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_ Forging Rust _

by AJH

co-authored with Reserved Rodent

Chapter Ten

Up to the hilt in the rodent's skull

As the party of Knight and Squires rode from the camp gates, chill rain started to pour from the skies. The group tugged up their hoods, and spurred their grumbling horses on.

The rodent let his eyes look over the rows of warriors stood outside the camp, slipping armor into place and sharpening their swords on flint. He picked out the huge form of Lord Gunner, and the slight form of Sid beside him. He raised a paw, but the fox was too distracted trying to lash on the big rhino's right greave to notice.

The rodent smiled sadly and looked away, as Cody led the raiding party towards the hills.

Before long Rust found himself following Lord Silver, an elderly panther, and his Squire, Karl. Chase rode behind him, eyes shadowed under his hood, saying nothing as the rain splashed from his plate armor.

As the terrain turned mountainous with an hour or more of riding, the rat found himself struggling to keep his mount calm. Placing a paw on the big mare's neck, he whispered softly and stroked its fur. It didn't do much good.

Some time later the path turned too narrow to ride, and the party stopped. Cody, who was merely a lump of fur in a soaked cloak, dismounted, holding the reigns of his horse. The Brotherhood warriors did likewise, though securing their mounts tack so it wouldn't drag the ground as the beasts grazed.

Slipping from his own saddle, Rust followed Chase's lead, patting the horse's flank and whispering softly "Home."

The horse obediently turned and trotted away, followed by the others.

The party drew close to Chase, who dropped to one knee, gesturing to Rust and Richard to stay alert. The rat and raccoon drew bows and scanned the trees.

"How far to the camp, Cody?" The Knight asked softly, a paw on the hilt of his dagger, as always.

The bear grunted softly, rubbing a paw over his tired muzzle. "S'just over the hill. They will have guards, but having come up the track, they won't expect you."

Chase nodded softly and whispered, "Squires be on your toes. We're not to expose ourselves until the last minute. Our role is to weaken the enemy defenses from the inside, sow dissent and - crucially - unbar the gate."

The party nodded as one.

"Squires, you'll provide cover for my brothers and I. We'll move through the valley and silence the enemy. When the Brotherhood's main force approaches, we need to make as much noise as possible, to disorient the foe and split his attentions. This means, naturally, that we will be in close combat in seconds."

Rust nodded with the others, and let his gaze take in his master's strategy, his confidence and his firm command of the situation. If he was to be a Brotherhood Knight, he would need to know what is expected of him at all times.

"We have a little time yet before Gunner and the main force arrives, I'd estimate an hour or more, so stay close, stay alert and kill anyone you find - silently."

As one, the group drew their bows from their backs, notching arrows. Cody, stood to one side, nodded to Chase. "Our arrangement's at an end, sir Knight."

The lynx nodded back. "Thank you, Cody. I will see you rewarded."

The bear nodded and turned away, tamping back down the hill.

Rust stepped in behind his master as the lynx took the lead. His senses were heightened, each raindrop sounding like a drumbeat on boughs overhead. He climbed steadily, eyes scanning the trees.

The group crested the rise and stared into the valley. Before them, the vast, untidy mess of the barbarian camp stretched out, tents and lean-tos dotting the mud.

The lynx stopped suddenly. He raised a fist, and his fingers moved into a series of jerky signals. "Enemy ahead, silence them".

Stepping around Lord Chase, the rat spotted the foe - a pair of stoats sheltering under the boughs of a thick oak. The tiger, Squire Karl, stepped beside him, and signaled "I have left". Rust nodded and drew his bow back.

Rain dripped from the wooden shaft of the arrow. He sighted on the right-hand stoat, taking in the details of the barbarian's muzzle, the brown spots around his eyes, the thick chain about his neck.

He released the arrow and the stoat fell, gurgling blood, eyes wide. The tiger and the rat charged as one and leapt upon the wounded guards, ending them with a slash of a dagger.

The group moved up and Chase gave a firm nod to his Squire.

Rust, his paws shaking and coated in blood, smiled weakly in return.

The lynx dropped to one knee, and drew a rusty telescope from under his cloak. He pressed the lens to his right eye, and surveyed the camp below. The rest of the party arrived in silence, also surveying the scene, committing it to memory.

After a moment the lynx lowered the telescope, and held up a paw to get the attention of the raid party.

With swift paw signals, and a crudely drawn map in the damp earth, the lynx outlined the plan.

"Knights follow me." He gestured to Lords Silver and Braun. "You silence guard towers." Next, he pointed to Hall, Gird and himself. "We unbar gate, set fires in barracks." The lynx gave the signal for "Squires", and the five males looked up attentively. "Overwatch with bow. Clear path, watch Knight's backs."

The five males nodded.

The lynx, pleased, signed "For the Brotherhood" - a sign returned by his team.

"One hour." He signed, settling in to wait, watching the guards below.

Time moved slowly for Rust. He was ready for battle in two minutes, arrows in easy reach, bow in his paws, sword on the damp grass beside him. But still, time dragged. After what seemed to be a day or more, the lynx he was sworn to serve signaled "Time to go."

The Squires moved up, forming a line, ready, as the Knights dropped their damp cloaks and drew swords darkened by ash, so they wouldn't shine in the moonlight.

Rust placed a paw to the earth beneath his muddy footpaws to steady himself, and felt a very faint vibration. It was as if a hundred armored soldiers were marching in unison. He grinned - Lord Gunner was coming.

As the Knights descended the hill, he notched his bow, drawing it back to his cheek and closed one eye.

Chase slid down the last of the hill, landing in a low crouch. He kept his broadsword in both paws, held low, as four other Knights landed beside him.

He signed "Go", and moved forward, Hall - a tiger, and Gird - a rabbit, following him closely.

Silently, the trio moved through the enemy encampment. The rain was falling steadily, making the ground treacherous, but they forged on. The sound of snoring, rutting and laughter came from the tents around them as they moved.

Turning a corner, the lynx took in his target - a massive, ugly wooden gate, spiked on top, blocking the most direct approach up the valley.

He also ran straight into a weasel in patchwork armor, who emitted a surprised yelp at the sight of three fully armed Brotherhood Knights in front of him.

Chase lunged, swinging his sword in a wide arc, but hitting nothing as the weasel jumped backwards, paws scrabbling at his scabbard. His maw opened to yell a warning, but before the sound left his throat an arrow thumped into it with a wet crunching noise.

The weasel clutched the wound, gurgling, only to find his head lopped from his shoulders as Chase gave the warrior an honorable death. The lynx mentally thanked whichever Squire's accuracy saved him.

On the hill Rust notched another arrow, and took aim once again.

The trio made it to the gate. Surprise was still on their side, for now. Chase glanced up to the nearest guard tower, only to see Lord Silver give a cursory wave - the warriors inside were dead.

The lynx signaled his Brothers forward, and grabbed a hold of the heavy wooden bar which sealed the gate. As one, the three Knights grunted and started to lift.

Atop the hill, Squire Rust felled another enemy. His arrow took the female stoat high in the neckline, dropping her instantly. Beside him, Squire Ferrin - a fennic fox, killed two more warriors with a single arrow. His shot hit the first between the eyes with such force that it made it straight through the lion's skull and killed the smaller mouse who was exiting the tent behind him. Rust grunted in surprise at such proficiency.

At the gate, the three Knights finally removed the bar and tossed it to the mud. Panting, the lynx took a burning torch from a nearby brazier and yanked at the heavy gate with his paws, opening it slightly. He tossed the torch outside the enemy encampment, where it burned atop the damp earth.

About a mile away, Lord Gunner lowered a telescope from his eye and handed it to Squire Sid, stood beside him. "Signal the charge." He grunted.

Sid draw his sword and held it aloft. Behind him, 120 Brotherhood Knights, Squires and warriors drew their swords, axes, bows and pikes, and followed Gunner down the hill at a slow jog.

Back at the camp, Chase - torch in paw - followed Hall and Gird. Like wraiths, the trio moved past the nearby tents, often stumbling across dead enemy warriors, transfixed with arrows - suspicious souls who had paid for their curiosity with death.

The lynx signaled a final "Go" to his brothers, and touched the burning torch to the inner side of the tent before him. The material caught fire quickly, but the lynx was already moving to the next tent, and the next, setting the camp ablaze. He didn't even notice the enemy warrior who fell behind him, transfixed by three arrows, upon spotting the armored feline.

Calls of "Fire! FIRE!" came from deeper in the camp, and the lynx, knowing that surprise was lost, grunted loudly. Hall and Gird heeded the warning, dropped their torches and ran back to the lynx. Silver and Braun came too, drawing their swords. The five Knights raised their weapons, set their footpaws in the wet dirt, and waited.

Further up the valley, enemy warriors - roused by the sight of their camp ablaze - grabbed swords and axes, spears and daggers, and scrambled from their beds. They charged towards the conflagration, grabbing blankets to douse the flames, or pails of dirty water.

As the first of them - a ferret in black plate armor - came within view of the gate, lit by the fires of burning tents, he saw the five Knights and growled a warning in his guttural language. The fifty warriors beside him took up the yell, and charged as one.

The Knights didn't move.

Chase stared the big ferret down, a feral smile on his muzzle.

The ferret closed fast, not noticing as several of his party collapsed, arrows jutting from their armor, neck and limbs. As he drew close enough to charge properly he let loose a howl of anger, raised his sword and pelted towards the invaders.

He only stopped when the wide gates behind the five Knights slammed open, and a tide of silver armored Brotherhood warriors appeared, led by a massive, brutal wrecking ball of a rhino - who sliced him in two from neck to thigh, without breaking stride.

Rust's eyes widened as the Brotherhood went to work below him. He lost sight of Chase in the tumult, as the warriors spread out through the tents and clumsy barracks, fighting and dying, slashing and charging. He and his fellow Squires kept up bow fire - felling an enemy bear here, saving a Knight from a spear-man who was playing dead, picking off enemies who tried to flank the Brotherhood ranks.

Rust spotted Lord Garren, the boar fighting alone, and reached for his quiver as he saw no less than five enemy warriors charging the pig Knight. His paws notched arrows as fast as possible, doing everything he could to fell the foes the huge Knight could not. He kept the fire up for as long as he could, until his paw grasped nothing but air at his quiver. With a growl he reached desperately for a spare behind him, but by the time he notched and drew, he'd lost sight of the boar.

He scanned the chaos below, but failed to see his Brother.

Growling louder, he turned back to the battle and kept firing.

Below, Chase was in his element. Fighting alongside his Brothers, the lynx's expert sword-work felled foe after foe, even as the reach of his blade kept them from reaching him. At one point he thought he felt something slam into him, and he stumbled, stepping back as a crazed enemy rat jumped at him, a rusty dagger in one paw. The Knight fell to the mud, his jaw bleeding as the rodent's dagger slashed at him. He rolled as his foe jabbed again and again at the fallen Knight, before pouncing atop him, jabbing at the gaps in the lynx's thick armor.

Chase simply drew a dagger of his own from the small of his back and slammed it up to the hilt in the rodent's skull.

Pushing the dead creature off himself, Chase rose to his footpaws, and rejoined the advance, screaming, bloody broadsword held out as he trampled bodies into the mud beneath him.

Up on the hill, a raptor leapt from the bushes near the Squires, hooked talons aimed at Ferrin's throat. The fox didn't see the attack, but Rust caught sight of the barbarian and pulled his fellow Squire to the side. The scaled attacker missed his intended target, but his talon did catch the rat's right leg.

Rust drew his sword as the enemy stumbled, struggling to gain a solid footing after his leap on the muddy slope. The rat's first swing caught the barbarian's neck, slicing into the spine.

After making sure the barbarian was truly dead, both Squires returned to the bow line.

Ten minutes later, it was over. The enemy - thoroughly routed - turned and ran. Their morale was broken, their camp a husk of burned tents and bodies.

The Brotherhood let them go. Honor demanded it, and the message they would take to the rest of the foe would do far more damage than the silence of the dead.

One foot atop a dead bear clad in bloodied robes, Lord Chase surveyed the wreckage, and sighed sadly.

Hearing a familiar wheezing behind him, he felt a massive, armored paw land on his shoulder.

"Why so sad, feline?" Asked Gunner.

The rhino was bleeding from a dozen cuts, with one particularly huge gash on his chest showing through his sundered armor.

"All this death, because of one of our own, Gunner. These soldiers wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Vander and his... idiocy." The lynx panted.

The rhino watched as the enemy disappeared into the smoke and fog of early morning, blood pooling by his massive, gray footpaws, and said nothing.

Moving through the enemy encampment, the Brotherhood gave mercy to the injured, and scavenged what they could for their own camp.

There were no cheers, no joy at victory.

War was not to be celebrated.

To these stoic warriors war was a necessary evil to ensure peace and freedom. Nothing more.