Ratdeath - 4
one of these days I’ll be good at writing, but today is not that da y
The forests of Mossflower stirred gently as the moon sank into the horizon. Browns, reds, and yellows had just begun to speckle the vast expanse of green, contrasted by the unseasonable warmth. Golden mists swirled around the flowers of the field, and the grass drank in the first rays of the sun.
Above it all stood the fortress, a warning to vermin. If a passing creature could see its stone walls reaching into the sky, they knew they were too close. And Avery had been too close all her life. Long ago, she’d wondered if there truly was a world outside those cold walls. Of course, that was before the old warlord died and a new one took his place. Since then, the slaves had been taken out to the quarry daily to expand the fortress. Expansion would lead to more slaves and more patrols. For Avery, it meant more grumbling.
Last night, she had fought Sawlur, a fellow slave, after he’d pushed her into a puddle of rainwater. It had been cold, and Avery hated the cold. Maybe she had overreacted, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t cared for quite some time now. So really, it was no surprise that she now found herself hauled out of bed by two squirrels dressed in black-and-brown guard uniforms, first thing in the morning.
One of them said something to the effect of, “Get up, you’re to see the warlord.”
Garox looked up at her, bleary-eyed. “Uh-oh, now ye’ve done it,” he mumbled to his friend.
Avery rolled her eyes at him before being dragged to Warlord Thurso’s chambers. As the squirrels led her through the stone corridors, she struggled and kicked the guards’ shins whenever she got the chance.
The guards pushed open a heavy oaken door, pulled Avery into the room, dumped the fierce rat unceremoniously onto the floor, and hastily exited the chambers, making sure to keep their shins a safe distance away from her. Paws behind her back, Avery turned to look at the beast who had summoned her.
Warlord Thurso was big, but he was a badger so of course he was. The legs of the wooden chair he sat upon strained under his weight. He clasped his massive paws together, forearms resting on his knees. By the size of his arms and legs, Avery figured he could toss the fortress itself a good few yards. That was probably how badgers played catch. “Look out, Jim! Here comes Marshank,” they’d say.
“I heard about last night,” said the badger. “Honestly, Avery, can you go more than one day without assaulting somebeast?” His voice sounded like a seagull choking on gravel.
Avery shrugged. “I’d probably be a lot more peaceful if I wasn’t a slave.”
“You’re direct, and I appreciate that,” he replied with the barest hint of a chuckle, “but you know we can’t have slaves—”
“You can’t have slaves?”
“—can’t have you arguing and getting into squabbles.” There was a loud creak as Thurso shifted in his chair. “It slows down the whole process. And when that happens, Avery, you aren’t the only one who suffers. Your friends feel the consequences too. You’ll all be worked harder, or perhaps you’ll be fed less. Whatever your punishment, whatever their punishment, it will all be your own doing.” His fierce, dark eyes bore into Avery’s.
“I hear you,” she said, glancing at the greatsword displayed on the far wall behind Thurso, “and I’ll be honest, the only thing I got out of that was you saying the word ‘squabbles.’”
Thurso growled and pinched the bridge of his nose with his paw. “Avery, I swear to Martin, if you don’t shut up and listen to me, I’m going to throw you in the dungeon.”
“Your new name is Squabbles.”
Thurso sighed and rose to his feet. “All right, dungeon it is.” He opened his mouth to call the guards, but Avery interrupted him before he could start.
“You know, you’re different than the old warlord,” she said. Thurso paused and looked at her curiously until she continued. “More talky, less cruel. I’d really like to know how you took his place. You show up out of nowhere, and in three months he’s dead, and you’re in charge.” Avery stared at him, her expression neutral. “Even you should know, vermin know treachery when they see it.”
Thurso blinked slowly, thoughtfully. Eventually, he sat back down and quietly asked, “What exactly do you know?”
Avery shrugged, looking at the greatsword with disinterest. “A few things. I know you’re a better leader than Terris. You’re expanding the reach of the fortress, fortifying what power you already have. Pretty sure Terris never even thought about doing that.” She took a breath and inched closer. “But he did pay better attention to his guards.”
Thurso furrowed his brow. “You implying I’ve missed something?”
“Yeah, when they bound my paws, they forgot to use rope.”
Immediately, she was upon him, clawing and scratching at his face, his throat, anything she could reach. She managed to leave a jagged cut along one side of his forehead before he threw her onto the floor. She tried to rise, but he kicked her side and left her gasping. Before she could catch her breath, he had called the guards in, and it was over.
She snarled at the guards as they restrained her paws – finally – and struggled ferociously as they dragged her to the dungeons.
