Battle Elements
By Jeremy Cole
The echidnas had gotten a bit more cautious. The number of
sentries had doubled from yesterday. They even had an extra sentry
walking about, displacing other sentries at regular intervals, and in
turn allowing them to switch with the others. It was a clever plan. It
kept the sentries awake, and it made sure that if one or two went
missing, the others would know soon enough. But what if they all went
missing at once?
And so, just before dawn, the freedom fighters made their
entrance. With Warrick directing them, the newly dubbed freedom force
spread out. Their object was to surround and barricade as many echidna
huts as possible. It would be a quick operation, and it might even
dispense with the bloodshed. But Warrick instructed them all to keep
their weapons ready. Just in case.
Rally led a group of Knotholers over to the slave pens, carrying
the weapons and armor they would need to fight. Breaking the locks
almost silently with a swipe of her fighting wire, Rally opened the
door to the wakening slaves. It took a moment for the uncomprehending
slaves to grasp what was happening. But then a general murmur rose up
from the slaves. Free! Finally free, after years and years of being
trod upon by the echidnas! A young bird couldn’t resist shouting out in
elation, ecstatic at her sudden good fortune. Freeeeeee-! But before
that got very far, Rally clapped a pot-helmet onto her head. “Sorry,
but you’re not free yet. We still have a battle to fight, and we need
everyone to be a part of it.” Over her momentary weakness, the bird
accepted a sword from the nearest Knotholer with a grimace. It wasn’t
over yet. It was just starting now. A shadow darted past her. But it
went unnoticed as the general emotion subsided, and the slaves took up
their weapons in preparation for battle.
Kleppo hated the slave pens. There was never any room to play,
and no one to play with. When the echidnas would take the slaves out to
do work, Kleppo would often get a little free time to romp about the
fields and around the other slaves, but only because the echidnas
didn’t know what to do with him. But even then, there were no slave
children to play with – those less hardy than Kleppo had died from the
harsh treatment of their echidna masters. So in the fields, Kleppo
played alone. But in the pens, there was never any fun, never any
space, and always a lack of emotion from the animals there. So as soon
as the doors opened, and a voice that was not echidna hailed them,
Kleppo shot out the open door with a silent cheer, never planning to
return there again. He vaguely realized that he was being liberated,
but the feeling of freedom overwhelmed any feelings of gratitude that
the 4 year old might have had.
Having fun running about, Kleppo was oblivious to the fevered
preparations occurring around him. But by chance, a greenish glint of a
torch’s reflection caught his eye. Immediately curious, the little
thief stole over to the throne that had been forbidden to him for all
of these years. Always before, there had been echidna priests or
warriors sitting around here, just waiting to shoo him back to the
fields. But now the way was clear, and Kleppo approached the broad
base. Turning a corner, Kleppo saw for the first time the giant,
glimmering, emerald-colored gem that loomed above him. The sparkle and
shimmer were enough to drop his mouth open, and the small mongoose’s
eyes grew wider and wider as he took in more of the sight. A gem bigger
than he himself, so big that he could hardly get his arms around it -
it was simply beautiful to a thief’s eyes. A thin crack down the center
of the gem had been what had caught his eye – even now, the fissure
sent out light in every direction. The imperfection didn’t matter to
the thief though - Kleppo reached out to claim his prize. Yet something
stopped him at the last second. The force of it made him turn away from
the gem. But a different kind of force made him look back at the object
so full of concentrated value. The force from outside struggled with
his inner desire for the object, fighting a war on the inside.
Conflicted with a force outside of himself, Kleppo shut down. Acting
totally on instinct, the child let fate take over.
Fate can be a truly perverse thing.
Still mostly asleep inside his hut, an echidna priest, guardian
of the emerald, jerked out of his bed. Perceiving the situation, the
priest calmly went about the hut, gathering his articles of war. After
settling his battle gear into place and completing the ritual necessary
for war, the priest readied himself. Setting himself, the priest sprung
out of the hut, jarring the door into the nearest foe and spearing
another one, letting a long wail escape his lips. Reacting quickly to
the unexpected attack, the defenders of the great forest quickly
engaged their lone foe. But the damage had been done.
Warrick cursed. All around the camp, one hut after another was
spawning wakened and ready echidna warriors, wailing their cry for
blood.
Warrick yelled above their shouts, attempting to quell the new
outbreaks. “Mina! Take the first slave unit, and attack that cluster of
huts! Robert! Take your five men and move to the throne! Ah, curse it
all, there’s too many of them!” And it was true. As Warrick’s plan
dissolved, more echidnas were popping out of their huts, ready to do
battle with the invaders of their home. There were too many to just
send units out to quell them. Warrick strapped on his helmet with a
grim smile. This had been what he wanted, right? Because whether it was
or not, the battle had begun.
Daggers in hand, Mina led her unit to the huts that the old dog
had pointed out. She knew that it was a futile gesture to try to stop
them like this, but a battle had to start somewhere. Looking forward at
her erstwhile captors, Mina felt the empty, bloody joy born of revenge.
Reaching the huts, Mina let the pain and torture of her years of
slavery churn to the surface, stirring her rage and pumping her with
adrenaline. Holding her daggers aloft, Mina let that rage flow through
her lungs as a shout of war learned straight from the mouths of the
echidnas. The slaves, feeling just the same, let out their own cries,
fed with the power of being at the other end of the spear for once.
Mina’s slaves descended on the echidnas in a blood frenzy.
Unprepared for the maniac rush, the echidnas gave ground to the
banshees that they had once enslaved. Falling to dagger, sword, and
rock alike, the echidnas dropped from their lofty poses of war onto the
dirt that they had once trod upon. But soon, the practiced will of a
warrior took over, and the echidnas fought back with their own attack.
The skirmish swept side to side, around, across, and through the huts,
leaving no end in sight.
A hut lost its door as Mina, propelled by a vicious spear swing,
flew threw the entrance. Rolling off of the bed just in time, Mina felt
the wood of the spear knock into her as it quivered in the blanket.
That spear had been meant to be the last she ever felt. Kicking the
weapon from her assailant’s recovering hands, Mina sprung to her feet.
Mina felt a vague sense of wrongness run through her as she pushed her
dagger into her first echidna heart, as if her mind were morally
writhing at the wrongness of her actions. But right now, there was only
the fight to worry about, and only the fight in her mind. Leaving the
hut, Mina looked for her next target. Morality could wait until later.
After the echidnas were dead.
Cicero was not only a great fighter, he also a good friend.
Gracious, kind, and loyal to all who knew him, if a little slow, Cicero
was an all around good guy. Yet Cicero had no real friends, few
friendly acquaintances, and only close relatives to keep him company.
Why? What could drive animals away from this admirable specimen of
echidna? Simply put, Cicero had the worst luck imaginable, even for an
echidna. Given a choice between two forks in the road, he invariably
misguided himself. His hair was constantly in need of cleaning, as
every flicky that flew overhead left their mark on his pate. And even
with the utmost care, somehow the water always found a way through
Cicero’ roof. When it came down to it, Cicero was nature’s own private
joke. It was a sad thing to watch, but rather entertaining if you were
a bored slave on a summer afternoon.
And so, when a smaller target presented itself, Cicero leapt at
the chance to keep himself from danger. Disengaging himself from the
gargantuan, purple striped cat that he was currently fighting and
letting pass a swipe at his pet frog, Cicero stepped into the path of
the mongoose child threateningly. The echidna felt like such a bully in
doing this, but if he didn’t come back alive, who would fix the roof of
his house?
Not quite knowing how to approach the mongoose, Cicero jabbed his
spear lightly at the stomach of his foe. Kleppo started squeaking
frantically, and began looking around wildly for assistance. Emboldened
by this show of weakness, Cicero, with conscience ringing, thrust
towards the gut of the child, eyes closed. He heard a moan, and
something crumpled to the ground, pulling the planted spear shaft with
it. Surprised at a victory, Cicero opened his eyes to what he had done.
The boy lay at the other end of his spear, unmoving. Had he killed him?
Cicero leaned closer to see. The child had covered his eyes with his
last moments, probably not wanting to see his killer…
Suddenly, the one that he thought dead started laughing. “Peek-a-
boo!” The paws left the covered lids, and the sparkling eyes of Kleppo
smiled in the brightness of dawn. Before Cicero could react, his face
was met with the hurled spearhead that the little thief had unfastened
in his first attack. Stunned, Cicero just stood there with his spear
shaft still held dumbly at the little boy. Losing his happy expression,
Kleppo wound up and gave the shaft a mighty kick with a small “Hi-yah!”
The kick sent Cicero’ shaft into an uppercut, smashing into the
echidna’s jaw with a jarring crack. The echidna went down. His last
thoughts of the night were “Why always me?”
Kleppo wiped his hands, satisfied. “Ha, Ha!” said the child, as
he walked off.
In the press of bodies and confusion of battle, a circle of open
space was forming around a hut on the outskirts of the camp. Three
echidnas, brothers Jamas and Lyle, along with the Lyle’s wife,
Pemberly, were back to back, fighting ferociously against another wave
of the invaders. The three had reached a level beyond teamwork, one
that bordered on the psychic. They had survived this long because they
could each feel a blow coming at another, and so could block it like
they would their own body. The three had a special relationship – it
allowed them to be bonded on a deeper level than animals can
comprehend. When one wanted something, they all wanted it. And when one
felt joy, each of them had their hearts warmed. Now their home, the
first one that they had ever worked to build was being threatened. The
trio had built that cozy hut out of wood they had chopped, with tools
they had made, and without any help from the outside. The three did not
even need to ask. It was worth being defended, and they were just the
echidnas to do it.
Spinning in unison with the other two to dodge the last swing at
Pemberly, Jamas dispatched the offending snake with a spear thrust.
Noticing for the first time that they had no foes left to fight, Jamas
took a momentary breather. Not wanting to rest too long, the echidna
scoped out a new foe, nudging Pemberly and Lyle subtly. Both looked
where he was gesturing, and noted what he saw as well. One of their
former slaves, an aged squirrel, was slowly advancing with sword in
hand. Even with the battle raging about him, the walk was stately, and
the sword was held at a steady angle to the ground. Behind him lay many
a fallen echidna, each with a matching crescent sword wound across the
left side of their throat. The squirrel was coming nearer to them,
walking towards the throne with an expression to match his stately
walk. The tip of his sword held blood, but the rest of him looked to be
fresh from the pen. It was an eerie sight, but not enough to shake an
echidna. Disengaging from their formation, the three stepped boldly
into his path.
Not stopping, the squirrel looked at the three with sheets of ice
in his eyes. “I offer you what I have offered every other enemy in my
path. Leave me be, and fight your battle somewhere else. The scent of
freedom has finally reached me, and has hardened what went soft with my
years. You may have once have been my captors, but I offer you
forgiveness. Take it, and it is yours.” As he spoke, the squirrel
flourished his sword. At the top of the arc, the dawn caught the blade,
casting a red light onto the three soul mates. Sweeping back, the blade
cut closer to them as the squirrel continued his advance.
Alone, each echidna was scared speechless by the menacing
squirrel. But together, they weren’t even fazed. Lyle spoke for them.
“This is our new home, slave. Run back to your pen, before you can’t
ever run again.”
In response, the sword vanished, reappearing again in the wooden
spear that Jamas had raised to block. Immediately, the three spread
out, surrounding the one in a triangle. Giving a wearied sigh, the one
gave a twist of his sword, snapping the other’s spear in half. Darting
the sword in for a second slice, he instead met the sword of Pemberly,
and had to execute a hurried block to avoid a swipe of Lyle’s rowel.
Triumphant at the maneuver’s success, Pemberly thrust her sword at the
squirrel’s unprotected front. But faster than her sword could move, the
squirrel was under the steely death. Without breaking his stride, the
old one cut across Pemberly’s throat, opening a hole in its left side.
Enraged at their bond mate’s demise and uttering unintelligible
outbursts of pain, Jamas gripped about the shoulders and under the
armpits of the squirrel while Lyle, moving into his path, swung his
rowel at the captive. But the old squirrel was too powerful even for an
echidna, and dragged Jamas along a dodge in his unrelenting pacing.
Taking the opportunity, the squirrel broke free of his tormenter with a
mighty shrug of his shoulders, then cut him down without a backwards
glance before his brother’s eyes.
Two parts of his heart gone, Lyle staggered a few steps away, up
the path of the squirrel menace, then fell to the ground. Turning in
his prone position, the echidna looked towards the still advancing
squirrel. The sword had fallen back to its angle with the ground, and
the face had assumed the same blank expression as before. But the eyes
were fixed on him, with their blank frozenness icing him to the spot.
He knew that no matter what he did, he would die. “Who are you?” asked
the truly defeated echidna in his last moment.
The question delayed his death for only a moment. The aged
squirrel uttered only a name before he finished his foe. “Max of
Mobotropolis.”
The unstoppable king continued on into the heart of battle, still
at a stately walk, and still unsullied but for the blood on his sword.
Behind him lay three more bodies, each with a matching crescent sword
wound on the left side of their neck, together even in death.
Something needed to change. As line after line of enemy animals
advanced, squad after squad fell to the fury of those they had wronged.
No amount of training could prepare you to fight against someone with a
berserker fury so evident in their eyes – the fury of loved ones lost,
and the fury of oppressed revenge. To put it frankly, the echidnas were
losing. What they needed now was a new strategy, and the echidna chief
knew it. Fortunately, strategy was something that he could provide in
heaping quantities.
In response to an unheard signal, the best warriors of the
echidna camp slowly began assembling about the throne. As more and more
of the elite assembled there, the peak of the echidna clan gained
force, and the opposing forces rolled off of them like water. The other
echidnas soon learned of the safety of that line, and made a dignified
retreat behind those lines, turning to add their own expertise in the
form of flying spears. It was a circle of death. And it was only
getting wider.
The chief smiled stonily as the attackers receded. “Call back
every echidna outside of the circle. Then grab every uninjured echidna
we’ve got – its time for a counterattack.” The runner nodded and moved
off to the front lines. Letting out a relieved sigh, the monarch
ascended his throne. The echidna camp was as good as secure. All that
remained was to form the final attack force, and their camp would be
safe. And attacking was something that echidnas were very, very good
at. The so-called “freedom force” was as good as defeated. Nothing
could stop them now…
A runner from the outer defense line approached the throne,
panting. “Sir, we are encountering some resistance next to the slave
pens.” The chief cocked an eyebrow at the messenger. Uncertainty crept
back into his heart. “It looks to be about twenty animals. Only about
six are on the front lines, and the rest are providing support. We’re
taking more casualties than we expected.”
“Are any of the elites at the scene?” The chief began to rise
from his lofty seat, reaching for his spear.
“No sir. But your son is in route… along with Bunnie. She has her
handler, and they should be there shortly.”
The chieftain relaxed back into his chair. “So the lines are
safe. Thank you for the report, soldier. Now get back to your post.”
The echidna saluted with his spear and left him. As soon as he
was gone, the chief felt all the air go out of his chest and his
shoulders sag into the chair. He rubbed his face with both hands. How
could so many of his people die in one day? What kind of demon would
inflict this much pain on them?
Rally looked up at the sky. It was time.
The dawn was just reaching that moment of orange brilliance as
the wire of the black cat, rendered a fiery rod by the sunrise light,
began decimating the echidna forces. The scowling cat was a fearsome
sight. Her steely ribbon wove all about the space around her, braining
a foe to her left, then thudding into another’s throat, painfully. The
line caved inwards from her demonic assault, leaving wounded and
unconscious echidnas to all sides, but never a corpse. A hole opened in
the line as defenders rushed to stop her advance.
That was all he needed. Rotor, in full combat gear, stepped into
the depression. He was wearing a ridiculous looking backpack, mounted
with speakers and protruding a foot or more backwards. The yard-wide
speakers were mounted on his shoulders, and the ensemble was complete
with triggers that extended at elbow level, right along his forearms.
Echidnas who had the time to scoffed at the a convoluted looking
contraption, but when Rotor hit the triggers, they weren’t laughing any
more.
A deep blast of nearly visible sonic force lifted the laughing
echidnas off of their feet and plowed them to the ground. The force of
the sound was enough to stun all of the echidnas around him as Rotor
spun in a concussive circle. One echidna, stronger than the rest, made
an attempt at a throw towards the booming menace. But the walrus spun
at the noise and released a concentrated blast at the whistling spear.
The shaft shattered, as if it had hit a stone wall. As the one walrus
army continued to persuade his foes to the ground, his comrades slipped
through the blasted hole. Rotor nodded to Rally. This was their part in
the plan. He turned to his next victims. They were really better off
unconscious.
Sally led the freedom fighters into another cluster of the enemy.
Unaware of the danger, the echidnas fell like rain to the vengeful
assault. Every fighter of their group had lost someone to the
mercenaries a year before; each one was glad to return their pain. The
line was all the echidnas had left. Dissolve it, and only victory could
lie ahead.
Sally looked to each side. That segment of battlefield was clear,
filled only with moaning and unconscious echidnas. “Guys, its time to…”
She stopped. No one was paying attention to her. As her words faded
off, Sally lost interest in them herself. Two blood-spattered figures
were making their way towards them. One was visible only through the
sharp green eyes he wore. And the other was noticeable only by the
long, yellow ears mounted atop her head. But those were clue enough.
The pair walked boldly up to the freedom fighters. The green eyes
acquired a kind of swagger the nearer they got, and the long ears
conjured an expression of uncaring, as if those that stood in their way
were not worth the time. Stopping a respectable distance from the
group, the two stood motionless. Both groups waited for the other to
act, as a pocket of silence filmed over that part of the battlefield.
Neither side moved more than was comfortable. They simply watched each
other.
Now that the transfixing gaze had left him, Sonic noticed more
about the echidna than the color of the eyes that he wore. The skin
surrounding those eyes was a lighter, almost safer looking shade than
most other echidnas. But the set of the mouth, and the sharpness of the
eyes and spear, destroyed that image. A white, spiked glove gripped a
colorfully ornamented spear, and a set of warm-colored sneakers planted
into the ground.
The cocky smile that his foe wore immediately incensed Sonic for
a reason that he could not name. Losing his own cocky smile, Sonic
stepped forward. Sensing his intent, the echidna matched his step
forward. The two looked at each other for a second, scowling intensely.
Then Sonic rolled into a ball and launched himself. Green eyes
deflected the assault easily with the shaft of his spear, whacking
Sonic well with the weapon, but was unprepared for the hedgehog to
bounce off the ground and into his chest, dropping him onto his
backside. Lashing out from the ground, the echidna almost clipped the
blue blur. But the next second, he was up and swinging again, pointy
end first. The two began battling it out, moving farther and farther
from the group. The long eared one moved to help her comrade, but
Sally, with Tails at her elbow, moved to bar her passage. Stopping, the
other remained emotionless as Sally sized her up.
The animal before the ears was even more menacing than the first,
from her lengthy, scarred ears to her unkempt, sooty paws. The most
obvious and surprising feature of her was that not only did she not act
like her fellows, but she wasn’t an echidna at all. The yellow fur that
coated her was dirty almost beyond being recognized as yellow, and the
pretty pink jumpsuit that she wore over it was almost a mockery to the
rest of her savage person. Her eyes were of a slight blue, and the fur
that surrounded her mouth was a tanning white. A strange fact was that
the only weapons that she seemed to possess were her lanky, muscular
arms, which she held in a combat-ready stance in front of her. For the
moment she seemed docile. But the lines about her mouth showed that
that mouth could become so much more when she wished it. Behind her in
the shade of a hut stood a smallish echidna, with the robe of a priest
adorning him. Sally dismissed him. He wasn’t even armed. But where had
she seen that rabbit before?
Suddenly, it came back in a flash of memory. The day of the
attack. The savage fury of the rabbit warrior. The taking of her
family, and the fear of death in her heart…
The fear of that day came back to Sally, making her shrink from
her pose just the slightest bit. The rabbit didn’t move. But Sally knew
that she had sensed it.
They remained motionless for a while longer. It was a gradual
thing, but Sally felt it. The air of this one was changing, and that
meant danger. Sally glanced over her shoulder at Antoine, the only one
still in reserve.
“Antoine,” she whispered. “Keep going. We need someone to
continue the fight.”
“Princess, can I not remain to protect you?”
“Antoine, just go. Me and Tails will fight as well as we can –
just try to get the chief. You’re the only one that can go right now.
We’re counting on you”
Antoine didn’t question further. Departing with only a modicum of
noise, the coyote to complete their mission.
As if taking the cue, the rabbit suddenly streamed into motion,
dissolving into her battle motions as fluidly as if they were as
natural to her as walking. Reacting simultaneously, Sally leapt at the
other, hefting her staff over her shoulder grimly, with Tails flying
silently by her side. The two sides clashed without a sound and began
their battle.
The battle of Sonic and the green eyed moved as quickly as they
did. Both combatants were champions of maneuverability – the practiced
mobility of a true echidna warrior and the natural talents of the
speedy hedgehog. Any who got near the furious whirlwind of echidna and
hedgehog were left flattened and bleeding, echidna and Knotholer alike.
And so they battled alone – partners in a bloody dance.
Sonic balled up and battered at the other’s defenses, striking
nearer and nearer with each blow. But the warrior got his spear away,
and swung with crushing might before the hedgehog got too near to him,
pushing him back with the wind of the swipe. Following up, the echidna
thrust a piercing blow at the recovering hedgehog. But the blow fell on
an afterimage, as Sonic came around the back of his foe with a flying
kick. Ducking heavily to avoid the blow, the echidna shoved his spear
upwards. But the hedgehog was gone again, reappearing with a punch
while the echidna’s guard was down. The green eyed felt his face begin
to bloody. Darting away, the blue blur flew into a stand of trees, and
the angered echidna followed.
The trees offered little enough cover in the full light of
morning. So how was that hedgehog hiding? The echidna stood at the
center of a small clearing, looking about in suspicion of every bush.
Lashing out at an imagined rustle, the back of his head fell prey to a
heavy slug, one that watered the bushes in front of him with blood. A
swipe behind him yielded nothing. His tormenter had once again
disappeared. The echidna spun, spear out, perplexed. Where had the
hedgehog gone?
Scowling, the echidna tried a new tactic. Taking a temporary time
out, he leapt into the highest reaches of the foliage. Surveying all
below, he noticed a flicker out of the corner of his eye. Faster than
thought, the echidna’s spear left his hand and lanced into a thick
clump of bushes. The short cry that came back brought a smile, almost a
grimace, to his lips. Leaping from his perch, the warrior landed
heavily beside the bushes. His spear lay on the ground beside them, and
the head was smeared with blood. But the hedgehog was nowhere in sight.
The echidna prince sighed. An enemy that wouldn’t die. Fighting him,
death was an inevitability. Why must they all resist their own deaths
so? Something flecked on the ground caught his attention. The echidna
stooped to examine it. A trail of blood, fresh. Clear and frequent, the
drops circled a tree, then pooled to their side. The echidna
calculated. If he had been watching him from that spot, then…
The echidna turned too late to intercept the hard punch. Face
splashing, he went down with a shudder.
No one could get up from that. Letting himself relax and panting
hard, Sonic favored his bloody leg. The spear had punctured something,
of that he was certain. Trying not to think that his opponent might be
dead, Sonic hobbled off in the direction of the battle. It was
imperative that he got back as soon as possible. If he weren’t there,
then who could their force rely on? They had to need him. C’mon, he was
Sonic the Hedgehog!
Wrapped up in trying to avoid the pain, Sonic didn’t notice the
grunting sounds behind him. Bloodied and barely standing, his green-
eyed foe had somehow caught up with him in a renewed attempt to defeat
his foe. Following the hedgehog and contemplating the killing blow, the
echidna’s head snapped up as a short shout of despair rang out from the
village. The echidna shook his head, berating himself for his weakness.
His people were still battling, and they needed him. Without a second
thought, the echidna prince loped off into the woods to fight another
battle, silently promising himself to fight that warrior again another
day.
The battle was not going well for the echidnas. Everywhere,
echidnas stood about, unsure of how to move as bands of attackers moved
about them, wreaking havoc. The deadly circle had fallen to the freedom
fighter’s assault, and that was taking its toll on the poor,
unsuspecting echidnas.
All of this, Sally noted out of the corner of her consciousness,
as she fought a battle of her own with a killer from the past. With
each passing blow, the squirrel princess realized just how the animal
before her had bested even the king of Mobotropolis in combat. Each and
every attack had the power of a hammer. It shouldn’t have been possible
to pack that much force into one attack, but the splintering beneath
her hands told her it was so. Every blow that got through fell in the
most vulnerable place, striking her roughly in the ribs, then snaking
fluidly out again. Every punch that she moved to block seemed to be a
feint, instead turning into a kick, roaringly powerful. It was all she
could do to throw herself out of the way. Not letting up, the assassin
dived elbow first to her prone opponent. But before the blow could
connect, she was tackled to the ground by Sally’s fox companion, tails
spinning with all his might. Still without emotion, the fierce beast
twisted her torso and brought her hand down over the child’s head in a
chop. The small fox cried out as the tension left the tails, and he
slumped over his attacker. Gripping his body with one hand, the rabbit
flung him away as she stood.
A soft chuckle that didn’t belong to her rose from the silence.
The small one had been dispatched. Time now for the large. The rabbit’s
handler began his conjuring anew from the shadow of the hut, murmuring
words of control even through his sinister chuckles. Before him was an
unstoppable warrior, one under his total control. Now, she would win
the battle for him – just like she had one year past.
The feral warrior, still holding the deadness of her eyes and not
even breathing hard, looked at Sally, who stood barely a yard away. The
squirrel was shaking, only half able to grip the staff in her hands.
Fear was a sign of weakness. Had her opponent lost her will? The
emotionless killer looked into the squirrel’s eyes, expecting her to
cower at the very contact. But what she saw there was not fear, but
all-consuming rage - a rage that called to destroy the rabbit with her
bare hands. Bunnie’s eyes blanched just the slightest bit at the
menacing sight. It was then that the squirrel warrior chose to attack.
Sally had been restraining herself with a calm that she did not
feel. All of the emotion that had been pent for the last year began to
churn and bubble against the anger that she felt at Tails’ fall in her
mind, slowly breaking down her composure, bit by bit. The last straw
had been when the bunny had looked into her eyes with that cold,
emotionless expression, ready for another kill – Sally snapped.
The wood of her shaft hit flesh for the first time that battle,
as Sally viciously cut with both sides of her staff at the unarmed
menace. Not pausing to block, Sally took a bruising hit to her
shoulder, but continued her assault, relentless, striking again and
again at the harassed creature. Wood bit into shoulder, sides, and legs
alike, each hit purchased by the rage inside and costing a little more
of her strength. Every blow was tiring her a little more, but her rage
was fueled even more as an emotion finally fought free of the other’s
face - sadness. Sally closed her eyes, raising her staff to strike down
her opponent. But the blow never came. Sally opened her eyes. The
rabbit was leaning heavily on her staff with her arm, preventing the
fatal swing. The look in her eyes had gone even further into the depths
of despair as she reached for the squirrel princess. Sally bowed her
head. She had lost again.
“Bunnie! Come to me!” A surprised shout called out of the
shadows, and Sally looked up. The pressure left her staff suddenly, as
Bunnie sprinted back to her handler, leaving the defeated princess
behind. Tails, looking well except for a mild bruise, was grappling
furiously with the small echidna that Sally had noted earlier. Lines of
light were frantically forming about the echidna’s hands, but the
leverage of the youngster was gaining on the poor spellcaster. A second
later, Tails flipped the echidna violently over his back, landing
headfirst in the dirt and thudding nastily. Tails grabbed a rock to
make sure, but the force had been enough to put the echidna out of the
fight.
What had just happened? Sally knew that she should be dead right
now, but somehow Tails’ bout with the echidna had saved her from her
death. Halfway to her master, the rabbit had suddenly dropped to her
knees limply, and now stared vacantly at her destination. All traces of
aggression had left her, and the blank of her eyes took on an empty
quality. Limping over to Tails, Sally hugged the small fox with concern
on her face. “Tails – I thought that she had gotten you – are you
really ok?”
The fox pulled away a bit to smile brightly into her face. “Just
fine aunt Sally. Did you see me take that echidna? I got him all by
myself!”
Sally smiled back at him, relief evident in her voice. “Yeah, I
saw. That is some impressive strength!” Still holding the fox, Sally
examined the unconscious echidna. The lips of his mouth were twisted
into a permanent laughing sneer. He looked to be more of a priest than
a fighter by his clothes. Sally grimaced and turned back to her friend.
“Tails… you saved my life. That was very brave. Thank you so much!”
Tails hugged her with all the force that he could muster to hide
his blush. “I just wanted to know that you were safe, Aunt Sally. Does
this mean that I don’t have to do any more guard duty?”
“Eheh. We’ll see about that. But how did you know that he was
controlling her? I forgot him as soon as I saw him. I guess I have to
be more careful.”
“I don’t really know, Aunt Sally. He was talking to himself and
looking at the rabbit a little too much, I guess. I thought - maybe,
just maybe, that rabbit wasn’t really a bad guy. I guess I was right,
huh?”
“Yeah…” Sally walked cautiously over to her former foe. She had
shifted during their talk to a sitting position, but the empty eyes
still stared straight ahead, and she hadn’t moved otherwise. The rabbit
had a certain feeling about her, one that Sally had felt only recently.
Her foe felt like a slave liberated from captivity, and looking into
the world for the first time. The feeling of sadness still clung to the
air around her, though, as if the rabbit were just realizing all the
wrong that she had done.
It was then that she made her decision. Sally sat down decidedly
on the ground next to the stuporous rabbit. “Actually Tails, I do need
your help with one more guard duty. I have a feeling that you were
correct. Our fierce friend here just might be worth protecting. Are you
with me?”
The small fox flopped down next to his aunt. “Yeah – you could be
right.”
As Tails spoke those words, Sally glanced around at the battle
raging around her, feeling an heavy sorrow in her heart. An image of
her father, mother, and brother flashed through her mind, explaining
the sadness that she felt. Had she expected to see her lost family at
the battle? Had she wanted to see her father, rallying the troops, and
coming to her side? Did she feel just a little bit sad that she was
giving up…? Sally shook it off. There was no way that her family was
still alive. Her job now was to protect this defenseless creature from
the tide of war. Her lost family would have to stay that way…
Antoine grimaced at the sight before him as he arrived at his
destination. Concealing himself inside an abandoned hut, he studied the
situation outside. Though he had seen the place many times over on the
maps and diagrams that Sally had showed them, and once in person a day
before, the throne was much more menacing now than it had been ever
before. Towering above the battlefield in its stony glory, the throne
exuded a power, infusing the surrounding echidnas with a renewed
strength. The throne’s majesty was palpable in the air, and that
majesty was only enhanced by the formidable looking echidna that sat
atop it in his war gear. Directing his troops with a fine touch from
his high seat, the chief was a natural born leader. Huge even for an
echidna, the chief could have filled a small hut alone by his width and
height. Though this was a surprise attack, the chief was fully decked
out in war paint, with every inch of his body covered in green swirls
and red splotches, which accentuated his naturally light fur with a
bloody texture. Even from here a gray stubble was visible on the
warrior’s chin – hairs from worry that had been sloppily lopped off.
For weapons, the echidna wore two crossed spears strapped to his back
with two thick rod harnesses that circled his body, hip to shoulder. He
wore a nothing but a ragged loincloth and the traditional spiked gloves
that some echidnas wore. The expression that he took was savage, but
also full of a certain weary worry for his people. The savage beast
looked tough, but Antoine knew that he must be dealt with. The risk was
one that he would have to take if it meant the end of this battle.
Antoine was working up the nerve to make his move when he saw the
chief stiffen in his chair. Raising an eyebrow, Antoine watched from
his hiding place as the heavy echidna stood up laboriously. Taking his
spear, the chief waved the protective barrier of bodies from around
him, sending out his troops in a red mass. Within moments, the echidnas
had scattered, showering their enemy in another wave of attackers. But
the chief remained, staring off into the battle with an unusual clarity
about his gaze.
But Antoine ignored that – echidnas were weird, to put it
frankly. Stepping out of the hut, he approached the king’s throne with
a false swagger and stopped at the base. Antoine paused a moment to
gather his speech. Then he drew his sword and gestured at the echidna
monarch. “Sir, I respectfully request that you descend your throne and
engage me in a duel – for the safety of the great forest. You and your
echidnas have been a blight on this land every time you have come – and
it is my sworn duty to protect this forest and everyone in it!” The
noble speech boosted Antoine’s pride a bit, but didn’t even turn the
echidna’s head. The pause stretched to a bit too long. Gritting his
teeth, Antoine picked up a hand-sized rock to try again. “I said - ”
The chief slowly turned his head to the fuming coyote, giving him
a look that questioned whether he was even worth killing. Turning an
eye to his assailant’s sword, the chief decided to end his annoyance.
Not bothering with the stairs, the heavy echidna leapt from the high
pinnacle of his throne, scattering dirt everywhere as he did so. Still
moving slowly, he drew one of the spears from his back with one hand
and advanced on the intimidated coyote. Swinging without much effort,
the echidna broke through Antoine’s guard and sent him sprawling.
Shaking, Antoine stood again and feinted, then attempted a thrust.
Ignoring the feint and taking the thrust head on with his spear, the
echidna punched with his free hand. Antoine felt an unpleasant snap
under the intense pressure. Sliding against the hut that he had hidden
with before, Antoine struggled to breathe as the chief began to stare
off into the distance again.
“He is almost here…”
Indeed he was. Out of the final darkness of predawn came the
unstoppable figure from the slave pens, the death of many echidnas, and
the ruler of Mobotropolis. Still holding the sword at an angle to the
ground and with the tip bloodier than ever, the king at last stopped
his furious march at the foot of the throne, not far from the echidna
chief. Behind him trailed a steady trickle of the freedom force,
following he who opened the path for them, and kept there by a quiet
“To me.” Somehow sensing the confrontation, a second trail of echidnas
piled behind their own leader, still lusting with the need for battle,
but sated by the calm threat of the king and the savage protection of
their chief. Gradually, the noises of battle stopped, as more and more
of the fighters converged on the spot. The two sides coexisted
unwillingly while their leaders sized each other up, staring across the
gap and calculating the odds in a fight. Before the final confrontation
could start, the echidna chief spoke in a voice rough with gravel and
hardship.
“Do you know me, Max of Mobotropolis?”
“I know you, Locke of the echidnas.”
“How did you get through that part of the line? That was where
the echidnas were strongest.”
The king’s answer was akin to an icy wind. “Simple. I walked
through it.”
The chief nodded, unsurprised at that statement. He had known
from the moment that he saw him in the pens that this was his true foe.
But no true warrior would kill an unarmed animal, no matter how
dangerous. This was the only way that their quarrel could end. “I see.
There is no need for words then. Let us fight.”
Antoine could see the final battle perfectly from his position at
the edge of the battle, his wounds forgotten for the moment.
Immediately the king struck at his enemy, sweeping his sword in an arc
in front of him. But the chief parried the blow expertly, twisting the
blade out of the way as he grabbed the second spear from his back.
Holding both spears in his monstrous hands, the echidna struck with
both at once, but the squirrel twisted to the side between them.
Switching to a fencing posture, the king went through a complex series
of thrusts and swipes, but the spears of the chief kept the flashing
sword at bay. Rolling forward and thrusting like a piston with both
spears, the echidna drove the squirrel back, but the king circled the
echidna and struck, throwing him off balance. Leaping forward in a
controlled slash, the squirrel king neatly sawed the head off of the
echidna’s spear, twirling the sharp stone off into the crowd. Trying
again, the king made another thrust, but was beaten back by the severed
shaft. Both combatants stood, and began to circle.
All around them, the crowds were cheering on their champions,
each realizing the power of the other side’s leader and hoping all the
more fervently that their own would win. Foremost among the echidnas
stood Knuckles, the echidna prince, leading the war cry of his father.
And on the opposite side of the battle, silently rallying his own
forces for a cheer stood Elias, prince of Mobotropolis. But neither
warrior heard their son’s support. This battle was to the death, and
they needed every bit of concentration that they could muster.
Grabbing a stray spear from an onlooker and hurling his lost one
at the enemy, Locke followed up his attack with a vicious slash and
thrust combination. Caught in blocking the hurled wood, Max was almost
unprepared for the assault, and gave ground to the oncoming chief. The
crowds moved away to accommodate the new turn of events as the warriors
receded rapidly from the throne. A moment before the last blow would
have fallen, the king sidestepped the attacker, swinging his sword at
the echidna’s back. But the warrior was not there, but behind the king
instead. Both moved to emotion for the first time that night, the two
began a furious salvo of blows, yelling into the other’s face and
striking all the harder for it. The battle moved back and forth and
side to side, both giving ground, but both gaining it back again. The
blows continued, faster than Antoine’s tired eyes could follow, not
letting up in the slightest, through the moments stretched to minutes
of the battle. And still they fought.
A path parted in the freedom force. A bruised but unhurt Rally
rushed over to Antoine, pausing only to skirt the battle. “Are you all
right?” she asked, worriedly, but softly.
Antoine checked her over for wounds before answering. “I could be
better, but I’ll live,” he answered, matching her volume. “I’m out of
this fight though, so I really hope that our king wins this bout.”
“The king? Sally’s father? You mean, that squirrel is the king?”
“Yes… Max of Mobotropolis. He was called unstoppable in battle,
but he was taken prisoner last year in the attack. But now he has
returned! The king has returned!”
At that moment, a clang rang from the battle, making all else
stop. At the foot of the throne, Max and Locke had reached their
deadlock, increasing the fury of their attacks and neither giving
ground. Later, accounts of the battle would state that no normal animal
could keep up with that pace for long without a mistake. And someone
had finally made one. Locke, holding both spears at his sides pointing
out, was staring at his chest. Blood leaked from the sword that lodged
itself there, mixing with his war paint and staining his coat even
redder in the onlooker’s eyes. The sword of Max had found its way,
angled to cut to the heavens, to the steel harness that he wore there,
cutting straight through, and causing the clanging to ring out from
above his heart.
The scene was frozen, and no animal moved even a thought. Both
sides might have stayed there for the rest of time. But a new sound,
not of the battlefield, was heard around the echidna camp. A great
rumbling, as of earth shifting, shook the ground, jolting every person
there and knocking Rally down to sit by Antoine. Each echidna of the
defending force turned as one to look to the north, and it was a sight
to see. The echidna’s island home, the drifting island, was moving
again, taking the rest of the echidna tribe with it. The echidnas were
immediately faced with a choice. If they did not move now, their home
would be lost, and the echidnas would truly be a drifting race.
Locke looked about him. He saw the echidna forces, weak with
battle’s age. He saw the devastated huts that they had built. He saw
the dead and dying. And he saw the sword in his own chest. Locke
decided for them. Thrusting his spear at Max, the echidna chief scored
a hit, cutting Max deeply and causing him to fall into the arms of the
echidna prince, leaving his sword behind. Taking the sword with him,
the chief staggered towards the shrine of the emerald. Finally reaching
it with his halting steps, Locke fell onto the emerald, driving the
sword farther into him. With his last breath, the king murmured his
last words. “Return home, my children.” Without another sound, every
echidna and every building, demolished or whole, alive or dead,
vanished, taking the heavily breathing squirrel with them. Only the
chief’s body remained, alone with the red sword of the stolen king.
(
geocities.com/televisioncity/satellite/6616/sonic) (
geocities.com/televisioncity/satellite/6616) (
geocities.com/televisioncity/satellite) (
geocities.com/televisioncity)