Coda

[Tooley Bostay]

A crack rang out as the door slammed, sending a tremor through Blade?s office. One of the pictures upon the wall fell and struck the carpet with a muffled thud. Silence fell upon the room once more, but in Tooley?s head, the little rat?s words continued to ring.

Tooley tenderly traced a circle around the depression in his head. "Yer wrong..." he mumbled aloud, then winced.

She was right. He could never be as useful as she was. The mountain had changed Plink--made her useful. Special. She'd outgrown the weasel, because he was the idiot. Idiots had no place among gods and generals.

Tooley took several uneven steps forward, catching his paws against the edge of the great desk. He reached up and straightened a sconce that had toppled over, the candle having nearly set fire to several papers. Tooley gazed absently at the meaningless lines of ink, then reached a paw to draw a single sheet from the pile of loose papers.

It was a sketch of a masked beast draped in ornate robes. Tendrils of flames surrounded him, wisping out and enveloping various beasts of all species. Their paws were shackled, with chains reaching back up to the figure in the middle.

Tooley glanced up briefly to the ceiling carving above, and he could almost see where the drawing would fit in. His gaze flicked to the crimson and gold outfit in the corner of the office, then approached it. He ran a claw up the golden hem, stopping at the bottom of the Fire God's mask. It was a frightening, disturbing thing--a wax-stained skull of some large, sharp-fanged beast.

"Come dawn, she'll burn with the Fire God's blessin'."

Tooley snarled, glaring at the empty sockets of the mask. The Fire God had caused so much pain to so many beasts, and all it took was a change of clothes.

Tooley's eyes suddenly widened. He stared curiously at the outfit, then looked down at the sketch. The Fire God was clearly drawn, but the face of the beast underneath the robes was obscured. It could have been Captain Blade. It could have been anyone.

Anyone could become the Fire God. Even an idiot.

Tooley snatched the bundle of cloth up immediately and slipped an arm through one wide sleeve. The weight of the robe upon his shoulders surprised him, and he bent down to heft up the other sleeve.

There was a click behind him, and the groaning of a door. Blade was back.

Tooley whirled around, only to find Rindclaw standing in front of the door. Tooley didn't dare move, so he just stared, bent over with an arm halfway through a sleeve. Rindclaw didn't even seem to notice him, however. He was staring down at something he was holding. It was a raggedy thing, made up of roughly-sewn patches and dozens of gnawed holes.

His hat.

Curiosity overcame his fear, and Tooley spoke up, "Mister Rindclaw...?"

The weasel remained silent for a moment, running a claw over the rim of the hat. Then, he drew in a breath and asked, "What was yore mother's name?"

Tooley frowned, perplexed. "Err... what?"

Rindclaw looked up, eyes uncharacteristically intense - almost bordering on desperate. "Her name!" He held out Tooley's hat, giving it a slight shake. "Please. Please try to remember. Was her name Knauma?"

Tooley furrowed his brow. Knauma? He ran a paw over his head, then froze as he brushed upon his stumped ear. Suddenly, there was a splash of images in his mind. Grassy riverbeds and sun-glinted streams. Black skies lit by the brilliance of a million stars. And a pair of eyes.

Those eyes gripped at him. Even through just a memory, they felt alive and more real than all the cold stone of the Dead Rock. They needed no words to speak of comfort. Of tender love. Of a home long forgotten. He wondered how he?d ever forgotten it in the first place.

?A-aye? I remem?er,? he said softly, a smile creeping at the corner of his lips.

Then Blade's office returned once more, and the memory faded into the depths of mind once more. Tooley's chest suddenly ached at the absence of the memory.

Rindclaw stepped forward, slowly making his way to Tooley. Tooley tensed, aware once more that a member of Blade's crew was in the same room as him, and he was half-wearing the Fire God outfit. Rindclaw stopped in front of Tooley, the lifted a paw up and brushed a gentle claw over Tooley's stumped ear.

He looked down, and a smile parted his lips. "My son."

Tooley blinked. "Huh?"

Then Rindclaw crashed into Tooley, arms enveloping him in a tight hug. A cry broke from the older weasel, pitched with joy yet cracked with tears. Tooley stumbled back at the sudden weight, soon collapsing to his knees with Rindclaw still holding onto him.

Tooley stared ahead, wide-eyed. Son? Lad, chap, mate, pal, whelp... he'd been called everything, but never son. Not with the same honesty and joy with which Rindclaw declared it. Slowly, the pieces began to connect in his head, then his eyes widened even further.

"Y-yer me pa?"

Rindclaw held Tooley out at arm's length, a wide smile on his face despite the tears in his eyes. "I am. And you're my Delner. I thought I'd lost you. I looked everywhere, but somehow..." He shook his head, staring incredulously. "Somehow you found me."

Still stunned, Tooley just stared at the weasel. Then, slowly, he furrowed his brow in confusion. "But... why don' I remem'er ye, though?

Rindclaw's smile faltered, and for a fraction of a second, the weasel's eyes flicked up to Tooley's ear. "It... was a long time ago." He smiled harder and gave Tooley's shoulder a little shake. "And things have changed. We don't need t' worry about that now. We can be a family again, and..." His voice trailed off, and for the first time, he seemed to notice the Fire God's outfit. His gaze hardened. "What are you doin'?"

"I..." Tooley bit back an apology, and straightened up. "I'm doin' what I need t' do."

Confusion marked the weasel's face, then horror crept into his eyes. "No, no, what are y'thinkin?! Do y'know what kinda beast Blade is? What he'll do to you?"

"I don't care! Not when he's 'urtin me friends, and all those beasts in th' mountain! Someone's got t' do somethin'."

"But not you!" Rindclaw's grip tightened, and Tooley winced as claws dug into his skin. "Don't y'see? We don't have t' be involved with any of this! We could just be father an' son again. Let th' world deal with its own troubles."

Tooley pulled back from his father's grasp, brow furrowing. Rindclaw's eyes were focused, but more than that, Tooley saw something else in them--fear. And then, he realized, that in his own way, his father was as much a slave to Blade as the other beasts were; his shackles were just of a different sort.

Tooley shook his head, eyes softening. "I... I can't. There are some things ye can't ever ferget, even if ye try. Like the slaves. An' Crue. Beasts who don't deserve ter suffer an' die 'ere." He pulled out of his father's loose grip and stood up. "It ain't right, an' I ain't gonna stand by an' watch it 'appen." He slipped his arm through the other sleeve of the Fire God outfit. "Not while I can do somethin'."

Rindclaw stared up at him. "...how can you be so brave? If you go out there... you may not come back."

Tooley smiled sadly. "I'm scared, pa. I really am. But there are beasts more scared than me 'ere. Maybe... maybe they just need someone t' stand up fer 'em, an' then they'll stand up fer themselves."

Tooley turned away from his father, approaching the Fire God mask still resting upon its hanger. He lifted it up, then heard Rindclaw shuffle behind him. He turned to see that the weasel was on his feet, cradling Tooley's delicately in his paws. He stopped in front of Tooley, drew a deep breath, then held out the hat.

"You'll need this."

Tooley's brow raised in surprise, and he reached out a paw. As he brushed the rough patches of his hat, a familiar, comforting feeling washed over him. He moved to take it, then was drawn into a sudden hug by Rindclaw. He held the hug for a second, then drew back.

"Right," Rindclaw said, clearing his throat. "Let's get t' it, then."

Tooley gazed at him curiously as he flipped his cap up onto his head. "What?"

Rindclaw chuckled. "Y' didn't honestly think you could get past th' guards, did you?"

Tooley bit his lip. He had forgotten that detail.

Rindclaw took the Fire God mask from Tooley and fit it over his head. The skull's natural eye cavities were too far apart to see through, so Tooley had to look through a set of narrow slits that had been carved into the skull.

They walked to the doors leading out of the office, and Rindclaw gripped one of the handles.

"Y' remember th' way?" He reached up, tapping out a triangle formation on his head. "Down th' spiral stairs, through th' left forks, up th' torched tunnel."

Tooley smiled and nodded. "Thankee, Rindclaw."

"Make it count," Rindclaw said, then flung open the doorway and strode out.

Tooley followed behind him, heart pounding upon his chest. His eyes flicked to the two stoat guards flanking either side of the doorway. One hefted a large cudgel, while the other had Ciera's blade tucked in his belt. Tooley's gaze lingered on the blade as the stoat approached them, paw raised.

"What's all this, here? I thought Blade just left."

The two stoats stepped in front of them.

"Hang on," the cudgel-wielding stoat said, sticking out his snout and peering closely at Tooley. "You're not Blade!"

There was a crack of bone as Rindclaw slammed a fist into the stoat's chin. "Run!"

Tooley was running before the words left Rindclaw's mouth. He ducked in-between the guards, one paw lashing out and ripping free Ciera's blade from the stoat's belt. He darted into the tunnel, pausing as a yelp reached his ears.

He looked back to see that one of the guards had Rindclaw pinned down, while the other approached with a raised cudgel. He took a step towards Rindclaw, but stopped upon catching the weasel's urgent gaze.

"Go!" Rindclaw shouted.

He hesitated, then gripped the hilt of his blade tighter and ran down the passageway. He blinked away tears as he ran, unable to outrun the sound of his father's cries.

---

Tooley didn't know how long he'd been running when he spotted pale light in the distance, beyond the gaping maw that was the Dead Rock's exit. The sound of drumbeats reached his ears, and he tensed. Out there was his friend Crue, and the Strange-Eyes that awaited their god to sentence the good-hearted beast to Hell.

Tooley reached inside his robes and rested a paw upon the hilt of Ciera's cutlass, tucked in his belt. Drawing a breath, he straightened himself and began walking.

Tooley chewed his lip as he saw a pair of guards stationed at either side of the exit, though their slumped postures and half-closed eyes gave Tooley some confidence. One of them caught sight of him approaching and straightened up quickly, hissing something at his companion who stirred with wide eyes.

"Y-Yer here early, captain!"

"Mongooses ain't started th' ritual quite yet," the other guard said in a more even tone. "May want to wait 'ere for 'em t' give the signal?"

Tooley ignored them and kept his pace even. The guards kept their eyes on him, but neither made a move to stop him. They muttered something in hushed tones as he passed, and he afforded himself a sigh.

His ears perked up. There was the sound of drumbeats, and on the wind there were voices.

"Fiyah Koddah, Fiyah Koddah, Fiyah Koddah!"

Images flashed through Tooley's mind of the night of the sacrifice. He shook them away and gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. He wouldn't let that happen. Not to Crue.

He was near now, and could see the shapes of beasts behind a raised, stone platform. Several beasts danced and squirmed to the beat of the drums, ululating strange words in a fevered pace. There was a beast chained to one of the pillars on the ground, and upon the stone platform there were two beasts. One was kneeling in the middle, both paws chained to pillars on either side. Tooley recognized the puffy tail and felt his breath catch. Crue.

The other beast on the platform was covered in extravagant robes and gesturing widely to the surrounding crowd. He kept declaring himself as "Shuga," though Tooley couldn't catch what else he said. Shuga glanced back and caught sight of Tooley, and he stopped his speech momentarily. He fumbled a paw inside his robes, then declared loudly,

"Beholt! The Fiyah Gott hes arrived!"

Shuga lifted the pouch over Crue, and Tooley saw sparkles of dust glimmer in the torchlight.

Suddenly, Crue was replaced by a hare. Screams rent the night air as flames ate flesh and bone.

"Stop!" Tooley shrieked. "Stoppit!"

All eyes rotated to Tooley as he sped off across the length of dead undergrowth that separated him and the platform. He nearly tripped several times upon the hem of his robe, so he hitched it up in his paws.

He arrived at the podium in a full sprint, leaping up the rock stairs two at a time. Shuga moved towards him, expression furious.

"Vet ees thees?" the priest demanded under his breath.

Tooley shoved the beast aside and ran to Crue. One look at the metal fetters around her paws told him he couldn't break them open. Her fur was covered in an ash-colored dust, and she mumbled urgently underneath a cloth tied around her mouth.

Tooley hopped around in front of her, then quickly untied the gag from her mouth. She stared at him, confused.

Tooley smiled brightly, lifting up the rim of his skull mask. "It's me, Miss Crue!"

Crue's jaw hung slack. After several tries she managed to sputter out a disbelieving, "T-Tooley?"

"Don' worry, I'll get ye outta 'ere!" Hearing the murmurs of the Strange-Eyes behind him, Tooley lowered his voice to a whisper, " We're all in this together, right?" He winked, then reset the mask over his head before walking out to the edge of the podium. After making sure he wouldn't trip over the edge,  Tooley spread his arms out wide to the crowd. "Listen t' me now, mon... mungo... err, beasts o' the Fire God! This needs t' stop right now! I don' want any more sackerfices!"

A silence spread across the Strange-Eyes. An uncomfortable silence that Tooley wasn't expecting. No one moved. Weren't they supposed to obey the Fire God?

"Eempostah!" came a snarling voice from behind him. Tooley turned to see the High Priest trotting up to the opposite side of the podium, eyes fierce upon him. His paw twitched near an ornate dagger at his side, but made no move to draw it.

The High Priest turned to the crowd while leveling a jagged claw in Tooley's direction. "Do not leesin ta tis false gott! 'E ees a speerit fromah di darkness, an' hees lies would lead di monkoozers into di darkness vet heem!"

The crowd started to murmur. This was going wrong, quickly.

"But you said it was him!"

Tooley turned to look at Crue, who was staring daggers at Shuga.

"The Fire God has arrived, hasn't he?"

Shuga snarled at her, then another voice spoke up, "Ayah! Te Fiyah Gott ken no more change hees fur t?en we ken!"

Tooley looked to see it was the beast chained up to the pillar below the altar. A Strange-Eye, oddly enough, who had worked his jaw free from the cloth gag.

"We will hear te Fiyah Gott!? came a shout from the crowd, followed by a rumble of affirmations.

Shuga bristled. "Chk-ka! Dis eempostah is not te Fiyah Gott!" He turned to Tooley, sharp teeth bared dangerously. "Provah yourself or begone!"

A shocked gasp arose from the Strange-Eyes, followed quickly by hushed murmurs.

"Err... well..." Tooley started. He hadn't thought this far ahead, or realized it would be necessary. How did a Fire God even talk? "Err, I'm th' Fire God! I bow t' no beast, fer I be as... the roarin' waves o' th' sea!"

"Fire God!" Crue hissed behind him.

"A... a sea o' fire!" Tooley amended quickly. "Fire like... like ain't never been seen!"

Tooley frowned. Fire. How could he be the Fire God without really knowing much about fire? A sudden memory flashed in his mind. He shut his eyes tightly.

No, anythin' but that.

Shuga clacked his tongue. "Dis gott knows fiyah like a fesh en watah." He withdrew two stones from his robes and held them to the sky. "Come ta us, Fiyah Gott! Show yourself an' breeng down dis eempostah!"

Shuga took a step towards Crue.

"Help!" Crue shouted at Tooley.

Shuga moved to strike the rocks when a paw latched around his arm and shoved him back away from Crue. Tooley stepped between him and Crue and lifted up his arms defensively.

"I'll tell ye what fire be," Tooley growled. "Fire's what 'aunts yer nightmares every night, but burns in yer mind like the 'arshest day. Ye try an' run, but it's all around ye!" His voice grew louder as he continued, "Fire's what turns th' mightiest o' ships t' dust, and their sails t' ash on the wind! Fire leaves ye 'omeless in an empty wasteland, where ye see yer mate gettin' killed afore yer eyes, an' ye can't do anythin'! Fire ruins the 'opes an' lives of any beast it wishes. It ain't never satisfied by water, 'cause it 'ungers fer blood. Th' blood o' all beasts, innocent an' guilty alike!"

Tooley's gaze hardened on Shuga, and in a lower tone he added, "An' if ye want Miss Crue, yer gonna have t' go through me."

A silence once more had fallen over the Strange-Eyes, but this time, Tooley didn't feel threatened by it.

The priest's lip twitched with a scowl, and he declared, "Den showah di monkoozers your fiyah!"

Tooley's arms fell slightly. He couldn't create fire. That much could never change. He reached a paw inside the crimson cloak--perhaps there was a small pouch of the fire powder like the High Priest had. His brief search turned up nothing, and his paw fell upon the hilt of his blade once more. Then, he blinked, an idea crossing his mind.

"I 'ave fire that cannot be seen!" Tooley announced as he stepped up to the High Priest, so that they were practically face to face.

"No sush ting exists," the priest grumbled.

"Be'old!" Tooley said, raising a paw dramatically in the air. "Inviserble fire!"

The priest watched his raised paw carefully. He didn't even notice Tooley moving his other paw beneath the layers of robe. He gripped the hilt of his cutlass, cut the bare blade free from his belt, then positioned it over the priest's exposed footpaw.

Shuga suddenly erupted in a howl, leaping back from Tooley. He clutched at his now-bleeding footpaw, hopping about his other foot several steps before losing his balance and crashing to the podium.

A gasp arose from the mongooses.

"Ayah!" shouted the Strange-Eye bound to the pillar. "He hes struck Shuga wit' unseen fiyah! Eet es Fiyah Gott!"

"No!" The High Priest squealed through his cries of pain. "He ees a fake!"

The Strange-Eyes paid Shuga no attention, leaving him thrashing about with a pitiful, snarling sound.

Tooley turned to Crue and smiled brightly. "It's workin'!" he said.

Finally, it was working. Everything was going to be all right.

There was a shout from behind, and a paw wrapped around his neck. Then something sharp jabbed into his chest.

Crue screamed.

There was movement at his periphery, but his vision had suddenly grown blurry. There were shouts, then Tooley felt the paw around his neck being pried away, and the odd, probing feeling left his chest. He took a staggering step back. Shuga was held back by several mongooses, and a bloody dagger lay at his feet. Crue thrashed against her chains and shouted something.

"I'm a'right," Tooley said as he moved to take a step towards her.

Something was wrong--the world was growing heavy, and his legs didn't feel right. He glanced down, pausing at the brilliant crimson of the Fire God's cloak. There was a gash in the cloak near his heart, and the red fabric was wet.

He blinked at it curiously, then he felt himself falling. He hit the ground on his side, and the Fire God's mask jostled loose from his head, toppling over across the stone platform.

"Tooley!"

A pair of paws gripped his shoulder and pulled him onto his back. Crue was beside him, her tear-filled eyes scanning him furiously as she worked to free the sash at her waist. She pressed the cloth down over his heart, and he noticed that her paws were trembling. She snapped out an order, and Tooley soon felt a pair of paws gingerly lift up his head.

"Talk, Tooley," Crue said through shuddered breaths. "I need you to talk to me."

Tooley glanced around him. Many of the mongooses had climbed onto the podium, their eyes flicking from the discarded skull mask and the simple-faced weasel in front of them.

"Miss Crue," Tooley whispered, casting a glance at the hollow skull mask in the dirt, "we did it."

"What?" Crue's eyes flicked up briefly from the blood-soaked cloth. "Did what?"

Tooley smiled up at the squirrel. "Th' Fire God. 'E's dead. 'E ain't gonna 'urt anymore beasts now."

For a good moment, Crue didn't respond. She blinked away fresh tears, but her gaze remained on the bloody sash. "Yes," she whispered, "you're right. The Fire God is gone. But I need you to stay with me. Just stay with me, okay?"

Tooley stared at the cloth pressed against his chest, which had turned completely red. Blood oozed out and trailed down his side. A pool had begun to form on the stone below.

Rindclaw had been right--he wouldn't be coming back from this. One more sacrifice had been required to bring an end to all others; that of the Fire God himself.

Tooley shifted, reaching up a paw. His arm was oddly heavy, and he grasped his hat with shaking paws. "Miss Crue," he said, holding out his hat to the squirrel, "promise me ye'll remem'er."

Crue froze, staring at the hat. Her brow twitched with various emotions. "Remember what?"

"Remem'er what Blade did. Remem'er th' slaves, an' the good beasts in there. They deserve a good 'ome an' good friends jus' like th' rest o' us."

Bloody, trembling paws wrapped around Tooley's hat. Black was starting to dot his vision, and he felt his paw falling from the patches of his hat.

"I... I promise," Crue said.

Tooley gripped the edge of his hat before it fell from his grasp. "An' please," he said weakly, "remem'er me."

Then he let go.