| Subject: The Mask: chapters 1-5 |
Author:
Dakkan
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Date Posted: 20:18:52 09/13/02 Fri
In reply to:
Dakkan
's message, "Oh..." on 20:15:43 09/13/02 Fri
CHAPTER ONE: THE BIRTH OF A LEGEND
As the newborn otter was placed into his mother’s arms along with his brothers, it was plain that he was different. The tiny cub was calmer, and as his two siblings wriggled and wailed, he sat silently and sucked his paw.
The proud new father hefted each babe one at a time, laughing in his deep bass voice. “Hohoho! Who woulda thought I’d ever have three sons t’me name, eh? Icespring, take a look at these husky liddle fellers!”
The female otter pulled a soft green blanket closer around her, sighing exhaustedly. “Yes…they’re beautiful, Riverpike.”
Riverpike lifted the first and biggest babe high, still laughing happily. “Beautiful, yes. And they’ll grow into three tall, strong, and handsome beasts, fleet of paw and deadly in battle!”
Icespring nodded with a smile. “Let’s hope that they’ll never need to fight anybeast. Peaceful creatures live the happiest lives, you know.”
Riverpike brought the infant close to his face. “Aye, but just let the first vermin come down the road. You’ll make him sorry he ever crossed paths with a son of Riverpike, won’t you? An’ you’ll need a warrior’s name to remind you of this. Be known in this holt and in Mossflower forever as Warthorn!” He passed the young otter to his wife, who smiled approvingly.
Hefting the next, he laughed as the small cub bared his teeth and swatted at his wrists with tiny paws. “Yore a feisty one! Fierce an’ fearless! I’ll call you after one of the greatest otter warriors to ever swim in the River Moss: Bargud of the Ironpaw!
Finally the big male otter lifted the last babe. “Well, that’s odd…”
Icespring looked worried and sat up slightly in her bed. “What is it, what’s wrong?”
“Oh no, it’s nothing…I’ve never seen an otter born with gray fur before, especially when the fur of his parents and brothers is brown. His eyes are strange, too; they are the lightest gray-blue imaginable.” Riverpike stared at the ottercub, who looked back at his father, solemnly sucking a paw. His strangely pale eyes shifted suddenly to the belt strapped diagonally across Riverpike’s chest. A small gray paw reached out and grasped the hilt of a knife sheathed in a slit in the leather band. Riverpike’s furrowed brow relaxed and he grinned proudly. “Ah, you have the spirit of a fighter too. You may not grow as big or strong as your brothers, but you will be the most deadly once you grow up, that’s for sure…” He drew the knife and held it before the infant, who tried to grip the handle in one paw while exploring the coolness of the metal blade in the other.
Icespring cradled her other two sons, who by now were slumbering peacefully. “Why don’t we call that one Riverwyte? His fur is almost the same color as the rapids downstream.”
Riverpike held the other cub high, beaming. “Yes, it suits him. Riverwyte you shall be!” The gray otterbabe stretched his tiny limbs and yawned, and his father returned him to Icespring. All three newborn otters were soon sleeping silently, save for an occasional growl or squeak as they dreamed.
CHAPTER TWO: FIVE SEASONS PASS
The still morning was broken in Mossflower by laughing and shouting as the young otters in the holt spilled outside to play. While most made a beeline for the stream, three remained on the sandy bank. The brothers Warthorn, Bargud, and Riverwyte had planned to play a battle game that morning and were now choosing parts.
“I want to be Deathrudder, otter champion and axe fighter!” Warthorn called quickly. Being the biggest and most assertive, he often got to play the hero. “Who’s going to be the vermin?”
“Not me!” Bargud and Riverwyte called in perfect unison. They spun quickly to face each other.
“You be the vermin!” Riverwyte insisted.
Bargud protested, “No way, I had to be vermin last time. It’s your turn!”
“Oh, all right,” Riverwyte acquiesced reluctantly. “I’ll be, uh…Brokefang the Ferret King!”
“Then I’m Streamwrath the Spear Master!” proclaimed Bargud. “Let’s get our battlegear an’ play!”
It was a perilous situation. The Ferret King stood over Streamwrath, cackling wickedly as he held a long stick to his neck. “Heh heh heh, make one move an’ I cutcha throat, otter!”
Suddenly Deathrudder ran up with a wooden toy hatchet, striking a gallant pose. Don’t worry, Bar- er, Streamwrath! I’ll kill that vermin for you! Give me a second and I’ll get ‘im with my axe!”
The pretended ferret lifted his stick to confront Deathrudder. “Have a taste o’ me saber, why don’t ye?!”
Streamwrath suddenly snatched his “spear” and jumped on Brokefang. “Attaaaaaaack!” he cried, and all three creatures dropped their make-believe weapons and wrestled furiously.
For an instant, Riverwyte felt himself pinned by Bargud and Warthorn, and it was almost as if a switch was flipped in his head. Forgetting that being the vermin he was supposed to “lose” the battle and “die,” the young otter began fighting back. His spirit was suddenly dead set against the thought of defeat. Thrashing savagely, Riverwyte freed himself from his brothers’ grasp and set them both on their tails. Laughing, he jumped into the fray again. “C’mon guys, let’s wrestle some more! Grr, the Ferret King isn’t dead yet!” Thoroughly enjoying himself, the gray otter wrestled with all his might until his brothers escaped.
Breathing heavily, Bargud commented, “Whew! I’m exhausted. Let’s go for a swim to cool off.” Warthorn nodded his agreement.
“All right, but let’s play some more later, and I get to be Deathrudder!” Riverwyte slid into the river with his siblings.
Riverpike stood at the holt entrance with his wife. “Riverwyte sure loves fighting, doesn’t he?”
Icespring watched her sons laughing and splashing in the shallows. “Yes, but I wonder if there’s, you know, anything wrong with him. I’ve never seen a young one so fixated on war and violence in a time of peace.”
Riverpike put an arm around Icespring’s shoulders. “There may be something wrong with the way his mind works, or perhaps he has more warrior spirit than is usual for such a young beast. No matter what, it’s important that we stand by him.”
The female otter nodded, then called out, “Make sure you don’t get too dirty. There’s watershrimp for breakfast an’ you three won’t get any if unless you’ve got clean paws!”
Riverwyte, Warthorn, and Bargud chorused, “Yes, Mum,” and didn’t roll their eyes and groan until she’d turned around.
“When I’m a bigbeast I’m never gonna wash! I’m gonna do everything my way!” announced Warthorn confidentially.
After washing, the three young otters made their way back to the holt, where the smell of watershrimp saturated the air. All three breathed deeply and hurried in, licking their lips. They’d filled their plates and were ready to dig in when there was a loud clatter. Knocking over a stack of javelins, a burly scarred otter fell through the holt entrance, panting heavily. A bloodstained rag was bound about one arm and his legs were badly scratched from running through undergrowth. He seemed about to say something when he moaned and lost consciousness.
CHAPTER THREE: THE ARRIVAL
Riverpike was the first to the fallen otter’s side. He wiped the sweat from the poor beast’s forehead and with the help of a few others, dragged him inside and placed him on a blanket. The current holt Chieftain, a big black otter known as Nitestream, picked up a jug of water and brought it over. He cupped a paw and scooped up some water, which he dashed on the senseless otter’s forehead. “C’mon, Waterfall…” he urged, and relaxed a little when the muscular otter stirred, groaned, and opened his eyes.
Nitestream set down the water jug and knelt by him, using a corner of the blanket to wipe moisture from his brow. “Waterfall…what’s happened to you, mate?”
Wincing a bit, the big tough otter sat up, rubbing a bruise on his jaw. “Bad news, mateys. Y’know th’ old ruins near the river?”
Riverpike nodded. “Yes, what about ‘em?”
“Vermin army came through ten minutes ago. I had to hurry to the old church and tell the mice livin’ there to get goin’. They got away safely, went straight north as I recall. Anyway, as I was comin’ out of th’ church, their army was passing in front of the door. Luckily they were surprised enough for me to knock down a few and escape into the woods. I gashed my shoulder on one of their spearblades and got all bruised up as they tried to stop me. Several of them, especially the ones I’d floored, started to run after me, but their leader stopped them. I heard him shout, ‘Forget it! Wait until we’ve conquered this land and can fix up that old stone castle. Then you can capture and kill who you wish!’”
The otters began talking all at once angrily. “They can’t just conquer Mossflower!”
“Aye, let’s get all the crews together an’ beat the stuffin’ out of ‘em!”
Waterfall coughed painfully, shaking his head. “You have no idea how many vermin there are. I saw roughly five hundred, maybe more. And these aren’t the scurvy thieves we’re used to. These are ferrets, weasels, and stoats with training as soldiers. To top it off, their leader is a huge wildcat. There were also two other smaller wildcats by his side, probably his offspring. There are few fighters as strong and ferocious as a full grown wildcat.”
Silence prevailed in the holt. The otters exchanged worried glances and some gnawed anxiously on their claws.
Riverpike offered a suggestion. “Then I guess the element of surprise is our best chance. Wait until the wildcat and his pack of vermin get settled comfortably in. Meanwhile, we’ll be joining all the ottertribes in these parts into one big crew. While they relax and get soft, we’ll be training until nothing can stand against us! Then, we’ll attack and send the evil pack on their way.”
Nitestream nodded. “Just what I was about to say. Mudd, spread the word to the other holts,” he ordered, pointing at a sleek otter with a rich brown coat. Mudd nodded dutifully and bounded outside. Not long after, there was a splash and he was gone.
Icespring noticed her three sons headed toward the holt entrance. “Where d’you think you three are goin’ with all those vermin out there?”
Riverwyte held up a dinner knife he’d purloined from the table. “We’re goin’ out there to fight ‘em, an’ chop ‘em all up into little bits…”
“Enough!” Icespring took the eating utensils from the young otters and shooed them away. “Get off to your rooms an’ make those beds. Then you can play in here, but don’t go outside!”
Scowling, Bargud, Warthorn, and Riverwyte trudged off to do their mother’s bidding.
There was a rustling of foliage outside, and a young squirrel about four or five seasons old appeared in the doorway. She wore a simple green tunic and carried a knapsack on her back. “I’ve got a ‘portant message from my mum the Squirrelqueen!” Opening her little knapsack, the small red squirrel pulled out a scroll and handed it to Nitestream.
CHAPTER FOUR: MESSAGES
Nitestream took the scroll from the young squirrel and unrolled it. He stared at the parchment blankly, then sheepishly handed it to Riverpike. “Here, mate…’fraid I don’t have much of a flair for readin’…”
Riverpike read from the scroll to the twenty or so grown otters in the holt. “A message from Squirrelqueen Ivy to Nitestream of the southeast otter holt. I hope Amber got this to you without much trouble. You may know that a band of several hundred vermin led by three wildcats has settled in the old ruins. My squirrels were in the trees above them as they marched in. From what their leader said, the place is to be called Kotir; from it he plans to bend all of Mossflower to his will. I’m worried about the more part of woodlanders, for they are peaceful. There are two badgers still here, Bella and Barkstripe of Brockhall, not including their newborn son. However, since Boar the Fighter relinquished his rule of Mossflower, there have been no great warriors in the area. I’d like to meet with you and discuss what can be done to keep us all free. Signed, Ivy, Squirrelqueen of the Mossflower Squirreltribe. ”
Nitestream patted the young messenger on the back. “Well then, young Amber, let’s get you somethin’ to eat before you go back, eh?”
As the squirrel gratefully dug into a salad, the otter Mudd returned, dripping. “I’ve been to the other four holts, and all the otter Chieftains want us to meet at the Rock. At midnight we’ll all discuss what is to happen.”
Riverpike grabbed a piece of charcoal and hastily scrawled a message underneath the Squirrelqueen’s signature on the scroll. “The ottertribes are meeting at the Rock tonight at midnight. Have your squirrels be there, too. We’ll be discussing what to do about the vermin army. If you can, have squirrels spy on the today so at the meeting we’ll know exactly what’s going on. Signed, Riverpike and Nitestream of the southeast otter holt.”
The young squirrel Amber had finished her salad, and Riverpike gave her the scroll. “Make sure your mother gets that; it’s very important!” he told her with a wink. Amber tried to wink back at the otter but only succeeded in blinking hard a few times. She stuffed the scroll back in her knapsack, and in a flash of red fur she was gone.
Nitestream held his paws up for silence and waited until his otters were paying attention. “All right, I suggest you all spend today getting your things together. If we all combine ottercrews, we’re going to have to hide somewhere less conspicuous than this. Just make sure you bring only what you can carry; we travel light from now on.”
Riverpike gave his wife a sidelong glance. “Looks like Riverwyte will get his chance to be a warrior after all.”
CHAPTER FIVE: A GATHERING OF WARRIORS
Riverwyte climbed out of the water onto the Rock with his family, shaking water from his gray fur and shedding the small knapsack that held his personal belongings: a wooden sword, a stuffed otter, and a pawful of candied fruit.
The Rock was a huge chunk of limestone that reared out of the middle of the River Moss. It was big enough to allow the fivescore squirrels to sit on the dry part in the middle and the fivescore otters and their families to sit on the parts covered by water.
The five otter leaders and Ivy the Squirrelqueen stood in the center of the Rock and conversed in low tones for several minutes. Finally the biggest and strongest otter Chieftain, whose name was Rockfist, addressed the two hundred woodland warriors.
“Those with torches, douse them, please. We have enough moonlight to go by. If the wildcat’s troops are patrolling, the flames will give us away.”
Willingly, the squirrels and otters who were carrying torches threw them over the heads of the others into the river. Darkness fell with a hiss, save for a faint glow produced by the half moon overhead.
Rockfist nodded. “Thank you. Ivy, would you mind starting out with our spy report so everybeast knows what’s going on?”
The Squirrelqueen wasted no time. “I had five of my squirrels watch the vermin army today. The wildcat has made them very busy. They have repaired the castle roof and have put in stout new gates. The structure is nearly ready for use, partially because it has stayed in fairly good shape since it was last used in bygone ages. There are five hundred and thirty beasts, and all save five of these are soldiers. Of these five, there are the three wildcats, the biggest of which is the army leader, Verduaga Greeneyes. The two other wildcats are only half-grown, known as Tsarmina and Gingivere. My spies are fairly sure that they are Verduaga’s offspring. The other two that are not soldiers are a vixen and a pine marten who seem to serve as advisors. All in all, the vermin army outnumbers us more than two to one.”
Silence fell as the gathered creatures digested this information. Then Nitestream took the floor. “Our plan is to wait five seasons, let the vermin get settled in. During this time they’ll probably slack off on their training and get soft because of the lack of opposition. Once they’re sure they’ve got all of Mossflower under their claws, we attack. First we’ll pick off as many as we can with arrows and slingstones to make sure that when our forces clash, there will be as few vermin to fight as possible. That way, we’ll have a greater chance to win!”
Everyone turned their heads at the sound of a young otter’s voice. Warthorn stood up boldly and commented, “But the vermin will be more fortified in their castle by then! If they refuse to come out and fight us, we won’t stand a chance storming the castle with this few fighters! Let’s attack them now when they’re not expectin’ it!”
Nitestream chuckled affectionately. “Looks like we’ve got a little Skipper in the making! Good point, young Warthorn. However, if we were to fight them now, we'd be facing a fully trained army, and we’re already outnumbered. The point is to let their troops forget to train and lose experience in battle.”
Warthorn was about to say more, but his father gently placed a paw on his shoulder and he sat down.
Rockfist folded his paws. “All right, so everybeast agrees with this plan?” As two hundred paws reached skyward and two hundred heads nodded their accord, the big otter grinned. “Right! So, now it’s time for battle plans, not to mention a place for all of us to stay. First off, is there a big and secluded enough holt for all the otters to hide and train?” The holt leaders all shook their heads wordlessly, and Rockfist shrugged. “Okay, where can we build such a holt?”
An otter somewhere in the audience cleared his throat. “Further upstream there’s a small inlet, and a enormous ole willow is growin’ there. A huge thicket of thorns blocks it off from the rest of the woods, so the vermin probably won’t chance goin’ past it unless they already knew we were there.”
Rockfist nodded. “Good. We can dig a holt under the tree, perhaps. Ivy, do your squirrels need a camp set up anywhere?”
Ivy shook her head. “No, as long as my squirrels have trees, we can be invisible.”
“All right, now let’s discuss our strategy…”
As the grownbeasts talked into the night, Riverwyte and his brothers lost interest and slowly drifted to sleep.
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