. By the last shred of the torchlight, it became a moving assortment of lines and shadows. Eliza couldn?t make out any real details, but the mole?s rounded shape was unmistakable. 

Odd. I would have thought those simpering bumpkins would band together. So much for their namby-pamby loyalties.   

It tick-ed again, coming closer. Eliza?s breathing slowed. Her gaze bore into the dark shape.

Come on, you wretched little soilsnout.

The dagger felt restless, as though it itched to plunge into fur and flesh.

Quick. It?ll have to be quick. No screaming, like with Verand.

She recalled the lessons Rath had given to Venril, back in the caves. The circumstances were different, but the principles remained the same. Don?t think about it. Just do it. The best thing to do is go for the throat. He won?t be able to scream, and he won?t have a chance to fight back. That?ll be one down, and there will only be three.

Something went Whumph, and the mole emitted a bass ?Oomph!? Eliza couldn?t make out the action, but the sounds wove a terrible story. A small cry of alarm descended into a chorus of pitiful snuffles and gargling noises as the mole fought for breath. There was scuffling, grunts of exertion. Then there was a splattering smack, as though somebeast had dropped an overripe melon. A horrible gasp, curtailed by another smack.

Somebeast breathed heavily in the darkness, with just a faint hint of a giggle.

Eliza held her breath. Somebeast had just killed the mole, and if they found her, they would kill her, no question. Something fluttered in her lungs, and niggled at the back of her throat. She gulped, trying frantically to quell the rising urge.

The cough was small, but it shattered the silence.

Hellgates. Eliza bolted.

The predator was in the shadows, so she fled for the light. Somebeast hit her from behind, dragging her to the ground. She squirmed around, trying to backpedal out of its grasp. Claws dug into her throat, and Eliza stared breathlessly into a pus-ridden maw. Matukhana!

He was choking her, squeezing off her air supply. She tried to grab his paws, tried to force him off. Matukhana picked her up, slammed her into the rock. Eliza whimpered in pain, as something cracked within her chest. Small tendrils of black began to creep in, leeching away her vision. No. No! Not like this. It?s not supposed to end like this.

Please... she whispered, to anybeast who would listen. Please, Captain, don?t kill me. Please, footpaws, get up. Please, let me go home. I want to go home. I don?t want to die. Not here. Not in this stupid, ragged, threadbare dress, without any dignity or anybody to hold on to. I don?t want to die. Fates, I don?t want to die.

And then, in the stillness of the moment, very quietly, and with infinite sardonic simplicity, something said ?...Then don?t.?

She snapped forward across the distance, and her teeth tore into his mutilated face. Matukhana shrieked, and his paws thumped against her back and neck. She bit deeper, savoring the renewed scream. Blood began to flow.

Crack! A fist connected with her jaw, forcing her to let go. Matukhana flung her away. Eliza hit the stone, splayed across it like a broken doll.

Eliza panted, staring into space. She could feel her heart straining, beating itself desperately against her battered ribs. Somewhere beyond her vision, Eliza could hear the Captain breathing heavily. Suddenly the sound was overwhelmed by retching, and something wet splattered against the stones.

The pine marten struggled into a sitting position, gasping with pain. She tried to stand, but another violent cough folded her. Get up, she screamed to herself. Get up, you fool! Get out of here!

Too late. A curtain of shadow parted for Matukhana. In his paw the fox held a large chunk of rock. It dripped red.

Eliza stiffened into a half-erect position, wincing. Her ribs felt like they were full of glass shards. Matukhana stepped towards her, a malevolent dementia churning behind his eyes.

Eliza raised the dagger, knowing full well how useless it would be. This is it, isn?t it? The end...

The dagger point trembled in her shaking paw. The weapon wouldn?t make any difference; after all, she didn?t even know how to use it. She could never realistically hope to bring down the Captain.

But maybe I?ll slow him down a bit. 

Eliza tensed, ready to stab at the menacing fox. The Captain swam about in her vision, looming ever larger. A heavy boot clomped onto the stone. Matukhana lurched, his stance unsteady. Then he stopped, free paw clenched to his abdomen. The fox?s breathing was labored and shallow. Drool and bits of mushroom dripped from his savaged jaw.

Despite the pain, Eliza smiled. So much for dumb luck.

There was a spray of something warm and wet.

Matukhana slowly sank to his knees, still heaving. The Leftenant stood behind him. Her rock smashed into the Captain?s head again, crushing him to the floor.

Pine marten and dormouse locked eyes. 

Eliza?s grip on the dagger tightened.

?Don?t even think about it, vermin,? the Leftenant snapped.  ?Surrender that blade.?

What, so you can gut me with it? ?Are you insane??

The dormouse?s voice descended to a gravelly snarl. ?Hardly. Now give me the dagger, strumpet.?

?No!? she snapped defiantly.

The dormouse lunged forward, bulling Eliza back to the wall. The dagger handle hit the rock and sprang from her grasp. Eliza swiped at the Leftenant?s face, but the stocky dormouse dodged the claws and went in for a tackle. They hit the ground, hard.

Rocks ground into Eliza?s back as the Leftenant?s weight hit her chest. Pain flared through her ribs. Eliza gasped, and a fist hammered into her face. She cried out, and received another blow. And another. Pinpricks of light pierced in the darkness.

Her head spinning, Eliza raised a feeble defensive paw. The dormouse did not hit her again, but seized her arm and wrenched it upwards, towards the light. ?Where did you steal this bangle??

?I didn?t,? Eliza croaked. Blood trickled onto her tongue.

The Leftenant smacked her across the muzzle. ?Don?t lie to me, you wench! That?s Damask?s! Why did you steal it?? The dormouse shifted her weight forwards, pinning Eliza?s throat. ?Why??

Eliza?s chest heaved. ?I didn?t steal it,? she wheezed. ?He gave it to me.?

Confusion and hostility billowed from the dormouse?s nostrils. ?Why would he give it to you? You?re the reason he left! You-you ruined him!?

A tear slipped down Eliza?s face. ?I... I know.?

?You know?? the dormouse snarled.

?And... I?m sorry.?

The Leftenant exploded. ?You?re sorry? After everything you?ve done, that?s all you have to say? ?I?m sorry?? When did you ever care about him? When did you ever think about what he wanted??

?If you kill me, you?re killing the one he loves.?

There was a very pregnant pause. Finally, the dormouse spoke. ?Only one of us can walk out of here, Lacrimosa.?

Eliza glanced past the Leftenant to the other side of the pit, where Adriak and his harlot watched the festivities. ?I have a plan,? she whispered, nodding towards the spectators.

As the Leftenant turned to look, Eliza?s paw found the dagger.

===

There was a time before the wealth; a time when things were happy and simple. Of course, most specific events had long ago dissipated away into the fog of the past, and there were only little bits and pieces left to remember that life by.

One scene, however, endured.

Two pine martens tripped lightly down the forest path. The bright summer sunshine filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows all along the trail. 

Eliza would skip ahead, laughing and giggling, as all little females tend to do. Her father plodded steadily on behind her, burdened with a large basket of leeks. In retrospect, the basket must have been incredibly heavy, but Daddy was not a complainer. Every time she looked back, he was smiling after her in the way that fathers do, that tired smile which rejoices in watching the boundless energy of youth.

The leeks were to be prepared for supper, much to young Eliza?s chagrin. She hated leeks. They tasted yucky, and it sounded as though they would make your insides leak out if you ate too many of them. The young pine marten searched about as she walked, looking to see if there were any berry bushes growing along the path. Perhaps Mum could be persuaded to make tarts. Tarts could easily make up for leeks.

Berries were not to be found, but Eliza?s keen eyes spotted a few drab toadstool caps sprouting up from the roots of an oak tree. Delightful! Mushrooms could make soups and stews and things, and they would surely taste worlds better than stuffy old leeks. She grabbed a few and proudly pranced back to Daddy to display her achievement.

Daddy, however, did not shower her with praise. His face grew anxious, and he snatched a mushroom.

?Did you eat one of these?? Eliza shook her head.

?You?re sure?? Eliza nodded, slightly insulted. She wasn?t the sort to tell fibs.

Daddy didn?t explain himself until he?d taken her to the steam and made her wash her paws. Twice. Then he had told her all about plants, and how leeks and carrots were good for you, and how some plants would make you very, very sick. Treacherous, was what he said. Mushrooms were treacherous, and you had to be very careful when picking them, because some were good and some were very, very bad. They would make you throw up, and they would make it hard to breathe, and they could even make you die.

Eliza was taken aback by this, and asked how she was supposed to know which ones were which. There was a little rhyme, he said, that her grandsire had taught him when he was her age.

Dark below an? with green cap
Eat, and be a happy chap
Green above and white beneath
Never let it past your teeth.

She?d thought it rather silly, but he?d made her repeat it several times, until she could say it without fumbling the words. Then he had smiled another one of those proud Daddy smiles.

?I know it seems silly now, my dear,? he said. ?But that rhyme could save your life, some day.?