The Lengthening Shadow

Now, we travel back to the present, away from the vermin for awhile, and return to Fernwood. Samuel had become increasingly nervous each day, on the lookout for foebeasts. Jake had noticed that his friend was agitated; he too was worried. Greenbloom was too peaceful, too serene. Something was amiss, something concerning vermin. Jake decided to keep any seagoing villains away from Fernwood by sending a message to his squirrel friend King Sedi. He must deliver the warning with somebeast, but whom? Fernwood would need all its defenders if evil was coming, and he could think of nobeast he could spare, everybeast at Fernwood was needed, then he had an idea.

Samuel! That young mouse could manage a long journey, especially if it meant protecting Fernwood. I should send him with his friend Sir Morgan. That otter could take care of himself on the quest, and with him, Samuel could have a bit of companionship. Yes, I’ll send Morgan and Samuel to Brushtipp with supplies, food, and a rapier and pistol each. I’ll notify Bernie straightaway that he should make two long-period ration packs, and tell the armorer to fetch two light rapiers and a pair of good pistols. With his mind made up, the Maow went to find Samuel and Morgan.

Later, Samuel and his otter pal were standing out on the front lawn, being informed of their mission by King Jake. “ So, your assignment is to get to Fort Brushtipp, find Sedi, inform him to destroy any vermin ships, and make it back to Fernwood. Am I clear with you two?” Both young heads nodded as Morgan spoke. “ Aye, mate. We got our orders, loud an’ clear.” Samuel saluted the cat monarch in agreement. “ Clear as the mornin’ dew, Jake. Deliver the message and get back here.” The great cat stared off into the woodlands. “ Samuel, please PLEASE get back in one piece. I don’t want to lose you, and neither does Marigold.” As soon as Samuel heard the young mousemaid’s name, he nodded solemnly. “ Aye, Jake. I’ll do as ye say.” At the accepting statement, Jake let out an internal sigh of relief. Then, without further ado, he presented the two young knights with their supplies, armor, and weapons and walked with them to the castle gates. The last Jake saw of the young pair was the otter and mouse trotting down the path at a moderate pace, exchanging banter and breaking into a classic marching song.

Oh, the path don’t bother me

Nor does the tiring trek

I’ll get back to me home

Without a broken neck

I’m a freeeeeebeast!

That’s what I’ll always be

I’m a freeeeeebeast!

And I bet you envy me

Ten times I’ve walked this dusty path

To get back to me home

I’ve always made it back alive

No more to ever roam

I’m a freeeeeebeast!

That’s what I’ll always be

I’m a freeeeeebeast!

And I bet you envy me

On the final note,the two friends marched off down the road, away from Fernwood, and off to Fort Brushtipp, to warn King Sedi about the impending vermin.

At the pair of partners’ destination, Fort Brushtipp, Sedi was questioning his lookout for any signs of a message from Jake. “Try to remember, Browntail. Did you see anybeast? Answer truly.” The lookout, a sturdy male squirrel named Browntail, shook his lightly furred head from side to side. “No sign of ‘em, Your Majesty. I’ve been on the lookout since last sunset, an’ I haven’t seen a trace of any message from The Great Maow. Sent, delivered, or any other way of communication. On my affidavit, Highness.” Sedi nodded slowly. “ I see. If Jake were sending a message, we would have gotten it by now. Either that, or he hasn’t sent someone to deliver it yet. Hopefully it will come soon, so that we know what the news is. Huh! Probably vermin. One of the only things he sends a message to me about are vermin attacks. If it’s that, I want to know what the stakes are; I want to know what we’re fighting for. That decides our assistance to Fernwood, whether the cause is important or not. If the future of Greenbloom depended upon our help, I would gladly offer my soldiers, supplies, whatever it would take. But if it were a matter of finding more chestnuts for the trifle at one of Fernwood’s great feasts, I would not have anything to do with it. Do you see, Browntail?” The other squirrel paused a moment before speaking, being careful to not choose his words wrong as the subject of what he was about to say might upset his ruler. “ But what if it’s got anything to do with the Ragsail, Your Majesty?” The king of Brushtipp turned his head away to hide a tear that was trickling down his cheek. Browntail had upset him anyways, even with the right words. Suddenly, he whirled around and glared at Browntail. “ Don’t ever mention that name again Browntail, do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME?!” The lookout averted his face from Sedi. He had never seen his king so angry. The squirrel leader’s angry features softened as he looked at the lookout’s shell-shocked face. “ I’m sorry, Browntail. I didn’t mean to be so harsh with you, it’s just that Maria...” He broke off in mid-sentence and started sobbing unashamedly. Browntail patted Sedi’s back understandingly, he knew what his king meant.

The royal family of Brushtipp had been grieving since the attack of the gray galley upon a squirrel patrol. It had turned out that at least half the patrol had been taken captive, including Sedi’s seventeen-season old daughter, Maria. Sedi had been mourning ever since, along with his wife Downybrush and his son Aidan, who was two seasons older than Maria. The ruler of Brushtipp had been sending out search parties all and sundry, but there was no sign of the kidnappers. Sedi was hoping for assistance from Jake, which was why he was expecting a message, at least, he was wishing for one; so that he could try to ask for help from the Fernwooders. “ Well, keep a sharp lookout, Browntail. If help is coming, you’re the one who is supposed to let us know. Got it?” The saturnine squirrel nodded and agreed. “ Aye aye, Sedi. I’ll let you know if I spot anything, I got it.” He waited for an answer, but there was only silence. Sedi had gone inside Fort Brushtipp, out of the cold and out of the upsetting conversation with Browntail.

Brushtipp’s interior had a warm and inviting aura about it. The grand hall was packed tight with friendly, chattering squirrels. When Sedi entered, he went straight to Felixa, the leader of all patrols and scouts. “ Any news of the Ragsail or a message from Jake or possible help, Lixa?” The sturdy female squirrel shook her head sadly. “ Sorry, nothin’, hide, hair, or voice. Oh, and by the way, don’t bombard me with questions as soon as ya get in the door, Majesty.” The king apoligized to Felixa, then went to the royal family’s room. Downybrush was getting herself prepped for dinner by putting on a pink-and-blue gown embroidered with floral designs. She greeted her husband as soon as he walked in the oaken door. “ Hello, darling. How do I look in this new gown? Is it form-fitting?” The king gave the answer that Downybrush wanted to hear, “Yes, it is”, not only because it was kind, but because it was true; the queen’s dress fit her like a glove. Sedi made a few more appearance preparations, then strode down the corridors of the fort to the feast. Saxifrage and Nightlock, two of Sedi’s captains, who had been standing by the doorway, greeted him as he walked in.

“Hello, your Majesty!”

“Nice to see you, Highness! How’s it going?”

The king acknowledged their welcome with a stiff smile. “Hello, you two. How is my feast going?” Crackwillow, a squirrel elder who was standing nearby, answered. “Perfect, your Majesty. Everything’s going as planned.”

The great feast of Brushtipp was indeed a splendid meal. Frugal yet delicious squirrel concoctions lined the hardwood tables that took up most of the great hall. The main course was a gigantic dish that the squirrel colony knew as “Treejumper Trifle”. It was a Brushtipp classic; a base of broiled parsnips and strawberries, covered with a layer of hot arrowroot sauce. The center was a mixture of blueberries, peaches, and meadowcream. The top was candied cherries and pear marmalade, with a small raspberry tart on the very peak of the piping hot dish. Other delicacies included an odd crispy farl stuffed with slippery elm bark, which was a veritable Brushtipp delicacy that the squirrels seemed to enjoy, a summer salad sprinkled with chestnuts and and hazelnuts, a celery-plum flan topped with cranberry sauce, and a wheat-and-rye bread infused with fresh cinnamon and greensap butter. The squirrels went at the feast with gusto, scoffing whatever food was within reach. Friendly banter was exchanged between companions across the table.

“I bet that I can eat more Treejumper Trifle than you can, mate!”

“Oh, is that so, Verbena? You’re on, you great treewalloper!”

“Hey, Greenthyme! Can you please pass some of that slippery elm farl over here?”

“Glad to oblige, Crackwillow. Oh, and are you going to eat that helping of salad?”

The conversation went back and forth, with bets being exchanged on who could eat the most or who could scoff a plate of rye bread the fastest. The Great Kitchens were a hive of activity, everybeast who worked there was producing food at a jaw-dropping rate. Branchbender, the head cook, was barking orders left and right; checking in on the cooks and adding or taking away from the culinary concoctions to make them to his liking.

He was a fat old squirrel with a bristling gray beard and bulging stomach of tremendous girth; his belt was almost too small, and it was the widest model the Brushtipp beltmakers had ever produced in the entire history of the fort. Despite his age and size, he still was one of the best cooks ever seen in Greenbloom. Branchbender’s all-time favorite was Treejumper Trifle, Brushtipp’s specialty. Even so, he could make everything else that the squirrels liked. Because of his jollity and friendliness, he was well-loved at the fort.

Samuel and Morgan had been traveling hard. At mid-morning they had stopped at a fork in the path and didn’t know which way to go. Samuel suggested that they take the right. “According to my compass, this way leads southwest. Brushtipp is in the southwest, right? We can just travel north for a bit once we reach the central southern shores.” Morgan readily agreed with Samuel’s suggestion and the two friends turned and went down the path leading to the right.

At Brushtipp, the feast had slackened off. Squirrels lay about the room, patting stuffed stomachs, some were groaning audibly. Sedi had left and called the elder Crackwillow up to his chamber.

“Crackwillow, would you come and attend me for a few minutes?”

Crackwillow hurried up to join Sedi in the squirrel leader’s bedchamber. “What is it that you wanted, Sire? Anything I can do for you?”

Sedi leaned back in his chair. “Do you have any ideas on how to defeat the vermin? I could really use some right now. Reports from my scouts have confirmed that there are actually TWO shiploads of pirates closing in on the western shores at this very moment. I have no other alternative at the moment but to send out the Brushtipp Army. They are brave warriors, but I fear for their safety. I don’t want to lose any more squirrels to those seagoing villains. Do you know of anything I could do that would prevent major losses on our side?”

Unexpectedly, the old squirrel nodded. “Yes, I do know of one thing that could help us.”

Sedi leaned forward, urging Crackwillow on. “Yes, yes. What is it?”

Crackwillow held up a paw, beckoning for his ruler to be silent. “You see,” he said, raising his walking staff, “I am more than a wise elder. I am actually a Verdancer, a type of life wizard appointed many seasons ago by the wise and caring badger Vi’lle. The goal of a Verdancer is to nourish, help, and defend, the polar opposite of what the Destromancers are for.”

Sedi made a comment. “Sorry for interrupting, but what are Destromancers?”

Crackwillow waved his cane indignantly. “I was just getting there. Destromancers are the group of evil wizards, appointed by Ra’vok, Vi’lle’s brother, the dark badger. There is only one known Destromancer in Greenbloom, who is the master of Deadbeast Bluff. The power of Destromancers is great and terrible. I have heard of entire kingdoms defeated by only one word uttered by a Destromancer. However, both Verdancers and Destromancers can cast spells that have different effects, such as the energy bolt spell. Watch!”

Here Crackwillow waved his cane, on which Sedi saw runic designs that he had not noticed before. Crackwillow waved his cane forwards

and shouted Gal’vaz! A searing bolt of white and purple streaked light burst from the tip of the squirrel elder’s staff and hit the back wall.

Kacrshhhhh!

The timbers fell outwards as if pushed by an unseen force. In a few seconds, all that was left of the wall was a black stain and some woodchips. Crackwillow shrugged. “Sorry, Sedi. Let me fix that.” He leapt forward again.

Vee’ko!

The splintered wood leapt back into place, and the edges welded tightly together. Within moments the wall was back to normal, with no evidence that it had ever taken part in a magical demonstration. Crackwillow started to provide Sedi with some more information. “The fact that I am a Verdancer will help us against the vermin because of my connections with others of our order. If you travel northeast for a day and a half, you will come upon the cave of Tarsch. He is a ferret hermit, and an extremely powerful Verdancer, perhaps the most skilled since Vi’lle himself. He might just be powerful enough to stop those pirates from reaching Brushtipp.”

Sedi looked puzzled. “But he’s a vermin. I thought you said that the Verdancers were the good guys.”

Crackwillow sighed. “Did I ever tell you that they were not? Vermin can indeed become Verdancers if they are true of mind and good of heart. The same with woodlanders becoming Destromancers, though that occurrence is very rare.”

Sedi scratched his thickly furred chin. “I see that Tarsch is the most powerful Verdancer since the founder of your order, but I don’t see how he can help us.”

Crackwillow’s voice held a tone of disbelief. “You mean that you don’t know what we are capable of? Let me tell you something, Sedi. Verdancers don’t just cast minor spells and make things grow. We can also influence the weather, other animals, water, fire, and so on. Tarsch has the Aspenstaff, a wand with the potential to alter even reality. In a few seconds, it can cause a full-fledged thunderstorm to break out where there was clear, cloudless sky a moment ago. It can cause enemies to think they are standing on solid ground when really they are falling off a mountain peak onto jagged rocks. They say that the Aspenstaff was the special wand of Vi’lle himself, infused with ancient badger magic. The one Destromancer in Greenbloom is of a similar nature, very powerful. I have heard tell that he is a vermin, but I’m not quite sure. I know that he has tried to steal the Aspenstaff in the past, and each time Tarsch has outwitted him. I am pretty sure that the ferret is the stronger of the pair, so I’m not worried about Tarsch. The dark sorcerer of Deadbeast Bluff has potential, though. From what I’ve heard, the shrew kingdom of Cloudpeak in the land of Nortpoint was toppled seven moons ago by him. The poor shrews did all they could, including King Hippolsa, but he slaughtered them all and destroyed the settlement. The siege was undertaken by the Destromancer and some unidentified creature that he was apparently controlling.”

“What are the creatures?”

“Can’t say. No survivors lived long enough to tell me. What I know is that they’re poisonous, heavily armored, and virtually indestructible. I would have studied their bodies if the shrews had slain any, but unfortunately they didn’t, or I would have been able to tell you more about them. One thing is certain: a dangerous sorcerer loose in Greenbloom with an unbeatable army spells certain destruction for the forest if we don’t do anything.”

At that very moment, the “Dark Sorcerer” was in the cave of Deadbeast Bluff, conferencing with a hooded creature that stood half as tall again as him.

“Master, Cloudpeak has fallen, the shrews are all slain, I have done my duty.”

“Good,” replied the hooded, imposing figure in a voice that was like flint scratching slowly over ice, “Next stop is Brushtipp. Kill them all and I will reward you with treasure beyond your wildest dreams. Fail, and your mangled carcass will be thrown off the peak of the bluff. Go now, I have spoken.” The smaller figure dashed off into the confines of the cave. The master retreated into the darkness, muttering quietly to himself. Another cloaked form approached the ruler as he was leaving.

Master, what about me and my minions? Hast thee anything for us? We are waiting for thy commands to reach our ears.

The large figure waved a dismissive paw at his servant. “Leave my sight. I have nothing for you at the moment. Go now, leave me to my thoughts.” The servile one bowed low and swept away into the darkness. To hear is to obey, Mighty One, he who commands the Legions of Poison, Ruler of the Earth, Master of the Claw.

Samuel and Morgan were stuck. In the early evening, when all was growing dim, the two friends had blundered into thick, muddy swampland. They had first noticed it when Samuel had suddenly sunk up to his waist in sticky mud. Morgan had tried to pull him out, slipped, and gotten stuck as well. The companions had been sinking rapidly in the past ten minutes, and were now up to their shoulders in the dark brown ooze. The only thing keeping them from vanishing completely into the deep mire was a thick birch limb hanging from a nearby tree. Both mouse and otter had grabbed on and were planning to dangle there until help came along. It did, in the form of a passing owl.

“Who are you? Do you need my help in any way, travelers?”

Samuel answered the bird’s inquiry. “Yes, we are stuck in this mud. Can you pull us out?” The owl bowed low. “Yes, it would be my pleasure. By the way, my name’s Lieutenant Swoop, but you can call me Swoop. Nice to meet you.” Samuel nodded and smiled cordially at Swoop. “My name is Sir Samuel of Fernwood, and this is my friend Sir Morgan. Could you pull us out now?” The owl flew down, grabbed their arms, and flew them to dry land. Samuel brushed the remains of the goopy mud off of his tunic and shook the owl’s claw heartily. “Thanks for saving us, Swoop. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Far away, in a distant cave, Tarsch the ferret Verdancer was having a vision. One of the wizard’s talents was that of a Seer. A Seer was an animal who could see far away or into the future, someone with a special eye in their mind. His visions had been growing more fatalistic by the day. He could sense something.

Ra’vok was rising!

The dark badger had disappeared after the last major battle between the Destromancers and the Verdancers; a battle that Tarsch had taken part in. The ancient ferret had fought alongside Vi’lle to combat the evil wizards. The ones who survived had gone into hiding after the Verdancers won, but many Verdancers went into hiding also. Tarsch had concealed himself for a more important reason than just to hide.

He had been entrusted by Vi’lle himself with the Aspenstaff, the most powerful wand ever created, by good or evil. While he reviewed his mission, his mind went back to that final battle when he and Vi’lle had defeated the Destromancers.

It was a cool, balmy summer night. Tarsch stood alongside his mentor, Vi’lle the white badger. When the young ferret gazed into his leader’s blue eyes, he felt certain that the Verdancers would win this battle. The wizards of life stood behind the two creatures, wands at the ready. Vi’lle held up his wand, the Aspenstaff, and spoke to the masses of wizards filing out of a gap between two rocks.

“All who are with me to defeat Ra’vok this night, shout our battle cry!”

A concerted roar rose up from the ranks of Verdancers.

“Vi’lleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

They surged forward as one through a narrow gap and squeezed out into an enormous mountain clearing. Many gasps were heard as the heroes saw their foes. Hundreds of vermin stood behind the huge figure of a black badger with eyes of fiery crimson.

Ra’vok.

He stepped forwards to confront his brother, speaking in a low, harsh tone and getting right to the point. “Hello, brother. Prepare to die. Raaaaaaaaaaaa’voooooooooooook!”

The Destromancers dashed to meet their opponents, and flashes of energy indicated that the first spells had been cast. Ra’vok stood perched on a high ledge, surveying the carnage, flanked by two high-ranking Destromancers: Roetaz the water rat and Corblay the fox, his lieutenants. Vi’lle and Tarsch dashed up the rock face to meet them. Vi’lle shouted swift orders to the young Verdancer. “You’re experienced enough to take on the other two! Kill them, I’ll deal with Ra’vok!”

Corblay turned to face the ferret. “Turncoat! You should ’ave sided wid Master Ra’vok ’ere, yore a vermin, like mesel...Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!” Tarsch had ran up a bit closer, and shouted Gal’vaz! The fox wizard was taken square in the chest by the full force of the spell. His crumpled body slid down the ledge into the battlefield. His partner Roetaz had seen Corblay’s demise and had gotten his wand out.

“Phu’zi!”

A blast of fire shot out of the wandtip and missed Tarsch by a few inches.

“Ai’ly!”

The water rat rose into the air, propelled by some unseen force. Several blasts of fire followed in quick succession, though luckily for the Verdancer, Roetaz had terrible aim. Tarsch’s next spell had better accuracy than the Destromancer’s. An energy blast like the one that slew Corblay struck Roetaz in the neck, killing him instantly. His carcass fell from the sky and hit Ra’vok in the arm. The black badger looked up from where he was battling Vi’lle. That vital second was all that the white badger needed.

“Ex’plo’zoi!”

Vi’lle’s evil brother was blown, with a bright flash of green light, into countless tiny bits that sank into the earth as quickly as they landed. That battle-changing action was hardly needed, however, because the Destromancers at that moment numbered only a score and a half, barely a thousandth of what the evil wizards had started with.

The defeated party slunk off into the gap, putting up no further fight, with their tails between their legs. Vi’lle started a rousing cheer for the Verdancers, and wept for the ones who had been lost in battle. A monument was erected (by magic) to all who fought for goodness and peace at the Battle of Mount Kozik, as it would later become known.

In his cave, the now-ancient Verdancer’s thoughts drifted back to Ra’vok. The dark badger must still be alive in one way or another, and somebeast had been trying to free him. Tarsch did not know who it was, only that their aim was to unleash him once more. He hoped that they would be stopped, for in his younger seasons he had seen what the founder of the Destromancer order was capable of doing when he was strong. Also, if Ra’vok was restored, he could raise a new army of evil wizards, which would spell doom for the whole of Greenbloom and the lands beyond. He hoped that his visions were wrong, but that seldom occurred.

Ra’vok was rising!