Here's the next instalment, complete with less dying.

IV

As Jo talked to Cheltam, Emma paced Lord Hewson’s ready room. Picket had just left her, having spent a good ten minutes trying to organise some kind of patrols to go back to the citadels. She had done her best to have a useful input, but she felt even more unprepared for a war of espionage than for one above ground. She knew she had to do something, quickly, about her soldiers. They were bound to be restless and unhappy after the way in which they had left First Warren, mourning their fallen comrades and surely unwilling to live in a hole. By now, the plan was certain to have spread.

The problem was, Emma wasn’t entirely sure what would help. She had made so many speeches recently, and she had lied. They had not won. They were hiding in a wrecked citadel because she had made incredibly bad decisions. To make an inspirational speech now seemed rather hypocritical.

She sighed. If only some of her old councillors were there. Lord Rake, for instance, would have known what to do. Maggie Weaver would have known, had Emma even known where she was. She hoped the old doe was alive somewhere. She wished she had Helmer back, who would have told her they were doomed and found a way to fix it anyway.

Emma sat down, heavily. There was no use in thinking like this. Helmer and the rest were dead, and she had to make do with what she had. After all, her council still consisted of the best of rabbits. They would just have to think of something to do. Perhaps, after all, she ought to make a speech.

To this end, Emma called all of the rabbits currently inside Harbone into the Harbone equivalent of the Savoury Den. She had no way of telling if they all came, but she was heartened a little by the size of the crowd. Although their combined force had looked, as indeed it was, tiny beside that of the wolves surrounding First Warren, crammed in here it seemed large enough to win a war. Emma noticed that most of the Terralains appeared to be present, and hoped that she could think of something to say that would please them too. As it became clear that no more rabbits were coming, Emma vaulted up onto a table in the centre of the room.

“Listen to me!” she called, her shout echoing off the walls.

There was a total, dead silence. Everybody listened.

“We’re here,” Emma continued, “because it feels like we lost a war. We’re reduced, again, to hiding underground and trying to make the best of it. The Green Ember is lost. But we are not beaten!”

There was scattered cheering.

Emma ploughed on. “We are alive, are we not? We are here, despite everything. Morbin attacked First Warren with the intention of destroying our fragile little cause once and for all, and he has failed. Indeed, his attack helped our new friends the Terralains to join us. We are stronger now than before, and it will not be long before we can overcome Morbin the Blackhearted. It will not be long before we take what is rightfully ours and live in peace and harmony in the Mended Wood.”

More cheering, louder this time.

“You may have heard from your officers that we intend to stay here, in this citadel beset by tragedy. That, you might think, that we intend to hide. Perhaps this is true, but I would call it waiting, waiting and preparing for the day when we will rise out of the earth. In the meantime I beg of you all to stay strong. We can all play our parts in peacetime as well as in war. We are united, and I ask that we, every one of us, do our best to maintain this peace. Only together can rabbitkind succeed against our foes, and the more united we are the less hold Morbin will have over us. We stand together!”

The cheering was almost deafening this time, and Emma struggled to be heard over it.

“We stand together,” she repeated, “despite everything the world has thrown at us. Let the hope for the future and the memory of the past make us strong. Let us fight for what we love, for our families and our children and our children’s children, for everything which is good about the world. To be brave in the face of battle is one thing, but the bravery I ask of you today and in the days that will follow is perhaps far more challenging. I only ask, for myself and the whole wounded world, that every one of you does their best.”

She paused for a fraction of a moment before launching into the old oath, knowing that the Green Ember of which it spoke was almost certainly lost. Almost immediately, she decided that the old rhythms mattered far more than the actual truth behind her words, and led the gathered rabbits in a rousing chorus of the oath first penned by Fleck Blackstar.

She dismissed the gathering of rabbits with a promise that anybody with a problem who wished to bring it to her was more than welcome to. It was heading towards evening when she returned to the room set aside for her, exhausted. She hoped that speeches would be enough for now, until she thought of a proper plan.

She had little hope of digging into First Warren. She knew well the distance of it from Harbone, having marched it with an exhausted, wounded army, but there seemed to be nothing else to do but dig in here and wait. Perhaps somebody would think of a way for them to defeat Morbin, instead of repeating last time and going in with no idea and a healthy dose of luck which had not quite lasted long enough. Emma wished she had been trained in soldiering. She was in no way ashamed of her calling as a healer, or of the lives she had saved, but she wanted desperately to be of use to the rabbits that called her their princess. A healer queen was not what the cause needed right now. They needed a warrior king to lead them to victory, and that was not Emma. Unfortunately, Emma knew that she was all her army had.

Emma was pacing again without realising. She stopped, wondering how many times she had walked the few steps across her room, and wished she were able to settle. Instead of settling, though, she kept pacing, mentally checklisting the steps she needed to take. Digging of the tunnels had to be supervised, patrols organised, Picket’s little groups of messengers dispatched, feeding of the army worked out and a plan for the future made. Yes, she had delegated those tasks, but she still felt personally responsible for seeing them carried out. She still felt that if any more of the rabbits in her care were killed it would be her fault.

There was a knock on the door. “Emma?” Heyna Blackstar called, evidently concerned.

“Heyna! Please come in. How are you feeling?”

The door opened and Heyna entered, not meeting Emma’s gaze. “Fine.”

“Of course you’re not fine,” Emma rejoindered. “How could you be? I just wish I could fix broken hearts like broken arms.”

Heyna smiled sadly. “I’m afraid it may be rather difficult to do so, but please don’t worry about me. I’ll survive.”

“You don’t have to do this alone. If you ever want to talk to me about anything, you know where to find me.”

“You have far more problems than I do. You’ve lost just as much as I have.”

“That doesn’t make it normal, nor does it make it right. I’m so sorry you have to bear the pain of it.”

“We’ll get through this, I hope.”

“That’s the spirit,” Emma said, with an attempt at a grin. “Did you like my speech?”

“Very rousing. I’m sure everybody enjoyed it.”

“If only we could win the war on speeches. I don’t think Morbin’s are exactly renowned.”

“He’s not exactly the speechifying type. Garten Longtreader tends to do those, I think.”

“Cheating,” Emma observed. “How like them. This means, of course, that we ought to win.”

“True. We should. Maybe we will, one day.”

“I almost don’t want to ask, but how are the survivors from Kingston coping? How many made it?”

Heyna looked down. “Two dozen? They’re a little shaken, like everybody here, but they’ll make it. Kingston rabbits are made of strong stuff.”

Emma nodded. “I learned that from you and your family, I think. If they follow your example in any way we’ll be delighted to have them here.”

“Thank you. They’ll appreciate that.”

“Perhaps I’ll tell them myself. I think I’d like to talk to them.”

“You don’t have to-” Heyna started, but Emma interrupted her.

“It would be my pleasure. As my talents seem to lie in speeches, an opportunity to make more seems like a good idea.”

Heyna smiled. “You bring hope wherever you go.”

“That seems rather too poetic,” Emma protested. “Considering that I also bring a total lack of a plan.”

“Who needs a plan, right?”

“Oh, nobody. Plans are useless, of course.” Emma paused for a moment, then continued. “Heyna, I need to ask a favour of you. Can I put you in charge of rounding up all of the civilians here and finding out where they can be most help? We need a better hospital arrangement, and people to cook and clean and all those things that an army isn’t designed to do. I understand it’ll be difficult, but-”

“Of course I’ll do it,” Heyna cut in. “It’s the least I can do, so long as you don’t do anything that requires my protection.”

“I’ll be safe enough here,” Emma promised. “Thank you, Heyna.”

“Thank you. I just hope I can help you.”

“You help me all the time. Just keep being you. We need as much of your devotion in this army as we can.”

Heyna smiled. “With you as our princess, that’s not difficult.”

Emma wanted to protest, but she could sense that Heyna gained some little comfort from the words. She hated being trusted in that way, but she promised herself inwardly that she would do her very best to be worthy of Heyna’s trust. To be worthy, in fact, of her whole army.