Ugly Hell, Gape Not!

[Balmafula]

By Goragula.

Goragula was bored.

Following their discovery of the bathing area and the needless task of getting them to work?something Zevka had insisted despite the newfound significance of their quest to Carrigul?the pine marten had ordered them to search for the owl captain and the wildcat seer, feeling they had tarried too long in their outing. Zevka was becoming insufferable, taking charge over the smallest of concerns and flaunting her authority where it was not needed. Even more aggravating was the way the hotbloods allowed it, falling in line like a dutiful flock of fledgelings.

He would not partake in their senseless search. The captain and the Grimalkin would inevitably reappear and it was a waste of time and energy to look for something that need not be found. The toad had settled himself in an isolated room close to the baths, squatting amongst the rubble and biding his time, waiting until they got their heads out of the marsh and they resumed their trek to Carrigul where he was needed.

The thought they could be in danger had crossed his mind, but that did not stifle his resolve. He owed nothing to Noonahootin, and Nyika ? she had spared his life, saved it, even. He muttered a silent curse, knowing her intentions despite the dispositions of his "haunts" that he knew accosted her. He owed her a life debt now, and his deadly threats meant nothing. Goragula was well acquainted with the nature of debt and the idea that he owed her anything sent his body quaking in silent rage.

And yet ? what had she said? All beasts deserve to live. To repay a debt was to give what was owed, and if a life could not be measured then there was nothing he could give her. Goragula's body relaxed as he breathed a heavy sigh. Nyika had no fear of death, so who was he to grant any protection from what she did not fear? He owed her nothing, and the thought warmed his blood in a way the sun could not.

It was when they had returned following Zevka's booted foot steps and shouted announcement that he rose from his hiding place, coming to greet them as the others returned from their own respective searches. He halted when the ferretmaid limped over to Zevka, shooting suspicious glances about the temple.

"Is Greenfleck back?"

The toad slinked back to his original position, settling in the rubble to listen and thankful for the poor vision ferrets possessed.

Zevka scanned the group. "No, why?"

Poko lowered her voice, and Goragula strained to hear her. "I found this, near the fissure where he had fallen." She withdrew a folded parchment and passed it to the pine marten.

Goragula's eyes went wide, his hand going into the inner pocket of his jacket, searching for the letter his associate had sent him, the one that had brought him to Carrigul. Frigid fingers gripped the back of his spine when he found his pockets empty.

He could only watch as Zevka read the contents, her jaw dropping as she cast a meaningful glance to Nyika who closed her eyes and heaved a shuddering sigh. Zevka passed the letter to Noonahootin.

"I say, what's this?" Noonahootin hooted, taking the letter. He blew his feathery moustache. "So it is true." He passed the letter to Istvan and the otter clenched his fist in rage.

When he spoke it was with conviction. "I know much of Goragula's heinous crimes. His continued existence is a grave offense against the Mother's creation, and he is long overdue a judgment."

The last to receive it was Vanessa, who did not disappoint in her own manner of shock and disbelief.

"What do we do?" Vanessa asked.

Goragula sat and waited.

"We find him," Noonahootin said, a commanding tone in his voice. "We search in pairs. Goragula is too dangerous to encounter alone."

"I'll go with Nyika," Zevka said.

"Ah'll take Poko," Vanessa said, nodding to the ferretmaid.

"Then I shall accompany Corporal Istvan," Noonahootin said. "We shall spread out. He can't have gone too far, and he does not know our intentions."

Each pairing departed and Goragula's mind reeled, thinking of escape and how he could sneak past the others. He knew he couldn't, not with the watchful eyes of the captain, or the brutal drive of the ottermaid, or the Grimalkin's insight. He watched her as she departed with Zevka, noticing the way she glanced in his direction.

An idea came to him. It was daring and stupid, but sometimes they were the plots that worked best. Nyika had proved it time and time again.

Standing from the rubble, Goragula croaked, making his presence known. The others turned towards the noise and the toad bowed to each of them, holding Nyika's eyes the longest. Then he waited until they gathered around him.

This was it. It all came down to this moment. And Goragula would win.

Istvan's legs twitched a moment before he leaped forwards, but Goragula, in the lucidity that could only be felt by those on the brink of death, moved quicker. His knife flashed as he darted to Zevka's side, expecting the flinch that held her just long enough, then seized Nyika by the wrist and yanked her arm behind her, wrenching her from her feet.

Nyika's cry of surprise snapped in the cold air, silenced by the icy steel at her throat. He felt her tendons seize up as he pressed the knife in further, his grip vicelike around her brittle wrist as he pulled her away to a safe distance. He heard one of the females scream, and Noonahootin shriek in anger.

"Let me go," Goragula said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let me go, and I will return to Yew, and you will not hear from me again."

Istvan stood only two yards away, his knife outstretched, his dark fur bristling, and his face thunderous with fury.

"Release her!" he commanded. His own knife was so tight in his fist that the hilt might have snapped in two.

"Why?" said Goragula. "I thought you of all creatures would enjoy a good throat-slitting." He dragged the keenest point of the knife across Nyika's skin so gently that it could have been a blade of grass tickling her palm. ?Nyik-neck,? his rasping voice whispered in her ear. ?Has a certain ring to it, don?t you think??

As a droplet of blood sprung from her skin, the wildcat gave a small shudder of pleasure. His knife rattled from the soft purr that rumbled in her throat and Goragula's blood ran cold, colder than he had ever felt before.

"What game are you playing at, Grimalkin?" His voice slithered like cold steel.

"If you kill me, I'll haunt you." He could hear the cat's voice distinctly through her purr. "Your soul is already condemned."

Goragula's eyes flashed from one vengeful creature to the next. "You shouldn't lie to a toad. We always know. We have magic in us, too."

"Do you?" 

A cold shock of anger flashed though the toad. "Oh yes." Goragula gripped the knife tighter. He took a step back, pressing the blade just a bit harder against Nyika's throat as Istvan started toward him. The otter halted in his tracks. "At least the legends would have it that way. They say that long ago, there was a tribe of frogs who tried to cheat Mother Nature?they wanted immortality, and all sorts of black magic. The power to survive. That?s all they wanted; it was a different time, thousands of seasons ago, before all you hot-bloods came along with your towns and your wars, where all anybeast ever wanted was simply to survive. But Mother Nature wouldn?t have it. She cursed them all, so that they and all their children would be covered snout to toe in warts. And so toads were born." He waited for a moment, as if daring Nyika to laugh. She did not. "But at the end of it all, we still outwitted her. We took our magic and kept it in our skin, so that anybeast who tried to touch us would burn their claws. Perhaps not quite in the same league as fortune-telling, though."

He focused on his former companions. "Let's not be careless, shall we? Your precious kitten's life is as light as a feather."

Istvan hesitated. "Her blood is sacred," he said. "I promise you: Harm her, and your screams shall ring for an eternity in Hellgates."

"And I'll be the one to put you there," said Noonahootin, raking the ground with his talons. "I'd hunt you to the ends of the earth if I had to, but it wouldn't come to that. You have no defense; I'd kill you in seconds."

The toad's gaze flickered at the owl. He'd been terrified of him since the moment he saw him?but that had been a mistake. He was an old beast, injuring himself at every turn, barely able to remain airbourne for two seconds together. Goragula pulled Nyika closer. "But you'd still have a dead kitten at your feet, Captain. As for Hellgates! Wherever I go, I leave a trail of slit throats. What's one more to the list?"

He laughed, but the laugh was strained and oddly high pitched. His heart was pounding.

They are more scared, he reminded himself. They would lose their precious Grimalkin. Their little kitten, the treasure of their group. They would kill him if he touched her?but they wouldn't take the risk. What a fine thing it was, to command such a nurturing instinct in others. It gave her remarkable value as a hostage. If only they had made it to Carrigul together, she would have been a great asset to him. Alas.

And so Goragula and the hotbloods stood in their stalemate, knives at the ready, both ready to kill at the slightest shimmer of movement from the other's blade.

"You will allow me back to Yew," he eventually said. "You may hate my name, but I promise you, there are beasts whom I have helped. There are many who need my patronage. Yew needs me. The markets will collapse. Carrigul will eat you alive."

A silence.

"And there are those would seek their revenge for my death," he added.

"No one seeks vengeance for the death of a murderer," said Noonahootin.

Zevka moved forward, her arms spread in a placatory manner. "You don't need to do this. Let her go. You know that you can?t make it down the mountain alone.?

The truth of it only added to his spite. Suddenly the urge hit him to slice open Nyika?s throat there and then, if only for the satisfaction of seeing the blood spatter on their gormless faces in the moments before his death. His knife pressed into her throat, and her purr grew.

?Miss Blackbriar, I had such hopes for you,? he said with a tut. Then he gestured at Istvan. ?Did you know this one has been plotting your death behind your back??

Istvan remained where he was, but his eyes darted to the pine marten. Zevka narrowed her eyes, stepping forward with her sabre.

?You think anyone believes your lies now, Goragula? Hand her over. Now. And we might show you mercy.?

?Oh, I don?t think so. I need her to guide me back down to Yew. And I have so many friends who dearly love the company of a pretty young maid that I couldn?t bear to leave her behind.?

Holding the wildcat close to him, Goragula began to back away from them. Through the pounding in his head, he repeated to himself: as long as I have her, they will not harm me. He would survive. He had to.

"I told you I could do worse than killing you," he whispered in her ear.

Nyika made her move so quickly that Goragula could not react before her paw was grasped around the knife at her throat. Instinctively, he jerked back, slicing through her skin, but she held tight through the pain. The elbow from her dislocated arm slammed into his side.

His knife flew from his grasp, and suddenly she was free.

It took no more than a hesitation before Istvan and Zevka rushed him, but they were batted aside as the great owl leapt forward, his outstretched talons piercing Goragula's body and pinning him to the floor.

Did he feel too much pain? Or none at all? Goragula couldn't tell. But his mouth was filling with blood, he was sure of that.

Noonahootin stood over him, his talons sinking into his chest. Shining bright in a vignette of fading black, the owl's amber eyes reminded him of another's. Vulpuz, smiling from the ugly gape of Hellgates.

"Any last words?"

Last words. His mother tongue. He had not spoken it for years. He'd been wild then, a savage who had never heard of towns or coins or laws, but who spoke in black magic and deep, dark curses, as ancient as the mountains themselves. He remembered. Curses foul enough to torment a beast to the end of his days; curses enough for all of them.

He gurgled one up in his throat and spat it out. A thick, cold spray of blood spattered over Noonahootin's face.

Goragula admired the sight, and died.