Nightshade City

by Hilary Wagner

  Carn looked at him bleakly. “This is not what anyone wanted.”

  A major came at Carn from the rear, wielding a newly-sharpened knife. “Carn, behind you!” blurted Juniper.

  “Traitor!” shrieked the major.

  Carn, much taller than the major, pivoted. With a laugh, he swiftly kicked the knife out of the major’s paw, landed his foot squarely on the major’s throat, and pushed his face into the ground. The other soldiers looked on in awe.

  Carn grabbed the blade off the ground and pointed it skyward. He shouted, his words ringing through the hall, “Long live Trilok, long live Julius! Leaders of the true High Ministry—the only High Ministry! Let their deaths, my father’s death, finally be avenged!”

  The horde of soldiers, down to the smallest training lieutenant, bayed and hollered, breaking their chairs into crude weaponry, attacking the majors, whom they outnumbered twenty to one.

  “So be it,” grunted Juniper, as he hit an attacking major in the head with the back end of his spear, knocking him out cold. Five young lieutenants jumped on the fallen major, tying him up with a shredded tapestry and dragging him over to Ragan and Ulrich, who sat him on the ground among the growing pack of captured majors.

  Juniper fought side by side with Carn. A gutless major had been hiding under his chair; he swiped at Juniper’s ankles with a razor blade, hoping to slice the tendon to the bone. The major bawled pathetically as Carn plunged his dagger through the rat’s paw, pinning it to the floor.

  Cole, Virden, and Suttor kept their weapons trained on Billycan. He had been known to take out two rats at a time using nothing more than his claws. Foiber and Schnauss, daggers drawn, stood in front of Killdeer as the other sector majors tangled with the Nightshade rats. Major Lithgo was nowhere to be found. It seemed he had escaped.

  More majors jumped in front of Killdeer, holding off the Nightshade rats. As Virden dealt with the pack of majors, Cole and Suttor tightly bound Billycan to his chair, while Killdeer followed Lithgo’s lead and nimbly leaped off the back of the stage, creeping towards Ellington’s Pub. If ever there was a time he needed a drink, this was most certainly it.

  Victor saw Killdeer take his leave and motioned to Vincent, who had just skewered a major in the flank. Vincent watched as Killdeer slipped into the tavern. He quickly wrenched his metal spear from the writhing major, who wailed in agony. He and Victor ran behind the stage and into Ellington’s Pub.

  The tavern was eerily quiet. Killdeer had his back to the Nightshade brothers. Leaning over the bar, he searched for a bottle of Oshi, a keg of ale, any form of spirits. Vincent banged his bloodied spear on the ground, forcing Killdeer’s attention.

  The High Minister slowly turned. His face dropped as he saw the rat before him, aiming a menacing spear at his gullet. Victor stood just behind his brother, sneering at Killdeer, all teeth. It was evident the pair were siblings.

  Killdeer looked Vincent up and down. “Well, as I live and breathe,” he said glibly, “a green-eyed Julius back from the grave. I’d know that face anywhere. Come to kill me, eh?” Killdeer casually examined his nails, as if the situation were a typical one.

  Vincent stepped closer, raising his weapon. “Something like that,” he hissed coldly.

  Killdeer was unnerved by Vincent’s calm. He looked out the front entrance of Ellington’s, hoping to spot one of his majors. He saw no one. “Listen, boy,” he said coolly. “I’m well aware there is no love lost between my Ministry and your family, but you’re wrong about me—dead wrong. I’m sure Juniper has filled your head with lies, telling you how evil I am. You think I killed your family, don’t you? Why, it’s written all over your face. He told you that—didn’t he? A rat of great power, I’m quite used to being blamed for the crimes of others, but if you want my advice, I think you’d be wise to investigate Juniper. He always sought the limelight, and Julius was always the one to get it. Jealousy is a dangerous weapon. It can turn the best of rats into monsters.”

  “I don’t believe you,” said Vincent. “You murdered my family.”

  “Believe what you want, but if I were you, I’d watch my back. Clearly, you have the gift your father had, charisma, magnetism. You may not like it, but Julius and I were very much alike—you and I are very much alike—born leaders.”

  Vincent stepped closer, positioning his spear, ready to strike. Killdeer put both his paws in front of him, as if trying to calm a wild creature ready to attack. His voice softened. “You must remember, at the time of your father’s death, we had just won. I had no further interest in killing anyone. I only wanted to form my Ministry. In fact, I wanted to give your father a title as a peace offering.” Vincent did not waiver, unmoved by Killdeer’s version of events. “Think about it, lad. Juniper could kill two birds with one stone. He murders your father in an envious fit, and then places the blame on me—shameful, really. I’m sure you already know what a great storyteller he is. He can weave a tale like no other, all the while treating you like the son he never had. Am I wrong? I’m sure he has built up your confidence, convincing you that I am wholly responsible for all that is wrong in our world—”

  “Enough!” shouted Vincent, his rancor building with every word from Killdeer’s lips. “You waste my time! You will not sway me. I am not a child, nor a frightened recruit of your army. I know the truth! I know my family was slaughtered by you and that white devil! All that time in the Combs, I should have been plotting my revenge on you, biding my time. Instead I feared you. But no longer! Sadly for you, you didn’t kill my father soon enough. He taught me well. I know the ways of liars and killers. My ill will towards you knows no bounds!”

  Vincent stepped closer, his brother trailing on his heels. Killdeer backed up to the bar, hitting it with his back, as Vincent prodded his soft belly with his spear. Killdeer swallowed nervously. “Now, listen, boy, you’re starting to put me a bit on edge,” he said, delicately reaching for a half-filled bottle of Oshi left on the bar from the night before. “Now, I’m just going to have a little drink while we talk this out. I need to calm my nerves.”

  Killdeer pulled off the cork with his teeth, spitting it on the ground, eagerly guzzling the contents of the bottle. “Ah,” he said, exhaling, “that’s better.” He held out his thick paw. “See? Steady as a rock.”

  Vincent pushed Killdeer’s belly with the spear, purposefully trying to goad the Minister. “You know,” said Vincent, “my father said your kinship with alcohol would lead to your downfall. If you’d like more, don’t let me or my brother stand in your way. Every rat deserves a drink before dying.”

  “You have your father’s intellect and Juniper’s sharp tongue, a dangerous combination for a young rat,” said Killdeer. “This conversation grows tiresome. Now, once and for all, boy, I did not kill your father or your family. Neither myself nor the High Ministry had anything to do with it. They are dead, and tragically so, but not by my claws!”

  Victor had been listening silently. He finally spoke up. “Vincent, I thought Father died in the flood. You said so yourself. You said our entire clan drowned. Didn’t they?”

  Vincent kept his eyes trained on Killdeer, not daring to turn his back. “No, Victor. They did not die in the flood. That’s what the High Ministry wanted everyone to believe, a way to keep the peace and still carry out our family’s killing. The Great Flood provided a perfect cover for murder. Juniper told me the truth. I didn’t think it right to tell you, not until you were ready. I suppose you’re ready now. Maybe you always have been. I swore Juniper and the others to secrecy. I’m sorry.”

  Victor came forward, stepping next to his brother. “You should have told me, Vincent.” His eyes started to burn. “There is no right or wrong in what you did. Had I been the older one, I would have done the same. The only wrong you’ve done is to yourself, in keeping the burden on your shoulders. Had we been with our family, I’m sure Billycan and his majors would have us dead and buried next to our brothers and sisters. You and I, we are all that’s left. We are together
in this.”

  Victor stared at Killdeer, who struggled uncomfortably against the wooden bar. “You gave the orders, didn’t you? You wouldn’t want to get your own paws soiled, now, would you? So how was it done?” He sobbed as grief mingled with rage, then swallowed, and said, “Did your soldiers hold them down while Billycan slit their throats? Did he cut out their tongues and watch them bleed out one by one, as he so likes to do? Did he bring my father’s head to you on a silver platter?” Tears ran down Victor’s face, leaving small wet trails in his black fur.

  “Victor, is it?” asked Killdeer. “Victor, I may be a hardened rat. I may be everything Juniper says and more, but I would never murder a family—never children.”

  Victor ignored him. “What has made you so depraved, so vile? What evil burns inside you? What force lives in your heart, breeding such malevolence? I just want to understand. I need to understand you!” He stared at Killdeer, bewildered.

  “Greed, gluttony, lack of conscience,” said Vincent. “There is nothing for us to understand. You and I will never understand the workings of his twisted soul.”

  Victor started to shout. “My family, you killed them all! My mother, my father, brothers and sisters I never had a chance to know! I barely remember them! I don’t remember them!”

  “Now, boy, calm down. This is all a misunderstanding!” barked Killdeer. “Victor, I’m not the bad rat you think me. I’m not a killer! It’s Juniper. He’s the reason your family is dead!”

  Victor looked at Killdeer with disgust. Without warning, he ran at Killdeer, charging him, shoving his steel spear clean through the dazed Minister’s shoulder, the force so great it threw Killdeer over the bar, pinning him to the back wall of Ellington’s, as bottles of Oshi fell like missiles, smashing on the hard dirt floor. The spear lodged in the wall. Killdeer tried desperately to pull it out but couldn’t get a grip on the blood-slicked metal. Victor dug his claws into Killdeer’s neck, anchoring himself solidly to the Minister. Vincent tried to pull his brother off. Blinded by rage, Victor accidentally kicked his brother in the head. Vincent fell to the ground, unconscious.

  Killdeer writhed in pain as blood surged from his neck and shoulder, turning his gray coat a thick, matted crimson. With his free paw, Victor pounded on the Minister’s face, striking him again and again, crushing the socket of his eye.

  Killdeer reached behind his head and grabbed a bottle of Oshi. He shattered it against the side of Victor’s skull. Victor hung loosely to the Minister, temporarily stunned. Killdeer was losing blood rapidly, his wits fading. He laughed as blood gushed from Victor’s ear. Frothy red spume gurgled from the Minister’s mouth as his raucous laughter carried through the empty tavern.

  Vincent awoke to the sound of Killdeer’s freakish laughter. The deranged cackle sent a shiver through his body. He sat up and grabbed his throbbing head. His vision returning, he saw his brother still clinging to Killdeer, still striking him, his blows growing weaker and weaker. Killdeer laughed louder as he slowly lifted his uninjured arm and made a tight fist, aimed at Victor’s head.

  Vincent rushed to his brother, who seemed trapped in some hypnotic frenzy. He jumped over the bar, pushed in underneath, and wedged himself between Killdeer and Victor. He grabbed hold of Killdeer’s silver medallion. He thought of his father as he wrapped the chain around his fist and elbow, winding it tighter and tighter around the Minister’s ample neck. He twisted the chain until it felt like it might snap. Victor weakly threw punches at Killdeer in a mechanical motion, his strikes no longer effective.

  Killdeer’s fist suddenly unclenched and his arm fell limply, slapping the back wall of Ellington’s. He stopped laughing and grabbed for his chain, now a silver noose, desperately gulping for air. His eyes bulged, and he coughed and gasped as red foam bubbled out his mouth. Killdeer suddenly went silent.

  Vincent yelled to his brother, trying to rouse him. “Victor!” he pleaded. “Victor! Wake up, please! Look at him—Victor, look!”

  Victor finally heard his brother’s calls. He stopped punching. He looked down at Vincent, still clutching the silver chain. He looked at Killdeer, unrecognizable, a mess of blood and bruises. The great rat did not move—his face expressionless and his eyes dull.

  “It’s over, Victor. It’s over. He’s gone.”

  Victor wrenched his bloodied claws from Killdeer’s neck. He threw himself backwards onto the bar top and lay flat on his back, looking up at the tavern’s stained ceiling. Blood seeped from his ear. “Vincent,” he said as his eyes started to close, “Vincent, we won.”

  A pack of sector majors, including Lithgo, had escaped Topside. Foiber and Schnauss, too old to put up much of a fight, had been captured along with over two hundred sector majors, all now shackled and being led back to Nightshade’s detention corridor. Their fates were yet to be decided.

  Very few soldiers fought against the Nightshade rats; those who did were killed or maimed in the mayhem. Although many Nightshade rats were bruised and scratched and a few seriously injured, not one had lost his life. Juniper’s original theory rang true. The Kill Army was no army at all, merely a pack of lost boys. After the Kill Army leaders had been captured, many of the former soldiers excitedly ran back to their barracks, collecting the few possessions they had, ready to start a new life in Nightshade.

  Billycan sat tethered to his chair, still sitting atop the stage. Cole, Virden, Suttor, and several other rats guarded the High Collector, encircling him like a gang of vultures, not daring to let him out of their sights.

  Billycan stayed silent, all four paws, even his tail, securely bound. He did not try to break free. What was the point? He did not yell out in rage, nor did he spit profanities. He did not scream treason in the name of the High Ministry or the Kill Army. He did not even acknowledge the Nightshade rats. He did nothing. Billycan slumped back in his chair, a bored expression on his face. His reign was over. He hoped Juniper would have enough hatred to put him to death, but he suspected that would not be the case. Juniper and his accursed goodness would not feel justified in killing even him, the rat who most undoubtedly deserved that fate.

  Billycan had never been afraid to die. He didn’t believe in the Saints. He didn’t believe he would rise above the clouds of Trillium, going to some brilliant world in the afterlife, nor plummet down to a hellfire pit deep within the underworld. Dead was dead. As he sat on the stage, watching the surreal scene, he couldn’t even pray for death. Since he had no faith in the Saints, praying would be utterly ridiculous. He laughed at the idea.

  In spite of his hatred for Juniper, Billycan respected the rat. He knew Juniper would have him imprisoned in a tiny cell till the end of his days, a much greater punishment than the finality of death. Billycan had to agree with the theory, although he enjoyed killing too much to follow the practice. As he sat thinking, ignoring the happy clamoring of the Nightshade rats and the newly freed Kill Army soldiers and Catacomb subjects, he noticed the mood had unexpectedly changed.

  The hall had fallen totally silent. No one moved. Every rat, friend or foe, stood stiff, looking towards the red carpet bordering the front of the stage.

  Vincent and Victor trudged in front of the stage, dragging what looked like a possum behind them. But it was no possum. Billycan watched as the two black rats each dragged a foot of the bloodied and bloated High Minister.

  Billycan tilted his head in curiosity, examining the oddity, his leader, his comrade, the reason all this had started—dead. It was time, he thought to himself, and better by their claws than his. Killdeer’s eyes were lackluster—staring up at him vacantly. So many vices, he thought. Killdeer’s pitiful self-indulgences, drink, food, females, his inflated ego, his brazen vanity. Killdeer spoke of the Saints, but Billycan never knew if he truly believed in them—in their retribution for sins. For Killdeer’s sake, they had best not exist.

  Juniper came forward. Both boys were crusted with dried blood. They looked down at the ground.

  Juniper finally spoke. “Boys, are you all right
?” He inspected Vincent, then Victor, examining the blood that had erupted from his ear. “Thank the Saints you’re both alive,” he said, holding Victor’s head and tilting it back. “Virden, come and look at this ear.” Virden jumped off the stage and took Victor to a nearby chair.

  Juniper studied Vincent’s grim face. “Vincent, what happened? What led to this?”

  “Victor found out what really happened to our family, that Killdeer had ordered their deaths, and went mad with grief. Like some sort of switch had been pulled. I got between them before Killdeer could … ”

  Juniper put his paws on Vincent’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “I see,” he said. “Vincent, I’m sorry it was left to you and your brother, but there has to be a reason for this. There always is. I don’t think the Saints would have had it any other way.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” said Vincent, “but I should have told Victor the truth sooner. Then maybe he wouldn’t—”

  Juniper would not allow him to finish. He spoke firmly. “I know I’m right. You did no wrong. All your life you’ve protected your brother—just as you did tonight. You are true of heart, no shame in that. You are not to blame for this outcome. Justice comes in many forms.”

  Vincent exhaled, smiling a little, relieved it was over, relieved by Juniper’s words. Walking over to Killdeer’s body, Vincent knelt down and released the silver chain from the deceased Minister’s neck. “Here,” he said, handing it to Juniper. “I think this belongs to you now.”

  Victor called from his chair. “Juniper, put it on!”

  Cole nodded in agreement from atop the stage. “They’re right, old friend. Put it on.”

  Everyone stared at Juniper, holding the weighty medallion in his paws. He looked around Catacomb Hall, then hesitantly put the chain over his head. The medallion rested comfortably on his chest. It felt strange.

  Juniper looked out at all the anxious faces. He stood in front of Killdeer. His voice ripped through the silent hall. “The Ministry is no more! Everyone—you are free!”