Chapter One
All was silent. The light of the dieing fires silhouetted the shapes of slumbering soldiers and sent reflections of the embers into the nearby river. The night was cool, and even the sentries were dozing. The campground was littered with fish bones and grouse feathers, the remains of what had been dinner, and small tarps were erected over large boulders and small trees. The largest of these tarps was the furthest from view, without a fire burning near.
Captain Mudlock was full of stomach and fast asleep; the precious golden egg nestled in a small pouch beside him. Every so often the panther’s hind paws would twitch, a grin spreading over his face as he envisioned the reward he would get from the queen for bringing back such a renowned parcel. “Yes…yes, your Majesty. See what your loyal captain has brought for you? A Phoenix egg…” He muttered into the still night air, subconsciously reaching out with a hand to caress the smooth shell. “We plundered plenty of rations, as well, Milady…. make me king? Oh, Milady, what an honor…if you insist…” A purr erupted from his throat and he turned over, still mumbling to himself, as the flap of his tarp was lifted, ever so slowly, from the ground. Two tiny, white furred hands appeared in the darkness. A twitchy pink nose followed suit, and soon the rat had snuck himself completely into the tarp. He moved like smoke, weaving and dodging around the sleeping captain as if he and the night were one and the same. Creeping forward on all fours, his bright, intelligent eyes were only focused on only one thing - The egg!
Halting, he crouched in the small space and cautiously removed his leather pack. Keeping both sensitive ears tuned to the slumbering captain, he rummaged a bit before pulling out a rather large stone. Slowly he crawled, keeping a fair distance from MudLock’s claws, gaining distance with each painstaking step. A giggle was stifled as he listened to the captain’s sleepy prattle. “Oh, goodniss me, ‘e thinks e’s becoming king now, is ‘e? Well, laddy, ‘ere’s a surprise for ye! Try givin that to yer queen, eh?” He spoke in hushed tones to himself as he went about his work, slipping the pouch’s strap over his shoulder and nestling it close to his furry side. He cuddled the egg close. “Wait juste a minute now, m’lovely, Uncle Tweak’ll get ye back to yer real dad, ay, I will.” He grinned, despite himself, and tapped the egg gently. After laying down the smooth river stone where the golden egg had once been, he slinked backwards and shouldered his pack. His eyes glimmered as he took one last glance around the shelter, gaze landing on a small flask of wine. A gleam of mischief spread to his face as he changed his direction. scuttling to the left, he soundlessly began stepping over the sleeping form of Mudlock.
Mudlock suddenly jumped, sitting up. Tweak froze, straddling the captain’s stomach, daring not to move even a whisker. Mudlock gazed up groggily, and Tweak stared straight back, and at that moment, three things happened. Mudlock broke from his sleep induced trance long enough to utter one yelp of surprise before Tweak fitted his slingshot with a stone and nailed him in the center of his forehead. “Sleep well, laddy, that’ll keep ye in deep tonight!” Mudlock’s head dropped hard to the floor, and Tweak dashed over him, grabbed the wine flask, and made it to the tarp entrance just in time to greet three guards that had been awakened by the commotion.
“Good even’n, my friends. Just poppin in for a drop o’wine. Nothin like a cool sip to keep the spirits up, eh?”
The largest of the three stepped up, pasty-furred fox named Stain with an axe held ready in both paws. “Come to steal our things, eh, mousie? Well, we’ll show you who steals from the Queen’s Guard!”
“Mousie? Bad form, don’t ye know, I en’t no mousie, ye big snowball, and I’ll show ye exactly who steals from ye. Me!”
Before either three could react, Tweak had leapt backwards into the shadow of a tree. Once cloaked in the darkness he weaved through the patches of shadow, silently loading his sling.
“Where’d he go?”
“I think he disappeared…” The trio of soldiers fruitlessly searched the area near the tree.
“Oh, he must be one a those spirit type things! Oh, someone save me!” Buckrun, a red squirrel, the owner of the first voice, trembled slightly near his comrade, Blacknail the coyote.
“Both of ya, shut your holes! He’s a mouse, don’t you see? They can climb! Buckrun, get yer lazy hide up that tree and find ‘im! He’s no ghost, I know it.”
Reluctantly, he complied. With one hand resting on his sword hilt, he felt the bark for paw holds, and then began to shimmy up. With only his free hand and both hind paws he climbed, his eyes inspecting every branch as he ascended ever upwards.
“Well, any sign of him?” Stain shouted from below, axe raised high, “I can sense him…he’s watching us…”
“No, nothing, and stop yelling at me, ya big fluff head. I don’t have to take any orders from you, ya ain’t my captain! I’m coming…”
Without warning, Buckrun plunged from the tree, hitting the ground with a crack that resounded through the still air.
Blacknail timidly stepped forward and gave the carcass a hefty kick. “He’s dead.”
“I know he’s dead, he fell from the top of the blinkin tree, didn’t he? He shoulda been more careful climbing down.”
“He didn’t fall. I mean, he did fall, but look…” Blacknail pointed to Buckrun’s forehead, where a small, circular indent was made in his skull.
“What in hell is that from?” Stain bent lower, studying the curious mark on his former companion’s head.
Tweak watched from the brush behind them, targeting Stain with deadly accuracy. As Stain straightened up and opened his mouth to speak, Tweak released his hold on the string.
Blacknail found himself alone; staring at the bodies of two creatures whom had just moments before been talking with him.
Without another thought he turned tail and fled into the darkness.
Tweak chuckled lightly to himself as he turned and began working his way back to the riverbank, patting the egg softly and chatting with himself. “Oh, call me mousie, will ye? Stupid vermin, learn to keep yer hands off o’other people’s things. Leave the stealin to the professionals, like meself!” Sliding the slingshot back into its belt loop, he reached up with one hand, brushing his whiskers in a thoughtful manor and sampling the air through his nose. Sliding effortlessly through the tangled branches of the water brush, He arrived back at the riverbank. He lowered his tail to the water’s edge and began slowly drumming it against the surface, keen, pink ears cocked forward, listening for a reply. A moment of silence passed, followed by a slow, steady rhythm, mimicking his own. The serene surface was broken by a gray dorsal fin, followed by the anxious face of a dolphin.
“It certainly took you long enough. Tweak, you make me so nervous while I wait out here. You didn’t take anything else but the egg, did you? You did get the egg, didn’t you?”
Tweak smiled craftily as he removed the pouch from his person and handed it over. Peri sighed, relaxing a little as he accepted the package, gently putting it over his shoulder. “Here ‘e is, all safe ’n sound back at home with ‘is Papa Peri and ol’ Uncle Tweak. And, as an offerin o’my congratulations to ye fer bein a father, I’m generously offerin ye some o’my fine red wine. Or white wine. Or, hell, it might be both, I don’t rightly know meself. Haven’t tried it yet.”
“Tweak! You took an entire flask of wine? You will never change, will you? Well, I refuse to drink any of that. Who knows what sort of foul mouthed creature’s been slobbering it?” He smiled, in spite of himself and his firm expression softened into a calm and grateful expression. “Thank you, my friend. I would have never gotten it back without you.”
“No, no, tis my pleasure. And lookit, I got a whole bottle o’wine to meself!” Uncorking the bottle, Tweak tossed his head back, guzzling the dark liquid down. Sputtering, his eyes bulged wide as he spat and gasped, and then threw the bottle into the shallows. “Pleh! No wonder the ruffian hadn’t finished that lot, it tasted like the spit o’a bloody swamptoad!”
Peri glanced around worriedly, keeping both eyes on the drowsy camp, not fifteen feet from them. “Tweak, quiet! Do you want to wake the pack of them?”
“Well, I don’t believe so, but I think we would take ‘em on, eh, Peri?”
The dolphin reached up and ruffled Tweak’s ears fondly, dampening the black fur of his forehead with his hand. “Come on, you scamp, grab my fin and let’s get out of here.”
“Sounds like a plan t’me.” Immersing himself in the chilly river, Tweak waded close to Peri and wrapped both arms around his dorsal fin, being careful to keep his legs and tail to the side so Peri could have all the room he need to kick, and the pair of travelers vanished into the night shadows.
On shore, a sleepy ferret turned over and glanced at the river. He sat up immediately, eyes wide, and then rubbed them with both hands and stared again.
“Aw, what’s the matter?” His bunkmate whispered, noticing that he had moved.
“Nothing…it was…well…I thought for sure I saw a dolphin out there.”
“A dolphin? Yeh, right.” He rolled over, replying moodily, “Ye’ve drank too much tonight. Go back to sleep before ya wake the entire camp up with that twaddle.”
Captain Mudlock was full of stomach and fast asleep; the precious golden egg nestled in a small pouch beside him. Every so often the panther’s hind paws would twitch, a grin spreading over his face as he envisioned the reward he would get from the queen for bringing back such a renowned parcel. “Yes…yes, your Majesty. See what your loyal captain has brought for you? A Phoenix egg…” He muttered into the still night air, subconsciously reaching out with a hand to caress the smooth shell. “We plundered plenty of rations, as well, Milady…. make me king? Oh, Milady, what an honor…if you insist…” A purr erupted from his throat and he turned over, still mumbling to himself, as the flap of his tarp was lifted, ever so slowly, from the ground. Two tiny, white furred hands appeared in the darkness. A twitchy pink nose followed suit, and soon the rat had snuck himself completely into the tarp. He moved like smoke, weaving and dodging around the sleeping captain as if he and the night were one and the same. Creeping forward on all fours, his bright, intelligent eyes were only focused on only one thing - The egg!
Halting, he crouched in the small space and cautiously removed his leather pack. Keeping both sensitive ears tuned to the slumbering captain, he rummaged a bit before pulling out a rather large stone. Slowly he crawled, keeping a fair distance from MudLock’s claws, gaining distance with each painstaking step. A giggle was stifled as he listened to the captain’s sleepy prattle. “Oh, goodniss me, ‘e thinks e’s becoming king now, is ‘e? Well, laddy, ‘ere’s a surprise for ye! Try givin that to yer queen, eh?” He spoke in hushed tones to himself as he went about his work, slipping the pouch’s strap over his shoulder and nestling it close to his furry side. He cuddled the egg close. “Wait juste a minute now, m’lovely, Uncle Tweak’ll get ye back to yer real dad, ay, I will.” He grinned, despite himself, and tapped the egg gently. After laying down the smooth river stone where the golden egg had once been, he slinked backwards and shouldered his pack. His eyes glimmered as he took one last glance around the shelter, gaze landing on a small flask of wine. A gleam of mischief spread to his face as he changed his direction. scuttling to the left, he soundlessly began stepping over the sleeping form of Mudlock.
Mudlock suddenly jumped, sitting up. Tweak froze, straddling the captain’s stomach, daring not to move even a whisker. Mudlock gazed up groggily, and Tweak stared straight back, and at that moment, three things happened. Mudlock broke from his sleep induced trance long enough to utter one yelp of surprise before Tweak fitted his slingshot with a stone and nailed him in the center of his forehead. “Sleep well, laddy, that’ll keep ye in deep tonight!” Mudlock’s head dropped hard to the floor, and Tweak dashed over him, grabbed the wine flask, and made it to the tarp entrance just in time to greet three guards that had been awakened by the commotion.
“Good even’n, my friends. Just poppin in for a drop o’wine. Nothin like a cool sip to keep the spirits up, eh?”
The largest of the three stepped up, pasty-furred fox named Stain with an axe held ready in both paws. “Come to steal our things, eh, mousie? Well, we’ll show you who steals from the Queen’s Guard!”
“Mousie? Bad form, don’t ye know, I en’t no mousie, ye big snowball, and I’ll show ye exactly who steals from ye. Me!”
Before either three could react, Tweak had leapt backwards into the shadow of a tree. Once cloaked in the darkness he weaved through the patches of shadow, silently loading his sling.
“Where’d he go?”
“I think he disappeared…” The trio of soldiers fruitlessly searched the area near the tree.
“Oh, he must be one a those spirit type things! Oh, someone save me!” Buckrun, a red squirrel, the owner of the first voice, trembled slightly near his comrade, Blacknail the coyote.
“Both of ya, shut your holes! He’s a mouse, don’t you see? They can climb! Buckrun, get yer lazy hide up that tree and find ‘im! He’s no ghost, I know it.”
Reluctantly, he complied. With one hand resting on his sword hilt, he felt the bark for paw holds, and then began to shimmy up. With only his free hand and both hind paws he climbed, his eyes inspecting every branch as he ascended ever upwards.
“Well, any sign of him?” Stain shouted from below, axe raised high, “I can sense him…he’s watching us…”
“No, nothing, and stop yelling at me, ya big fluff head. I don’t have to take any orders from you, ya ain’t my captain! I’m coming…”
Without warning, Buckrun plunged from the tree, hitting the ground with a crack that resounded through the still air.
Blacknail timidly stepped forward and gave the carcass a hefty kick. “He’s dead.”
“I know he’s dead, he fell from the top of the blinkin tree, didn’t he? He shoulda been more careful climbing down.”
“He didn’t fall. I mean, he did fall, but look…” Blacknail pointed to Buckrun’s forehead, where a small, circular indent was made in his skull.
“What in hell is that from?” Stain bent lower, studying the curious mark on his former companion’s head.
Tweak watched from the brush behind them, targeting Stain with deadly accuracy. As Stain straightened up and opened his mouth to speak, Tweak released his hold on the string.
Blacknail found himself alone; staring at the bodies of two creatures whom had just moments before been talking with him.
Without another thought he turned tail and fled into the darkness.
Tweak chuckled lightly to himself as he turned and began working his way back to the riverbank, patting the egg softly and chatting with himself. “Oh, call me mousie, will ye? Stupid vermin, learn to keep yer hands off o’other people’s things. Leave the stealin to the professionals, like meself!” Sliding the slingshot back into its belt loop, he reached up with one hand, brushing his whiskers in a thoughtful manor and sampling the air through his nose. Sliding effortlessly through the tangled branches of the water brush, He arrived back at the riverbank. He lowered his tail to the water’s edge and began slowly drumming it against the surface, keen, pink ears cocked forward, listening for a reply. A moment of silence passed, followed by a slow, steady rhythm, mimicking his own. The serene surface was broken by a gray dorsal fin, followed by the anxious face of a dolphin.
“It certainly took you long enough. Tweak, you make me so nervous while I wait out here. You didn’t take anything else but the egg, did you? You did get the egg, didn’t you?”
Tweak smiled craftily as he removed the pouch from his person and handed it over. Peri sighed, relaxing a little as he accepted the package, gently putting it over his shoulder. “Here ‘e is, all safe ’n sound back at home with ‘is Papa Peri and ol’ Uncle Tweak. And, as an offerin o’my congratulations to ye fer bein a father, I’m generously offerin ye some o’my fine red wine. Or white wine. Or, hell, it might be both, I don’t rightly know meself. Haven’t tried it yet.”
“Tweak! You took an entire flask of wine? You will never change, will you? Well, I refuse to drink any of that. Who knows what sort of foul mouthed creature’s been slobbering it?” He smiled, in spite of himself and his firm expression softened into a calm and grateful expression. “Thank you, my friend. I would have never gotten it back without you.”
“No, no, tis my pleasure. And lookit, I got a whole bottle o’wine to meself!” Uncorking the bottle, Tweak tossed his head back, guzzling the dark liquid down. Sputtering, his eyes bulged wide as he spat and gasped, and then threw the bottle into the shallows. “Pleh! No wonder the ruffian hadn’t finished that lot, it tasted like the spit o’a bloody swamptoad!”
Peri glanced around worriedly, keeping both eyes on the drowsy camp, not fifteen feet from them. “Tweak, quiet! Do you want to wake the pack of them?”
“Well, I don’t believe so, but I think we would take ‘em on, eh, Peri?”
The dolphin reached up and ruffled Tweak’s ears fondly, dampening the black fur of his forehead with his hand. “Come on, you scamp, grab my fin and let’s get out of here.”
“Sounds like a plan t’me.” Immersing himself in the chilly river, Tweak waded close to Peri and wrapped both arms around his dorsal fin, being careful to keep his legs and tail to the side so Peri could have all the room he need to kick, and the pair of travelers vanished into the night shadows.
On shore, a sleepy ferret turned over and glanced at the river. He sat up immediately, eyes wide, and then rubbed them with both hands and stared again.
“Aw, what’s the matter?” His bunkmate whispered, noticing that he had moved.
“Nothing…it was…well…I thought for sure I saw a dolphin out there.”
“A dolphin? Yeh, right.” He rolled over, replying moodily, “Ye’ve drank too much tonight. Go back to sleep before ya wake the entire camp up with that twaddle.”