He saw one of the rabbits aiming out the window.
At him.
“Quickp‒”
Before he could react, he heard the snap of the string being released and felt something crash against him.
He screamed, falling to the side, curling up into a ball and shielding where he was hit. Quickpaw yowled and rushed towards him, whimpering and mewling for him to get up. Corsair couldn’t. His tears blinded him, the screams deafened him, and he couldn’t concentrate.
I’m dying I’m dying oh God the arrow got me-
He looked down and investigated the wound, wincing with every move, and placed a gauntleted paw against the arrow. He expected pain to shoot through him, to summon another scream.
But he felt none.
Confused, he pushed it with his paw.
The arrow fell out, the tip untainted by blood. Quickpaw growled in concern. The armour was dented inwards where the arrow had struck him but, fortunately, had held fast against the projectile.
Corsair let out a small sigh of relief but didn’t stop for any longer.
“I’m okay… I’m okay.”
Knowing he wasn’t injured, he got up and rushed forwards, leading Quickpaw ahead. His heart thudded inside his chest, his body beginning to burn from the exertion, but the idea that a rabbit was aiming for him again kept him moving.
At last, he reached the edge of the fields.
Corsair rushed towards the fence and went to jump over it, fuelled by adrenaline, but felt his hind paw smack the top bar. He fell. He yelled as he did so, landing on his front and rolling before coming to a halt. He spared no time. He shot up to his hind paws and threw himself down by the base of the building, gesturing for Quickpaw to follow. The ictharr leapt over the fence and rushed towards him, ducking down by his side and looking up. Copying his steed, Corsair gazed up at the windows, panting with his pink tongue hanging from the corner of his mouth. He could hear the clashing of metal above him, accompanied by the shrieks of slain rabbits.
“The archers are down!” a wolf yelled. “Forwards! To the centre!”
“Raise our banner and kill them all!”
A roar of adrenaline-fuelled bravery came from the wolves as they rushed out from the fields, emerging from the rows of wheat and pushing down the road between the buildings. Corsair watched them from his position. They were all snarling, growling, barking and howling as they advanced. Krosguard riders shot out and darted forwards, lances ready in paw.
Keep moving keep moving…
“Up, Quickpaw, come on!”
He stood and mounted his steed, settling into the saddle, before he took up the reins and snapped at them. Quickpaw shot forwards and around the bend, racing past his comrades and following after the front line that was advancing into the town. Soldiers charged after a detachment of rabbits down the pathway leading to the centre, flanked by shrubbery and bushes.
“They’re on the run! After them!”
“Leave no rabbit standing! Onwards!”
Seeing the rabbits before him, he drew back on the reins.
Quickpaw eased to a stop in the middle of the road, questioning his master’s decision with a growl. He didn’t respond – he watched as his comrades rushed after the rabbits, beginning to catch up. He knew what would follow – the sounds of combat, the despaired screams of the dying, the siren call of metal clanging against metal that would fail to tempt him.
He was scared. He could see the rabbit again before him; throat slashed, blood pouring. He could feel it clinging to his face. The blood he spilt. The blood of the person he murdered.
I can’t keep doing this. Get it together and keep moving. Get it together and keep moving! We’re going to survive this!
“Hyah!”
He snapped at the reins and Quickpaw bound forwards, shooting after his comrades. The wall of rabbits continued to rush back to the centre of Pothole Plains, yelling to each other in their native tongue. They turned and fired arrows as they ran. Corsair ducked out the way of each one, wary that his head was exposed.
Just survive just survive just survive…
Then the bushes moved.
Rabbits poured out from the undergrowth, giving a courageous battle shriek as they charged weapon-first into the flanks of the wolves. Archers stepped out and fired at the Krosguard soldiers, knocking them from their saddles or firing into their steeds to bring them to a sudden halt. Corsair saw a fellow rider collapse from his dead ictharr, still alive, before rabbits swarmed him and slashed him to pieces.
“Back, back, go back!”
Quickpaw turned, hoping to retreat, but saw rabbits charging from behind. They aimed their swords and spears at Quickpaw and sprinted at him. With nowhere else to retreat to, the cornered beast snarled, bared his fangs and leant down on his front paws.
A foolhardy rabbit came forwards, bringing his spear back to thrust into Quickpaw’s neck. Quickpaw intercepted his attack by springing forwards and knocking him to the side. He yelled out, stumbling away and crashing into another rabbit. Another enemy followed, stepping to the side to swing, but Quickpaw swiped across the area in front of him with his paw. Even if he didn’t possess Harangoth’s brawn, he was strong enough to send the rabbit flying back a metre.
Corsair winced as he heard the screech of metal scraping against metal, coming from his left. He looked down to see an enemy’s sword resting against Quickpaw’s side, trying to cut through the armour.
“Kick!”
Quickpaw turned and his rear legs shot out, striking the soldier in the stomach. He was sent flying back into the battle, unable to resist the formidable force.
We’re being mobbed. They’ll overwhelm Quickpaw.
Pushing through the fear, he swung one leg over and dropped down from his companion. His steed looked over his shoulder, asking for orders with a growl of urgency.
“I’ll help hold them off! Focus on yourself!”
He readied his longsword, the weight of its implication bearing down on him.
It’s me or them. It’s me or them.
Corsair looked left and saw a rabbit charging forwards, a spear in his paws with the head aiming straight for his stomach.
“Stay back, I don’t want to‒”
The rabbit thrust his spear forwards. Instinct taking over, Corsair dodged left and slashed at his stomach.
He felt the blade eat through the reinforced leather.
The soldier choked, dropping his weapon, paws clutching his stomach and the blade in it.
Corsair froze. His green eyes stared at the face of the rabbit, recognising the look of fear and despair on his face. Seconds of pain passed before his eyes closed and his body slipped sideways off the blade. Corsair remained there, towering over his foe.
It’s me or them. It’s me or‒
“Clan of the Great Lupine!”
Heads turned, but combat raged on. Only those who were unengaged focused on the voice, distracted from the inferno of war.
Ahead, a line of rabbit reinforcements stood tall. They wore the same armour as their counterparts – golden robes, black leather armour and a black metal helmet. While all the rest had helmets without any decoration, the central soldier (a brown rabbit) enjoyed the privilege of a white sun painted on one side and a moon painted on the other.
“May the moon forgive your corrupt and covetous souls!” she yelled in Lanzig, thrusting her sword at them. “By the sun’s bright fury, prepare to die!”
A terrifying shriek came from the soldiers, drawing weapons and rushing forwards. Corsair backed away, looking at Quickpaw. The ictharr was still keeping the attacking rabbits at bay, snarling and yowling at them with a ferocity that could only be summoned by desperation. He turned to aid him, sword at the ready.
“Behind you!”
Corsair didn’t know if he was being spoken to but he didn’t take any chances. Turning around, he saw a rabbit with her face hidden by dark fabric charge with her sword’s blade held downwards. As she arrived by his side
she swung up with tremendous speed and strength, unleashed within a fraction of a second. The strike knocked him back as he deflected.
“I’ve got her!” a wolf bellowed.
A wolf clad in chainmail lunged at the rabbit, attempting to attack the mysterious warrior, but the masked assailant spun away and slashed at his back. The sword cut through the armour and left a nasty gash. Hissing in pain, the soldier retaliated with a swing.
With almost no exertion, the masked rabbit leapt up into the air and curled into a ball. She shot up above the swing, arcing over the wolf, and unfurled in mid-air as she swung her sword at the soldier’s throat.
Shnick.
She landed, blood dripping from her sword.
The wolf fell to his knees. Blood pouring from the ravine carved across his throat, he clamped his metal paws over the wound and choked. He struggled against death, falling on to his side and kicking. He lasted seconds in that battle. His legs became still and, relaxing, his arms fell by his side. The soldier lay there, face contorted in shock, fear and confusion.
What the hell was that?
The masked one turned on Corsair.
“Wait, I‒”
Without a sound, she spun forwards and sliced downwards, chopping the air. Corsair, held back by guilt and terror, dodged out the way. He shook his head to plead but, whether it was through lack of understanding or deliberate ignorance, she refused to pay any heed. She unleashed a barrage of fluid swings from all sides, attacking from every direction. He struggled to keep up. He dodged back but the masked one persisted, targeting him, and he looked around for any way of escape.
Corsair kicked at his foe. As she was so aggressive in her offensive, she did not expect the sudden counterattack and stumbled back. However, what Corsair expected to be a few seconds’ break was drastically shortened. She advanced again and rolled, ducking past Corsair, before stabbing backwards. He yelled out, feeling the blade clash against his armour, but was saved by its strength once again. He was only forced back a step.
“I don’t want to‒”
She brought her blade down, quick and hard, but Corsair’s survival instincts leapt into action. Bringing his sword up, he parried the blow and slashed down, aiming for her front. He felt the tip catch the front of the armour but knew it hadn’t cut any deeper.
The masked one stepped back, blade at the ready.
“I just want to live! Please! We don’t need to fight! I don’t want to kill you!”
She spun her blade in defiance of his refusal. He prepared himself to slay yet another rabbit. His conscience protested and rioted inside him, spreading chaotic guilt all throughout, but he knew it was his life or hers.
A loud cry in the rabbit’s native tongue came from his right. Both combatants looked towards the voice.
The rabbits’ leader strode forward, the blood of Corsair’s comrades still on her sword. Corsair quickly turned to aim his sword at her. He switched continuously from target to target as she approached, unsure of who he would be fighting, and kept his wits about him. He glanced over his shoulder, looking for Quickpaw.
Quickpaw, come on.
The leader spoke rapidly in a foreign language, surprisingly soft and delicate to Corsair’s ears. She gestured back to the centre while keeping her eyes on him. The masked one stood there for a moment, seemingly reluctant to follow her superior’s orders, before a shouted command from her officer made her listen and she did as she was told. She rushed away, disappearing into the crowd.
Corsair’s eyes focused on the leader in front of him.
“You will suffer for this attack,” she said in Lanzig. “Your Winter Baron will have his proud warriors slaughtered and desecrated.”
Corsair shook his head, taking a step back.
“I don’t want to kill anyone else. Please. Just go away.”
“There is no refusing this, wolf. Your blood will turn that white banner of yours to crimson.”
After the venomous threat, filled with hate and loathing, she took up battle stance.
“Prepare to perish, invader.”
She walked forwards slowly with a confident gait. Corsair could only back away with his sword up to his snout in face-on stance.
Cornered. Surrounded. Confronted. Trapped.
There was no alternative. He had to fight.
Breaking his reluctance with a yell, he stepped forwards and stabbed at her chest. She knocked it away with her blade and slashed, a swing that was blocked by his sword. Corsair attacked and she blocked. They repeated the encounters several times, both attempting to stab at their opponent, before he broke the cycle and evaded backwards. He took a moment to draw breath, to assess the situation, but that time was cut short as the enemy stepped forwards and swung down. He blocked the swing and felt his weapon hold back the blade, his snout inches away from the officer’s determined face.
“May the moon have mercy on your evil soul, lupine!”
Corsair pushed the blade down to the left, bringing the clash away from their faces and towards the ground, before he tore his blade away and knocked his sword’s hilt against her helmet. She grunted. Persevering, he attacked again, slashing at her head. She deflected the attack with her blade and riposted. Weaving his right side out of the way, he spun to the side and brought the sword around as he did so, snarling.
He felt his weapon collide against her armour and tear through the leather, ripping into flesh. She yelled out as the sword cut through her body, blood pouring from the fissure in her defences.
“G-gadour!” she swore.
Corsair stepped back, hoping that would drive all her will to fight away, but she shook it off and swung. He ducked beneath her attack and rose again, stabbing towards her face. She jerked her head out the way of the jab, saving herself from a quick and brutal death, but Corsair continued and sliced downwards. The blade sent up sparks as it scraped against the helmet, sliding down and crashing against the shoulder plating.
“You’re going to die, wolf!”
The leader swung down and his sword leapt up to defend its master, supported by Corsair’s strength. They held each other there, grunting and pushing back, each trying to keep the adversary’s blade at bay. He could feel his strength waning, knowing the rabbit was wearing him down.
I can’t keep this up – she’ll tire me out and kill me I need to end this…
As if he heard him, Quickpaw tore through the thinning crowd and leapt at the leader, fangs bared and front legs outstretched towards her.
She heard the oncoming battering ram and decided against being torn apart by an ictharr’s maw. She pushed away from him, swinging as she turned to strike Quickpaw. Agility prevailing, he darted out the way of the attack and drew her attention away from his master, granting him the prime opportunity to strike. Mind racing, Corsair didn’t hesitate as he brought the sword back and rushed forwards, thrusting it at her back.
She swatted away the ictharr with her sword, deterring him from attacking again, and turned with blade held up in the air. She ignored the pain of the wounds inflicted upon her, ready to slay Corsair in one downward blow.
Both let out a battle cry as they collided with each other.
Crunch.
Both froze.
Corsair stared at the soldier’s leather torso, eyes wide with paws clenched around the hilt of his sword. She did the same, eyes focused on him, sword still held above her head in shock.
Trembling, her paws slackened and her blade fell to the ground, clattering against the path.
She choked and looked down.
Corsair’s sword was rammed through her torso.
Corsair looked up at the leader’s face. Despite her stern expression, he saw a glimmer of fear behind it. Blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth.
“I… I tried to tell you that… that…”
The rabbit, with some strength left in her, placed a paw on his shoulder and pulled herself into him. She exhaled, her breath trembling like her body, and stared into the prince�
��s eyes.
“The Clan… of the Great L-Lupine… will crumble into… dust… before the glory of the… the sun and… the… the…”
Struggling to finish her sentence, her eyes dimmed and her body stopped trembling. A final sigh came from her, the last of her life vacating the body. She slumped forwards against him. Corsair took a step back, supporting himself against the weight of the corpse, before standing there.
He stood still.
I killed her. I did this.
Restraining his disgust, fuelled by guilt, he pushed the corpse off his sword. He looked away to avoid the horrid pupils, life drained from her eyes, and winced as she hit the ground with a thump.
Around him, the battle was over. Rabbits retreated from the wolves while their allies lay slaughtered around his hind paws. There were plenty of wolves and ictharrs to accompany them, cut to pieces.
No longer in danger, he dropped his sword and fell to his knees.
It’s over.
He looked down at his gauntlets. The padding beneath and between the metal plating was coated in crimson. He trembled at the sight of copious blood on his paws. It was spattered over his white tabard. It was over his face, over his chest.
I killed three people. Three people with…
With families.
With stories.
With lives, like his own.
Corsair mourned his innocence in frozen silence, crying over its corpse that now lay among the bodies of wolves and rabbits alike.
Quickpaw whimpered as he saw the corpses of fellow ictharrs strewn across the roadway. He sat, ears folded down, and bowed his head to mourn the loss of his brethren.
It was a bloodbath.
Chapter Sixteen
“Easy, easy.”
The Sharpened Fangs Of Lupine Spirit Page 21