Sella galloped on Ma Chere, ready for a long chase after Ilea. Turning the corner of the saloon, Sella realized that a chase was out of the question. The Captain of the Royal Guards had already returned. All the soldiers were gathered around the gate, mounted on their white horses. They had just finished plucking the hired bounty hunters out of the torn and pulverized tavern, and were gathered around the closed gate.Sella slowed Ma Chere down to a trot as they neared the restless group. Then she saw the reason the gates weren’t being opened. Ilea was quarreling impatiently with the Captain. She could clearly see that the Captain was restraining himself as he sat stiffly in his saddle, his horse bucking because of the closeness to Rayo and his rider. Rayo paced back and forth in front of the Captain, sensing his rider’s agitation, he desired the free country on the other side of the gate. Ilea desired the same, as she fought verbally with the stubborn fox. Her ears were straight forward, and teeth bared as she growled in between words.
“No partnering! Levante esa puerta!” she pointed at the gate with her finger just to make sure the message got across.
“You will stay with your partner until the task is fulfilled,” the stern fox answered. Several of the guards moved their horses to surround the Arab.
“Quién gives that orden?” Ilea demanded.
“The Emperor of Renard gave the direct order for partnering,” the Captain answered, his eyes narrowing as he grabbed the hilt of his sword.
“The Emperor es un estúpido tonto!”
Although the guards could not understand the words that she spoke, they knew an insult when they heard one. Growls emanated from each as they grabbed their swords and unsheathed them. Ears back and teeth bared, it was all they could do to wait for the order to attack.
Ilea’s ears twitched hearing the shearing sound of metal against leather, but she continued to glare at the captain, her fiery red eyes piercing his.
The captain of the fox guard did not give the order for attack, much to the guards’ disappointment. Instead, he seethed, “You will stay with your partner if I have to chain you two together myself!” He was finally allowing his anger to seep out. “I have guards posted throughout the territory, and if I get reports that you and your partner have gone separate ways, I will personally make sure you get not a cent more in pay!”
Ilea scowled at his threat and without thinking, instinctively grabbed the hilt of the knife strapped to her leg.
Her hand had just slapped the handle when the fox captain unsheathed his sword. Ilea stared at it, weighing her options. Then something hit her, and her eyes narrowed. The captain’s sword was almost the same style as the one Sella carried.
The captain mistook her surprising stare at the sword as a gesture of fear and growled coldly, “That’s right. Now back up.”
Ilea grimaced but did as she was told, muttering, “No estoy asustado de su espada, ni de usted o de sus emperador. Una vez que el Furet sea muerto, acabaré lo que comenzó mi familia. Ustedes goza de su emperador mientras que ustedes puede.”
Even though the fox captain had no idea what she said, he took it as a sign of his victory in the fight. As he sheathed his sword, his eyes fell on Sella, who leaned idly on Ma Chere’s pommel. Anger coursed through him at her nonchalant attitude, knowing that she had seen and heard the entire ordeal. With a snarl, he ordered Ilea to get back beside Ange de Venger.
Ilea neither looked at her partner nor showed any recognition of the fact that she existed as she urged Rayo back into the crowd of hunters.
At the Captain’s sharp order, the gate was raised, allowing the hunters the freedom to leave the city. The guards took their place alongside the gate, making sure no last minute fights broke out. Most of the hunters were calm, wanting no conflict with the Royal Guards.
Sella and Ilea passed through the gate, their horses forced side-by-side. Once they were on the dirt trail, neither ordered their horse away from the other, although it was not far from their minds.
Ilea scowled, smelling the Sella’s scent. It was stronger than normal because they were so close. It wasn’t that Sella stank or reeked, but Ilea’s sense of smell was so strong that any kind of scent that close was amplified much more than needed, or wanted.
Almost as if sensing her discomfort, Sella urged Ma Chere into a gallop, and in the whump-whump-whump whump-whump-whump of his heavy hooves, they tore down the dirt road.
Determined not to be dishonored by the vixen for a second time, Ilea gave Rayo rein and he broke into a gallop, something he’d wanted to do for some time.
The group of bounty hunters eventually spread out, traveling at their different speeds.
After a while, Ilea leaned forward and glanced back towards the city wall as the distance between them and it lengthened. It was no more a speck in the horizon now, just above the tall cedars. Ilea noted how the animals on the walkway looked the size of ants, and then the dirt path rounded a sharp turn into the forest. Now the forest was between Ilea and Rayo, making it impossible for the guards on the wall to see her, and vice versa.
Immediately Ilea jerked Rayo’s reins to the left, sending them to the far side of the dirt path, completely opposite Sella and Ma Chere as they thundered on. With a pull on both reins she brought her hyper mount to a stop and quickly dismounted. “Quede,” she ordered strictly. Rayo snorted and obeyed, stamping the ground with his front hooves.
Further down the road, Sella wheeled Ma Chere and watched with curiosity as Ilea stalked angrily off the path and into the forest, out of sight. Ma Chere pawed the ground and Sella put her paw on the hilt of her sword, her eyes scanning the forest line. If Ilea decided to pull another attack, she would be ready. A moment passed, and then the familiar Loupine voice floated into her hearing, saying something in her strange language. Soon after, the bushes near Rayo started to violently shake and a small tree swayed. Ilea calmly walked back out of the forest, mounted Rayo and continued on the path. Sella studied her nonchalant manner, then turned Ma Chere back around. When Rayo was abreast, she nudged Ma Chere and the partners continued their journey on the opposite sides of the road.
Time passed slowly as the sun inched closer to the blue and rigid mountains that lay directly ahead. Sella heard the irritating squawk of crows and turned in the saddle. Two ravens flew behind them and then circled around whenever the grounded pair traveled too slowly. Sella raised a brow at the sight, pondering, then turned back ahead.
Rayo and Ilea were very bored with the slow, plodding pace. Ilea caught herself yawning several times. She silently scolded herself for being tired so close to dark, but then she remembered that she hadn’t slept at noon while in that terrible place the foxes called a town. She would just have to keep herself awake until next siesta. Just thinking about sleep caused her to yawn again. Irritated with all this yawning, she forced her body to take larger breaths; it would stop the yawning and make her feel more awake. It worked, but she was still run down, so she pulled some herbs out of the many folds in her cloak and began to chew on them to give herself a natural boost of energy.
Every now and then Ilea would throw a quick glance Sella’s way just to check on her. She wasn’t worried that she would attack her, or kill her. From the past behavior of the fox Ilea could tell that she wasn’t that kind of assassin. What she didn’t know, however, was how long Sella would put up with her, especially if her next attempt at killing her failed. Failed... The word reminded her of how her attempt to kill the vixen had floundered. Anger rose up in her. She had been just inches away! Inches! And she had blown it! She began to subconsciously massage her temple with her large paw. She had never failed to finish off a target in her entire life! What was happening to her? And now that Sella suspected another attack was coming, it would make it twice as hard to get her off her guard. That was not even taking into consideration the fact that Sella was on a mount. The horse would easily sense and warn its owner of possible danger.
Ilea soon had to force herself to quit thinking about it. She was just making herself angry again, and that was something she didn’t need. To get her mind off the thoughts, she closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths. In a few moments she’d forgotten what she’d been thinking about, and all the anger was gone.
Now that her anger was gone, she could plan her next assassination attempt. She would have to become familiar with Sella’s behavior, her habits, and her horse’s habits and behavior. As much as she disliked the thought, she knew it would be the only way to succeed. So she turned the edge of her hood that was towards Sella outward, just enough so she could watch her continually out of the corner of her eye.
It was at that moment that Sella pulled Ma Chere to a complete stop, her eyes darting up and down the tree line as her ears twitched in different directions.
Immediately sensing something was up, Ilea reined Rayo to a halt. “What es it?” she breathed, letting her hand slide to her scabbard.
“I heard something,” Sella replied in a whisper, reaching down to nondescriptly stroke Ma Chere’s thick neck.
Ilea slipped to the ground and pretended to stretch, throwing a casual look behind them. Her eyes narrowed when she saw a dark shadow slip through the trees and disappear. Stepping up into the saddle, she murmured, “Some one es behind us. Yo can smell el horse.”
Sella nodded and prodded Ma Chere into a walk. “Keep your senses open. There is no telling who they are.”
The rest of the journey went by without incident and they did not catch another trace of the mysterious rider. They kept their eye out, however, for there was no telling when a bounty hunter decided to eliminate any competition by killing his fellow assassins. The irony of it did not escape Ilea or Sella.
The sun was just beginning to set when the peak of the massive Renard border wall came into view above the trees. As they road down the path, nearer and nearer to the massive monument, Sella explained what the wall was.
“The last emperor built the wall,” she said. Ilea glanced at her. “It was when the ferrets had begun to give the foxes trouble. The furet would sneak into Renard and attack villages, towns and even cities without warning. When the losses began to pile up, the emperor ordered that the wall be built to keep them out and to serve as a sentinel. It is twenty feet thick, fifty feet high, and made of stone imported from the quarries of Birnant. It runs from the North Bleu Sea to the Pattino Ocean and is the southern border of Renard.” She paused as they rounded a corner and the wall came into full view. Mercenaries that they recognized as Pickle Raven and Tommy Skunk were entering a massive gate that rose ten feet higher than the rest of the wall and was flanked by two square towers of equal height. Sella nodded to the gate. “They say that it has three portcullises made of iron inside the two outer drawbridges, and that the gates are six feet in depth, made of the strongest wood and grated with steel to make it even stronger than the normal drawbridge.”
Ilea’s eyebrows rose. As much as she hated to admit it, she was impressed.
“There is a mile separating every tower,” Sella continued, motioning at the towers that extended outward with height to keep climbing them close to impossible, “and there are always soldiers on guard, both in the towers and patrolling the length of the wall between them. The towers themselves are sixty five feet high and thirty feet wide. The wall that serves as the border of the Ferret Realm is identical.”
“How you know all de this?” Ilea asked, scanning the length of the wall that ran in a straight line into the horizon.
“I-“ Sella faltered, and Ilea glanced sharply in her direction. She had never heard the cunning fox without a smooth reply before. “Someone... someone I knew told me,” Sella finally murmured, fingering Ma Chere’s reins. Ilea instantly sensed that she had stumbled upon a sensitive subject. She smiled and tucked the information away for later exploration.
Sella struggled to keep her emotions in check as she stared up at the wall. It was all too familiar, although it had been years since she had last been here. She remembered it well. Thousands upon thousands of fox soldiers, decked in chain mail and armor and the red and white colors of the late emperor Pierre le Blanc, gathered at the Great Wall, their ranks stretching out for miles. It was hardly a month after Renard and the Furet Realm had declared war on each other. She had come with her mother to bid farewell to the soldiers, and... Sella shook her head, ending the memory abruptly. She could not, would not go there now. It was too painful, and now was not the time to be emotional. Drawing in a ragged breath, she ignored the curious stare of El Cazador Invisible and dug her heels into Ma Chere’s flanks, sending him galloping for the massive gates.
They were met by a troop of calvary, who eyed them cooly, if not a little lustfully. Ilea ignored their hungry looks and gazed up at the sky. It was only an hour away to sundown. At the sound of voices, she turned her attention to the left. Sella was conversing with a handsome fox lieutenant who seemed to be enjoying the experience. “How far is it between the walls?” Ange de Venger asked in Focke, the international language. She idly drew her long knife from its scabbard and polished it on her leg.
“A leetle more zan zree miles,” the captain replied, smiling brilliantly at her.
“What es el terreno like?” Ilea asked, nudging Rayo forward next to Ma Chere so she could enter the conversation. The two horses eyed each other cautiously.
The fox male drew a piece of parchment and charcoal from his saddlebags and began sketching for the two assassins to see. “Ven you leave zee gates, zere is a half mile of plain made of tall grass, flat as zee eye can see. You vill not have to vorry about being seen zere. Zen is two mile of hills. If you stay low, ze guards on ze ozer vall cannot see you. After ze hills is another one half mile of plain, vich vill be your vorst vorry. Zey vill be able to see you all zee vay to zee hills, furzer if you do not stay low.”
Sella took the map in a semi-gloved paw and studied it for a moment before nodding absently mindedly and turning Ma Chere away. The fox captain stared after her, mouth slightly agape. Ilea moved away with the vixen, growing irritated at the fact that she was following the leather-clad assassin around.
“Well, what do you want to do now?” she growled, glaring over the vixen’s shoulder at the map.
With a creak of leather, Sella turned to glare back. “I am thinking about it, be impatiente!”
“Think harder then!” Ilea snapped, “We do not have mucho time until sunset!”
Neither assassin seemed to notice that the guards were staring their way as the tirade grew louder.
“Leave me alone and perhaps I will think of something,” the vixen barked, her Renard accent becoming more pronounced with her anger. “And in ze mean time, work on your attitude! I am tired of it!”
Paw slapping against her knife, Ilea snarled, “You know what I am tired de? YOU!”
That was it. With the sound of metal against leather, both assassins drew their weapons and leaped at each other from the saddle with fangs bared. They met in midair and sent each other spinning with the clang of metal. The horses skittered off to avoid getting sliced.
Neither hearing the shouts from the guards and soldiers, Ilea and Sella charged each other, Sella's sword raised and Ilea's knife drawn. Two swings and a block later, Ilea was too close for the long blade and sheathed it, throwing herself at the vixen’s throat. Unable to use her own sword, Sella ducked and sprinted into the cloaked assassin’s middle. With “oof”s and “ow”s the pair collided, Ilea’s teeth sinking into Sella’s hair, barely missing her throat, and Sella’s shoulder digging into Ilea’s stomach. With growls, barks and snarls, hair and fur flying, teeth snapping and claws thrashing, the partners rolled over and over, a black and red blur on a bed of grass.
It was then that a squad of soldiers reached them, grabbing them and pulling them apart. Breathing heavily, the two female assassins glared each other, fur and hair askew and clothes rumpled. Only Ilea’s hood was where it should be. The fox captain they had conversed with earlier stood between them and scolded them, reciting the rules of assassin partnering, but neither seemed to hear.
Sella reached back to push her unruly curls of black hair from her face, then smoothed her leather shirt and padded jacket. A scowl turned the corners of her mouth down and her blood boiled, both at herself and at her partner. It was true that the repeated attempts by El Cazador to kill her and the irritation of having to watch her back constantly had gotten to her, but she had not lost control of her temper in a while. Her temper had always been a problem for her and she had decided a long time ago never to let it affect her performance. She silently chastised herself for slipping up. It only brought her mild satisfaction that her so-called “partner” was just as angry as she was. She could have felt the animal seething from a mile away.
Adjusting her cape into position around her shoulders and face and flattening the disheveled folds, Ilea laid her smoldering gaze on her companion. The vixen had her gaze averted to the side, brows turned down, eyes narrowed and focused on a distant object. Ilea’s paws curled into tight fists as the muscles in her jaw tightened. She had never wanted to kill someone so much as she did in that minute. For a moment she debated it. The only thing that stood in her way was a measly fox captain. No challenge there. She could leap forward, shove the captain aside and send her dagger into the vixen’s heart. What could the soldiers do to her if she did kill her partner, anyway? It was then that wisdom shone a light into her stormy mind. The vixen would be ready for her and that would either get Ilea killed or cause another scuffle, serving only to waist more time. No, she would wait until Ange de Venger was neither suspecting an attack or ready for one. That would be the wisest course of action. For now she would concentrate on keeping her fierce anger under control...or, rather, direct it at something that didn’t have lungs.
The captain finally finished his speech and eyed the two animals. It was clear that neither were paying much attention to him. With a sigh and frown he waved his soldiers off and threw one last remark at the pair. “If ve catch you fighting again on zis side of ze vall, ve vill kill both of you, is zat understood?” He didn’t expect an answer and none was given, so he strode off with his troops.
In that instant Sella and Ilea’s eyes met. For a moment Sella felt such fury from the other animal that she laid a hand on her sword hilt, expecting an attack. Then the cloaked figure whirled and stalked off, shoving aside any unfortunate soldier that stood in her way. With narrowed eyes, Sella watched as the stormy figure disappeared in the thick wood a few yards away.
Sella turned to go to her mount, who waited passively for her return, but changed her mind. Her curiosity was too much to withstand and with a backward glance at the gathered soldiers, she threw her hair back from her face and slipped to the woods where Ilea had disappeared. Entering and crouching, she immediately picked up the cloaked figure’s scent. Her brow furrowed. Strange, she mused to herself, she does not smell like a coyote... Shaking her head and shoving the thought aside, she crept through the underbrush, her heeled boots moving silently over the forest floor. A rustling noise reached her ears- the sound of leaves rapidly brushing up against each other. Now using her forepaws to speed her process, Sella moved toward the sound in a crouch, ears pricked up and senses alert. Ilea’s scent was even stronger now, the sound pronounced, and the anger that was in the air was so thick Sella felt she could have cut through it with a sword. On instinct, Sella reached a paw out and gently moved the leaves of the bush ahead aside. Her brows rose and her mouth fell slightly open.
There was Ilea in a small clearing, fangs bared, pummeling an unfortunate oak tree with every martial arts move Sella had seen and more. The tree shivered and quaked with each blow causing leaves and acorns to rain down. Sella watched in stunned silence for a moment, but then a half smile turned one corner of her mouth up. Shaking her head, she turned around and stealthily made her way out of the wood.
When Ilea finally exited the wood, quite in control of herself once more, she found Sella leaning against her massive horse, whittling at a piece of wood with a two inch knife. While Ilea took note of the additional piece of arsenal, Sella looked up and acknowledge her with a nod.
“I know what we can do,” the vixen said, placing the knife somewhere in the folds of her jacket and dropping the wood.
“Good,” Ilea retorted, turning to snag the nearby Rayo’s reins and vault aboard, “I would hate to have to think of some thing myself.” Her words were laced with sarcasm.
Sella pulled herself into her own saddle, choosing to ignore her partner. She took the crumpled map from her jacket and laid a claw on it. “We wait until nightfall and slip into the hills, where we leave the horses.”
Ilea edged Rayo closer for a look at the map.
“Leaving the horses, we sneak to the wall and climb the side to the gate towers. We lower the gates, get the horses through, and head south into the forests- killing anyone who gets in our way, of coarse, but hopefully we can do this without attracting any unwanted attention.”
“Of coarse.” Ilea agreed, inclining her head. Now that she had taken a fair amount of her anger out on the tree, she was feeling much more gracious.
***
In a clearing hardly a mile away, a robed figure sat casually on a long-legged, immaculately adorned bay Lusitano. As his paw reached out to stroke the big stallion’s thick neck, the abundant rings on his fingers flashed in the moonlight. The sight of the rings caused the figure to smile to himself. Bringing his paw back, he polished the rings on his soft silk robe and straightened the fur-lined, plumed cap on his head. Wealth was a beautiful thing.
The sound of hooves on the soft earth caused him to straighten and look up expectantly. At the sight of the husky rider on an equally husky horse, he snapped, “Where have you been?”
“Sorry, I was detained,” came the contemptuous retort.
The figure’s eyes narrowed, but he controlled his anger. The lowly hunter was but a pawn in his chess game, a pawn that was dispensable and would be dispensed in due time after he had served his purpose. A cold smile turned his lips and crinkled his equally chilly eyes. “Any new developments with the two?”
The husky opossum, dressed in the skins of his dead prey, sniffed and rubbed his nose. “Ther' at thuh gate. Ain’t gonna be long a'fore we have them two.” His beady eyes narrowed in turn. “I’m more worried 'bout that there reward you promised us.”
The robed figure, a stately fox who would have been handsome had it not been for the evil sneer that was ever-present on his lips and the iciness in his eyes, grinned. It was a grin that the opossum bounty hunter had seen often. It was the grin of a hunter who had cornered his prey and was bearing down for the kill. It sent chills up the opossum’s spine, and he abruptly pulled his horse back.
“Don’t worry,” the soft, ominous voice of the fox stated, “you’ll get what’s coming to you.”
***
It was close to ten thirty that night that the guards opened the Great Wall of Renard’s gates and the two assassins trotted through. The quarter moons streaked the midnight blue sky, and stars speckled the canopy. A cool breeze blew from the southwest, rippling through the tall grass that covered the pasture. In the distance they could just make out the black mounds that could be nothing other than the famed hills.
The faint light from above would not help make sneaking to the wall very easy, but the breeze would serve to mask their scent from the ferret guards.
Once reaching the hills, the pair dismounted with a glance at each other and proceeded to lead their mounts. Both moved through the waist high grass without a sound, ears flat and backs hunched. Their mounts, both well trained in the area of stealth, seemed to glide along, their hooves surprisingly quiet and their heads lowered to reduce visibility.
Hill after hill they traversed, looking for any ravines, valleys or ditches they could use to keep low. After what Ilea estimated to be two miles and a quarter, clouds from the north blew in, blocking any light from the heavens. She unconsciously let out a sigh of relief. This would make things easier.
Then, after what seemed to be a moment, Sella dropped Ma Chere’s reins and gave him a rub on his velvety nose. “We’re here,” she breathed just below a whisper, for she knew Ilea could hear her. She saw the silhouette of the cloaked figure move to her horse, then back. The Arabian seemed to go to sleep where he stood. Sella turned to Ma Chere and sorted through the saddlebags to remove a black leather pack with two straps attached. Pulling the pack onto her back and securing the straps under her arms, she dropped to the ground beside Ilea. Together the two snaked their way through the grass and over the last hill. Both paused at the top to peek through the grass. Both could make out a large black streak that could be nothing other than the Ferret Wall.
Taking in a soothing breath of cool night air, Sella mentally prepared herself for the racking tension that was sure to come. The faces of her family long gone flashed before her eyes, and she was more than aware that she could die this night. At least, she thought, I will see them again. Shaking all doubts from her mind, she inched forward.
Ilea could feel adrenaline rushing through her and quivered with the thrill. Pulling herself forward with her elbows, she slipped through the grass as quietly as a serpent. The half mile between the hills and the towering wall was rapidly reduced. Both beasts could see the ferret guards that patrolled the wall. Ilea took them in and lightly touched the grass beside Sella’s arm before holding up three fingers. The vixen nodded, then placed a paw on Ilea’s arm and motioned forward. After glowering to herself from the touch of the vixen, Ilea peered through the grass and scowled at what she saw. To two hundred yards from the wall, the ferrets had sheered the grass down to a mere foot. The partners would have to be extremely careful.
Their break came when one of the three guards wandered several hundred yards down the wall, and the other two guards turned their backs while they laughed raucously over the subject of women. In a flash, both partners were out of the tall grass and sprinting for the fortification. Ilea reached the wall first and was up the side in a blur of fur and cloth. She mounted the bulwark right behind the two guards. Crouching, her paws snaked out with lightning quickness and curled around the guards’ necks. She brought their skulls violently together before they even had time to yell. They slumped down unconscious. Ilea stealthily drew one of the guard’s daggers and in two quick movements slit their throats. She couldn’t afford to have them waking up and attacking her blind side.
At a clunking sound behind her, Ilea spun to see a grappling hook lodge itself on the bulwark. The rope that was attached grew taunt. Soon a pair of black-tipped ears appeared over the stone rail, and for a moment Ilea contemplated cutting the rope and sending the vixen to her death. Before she could act on it there was a shout from behind. Spinning, Ilea saw that it was the third guard. He had spotted her and was shouting the alarm while running full-sprint in her direction. At that moment Sella vaulted over the bulwark onto the wall, so Ilea left the guard to her and ran in the opposite direction for the gate tower.
Sella’s feet had barely touched the surface of the wall when the guard reached her, sword raised over his head as his vermin features twisted into a war cry. Eyes narrowing, Sella braced her left leg and brought her right straight up into the air, connecting her toes with the guard’s chin in a sick “crack” and sending him sprawling. Stepping over the unconscious form, Sella flipped a small knife from the sleeve of her jacket and finished him off. As she straightened she spotted three more guards running for her from the next patrol, swords drawn. Casting a glance over her shoulder, Sella saw that Ilea was locked in her own battle with two rat guards. Shoving her hair back from her face, the vixen drew her own sword and rushed at her new attackers.
The first one was an amateur weasel, whom she finished with a simple thrust. No sooner than he went down did another appear in his place. Leaping into the air, Sella’s left leg kicked out into the guard’s midriff with her shin, causing him to double over while Sella’s right foot came crashing down on his head. Her right foot connecting with the guard’s head gave her new momentum, in which she brought her left leg up and sent her heel connecting with the oncoming third guard’s chin. Carrying the move through, she flipped backwards, kicking him with her right heel also, and landed on her feet facing the collapsed guards.
Meanwhile, Ilea had just arrived at the square tower when the door opened and two ferret guards burst out. Kicking the first ferret’s sword out of his hand, she spun and grabbed his outstretched sword arm. In a quick jerk she flipped him over her shoulder onto the hard stone where he lay stunned. He had hardly touched the ground when Ilea dropped to her left foot and right back foot swept the second ferret’s feet out from under him. The ferret fell like a rock on his stomach and Ilea was on him in an instance. Reaching one paw under, she took hold of his face over his mouth and nose and in one quick twist snapped his neck. The guard was dead instantly. There was a rustling noise behind her and Ilea threw herself forward in a roll. The whistling of a blade cutting through air sounded above her. Continuing to the roll and coming onto her feet, she saw that the first guard had regained his sword and was coming for her. Before he could even move, she left side stepped him, and her right paw snaked out and grabbed his sword arm’s wrist in a painful pressure grip between his joints, while the left arm encircled his neck. He struggled in her iron grip but to no avail. She had him tight. Forcing him back to the bulwark of the wall, she squeezed his wrist until he dropped the sword. Then, suddenly, she released her hold. Before he could move, she whirled him around by his shoulders and brought the palm of her hand into his face, breaking his nose. The force of her blow flipped him over the bulwark and sent him screaming to the ground far below. When the ground broke his fall and his scream she knew he was dead. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Sella was just finishing off three other guards.
Stepping lightly over the body of the second dead ferret, Ilea entered the gate tower. The roof of the tower was cone-shaped, with a myriad of gears and thick chains hanging from massive wooden supports. Between two central beams was the top of the heavy portcullis. A thick chain was attached to each side. Following its path with her eyes, Ilea saw that it was affixed to a massive stubbed wheel in the floor. Beside it were two more wheels that Ilea assumed controlled the gates. A peak outside revealed that more guards had arrived. It was too dark to tell, but she estimated at least ten. Grimacing, she hoped that the vixen could hold them off long enough for her to open the gate. Stepping alongside the first wheel, she placed her paws on the stubs and pulled. It was then that she realized why there were at least two guards in the tower; both were needed to move the heavy iron sprockets. Groaning, Ilea smacked the wheel in frustration and ducked back to the door. She got a glimpse of the outside and suddenly threw herself to the side right when Sella burst in, slamming the door behind her. There were numerous thuds as tipped spearheads poked through the wood.
Breathing hard, the vixen panted, “There were too many, sorry,” and lowered a heavy beam across the door to keep the guards out.
Ilea snorted and went to a wheel. “Come aquí y help me pull up las gates before they get en.”
Together they strained at the gearwheel and cranked the chain tight. The first gate creaked as it pulled open into the roof of the gate tower.
The guards had just arrived outside and were pounding on the heavy door.
The “partners” went to the next wheel and pulled it hand over hand, wincing at its high pitched squeaks. As the second gate opened a blast of cold air blew in through the opening. Only the portcullis was left.
The pounding on the door suddenly stopped and then was replaced with hacking noises. The blade of a heavy ax bit through the wood, and the partners realized that the guards were cutting through the door. They would be inside in only a matter of minutes.
As they strained at the final wheel and the spikes of the portcullis lifted from the ground, Sella gritted, “We will have to take the guards when they come in and then whistle for the horses.” Ilea did not reply. The portcullis was almost to its perch in the roof when the door suddenly burst open, sending splinters and guards inside. Snaking out a booted foot, Sella kicked a lever beside the gear, locking the portcullis into position while flipping her sword from its scabbard.
Ilea didn’t give the guards time to recover but dived at them, chopping at two of their throats in diagonal moves with the flat of her hands and kicking a third’s legs out from under him in a low, sweeping side kick. She briefly wondered why the guards were so ill-trained but then was met with two more guards. She dodged their swinging swords with small movements and turns with her hips, then moved within arms length just inches of their swords and knocked their skulls together. In a blur of motion, she aboutfaced and sent her elbows into their throats, then spun again and grabbed the backs of their necks and used her weight to bring their faces down to make hard contact with her knees, which she brought up with a small jump! They crumpled to the ground and she landed on her feet. Taking on the last gaurd, she soon discovered that he was very leary and frightened, after seeing his friends killed so quickly. He stood back, with his sword almost straight out from his body, shaking slightly. Ilea stood straight and beckoned him with a waving finger and a smirk. The guard shook his head and backed up some.
Sella dodged a diagonal sword slice from the first guard, holding her fists in front of herself, one in front of the other. The guard swung at her two more times, as she waited for him to open up, and was very careful to keep the other guards lined up with him or behind him. As soon as he'd swung too hard, throwing the sword away from his body, she laid into him with a left roudhouse kick with her shin to his head, killing him instantly! The second and third guards came running up, and she quickly kicked the sword from the one and sidestepped the other. Once on the side of the one with the sword, she quickly kneed him in the gut, using her left fist to pound down on his head! He fell, as the one beside him stood up without his sword. Sella jumped over the fallen guard and hook kicked the standing one, smacking his face with the back of her heel! He shook his head and quickly went at her with his body, his fists flailing! She backed up and made a sort of wall with her one leg, holding it up against herself so he couldn't injure her stomach, while she protected her upper body with her fists. He managed to get a few punches in, before she used her raised leg to push him back, then kick him! Bending over to dodge a lunge from the forth guard, she kicked him low right on his kneecap, instantly shattering it! With a scream, he dropped to the ground as the last guard came at her with his sword swinging. She gasping for tired breath, ducking the swing and rushing forward, punching him twice in the stomach. He fell back, allowing her to finish him off with anouther roundhouse kick to his head. Then she turned and used her knife on the last living guard's throat. Once finished, she breathed small relief and concentrated on not blacking out.
The last living guard ran from Ilea and bumped smack into Sella, which caused her to whirl and him to scream. His scream was silenced as one of the dead guards’ knives sunk into his chest.
Glancing over at Ilea, Sella watched her shrug and comment with a smirk, “You were perfect destraction for him.”
Panting, Sella wiped the blood from her mouth and surveyed the fallen guards. Deciding that they would be no further danger, she started for the gatehouse door. “Let us call the horses and get going,” she muttered over a swelling lip.
The assassins whistled for their mounts, who came galloping over the rise. Sella had just thrown a leg over the bulwark when a heavy object hit her dead-center in the chest, knocking her over the side of the wall. One moment she was sitting on a solid object and the next she was falling through the air to her death. She hardly had time to think, but instincts caused her to make a grab for the wall. Her paws snagged a jutting stone and her fall was abruptly halted, a mere ten feet from the ground. Heart still racing, she let herself drop the rest of the way down, then dashed to Ma Chere and vaulted into the saddle. Digging her heels into his flanks, she let out a “Hya!” and sent him charging under the gates of the Ferret Wall. To her surprise, Rayo followed. Once on the other side of the wall Sella pulled Ma Chere to a halt.
A black line in the horizon, the dark silhouette of forests looked tantalizing, beckoning to her, calling for her to leave her partner to her troubles and ride on alone. Grimacing, she turned Ma Chere to look up at the wall. She could see two dark figures locked in combat and knew that whatever had knocked her off the wall was fighting Ilea. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. She couldn’t do it. The lessons of chivalry her father had taught her as a youngster had taken deep root within her, and she could not deny them. She inwardly chided herself for it, but she simply could not leave her partner to the hands of the ferret guard.
High above, Ilea made a swipe for the strange creature. It had come sweeping out of the darkness in a flurry of black wings, smacking into Sella with its talons and then arching around to make an attack on Ilea. It looked to be some sort of bat-lizard hybrid, with leathery skin, talons and huge bat wings. After dodging her swing, it came at her, hissing through large teeth, and licking the thin tongue at the air. Ilea backed up, ducking its mouth and rolling underneath it as it hovered over the wall. Whirling, she caught it off guard and lept to its back, digging her large knife deep into its back! The creature screetched terrible pain, as Ilea took the knife all the way down its back as she slid to the wall. The creature whirled, knocking her heard in the back with its long tail! She slammed into the bulwark with her shoulder and slumped to the floor, as the bird swooped with its talons open! At the last second, Ilea rolled out of the way, as the creature's claws scraped the stone, stood up and drove the knife straight up into the creature! The creature flapped at the air awkwardly, then fell back over the bulwark and thumped to the ground outside the Furet Realm in the short grass.
At the sound of running footsteps, Ilea wheeled just as a new wave of guards arrived. There were five of them, two to her right, and three on her left.
Sella saw the guards arrive and without thinking swung her bow off her shoulder, notched an arrow and sent it flying at the lead guard. He let out a strangled cry and fell. Within a second, Sella had loosed another arrow, sending the second guard toppling from the wall. While the guards were distracted by this new threat, Ilea lunged to her right and ran her long knife through the stomachs of two of the rats. A final arrow whistled from Sella’s bow and spun the last guard around.
Seeing the last of the troop of guards hit, Ilea ran to the inner side of the wall preparing to climb down. The last guard had only been hit in his right shoulder, however, and was still alive and conscious. Gathering what little strength he had left, he picked up his sword with his usable arm and swung it at what he thought was the cloaked enemy’s neck. In his weakened state from the serious wound, he missed and the flat side of the sword made contact with the lower back of Ilea’s skull. The force of the blow knocked her over the side of the wall. The guard’s sword had barely touched Ilea when Sella shot another arrow at him, hitting him in the back. He fell to the limestone, dead.
Sella sat motionless on Ma Chere for a moment, stunned at the sight of Ilea’s limp body lying at the foot of the wall. Rayo nickered and trotted over to the cloaked body. Nudging it with his muzzle, he pounded the ground furiously with his hoof, waiting to be mounted. Ilea didn’t move.
A shout from the guards above broke Sella from her daze. Sliding from Ma Chere’s back, she dashed to the body and checked for a pulse. For one frightening moment she couldn’t find one. Then she felt it. Ilea was alive! Both strangely relieved and disappointed, Sella examined her body and found that Ilea’s left shoulder was disconnected. It had taken the brunt of the fall, which was why Ilea was still alive. Sella was surprised it was not broken. Then she grimaced. There was no time to fix the arm now.
She gathered Ilea’s slack body in her arms and trudged to Ma Chere. “Kneel,” she grunted beneath the weight. Ma Chere lowered himself to his knees and Sella draped Ilea’s body over the saddle. Sella knew that Rayo would follow Ilea wherever she went. By placing Ilea on her own horse, that would insure that Rayo followed where they went.
Guards were swarming the wall above now and were starting to rain arrows down at them. There were only a few minutes left before they’d descend the wall and be on the assassin’s tail.
Pulling rope from her pack, Sella tied the disconnected arm to Ilea’s form so that it would not move as much, and then secured her to the saddle so she wouldn’t fall off. “Up!” Sella commanded, and the Clydesdale lifted himself back up. Taking his massive face in her paws, she looked him directly in the eye. “Listen to me, ma chere, you must go to the forests! I will meet you there, no?” The big horse nickered soulfully, but Sella cut him off. “I will find you. Do not worry. Now go!” With that, Ma Chere tossed his head, neighed and galloped for the distant woods, followed closely by Rayo.
Sella tightened the straps of her pack and dodged a passing arrow. With one last look after the retreating horses who were heading due south, she ducked her head and dashed in a south-west direction where she could see the rise of grass-covered hills. She could hear guards rushing through the gates behind her.
She hiked up the first hill and glanced over her shoulder to see their progression. There were about twenty of them swarming from the wall, and, as she had hoped, were headed straight for her position. It would be a tight squeeze, but if she could lead them away from the horses and the wounded Ilea, she might be able to get the guards off their trail. Then she could simply double back and go after the mounts. A thrilled chill went up her spine, and she couldn’t help but give a satisfied smile. There was some strange enjoyment of a good chase that ran in her bones. She didn’t know where it had come from, only that it was there. As she turned and dashed into the tall grass, her mind went back to another chase similar to this one...
The branches of saplings whipped into her face and briars tugged at her clothes, but she didn’t care. Her blood was racing, coming in excited huffs. She could hear her pursuers behind her, coming for her with their bawling hounds and muscular mounts. Her long legs carried her easily over the uneven terrain, terrain that she knew as well as the back of her paw. She topped a rise and leaped into the air over the sudden drop, grabbing an oak tree’s outstretched branch like she had done so many times before. For a moment she hung suspended in air, and then she pulled herself up. That would confuse the hounds and give her an extra moment of time. The extra moment was all she needed to escape.
Sucking air into her lungs, she leaped to the next tree and scurried down it’s trunk. She could see a clearing in the distance through the tangled shrub of the woods. That clearing led to a cluster of serf’s barracks that formed a small town called Antionette. She knew the animals who lived there, and would be safe. Once there she would take back everything her enemies had stolen from her. She took a deep breath and dashed forward.
Racing behind a cluster of trees in the field, Sella ducked down at the foot of their trunks and buried herself in the deep grass and fallen leaves. She closed her eyes as she calmed her breathing and waited. Guards footsteps and shouts sounded around her as they ran by, never even seeing her in the grass and darkness. A memory flashed before her eyes, and she closed them at it. She wished things had gone as smoothly then. Her life might have turned out differently...
The moons were bright above her as she leapt through the tall grass like a young doe. The winter air felt cold against her fur, the grass damp beneath her bare paws. The baggy cotton shirt she wore had long since come untucked from her tan breeches. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as her gaze fell upon Antionette, sitting like a crown on the sloping rise in the horizon. It was a beautiful sight in her freedom-loving teenage eyes.
It was at that moment that a noise caused her to turn. Her blood froze within her, and she unconsciously sucked in a breath. Emerging from the forest behind her like phantoms out of a mist were the long-legged steeds of her enemies, carrying their riders like harbingers of death. They were hardly a hundred yards away from her.
Instinct caused her to spin and sprint for the distant town. Her mind did not even try to decipher how they had found her. Escape was foremost in her thoughts and desperation caused her to run like she had never run before. She could hear the sounds of the horses hooves pounding into the earth behind her, getting closer and closer. The grass whipped against her legs, the wind against her exposed cheeks and neck. The full moons were all but forgotten. Fear coursed through her, but her legs continued to pump, carrying her toward freedom. Her feet touched the slope of the rise, hardly a half-mile from the indistinguishable shapes of the buildings in town. So close, her mind whispered, and then the first horse galloped alongside her.
The rider swung his sword, catching her head with the flat of the blade and sending her crashing to the ground. She stumbled back up to her paws despite her throbbing head and watched as the riders galloped in circles around her. Both waited for an opening.
A rider galloped toward her from behind, wielding a long, blunted javelin lowered like a lance. She spun and ducked to the side of the horse opposite the javelin and jumped up into the saddle as he thundered past. Grabbing the rider, she threw him off the horse. He went tumbling and lay still. At that moment the other riders swarmed in around her and she was overpowered and thrown from the horse. The riders were soon on the ground with her, beating her with clubs and rods. She could do nothing but curl into a ball and hope that they didn’t kill her.
She was almost unconscious when the beating stopped and they grabbed her wrists, securing them behind her and dragging her to her feet. Squinting out through black eyes and swaying on unsteady paws, she saw a horse trot up and the rider dismount. As soon as she saw his face she gave a snarl and leapt forward, intent on tearing his heart out. If a twenty pairs of hands hadn’t grabbed her and held her back, the well-dressed fox would have been dead within seconds.
Ignoring the skirmish that was going on, the fox opened a snuff box and brought it to his nose, inhaling. His fingers glistened with rings, stolen heirlooms that Sella recognized at once. They were her mother’s. Heart in her throat, she stopped struggling and sobbed at the sight. Then anger coursed through her and she lunged, screaming, “Where’s my mother??” The fox’s soldiers restrained her again. This time someone hit her in the head with a club and knocked her to her knees. Bending over from the pain, she did not see the fox move closer and crouch next to her.
“My dear, dear vixen. Give it up,” he murmured, placing a mock-sympathetic paw on her back, “All is lost unless you become mine. Then I will fix everything.” A snarl erupted from her lips and her white fangs flashed as she sank her teeth into his hand. He shrieked and tried to draw back, but she was latched on and would not let go. “Get her off! Get her off!!” the fox yelped in pain, beating vainly against her head with his free paw. His men wielded their clubs again and beat her senseless, causing her to let go. Wrapping his bloody paw in a cloth, the fox hissed through clenched teeth, “Get her out of here, but make sure she lives. I want her life to be one of misery.” With that, he stormed back to his horse, mounted, and galloped away without ever looking back.
Slipping to her feet, Sella silently back-tracked to the wall. The scout party that was looking for her had missed her position completely, and were far ahead now- in the wrong direction. The slip she had given them was as old as the hills, and she was surprised they had missed her so easily.
Setting her course due south, she slipped off after the horses as silently as a ghost. Her thoughts were turned to that night so many years ago when she had awaken in the filthy alley of Fleuve des Anges. Her head had throbbed from the beating and her fur had been matted with dried blood. Her once-fine clothes were gone, replaced by the equivalent of rags that were simply draped on her frame. It had been that day as she pulled herself to her feet that she resolved to beat the fox’s sentence to misery. And, despite her past, she resolved to never turn into the monster that he was. It was for that reason that she refused to allow revenge to control her. He would get what he deserved in due time. One day she would restore what was rightfully hers.
Soon she was enveloped in the forest, thick and luxuriant, and her mind returned to the task at hand. If she knew Ma Chere, which she did, he would head for the nearest stream he could find. Horses were uncanny with their ability to find water, and she didn’t doubt that he’d already found that stream. After searching the forest floor for sometime, she discovered what she was looking for: overturned leaves. A few yards later she found a broken tree branch. Ma Chere was heading northwest and making sure she knew it.
An hour into the forest brought a familiar sound to her ears. It was the sound of running water. Following it, she arrived at a fast-flowing creek that streamed over a rocky bed. At the bank she found a set of hoof prints in the mushy soil. Leaping over the soil so she would not leave any prints of her own, she landed in the creek and made her way downstream in a direct northern path. She was betting that she would find Ma Chere somewhere along the way.
***
Screaming... Screams coming from everywhere! The screams of women and children... there was no escaping! A face appeared suddenly, its eyes cold. That face was so familiar..! Then it dawned- it was General Ben-Noel’s face! His expression was stern, the sword in his paw wet with blood. The face and the screams suddenly disappeared in a flash, only to be replaced by Sella’s face!
“Santa Masa!!” The cry of surprise didn’t need translation. Ilea jolted upright and instinctively rolled several feet from the face that had appeared out of nowhere and stood up in a fury, or at least tried to. The blow to the head had made her lightheaded and taken away most of her balance. She was pulling herself to her feet and beginning to straighten her legs when intense dizziness hit her like a hammer, causing her to fall over sideways and hit the ground again. This time, she just laid there, gritting her teeth from the pain and waiting for the dizziness to subside. It was then that she noticed that her left arm was wrapped in a sling. It throbbed from her latest fall and the battle with that creature. Then her eyes fell upon a pair of black, high-heeled boots. Following the boots with her eyes, she looked directly into the sober eyes of Ange de Venger.
Again, Ilea jumped at the sudden appearance of Sella’s face. It brought back the picture of the General’s face in her mind. The sight caused her to instantly reach for her knife inside her cloak, but her paw grabbed empty air. Her instincts took over again and she flipped herself up, jumping back back from the vixen, terrified.
Ilea realized her hood was hanging down her back, totally exposing her head. She quickly pulled it back up and continued to stare at Sella. Because of the new association between the fox general she remembered in her nightmares and Sella’s face, her hatred was replaced almost totally by fear. Not by her will, but because of that one memory she struggled, even now, to remember. And standing there, no matter how hard she tried to forget the fear, it came back with every glance at Sella.
The two stood there for a moment, and then, with a flick of the wrist, Sella produced Ilea’s knife. Ilea’s eyes locked onto its deadly blade, her heart pounding while her mind tried to control it. Then, eyes locked on Ilea, Sella flipped the 17-inch knife downward and turned her back to walk to what Ilea realized was a camp.
For a moment, paws clenching and unclenching, Ilea glanced from the knife to Sella and back again. Finally she inched forward, snatched it up from the dirt and hurriedly walked away into the trees.
Sella sat down in the grass, ears turned in the direction of her partner to see what she would do. When she walked away, Sella turned her eyes upward. The midnight moons hung overhead in the black sky. Stars that were no more than a speck on the heavenly canvas were scattered all throughout. In a moment of childlikeness, Sella thought suddenly, I wander if they’re peek-holes into heaven... She was pulled from her reverie by a horse’s nervous whinny. Looking down, she noticed Ma Chere and Rayo, who were tied to trees nearby, getting edgy and pulling at their restraints. Her eyes narrowed as her ears slowly rotated, trying to hear what the horses heard.
Suddenly the bushes to her left parted as an opossum ran out from behind the trees with his sword high in the air, his eyes locked on Sella. She immediately recognized him as the leader of the bounty hunter group in the tavern that had tried to hire themselves on to kill Ilea. Sella was on her feet in an instance, quickly drawing her own sword and blocking his obvious attack! Shoving him back with brute strength, she continued through with a lunge!
The opossum blocked her lunge and locked swords, trying to swing her sword out so he could get a clear shot of her chest and stomach. Sella pushed his weapon in a circle with her own sword and managed to fling his out of his grip! The sword hit the ground a few feet away from him. Sella was about to run him through when another hunter appeared behind her, intending to grab her! She ducked her head and swung her sword and body around, slicing him through the stomach! Her attention on the new threat gave the lead hunter time to recover his sword from the ground.
As she spun from the dead hunter, another one jumped out from the woods. Gritting her teeth, Sella turned to meet him with an angry thought running through her mind. We are being ambushed!
The third hunter threw a punch at her face, which Sella blocked with one arm and then kicked him in the head with her heel while he was wide open. He fell to the ground, dazed and his face bloody.
The sound of a breaking twig behind her caused her to wheel in time to see a sword blade arching toward her head! Then the hunter suddenly stopped mid-swing, mouth gaping and eyes bulging. It was an unpleasant sight on an opossum. His body seemed frozen in that pose, with the sword raised above his head. He gasped and wheezed for a couple seconds, and Sella got the impression he was trying to carry through with his swing. Then the sword fell from his limp hands and he crumpled to the ground.
Glancing down at his body, Sella saw four throwing stars protruding out of his back. Pulling one carefully out, she saw that it was tipped with poison. A very potent poison, too, to have killed him that quickly. Sella glanced over at the area where Ilea had left the camp. There were a few more bodies lying there, but no sign of her. A half-smile tugged one corner of her mouth upwards. We are even now, wolf.