What the Water Gave Me

[Rousseau]

?Hey, you.  Get up.?

Rousseau groaned as she was prodded roughly by the butt of a spear.  Instinctively, the rat curled into a ball to protect herself from further harassment, earning a giggle from the spearbeast as she blinked herself awake and tried to take stock of her surroundings.  Lying in the wet dirt and mud, a result of the heavy rain from the storm the previous evening, she could see the bottom folds of the tent she had been set in and the footpaws of her assailants. A puddle of mud lay by her head and she quickly glanced at her dirty reflection, seeing a bandage wrapped around her cheek and head.

?This ain?t Hellgates?? she couldn?t help but mutter.

Another prod from the spear. ?No, this ain?t yer phony Hellgates.  Ya ain?t dead, not yet, but we can kill ya if you want us to.?  

Rousseau remembered a rat had slammed his club into the back of her skull as a huge pain shot through her head.  She tried to clutch her temple but found her paws were bound behind her back.  Biting her tongue, she replied, ?please.?

?If ya say so, heathen.?  The other rat held the point of a spear in front of her face.    

?Stop it. She?s not to be killed.?

The corsair cursed. She turned her head as much as was possible, having to roll onto her side so that she could see the beast who had appeared.  A tall and burly rat stood at the entrance of the tent, his thick muscles and body a canvas of scars and war paint.  The beast stared at her in disgust.  

?Get up,? he commanded.

?An? here I was hopin? I?d get t? sleep in,? Rousseau said as her guard hoisted her to her feet.  She stumbled and blinked at the scarred rat. ?You were the one who hit me over the head with the club, weren?t ya? Ya know, that kinda hurt. I think I?ve got a score t? settle with ya.?

The burly rat chuckled. ?I don?t believe you are in any position to be making such threats, heathen.? He turned to the rat guard. ?Take her to my tent; I?ll be with her momentarily.?

?Yes, chief.? Rousseau felt a push from the beast behind her.  ?Move it.?

The rattess rolled her single eye as she was forced out of the tent. She squinted as bright, early morning sunlight filled her vision.  The other rat was pushing her fast, but Rousseau quickly looked around at her surroundings.  What was left of the grounds of Kotir had been transformed into a water rat camp. Tents covered the muddied grounds around her as the rodents moved to and fro with spears and swords, hustling to put up more of them around the main building of the castle. Several yards away, she could see a cluster of beasts on their knees, surrounded by more of the beasts.  She could vaguely make out some of the faces of her own crewbeasts among the prisoners.  

She clenched her teeth.  

?We?re here.?

Rousseau was shoved roughly inside of a tent, one larger than the rest, and made to sit on a chair next to a small table at the far end.  She looked around her. Another chair, ornate and decorated with carvings, was placed at the other end of the table, presumably the chieftain?s.  Maps and diagrams were strewn about the tent, detailing war strategies.  

A particular one caught her eye.  It detailed a layout of what looked to be Rexim's tunnel.  At one end, what Rousseau figured was the exit, it was labeled 'river' and at the other, the entrance, 'heathen castle.'  A circle was drawn in the center, a scribbled label added to it that the rattess wasn't able to make out. Through the center of the tunnel, a single arrow was drawn from the exit to the castle.

?See anything you like, rat??

Rousseau turned her head nonchalantly at the scarred rodent as he entered his tent.  ?Aye, yer chair?s quite pretty.  The designs on it seem like they ?ad a lot o? work put into ?em.?

?My grandmother carved them,? he said as he sat down.  

?Well, yer grandmum?s got a good paw,? Rousseau replied. ?I?m not much of a carver, but I kin tell good work when I see it. ?

The rat frowned and changed the topic. ?I haven?t brought you here to talk about artwork, heathen.  My name is Morleo, and according to the elders, I am the new chieftain of this tribe.? He pushed aside the diagrams set on the table.

?Rousseau.?

?Ah, yes.  You?re the pirate captain.  I believe we have some of your crew among our captives,? Morleo said casually.  ?Unlucky beasts, caught in something they have no business being a part of, and yet, here they are, inland instead of on the vast seas I?ve heard stories of.  Us being beasts of the water and you from the oceans, they?d be a fitting sacrifice to the Mother.?

?Shut up.?

Morleo?s paw was fast as lightning as it struck her across the face. The rattess recoiled from the impact, but didn?t flinch.  She blinked once and turned back to her captor.

?I am Morleo, First Son of the Mother,? the scarred rat snapped.  ?I am the beast who decides if you live or die.  With a snap of my claws I could have you beaten or drowned or even released from your captivity.  We have been kind to you thus far, heathen; we have tended to your injuries, if you haven?t noticed. When you speak, it shall be when I address you to do so, and it will be done with respect.?

Rousseau couldn?t help but chuckle. ?Ya know, ya remind me of another rat.  He?s just as theatrical when ?e tries t? make somebeast give ?im respect, but o? course, he?s a fat lardbucket who wishes he could only look somethin? fierce like you.?  The rattess received another slap. She grinned.

?Do you not wish to live, rat?  Do you not wish to see your beloved crew again?  Be wise with your words.  You?re testing my patience and already it?s running quite thin,? Morleo said. ?Speak.?

?I wouldn?t mind seein? my crew again, I won?t lie.  But it might be difficult fer them t? say the same about me,? Rousseau said.  ?I?m not the best captain in the seas.?

Morleo smiled. ?The portion of your crew we have hasn?t been told that you've been captured as of yet.  From the threats they?ve given some of their guards, it seems that they?re very convinced that you will rescue them. After all,? he said, ?you are the Captain Rousseau they speak of, correct??

Rousseau?s single eye widened.  The crew couldn?t have possibly said something like that.  It had to be a lie. ?Aye.?  Without thinking she added, ?ya know, I think I like Caractacus better.?

Morleo paused as if contemplating what she said. ?My brother was a fool!? he finally spat. ?He was weak.  After you kitnapped Mirdros, my son, the beast would rather try to parley with you heathens than consult with the elders for a Mam Rhyfel!* The Mother was angry, I could feel it, and yet our own leader didn?t have the sense to listen to her rage.  Ever since the wolves arrived, we?ve been fighting them, many of us dying.  I almost died myself, you can tell by my scars, but I hung onto life.  This kitnapping should have been the last straw, but the wise, just Caractacus couldn?t have any blood spilt!  He was a coward!

Morleo smiled.  ?However with the successful entry into the castle grounds, I?ve achieved something my brother did not.  The Sons, Daughters, Grandsons, and Granddaughters all sing praise of me, and, for that, I?m in a rather good mood. I believe I?m going to let you live.  Being a captain, you?ve given me a nice bargaining ground for which to get my son out of that hole of a castle and to get rid of the heathens within.  Soon our lake will be ours once more.?  

Rousseau?s whisker?s twitched. This had been expected. ?An?, if?n I kin ask, why exactly did ya want the lake??

The scarred rat blinked before responding. ?Ah yes, a beast like you wouldn?t be expected to know. The lake is the heart of our Mother.  When a Daughter gives birth, it must be into the Mother?s heart, and with that, the newborn would be purified, a Son or Daughter. Our Mother is outraged at the heathen?s actions, and demands we take back her heart.?

Rousseau chuckled. ?Would she send ya t? bed without dinner if ya didn?t??

?What??

?I?m sorry, but,? Rousseau started, a laugh growing on her lips, ?it sounds so stupid.?  

She regretted her statement immediately.  With a swift motion, Morleo pushed over her chair and knocked the rattess to the floor.  He stood up and kicked her repeatedly, forcing her the breath from her lungs. The scarred rat stopped when she began gasping for breath.  

The beast lifted her into the air by her collar. ?It?s no less ?stupid? than your Hellgates, you heathen?s believe in, and its Dark Forest counterpart.  Why would anybeast believe in something dark and mysterious, that nobeast truly knows the nature of?  From what I?ve been told, the belief is that it?s a land of nothingness, a forest without end, where a beast wanders in their loneliness for eternity. At least with the Mother, we have something worth dying for. Speak.?

?Aye,? she muttered, beneath her muffled wheezing. ?You are a lot like ?im.  Ya can?t stand t? not get what ya want, an? so ya take it out on the beast who won?t give it t? ya.? She smiled, thinking over her next statement carefully. ?But, wanderin? lonely fer eternity, ya say.  That sounds pleasant.  What I?ve learned from my job, Morleo, is that sometimes, after dealin? with beasts who hate ya fer a lifetime, some beasts just want t? be alone.?

Morleo was silent.  ?Walk,? he said, abruptly letting loose of her collar.  

The rattess got to her footpaws and let the chieftain lead her out of the tent.  The duo made their way across the castle grounds until they arrived at the main stronghold in the center.

?Your heathen friends are held up inside their castle.?

?An? yer gonna kill me in front o? them or somethin??? Rousseau muttered.

?Nothing of that sort,? Morleo replied. ?As much as I?d like to simply kill you, prisoners of war are to be valued.  I believe using you as a trade for my son would be appropriate.  A life for a life.  And in the end, the trade would benefit me far more than if I didn?t release you.?

?An? why?s that??

Morleo frowned.  ?I would have my son and you heathens wouldn?t.  There would be no threats against him, nothing stopping me from pushing into your fortress and exterminating you all.  

Rousseau chuckled. ?You think all this out by yerself or did yer Mum help ya??

Morleo smiled as a crowd of rats gathered around the castle. ?When this is over, I?m going to enjoy killing you.? He looked at the main doors of the castle and, in his booming voice, made his presence known. ?I am Morleo, First Son of the Mother.  If there is anybeast worthy of representing you heathens, do so now, I demand an audience.  I have one of your beasts and I wish to make a proposition.?

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I only take propositions from gorgeous females.  You, sadly, are neither."

Rousseau smiled.  Alan always did have a way with words.

A window on one of the top floors opened after a few seconds, the mink poking his head out of the opening. Rousseau gave him a curt nod, Alan returning it.

?To get to business,? Morleo said, ?we have one of your beasts, a captain like yourself, as you can see.  My proposition is a simple trade.  I?m feeling merciful so I?m going to be kind enough to release her to you in exchange for my son, Mirdros.  Prisoners of war are to be valued after all, and used accordingly.?

Noticing a shake of Rousseau's head, Alan replied with, "tempting, but Mirdros here is better behaved. I think we'll keep him."

Rousseau smiled. ?Thank ya, Blacktip.?

?So, you?re saying no to my offer then?? Morleo frowned. ?You don?t want your captain back??

?Yes that does seem to be the case,? Alan replied.

The scarred rat sighed. ?As was expected with you heathens.  You don?t care enough about your own to even give over a child.  Have it your way then.? With a quick movement, Morleo rounded behind Rousseau and put a knife to her neck. ?With you refusing the bargain, your captain is of no use to me.  She?s the one who kitnapped my son, correct? Yes, I?d very much like to slit her throat, but I?ll give you heathens one last chance.?

?Rousseau?? Alan said.

?Speak, heathen,? Morleo commanded her.

The rattess thought for a moment.  ?Alan,? she said. ?Did ya get ?im in safely?? Morleo glared at her.

The mink nodded.  ?Yes.?

?Good.? Rousseau smiled. ?Now that I know yer good fer somethin?, say no.  So long as ya have ?is kid, he can?t do nothin? to ya.?

?Very well then.?

She felt the blade close tighter around her neck. Rousseau smiled and closed her one eye, her breathing becoming slower as she prepared for the inevitable. The silence that followed felt serene for a moment, much like how she usually spent her time in her cabin aboard The Crimson Lass with a brush in her paw and a canvas beneath the fibers.  Calm and quiet, with the only company she needed: herself.  Sometimes beasts just wanted to be left alone after all.

?WAIT!?

Rousseau?s eye snapped to the new face that had appeared in the window.  Willump stared back at her, his usual sheepish grin erased from his maw.  The weasel panted from his outburst and gulped in a breath.

?And who are you?? Morleo said.

?Will,? Rousseau said. ?Don?t worry about me.  Remember wot we talked about last evenin??  Yer in charge now.  Command the crew; make sure they all get home.?

?I can?t do that, ma?am.  Yer our cap?n,? Willump replied. He turned to Morleo. ?I-I-I, Could I??

?Speak up, heathen.?

Willump blinked. ?Wot if I traded with ?er??

?WOT!?? Rousseau shouted immediately. ?That?s crazy talk, Will.  Yer the captain.  Ya should have always been the captain!?

?And why would I want somebeast like you instead of my son?? Morleo said, a laugh erupting from his lips.

?Because as ya said, prisoners o? war are t? be valued, right? There?d be no value in killin? Rouss. But, if ya took me instead??

?Stop it, Will!? Rousseau yelled. ?Yer t? stay in that castle with the remainin? crew an? lead them.  That?s an order. Yer captain now. They can?t get through this without ya.?

?But, cap?n, they don?t need me,? Willump said. ?Yer the captain.  I?m jest??

?An? now you ARE the captain, Will.  Jest as ya should have been from the start.?

Willump frowned. ?Well then, if I?m cap?n.  I order ya t? let me take yer place.?

Rousseau clenched her teeth. ?Why??

?Because if I?m cap?n, I gotta look after my crew.? The weasel turned to Morleo. 

Morleo smiled. ?Loose her bonds.?

It was a strange feeling for the rattess to struggle to stay in captivity than to escape it, but she squirmed as the chieftain?s rats brought a knife to her paws and cut the thin fibers of the rope around them.

?I?m being kind to you today, heathen,? Morleo whispered into a helpless Rousseau?s ear. ?When you go inside, take a message to your friends for me.  You have three days or until I breach your stronghold, whichever comes first, to agree to these terms.  First, immediate and full surrender.  And second, the return of my son, unharmed.  For every scratch I see on him, I?ll kill one of the captives we?ve taken, so it would be wise to not injure him. If I find you have killed him, you will all face the Wrath of the Water.  Understand?  Good. If you follow these terms, I may let the lot of you live, so choose your answer wisely. If I don?t receive an answer when I've told you, I?ll kill everybeast I have of yours, starting with?? The door of the castle opened, revealing Willump to the rats outside. ??him.?

?I?m gonna kill ya.?

?I certainly hope you try,? Morleo said. ?I need an excuse to shove a blade through your chest.?

Rousseau looked to her belt. ?Where?s my sword? I?ll do it right now.?

?In your daring rescue mission in our camp, you stole a Grandson by the name of Cefin?s cutlass.  I only found it fitting to give your beautiful blade to him.  He?d be upset if I took it back from him.?

?I?ll kill ya with me paws then.?

?No need to be hasty, Rousseau,? Morleo said. ?We?ll meet again soon, I know it.  Now go, crawl back into your hole and hide, heathen.?

The rattess clenched her teeth. Sullenly, she walked unattended towards her first mate.  The two beasts passed by each other, locking eyes for a mere moment.

?Why??

?Because yer my cap'n.?

As Rousseau entered the castle, she remembered what she had told Morleo about the Dark Forest, about how some beasts just wanted to be alone.  She clenched her fists.  She had always liked the feeling of being alone in her thoughts, a paintbrush and easel next to her as she made portraits from what she imagined, waiting patiently for the paint to dry and to see her masterpiece.  

But this feeling, she realized was what ?alone? truly felt like.  Alone wasn?t pleasant, she learned.

And, for once, as a prisoner indoors and out, Rousseau couldn?t stand the feeling.  
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*Mam Rhyfel: Holy war