Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Much can hang on a single choice. The following of one route or another, speaking or remaining silent, and every other decision one must face in life. Once made, a choice can be like the shifting of a stone that sets loose an avalanche. And we are only able to wonder at the possibilities of the path or paths not taken.

Thus it was in Felldoh’s struggle with Badrang. In one place, and one time, Felldoh allowed himself to be overcome by hate. Rather than slay the Tyrant outright, Felldoh sought to humiliate and punish him. In so doing, he gave Badrang the chance to call to his forces lying in ambush nearby.

But in this time, and in this place, Felldoh stopped himself. He saw Brome’s disgusted face in his mind, speaking coldly to him. The memory of fallen friends came to him. With cold clarity, he realized that spiteful revenge would bring them, and him, no peace.

What would help bring the land peace was Badrang’s end.

So Felldoh did.

Leaving his javelin protruding from Badrang’s carcass, Felldoh picked up the sword the stoat had carried for so many seasons. Belting it to his side, he retrieved the rest of his equipment and casually strode away from Marshank. The vermin watched him go, overawed by the former slave who had cut down their leader. Even when Felldoh’s companions appeared in the distance, the former pirates did not rouse themselves.

It would not be long before Tramun Clogg, now the dominant personality among the vermin, assumed control. But the Fur and Freedom Fighters had returned to concealment by then. And not long after, a great army arrived to join the band of escaped slaves and actors. Last to arrive was a veritable armada, carrying with it Martin the Warrior and his companions.

Felldoh strode to meet Martin, and wordlessly offered him the sword. Then he followed his friend into the battle to destroy Marshank. In this time, and in this place, things happened differently. Creatures lived who otherwise would have died, and others died who would otherwise have lived.

Martin and Felldoh lived, and so did Rose, Brome, and Grumm of Noonvale. Pallum the hedgehog was among those spared, as was Starwort the otter. But Boldred the owl, and Rowanoak the badger, and many others fell in the cause of freedom. And instead of all perishing within the fort, some of the enemy escaped into the nearby swampland.

One by one these were pursued to the death, and Marshank was set ablaze in a gesture of finality. The victorious army, after mourning and burying their dead and celebrating their victory, went their separate ways. None of them could know that those who had followed the last vermin into their places of desperate refuge had received more than a fleeting pain from the stinge of the swamp’s insects. It would be days before they knew that they carried the seeds of death, which they now bore unwittingly back to their homes, friends, and kin.

And so it was that sickness came to Noonvale.

Martin put his arm around Rose’s shoulders, holding her close as she wept quietly. The two were looking down at the small marker atop a freshly filled in grave. On it, written in molescript, was the name of Grumm Trencher. Nearby, Rose’s mother Aryah stood by the resting place of her husband, Urran Voh.

Felldoh, Brome, and Pallum trudged up to them wearily. The big squirrel’s eyes ran with tears as he threw down a spade. “I just finished burying Trefoil and Celandine. They’re next to my father.”

“I helped Tullgrew with Keyla and Geum,” Brome said quietly. Pallum rested a comforting paw on the young mouse’s shoulder. The six creatures stood silently for a long moment. It seemed so cruel, that they should have survived the Battle of Marshank only to come to this.

“We must leave.”

The words, spoken with quiet resignation, came from Aryah. Rose looked at her mother, aghast. Noonvale was the only home she had ever known, and now where her father lay buried. But it had become a place of death and sickness, and to stay meant only more would follow.

“You must lead us, Martin,” Aryah went on when nobody voiced any objections. “No creature of Noonvale has traveled as you have, nor has your abilities as a leader and a warrior. We will need both, I fear, before we find a new home. And even Urran would agree now, I think.”

Bowing his head, Martin felt unworthy of such trust. Rose touched his paw, and meeting her eyes he saw her confidence in him. He saw the same in the eyes of Pallum, Brome, and even Felldoh. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he nodded.

On the borders of Noonvale was a cave, its entrance blocked by a large boulder. Martin had thought it would be many seasons before he had to open it again. Now he and Felldoh, and a few other Marshank survivors, shifted the great stone. The way clear, Martin entered.

The interior of the cave resembled a rough but serviceable armory. Here lay the weapons the Fur and Freedom Fighters who had chosen to settle in Noonvale had brought with them from Marshank. Urran Voh had forbidden them to be brought into Noonvale proper, wishing the community to remain one of peace. Martin had honored the patriarch’s wishes but insisted that the arms be kept safe against such a time as they might be needed again.

Walking to the back of the cave, Martin found the weapons he was looking for. His father’s sword was just where he’d left it. Beside it rested the blade that had once been the sword of Queen Amballa. Taking up both, he turned to see Felldoh gathering weapons for distribution.

Outside waited all that remained of the denizens of Noonvale. Most of those who had fought in the Battle of Marshank and a few others came forward to receive weapons. Rose, Brome. and Aryah did not, but stood waiting as Martin walked up to them. Martin faced Rose, his expression tender as he held out Amballa’s blade to her.

“I have no fitting gift to give you, Rose. You deserve all the honor ever bestowed upon the most gracious queen. But I am a poor warrior, and before that a slave. In all the world I own only the sword that my father gave me, and the weapon of our friend Amballa.

“Since I have nothing else, I offer you the latter, that you may be even more sure in your defense. More sure, I say, for I give you my word that I shall be your defender. Wherever our road may take us, your safety and that of our friends will be my life and my duty. No harm shall come to you that is within my power to stop.”

For the first time in days, Rose managed a smile. Reaching out, she laid her paw on the sword but did not take it. “You think too little of yourself, Martin. I accept your gift, but it is merely a symbol of the friendship and love you have shown me in our days together.

“You are a warrior. To you, a pledge of life and duty is the same as a pledge of your heart. As you have pledged to me, so I now pledge to you. My life, and my duty, will be to walk with you in all that is to come.”

“Are you certain of this, Rose?” Her mother looked at her intently. At Rose’s firm nod, Aryah turned to Martin. “Do you accept her pledge, Martin?”

Martin’s nod was just as firm. And so, as their hands clasped around the blade of Amballa, Aryah exercised the authority that had fallen upon her with her husband’s death. By her words, Martin and Rose were joined together as husband and wife. Witnessing this union, their companions raised a cheer-the last that would be heard in Noonvale in those days.

But as the company began its march south, with Martin and Rose walking paw in paw, all had hopes that it would not be the last cheer they would offer

Chapter Text

It was cold as the survivors of Noonvale traveled south. Noonvale itself had been sheltered from the worst weather, but it had been a rare haven. The coast where Marshank had stood enjoyed no such protection. Nor did the forests of the Gawtrybe provide any sanctuary, even had the Noonvalers been willing or welcome to stay among their savage one-time allies.

With no clear destination in mind, Martin could only lead his creatures onward as best as he could. Rose, Felldoh, Brome, and Pallum became ever more his closest companions. Aryah too was a great support, but she relied on Martin’s strength to carry the weary band forward. She remained with the main group always, while some combination of Martin and his wife and friends would take it in turns to scout the route ahead.

Unfortunately, it was during one such foray that Martin, Rose, and Felldoh ran afoul of the vermin patrol.

The vermin would not have lived to see another day had it not been for their numbers. Martin and Felldoh could easily have dealt with the band between them. However, as some of the vermin engaged them, two went after Rose. The young mousewife had Amballa’s blade, and Martin had taken the time to teach her its use.

But the simple truth was that Rose was not a natural fighter, and her previous adventures had ill prepared her for facing armed and experienced vermin soldiers. She was thus quickly subdued, and with Rose taken captive Martin and Felldoh dared not offer further resistance. Felldoh could only take advantage of his natural agility to escape. His flight was too quick for the vermin to hinder or take up pursuit, and so they bundled the captured mice away in the direction of their stronghold.

Kotir.

Felldoh stopped to rest some distance away, bemoaning the state he had left his friends in. They would have to be rescued, but it wasn’t a task he could accomplish alone. He had no idea if the vermin were a mere gang or part of some larger force. Until he knew more, he dared not risk a rescue attempt.

As he mused on the situation, Felldoh suddenly noted creatures on the forest floor. It was a mole and a group of hedgehogs, apparently a family of two parents and four young ones. The mole was wiping out the tracks they made in the snow behind them. Guessing that the vermin he’d encountered, or perhaps their confederates, were the reason for such caution, Felldoh decided to follow them.

Not long afterwards, the group was joined by a mouse. Watching him, Felldoh took an instant liking to the newcomer. There was an air about him that reminded Felldoh with a pang of the Rambling Rosehip Players. Seeing the obvious friendliness of the creatures, Felldoh decided that he had best introduce himself.

Ben and Goodwife Stickle, their young ones, Urthclaw the mole, and Gonff the Mousethief were naturally startled when Felldoh dropped into their path a short distance from a small camouflaged cabin. However, Felldoh himself was surprised when the hedgehog father and the mole recognized him. Apparently, they had witnessed his confrontation with the vermin and the capture of Martin and Rose. Felldoh soon found that he had eight new friends, and could hardly believe the warmth of their welcome.

Quickly and courteously as he could under the circumstances, Felldoh covered the essentials of his story. Having heard it, Gonff and Urthclaw immediately set to action. Settling the Stickles in the cabin, the two insisted on accompanying Felldoh back to the Noonvale contingent. The travelers must be warned, or they might soon join Martin and Rose in Kotir’s dungeons.

“It don’t bear thinking about, matey,” Gonff remarked as he trudged through the snow with Felldoh and Urthclaw, the three covering their tracks as they went. “Your friends have suffered enough hardships as it is. To end up in the claws of those wildcats…ugh! No, we’d best warn them and lead them to safety. Then we can worry about this Martin and Rose of yours.”

Martin and Rose themselves soon lay bound and prostrated before Verdauga Greeneyes and his children. In another time, in another place, a lone Martin would have raged at his captors without restraint. But in this time, and in this place, his wife lay captive at his side. So he endeavored to maintain his calm, though if anything his fury was all the greater to see Rose made prisoner to tyrants he suspected were every bit as cruel as Badrang had been.

Saying nothing of the other Noonvale creatures, Martin boldly sought leave for himself and Rose to be released and rejoin their squirrel companion. They would leave Mossflower and never return. Gingivere, Verdauga’s son, voiced approval of Martin’s manner and urged his father to grant the mouse’s plea. Tsarmina, Verdauga’s daughter, was of the opposite mind. She cared nothing for the intruders, and demanded not only their execution but the hunting of Felldoh as well.

Verdauga, after considering the matter, gave his own verdict. “You have courage, Martin, and also wisdom. I can see the fire in your eyes that would curse me and mine were it not for the sake of your wife. There are enough cowards and fools in the world without slaying a creature who is both brave and prudent.

“All the same, you and your companions have violated my domain carrying weapons. To let you go free might be taken as a sign of weakness. So you and your wife will remain as my prisoners, and my creatures will seek your companion to join you in the dungeon. Once you have had time to reflect on my mercy, you will be set free as a warning to all who would unwarily trespass in Mossflower in the future.”

In a fit of rage at being denied her will, Tsarmina snapped the blades of Martin and Rose’s confiscated swords. She then ordered that the hilts be hung about their necks in token of the wildcats’ “mercy.” Rose could not help a cry of grief as she saw the sword Martin had sought so long to reclaim lying in pieces on the floor of Verdauga’s chamber. Martin, grateful that Rose herself was unharmed, contented himself with a glare at Tsarmina that left even the proud wildcat unnerved.

The two were soon thrown into a cell, the hilts of their broken weapons placed on lengths of rope like mocking medallions. Freed from their bonds, the two shared an embrace after looking each other over for injuries. After a long moment, Rose spoke with a catch in her voice. “I’m so sorry, Martin.”

“Don’t be sorry, Rose. If anyone is at fault it’s me. Letting us be caught off guard like that…my father would be ashamed. And I daren’t think what your father would say, or how I’m to face your mother and Brome.”

“You silly goose, I’m not talking about us getting captured. I know full well that I’m as much to blame as anyone. Don’t try to spare my feelings. Marrying a Warrior doesn’t make me one, I know full well.

“What I’m sorry about…is your sword.”

“Oh, this old thing?” Martin actually managed a laugh at her startled expression. “I appreciate your concern, Rose. And I confess that it’s upsetting, after all the trouble we went through to get this sword back.

“But though I treasure this sword, Rose, it is only a sword. I can get it fixed, or at worst find a replacement. You are far more important to me, and you are not replaceable. Honestly, I feel worse about your sword-it was your wedding gift, after all.”

Laughing herself now, Rose wiped at her eyes. “Well, when you put it like that, Martin, I do feel better. And don’t you feel sorry. You have given me so much more than this little blade.”

Having eased each other’s hearts, the pair lay down to sleep. They had no way of knowing that their friend Felldoh had found new friends of his own, and was even now seeking to insure the safety of the other Noonvalers. Or that Verdauga, their unlikely benefactor and captor, would be dead by morning. For the moment, it was enough that they were together and alive.

Chapter Text

Felldoh and his two new friends made good time in spite of their caution. They soon reached the rest of the Noonvale contingent, and briefed them on their latest misfortune. Fortunately, their experiences had made the band resilient. Though they feared for Martin and Rose and the new peril they had all wandered into, it did not paralyze them as once it might have done.

Still, the Noonvalers’ hard-earned toughness didn’t make it less of a challenge to move them through the snow-covered woodlands. Gonff took up a guide position at the front with Brome and Aryah, who had both taken an instant shine to the other mouse. Urthclaw joined Felldoh, Pallum, Keyla, and others at the rear as they did what they could to obliterate their trail. Such measures would doubtless have seen them safely into the depths of Mossflower on any other occasion.

Unfortunately, they ran headlong into a Kotir search party dispatched following Martin and Rose’s capture and arrayal before Verdauga Greeneyes.

The vermin were more than the patrol that had captured Martin and Rose, if still a mere fraction of Kotir’s vast forces. But they were strong and well-armed, whereas the Noonvale force was pawsore after days of travel. Moreover, few among the Noonvalers had any real experience in matters of war. Felldoh quickly took charge of these and rushed the enemy troops, noting with sinking heart that there were archers among the enemy.

However, before the vermin could put shaft to string, they were suddenly assaulted from their other three sides even as the Noonvale fighters neared their front. Moles, otters, and squirrels poured out of the wintery woods, catching the vermin completely off guard. The vermin captain, a ferret named Raker, looked around in absolute shock as his ambushers were ambushed. Raker barely managed to raise his weapons in time to meet Felldoh, but even had he been fully prepared and confident he would have been no match for the squirrel who had slain Badrang.

Raker’s troops were all similarly dispatched, mostly by members of the woodlander bands. The Noonvalers looked only slightly less dazed than Raker had in his final moment as they were greeted by their unexpected rescuers. Gonff and Urthclaw quickly came forward to meet the newcomers, making it clear that they were indeed friends. With a sigh of relief, Felldoh wiped his javelin clean in the snow.

“Neat job you did there, squirrel.”

Looking up at the voice, Felldoh froze. A female squirrel stood a short distance from him, holding a bow and wearing a quiver of arrows. There was a keen light in her eyes such as he could not recall seeing in the eyes of any other of his kind. Felldoh sensed instinctively that this was no Celandine who stood before him, nor even another like the reliable Trefoil.

Quickly regaining his composure, Felldoh nodded. “Thank ye, marm. I’ve taken on a vermin or two in my time. As I’d guess you have.”

“Indeed I have,” the squirrel replied with a half-smile. “But my name isn’t marm, thank ye. Lady Amber, Queen of the Mossflower squirrels, at your service. And what do they call you, when they aren’t unfortunate enough to be on the wrong end of your weapon?”

Startled once again, but again recovering quickly, Felldoh gave a bow. “My apologies, Lady Amber. Felldoh, son of Barkjon, is my name. How is it you and your friends came to our aid, if you don’t mind me asking?

“No apologies needed, friend Felldoh,” Amber replied, giving a nod at one of her warriors. “Beech here happened to spot Gonff, Urthclaw, and the Stickles just before they met you. He overheard your story and came to report to me. I figured your lot could use some help, so I sent word to Skipper and Foremole.

“We’re lucky we got here as soon as we did; we’ve been keeping a low profile since the snow started falling. The Kotir vermin outnumber us more than I care to think about, and winter takes away our primary advantage of cover. Still, we couldn’t leave good creatures to be carried off to the cats’ dungeons. More good creatures, I should say, since Beech told me a couple of your friends have already been taken to Kotir.”

“Aye, a pair of mice-our leader Martin and his wife Rose. It’s a hard loss, especially since Martin’s twice the warrior I’ve ever been. Our group has suffered more than enough in recent days. I’m not going to leave those two in prison if there’s anything I can do to free them.”

“Martin must be something if he’s twice the warrior you are, Felldoh,” Lady Amber said, now smiling in full. “And I think I can speak for the whole Corim-the Council of Resistance in Mossflower-in saying that we’ll do whatever we can to help you. But we’d best get the rest of your friends to safety and get you a night’s rest before we make any plans. Weary bodies and empty bellies make for bad planning, in my experience.”

Felldoh saw the sense in these words, and soon the Noonvalers and woodlanders were all on the march once more. They continued covering their tracks, but left the fallen vermin for their comrades to find. It was the kind of surprise, Amber said, that the leaders of Kotir were long overdue for. Having gotten a sense of the wildcats’ wickedness, her comment made Felldoh smile grimly.

The slaughter of her vermin search party was indeed a nasty shock for Tsarmina, particularly after she had just scored a major victory. With her father poisoned and her brother framed for it, she was able to seize the sole rule of Korir for herself. It was a position she had long coveted, and more than earned. She had slain the woodland leader Barkstripe, a badger.

Even Tsarmina’s grandfather Mortspear had never achieved that feat. Her uncle Ungatt Trunn had even been killed by a badger. But she had killed her badger. And yet her father had refused to surrender power to her or even name her as his heir.

Clearly, Verdauga had grown soft in his old age. The idea that he would even consider promoting Gingivere over her was proof. As far as Tsarmina was concerned, she had done him a favor by putting him out of his misery. But that satisfaction was now marred by this brazen attack on her soldiers.

So it was that for the second time in less than a day, Tsarmina found herself down in the Korir dungeons. This time, however, she was not looking through the barred window of her brother’s cell. Instead, she was facing the mice that had been thrown into a nearby room the night before. Much to her annoyance, the pair regarded her coolly instead of with the terror or deference she was due in her new station.

“You had best cooperate with me if you wish to stay alive, mice. The force I sent to find your friend the squirrel was ambushed out in Mossflower. So either you lied to me about the size of your party, or you are in league with the rebels who dare to defy my will. But you can save yourselves a great deal of pain if you tell me where they are hiding.”

“Even if I knew where such creatures lived, cat, I wouldn’t tell you,” Martin responded calmly. “I expect that they’ll make themselves known to you before long. Tyrants have a way of making or attracting enemies. You may defeat or enslave some creatures, but eventually they will band together and come against you.”

Holding her temper, Tsarmina smiled. “Indeed? A lot of good it will do you and your wife, mouse. No enemy can breach Kotir, and even if they could manage to lay siege to it you two would die before I.”

“And a lot of good that would do you, cat. Don’t you think that, if we do have friends out there, they would be willing to negotiate for our release? But if you kill us or let us die, you give them only more reason to pursue war against you. Though it seems they already have enough.”

“Bold words, mouse. Perhaps they comfort you. But they will not free you from my dungeons or give your friends the power to do so. Maybe you will feel more cooperative after a week in here…or a season.”

With that, the wildcat turned and strode off. Martin watched her go, then turned to Rose. His wife wore a worried expression. “Martin…do you think everyone is all right?”

Giving her a reassuring smile, Martin nodded. Sitting down beside her, he spoke comfortingly. “I’ve no doubt of it, Rosy. The cat may be bigger than Badrang, but she’s not so different from that stoat.

“If that’d been Badrang just now, and his creatures had slain any of ours, he would have gloated. Never mind that his own beasts were all killed in the deed. He’d have wanted to see our pain. And this Tsarmina would do the same, I’m sure.”

Rose’s eyes turned hopeful. “I want to believe, Martin. But our family and friends, except a few like Felldoh, aren’t warriors. How could they have all survived a confrontation with any number of vermin, never mind slain them all?”

“Just the same way we survived the Pygmy shrews, and the cannibal lizards, the Gawtrybe, and the Battle of Marshank. And the way I survived that night on Marshank’s wall when we first met.” At Rose’s baffled look, Martin chuckled. Leaning against her, he whispered in her ear.

“New friends.”