Chapter 2: Fortification of Skyddholm

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The early morning air was crisp on his thick pelt. The smell of damp earth and vegetation hung in the air. The warm sun chipping away at the cool air beckoned him onward. The whole environment exhibited an effervescent quality. A perfect day for the escapade that lay ahead.

Tyr did not remember when, where, or how he had received his invitation, but he did remember who had sent it. No more welcome could an invitation be. His heart danced along with him as each foot glided across the forest floor carrying him closer to his rendezvous. The soft humus gritting beneath his naked feet without leaving even the finest print.

He hadn't bothered to wear much. A pair of nice breeches, a linen shirt, and not much more were needed for the occasion. He hadn't even remembered putting them on or leaving the house. He must have been so mystified by the request for his company that he had hurried himself along without a thought or care. So entranced was he that he hadn't even remembered his pocket watch.

It had not once occurred to him how long he'd been walking or how far. It could have been a hundred miles or a hundred feet. And of time he had no way to tell anyway. In his deep reverie Tyr could not be stopped. He may as well have floated winged on a cloud, an angel so far removed from the material that nothing could disturb him. Almost certain that if he had run headlong into a tree it would have passed right through him in an incorporeal mist.

It was not far now. Nothing was on this day. So immediate had everything been at hand that he would be dressed, out the door, and here trodding through the forest in what seemed to be mere moments. The young man at once stood triumphantly on a hill just above his destination. The mirrored surface of the ground reflecting the trees beyond. The uniform surface had the quality of nacre, that immaculate substance which was thought to be the birthplace of pearls.

Then all at once his innocent heart fell so deep into him that he could just about feel it in his bladder. There was no one, no sound, nothing there to greet him he realized. Alone and chagrined Tyr nearly slipped into the water as he toppled to his knees, face in his hands.

Crushed by this realization Tyr had not noticed the area around him overcast in shadow.

"Can I join you?" The rich allure of that baritone voice washed the entire crisis from the otter's mind.

As Tyr lifted his head two large sable furred arms wrapped around his shoulders. "I'm glad you came," Brokr whispered in his undersized ears.

A thrill crawled up Tyr's pelt at the breathy whisper of the welcome interlocutor. In Brokr's strong arms imparted a warmth the svelte young otter had not enjoyed in all his life. Something exceeding even the loving embrace of a mother caring for her ailing child. He had not wanted it to end, for he knew that the moment it did he'd be filled with a deep aching sorrow for its loss.

"Would you like to join me in the water, sweetheart?"

The fur above his tail began to bristle with excitement. Tyr toyed with the thought that he could be Brokr's "sweetheart". He had long awaited the receipt of some attestation, any attestation, to the feelings he imagined could be lying beneath the surface. This aroused him somewhat, and he could feel his genitals engorging themselves.

He couldn't imagine any of this could be true. What had driven his crush to reach out and arrange this liaison? Had he been seen on their masturbatory jaunt through the woods? Perhaps once he'd thought Brokr had left and slinked over to the spot where Brokr's seed had been spilled the brazened canine found a hideout from which he could spy Tyr, much as Tyr had done to him? There were so many possibilities, but that they could have led to this only aroused him further.

They both stood up and Tyr turned to face the handsome brawny young dog to find he was already shirtless. Brokr's tail wagged gently as they stood with their snouts nearly touching. He wasn't sure what to do next, but Brokr took no time to make a move. Their kiss was as Tyr had always imagined it. He especially enjoyed the long broad tongue that filled his mouth. His own barely entered Brokr's mouth by comparison.

Tyr had never kissed anyone, and he wasn't sure if he was doing it correctly. However, as if to answer Tyr's burning question a deep moan emanated from deep within his companion and one hand was placed on Tyr's cheek while the other drew him in closer. He felt something stiff against his abdomen and this caused his pants to become as tight as they'd ever felt.

Taking a half step back Brokr disconnected from Tyr's mouth as it still searched longingly for him before the otter's eyes opened blinking mournfully at him. A hand pressed carefully upon Tyr's golden chest, and then just a single claw dragged itself down the center of his torso popping every button it snagged on until not a one remained.

With another kiss Brokr began to extract each arm from the shirt and then tossed it carelessly onto a nearby shrub. Tyr felt himself melt tenderly into the other as their osculations intensified. Lip on lip, tongue on tongue, Tyr's little heart pounded as hard as it could against the rough masculine chest.

A hand slipped between them and Tyr worried he'd be forced to end this supple exchange they had going once more. Instead the hand slipped between his waistband, the claws caressing his pubis as it searched lower such that the slender body squirmed involuntarily and a soft squeal surprised both of them that they broke away from their oral embrace before Brokr grinned impishly and locked mouths with him once more.

He'd always dreamed of what it might feel like to have a hand of another stroke his penis, but it never really did justice to what he was feeling now. His lover behaved as if he'd done this all a million times. Lips closing and parting as he slowly stroked the hardened appendage up and down. He'd felt many times, too many to count, the sensation of his foreskin rubbing the tip of his cock, but it was those moments when Brokr's paw brushed it as it slid down that sent shivers of pleasure all the way through him.

Slipping his hand free of the trousers the man's other hand met the other and they fumbled sweetly to unhitch the button and release Tyr from his carnal imprisonment.

Now free, the pants fell to his feet and he kicked them off clumsily, refusing to pull his face away from Brokr's.

It was his turn next. He suddenly felt a lot less confident about his abilities as he struggled to unhook the button of the tightened trousers. Tyr had seen how large Brokr's thick red shaft was and he knew that these pants must be full to bursting. Tyr felt a bit embarrassed that his wasn't quite as large as the other's, but Brokr did not seem to have any qualms still stroking the uncut penis.

Now freed Tyr couldn't help but look down to admire it. It was so impressive, and it was closer than he'd ever imagined it would be. Pointed and long, with a bulb at the base. Since he'd first seen it he imagined how amazing it would feel once that thick knot was inside him. How full he'd feel with all of that penetrating all the way into him. Once more the fur above his tail bristled excitedly, and he even felt his own sphincter quiver with longing. He didn't remember his preparations in the haze of his excitement, but he knew he had in hopes that this monolith would be bearing down on his innocent hole.

As he considered stroking this perfect organ and returning to their muzzling he found himself doing something unexpected. Tyr sniffed his way down the broad chest of the blacksmith as he fell slowly to his knees and then licked up and down this savory vermillion confection.

It tasted as savory and delicious as Tyr had ever thought it could be. So much so that he quickly found it stabbing at the back of his throat. He slipped down far enough that he could tease the two tremendous testes with his tongue.

At this Brokr let out a long exasperated moan as though his testes desperately needed to empty themselves all at once into Tyr's stomach. Though as much as he pined for his first taste of semen, Tyr would much rather have it fill his stomach from the other direction. A mouthful simply wouldn't be enough to satiate the young man who had felt like he'd waited so long he deserved it all.

Stroking up and down with the soft wet flesh of his mouth Tyr felt the heat of the swollen dick in his mouth and it caused saliva to dribble from his cheek. He could tell he was only getting hungrier for it the longer it stayed in him. His loins felt like fire when Brokr began thrusting it into his snout. More and more it went deeper and deeper. The tip every once in a while sliding fully into his greedy throat.

It wasn't until the knot was completely filling his cheeks that he knew he was about to enjoy the fruits of his pleasure. Tyr was determined to swallow everything that was given to him. He fondled the drooping balls as they swung against his chin, urging forth everything that has ever been stored in them.

Finally he felt the throb of the nearly volcanic member against the inside of his cheeks as the first load was about the erupt. Here it came! Tyr would at long last be able to partake the sweet reward he'd so yearned for. The last thrust jammed his mouth full and....

"Tyr, time to wake up!," the entire moment was shattered with those few words in his mother's voice. He pulled his pillow hard over his head and squeezed so tight he heard a humming in his ears and lights flashed beneath his eyelids. Tyr had never felt such disappointment. Nor had he ever been so pent up with hormones.

He rolled back into a supine position, his erection the mast of the tremendous vessels that visited the harbor each day, throbbing at full sail. Hearing his mom clattering about in the kitchen Tyr slunk off to the bathroom to take care of the load he wasn't able to have pounded out of him. Without thinking his fingers managed their way completely inside of himself just imagining how his dream should have played out. In the end it was probably the biggest ejaculation he'd ever had in his life. Now more than ever he needed someone inside of him.

********************

The sunlight washed his face as Tordahl blinked his hapless eyes in the sudden brightness. But it did more than that, it seemed to burn away the wickedness that had befallen them a day and a half before. It hadn't taken them long to navigate the tunnels that brought them here. However, in their enfeebled state they had been forced to eat almost an entire day recovering.

Despite his inexperience his compatriots had not dropped his title. In fact, they had sought fit to bestow him with colonelship instead. The young stoat hadn't had time to think about how undeserving he felt of the title, he was quite sufficiently overwhelmed with much more important things.

"Colonel, what is our next plan of action?", asked a lanky but self-effacing red squirrel. How Tordahl wished he had soldiers with a little more might. An elk, a polar bear, a wolverine, anything with some bite. He'd have settled for as little as a pigeon or other bird to send word back to the Jarl Gostav that Aedenfaal would fall. And there was certainly no question about it. There would soon be no such thing as Aedenfall on any map. It would simply become part of whatever province this mad bear saw fit to designate.

Tordahl had spent the last couple dozen seemingly endless hours considering what the ersatz Tsar had planned. There was simply no way that the Kingdom of Othenland would crumble at the hands of this wild creature. It was an empire comprising dozens of jarldoms, across vast expanses of forest and tundra. Not even the savage armies of Tarivosk have been able to break through into these marches of Othenland. So what hope did this lone bear have, with his ragtag army of exotic beasts?

"We will do the only thing we can. We are going to fortify the nearby town. The maps have it marked as 'Skyddholm'. It's the best we have," the exasperation was palpable on the young officer's breath. In spite of all of his exhaustion Tordahl pulled himself as high as his willowy figure would allow, threw his shoulders back, puffed out his chest, and announced their advance. They would not arrive until the following morning, allowing for rest. He hoped that his messenger had already gotten word to the people there.

It took time to cross down from the mountains to the small town. The farms along the way offered what food they could to help their bloodied and fatigued guests recover some of their strength. At one farm they were able to get fresh bandages for the wounded, clean some of the filth from their pelts, and take a quick respite before ambling on to their destination.

As night fell the haphazard assembly were forced to take cover in a thicket of trees as the nerve-racking chirping filled the night air once again. Lest their chiropteran nightmare begin anew. They got sleep as best they could hunkered down in the small ravine which offered too little cover to bring much comfort.

The sonic scouting continued well into the wee hours of the morning. They probing noises came and went at a regular interval. Whoever was in charge had their soldiers incredibly well trained. It must have been that frightening blond-furred feline that had instilled these troops with such uniformity of purpose. Tordahl hoped silently to himself that his soldiers hadn't understood the gravity of the situation they were in. It was nigh impossible that they stood any chance against the might of their foe, but he certainly wasn't going to let that stop them trying.

As dawn came closer there went an hour without a sound in the sky. Hushed whispers urged Tordahl to allow them to carry on, but something had not seemed right about the sudden disinterest of the night. He held to his previous order, they would remain until sunrise. With the sun above the darkened figures would have nowhere to hide, and from this cover they could lay waste to their unit.

Another half hour passed without a sound, and as his men continued to become more and more restless the soft chirping returned. It had been a ruse, and Tordahl had seen right through it. He guessed that they must have taken a reprieve to rest and used it as an excuse to lure them into a false sense of complacency. Tordahl thanked the heavens that in spite of his lack of years he had still had the wisdom to see through this small deceit.

He quelled any self-praises by reminding himself over and over that it was the oldest trick in the book. They counted on exactly the kind of unease and dissent that was rousing his men only moments before. Again he thanked whatever protective force that had looked out for them that none of his subordinates had broken ranks. He did not command the same respect as his predecessor, and it was clear he was seen more as an equal than a superior. This would have to change if they stood any chance of holding their own against the upcoming onslaught.

With the sun firmly at their back, they pulled their troupe together and continued down toward Skyddholm. There was not a single shadowy outline in the overcast sky. He hoped their luck held out, and that the nocturnal spies had decided not to risk a daytime excursion. It was true that doing so would put them at incredible risk of coming under fire. And with that comfort in mind Tordahl focused on keeping up the morale of his men. He ignored that worry at the back of his mind that there could be flying troops better suited to the day time.

From the treeline the town still appeared to be going about its usual business, for the most part. However, at the harbor there appeared to be a bustling activity all surrounding a single ship. One of his men clarified that it was a frigate, and a badly damaged one at that.

As they inched closer to the town they noticed that the ship was having its cannons and ammunition offloaded. The stoat bristled with the first bit of hope he'd had in days. The messenger must have arrived and found that this town had the ship at harbor to give the message to. It was not the most overwhelming force he could have asked for, but it would definitely give them some odds to throw into the fray.

The first townsfolk they ran into were a family of roe deer who ran a farm at the edge of town. They politely pointed the makeshift colonel in the right direction and were left murmuring amongst themselves. The soldiers all assumed that the people here had never seen more than a couple soldiers together at any given time.

As they entered the center of the town their thoughts were confirmed as everyone stopped whatever they were doing and stared at the forlorn bunch. Their tattered uniforms drew concerned pointing and gasps from the audience.

The population was sparse causing the stoat to get somewhat downcast, but he wouldn't let his compatriots see that he felt so. The gawking crowd appeared just about ready to return to their day-to-day, so Tordahl took the initiative, "who is the leader of this town?".

No one spoke up so the officer plowed on, "the magistrate?"

This term seemed only to confuse the town's inhabitants, "the consul?"

Nothing again, "the mayor?"

At this the people seemed to be searching so that they may identify the person in charge. Though, much to his disappointment, no such person appeared to be present.

A middle aged puffin, about five inches shorter than the lanky colonel and paunchy around the middle stepped out of the crowd. "The Mayor is probably down at the Inn. You'll need to head toward the harbor. It'll be near the edge of the village on your right. They've set up some kind of a command center there."

Tordahl thanked the older man and returned to his trek through the village. The town's unimpressive size was emphasized by the swiftness of their arrival at the Inn. Regardless, had the circumstances been different, Tordahl could see himself living in a town like this. He found it charming and the view of the sea breathtaking. If he and the town both survived he may return here someday. Perhaps set down some roots.

Preparing to cross the threshold of the quaint Inn he shook himself from his reverie. Now was hardly the time to be distracted with fanciful notions.

Once inside the building felt like home. Only reinforcing those feelings of warmth he got from this small village. He noticed several tables had been pushed together and were surrounded by several men who all had the air of being in charge. The largest one, a polar bear, he recognized as being a ship captain by his uniform. Without question it must have been the captain of the frigate in the harbor.

Around the table were the captain, a rotund otter about twice the age of Tordahl and in nicer clothes than he'd ever owned, a pinch-faced water shrew and a stern-looking pine marten that looked to be naval officers a step or two down from captain, and a matronly otter dressed as a parlormaid that appeared to be present to tend to the men around the table.

The men halted their urgent discussion to inspect the newcomers. A few other naval mariners that were mulling about awaiting orders stopped to look as well.

At this Tordhal blocked his group from entering and indicated that he wanted all of them to remain outside for the time being except the vole who had since the fight to the caves been the closest thing to a lieutenant that he'd had.

The gigantic snowy bear started, "Welcome Lieutenant. Your messenger was received and preparations are underway now. How many men have you brought with you?"

Confidence waning Tordahl answered, "sixty-seven. We had casualties along the way, and lost several wounded. Where is my messenger?"

The Captain's mouth opened, but this time it was the vole who spoke up, "He's a Colonel."

First answering the superior officer, "The messenger died of wounds inflicted on his way here. He got us the information you sent with him just before he passed." He then turned to the vole and, glaring down his snout, asked "And who are you?"

"Sergeant Malkus Finderbaun, sir."

"Come here, so we need not call across the room," the Captain's words were met with disappointed shakes of the head from the men mulling about. They were looking for anything interesting they might overhear to pass the time.

As the two arrived at the table the Captain continued, "Why are you wearing Lieutenant then, young man?" a lone finger pointing out the Colonel's rank insignia. His eyes appeared beady in his monolithic skull, but nonetheless carried the severe gaze of an apex predator as he examined Tordahl.

"Field promotion, sir," the wavering officer gulped.

"Commanding officer?"

Tordahl gulped so hard he appeared to be drinking his own tongue, "Colonel Jorgensen of the East Army 3rd Brigade. He was captured by the enemy, presumed killed."

"Ah yes. Jorgensen is well known to me. What is your name Colonel?" the bear asked, still eyeing him like a meal.

"Colonel Guthrik Tordahl. And you are, sir?" he responded with a polite formality.

"Captain Knute Ivarson." The Captain's gaze seemed to soften and he invited Tordahl to join them. "Welcome to the party, Colonel Tordahl. We are just discussing where we are going to place our artillery. The enemy is less than a day behind us. Skyddholm is of little strategic value to the invaders. And when I say 'little', I mean absolutely none whatsoever. They will resupply here and continue onto Jarl Gostav and the sacking Ernistad."

Without a breath Captain Ivarson went on, "There is no chance whatsoever we are going to stop them. We have estimates of both their ground and naval forces, and they are going to sweep through us like an inferno. The only hope we have is of holding them off as long as we can and hoping that the King can reinforce Ernistad in time."

Though afraid of the wrath of this great and terrible creature before him the stoat, who happened to be the youngest member at the table, spoke up, "Why don't we set traps and get the people out of the town?" He asked this knowing he had also planned to make his stand in this town.

Everyone turned to Tordahl making him feel more naive than ever with their faces full of displeasure as though they'd already thought of that. Only the Captain reassured him, "We had considered something like that, but their ground, air, and sea forces are all considerably faster than all of these refugees could hope to be. We have decided to send women and children away by fishing vessel to the west. In hopes that they will make it into the heart of Othenland safely. One ship has already set sail." It was a minor relief, but the young man took comfort in it nonetheless.

With no less gravity in his voice, Ivarson added, "We have also sent word by air to both Jarl Gostav and the King himself. Informing them of the positions, numbers, and equipment of our enemies. Every young man over 15 has been drafted into service. And now we are just trying to decide where and how to fortify."

"Before we get back to it, perhaps I ought to introduce you all. This is Gert Nystrom, the Mayor of this fine town. In case you have not been informed, the name of the town is Skyddholm," Captan Ivarson paused for questions and to take a quick drink of water. Though this quick drink consisted of a full pint of the refreshment poured down his throat in an instant.

Receiving only blank stares patiently waiting for him to continue he did so, "These are my Lieutenants: Dag Anderson," a claw reached out to point at the shrew, "and Stovald Tenggren." The pine marten was then indicated in turn.

"Now that we've all been introduced, we will get back to business."

This time it was the Mayor who spoke in a voice a bit higher in pitch than the Colonel had expected, "As I was saying, the only way down from the mountain passes is down this way. The land slopes from the mountains and with the river here it funnels directly to the town. The only high ground is the cliffs here, and the hills here on the opposite side of the town." He drew circles in the air above the map as he mentioned each location.

"We will have to check the terrain on the cliffs. It is unwise to set up our forces on the opposite side of town and give them all of that cover. Not to mention leveling Skyddholm in the process. However, with our back to the cliffs we have no retreat. And we'll be hammered from land and sea."

Tordahl broke in, "They have bats, and those bats have bombs. They decimated our forces at nightfall. Two regiments nearly evaporated in minutes. We need some kind of protection from above. Otherwise we will be facing the same devastation we faced on the night of our previous battle." The shell shock of that horrific event afflicted him anew. He was surprised by the faces that the messenger hadn't relayed this detail. Though, the poor man had been passing from this mortal realm.

"We'll have to figure that out first, then. Any ideas?" the bear's deep voice grumbled.

"I have given it some thought, but unless we have a way to light the sky I don't know that we stand a chance. I haven't been able to think of a solution for that," the young stoat admitted.

The men at the table began arguing about how they would deal with the threat. The Mayor seemed to be offering little more than panicked chattering. The naval officers talked about flaming arrows and setting the field ablaze. Nothing particularly practical with the resources they had available. At one point the shrew had offered the possibility that they might use fishing nets to ensnare the bats, but with no clear concept of how the nets would get hundreds of feet in the air.

From the din came a single word spoken softly, but resolved enough to cut through the squabble, "excuse me". Everyone turned to look at the servant woman who had brought herself right over to the table's edge.

"Yes?" the astonished Captain asked with uncertainty.

"You say you can shoot them with your rifles, but only if you can see them. Then your answer is right here," a single delicate finger landing on the map.

The men stared at her without comprehension. Her finger placed upon the lighthouse at the end of one of the breakwaters which created the harbor.

"The lighthouse. Turn the lantern on the lighthouse to face just above your soldiers and lock it in place, then when you hear the bats approach you will light the lamp. You should have no trouble seeing them clearly."

The officers and the mayor all looked around at each other and then came an exceptional guffaw from the Captain that resounded off the cobblestone and wooden beams of the less than cavernous room. "That's brilliant! We need to get her a uniform!."

The rest of the men remained silent, but they all wore a laugh in their grins. The woman's face, however, remained placid with an air of kindness.

Just as unexpectedly as had been with the barmaid, it was the vole, Sergeant Finderbaun, who piped up next, "do we have mines? Or could we make some mines? If we place them in the trees here and here, we could do tremendous damage to their lines before they even form up."

The three naval personnel began a quiet conversation among themselves for a few moments, leaving the rest of them to wait. A minute or two had passed before they joined the others once more. "We could easily construct some. Perhaps we could put some of the townsfolk together to assemble them?" said Lieutenant Anderson eyeballing the Mayor.

"Sure. They would need to be shown how, but I'm certain we could make as many as you could need," the still amusing squeak of his voice replied confidently.

"Now to the artillery, since we've been momentarily diverted. I have twenty-six twelve-pound guns, and another six of the six-pounders. If we plan to hit the ships we will want to use twelve-pounders. We could spare twelve perhaps?" said the Captain.

"That should be sufficient," the shrew replied.

"Colonel Tordahl, you know how to dig in your lines."

"Yes, sir."

"I am going to put you in charge of getting the artillery pieces set correctly. Mayor, I will assign a soldier to show some of your people how to manufacture the mines. Every able-bodied man is already going over field training with my warrant officers. So everyone that is left besides is to report to Colonel Tordahl to reinforce the lines."

"Sergeant Finderbaun, do you think you could take a few of your men and place the mines?"

At the polar bear's request the Sergeant raised himself up stick straight and saluted, "Yes, sir!"

"Okay, then that leaves the three of us to our ship. We have a surprise in store for their navy."

At this the meeting concluded. And though Tordahl knew how terrible their odds were, a part of him was thrilled that he'd have a chance to repay these miscreants for what they'd done to his comrades.

The people of the town and their guests set to work on the largest undertaking this minute hamlet had ever seen. A few of the town's avian inhabitants took turns on patrol. With fortune on their side the evening came and went without a sign of the invading hordes, followed by a full night of undisturbed work. While the aura of fear could be felt everywhere around them, they did not falter, in hopes that the next day would bring a positive result for all of their efforts. The gratitude was felt by all for the late arrival of the enemy.