by RG Long
“Get in!” Felecia said as she shoved Tory into a small landing boat. “Or get skewered!”
Her last words were quite accurate. Another elf pirate had lunged at Tory with a sword and would have killed him, had Felecia not parried the blow. Gorplin was thrown in after Tory, much to his complaining, by Urt.
“Stop!” came a cry from the Boss. Tory stood in the boat and was about to threaten to get back on board and show him what a Sword of the King could do to a pirate when he had a weapon. He stopped short when he saw what the elf was holding in a tight grip.
Jurrin was struggling against at least two swords that poked and prodded his side and a third, held by the Boss, that was at his throat. A look of panic covered his face.
“Miss Felecia?” he called out hoarsely, before the Boss clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Back on board,” the Boss directed, looking at Tory and Gorplin in the small boat. Felecia and Urt had yet to crawl in. “Or your little friend here will get even shorter.”
Felecia dropped her weapon defiantly onto the deck. Urt followed suit. The fighting had died down all around them. Whether the rivals had all been killed off or this new development was enough to catch their attention before attempting to kill one another again, Tory didn't know.
He was just about to get back on board when, seemingly unexpected by all, a cannon shot fired. Whether it was from the ship they had been captive on or the other, he didn't know. What he did perceive, however, was a great shove on his chest and a falling sensation. This was followed quickly by being enveloped in water. He surfaced and heard fighting had resumed on board. To what end he didn't know. But, spluttering beside him, he saw Gorplin and took it to be sign enough.
While the ships continued to sail on without them, he grabbed the dwarf and began paddling for shore.
“Quite your flailing and we might not die!” he shouted at Gorplin, who was now taking his turn at shouting every dwarven curse he knew. “Use your feet to kick at least!”
That command, Tory immediately regretted.
“Not me you idiot!” he shouted, pain filling his side where the dwarf had landed a very hard blow.
By what miracle or fate they made it to shore, Tory would never know. When he could finally stand on his two legs and drag the wet and exhausted Gorplin the rest of the way to the sandy waterline, he collapsed. They both lay there for a moment, before Tory lifted himself up just enough to see the two ships, sailing far away to the west.
“Think they're alive?” he asked Gorplin.
The dwarf didn't answer right away. Instead, he struggled to a sitting position and peered in the same direction, shielding his eyes with his hand. Tory suspected what he thought.
He just prayed that they were both wrong.
12: The Different Tribe
Cuno was eyeing the Wrents who came out to greet them warily. These were not the ones he had expected to come from the Remo tribe. From what he had heard, Remo Wrents were ferocious and cunning, cruel and brutal. What he had never known until now, was just how many female Wrents were counted among the strong.
Many of the foxes who circled him now were not the males he was accustomed to facing off against. These Wrents were slender but growled and barked at him with every bit of malice and rage he had expected from any stout warrior.
Lacha stood by him, resolute.
“Here's the leader,” he said in his short, plain speech.
A Wrent did emerge from the group that was larger than all the others. She had auburn colored fur and many scars covered her chest and shoulder. A particularly nasty cut ran from her left ear down to her paw. If the fangs that had done that had given any other one of Cuno's warrior such a scar, he would have left them for dead. This Wrent, however, appeared that much more fierce because of it.
“What dog darkens my tribe's sacred ground uninvited?” she asked haughtily. Two small spears with stone tips were clutched in both her paws. They hung loosely in her hands, either ready to be thrown or jabbed into an enemy. Cuno kept them in his sight.
“I am Cuno,” he shouted back. “Cuno the Red-Handed! And I have come to claim my rights as leader of the tribe of Remo!”
Howls behind him echoed through the long night; his own united clan behind him, showing their might. High pitched barks and howls answered these. Cuno heard the calls behind him die away, but he stood his ground. Lacha stood at his side, defiant against the call of Remo.
The large Wrent with the scar spoke again through a wicked grin.
“I've heard of you, Cuno the Red-Handed,” she said, her snarl spreading malice over her face. “I am Kika, leader of the Remo tribe. You claim to gather the Wrents under a single banner, but for what purpose, I might ask?”
Cuno snapped his jaws at the Wrent. His eyes still on the throwing spears she clutched in her paws, he began to circle her. With the intention of ending the conversation short, he was planning his kill.
“I've no reason to tell a dead Wrent my intentions,” he spat.
Kika’s eyes narrowed and she acted. One of her spears came flying at Cuno. She had misjudged poorly because it hit low. The projectile hit the ground by his left paw.
He didn't hesitate.
Cuno let forth a blast of fire from his paw. A torrent of flame reduced the spot Kika had been standing on to ash and melted rock. It was with surprise, then, that Cuno looked to see her standing beside it and giving him a wry smile.
"Is that all the fire you have?" she asked as she launched another spear at him.
This one nearly nicked his left ear. He dodged out of the way just in time. As it flew past, he grabbed it with his right paw. The wood burned to cinders in a flash.
Cuno ran forward to grab her, but she leapt out of the way. Another blast of fire followed her, but it missed again. The Wrent's hair wasn't even singed. She was too quick. He laid fire down all around him in a great circle, causing smoke and dust to fill the air and obscure his vision.
For a moment, he had lost her position in the confusion and fire. Rage flowed through his veins. Then he felt her grab him around the middle and knock him to the ground. His paw became a ball of fire as he shoved her away. She yelped in pain, but did not relent. Kika lunged at him again, her teeth bared.
Cuno caught her around the throat with his free paw and put her on the ground beside him. She was panting hard. A new look was filling her eyes. Cuno had seen terror before, but there was something else mixed with the look she gave him.
"So, the rumors are true," she said, admiring Cuno. Though she grasped at his paw with her own, she did not make a renewed effort to free herself. Her eyes now looked at him with interest instead of disgust as she choked out the next words. "A Wrent has learned to use magic."
Cuno lifted his Rimstone paw high, intending this time to silence the female forever. He paused. Something curious tugged at his mind.
"Are you that bad with a spear?" he asked, snarling his snout at her. "Or did you miss on purpose?
In response, Kika inclined her head to him as best she could with his paw around her throat. "I had heard of your strength, but I doubted."
The other members of the Remo tribe around her all followed suit and bowed down their heads. Some did so willingly, others with sideways glances.
"Remo will follow one who has such great power," Kika said, raising her head up again. "We swear loyalty to you."
Cuno growled at her.
"If your tribe swears its loyalty only to me," he asked her through gritted teeth. "Then why should I let you live?"
He had expected fear. Cuno the Red-Handed, even though this female dog might cower before him. His paw burned bright with fire, even as he panted hard. He had used so much energy, but he was ready to strike. Her answer, however, caught him off guard.
"Who better to give you powerful offspring than Remo's strongest Wrent? I could be your mate and together we might sire the strongest Wrents of our age."
His grip around her throat lessened. She smiled slyly at h
im.
"So, that's a yes?" Kika asked.
THE WRENT TRIBE WAS heading north. Cuno at the lead and, by his side, the now slightly scared, but no less fierce, Kika. Lacha ran just behind them. Cuno could tell the large Wrent did not approve of his so readily accepted the offer of a mate. No doubt Lacha was thinking what Cuno had considered. That this was all a rouse to take control of the unified tribe for herself. Kika certainly seemed shrewd enough to undergo such a subterfuge.
But Cuno had another vision that made him agree.
His tribe, united and strong, being passed on to a successor from his own flesh and blood. A brood of Wrents who would lead the tribe as they remained united, but no longer small. His heirs and generals in one. They would cover the continent and he would be the supreme leader among man.
Kika needn't see this vision realized. She need only to live long enough to give him a few strong offspring. Then she could be disposed of.
The tribe came to a halt two days after leaving Remo. The last tribe, Tenza, lay before them. Large craggy mountains with small holes for dwellings. Caves bore into the rock of the cliffs themselves. Cuno knew this land would be the hardest to take and it was why he had saved it for last.
It was to be his greatest accomplishment, taking the tribe of Tenza for his own. They were a strong and stubborn Wrent tribe. Tenza's lands had never been surrendered to a rival tribe. Cuno sought to change that by being the first to take the lands, and the Wrents inside it, for himself.
Now Cuno and the rest of his tribe stood at the base of the large mountain that was the home of Tenza. Banners covered the mountain like some natural castle or fortress. The holes and caves of Wrents were covered in skins or parse cloth. Logs that had been carved into points struck out from the paths that led to the cliffs.
An attack had been expected.
Rocks were piled up behind these sharpened branches in large piles that stretched out from the bottom of the mountain. Cuno was sure that the piles did not lead up to the dwelling of Tenza, but were rather a wall that hid a valley on the other side.
“They wait,” Lacha said, pointing with his large paw to a group of Wrents that stood on a rocky outcropping.
Several Wrents stood holding spears and barking challenges down at the huge assembly of attackers at the base. Many more, Cuno knew, would emerge from the holes should they attempt to take the mountain. Though his tribe was powerful now, a full siege on such fortifications would drastically reduce his numbers.
And if he were to cover the land of Irradan in Wrents, he would need his followers whole.
A lone Wrent stood at the entrance of the largest cave. He unfurled a large white banner with a black mountain inside a circle of blue teeth: the symbol of Tenza. From behind this banner, a huge Wrent ambled forward, surveying the tens of thousands of Wrents that came to his doorstep.
“What rabble is this?” the large beast barked down loudly at Cuno and his tribe. "I am Farna the Fierce! Tenza tribe does not respond kindly to threats or acts of war! We will bury you under this mountain if you come to take it from us!"
Cuno thought he heard a slight hesitation in the large Wrent's voice. Lacha laughed grimly.
"We're large rabble," he said with satisfaction.
"I am Cuno the Red-Handed!" Cuno shouted up at the leader of Tenza tribe.
Cuno looked over his shoulder at the horde behind him. His unified tribe was nearly complete. Knowing that the Tenza tribe would be his last conquest, he puffed up his chest and let out a long, low howl. The sound was echoed by thousands of others behind him.
The sound reverberated off the mountain in front of them. Cuno knew they could take it. He knew his Red Paws could devour the mountain if he set them all to it. But how dug in were those inside? How long could they resist a siege?
The answer to those questions, he didn't know.
Kika came up beside him, tail flicking and paws clenched.
"How many Wrents would die trying to take this mountain?" she asked under her breath into Cuno's ear. "How many would be spent to take a few?"
Cuno growled at her.
“Leave me,” he said in a menacing tone.
Mate though she may be, Cuno didn't want Kika getting any ideas that she ran the tribe. He would hold her at an arm's length.
Still.
She was pointing out what he already knew. To take the mountain would drain their number. To leave Tenza be would mean an enemy left behind him to come and attack when they saw fit. Cuno drew in a deep, steadying breath.
Fire was growing within him. He took that fire in his chest and willed it to his paw. A great orb of glowing flame materialized in his grasp. Taking this ball of fire, he threw it up to where Farna stood. It exploded into a thousand burning pieces of molten rock and showered down onto the mountain.
More fire grew at Cuno's paw and again he threw it against the cliffs. Where ever Wrents of the Tenza tribe stood opposing him, he threw his giant orbs of fire. Again and again, the howls of pain escaped the holes and crevices of the rock. Again, Cuno threw his mighty power at the mountain.
Barks and howls of satisfaction came from behind him. It made him stronger to hear the sound of his united tribe. He howled as well. Ten times he threw his destructive fire at the cliffs, and each time they burst into a thousand pieces of burning, fiery rock. The entire mountain side now blazed with his power. He held his paw high into the air, sweat raining down from his body and he heaved great staggering breaths.
With a final burst of power and energy, he slammed his paw against the ground. Each point he had thrown his fire ignited yet again and the mountain shook with his fury.
All howled with delight as they saw the mountain shudder and cave in. Great clouds of dust filled the sky, casting the early morning into darkness.
Cuno turned to Lacha and, with great effort, put a steadying paw on him.
“We must go to the mountain of the first Wrents,” he said.
“Carry you there,” he said as he hoisted the exhausted Cuno onto his shoulders.
He breathed heavily and watched as Lacha carried him south. His banner flew behind him and Kika, ever turning her head from side to side, followed closely behind. Howls and barks filled the air as they marched behind him.
The united tribe of the Red Paws strode away from the burning mountain that used to be the land of Tenza. Now it was nothing but burning rock and swirling dust.
The Wrents of the north were now one.
13: South by Wrents
Blume bumped and shook as Panto ran forward. Amrolan was holding onto her so tightly she felt like he may crush her. But she didn't desire him to loosen his grip, lest she fall and be lost among the trees. Her pack was pressed hard against her back and, with her hands, she tried to hold onto anything in front of her. Panto had no reigns, but there were spots that his armor was latched with leather straps. She grabbed onto those as best she could.
She looked to her side and back to see if Silverwolf was keeping up. The assassin was running with all her might, yet still the bear was outpacing her easily. If things were to keep going like this, the woman would be left to the Wrents in moments.
There was no counting the beasts as she bumped along on top of Panto. Blume was positive there were more than twenty. Remembering the last time she was chased by these creatures made her wish even more greatly that her magic had returned to her. She thought about trying something to help them escape the foxes, but decided to wait until things were more desperate.
She didn't want to blow her elf companion and his bear to pieces by accident.
Panto took a sharp left around a tree, nearly sending Blume flying off his back. Amrolan tightened his grip on her for a moment to keep her steady.
“Down here!” he shouted back at Silverwolf, who had just rounded the tree herself.
“Down where?” Blume began to ask, but was cut off abruptly by the sudden rush of cold, dark air in her face.
“Duck your head,” Amrolan instructed as they con
tinued on through darkness. Blume felt very chilled all of a sudden. She looked back at the way they had come from and saw light streaming in through a semi-round opening in the darkness. Above the sound of clinking armor echoing around her, she heard the distinct sound of water rippling nearby.
She knew at once what they had entered, but was unsure about the wisdom of it.
“Why did we come into a cave?” she asked, her eyes beginning to adjust and seeing a very low earth ceiling with small rock formations reaching down to pull at her hair. “Do you think we'll be safe in here?”
“You will be,” Amrolan answered as he quickly lifted her from Panto's back, sat her on the ground, and then spun the great hulk of a bear around and charged out of the mouth of the cavern.
A cry of battle came echoing through the tunnel as he leapt out back into open sunlight. Metal rang out from the entrance of the cave. Blume definitely heard Silverwolf issue her own battle cry and the grunts and barks of many Wrents. She looked behind her back into the gloomy expanse of the tunnel and then back again to the mouth of the cave.
“I'm tired of being protected,” she said as she dropped her pack and drew out Ealrin's sword from her belt. It was heavier than she felt comfortable with, but without her magic it would have to do.
Step by step, she approached the cave's entrance, ready for a Wrent to come crashing towards her at any moment. Every so often, she could get a glimpse of the battle outside. Silverwolf spearing a Wrent on her sword, Amrolan knocking aside the attack of a Wrent with his spear. Then the battle would turn and move away from the light and she could see only Wrents. The thought had barely crossed her mind that a Wrent might soon see her when one stopped, sniffed the air, and turned towards the cave.
She froze. Pointing the sword at the Wrent in front of her, she started breathing faster and heavier. Her eyes went wide.
Hungrily, the fox strode towards her, not caring about the fight raging around him. He was colored black from head to foot. Only a small patch of white covered his chest. He held his wooden spear in both hands as he stepped closer to the entrance of the cave.
