Lords of Trillium

by Hilary Wagner

  Still seated, Juniper looked up at her from his seat. “Elvi,” he whispered, “what are you doing?”

  Silently Elvi nodded at the standing rats. From their hiding places in cloaks, under chairs, ensnared in the flowers, weapon after weapon materialized in the paws of the rats. And these weren’t just any weapons. Steel swords, hunting knives, battle-axes, and etched silver daggers just like the one Elvi carried—which she quickly revealed to the murmuring crowd and held up to Juniper’s neck, forcing him to his feet. “I just sharpened it,” she said, “so don’t try anything.”

  Several armed rats swarmed the front rows, warning the Council and any other rat who might dare come to Juniper’s aid to stay put.

  “Elvi,” said Mother Gallo, focusing on the dagger at her husband’s throat, “what’s the meaning of this?”

  Elvi ripped off her black cloak, revealing her full form, something she hadn’t done since returning from Tosca.

  Even with the dagger aimed at him, Juniper slowly took a step back. A dark patch near Elvi’s gray stomach traveled around her back, drenching nearly half of her in solid black.

  Citizens took to their feet—and not just any citizens, but those who had been part of Killdeer’s army, found innocent of wrongdoing by Nightshade’s security. One such rat, a former major, jumped to his feet, looking as though he might be ill. “He-Hecate,” he called out in a strangled voice, searching the crowd for other former majors. “She’s alive!” One of Hecate’s rats quickly pounced on him, knocking him out cold with the hilt of his sword.

  Texi looked on in confusion. “Elvi?”

  Smiling pleasantly, Hecate looked up at her on the altar and hurled a dagger in her direction. Texi caught it instinctively. “My name is Hecate.” Her Toscan accent had evaporated. “High Major Hecate.”

  “You’re . . . you’re not Elvi?” Texi’s eyes widened in horror. “You lied?”

  “Yes, my dear. I had to. I was part of your great brother’s army. You were too young to remember me. All this time, I’ve been waiting to reclaim what was his—to bring back the High Ministry to its former glory, to pick up where he left off.”

  “Why . . . why would you want to do that?” asked Texi, tears trickling down her cheeks. “My brother was not a good rat. He was bad. You said so yourself!”

  “I had to say such things, but dearest girl, Killdeer was a good rat,” said Hecate, keeping her eyes and dagger trained on Juniper. “Killdeer allowed me to prove myself, to show my strength, when no one else would. Without his teachings, I never would have survived in Tosca, biding my time until I could return to take back what he so unfairly lost.”

  Clover’s face fell in misery. She’d been so defensive of Elvi, never allowing Vincent to speak ill of her when they were searching for the traitor last year. She looked at Vincent. “You were right all along.”

  He took her paw. “I never wanted to be.”

  “All the signs were right in front of me, all this time,” said Juniper. “You’ve been acting so strange these past months, so very different from the sweet little girl I knew from the Catacombs.” He looked regretfully at his citizens. “I’m such a fool.”

  Hecate laughed. “You’re telling me.” She nodded at one of her rats, who let out a long, piercing whistle. Within seconds the yellow-eyed rat emerged from a corridor, followed by former Kill Army High Majors Foiber and Schnauss, along with their cohorts from the prison corridor. Armed with knives and clubs, they rushed the city square.

  Citizens screamed as Schnauss made his way down the aisle, snarling and spitting just as he had in the Catacombs, his dead eye drifting aimlessly in its socket. Dragging his loose, hairless skin, Foiber stomped behind him, cursing, waving his knife recklessly. Citizens cowered in their chairs, parents shielded their little ones.

  “Thank you, High Major Ragwort,” said Hecate as the yellow-eyed rat approached her.

  He nodded with deference. “Yes, High Minister.”

  Schnauss and Foiber grinned cunningly at Juniper. “This somehow feels familiar,” remarked Foiber. “I was in this exact situation years ago, only it was you who did the surprising back then. My, how the tables have turned. I’d spend a lifetime in your prison corridor to have this moment of satisfaction, to see the stupefied look upon your scarred face.”

  Hecate looked at Vincent, who shifted anxiously on his feet, eyeing Juniper for a signal. “Texi, if you please, hold your knife to Vincent’s throat.”

  “What?” said Texi. “I—I can’t. Elvi, please.”

  “You will be helping him,” replied Hecate, “allowing him to remain unharmed. Young male rats are unpredictable. They sometimes do silly things which will get them . . . hurt.”

  Swallowing, Clover nodded at Texi. “It’s all right, Texi,” she said in the calmest voice she could muster. She let go of Vincent’s paw. “Do as she says.”

  Of his own accord, Vincent took two steps down, allowing Texi to stand above him on the stairs and hold the knife to his throat. “I’m so sorry,” she said weakly.

  “Don’t be sorry, Texi,” whispered Vincent. “You’re doing nothing wrong. It’s Elvi—or whatever her name is—who is to blame. She’s tricked all of us. Please, don’t let her trick you again.”

  Ulrich couldn’t take it anymore. He was distraught that he’d never spotted Elvi’s deception, and that she’d had her hooks in Texi all this time. He bolted to his feet. “Do you really think your little scheme will work?” he shouted. “Do you really think we’ll allow you to go back to the old ways?” Two guards grabbed for him, as did Ragan, trying to stop his brother from getting hurt. “High Minister, my backside!” A guard punched him in the ribs, but he would not relent. “Trilok was the real High Minister—the only High Minister!” The guard kicked Ragan in the chest, hurling him back in his chair, while the other tripped Ulrich, knocking him to the ground, an ax aimed at his forehead.

  “Ulrich!” yelled Texi.

  Hecate held up her paw. “It’s all right,” she said to the guard. “Let former Chief of Security Ulrich speak.” The guards dragged Ulrich to his feet and pushed him in front of her. Her mouth curved into a satisfied smirk as she spoke. “After all, if I’m not mistaken, it was you and your brother who enjoyed my tea most of all.”

  Her words struck Ulrich like a slap to the face. He stood before her and closed his eyes for a moment. Why had he never picked up on it before? He should have known! “The tea,” he said dimly, trying to keep himself together. “All along, it was your tea. It clouded our thoughts, didn’t it? Softened our judgment, bending us to your will.”

  “Ah, at long last one of you fools figures it out,” said Hecate. “You’re a real detective, aren’t you? Too bad it took you so long.” She smiled at Texi. “These rats don’t deserve you. They have no spirit, not like yours, my little lion.”

  The majors laughed as Texi trembled, trying to blink her tears away. Ulrich looked up at her. “Texi, don’t listen to her, understand?” He looked at the other Council members. “We’re your friends. We care about you. She only cares about herself.”

  “You all but gave her to me,” said Hecate. “None of you wanted to be troubled with poor pitiful Texi anymore. All of you were only too glad to shove her off on me!”

  “Shut your deceitful mouth!” shouted Ulrich. “We trusted you. Texi admired you, but it was all a lie! Why, that senseless moth you keep caged in your quarters is of more value than you! You are nothing to her—you are nothing to any of us!”

  In a flash, Hecate took the knife aimed at Juniper and slashed Ulrich across his cheek, cutting him all the way to his lip.

  “How’s that for nothing?” she said.

  He let out a wrathful howl, grabbing the side of his face, his paw quickly drenched in blood. He snarled at her and spat disdainfully on her feet.

  Vincent yelled from the altar, “I spent most of my young life in the Catacombs, afraid every second, but no more! I for one will never be afraid again!” He looked right at Hecate. “I knew you
were up to something all along! I always knew! Everyone, fight back—fight for our home!”

  Major Ragwort bolted up the stairs to the altar. He growled angrily, diving fist-first onto Vincent, hitting him squarely in the jaw. “It’s our home now, rat!” Clover rushed the major, plowing into his chest as Vincent hit the floor. Victor joined her; grabbing Ragwort by his ears, he wrenched the major down face-first to the floor.

  Juniper wasted no time. He grabbed Hecate by the arm and reached for her knife, trying to twist it from her paw. Hecate screeched wildly, kicking and thrashing. With her free paw she clawed at Juniper’s face, ripping at his eye patch.

  In a flash Mother Gallo came at Hecate, sinking her teeth into her wrist before the dagger could make contact with Juniper’s face. Hecate screamed for Foiber and Schnauss, who lunged at Mother Gallo with their weapons, but the Council had already jumped into the fray. They were unarmed; their claws would have to do.

  Jumping onto his chair, Cole kicked a major in the snout and leaped on top of Schnauss, grabbing him around his waist and hurling the menacing high major to ground. He slashed at Schnauss’s face with his claws, striking him in the nose until he heard bone crack. Schnauss moaned in pain, dropping his dagger as he tried to cover his face. Foiber came for Cole, his knife plunging into the floor over and over as Cole writhed on the ground trying to get Schnauss’s dagger, the knife barely missing him each time. Foiber laughed as though it were a game. Virden came from behind him and grabbed folds of his sagging, hairless skin, twisting it tight. The major screamed, cursing and spitting as Virden twisted the skin behind his neck. Foiber threw his arms up, clawing at Virden’s face. Cole snatched up Schnauss’s dagger and ripped into Foiber’s thigh with it, cutting him down to the bone.

  Foiber fell to the ground, dragging himself into an aisle for protection. “You mangy Loyalists! You sickening, spineless hairballs!”

  Cole laughed riotously. “You yellow-bellied, foul-mouthed sack of plague-ridden flesh, cowering on your knees among the rats you once so proudly abused!” Citizens came at Foiber from all sides, kicking him in the ribs, digging the claws of their feet into his cracked, infected skin as Hecate’s rats jumped on top of the citizens, pulling them off the high major.

  “Fight back, everyone!” shouted Carn, elbowing a major in the head as Oleander clawed at his back. “This is our home!”

  The citizens needed no further encouragement. Packs of Hecate’s soldiers came at them from all sides. Citizens kicked and clawed, dodging blades as best they could. Frightened parents fought back, protecting their little ones, their bodies and paws cut and beaten from blocking the many blows.

  Mother Gallo searched for her children. The older boys were helping the Council fight off the armed rats, while Hob and Suttor’s brother Kar were under their chairs, Tuk and Gage shielding them from harm. “Where are they?” she whispered, searching through the chaos. A lump formed in her throat at the sudden realization that they were nowhere to be seen. “Juniper, they’re gone! The children—where are they?”

  Juniper whipped around in a circle, his adrenaline and fear impelling him to shove Hecate’s rats out of his way, his arms and body slashed and bleeding from their blades. He called his children’s names, but neither answered. Suddenly there was a stabbing scream. Juniper’s hackles rose, his whole body flooding with terror. He turned in time to see Foiber holding both Nomi and Julius in one arm, his claws digging into Julius’s neck.

  “Papa!” yelled Julius, his white coat smeared with blood from Foiber’s bleeding leg. Nomi cried and squirmed as Foiber squeezed her small belly.

  Her knife soaked in blood, Hecate bounded on top of a chair and gazed down smugly as Foiber shook the children. “Always using that bald head of yours, Major Foiber. Go for the runts—good thinking!”

  “No!” blurted Juniper, holding up his paws in surrender. “Hecate, please . . . leave the children unharmed.” Foiber snorted with pleasure, watching Juniper plead for his children’s lives. “I beg of you, let them go. They are not part of this fight.”

  “That’s what Killdeer thought of your Nightshade boys, and look where that got him. He’s dead and buried, while those two mongrels have a city named after them,” said Hecate.

  Foiber snorted with delight as Julius kicked and screamed, trying to break free. “High Minister Hecate is right—better safe than sorry.” He lifted his claws to Julius’s throat. “One swipe on his tender little neck and the boy’s done for—one less Loyalist for us to worry about!”

  Foiber was poised to strike, when a paralyzing growl suddenly filled his ear. Icy cold breath, followed by long yellowed claws, slithered around his neck. Hecate’s eyes widened with shock, her knife quivering in her paw. “Don’t move an inch!” ordered the rat in a raspy voice. Foiber’s whole body drained of color, his hairless skin now a deathly gray.

  What looked to be arrows flew across the city square, planting themselves in the throats and hearts of unsuspecting rats, who fell to the ground squirming and sputtering and then simply stopped moving.

  Gaping, Juniper looked on, unable to speak.

  “Now then, Major Foiber,” declared the rat evenly, “put my son down . . . my little niece, too.”

  The square seemed to take a collective breath. Citizens cried out in horror. Every soul stood still, staring breathlessly at the imposing rat in the center of the room.

  With a crafty smirk, Billycan stared at Juniper. “If I remember correctly, you surprised me this way once upon a time.”

  “It’s . . . it’s all right!” Juniper called out to the citizens, his voice returning. “I promise you on my life. He means no harm.”

  “As I’m sure you remember,” said Billycan, still clutching Foiber by the neck, “I loathe repeating myself, so Major, if I were you I’d do as I was told.” With great care, Foiber set both children on the ground. Billycan gave him a belittling pat on his hairless head. “There’s a good fellow.”

  Julius and Nomi bolted to their mother, hiding behind her legs.

  As the citizens stifled their gasps, more rats moved into the square—foreign rats—surrounding them on all sides. A mass of rangy, ragtag rats, with silver rings piercing their ears, enclosed the square. Each one held a sizable crossbow, but strangely enough the arrows were not aimed at the citizens; they were trained on Hecate and her majors. The fallen rats with the arrows protruding from their lifeless forms were not Nightshade rats. They were the enemy.

  “Guards, detain them,” ordered Billycan. The armed rats swarmed around the majors, taking their weapons and forcing them to their knees, abruptly boxing ears and cuffing those who did not comply. They ripped Hecate off her chair, throwing her to the ground, her imperious smile gone.

  “Brother,” said Juniper, “how did you—”

  “Did you honestly think I would miss a good fight?” asked Billycan.

  “Not since I’ve known you,” Juniper replied, exhaling.

  Two armed rats stood on either side of Billycan. He gave them a nod. “Take him.” He released his grasp on Foiber’s fleshy neck. “Oh, I see he’s injured,” he said, frowning at the major’s bleeding leg. “Do not tend to that wound. Let it get as infected as his rotting hide.” The rats grabbed the suddenly speechless Foiber roughly, pushing him down the aisle.

  After Hecate’s rats had been restrained, Billycan gestured for her. She screeched and kicked and spat as she was forced in front of him. Indifferent to her protests, he folded his arms and regarded her. “You would have made Killdeer quite proud today.” He tilted his head, a hint of satisfaction spreading across his mouth. “Well, almost proud. You failed, after all.”

  “I should have finished you off last year!” said Hecate. “You and your bloody nine lives—like a flea-bitten alley cat!”

  “Hecate, since I’ve known you, your biggest fault has always been your arrogance. Last year, during our little tussle in my cell, you should have made quite sure I was dead. Had you done so, you’d be looking at Killdeer’s throne r
ight now. When I took my leave of Trillium, I was sure Juniper would be on to you soon. It wasn’t until I found out about your little prank—your delightful tea—that I truly became concerned. Thankfully, my Toscan friends have no love for their former empress and were more than happy to tell me all about your little experiments on their isolated island.”

  Hecate’s spite shifted to disbelief. “You—you were in Tosca?”

  Tilting his head, he clasped his paws together theatrically. “Ajax and Silvius send their warmest regards. Oh, how they miss you.”

  “Ajax is useless and Silvius is a mad old fool! I should know—I made him that way!”

  “To be sure, you’ve done damage to Silvius, but he’s by no means mad. If you’d taken care of him and Ajax properly, I’d still be in Tosca, none the wiser. Again, Hecate, your arrogance, your fatal flaw, has tripped you up.”

  A wounded voice cut the air. “No!” it shouted from a nearby corridor. “Duncan, no!”

  Cole, Vincent, and Juniper bolted through the crowd, stumbling over fallen rats, pushing their way to the entrance of the corridor.

  Suttor was on his knees at the entrance to the corridor, his head resting on Duncan’s still chest. He was crying, pounding the ground with his fists. Overcome, Cole dropped down next to him.

  “Bless the Saints!” said Juniper. “What happened here?”

  “I don’t know!” exclaimed Suttor. “Everything was fine. Duncan was with me, having tea, in the prison corridor. All of a sudden I didn’t feel so good—dizzy, sick to my stomach—and then everything went black. When I came to, all the cells were empty and I found him lying here.” He looked at Cole. “Father, help me! We must do something. He won’t wake up!”

  “Suttor must have been slipped something,” said Cole, putting his arm around him, “in Hecate’s tea.” He clutched Duncan’s motionless paw. “That’s how they all escaped.”