Living in the Past
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15
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Title: LIVING IN THE PAST
Author: ulyferal
Rating: K+
Warnings: Profanity and some violence.
Disclaimer: “SWAT Kats: The Radical Squadron,” its characters and concepts are copyright to Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc and are used without permission.
Chapter 11: Preparing for the Night
Once the three had returned to the cavern, they hurried to where the SWAT Kats were making weapons. There were over forty people, a mix of Enforcers, security personal and munitions qualified mercenaries, working side-by-side making seed pod weapons. While they worked, other Kats were arriving at intervals, bringing in a supply of pods from wherever Razor had found them.
When the three arrived at their side, Razor looked over his shoulder. “Did you succeed?”
“Yes, thankfully. What can we do to help?” Feral asked.
“We’re good, actually. What time did you put on the note?” T-Bone asked, glancing up to stare at Feral.
“Around four this afternoon. Should give them enough time to get the info we need.”
“Good!” T-Bone turned back to his work.
Suddenly, a Kat ran up to the group. “We’ve run into problems collecting the pods,” the tom panted.
Since he was free, Feral responded. “What kind of problem?”
The tom grimaced. “The villagers use these pods too and had come out to harvest them and were rather upset to find us there taking so many of them. When I left, they were grumbling about going to their elders about it. The others are trying to stall them, but we need someone of authority to make them see reason and back off.”
“I’ll take care of this,” Feral said to those listening. The SWAT Kats nodded and continued their work. The Commander stalked off toward the Queen’s tent, the other tom following behind him.
When he reached the tent, the guards prevented his entry, but Sir Gregory was just inside and heard his voice. “Let them pass!” he called to the guards.
Feral and his companion went into the tent. The Queen was nowhere in sight and the back of the tent was closed off by a divider. She was most likely resting up for the night’s work, so Feral briefed the knight about their problem.
Sir Gregory nodded. “I understand and think I can help thee. Page!” he shouted. A young adult hurried up. “Bring some of my day wear for Sir Feral.” The page nodded and took off, returning minutes later with an armload of clothing. “Here, sir. They’ll most likely fit a bit snugly but should suffice for thy needs. When dealing with the peasants, one need only appear important – a horse will be the right touch -and inform them the pods are needed for their lord, nothing more. They’ll back off immediately and keep their mouths shut. It’s an unfortunate fact of life for those poor souls that must abide a cruel lord. Arguing means death, so none court it,” Sir Gabriel explained, his manner grim.
Feral grimaced, disgusted by this time period’s cruelty to its own people. “I thank you for the assistance and the clothing. I’ll return them shortly.”
“Tis glad I am that I could help thee solve this problem so easily, Sir Feral. Borrow my horse to complete thy deception.”
Feral thanked him again then turned and left on the heels of the page, who led the way to where the horses for the Queen’s troop were corralled. While the horse was being readied, Feral quickly changed with the help of the page, as the clothing was unfamiliar to him, then he was in the saddle and on his way toward the waterfall entrance with the tom who had brought the message riding double with him.
At the entrance, he was forced to wait more than ten minutes before villagers visiting the lake finished their business and departed. Only then could he slip out and ride over the hill and come in from a different direction than their hideaway, heading for the grove where the pods were growing.
Just out of sight of the grove, his passenger dropped to the ground and walked ahead of him, leading the way. When they arrived, the argument was still going strong, and it looked like a couple of brawny types were about to come to blows with his people.
He made the horse walk right up to the largest of the pair and halt. The brute froze, fist still clenched but eyes lowered respectfully. Everyone else with him instantly went silent at his appearance and watched him fearfully. His own people waited quietly, saying nothing.
Eyes narrowed, Feral assumed an affronted expression. “What is the meaning of this?”
“My lord, these people are upset that we are harvesting so many of the pods thee did order us to pick,” Morgan said quickly. He was in charge of their group and seeing to their protection.
When he had tried to get the villagers to understand that he was under orders about the pods, they became belligerent. Since he had no real status to push his demands, he had to back off to prevent a fight that would have drawn unwanted attention. He was very relieved when Feral had shown up looking like nobility. He had a good idea what the tom was up to so played along.
“Be that so?” Feral demanded, glowering at the belligerent thug still standing before him.
The tom lowered his eyes and said carefully, “We feared they be stealing the beripods our village needs, me lord. Didn’t know they be under your orders.”
“Our lord the Pastmaster did order these harvested for his use. Dare you deny what is rightfully his?” Feral demanded coldly.
The tom jerked his head up, eyes wide with terror. He and the rest of the villagers shook their heads violently in the negative and hurriedly dropped what they had taken.
“Good. Since thee have need, take what thy can carry and depart … quickly!” Feral barked, using his most commanding voice.
The peasants were shocked but grateful he would allow them to still take some pods. They hurriedly obeyed his orders, collecting as much as they could then running back through the forest and out of sight. It had taken less than ten minutes for them to clear out and leave only the Kats from the future behind.
“Great show you put on there, Commander,” Morgan smirked then turned to his crew and shouted, “Alright, you lot! Get busy… we’ve lost enough time and have to catch up.”
Everyone set to work again, filling woven baskets with pods.
Feral got down off the horse and hobbled it, allowing it to graze. Since he wasn’t needed inside, he’d help with the harvest.
“You should go rest, Commander. You have a vital part to play tonight,” Morgan cautioned him when he saw what Feral was going to do.
“I still have time to do that, but we are fast running out of time to get these weapons made, so this is a better use of my time. Besides, we can carry more on the horse,” Feral said, shrugging as he began picking up pods.
“Good idea.”
The two worked side by side for more than half an hour before Feral had a large enough load aboard his horse. Mounting up, he cantered off quickly, leaving Morgan and the rest to continue harvesting a little longer. By the time he got back and gave his load over to the weapons makers, Morgan and his crew arrived less than fifteen minutes later and did the same. With nothing more to do, the harvesters went to get some rest.
~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~
Back at the castle, when their guard left them, the three she-kats immediately split up to notify their leaders. The ones left behind had picked three of their strongest and bravest people among them to be leaders. There was one who lead the servants responsible for cleaning and insuring the fireplaces had wood and fires were set, another handled the group that worked in the kitchens, and the last was in charge of the body servants; ones who made the beds, helped nobles dress, wash, press, and mend their clothing, empty the chamber pots, and generally take care of the personal needs of those living in the castle except for the Pastmaster himself.
So it was that one of the she-kats picked up a kettle of porridge and left the kitchen to speak with the leader, who was in the main hall insuring the big fireplace was ready to take the food coming out of the kitchen to be put on spits in the fireplace. As she leaned close to put the kettle on one of the swinging hooks, she quickly whispered her message. The tom’s eyes widened then quickly shuttered so he wouldn’t give away his excitement. Pretending she had said nothing to him, he continued on with his work while she returned to the kitchen. Another of the she-kats had searched out and found the kitchen leader in the root cellar putting away the things they had brought in that day and passed the word onto him.
The last she-kat, the one Felina had given the messages to, still had the precious notes in her bodice and, picking up a basket of clean linen, proceeded to climb the stairs to the living quarters of the castle. It took her over thirty minutes to locate the leader of the body servants, and she was very tense and irate but hid it as they weren’t alone. When the two could find a spot they were safe from being overheard, she quickly gave him the messages.
He read them, eyes widening with growing hope. “Who was it that gave it to you?” he asked excitedly.
“She was tall, slim with black hair that had a white stripe through it,” the she-kat said, keeping her eyes and ears alert for a guard.
“I bet that’s Lt. Feral. It certainly sounds like her, and she was one of those that got away. Fantastic. At last, we’re going to get out of this hell hole. Okay, so they need to know where the creep is doing his hoodoo stuff, eh? Hmm…” The male frowned in concentration as he tried to think where that place might be.
“I think it’s down that forbidden door we’re never allowed through. I heard complaints from several of the Pastmaster’s personal servants just two days ago about being sent somewhere to clean with lye some kind of stone table. They were exhausted because the creep was adamant the table be thoroughly clean and forced them to go over it until he was satisfied it was. And, not only that, but one of them was taken with a fit of sneezing. One of the cooks scolded him for getting into the thyme of which he’s apparently allergic, but he insisted he hadn’t, the stuff had been growing where he was cleaning that damn table. That has to mean he was outdoors somewhere and it had to be close because they came through the kitchen from the main hall with buckets of lye when they were through.
“Are you sure he hadn’t been in the still room? That’s near the kitchens.”
“No it wasn’t the still room because he’d said ‘growing’ not ‘stored’ and, besides, there’s only a big wooden table in the still room not stone. I’m sure that door leads to a hidden courtyard; just what they’re looking for. After all, it’s just off the main hall and it appears to be part of the outer wall. It’s got to be where he’s going to cast the spell.”
“I think you may be right because I’ve seen nothing else that meets their description of an altar or being outside. But, just to be sure, I’ll do the rounds of my contacts first. Meanwhile, you go up and warn Ms. Briggs. I’ll get with the other leaders and figure out where the best hiding place would be for us to await rescue. ”
Giving a brief smile, she nodded her head, picked up her basket again and hurried off for the stairs that lead to the tower and its prisoner there.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she made her way upward. Only she and two others were allowed in the tower to take care of the she-kat’s needs. The guard eyed her with boredom as he turned and unlocked the door for her then closed it behind her after she stepped through.
Near the window was the beautiful blond she-kat. She’d been staring at the scenery as she usually did for lack of anything better to do but turned around in surprise as it wasn’t time to change her linens and it was too early for lunch to be served.
Setting her basket down, the she-kat hurried over to Briggs and proffered the messages she’d kept to give to the one who had the most authority among them.
Surprised, Callie took the small pieces of paper and read what they said. Her breath sucked in as she recognized Feral’s handwriting. The messages made her giddy with excitement and no little fear. What they planned to do was very dangerous and extremely risky, but the fact the Pastmaster planned to cast a spell that would permanently strand them, she understood why this was the only way and time to effect a rescue.
Reading the notes one last time, she hugged them to her chest a moment before striding to her fireplace and throwing them in the fire. They couldn’t risk them being discovered. Turning back to the waiting she-kat, she eyed the nervous female and ordered, “Bring me up to date on what you know and what’s being planned.”
The female bobbed her head and moved closer before beginning to speak in a low voice. She told Ms. Briggs that everyone was being notified, a search was on for a good and safe hiding place, and follow up on a suspicion they had of where the spell casting was going to be done.
“The only thing we don’t know what to do about is you, Ms. Briggs,” she finished, worry in her voice.
Callie shook her head. “I’ll be at the spell casting. After all, I’m the main component of it,” she said sourly. “So, you don’t have to worry about me. When the rescue happens, they’ll try to rescue me there. Just you and the rest be ready to go. We only have one shot at this. And, don’t forget to send that information they need by four o’clock.”
“Yes, ma’am, we know and we won’t miss the deadline. I’d better go. Good luck to all of us,” she murmured, walking toward the door with her basket.
“Yes, we’re going to need it,” Callie murmured soberly.
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