The Lengthening Shadow
Chapter 17: Joining Forces

A day of flying later, the Souleaters arrived in Greenbloom. No one knew of their arrival, but they quickly learned that something had come to the forest, filling the night with terror.

That night, in the village of Devron, a noise awakened a local barkeeper. Silvius Gherton was doing some late-night washing up when there came a noise like hooves. He ignored it, but it started again. He looked out the large front windows. A strange mist was creeping in, and the night seemed unusually dark.

He opened the door and looked out. “Hello?” No answer. Silvius called again, with no reply. He was turning around to go back inside when there came a rapping on the outer gate. He woke a couple militia and creeped to the gate. He opened the viewport and saw three figures on black horses. They started walking towards him. They reached the gate and knocked again, harder this time.

Open! We are the agents of Thazanc. Open this gate, or you will die!

Silvius reached for the knob, but the figures had lost patience. The rode the gate down, narrowly missing Silvius, and continued into the town. A small group of soldiers, alerted by the noise, ran out wielding torches and guns. They stooped and fired, but the bullets bounced off the Souleaters like rain. They ran over a few, dismounted, and drew their blades. In a few seconds, three screaming beasts ran for their lives.

The rest were cut down by the spectral ferrets as they barged through the village. None stood in their way. Their power and fear was too great for any average animal. They dismounted and continued through the town on foot. One flicked his fingers, creating the deadly substance known as Soulfire, and threw it at the nearest house. In a millisecond, it burst into flame.

The burning caught other houses, and soon half the town was burning. In the confusion, the Souleaters mounted again and rode out of the town, leaving burning ruins. They galloped on through the night, going ever southwards. In Devron, Silvius ran to the well, throwing buckets of water on the flames. In the morning, the burning had stopped, but the ruin it created could not be undone. A few flashes of the Soulfire still flickered among the charred remains of buildings and animals alike. Silvius stared the way the Souleaters left. He wondered, What were those things? and hoped that he would never, ever meet them again.

“Wyrm’s Blood!” Samuel cursed as his boot was stuck in another mud patch. For the past two days, the company had been going north by way of the Fogfens of Greenbloom. It was a desolate waste of marsh, mud, and tar, stretching for miles from just east of Tarsch’s home at Cavern Valley to the edges of Wheatlock’s land. A strange green mist covered everything in gloom, so that the mouse could not tell if it was day or night in the Fogfens.

They had to be on their toes, for the fens were filled with strange beasts not seen anywhere else. A day ago, they had been attacked by a Logknotter. No one knew exactly what a Logknotter was, only that it was deadly. It looked like a log, until you got too close. Then, a pair of long, thick jaws snatched you by the legs and dragged you down, where you were eaten.

They were making their way through the heart of the fens, when Samuel noticed a strange cave on an island. He, Tarsch, and Crackwillow crossed the water and into the cave.

“Lano.” said the wizards, and lit their wands. They walked softly and slowly into the cave. Suddenly, something lunged out of the darkness. It was a pair of large jaws. “Logknotters!” yelled Samuel to the others. The whipped around and saw a group of huge animals that looked like giant alligators.

Their jaws extended and snapped at the heroes. Tarsch screamed “GAL’VAZ!” and shot an energy bolt at one of them. It blasted the Logknotter backwards thirteen feet into the rock wall, killing it instantly. Samuel grabbed a knife from the cave floor and hurled it, straight into a Logknotter’s forehead. The Verdancers shot fiery bolts at Logknotters, taking out all of them with deadly aim.

In two minutes, they had cleared the cave of Logknotters. They found several ration packs and hiked out of the cave. They made their report to the rest of the company and then walked on through the Fogfens. They walked for days until they finally reached the end of the fens. They all cheered when they saw green hill country out of the end of the mist. They walked out and rested for a while.

They consulted Tarsch on the position of Vi’lle. He responded “I’m still trying to replace him, but the veils of magical hiding are thick around him. You can be sure I am trying my best.”

Finally, after days of searching, Crowblood’s gang caught up with the pirates. Nobeast wanted to fight, because the marten’s group was too small, and the pirates were starving.

A small weasel named Hackwheeze stalked up to Crowblood’s side. “What are we gonna do about these ’ere pirates?” asked Hackwheeze. Crowblood drew Gra’zoth and turned on the weasel. “Because, idjit, these pirates could ’elp us. An alliance might be better than a fight, ’cause a fight’d injure both of our groups.”

He strode into the pirate camp under a white flag of truce. “I wish ta speak wid yer Cap’n!” Alrack and Uldrich came to meet him. “We are the joint Cap’ns of this ’ere crew. What would you like to offer?”

“We have enough armor and weapons to outfit an army. I you joined forces wid us, I would supply yer crews wid all of this.”

Alrack walked into his tent with Uldrich. A minute later, he returned with a scroll. It was a pirate contract of alliance, the standard kind. It read:

If the requestor would like to make an alliance with the pirates, hereafter called the considerants, then the said requestor will have to agree to the following terms.

He will give all offered property to the considerant, including anything that the considerant may additionally request.

The requestor must agree to any other terms the considerant may require.

Two thirds of all the further profits will go to the larger party, be it considerant or requestor.

The leaders of both said parties will have joint command of the combined party.

Signatures:

Requestor: _____________

Considerant: ____________

Crowblood looked at the paper for a second, then pulled a quill from his pocket and wrote his name. Alrack and Uldrich wrote theirs, and then the three shook hands on the deal. Crowblood called for Hangear and Sawtooth, a new recruit, to haul in the wagon of supplies.

They dumped it on the ground and dragged the wagon away. The pirates grabbed armor, weapons, and food. They lined up in neat rows, for pirates, that is, at Alrack’s command of “Form ranks!” The three leaders walked up and down the line, inspecting the vermin and receiving a tally sheet from Venge. They currently had two hundred and thirty-five beasts, with stores of supplies for three months. Alrack leaped up on the overturned wagon and yelled to the forces “To war! Too long have we been treated as the lowest of the low. Tonight, we march on Fernwood! Never again will they remain to taunt us and kick us. We will take our pirate’s revenge! To war! To war! TO WAR!”

“TO WAR!” shouted two hundred and thirty-five pirates. They clanged spears on shields and waved swords. Alrack raised his arms high over his head. “We will march tonight! Now is the hour. It began with Brushtipp, but it will not end with Fernwood. We will draw swords and spread fire through all of Greenbloom! Tonight, the earth will be stained with the blood of all who stand in our way! It is the time now. Fight, kill, burn all in your path. TO WAR!” The huge ranks of pirates marched forward. That night, more than one innocent would fall to the hungry blades of Alrack’s horde.

Dresdin, Mayor of Wheatlock, had woken to the sound of explosions. He leaped out of bed, hitting his head on the ceiling, and rushed outside into the street. A soldier ran up to him. “What in the name of Mist is going on out here?” cried Dresdin angrily. The soldier looked worried. “Sir, Thazancians are massing in a large section of forest and lake near our border with Norsän-Ran. They have sent troops to attack a small town just north of here. Devron, I think it is. We just got the news from a messenger named Silvius. Here he is now.”

A small fox approached Dresdin. “They came last night, when we were still recovering from those three things burning down half the village. They had three thousand, at the least. They have been smashing through the forests around Yarnê Lake for the past four days. We need to destroy them there. Can you help?” Dresdin thought for a moment before saying “We can, but we’ll need the help of Fernwood.”

In three hours, three hundred Fernwooders under the command of Marigold and Sergeant Thogt had arrived, received orders, and were marching to Yarnê Lake. They heard the Thazancians before they saw them. Several cannonballs came screaming out of the forest and towards them. Five mice were blown to bits, and several were wounded by the shrapnel. They charged into the forest, randomly hacking away in the close space of trees and cannon smoke. Marigold and Thogt’s division stumbled upon a small trench of Thazancians and cannons. They shot and shot, both sides suffering losses, until the Fernwooders overran the trench.

Thogt loaded the cannons onto wheeled platforms, and had soldiers haul them through the forest. They destroyed several enemy positions, until they reached the main forts around the lake. Thogt and Marigold charged into the cannon fire and took a small trench. Thogt whispered to Marigold, in the muffled air of the trench, “I’m checking to see if it’s all clear.” He peeked out, but didn’t see the cannonball hurtling down from above. There was an explosion, and the badger Sergeant was blown into a mass of fur and blood-spattered armor. Marigold turned away from the corpse, threw up, and kept fighting.

The Fernwooders attacked the forts again and again, falling back to regroup and attack again. The Wheatlock soldiers aided them and shot back, picking off several Thazancian officers. Gunfire rang out far into the night.

Marigold and five others sneaked through a narrow culvert into the main Thazancian fort. They crawled down through the piping into the gatehouse, and opened the gate. Wheatlock soldiers and Fernwooders poured into the fort. The Thazancians, cornered, surrendered but were shown no mercy. The Thazancian force, knowing it could no longer hold the lake, retreated back into the shadows of the Acar Mort, the Mountains of Norsän-Ran. Marigold and her force came back to Wheatlock in victory. All were impressed with her actions against a much larger force. The survivors were given medals, and Thogt a proper Warrior’s burial. Marigold fingered the gold circle, feeling her paw along the letters engraved in its surface. If only Samuel could see me now, she thought, he would be so proud!

Once again, Samuel was too busy to give thought to events back home. They had navigated through the Fogfens, and Tarsch had finally located Vi’lle! The veils had dropped, and it was known that he was in a small mountain near the western end of the Acar Mort. They prepared for the long journey, making sure that Aidan and Malcolm would survive until they got there. Aidan remarked that he wished they got there quickly, because being stuck on a stretcher for months was very boring. They trekked across plains, skirting the coastline, and reached the hill from which a beast could see the Acar Mort.

The band marched into a grassland, and were nearly at the feet of the mountains when they were accosted by a band of Thazancians, returning to the Acar Mort from Yarnê Lake. The leader, a thin rat called Ginlir, walked up with a drawn sword.

“What is your business here? I am Ginlir, commander of the Black Eagle troops. I must see your credentials before I can let you pass.” Samuel drew a packet of papers from his vest and handed them to the rat. Ginlir looked them over for a moment, then handed them back to Samuel. “You do not have the Thazancian Seal on these! Where did you get them?”

Samuel scanned his papers. “These are standard Greenbloom papers. I’m afraid we don’t have the Thazancian Seal on anything.” Ginlir looked at his own seal, a badger skull over a crossed wand and sickle, before answering. “If you have no Thazancian papers, I have no choice but to kill you. Get them, boys.” The ranks of martens and rats walked forward, before Tarsch cried “Wait! I have some papers.” He handed Ginlir a bundle like Samuel’s, stamped with the Thazancian Seal. Ginlir looked at these, before ordering his regiment to stand down. The company passed through, and made sure they were out of earshot before Samuel asked “How in Certaria did you get Thazancian papers?” Tarsch shot him a wry smile. “Not in Certaria, Sam. In Korana, the land of Wizards, across the sea. I was made a wizard there, when all Wizards had two separate sets of papers, one from Vi’lle, and one from Ra’vok.”

They passed through the grassy plains in a few days. They were almost at the Acar Mort before Samuel asked “Where exactly is this mountain? They all look the same.” Tarsch stopped dead. “Well,” he said in a soft voice, “I don’t exactly know. I have seen that he’s around here somewhere, but I don’t know where.” Samuel pondered the conundrum in his mind for a while, thinking Where is he? Where in the Acar Mort is he? He knew that he might not want to replace out.