The Mission Begins

by Kevin J. Fitzgerald

  “Now, look here,” Paladin said, stepping toward Rolo. The guinea pig looked at Paladin sharply, caught off guard that the rabbit had even spoken. “I didn’t come to you,” Paladin reasoned. “I was brought here.”

  “Yes, that’s t-t-true,” Frenjoo stammered nearby. He looked incredibly nervous as he did so.

  “Yes, Spirit brought him here!” Dammidgie added.

  “He drew him from the water!” a faceless voice shouted.

  “Leave the rabbit alone!”

  “He’s one of us!”

  “Is he ?” Rolo asked, surveying the Utergei with eyes half-closed—the expression of someone who might be withholding an important piece of information. Rolo’s tongue worked along the inside of his cheek. He was known amongst the Utergei as being what they called “imha lois” (pronounced “eem-hah-loy”). To you and I, this would loosely be translated “wood-wise.” He was one of only a very few of his kind living openly in the woods (after all, when was the last time you ever saw a guinea pig strolling through the woods?). In fact, exactly how Rolo came to live in the woods was not certain, despite several fanciful suggestions over the years. Even I do not know! To his credit, neither did Rolo. Because of this, Rolo struggled with a deep sense of longing within himself. A kind of “soul amnesia”; an out-of-place-ness. It whispered inside that he was not meant to be in this place; that he did, in fact, belong somewhere far, far away. This notion haunted the poor guinea pig’s dreams, keeping him awake at night. It was also why he had developed such a rough exterior. Rolo determined long ago that if living in the woods was what eventually claimed him, it would not be through ignorance or neglect. Therefore, he not only survived amongst the chendrith—he thrived! In some instances, Rolo knew more about the woodlands than those who were more “wild” in their disposition. For this reason, Rolo was regarded with a type of mystery.

  And deep down inside, part of him loved it!

  The Utergei watched, waiting to see what Rolo might say. The guinea pig paced back and forth, looking Paladin up and down. “I am not so sure,” he said, “of one who has spent so much time in the hands of an elahs.” Rolo looked Paladin directly in the eyes. “Comfortably, I might add.”

  Murmuring spread through the Utergei like wildfire. Rolo gave voice to what so many of them had been thinking.

  Paladin eyed them nervously, sensing their unrest.

  “Come now,” Agabus scoffed. The old goat stepped forward, the bell around his neck tinkling hollowly. “The poor rabbit has been through so much. Surely there can be no objection to allowing him into our midst.”

  Rolo’s eyes did not leave Paladin’s.

  “After all,” the old goat continued, “there’s quite a few here who straggled in at one point in time or another. For various reasons. Not all of us were born wild.” Agabus addressed the crowd, but his eyes fell upon Rolo. “I daresay… being kidnapped in the night by some of the elahs is one of the less savory stories I have heard, Rolo. Besides, the rabbit’s account seems valid enough.”

  “The operative word here is ‘seems’,” Rolo shot quickly. He moved toward Agabus and continued, “Which actually brings up something else to consider.” The guinea pig looked at Agabus. The old goat stood with eyebrows raised. “What if the rabbit is working for our enemy? Have any of you even thought of that?”

  “No!” a voice boomed in the chamber. Rolo looked around, as did the rest.

  The murmuring in the crowd gave way to more pronounced whisperings. Once again, a stirring took place amongst them.

  Paladin could only wonder at what was to happen next.

  “The rabbit is no enemy,” the voice continued. Something about the voice was vaguely familiar to Paladin. “This one is the offspring of Sivic Wigglethump.” Not all the chendrith present had heard of Sivic, as most of them kept to their own kind (except for special occasions like this). Some, however, had heard the name whispered before. Noddings and a general current of approval swept over the Utergei.

  “From Tanglewood Warrenne,” the voice concluded.

  The next instant, Paladin was thrilled to see a familiar face step forward from the crowd. “Watershine!”

  CHAPTER 4

  “A Startling Revelation”

  “Watershine!” Paladin cried. “I don’t believe it!” The young nuad hopped over to the older buck.

  Watershine smiled in return. “It’s good to see you, young‘un.”

  The two touched noses, as their kind often will. The larger buck turned and stared at the guinea pig.

  Rolo, unaffected by this sweet reunion, said without missing a beat, “The issue is simply this. How do we know for sure zee rabbit is telling zee truth?” He glared at Paladin with narrowing eyes. “Have you got any proof?”

  “Proof . . . ?” Paladin repeated, more out of surprise than anything. He hadn’t considered this before. He wasn’t even exactly sure how to process the suggestion!

  Many faces turned toward Paladin now. He felt the weight of the entire gathered chendrith pressing down upon him. Paladin looked at Watershine. But the older buck only offered a look in return that said “I tried.” Paladin’s mind raced, grasping for anything that would demonstrate the validity of his story. He paced, and stammered a few words, but nothing of any significance.

  How annoying, he thought to himself. He had done nothing to get himself brought to this place. If anything, an argument could be made that he had been brought here against his own will! But now, here he was, being asked to defend himself before them all! Still, he did not wish to make enemies. He was grateful for the kindness that had been shown to him—especially by Eiyra. Besides, one of them had saved him from drowning. Paladin looked around, trying to put himself in their position. He looked at Rolo, and immediately felt annoyed again.

  Then, an idea occured to him. Paladin wasn’t quite sure if this would work or not, but, slowly, deliberately, Paladin hopped toward the crowd.

  “Where are you going?!” Rolo barked.

  “Rolo,” Agabus cautioned.

  The guinea pig fell silent and the crowd parted. Paladin scanned the ground until at last he found what he was looking for. Looking up, he hopped to the middle of the circle again. The ones in the back could not see, but Paladin clutched a small stick in his front teeth. The crowd became intrigued as Paladin continued to the other side of the circle. They parted once more and he went to a large mound of dirt that had poured in through a large hole in the wall. For the next few moments Paladin hunched over, doing something, something which none of them could see. His back was turned to them. Even Rolo was curious.

  Moments later, Paladin rose up and turned to face the Utergei. He panted slightly, but smiled. The chendrith moved closer to get a better look at what the rabbit had been doing. Paladin stepped aside and backwards, leaning on the stick he had picked up moments before. In the bright moonlight shining into the sanctuary, the Utergei saw what the rabbit had been doing. A gasp went through the crowd, followed by a murmur. The animals looked at each other with stunned expressions. Some began to mutter familiar prayers to themselves. In the back, an old, gray fox named Chukta fainted dead away. For there, etched into the pile of dirt, like letters written on a chalkboard at the front of a grade-school classroom, something had been written. Three huge letters:

  S–I–N.

  Paladin looked from their faces to his work again.

  “I don’t believe it,” a voice croaked weakly. It was Frenjoo. He looked from the letters to Paladin, and then at the crowd. He exclaimed: “The rabbit knows the Word!”

  Paladin looked from Frenjoo to Agabus, and then at the others. The chendrith no longer looked at the letters freshly-etched into the small, dirt embankment; instead, they stared at Paladin. Watershine looked at him with furrowed brow. Even Rolo stared, wide-eyed.

  “I believe you have our attention now, rabbit,” Agabus said. The old goat stared solemnly at the rabbit. His voice was not angry. It sounded awed, the way one might speak in asking a friend how they s
urvived an accident which surely must have killed them; a tone of disbelief—something which echoed all their expressions. “And how did you come to learn the Word, I wonder?” Agabus asked.

  Paladin hesitated before speaking. He choked the words out, unsure of how they might respond: “I . . . I l-learned it from . . . the Son.”

  The Utergei fell silent.

  “What does it say?” Shepherd asked. It was the first time Paladin heard the old dog speak. His voice was old, and deep, and wise.

  “I’m . . . n-not exactly sure,” Paladin answered truthfully. He looked at the letters again. “I mean . . . I’m sure I can pronounce it, but . . . what exactly it means, I don’t know. It was written on the side of the elahs vehicle that took me. It’s something important, I know that.” He looked at them all again. “I’m sure it’s connected to this . . . this . . .

  “Loehs-Anneheg,” Watershine whispered.

  “Yes,” Paladin nodded. “Though I don’t know how.” He lowered his head and cast the stick away. “I’m sorry.”

  It was some time before anyone said anything. The eyes of the chendrith were glued to one of two things: the three elahs letters written into the dirt before them, and the small, unassuming rabbit who had written them. This rabbit who had demonstrated something truly remarkable: He knew the Word! He was the first chendra any of them had ever encountered who possessed this ability!

  Agabus spoke again finally. “Spirit?”

  At first, it seemed the old goat spoke to no one in particular, or the air. But Paladin became convinced he must be, and looked around the room. “Spirit?” the goat repeated. “Speak to us. Is the rabbit’s story true?”

  For a few moments there was nothing, just the lonely quiet of the night. But then a still, small breeze whispered along the kudzu vines. Paladin and a few others noticed this. High above, a rotten timber knocked loudly. Someone jumped and let out a yelp. Slowly, mysteriously, from overhead a voice spoke out of the darkness—a rich, soothing voice. A voice that required no effort to hear. Paladin looked to see where the voice came from. The acoustics in the room made it seem as if the speaker were standing right beside him—behind him.

  “I have seen the Loehs-Anneheg,” it whispered. “The evil within the woods. You know that I drew this rabbit from the water.” The voice paused. Paladin’s eyes landed upon a large, silvery object perched upon a rock shelf halfway up one wall. It took a moment for Paladin to recognize the shape: it was a Dove—a Dove of the purest white. Two pigeons sat just a bit lower, flanking it on either side. The Dove puffed out its breast in front; its face shone in the darkness. The eyes were fresh, and clear, and ancient. Deep, friendly, and stern all at once. The Dove was beauty and magnificence, and shone like the moon.

  “Spirit,” Paladin whispered, and wondered how he could not have seen the Dove before.

  “The rabbit’s story and the Loehs-Anneheg are inextricably woven together,” Spirit continued. “Of this you may be certain. But how exactly?”

  The chendrith waited with bated breath.

  “This is precisely the mystery we must unravel,” Spirit said.

  Rolo stared at his feet; his previous confidence drained away. Paladin looked at Rolo and wondered what the guinea pig was thinking—or Agabus, or Shepherd, or Watershine, or any of them!

  The Dove spoke once more, softly. “I would speak with the elders.”

  As soon as Spirit uttered these words, the Utergei started to break up. Mice crept into holes, foxes slinked away; the bumblebee brothers buzzed busily. Mothers hurried their young’uns along. There was little conversation amongst them. No one said a word to Paladin. He stood alone, deep in thought, and watched as the chendrith filed away from the sanctuary. A few moments later, Paladin turned to discover Watershine standing in the shadows behind him.

  “I must speak with you,” the large buck whispered.

  Paladin looked at this great leader of rabbits, the Teinche whom his Da had loved and served so faithfully. He noticed with dawning dread that Watershine would not meet his eyes. Paladin swallowed hard. Without a word, he followed Watershine away from the others. He turned one last time to see Eiyra across the room. She glanced at Paladin before hopping outside to feed. It seemed to Paladin, once again, that her eyes appeared sunken and sad.

  §

  Grimsby buzzed through the trees above the Utergei. He bounced into branches, careening awkwardly into catty-whumpus spins. The large bee always felt he did not fit in with the others of the Utergei. He was too large and fat.

  Several feet overhead a shape moved within the shadows, eyeing the approaching bee. No one from below would have spotted the hulking raven—not even Featherwing. The old owl had wanted to be close enough to hear the Utergei discussion tonight; his powerful hearing was trained more on the scene below, rather than on anything above or around him.

  Fane was the raven’s name. He had been summoned by Cragpow. Typically, his kind kept to themselves, staying mostly in the forest regions, and some even higher up in the nearby mountains.

  But Cragpow had summoned, and Fane had come.

  After listening to the talk below, Fane knew Cragpow’s suspicions were correct: something was going on. Fane waited patiently. When all was safe, he would leave the safety of the shadows and take to the night. He would glide high above the treetops, the silvery moonlight glistening off his feathers like wet leather. Fane would head to Skull Tower and report to Cragpow. Cragpow would give further instructions.

  But Fane would not leave without the bumblebee. He smiled as Grimsby approached.

  As Fane thrust his beak forward, Grimsby fell at the looming bird’s feet. The poor bee cried out and looked up, shivering.

  “Going somewhere?” Fane hissed.

  Far below, Featherwing hooted loudly.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Later That Night”

  Paladin shivered in the moonlight. He watched where Agabus, Shepherd, and Spirit finished a lengthy discussion nearby. Around them gathered a few others of the Utergei; those whose names Paladin did not know—except for Featherwing, the owl, and Watershine.

  These were the elders of the Utergei, and Paladin wondered what they talked about.

  He stared at Watershine and thought about the words the Teinche shared with him when the Utergei disbanded. Watershine spoke of the night of his Da’s death: how he had led the bucks from Firhouse to see the Loehs-Anneheg, how they had almost been captured, and surely would have been if it were not for the sacrifice of his Da. Paladin asked Watershine about his Ma; Watershine told him that he and some of the other bucks had gone looking for them, but found neither. Paladin lowered his head and grieved. Watershine stepped closer. The great, old rabbit had taken hold of Paladin and spoke to him like the buck he had become.

  “Paladin.” There was something grave in Watershine’s face; something foreign and unsavory. “That name suits you well,” the older rabbit nodded. “For there is more in you than you know. I do not tell you about your Da so that you may give in to grief. Grieve for them, yes. Remember them, certainly. But do not be consumed.” Watershine shook his head. “I tell you all of this to share what I know of the Loehs-Anneheg.” Watershine leaned toward Paladin and spoke in hushed tones of what he had seen and sensed and smelled and learned of the evil that had come to the woods that night. Watershine shuddered upon remembering it, and called the place “unholy and evil.” The Teinche spoke with a look in his eye—as one given over completely to despair, like one marching off to battle with no hope of return. “Run from this place, Paladin!” he urged. “Run! Get far from here! You have no family, no kin, no responsibilities. There is no reason for you to stay! I cannot advise these things to those in my own warrenne! We must stay and fight! But if I could, I would give them this counsel: take your chance, and flee while you can! Don’t look back, Paladin! You are young, and have your whole life ahead of you! Go and live it elsewhere. Perhaps there is a place where the sun rises on fairer winds than our own.” Watershine looked awa
y and fell silent. The old rabbit panted heavily. Then, looking up like one waking from a trance, Watershine released his grip on Paladin and drifted back into the night.

  Paladin had not seen Watershine again until now, where he stood with the other elders of the Utergei. The old Teinche seemed himself again, but he would not look in Paladin’s direction. As Paladin watched the discussion, he wondered if his Da would have been one to stand among them. It brought Watershine’s words to life again. Paladin fought hard to push the thoughts from his worn and weary mind.

  Frenjoo and Dammidge were not far away, chattering lightly.

  Eirya slept on a patch of dry pine needles. Paladin could not help but notice how, even in her sleep, her expression seemed troubled.

  Others slept, too, dotted around the abandoned church building like a sort of refuge. Still others had gone foraging into the woods for a late-night feed.

  There was not much discussion among them after the earlier meeting of the Utergei. Chendrith seem to have an easier way of disassociating themselves from political and social issues than we do. The events of their meetings don’t interfere with inter-personal relationships. Paladin supposed this was good, but it puzzled him to a degree. Surely some of them had an opinion on the situation at hand? Paladin noted that, from somewhere in the large room, low voices rumbled in a late-night discussion. He imagined it was about the Loehs-Anneheg, and it placated him to a degree.

  Shepherd walked slowly over to where the rabbit was and joined him. For the first time, Paladin noticed the old dog walked with a limp. Eager to ask, Paladin held his tongue. Even though he had lived in the house of the Son with Bear for a while, it was intimidating for the rabbit to have such a large dog sitting next to him in the dark. The dog’s huge frame loomed over the rabbit like an elephant. The memory of Bear suddenly stung Paladin with a wave of sadness.