The End, Part I: On the Wings of the Night

[Bellona Littlebrush]

Authors: Bellona Littlebrush, Eliza Lacrimosa, and Revel


His tongue flicked out. Damp and cold. All around Medjool could feel the frigid walls of the tunnels pressing in, and behind, he could taste the foul musk of fear he trailed like a wounded limb. It would lead any beast clever enough to have been born with a nose straight to him. The lizard struggled to run faster without the comforting counterweight of his tail to balance him out.

Curze him! the lizard snarled inwardly, thinking of the ferret with the axe who had forced him to shed the beloved appendage. Not only that, the demonic creature had stolen away Medjool's first hope for a proper meal in several days. That little scarred fuzzy thing would have been so easy to?

A skitter of stones from behind roused the coward from his dietary musings. Whether there was anybeast actually pursuing him was inconsequential -- at the moment, every echo and shadow provided a new threat upon his life. How could he have ever agreed to this? A few pointy objects stabbing at him?

Should have killed them all, he thought petulantly, and then perked up when he saw a beam of light ahead.

The moon's light bathed the upper part of the shaft in an insidious red hue. Red like those creatures' blood would be.

Medjool felt the tiniest pang of remorse as his claws found a grip on the rope they'd used to shimmy down. The lizard clenched his jaw and pulled the corners of his lips down, concentrating as he began to pull himself up, claw-over-claw. He remembered running with those creatures and being told he had a part to play in their mad plan to obtain the mushrooms.

Never agree to that! Medjool grunted and paused, trying to find another hold for his footclaws. Only agree find muzzroomz, not get. He also hadn't agreed to die, certainly not for those vicious, sweaty fur-beasts who stabbed at his precious scales and mocked him at every turn. Maybe the mole, squirrel, and otter weren't so bad. They hardly said anything at all, and he certainly never interacted with them. It was almost as if there was an unseen force directing him to speak only with some creatures and not with others...

The lizard shook his head and looked up -- four Medjool-lengths left to go.

Iz Zagaru mad I leave and no muzzroomz? he wondered. It occurred to him that she had been among those holding a blade to his body some eight or nine hours ago. Yez. Medjool would need to be clever, then. They'd scaled the cliffs of the Oasis in clear view and with the blessings of both Sagaru and a fat ferret who had taken it upon himself to mark their progress with ragged shouts about how they were climbing toward some roots and wouldn't they grab them on the way back down?

Now, coming back down without the mushrooms or search party, he would need to avoid everybeast. He would have chosen somewhere else to descend, rather than straight back into the Oasis, but it was a treacherous climb to and from the limestone heights, even with the half-eroded staircase carved out seasons ago by the Oasis-dwellers.

No, there was no other choice. He would use all his lizardly stealth, escape detection, and return safe and sound to his cave where he could find a bit of meat ? meat that wasn't diseased -- to eat.

Medjool?s claws scrabbled at the top of the shaft and he hauled himself over the lip, wishing, for once in his life, that he had the ability to pant because his lungs were burning and that seemed to help the fuzzy creatures when they were dying of exertion. He rested several minutes, collecting himself and waiting for his arms to quit shaking like desiccated cacti.

As the bloody moon slipped silently across the sky, Medjool began his descent, keeping himself as small as possible and using whatever shadows were cast on the cliff face. It took two hours to safely slither down and stomp the familiar sands of the Oasis under claw. He started forward, intending to circle toward the palm grove where so many of the creatures were ill, when two voices stopped him.

-----

"You!" Kirby and Sagaru cried. The mouse, ferret, and several woodlanders lunged at Medjool who cowered and fell to all fours.

"Iz zorry!" the lizard wailed. "Iz zorry! Medjool zorry!" He paused long enough in his sniveling to realize that nobeast had actually grabbed him. He stopped moaning. "Iz...zorry?"

"What are ye sorry fer?" Kirby raised an eyebrow, but Sagaru had a good idea about that.

"Where are the mushrooms, Medjool?" the Heir demanded. She added as an afterthought, "And the search party... Where are they?"

"Ah! This is th'scaly I saw goin' up?" The ferret scratched thoughtfully at his impressive girth.

"Why iz you together?" the lizard queried, looking between the lone vermin and woodlanders. "I iz thinking verminz hate woodlanderz, an' zame wordz zwitch around."

"Oh," Kirby said, shifting his gaze to the little mouse beside him, "we've come to an accord o' sorts 'bout certain details."

-----

"Where's th'Cap'n goin', anyway?" Kirby asked as he watched the procession of beasts up the limestone cliff face. "He knows we got trouble 'ere, don't he?"

"Yes," Sagaru replied. "He's going to find a cure to the sickness."

"Blimey!" the ferret's brows knit together. "Is 'e? That's not very Cap'n-like o' him."

"I suspect he wants to be first in line for the antidote," the mouse pointed out.

"Ah. Aye! That sounds Cap'n-like now. Name's Kirby, by th'way. I'm th'cook. You lot could do ter let us 'ave a bit more veggibles an' fish if we're stayin' around 'ere fer a bit. Crew don't 'ave th'strength ter go trekkin' through th'desert an' buildin' a ship on just porridge."

Sagaru turned away without comment.

"Oi!" Kirby growled, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around. "I'm talkin' ter ye!"

"And I'm not listening," the Oasis leader snarled. "I don't care about you vermin. You can build a boat, sit on your paws, or go jump off a cliff and die. Preferably the latter. I'm going to go search the old records for any more information on the cure. They survived it once. There must be something more!"

"I'll 'elp," Kirby said at once. "I c'n read."

"No." Sagaru stepped away, hackles raised. "You stay away and we'll," she motioned to herself and several other woodlanders, "deal with this."

The cook's face darkened and he took an ominous step forward. "You let me 'elp, mousey," he commanded. "Cos I don't trust ye ter share yer information if I ain't there. An' if ye don't...yer gonna 'ave a world o' trouble on yer paws." He poked her in the chest. "You listen ter me: we ain't started actin' like vermin yet fer this truce, but ye won't like us when we do."

Sagaru seethed, glaring at the audacious cook, and then relented. "Fine." Better to keep this up-and-coming leader in her sights than let him go roaming and cause a fuss. "Come with me...git."

-----

"Medjool, I asked you a question," Sagaru pressed, her eyes boring into the lizard.

"Aye, an' it's a good one," the ferret agreed, nodding sagely. "Where's me Cap'n Matukhana? Crew's too sick ter work on th'ship. We need that cure. Me'n Saggy 'ere got information what might 'elp," he added.

"Shut up!" the leader of the Oasis shouted, then pointed an accusing claw at Medjool. "Speak."

Medjool briefly considered creating an elaborate lie, then realized that the truth was less likely to get him killed. In fact, with a minor bit of embellishment, it could make him a hero!

"I iz come to tell!" the lizard rose to his footclaws and puffed out his chest boldly. "They zend I to get help. Zrechrrl, evil verminz, attack uz when we find muzzroom cave, yez? Medjool come to get Zagaru and...eh..."

"Kirby."

"Yez. Kirby. Come to get Zagaru and Kirby and beastz to help fight Zrechrrl." He nodded adamantly. "They hide muzzroomz! Otherz in lotz trouble, Medjool think. Need hurry!"

"Bo hurr! But half o' our creatures bee'm sick with ee plague," a mole, Root, objected. "And they bee'm startin' t'go sick in ee heads, too. Ee likkle vole who was in ee caverns troid t'bite me! Oi set her roight, though, Oi did. Boi moi diggin' claws!" He raised a muscular arm and everybeast could see where shallow teeth marks ran across his knuckles.

"Hmm... some o' th'crew's been more 'ot under th'collar than usual," Kirby said. "Thought they were just gettin' restless. Shoulda known Ole Kimpy wasn't th'sort ter bite. Lost most o' 'is teeth a gull's age ago."

"It doesn't matter if they're sick," Sagaru reasoned. "If they can walk, it's better to get to those caves. Without the mushrooms, I don't think..." she trailed off, eyes falling on Root's digging claws. "It's better they get this antidote straight away if they can. We should tell that lot who were with that stoat captain, Venril. They should get off their lazy tails and come, too. Ash!" A young squirrelmaid perked up at her name. "Go and fetch them. Be as quick as you can. If any of them have strength to carry a blade, tell them they'd better come, or they're not getting the cure."

"Yes, marm!" she scuttled off to do as she was bid.

"That leaves you, vermin." The mouse stared up at Kirby, and the ferret stared right back. "You won't turn on us mid-battle, will you?"

Kirby made a noise that might have been a cough or a snort. "I ain't Matukhana," he explained. "I got no stake in some private little war with a furry-tailed mouse or some mystical treasure. I just want t'get outta this Fates awful place and back ter th'water. I'd take sea monsters over you lot wailin' over this patch o' ground any day. Had enough o' th'desert. Gimme me health, me crew, me ship, me kitchen, an' me cap?n an' I'll be on me way, sure 'nough!"

"Fair point." Sagaru jerked her head up and down, accepting the rotund creature's word. "You try to cross me, though, and I will execute each and every one of your crew who isn't already at death's door thanks to the plague your captain brought back with him."

Kirby picked his nose and had the good sense to walk away to rally the remainder of the crew, rather than point out that woodlanders had brought the plague back, too.

"And as for you, Medjool," Sagaru continued once Kirby had disappeared into the palms and begun yelling, "you will lead us to the search party. Where you left them, you coward."

"But...but I not coward," the lizard whinged. "I come to tell Zag?Urgh!"

"No." The mouse winced and flexed her balled fist -- punching scales hurt. "You ran away. Fortuitous that it's helpful, hmm? You three," she said, pointing to a Root and two shrews, "don't let him out of your sight."

-----

It took a full thirty minutes for Sagaru and Kirby to muster what troops they could and arm them. The majority of Venril's contingent came, too, reluctantly, and lined up with the rest. It was a peculiar army of sickly stoats, mice, weasels, squirrels, ferrets, otters, and all other manner of creatures that ascended the cliffs, led by a cringing lizard. Three hours later, everybeast stood, panting in the moonlight, and staring down at the dark crevice that Medjool pointed out.

"Iz here," he said. "Go down, then left, take two rightz, then left, then middle tunnel, then...eh...then left I think...no! Waz right. Yez. Go right and then straight on, turn corner and there you iz!"

"Good," Sagaru praised, "you remember the way. Now lead on."

"But!" Medjool protested, eyes growing wide. "I not going down there again. Iz...iz much dark and damp. Not good for zcalez!"

"Ye'll either climb down, matey," Kirby interjected, "or we'll throw ye down first. Pick yer poison."

The lizard sneered, then hissed, raising his claws and stepping forward menacingly. "I iz not have lizten to fuzzy thingz. You not treat Medjool like?Ack!" Medjool's arms pin-wheeled as he struggled to keep his balance on the brink -- another kick from Sagaru promising to send him on a long fall with a quick stop.

"Fine! I do! I do!" He caught himself and scrambled for the rope before anybeast could get second thoughts about his usefulness. "I take you there now!"

----- Several Hours Previous -----

First things first, Zhipzi decided: the stoatkit would need to eat. She could probably feed him herself, although it had been a while since her own kits had last fed from her - but she wasn't going to stick around. She'd seen too much of the outside world to stay content with the idea of simply growing old in this darkness, being picked off one at a time by the Srechrrl. It may have been too late to save Revel, but everybeast else...

Zhipzi didn't know of any stoats with litters, but her neighbor was a ferret, and they were basically stoats with funny colors and fluffier tails, right? Just like how stoats were basically bigger weasels with longer arms and a black tipped tail and sometimes they lost their brown.

Zhipzi deposited the wriggling, keening babe with her neighbor's brood, staying only long enough to explain its origins and the dangers she had been through to rescue it. The ferret jill sniffed curiously at Zubble, and nodded her assent; she would do what she could for the son of Revel The Hantz-Cooker.

It took Zhipzi a few more hours searching through the caves to gather together her own brood. Past the weaning age, Fritterik generally went about their own routines; her own kits had scattered like beetles, only grouping back together in their home cave intermittently, when their sleeping schedules coincided.

As luck would have it, now was one of those times. Zhipzi shook them all awake, noted that one was missing, and told them she was going to fight the Srechrrl.

"<Mum's crazy!>"

"<Mum's gonna get eated, hee!>"

"<Mum's gonna disappear like papa! No more licky baths!>"

"<No more licky baths! Wee!>"

They took the news rather well.

"<What is this ruckus?>" Yrika Chivkis said, happening by the chamber on his rounds. "<Zhipzi - you have abandoned the ways of the Shrip and returned to us? I had heard news of your mate, Vakka-shin... I am terribly sorry. Perhaps, if you would have listened to my doubts...>"

"<Urrr. No,>" the weaselmum said. "<I'm not staying. I've come back to tell the Vikvi Chivkis what happened to Revel. She gave birth to five kits, and four and herself were attacked by the Srechrrl. I am going to fight them!>"

"<This news is grievous, but if that is the way of things, it is too late. Revel and her kits are gone from us and the Srechrrl are too much for any Fritter to handle on her own. Pray, stay with us, Zhipzi. The Wizzle Chivkis is growing old, and it is believed you have honored yourself?>"

"<Baez was right. The world outside is beautiful. The sun is warm, the ground is soft, and the water is clear to the bottom of the pool. There are big mosses called grass and bigger mushrooms called palms and the roof is blue and forever away. If you take my eyes, Chivkis...>"

"<The world outside has blinded you, Zhipzi. You need no eyes to see the beauty of our lives.>"

The weaselmum cast her gaze down at her kits, who sat quietly in the presence of their most noble Chivkis. She smiled.

"<Yrika Chivkis... wicky-chivvers!>"

Stumbling back in shock, the wildcat roared his disbelief, while the little weasels around her footpaws fell about laughing hysterically at their mother's blasphemous tongue.

"<Wicky-chivvers!>" they repeated, tromping around on all fours, dancing circles around Yrika. The wildcat, unable to see them, tripped up and went tumbling off down the tunnel. Zhipzi had stuffed a whole paw in her mouth to quiet her giggles at the sight of her kits chasing after him, shouting the curse repeatedly.

Then she went to find Trpcic. Not all Chivkis were stuck-up snobs. The Fritterik stoats would listen to Trpcic. She had kept the males from bothering Revel, and now that Revel was gone...

They would fight. Maybe not all of them. But Revel was of Chivkis blood, daughter of Yikker-chip, Trpcic's lost sister...

And the Srechrrl would know this acutely in the hours to come.