The Weekly Muse #36

A Battle, an Island, and Finally, The Moment We've All Been Waiting For

Last week in the read-through of my Very First Novel, our heroes finally met the Raccoon Brethren and their High Chieftain Zakkle. Meanwhile, Rakkla the fox and his evil Tara Raiders are hot on their trail! We rejoin our story in progress! [Also, don’t forget to read to the notes at the end!]

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Rakkla stood boldly in the prow of the lead ship as it sailed head-on into the Southern Forest. The Fox Captain felt no trace of fear as the ship drifted past the forbidding trees clustering together on the bank. His soldiers, however, were not so courageous. They cowered and whimpered like scared puppies, as the eight ships pushed their way onwards in the eternal twilight of the wood. Even the Feline I.egionnaires were afraid. Their keen senses could detect no sound in the oppressive dimness. The tabby centurion was filled with an inexplicable dread. He gripped his long gleaming trident harder and prayed that Rakkla would change his mind and order them to leave the Southern Forest.

Suddenly, as the eight ships rounded a small bend, Rakkla caught sight of something that surprised him. Floating gently offshore was a small sailboat, elaborately decorated, accompanied by two logboats. The three ships were completely deserted.

Rakkla signaled the ships to pull ashore, then he leaped onto the bank and strode closer to the three ships. The tabby centurion motioned the other soldiers to follow. As they approached the ships, the centurion sniffed at the ships, then spoke softly to Rakkla. "I smell mice, humans, and some other creatures. Do you think these are the ones we're tracking?”

"Of course, thickhead!" Rakkla snapped. "Who else would be in here? They must have decided to leave their ships here and proceed further on foot. All, right, get the troops together. Skivvel, take a squad. Find out where they've gone. By the three rivers, I want those creatures found right now or I'll make y-"

Rakkla's threat was interrupted by a fierce chorus of war cries. "Eyah chakka chakkaaaaaaa!"

The tabby centurion spun around. "It's them!"

Skivvel yelped and dived for the bushes as a volley of jagged spears slashed from the trees and cut down the squad of Tara Raiders he had been about to lead into the woods. Rakkla whipped out his swords. "Soldiers, form up! Archers and javelin-throwers to the front! The rest of you, rally to me and prepare to charge! We'll make those savages rue the day they challenged me!"

The tabby centurion gathered his Feline Legionnaires. "Archers, to the front with those Tara Raiders! Form two squads, alternate your fire! The rest of you, form up behind me! Tridents ready!"

Another barrage of spears lashed from the trees, accompanied by a swarm of gleaming shards of metal. The Tara Raider archers cried out in pain as the keen fragments sliced into them. Many were slain by the razor-sharp metal shreds. More war cries ripped from the trees. "Eyah chakka chakkaaaaaa! Zakzakzakkle! Rokkaaaachaaaan! Eyah chakka chakkaaaaaa!"

The Tara Raiders and Feline Legionnaires launched a return volley of arrows and javelins, sending with it their own war cries. "Taraaaaaa! Taraaaaa! Taradaaaaaash! Montashleigh forever! Rrrouuuwwwwmr!" That last was, of course, the Feline Legion's war cry.

Rakkla waved one of his swords at the Tara Raiders. “To me, soldiers! Centurion, take your fighters and back us up! Archers, cover us! The rest of you, forward! We’ll teach these wild barbarians a lesson!”

As the Tara Raiders surged forward, galvanized into action by Rakkla’s bold words, the Fox Captain craftily stepped aside, allowing the first wave of soldiers to charge headlong past him. They raced forward, fired with wild zeal, and ran right into a line of tripwires and vine triggers. The front runners went flying into the air, while the ones behind them were hit by deadly javelins. The remaining Tara Raiders skidded to a stop, unsure of how to proceed and none of them wanting to run into any more tripwires.

Another wild war cry ripped from the trees, and this time it was accompanied by Rokkachan’s rough voice. “Attack! Brethren, forward! Chakakaaaaaaa!”

The last thing many of the Tara Raiders and Feline Legionnaires saw was the dark shadowy forms of the Raccoon Brethren hurtling from the trees. They waved their corkscrew swords and shrilled loudly in high-pitched voices, “Death come invaders! Eyah chakka chakkaaaaaaa!”

Back in Rivenwood, Zakkle sat down in a leaf-covered wooden chair and sighed wearily. He faced the companions, who had all found seats in the council chamber. The room was small, but comfortable, with many cozy seats and a tiny fireplace in the corner. The walls were covered with greenery, like almost everything else in Rivenwood. The Raccoons liked to blend in with their forest surroundings.

Once the companions had all gotten comfortably settled, the High Chieftain began to speak. "It happen many years ago. Scouts see knight come to Forest. Knight bad wounded, carry child! I come, talk to knight. He give me child, tell me child Prince. He say father, mother slain in attack, he `lone survive! I promise take care of Prince. Knight die then.

I tell my people keep secret. We take child, hide in faraway place, tell no one. Tara Raiders come many time. They attack, threaten, kill, burn, always seek child. But we all time defeat them. No Raider come for months now. We keep child safe long years, wait for true warriors, come rescue child. Now you come, seek Prince. I know you true, so I take you to secret place! We leave, now!"

Without further comment, Zakkle rose and strode out the doorway. Conrad and the others followed them. Conrad's mind was reeling from the impact of the story Zakkle had related. So, now they knew why the Legend had said for them to seek out the ‘wild kin of black and heather gray." The Raccoon Brethren were the only ones who knew the location of the Lost Island! And Zakkie was taking them to it! At last, after their weeks of searching, they were going to find the object of their quest, the Lost Island where the son of King Lawrence had been hidden for so long!

Zakkle led the companions out of the council chamber, down a rope ladder, and out of Rivenwood, accompanied by an honor guard of fifteen Raccoon Brethren. Another fifteen Raccoon Brethren stayed behind to guard Rivenwood in case the Tara Raiders found their way there and attacked. Not that anyone expected Chieftain Rokkachan and the Raccoon Brethren warriors to lose in their battle with the Tara Raider forces. After all, the Raccoon Brethren knew every inch of their woods and they were renowned fighters.

Zakkle guided the companions down an over-grown and little-used trail that wound its way off towards the south. The High Chieftain explained that the trail was so overgrown because the Raccoon Brethren traveled mostly in the treetops, very rarely on the ground. This the questors could easily see, for Zakkle was the only raccoon on the ground with them. The others had taken to the trees.

So, they blazed on through bushes and shrubs, pushing past large trees, and carefully fording small streams. The twenty-eight questors followed the High Chieftain and the other Raccoon Brethren on and on through the seemingly endless woods, until it seemed like an eternity since they had left Rivenwood. Finally, Zakkle called a halt. “It late now,” he informed they exhausted companions. “We sleep here, rest for night, then start ‘gain at dawn. We reach island tomorrow, you see!”

They made camp in a tiny clearing, in the midst of a grove of fir trees. The clearing was impossible to see from the outside, and Zakkle posted sentries on the edges of the fir grove to keep watch. It was not exceptionally comfortable, but it was suitable for the night.

The companions ate their nightly ration and bedded down, each one excited with the promise of the morrow. But they were also apprehensive about the next day. Would they find the Lost Island and the rightful heir to the throne of Sirilan? Or would they be attacked and defeated by the Tara Raiders? Or worse, killed by them? No one knew for sure. All they knew was that tomorrow would be an eventful day indeed.

When the next morning came, Zakkle roused everyone bright and early "Krrchakk! We need go! Island not far now."

Alexan sighed wearily as they set of again on the trail. "Ah well, onward, ever onward. I do hope we reach the Lost Island soon. Otherwise we'll all be wondering around in these woods for who knows how long. Not to mention that Taradash will probably have tracked us down by then. "

Sean remarked aside to Dwayne, "Well, I see Alexan's still his usual cheerful and optimistic self.”

“I heard that," Alexan called out from the front of the group. "I would like to see you be cheerful and optimistic when you have to listen to Lucy's constant chatter all day!" Lucy's outraged, `Hey!' was drowned out by the group's laughter.

They marched on all that morning, and into the afternoon. As the companions plowed on and on through the thick forest, Sean was reminded of their trek to Rocklawn. It seemed like a long time ago. In fact, Sean felt as if it had been an eternity since they had first arrived in Sirilan. He gave some thought to the events that had occurred since their arrival and realized, with some shock, that they had spent just a little over a month in Sirilan! (Thirty-six days to be exact.) Sean wondered if the time in Sirilan worked the same way in Earth, or if it was like in Narnia, where fifteen years in Narnia might equal just a few seconds in Earth, or vice versa. Sean decided he would worry about that later. Right now, there were more important things to worry about, like what would happen when they actually found the prince. What would they do, after they had found him? Sean had ignored Lucy's questions on that topic when they had been in their last major argument (back on pages 25-26). But now, those questions were coming back to haunt Sean. What would they do when … or if … they found the Prince? Sean had no idea, and he felt as if he should.  

Sean’s thoughts on this subject were interrupted by the High Chieftain’s announcement. “Cochaka! Look there, beyond rise! The island of the child!”

Sean could see nothing beyond the small wooded rise just ahead of them. He, along with the others, quickly scrambled to the top of the little knoll. What he saw once he reached the top took his breath away. His heart pounded with excitement. This was it! The Lost Island of Sirilan!

The Lost Island was in the middle of a small lake, hardly bigger than a pond. The lake was covered with shrouds of mist and floating rainbows, caused by sunbeams dancing through the veils of mist. Beyond the mist, on the island itself, the companions could see a marvelous sight. It was an ancient ruin, rising high above the trees. The aged castle loomed up before them in all its ruined grandeur, its crumbling towers and faded pennants giving testimony to the one-time splendor and majesty of the ruin. The ancient walls were studded with precious stones that, although they were dust-covered and dulled, still glinted and sparkled with a hint of the glory they once possessed. An old stone bridge still ran from the lake's edge to the ancient fortress, but the bridge was broken down and dilapidated, so much so that in spots one could see the waters of the lake flowing clear.

Lucy stood hushed in awe, gazing at the wondrous ruin. No one spoke for several minutes, so overcome were they by the beauty and majesty of the ancient castle. Finally, Zakkle spoke. "Come, inside!"

The companions silently followed the High Chieftain, still in a daze upon the sight of the legendary Lost Island. Zakkle led them down the bridge and up to a pair of rusted iron doors. He placed his paw on one of the doors and pushed lightly. The heavy portal swung ponderously open.

Inside the door was a long hallway, wondrously decorated with faded tapestries and once-magnificent paintings. Several creaking doors opened off the hallway, one of which Zakkle pushed open. "Come!" he beckoned.

They followed the High Chieftain down the long passageway, which turned left, than right, than left again, until they had lost all sense of direction. Zakkle led them through door after door, which opened onto more passageways and corridors, which wound their way farther and farther into the great ruin, until Sean began to wonder if they would ever reach the end. Finally, the High Chieftain stopped before a small door, which appeared to be made out of solid gold, studded with diamonds! The door itself was a wonder to behold, but the companions' attention was distracted by Zakkle's proclamation, "Friends, here is child! Cochakka! Come, Prince Patrick of Sirilan!"

All eyes were on the door as it swung slowly open. The companions held their breath.

A tall, young man stepped through. He was sturdy and well built, with strong arms and a rock-hard chest. His black hair and dark eyes contrasted with the faded white tunic he wore. But it was not his air of confidence that radiated from his robust form, and the fiery spark that flashed from his dark eyes that made the companions and the Raccoon Brethren fall to their knees and uncover their heads in respect and reverence. There was a look of majesty, honor, and nobility in his face that made Alexan whisper quietly, "Surely, this is Patrick Levillian Revandi Montisle, the Prince of Sirilan!"

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2024 me’s comments: Sadly, I did not introduce the next chapter with the guy going, “What? No, no, my name’s Phil, I’m just passing through. The guy you want is in there.” Obviously I should have.

You’re also probably wondering what the guy was doing in the forest all this time hidden away and apparently being raised by the Raccoon Brethren. Where did he get that shirt? Does he speak in Raccoon lingo? Why, exactly, did our heroes need to go in and get him? Did he have a book to read or something while he was waiting?

Those are all very good questions, and I’m absolutely mostly sure there are very good answers which may or may not be in next week’s newsletter.

Meanwhile, in personal news, a shoutout to

David Perlmutter

for becoming this humble little ‘Stack’s first paid subscriber! Thank you, David!

Until next time,

Michael