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Book Two: Questor

Chapter Six

        To many beasts, Emar and his squad might seem to be no more than one of Ronscazar's elite units. They where certainly well equipped. Even to those who realized that Ronscazar already had Richter's squad of stoat archers for an elite guard, they might have seemed like just a specialty unit for forest fighting, since they seemed to be out in the forest practicing a lot. The truth however, was that Emar and his squad were Ronscazar's way of playing dirty.
        Officially, Emar and his squad were known as the Green Brigade, unofficially, they where known as eliminators, specialists in operations of subterfuge. Ronscazar found Emar and his squad to be immensely valuable.
        Emar walked through the corridors of the Stronghold with a powerful stride. Emar was a powerfully built ferret. He wore a green cloak trimmed with gold, an elaborate breastplate, and a heavy sword. Not that he dressed like that for his real work.
        He passed all the guard checkpoints. The ferret inwardly felt contempt for the guards, with the exception of Ronscazar's elite guard, none of them would have even hindered his squad if they had tried to take on a mission in the Stronghold. Had Emar thought that the enemy had a good squad like his own nearby, he would not have trusted the beefed-up security to insure the safety of his employer, nor would he have trusted it to contain the prisoners. But the enemy didn't have squads like his own.
        The ferret felt the hateful glares of a pair of Rickter's stoats as he came towards Ronscazar's door. Rickter's squad didn't like the idea of Ronscazar having another elite unit, and ever since a few incidents where Emir's squad knocked out some of Rickter's beasts as part of a training exercise in how to reach an enemy leader, they had harboured a particular hatred for Emar's squad. Emar didn't particularly mind being hated though, as long as his employer wasn't going to try and pull something on him.
        Emar didn't even wait for the guards to pass him. He simply opened the door. Neither Ronscazar nor his stoats showed surprise at Emar's entrance, but the stoats looked like they were considering whether they could get away with "accidentally" letting loose an arrow. Idiots, Emar though.
        "My lord."
        "Ah, Field Commander Emar."
        "You know I'm not a Field Commander, Ronscazar."
        "Well I have to keep up the appearance in public, Emar, so keeping it up in private helps."
        "So what do you want from me, Ronscazar?"
        "My dear Field Commander, today a large group of my guards are going to take out a group of hostages. They will demand that the slaves surrender. I expect they will have to slay one of the hostages, the otter I think, she killed several of the guards, so killing her would help moral. Anyway though, their leader will probably be there. He is an Otter, a warrior. You will be able to tell who he is. Eliminate him, and the old skipper as well. Without their leaders, and with some of their people in our paws, the slaves will cave in like a weak mine shaft."
        "You don't need to tell me why I'm doing something, Ronscazar. You only need to tell me why I'm doing it."
        "Very well. See too it that the two otters fall."
        "Of course, my lord."

***

        Browntip tried another otter javelin. This one felt much better balanced than the last. Finally, she thought, after trying almost a dozen javelins, she was finally starting to narrow down her size. She tried two more javelins before being satisfied. Of course, she could not be sure if the javelin actually was the right size, she'd never tried using a javelin before -no wait, she had, as a kit- but it felt right. The otter twirled the weapon a few times and jabbed it in the air. Finally satisfied, she made a short cast. It wasn't very accurate, but it was promising. The beige-brown otter walked out of the holt.
        Galon waited outside. He carried a heavy javelin, with points as rusted as those on the javelin Browntip carried. The otter looked at Browntip curiously.
        "Interesting choice of weapon, Browntip. Your mother used the same thing, as I remember though she was a few sizes up. Just don't let your father see you with that thing, it could bring back some bad memories."
        "Galon, it's practically impossible for my dad to forget my mother. I don't think this is going to make him particularly upset."
        "Really? Your mother was using one of those the night she got turned into a pincushion."
        "What? I don't understand what you're saying, Galon."
        Galon looked at her.
        "I never got told about the pincushion thing. About all I remember is that my mother died because she got sick, and I only remember that because my father reminded me about that. What was she like? You were older, you should remember."
        Galon seemed to be going out of his way to keep a neutral expression.
        "She was my Mother's cousin, she looked more like my mother than you. You take after your father more, in colour and in build."
        A hazy, half-forgotten image formed in Browntip's mind, and a voice seemed to come through to her.
        "What was she like though?"
        "You mean as in terms of personality?"
        "Yes."
        "I don't remember that very well, except that my parents always where talking about her sense of humour. But I'm really not the best source on this, ask one of the elders. Anyway, we need to get ready. But please don't take the javelin."
        Browntip shrugged.
        "I know I won't really need it for my part of this if all goes well, but it's nice to now that I'll have it close to paw if necessary."
        Galon sighed.
        "Fine. But I wouldn't take it with you when you actually have that meeting."
        "I'm not an idiot, Galon. And you decided to go along with this idea anyway."
        "Yes, I did. I must be crazy."
        Browntip's laughter could be heard for some distance.

***

        Colonel Rul let his cloak flap in the early breeze. It was not as if he actually wanted it's warmth on this warm morning in late spring, and it was best if he had his paws free. The polecat flexed himself slightly. He's been standing here for over two hours. Either the woodlander's had missed there friends completely, or they where taking their sweet time showing up. Rul was a capable officer, but he didn't exactly react well to tension.
        The woodlander's ambassador got close to the soldiers before she was noticed. The movements of the soldiers made noise, and there had been whispers. So it wasn't suprising that the noise the ambassador made hadn't been noticed.
        The ambassador was a slightly smaller than an average otter. She wore a dark green jacket and had light fur, it appeared to be of a sort of beige-brown colour. Her tail however, was tipped with darker brown. Who was she? Oh, yes, Browntip, the old Skipper's daughter. She did not appear to be armed. However, her two burly otter bodyguards where. Rul recognized one as Tarka, but he couldn't identify the other.
        "Halt." Commanded a guard.
        The otter halted. She looked at Rul.
        "Well?"
        The question took Rul off guard.
        "What?"
        "Well, why are you here?"
        "You know that already, streamdog."
        The otter looked angry. Rul liked angering his opponents in these situations. It made them easier to deal with. Streamdog was one of the insults he liked using if he could. He wondered why Otters where so touchy about being called streamdogs.
        "I have an idea of why you're hear, Colonel. But I don't see the proof."
        Rul felt a surge of disappointment. The streamdog wasn't going to get mad. The Polecat signaled his soldiers. Who moved aside.
        The prisoners hung from three heavy poles to which there paws where tied. The mice otherwise looked normal, but Buran had her muzzle bound shut and her tail bound to the pole. That one had given some trouble, she'd gotten in some fairly substantial bites and blows before they'd managed to completely secure her. Rul hoped that the woodlanders would hold off so that the otter could be executed. Not that she wouldn't be anyway, even if the woodlanders did surrender.
        Rul smirked.
        "Substantial proof, otter?"
        The otter looked at the prisoners, her eyes meeting those of each one.
        "Yes, Polecat. My name is Browntip, and I have been sent to reach a settlement."
        "Now hold on. You're not in command of the woodlanders, that otter warrior is."
        Browntip smirked.
"I speak with the voice of the people of Mossflower, Polecat. Do you wish to bargain or do you not wish to do so?"

***

        Emar gazed down his crossbow and swore. His targets was not there. Ideas flashed through Emar's mind. He'd have to abort. He could take down the otter negotiator, but that wouldn't do Ronscazar much good. Had the otter warrior been killed, the woodlanders might still negotiate if they hurt the otter prisoner badly enough. But in this case, the assassination of the negotiator would just lead to the otter warrior cutting his negotiation channels.
        The weasel signalled Intra, the eliminator who had accompanied him to make sure they got both targets, then clambered down the tree he was in and set off across the woods back to the fortress. A whizzing and the thud of Intra's body warned him of danger. The weasel looked back, but it was too late.

        Elmbrush looked down at where her scarlet-fletched arrow protruded from the fallen Emar with satisfaction and lowered her bow. She could take a guess at why the assassin had aborted, he simply hadn't found his target. However, Elmbrush wanted to make sure the weasel never found his targets.
Elmbrush stealthily made her way back to where Browntip was playing her deadly game.

***

        Rul smiled at the woodlander's ambassador. He knew he had the upper hand.
        "The terms aren't open to negotiation, Otter. You surrender, and we don't kill the hostages."
        "Why should we surrender? Look, Polecat, we can make it worth Ronscazar's while to let us go. We can pay him royally."
        The Polecat smiled. Smart otter, he thought. Too bad she isn't a Polecat. Oh, well, her negotiations won't get her far, but I may as well hear her out.
        "What do you have to say, Otter?"
        The green jacketed otter began talking about the woodlander's offer. Rul was intrigued. It sounded like something out of a legend, a Badger Lord's treasure, belonging to those who had once ruled these lands.
        "We wouldn't have disturbed it, since none of us could have stood against a badger, but it does not appear the badgers will return. That's why we didn't use it as a negotiation tool before, because we were afraid that the badgers might return."
        "How do we know this treasure exists, Otter?"
        "Ronscazar will get it after he signs our treaty and before he releases the hostages."
        As this conversation had been occurring, the Polecat and the Otter had moved closer together. One of Rul's soldiers put a paw on his shoulder to try and hold him back, but Rul shrugged off the soldier's grip. The soldier returned quickly to the ranks. Rul looked into the otter's eyes with menace, though he blanched slightly at her awful breath.
        "If you've been lying to us, you'll get it."
        With the Polecats attention focused on the otter's eyes, he never even noticed the rusty old belt knife until it was almost against his throat.
        "Like a bee to honey," Browntip said with satisfaction.

***

        Browntip spun Rul around and put the knife to his throat. She'd whipped it out from her sleeve with more force than was necessary, but the thing had been digging into her arm all morning, despite it's wrapping.
        The soldiers raised their weapons. Browntip kept a calm expression.
        "This is the way it's going to be, scum. You release the hostages to us. You get your captain back alive."
        "Colonel-Erk!"
        Browntip pressed her knife lightly against Rul's throat.
        "Just do as I tell you and you'll make it back alive, which is more than you deserve, Polecat!"
        Rul waited. Browntip's malice laden whisper sounded dreadfully loud in Rul's ear. Of course, he could literally hear his heart beating right now…
        "Order the hostages released if you ever want to see another dawn."
        Rul gulped. He'd just have to salvage this as best he could.
        "Release the hostages. But if that otter, Buran, hurts any-Aggh!"
        "Polecat, if I have to keep doing this, you're going to run out of leeway on your windpipe."
        Guards rushed to cut the hostages free. The hostages took a few moments to rub at their legs before making a fast sprint across to where Tarka and Reedback waited. Browntip spoke again, and this time she meant for the soldiers to hear.
        "I will release your captain when I get to the river. Stay where you are until then. And watch out for squirrels."
        One of the soldiers swore when he heard about the squirrels.
        Browntip made a slow, difficult retreat back towards the river bank. She let go of Rul when they where almost at it, but only after she was sure Tarka was in a position to put a javelin in him if he suddenly turned on her. The otter wiped her brow, which was soaked with perspiration from her nervousness.
        "Whew. Let's get outta here."

***

        Rul ran back to the area where his soldiers waited as fast as he could, and scanned the branches. Most of the squirrels wouldn't be well trained, so if they where actually in the trees, he would notice them in that scan. He didn't see any squirrels however, so he gave the order.
        "Charge!"

***

        Browntip heard the order and swore. She ran to a nearby bush and grabbed her javelin.
        "Someone take those mice! Everyone swim for it!"

***

        One of the few squirrels actually close to the vermin, Beecheye was one of the first to loose an arrow. Beecheye was one of the squirrels who had been part of Elmbrush's resistance, so he had been picked for the group that would be close to the vermin. However, the vermin weren't looking at only a small number of squirrels…
From several rows of trees back, squirrels came pouring in. They let loose on Ronscazar's scum with an inaccurate but still deadly volley. Beecheye took aim at Rul with one of his black fletched arrows as the Polecat lead his soldiers on the charge. He let loose his shaft. Unfortunately however, he only took the Polecat in the leg, and it didn't look like it had even injured the Colonel's leg significantly, since the Polecat kept going. Beecheye decided to let loose at a closer target, and this time his black fletched arrow struck home.

***

        Galon heard Browntip's emergency signal. He lifted his sling and gave a curt order to the otters behind the log.
        "Stay where you are until they're close. And get away when I tell you to. No one's going to play hero and get killed."
There was a chorus of "Aye Skip's," which Galon silenced with a gesture.

***

        Browntip hurled her javelin at Rul as he came charging in with drawn sword, but it missed. The javelin did, however, take down one of the soldiers behind him. The otter considered throwing her knife, decided against it, -it would be a pretty futile move against armored soldiers- and jumped into the water. As she did so, she yelled out the second part of the signal.
        "Up javelins!"

***

        Rul closed in on the treacherous ambassador with his dalorian drawn. He should probably try to capture that one, but he didn't care. His soldier's could capture someone else, he just wanted to kill that streamdog!
        The streamdog made a poor throw with her javelin, Rul kept coming, despite the pain in his leg. The streamdog hesitated, Rul felt a surge of hope, if she stayed just a moment longer…no such luck, she went into the water. Rul screamed in frustration and threw his dalorian in after her. The otter circled slightly to grab his blade and stuck her tongue out before swimming off with it. Of course, Rul was a little busy with something else now…
        The streamdog's cry of "Up Javelins!" let havoc loose. A squad of otters clambered onto a floating log and let loose an inaccurate but still dangerous salvo of slingstones and javelins. Rul ducked a slingstone even as he drew his other dalorian to throw at the retreating streamdog's back. Suddenly, his instincts told him to look up. He saw a large, magnificently dark-furred otter was whirling a sling, loaded with three heavy stones. Rul swore and prepared to take action.

***

        Reedback clambered up a log that was sticking out into the river. The big otter lurched to his footpaws and hurled his javelin, intending to hit Rul. He wasn't sure whether or not it would hit, and it didn't matter. The big otter dived back in without waiting to see if his weapon struck home.

***

        Galon gave a wild battlecry and let rip with three heavy slingstones. He was lucky. Sort of. One of his stones did go flying at Rul, and would have been a hit had the Polecat not dodged. However, while Rul might have escaped Galon's slingstones, he was unlucky enough to dodge right into the path of Reedback's javelin. The Polecat collapsed to the ground, the strange weapon that was either a small sword or a large dagger still in his paw.
        Galon decided it was time to get going. He yelled out to Elmbrush.
        "Get your group out of here. We'll cover you!"
        The squirrels took off through the trees. Galon took a quick look around, then gave the order for his squad to retreat.
        "Tails in the stream!"
        The otters jumped off the log and into the water. A few arrows where loosed at them, but only one otter was hit, and he looked like he could make it.
        Galon lead the otters downstream fast. The vermin on shore probably didn't have much of a chance of hitting the swimming otters, but Galon didn't want to stick around when his opponent was letting dozens of arrows drop into the river.
        The dark otter flinched when one arrow skimmed him cheek during its dive, but he made it away safely. He checked around, and saw that his squad was accounted for. Even Blake, who had taken the arrow, seemed okay, but then how was one arrow supposed to hurt Blake much? Blake was the biggest otter Galon had ever seen.
        Well, Galon thought. That went well.
        The dark otter felt a touch of humour at the way those thoughts sounded together.

***

        Tarka was the first otter to get back. Even carrying Gacka and Tralis she had managed to outswim every other otter that had been part of the rescue. Gacka and Tralis had already managed to dry themselves down somewhat with the rough towels the otters at Holt Oak provided before Browntip and Reedback slipped out of the water.
        The mice screeched as their almost-dry fur was bombarded with water droplets that had moments before been on Browntip and Reedback's fur. The two otters finished shaking themselves off and sauntered over to where Tarka stood grinning.
        "Well, looks like someone beat us home."
        "Yes, someone did. Do I get a ribbon?"
        Browntip snorted and laughed.
        "No."
        The trio was interrupted by a great splashing as several of Galon's otters came noisily out of the water. Reedback rushed over to help his friend Blake, who hardly needed help. Galon ordered one of his squadmembers to go fetch Torsul before walking over to where Browntip stood. The dark otter was humming to himself as he walked.
        "Congratulations! Your plan went off without a hitch. And, unless Elmbrush lost some squirrels, we didn't take a single casualty! Well… we have a wounded otter, but he'll make it."
        Browntip grinned back.
        "To make it better, we humiliated Ronscazar, got rid of some of his scum, and I got a nice little dagger."
        "Browntip, that's a sword."
        "Oh, I don't know. It doesn't seem much like a sword."
        "Whatever. It's a little big for a Polecat's dagger."
        The two otters went to check in on Blake, who seemed to be fine, except for the fact he needed to drink some of Torsul's brews. Unfortunately, Torsul had some ideas for Browntip as well. Browntip found out about them as she turned to go.
        "Browntip, what the heck happened to your tail?"
        "Oh, um, it got hit by an arrow during my escape."
        "You should have seen me about it."
        "I'm sorry. I was sort of busy dealing with the hostage situation though."
        "Oh, you'll be even sorrier when I dose you with Diyaweed."
        Browntip panicked.
        "Oh please no! The taste of that foul stuff lingers for days."
        "You where the one who left it, you're the one who will have to deal with the consequences. You're an adult now Browntip. Deal with it."
        Browntip glared at the grinning Torsul.
        "I swear. It's like you purposely make your medicines taste bad."
        "Well, you like to pull your jokes, I like to pull mine."
        Browntip stared at Torsul.
        "You do make them taste bad on purpose? You have got to be joking."
        "Actually, I'm not joking. Even an old grump like me has to have his fun once in a while. Though I'll assure you, what I am giving you will help you get better. Oh, maybe some Tickas root to help the pain?"
        Browntip groaned.
        "That's supposed to ease my pain?"

***

        Browntip was in a bad mood that night as she lay in the main alcove of Holt Oak, with the sword Bullthrush had identified as something called a "dalorian" beside her. Apparently, one could throw a dalorian even though it was also an effective sword in the right paws. How, she thought, had she managed to go from feeling victorious to feeling like all of Mossflower was against her?
        The beige-brown otter stuck out her dark-tinted tongue and stared at it. Even with all the berries she had eaten, the taste of Torsul's potion lingered. I am going to destroy the plants Torsul got his herbs from, she thought. Or, I would if he would tell me then real names! Suddenly, something humorous hit her. What if the reason why Torsul never referred to his herbs by their proper names was so that no one could go out and destroy them? Browntip began to snicker.
        There was a drowsy, irritated growl from a few mats over, where, despite Browntip's efforts, Buran had decided to sleep.
        "Look, some of us are trying to sleep."
        Browntip resumed her brooding. All of Mossflower really was against her.