The darkness was loud in Cheshire Woods. All had their eyes peeled as they made their way toward the center, a constant “purring” seeming to surround them.
Worst about the Ashen Cats, as all knew, was their superior intelligence. Ashens were calculating, and they could plan out a kill with both strategy and viciousness. Their keen yellow eyes would pick living meat from the densest woods, and then their sleek, muscular gray bodies would spring into action, charging down onto their helpless enemies with ruthless power. The jaws would tear at the neck or head or chest, ripping through organs as if they were mere pieces of paper, and then the Ashen would sit and feast on the bloody carcass in glee. No matter if it was a fox, badger, or human – the Ashen did not discriminate. Meat was the only qualification, and if you wore it, you wore with you danger.
Nome Flag loved that feeling; the feeling of danger all around: danger on the inside, danger on the outside. He, at this moment, was most content; for he feared not the Ashens or the woods or the Dark Duke: he feared nothing. He reveled in fear, and here there was plenty of it.
He looked round at the faces of the people. Children with weary eyes, tired from crying; mothers clutching their young as they too let loose some tears; the fathers, strong, determined, hiding their fear. What a place this was! The trees bounding back and forth, warning in their way, “Go no further! Danger is here!” The animals, the Ashens, watching, waiting, ready to spring. The night air cool and biting. The woods themselves teeming with sounds – ghosts?, some wondered – spirits of the dead who perished there? Ah, what a night it would be!
Suddenly the group came to a halt, and Taylor stepped out before them. The area was clear: about two-hundred feet of space in any direction, and he seemed to be examining it. A moment later he turned to address them:
“We will stop here for tonight,” he declared. “Get as much sleep as you can. We may move in the morning.”
The travelers, very much weary from the night’s journey, gladly complied and began to set up. It took a mere twenty minutes for the area to be converted into a campground, with a fire in the middle that Taylor permitted to be lit for half an hour only, so that the chickens might be roasted. A rotating watch of half a dozen men was set, after which the rest took finally to sleep.
In the morning, berries were picked and animals hunted out by some of the soldiers. Since again Taylor was weary of fire smoke, the animals would have to wait for nightfall, and so they contented themselves with the berries for the day. Some distance off, one of the hunters had discovered a pond, and so Taylor ordered that the party regroup to that spot, so that they might fish during the day. It was a good plan: the pond provided enough food to satisfy all, and the land was much more agreeable there. Taylor decided that this would indeed be the best place for them to remain for the time being and ordered that camp be set. Guard towers were then set up in the trees and tents constructed out of everything from dirt to animal hides. Having seen to these arrangements, Taylor devoted himself to fishing for the remainder of the day, returning at night with more than two-dozen trout.
That night was even darker than the last, and as Taylor laid down next to his love (who had insisted on remaining by his side), he took solace in the moonlight breaking through a crack in their large white tent of bed sheet and sheepskin. Most of the villagers slept peacefully around him, including two of the guards charged with keeping watch, and the only noise that could be heard was the occasional shuffling outside mixed in with the chirping of the woods. Taylor turned his eyes to the face of his love: a true sleeping beauty, the one thing he could take comfort in. She was meant for better than this, he knew. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tried to relax himself.
Rain began to fall, lightly at first, trickling around the tent and down onto the ground. He reached for the blanket and placed it gently over Rosemarie’s body. She smiled and drew up a bit, happy in her sleep, hardly aware, it seemed, of where she was. Soon the rain had grown steady, prattling upon the tent top with increasing tones, perking Taylor’s ear to the sound of its musical droppings. He was just beginning to fall asleep to it, when suddenly he heard a sound.
A noise.
He peeked through the tent and looked around.
Nothing.
His imagination.
But when he laid his head down again, again it met his ears: a low, soft, purring sound.
He turned in a start!
But again there was nothing there.
Only the rain.
He listened, his ears sharp as a knife.
More rain.
Cautious he was, though. Slowly he stood and stepped to the front of the tent, peering out. Rain obscured his vision, but it appeared to be rain alone, after all. He raced to the back opening, peering out from there as well. The water trickled upon his foot. He drooped his head in resignation; and it was then that he heard that dreadful soft purring from behind.
Quickly he turned, jumped for his sword and turned on it, all in a split-second’s time. But the Ashen did not move. Instead it stood there: smiling, glaring – a look of gross intent upon its eyes.
Its paws were massive, with massive, razor-sharp claws to match; its jaws enormous. Its eyes glistened as it curled open its lip to reveal its tremendous ivory teeth.
Suddenly it sprung! – “Roooouw!” Taylor felt himself knocked to the ground with one swift motion of its gigantic paw! He rolled, jolted up – sword pointing.
But the cat was gone! Vanished!
Desperately, Taylor’s eyes darted.
A sound off to his left - a scraping sound! - the sound of claws ripping! A moment later he saw the teeth! and then the head and body! – tearing through the tent like you or I might tear through paper.
“Rosemarie!”
The feline growled a high, squeaky roar, and Rosemarie awoke in a start, screaming in terror.
“Taylor!”
He rushed for her, but suddenly the feline was on him, and before he knew it, the enormous Ashen was atop him, his sword knocked from his grasp. Rosemarie rushed to pick it up, but with one swift thrust of the paw, the Ashen sent her sprawling and unconscious upon the ground.
…………………………………………..
Robert of Roth, had opted to sleep outside with some of the commoners, taking rest underneath the arms of an enormous birch. Dreams he had, of his father, screaming, screaming. And now screaming he indeed discerned. Waking in a start, his eyes focused upon the sight of a giant cat, more fierce than anything he had ever seen, pacing around amongst the helpless people. And the screaming grew louder. Grabbing for his sword, he called to it, then threw a rock into its side, dangerously attracting its attention.
The cat turned in anger, glaring with its yellow eyes.
“Come, you dolt!” shouted Robert. “That’s right. Come face me!”
Slowly the beast sauntered toward him, as if curious what creature might be silly enough to disturb its hunting.
Robert took a deep breath. His flinching might be the difference between life and death. The beast, confidently grinning its sharp teeth, paused a mere six feet from him, examining him from head to foot. Round and round, round and round they paced, playing a deathly cat and mouse game in which each waited for the other to make the first move. “Huff!” - Robert swung his sword gallantly at the creature’s head, only to have the thrust blocked easily by the beast’s massive claw. Robert fell to the ground, but quickly recovered himself, and again the two paced.
…………………………………………..
“Rosemarie!” Taylor cried.
In an instant, he became the strongest man in the world. The beast atop him opened its massive jaws, only to find two hands grabbing at its thick neck. Taylor pulled back and slammed one fist into its glowing eye, then kicked the beast off him to the ground. He raced for his sword! The Ashen followed! Quickly, somersaulting to the ground, he grasped the weapon in his hand, then spun round with one fierce hack. Crack! It struck the Ashen square acros
s the face, and the creature cowered in pain; but a moment later it was back at him, lunging through the air with its claws. His feet planted, his eyes resolute, Taylor hacked at the body. The huge creature collapsed to the ground just before its claws could meet Taylor’s eyes.
…………………………………………..
Turn, turn, turn.
Turn, turn, turn.
Robert was monitoring the Ashen’s every move. He had never fenced with a cat before, what was he to know of its movements? What was it smiling about? Quickly, he glanced behind him. Nothing.
Still smiling. Teeth like knives.
A loud scream rent the air and Robert made the mistake of turning toward it. In a flash the Ashen was on him, bearing down on his person with lightning-fast speed! Jolting, he spun from its path, but still the Ashen managed to catch him by the arm, sending his sword flying through the air as Robert grimaced in pain. Sensing its advantage, the Ashen again charged. Quickly, Robert reached for a branch overhead and began climbing speedily up its tree. But the Ashen climbed too! And fast! It was more agile than he, Robert could tell, clawing into the tree and climbing with as much ease as it had walked. With a breath, Robert climbed higher.
Pull, scrape! Pull, scrape! Mere inches from his heels!
“Think, Robert! Think!” he told himself, as the Ashen clawed underneath. “Think, damnet!”
“Roooouuuwww!” cried the beast, scraping at his foot.
If only I can get it to go a little higher…
The Ashen claw cut at Robert’s ankle. His eyes teared in pain. Another moment and surely it would have him. Its massive jaws opened.
“Roooouuuwww!”
The paws spread. Robert dropped. Dove. The beast leapt. The sword! Got it! “Roooouuuwww!” – “Uh!” – Thwump!
The body fell lifeless.
Robert wiped the sweat from his brow.
…………………………………………..
The scream Robert had heard was that of two children, a brother and a sister. Separated from their parents, they raced, desperately, an Ashen a mere twenty paces behind. It was gaining on them, and their little legs could only carry them so fast. "Hurry!" the older sister yelled, taking her brother by the wrist. But the boy could not help but look back. It was a mistake. He tripped, and as the sister stopped to pick him up, she met the eyes of the beast and froze in terror. It smiled at them, meat as any other, and for a few eternal seconds they faced each other.
“Roooouuuwww!” – the beast leapt, its jaws widened.
The sister screamed out in horror. The boy closed his eyes.
Thwump!
He opened them to see the beast lying dead upon the ground with an arrow jutting out of its chest.
Behind it stood Taylor James, a bow in his hands. Over his shoulder laid the limp figure of Rosemarie, shaken but alive.
“Is she all right?” Robert asked, approaching with his sword.
Taylor nodded. “Just frightened, is all.”
“I got one,” Robert said.
“I got two. Unfortunately, we don’t know how many there were to begin with.”
“Five, I believe.”
Taylor did not recognize the voice. He turned to see Nome Flag approaching, rugged and ragged.
“And how do you come by this?” Taylor asked him.
Nome smiled. “Killed one meself. The other saw what I did to its brother and took off. I looked around for more kitties t’play with, but there w’unt no more.”
“And who are you?” Taylor asked.
“Nome Flag,” the man stated proudly.
“Well, it’s an honorable thing you’ve done, Flag,” said Taylor. “I commend you.”
“Ha-ha!” cried Nome. “Yes, yes, I see.”
He walked off on his own and Taylor and Robert looked at each other curiously.
…………………………………………..
The next night a meeting took place by the fire while the children slept. Many of the villagers, and the soldiers as well, had been visibly shaken by the previous night’s events, and again many were having doubts. Taylor knew he had to address these concerns before they got out of hand.
He stood atop a tree stump before the people with Robert and Stockwell by his side. Rosemarie sat on a log nearby, along with Tibbie and Brianna. Soothie and James sat opposite. It was Cosko who began things.
“So, Taylor James,” he said, his finger pointing before his leery eye. “It t’was you brought us here, and you who underestimated the Ashens. What have you to say for yourself now?”
“Aye, aye!” cried the rest. “You tell’m, Cosko!”
“Tell me, Mr. James,” derided the portly speaker, “tell me what reason we should stay. I was all for followin’ ya at first, but then you led us to this dastard, dirty place, where we’re nothing more than cat food. I have a right mind to leave right now, and take with me any who wish to go.”
“Aye, aye! Aye, aye!”
“And where would you go?” Taylor asked.
“Any place has to be better than here,” Cosko countered. “The Dark Duke may rob us, but he won’t eat us alive!”
“Who knows what the Dark Duke is capable of?” Taylor cautioned. “I can promise you, though, that it is worse than anything in here.”
“How can it be worse?” yelled a voice.
Cosko nodded. “It can’t be!”
“We have set up posts,” Taylor said, ignoring their cries. “We have tripled the amount of guards from six to eighteen. We have also set booby traps.”
“Booby traps?” cried out one man. “I think you’re the boob, mate!”
They laughed, but Taylor ignored this as well.
“In time we will sneak the women and children off to Dermer, where they’ll be safe – temporarily at least.”
“What about us men?” Cosko asked. “Do ya think we wanna stay here on vacation?”
More derisive laughter. Taylor turned to Robert, who nodded his approval. Stockwell stood rigid and strong.
“The men,” Taylor continued, “I had hoped would join us.”
Suddenly the laughter died down.
“Join you in what?” Cosko asked, his hands to his hips.
Taylor paused, stared out. “In fighting,” he said at last.
A gasp went through the crowd.
“Fighting?” Cosko cried. “What fighting? We’re not fighting men.”
“We need as much help as we can get,” said Taylor. “And that includes you.”
“What have we got to fight for?” yelled out a skinny man up front.
Taylor stepped down from the stump. He nodded to himself, staring at the ground. Finally, he looked up.
“Your lives…” he said, pensively, “…your homes…your country.” He paused to examine the faces. “Your freedom.”
There was a rustling in the crowd. Taylor stared at Cosko. He knew that much of the decision rested with him.
“Let me ask you, boy,” Cosko said after a moment, “do you really know what you’re talkin’ about…to go up against someone like the Dark Duke?”
Taylor reflected, shaking his head.
“I do.”
Cosko sighed.
“We’re the last hope,” Robert added. Taylor looked at him in surprise. It was the first time Robert had spoken so openly since the death of his father. “Personally, I’d rather die with honor than live in misery under the Dark Duke.”
“Some of us have families!”
“Then you can choose not to fight,” Robert said. “But if you were to fight, it would be them that you were fighting for.”
Again, silence.
Finally, Cosko addressed Taylor:
“Boy, are you prepared to let brave men die in vain?”
“No,” Taylor said. “But I’m prepared to die myself.” He turned to face the fire, then looked back over at Cosko. “And stop calling me boy.”
Cosko laughed. “I see,” he said. “Ready to fight like a man, o
ut for adventure, are ya?”
“Not quite.”
“And how many should die for it!” Cosko cried, his voice breaking into a scream.
“How many will die otherwise?” Taylor asked.
The fat man was angry.
“Are you truly ready to do this?” he said. “Are you truly willing to face death, torture, humiliation even? To meet the Dark Duke head on – to kill? Are ya?”
“Yes,” Taylor stated without hesitation. “Indeed I am.”
A smile broke out onto Cosko’s face. He walked up to Taylor and patted him hard upon the back.
“Good,” he said. “Cause I don’t wanna die in vain.”
Chapter 24
A Mad Mad Mob