by S D Smith
“Go on, outwaller scum,” the guard said. She was urged on, and she entered the building.
Inside, she was placed on a bench alongside three other rabbits, two of whom were slouched and unconscious. Both wore red neckerchiefs. The third was huddled on the edge of the bench, head down, with his arms wrapped around his knees. He had a blanket draped around his back. He snuck a glance at her, and she smiled wearily at him. Then his head dropped again and he rocked back and forth, disappearing into the blanket.
There were guards all over, angry faces showing over stiff red collars as they worked at their various tasks. Several officers scowled at desks, sifting through stacks of paper. Others marked wall charts and sorted forms. She watched them until her vision began to blur.
Heather’s tired mind tried to focus, to be present in this moment. She tried to make sense of the anxiety that battled with hope inside her. Would she see Father? Was Mother safe? What about Baby Jacks? Her gaze grew hazy, and her mind dipped in and out of the present until finally sliding over into sleep.
She was in a dark place. The air was thick with fog. A thousand smooth rocks lined the bottom of a damp cave. A slippery voice whispered in her ear. “They will awaken and shake the world. We will have our revenge.” Then a scaly hand reached out and grasped her own. She felt her hand shaking, and she screamed.
Then she was awake, and she found she was lying down on the bench, and the shy rabbit was grasping her hand, whispering to her, “It’s all right now. You’re okay. Don’t scream anymore, please.” He was patting her hand and making soothing noises. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting around the room. She nodded, coming fully awake and realizing she must have called out, arousing the irritated interest of some of the officers.
But as she calmed and they could see she was no threat, they returned to their tedious work, and she lay still. The shy rabbit had covered her with his blanket, and as the dream dissipated, she found she was almost comfortable. She was still tired, hungry, and very thirsty, but the nap had relieved her very urgent need to rest.
“Thank you,” she whispered, reverently touching her ears, eyes, then her mouth.
The young rabbit nodded, smiling as he looked down.
“What is this place?” she asked, as quietly as she could.
The rabbit looked puzzled, peering into her eyes intently, almost, she thought, as if he was trying to figure out if she were being serious or if she had been hit on the head. “You okay, Whitey?” he asked in a mumbled whisper.
“I’m fine,” she answered. “I’m just…” She weighed how much to say, deciding she could trust this rabbit so far. “I’m not from here.”
“I wondered when I didn’t see no preymark,” he said, grabbing at the red kerchief around his neck. She was beginning to understand what that meant now. “We haven’t had any new’ns for quite a while. We’d heard they were finished bringing ’em. Say the Preylords kill all prisoners in the field now. How’d you get here?”
“They dropped me in the Lepers’ District.”
The rabbit recoiled. “They didn’t touch you, did they?”
“No, no. I ran away before I even really saw much of them.”
“Powerful contagious, the lepers,” he said, wiping his hands on his shirt.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“They call me Hadley,” he said, touching his temple.
“Why do they call you that?” she asked.
“Because,” he whispered conspiratorially, “it’s my name.”
“Listen, Hadley,” she said, smiling, “what happens here?”
“I’m set to serve a turn in the jake for breaking curfew. As long as I can stay away from Captain Vitton, I’ll be okay. But they know who I am. Not sure what they’ll do with you. They don’t treat outwallers well here,” he whispered even lower, “especially if they’re causers.”
“So, is an outwaller someone who lives outside the big wall?” she asked. Hadley nodded. “What’s a causer?”
Hadley glanced back and forth and came close to Heather’s ear. “The resisters.” Heather nodded.
“They said they were taking me to… to the Longtreaders,” she said carefully.
“Of course,” he said. “You’re here. This is Longtreaders High Command inside the Sixth District.”
“Longtreaders High Command? Sixth District?” she asked, a knot forming in her stomach.
“Yeah, Dumbster,” he said, pretending to knock on her head playfully, “this is District Six, where all the Longtreaders live, including the head rabbit himself, the main Longtreader.”
“Who’s the main Longtreader?” she asked, worried.
Hadley leaned in close again. “The Commandant,” he whispered. “The most evil rabbit who ever lived. He’d just as soon skin somebody as say good morning. Most folks comes to his attention end up dead, or worse. But don’t worry; you’ll probably just see one of his lieutenants, and though they’re bad enough, they’ll just put you in the jake, and you’ll spend some time for the crime of being out at dark. Like me. It’s none too pleasant, but it’s better’n getting mixed up with the Commandant.”
She began to weep quietly. All those old fears of her father being a traitor came flooding back. But she knew it couldn’t be so. Her father was no traitor. He was loyal to the cause, as everyone said. But so had Uncle Garten been, for a while.
“Buck up, Whitey,” Hadley said. “You won’t see him. He’s above such petty matters. Now Lieutenant Long is no picnic neither. Hope you don’t get him. He likes to strike out over nothing. Captain Vitton is worst of all, but he’s mainly interested in causers. Only gets at ordinary outwallers when things are slow.”
“When you say the Commandant is a Longtreader,” she asked, “what do you mean?”
“I mean he’s head of the Longtreaders, the peace force here in Akolan. They enforce peace on us. I mean, for us.”
“So they’re the good ones?”
Hadley’s face pinched in a noncommittal twist, and his head bobbed back and forth. Heather nodded. She relaxed a little. It was clear they were just using the name Longtreader, probably based on the fact that Garten Longtreader was the highest ranking rabbit in Morbin’s order. “So, this Commandant is just a Longtreader in office alone, right? What’s his real name?”
“Welp, that’s the funny thing,” Hadley said, bending closer. “He’s a real Longtreader all right.” Heather gasped. There was motion near the door. Hadley continued. “They say he’s Ambassador Garten Longtreader’s own brother.”
“All right, girl,” an angry guard called. She turned to see an open door. “The Commandant will see you now.”
Chapter Four
ESCAPE FROM CLOUD MOUNTAIN
Picket ran. He never expected to be back at Rockback Valley so soon, but here he was, rushing through the moonlit night across the pocked and ruined field at the base of Cloud Mountain. He and Helmer were leading a band of rabbits, mostly soldiers, who were evacuating the mountain hideaway, home of the heralds of the Mended Wood. They were one of ten divisions, all fleeing in different directions at the same time. The plan had been hastily ordered by Emma, after consulting with her council. It had been Maggie’s idea to split into so many groups, some intended to regroup miles away and others to continue on to safer havens. The wounded, old, and infirm were headed for Halfwind Citadel, away from danger.
Picket and Helmer had a different destination.
“This way,” Helmer called, his tone urgent. The company formed up behind him and sped toward the woods that lined the valley. Picket dodged craters and quickly picked his way through in the moonlight.
“Watch your step, bucks!” he said, pointing to a charred ruin of a catapult tilting on the edge of a bombed-out crater. It had been very little time since a catapult like this, perhaps this one, had sent him sailing into the sky to glide and fight at impossible heights. He shook his head and ran on, resuming his keen attention to their surroundings. “When should we split?” he asked,
jogging up beside Captain Helmer.
“When we get to Jupiter’s Crossing, I think,” Helmer replied. “I want to see these bucks to some degree of safety. I think we have a little while yet before word of Heather’s trick gets back to Morbin’s army.”
Picket’s uncle, Garten Longtreader, had said there would be no attack on Cloud Mountain by the massive second force waiting not far off. That is, if Princess Emma, King Jupiter’s heir, were turned over to their evil adversary, Morbin Blackhawk. Emma had made the deal, but Heather intervened, bravely taking Emma’s place and buying the rabbits time to escape from the waiting army of wolves and raptors, commanded by Morbin’s Preylord lieutenants.
“I hope you’re right about Morbin’s forces,” Picket said.
“I know what you’re thinking, lad. I’m less settled about the Terralains.”
Picket was worried about them. The Terralain army had seemed to be allies at first, but later their leader, and brother to the fallen King Jupiter, Bleston, had betrayed them to Morbin and tried to turn over Princess Emma. Picket had intervened, and now Bleston and many of his main accomplices were dead. His son and heir, Prince Kylen, was weak from wounds but alive.
“Me too,” Picket said. “Who knows what Kylen’s army will do after they find out what I did to their king?”
“You ended him,” Helmer said with a growl, “as any noble buck must have done in your place.
Though few could have done what you did.”
“I let him fall,” Picket said, his eyes wide with the memory.
“You did right, and you rescued the princess. You saved the cause, son.”
“But if we have to fight Morbin and Kylen, well…” His voice trailed off.
“Don’t worry,” Helmer said, “things will get worse.”
“Very comforting, Master,” Picket answered. “But fighting both armies would be unimaginable.”
“We can’t really hope to beat either,” Helmer said, “which is why we’re retreating.”
“I prefer to think of it as regrouping.”
“If only nicer words could make an awful thing less so,” Helmer said, limping as he ran, “we’d be having a good time.”
Picket smiled and moved apart from Helmer, slowing to be sure the rear of the group wasn’t lagging. After an eerily quiet run, they reached the edge of Jupiter’s Crossing, and Helmer called a halt. There were nearly fifty rabbits in this company, and they had been sent this way to draw any enemies away from the more vulnerable units.
“This is where we leave you,” Helmer said, motioning for a tall rabbit to step forward and stand beside himself and Picket. “Lieutenant Drand will lead you to the rendezvous. Be bold, move quickly, and stay sharp. This war is far from over. I hope Captain Picket and I will see you again soon.” He motioned to Picket.
“Only do your duty,” Picket began, “and remember that our side fights because of love and loyalty. We fight for freedom and for the vulnerable—”
“So says the murderer!” A shrill call rang out in the forest, stopping Picket with his mouth still open. The company turned to see Tameth Seer, the old guide to Prince Bleston, emerge from the woods a little ways away. Behind him stepped a band of tall, strong Terralain rabbits. “So says the assassin. So says the killer of kings.”
Even at this distance, Picket could see the anger seething on the faces of the old rabbit and the strong-armed soldiers with him. They looked furious, their muscles tense, eager to act on their rage.
Helmer stepped toward them. “Listen, wise one. I’m not sure who told you what happened, but Bleston betrayed us. He tried to take Princess Emma and made a deal with Morbin. Picket only defended himself, and the prince was killed.”
“King Bleston never betrayed anyone!” Tameth Seer screeched. “King Bleston was the noblest of rabbits. When Prince Kylen, the heir of all Natalia, is well again, he will set things right with all parties. But for now, the assassin Picket Longtreader must be handed over.”
Picket stepped forward and began to speak. “Stay back, Picket,” Helmer ordered. “You’re wrong, Tameth Seer.” He looked past the old rabbit to the soldiers fairly snarling behind him. “I speak as a soldier to soldiers. We have been led into many battles by the delusions of corrupt leaders who lie for their own ends. Please don’t let this withered old fool warp your minds with his poison.”
A tall Terralain officer stepped forward and drew his sword beside the grizzled old rabbit. He looked into the seer’s eyes, then back up at Helmer. “Tameth Seer is a holy rabbit. You profane the land of Terralain and all her own when you speak thus of him. Turn the murderer Picket Longtreader over to us. He will kneel to justice,” he said, raising his sword, “or justice will make him kneel.”
The rabbits had stepped forward on either side of the wood so that the Terralains were lined up with the tall captain, and all of Helmer’s company was lined up beside him. Picket’s fellows did not like the way they spoke of one they considered a hero.
“The Silver Prince tried to kill Emma, his own niece, then tried to kill me,” Picket said, stepping ahead of his band. “I didn’t want to do what I did. I had no choice!”
“We have no choice but to condemn you for murder!” Tameth Seer growled in his brittle, breaking screech. The Terralains began walking forward. Picket noticed quickly that there were fewer of them across the way, but they were well-rested, unlike his own company, and much stronger.
“Please!” Picket said, drawing his sword, raising it, and then dropping it to the ground. “We’re all rabbits. Morbin is out there. We should be allies!”
But they kept coming, moving in with malicious looks.
“This is your last chance,” Helmer called, bending to pick up Picket’s sword and handing it to him as he drew his own. When there was no reply and they kept coming, he spun to his band.
“What do we do, sir?” Lieutenant Drand asked.
Helmer’s face bent into a sour frown. “Knock ’em stiff, bucks!”
Chapter Five
A POISED SWORD
The two sides clashed in the moonlit wood, sparks leaping off of crossed blades. The quiet of a few moments before vanished in the harsh noise of close battle. Picket leapt in, heartsick grief giving way to anger. True, these rabbits had once saved them from certain death at Halfwind, but their leader had also betrayed them. And the rescue at Halfwind was probably only part of the plan with Morbin. Picket seethed at the injustice of his accusers. He was no murderer, but neither was he afraid to raise his sword.
He did so now, grappling with a Terralain soldier nearly twice his size. He blocked an overhead slice, deflecting it deftly as he spun and drove his own blade toward the soldier’s middle. It glanced off the black breastplate, but Picket saw the shocked look on the soldier’s face. He had underestimated the smaller rabbit. Picket followed the jab with a leaping spin and kick that sent the soldier stumbling back. The tall rabbit tripped on a root and pitched backward. Picket loomed over him with his sword poised, his heart pulsing with rage. Just then, Picket saw the woods swell with more rabbits, and his heart sank. Another band was charging in.
Then from the shadows stepped Jo and Cole.
Jo raised his bow, as did the next thirty archers with him. “Terralains, drop your weapons!” Cole shouted. Picket glanced back from Jo to the soldier lying beneath his blade. It was all he could do to stop his sword from doing its awful work. His hand was shaking. He looked across at Tameth Seer. The old rabbit seethed as he was covered by several rabbits with swords.
The sword trembled in Picket’s grip as all the injustice he and Heather had experienced flashed through his raging mind. Heather, who was in the clutches of Morbin himself because of their betrayal. His face was contorted with anger as he raised his sword overhead, glaring at the silver stars on the soldier’s breastplate. The Terralain arms, the symbol of the Silver Prince.
“Pick?” Jo whispered.
“We have them, Picket.”
Picket glanced back at Jo. His frie
nd’s face was firm, an eyebrow arched with a question.
Picket looked from Tameth Seer to the soldier, then back at Tameth Seer. “I am no murderer,” he whispered fiercely, sheathing his sword.
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