Pacts
Continued from “Hare and Back Again”
Angus swings his mighty head from side to side, cautious of a lingering military presence. "Sit, ye' royal dipstick," he demands shortly; claws deliver a savage pinch to the king's shoulder, and the lizard forces him to the ground. There is no invitation to conversation. The dragon has his dark stare locked on Rayuwil, silently awaiting the company of his weasel droog.
Rayuwil is downed, to his knees, but he falls further than that and rolls to his back, looking up at the now twice-as-tall dragon loathing and staring upon him. The king crawls a few paces away from the lizard, but knows the futility in trying to escape. He swallows and waits with Angus, entranced by his eyes.
Stubb's silhouette differentiates itself from the darkness when he is nearly upon them. "Ain' causin' trouble is 'e?" He narrows his eyes at Rayuwil disdainfully. "Sit up. Ain' no way for a king, ta be lying about in tha snow!" The weasel stands, arms crossed, at Angus' left flank.
Angus quirks a brow at the keeled king. His mien morphs to one of brief pity, but hardens again as Stubb's voice rings out from the shadows. "Nah, mate," the lizard ensures, and brings a foot to rest on the squirrel's heaving chest. "I could sit on *him*," he suggests, bearing most of his weight on the leg. "He might talk quicker if he's fightin' fer breath, ye' know." Hind claws flex against Rayuwil's raiment, as if threatening to disrobe the creature with a heartless kick.
Rayuwil snorts his disdain for the two, grunting as the foot prevents any gracefulness in his speech. "So, you..... managed to put two and two to....gether. And the egg, I suppose... me and my servants are to.... blame for its bestowal on us, yes?" The king looks up at the lizard. "Neither I nor my subjects took your precious object, dragon. It was planted on my lieutenant.... I... just as well assumed I should keep such a generous gift." His paws encircle Angus' ankle instinctively.
Stubb raps Angus' side. "Enough a dat. Oi wanna hear 'im clear." He drops to his haunches. "So you've got 'is kid, then. You admi' to it. An where is she?"
Incidentally, Angus had not yet made the egg-child connection. Recent events had unfolded with unimaginable haste, proffering him little time to dwell on personal tragedies. The dragon recoils as the squirrel clenches his ankle, as if scorched by his touch, and he flinches a solemn nod for Stubb. ".. so all ain't lost, mate?" he rasps, incredulous. "It wasn't all lies?" His eyes dart from the weasel to the king, and his teeth grit, fighting the burgeoning urge to eviscerate.
Rayuwil looks at Stubb, relieved a bit by the pressure being removed from his chest, though not at all by the onset of a fresh, piercing stare. "Your temper is wasted upon me, I assure you. We at least took care of her responsibly... the creature that acted foolishly upon giving us your egg, I should think, deserves the greater punishment. And after... after Anba Hor stole the hatchling from us, we could do nothing." He scoots back a pace.
Stubb pulls out his dagger and drags it slowly through the ground. "An oi sappose you wouldn' know whereabou's 'e moight a taken the 'atchling, den." He snorts. "Your loife depens on you givin' us somefin' a value. Less you fink you can drag your sorry carcass out a tha forest wif free paws broken." He leans forward. "So then: where's tha fox?"
Angus brings his unmarred hand to the swaddled elbow, plucking at the bandages. His head is hung low and brows coalesce in a wrinkled ridge of uncertainty. This information is churned many times over in his lizard brain. "Th' witch-dog does have her, then?" he mumbles, while his hand migrates to anxiously rub at his upper arm. "Or knows of th' whereabouts of it? But h-how .." There is plenty to stammer about, and if this much is true; the lizard immediately fires on Stubb. "Wait yew," he hollers, advancing a pace. "Stubbster, why do I get the feelin' ye' ain't tellin' me everything, mate?"
Rayuwil shakes his head, watching the dagger, watching everything, the most intent he has ever been nearly his whole life... the voices are dragging, slurred in his fast-paced brain, while he thinks of what to say. Shapes in the forest distort around them as he focuses on moving his lips to produce the correct order of consonants and vowels. "I.. don't.. know where the fox is. I may have been able... to ascertain... where the hatchling has... been deposited." He sighs, not having stumbled upon his words.
Stubb holds off Angus with an upheld palm. "'Ang on, ma'e... May 'ave? Oi suggest you share wif us. An you can be sure we'll send a scout up ahead. We go' ways a checkin' out your words, an if you're a loiar, or if your li'tle army's go' uvver plans, you're not worf spit to us."
In the not so distant region of the Dancer, an orange orb flickers and then then bursts, illuminating spindly silhouettes of the flora that separates this party from the others. The reptilian megalith cringes, as his eyes gradually acclimate to the gleam of the outlying fire. He breaths heavily, teeth clenched at the tip of his bifurcated tongue; his good fist is balled, primed to cold-cock the unctuous weasel.
Rayuwil looks up at Stubb, and between the two. "My eyes are always on that fox. Well, they were. We... my scout I mean... saw him leave the hatchling in a quarry north of Redwall Abbey. The scout saw the fox go in, but was unable to follow him after that... he reported that.. a snake had confronted him while down there, but he managed to escape." The king swallows, adding, "If there is still any sign down there, we may be able to see if your daughter is there or... was taken someplace else from there."
Stubb rocks back again on his haunches, then stands. "A quarry. Norf a Redwall. Ay, we came boi it when we were eluding Hactor." He puts a placating paw on Angus arm, to guide it back down to his side. "We ain' had toime ta process tha last couple a days, ma'e," he says in a whisper. "Oi fink we shou'd squeeze wha' we can out a dis one." He gulps. "An oi can explain everyfing, all oi know, soon as we clear our 'eads." He glances back at the fire and the camp taking shape by the Dancer, then again to Rayuwil. "We will look into your claim... What abou' the ole maid your lo' kidnapped? What do you wan' wif her?"
Rayuwil looks up at Stubb, hatred gleaming in his eyes, "She and her lot are /my/ concern. They have nothing whatsoever to do with you. It is a matter of leverage, against one whom the fox has kept or, at least, whose whereabouts by him are known."
Angus's shoulders left level with the sides of his head in a wince of unbridled frustration. Tranquilized by Stubb's touch, the fist finds itself at the bridge of his own nose, thrust against the headache of this debacle. "All right, mate--all right. Ye' know I'd trust ye' with my own life, so I 'spose I can rightly extend that faith to my progeny," he snivels. The hand unclenches, but remains planted on his face. "But yew figure this out, mate; my head's a bloody mess." With that, the dragon parts two fingers, glaring at the king. A long-clawed foot shoots forth in a ferocious kick at the squirrel's abdomen. "Tell him what he wants, damn it, ye' sorry numbskull."
The king doubles over in pain, the sharp foot digging into his middle as he curls around it, flying back a few paces as he cries out to land on his back, coughing violently. He collapses to his side, and grabs his abdomen. "Sh... she... she's the mother of an insignificant w.... AUGH! AUGH!!!! wretch... you... you don't have any concern for.... Please..."
"Aye." Stubb makes a gesture to Angus not to be too violent, lest any fatal breakage should occur. "Wif all your talk a /concerns/, oi'd fink you'd a figgered out dat your main con/cern/ roigh' now is for your own loife. You've lost 'er, anyway, boi tha looks of i', so ain' more harm in i' if we know what you an' your lot a bushrumps was doin' wif an old muvver jes' lookin for her kin."
Angus has his hand on his hip now, and he stares blankly at the puttering squirrel. "Pathetic waste of pelt and bone. Not very kingly to blubber like that, mate," he chides Rayuwil. "What would yer subjects think? Oh right. They left ye' fer *us*." While he concedes to not render the rodent debilitated, the lizard decks the unfortunate sap a few times more. These are but slaps on the wrist compared to the first kick, though; he is simply roughing the fellow up. "Scabby, lousy, wretched .." The spattering of insults is inserted among blows.
Stubb grumbles, "You ain' told me nuffin. Foine. Tell me, den. Whoi'd your army ditch you? An whoi wif us? Seems a strange find ta do wif a king, ta me."
Rayuwil is being beat up. Hack, cough. "I...... ahhhhh.... I don't know, those f.... fools... they will ....n...not convince the rest of t...them to go along with it, I assure you. If you allow m....me, as I help you.. yet again......" He elevates himself on one paw, sinking back a few times before he locks his elbow in place beneath him, "...to beat th...these mutinous foes.. I'll give you an Empire, its r...riches... anything you want... I will have the means to conquer my foes, and this fox and his captive are the keys..."
Rayuwil collapses again.
"Empty leaf-rat promises." Angus has stopped pummeling the squirrel. He crouches over the crumpled royal; his tongue taunts Rayuwil's ear. "You got yer purposes and I got mine, mate," the lizard says to Stubb, without widening his proximity to the squirrel. "Let's make us a plan--a pact." A short glance finds the weasel, dark eyes glittering in the star and fire light. "We get th' fox--an' the other fox, presumin' he's still got him. We fetch my child. Dispose of the dogs, to one end or th' other, and then we go fer yer lost ghost treasure ship. No kingdoms. No lies. Just workin' out our respective skeletons, aye, mate?"
Stubb's nod is slow and deliberate. "Ay. Oi've no need for empires an gold." His eye falls askance on the supine king. "Yeh moight a coaxed de uvvers wif talk a riches." He seems to regret the words almost immediately. "Wouldn' troi none a tha' if oi was you, dough... Ay, ma'e," his sobriety mirrors the lizard's, "a pact."
Rayuwil nods, from his position on the ground, "Whatever you w...wish... yes, fine..." The king is a crumpled up pile of trash on the ground, at his lowest, thrown out and despised. It shows on his face, how tired he's become of it; the weight of the hatred finally baring upon his features. "...Help me...up... please..." His old paw reaches out, trembling.
Stubb almost looks moved by the creature's plight. "Keep your paws in the air... Watch 'im careful, 'Gus..."
Angus relents somewhat; all though this consists of putting a cautious foot against Rayuwil once more. Removed from the chattering squirrel, and boasting an ecstatic and toothy grin, he extends a hand to lock Stubb's a ratifying grip. Should the weasel clench in affirmation, the lizard intends to drag him in to a smothering one-armed embrace. This is obviously his first true bro', and Angus is not ashamed to show it. His knuckles go to playfully grind at Stubb's scalp. "He ain't goin' nowhere, mate," the lizard assures. "We got this."
The outstretched paw of the king crashes to the ground and a plume of dirt rises as his lungs exhale in exhaustion.
Stubb's attention, arrested by the bedraggled Nidlorf's writhing figure, startles at the sudden squamous contact. He recovers to give the rough hand a friendly squeeze and lets himself fall into his buddy's hug. "Oof. I's been a long week, ma'e. Hell of a long week."
Angus looks up from his spindly pal. He peers at the distance camp of their companions, and to the apparently interminable forest beyond. "And I got th' distinct feelin' it ain't quite finished," he chimes, words colored by roguish ambition.
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