I am Riala Goldentail. I got the name because my tail is a shimmering gold color. My father, Rilar Battlecry, gave it to me. I never received the pleasure of meeting my mother. She died having me. My father raised me. We were very close. He trained me in the way of the warrior. He had a very powerful enemy, Nightdeath Longclaws, the Black Wolverine. My father never told me why Longclaws was his enemy. I suppose that is the way it has always been with us squirrels. The wolverine is our worst enemy. Longclaws, though, seemed to have a personal grudge against my father, and my father against Nightdeath. They were bound to fight sometime, my father with his mighty sword, the Longclaws with his scimitar. Longclaws! That is a name I despise. Longclaws fought my father, aye, and my father was winning. As I watched, hidden by a thick branch of leaves, the Longclaws growled three short times. A weasel from his band shot an arrow through my father's back. Did I ever tell you that vermin are not to be trusted? Well, they aren't. They are without honor, lying, theiving, stealing, murdering vermin. Never turn your back on vermin. After my father was killed I raced home. There I packed a knife and food in a satchel. I set fire to the place: I could live there no more. Then, after the flames had died down, I began my journey. After the Longclaws. As I walked along the dirt road, traveling south, after Nightdeath Longclaws, I became aware of something following me. I turned a bend, hid in the foilage and cast about for something to use as a weapon. My eyes fell upon a slightly curved, short, thick stick. I picked it up. It was of good weight and balance. My grip on the stick tightened, and I waited for the vermin to come. A weasel in a red jerkin turned the corner and glanced around. Too late, he saw me. I brought my stick down heavily on his skull. He collapsed without a sound. I heard more noise in the trees, and caught a glimpse of a shadow. Without hesitating I threw the stick. It tumbled end over end to its shadowy victim. The crack of it hitting the thing's head resounded through the forest. I retrieved the stick and noticed I had killed another weasel. Robbers, I thought. There would probably be more, so I hurried on my way once again. Over the seasons I traveled south, always south. Down from the frigid mountains of the north, where I had once lived. Always on the trail of the Longclaws. I named my stick weapon Roce, meaning short mace. I also tied a leather cord to it, which I wound about my paw before throwing my roce. Then I could easily and quickly retrieve the weapon. It confused foebeasts, too, because a creature would fall down dead beside them, but there would be no arrow, javelin, or stone, or anything else, because I had already retrieved my roce. I helped many goodbeasts who were in trouble from vermin, and my name was known throughout a good area: feared by vermin, but cheered by goodbeasts. My warcry- RIIILLLAAARRRR!!!, the name of my father- has been the last thing many rats, weasels, foxes, and other vermin have heard. I have slain many vermin throughout my travels- even gotten close enough to Longclaws' band to slay some of his creatures. Ever still I travel, on Nightdeath Longclaws' trail. Longclaws! The very name sends me on the verge of bloodwrath! Longclaws! I will slay you, Longclaws! Do not rest, Nightdeath Longclaws! I will slay you! RIIILLLAAARRRR! 1: The North Caves It has been a season since I'd left the North Mountains. I had entered a cold, thin forest when I stopped short at the sound of a mole's voice. "Gur 'way from yurr, vurmen!" "Give me that food, blinkeye!" A ferret's nasal voice drifted through the trees to my ears. I readied my roce and crept forward to a small clearing in the woods. A well- made hut stood by the brook that trickled through the meadow. The voices were coming from inside the hut. I stepped noiselessly up to the door, then waited. I needed to find out how many vermin were in there! "All right, mole, come on! You and your family are coming along with us! Right, Rawfur?" the same ferret who'd spoken before said. Just two, but a slaving pair! My grip tightened on the roce, and I wondered where their other slaves were, if they had any. I stopped and wondered what would happen if I just wandered in there, and pretended to be a harmless squirrelmaid. No, my golden tail was too well- known. I would have to charge. I burst through the doorway and brought my roce down- not hard enough to kill, but enough to knock him unconcious- on the ferret's head. He slumped to the ground. The other one, probably Rawfur, drew his sword and rushed me. I dodged away and threw my stick. It hit his head with a loud thud, and I winced. I had thrown too hard. It had killed him. I turned to the mole, his wife, and their two molebabes. "Are any of you hurt?" I asked. The four were staring at me. The male mole gathered his wits and answered. "Burr, no, furtunantley. Tho them thurr vurmen wud've made moi farmly an' oi slaves. Thankee… whats yurr namer?" "Riala," I introduced myself, "Riala Goldentail." "Yurr, oi thoughted it moight me you, tho oi weren't shurr. Thankee koindly, mizz Riala," the molewife said. "Oi'm Soilfree, and thart thur is moi husband, Durtfloyer. The two liddle 'uns are Soilfloyer an' Durtclaw" Suddenly the half- concious ferret groaned. I turned toward the vermin and tied him with his own rope. Finally he came fully unconcious and attempted to rise. I pricked his throat with my dagger. "All right, vermin! Tell me what I want to know or I'll kill you like I did your friend over there!" I growled, motioning to the other ferret. The bound vermin's eyes widened. "Yes… yes ma'am!" he stuttered. "And don't call me 'ma'am'!" I barked. "It's Riala Goldentail!" The ferret swallowed nervously and he glanced from my dagger, to my roce, to my golden tail. "G- goldentail?" he squeaked. I nodded. "Yes, that's my name! Now, where are your slaves?" I asked threateningly. The ferret gulped. "F- foller me… G- Goldentail," he stammered. I sliced his footpaw bonds and pushed him forward. "Tell me, vermin. Is there any more in your slaving band?" I asked once ferret had calmed down somewhat. "Yes… two left… we left 'em to guard the slaves," he answered. I nodded. "I see. Who is the leader?" "I- I am…" "If you play me false, I'll kill you!" I warned. The weasel nodded shakily. "I speak the t- truth." "Good." I pricked the ferret's back with my dagger. "You will tell them to surrender their weapons and obey me, is that understood?" "Y-yes, G-goldentail." We finally left the forest and found ourselves on a small ridge, overlooking a cliff in which were many caves. I had heard tales of these caves… once they were known as the Caves of Luke, as that was the mouse leader at one time. As the story went, Luke the Warrior had gone in a ship with many other warriors from the Caves to wipe out searats. It was a brave but unrealistic idea. Luke and the other warriors were never heard from again. I turned my attention to the sleeping slaves and one weasel lookout. He didn't see us. Yet. I nudged my ferret captive. "D- don't shoot!" the ferret stammered. The lookout whirled around and relaxed his bowstring, but kept his arrow ready. "Who's with you, Darkeye, sir?" he asked. I pricked the ferret's back with my daggar. He winced. "Ragear… you and Thintail… throw your weapons here… quick!" Darkeye hissed. Ragear was confused. "But sir…!" "Do it! All of the weapons! That's an order! And… do whatever the squirrel says." Ragear nodded to a rat, and they tossed their weapons to the ground beside me. "Who's the squirrel, Darkeye?" Thintail asked. "Riala Goldentail." Thintail and Ragear's eyes widened in fear. "Goldentail!" "Yes, and she's ready to stab me, so obey her!" The weasel and rat nodded dumbly. I took over. "Okay! You, Ragear, unlock those slaves' chains and send them here! Thintail, give me half of your food," I ordered. The two vermin scurried to obey. Soon the ten miserable slaves were at my side. I picked up the haversack of food and tied the three slavers to a tree. "With some cooperation, you three can escape," I told the moaning vermin. "Quiet! You can survive with your knife and some food, don't worry! But if you follow me, you will die. I promise this." I turned away. "You ten, follow me. We're going to pay these hopefully friendly mice a visit." At the cliff's base I gave each ex-slave equal shares of the food and a weapon. Then I stepped forward, roce at the ready. "Are there any goodbeasts around? I am a friend, Riala Goldentail!" No answer. "If you are vermin, prepare to fight! But if you are a goodbeast, then come out like an honest one!" A strongly built mouse, perhaps a couple seasons older than me, stepped out of the shadows. He laid a paw on the sword at his side. "Welcome to the North Caves, Riala Goldentail. I am the leader here, Mark the Warrior." Dinner was a leisurly affair, and during it I told my story to Mark. When I had finished, he leaned back. "The wolverine you seek has passed by here, but as he did not interfere with us, we did not bother him. He went south." I nodded thoughtfully. "South, yes, that's the way he has been going," I commented. "I must ask one thing of you- could you take in the freed slaves? I cannot take them with me." "That would be no problem," Mark replied. Suddenly a scout burst in. "Searats! It's the Blacktooth, sir! They're comin' to attack!" Mark leapt up. "The Blacktooth! Captain Deathclaw's ship?" "Yes sir! I recognized the black sails at once," the scout replied. Mark slammed his fist down on the table's wood. "I knew this would happen! Which direction is it coming from?" "West, sir." "West, by the fur! Most likely he came from Teffar's palace, so he'll have double the army! Catapult, Isran, Reysa, Nifu, Fildo, Callot!" Five mice raced into the room. "Yes, sir?" "Fildo, take the women and children along with the beasts Riala brought, and go to the cliff top. Cellot, take a fourth of the army, half missile beasts, half paw to paw combaters, to Deathclaw's left flank. Nifu, take another fourth, half missile beasts, half paw to paw combaters, to Deathclaw's right flank. Reysa, take one fourth, again half missile beasts and half close combaters, around to their back. When I blow my trumpet, fire as many times as you can. When I blow it again, stop firing and send in your paw to paw fighters. Go!" The four mice ran off. "Catapult, take one of your catapults and three fighters to the ridge. Destroy the Blacktooth as soon as possible. Wait till the oarslaves are out. Isran, free the oarslaves with ten other mice and get out fast. Do this as soon as you can. I'll guard the caves." The two mice left hurridly. "I'll fight, too," I offered. Mark shook his head. "No, Riala, this is my fight. You go on your way." "I must repay you," I said firmly. Mark sighed. "I can see you will fight no matter what I say. Very well, do what you wish, but Deathclaw is mine!" With that he strode out of his cave and gathered his section of warrior mice. I readied my roce and stepped outside to join Mark the Warrior. The army was silent as they waited for the Blacktooth to land. One could feel the tension in the air as the ship lowered anchor and more than two hundred vermin boated ashore, unaware of the hidden army. From their hiding spot in the brush, Isran and his crew punted out silently to the ship. Nobeast noticed them. They killed the two lookouts and went below deck. Minutes later they returned with the thirty-odd oarslaves. Quickly they loaded the boat and escaped undetected. With a wild yell the catapult crew cut the seage weapon's arm loose, and its humonguous boulder hit the Blacktooth amidships. A second stone completely sank the black- sailed ship. A big, burly searat- the largest I'd ever seen- stood and cracked his tail, then drew a wicked- looking scimitar. He waved it angrily in the air, fury showing plainly on his evil, battered features as he yelled at Mark's small group in front of the cave. "Mark the Warrior, you may think you're smart, but you'll pay for wrecking my ship!" With a yell, the vermin waded ashore and charged us. The Warrior raised a trumpet- made of a ram's discarded horn- to his lips and blew. The first several ranks were cut down by arrows on three sides. Then Reysa's group cut them off from the sea. The wave vermin were trapped- they were being slain by arows on all sides. Deatheye- who was the large rat- snarled and charged Mark's group. Mark blew a hasty note on his trumpet and swordsmice, macemice, pikers, spearmice, and others charged, myself with them. Small two- beast battles were being fought everywhere. I used my versatile roce as a mace, swinging it down on heads, up on jaws, slaying and stunning. Five sneering wavescum closed in on me at once, and I decided it was a little too crowded. I let out a couple lengths of cord and swung around in a circle. Most of the vermin backed off. A few were too slow, and were given a blow to the side of their head by my weapon. I glanced around to see how the other mice were doing. Mark and Deatheye were engaged in fierce combat, as were Cellot, Nifu, and Reysa. I noticed three vermin had broken out of the box of warriors and were headed toward the cliff. I raced after them. I suppose after a life on the sea you get strong, but not a speedy runner. Being a squirrel, I easily caught up to the searats and took one out with a hard throw. I retrieved my stick and threw again. One more. I reached the rat and swung my roce at him, letting out an arms- length of cord. He struck out a paw and the centrifical force caused the weapon to wind around his arm. He must have forgotten that I was a squirrel. I leapt onto him and bowled him over. Whipping out my daggar, I dodged a blow from his cutlass and threw the knife. He fell heavily. I retrieved my daggar and my roce and ran back to the battle. There were no vermin left alive. Mark's mice had done their job well. "Where did you go to?" the Warrior asked. "Three rats had escaped. They were headed toward the cliff. I took care of them," I explained. Then I noticed blood staining Mark's tunic near his leg. "You're hurt." "Oh, it's nothing," the Warrior said, shrugging it off. "Just a scratch." He turned to the army. "Good job. Deatheye nor any of his rats will never slay another creature. Go home now and rest. We will bury our dead at dusk. First we must care for the living," Mark told them. Quietly the mice left for their caves. Mark paused, then started off toward his cave. Halfway there he tripped and fell heavily. I bounded over to the Warrior. "Mark! Listen!" I hissed. "You are hurt badly. Don't shrug it off- you're wounded! You need medical treatment before you get an infection!" The Warrior sighed. "All right, Goldentail. You win. Help me up." I extended a paw and pulled the mouse warrior up. He leaned on me as we made our way to his cave. The next day I said my good- byes. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mark, but I must continue after Nightdeath Longclaws," I said. Mark nodded. "I understand. Farewell, and good luck!" "Farewell!" I waved good- bye as I continued on my journey. After the Longclaws!

Chapter 2