"Skirmish" 

All "Sonic the Hedgehog" characters and related © TM SEGA, Archie Comics, DIC, etc.
Larkazan and all other characters not of StH © JC Chen 

This story takes place after "The New Weapon". A lot of this story would not make sense unless 
you read that. I'd suggest it.

Side note: Whenever Sonic talks to Lupe or mentions her name, it is pronounced "Loop", not the 
original "Loo-peh". I spelled them the same because I'm just too danged lazy. Also, whenever the
Mandaras say "Mobians", that does not include themselves. Also, I have stopped reading the comic 
about a year or two back, so some of the stuff here might seem a bit off. The only Archie 
"official" Sonic character you shall see here is probably only Geoffrey. I might change my mind, 
but the chance of that is slim. 

My E-mail address is zectordrgn@earthlink.net, and I really like it if someone could give me 
suggestions on titles for my stories. Titles aren't my strong point as you can tell. J 

= = = = = =

PART ONE: JOURNEY

= = = = = =

"Ay… Does my jaw hurt." The Mandara soldier rubbed his aching jaw and grimaced. "Those furred l
ittle demons gave my jaw the beating of its life. And I can't believe the Council is lending 
them an army. Army! Huh, this must be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." Snorting, and 
growling, he let the medic ice his throbbing mandible.

"It could be worse." A fellow soldier yawned from a foot away. "They could've sent us to help 
'em." Soft chuckling rose in the room. "Besides, they're lending the Honards. Ha! That house's 
warriors are nothing but deformed freaks."

"I've heard the High Ones, the Five, had cursed the Honards to be like that from the beginning 
of time," one soldier whispered furtively.

"That's not true. I've heard old man Honard had been doing magical experiments with their eggs."

"Well, I don't know if that's what you've heard. But I'm pretty sure that all of them have to be 
deformed to be an official member of the Honards."

"Yeah. And why do they never come out into public?"

"Hey, come to think of it. They're never present except in battle."

And the soldiers continued quarreling over the Honards' origin. 

= = = = =

"I don't see why we have to be locked up here." Sonic frowned, and kicked irritably at a door. 
The door remained stubbornly closed, and it almost seemed as if it was leering down at the 
companions.

The room was huge, about ten times bigger than Dulcy's hut. Its height was immense, and it was 
the same bronze color all over as the rest of the city. A soft couch lay to the side, and 
accommodations such as beds were organized neatly around the room. But no matter how colossal 
and formal it was, it still served as a prison for the Freedom Fighters. 

Sonic looked about, disappointed that no one was listening to his rant. Sally was too busy 
thinking of a plan to battle Naugus, muttering quietly to herself. Lupe was too busy staring at 
the mosaics carved into the wall, depicting the history of the joining between the Mandaras and 
the Wolf Pack. And Geoffrey was too busy thinking of the many ways to kill Larkazan for 
humiliating him. 

Sighing, he plopped down on the couch and stared blankly at the walls. What if this alliance 
doesn't work? What if Naugus is stronger? What if this whole thing blows over? What if… He 
looked at Sally, and heaved yet another sigh. No, no, don't give up hope, Sonic berated himself,
don't let Sally down. Hope… Hope…  His fists clenched: Will he ever live to see Mobius free?

And as if on cue, the door flew open dramatically, and Larkazan marched in along with a hearty 
Mandara that the Freedom Fighters did not recognize. Larkazan wore a great grin upon his face, 
and he presented the other Mandara proudly. "This is Boras, commander of the Honard troops, 
brother to the Elder Honard, and father to the Magician Honard." Boras smiled, showing all his 
fangs, which were askew and all over his mouth. 

The Freedom Fighters observed the new Mandara with interest. Like many of the Honards, his jaws 
were twisted, like a bad artist's idea of an abstract hotdog with teeth. This characteristic 
trait immediately marked him a Honard even to the newcomers. But he was bulky and short, 
standing only at Larkazan's chest. His scales were silver, like his brother's, but more 
tarnished like rusted armor. He wore what a normal foot soldier would wear: A black, flowing 
cloak, a neat blue shirt tucked into dirty breeches, and his boots were worn and beaten. Lupe 
noted with interest that Boras' sword had a dragon head as the pommel of his sword just like 
Larkazan's. Except the dragon head was silver, unlike Larkazan's golden one. 

Boras bowed with respect at the Princess, his smile still there. "A pleasure to meet the heir to 
the Acorn crown, m'lady," he said courteously, and turning to Sonic, he continued. "Ah," He 
winked slyly, "A fine lady you have. Treat her well." Seeing Sonic flush as he glanced at Sally, 
and her covering a smile with her hand, Boras laughed good-naturedly. 

He looked at Lupe and measured her with his eyes. "And you must be the wolf young Larkazan's 
been blabbing about." He murmured something in wolf, and winked slyly. Lupe stiffened, and 
blushed. Larkazan shifted uncomfortably, averting Lupe's eyes. "Heh," was all Boras rumbled.

Finally, Boras spun to look at Geoffrey square in the eye. "And you must be the son of a mutated 
cow from drunken farmer's barn," he said without humor, leaving Geoffrey fuming and sputtering. 
The others didn't bother to try hard to hide their amusement: Sonic burst out laughing 
boisterously.

"But enough of this farce." Boras gave a swipe with his hand, his face slipping into an 
emotionless mask of a reptile that he was. "I am here to inform you, Princess, that my troops 
are loyal and ready to serve. If you want, we can march at the break of dawn tomorrow. I am sure 
you can understand that we would fly if we could, but that would draw attention due to our mass. 
I'll leave the decision up to you. Good day to you, Princess." He gave Sally a stiff salute that 
surprisingly did not differ much from the salute that the soldiers of the Acorn Kingdom gave. 
Turning swiftly about, he marched out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

"It's your decision," Larkazan said quickly then spun to follow Boras out the door.

"Hold on a second, Larkazan," Sally halted the Mandara, "we'll need your help on this decision. 
After all, you ARE a Mandara and know of your kind's capabilities and such." Larkazan grinned at
the praise, and came back closer to the group, planting his feet on the ground.

Geoffrey growled softly and menacingly at the Mandara like a furious bull. "For the love of…" He 
muttered softly as Larkazan listened intently to what Sally was proposing.  

"…march as soon as possible. But we don't want to rush your people…" Sally was saying.

With a swipe of his hand, Larkazan barked a laugh. "Rush? No, no, no. Don't worry about it, 
Princess. If there's a battle, the Honards are there. They itch to stick their swords into 
something." 

"Good. The army should split up into two or three groups, each going a different way, but ending 
up in the west side of the Great Forest. But it may be hard to navigate, or even get lost. And I 
don't want the entire population of Knothole to get in a fight with the Honards. That's going to 
cause more than just a little friction."

"They could meet at the Wolf Pack's lair," Lupe suggested. "I can go ahead tonight to tell my 
people of their coming. We'll send out scouts and signals for the troops to come to the base."

Sonic, listening all the time, though appearing oblivious, spoke. "Isn't that gonna be a little 
risky, Lupe? I mean, Naugus might see you guys."

"It's a risk we'll have to take." The leader of the wolves responded gravely. "If it means 
Mobius' freedom, then I'm sure my people and I are willing to take the risk."

"Thank you, a lot, Lupe." Sally smiled at her friend. "I guess that's our rough plan, but it'll 
have to settle for now."

"I'll tell Boras of your decision, Princess." Larkazan nodded. "We march tomorrow."

= = = = = 

The barracks of the Honards was always a busy place, even when there were no battles. Soldiers 
leapt and attacked. Some were true-blooded Honards with their twisted jaws and malformed horns, 
but some were simple once-peasants who fought with the ferocity of a cornered beast. 

"I heard we're going to march at the break of dawn tomorrow to the East." One soldier grinned.

"Marching for the damn Mobians, that's what we're doing." Another spat. 

A tall, intimidating Honard, obviously the leader of his troop, rapped that soldier smartly on 
the head. "Shut your filthy mouth. I don't care who we're marching for, as long as we're 
fighting." His men cheered him on as he scowled at his subordinate. The soldier below him 
frowned, but fell silent.

= = = = =

After Larkazan had told Boras of the plan, he realized that he hadn't even visited his family 
yet. He hurried down the not-so-busy streets of Tormonith and bumped into a short, stout 
Mandara. "Watch your path!" Larkazan mumbled a quick apology and started off again.

The little one snarled, then looked up to see Larkazan. "Ai! Larkazan! News been a-stirring 
about ye!" His scowl turned into a wide grin as he slapped the younger Mandara on the back. 
"Son! The mess ye've been a-causing. Helping the Mobians? What has possessed ye to even think of 
that type of thing?" He scratched his thick mane, and squinted up at his son, who was smoothing 
his thinner mane unconsciously.

"Father, it's good to see you again." He bowed in respect to his elder. "I was going to pay a 
visit to you; I thought you were worried…"

"Worried? For you? Always! Even when you're around." The older Mandara chuckled. "Your mother's 
been a-clucking 'round the house ever since ye left. I've also heard the Honards are marching, 
and that we're marching soon! Why, leaving your old pa outta yer scheme?" He grinned again.

Flushing, Larkazan shook his head. "Sorry, I forgot. I had Boras sent a message to you. I just 
want to reassure Mother that I'm all right."

"Ye look healthy to me, boy. And I've also heard of you giving ogling eyes at that wolf that 
came, judging from the way Boras talked." Slapping Larkazan on the back again, his father 
continued, "Finally, I thought you were never going to chose a mate! A wolf, Mandara, no matter!"

The usually impassive Mandara found himself embarrassed and shuffling his feet. He also felt his 
body temperature go up. "Ah… Nothing of the sort, Father. We barely know each other… She's going 
to go tonight to tell her people of our coming so the soldiers won't get lost."

"I think the young lady needs an escort," his father said slyly, winking at his nervous son.  
Larkazan's jaw dropped as he gaped like a fool at his father. Ignoring his son's reaction, 
Larkazan's father continued. "Go on now, boy. I'll tell yer mother how ye are; she'll be glad." 
Giving Larkazan a fatherly shove, he strolled to the Lawng household, leaving Larkazan dazed and 
shaking his head.

= = = = =

Lupe packed her belongings diligently, since she did not have much to begin with anyway. Her 
mind occupied, she absently accepted the food the Mandara servant gave to her for the travels. 
The city was so beautiful, so elegant, but yet, in an odd way, spartan. She felt as if this was 
where she was born, where she should belong, where her kin was. It was once, she recalled from 
the historical scripts she had read, the prosperous market city where wolves and Mandaras mingle. 

Nearly all the wolves alive would have sold their souls to see this city for themselves. But she 
had not sold her soul. A faint smile touched her lips; her father would've loved to see the 
city. Then the smile twisted into a hateful, silent, savage snarl: her father wasn't alive, her 
father was roboticized. It was nearly the same as death to her. 

Sally, always observant, noticed her friend's change in facial expression. "Something wrong?" 
she asked quietly. Lupe, startled, shrugged, and put on an impassive face. 

"Nothing at all," came the curt reply. Sally opened her mouth to say something comforting, but 
stopped short as Larkazan strode into the room, looking at everything but Lupe. 

Geoffrey looked up from his silent contemplation with a growl at the Mandara. "You're back, 
lizard." 

"So I am," Larkazan replied impassively, "Lupe," he finally greeted, forcing himself to meet her 
curious eyes. "I… am your escort to your home." He finished awkwardly. Oh, how he hated that 
feeling. Geoffrey snorted, Sally raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and Sonic openly grinned.

"We'd better off," Lupe announced, finishing her packing. Standing up stiffly, she walked 
briskly to the door. 

"Good luck, Lupe!" Sonic grinned. "Say hi to the guys for me, eh?" 

"Good luck!" Sally smiled at her comrade, unconsciously letting her eyes flicker to Larkazan, 
who found the carpet under his feet extremely interesting.

Geoffrey muttered something unintelligible. It could have been from a good-bye for Lupe to a 
curse for Larkazan. 

Nodding curtly, Lupe and Larkazan left swiftly. 

"Man, I can't wait to be home again." Sonic rubbed his hands. "I can't believe the ol' Mandaras 
don't have any chilidogs!" 

Sally laughed softly. "Yeah, I can't wait to be back either. Wow, I can't believe we did it."

"Neither can I," Sonic replied quietly. And compelled by an unknown force, they kissed each 
other. It was swift and quick, even awkward, but passionate. Blushing, the hedgehog pulled back.
"Ah… heh, heh." He rubbed his neck.

And Geoffrey muttered something unintelligible yet again. 

= = = = =

The night was cold.  More than cold; in fact, it was freezing. Larkazan wrapped his cloak 
tighter about him, and was grateful that he brought an extra for Lupe, for he had no desire to 
see the other freeze. Larkazan looked back at the wolf, who seemed to have no problems with the 
cold, though her movements were stiff and uncertain. 

"Ah, maybe we should rest…"

"Nonsense!" Lupe snorted, and her movements became livelier as they climbed over an artificial 
hill made by a big pile of rocks. "We have to get there, and quickly. It would be no good if we 
arrive after the troops, hmm?" She looked inquiringly up the hill at Larkazan.

Larkazan's mouth twitched in a smile, but he surpressed it into a flat mask of a lord's son. So, 
all he said was, "Ah, right. Wouldn't want that, leader of the Wolf Pack," he said with intended 
formality.
 
"Hummph." She frowned, but then grinned…wolfishly. "Do you remember what Boras said to me?" she 
asked, almost slyly.

"Wha--?" The Mandara stopped immediately in his tracks, his eyes wide. This was the second time 
he'd been shocked today; it was a new record for him. Why is it always that women enjoyed 
bringing up those types of conversations when they obviously know the males were not willing to 
talk about it?

"Uh, quite, yes, I remember well."  He did not bother to elaborate. Eager to change the topic, 
he continued without pausing. "It'll be three days before we reach the edge of the Great 
Unknown, so you'll have to lead me to your lair."

"Glad to." She seemed disappointed that Larkazan did not continue talking, but did not start 
that topic again. 

= = = = =

Morning in Tormonith was anything but warm. As the light passed through Sonic's window, he was 
blinded by the intensity of the sunlight, though even with a thick blanket, he was freezing. He 
stumbled out of bed, smacking his lips and yawned at the same time. "Ahh…" Stretching, he looked 
at a small mirror hanging next to his bed. His quills were all tumbled; overall, horrible. Idly 
smoothing back his quills, he wondered if Antoine would scream and rush to find the nearest comb 
if he saw his own fur that way. Probably so. 

The three remaining Freedom Fighters had been given separate rooms, however small and spartan 
they were, Sonic was grateful that he didn't have to share a room with Geoffrey. He collapsed on 
his bed, wanting to go back to sleep again, but after five minutes, struggled out again and 
lazily put on his shoes.

Then came a polite knock: light and delicate, though firm. Sally, was Sonic's immediate thought. 
"It's unlocked," he called, involuntarily cheerful. 

The door opened, and, like his guess, it was Sally. He bounced off of bed, grinning so widely 
that it almost resembled a sliced piece of watermelon. "You ready?" were her first words. She 
was smiling, of course, but somehow that did not really sound romantic. Pfff… Why think of those 
things, anyway?

"Moi? The speediest thing on Mobius, not ready? Pfft! I'm ALWAYS ready, eh?" He stamped his feet 
to confirm his statement. 

She rolled her eyes, as expected. "Well, Geoffrey's still snoring like a lawn mower." She 
expressed her opinion freely with a grimace of disgust. "Didn't matter how loud I yelled." 

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "Tah! Figures. Hey, where is Boras anyways?" He stifled a yawn 
to show that he wasn't tired.

"He's already at the city gates with Marolla, and his troops are more than ready." She rubbed 
her hands in anticipation. "Well, I never thought this would happen."

"Or that these guys actually existed," Sonic finished. "Or that there's a whole city out there 
that no one's ever heard of." He barked a short laugh. "This would make a great sci-fi book. 
Maybe when everythin's back to normal…" He paused, his eyes sliding to Sally, who was standing 
next to him. She wore a wistful expression on her face, almost remorseful. Before long, Sonic 
got a guilty feeling that dragged his heart to his stomach. So, he said, instead, "Ur, I better 
go wake up that bag of wind." 

He fled.

= = = = =

"Ready to march, Your Majesty!" Boras saluted smartly, an eager look on his face, as if he 
looked forward to killing something. The foot-soldiers stood stiffly behind him, armed to the 
teeth. They were like a sheet of silver, except for a couple of gold, copper and bronze, and 
other colors sticking out here and there. Supply wagons were in the back, drawn by something 
that looks remotely like a dragon without wings, but a bit dumber looking.

Marolla stomped her feet impatiently, "Yes, yes, hurry on already. I'm not getting young and 
beautiful for your soldiers here, Boras!" The silver Mandara was wearing what the troops were 
wearing, and by the huge size of them, it could be inferred that they weren't hers. She held a 
gnarled walking stick in her hand, and was tapping her feet with it.

"That slimy old thing's coming with us?" Geoffrey muttered to himself. Unfortunately for him, 
Marolla heard him and smacked his head hard with her walking stick. Swearing, he stumbled a bit, 
but caught himself and rubbed the bruised spot with irritation. It really didn't hurt much. He 
swallowed the urge to throttle the old one; after all, he wasn't THAT stupid.

"700 men…" Boras said proudly and looked at his soldiers. Puffing up, he barked out orders, "All
right then, ye flea-bitten dragon fodder! March!" The roar of the enthusiastic men rewarded him,
and he laughed with glee as he soared on confidently ahead. 

Not wanting to be trampled by the giants, Sally, Sonic and Geoffrey moved quickly to the wagons.
Sonic going back there simply wanting to keep an eye on Geoffrey; else he would've gone ahead… 
way ahead. Geoffrey seemed disappointed as Sonic stayed, and growled softly to himself. "The 
bloody hedgehog." All the while still rubbing his head.


That night, tents and campfire could be seen throughout the rough terrain. The odd dragon-like 
creatures bayed as they were fed meat that came from unevolved beasts. Eager talk of battle was 
heard as the men drank and toasted each other.

"I miss the chilidogs." Sonic sighed remorsefully as he gulped down something that tasted bitter 
but filling. "Yuch." 

"We'll be home soon." Sally patted Sonic's arm. "Boras said in two weeks…"

"Two?! I'll be an old hedgehog who can't move an inch by then!" 

Sally laughed, and Sonic laughed with her, but not understanding what was it that he said that 
was so amusing; he had really meant it. 

Sally slept peacefully in her tent that the Mandaras gave her. Dreaming of victory… and 
marriage. Yes, yes… Naugus would be vanquished, Daddy would be so proud. And Daddy, he'd be 
back, back and whole and laughing. Sonic would be strolling down the aisle, formal, but grinning 
and trying hard not to wave at his fellows. That's it…

"Oof!" A grunt came from the outside, then a thud. Sally's eyes snapped open, and her body 
stiffened. A choked gurgle came out from the outside as someone else thudded to the ground… 
strangled most likely. Sally had not always been a light sleeper, but after all those years with 
the Freedom Fighters, she'd became an extremely light sleeper. 

Someone was opening the tent flap, creeping in. By the huge size of the figure, she supposed it 
was a Mandara. The glint of a dagger caught her eye, glistening in the moonlight that came 
through the flap. He was silent on his feet, and his scaly hands were brass. Sooner than she 
thought, he was towering above her.

The Mandara didn't seem to care that her eyes were wide open and staring at him. He stank of 
alcohol and metal. Drunk. The dagger poised itself to strike like a praying mantis, and the 
figure's teeth glinted with his dagger in a hideous grin as the dagger plunged down to where her 
heart was. 


Lupe and Larkazan's journey was quick and uneventful. By the end of the next day, their 
surroundings were beginning to look familiar to Lupe. Larkazan hungrily gobbled bread down and 
licked his lips even as he finished. It was even more uneventful because words were barely 
exchanged between them besides how long it would take to arrive at their destination. Neither 
were quite conversationalists, to make the situation worst.

But not everybody could stand silence. "Do you travel a lot?" Lupe burst out with a random 
question. Then flushing, she adjusted the cloak that had been given to her by the Mandaras. If 
Robotnik's coup had never happened and she was raised as a frivolous small girl, then she 
would've found the cloak attractive. It was plain, true; it only had a yellow sunburst overlying
a blood-red plane. There was something magical about it, though, something the Mandaras had 
purposely not told her. 

Stunned with the odd question, Larkazan checked to see if Lupe still looked sane to him. Yes, 
quite sane, no sign of madness. "Ah, for one of the Mandaras, yes. I've never been to many places 
of Mobius… as you call it. At first I avoided the site of Mobotropolis because… the place was a 
place of sin to my people. There was this treaty that stated that the Mobians should not 
desecrate the holy spot of the Mandaras. In a mere two centuries the treaty was forgotten when 
my people disappeared. But I don't blame them… we were nothing but fairy tales anyway." He fell 
silent immediately. 

"What places? What places could you have possibly go without noticing Robotnik's influence?" 
Night approached. The harsh winds of the Great Unknown billowed against them, and even Larkazan 
huddled in his cloak. Lupe blinked, then noticed that they should be shivering uncontrollably in 
this harsh weather, but she did not feel all THAT cold as she did when she was tracking the 
others. Indeed, the cloak did have powers. 

Laughing, Larkazan finally turned his head to look at Lupe in the eye. "Friend wolf," he used 
the formal term, "there are many places not affected by the one you called Robotnik; beautiful 
places that are only in legends and not believed." He laughed again. "Not many believed in us, 
as I recalled from our meeting. We're real enough. Flesh and blood, eh? I am sure you'd heard of 
Dragon's Maw, Blue Ridge, and Wolf Gate…"

"Wolf Gate." Lupe murmured, thoughtfully tapping her muzzle. "It truly exists? What about the 
people? Our people?"

His smile faded, replaced with a resigned grimace. "Lupe, ah, they're gone… the people, that is. 
That part was true when it comes to legends. They DID all die off when the plague came. But 
you," He pointed at the Wolf Pack's alpha wolf, "You, are the descendent of Joro the 
Hammerbearer and Jera of the Spears."

Dubiously, she replied. "How do you know?"

"I don't." He shrugged here. "But you look like you are Jera with Joro's fur color. I noticed 
that the first time I saw you." Then he ducked his head in between his wings in… embarrassment? 
"I had a painting of them in one of our history books."

Silence again.

"Look, we're almost there," Lupe exclaimed suddenly. "I recognize here… I used to play here when 
I was a child…. Ur, Ah…" She sighed wistfully. Dreams lost. Well, everyone had to wake up to 
reality. Larkazan grunted softly, but made no move towards the wolf, keeping his distance. The 
alpha wolf blinked a bit then looked up balefully at the sky, as if it was its fault.

The dagger plunged down like a hawk going for its prey, and when it was about to touch fur, 
Sally shot out a hand and twisted the wrist as hard as she could, while kicking out of the 
blankets. The cold, scaly claw stiffened but held on tightly, still forcing its way to Sally. 

Gasping, the Princess thrust out her other hand and gripped the wrist tightly, gritting her 
teeth with effort. As she looked up, her mind nearly froze in terror at the cold amusement in 
the gray, metallic eyes. "Ye thinks ye's tough, doncha? Let me tell ye some'un', PRINCESS." Here 
he spat with disgust. "Ye ain'ts the boss of our people, ye 'ear? We ALWAYS triumph in de ehnd. 
Nawt ye! Ye's gonnas die fer that!" With that, her assailant lifted his arm, and Sally found 
herself lifted above the ground as she clutched even tighter to the wrist. 

"Dis was gonnas be quick." The Mandara snarled, and with his free hand, punched her in the 
stomach. With a choked cry, she released his wrist and collapsed onto the ground, blinking back 
the tears from the pain. Even when young, she didn't cry from pain, but lord… it hurt, and as 
she reached for her stomach, she felt blood seeping through. 

"Wha--?" She rasped as the sticky liquid covered her fingers.

Chuckling, so much like Larkazan's silent chuckle, the assassin held up his fist for her to see. 
Through her blurred vision, she could make out clearly of sharp jagged shapes jutting out from 
the Mandara's knuckle. "Gloves, m'lady. Every soldier's given a pair of 'ese for hand-to-hand 
combat. Useful, eh?"

Again, the dagger plunged down for the definite killing blow, and was knocked aside with a swift 
kick. Less prepared this time, the Mandara hissed in pain as the dagger flew off-course and 
struck the dirt near Sally's head. The soldier let out a string of curses that would shock even 
the toughest biker. "Guess I'll 'ave to do this the hard way, eh?" He reached down to strangle 
instead of getting the dagger.

As soon as she smelled the reeking smell of metal and alcohol, Sally's desperate hand snatched 
up the dagger. Even before the Mandara had a chance to blink, she drowned the dagger into the 
Mandara's neck. She gasped as she felt the blood even as the would-be murderer choked and stared 
at the princess in shock. 

Sally had never killed another living before; she'd never found it in herself to. Dismantling 
robots did all of her rebel years, but that was nothing compared to this. Stunned, she fell back 
on the ground, almost barely unable to hold down a shudder of horror. The mere thought of that 
she just took a life out of another being was enough to make her want to heave out all the food 
she had digested for the last twelve hours. Maybe she did… she didn't remember. 

Clutching at her wound, she felt her grip on reality slowly slipping out of her desperate grasp. 
She heard, far away, the shout of soldiers, Sonic and Boras, the thump of feet, and the wind 
whistling because of Sonic's running. "Wonderful timing," she whispered, and couldn't remember 
much more after a blue smudge entered the tent… or was it a cave?


Larkazan grimaced in irritation as a sandy furred wolf stuck his finger into his chest. The 
youngster scowled up at the huge lizard. "You claim to be a Mandara, but how can you prove that?" 
He eyed Larkazan critically. "You look more like a lizard with wings." 

That got the young wolf a smart rap on the skull. "Respect the Ancient One, Kep." A wolf nearly 
up to Larkazan's snout growled. His brown eyes glinted menacingly. They were as hard as stone, 
his fur was mud-colored, and he tugged at his orange vest before giving a nod to Larkazan for 
him to continue.  
 
"Ah, yes. My people need to, uh, borrow your caverns so they could hide out here for a few days, 
then continue onto the Great Forest. Some will need to be stationed here so the army wouldn't be 
so clumped together." Larkazan wrung his hands, for he was never a smooth talker. Only the very 
observant would notice that he wanted to dash away from the circle of wolves.

They were in the main chamber, where Sally and Sonic had first met the leader of the Wolf Pack. 
The wolves sat in a circle, cross-legged and all of their eyes lay on Larkazan. Some even 
bothered to turn themselves around so they could see the wonder before them.  

The one called Kep snorted, but stayed silent otherwise. Some of the wolves murmured among 
themselves, their small numbers gathered up together. A husky orange wolf stood up as a 
representative of the small circle of wolves faced Lupe, who stood next to Larkazan, and boomed,
"Ah, Lupe, my friend. The vote's not unanimous," he glared at Kep here, "but the majority agrees."

Lupe nodded in affirmation, and looked at Larkazan in the eye. "Well, you know what that means." 
She did not try hard to hide the excitement rising in her throat. 

"Yes, I do," Larkazan murmured softly, his gaze never leaving the venomous Kep. Lupe gestured to
the brown wolf, and the three walked from the main chamber into another series of tunnels. 
Larkazan kept track of the tunnels, for Mandaras had good memory, and soon the Mandara felt the 
wind and knew they were nearing the exit. 

They went out of the tunnels, and went under the blanket of night. The stars winked playfully, 
and the pure calmness of it caused all three to breathe in deeply and exhale. Larkazan stamped 
his feet on the tough ground, and leaned tiredly against the cliff. Eyeing Lupe, he noticed that 
she was barely on her feet and was struggling to retain her dignity. Waving to the brown wolf, 
Lupe introduced the tall wolf. "Larkazan, I want you to meet my brother, Gray." She nodded 
toward the wolf. "And Gray, you've met."

"Not quite gray, yet, friend." The wolf gave a friendly smile (more like a quirk of his lips), 
and proffered a hand to the Mandara. "We were born in different litters; Lupe was born before 
me. The Eldest, actually. I shall oversee the army coming in. Don't worry a bit about it." He 
said the latter more to Lupe than Larkazan.

The siblings searched for more words for Larkazan, but did not find many. Wolves were not the 
best conversationalists in the whole world. Finally Gray found something to say. "Don't mind 
Kep. He's young and rash. Besides, he isn't of our blood." He almost spat contemptuously, but 
refrained himself from doing it out of respect.

When none of them could say anything more, they wordlessly returned to the tunnels.
= = = = 
"You heard the attempt on the Princess, Riff?" a rotund bronze said to an intimidating Honard.

"Eh? Ah, er, yes, I did, in fact. Good thing it wasn't one of my men. I could've gotten into big 
trouble if the sorry grease-claw was mine. Stupid spawn of the Fiery Gates," he muttered, and 
took a healthy bite from his breakfast.

The two friends sat in front a tent, a big one, but not as extravagant as the one Boras gave the 
Princess or himself. The tent was among the filthy smell of the other soldiers under the blood 
red sun and almost (but not quite) in the shadow of the cliff. The first Mandara scratched at 
the sandy ground with the toe of his boot.  
  
"Twasn't my man, either, Riff. If it was, I prob'ly wouldn't be alive an' talking to you. Ol' 
Marolla had been looking at everyone weird since that night." The first Mandara downed a drought 
of water. "I heard the sap's name was Boswog, or Busru, or something. Under the command of poor 
Yakas." He yawned.

"Serves him right, Mok. First off, he doesn't treat his men right, and second, he doesn't have 
enough discipline. If the stupid rules he has are what he calls discipline, then he's more of a 
fool than I thought." Riff took a swig of his drink. He continued, "Gotta hand it to that 
princess; she's a born leader. Almost as good as ol' Boras. Took out the tough sentries all by 
'imself, the assassin did, and the princess took him out without as much as a scratch!"

"That's not right. I've heard that she's wounded gravely."

"Ah, what do you know?" Riff snorted and went back to scoffing his food.

= = = = = = 
Sonic paced about the medic's tent and looked desperately at his friend and love lying inert on 
a cot.  She looked every way the opposite of her leader-like personality. The bandage around her
middle stifled the oncoming blood, though shades of red could still be seen. Still, the Mandara
medic did the best she could for Sally. All in all, though, Sonic wished they were back at 
Knothole where the technology surpassed that of the medieval army.

The tent was Boras' tent. It was enormous; the tent itself could fit two Dulcy's. Sonic's lips 
twitched in a rueful smile as he wished for home. Boras had abandoned his tent for the princess 
and now slept with his officers, their tent, which was by no means shoddy but was a great deal 
smaller than this one. 

"Shouldn't trusted those lizards in the first place." Geoffrey snarled beside him; he'd been 
doing that all morning. Clenching and unclenching his fist, he paced about the tent in an 
irritating and frustrating fashion. "Princess was wrong to do this, too naïve…" 

Before he could continue, Sonic whirled about and gave a feral snarl. "Hey, stinkbomb, stick a 
sock in it, will ya? You think I'm gonna just stand by and listen to you… you insult Sally? 
Heck, no!" He said the latter without pausing for an answer. The frustration beat about all 
around him, and things that normally wouldn't have affected him were whipping him with their 
invisible lashes. Finally unable to hold his rage any longer, he lunged for Geoffrey. 

With a swing of his fist, he caught the skunk on the jaw. But being an experienced brawler and 
fighter, Geoffrey dodged, barely avoiding the result that would've left him unable to chew for 
months. "Little 'hog wanna fight, eh? I'll show you something to chew over!" With that 
foreshadowing sentence, the older Freedom Fighter slugged Sonic's jaw with a heavy fist. 

Barely wincing in pain, and it hurt a lot, Sonic hurled a punch to Geoffrey's stomach. Too slow 
for Sonic, Geoffrey grunted in pain and nearly doubled over. But the indignation of being 
punched by such a young rip fueled his strength, he tripped Sonic neatly and landed a hearty 
kick to the hedgehog's kneecap.

Gasping sharply at the sudden pain in his knee, he quickly picked himself up before the skunk 
could do anything. "Fight dirty, huh?" he growled. Remembering Bunnie's karate lessons that he 
occasionally attended, he managed to direct a swift and excruciating kick to Geoffrey's head. 
Barely having time to defend himself, the skunk dove the side, the sharp kick glancing off his 
head, not enough to permanently damage him, but enough to make him fall stunned on the floor. 
Geoffrey braced himself for a blow that would probably knock him into the same condition Sally 
was in.

"Ah… ahem, gentlemen." 

A pair of eyes glared balefully at the newcomer, Boras.  The rotund Mandara frowned slightly 
at the display of savagery, stroking his mane thoughtfully. "I'm glad you're making such use of 
your time," he finally rumbled sarcastically after the hiatus. 

"Shut up," the two almost said simultaneously, glaring at each other and at Boras at the same 
time. "Bloody ol'…" Geoffrey mumbled ungraciously, all the while rubbing the side of his head, 
Sonic noted with satisfaction.

The old general continued on as if nothing had happened. "Back to business now, comrades. With 
your princess… unavailable, it's your choice now." He frowned again. "I hope you two will agree 
to one decision." The two, too occupied with indignation, missed the insult. "I'll spare no 
small talk anymore. Here's the decision: Do you want to turn back to the city with better 
healers, or would you like to continue on and hope for the best?"

"Go back." From both of them. Then angry for agreeing with each other, they said, "Continue." 
Eyes widening in anger, they turned and faced each other, fist clenched and ready for another 
fight. 

"We're not going to get anywhere like this," Boras cautioned. "I suggest going on, for the 
princess' condition is pretty safe, and she may yet live. While turning back will waste time… 
and stealth."

Sighing, Sonic begin, "I…"

"…believe we should go on," Geoffrey interrupted with a sudden change of mood, grinning 
winningly. "Great idea, General Boras, let us continue." He dared Sonic to challenge him.

And he got a great surprise: Sonic remained stoic and crossed his arms, not saying anything. 
Boras nodded in affirmation, while Geoffrey strutted out of the tent unable to resist throwing a
triumphant sneer at Sonic.

Fist clenched, Sonic stared after the skunk, seething with so much anger; he much resembled a 
steam pot just then. Boras noted the hedgehog's distress, and murmured softly, "Rest assured, 
friend, the situation and the body is currently being examined. Marolla's gone back to Tormonith 
for a while to discuss the situation. She'll be back later, there's no holding back that one. My 
soldiers had found something of interest, would you like to…?" He left the invitation open.

Sonic looked at Sally, then at Boras, being tortured by indecision of whether to find the source 
of the murder or to stay and guard. "I…'ll look at it later, 'kay?" he managed. Boras nodded his 
firm assent, saluted, and swiftly left the tent. 

Realizing his face was still frozen in anger and indecision, he forced his face to loosen up as 
he turned slowly to Sally, smiling weakly. "Yeah, we can do it, Sal. It's what you'd want, 
right? Am I right or am I right?" Heaving yet another sigh, he sat down miserably on a chair and 
stared at Sally for any sign of recovery. 

= = = = =

The sun rose and fell seven times, casting long shadows off the cliff, blanketing the army in 
darkness. In the distance, the sepulchral keen of a dragon was heard. The mutter of the 
soldiers slowly begin to build anxiously, all of them glaring up at the sky, each shifting from 
one foot to another uncomfortably. Night serenaded, and daylight drifted away to sleep.

Haggard, but not complaining, Sonic stared devotedly at his princess, watching for any sign of 
movement. A blink, a groan, a mutter, a shift in position, a grunt, anything at all would be 
fine. But no movement; none whatsoever. 

"Three more days," Boras had said,  "until we reach… the East." Sonic smiled. Three more days 
until they're safe from harm. Get the Knothole medics to help. That's the spirit. 

= = = = =

Gray eyed the anxious Larkazan prowling about like a caged monster on the cliff-side, the 
Mandara never keeping his eyes off the Eastern horizon, muttering strategies to himself. "I 
don't think they're going to come tonight, Larkazan," Gray called to his companion, gesturing 
they should go back into the maze of tunnels.

Shaking his head persistently, Larkazan replied, "No, no, I know that they'll be here tonight." 
Rubbing his claws together, he squinted off, trying to see any sign of movement.

"How would you know?" Gray challenged his ally. "Friend, I have faith in you, but it's getting 
cold out. And I think the army would either be camping or sleeping already." 

Larkazan insistently stared into the West, muttering to himself over and over. Lupe looked over 
her brother's shoulder with a concerned face. "You've been like this every night, Larkazan. Let 
us go in." Seeing that her speech was having no effect, she raised her voice, a bit peeved. 
"You'll kill yourself by standing out here in the cold before the army actually gets here. Now 
get back!" She almost stamped her foot, but regained composure before actually doing that.

For once in the last five days, Larkazan stopped muttering, and stared at Lupe as if she was a 
stranger. Then blinking dumbly, he slowed his pacing, surprised at the unveiled consideration 
the wolf leader was showing. "I suppose it is getting late." He surrendered grudgingly, throwing
one last look over his shoulder at the west. 

"We'll send a scout out," Lupe reassured her friend with a small smile and rested a hesitant 
hand on his arm. Larkazan's eyes widened like a captured untamed animal, and stiffened, unable 
to relax the contraction of his muscles. The hand drew back faster than the eye could blink.

= = = = =

What time was it? The question rang in Sally's head like a bell. Well, there was light shining 
on her closed eyes. It must be day. Next question. What happened? Slowly the encounter with the 
soldier came back sluggishly. She attempted to sit up, and a lightning rush of pain rushed 
through her. Gasping, she fell back, remembering the blow the soldier had delivered to her. 

"You're alive!" The simple words were exclaimed by Sonic, who stared at Sally with elation and 
divulged surprise. Without thinking, he nearly suffocated Sally with a fierce embrace. 

After all the time she had been unconscious, Sally finally spoke her first words since then. 
"Ow!" She wheezed at the tight hug. Immediately she was released, Sonic flushing with 
embarrassment. But gradually, she lifted her arms, still feeling heavy, and gripped Sonic as 
much as she could. "It's good to be back."

"Yeah, Sal. Way past cool," he murmured.

= = = = = 

Night had once again returned, and the army had progressed faster today, boosted with the good 
news of the Princess' reawakening. Closer and closer they were to their goal, and the eager 
clacking of weapons as the soldiers confidence' reawakened with Sally. 

Two soldiers sat at the fringe of the campsite, keeping watch to the east. Their small fire 
burned outside the ring of tents, and one of the soldier wrapped his cloak about him and roasted 
a piece of his dinner above the fire. Sure enough, these were Riff and Mok, who were feeling 
exceptionally eccentric as they took their men's place at watch. 

"Hey, Riff," Mok muttered through a mouth full of food. "Yas must've heard the news, right? The 
Princess's 'live and c'nscious. And I told ya last time; she was wounded!" he added with a hint 
of pride.

"Yeah, yeah. You think you know ever'thing, don't you, Mok? And I'm the one in the dark?" Riff 
growled over his mug of ale, "Well, let me tell yer some news. I'm not stupid. I heard today 
that ol' Marolla came back with news from Tormonith, that they're currently searching for the 
cul… culpr… culprit from the Cult. She came flying back, and a stupid soldier tried to shoot 'er 
down. Ah, you shoulda seen her! She 'as swinging her stick like crazy, an' hitting here and 
there on the poor sap's head. She's resting now in a tent. Her exact words were 'Don't wake me 
up even if the bloody sky is falling. Anyone who intrudes on my rest will get a good bump on 
their 'ead.'"  He wrapped his clock closer, shivering from the cold. "And what possessed you to 
take the watch? We hadn't done this since we were mere boys." 

"Just a feelin' in my bones, Riff." Mok yawned and tried to stifle it. He leaned his back 
against an intrusion of a rock, eyeing the darkness. "We're almost to th' wolf place, Riff. 
Isn't that great?"

"Great," Riff grumbled unenthusiastically as he took another bite. "Any news on the murder'r's 
source?"

"Well," Mok puffed up with importance. "What I 'eard is that Boswog carried a dagger!" 

"That's not news, Mok. That's just showing how stupid you are." The Honard punched his friend's 
arm playfully. 

"No, no. Not just any dagger." Mok's voice dropped. "It's a dagger of the Eclipse Cult of the 
Moon." His voice dropped even lower with secrecy and surprisingly lost its slang; Riff was 
forced to lean forward to hear his friend's furtive whispers. "Then a tattoo of a crescent moon 
was found on Boswog's forearm. He was of a low rank in the cult, by the looks of the drunkard 
and the tattoo, but the knife was of a high priest's!" He leaned back and measured his friend 
with hazy eyes. 

"An' how do you know's about all these?" Riff questioned cautiously, nervously fingering the 
mug's handle. 

"I've my sources." Mok replied mysteriously, though a bit drunkenly as he took a swig of his own 
ale. He winked and ate the last scrap of his dinner. 

Irritated at being left in the dark yet again, Riff glared out into the east, hoping to see 
something. For some reason, his stupid friend suddenly became wise. Then he saw a light, small,
tiny, and definitely not their own. "D'ye see that?" He prodded Mok.

"See what?" Mok squinted off to the distance. "Yah. It's coming closer."

"Aye." Riff unsheathed his sword, and Mok staggered up as well. They watched the stranger 
approach bearing a torch; the stranger was running now, towards them. "Hold ground, Mok. I wanna 
see what it is."

The silhouette came closer by the second, never tiring, and Riff's sharp eyes caught on. "Ah, 
ah. It's up to my shoulder, big and tough, this one is. Can't quite make out what it is, but 
it's not a Mandara." Squaring his shoulders, the Captain puffed out his chest and bellowed. "Ho 
there, stranger! Come close to the fire where we can see you." He braced himself as the stranger 
came closer, then his eyes widened so much, Mok feared the Riff's eyeballs would've rolled onto 
the ground just then. "It's a wolf!"

"So?"

"Stupid! Don't you see, we're in the wolflands. Finally!" Riff was bouncing with excitement. 
"Share our fire, wolf! Never been so glad to see ya!" He laughed uproariously, and sheathed the
sword. 

Gray trotted into view, smirking. "Well, well, well. Larkazan's prediction finally came true!"

= = = = =

Once again Larkazan found himself in the company of Boras, listening gravely to the news, as 
Lupe did the same. "… the Cult of the Moon is getting too big for my comfort, lad. But that's 
the problem, we'll solve that later." His jovial nature returned as he grinned at Lupe. "Nothing 
happened during your journey, I trust?"

"Nothing at all," the two answered in unison. 

They were in Lupe's caverns, in the main chamber where the meeting was joined. Other members of 
the wolf pack had withdrawn to sleep already, and the only wolf here was Gray, who was present 
in the shadows. Sally stood, with little help from Sonic as she resumed her regal pose, and 
Geoffrey placed himself on the side, scowling as always. "I shall see you later." Boras saluted 
then left with a strut. 

"Good to see you," Larkazan finally said awkwardly as he bowed. "Princess," he added hastily.

Sally chuckled softly, looking healthier than ever. "Don't do that." Smiling wanly, she accepted 
an informal sisterly hug from Lupe. Sonic grinned from ear to ear, a change from his former 
demeanor, and slapped Larkazan's arm.

"Good to have you back too, bro." The blue hedgehog laughed. Then sobering up, he asked, "What 
now?"

"Now." A deep growl came from the skunk to the side. "We end this bloody foolishness and get it 
over with." With great control, he refrained from spitting in the Princess' presence. 

He was, thankfully, ignored. Left alone in the corner to sulk, Geoffrey St. John gave up 
momentarily to gain attention from his princess. Sally spoke her strategies to her friends. 
"We're going to need a place for them, right? And not all of them are going to fit in Knothole, 
obviously. We're going to have to split the army up, a fraction in Dirk's area, one regiment in 
Lupe's." Here the wolves nodded. "Ari has a hideout that he's currently using as a small base 
that can fit another regiment of Mandaras." She frowned thoughtfully. "We can hold another 
hundred at Knothole. And that would leave one hundred Mandaras with no place to go. We need to 
put them somewhere safe…" 

All eyes turned to Geoffrey. "I-I… Ur…" He stammered helplessly, wanting nothing to do with the 
savage Mandaras, but wanting to win princess's eye and heart. "'Course," he resigned lamely. 
Sonic eyed him suspiciously, scowled, and tapped his feet. Larkazan held similar feelings, but 
did not share that with everybody else.

"Great!" Sally gave a winning smile, and Geoffrey smiled stupidly back.

= = = = =

The weeks passed by without incident as messages were sent out to the other Freedom Fighters 
about their Princess' return. The Mandaras were sent to their designated place, and the 
remainder of the army (including Boras) followed Sally and Sonic back to Knothole. The trip to 
Knothole would normally take less than a day, but the organization of where to sent the pieces 
of the army took a week.

Larkazan hesitated between staying with the Wolf Pack or going back to Knothole. Due to 
political reasons, however, Larkazan forced himself to tear away from the wolves he liked so 
much and to join the larger remnant of the army.  

He yawned loudly, the dawn's pleasant light warming his blood. His cloak hanging loosely from 
his back, he stretched luxuriously as he drew his blade from the scabbard, giving it a few 
practice swings and stabs. The cliff hung perilously, stopping abruptly in a nine hundred feet 
drop. The red and light brown of the ground nearly melted in with the sun, and winking stars 
were just beginning to disappear with the moon. 

Piercing the skin of an imaginary enemy of air, he snarled in a feral manner at his opponent, 
and sliced deftly into the enemy's neck. Parrying invisible thrusts, he backed up, and pushed 
into the air, slapping away an invisible blade with his tail. After a series of rounds with the 
opponent concocted by his mind, he heaved a sigh of rapture, and slumped by a nearby rock. Then 
sheathing his sword, he turned to leave his area of seclusion to prepare to return to Knothole. 

"You are good at swordplay." The comment from a feminine voice, observing. Lupe strode out from 
an outcrop of rocks, hands on her hips. She was wearing her customary clothing, with a bow and 
quiver slung over her back and side. She pursed her lips. "My father was…is…was excellent with 
the bow; he could hit anything from any distance," she said with a small hint of pride. 

A faint smile of self-satisfaction crept up on Larkazan's stony features. "Thank you. Ah, I'm 
glad to see you. I'm just about to leave. Ah…" He tried to say something more.

The wolf held up a hand that forestalled any more words. "Of course I know that." She snorted. 
"I'm just here to wish you the best of luck with the others. Here." She handed the stunned 
Mandara a thick album. "I understand you can cast spells…" She let the sentence hang, watching 
Larkazan expectantly.

"N-not the best. But, yes I do." He nodded as he slowly, reverently accepted the book. It was 
then that he realized the cover was in ancient Mandaran language, as was all the writing within. 
The bulky book's pages were crispy with age, and some of the writings were barely discernable, 
but still readable. 

"We have a library of things from ancient times," the wolf explained. "Some of these were things 
of the 'legendary' Mandaras." A smile. "This one is a spell book, as I recall. That's if I can 
read a little of your language."

"That's correct," Larkazan murmured in reply, caressing the weathered cover wonderingly. His 
head came up, and he gazed at the alpha wolf intently. "I thank you." The words were simple, yet 
earnest. "It's a very valued thing among us, for I think spells this old have yet to be 
explored. Very useful, and very…" He searched for a word that expressed how he felt, but to no 
success. "Thank you. I…"

"I don't want anything." Lupe smiled gently. "It's a gift of sorts, yes, but I don't want you to 
feel as if you owe me anything at all." But that was exactly how the young Mandara felt. He 
clenched his jaw then loosened it in stress. "I'll see you at a meeting, or on the battlefield. 
Good luck," she reiterated, turned to leave, and did so.

Larkazan clutched at the valued book, a stunned look still plastered on his face. He was not 
aware he wore that expression throughout his whole conversation with Lupe.
 
= = = = =
Meanwhile, in a tight and stuffy room, with a single candle lit on a tiny rectangular table,
three grotesque figures stood in conference. One was roughly nine feet, and had to bend down to
talk to its accomplices. It wore a ceremonial red robe. Whether it was fresh blood or natural 
fabric, it was hard to tell. The smell of iron confirms the truth, though. The hems of the robe 
were decorated with hideous symbols of skulls, curses and bones. Two cool blue eyes gazed out 
from the hood, though a glint of white, bone or teeth, showed when light shown at a certain 
angle. The skeletal, green-gray claw with barely any skin hanging onto it, tapped impatiently on 
the table.

The second, a brawny warrior of sorts, stood unobtrusively to the side, growling to himself. His 
tigerish features were flat and unfeeling, except one of irritation, and his shoulders were all 
bunched up together. He resembled a chain of sausage links. He face was of a permanent sneer 
where his upper lip had been. He fondly stroked the butt of his rifle, the stripes of his face 
concentrated in a fierce frown. With a huge, meaty fist, he pounded angrily on the table.

"Get on with the magic, old ones. I have no time to waste on you all! Have we come to an 
agreement, or not?" The tiger snarled, pounding the table five more times just for good measure. 

Giving the tiger a condescending look, the wiry, tall one spoke softly, its voice as smooth as 
the finest silk, but as greasy as the freshest oil. "Calm, General. We have yet to come to an 
agreement, and you know how fickle we wizards are, eh, Sorcerer Naugus?" 

"Correct," the sinister and raspy voice that one knows so well replied. The one-horned wizard 
smirked and clacked his claw. "I don't want to stay here, either, General. Let's be done with 
it." 

"Finally!" The tiger threw his arms into the air, and tugged on his cape, regaining his dignity. 
"All right, Naugus." He spat out the last. "I'll give you a fourth of my men to help you… 
conquer, as long as you agree not to hurt my people. And you, Ugly One, you may have…" Here he 
nearly choked with disgust and anger, "Another fourth for your, tests." Spitting, he stamped his 
feet. "Now let me be." He challenged the frail-looking wizards to say otherwise. 

"Fine. Leave." Naugus waved him off with a snort, surprising the general, who nearly scampered 
out of the door as quickly as he could manage. "Well?" he demanded of the tall one, almost 
snappish. 

The icy eyes narrowed in disgust as it spoke. "We have come to an agreement; I am to transform 
the ones the General gives me, make them… powerful, and give them to you? What do I get from 
this?"

"Spells, and a quarter of whatever I have conquered." Naugus' beady eyes narrowed. "You can do 
whatever you want with them, except use those to oppose me." He smirked again. "And I heard the 
assasinations weren't very successful… Revered Hiksas?"

"Shut your trap!" the robed one snapped, and glanced about the room nervously. "Never invoke 
that name! THEY… might sense me." Then taking a deep, calming breath, it resumed its usual 
smoothness. "Regretfully, yes. They weren't successful. The Specter did not do his job 
correctly, and the foolish Mandara and the Princess slew it with a mere torch and knife. The 
other one was drunk, but he almost triumphed. I shall plan another one, this time, a different 
target." He did not elaborate.

Here Naugus sneered, "They think a couple of hundred of Mandaras and some weak wizards can 
defeat me, but…"

"I would watch my steps, if I were you," the robed one hissed. "My people may yet win this war, 
and then you might want to prepare the dress for your funeral." Then spinning about, the Revered 
One swept out of the room.

= = = = = =

PART TWO: RAID

= = = = = =

The princess' return with the army was well-received. There were young ones who gawked at the 
disciplined soldiers' march into Knothole, some already setting up tents at the fringe of the 
headquarters. Questions of Sally's abrupt leaving was immediately forgotten when the soldiers 
arrived, and all the people felt was a joyous need for celebration. As soon as Sally was ready, 
she gave an elegant yet heartfelt speech that had the residents of Knothole cheering, yelling 
and screaming with delight. 

The soldiers wasted no time settling in, some already preparing a sparring ground at a clear 
space outside Knothole. Some stared at the huge oaks and pines in awe, staring up and up until 
some almost fell down from staring so high. A portion of the Mandaras even climbed up to one of 
the trees, setting up a careful tent on a branch as wide as the trunk. 

There were reclusive ones, though, that backed into their tents and glared at the curious and 
adventurous Mobians that ventured too close for the soldiers' comfort. They stayed in little 
clusters of Mandaras, suspiciously peeking at the residents of Knothole. 

And Marolla, for the first time since the journey, was not the irritable old witch that all the 
men avoided. She even stepped up to the podium and supported Sally, speaking perfect Mobian 
language. Boras stood to the side, and uttered words of agreement whenever the females referred 
to them. The old general was diplomatic, but not very talkative or social. Larkazan placed 
himself next to the Princess, not saying anything, but still acting as a representative of the 
Mandaras. Sonic, the constant hero, led the crowds in cheers, and often slapped Larkazan 
brotherly on the back.

When the speech was at an end, the cheering had reached a forte. Boras gestured to the ones on 
the stand in a signal to speak with them privately. As they stepped down, the general spoke. 
"Princess Sally, Sonic, friends," he nodded to each and one of them, "I have information on the 
assassin. Mayhap even who enlisted him."

"Good." Sonic growled with strange ferocity. "That way I can show the jerk never to mess with…" 
He broke off in a snarl, scowling. He tightened his jaws, and glared at nobody in particular.

The reaction from Sally was different, though. She stiffened briefly, and nervously tugged at 
her vest, desperately forbidding her mind to access the memory. For security, she gripped 
Sonic's hand tightly, causing the hedgehog to stiffen as well. Also, she absently took Nicole, 
and held it protectively. "Sure." She barely strangled it out. "We'll meet in the main hut," she
waved at hers, "over there."

The Mandaras all nodded, then departed, leaving Sonic and Sally to their privacy.

= = = = =

It was late afternoon, and the soldiers took comfort that they had no sun beating mercilessly at
their backs as it did in the canyons. A lot of them went to the sparring ground to retrain 
themselves, but not Riff and Mok, who took their time exploring the village.

Lanky Riff swaggered next to rotund Mok, the two best friends and captains strolled through the 
village, sniffing the air for food and drawing the attention of many furred ones. They passed 
children, who stopped playing at the sight of the giant wonders. Mok had his axe still strapped 
to his back, and Riff had his rapier still at his side.

They stopped, however, when they reached a pretty much empty lot. The two Mandaras saw a fox, 
(granted, a short one), swinging his sword mightily, piercing, and yelling into the air as he 
attacked his invisible opponent with fervor. He could have fooled anyone with his bravado and 
wild attacks, until he tripped over his own feet and fell headfirst into the dirt.

Mok and Riff stifled chuckles as the embarrassed fox picked himself back up, and looked about 
furtively for anyone, and missing the two visitors, dusted himself indignantly. He heaved a 
sigh, and muttered something in a heavy accent that sounded so resigned the laughter immediately 
ceased. 

"Ho, 'ere, friend!" Mok cried out, causing Riff to gape at his friend in shock and glare at 
the bronze as if he was a crazy stranger. However, poor Riff was ignored. "A good-lookin' sword 
y' 'ave 'ere!" 

The fox frozen abruptly, and watched the strangers with heightening mistrust as they swaggered
forth. He spoke with a lilting accent. "Why ees et you are aire doing here?" he demanded.

"Just touring," Riff rumbled, and purposely elbowed his friend when Mok tried to add something. 
"A great sword you got there," he repeated his companion. "Who was the honored smith that made 
it?" He was a bit annoyed with the abrupt manner of the fox, but ordered himself to remain 
civil. 

Taken aback with the lack of hostility or scornful laughter, the fox momentarily dropped his 
guard, and puffed up with pride. "Et was 'ee sword of my fatheir, and ees fatheir before him, 
and before him… I am not knowing where ees sword came from." He sheathed the elegant yet deadly
weapon, then asked, "You are…?"

"Riff of the Honards," the twisted silver said proudly, thumping his chest. "Captain," he added 
importantly. 

"Mok," the portly bronze replied, unstrapping his axe, presenting the crescent shaped weapon to 
the fox, "an' this is Mauler. Yer name?"

"Ah." This time the fox looked more lofty than he did when he presented his weapon. "I am to be 
call-ed Antoine of House D'Coolete of zee Royal Guard of House Acorn. You are the Moonduras, 
yes?"

Riff eyed his friend oddly. "Ur, Mandaras, Sir Antoine D'Coolete of zee… ur, the Royal Guard of 
the House of Acorn, huh? I see." He nodded as curtly and politely as he could at the arrogant 
fox, and turned to leave as quickly as he could.

Until he was held back from the all-too-friendly Mok. Riff muttered a curse in Mandaran, sighed,
then turned around again to face the fox. Then he got an idea: If he couldn't leave, he would 
get Antoine to leave. "Yeah, nice blade yer have there. Let's see how you handle the thing." He 
took out his rapier, then dropped into a defensive position.

Portly Mok gaped in alarm, but Antoine's face lit up in a cocky smirk. "Eet ees well with I," he 
declared, then pulled out his sword to the offensive. 

Savage Riff was never one for fencing. In fact, he was more for killing, but not today. Still, 
he was an experienced swordsman. With his cloak barely flapping in the swirl of wind that 
gathered, foreshadowing that night was approaching, he dexterously parried every move Antoine 
made. 

Panting, the smaller fox made for Riff's claw in order to disarm him, but to no success. Whether 
he stabbed, slashed, or even swung, his actions were all neatly dealt with by the Mandara 
officer. He backstepped once, inviting Riff to make a stab, a distraction, so Antoine could 
disarm the Mandara. But Riff did not make that approach; he didn't even bother to attack! 

The two faced each other, the smaller one drenched in sweat in the stifling uniform, and the 
gangly one not pressing forward. Thoroughly frustrated, Ant let out a grunt and charged Riff 
head on. This time, Riff did not parry. Instead, he stepped brusquely to the side, and stuck out
the toe of his boot. 

Unable to stop due to the lack of friction in his boots, Antoine tripped, stumbled, and fell in 
an undignified heap. He felt a small jab in the small of his back, though it felt only like a 
pinprick, Antoine yelped. The voice of Riff greeted him, cold like iron. "You wo'd be dead now, 
sir." Angry and offended, the young fox rolled onto his back to glare daggers at his challenger, 
expecting the sly sneer of a conceited weasel. 

He found that, instead, Riff's face was as unemotional as a flat plank of wood. His face set in 
a grim line, Riff drew back his sword and sheathed it. Mok's face was one of horror and 
embarrassment, he scampered toward the fallen fox to offer him his hand. 

Shoving the hand away, the rumpled Ant stumbled up without a word. His face mirrored that of 
Riff's, and he wanted to say something insulting, though none would come at the moment. His face 
contorted in anger for one second, then relaxed. Stiffening like clothing with too much starch, 
he marched with as much ragged grandeur as he could manage. His back to the two Mandaras, his 
face sagged in one of shame. What would his father think if he were here right now? No doubt his 
father could disarm or even kill all of them… He felt his shoulders weaken, but felt no care for 
that.

Seeing the downcast one slunk away, Mok's face tightened in one of fury. "That… that was cruel, 
Riff," he growled passionately. "Yer… yer mean-'earted, Riff. Cr-Cruel an' mean-'earted!"

Riff scowled at his companion, as if trying to conduct the message that it was Mok who got them 
into this mess, but the message wasn't clear to Mok. Riff growled louder than Mok. "'E was 
arr'gant, an' stuck up. Someone had to show 'im a lesson." He defended himself as he had in the 
fight. 

"Well, 'en," Mok rumbled right back. "Yer jus' as arr'gant as 'e is!" 

Never one to show too much emotion, Riff rarely looked surprised. But here his jaw dropped in
shock as if his best friend had just plunged a dagger into his chest. "What?" he choked. Then 
eyes narrowing in a way as if to say 'I'll show you', Riff called out to the rapidly shrinking 
form of the greatly injured Antoine D'Coolete.

"Your attacks are all lopsided, boy!" was not exactly the best Riff could have done, but it 
certainly brought Antoine spinning around and flaring at the lanky one. Riff proceeded, "You 
heard me, *friend*." He called again, "I can show you how do use that purty blade right!"

"You are wanting to humeeliate I agin?" was a incensed reply. "I am having no desire for that." 
He turned around again, resolved.

"Ur," Riff frowned, then eyed Mok, who was still burning with rage, and decided to try again. 
"I'm sure yer Pap can show yer sum tricks," he added hopefully. "He does act as yer teacher, 
doesn't 'e?"

"My fathier," Antoine said softly as he turned back to face the two, "ees no longier with me." 
The words were barely above whisper, but both Mandaras heard him. Antoine took a hesitant step 
toward the two, watching them warily.

"Why? Is 'e on a trip? Oof!" Mok gasped as Riff elbowed him, hard, in the ribs. 

"Er, your purty good wi' that blade. Almost bested me." Riff lied effectively. "Ah, I kin teach 
yer some tricks, if yer want." The last was forced, and Riff sincerely hopes the fox would 
refuse it.

"I…" Antoine hesitated yet again. But if, just if, he could master the blade as his father had, 
he could prove himself to the rest of Knothole. He would be as much as a hero as Sonic, maybe 
even better! Maybe, just maybe, no one would see him as the little craven that tails Sally all 
the time. "I am theenking that ees a good idea. Ah, tomorrow at noon, here?" he offered.

Well aware that Mok was looking at him hopefully, Riff sighed and rumbled, "All right." He 
closed his eyes and emitted a small groan as he heard the receding footsteps that had a bounce 
in them. His head was hurting, and he had no desire to eat dinner anymore. 

Why is it always me? Riff internally moaned silently as he trudged back to camp, well aware of 
Mok's cheerful strut and words. "Well, garn, Riff. Yer ain't as mean-'earted as yer purtend to 
be. That was purty nice o'' yer." 

"Shut yer yappin'."

= = = = = =

A few hours before, Boras, Larkazan and Marolla stood at the door of the main hut, waiting 
patiently. As still as statues, they watched Sonic speed to them with his unnatural speed, Sally 
jogging to them. His usual speedy and cheerful self again, he braked in front of the huge 
monoliths. "What's up, guys?" 

"We are well, thanks," Larkazan replied in the same bright manner, though his was forced. 

The hedgehog was about to say more when Sally caught up. "Hello," she said just a bit 
breathlessly. "Let's go in." She opened the door, and offered Marolla to go in first. The 
elderly woman strutted in, followed by the rest. Boras shut the door carefully and leaned 
against the door for security. 

Sally wasted no time. "About the killer?" she questioned urgently.

All three Mandaras knew Sally wanted to go straight to the point, and understood. They, too, 
wasted no time with vain greetings. "He's from a cult. The Eclipse Cult of the Moon, to be 
exact," Boras said.

"It's a large cult, though not very well-liked," Marolla explained,."Members perform despicable 
rituals involving blood, and lots of it. They believe that you Mobians are the doom of them all,
and that it is best to be rid of you. They worship the Bone Rocs, but I shall explain that 
later. But the point is, the cult has no love for our current expedition."

"Princess… I mean, Sally," Larkazan intruded, much to the irritation of Marolla, "the soldier 
that attacked you was of low rank, both in the army as well as in the cult. The thing is that, 
the weapon he carried belonged to a high priest of the cult. This was a well-organized plan, if 
the soldier hadn't been drunk." With an afterthought, he asked, "Did he speak to you in your 
language, Sally?" 

A bit surprised by the question, Sally replied, "Yes…" 

"Ah," Boras rumbled. "He's no scamp from the streets then. Probably a young noble. You see, 
Princess Sally, normal Mandaras don't speak your language. Only those in the royal houses do. 
Like the Lawngs, Honards, and others."

"Who's the head honcho of this cult?" Sonic demanded, his fists clenched. "I'll show that guy 
something to think about."  

"Even if we know who he is, we will not know where he is, Sonic," Larkazan apologized. "They are
very mysterious. Their members are all over the place, and one couldn't tell until it's too 
late. Sorry. The murderer is already dead, and the only information we can gather is from his 
body."

"Wait." 

With this simple word, everyone's attention was turned to the regal princess. "What's a noble 
doing in the army as a foot-soldier?" she questioned.

"Spying." Boras dismissed the topic quickly, though not rudely. "Probably disguised himself as a
peasant and, before you know it, he's in MY army." He sounded very indignant at that very 
moment. He pushed himself away from the door. "We'll inform you of any further news, Princess," 
he promised and walked out of the hut, followed by Marolla. Larkazan frowned in thought for a 
quick moment before hastily departing from the hut. 

Sonic was rubbing his head thoughtfully. "They never told us what a Bone Roc is."

= = = = =

Sonic grinned as another hapless chilidog went into his mouth. It had been weeks since his last
chilidog, but that span of time had been years to him. Chili covered the sides of his mouth, and 
he used his tongue to wipe them off like a windshield wiper. Not one bit of chili went on the 
ground that night for this usually messy eater. 

The hedgehog collapsed on his bed and stretched, letting out a sigh of satisfaction. His head 
against a pillow, he blinked sleepily, and turned off the lamp beside him before rolling onto 
his back to stare at the dark ceiling. Try as he might, though, he could not drift off to 
slumberland as he normally could do all the time. 

He had seen the body of the assassin the day before, and thought of that giant plunging a dagger
over and over and over…. Sonic shuddered inwardly and rolled to his side, shutting his eyes 
forcefully. His eyes opened and he was staring out the window. 

The stars twinkled incessantly, like a thousand fireflies stuck on black flypaper, and blinking 
out their protest out against the rest of the world at this injustice. The peaceful night sky, 
however, was exactly what Sonic needed to fall asleep, and soon his snores could be heard by the
shadow that had attached itself to the windowsill. 

It crawled, slid, and grappled against the floor. Slowly, sluggishly forcing itself up Sonic's 
bed until it sat on top of the hedgehog's chest. Two horns protruded from the misty figure's 
head, but that was the only thing that distinguished it from normal shadows. It had no glowing 
eyes, no demonic howl, but only a mass of fear itself. 

The phantom had no breath, yet its chest slowly went in and out at its eagerness to take life. 
The wight had no substance whatsoever, so had no weight. It sent out a silent wave of fear that
could only be felt by its victim…

"Whoa!" Sonic let out a choked yelp as he sensed the feeling. His joints went stiff, and he 
stared wide-eyed at the shadow, knowing very well that it was his doom that he was staring at. 
Then he felt warmth returning to his blood, and sensed surprise from the apparition. On impulse,
he pulled back his fist and strike at the phantom. 

The blow never reached the demon, for Sonic's fist passed through the demon's expressionless 
face. Sonic gasped more in shock than pain, for he felt as if that he had just drowned his hand 
in winter, icy water filled with frantic lobsters snapping their claws. With great effort, he 
yanked his fist out again, his arm numb. Choices were running out. 

 He used the only advantage that he had then: speed.

Revving up his legs like an engine, he burst out from the bed like a bomb, and planted himself 
against the very windowsill the shadow had came in through. Quickly, he hopped out of the window
and sped to the bridge where the alarm bell was kept. He considered ringing the bell, but some 
sort of fear that the specter implanted in Sonic took root again, and the hedgehog was unable to
grasp the rope that would ring the bell. 

He didn't miss the shadow floating towards him though, like one of Robotnik's hovercraft, except
more silent and deadly. Knowing very well that staying amd confronting the thing would be no use, 
but wanting to do so, Sonic hesitated as the shadow floated closer. Then an idea came to him in 
a thunderbolt.

On impulse, he looked at his watch and grinned viciously. "Just in time," he muttered, and ran 
into the deep woods. Dodging behind trees, and turning about in zigzags, he bought himself 
some time as the wight followed in his same path, but much slower.

Feet skidding, Sonic stopped just at the edge of a pond. The environment was silent. Not even 
the crickets made a sound at this time of the night, or maybe it was due to the presence of the 
specter. The trees surrounded the pond like menacing sentinels, and the deep green grass slogged
wetly with dew water. The four-foot tall waterfall gurgled with greetings at the newcomer, and 
the cattails that brooked on the edge of the pool swayed gently to the motion of the wind. Sonic 
paused and glared at his watch anxiously, watching the pool at the same time.

He heard the soft sound of the wind, but he recognized it as no wind, but the demon coming out 
from the woods. Then, like a holy spectacle, a golden ring slowly ascended from the bottom of 
the pond. Rising, rising, to the hero's hopeful eyes. 

Without any further thoughts, Sonic leapt from the edge of the pond to the ring floating above 
the center of the pond. The Power Ring hung in the air for a brief moment before it was snatched
by Sonic's eager hand. Sonic let the ring's power course throughout his body, pumping through 
his veins like his own lifeblood. Dangling in the air for a brief moment just like the ring, 
Sonic started spinning vertically like a razor. Spinning faster and faster till he was nothing
but a wheel of fatal spikes, he charged toward the demon. "It's now or never, bro," he said to 
himself.

Like a pinwheel with piercing blades, a blur of gold and blue, he smashed into the contrasting 
blackness of the specter. He gasped at the shock of winter cold ice that touched his quills, but
continued on, burrowing through the thing's chest. 

The demon made no response, at first. But Sonic heard an indistinct screeching like tires 
sliding on hard concrete. The unearthly scream of the demon was agonized, and confused, when 
Sonic and the Power Ring ground into it. Long and drawn out, the scream was horrendous, and the 
hero was tempted to clap his hands over his poor ears, but sheer will enabled him not to do so. 
For some reason, the demon was gaining substance, however unwillingly, on the material world. 

It was like ramming into a trampoline, rubbery, flexible, and full of repellant power. But speed
challenged the demon, and the optimism returned to Sonic's mind. Adrenaline pumped, roared, and 
the speedy hedgehog exerted all his strength into slicing the demon open.

Then there was a twang, a lot like a snap of a rubber band, and Sonic tumbled into the moist 
ground, rubbing his head dizzily. The air around him seemed to contract and suck in, pulling in 
the devil back to wherever it came from. Only then was when he realized that a light shower had 
begun and was dripping on his head. He placed a hesitant hand on the muddy ground, blinked, and 
staggered back to his hut, all the time thinking, I'm gonna have a lot of explainin' tomorrow. 

= = = = =

Morning held a much different mood than night, it was true. And Sonic wasn't about to dispute 
that. Sleep was hard to come last night, and he spent the rest of his night rolling around in
bed and glaring at the ceiling until morning. Relief, however much involuntarily, arrived at the 
same time as the birds begin chirping out their morning serenade.

Stretching, and blinking tiredly, he stomped out of his hut and into the dawn's gentle wave. 
Mostly everybody was still asleep in bed, hardly aware of what went past the night before. But, 
for some reason, Sonic had no inclination to tell anybody about it. His thoughts were different 
last night, true, but the thought of announcing it seemed… stupid. It seemed to him that if any
stranger, even a wraith, can enter Knothole undetected, it would be wise not to blab everything 
out before he could study the problem, mayhap discuss it with Sal (who he could obviously 
trust), and then decide whether to announce the news or not.

He stopped when he saw Marolla basking herself in the sun, clearly enjoying the warmth. 
"Morning," Sonic ventured as he came up next to the elder.

Marolla shifted, twitched in surprise at this intruder, and blinked suspiciously at Sonic. Then 
she relaxed. Her face bore no expression, but her jaw almost twitched just a bit. "Ai! You 
surprised me; I thought you weren't an early riser." 

"Ah, well, I didn't exactly get good sleep last night."
= = = = =

The Mandaras stared with awe at the hologram of Robotropolis, while Boras's jaw half dropped as 
if in a trance even as he stared. They stood there for long moments before Sally, a bit out of 
embarrassment, coughed politely to regain their attention. Larkazan managed an apology before 
tearing his eyeballs away from the map. It was such an odd sight that Sally could barely 
contain a smile.

Boras straightened himself, then begun to pace around the map, occasionally poking the hologram,
amusing himself by watching his hand causing slight ripples in it (much to Marolla's annoyance).
"A simple raid…" he muttered, then grinned. "Your Majesty, friend Sonic." He bowed 
extravagantly. "I may have a plan, though I can not guarantee no risks, it's safe. All I need 
are two of my men, and whatever you may want to provide…. This place has sewers, right? And air 
vents?" he asked with offhanded interest.

"Yeah," Sonic was first to reply, cautiously. "How do you know?" 

"Big cities have sewers, like Tormonith. And any city from pure metal," the general sneered in 
disgust, "needs air vents. I can't stand the tightness and all that metal. Metal…" He actually 
shuddered involuntarily. 

Sally nodded in understanding. "I'll have two of my people as well come. It isn't necessary to 
have other Freedom Fighters help us, but I'll send a message to them." 

"Wonderful," Boras replied. "I understand you need some metal pieces." He grunted in a confused 
manner, and scowled. "We won't be able to identify it; I'll need someone who can find it for 
us." Here Sonic muttered the name "Rotor" under his breath. "The two people I have can identify 
magical traps and disarm them, as well as speak your language. They're mere dabblers, but they 
can handle a +sorcerer's+ magic." He sneered again mockingly. "It's easy."
= = = = =

"I hate the plan." Sonic snapped irritably at Sally as soon as the Mandaras, all but Larkazan, 
left. The young envoy discreetly kept silent. "Why can't I go? They'll need someone who knows 
the place. What if somebody gets hurt? What if…?"

Sally laughed playfully. "You're an exceptional nag today, huh, Sonic?" Sonic scowled, never 
looking so grave; something was clearly amiss. "Don't worry, Rotor knows the place well enough. 
And he has two Mandaras and Edd with him. What can go wrong?"

"Hmmph." He almost pouted, but not quite.

"Yes, friend Sonic," Larkazan reassured him, "You have nothing to fear. Slic and Yeslack are 
totally capable of magic."

"Hmmph," was the growled reply.

Larkazan shrugged helplessly and sighed. "I'm not happy about not being able to go either," he 
admitted, and left quickly. Sonic followed Larkazan out, not even with a smile or a wave at 
Sally. 

= = = = =

"An' I punched him, hard, liked this!" Edd roared with laughter as he slugged Slic in a 
friendly fashion in the arm. Edd, a brawny, musky-scented bison flexed, and grinned. His shaggy 
fur always seemed to fall over his eyes. The hair about his head was beaded and braided in 
various fashions, and a silver ring looped through his nose. But what was most prominent about 
him was his stench of cheese, garlic, and mustard. True, he could smell worse, but Rotor had no 
idea how worse.

Slic, just as brawny as Edd, wore a huge strap, to which his axe was attached. The sharp, 
metal-eating monster of an axe unnerved Rotor, until he realized Slic's tolerant smiles were 
well meant, and the friendly red beast laughed too. Slic smacked Edd hard in the head, and 
asked, "Then what did ye do?"

"I'll tell yer what I did," Edd bellowed, "I grab the little scum up and I shook him hard. I 
stared him in the eye, then I threw him into another fellow. That other guy snarled at me, an' 
then he smashed his chair at me. But no, I grabbed a table…!" He continued on his tale and Slic 
bellowed with laughter the whole way long.

They did not seem to realize the danger of Robotropolis, and why should they? Rotor thought, 
They were tough, hardened animals for fighting. While… +while I'm an 'just' a mechanic.+ He 
snorted, and quickened his pace to the lead. 

Yeslack was a giant mute, but understood every word, and nodded gravely, as if sensing Rotor's 
thoughts. His armor was of tattered leather, hardly the chain-mail Rotor had seen on other 
soldiers. The Mandara's left foot was twisted like Honard flesh, but Yeslack was a swampy green 
instead of silver. His head had ridges that arranged themselves into a crown, and his snout had 
a bridge of bumps on it. He fondly stroked his warhammer, and took a few practice swings with 
it. 

This went on until they reached the fringes of the darkened city. It wasn't day or night there, 
and the reek of the smoke caused poor Yeslack's eyes to water, and his throat run dry. He 
stamped his feet in protest. Slic's snout wrinkled in disgust, and he gagged loudly. "We… have 
to…. Go in 'ere?" Slic rasped.

"Don't worry," Edd laughed playfully, "You'll get use to it." Then he scowled. "But it doesn't 
mean you have to like it. Alright, let's split up. Slic, with me." He held up his communicator 
and waved it at Rotor. "You know what to do, right, walrus? Good. When you're done, tell me. I 
can't trash 'bots forever, y'know. C'mon, Slic." They jogged off into the city, taking no care 
at hiding themselves.

Mute and mechanic descended slowly and precariously into the city; Rotor shivering nervously 
while Yeslack glared about the place in suspicion. His green eyes shone, and his breathing was 
soft. They treaded lightly, but Rotor was unnerved by the lack of spies or camera or even 
guards. 

They came to a small shack with weather-beaten slide door, with a yellow 16 that was barely 
visible upon it. The shack sat low on the ground with a poorly thatched roof. The mechanic was 
relieved, to his own surprise, at the twin guards standing monolithically in front of the shop. 
Rotor had known the little workshop when he was young, and he knew it just as well even now. 
Well aware that unused or prototypes or blueprints were stored here, he knew his goal. Grab 
potential deroboticizer parts and blueprints, and escape.

News from Uncle Chuck last week that had arrived, telling the Freedom Fighters new items were 
deposited there. Uncle Chuck had courage beyond a normal person; to work even in Robotropolis or 
go near it was dangerous enough, but to spy? Rotor admitted freely that he could never find the 
nerve to do that. Plus, with Naugus, everything was more dangerous than before.

Rotor caught a glimpse of Edd's shaggy fur and the glint of Yeslack's axe. He whispered softly 
into the device, "Now." 

Slic roared out his rage, and charged with ferocity at one of the guards, burying his axe into 
the thing's chest. The two robots had no time to even raise alarm, their joints moved painfully
slow as the two charged into the open. Rotor saw a wave of electric energy pass through the 
brawny one, but Slic showed no pain or hint of slowing down. Edd brought out his pistol, and 
loosed a line of plasma into the other guard's chest. The two toppled and Edd grinned. "It's too 
easy, eh?" Rotor gestured for Yesleck to follow, but the Mandara was making odd gestures with 
his hands frantically, finally pointing back at the shack. Baffled, Rotor looked back, as did 
Slic and Edd. 

Swat-bots, like toy soldiers, marched out the shack, in pairs of two. Two by two, two by two, 
never ceasing to come out. Edd gaped as did Slic as the 'bots surrounded the duo, never noticing 
Yesleck and Rotor. Fear came hard to Edd the brawler, but it came harshly this time. "'Tis our 
doom this time, friend Edd," Slic whispered solemnly. "We shall die." He saluted Edd in the 
Mandara fashion with his axe, let out a howl, and charged into the nearest bot.

Edd's body trembled in dread at all of this; the bravado with him this morning had dissipated 
like smoke on a dying candle. The bison shivered, his eyes milked over, and he howled along with 
the red Mandara, the two of them fighting in vain gallantly. 

Rotor gaped in horror as the Swat-bots attacked back with the same ferocity, not to capture, but 
murder. The bots outnumbered the duo ten to one, and barely any were falling. He could see the 
red flash of laser, and Edd's bellow of pain and fright. The towering bison was nearly swarmed, 
but he tore at the bots' heads, arms, and anything he could get his hands on. "Go!" he cried as 
a shot took off a shock of his mane.

The walrus knew it wasn't directed at Slic, but at him. He shan't let the bison and the Mandara 
die in vain, and he scampered into the shack, the aghast Yeslack in toll. The mute yearned to 
help his friend Slic, but knew his mission, and he saluted the two souls gravely before going 
inside, hearing the muffled shouts of the Freedom Fighters outside.

Standing at a mere six feet, the roof of the shack was so low that Yeslack almost had to kneel 
to get in. The gray and iron complexion of the place matched its smells exactly: gray and like 
iron. Yeslack frowned, but much rather prefer this odor than the suffocating smell outside. 

"Keep them occupied as long as you can!" Edd screamed to Slic, and roared as something caused 
great pain to him. Rotor held back a shudder and was just about to start picking at the refuse. 

Then Rotor was shoved violently away, tumbling into the corner of the room. Yeslack had 
delivered the shove, but for good reason. He waved at the piles, narrowed his eyes, and waved
his hands wildly while wriggling his fingers to indicate magic. The soldier indicated with one 
hand that Rotor must not move, and while the walrus stared intently at Yeslack and the piles of 
mechanical remains, looking for any magical flash, glare, anything at all. Nothing happened;
Rotor's throat clenched, fearing that Yeslack had failed, but the green Mandara's body relaxed, 
and he motioned Rotor to come back.

"What did you do?" 

The big Yeslack shrugged, and shambled away to take watch at the door. Rotor swallowed nervously 
as he bent down to work, pawing at the variety of metal shards and yellowed paper. So frantic 
was he that he had to take in deep breaths to calm himself every so often. Every smooth minute 
that passed went as a jagged hour for Rotor. 

Going from pile to pile, he dug into everything hurriedly until he felt a painful rip in his 
hand. Great yelps fountained forth like blood from a cut vein. Though it really wasn't that 
agonizing, the shock came greatly. Yeslack bulled his way back, thinking that more invaders had 
came from within, but instead found Rotor indicating the offensive pile.

Shrugging again with his enormous shoulders, the mute silently, yet efficiently, shoved the top 
pile aside. Rotor turned to the pile, and, to his disappointment, found nothing of interest. His 
thoughts just turned to the idea of getting away before they were caught until his eyes caught a
sharp glint in the light. 

It was the shard that had poked him, still having the shiny ruby of blood on it. Rotor knelt 
down reverently, as if praying, and carefully brushed aside the remaining debris covering the 
shard. Gaping with surprise, he stared at the object as if it was a holy relic and touched the 
thing timidly, as if afraid it would break at the touch.

What Yeslack saw was completely different, though. To him, it was an unremarkable box with 
spokes on the corners; a dark grayish old thing that got oil all over one's hands. The box was 
the size of a watermelon, and probably heavier, too. The mute twisted his mouth as if he just 
ate a fly, and looked yearningly outside.

Not at all unobservant, Rotor caught Yeslack's look of impatience and heaved the heavy object up 
with both his arms. He gasped with exertion as he waddled about the room, unable to see past the
box. Yeslack, obviously without a word, gently took the thing away and pointed his snout at the 
door, begging. 

They had been oblivious to the battle that was raging outside, but they did saw the result. 

Edd had gone down with several blasts that ripped through his chest and out of his back, his 
shaggy coat sticky with red goo. His face was chiseled in one of fury; his teeth were bared, and 
his trunk-like arms wrapped about the torso of a broken Swat-bot. Slic still had his huge axe 
buried into the chest of a Swat-bot, and his scaly hands clutching at it even as he had 
collapsed into the muddy ground. 

Three Swat-bots were what remained of the dozen or more that had marched out of the small room. 
They stood about listlessly, their mission complete and their backs to the two. "Why don't they 
leave?" the mechanic hissed in exasperation as the two stood in the doorway. Yeslack itched to 
vacate, and he saw only one solution to their current problem. 

Carefully setting the object down without a sound, Yeslack brought up his warhammer so the glint 
of the metal matched the iciness in the giant's emerald eyes. Sinew stretching, he raised the 
hammer above his head, and flung the object with all his might. The hammer collided so hard with
the bot, it was thrown backwards into the piles of metallic refuse, and lay there stiffly. The 
hammer crackled with the electricity bestowed on it even as it embedded itself into the robot's 
chest. 

The bots responded with pitiful slowness, for they had not anticipated an attack from within. 
Yeslack bowled into one of them with a soundless howl of grief for his deceased friend and ally. 
The other Swat-bot raised its hand with extreme slowness and, if a robot was capable of 
emotions, fear and hesitancy to Yeslack's head. The third bot released its shot, but not before 
Rotor had sent a flying shard of metal with his handy sling at his side into the robot's 
shooting arm, sending the blast awry. The blast barely missed it mark, though, ripping its 
vicious way through Yeslack's left shoulder. 

Rotor, realizing Yeslack wouldn't have time to retaliate the third minion of Robotnik, or 
perhaps Naugus now, snatched up another shard from his side, and sent it into the red shield 
about the robot's head. The shard shattered against the red shield of the bot's head, the tiny 
pieces spraying in every possible direction. The Swat-bot swayed about on its feet, then toppled
in a useless heap of metal. Rotor let out a joyous whoop and turned his attention to Yeslack.

Yeslack towered triumphantly over the fallen Swat-bot that he had destroyed, its head in the 
crook of his arms, a weary grin on his face. Then he knelt down by his hammer and wrenched it 
free from the Swat-bot's chest. Rotor lifted the box up, and staggered toward Yeslack, handing 
it over to the silent giant. 

Accepting the box, Yeslack turned to leave, but not before he made a few odd hand gestures above
the corpses of Edd and Slic. He bowed awkwardly, but respectfully to the dead, and set his feet 
on the path away from the doomed and dreaded city.

Never really having known Edd, Rotor still felt an odd sense of loss at another Freedom 
Fighter's demise, a feeling that he wasn't foreign to since the war had started. He sighed, 
shook his head mournfully, and trekked after Yeslack.

= = = = =

"Tell me…" Naugus' breath stank of rot and reek. "How is it that you've KNOWN that there'd be 
+four+ Freedom Fighters, and let the two of them get away with something that is actually worth 
value to them?" He didn't sound angry at all. Instead, he had more of a condescending tone as if 
talking to a stupid child. "It's not that hard to destroy all of them, you know." 

The gray room darkened with the mere presence of Naugus. The great swivel chair that was once 
Robotnik's was unused, and an outlandish crystal throne stood majestically by its side, casting 
the only light in the room. The surveillance videos showed the savage fight of the bison and the 
Mandara as well as the later triumph of the seeming mute. The room seemed to have shrunk with 
Naugus in it, though a hundred of the dwarf couldn't have filled the room. 

"Well… I-yi-I…" The once well-fed tyrant whined, then cursed himself for he had never whined in 
his life, until up to recently. Beads of sweat were forming around the triangular forehead of 
his and, his legs nearly quaked under him. No, he wasn't afraid at all; he was beyond that point
already. The luminescent glow of his eyes had diminished since the Freedom Fighters had met him,
which seemed a long ways ago. His lips were still fat, though the rest of him had shrunk into an 
emaciated and flabby suit.  

"Doesn't matter. What are they going to do with it, anyway?" Naugus snorted, feigning 
carelessness as he turned his back to his lackey. Robotnik exhaled a breath of relief and 
allowed his hand to wipe the cold sweat off, but as soon as did, the wizard spun back and 
grinned skullishly. "Think you can fool me, weakling?" He hissed violently and curled one of his
hands into a fist, growling. Robotnik's eye bulged, and his hands immediately reached for where 
his heart was supposed to be, if such a man had a heart. But nonetheless, pain crashed like 
stormy waves upon shore through his veins. Gasping, he crashed like a dying oak into the floor. 
"I'm a merciful man, though." Naugus turned casually and released his fist with a contented 
sigh. He kicked the fallen man on the side. "Just don't mess up next time."

= = = = =

"How did it happen?" Sally whispered, her voice nearly choked. Was this all for nothing? Boras 
stood grimly, his arms folded about his chest, not confused, but not pleased at all. Sonic 
growled deeply in his throat, and his lips turned to a fierce snarl. Yet, at the same time, he 
stood next to Sally protectively, offering much support. 

Cloak of night offered secrecy, but not for long for the news would have spread by the time 
morning came. Larkazan sighed and shook his head with shame while Boras frowned yet said 
nothing. Marolla slept in a hut that had been made on the spot for her, for she needed rest and 
none dared to awake her ire. 

Rotor quickly mapped out what had happened, with Yeslack making helpful gestures in the 
background. In the end, Yeslack presented the odd box to the group with a flourish. "It wasn't a
total loss." Rotor tried to sound hopeful. Sally offered a weak smile, and shook her head 
regretfully. 

"Thanks, Rotor, but we've lost two lives. Edd and Slic; they cannot be replaced. They weren't 
roboticized or captured either." She sighed. "They knew. They knew all."

Boras and Larkazan looked at each other, and Larkazan offered an awkward comfort. "At least what 
Rotor got was genuine; Naugus didn't suspect we would actually make it through from what 
happened. Although he did make a trap, but… it was just, uh, precaution." He looked at the box. 
"It doesn't seem to have a spell on it still," he added.

"Princess," Boras spoke formally and knelt down on one knee gracefully like the lord he was 
before Sally could stop him. "It was my plan; I shall take responsibility for the casualties. 
Slic was one of mine, and a letter and funding shall be sent to his parents and sisters. 
However," He took a breath, "However, Edd was one of Your Majesty's men, and I'm sure he held a 
great value to you. Riches and jewels will do none for you, I know. So," He unsheathed the 
elegant sword at his side and handed it hilt-first to the stunned Sally. The princess clumsily 
took the sword and held it in an odd angle. "If Your Majesty deems it fit, you may behead me 
with my own sword on the morrow. Someone else would take over." He bowed his head and remained 
silent. Yeslack looked admiringly at his superior, while Larkazan's jaw nearly dropped. Sonic 
and Rotor looked equally surprised, and stammered out protests even as Boras ignored them. 

The youngest Mandara, Larkazan, protested the loudest after he had recovered. "That practice 
wasn't done since the Council overthrew the king! You can't be serious enough to bring the old 
heathen customs back." 

"It was practiced when I was your age, boy." Boras reprimanded Larkazan in a patronizing way. 
"I've seen it done. It's honorable, and the Princess is still royalty." 

Shaking her head clear of the following, Sally made her decision. The first thing she did was to
hand the sword back, hilt-first, to Boras. The old general accepted the sword back, still with 
his head bowed. Sonic didn't look astonished, but was much more relaxed. "No," she said royally,
firmly. A simple word spoken meant a lot, and Boras caught on quickly. He made a flourished bow 
as he stood, then pretended none of the preceding had happened. 

Larkazan attempted to assure the group. "I'm sure it wasn't a traitor. Naugus probably used 
scrying sorcery to…" He trailed off awkwardly, the shuffling of his feet accompanied the nervous
scuffing of others' feet. "Sorry."

Boras made an honest mental note to teach Larkazan tact. "Why don't you youn…" He covered off 
the last word with a polite cough. "Why don't you all get some sleep?" he suggested. 

Only then did Sally realized how bleary eyed she was from staying up almost with a fervent 
eagerness for the small group to return. She blinked tiredly, yawned, and agreed with 
half-hearted reluctance. "All right." She sighed. "Let's go to sleep, guys." Without even seeing 
if the rest were following she walked slowly back to her hut, her shoulders slumped.

Soon after, the small assembly broke up with worn mutterings and sighs with almost all departing 
to their well-deserved rest. Only then were Boras and Yeslack left standing in the drowning 
night. "Well," Boras huffed, "what do you think, Yeslack?"

The mute waved, hunched over, and made sneaking gestures while looking at everything in a mock 
suspicious way. Yeslack then straightened and wriggled his fingers at Boras. The old general
took no time at deciphering Yeslack's speech. "I believe so, too. Poor Slic." He shook his head 
regretfully. "Ah well, casualty. Oh, and Yeslack? You don't tell anyone what I thought? Alright?
Mutes don't tell tales. Especially if they can't write. And keep your weapon ready. Ale, Yys?"

Nodding eagerly, the lumbering Mandara followed his leader back to where their camp was, keeping 
his mind on the fact that Boras may have a use for him later on in this, in his opinion, vain
mission. He kept his silence, willingly or unwillingly, and swore to follow in Boras' path, 
whether foolish folly or not. This was a beginning of a war, the first war that the Mandaras had
experienced in their extended lives in the longest time, and for some bizarre reason, Yeslack 
felt exhilarated even after his meager skirmish. There will be something bigger than just that, 
soon. Yeslack licked his mouth in anticipation, swung his hammer about, and swaggered just a 
little too proudly. 

End.