High Rhulain

27

Leatho Shellhound struggled wildly to avoid the spear as Kaltag stabbed viciously down at him. Bound as he was by both paws to the cage bars, he did not have much room for manoeuvre. The outlaw ducked his head forward, wrenching his body to one side as the wooden cage rocked madly against the high tower wall. He felt a stinging pain close to his left paw as the spearhead glanced off it.

Kaltag’s eyes glittered in the darkness as she drew back the weapon and thrust it down, screeching out vengeance for her dead son. “Eeeyaaaah! Go to Hellgates, murderer! Die! Die!”

Twice more the spear grazed Leatho as he wriggled about within the confines of his narrow prison. Defiant to the end, he roared insults at his tormentor. “Is that the best ye can do, Mangetail? Ye need a few lessons with the spear. Cut me loose, Scruffcoat, an’ I’ll show ye how it’s done!”

Kaltag yowled with rage. Gripping the spearpole with both paws, she centred on the back of the otter’s neck, readying herself for the killing strike.

Leatho knew his fate was sealed. Bound and helpless, he could not last much longer. He tensed himself, listening to the cat’s rasping breath above him. Suddenly a hubbub broke out from the upper chamber. The spear slithered down through the bars and stuck, quivering, point first, in the pier far below.

Kaltag began wailing insanely. “Let me go, take your stupid paws off me! Shellhound must pay for my son’s death!”

Weilmark Scaut and two catguards held her tight, dragging her back from the windowsill. Kaltag bit, scratched and kicked at them, but to no avail, as the three cats hauled her roughly from the chamber.

Riggu Felis stood outside. Quickly he slammed the door shut, snarling, “Get her downstairs. Nobeast comes into this room but me!”

Kaltag was borne away, yelling accusations at the wildcat. “Coward! Traitor! Will you see Jeefra’s killer left alive?”

The warlord yelled down the stairwell after her, “Keep that madbeast away from here. She’ll ruin all my plans. I need Shellhound alive!”

Felis went into the chamber and stole across to the window. Leaning out, he rattled the cage with his axehaft, taunting the captive. “Well, I’m glad to see you still alive, my friend.”

As Leatho looked up, he could see the disfigured face beneath the chain mail half-mask. He growled scornfully at the wildcat. “That’s more’n I can say for you, ripface!”

Felis continued baiting his prisoner. “Would you like a drink of water? I’ll spare you some if you beg for it. Lovely cold, fresh, clear water, just beg nicely and I’ll tell the guards to fetch some.”

For answer, Leatho bared his teeth and rattled the cage. “All I’ll beg for is a chance to get out of here an’ stand facin’ yore ugly mug. Then it’ll be yore turn to beg!”

The wildcat backed off slowly, calling to his captive, “Oh, I’ll let you loose soon enough, the moment your friends surrender to me. Then they can watch you licking my footpaws every day, with Scaut whipping you whenever you stop. That should make a pretty sight, eh?”

The outlaw heard the chamber door slam shut. He sagged forward in his bonds, head drooping. To his surprise, the rope holding his left paw creaked, stretching slightly. Hope surged anew through Leatho. He jerked and tugged on the rope, feeling the fibres starting to part. The spear, of course, it had to be! In the darkness, Kaltag’s frenzied stabs must have hit the rope, partially slicing through and weakening it.

Leatho could not twist his head far enough to inspect the rope, but he knew he could eventually snap it. Even though his limbs were swollen and numbed with cramp, the tenacious otter pulled, twisted and jerked against his bond. Each fresh assault tore more of the fibres, snapping away the closely woven strands. He grunted with pain as one final wrench parted the rope, allowing the deadened paw to hang limply at his side. Dizzy with the effort, Leatho rested for a moment. Then, with no firm plan in mind, he set about freeing his other paw. Hauling himself up on the bars, the outlaw got his teeth into the other rope. He gnawed away, strand by strand, until he had chewed right through it. With a deep sigh, he allowed himself the luxury of sitting down on the cage floor. Leatho slowly rubbed the life back into his aching limbs and shoulders, thinking hard. Now, what next?

Early birds began their twittering chorus in the first rays of dawn as the otterclans arrived at the far shores of the lake. Crouching in the rushes, surrounded by his warriors, Big Kolun Galedeep cooled his paws in the cold water. He peered through the mist, which hung like a milky veil over the stillwater.

“Wot d’ye think, should we go in now?”

His brother, the tall, sombre Lorgo, spat on his paws, rubbing them together in anticipation. “Aye, dawn’s a good time to attack. The cats won’t be up an’ about just yet!”

Banya Streamdog interrupted them. “Hold on, mates. We can’t go chargin’ in without a plan. If’n the Felis cat’s got Leatho a prisoner, he’s bound to have the fortress well guarded. Stands t’reason he’ll be expectin’ us to try somethin’.”

Kolun dug his big oar into the water moodily. “I s’pose yore right, so wot d’ye suggest we do? We can’t just lie here all day twiddlin’ our rudders!”

Besides being a tough warriormaid, Banya was seldom short of practical ideas. “A sensible plan would be t’send out scouts first. Whulky, Chab, you take the left bank. Lugg, Ganno, you take the right. See if they’re patrollin’ the pier an’ the slave compound. Make a count of the cats y’can see an’ wot sort of weapons they’re totin’. That way we’ll know just wot we’re up against. Oh, an’ most important, keep yore eyes skinned for the Shellhound.”

In the main gate lodge which led onto the pier, Riggu Felis took a leisurely breakfast. The wildcat felt that, with his plans reaching fruition, his position was becoming more secure. Picking at a freshly caught trout and sipping pale wine, he reflected on other matters which required his attention. It was one of the warlord’s strengths: He never left loose ends untied.

Weilmark Scaut stood attendance upon his master, a task which invariably made him nervous, owing to the wildcat’s unpredictable nature. After accidentally slopping wine onto the table while refilling the warlord’s beaker, Scaut murmured apologetically, “Yore pardon, Lord.”

Without helmet or mask, the face of Riggu Felis was set in a tight, fearsome grimace, owing to the severe injuries inflicted on him by the osprey. Scaut wiped up the spillage as the wildcat questioned him.

“Is my prisoner well guarded?”

The weilmark nodded vigorously. “Aye, Lord. I posted two guards on the chamber door, an’ two more at the bottom o’ the stairs.”

The warlord’s tongue licked pensively at his flayed upper gums. “Good. The Lady Kaltag, where is she?”

Scaut wondered where this conversation was leading. “In her room, Sire. I posted three guards on her door.”

Felis sipped more wine. “See that she is closely watched. Well, we should be expecting those outlaw otters to pay us a visit sometime today, Scaut. Listen now, make sure the slave compound is well guarded, but keep the rest of my force out of sight. Don’t send any guards out scouting or patrolling. Now, about the slaves, keep them penned tight in their quarters. I don’t want them out working or fishing the lake. Is that understood?”

The weilmark bowed clumsily. “I hear you, Lord!”

The wildcat’s next question caught the feral cat officer totally off guard. “Tell me, who do you think murdered my faithful counsellor?”

Scaut stared dumbly at the floor. “Sire, I don’t know who slew Atunra.”

Riggu Felis chided him mildly. “Come on, you must have some idea. Was it Pitru?”

The weilmark murmured unhappily, “Lord, it is not my place to accuse yore son.”

The warlord put aside his beaker. “You recall that when we returned here after hunting the Shellhound and his crew, we learned that Atunra had gone missing. That was when Pitru appointed himself Fortress Commander, was it not?”

Scaut’s head bobbed dutifully. “Aye, Lord, yore right.”

The wildcat continued, staring fixedly at Scaut. “Pitru had some very close friends about him, three as I remember. One of them was an officer.”

Scaut replied. “I don’t recall the other two, but the officer was Scorecat Yund, Sire.”

The warlord’s torn features creased in a hideous grin. “That’s the one, Scorecat Yund! Find him, bring him here to me. I’ll find out who slew my pine marten.”

It was now over an hour since daybreak. Bright summer sunlight had banished the mists from the lake surface.

Banya Streamdog called out to Kolun, “Will ye quit paddlin’ round out there an’ get back behind these reeds? Any beast with half an eye could spot an otter of yore size out in the open!”

Big Kolun Galedeep waded grumpily back into the reeds. “Where’ve yore scouts got to, missy? Huh, I could’ve done their job in half the time!”

Lorgo came up on tip-paw, then bent down again. “I can see Lugg an’ Ganno headin’ back along the bank.”

Banya was watching twin ripples approaching along the lake. “That’ll be Whulky’n’Chab if’n I ain’t mistaken.”

Both the aforesaid otters surfaced. They waded in through the reeds, arriving at the same time as Lugg and Ganno.

Kolun cautioned them needlessly, “Stay low, mates. Ye might be spotted by the cats!”

Whulky stood up and stretched his paws. “Wot cats? All we saw out there was birds an’ a few fishes.”

Banya sounded clearly baffled. “Ye saw no cats?”

Chab shook his head decisively. “Nary a frog, let alone a cat. An’ there was no sign of Leatho, either. Everythin’ was quiet at the fortress.”

Kolun scratched his rudder. “Nobeast around, sounds funny t’me. Wot about you two?”

Lugg spoke for himself and Ganno. “We saw catguards posted all around the slave compound. I think they’re keepin’ the slaves locked up—there wasn’t any about, workin’, or fishin’. Didn’t see the Shellhound, though. Don’t know where they’re keepin’ him.”

Lorgo spat away the reed stem he had been chewing on. “I think it’s a trap! Those cats are sly villains.”

Chab pawed water from his ear and shook himself. “Well, if it is a trap, mate, it’s the easiest one I ever walked into, an’ away from!”

Banya stared around at the puzzled and unhappy faces of the clanbeasts. She reached a sudden decision. “Well, we can’t sit here forever. Make ready to march, mates. But pay heed—don’t go chargin’ an’ dashin’ into anythin’. We’ll go slow’ n’steady, split into three groups. Roggan Streamdiver, take yore clan an’ the Wavedogs along the left shore. Kolun, you an’ Lorgo take yore Galedeeps an’ the Wildloughs to the right. I’ll take my clan an’ the Streambattles up the middle o’ the lake. Remember, slow’n’steady. Watch out for traps an’ ambushes, an’ don’t take no foolish chances!”

Big Kolun hefted his oar. “Aye, an’ if ye do get into any trouble, just give a yell, an’ we’ll be there at the double. Good luck to everybeast. Let’s hope we all make it back safe to our families at Summerdell. Let’s go an’ rescue Leatho Shellhound now!” The otterclans moved off silently.

Pitru was on his way to the barracks when he saw Weilmark Scaut and a six-guard escort approaching. He ducked into the cover of the guardhouse. Watching them closely, he observed firsthand their capture of Scorecat Yund as he emerged from the barracks.

Disregarding Yund’s protests, they had grabbed him roughly and were now frogmarching him toward the main gate lodge. Pitru, immediately realising what this was all about, cursed himself for a fool. He should have guessed that his father would not leave Atunra’s murder unavenged.

The young cat hurried into the barracks, where he was met by his other two close allies, Balur and Hinso. Both catguards appeared badly shaken.

“Commander, they’ve just dragged Scorecat Yund off!”

“It was Weilmark Scaut and a band of guards. Your father’ll make Yund talk, he’ll find out the truth about Atunra!”

Pitru grabbed them both by their whiskers, hissing at them, “Shut up, fools! Don’t you think I already know that? Stop panicking and listen to me. Balur, get to the lodge window. See if you can hear what’s going on in there, then report straight back to me! Hinso, gather all the guards that are loyal to me behind the barracks. Wait for me there. Quick now, both of you, our very lives depend on getting things right. Go!”

Yund was pushed inside the lodge, where Scaut and the rest dragged him to an iron ring set high in the wall. In a trice he was bound to it, with both paws stretched painfully over his head. Riggu Felis stalked over to him like a huge beast of prey, shoving his naked, skinned face close to Yund’s horrified eyes. The scorecat could feel the warlord’s rasping breath in his quivering nostrils. He quailed visibly, his limbs trembling uncontrollably as the wildcat began the interrogation with a harsh, blunt question.

“Tell me, who killed my counsellor Atunra?”

It took Yund several moments to find his voice. “Lord, I don’t know. I swear it, Sire!”

Riggu Felis nodded, as though he had accepted the explanation. He continued in a more reasonable tone. “Yund, my friend, do you know that I can skin a beast with this axe of mine? It’s a very sharp weapon.”

The scorecat caught his breath as he felt the single-bladed war axe pressing against his throat.

The warlord continued in a casual, almost chatty tone. “Oh yes, and I’ll wager you didn’t know that I can keep that beast alive for nearly half a day after I’ve skinned him. He’ll scream quite a lot, but that’s only to be expected. Now, the one thing I can’t abide is a liar. So this is your last chance, scorecat: Do you wish to tell me the truth? Who murdered my friend Atunra?”

Yund gave a prolonged whimpering sob, then spoke. “Lord, I was only carrying out orders.”

The warlord removed the axe from Yund’s throat. “I understand. You did what any obedient servant would. So, tell me more, who gave you the order? Speak, friend, don’t be afraid. I wouldn’t slay any true warrior of mine.”

The scorecat uttered a deep sigh of relief. “Lord, it was your son, Commander Pitru, who ordered me to slay Atunra. I had to obey!”

Riggu Felis turned to Scaut, smiling. “You see, I knew it all the time, I only needed proof.”

The weilmark came to attention. “Sire, shall I take the guards and arrest him?”

The warlord replaced his helmet and chain mail half-mask. “Not just yet, there are other matters to be dealt with. First, we must resolve the otter problem. After that, I will settle accounts with Pitru, once and for all.”

Scaut saluted. “What about Scorecat Yund, Sire?”

Riggu Felis shrugged. “He is no true warrior of mine, only a traitor who would betray his commander. You may execute him, but not too swiftly. Make him realise the reward of treachery.”

Scaut possessed a naturally cruel nature, so this was the sort of thing he enjoyed. A despairing shriek burst from Yund’s lips as he saw Scaut draw a long, slim dagger from his belt. Suddenly, an urgent rap on the door distracted the warlord’s attention.

“Yes, what is it?”

Scorecat Rinat entered, making a swift salute with her spear. “Lord, the outlaw otters have been sighted in large numbers. They are approaching from the far end of the lake!”

Riggu Felis gave a purr of delight. “Perfect! I’ll put on my finest cloak and armour to welcome them!” Leaving the pier lodge, he went off to his chamber.

Balur crept away from the window and ran off to report to Pitru, with the screams of Scorecat Yund adding speed to his footpaws.