In Kinshy, the ancient tongue of the first High Ones, the castle was Maev Astuté, (Our Crown). The first High Ones began construction of the great castle. Many Hedgie commoners, however, called it Mae Vasuté, (My Steps in Agony). The play on words was more than an odd coincidence. Rising like a jagged needle from the summit of Star’s Door Peak, Maev Astuté had a shadowed place in Hedgeland lore, as its commoner name suggested.
Not all Hedgies felt affection for the project, as FoRoar-2036 was reminded by the grumbling comments of a creature in line behind him.
“Yar, you fat-faced bullies,” a Wood Cow named Emil muttered under his breath as two members of the High One’s Royal Patrol passed. Although the climbers were packed together in line, another narrow lane ran along beside the climbers. This lane was reserved exclusively for the High One’s Royal Patrols. Others were forbidden to set foot in it. The Royal Patrols moved up and down the line, tossing those unable to continue off the edge. The harsh discipline was effective. The line kept moving.
The Royal Patrol stopped a few paces ahead. Emil shuddered as he looked over the Patrol. Skull Buzzards, recruited especially for their harsh and heartless manners, made up the elite Patrols. The fiendish Buzzards were not Hedgies. Not trusting Hedgies to guard him and enforce his will, the High One recruited Skull Buzzard mercenaries from distant Crags. Infamous for their cruelty to those in trouble, the High Ones found them perfect for service in the Royal Patrols.
Emil’s eyes happened to meet those of the Skull Buzzard who wore the gold-braid insignia of a commander on the collar of his uniform. The Patrol leader’s face was thin and pale, his feathers grizzled, his eyes bloodshot. Deep, darkly-wrinkled folds of skin hung loosely in great pockets around his neck. Otherwise, Emil could see little of the Skull Buzzard’s body. The heavy winter uniform, issued for service above the snow line, was buttoned up tight against the cold. It covered so much of the body, with so many layers of weighty fabric, that the Buzzard walked stiffly.
An old Coyote had collapsed on the stairs, but had not fallen over the edge. He lay moaning piteously in the frigid wind. Uncontrollable shudders convulsed his body.
“There now, none of your whining shrieks here, Mr. Coyote, be off to your ancestors! It’s past your time! Come! There you go!” The large burly Skull Buzzards rolled the unfortunate Coyote toward the edge of the stairs with their boots.
Even in such dire circumstances, the line of climbers was not allowed to halt. Shuffling along in the line, Emil moved forward toward the spot where the Royal Patrol Buzzards were kicking the poor Coyote, who was now weakly begging for mercy.
“No, No, you lazy dog,” cried one of the Skull Buzzards, stomping his boot on the poor creature’s paw, which was grasping frantically to keep from sliding into the abyss. “The High Ones did not provide this Crowning Glory for you to whimper and complain! Arise and climb if you have worth. Go to your ancestors if you have none.”
The Skull Buzzard commander raised his boot to give one more decisive kick to the fallen Coyote, when Emil, passing by in the line of climbers, stepped out of line and cried ‘No!’ in a voice that echoed even above the howling wind.
“What?” roared the Royal Patrol Commander, turning savagely round.
“No!” Emil thundered again, stepping forward into the forbidden Royal Patrol lane. “I command you to stop.”
“Stop?” cried the Skull Buzzard, with a derisive sneer.
“Yes!” shouted Emil.
Puzzled and confused by the unexpected opposition, the Royal Patrol Commander stepped back from the whimpering Coyote, giving his challenger a frightful look.
“Leave him alone!” repeated Emil, moving forward to protect the Coyote. “I will not allow you to torment and kill this helpless creature. I defy you. Touch him at your own peril. But I give you quarter if you leave him to me, which is better for all.”
The Royal Patrol Commander continued to gaze upon Emil, his eyes narrowed in dangerous hatred and contempt. But traces of confusion and astonishment also flickered across his face. A Royal Patrol had never before been challenged.
“Leave this poor wretch to my care,” Emil said. “You have shown no qualities that lead me to believe you know how to care for anyone. Leave him to me. I will carry him to shelter.”
“Get back in line!” screamed the Skull Buzzard, almost beside himself with rage. At the same time, he seized the Coyote, who had crawled somewhat back from the edge, and pulled him back.
“Yar, you greasy-beaked thugs, touch him at your own risk!” thundered Emil fiercely. “I will not stand by and see it done. I have courage enough to send you to your ancestors! See if you dare to test the determination of a Wood Cow!”