The Lengthening Shadow

Rivenhand looked up at the arch of the Gate as he led his army into the Bluff. The weasel had reached his destination with four hundred and fifty Thazancians and the grendana. He walked over the stone bridge above the chasm that encircled the half-hill, the black stones clicking under his iron-plated boots. As he reached the Gate, a sentry opened a spy-hole and peered out into the night at them.

“Who are you? Speak the password!”

Rivenhand slammed his gauntleted right paw to his left shoulder. “Hail Thazanc. Hail Ra’vok, Lord of All.” The guard shouted a signal to the soldiers patrolling the upper gatehouse. Uncountable locks slid up and back as the great metal door lifted up and out of the way. The force of the North marched in, the gate slamming down behind them as the grendana was hauled in. Iolargh and Vurgal led the welcoming commitee. “Greetings, Rivenhand. Hail Thazanc. Hail Ra’vok, Lord of All,” called Iolargh, giving the Thazancian Salute. “I see you bring many to strengthen us. That is greatly appreciated. Who gave you the order to come and aid us?”

“Ra’vok himself. As a returning officer, I have authority under Law 3024 paragraph A section C to lead the next mission immediately following my return to Thazanc. We had a slight run-in with squirrels south of Tendor Forest, but we have had a surprisingly smooth journey.”

“Is Glinger’s force coming?”

Rivenhand looked nervously at the ground, twiddling his claws. “You see, sir, the entire three hundred soldier force was all slain by a mouse.”

“You mean an army of mice!”

“No, sir, one mouse. He killed Glinger, all three hundred, and he destroyed the grendana. He also made it out alive, worse for us.”

Iolargh refused to accept the news. He went into a rant about how mice were weak, they could never amount to anything, it was impossible, the mouse would have died if he were there, etc. All the while, Rivenhand was standing in the entranceway, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. After a few minutes, the weasel ventured a question. “Sir, what if this mouse is a good fighter?”

The Destromancer, unexpectedly, did not argue. He pondered it in his mind for several moments before speaking. “Maybe you’re right. He could be a good fighter. But if he’s coming here, then he had better be ready for a good fight.”

The Souleaters had come to a conclusion. The company had met with Vi’lle, and therefore were in no fear of the ferrets. One of them, Naurcan, spoke to the Souleater on his right, Naurdal.

Partner Naurdal, what is it we do? The company is under protection of the White Master, and they fear us no more.

The other one, Naurens, looked over the side of his Wyrm at the Acar Mort. Naurcan, Naurdal, be not afraid of the White Master. Naurglin and the others of our kind have promised that they will aid us as soon as is possible. Meanwhile, we will continue on our present course until we learn the whereabouts of Glinger. Then, we will turn back to Thazanc.

They all nodded and flew in three different directions. Presently, they were joined by Naurglin, Naurmaive, and Naurlur; Soulwrencher, Soulslicer, and Soulcutter. Once Naurglin had learned of Glinger’s death, the six joined again in a troop that was to be feared. The Souleaters flew north again, traveling mainly by night, getting constant messages from Ra’vok. Naurmaive had given the news of Glinger’s defeat at Shadow Pass, to Ra’vok’s dismay. The fact that it was one mouse seemed to enrage the Black Master even more. However, he had a secret weapon. It was the Nova Kibliar of Borderton, who had finally succumbed to the payment. He was bringing several hundred soldiers to speed Hydrocaus’s project in Shadow Bastion.

Neams had turned Bregellach into an evil powerhouse. The commander had ordered metal and machinery from the Bastion to outfit the huge, newly-dug pits under the fortress with forges and a few Thazancian blast furnaces. Several large pieces of weapon-and-armor making equipment had been installed. Neams’ adjutant, Côval, ordered mass production of several upgraded triple grendanas. Steel hissed as it was poured from iron tubs into molds for long swords and jagged spearheads.

Côval looked over a chain-link railing at the scene below. Multiple levels of gears and electric lamps buzzed and clanked. The fisher strode down a ramp of steel and to a control panel covered with buttons and levers over which a Thazancian was leaning. The engineer, (a cat, as was usual with Thazancian engineers,) looked up as Côval walked to his side and inspected the huge dynamo he was operating, copper wires sticking out from all sides of the whirring bulk.

“Fissure!”

Fissure the engineer adjusted one last dial before standing to attention as the adjutant looked him over. The cat pushed up his lighting goggles and wiped oil off of his coat. “Yes, sir?” He received a long string of orders, most of which were that Fissure was to take command of the entire Pit Operation, because Neams had been recalled to Thazanc, to be replaced by Côval. Fissure nodded a few times to show that he, albeit halfheartedly, got the point. Even though it was obvious that he was more interested in the dynamo than what Côval had to say, the fisher did not notice and let the engineer get back to his work.

Cara Longshaft had been worried about matters beyond the small, trivial battle ever since Rivenhand and his troops had left. She called Hinsern over to contemplate the matter of impending war. “What do you think about this shadow, mate? It’s only a matter of time till that Northern menace extends South.”

“The Etherrealm might know what to…”

“How many times do I have to tell you? It is Korana, not the Etherrealm! Honestly, Hinsern, get it right.”

“I understand, milady. What I was about to say was that the Ether… I mean Korana might know what to do about this.”

“But how can we contact them?” asked Cara. “I mean, that’s a matter for Verdancers, not ordinary squirrels like us.”

Hinsern nodded solemnly. “I guess you’re right, milady. But we still need knowledge of Thazanc’s plans. If we could get that knowledge, we would be better prepared for a coming war with the North. If Thazanc takes the route along the coast, they can ship armies down to the South with no resistance. If that happens, the Thazancians will push up and squeeze us in a deadly vice.” Cara was thoughtful for a few minutes. She was about to answer when several bullets whizzed past and thudded into the tree trunk. Whipping around, she saw a few red-suited figures ducking behind boulders. Instantly, she knew they were facing some of the dreaded Thazancian Light Infantry.

The commander of the ambush had left a day after Rivenhand, and had seen the marks of the earlier battle. She was a thin sable called Tana-Ronhan, one of the most skilled commanders in the Infantry. Tana-Ronhan unslung a long halberd from a shoulder strap and faced Cara, who was up in a tall tree. The sable shouted “Fire!”, and an enfilade of blasts came from the Infantry’s long gun barrels. Cara ducked and let loose a whistling arrow into a red figure’s stomach. He staggered and fell dead behind the rock. She drew the long, thin string back and shot again. She swung around behind the trunk just in time, as another metal shot slammed into the wood. Peering around, she called to Hinsern over the noise. “Get all of the elders and children to safety. Send the fighters to me!”

Ten squirrels, five female, five male, jumped into position at Cara’s call. Tana-Ronhan barked a string of commands at her now forty Infantry to shoot in the trees, not just at the squirrels. The sable and her lieutenant, the wolf Mongral, started to retreat, leaving the soldiers to deal with the squirrels. The Infantry fought like mad, shooting everywhere and scoring two marks. A pair of squirrels dropped dead out of the branches, bullets deep inside. However, the Thazancians had lost another ten soldiers. As a parting shot, Mongral fired a pistol, shooting off Cara’s ear. She clapped a hand over it to stop the bleeding before taking down another enemy with two arrows.

The Infantry tried one last trick. They loaded hotshot (Red-hot bullets) into all the guns and fired at the branches. The grove started to catch, licking flames engulfing tree limbs at an alarming rate. However, Cara and her troops were not deterred. The chieftainess shot an arrow into the head of the last Infantrybeast, sticking it between his eyes like a unicorn’s horn. Tana-Ronhan and Mongral, on the other hand, had escaped unharmed from the fray, going back to where a pair of Wyrms had been tethered for them. The pair of villains flew off back North, where Ra’vok would be very pleased to hear their news of the squirrels and their defense.

Meanwhile, Thazanc was a hive of activity. After the invasion of Norsän-Ran, its inhabitants had been forcibly drafted into the Thazancian army, doubling its size practically overnight. The Captain of the Guard, Tuthis, had combined his soldiers with Operation Pit. The result was highly upgraded armor and weapons for all of them. Tuthis and Côval wrote down on a piece of paper the numbers of all the factions in Thazanc’s fighting forces.

Thazancian General Army: 1,500,000

Thazancian Heavy Infantry: 56,839

Thazancian Light Infantry: 45,900

Grendana forces/engineers: 3,261

Tengdært army: 2,400

Destromancers: 13,492

Shadow Corps: 34,067

Souleaters: 7

Total: 1,656,506

Tuthis was slightly amazed by the figures. In just the General Army, there was over one million soldiers, a mind-boggling number. The Heavy Infantry, also known as the Thazanc Guards (Tuthis’s force), was the most equipped of the factions save the Souleaters. The General Army was mainly rank-and-file, with several thousand Elites. All of the factions had subfactions, with the subfactions occasionally having their own subfactions. The feared Wolfriders were in the Cavalry Subfaction of the General Army, along with Wyrms and their riders and trainers. In all, absolute power went to Ra’vok, then his Command Quintet: The Sorcerer of Deadbeast Bluff, Hydrocaus, the Master of Tengdært, and the Snake Baron of Aerbane, and the Captain of the Souleaters. After that, the Souleaters and then Smake. The Thazancian Army was easily the most disciplined and organized force in the world, also probably the largest. In the ferret’s mind, there was no way a mouse could defeat all this.

Côval looked at the paper for a moment. “I see,” said the adjutant. “Yes, yes, I know we have over a million soldiers at our command.” Tuthis looked him square in the eyes.

“I have nearly fifty-seven thousand answering to me only. Do not try to challenge, Côval. I have been manning this command for hundreds of years. How long have you been here? Thirty? The only reason you are Neams’ adjutant is because of your father, Menâkk. I knew him well, transferred from the Heavy Infantry into Neams’ section of the General Army. He was a good fighter, your father. Killed in battle with the Arvand Navy, I recall. I know that Navy. It was the ship Retribution, under Captain Torstram, that did it, wasn’t it? Your authority is only over the Bregellach section, no more. Menâkk was more than you will ever be, dirty wretch. He was a fighter who reached his command by battle. You were only born into the position. Now, I am Tuthis, Captain of the Guard. If you’ve read the manuals, my position is higher than the adjutant of a Colonel. Now, are you still sure you want a confrontation?”

The shamefaced Côval backed down. “I’m sorry. I only thought…” A dagger slammed into the wall an inch from his head. Tuthis yanked it out and poked Côval in the stomach. “I did not order you to think. The commanders, like me, do the thinking. The idiots, like you, serve. Understood?” The ferret sheathed the dagger with one swift motion. “I have had enough of uppity young officers like you. The only way to rise to a position of power as great as mine is to fight well. If you do, I might have a little more respect for you. Now, quit my sight!” The weasel dashed off, leaving Tuthis alone in his chamber. He rolled up the parchment and shoved it in a small compartment. Tuthis opened the door that led out to the stairs and strode down into a large room packed with the commanding officers of the Thazancian Armies.

He addressed them with the figures of the present army. “Gentlebeasts, I must inform you that our friend Glinger has been slain!” A gasp echoed through the hall at the news. “Yes, my friends, slain. A single mouse, the smallest of mouses, held a…” A small fisher Captain piped in, “Mouses ain’t a word!”

Tuthis looked sternly at him. “Will someone please shut Captain Tion Ghlen up? Back to the report. This mouse held the Barricade of Shadow Pass against Glinger. The three hundred soldier force fought him, and do you know who won? The mouse. Still, we have started Operation Pit on schedule. Here is the adjutant Côval to report.”

Côval stepped up to the platform. “Operation Pit is, as you all know, a massive project designed to speed up weapons and armor production by a hundredfold. We have set up in Bregellach the pits for the operation, the proper size. The first shipment of weapons has been given to the Heavy Infantry’s Thazanc division. We are ready for the start of a war.”

The antidote was finally ready to be administered. Vi’lle had taken Malcolm and Aidan up to the Altar with five minutes till midnight. The potion was taken carefully up to the altar and placed under the moon with two minutes left. The two poisoned animals were bursting with excitement. All the other forty-nine members of the Company of Light stood around their beds and waited. Vi’lle talked to Samuel quickly. “They’ll need two rooms to stay in until morning after it’s administered.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged. Keep in mind we leave tomorrow and arrive at the Bluff around dusk.”

“Yes.”

The badger changed into a falcon with the potion in his talons as he flew up until he was silhouetted against the full moon with a minute to midnight. In a high, strong voice, he cried “Leafhand! Father of the best of us! Listen to my plea. These two poor fellows lie here with the fluid of Wyrms coursing in their veins. By the grace of your almighty sire, let them be healed! With this potion I now will administer, I will hope for your aid! Nached inhandor, killnocas av lencandor. Fellnoyow, hedla heva dendorthan.”

With that, he flew down and measured the antidote out. Samuel and Vi’lle, at the stroke of midnight, poured the liquid down the throats of the two creatures lying on their cots. Vi’lle morphed back into a badger’s form. “Sam, they’ll need some time for it to take effect. Until then, we will wait.”

Tarsch ran over and looked at their wounds. “Master, the wounds are healing! I can see the poison retreating and disappearing! I estimate about two and a half minutes until complete recovery.” Samuel smiled. “Thank goodness for magic.” True to prediction, in three minutes the two poisoned had completely recovered from the affliction, leaving no trace that they had been poisoned, except that Malcolm’s wound would leave him a scar for the rest of his life. At the first break of the sun, Aidan got up and found Grace at the foot of his bed. She had been there since he had been lain there after midnight. Aidan rummaged through his pockets for something Sedi had given him the day before he died. He pulled out a small black case.

“My father gave me this. He said it was for when I met the right squirrel.”

They both knew what was inside there. Aidan opened it and pulled out one of two small gold rings. He knelt down on one knee and presented it to her. “Grace Ainsleylin, will you marry me?” Grace looked like she might explode with happiness. “Yes!” Then Aidan noticed Samuel standing in the mouth of the cave, grinning. Aidan shoved the box behind his back as the mouse broke out laughing.

They all prepared for the journey ahead. Aidan and his fiancé both packed the rings into his pack, along with a small pistol. Samuel strapped his on over his green cloak and slung Leafshot across his back. They all loaded food and weapons into the brown leather bags before strapping spears or guns over them. The fifty-one, fifty-two counting Vi’lle, got ready to march and meet the Fernwooders at the Crossroutes. Samuel braced himself. Tonight, they would finally be able to face the evil of Deadbeast Bluff. He was just not knowing what was in those caves.

Iolargh looked impatiently at Vurgal. “Where is the Master? Is he not come yet?”

“Soon, milord, soon.”

The weasel Destromancer paced the floor, his wild eyes betraying his anxiety. “He must arrive tonight, or the sacrifice will not work! If you hear any news, tell me immediately. Oh, and I assume command in this situation. All orders come from me alone. Got it?”

“Yes, milord. Hail Thazanc. Hail Ra’vok, Lord of All.” Vurgal gave a hasty Thazancian Salute and left. Iolargh looked at the pits and then at the lower levels. He still needed to ready the Scorpionguard, their last secret weapon. Good thing it was still secret. He ran down the catwalks, past Cell 10QL9, and into a gigantic cave filled with strange creatures. Two of them scuttled up to his platform and spoke in low, odd voices. “We (click click) welcome you to (click) our cave. What are your (click click) orders?” Even Iolargh backed away when they spoke. He knew what they were and what they did, and it was not pleasant. “Ummm… prepare for intruders. They are coming to rescue the prisoner. I expect their numbers to be about two hundred, easy for you.”

“Exactly (click click). We number (click) over three hundred. Nothing can (click click) defeat us (click).”

“Y-y-yes. I’ll l-l-leave it t-t-to you. H-h-hail Thazanc. Hail R-R-Ra’vok, Lord of All.” With that, Iolargh dashed out of the room and bolted back up to his chamber. The creatures in the chamber behind looked after him before turning to the two who were up on the platform. They held a whispered conversation, punctuated with lots of clicking, and then went back to moving around impatiently, waiting for battle.

Vurgal and Fangedeye looked out over the wide southern plains and saw what they were looking for. Vurgal handed over the telescope he was holding. They both saw, at the Crossroutes not ten miles away, an army massing around in the direction of the Bluff. The sergeant looked at Vurgal. “Guess that’s the army that Iolargh was talkin’ about. Doesn’t look like much. I’d say about two hundred, maybe less.”

“How do they expect to defeat us?” responded Vurgal. “After all, we outnumber them five to one, not counting the Scorpionguard. What are they, anyways? Do they guard scorpions?”

“I don’t know anythin’ more about them than you do! All I know is that they’re the foremost killin’ machine in this part o’ the world. The Sorcerer brought ‘em here long ago. They’ve always been in the Bluff, just as sort of a backup if all of us Thazancians are killed dead. They’re some sort o’ lizard or insect or sumfink. The last thing I know is that they are invincible. Can’t kill ’em, can’t survive ’em.”

“Then why don’t we send ’em out ta kill that army?”

“Once again, I don’t know. But I can guess. We don’t wanna reveal ’em too soon. Otherwise, those woodlanders will find some way ta fight ’em.”

“What about the invasion of Cloudpeak?”

“That was a drastic measure. We couldn’t kill those shrews any other way. We ’ad no choice but ta use the Scorpionguard. And we’ll ’ave no choice but ta use ’em on this army.”

The Company of Light was ready. Samuel and Vi’lle went over the plan one last time at about two o’clock in the morning. “Soon, Vi’lle, you will transport us with a magic spell to the Crossroutes. Then, you will follow with Tarsch and Crackwillow. After you arrive, we will all charge Deadbeast Bluff with the army. We will rescue Jake and slay the Sorcerer, all before midnight. Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Good then. Now, what is this magic spell?”

Vi’lle swung his wand in small circles. “It’s a long chant of transportation. Not as fast as a Teleportal, not as slow as marching. It’ll get us all there by sunup. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

“Would I doubt you?”

At the badger’s command, the Company formed a circle and waited, joining hands. Vi’lle and his two Verdancers started waving their wands and chanting a strange spell.

Come wind, blow storm

Keep these travelers from harm!

Blow them far to where they seek

(Do it in less than a week)

To the place where evil grows

To the place where no breeze blows

For them to save imprisoned friend

And keep Certaria from its end.

Wind, I command you, blow you strong!

Do no harm and cause no wrong!

A gust of wind started in the cave. It stemmed out from Vi’lle, blowing around and around until all of the Company lifted into the air. They were blown faster and faster until they all started to disappear. It took less than a minute for the spell, but it was around seven when they appeared at the Crossroutes. After a short pause, Vi’lle and the Verdancers arrived. Joining, with a short explanation, with Thayder’s army, the two hundred faced across the plain and started the march to Deadbeast Bluff.