Mynede
Fan-Fic
By SolaceMoon
Chapter 3
Kugel
was still running. He could not see
where he was going, for he was blinded by tears. The whole thing was so unreal, so
impossible. His shoulder hurt terribly
and he felt sick, but he willed himself to go on.
Head down. Breath in, breath out. Don’t think about it. That was all
Kugel could do. It did not keep him from
crying, though. Smack! Kugel ran into
something, hard. The object grabbed him—he
was caught! Elbowing and biting his
assailant, Kugel struggled to be free.
“Lemme
go! Lemme go! Don’t hurt me!” Kugel began to cry. He was, after all, barely older than a dibbun
and under the circumstances it was the only thing he could think to do. Kugel sobbed bitter tears as he thought of
how his whole world was falling apart.
“Stop
that sniffling!” The voice of his captor
was deep and gruff.
Kugel
was thrown to ground. He looked up to
see a very muscular weasel standing over him, a weasel we know as Jessup. Jessup frowned down at the squirrel.
“Don’t
move.”
Kugel
wouldn’t have dreamed of it. He shook
his head violently. His lip began to
tremble and unbidden tears rolled down his face. Jessup continued to look down at his
prisoner. His face showed the puzzlement
he felt.
Jessup
had seen countless goodbeasts die. He
had killed many of them himself; it was nothing new to him. He had never enjoyed it, but he had never let
that stop him either. Still, everyone he
had killed had held a weapon in his or her paws. They had been fighting back. He had never actually outright slaughtered
anyone, although he had given orders along those lines. He had decided to lead the patrol during the
raid, his job being to kill or capture any escapees. But now that it came to it, he just couldn’t. Something about this place, something about
this raid, something about how Mynede had been feeling…he felt it all.
Jessup
knelt down and grabbed Kugel’s arm.
“I…I
don’t know why I’m doing this,” he admitted.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
Jessup shook his head. He could
not let the squirrel go free. Mynede
strongly forbade it. But if he took the
squirrel to her, she would kill it. He
decided to take a precaution. “Promise
me one thing and I will let you go free.”
Kugel
nodded.
“Promise
me that you will never harm Milady, the leader of those who have attacked here
this day. Never in all
the seasons of your life.”
Kugel
nodded again. Jessup released his hold
on the squirrel and walked away. Kugel
rose slowly. He climbed a tree for fear
that the big fellow would change his mind.
Kugel swung through the treetops until he guessed he was far enough away
from danger. Then he stopped. Hiding himself in a sizeable tree, he waited
for Bulstead to come with his mother.
* ~ *
“We’re
under attack! Get up! Get out!
Vermin are here!” Bulstead’s
shouts thundered through the forest. He
screamed the warning as he ran to meet the vermin who threatened his home. The enraged otter swung a loaded sling as he
ran pell-mell around the area, scanning for both vermin and goodbeasts. A couple of ferrets appeared at his
right. One of them fell to his sling
stone. The other shakily stood his
ground, holding a small spear at the ready.
Bulstead charged him at full speed.
He parried the spear with his formidable war club, breaking it in
two. Bulstead dispatched the ferret with
a single blow and continued to run.
Vermin
had congregated at the very center of the small settlement. Bulstead threw caution to the winds and made
an outright charge at them. His sling
brought another beast down with flawless accuracy. Vermin rushed him with swords and spears, but
Bulstead took them down with his club.
He threw himself into a mob of vermin. A stone caught him in the side and he felt a
blade rake his jaw, but he was caught in the rage of battle. Swinging his club at a frightening pace, he
yelled challenges at his foes.
“Want
some more o’ that? Or
that? Come on, yew worthless,
mangy villains! Show Bulstead what yore
made of and he’ll show you the way to Hellgates!” The fearsome otter dealt death to his
attackers quickly. There was no doubt
that he was an experienced warrior.
Leading
an attack on the outskirts of the settlement, Mynede heard the nearby
commotion. Trusting that her warriors
would be able to deal with whoever they ran into, she decided to see what all
the shouting was all about. As she
neared her destination, she slowed, approaching with caution. Stopping by an already-pillaged hut, she
surveyed the commotion before her. Many vermin were falling to the experienced
otter. The grim scene pulled a sigh from
her lips.
“The
otter will kill them all…” she muttered to herself. “They do not have the skill to face
him.” Then she smiled a cold smile.
“Eat
this, vermin!” A tall female squirrel
came hurtling from the treetops in an attempt to flatten Mynede. Mynede jumped to one side and the squirrel
hit the ground on all fours. The weasel
knew a quick kill when she saw one.
Before the squirrel could even register what had happened Mynede stabbed
her in the back.
Bulstead
thought he had heard the voice of Kugel’s mother. Remembering his promise, he fought his way
through the few remaining vermin just in time to see the pretty squirrel fall
dead. It was as if an arrow had pierced
his heart. He had promised Kugel that he
would keep her safe. He had been
planning on sending her after the lad so that if no one else did, at least
those two would survive.
Grandpa Vole, as like as not, lay dead in his hut, for he was unable to move very fast or very far. The same was probably true of the old hedgehogs. He could hear some of his other warrior friends battling in the distance. His allies were outnumbered and despite the skill of many of his friends, the youth of these vermin gave them an edge. Bulstead felt that this would be the last stand for the small settlement.
But
the poor squirrel lad no longer had a mother.
Bulstead hoped somebody would pull through for Kugel’s sake. Bulstead knew he must not let himself go
down. He must not give up; there was something
worth fighting for at stake. No matter
what his feelings told him, he would defy his supposed destiny and survive for
Kugel.
Mynede
stood still, tossing her lone dagger from paw to paw. The same cold smile played on her lips. Her eyes met the otter’s. Rage burned in his gaze—she had seen such
rage before. The other vermin backed
off. Their chief had singled out an
opponent and they were not to interfere.
For a few moments the two stood in silence. Time seemed to stop as thoughts cascaded
through Bulstead’s mind. The world
faded, and then…
“Kuuuugelll!” Bulstead rushed at Mynede with
his club raised to strike. The weasel
shot into the air and delivered a double kick to the otter’s face. Bulstead’s club struck her legs and she fell
sideways. Twisting in mid-air she
slashed at her opponent with her dagger.
Blood seeped from Bulstead’s leg, but he took no heed. Slashing, swinging, biting, clawing, and
kicking one another they rolled over and over in a whirlwind of blood and fur. Mynede was an exceptional escape artist and
whenever Bulstead thought he had her, his club swung through thin air. Long they fought, blind to all that happened
around them. More vermin arrived on the
scene, vermin that had conquered other warriors, and still they struggled.
Mynede
ripped at Bulstead’s limbs with her dagger, bringing more scars to his already
scarred body. She could feel him
weakening. Every time he lifted his club
all Bulstead could feel was pain. Each
breath became more difficult to draw.
Everything was going dark. Blood
was everywhere—his own blood. Dropping
his club, he reached for the weasel. She
tried to squirm out of his reach, but to no avail; the otter was determined in
his last attempt to kill her. His paws
closed around her neck and he tried to strangle her but his strength was
leaving him. He was vaguely aware of
repeated blows to his head. He
fell.
“Kugel… I failed you mate… Good luck to ye…” The words softly escaped
from his lips and he died.
Chapter 4
"You
are quite a specimen aren't you? The
very size of you is enough to impress.
You should have been born a badger, not an otter; not that it really
matters now…" Mynede examined the bloodstained dagger in her paws and
smiled wickedly. She continued in the
subtle, almost seductive way that she spoke.
"It would be terrifying to fight you, wouldn't it? That is, if one was the type to go in for
intimidation... It was fortunate I'm not, eh?
Fortunate for me, anyways." The weasel looked over at the immobile corpse
of Bulstead. She ran her paws over his
body searching for anything of value to her, and continued her speech to the
dead.
“I
have conquered. I have done what could
not be done in the times past. True, it
is not a great victory, but it is a victory nonetheless. Every victory is worth something. Every one brings me closer to—" Her
voice faded. She seemed not to know
quite what it brought her closer to. This did not trouble her, however. After a moment of pondering her words in
silence, she rose to her full height, the very picture of the barbarian
conqueror. “Yes, I have shown my
worth. Yesterday peaceful clans could
not stop me, today experienced warriors have no power; tomorrow I shall be
unstoppable!” As she made this last
statement, she surveyed all around her with the pride and dignity born of a
queen.
"Milady!" Mynede was
pulled from her fantasies by Jessup’s call.
She nodded to him and he bowed in salute to his mistress. "We've taken all we can manage. I've ordered our band to pull out. That is, if it's all right." He looked up hesitantly.
"You ordered them to
move out? Whatever
for?"
"I just
thought... Well, since we did what we
came to do... Is there a problem?"
"What if there are
more of them?" The female weasel raised
a paw in indication of the bodies scattered around the woodland clearing. "What if somebody comes back from
someplace and finds this mess, Jessup?"
"I'm sure I don't
know, Milady." Jessup lowered his
head.
"I'll tell you. They might cry. They might kill themselves. But chances are they'll look for help. When they find it, they will come after
us. What do you suppose will happen to
us then, Jessup?"
"I... don't know, Milady."
"You know perfectly
well, you useless idiot. Don't be so
timid. You'll die that way."
Jessup was at a complete
loss as to what to say. He looked up at
his insulter. She seemed to tower over
him, even though he was more than a head taller than she was. "I wish you wouldn't speak that way to
me, Mynede... I thought we were, you know..."
"Oh,
my poor Jessup." Mynede's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Did I hurt your feelings?" Jessup nodded stupidly. Mynede responded by kicking him sharply. "Well, get over it!" Her voice was no longer soft. "You’re a warrior—start acting like
one! Now go and cancel the order to move
out. Send out some sentries and set up
camp. I want to stay here a little longer." Jessup nodded and departed from her.
Blast that Jessup, ruining
her moment of complete triumph! Mynede
tried to look at her surroundings as she had a moment before, but she could not
regain that feeling of victory. The raid
was over. The excitement of the moment
was gone. Mynede’s eyes became dull with
boredom. She was just about to follow
Jessup to camp when something caught her eye, a small shack in the
distance. Frowning with renewed
interest, she made her way to it and entered.
The
shack had been ransacked like everything else.
Multitudes of bookshelves had been pushed over and broken. The floor was strewn with ancient recordings
of ages long past. Several disembodied
pages lay about the small dwelling, crumpled and torn objects that had only a
day ago been part of some magnificent writing.
“Nobody’s
been in here for years…” She said of her dusty surroundings. It was true.
If the recent raiding party was not counted, the shack had been
untouched for years. Dust covered
everything and cobwebs were present in every nook and corner.
Mynede
stepped lightly over a toppled desk and broken chair. “This is it, this is his dwelling,” she
said, looking around her. Memories
rushed into Mynede’s mind, making her head throb and feel heavy. She sat down and picked a book up from the
floor. Gazing at it, she tried to
control the multitude of emotions present inside her. Slowly her thoughts began to put themselves
in order, her memories transported her to a time long
gone. And so she sat,
staring off into the past.
To Be Continued…