Stand My Ground

[Kentrith Hapley]

?Oi, Crane.?

Kentrith cringed, turning to the guard that had stepped into the training ring. Frustrated, Kentrith dropped the armful of damaged leather armor on a bench.

?What now,? he growled, knowing what was coming.

?Don? be like that,? the guard wheedled, clasping his paws in front of him. ?They?ve got a new monster for the pit, and it sure ain?t no otter! I wanna get an eyeful before she?s thrown on the sands, and mebbe win a coin or two off ?er.? His pleading look didn?t falter at Kentrith?s scowl.

Kentrith crossed his arms. ?And what chore do you need me to take over for you??

?I was s?posed to watch over the painter, y?know, the one that does the symbol every year.?

Kentrith?s heart sank. ?I don?t know??

?Oh, you?ll be fine,? the stoat grinned, slapping Kentrith on the back. He scurried out before Kentrith could call him back. With one last look at the pile waiting for him, he shuffled off to the Hall of Greats.

The Hall was one massive room, stretching around the very edge of the Crater walls. Here the greatest fighters were commemorated, some symbol of their prowess enshrined on wall or on display. Kentrith ignored all of the paintings and bits in the Hall, aiming for the most dominant piece at the far wall. It was always the last stop in Nire?s tours, the pinnacle of his power.

A massive symbol had been first carved, then painted in deep grooves in the gray stone. The red circle stood as tall as Kentrith, with the bronze shield, silver spear, and golden sword gleaming as if actually made of those metals.

Wouldn?t be surprised if it were, Kentrith thought sourly as he approached the ancient artist. The old rat was the only one allowed to touch the massive carving, commissioned to touch up fading bits every year. A guard was always assigned to watch the work, and now it fell to Kentrith.

He stared at the symbol, ignoring the brush dabbing away at some imagined flaw. A picture of the disfigured version in Narvi?s shop suddenly popped into his mind. He huffed in irritation at the thought of the herbalist. Narvi still hadn?t contacted him after that secret note.

A melody slipped through the cracks in his mental wall, a snatch of song that teased him. He had barely heard the hummed notes when pulling Komi from Aldridge?s cage, sung by the imprisoned stoat. That tiny thread refused to leave him, drifting in when he was busy not thinking about his failed mission.

He shook his head. You?re not finished yet. You?ll just have to find another way, that?s all.

He paused, the tune still repeating in his mind.

How do I know that song?

It had followed him through the day, distracting him into misstepping during training, which earned him a sneer from the slave. He had trounced the insolent beast thoroughly, which had lessened his embarrassment, but did not weaken the hold the song had on him.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the clack of the painter?s box being closed. Without looking at him, the ancient beast creaked and staggered his way out of the room. Kentrith?s offer of help was waved off with a snarl, and Kentrith sighed with relief, glad to return to the dirty armor, something he was comfortable with. He hurriedly left the hall, a shiver running through him.

He pulled out the oil and rubbing cloths, arranging a breast plate on his lap as he sat at the bench. The song continued to lure him, stronger now, until he began to hum it himself, the notes swelling on his tongue until words fell out, spilling from behind his memory walls.

   At times I walk alone on path gone black,
   And though I wish to flee, to turn my back,
   I keep their love inside, and I press on,
   By everything we share, I can stay strong.

Images flooded his mind, broken only by a thump as the breast piece hit the ground unchecked. With the sound of closing doors, connections formed in his mind, little things that he had noticed. Clapping his paw to his muzzle, he wondered?

A cough from the door brought his head up sharply. A pine marten in an apron and knitted cap shuffled awkwardly in the door, a beast he didn?t recognize.

?What?? Kentrith barked, frustrated that his revelation had been interrupted by this chubby stranger.

?Sorry to bother you sir, I was lookin? fer Kali? Somebeast said that you would be the one to know where she?s at, an? I haven?t seen ?er since she got the job here.? At Kentrith?s blank look, the chubby fellow continued, ?She?s a foxbat, odd little thing, but friendly like.?

Kentrith relaxed, a touch of sympathy softening his annoyance. ?Aye, she?s here. I believe she?ll be headed to dinner about now.? After a pause, he added, ?She?s been designated a gladiator.?

The marten?s ears laid back, and a paw swept over the cap. ?Aye, so I?d heard. She?s not the sort?? he mumbled.

Kentrith stood, replacing the leather armor back on the bench. He reached the stricken beast, and gently placed a paw on his shoulder. ?I know. If I had my way?? He clamped his mouth shut on the rest of his words, then proceeded, ?If it will comfort you, I?ll try to keep an eye on her. I?ve not yet trained her, but I?ll teach her what I can, so that she won?t be wiped out in her first fight.? His own ears pinned, and he dipped his head. ?I?m afraid that?s the best I can do.?

The marten swiped at one eye, then chuckled throatily. ?Aye, that?s all that any can do. It would make my mind a little easier, to be sure.?

Stuffing his paws into the pockets of his voluminous apron, he rocked back and forth. ?Y?know, you seem a decent fellow. It?s a genuine pleasure to meet you.? He stuck one paw out to shake, adding ?I?m Inkpaw.?

Bemused, Kentrith shook it, taken aback by the slightly sticky texture. ?Kentrith,? he supplied, stopping himself from wiping his paw on his jerkin.

?Ah! Perhaps you can help me in another way!? The marten?s eyes brightened, and his ears flicked excitedly. ?I?m looking to, well, get closer to Kali, so that maybe I can keep an eye on her too, poor girl, and maybe help her out. Could this place use another baker??

Ah! That?s why the sticky paw! Smiling, Kentrith replied, ?I imagine so. Are your wares distinctive? If you want a place, I suggest having Nire try them first. If he gains a taste for it, your place here is secure.?

?My wares are a sight better than anything they?ve got here, I can guarantee it. Here, try one.? He winked. ?Who knows? You might develop a taste for it, yourself!? He pulled a round pastry from his apron, white with a powdered substance. Before Kentrith could take it, however, he pulled it back, shaking the other paw at him. ?No asking for more, now, you hear? One is enough for the nonce.?

Chuckling, Kentrith nodded his agreement, and took the proffered sweet. He waved at the departing baker, smiling at the new acquaintance. Thoughtfully, he bit into the turnover.

The stiff center grated against his fangs, crackling as they closed over it. Recoiling sharply, Kentrith dropped the pastry, clapping a paw to fangs that ached at the jarring sensation. He glared at the offending article, wondering what on earth the baker had put in it to cause him such suffering.

A corner of paper rose delicately from the crumbled bread.

Carefully, Kentrith extracted the slip, easing it open as he gathered the remains of the ravaged turnover. It said very little, detailing only a time and a place.

Heart beating loud, he crumpled paper and pastry together, then hurried from the room to find somewhere to dispose of the evidence.

*******

The directions led him to a small tavern next to the boar stables. The thick smell of the pigs didn?t quite drown out the stench of stale beer. Kentrith shuddered, and wished Narvi had picked elsewhere to meet. The memory of his recent misstep dampened any desire, however, so he squared his shoulders and stepped inside.

He scanned the room, but couldn?t catch sight of anybeast he knew. He made his way to a back table, and when a weasel maid passed, he ordered cider and a plate of food.

He chewed slowly through the plain fare, swallowing with difficulty. Limp vegetables swam in a lumpy sauce that only tasted of salt, and the bread with it was hard as a rock. Sighing a little inwardly, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for a glancing eye to draw him over, a surreptitious paw to wave him to another table. Nothing seemed to be aimed at him, however, and he grew bored.

A mug was placed in front of him at last, and the slight tang to the scent clued him in to the alcoholic content. Arresting the serving maid?s movement with a paw, he growled, ?I asked for non-alcoholic!?

?Ain?t got none,? was the short reply, then she was off, slipping away with the ease of long practice.

Kentrith eyed the mug, then gingerly pushed it away from him, until it was in danger of tipping off the far edge. He then kept his eyes off of it by force of will, still looking for his contact.

After quite some time had passed, he sighed, then rose from his seat, wondering if somebeast was playing a game with him.

The maid appeared at his side, eyeing the full mug. ?The drink not to yer likin??? she asked gruffly.

?It?s not what I prefer,? Kentrith replied, handing her a coin.

The weasel puffed out a breath. ?Well, if you?d of tol? me, I coulda poured y? somethin? else! ?Ere, ye overpaid, I can get somebeast else to drink this.? She reached into her apron pocket for a smaller coin, and pressed it into his paw.

Kentrith was shocked to feel, not metal, but more paper.

He closed his paw over it, then slipped it into his pocket. ?Thank you,? he said quietly. ?I know now who to approach for an honest exchange.?

She beamed at him before hurrying away, snagging a pitcher at the bar to fill empty cups.

Kentrith sauntered out, paws in pockets, trying to unfold the note around the coin without being obvious. Stopping under the stable light, he pulled it out, and glanced over it. A crude drawing of a building filled the small slip, with a boar?s head dominating it. In the back of the drawing was a small box, marked with an X.

Kentrith slipped into the stable, ducking into the shadow and peeking out to see if any had noticed his actions. An empty yard assured him, and he began his cautious trek to the meeting room.

He found it, opened the door silently, and was greeted by a small candlelight in the far corner. He hastened toward it, making out two figures waiting beyond the small light.

Narvi was leaning against a pile of saddles, arms crossed and watching Kentrith with a sharp look in his eye Kentrith had never seen before. The other figure stood farther back, hooded and cloaked to hide his identity.

Kentrith almost snorted at the traditional garb of secret meetings, but thought better of it. ?Were all the tests necessary?? he whispered, driving straight to the point.

Narvi scoffed slightly. ?You?m be lucky we?m talkin? agin.?

The other spoke up. ?Your little breakdown was quite worrisome. We had to be certain it won?t happen again.? The voice was gruff, female.

Kentrith hunched his shoulders. ?Aye, that?s understandable. I usually try to stay away from drink. The last time??

The mysterious figure raised a paw to stop him. ?We don?t care about your past, Kentrith. We are only concerned with your future, and if it involves us.?

??If??? Kentrith straightened, miffed. ?You?re saying you don?t mean to take over the Crater? To overthrow Nire? Why else would you be here??

?Bain?t be loikly to be tellin? you, seein? you bain?t one of usn?s.?

Narvi?s gruff statement roused Kentrith?s ire. ?Fine, then,? he retorted. ?You keep me out. That doesn?t mean I will stop.? He glared between the two of them. ?I would rather work with you than apart, but if you refuse to let me help, I will find other ways to accomplish what I must.? He narrowed his eyes. ?Whatever the cost.?

?And what do you mean to accomplish??

?Rid Northvale of Nire. Kill him, and this whole cesspool dies away.?

The two glanced at each other significantly. ?It?s not quite as simple as that,? the hooded figure responded. ?If you get rid of Nire now, another will only take his place. The Crater has been in place too long for his death to affect the running of it.?

?I disagree,? Kentrith shot back. ?You do not know how tight a hold Nire has on everyone in the Crater, even those he calls friend. While his death could be recovered from, it would be a hard blow, weakening the entire hierarchy.?

?An? you?m be vollytarin to stroik ee blow?? Narvi eyed him darkly. ?Oi?m thinkin? yur revengin? be affeckin? yur brain.?

Kentrith shook his head. ?I gave up on revenge long ago,? he murmured. ?All thirst for revenge availed me was years of hate that aged me before my time.?

?It doesn?t matter,? the other broke in. ?We can still use you, revenge or not. But we need to know that we can trust you. We need you to carry out a task. One that will prove your loyalty to those in our organization.? A glint showed from deep in the hood. ?Publicly.?

Kentrith?s heart stopped. All his old insecurities and failures pressed in on him, urging him to refuse. I can?t do it alone, he snarled at them. I could find another way, but? Taking hold of his faltering courage, he lifted his head, and looked them dead in the eye.

?What do you need me to do??

*******

It was still Kentrith?s week to clean and repair the armor, which meant he was stuck in the training room long after otherbeasts were gone. On one paw, he was forced to eat the leavings of dinner. On the other, it made retrieving his items easier. Finding the whitewash was easy, but the amount he needed would make asking for it risky. He was reduced to carting off a bucket of powder when no beast was about. His efforts to reproduce it weren?t going as well as he had hoped, but he knew it would work out.

He began picking up bits of armor that was scattered here and there. While some slaves, in respect for the equipment, placed them tidily on the benches, others dropped them hastily against the wall. None dared to drop it right in the ring, after Kentrith had humiliated the last beast who had been so careless. Tripping over a dropped item risked a twisted ankle, and a twisted ankle meant higher chance of death if your card came up in the dance on bloody sands.

A quick examination of the armor showed a few pieces that needed new straps, so he gathered the intact articles and stalked with them down the hall to put them in the armory.

His entrance was greeted by a clacking sound, and Kentrith had to peer around the pile he juggled in order to see. Aldridge stood at the far wall, touching the bows hung there gently. A knife was belted around his hip, and he touched it absently now and again.

?Missing your new partner,? Kentrith offered, snagging a greave that slid toward the floor. He could feel the stoat?s eyes on him as he shuffled to a table littered with broken and dull weapons. He plopped his load on top of them, then began to sort them into type.

?It?s only been three days. We?ve sparred during most of that time.? There was a sigh, but Kentrith did not look up from his work. He knew the questions he wanted to ask, but waited for an opening.

Aldridge chuckled, then said, ?I?m not just a bowyer any more. My new friend is relentless. I?m told I must not let up.? A note of strain tinged his voice. ?I?m to kill beasts. For sport.?

Kentrith paused in moving the chest pieces to their place atop the others, and glanced at Aldridge. He looked away. The image of the beast threatening him with a spoon warred with the intimidating figure with the blade at his hip. Even harder to picture was the image of Aldridge, viciously slashing an opponent open. Kentrith had heard the story of the hare often enough, and wondered how much of it was true.

Sighing, he went back to his sorting. He spoke without looking. ?It?s a hard transition to make. To go from making things to destroying them.?

?What did you make??

The question caught Kentrith off guard. He turned, and stared at the stoat before finally replying, ?I made beasts well.?

He turned back to his work before continuing, ?Nire brought me in as a young, foolish thing, to sew up his fighters. I had been patching up the gleanings from the arena for only a short time before Nire decided I should try my paw at butchering them.? He paused. ?I did as he commanded, but not without cost.?

?Do you think you?ll go back? To healing beasts??

Kentrith fiddled with the folding scalpel that never left his wrist. ?I hope to.?

He paused for a moment, then rushed in, ?Aldridge, I heard, well, some of Komi?s conversation with you? when Bessie??

A weighted silence loomed over the room. Kentrith plunged on, ?I gathered that she had a son, and that he died?? He looked up at the stoat, who was so clearly still in love. ?She means a lot to you, doesn?t she??

The silence stretched tight, close to snapping as they stared at each other. Then Aldridge said slowly, ?It?s her command of battle that I can never forget. I?m not one for war, but she made it almost beautiful. The back and forth of battalions, the teasing of harrier scout-groups, the outright provocation of brigade of lancers on the road. Her eyes when she looked over the battlefield, when she spoke with the enemy general. Hah, listen to me. We shared something for a while, but it didn?t last. I thought I?d come to terms with?us?being over.?

Aldridge shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, but Kentrith recognized pain that had been weathered by time. ?There was scuttletail about her and Galleran, the Horde Leader. Well, she was a brilliant commander, and he listened to her advice. Everybeast spoke of how close they were.?

He sighed. ?One evening, as the horde drank themselves stupid over some minor victory further South, Galleran started to brag. He spoke of how he knew that these beasts, this horde, could do anything. How they could mount and win any assault, and siege. Even? even against Redwall. And the thing is, he believed it. He truly believed that they could bring down the Abbey. I had no proof, of course, and the truth was that Komi and Galleran had been close for a long time. She couldn?t see the madbeast that Galleran would eventually become, so when I left, she stayed.?

?Ten seasons later, Galleran laid siege to the Abbey. Blacksmith Ulrich from the Barrow was there, and by his account, the horde numbered six hundred or more. Spearbeasts, archers, - all under Komi?s order, I have to assume - kept the Abbey locked down for a full season.?

Kentrith stood frozen, the familiar tale ringing in his ears. Aldridge sighed again, then continued, ?But then Galleran?s twice-damned sister got impatient and provoked him into ignoring Komi?s strategy, and ordering a full-out assault. Everything sank into chaos and desperation, and in a final grasp at victory, Galleran sent the non-combatants on the to battlefield to retrieve spent arrows to restock his archers? quivers. Komi?s son was among them, and he was brought down by an arrow from the wall.?

Sucking in a fortifying breath, Kentrith managed to comment, ?Komi must have been distraught.?

?Broken,? was the quiet reply. ?And I know not how far healed.?

They were quiet for a few moments. Kentrith stirred, attempting to return to his task. ?Thank you for telling me, Aldridge,? he murmured. ?I know it wasn?t easy.? He hesitated, then declared, ?If you need anything, whether its a sparring partner, or? anything, come to me. I still have a few connections here, and can be of use.?

The stoat nodded gravely, then left shortly after. Kentrith stared after him, already planning the message he needed to send.

Kentrith had to hurry to the storage closet, where a bucket filled with lime and chalk waited for the water to turn it milky. Kentrith snatched it up, glancing hurriedly out the door, then walked swiftly to his room. The sounds of stirring below tried to force his legs into a run, but he pushed down the panic, and made it to his room without being spotted.

He placed the bucket next to the other two, then stared at the line of buckets waiting for their moment.

A knock on the door caused him to jump, and he hurried to open it, leaning in the doorway so that Blue couldn?t see past.

She didn?t seem bothered by his deliberate blocking. ?They?ve announced a fight! It?s Ripfang and Raggabrash against the new monster!?

Seizing the opportunity, Kentrith collapsed into the doorway. ?Is it mandatory?? he asked, whining slightly. ?I?ve been on my feet all day, and all I want is my bed.?

Blue seemed to deflate. ?Well,? she mumbled, ?I suppose so. Nix already declined, and some of the volunteers have also refused. But you?re going to miss such a spectacle!?

How much spectacle do you need? Instead of voicing the sour thought, Kentrith only smiled tiredly and added, ?Well, you enjoy it doubly for me, will you? I?ll expect a full account at breakfast.?

Blue brightened, and dashed away. Kentrith stared after her, pondering for a long moment, then turned to the buckets, sitting innocently before the fireplace.

Tonight, then.

*******

Pounding woke him from a fitful sleep, and he sprang thankfully from his bed. He inwardly scolded the knot in his stomach as he yanked the door open.

Blue was once again standing before him, but this time she looked terrified. ?You?d better come,? she blurted. ?He?s called in everyone.?

There was no doubt in Kentrith?s mind who ?he? was. He snagged a shirt from the pile on his chair, and slipped it on as he dashed after Blue, who set a scorching pace to the Hall of Greats.

The hallway was swarming with beasts, most of them staff. There were pointing paws, and one poor mouse slave was being shaken by Hargorn, who seemed to be extremely angry. As Kentrith looked to the far wall, he saw what had everyone abuzz, and accounted for the early morning summons.

Sometime during the night, somebeast had dashed white over the entire mural, stretching from the top left to the bottom right, making it look as though it had cracked in a jagged line. Rough letters were superimposed over the entire thing, spelling FTN.

?Whitewash,? spoke a voice beside him. Kentrith jumped, turning to glare.

Nix crossed her arms, studying the graffiti with a frown. ?It was done early, and has had time to set. It will take several beasts a week to chip it away, and then they?ll have to repaint it.? She shook her head. ?Can you imagine how much of the stuff was needed to make lines that thick??

He could.

She continued, ?The worst of it is, they?ve no idea who could have done it. See that drudge over there?? She waved at the mouse, who had curled into a ball before Hargorn. ?She?s had several buckets of whitewash go missing. She doesn?t know where they had gone, and she didn?t report it.? Nix shook her head in disappointment. ?She?ll probably be thrown in the ring against Bessie for this.?

Kentrith tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. He had known that innocents were going to be harmed, but it was harder now that he was actually making the choice to harm them, instead of being forced to by Nire.

He had a sudden sympathy for Silas.

?Whoever did it was reckless,? he said, also crossing his arms. ?Or brave. Who would come up with something like this?? Me, he yearned to say. I?ve finally started the landslide.

?They?re causing trouble,? Nix snapped. ?And when they cause trouble, it spills all over the place! What will this mean for the kits??

Marik. Kentrith gulped again

?If it didn?t threaten my son, I couldn?t care less what this? group does. But if they cause any harm to Marik??

Kentrith was distracted from the murderous gleam in her eye by curved claws sinking into his right shoulder. He was yanked around and caught a faceful of angry lynx. Nire was practically spitting as he hissed, ?Do you know who did this??

?No,? Kentrith replied coldly, forcing himself to stand still. Those claws hurt enough without tearing them from his own flesh. ?None of the slaves would be this bold. I don?t deal much with the volunteers. You?d have to ask them.?

Nire?s eyes suddenly dilated, and his claws dug deeper into Kentrith?s shoulder. ?You weren?t at the fight last night,? he purred.

Every instinct screamed at him that Nire knew, that he must know, but Kentrith forced it down, snorting. ?As if I would compromise my position here. I told you, Nire, this is all I have left. Why would I throw it away for a stupid stunt? I thought these wannabe?s were out of it, after their defeat.? He waved at the letters that were sealed over the Crater?s mark. Clenching a paw so that Nire could see, he ground out, ?I will be watching my slaves more carefully, you can bet.?

The lynx reared back, eyes nearly closed in their narrowness. ?You all will,? he growled, ?but it won?t be enough. I will have to take other measures.? He extracted his curved claws with a tearing sound, and Kentrith gasped, clutching the rips. Muttering to himself, Nire stalked away, heading towards a pair of guards that stood against the wall.

?They?ll search the Crater from top to bottom,? Nix murmured, watching Nire snap at his guards. Kentrith gulped, thinking of the buckets that were hidden under his bed. He refocused on the conversation when Nix added, ?Something was started tonight. I thought this bunch died out all those years ago.? She looked up at him. ?Things are going to get much worse, and I don?t think we?ll like the changes.? She turned back to watching the room.

Then you don?t realize how bad things are now. Always turning a blind eye, Nix, to the suffering of those beside you, as long as they aren?t of your blood.

Kentrith eased his way to the door, starting to panic slightly about those buckets and brushes. Nix was right that they would be hunting for such evidence, and if they were found in his room?

The sight of the bloody, unconscious mouse squeezed his heart. He couldn?t just foist them off on some other innocent beast, either.

If only I could get them to Hargorn?s room, he thought viciously, catching sight of the peg-legged weasel delivering another blow on the mouse.

?Well, what a hullabaloo!?

Kentrith stopped just outside of the door, face to face with a wheeled cart, Inkpaw standing behind it.

?A cart?? Kentrith blurted, bemused. ?Now??

?Why, of course! I can carry more goods this way. And as for the venue here, well,? he waved at the chaos inside, ?someone has to feed those natterers.?

Kentrith smiled. ?Fair, though nervy.?

Inkpaw smiled back. ?You know,? he barely whispered. ?That was well done. I hear there?s a new member. A recruiter, to bring in more members. Here is the proof.? He held out a turnover.

Kentrith took it, cocking an eyebrow at the heavy pastry. ?You?ll have to get other wares to sell, baker,? he chuckled.

?Don?t you worry,? Inkpaw returned, patting his belly. ?I?ve got plenty up my sleeve.?

He waved in the door again. ?Whoever did that will have investigations at their tail. The evidence would have to be disposed of, and soon.?

Kentrith stared at the pudgy marten. ?If I didn?t know better,? he said slowly, ?I?d say that cart could hold a lot of pastries.?

?And the Middens are always open to more fuel,? Inkpaw returned. ?They don?t have enough as it is.?

Kentrith nodded decisively, then leaned close, whispering, ?I also need a favor. I need? to send a message. To a guerrilla union.?

Inkpaw turned grave. ?It can be arranged, but it must be quick. I?m going back into Northvale in an hour for supplies.?

Kentrith nodded again, then turned and hurried back to his room.

He closed the door carefully, then clambered up on the mantle above the cold fireplace. He reached into a crevice and pulled a slip of paper out of it. The name Frey was scrawled on it. Clutching it, he lowered himself back to the floor. A thunk on the floor drew his attention to the turnover that had dropped out of his pocket. I need a better method for messages, he thought sourly, ripping the bread open to expose the heavy object inside.

It wasn?t a note.

He stared at the round wooden medallion in his paw, painted in delicate colors. A red cross was almost entirely covered by a scalpel and a rolled bandage.

?Do you think you?ll heal beasts again??

?I hope to.?

Kentrith clenched it tight in his paw for several minutes, then carefully slipped it under his pillow.