Chapter 24
Charlotte had forgotten what time it was until she had stepped outside of the temple. The sky was dark blue and bright with silvery, shimmering stars. Torches outside had been lit, dimly illuminating the fortress.
The five grubbs carrying the book staggered uncoordinately up the spiral staircase at the back of the temple, occasionally losing their footing as Ophelia lead them along.
"You can all go back to your huts," she had said. "I'll try to find the grubbscript translations in the morning."
Charlotte had welcomed this.
She pushed open the door to her hut and flopped down on her bed with a loud yawn. With tired eyes she removed the ammo from her rifle, just for safety.
Poof!
A large cloud of gunpowder shot out of the back of her weapon, powdering Charlotte's face black. She coughed and dropped her rifle, eyes blinking furiously as she struggled to remove the dust.
"Nasty," she muttered to herself, leaving her hut to wash off the gunpowder in the wetland. She passed a tall hut, and stopped suddently. The door was slightly open, and the lights were on. A scuffling sound could be heard inside. Curious, she slowly opened the door and peeked inside.
Cyren was inside.
Oh, Charlotte thought. Its just Cyren. I thought somebody was being robbed.
She began closing the door, but something made her stop. Cyren took off his shirt to change into a different one. She gasped.
Inbetween his sholderblades was a wide, roughly round mark that was a sickly pinkish-grey and stuck out a half-inch from his skin. It was shaped like a ring with a pine tree in the center. It had words under it, but they were so small that she couldin't tell what they said. It looked like it had been burned in.
No, she thought. Branded...
"Cyren?" She said quietly.
Cyren swung around, looking startled, and bolted to the door. He slammed it shut with a threataning growl. Charlotte stood at the door, looking confused, before turning on her heel and walked back to her hut, deep in thought.
She'd obviously seen too much. But too much of what?
---
Morning had come.
Stranger opened an eyelid, staring up at the light pouring through his window. He groaned and rolled over, nuzzling his pillow, and sighed contently.
"Stranger! Strangeeerr!"
"Damn it, Mola!" He cursed, sitting up. He groggily rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, his eyelids barely open.
"Stranger! Get out here! Now!" Mola said urgently from outside his hut. Stranger stood up, stretched, and called back.
"What do you want?"
"Come on! Hurry!"
Mola's furious little fists started drumming against his door. Stranger cracked his knuckles and started getting dressed, muttering angrily under his breath.
Thumpthumpthumpthump-BLAM!
Mola's fast-paced knocking was extinguished by the sound of gunfire. Stranger kicked open the door, his arm out and his bow loaded. Mola jumped around, his eyes wide.
"Outlaws!" He yelped. "At the gate! They keep yelling, 'hand over the steef!' They won't stop-"
Stranger ran to the gate as fast as he could, his bow still loaded. Charlotte, Cyren, Ophelia, and twenty grubbs were already there, baring their teeth as the outlaws pointed. There were about sixty outlaws swarming the bank of the wetland, their weapons loaded. More than half of them were nailers, which would make fighting them off a challenge.
Stranger stiffened as he caught sight of both Willie Royalle and Bo Bedagger, heavily armed with dangerous firepower.
"What the hell are those two doing here?" Charlotte snarled, her fists closing dangerously around her rifle. "And how did they find us?"
"Well he-llo, Charlotte!" Willie said, sounding pleasant whilst loading his rocket launcher. "Long time no see, eh?"
Willie caught sight of Stranger, and a smile curled over his yellow teeth.
"Well, well! You're here too? Ah, its all right. Three heads are better than two..."
Charlotte rounded on Stranger and cocked her rifle.
"They know you're a steef? How?" She demanded, her eyebrows furrowing. Stranger adjusted his hat, his eyes betraying only the slightest guilt.
"Well, uh," he muttered, "when I was goin' after Buckner..."
Charlotte nodded, still looking angry.
"...my shoe kinda... fell off."
There was a pause. Charlotte slapped her forehead.
"You're an idiot." She growled. Stranger sighed.
"Thas' why I showed up here in the middle of the night. I didn't want any of Buckner's boys t'see me."
"Why didn't you say something?" Ophelia hissed, slapping him. "You jerk!"
"Ahem!" Willie interrupted, his eyes cold. "If you hand over the steef, I won't blow this place to bits. Nice 'n' simple."
Mola, who had finally caught up, crossed his arms.
"What? With just a rocket launcher?" He snapped. Willie shook his head.
"Aw, no, you little cockroach. But it'll be destroyed, one way or another."
Willie snapped his fingers. There was a pause. Then, on cue, eight large shapes along the fortress rose up from the water, covered in thick leather armor and armed to the teeth. They tilted back their heads in unison and gave a sputtering roar, their beady eyes swiveling in their sockets.
"C-chugglers!" Mola cried, ducking under Stranger's poncho. Stranger pushed him aside.
The chugglers grunted as they hobbled up on land, their frilled gills folded tightly over their necks. Willie grinned.
"We'll give you ten minutes to decide. If you don't... well, you'd best hurry up, heh."
The gates snapped shut abruptly. Ophelia started running towards the center of the fortress.
"Come on! We need a plan!" She said, hurrying along. Grubbs began emerging from buildings all along, wearing their last-legs armor and armed with spears. A grubb with a cloth mask over his face smoothed down a large map of the fortress and the area five miles away from it. Ophelia motioned for the three steef to approach, then slid on her own mask, which was cherry red.
"Okay, so," she said, pulling out a red marker. "We need some tactics. We need to come up with a foolproof plan that'll destroy the eight chugglers before they destroy us. Questions?"
No reply came. She nodded, satisfied.
"Right. Any suggestions?"
"We could try to take them out with arrows," a grubb archer suggested. "We could climb up on the walltops."
Ophelia shook her head; Stranger was suprised at how tactical she was.
"No. There's no armor up there, you'll all die. Other suggestions?"
"We could--"
"Mola," Ophelia interrupted, "don't answer."
"But I have a plan!" He whined, pushing his way through the crowd.
"Does it involve rabid fish, like your last plan? Cuz' fish can't get rabies, Mola--"
"No," Mola grinned. "It doesn't. What if we used the old clakker mines down the bank? We could blow em' up while they're inside!"
"How will they get inside?" Charlotte asked dully, crossing her arms. Mola blinked.
"Uh, uh... a decoy, maybe?"
Ophelia looked surprised. She slapped Mola hardily on the back, a smile forming under her mask. "Thats brilliant! The mines are perfect." She said, pointing to a thin line less than a half a mile away from the fortress on the map. "All we need is a decoy. They'll have to be distracting enough to be seen, a nusiance enough to be chased, and quick enough to leave the mine before it explodes."
Silence followed. Eventually Stranger patted Mola on the head.
"Why not have Mola do it? He's exactly what we need, and he thought of the plan."
"What? No!" Mola cried, jumping back. "What if I mess up? What if I explode?"
"You won't explode," Charlotte chuckled, a slightly nervous edge to her voice. "You're too fast for that."
"C'mon, Mola!" Ophelia said. "Its a good cause! To save our village, our home--"
"Okay!" Mola yelled, stamping his foot. "I'll do it. Then what? I can't lure them all inside."
"We'll take out the rest," Ophelia said. She turned to her fellow grubbs.
"Grubbs!" She said. "Here's what we have to do. Okay, so you ten over there, go down to the cellar and get some explosives."
"Okay!" The grubbs said.
"You keep explosives in the cellar?" Charlotte asked, but was cut off.
"Archers, go on the ramparts. Light a fire in a trashcan or something for fire arrows. Everyone with spears will stay here and get ready to fight!"
The grubbs cheered back in one huge, deafaning cheer.
"Last Legs Two!" They replied, saluting. They hurried off to do as they were told.
"I hope we're ready," Ophelia sighed to herself. She sat down and started sharpening her own spear.
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