Battle Elements By Jeremy Cole The echidnas had gotten a bit more cautious. The number of sentries had doubled from yesterday. They even had an extra sentry walking about, displacing other sentries at regular intervals, and in turn allowing them to switch with the others. It was a clever plan. It kept the sentries awake, and it made sure that if one or two went missing, the others would know soon enough. But what if they all went missing at once? And so, just before dawn, the freedom fighters made their entrance. With Warrick directing them, the newly dubbed freedom force spread out. Their object was to surround and barricade as many echidna huts as possible. It would be a quick operation, and it might even dispense with the bloodshed. But Warrick instructed them all to keep their weapons ready. Just in case. Rally led a group of Knotholers over to the slave pens, carrying the weapons and armor they would need to fight. Breaking the locks almost silently with a swipe of her fighting wire, Rally opened the door to the wakening slaves. It took a moment for the uncomprehending slaves to grasp what was happening. But then a general murmur rose up from the slaves. Free! Finally free, after years and years of being trod upon by the echidnas! A young bird couldn’t resist shouting out in elation, ecstatic at her sudden good fortune. Freeeeeee-! But before that got very far, Rally clapped a pot-helmet onto her head. “Sorry, but you’re not free yet. We still have a battle to fight, and we need everyone to be a part of it.” Over her momentary weakness, the bird accepted a sword from the nearest Knotholer with a grimace. It wasn’t over yet. It was just starting now. A shadow darted past her. But it went unnoticed as the general emotion subsided, and the slaves took up their weapons in preparation for battle. Kleppo hated the slave pens. There was never any room to play, and no one to play with. When the echidnas would take the slaves out to do work, Kleppo would often get a little free time to romp about the fields and around the other slaves, but only because the echidnas didn’t know what to do with him. But even then, there were no slave children to play with – those less hardy than Kleppo had died from the harsh treatment of their echidna masters. So in the fields, Kleppo played alone. But in the pens, there was never any fun, never any space, and always a lack of emotion from the animals there. So as soon as the doors opened, and a voice that was not echidna hailed them, Kleppo shot out the open door with a silent cheer, never planning to return there again. He vaguely realized that he was being liberated, but the feeling of freedom overwhelmed any feelings of gratitude that the 4 year old might have had. Having fun running about, Kleppo was oblivious to the fevered preparations occurring around him. But by chance, a greenish glint of a torch’s reflection caught his eye. Immediately curious, the little thief stole over to the throne that had been forbidden to him for all of these years. Always before, there had been echidna priests or warriors sitting around here, just waiting to shoo him back to the fields. But now the way was clear, and Kleppo approached the broad base. Turning a corner, Kleppo saw for the first time the giant, glimmering, emerald-colored gem that loomed above him. The sparkle and shimmer were enough to drop his mouth open, and the small mongoose’s eyes grew wider and wider as he took in more of the sight. A gem bigger than he himself, so big that he could hardly get his arms around it - it was simply beautiful to a thief’s eyes. A thin crack down the center of the gem had been what had caught his eye – even now, the fissure sent out light in every direction. The imperfection didn’t matter to the thief though - Kleppo reached out to claim his prize. Yet something stopped him at the last second. The force of it made him turn away from the gem. But a different kind of force made him look back at the object so full of concentrated value. The force from outside struggled with his inner desire for the object, fighting a war on the inside. Conflicted with a force outside of himself, Kleppo shut down. Acting totally on instinct, the child let fate take over. Fate can be a truly perverse thing. Still mostly asleep inside his hut, an echidna priest, guardian of the emerald, jerked out of his bed. Perceiving the situation, the priest calmly went about the hut, gathering his articles of war. After settling his battle gear into place and completing the ritual necessary for war, the priest readied himself. Setting himself, the priest sprung out of the hut, jarring the door into the nearest foe and spearing another one, letting a long wail escape his lips. Reacting quickly to the unexpected attack, the defenders of the great forest quickly engaged their lone foe. But the damage had been done. Warrick cursed. All around the camp, one hut after another was spawning wakened and ready echidna warriors, wailing their cry for blood. Warrick yelled above their shouts, attempting to quell the new outbreaks. “Mina! Take the first slave unit, and attack that cluster of huts! Robert! Take your five men and move to the throne! Ah, curse it all, there’s too many of them!” And it was true. As Warrick’s plan dissolved, more echidnas were popping out of their huts, ready to do battle with the invaders of their home. There were too many to just send units out to quell them. Warrick strapped on his helmet with a grim smile. This had been what he wanted, right? Because whether it was or not, the battle had begun. Daggers in hand, Mina led her unit to the huts that the old dog had pointed out. She knew that it was a futile gesture to try to stop them like this, but a battle had to start somewhere. Looking forward at her erstwhile captors, Mina felt the empty, bloody joy born of revenge. Reaching the huts, Mina let the pain and torture of her years of slavery churn to the surface, stirring her rage and pumping her with adrenaline. Holding her daggers aloft, Mina let that rage flow through her lungs as a shout of war learned straight from the mouths of the echidnas. The slaves, feeling just the same, let out their own cries, fed with the power of being at the other end of the spear for once. Mina’s slaves descended on the echidnas in a blood frenzy. Unprepared for the maniac rush, the echidnas gave ground to the banshees that they had once enslaved. Falling to dagger, sword, and rock alike, the echidnas dropped from their lofty poses of war onto the dirt that they had once trod upon. But soon, the practiced will of a warrior took over, and the echidnas fought back with their own attack. The skirmish swept side to side, around, across, and through the huts, leaving no end in sight. A hut lost its door as Mina, propelled by a vicious spear swing, flew threw the entrance. Rolling off of the bed just in time, Mina felt the wood of the spear knock into her as it quivered in the blanket. That spear had been meant to be the last she ever felt. Kicking the weapon from her assailant’s recovering hands, Mina sprung to her feet. Mina felt a vague sense of wrongness run through her as she pushed her dagger into her first echidna heart, as if her mind were morally writhing at the wrongness of her actions. But right now, there was only the fight to worry about, and only the fight in her mind. Leaving the hut, Mina looked for her next target. Morality could wait until later. After the echidnas were dead. Cicero was not only a great fighter, he also a good friend. Gracious, kind, and loyal to all who knew him, if a little slow, Cicero was an all around good guy. Yet Cicero had no real friends, few friendly acquaintances, and only close relatives to keep him company. Why? What could drive animals away from this admirable specimen of echidna? Simply put, Cicero had the worst luck imaginable, even for an echidna. Given a choice between two forks in the road, he invariably misguided himself. His hair was constantly in need of cleaning, as every flicky that flew overhead left their mark on his pate. And even with the utmost care, somehow the water always found a way through Cicero’ roof. When it came down to it, Cicero was nature’s own private joke. It was a sad thing to watch, but rather entertaining if you were a bored slave on a summer afternoon. And so, when a smaller target presented itself, Cicero leapt at the chance to keep himself from danger. Disengaging himself from the gargantuan, purple striped cat that he was currently fighting and letting pass a swipe at his pet frog, Cicero stepped into the path of the mongoose child threateningly. The echidna felt like such a bully in doing this, but if he didn’t come back alive, who would fix the roof of his house? Not quite knowing how to approach the mongoose, Cicero jabbed his spear lightly at the stomach of his foe. Kleppo started squeaking frantically, and began looking around wildly for assistance. Emboldened by this show of weakness, Cicero, with conscience ringing, thrust towards the gut of the child, eyes closed. He heard a moan, and something crumpled to the ground, pulling the planted spear shaft with it. Surprised at a victory, Cicero opened his eyes to what he had done. The boy lay at the other end of his spear, unmoving. Had he killed him? Cicero leaned closer to see. The child had covered his eyes with his last moments, probably not wanting to see his killer… Suddenly, the one that he thought dead started laughing. “Peek-a- boo!” The paws left the covered lids, and the sparkling eyes of Kleppo smiled in the brightness of dawn. Before Cicero could react, his face was met with the hurled spearhead that the little thief had unfastened in his first attack. Stunned, Cicero just stood there with his spear shaft still held dumbly at the little boy. Losing his happy expression, Kleppo wound up and gave the shaft a mighty kick with a small “Hi-yah!” The kick sent Cicero’ shaft into an uppercut, smashing into the echidna’s jaw with a jarring crack. The echidna went down. His last thoughts of the night were “Why always me?” Kleppo wiped his hands, satisfied. “Ha, Ha!” said the child, as he walked off. In the press of bodies and confusion of battle, a circle of open space was forming around a hut on the outskirts of the camp. Three echidnas, brothers Jamas and Lyle, along with the Lyle’s wife, Pemberly, were back to back, fighting ferociously against another wave of the invaders. The three had reached a level beyond teamwork, one that bordered on the psychic. They had survived this long because they could each feel a blow coming at another, and so could block it like they would their own body. The three had a special relationship – it allowed them to be bonded on a deeper level than animals can comprehend. When one wanted something, they all wanted it. And when one felt joy, each of them had their hearts warmed. Now their home, the first one that they had ever worked to build was being threatened. The trio had built that cozy hut out of wood they had chopped, with tools they had made, and without any help from the outside. The three did not even need to ask. It was worth being defended, and they were just the echidnas to do it. Spinning in unison with the other two to dodge the last swing at Pemberly, Jamas dispatched the offending snake with a spear thrust. Noticing for the first time that they had no foes left to fight, Jamas took a momentary breather. Not wanting to rest too long, the echidna scoped out a new foe, nudging Pemberly and Lyle subtly. Both looked where he was gesturing, and noted what he saw as well. One of their former slaves, an aged squirrel, was slowly advancing with sword in hand. Even with the battle raging about him, the walk was stately, and the sword was held at a steady angle to the ground. Behind him lay many a fallen echidna, each with a matching crescent sword wound across the left side of their throat. The squirrel was coming nearer to them, walking towards the throne with an expression to match his stately walk. The tip of his sword held blood, but the rest of him looked to be fresh from the pen. It was an eerie sight, but not enough to shake an echidna. Disengaging from their formation, the three stepped boldly into his path. Not stopping, the squirrel looked at the three with sheets of ice in his eyes. “I offer you what I have offered every other enemy in my path. Leave me be, and fight your battle somewhere else. The scent of freedom has finally reached me, and has hardened what went soft with my years. You may have once have been my captors, but I offer you forgiveness. Take it, and it is yours.” As he spoke, the squirrel flourished his sword. At the top of the arc, the dawn caught the blade, casting a red light onto the three soul mates. Sweeping back, the blade cut closer to them as the squirrel continued his advance. Alone, each echidna was scared speechless by the menacing squirrel. But together, they weren’t even fazed. Lyle spoke for them. “This is our new home, slave. Run back to your pen, before you can’t ever run again.” In response, the sword vanished, reappearing again in the wooden spear that Jamas had raised to block. Immediately, the three spread out, surrounding the one in a triangle. Giving a wearied sigh, the one gave a twist of his sword, snapping the other’s spear in half. Darting the sword in for a second slice, he instead met the sword of Pemberly, and had to execute a hurried block to avoid a swipe of Lyle’s rowel. Triumphant at the maneuver’s success, Pemberly thrust her sword at the squirrel’s unprotected front. But faster than her sword could move, the squirrel was under the steely death. Without breaking his stride, the old one cut across Pemberly’s throat, opening a hole in its left side. Enraged at their bond mate’s demise and uttering unintelligible outbursts of pain, Jamas gripped about the shoulders and under the armpits of the squirrel while Lyle, moving into his path, swung his rowel at the captive. But the old squirrel was too powerful even for an echidna, and dragged Jamas along a dodge in his unrelenting pacing. Taking the opportunity, the squirrel broke free of his tormenter with a mighty shrug of his shoulders, then cut him down without a backwards glance before his brother’s eyes. Two parts of his heart gone, Lyle staggered a few steps away, up the path of the squirrel menace, then fell to the ground. Turning in his prone position, the echidna looked towards the still advancing squirrel. The sword had fallen back to its angle with the ground, and the face had assumed the same blank expression as before. But the eyes were fixed on him, with their blank frozenness icing him to the spot. He knew that no matter what he did, he would die. “Who are you?” asked the truly defeated echidna in his last moment. The question delayed his death for only a moment. The aged squirrel uttered only a name before he finished his foe. “Max of Mobotropolis.” The unstoppable king continued on into the heart of battle, still at a stately walk, and still unsullied but for the blood on his sword. Behind him lay three more bodies, each with a matching crescent sword wound on the left side of their neck, together even in death. Something needed to change. As line after line of enemy animals advanced, squad after squad fell to the fury of those they had wronged. No amount of training could prepare you to fight against someone with a berserker fury so evident in their eyes – the fury of loved ones lost, and the fury of oppressed revenge. To put it frankly, the echidnas were losing. What they needed now was a new strategy, and the echidna chief knew it. Fortunately, strategy was something that he could provide in heaping quantities. In response to an unheard signal, the best warriors of the echidna camp slowly began assembling about the throne. As more and more of the elite assembled there, the peak of the echidna clan gained force, and the opposing forces rolled off of them like water. The other echidnas soon learned of the safety of that line, and made a dignified retreat behind those lines, turning to add their own expertise in the form of flying spears. It was a circle of death. And it was only getting wider. The chief smiled stonily as the attackers receded. “Call back every echidna outside of the circle. Then grab every uninjured echidna we’ve got – its time for a counterattack.” The runner nodded and moved off to the front lines. Letting out a relieved sigh, the monarch ascended his throne. The echidna camp was as good as secure. All that remained was to form the final attack force, and their camp would be safe. And attacking was something that echidnas were very, very good at. The so-called “freedom force” was as good as defeated. Nothing could stop them now… A runner from the outer defense line approached the throne, panting. “Sir, we are encountering some resistance next to the slave pens.” The chief cocked an eyebrow at the messenger. Uncertainty crept back into his heart. “It looks to be about twenty animals. Only about six are on the front lines, and the rest are providing support. We’re taking more casualties than we expected.” “Are any of the elites at the scene?” The chief began to rise from his lofty seat, reaching for his spear. “No sir. But your son is in route… along with Bunnie. She has her handler, and they should be there shortly.” The chieftain relaxed back into his chair. “So the lines are safe. Thank you for the report, soldier. Now get back to your post.” The echidna saluted with his spear and left him. As soon as he was gone, the chief felt all the air go out of his chest and his shoulders sag into the chair. He rubbed his face with both hands. How could so many of his people die in one day? What kind of demon would inflict this much pain on them? Rally looked up at the sky. It was time. The dawn was just reaching that moment of orange brilliance as the wire of the black cat, rendered a fiery rod by the sunrise light, began decimating the echidna forces. The scowling cat was a fearsome sight. Her steely ribbon wove all about the space around her, braining a foe to her left, then thudding into another’s throat, painfully. The line caved inwards from her demonic assault, leaving wounded and unconscious echidnas to all sides, but never a corpse. A hole opened in the line as defenders rushed to stop her advance. That was all he needed. Rotor, in full combat gear, stepped into the depression. He was wearing a ridiculous looking backpack, mounted with speakers and protruding a foot or more backwards. The yard-wide speakers were mounted on his shoulders, and the ensemble was complete with triggers that extended at elbow level, right along his forearms. Echidnas who had the time to scoffed at the a convoluted looking contraption, but when Rotor hit the triggers, they weren’t laughing any more. A deep blast of nearly visible sonic force lifted the laughing echidnas off of their feet and plowed them to the ground. The force of the sound was enough to stun all of the echidnas around him as Rotor spun in a concussive circle. One echidna, stronger than the rest, made an attempt at a throw towards the booming menace. But the walrus spun at the noise and released a concentrated blast at the whistling spear. The shaft shattered, as if it had hit a stone wall. As the one walrus army continued to persuade his foes to the ground, his comrades slipped through the blasted hole. Rotor nodded to Rally. This was their part in the plan. He turned to his next victims. They were really better off unconscious. Sally led the freedom fighters into another cluster of the enemy. Unaware of the danger, the echidnas fell like rain to the vengeful assault. Every fighter of their group had lost someone to the mercenaries a year before; each one was glad to return their pain. The line was all the echidnas had left. Dissolve it, and only victory could lie ahead. Sally looked to each side. That segment of battlefield was clear, filled only with moaning and unconscious echidnas. “Guys, its time to…” She stopped. No one was paying attention to her. As her words faded off, Sally lost interest in them herself. Two blood-spattered figures were making their way towards them. One was visible only through the sharp green eyes he wore. And the other was noticeable only by the long, yellow ears mounted atop her head. But those were clue enough. The pair walked boldly up to the freedom fighters. The green eyes acquired a kind of swagger the nearer they got, and the long ears conjured an expression of uncaring, as if those that stood in their way were not worth the time. Stopping a respectable distance from the group, the two stood motionless. Both groups waited for the other to act, as a pocket of silence filmed over that part of the battlefield. Neither side moved more than was comfortable. They simply watched each other. Now that the transfixing gaze had left him, Sonic noticed more about the echidna than the color of the eyes that he wore. The skin surrounding those eyes was a lighter, almost safer looking shade than most other echidnas. But the set of the mouth, and the sharpness of the eyes and spear, destroyed that image. A white, spiked glove gripped a colorfully ornamented spear, and a set of warm-colored sneakers planted into the ground. The cocky smile that his foe wore immediately incensed Sonic for a reason that he could not name. Losing his own cocky smile, Sonic stepped forward. Sensing his intent, the echidna matched his step forward. The two looked at each other for a second, scowling intensely. Then Sonic rolled into a ball and launched himself. Green eyes deflected the assault easily with the shaft of his spear, whacking Sonic well with the weapon, but was unprepared for the hedgehog to bounce off the ground and into his chest, dropping him onto his backside. Lashing out from the ground, the echidna almost clipped the blue blur. But the next second, he was up and swinging again, pointy end first. The two began battling it out, moving farther and farther from the group. The long eared one moved to help her comrade, but Sally, with Tails at her elbow, moved to bar her passage. Stopping, the other remained emotionless as Sally sized her up. The animal before the ears was even more menacing than the first, from her lengthy, scarred ears to her unkempt, sooty paws. The most obvious and surprising feature of her was that not only did she not act like her fellows, but she wasn’t an echidna at all. The yellow fur that coated her was dirty almost beyond being recognized as yellow, and the pretty pink jumpsuit that she wore over it was almost a mockery to the rest of her savage person. Her eyes were of a slight blue, and the fur that surrounded her mouth was a tanning white. A strange fact was that the only weapons that she seemed to possess were her lanky, muscular arms, which she held in a combat-ready stance in front of her. For the moment she seemed docile. But the lines about her mouth showed that that mouth could become so much more when she wished it. Behind her in the shade of a hut stood a smallish echidna, with the robe of a priest adorning him. Sally dismissed him. He wasn’t even armed. But where had she seen that rabbit before? Suddenly, it came back in a flash of memory. The day of the attack. The savage fury of the rabbit warrior. The taking of her family, and the fear of death in her heart… The fear of that day came back to Sally, making her shrink from her pose just the slightest bit. The rabbit didn’t move. But Sally knew that she had sensed it. They remained motionless for a while longer. It was a gradual thing, but Sally felt it. The air of this one was changing, and that meant danger. Sally glanced over her shoulder at Antoine, the only one still in reserve. “Antoine,” she whispered. “Keep going. We need someone to continue the fight.” “Princess, can I not remain to protect you?” “Antoine, just go. Me and Tails will fight as well as we can – just try to get the chief. You’re the only one that can go right now. We’re counting on you” Antoine didn’t question further. Departing with only a modicum of noise, the coyote to complete their mission. As if taking the cue, the rabbit suddenly streamed into motion, dissolving into her battle motions as fluidly as if they were as natural to her as walking. Reacting simultaneously, Sally leapt at the other, hefting her staff over her shoulder grimly, with Tails flying silently by her side. The two sides clashed without a sound and began their battle. The battle of Sonic and the green eyed moved as quickly as they did. Both combatants were champions of maneuverability – the practiced mobility of a true echidna warrior and the natural talents of the speedy hedgehog. Any who got near the furious whirlwind of echidna and hedgehog were left flattened and bleeding, echidna and Knotholer alike. And so they battled alone – partners in a bloody dance. Sonic balled up and battered at the other’s defenses, striking nearer and nearer with each blow. But the warrior got his spear away, and swung with crushing might before the hedgehog got too near to him, pushing him back with the wind of the swipe. Following up, the echidna thrust a piercing blow at the recovering hedgehog. But the blow fell on an afterimage, as Sonic came around the back of his foe with a flying kick. Ducking heavily to avoid the blow, the echidna shoved his spear upwards. But the hedgehog was gone again, reappearing with a punch while the echidna’s guard was down. The green eyed felt his face begin to bloody. Darting away, the blue blur flew into a stand of trees, and the angered echidna followed. The trees offered little enough cover in the full light of morning. So how was that hedgehog hiding? The echidna stood at the center of a small clearing, looking about in suspicion of every bush. Lashing out at an imagined rustle, the back of his head fell prey to a heavy slug, one that watered the bushes in front of him with blood. A swipe behind him yielded nothing. His tormenter had once again disappeared. The echidna spun, spear out, perplexed. Where had the hedgehog gone? Scowling, the echidna tried a new tactic. Taking a temporary time out, he leapt into the highest reaches of the foliage. Surveying all below, he noticed a flicker out of the corner of his eye. Faster than thought, the echidna’s spear left his hand and lanced into a thick clump of bushes. The short cry that came back brought a smile, almost a grimace, to his lips. Leaping from his perch, the warrior landed heavily beside the bushes. His spear lay on the ground beside them, and the head was smeared with blood. But the hedgehog was nowhere in sight. The echidna prince sighed. An enemy that wouldn’t die. Fighting him, death was an inevitability. Why must they all resist their own deaths so? Something flecked on the ground caught his attention. The echidna stooped to examine it. A trail of blood, fresh. Clear and frequent, the drops circled a tree, then pooled to their side. The echidna calculated. If he had been watching him from that spot, then… The echidna turned too late to intercept the hard punch. Face splashing, he went down with a shudder. No one could get up from that. Letting himself relax and panting hard, Sonic favored his bloody leg. The spear had punctured something, of that he was certain. Trying not to think that his opponent might be dead, Sonic hobbled off in the direction of the battle. It was imperative that he got back as soon as possible. If he weren’t there, then who could their force rely on? They had to need him. C’mon, he was Sonic the Hedgehog! Wrapped up in trying to avoid the pain, Sonic didn’t notice the grunting sounds behind him. Bloodied and barely standing, his green- eyed foe had somehow caught up with him in a renewed attempt to defeat his foe. Following the hedgehog and contemplating the killing blow, the echidna’s head snapped up as a short shout of despair rang out from the village. The echidna shook his head, berating himself for his weakness. His people were still battling, and they needed him. Without a second thought, the echidna prince loped off into the woods to fight another battle, silently promising himself to fight that warrior again another day. The battle was not going well for the echidnas. Everywhere, echidnas stood about, unsure of how to move as bands of attackers moved about them, wreaking havoc. The deadly circle had fallen to the freedom fighter’s assault, and that was taking its toll on the poor, unsuspecting echidnas. All of this, Sally noted out of the corner of her consciousness, as she fought a battle of her own with a killer from the past. With each passing blow, the squirrel princess realized just how the animal before her had bested even the king of Mobotropolis in combat. Each and every attack had the power of a hammer. It shouldn’t have been possible to pack that much force into one attack, but the splintering beneath her hands told her it was so. Every blow that got through fell in the most vulnerable place, striking her roughly in the ribs, then snaking fluidly out again. Every punch that she moved to block seemed to be a feint, instead turning into a kick, roaringly powerful. It was all she could do to throw herself out of the way. Not letting up, the assassin dived elbow first to her prone opponent. But before the blow could connect, she was tackled to the ground by Sally’s fox companion, tails spinning with all his might. Still without emotion, the fierce beast twisted her torso and brought her hand down over the child’s head in a chop. The small fox cried out as the tension left the tails, and he slumped over his attacker. Gripping his body with one hand, the rabbit flung him away as she stood. A soft chuckle that didn’t belong to her rose from the silence. The small one had been dispatched. Time now for the large. The rabbit’s handler began his conjuring anew from the shadow of the hut, murmuring words of control even through his sinister chuckles. Before him was an unstoppable warrior, one under his total control. Now, she would win the battle for him – just like she had one year past. The feral warrior, still holding the deadness of her eyes and not even breathing hard, looked at Sally, who stood barely a yard away. The squirrel was shaking, only half able to grip the staff in her hands. Fear was a sign of weakness. Had her opponent lost her will? The emotionless killer looked into the squirrel’s eyes, expecting her to cower at the very contact. But what she saw there was not fear, but all-consuming rage - a rage that called to destroy the rabbit with her bare hands. Bunnie’s eyes blanched just the slightest bit at the menacing sight. It was then that the squirrel warrior chose to attack. Sally had been restraining herself with a calm that she did not feel. All of the emotion that had been pent for the last year began to churn and bubble against the anger that she felt at Tails’ fall in her mind, slowly breaking down her composure, bit by bit. The last straw had been when the bunny had looked into her eyes with that cold, emotionless expression, ready for another kill – Sally snapped. The wood of her shaft hit flesh for the first time that battle, as Sally viciously cut with both sides of her staff at the unarmed menace. Not pausing to block, Sally took a bruising hit to her shoulder, but continued her assault, relentless, striking again and again at the harassed creature. Wood bit into shoulder, sides, and legs alike, each hit purchased by the rage inside and costing a little more of her strength. Every blow was tiring her a little more, but her rage was fueled even more as an emotion finally fought free of the other’s face - sadness. Sally closed her eyes, raising her staff to strike down her opponent. But the blow never came. Sally opened her eyes. The rabbit was leaning heavily on her staff with her arm, preventing the fatal swing. The look in her eyes had gone even further into the depths of despair as she reached for the squirrel princess. Sally bowed her head. She had lost again. “Bunnie! Come to me!” A surprised shout called out of the shadows, and Sally looked up. The pressure left her staff suddenly, as Bunnie sprinted back to her handler, leaving the defeated princess behind. Tails, looking well except for a mild bruise, was grappling furiously with the small echidna that Sally had noted earlier. Lines of light were frantically forming about the echidna’s hands, but the leverage of the youngster was gaining on the poor spellcaster. A second later, Tails flipped the echidna violently over his back, landing headfirst in the dirt and thudding nastily. Tails grabbed a rock to make sure, but the force had been enough to put the echidna out of the fight. What had just happened? Sally knew that she should be dead right now, but somehow Tails’ bout with the echidna had saved her from her death. Halfway to her master, the rabbit had suddenly dropped to her knees limply, and now stared vacantly at her destination. All traces of aggression had left her, and the blank of her eyes took on an empty quality. Limping over to Tails, Sally hugged the small fox with concern on her face. “Tails – I thought that she had gotten you – are you really ok?” The fox pulled away a bit to smile brightly into her face. “Just fine aunt Sally. Did you see me take that echidna? I got him all by myself!” Sally smiled back at him, relief evident in her voice. “Yeah, I saw. That is some impressive strength!” Still holding the fox, Sally examined the unconscious echidna. The lips of his mouth were twisted into a permanent laughing sneer. He looked to be more of a priest than a fighter by his clothes. Sally grimaced and turned back to her friend. “Tails… you saved my life. That was very brave. Thank you so much!” Tails hugged her with all the force that he could muster to hide his blush. “I just wanted to know that you were safe, Aunt Sally. Does this mean that I don’t have to do any more guard duty?” “Eheh. We’ll see about that. But how did you know that he was controlling her? I forgot him as soon as I saw him. I guess I have to be more careful.” “I don’t really know, Aunt Sally. He was talking to himself and looking at the rabbit a little too much, I guess. I thought - maybe, just maybe, that rabbit wasn’t really a bad guy. I guess I was right, huh?” “Yeah…” Sally walked cautiously over to her former foe. She had shifted during their talk to a sitting position, but the empty eyes still stared straight ahead, and she hadn’t moved otherwise. The rabbit had a certain feeling about her, one that Sally had felt only recently. Her foe felt like a slave liberated from captivity, and looking into the world for the first time. The feeling of sadness still clung to the air around her, though, as if the rabbit were just realizing all the wrong that she had done. It was then that she made her decision. Sally sat down decidedly on the ground next to the stuporous rabbit. “Actually Tails, I do need your help with one more guard duty. I have a feeling that you were correct. Our fierce friend here just might be worth protecting. Are you with me?” The small fox flopped down next to his aunt. “Yeah – you could be right.” As Tails spoke those words, Sally glanced around at the battle raging around her, feeling an heavy sorrow in her heart. An image of her father, mother, and brother flashed through her mind, explaining the sadness that she felt. Had she expected to see her lost family at the battle? Had she wanted to see her father, rallying the troops, and coming to her side? Did she feel just a little bit sad that she was giving up…? Sally shook it off. There was no way that her family was still alive. Her job now was to protect this defenseless creature from the tide of war. Her lost family would have to stay that way… Antoine grimaced at the sight before him as he arrived at his destination. Concealing himself inside an abandoned hut, he studied the situation outside. Though he had seen the place many times over on the maps and diagrams that Sally had showed them, and once in person a day before, the throne was much more menacing now than it had been ever before. Towering above the battlefield in its stony glory, the throne exuded a power, infusing the surrounding echidnas with a renewed strength. The throne’s majesty was palpable in the air, and that majesty was only enhanced by the formidable looking echidna that sat atop it in his war gear. Directing his troops with a fine touch from his high seat, the chief was a natural born leader. Huge even for an echidna, the chief could have filled a small hut alone by his width and height. Though this was a surprise attack, the chief was fully decked out in war paint, with every inch of his body covered in green swirls and red splotches, which accentuated his naturally light fur with a bloody texture. Even from here a gray stubble was visible on the warrior’s chin – hairs from worry that had been sloppily lopped off. For weapons, the echidna wore two crossed spears strapped to his back with two thick rod harnesses that circled his body, hip to shoulder. He wore a nothing but a ragged loincloth and the traditional spiked gloves that some echidnas wore. The expression that he took was savage, but also full of a certain weary worry for his people. The savage beast looked tough, but Antoine knew that he must be dealt with. The risk was one that he would have to take if it meant the end of this battle. Antoine was working up the nerve to make his move when he saw the chief stiffen in his chair. Raising an eyebrow, Antoine watched from his hiding place as the heavy echidna stood up laboriously. Taking his spear, the chief waved the protective barrier of bodies from around him, sending out his troops in a red mass. Within moments, the echidnas had scattered, showering their enemy in another wave of attackers. But the chief remained, staring off into the battle with an unusual clarity about his gaze. But Antoine ignored that – echidnas were weird, to put it frankly. Stepping out of the hut, he approached the king’s throne with a false swagger and stopped at the base. Antoine paused a moment to gather his speech. Then he drew his sword and gestured at the echidna monarch. “Sir, I respectfully request that you descend your throne and engage me in a duel – for the safety of the great forest. You and your echidnas have been a blight on this land every time you have come – and it is my sworn duty to protect this forest and everyone in it!” The noble speech boosted Antoine’s pride a bit, but didn’t even turn the echidna’s head. The pause stretched to a bit too long. Gritting his teeth, Antoine picked up a hand-sized rock to try again. “I said - ” The chief slowly turned his head to the fuming coyote, giving him a look that questioned whether he was even worth killing. Turning an eye to his assailant’s sword, the chief decided to end his annoyance. Not bothering with the stairs, the heavy echidna leapt from the high pinnacle of his throne, scattering dirt everywhere as he did so. Still moving slowly, he drew one of the spears from his back with one hand and advanced on the intimidated coyote. Swinging without much effort, the echidna broke through Antoine’s guard and sent him sprawling. Shaking, Antoine stood again and feinted, then attempted a thrust. Ignoring the feint and taking the thrust head on with his spear, the echidna punched with his free hand. Antoine felt an unpleasant snap under the intense pressure. Sliding against the hut that he had hidden with before, Antoine struggled to breathe as the chief began to stare off into the distance again. “He is almost here…” Indeed he was. Out of the final darkness of predawn came the unstoppable figure from the slave pens, the death of many echidnas, and the ruler of Mobotropolis. Still holding the sword at an angle to the ground and with the tip bloodier than ever, the king at last stopped his furious march at the foot of the throne, not far from the echidna chief. Behind him trailed a steady trickle of the freedom force, following he who opened the path for them, and kept there by a quiet “To me.” Somehow sensing the confrontation, a second trail of echidnas piled behind their own leader, still lusting with the need for battle, but sated by the calm threat of the king and the savage protection of their chief. Gradually, the noises of battle stopped, as more and more of the fighters converged on the spot. The two sides coexisted unwillingly while their leaders sized each other up, staring across the gap and calculating the odds in a fight. Before the final confrontation could start, the echidna chief spoke in a voice rough with gravel and hardship. “Do you know me, Max of Mobotropolis?” “I know you, Locke of the echidnas.” “How did you get through that part of the line? That was where the echidnas were strongest.” The king’s answer was akin to an icy wind. “Simple. I walked through it.” The chief nodded, unsurprised at that statement. He had known from the moment that he saw him in the pens that this was his true foe. But no true warrior would kill an unarmed animal, no matter how dangerous. This was the only way that their quarrel could end. “I see. There is no need for words then. Let us fight.” Antoine could see the final battle perfectly from his position at the edge of the battle, his wounds forgotten for the moment. Immediately the king struck at his enemy, sweeping his sword in an arc in front of him. But the chief parried the blow expertly, twisting the blade out of the way as he grabbed the second spear from his back. Holding both spears in his monstrous hands, the echidna struck with both at once, but the squirrel twisted to the side between them. Switching to a fencing posture, the king went through a complex series of thrusts and swipes, but the spears of the chief kept the flashing sword at bay. Rolling forward and thrusting like a piston with both spears, the echidna drove the squirrel back, but the king circled the echidna and struck, throwing him off balance. Leaping forward in a controlled slash, the squirrel king neatly sawed the head off of the echidna’s spear, twirling the sharp stone off into the crowd. Trying again, the king made another thrust, but was beaten back by the severed shaft. Both combatants stood, and began to circle. All around them, the crowds were cheering on their champions, each realizing the power of the other side’s leader and hoping all the more fervently that their own would win. Foremost among the echidnas stood Knuckles, the echidna prince, leading the war cry of his father. And on the opposite side of the battle, silently rallying his own forces for a cheer stood Elias, prince of Mobotropolis. But neither warrior heard their son’s support. This battle was to the death, and they needed every bit of concentration that they could muster. Grabbing a stray spear from an onlooker and hurling his lost one at the enemy, Locke followed up his attack with a vicious slash and thrust combination. Caught in blocking the hurled wood, Max was almost unprepared for the assault, and gave ground to the oncoming chief. The crowds moved away to accommodate the new turn of events as the warriors receded rapidly from the throne. A moment before the last blow would have fallen, the king sidestepped the attacker, swinging his sword at the echidna’s back. But the warrior was not there, but behind the king instead. Both moved to emotion for the first time that night, the two began a furious salvo of blows, yelling into the other’s face and striking all the harder for it. The battle moved back and forth and side to side, both giving ground, but both gaining it back again. The blows continued, faster than Antoine’s tired eyes could follow, not letting up in the slightest, through the moments stretched to minutes of the battle. And still they fought. A path parted in the freedom force. A bruised but unhurt Rally rushed over to Antoine, pausing only to skirt the battle. “Are you all right?” she asked, worriedly, but softly. Antoine checked her over for wounds before answering. “I could be better, but I’ll live,” he answered, matching her volume. “I’m out of this fight though, so I really hope that our king wins this bout.” “The king? Sally’s father? You mean, that squirrel is the king?” “Yes… Max of Mobotropolis. He was called unstoppable in battle, but he was taken prisoner last year in the attack. But now he has returned! The king has returned!” At that moment, a clang rang from the battle, making all else stop. At the foot of the throne, Max and Locke had reached their deadlock, increasing the fury of their attacks and neither giving ground. Later, accounts of the battle would state that no normal animal could keep up with that pace for long without a mistake. And someone had finally made one. Locke, holding both spears at his sides pointing out, was staring at his chest. Blood leaked from the sword that lodged itself there, mixing with his war paint and staining his coat even redder in the onlooker’s eyes. The sword of Max had found its way, angled to cut to the heavens, to the steel harness that he wore there, cutting straight through, and causing the clanging to ring out from above his heart. The scene was frozen, and no animal moved even a thought. Both sides might have stayed there for the rest of time. But a new sound, not of the battlefield, was heard around the echidna camp. A great rumbling, as of earth shifting, shook the ground, jolting every person there and knocking Rally down to sit by Antoine. Each echidna of the defending force turned as one to look to the north, and it was a sight to see. The echidna’s island home, the drifting island, was moving again, taking the rest of the echidna tribe with it. The echidnas were immediately faced with a choice. If they did not move now, their home would be lost, and the echidnas would truly be a drifting race. Locke looked about him. He saw the echidna forces, weak with battle’s age. He saw the devastated huts that they had built. He saw the dead and dying. And he saw the sword in his own chest. Locke decided for them. Thrusting his spear at Max, the echidna chief scored a hit, cutting Max deeply and causing him to fall into the arms of the echidna prince, leaving his sword behind. Taking the sword with him, the chief staggered towards the shrine of the emerald. Finally reaching it with his halting steps, Locke fell onto the emerald, driving the sword farther into him. With his last breath, the king murmured his last words. “Return home, my children.” Without another sound, every echidna and every building, demolished or whole, alive or dead, vanished, taking the heavily breathing squirrel with them. Only the chief’s body remained, alone with the red sword of the stolen king.