by S D Smith
“I was a soldier, and I helped organize the resistance here. In time, they closed all the gates. And Winslow’s bucks blew up much of the old First Warren, the deep down-belows. But I knew my way around here. I found a section that had partially survived. I reclaimed a portion and rebuilt it. We tried for years to tunnel out, but that enterprise failed. Eventually, after heavy losses, we had to abandon it. We carried on clandestine raids and ran anti-propaganda broadsheets for years. But we found that, more and more, it was hard to convince others to join the cause. In time, many didn’t remember, or even want to remember, how free we had once been. They simply adjusted to the new order.”
“So you hatched a plan to remind them?” Picket asked.
“I did. We shifted our focus. I remembered, with deep fondness, how it felt to be in our old place in its day. The laughter, the music, and the families all together. Regulars mixed in with travelers, from younglings to the oldest around. It was humming with life. So, to help recapture the imagination of the community, and to honor my own family legacy, I created the Citadel of Dreams. We snatch rabbits, yes. We take them from their lives of bleak indignities, and we bring them to an inn of life and light. We bring them here to remind them of what we had, and what we might have again.”
“You help them know why it’s a good thing to resist,” Weezie said.
“That’s our aim, friends.” Captain Moonlight smiled at them again and had opened his mouth to carry on when the door opened. The black-masked rabbit, the one who had spoken kindly to Picket earlier, hurried in. He nodded to them, then whispered in the captain’s ear.
Captain Moonlight’s eyes widened, and he stood up. “The enemy is moving on the farm,” he said. “Daggler’s on his way.”
Picket shot up. “We have to help them. It’s vital that my friend isn’t taken.”
“We’ll send a team,” Captain Moonlight said, “but we have a way of operating. We can’t add anyone to our—”
Picket didn’t let him finish. “Listen, you have more to worry about than Daggler.” He spit, along with the others. “My friend is in that house, and he won’t be as easy to take as we were.”
“You weren’t exactly easy, lad,” the black-masked guard said, rubbing his shoulder.
“Handling me is like dealing with a ladybug compared to him,” Picket said. “Listen, Captain,” he went on, looking into his host’s eyes. “That rabbit with Airen, he’s her brother. Helmer’s his name.”
“Captain Helmer?” Moonlight asked, surprise in his eyes. “The old hero?”
“Yes. He’s a leader in the resistance outside First Warren. That’s where we’re from. The explosions were a distraction to get us in. We’re sick over the reprisals, but we needed to get in because we have a mission here. We need to get him and bring him here.”
“And my mother,” Weezie said.
“Yes. And Airen, too,” Picket added.
Captain Moonlight looked at Picket long and hard, as if measuring him. After a long moment, he nodded. “We’ll send our best squad.”
Picket frowned.
“Okay, I’ll lead the team myself,” Moonlight said.
“Get me my sword,” Picket barked at a nearby buck. “I’m going with you.”
The buck glanced at his captain, who nodded, frowning. “You ever been in a real fight?” Captain Moonlight asked.
“One or two,” Picket answered.
“What’s your name, lad?” Moonlight asked.
“Picket Longtreader.”
Captain Moonlight just stared, then shook his head. “Of course it is.”
“I’m coming too,” Weezie said. “Bring my bow and a fresh quiver, if you’ve got one handy.”
Captain Moonlight shrugged. “Anyone else want to come?” he called to the room. He pointed to a one-legged fiddler in the band. “Want to come, Stompy? How about we bring Blind Watson too?” he asked. Another of the band members, an old grey rabbit with milky eyes, raised his head.
“I’ll lead the way, Cap,” he said. The band, and everyone around, laughed.
“Give us a jig, bucks,” Captain Moonlight said, still shaking his head. “We’re going snatching!”
Picket received his sword belt and buckled it on.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
LEFT AND LOST
After a winding jog through the shadowy passages of the warren, the band emerged into sunlight. Picket felt the stiff wind hit his face and turned to see the cleverly concealed opening covered again with a tangled gate of thorns and limbs.
“Whit,” Captain Moonlight called, speaking to the white rabbit whose black mask was now matched by all the others, “take the north trail and bring your team to the ridge. Wait for my signal.” They were all armed with black bows and quivers slung at their sides. Most also wore swords.
“Aye,” Whit said, and, nodding to his team, he scampered off. They followed him, and so the group was split. Picket followed Moonlight into a thicket, picking his way through a dense tract of trees and brush. Weezie stuck close by Picket, twisting as she went to preserve her bow and the full quiver she had been given. Three more bucks came behind her.
In a few minutes they emerged from the thicket and darted along a well-worn path. Picket flashed a questioning glance at Weezie. She understood that he was asking, Is this the right way? She nodded.
“Captain,” Picket whispered, hurrying up beside the leader. “What’s our plan?”
“We do this only a few ways. So our team knows the protocols. If you stick close to me, you won’t be in the way.”
“We want to help.”
“Is she any good with that bow?” he asked, nodding back at Weezie.
“Hold on,” Picket replied, then slowed and moved beside Weezie. “Hey, when you shot at Helmer and me and the arrow went right between us, what were you aiming at?”
“Your head,” she said. He nodded and jogged back up. The leader raised his eyebrows with curiosity.
“She’s not that great,” Picket said. Then to himself he muttered, “Thankfully.”
“Stay close,” Moonlight said. “We’ll approach the house from the south, and hopefully we can extricate them before Daggler arrives. We can deal with his advance team, but when he comes, it’ll be too late.”
“Have you ever faced him?” Picket asked.
“Just once,” the leader said, a grimace twisting his face. “He drove me back, and I was lucky to escape alive. He’s the best fighter I’ve ever seen. More than a match for me. And he’s the cleverest tactician, too. Always two steps ahead of me.”
“Maybe you’ll pip him this time,” Picket said, then froze when they heard a rustling ahead. Wordlessly, the team dispersed into the thicket on either side of the path. Picket dove in beside Weezie, who recovered quickly to nock an arrow and peer into the trail. She relaxed.
“It’s Whit,” she said. The white-furred rabbit, his face still covered in the black mask, hurried toward them.
Captain Moonlight emerged as well, brushing his clothes. “What is it, Whit?”
“The advance team has already taken them,” he said, “though they took heavy losses from the look of the house.” Captain Moonlight glanced at Picket, who nodded.
“Where are they now?” Picket asked.
“My team is tracking them,” Whit said, his voice hard to understand beneath the mask. “They’re meeting Daggler at the river.”
“Let’s go!” Captain Moonlight said. “We’ve got to get there first, or it’s over for them.”
They ran at full speed now, tearing through the trees in a rush. Weezie hurried past Picket, who didn’t know the area, and ran alongside Moonlight. They came to a thin path and sped down it for a few minutes before breaking into the brush again. Weezie surged ahead, redirecting the course through a brittle patch of dying trees. Their feet snapped through dry sticks as they passed through the patch and onto another path. Moonlight smiled at Weezie, and they hurried on. Picket worked hard to keep up, tracking the shifting course with ke
en concentration.
Finally, they slowed and then stopped at the edge of an orchard. “They have to come this way,” Moonlight whispered, breathing heavy. He motioned for them all to surround the path and get well-hidden. The band acted fast, and Picket crouched inside a thorny tangle of brush. In seconds, they heard footsteps and a labored scraping sound. Picket bent back a thin limb to glimpse the bending curve of the path.
They were coming.
He laid an eager hand on the hilt of his sword and watched. They came, fifteen soldiers, alert and well-armed. Two held Airen by her arms, and two dragged a body in a long black sack. Picket’s heart sank, and his eyes went wide. Then an anger started inside him that swelled like an unstoppable wildfire till it was all he could do to wait for Captain Moonlight’s signal to attack. It came soon enough.
They leapt at his word, flashing out with death-dealing strokes. Picket’s sword found the first soldier, who was exposed badly as he blocked an overhead strike from Captain Moonlight. They moved on quickly, this time picking different targets and bringing their opponents down with agile force. In a moment, Airen was free, and Whit was pulling her into the forest. Weezie followed them, sending her speeding arrows into the thick of the enemy as she covered her mother’s escape. After a few well-aimed shots, she hurried back to help with her mother. Picket saw them go with great relief.
Then he saw he was in trouble. He twisted to meet the savage swipe of an opponent with his blocking stroke. He brought his blade around quickly to finish the frenzied attacker just ahead of the rabbit’s certain death stroke.
Picket’s heart was racing. He lunged for the bag and tore it open. Helmer lay motionless on the ground. While Captain Moonlight and another of his band fought back the last soldiers, the rest of Whit’s company crashed in, sending their enemies running for the woods. Captain Moonlight, now free to assess the situation, ran ahead and gazed down the path.
“We have to go,” he said calmly as he trotted back. “Daggler’s band of fifty is nearly here.” They all spat.
“He needs help,” Picket said, checking Helmer over. “He’s been hit in the head again and again.”
“If his skull’s as thick as they say,” Captain Moonlight said, signaling for another buck to come and help, “then he’ll recover.” The three of them hoisted Helmer together and hurried back the way they had come.
They were going too slow. They heard the sound of Daggler’s band finding the site of the rescue. They heard his furious cry and urgent orders. Picket glanced at Moonlight, who shook his head. They both knew they couldn’t get away while carrying Helmer. Captain Moonlight glanced at Picket, then Helmer, and then at his few fellows. He frowned.
Hearing the pursuit, he dropped Helmer and hurried ahead.
Picket’s eyes went wide as he was left alone with Helmer, unable to drag him with any haste.
“Hold!” someone shouted from behind. He spun to see the massive form of Daggler himself. He leapt into view, followed by a cadre of lethal warriors. “If you move, you and your friend die.”
Chapter Forty
OLD ENMITIES
Picket glanced around. No escape. His master was coming to. Helmer felt his head and squinted up through a badly swollen eye.
“Steady,” Picket said as Helmer swiveled up on his elbows.
“Who are you?” Daggler asked, stepping forward with an inquisitive expression.
“I’m General Sunshine, and this is Private Misgivings,” Picket said, smirking.
“I know you,” Daggler said, ignoring Picket’s remark. “You’re Helmer. We were in the same unit in training.”
“Dag?” Helmer asked, getting slowly to his feet.
“The same,” Daggler said, smiling proudly. “My, how you’ve aged, Helmer. Where have you been hiding all these years?”
Helmer felt around his head, wincing as he probed for the sources of his various pains. Picket held his arm to steady him. “You’re leading a unit?” Helmer asked.
“I’m leading the entire army,” Daggler said, tilting his chin upward. “I’ve come a long way since the days we knew one another. I have risen, like a bird in flight.”
“I thought you couldn’t get any lower than being discharged for torturing a fresh recruit,” Helmer said, shaking off Picket’s assistance. Picket saw that Helmer was steadily resuming his usual vigor. “But I see you’ve descended lower still. You have a part in this treachery? I’m not surprised.”
Daggler’s face bent in a disgusted frown, though his eyes still held their haughty aspect. He nodded to the two massive guards standing nearest Picket and Helmer. The two grinned and stepped forward. Picket lifted his hands, “Wait,” he said, but he was shoved aside and pinned by three more of Daggler’s rabbits. He watched as the two glanced back at their chief, then turned on Helmer. Helmer stood still, his feet shoulder width apart, his arms loose at his side. The first attacker lurched forward.
It was a feint, and Helmer didn’t react but blocked the thundering punch from the second attacker, turning it aside and rising to kick him in the face. The burly rabbit twisted and fell, shaking his head and trying to regain his footing. Picket saw Daggler roll his eyes. The first attacker came on now, angry to see this smaller, far-older rabbit best his fellow so quickly. He came straight forward, extending his arms out wide to seize Helmer by his middle. But Helmer rose again and sent a straight, hard kick to his stomach. As the stunned rabbit bent, gasping from the blow, Helmer brought his elbow down hard on his head. The rabbit attacker crumpled as Helmer resumed his calm stance, glancing around for who was next. Picket smiled.
There were far too many in Daggler’s company to be bested by Helmer, but it still made Picket’s heart swell to see his master answer this initial assault with such a decisive reply.
“I see you haven’t changed much,” Daggler said, disappointment dripping from his words. “But I believe I can change your proud look.” Picket saw that Helmer’s bearing showed only the confidence of a warrior ready to act, and not one of pride. Daggler, however, wore the disdainful expression of an entitled brat whose plans for humiliating another child had been spoiled. Daggler drew his sword and advanced.
“You coward!” Picket called, trying unsuccessfully to shake loose. “You come at an unarmed foe with a blade? Is there no honor in this army?” he asked, appealing to the surrounding crowd. The grip on him loosened a moment, then quickly grew harder as the rabbits who pinned him bore down with their weight, driving knees into his back and head.
“Your young colleague is a mouthy brat, to be sure,” Daggler said. “I don’t think I shall attack you, Helmer, but this young buck.” He turned toward Picket and stepped forward.
“No, Dag,” Helmer said, raising his hands. “Take me, please. I’m done showing off,” he said, falling to his knees and folding his hands behind his neck. “Please.”
Daggler stopped and swung on Helmer. He extended his sword point to touch his neck. He smiled, and his eyes widened with excitement. “This is an unexpected pleasure. To kill you, who at one time seemed to surpass me, will give me no small delight. But first I will kill your student,” he said, glancing over at Picket. “It will be good to report to the Preylords that I have found out and shut down the source of these disturbances. And when we gather on Victory Day and they swoop in to slay all the younglings, you will be blamed. And the futile resistance will be blamed. The wretches will turn on each other, and Captain Moonlight, their imbecilic icon, will be handed over to me.”
“Are you truly happy to know our enemies will kill all the younglings?” Helmer asked, rage barely contained beneath his thin facade of calm.
“I’m not troubled by their deaths. I have executed so many myself,” Daggler said, “including your young niece, Layra.” He laughed at the expression of anger that played over Helmer’s face. Picket felt sickened to see the glee on Daggler’s face, and he understood why free rabbits spit when they heard his name.
“Your kingdom will fail,” Helmer growled. �
��And whether or not I’m there to see it, you will be crushed in the rubble of its fantastic fall.”
Daggler laughed. “Been reading poetry, Helmer? You need better bedtime stories. You have lost, and you will lose. And everyone you love will die.”
Helmer nodded and said, “I give you permission to kill me, soldier.” He closed his eyes and opened his arms wide.
“You don’t have to give me permission!” Daggler barked, his face twisting in sudden anger. “I’m in charge here!” He stepped forward, lunging at Helmer’s chest with his sword.
Picket cried out. Helmer’s heart was inches from the steel point of Daggler’s blade.
At the last possible moment, Helmer’s eyes flashed open, and he twisted quickly. Daggler’s jab sent him spilling forward, where Helmer took him in a constricting grip. Helmer’s legs were pinning Daggler’s, and his one hand held Daggler’s blade to the cruel chief’s throat. The other hand pinned both of Daggler’s wrists behind. Picket’s cries of protest had been barely uttered when Helmer reversed the situation entirely.
“Let him go, or this fiend dies,” Helmer said, motioning toward the three rabbits who bore down on Picket. They looked at one another and complied, backing up slowly. One made as if to grab at Picket, and Helmer brought the pommel of Daggler’s blade down on their chief’s throat, sending him into throes of breathless gagging agonies. They stepped back.
Picket drew his sword and stepped to Helmer’s side. There were still close to fifty of them, and some of them were subtly moving to surround Helmer. “You there,” Helmer said, arresting the creeping progress of some. “Move one more step, and I cut him down.”
“To the river,” Picket said, motioning with his sword.
Helmer nodded. “When you get to the other side of the river,” he said, “we’ll let this creature go.”