Meiyo’s lip curled. “Let’s leave. I don’t want to stick around and see if he had company.”

  Dannedd groaned. “I need to eat.”

  Haisha gripped his sword and lunged at their captive. He brought his weapon down a hair’s width away from his face. “Last warning.” He pulled away from him and faced Meiyo. “That beast nearly grabbed you. You need to be swifter. If the Ghost aids your brother, you’ll face a fast opponent.” The acid in his voice was palpable.

  Being castigated by him was nearly as humiliating as her fight with Itansha back home. Meiyo curled her tail tight. “So you won’t fight the Ghost? Afraid the legends are true?”

  Staring at the gopher, she understood there must be a deep darkness bubbling inside him.

  “Insolent girl! I’ll kill the Ghost and your brother. I’ll rob you of the chance to regain your honor if you continue in that attitude.”

  A deep crease formed in her brow. “You’re afraid of the Ghost, aren’t you? The Ghost can’t curse you in death, no matter what the legends say. I can’t believe my father admitted you.”

  “We’re both disgraced.” The burning truth simmered. “Your father was a good master.” Haisha stroked his thin beard. “When I return with his traitorous son’s head on a pike, along with a Ghost’s, I’ll be restored to my proper place.”

  Meiyo pointed to the setting magenta sun. “Whatever. You’re afraid of monsters, and it’s almost nighttime.” She thrust her sword toward Dannedd. “You said you could take us to a village.”

  “You pointed weapons at me. I would’ve said anything.”

  Whoosh!

  In a flash and rush of air, Haisha shaved off Dannedd’s left whiskers. “You’ll learn some respect.”

  “Said the kidnapper who decapitates rodents!” Dannedd shouted.

  Haisha glared. “Quit screaming. You’re revealing our position.” He backpawed Dannedd in the snout.

  Meiyo sheathed her sword. “We have nothing to hide. Norodent can challenge us.”

  “The one nearly got you, the Ghost defeated me, and a troop of inferior warriors could still overwhelm us.” Haisha sauntered forward. “Your brother defeated both of us individually. If you don’t change your attitude, expect similar results.”

  “Yes, Master.” They’d done this dance before, but something in that cursed vole brought out a new layer.

  Only two things mattered now. Restore her honor and erase her shame.

  Both would be accomplished by capturing Itansha.

  A tremor underfoot caught her attention. A team of horses pulled a wagon nearby—they must’ve been closer to a road than she realized. She couldn’t see into it, but the wagon was driven by a young rodent, a hamster if she had to guess. Chattering voices rose from inside.

  “Trail them,” Haisha said. “And see if anyone else is following.”

  After her first step, she noticed a rustling bush in the distance. From the shrub, a head poked out—covered by face wraps. Navy clothing, barely visible against the night sky. She wouldn’t have noticed without Father’s training.

  “The Ghost,” Meiyo gasped.

  Before Meiyo could inform Haisha, the figure in the bush pulled back.

  “Itansha came with the Ghost.” The memory of her fight with Itansha seared across her mind’s eye. His tactics, the deception. A Ghost had trained him. His betrayal of their family’s values was complete.

  “Master,” Meiyo whispered. “Let’s slay the Ghost. She’s not far.”

  Haisha placed a paw on her shoulder. “In time. If that is the same Ghost I fought, she is a crafty demon. Fighting unprepared and overconfident against her and your whelp of a brother cost me my honor. It did the same to you. Warriors learn from their mistakes…”

  Haisha droned on, but Meiyo only heard ringing in her ears, magnified by her burning hatred for Itansha, the stupid Ghost, this cursed island, even her teacher for forcing her to stay her paw.

  Sword gripped tight, she turned on her teacher and rose into the second attack form. “You can’t make me stay behind. I’m armored and faster than you.”

  Haisha sheathed his sword. “Strike me if you must, but your anger is coming from your impotence. You know you can’t beat your brother alone. You know Ghosts can fake their own deaths and turn into smoke if stabbed.” Haisha grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled, exposing his neck. “One cut to the throat. Go ahead. Take my blade and pursue them on your own.”

  Dannedd shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut.

  It was a trap. But Meiyo only saw red, matching her plated armor.

  With a snarl, she lunged, sword aloft.

  The old gopher spun away and swung his sword in the same movement. He stomped on Meiyo’s exposed tail, and she stumbled to the ground. When she rolled over, coughing out dirt, Haisha pointed his sword at her throat. “Unlike you, I learned from my mistakes. You’ll be doomed to more misery in your next life.”

  “I’m doomed to it in this one.”

  “Which is why we work together. When justice is served, our heavenly duty will be served. The Ghost already scampered off. She probably heard you.” Haisha grimaced, whiskers pointing to the ground. “Get up and stop embarrassing yourself.”

  Meiyo swatted the sword’s tip from her quivering chin and propped herself up by her elbows. “I’ll kill you one day.”

  Haisha turned from her and glanced over his shoulder. “I’d expect nothing less. Learn everything you can from me first. I will not hold back when you make your pitiful attempt. I haven’t heard any gratitude for saving your life by slaying the rabid one.”

  Meiyo vowed to never thank him. “Understood, Master.”

  14

  A sluggish nightfall

  Severe sickness acquainted

  Watching misty stars

  Noka’s Moon Chart: 5 days left to plant

  Distant waves sloshing against the shore provided the only noise, and the too-bare trees threatened Risu’s stealth. Dominating the horizon, Mausfjord’s lone mountain and Gnaverwood pierced the sky, ripping clouds like a sword and spear.

  Marsvin and Gwrth kept silent in the darkness, but they moved slow. Risu resisted the urge to grumble; at least Futoi understood the need for silent speed.

  A dead twig snapped.

  “I’m sorry, Risu,” Marsvin squeaked. “I haven’t walked this much since—”

  Risu sighed. “Our last mission together?”

  “You’re a real blunt acorn, aren’t you?” Gwrth asked, pushing the hair from his eyes.

  Futoi shushed the vole but whispered loud enough for Risu to hear, “You should hear her in an actual bad mood.”

  Risu pinched the bridge of her nose. “We can slow down. What matters is intercepting the wagon.”

  Marsvin pointed at the sparse trees. “This road leads to another one of Vucem’s Fingers.”

  “One of those peninsulas? Is everything here named after your gods?” Futoi asked.

  “He’s about to say they’re ‘everyone’s gods,’” Gwrth said.

  Marsvin shook his head. “I used to think that way. But Risu and Itansha have different religions from me.”

  “Risu’s religion is not having one,” Futoi said. “She’s quite devoted.”

  Risu glared. “You know, you’re as smart as you are handsome.” After a pause, she added, “And you’re the ugliest huskbiter in the Great Sea.”

  Gwrth kicked a loose stone in the path. “This is a phenomenal use of our time. I bet you’re the most stealthy spirit ever.”

  “Ghost,” Marsvin corrected.

  Gwrth’s whiskers drooped. “Like my poppy?”

  Risu’s breath caught in her throat. Hearing the word “ghost” right after his father had died must’ve hurt, especially if he didn’t understand that they weren’t speaking literally. The “Ghost” name was meant to drive fear and confusion into the minds of their enemies, but here, it was adding to an orphan’s trauma.

  “Let’s go back to silence.” Risu offered an apologetic smile to Gwrth, but his silence suggested he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

  They continued until the jagged dirt path diverted from the coast.

  “We’re close,” Marsvin said. “My uncle’s wagon will be here soon.”

  Futoi opened his knapsack and pulled out a hollowed gerbil tail, coiled like a rope.

  Gwrth retched. “You chopped off a tail?”

  Marsvin puffed out his chest. “Yes, they did. It’s Mister Trevlig’s. He’s a gerbil, so he can survive losing it. He said it didn’t hurt. Too much.”

  Gwrth gagged as Futoi donned his disguise.

  “Sorry it makes you uncomfortable,” Risu told him.

  “This island makes me uncomfortable,” Gwrth replied. “Being an enslaved orphan.”

  Marsvin dug his toe into the dirt. “We’ll find a way to free you, Gwrth. And all the other Llygodeners. I promise.”

  Futoi wriggled his tail into the gerbil tail and donned Trevlig’s spare hooded cloak. Mausfjorder tailors preferred animal skins and hair over the plant fibers and silks used on Kinoumi. These cloaks would at least let them blend in with the locals as much as the night sky. Silk would make the cloaks much more tolerable, though.

  Under darkness, Futoi could pass for a gerbil. It wasn’t like the disguises Risu used back home, but it would work for this mission. Risu gave Futoi a nod and climbed the nearest tree. If anybody recognized them, they’d get kicked off the island or worse.

  The group proceeded, with the boys on the ground and Risu gliding between the treetops. Each glide left her winded, since she needed to jump higher to accommodate for the distance between the balding evergreens.

  Once Risu had covered a good distance, she surveyed the landscape. On their left, the wagon approached on the road leading to a town on their right.

  The horse-drawn wagon halted, and Risu counted exiting passengers.

  Oversatt, the translator.

  Husks.

  Two armed hamsters, carrying a wooden crate.

  Double husks.

  Forstor, glass bottles at his side clinking with each step.

  Musky husks.

  One more gerbil, this one carrying a taut rope, exited from the wagon’s back. As he moved away, the rope lengthened until five Llygodeners—three voles and two dormice—emerged, all tied together in a line.

  Then Blodtorstig appeared.

  Brusque husks at dusk!

  Risu glided down like a falcon before gingerly landing on her hindpaws. “Marsvin, what do you know about this town up ahead?”

  Marsvin shrugged. “The town? You mean Rattavits? My da said they used to have a different Low Snarl than my uncle, but now they’re under his rule. They don’t get along well with him, though.”

  Futoi crossed his arms. “They’re here to start trouble. Find the dissenters in town and eliminate them.”

  Risu nodded. “Marsvin and Gwrth, we need to get you as close as possible without anyone noticing. Memorize every word they say.”

  “Of course, master,” Gwrth said in a monotone.

  Risu bit the inside of her cheek, mumbled an apology, and darted up another tree. No wonder nobody liked her. She hated ordering him around, but they needed proof to take to Brekkatown that Blodtorstig was too cruel to follow, and then they’d replace him and focus on the farming. Accomplishing that meant taking command, even if Risu hated it.

  On the ground, Forstor circled the prisoners, holding a bottle to each Llygodener’s nose. Each had a visceral reaction to whatever they’d smelled, convulsing and heaving at the stench.

  Daring fate, Risu glided closer.

  The two armed hamsters wore thick gloves. They set the crate down, and one drew his battleaxe and pointed it at the box. Oversatt donned gloves from his cloak and knelt beside the box.

  Quieter than Risu had come to expect, Marsvin and Gwrth moved into position and huddled against an ancient, hollowed log, between gnarled roots.

  With a slight tremor, Oversatt pried the crate open, and the other hamster grimaced, shoving his arm inside. After a few seconds, his gloved paw emerged, holding a thrashing raccoon that hissed like a territorial goose and slashed like a hungry bear. This raccoon’s jerky movements went beyond agitation. Its snarls and swipes seemed unnatural. This looked like a beast driven crazy, frothing at the mouth. One of its eyes was a venomous green.

  Risu’s jaw dropped. This wild raccoon behaved like Gwrth’s father had and sported a matching lifeless eye.

  As it ripped at the air, the gathered rodents shrank back, except Blodtorstig and Forstor, who leaned closer. Whinnying, the horses attached to the wagon shied away and stomped their hooves.

  Arm outstretched, the gloved hamster holding the raccoon by its nape approached the Llygodeners.

  The raccoon’s head turned at unnatural angles, pushing the limits of anatomy, twitching faster as the hamster brought it close to the captive voles and dormice, who backed away as much as the rope allowed.

  The gloved hamster heaved the frothing raccoon at the Llygodeners—it dug into the nearest vole, biting and clawing at his flesh. The others screamed and struggled against the rope, but without space for maneuvering, they just bumped into each other while the Mausfjorder clutching the rope held them fast.

  After leaving the first vole wounded and helpless, the gloved hamster snatched the raccoon and tossed it onto a dormouse. As he wailed, the other captives tried gnawing through the rope, but Blodtorstig kicked one in the stomach, making him double over, allowing the raccoon to jump to the next victim.

  Risu put her paws over her mouth. No training could’ve prepared her for this. This memory would make her sweat in the night. But they couldn’t dive in and do anything about it, not with those warriors present.

  Yet the captives’ screams were nothing compared to Forstor’s cold observation of the scene. Risu couldn’t imagine how the boys were handling this below. She wished she believed in Grandma’s spirits so she could thank them for the boys’ silence.

  The raccoon scurried around and attacked each captive before the gloved hamsters retrieved it, leaving the Llygodeners shuddering in a heap. Their shrieks turned into groans.

  Animal bites were no joke, but to collapse after a bite from such a small animal that wasn’t even venomous? Risu’s heart rate quickened once she spotted Forstor standing over the crate. Maybe he’d mixed some concoction to drive the animal crazy.

  Forstor muttered something to Blodtorstig after the hamster reattached the crate lid with the raccoon trapped inside. The warriors removed the rope around the collapsed Llygodeners, and all the Mausfjorders clambered back into the wagon. The horses grumbled and drove forward, abandoning the Llygodeners.

  Risu shuddered at the callousness of leaving these poor voles and dormice for dead.

  Her blood froze.

  If that animal acted like Gwrth’s father, then—

  The boys left their cover down below, only a few yards away.

  Risu jumped from her treetop position in the steepest glide she’d ever made and ran to them behind the hollowed log. Marsvin’s whiskers quivered, and Gwrth stared at his own hindpaws.

  Emerging from behind a tree, Futoi lowered his hood. “Nobody saw me, so this disguise was a waste. They did this here so someone from Rattavits would find them.” His voice darkened. “They’ll do this to show what happens if they defy Blodtorstig.”

  “That raccoon killed them somehow,” Gwrth added. “They’re leaving these bodies here to rot and attract flies. It’s disgusting—”

  Groaning echoed in the night’s stillness.

  More voices joined.

  Futoi rolled the tangled log back, revealing the Llygodeners. One stumbled to his hindpaws. One by one, the others did, too. Risu was too scared to even consider moving. She needed logic. They had to remain silent and undetected—

  Gwrth gasped. Loudly.

  One Llygodener’s ear perked in their direction. Then it saw them, flashing a green eye.

  Brusque husk at dusk on a tusk! “We need to leave. Now,” Risu commanded.

  The Llygodener moaned, soon joined by another. All five shambled toward them.

  “We need a distraction,” Futoi said.

  Risu had smoke bombs and scorpionsting darts, but no materials in this strange land to build more. Not to mention that the bombs might not confuse them, and the darts might not put them to sleep. “They have to chase us! We can’t let them go to that town!”

  Risu eyed some dry pine cones on the ground. “Get back to Brekkatown. I’ll catch up. Futoi, protect the boys.”

  Gwrth bolted, but Marsvin lingered, eyes pleading with Risu. Futoi grabbed Marsvin by the wrist, and the boys retreated.

  Risu counted three pinecones nearby. The infected Llygodeners approached, shuffling faster.

  Breathing deep, Risu grabbed two pinecones with her paws and the third with her tail. She couldn’t lead the Llygodeners toward the town or the boys, and if she went too far in Blodtorstig’s direction, she risked a bigger problem. Leading them to the shore wouldn’t work, either—swimming wasn’t an option.

  Risu moved all three pinecones to her tail and climbed the nearest tree. Halfway up, she paused and threw her first, hitting a dormouse in the shoulder. He groaned, and the group shifted toward Risu’s tree.

  Fighting tears, Risu continued until all five Llygodeners clawed at the base of her tree. The two dormice latched their fingers into the bark and climbed. The three voles didn’t bother but continued scratching, groaning louder.

  As the dormice scrambled upward, Risu scanned the surroundings. A single lit torch in the distance on her left signaled Blodtorstig’s retinue. Waves lapped at the shoreline on her right. Rustling bushes ahead marked the boys’ slow progress.

 

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