The Lengthening Shadow
Chapter 23: Finding Vi’lle

Everyone jumped out of bed. Samuel, Crackwillow, and Tarsch drew their weapons and faced the figure. The ancient ferret cried “Who are you? Speak, or I will kill you!” The dark form laughed a deep laugh. “Who am I? Maybe this situation needs to be illuminated. Vaz’nar!” A blinding white light filled the cavern. Tarsch looked at the huge shape and gasped.

“Vi’lle!? How are you…”

“Yes, it is me.” boomed the white badger. He shifted form into a mink, then a squirrel, then a badger again. “My old friend Tarsch! How are you doing? It’s been long since I’ve seen you. What is it you need of me?”

“Our two friends are poisoned and they need help. We have been tracked by an army of three hundred.”

“Where are the three hundred?”

Tarsch motioned to Samuel. “He slew them all by himself not three hours ago.”

“To slay three hundred… that is not an easy feat. He must be a brave soul and a fine warrior. What has occurred in my absence?”

Tarsch and the rest told him all. The journey of Samuel and Morgan from Fernwood; the burning of Brushtipp; the battles in the North and the taking of Norsän-Ran; and finally Glinger’s pursuit and the path up Hallowspike. At the end, the first Verdancer shook his head. “Well, that is an adventure! My brother Ra’vok has obviously grown stronger, if he has indeed taken Norsän-Ran. Crackwillow, what news from the south? The Acar Mort have not been safe of late, owing to the Souleaters issuing from the Gap of Flandir.”

Crackwillow was puzzled. “I thought that Archdeacon Laburnum said that the Gap was under Arvand’s watch?”

“It was. Somehow, those beasts passed the city’s defenses, which I replace highly improbable. That city was there before I came to Certaria. I would say it is the oldest civilized complex in the world, save only Fernwood. Archdeacon Laburnum, hmmm. I could swear I had heard that name before, but I can’t place where.”

The badger showed them around the cave. It was of average size, with a few stalactites hanging from the ceiling. Samuel chose to share one of the small rooms with two Fernwood knights, Fround and Cielin. The mouse slept well that night, lulled into slumber by Maria’s singing. The next morning, Samuel realized something. “Vi’lle! We’ve only two days to save Jake from the Eve of Half-year sacrifice. Vi’lle woke with a start. “The Eve of Half-year! I had heard that prophecy before, but I never imagined it would come true! Where is he held?”

“Deadbeast Bluff, milord.”

“Why aren’t you going?”

“We were searching for you!”

The wizard was puzzled. “Why exactly are you looking for me?”

Felixa and Maria told of how their two companions had been poisoned by vermin. Felixa recounted the strange device used by Uldrich.

“It was odd, and rusty. It had a long shaft, with a spearhead on one end and a needle on the other.”

Vi’lle looked troubled. “I have heard of those devices before, but never seen one. They are Speedles, evil weapons of torture. The original was made by Diabolian. Have you heard of him? The malevolent regent of the Underlord, skilled in arts of pain and death. He is a shape-maker, like me. Sometimes a ferret, sometimes a demon. Do not attempt to confront him; you would be dead in seconds. As for the poison, Wyrm-derived toxins are deadly. I am amazed that you actually made it to Hallowspike! No offense to you two, I can tell that you have strong hearts. Now you mouse, Tobias, get me some of those lenses on the ledge over there.”

Tobias fetched the glass spheres, and handed them to the badger. He held them up to his eyes. “Let me see here… I know! They must be taken to the Light Altar, along with some of my herbs and chemicals. Oh, and it must be a full moon, like tonight will be. Don’t worry. If I am with you, you can easily make it to Deadbeast Bluff in a day. Now, where is that essence of Janbare root?”

Alrack continued on his present course. Under the full moon of that night, he would march to Deadbeast Bluff, perhaps taking it over as a land fortress. Castle Alrack! It had a nice ring to it. However, he had forgotten Havaraa’s tale of the clicking guardian. The pirates were one hundred and three, outnumbering the two other groups. The black weasel continued on his course. The pirates stopped around midnight to camp. Alrack and Waveclaw sat in their tent to talk about the other two factions of the now-divided group of vermin. Waveclaw looked over a chart with numbers scrawled all over it.

“Cap’n, what do all these squiggles mean? I can’t make ’eads or tails of ’em.”

Alrack peered at the yellowed paper. “It’s the figures of our three parties. We are one hundred and three, while Uldrich an’ Crowblood have only fifty each. If they attack, we will win.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

“How far is the Bluff?”

“A day from ’ere, Cap’n.”

The black weasel looked out at the night. “Wavey, tell me about ’oo made that place.”

“The Bluff, sir?”

“Yes.”

Waveclaw thought for a moment before pulling out a thin, tattered book. “Well, ’ere goes. ’About nine hundred years ago, the separated orders of wizards arrived on the Western Coast of Certaria. The Destromancers journeyed north to Glimroft, but first they made a fortress in the South, in a bluff facing the southern end of the Eternal Sea. Later, the castle of Tengdært became somewhat dreaded, for no known reason, but the evil of the Bluff far exceeded it. The reason why the terror started was…”

“Well? Why didjer stop?” snarled an impatient Alrack.

“Well, sir,” explained the rat, “The rest o’ the pages I can’t read. They’re too ripped an’ stained.”

The weasel got up and stormed out of the tent. He walked away and sat down on one of the seats facing the campfire. Alrack stared into the flames, perhaps seeking some answer to the question of the terror. He knew it was nothing natural that ruled the Bluff. But what? Goldtail, walking around the flames, sat next to Alrack. “What’s wrong, Cap’n?” Alrack did not look up. “It’s the Bluff, Goldtail. The Bluff. I feel that I shouldn’t go there; that nobeast should.”

“Then why are ye still goin’?”

Without warning, the gauntleted paw smacked the fox across the face. “Because I say so, that’s why! No one questions my orders! D’ye hear?”

“Aye, sir.”

Rivenhand heard the arrow before he saw it. Quickly, the fisher ducked as the shaft whistled over his head. Looking up, he saw a shape darting in the trees. Quick as lightning, the Captain whipped up his pistol and fired, downing the cloaked squirrel. He turned to the army. “It’s an ambush! Squirrels, they’re attacking! Kill the squirrels!” The five hundred split up into five groups and found defensive positions. Rivenhand barked out further orders. “Riflebeasts, watch the trees! Shoot anything in them that moves!” Blackcog, Rivenhand’s engineer, ran to the grendana. The Captain, dodging three arrows and downing their owners simultaneously, screamed “Burn the trees! Full flaming boulders! Blackcog, get the grendana to maximum power! Fire on my command. Three… Two… One… Fire at will!” All of the guns and boulders gave a red light to the full-moon-lit night. Rivenhand adjusted his lighting goggles and shot down another of the attackers. He knew that he would win this battle.

Cara Longshaft called out to her first officer, Hinsern. “Shoot down that ferret Thazancian over there.” The squirrel nocked an arrow to his string and slew the soldier with practiced ease. Their tribe of archers had always guarded the area south of Tendor Forest, watching the road along the East Shore. Then, along came this army of black-uniformed soldiers smashing through the peaceful wood, destroying the squirrels’ homes; Cara had no choice but to give them as big of a battle as she could. The bowbeasts jumped from branch to branch, occasionally letting loose an arrow into the crowd of enemies. Rivenhand adjusted the electric lights on his goggles, peering into the trees and, with a loud bang, snuffed out the life of another of the resistors.

The squirrel chieftainess drew the long, thin twine back and sent an arrow thudding into Blackcog’s paw. The cat grimaced in pain and pulled the shaft out, ducking behind one of the grendana’s wheels to avoid further injury. He jumped onto the platform and flicked some switches. Counterweights swung down and a pair of fiery giant rocks smashed into trees, the crackling of burning wood mingling with the screams of wounded and dying squirrels. Suddenly, the Captain of the Thazancians realized he needed to cut his losses and get to Deadbeast Bluff in time for the sacrifice. “Retreat! Soldiers of Thazanc, retreat and regroup! Head south!” The army clumped together under the hail of knocking shafts and ran towards the Bluff, Rivenhand in the lead, Blackcog and the grendana in the rear. Cara watched them until they were out of sight, then turned to Hinsern. “How many killed, officer?”

“About twenty-three, milady.”

“And theirs?”

“Milady, I’m not really sure. I’d say fifty-seven.”

The Chieftainess Longshaft looked first south, then north. She tightened the string on her bow. “If they ever come back, they’ll replace us waiting for them.”

Iolargh and Vurgal carried heaps of wood up to the platform in the central cave of the Bluff. The weasel heaved the dry material onto the stone and walked down to get another heap. The sacrifice was in a day, and it paid to be ready. They passed Fangedeye on their way down from the raised pillar, the sergeant carrying a bucket of oil. The marten officer, Mindreve, had several jagged knives and a wooden frame, and he set it down and stuck the knives in their places next to the platform.

Under the orders of Iolargh and several other Destromancers, the stone table was prepared and pyre built underneath it for the procedure. The plan was that the Sorcerer of the Bluff would come and light the fire. Then, take a knife, cut Jake’s heart out, and throw it into the fiery pits of the cave. Afterwards, the rest of his body would be consumed by flames. However, they had left the Fernwooders and Samuel out of their plans. That did not seem to bother Mindreve and Fangedeye as they ran around shouting orders.

“Dolrin, get that catwalk fixed!”

“Shredface, prepare the outer garrison!”

“Gasher, take Lorndal and Penrue to the gates and balconies! Adjust and repair the cannons and sentries!”

Thazancians scurried along the wooden beams and bridges, swinging down ropes and crane arms to reach their positions and carry out their commands. Gasher the rat ran to Fangedeye’s side. “Sir, Lorndal and Penrue have readied the gates. Further orders, sir?” Fangedeye looked at a high tunnel leading up to the tree-covered hill that was sitting directly on top of the Bluff’s menacing caves. “Get up there and tell me at any time who gets here, whether it be Rivenhand or the filthy, stupid Fernwooders. Got it?” Gasher nodded, saluted, and dashed off up a narrow ramp.

Thayder, Bernie, and their motley army set out the same day as Rivenhand. The otter led the force directly southwards, the same direction as many armies. The force had recruited along the way until it had swelled to one hundred and fifty. Still, force didn’t change time. They were halfway across Greenbloom by the night of the full moon. Thayder calculated their distance by the stars and he spoke to the army about it. “We are nearing the center of our region. We still have five hundred miles to cover in twenty-four hours. I repeat, twenty-four hours. Anything later, and Jake dies, Ra’vok awakens, and all o’ the Deeps will break loose. Questions?”

A small-looking mole raised his digging claw as high as he could reach. “Me name’s Kondurt, sir, an’ I was wonderin’ if we could do the marchin’ widout rest. Can we?” Thayder considered this. Then, after a whispered conversation with Bernie, he answered “We will do that, but after a short rest and sleep. Does that sound good?”

“Yessir!”

The army marched on through the night, ever south. Destiny awaited all who came to Deadbeast Bluff on the Eve of Half-Year, whether they knew and wanted it or not. Death would be the lot of some, but it was a risk nearly two thousand beasts were taking. Thayder, holding a small gas lamp, led the way, showing his army the way to where Jake was held.

Samuel watched as Vi’lle mixed a strange assortment of roots with a collection of clear and colored fluids and a red powder. He put them all together in a glass vial, then shook it well and took Crackwillow’s Vrandeyl. The badger’s surprisingly nimble fingers opened a tiny lid that the mouse had not seen before and poured a shining liquid in before closing it again. Aidan and Malcolm sat up on their cots to see the creation of the final antidote that would cure them of their affliction.

“There!” exclaimed Vi’lle. “Tarsch, Crackwillow, does it look done to you?” Both senior Verdancers examined the potion before giving the affirmative. However, the badger had something to say first. “The potion can only be administered at midnight. In the meantime, let me tell you a story. Diabolian, regent of the Underlord, is to be feared. Long ago, he was the servant of the then-Light Lendor. After the, well… you all know the story. Anyways, after the betrayal and the exile of Lendor, he took up abode in the Deeps of Doom, the underworld. Both of them, along with the members of Lendor’s personal guard. started the thousand-and-a-half year work of building the Underlord’s empire and his gigantic stronghold of Thrakö Dûrkatûl. For those of you who have read the entire Tale of the Three Children of Leafhand, his name comes from the mixed up letters of his first one.”

Vi’lle got up and scratched a few words on the cave wall with his wand. “See? LENDOR. And if I show you this here, it is UNDERLOrd. They are one and the same. Back to the tale. Diabolian was Lendor’s most trusted advisor, and he wields formidable power. Back in his heyday, Diabolian was an inventor, and one of his many creations was the Speedle. With his great power came one of the rarest magical objects in the universe: a Teleportal. With that, Diabolian could travel anywhere. That, along with his weapons and abilities, is exactly why he should be feared.” Vi’lle grabbed a jug from a shelf and filled a small bowl with water. As he spoke strange words over it, the water formed into the image of Jake.

All beasts standing around gasped. Jake was in a tiny cell, lit with red light. The image swung from the cell to the tunnel, and through it to the caves of Deadbeast Bluff. Destromancers and Thazancians were running through the passageways to secret mines and forges where weapons of war were being made. Huge blast furnaces belched out sparks and smoke as black-uniformed figures heaved cut wood into them. Melted metal was poured into molds and cooled, the weapons and armor piled in heaps. Out on the balconies, sentries watched and primed cannons, waiting for a signal that somebeast was coming. A platoon of newly arrived soldiers mounted a swinging catwalk and were carried down to a lower level, where they received new supplies and were told their jobs. The view transported to the outside, where, in a cliff, battlements and watchtowers jutted out of the sheer rock face above the ocean. Moving around, it showed that from the back the Bluff was a large sloping hill on the coast, covered with trees and yellowed grass.

Samuel stared into the bowl long after the image had faded. “How many Thazancians and Destromancers are there?” he asked Crackwillow. “I’d say about a thousand strong.” The mouse gasped. “But there’s only a hundred and fifty under Thayder, with fifty under me. That’s two hundred against the thousand, the creatures, and Captain Rivenhand’s army. Two hundred against one thousand five hundred. Not very fair.” Samuel turned to his band standing around under the place where the Light Altar would be. “But we will fight! We will be the Company of Light!” Everybeast in the cave cheered. He looked at some of them. “Joshua, Bladeberry, Tobias, get everything prepared for the healing. On the double!” The three dashed off to attend to it.

Vi’lle showed them to the Light Altar on top of the mountain. It was a stone pyramid, six feet high, with a flat slab embedded in the side facing south. The slab was engraved with many runes that Vi’lle told them were a song in Koranan.

“An englenar

la nephavon na kaa

puumdelos in ghabeno

nawwe na kaa.

Killponar jevo pequee

Defhanav la no na kaa

Uilo gor xanafrei

An englenar na kaa.”

As the Verdancer finished, Samuel started applauding. “Bravo, bravo. What does it mean?” Vi’lle paused and gave an answer. “It is an ancient lament made by Hanfillt my father for the Fall of Lendor. He created it after the last battle against the Underlord in Thrakö Dûrkatûl, kind of a victory song, though with not much happiness.” Crackwillow looked at the stars.

“It’s not midnight yet. I’d say another hour or two before we can administer the cure. Until then, I think we should scry on the position of the multiple forces heading to and at Deadbeast Bluff. Tarsch and I will attend to that and give you all an update on the situation.” The two wizards got out silver bowls, filled them with water, and started the process.

After about half an hour, the squirrel came back to the summit. “We learned that Jacober is being held in cell 10QL9. He is guarded by fifteen Thazancians at all times, in the lower levels of the main pit. You would have to bypass the main internal watch system and some stories of the barracks, and get along a maze of wooden beams. The doors are made of iron and blackplate, with bars of the same material.”

Samuel and Vi’lle looked at each other with dismay. Blackplate was one of the strongest metals in Certaria, and very hard to destroy. And, even Verdancers could not destroy at least four hundred soldiers in a confined area. Soon, Tarsch followed, with good and bad news. “Good news is, Thayder, Bernie, and their army have reached the southern coastal area. Bad news is, Rivenhand’s force got to the Bluff area about two minutes ago. They’re entering the Bluff right now. I’ve communicated with the Fernwooders and told them to wait for us. They’re at the Crossroutes, where the road from Brushtipp meets the one from Melgo. Thayder said that he overheard Rivenhand saying that he expected another three hundred more led by Nova Glinger, coming from the Acar Mort. I told him that the force was destroyed.” Crackwillow fetched his bowl and showed them Thayder.

The otter was sitting around a fire with his soldiers, preparing for the long road ahead. They heard him talking to Captain Ineng, a lizard from the Dunelands. “Ineng, the strategy is sound. Do you agree with my theory on the strength of the outer guards?”

“Aye, zir. The sentriez are zcattered thinly, with not many watching the main gate. They moztly are active at night.”

“How do you know?”

“The Zandraiders had much trade with the Bluff until a couple yearz ago. We know a lot of information about how they work. I was one of the few who went there to trade with them for metals and food.”

The two got up and went to their tents. As they got in, the water went dark, and then back to normal. Crackwillow looked up. “That’s all I can see.” They went back to scrying, and Vi’lle added a few more things to the potion. Taking water from his scrying bowl, he poured it into two vials, then dividing the mixture between the two. “There!” he cried happily, like a child with a new toy. “It’s all ready for midnight. Thank heavens the conditions were perfect tonight! Otherwise, they might have had to stay while you went.” Aidan looked at the antidote, which was now a dark green. “Are you sure it’s safe to drink?” he asked the badger.

“Yes. I’ve made it two hundred and thirty-seven times before, and it’s always worked.”

The squirrel prince relaxed a little. He stretched out and lay down again. The company walked to small corners to wait. Aidan and Grace sat watching the stars flicker in the mouth of the cave. Samuel and Tarsch held a whispered plan of how to get a thousand miles in a day.

“Tarsch, a thousand miles is impossible in a day!”

“Not for Verdancers it isn’t. Vi’lle has a Transportator Spell that will get us there in minutes.”

“Still, there’s the blackplate. Anything short of Koranan Silver or a Thazancian blast furnace won’t even dent them, or even leave a scratch.”

Tarsch sighed and walked over to the table with the potion on it. “Then I guess that there will be a lot to go through. Still, we can handle it. Oh, and by the way, have you seen the way Aidan and Grace look at each other?” Samuel grinned. “I have, Tarsch. I have.”