Mossflower

BOOK ONE

Kotir

Mossflower lay deep in the grip of midwinter beneath a sky of leaden gray that

showed tinges of scarlet and orange on the horizon. A cold mantle of snow

draped the landscape, covering the flatlands to the west. Snow was everywhere,

filling ditches, drifting high against hedgerows, making paths invisible,

smoothing the contours of earth in its white embrace. The gaunt, leafless

ceiling of Mossflower Wood was penetrated by constant snowfall, which carpeted

the sprawling woodland floor, building canopies on evergreen shrubs and

bushes. Winter had muted the earth; the muffled stillness was broken only by a

traveler's paws.

A sturdily built young mouse with quick dark eyes was moving confidently

across the snowbound country. Looking back, he could see his tracks

disappearing northward into the distance. Farther south the flatlands rolled

off endlessly, flanked to the west by the faint shape of distant hills, while

to the east stood the long ragged fringe marking the marches of Mossflower.

His nose twitched at the elusive smell of burning wood and turf from some

hearthfire. Cold wind soughed from the treetops, causing whorls of snow to

dance in icy spirals. The traveler gathered his ragged cloak tighter, adjusted

an old rusting sword that was slung across his back, and trudged steadily

forward, away from the wilderness, to where other creatures lived.

It was a forbidding place made mean by poverty. Here and

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there he saw signs of habitation. The dwellings, ravaged and demolished, made

pitiful shapes under snow drifts. Rearing high against the forest, a curious

building dominated die ruined settlement. A fortress, crumbling, dark and

brooding, it was symbol of fear to the woodland creatures of Mossflower.

This was how Martin the Warrior first came to Kotir, place of the wildcats.

In a mean hovel on the south side of Kotir, the Stickle family crouched around

a low turf fire. It gusted fitfully as the night winds pierced the slatted

timbers where mud chinking had not been replaced. A timid scratch at the door

caused them to jump nervously. Ben Stickle picked up a billet of firewood,

motioning his wife Goody to keep their four little ones well back in the

shadows.

As the Goodwife Stickle covered her brood widi coarse burlap blankets, Ben

took a firmer grip on the wood and called out harshly in his gruffest voice,

"Be off with you and leave us alone. There's not enough food in here to go

around a decent hedgehog family. You've already taken half of all we have to

swell the larders in Kotir."

"Ben, Ben, 'tis oi, Urthclaw! Open up, burr. 'Tis freezen out yurr."

As Ben Stickle opened the door, a homely-faced mole trundled by him and

hurried across to the fire, where he stood rubbing his digging claws together

in front of the flames.

The little ones peeped out from the blankets. Ben and Goody turned anxious

faces toward their visitor.

Urthclaw rubbed warmth into his cold nose as he talked in the curious rustic

molespeech.

"Vurmin patrols be out, burr, weasels V stoats an* the loik. They'm a lukken

fer more vittles."

Goody shook her head as she wiped a little one's snout on her apron. "I knew

it! We should have run off and left this place, like the others. Where in the

name of spikes'll we find food to pay their tolls?"

Ben Stickle threw down the piece of firewood despairingly. ' 'Where can we run

in midwinter with four little 'uns? They'd perish long afore spring."

Urthclaw produced a narrow strip of silver birch bark and held a paw to his

mouth, indicating silence. Scratched on the

6

bark in charcoal was a single word: Corim. Beneath it was a simple picture map

showing a route into Mossflower Woods, far from Kotir.

Ben studied the map, torn between the chance of escape and his family's

predicament. The frustration was clear on his face.

Bang! Bang!

"Open up in there! Come on, get this door open. This is an official Kotir

patrol."

Soldiers!

Ben took one last hasty glance at die strip of bark and threw it on the fire.

As Goody lifted the latch the door was thrust forcefully inward. She was swept

to one side as the soldiers packed into the room, out of the winter night

chill. They pushed and shoved at each other roughly. A ferret named Blacktooth

and a stoat called Splitnose seemed to be in charge of the patrol. Ben Stickle

signed with relief as they turned away from the burning strip of bark and

stood with their backs to the fire.

"Well now, dozyspikes, where are you hiding all the bread and cheese and

October ale?"

Ben could scarce keep the hatred from his voice as he answered the sneering

Blacktooth. "It's many a long season since I tasted cheese or October ale.

There's bread on the shelf, but only enough for my family."

Splitnose spat into the fire and reached for the bread. Ben Stickle was

blocked from stopping the stoat by a barrier of spear hafts as he tried to

push forward.

Goody placed a restraining paw on her husband's spikes. "Please, Ben, don't

fight 'em, the great bullies."

Urthclaw chimed in, "Yurr, baint much 'ee c'n do agin spears, Ben."

Blacktooth turned to the mole as if seeing him for the first time. "Huh,

what're you doing here, blinkeye?"

One of the little hedgehogs threw the sacking aside and faced the stoat

boldly. "He came in for a warm by our fire. You leave him alone!" Splitnose

burst out laughing, spraying crumbs from the bread he was eating. "Look out,

Blackie. There's more of 'em under that blanket. I'd watch 'em, if I were

you."

A nearby weasel threw back the covering, exposing the other three young ones.

Blacktooth sized them up. "Hmm, they look big enough to do a day's work."

Goodwife Stickle sprang fiercely in front of them.

"You let my liddle ones be. They ain't harmed nobody.'*

Blacktooth seemed to ignore her. He knocked the loaves from Splitnose's paws,

then turning to a weasel he issued orders. "Pick that bread up, and no sly

munching. Deliver it to the stores when we get back to the garrison."

Waving his spear he signaled the patrol out of the hut. As Blacktooth left he

called back to Ben and Goody, "I want to see those four hogs out in the fields

tomorrow. Either that, or you can all spend the rest of the winter safe and

warm in Kotir dungeons."

Urthclaw kept an eye to a crack in the door, watching the patrol make its way

toward Kotir. Ben wasted no time; he began wrapping the young ones in all the

blankets they possessed. "Right, that's it! Enough is enough. We go tonight.

You're right, old girl, we should have left to live in the woods with the rest

long ago. What d'you say, Urthclaw?"

The mole stood with his eye pressed against the crack in the door. "Yurr, cumm

'ere, lookit thiz!"

While Ben shared the crack with his friend, Goody continued swathing her young

ones with blankets. "What is it, Ben? They're not comin' back, are they?"

"No, wife. Hohoho, lookit that, by hokey! See the punch he landed on that

weasel's nose? Go on, give it to 'em, laddo!"

Ferdy, the little one who had spoken up, scuttled over and tugged at Ben's

paw. "Punch? Who punched a weasel? What's happening?"

Ben described the scene as he watched it. "It's a mouse-big strong feller too,

he is. They're tryhT to capture him . , . That's it! Now kick him again,

mouse. Go on! Hahaha, you'd think a full patrol of soldiers could handle a

mouse, but not this one. He must be a real trained warrior. Phew! Lookit that,

he's knocked Blacktooth flat on his back. Pity they're hangin' on to his sword

like that. By the spikes, he'd cause

8

some damage if he had that blade between his paws, rusty as it is."

Ferdy jumped up and down. "Let me see, I want a look!"

Urthclaw turned slowly away from the door. "Baint much

use, liddle 'edgepig. They'ra gorrim down now, aye, an*

roped up too. Hurt, worra pity, they be too many fer 'im to

foight, ee'm a gurt brave wurrier tho."

Ben was momentarily crestfallen, then he clapped his paws together. "Now is

the time, while the patrol's busy with the fighter. They Ve got a job on their

paws, draggin' him back to the cats' castle. Come on, let^s get a-goin' while

the goin's good."

A short while later, the fire was burning to embers in an empty hut as the

little band trudged into the vast woodland sprawl of Mossflower, blinking

water from their eyes as they kept their heads down against the keen wind.

Urthclaw followed up the rear, obliterating the pawtracks from the snowy

ground.

Gonff the mousethief padded silently along the passage from the larder and

storeroom of Kotir. He was a plump little creature, clad in a green jerkin

with a broad buckled belt. He was a ducker and a weaver of life, a marvelous

mimic, ballad writer, singer, and lockpick, and very jovial with it all. The

woodlanders were immensely fond of the little thief. Gonff shrugged it ail

off, calling every creature his matey in imitation of the otters, whom he

greatly admired. Chuckling quietly to himself, he drew the small dagger from

his belt and cut off a wedge from the cheese he was carrying. Slung around his

shoulder was a large flask of elderberry wine which he had also stolen from

the larder. Gonff ate and drank, singing quietly to himself in a deep bass

voice between mouthfuls of cheese and wine.

The Prince of Mousethieves honors you,

To visit here this day.

So keep your larder door shut tight,

Lock all your food away.

O foolish ones, go check your store

Of food so rich and fine.

Be sure that I'll be back for more,

Especially this wine.

At the sound of heavy paws Gonff fell silent. Melting back into the shadows,

he huddled down and held his breath. Two

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weasels dressed in armor and carrying spears trudged past.

They were arguing heatedly.

"Listen, I'm not taking the blame for your stealing from

the larder."

"Who, me? Be careful what you say, mate. I'm no thief.'* "Well, you're looking

very fat lately, that's all I say." "Huh, not half as podgy as you, lard

barrel." "Lard barrel yourself. You'll be accusing me next." "Ha, you're in

charge of the key, so who else could it be?" "It could be you. You're always

down there when I am." "I only go to keep an eye on you, mate." "And I only go

to keep an eye on you, so there." "Right, we'll keep an eye on each other,

then." Gonff stuffed a paw in his mouth to stifle a giggle. The

weasels stopped and looked at each other. "What was that?"

"Oho, I know what it was—you're laughing at me." "Arr, don't talk stupid."

"Talking stupid, am I?" Indignantly, the weasel turned

away from his companion.

Gonff quickly called out in a passable weasel-voice imitation, "Big fat

robber!"

The two weasels turned furiously upon each other. "Big fat robber, eh. Take

that!" "Ouch! You sneaky toad, you take this!" The weasels thwacked away madly

at each other with their

spearhandles. Gonff sneaked out of hiding and crept off in the opposite

direction, leaving the two guards rolling upon the passage

floor, their spears forgotten as they bit and scratched at each

other.

"Owow, leggo. Grr, take that!"

"I'll give you robber! Have some of this. Ooh, you bit my

ear!"

Sheathing his dagger and shaking with mirth, Gonff unlatched a window shutter,

and slipped away through the snow toward the woodlands.

Oh fight, lads, fight, Scratch, lads, bite, 11

Gonff will dine on cheese and wine, When he gets home tonight.

Martin dug his heels into the snow, skidding as he was dragged bodily through

the outer wallgates of the forbidding heap he had sighted earlier that day.

Armored soldiers clanked and clattered together as they were dragged inward by

the ropes that restrained the prisoner, none of them wanting to get too close

to the fighting mouse.

Blacktooth and Splitnose closed the main gates with much bad-tempered

slamming. Powdery snow blew down on them from the top of the perimeter walls.

The parade ground snow was hammered flat and slippery by soldiers dashing

hither and thither, some carrying lighted torches—ferrets, weasels and stoats.

One of them called out to Splitnose, "Hoi, Split-tie, any sign of the fox out

there?"

The stoat shook his head. "What, you mean the healer? No, not a whisker. We

caught a mouse, though. Look at this thing he was carrying."

Splitnose waved Martin's rusted sword aloft. Blacktooth ducked. "Stop playing

with that thing, you'll slash somebody twirling it around like that. So,

they're waiting on the fox again, eh. Old Greeneyes doesn't seem to be getting

any better lately. Hey, you there, keep those ropes tight! Hold him still, you

blockheads."

The entrance hall door proved doubly difficult as the warrior mouse managed to

cling to one of the timber doorposts. The soldiers had practically to pry him

loose with their spears. The weasel who had been given charge of the bread

kept well out of it, heading directly for the storeroom and larder. As he

passed through the entrance hall, he was challenged by others who cast

covetous eyes upon the brown home-baked loaves. It had been a hard winter,

since many creatures had deserted the settlement around Kotir after the early

autumn harvest, taking with them as much produce as they could carry to the

woodlands. There was not a great deal of toll or levy coming in. The weasel

clutched the bread close as he padded along.

The hall was hostile and damp, with wooden shutters across the low windows.

The floor was made from a dark granite-like rock, very cold to the paws. Here

and there the nighttime

12

guards had lit small fires in corners, which stained the walls black with

smoke and ashes. Only captains were allowed to wear long cloaks as a mark of

rank, but several soldiers had draped themselves in old sacks and blankets

purloined from the settlement. The stairs down to the lower levels were a

jumble of worn spirals and flights of straight stone steps in no particular

sequence. Half the wall torches had burned away and not been replaced, leaving

large areas of stairs dark and dangerous. Moss and fungus grew on most of the

lower-level walls and stairs.

Hurrying along a narrow passage, the weasel banged on the storeroom door. A

key turned in the lock.

"WhatVe you got there? Loaves, eh. Bring 'em in."

The two guards who had been fighting were sitting on flour sacks. One of them

eyed the bread hungrily. "Huh, is that all you got tonight? I tell you, mate,

things are getting from bad to worse around here. Who sent you down with

them?"

"Blacktooth."

"Oh, him. Did he count them?"

"Er, no, I don't think so."

"Good. There's five loaves. We'll have half a loaf each— that'll leave three

and a half. Nobody'11 notice the difference."

They tore hungrily at Goody Stickle's brown oven loaves.

Upstairs, Martin had managed to wrap one of the ropes around a stone column.

Soldiers were jeering at the efforts of the patrol to get him away and up the

stairs. "Yah, what's the matter, lads, are you scared of him?"

Blacktooth turned on the mocking group. "Any of you lot fancy having a go at

him? No, I thought not."

The door opened behind them, and snow blew in with a cold, draughty gust. A

fox wearing a ragged cloak trotted past mem and up the broad flat stairs to

their first floor. The soldiers found a new target for their remarks.

"Hoho, just you wait, fox. You're late."

"Aye, old Greeneyes doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"I'd keep out of Lady Tsarmina's way, if I were you."

Ignoring them, the fox swept quickly up the stairs.

Martin tried to make a dash for the half-open door to the parade ground but he

was carried to the floor by weight of numbers. Still he fought gamely on.

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The jeering soldiers started shouting and calling humorous advice again.

Blacktooth tried freezing them into silence with a stera glance, but they took

no notice of him this time.

Splitnose sniffed in disgust. "Discipline has gone to the wall since Lord

Verdauga's been sick,''

Fortunata the vixen waited nervously in the draughty antehall of Kotir. A low

fire cast its guttering light around the damp sandstone walls. Slimy green

algae and fungus grew between sodden banners as they slowly disintegrated into

threadbare tatters suspended from rusty iron holders. The vixen could not

suppress a shudder. Presently she was joined by two ferrets dressed in

cumbersome chain mail. Both bore shields emblazoned with the device of their

masters, a myriad of evil green eyes watching in all directions. The guards

pointed with their spears, indicating that the fox should follow them, and

Fortunata fell in step, marching off down the long dank hall. They halted in

front of two huge oaken doors, which swung open as the ferrets banged their

spearbutts against the floor. The vixen was confronted by a scene of ruined

grandeur.

Candles and torches scarcely illuminated the room; the crossbeams above were

practically lost in darkness. At one end there were three ornate chairs

occupied by two wildcats and a pine marten. Behind these stood a four-poster

bed, complete with tight-drawn curtains of musty green velvet, its footboard

carved with the same device as the shields of the guards.

The marten hobbled across and searched the satchel Fortunata carried. The

vixen shrank from contact with the badly disfigured creature. Ashleg the

marten had a wooden leg and his entire body was twisted on one side as if it

had been badly maimed. To disguise this, he wore an overiong red cloak trimmed

with woodpigeon feathers. With an expert flick, he turned the contents of the

satchel out onto the floor. It was the usual jumble of herbs, roots, leaves

and mosses carried by a healer fox.

Approaching the bed, Ashleg called out in an eerie singsong dirge, "O mighty

Verdauga, Lord of Mossflower, Master of the Thousand Eyes, Slayer of Enemies,

Ruler of Kotir—"

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"Ah, give your whining tongue a rest, Ashleg. Is the fox here? Get these

suffocating curtains out of my way." The imperious voice from behind the

curtains sounded hoarse but full of snarling menace.

Tsarmina, the larger of the two seated wildcats, sprang forward, sweeping back

the dusty bedcurtains in a single move. "Fortunata's here. Don't exert

yourself, father."

The vixen slid to the bedside with practiced ease and examined her savage

patient. Verdauga of the Thousand Eyes had once been the mightiest warlord in

all the land . . . once. Now his muscle and sinew lay wasted under the tawny

fur that covered his big, tired body. The face was that of a wildcat who had

survived many battles: the pointed ears stood above a tracery of old scars

that ran from crown to whiskers. Fortunata looked at the fearsome yellowed

teeth, and the green barbarian eyes still alight with strange fires.

"My Lord looks better today, yes?"

"None the better for your worthless mumbo jumbo, fox."

The smaller of the two seated wildcats rose from his chair with an expression

of concern upon his gentle face. "Father, stay calm. Fortunata is trying hard

to get you well again."

Tsarmina pushed him aside scornfully. "Oh, shut up, Gin-givere, you

mealy-mouthed—"

"Tsarmina!" Verdauga pulled himself into a sitting position and pointed a claw

at his headstrong daughter. "Don't talk to your brother in that way, do you

hear me?"

The Lord of a Thousand Eyes turned wearily to his only son. "Gingivere, don't

let her bully you. Stand up to her, son."

Gingivere shrugged and stood by silently as Fortunata ground herbs with a

pestle, mixing diem with dark liquid in a horn beaker.

Verdauga eyed the vixen suspiciously. "No more leeches, fox. I won't have

those filthy slugs sucking my blood. I'd sooner have an enemy's sword cut me

than those foul things. What's that rubbish you're concocting?"

Fortunata smiled winningly. "Sire, this is a harmless potion made from the

herb motherwort. It will help you to sleep. Squire Gingivere, would you give

this to your father, please?"

As Gingivere administered the medicine to Verdauga, nei-

15

ther of them noticed the look of slyness or the wink that passed between

Fortunate and Tsarmina.

Verdauga settled back in bed and waited for the draught to take effect.

Suddenly the peace was broken by a loud commotion from outside. The double

doors burst open wide.

16

Ben Stickle nearly jumped out of his spikes as Gontf bounded out from behind a

snow-laden bush in the nighttime forest.

"Boo! Guess who? Hahaha, Ben* me old matey, you should have seen your face

just then. What are you doing trekking round here in the snow?"

Ben recovered himself quickly. "GonfF, I might have known! Listen, young

feller me mouse, I haven't got time to stop and gossip with you. WeVe left the

settlement at last and I'm lookin' for the little hut that the Corim keep for

the likes of us."

The mousethief winked at Urthclaw and kissed Goody cheekily. "Ha, that place,

follow me, matey. I'll have you there in two shakes of a cat's whisker."

Goody shuddered. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that, you little rogue."

, But Gonif was not listening, he was skipping ahead with die little ones, who

thought it was all a huge adventure.

**Is it a nice place, Mr. Gonff?"

"Oh, passable. Better than the last place you were in."

"What's that under your jerkin, Mr. Gonff?"

"Never you mind now, young Spike. It's a secret."

"Is it very far, Mr. Gonff? I'm tired."

"Not far now, Posy me little dear. I'd carry you if it weren't for your

spikes."

17

Goody Stickle shook her head and smiled. She had always had a special soft

spot for Gonff.

The Corim hut was well hidden, deep enough into the forest to avoid immediate

discovery. Urthclaw said his goodbyes and trundled off to find his own kind.

Ben watched him go as Gonff lit the fire. He nodded fondly. "Good old

Urthclaw, he only stayed at the settlement because of us, I'm sure of it."

When the fire was burning red, Goody sat around it with Gonff and Ben. The

four baby hedgehogs poked their snouts from under the blankets to one side of

the hearth.

"Have you been stealing from Kotir again, Gonff? What did you pinch this

time?"

The mousethief laughed at Goody's shocked expression. He threw a wedge of

cheese over to the little ones. "It's not pinching or stealing if it comes out

of Kotir, mateys. It's called liberating. Here, get your whiskers around that

lot and get some sleep, the four of you."

Ben Stickle sucked on an empty pipe and stirred the burning logs with a

branch. "Gonff, I do wish you'd be careful. We can live on what we have until

spring arrives, Goody and I would never forgive ourselves if you got caught

taking cheese and wine inside that cat's castle."

Goodwife Stickle wiped her eyes on her flowery pinafore. "No more we wouldn't,

you young scallawag. Oh my spikes, I dread to think what'd "appen if those

varmin catchered you, Gonff."

Gonff patted her very carefully. "There, there, Goody. What's a bite of food

and a warm drink between mateys? The young uns need their nourishment.

Besides, how could I ever forget the way that you and Ben brought me up and

cared for me when I was only a little woodland orphan?"

Ben took a sip of the wine and shook his head. "You be careful, all the same,

and remember what the Corim rule is; bide your time and don't let 'em catch

you. One day we'll win old Mossflower back."

Goody sighed as she went about making porridge for the next morning's

breakfast. "Fine words, but we're peaceable creatures. How we're ever goin* to

win our land back against all those trained soldiers is beyond me."

Gonff topped up Ben Stickle's beaker with elderberry wine

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and gazed into the flickering flames, his normally cheerful face grim. "I'll

tell you this, mateys: the day will come when something will happen to change

all this, you wait and see. Some creature who isn't afraid of anything will

arrive in Mossflower, and when that day arrives we'll be ready. We'll pay that

filthy gang of vermin and their wildcat masters back so hard that they'll

think the sky has fallen on them."

Ben rubbed his-eyes tiredly. "A hero, eh. Funny you should say that. I thought

I saw just such a one earlier tonight. Ah, but he's probably dead or in the

dungeons by now. Let's get some sleep. I'm bone weary."

The little hut was an island of warmth and safety in the night, as the howling

north wind drove snowflakes before it, whining and keening around the gaunt

trees of winter-stricken Mossflower.

19

4

Struggling wildly between two stoats, the captive mouse was dragged into the

bedchamber. He was secured by a long rope, which the guards tried to keep taut

as he dodged and jumped, scratched and bit, first letting the rope go slack,

then dashing forward so the two guards were pulled together, as they collided

he leaped upon them, biting and kicking despite the rope that pinned his paws

to his sides. A ferret guard from the door came running in to help. Between

the three of them they managed to pin the warlike mouse upon the floor. They

lay on top of him, trying to avoid the butting head and nipping teeth. The

mouse was breathing heavily, his eyes flashing reckless defiance at his

captors.

Verdauga sat up straight, sleep forgotten as he questioned the two stoats.

"Make your report. What have we got here?"

One of the stoats freed his paw and threw a quick salute. "Lord, this one was

caught within the bounds of your lands. He is a stranger, and goes armed."

A weasel marched in and placed the traveler's ancient rusty sword at the foot

of the bed.

Verdauga looked from under hooded lids at the sword and the sturdy young mouse

upon the floor. "It is against my law to carry arms or to trespass upon my

domain."

The mouse struggled against his captors, shouting out in a loud, angry voice,

"I didn't know it was your land, cat. Tell

20

your guards to take their claws off and release me. You have no right to

imprison a freeborn creature."

Verdauga could not help but admire the obvious courage of the prisoner. He was

about to speak, when Tsarmina grasped the battered sword and stood over the

captive with the point at his throat. "You insolent scum! Quick now, what is

your name? Where did you steal this rusty relic?"

As the guards pinned the struggling mouse down, his voice shook with fury. "My

name is Martin the Warrior. That sword was once my father's, now it is mine. I

come and go as I please, cat. Is this the welcome you show travelers?"

Tsarmina forced Martin's head back with the sword-point. "For a mouse, you

have far too much to say to your betters," die said contemptuously. "You are

in Mossflower country now; all the land you can see on a clear day's march

belongs tp us by right of conquest. My father's law says that none are allowed

to go armed save his soldiers. The penalty for those who break the law is

death."

She beckoned the guards with a sleek catlike movement. "Take him away and

execute him."

Lord Greeneyes' voice halted the guards as he turned to his son. "Gingivere,

have you nothing to say? What shall we do with this mouse?"

^ "Some say that ignorance of the law is no excuse," Gingivere answered

without raising his voice. "Even so, it would be unjust to punish Martin; he

is a stranger and could not be expected to know of us or our laws. Also, it

would be too easy for us to slay him. He seems an honest creature to me. If &

were my decision I would have him escorted from our territory, then given his

weapon. He would know better than to come back again."

Verdauga looked from son to daughter. "Now I will give yon my decision. There

are enough cowards in the world Wftfiout killing a brave creature for so

little reason. This Martin is a true warrior. On the other side of the scales,

if we to allow him to roam free as the wind on our land, this be read as a

sign of our weakness. It is my judgment he be put in the cells to coot his

paws awhile. After a he can be set free, provided he is never again so rash

trespass in my domain."

21

Snap!

Everyone present heard the sharp report. Furious at being overruled, Tsarmina

had set the sword between the jamb of the door and the stone doorway. With a

huge burst of energy she threw her weight against the venerable weapon.

Suddenly it broke; the old blade rang upon the floor, leaving her holding the

shorn-off handle, which she tossed to a guard.

"Here, throw him in the cells with this tied around his neck. If ever we do

release him, then others will see him and realize how merciful we can be. Take

the wretch away—the sight of him offends my eyes."

As the guards tugged on the rope, Martin stood firm resisting them. For a

moment his eyes met those of Tsarmina's. His voice was clear and unafraid.

"Your father made a just decision, but yours was the right one. You should

have killed me when you had the chance, because I vow that I will slay you one

day."

The spell was broken. The guards hauled on the ropes, dragging Martin off to

the cells. In the silence that followed, Tsarmina slumped in her chair and

sniggered. "A mouse kill me, indeed! He's not even worth worrying about."

Verdauga coughed painfully. He lay back on the pillows. "If you think that,

daughter, then you have made a grave mistake. I have seen courage before; it

comes in all shapes and sizes. Just because he is a mouse does not make him

less of a warrior than me. He has a fighter's heart—I saw it in his eyes."

Tsarmina ignored her father and called to Fortunata. "Vixen, mix Lord

Greeneyes a stronger portion. He needs sleep after all the excitement.

Gingivere, give father his medicine. You are the only one he will take it

from."

Fortunata gave Gingivere the beaker containing the prepared draught. Tsarmina

nodded to her, and they left the room together. Outside in the corridor the

wildcat gripped the fox's paw in her powerful claws. "Welt, did you fix the

medicine?"

Fortunata winced in pain as the claws sank in. "Twice. Once before the mouse

came in, and just now before we left. He's taken enough poison to lay half the

garrison low."

Tsarmina pulled the vixen close, her cruel eyes burning.

22

"Good, but if he's still alive in the morning you had better prepare some for

yourself. It would be a lot easier than facing me if you fail."

The cells were deep beneath Kotir. They were ancient, smelly, dark, and dank.

Martin the Warrior was hurled into his prison by the two guards who had

dragged him down passage and stairway. He had fought every inch of the way and

they were glad to be rid of him. Martin lay with his cheek testing on the cold

stone floor where he had been flung. As (lie door clanged shut behind him, one

of the stoats peered through the door grating, turning the key in the lock.

"Thank your lucky stars, mouse. If Lady Tsarmina had had her way, you'd be in

the darkest wettest cells further down the passage. ft was Lord Greeneyes'

wish that you should be put in a good cell, aye, and given bread and water to

eat and some dry straw to lie on. Huh, he must have taken a shine to you. He's

a strange one, old Verdauga is."

Martin lay still, listening until the sounds of the guards' heavy paws receded

and he was alone. Standing up, he took stock of his new surroundings. At least

there was light com-m% in from a torch that burned on the far corridor wall.

Feeling a slight draught, he looked up. There was a high aarrow grille slitted

into the wall near the ceiling. Martin Changed position, still looking upward,

until he could see a •tor shining outside in the night sky. It was his only

link with freedom and the outside world. He sat, resting his back against the

wall, huddling down in his ragged cloak to gain ft little warmth. The rest of

his cell was just the same as any prison: four bare walls and precious little

else, no comfort or ebeer to be gained from anything here. He was a prisoner,

in a strange place.

warrior mouse slept, overcome by weariness. Sometime Jjefore dawn he was

wakened by paws thrusting something Over his head and around his neck. Still

half-asleep, Martin tffed to grab hold of his assailants. He was roughly

kicked 10 one side, then the door clanged shut as the key turned in lock

again. Leaping up, Martin ran to the door. The stoat peered through the

grating, chuckling and wagging a at him. "You nearly had me that time, mouse."

23

The warrior mouse gave an angry snarl and leapt at the grating, but the stoat

backed off, grinning at his futile attempt. "Listen, mouse, if I were you I'd

keep pretty quiet down here, otherwise you might attract Lady Tsarmina's

attention—and I don't think you'd like that. You just sit tight and behave

yourself, then maybe in time somebody like Gin-givere will remember you're

here and have you released."

As the guards trooped off, Martin saw they had left a load of clean straw in

one corner, also some bread and water. Instinctively he moved towards it, and

felt something clunk against his chest. It was the sword handle dangling from

a piece of rope around his neck. Martin held it in front of his eyes, staring

at it hard and long. He would wear it, not because he had been sentenced to as

a mark of shame, but to remind himself that one day he would slay the evil cat

who had broken his father's blade.

Settling down in the dry straw, he drank water and gnawed upon the stale bread

hungrily. He was about to fell asleep again when shouts and commotion broke

out upstairs. Pulling himself level with the door grille, Martin listened to

the sounds that echoed in the silence of the cells.

"My Lord Greeneyes is dead!"

"Lady Tsarmina, come quick, it's your father."

There was loud stamping of spearbutts and die sounds of mailed paws dashing

hither and thither, coupled with the slamming of doors.

Tsarmina's voice could be heard in an anguished wail. "Murder, murder. My

father is slain!"

Ashleg and Fortunata took up the cry. "Murder, Gingivere has poisoned

Verdauga!"

A tremendous hubbub had broken out. Martin could not hear clearly what was

going on. A moment later there was a sound of heavy pawsteps on the stairs; it

sounded like a great number of creatures. Martin pulled to one side of the

grille and saw it all. Led by Tsarmina, a mob of soldiers carrying torches

marched down the corridor, Ashleg and Fortunata visible among them. As they

passed the cell door, Martin glimpsed the stunned face of the gentle wildcat

Gingivere. He was bound in chains. Blood trickled from a wound on his head.

Their eyes met for a second, then he was swept by in the surge of angry

soldiers, their faces distorted by the flick-

24

ering torchlight as they chanted, "Murderer, murderer! Kill the murderer!"

Martin could no longer see them, owing to the limited range of his vision

through the grille, but he could still hear all that went on. Some distance

down the corridor a cell door slammed and a key turned. Tsarmina's voice rose

above the noise. "Silence! I will say what is to be done here. Even though my

brother is a murderer, I cannot harm him. He will stay locked up here until he

lives out his days. He is now dead to me; I never want to hear his name spoken

again within the walls of Kotir."

Martin heard Gingivere's voice trying to say something, but it was immediately

drowned out by Ashleg and Fortunata starting a chant that the soldiers took up

at full pitch. "Long live Queen Tsarmina. Long live Queen Tsarmina!"

As the mob passed by Martin's cell again, he drew back. Above the roars he

heard Tsarmina, close by the door, speaking to Ashleg. "Bring October ale and

elderberry wine from the storerooms. See that there is plenty for everyone."

Shutting his ears against the sounds of the revelers, Martin lay upon the

straw with the sword handle pressing against his chest. Now that his last

hopes were gone, it looked like being • long hard winter.

25

Across the lea, beneath the leaves,

When countrylands wake up to spring,

Hurrah here comes the Prince of Thieves,

Hear every small bird sing.

So daring and so handsome too,

He makes a wondrous sight,

But if he comes to visit you,

Lock up your treasures tight.

Sunlight sparkled on the chuckling stream that had lain iced over and silent

all winter. Snowdrops nodded agreeably to crocus on the warm southerly breeze.

Spring was everywhere. Golden daffodils and their paler narcissus relatives

stood guard between the budding trees of Mossfiower Woods; evergreens that had

endured the dark winter took on a new fresh life.

Gonff was returning from another successful visit to Kotir. The wine flasks

bumped and banged against his broad belt as he skipped nimbly through the

flowering woodlands, singing aloud with the heady intoxication of springtime.

Cuckoo, cuckoo, good day, my friend, to you. O sly one you know best. To lay

in others' nest, Is a trick you often do. 26

But I am smarter, sir, than you, Cuckoo, my friend cuckoo.

The blood coursed madly through GonfF's young veins like the waters of a

brook, gurgling happily and generally making him so light-headed that he

turned somersaults. Every so often he would pull a reed flute from his tunic

and twiddle away with the sheer joy of being alive on such a morning as this.

With a great whoop Gonff threw himself into a thick tussock of grass and lay

with the perspiration rising from him in a small column of steam. Overhead the

sky was a delicate blue with small white clouds scudding on the breeze. Gonff

imagined what it would be like to lie upon a small fluffy white cloud and

allow himself to be buffeted about in the sunny sky.

"Whooooaaa, look out, zoom, bump, whoof! Out of the way you big clouds." The

little mousethief held tight to the grass, swaying from side to side as he

played out his game of makebelieve.

He did not notice the two weasels dressed in Kotir armor until too late. They

stood over him looking grim and officious.

Gonff7 smiled impudently, aware of his clunking wine flasks. "Er, aha ha.

Hello, mateys, I was flying my cloud, you see . . ."

The larger of the two prodded him with a spearbutt. "Come pa you, on your

paws. You're wanted at Kotir."

Gonff winked at him cheerily. "Kotir? You don't say! Well, bow nice! Listen,

you two good chaps, nip along and tell them I'm busy today but I'll pop in

early tomorrow."

The spearpoint at Gonff's throat discouraged further light banter. The smaller

of the two weasels kicked GonfF. "Up you come, thief. Now we know where the

best cheeses and elderberry wine have been going all winter. You'll pay for

Stealing from Kotir."

Gonff stood slowly. Placing a paw on his plump little stomach he looked from

one guard to the other with an air of innocence. "Me, steal? I beg your

pardon, sirs, did you know the head cook has given me permission to borrow

what I please from his larder? Actually, I was going to return the

27

favor by sending him some good recipes. I understand his cooking leaves

something to be desired."

The large weasel laughed mirthlessly. "Shall I tell you something, thief? The

head cook has personally vowed to skin you with a rusty knife and roast what's

left of you for supper.''

Gonff nodded appreciatively. "Oh good, I do hope he saves some for me ...

ouch!"

Prodded between two spears, he marched off with the guards in the direction of

Kotir.

A pale shaft of sunlight penetrated between the iron bars of the high window

slit. The walls of the cell dripped moisture, and sometimes the faint trill of

a skylark on the fiatlands reached the prisoner. Martin knew that this was the

onset of full, burgeoning springtime. His face was haggard, his body much

thinner, but his eyes still shone with the warrior's angry brightness.

Martin rose and paced the cell with the sword handle about his neck; it seemed

to grow heavier with time. Fifteen paces, whichever way he went—from door to

wall or from wall to wall, it was always fifteen paces. He had paced it many

times as the days and weeks grew into months. Gingivere was too iar away to

converse with, besides, it only made the guards angry. They stopped his bread

and water for attempting to speak to the one whose name it was forbidden to

mention. Now Martin believed that he really had been forgotten and left here

to die under the new regime of Tsarmina. He stood in the shaft of weak

sunlight, trying not to think of the world of blue skies and flowers outside.

"Get the little devil in there quick. It'll be less trouble to feed two at

once. Ouch, my shin!"

Lost in thought, Martin had failed to hear the approach of guards bringing a

prisoner to his cell door.

"Aargh, leggo my ear, you fiend. Hurry up with that door before he bites my

lug clean off."

"Ouch. Ow. He nipped me! Keep him still while I find my key."

There was more shouting and scuffling as the key turned in the lock. Martin

ran to the door but was immediately bowled over by another figure, which shot

through the door-

28

way straight in on top of him. Together they fell over backward, as the cell

door slammed shut again. The two prisoners lay still until the pawsteps of the

guards retreated down the corridor.

Martin moved gingerly, easing aside the body that had fallen on top of him. It

giggled. He pulled his cellmate into the shaft of sunlight where he could view

him more clearly.

Gonff winked broadly at him, played a short jig on his reed flute, then began

singing,

I knew a mouse in prison here,

More than a hundred years.

His whiskers grew along the ground,

And right back to his ears.

His eyes grew dim, his teeth fell out,

His fur went silver-gray.

"If my grandad were here," he said,

"I wonder what he'd say?"

Martin leaned against the wall. He could not help smiling at bis odd little

cellmate.

*'Silly, how could the grandfather of a hundred-year-old mouse say anything?

Sorry, my name's Martin the Warrior. What's yours?"

Gonff extended a paw. "Martin the Warrior, eh. By gum, Martin, you're a fine,

strong-looking fellow, even though you could do with a bit of fattening up. My

name's Gonff the Thief, or Prince of Mousethieves to you, matey."

Martin shook Gonff warmly by the paw. "Prince of Mousethieves, by the fur. You

could be the King of the Sky, as long as I've got a cellmate to speak to. What

did they throw you in here for?"

Gonff winced. "Stop squeezing my paw to bits and I'll tell

you."

They sat down on the straw together, Gonff massaging his jpaw. "They caught me

running down the larder stocks of jvine and cheese, you see. But don't you

worry, matey, I can Open any lock in Kotir. We won't be here for too long,

you'll •ee. Leave it to Gonff."

X "You mean you can—we can—escape from here? How,

29

when, where to?" Martin's voice tumbled out, shaky with excitement.

Gonff fell back against the wall, laughing. "Whoa, matey, not so fast! Don't

worry, as soon as I get things organized we'll say byebye to this dump. But

first, let's get you fed. They should be ashamed of themselves, keeping a

great lump like you on bread and water.''

Martin shrugged and rubbed his hollow stomach. "Huh, what else is there? I was

lucky to get bread and water sometimes. What do you suggest, fresh milk and

oatcakes?"

"Sorry, matey. I haven't got milk or oatcakes. Would cheese and elderberry

wine do you?" he asked seriously.

Martin was lost for words as GonfF opened his tunic and spilled out a wedge of

cheese and a flat canteen of wine.

"Always keep this for emergencies or trading. Here, you may as well have it.

I've had enough of cheese and wine for a bit."

Martin needed to second bidding. He wolfed away at the cheese, slopping wine

as he gulped it into a full mouth. Gonff shook his head in wonder as the wine

and cheese vanished rapidly. "Go easy, matey. You'll make yourself ill. Take

your time."

Martin tried hard to take the good advice, but it was difficult after so long

on starvation rations. As he ate he questioned Gonff. "Tell me, what have I

walked into around here, Gonff? I'm only a lone warrior passing through; I

know nothing of Mossflower and wildcats."

The mousethief scratched his whiskers reflectively. "Now, let me see, where to

begin. Since long before I was born the old tyrant Verdauga Greeneyes, Lord of

the Thousand thin-gummies and so on, has ruled over Mossflower. One day long

ago, he swept in here at the head of his army. They came down from the north,

of course. The fortress must have been what attracted him. To woodlanders it

was nothing but an old ruin that had always been there; Verdauga saw it

differently, though. This was a place of plenty where he could settle, so he

moved straight in, repaired it as best as he could, called the place Kotir and

set himself up as a tyrant. There were none to oppose him; the woodlanders are

peaceable creatures—-they had never seen a full army of trained soldiers, nor

wildcats. Verdauga could do just as he pleased, but he

30

was clever: he allowed our creatures to live within his shadow and farm the

land. Half of everything they produced was taken as a tax to feed him and his

vermin:"

"Didn't anyone fight back?" Martin interrupted.

Gonff nodded sadly. "Oh yes, even now there are old ones who are still too

frightened to tell of how Verdauga and his cruel daughter put down the poorly

organized rebellion. Those who were not massacred were thrown into this very

prison and left to rot. I'm told my own parents were among them, but I don't

know the truth of it. When the rebellion was broken, Verdauga proved what a

clever general he was. He actually made a kind of peace with the woodlanders.

They were allowed to live within Kotir's shadow and farm the land. He said he

would protect us from further attacks by bands wandering down from the north.

We were partly enslaved then and very much disorganized. Not having any proper

fighting strength and with all the rebellious fighters out of the way, most

creatures seemed just to accept their lot. Then last summer Verdauga became

ill. Since he has been sick, he has left the running of the settlement to his

daughter, Tsarmina. Unlike her father, she is cruel and evil. Woodlanders have

been driven too hard out on the fields and not allowed enough |o live on.

Hedgehogs like Ben Stickle and his family dare not run away; where could they

go, with young ones to care fw? However, things became so bad that a lot of

them took the chance and escaped from the settlement. As the numbers grew

less, Tsarmina demanded more and more from the few. I tell you, matey, it's a

sad tale."

, They sat side by side, watching the shaft of sunlight striking the cell

floor. Martin passed the wine to Gonff. "What do you know about the wildcat

called Gingivere?" - Gonff took a sip of the wine and passed it back. "I know

he never took part in any killing. Woodlanders always hoped that Verdauga

would pass the reins to him. He's supposed to be a good sort, for a wildcat,

that is. Now you take the sister, Tsarmina. She is pure evil—they say that she

is far more Savage than Verdauga. I've heard the gossip around Kotir when IVe

been visiting here, matey—do you know, they say $M Greeneyes is dead and his

son in prison here, so that peans Tsarmina must be the new ruler now.' * v

Martin nodded. "It's true. I saw and heard it myself. Gin-31

givere is in a cell far down the corridor. I tried to speak to him but it's

too far away." The warrior mouse banged his paw against the wall in

frustration. "Why doesn't somebody do something, Gonff?"

The mousethief tapped the side of his nose and lowered his voice. "Sit still

and listen, matey. Now the last families have left the settlement, we're

making plans. All the scattered families and woodlanders have banded together

out there in Mossfiower Woods. They're learning to become strong once more,

and the old spirit of defeat is gone now. We have real fighters training,

otters and squirrels, besides hedgehogs and moles and the likes of me. WeVe

even got a badger, Bella of Brock hall; her family used to rule Mossflower in

the good old days. You'll like her. Together we form the Council of Resistance

in Mossflower—Corim, see, take the first letter of each word. Ha, we're

getting stronger every day."

Martin felt the excitement rising within him again. "Do you think that the

Corim know we're locked up here. Will they help us to escape?"

Gonff winked broadly, a sly grin on his face. "Sssshhhhh, not so loud, matey.

Wait and see."

He passed the wine flask across to Martin. "Tell me something, matey. Why do

they call you warrior? Where are you from? Did you live in a place like

Mossflower? Was it nice?"

Martin put the wine to one side and lay back, staring at the ceiling. "Where I

come from, Gonff, there are no forests, only rocks, grass, and hills. Aye,

that's the northland. I never knew a mother. I was brought up by my father,

Luke the Warrior—my family have always been warriors. We lived in caves,

constantly under attack by roaming bands of sea rats who came inland. You were

forced to defend your cave, your piece of land, or be overrun. There were

other families like us, I had lots of friends—there was Thrugg the Strong,

Ar-rowtail, Felldoh the Wrestler, Timballisto."

Martin smiled at the memory of his companions. "Ah, it wasn't so bad, I

suppose. All we seemed to do was eat, sleep and fight in those days. As soon

as I was tall enough I learned to lift my father's sword and practice with

it."

He touched the broken weapon strung about his neck. "Many's the enemy learned

his lesson at the point of this sword—sea rats, mercenary foxes too. One time

my father

32

was wounded and had to stay in our cave. Ha, I remembei all that summer,

fighting off foes while he lay at the cave entrance preparing our food and

calling advice to me. Then one day he took off with a band of older warriors

to meet the jea rats on the shores of the waters far away. They were •opposed

to make an end to all invading rats forever. It was t brave idea. Before he

went he gave me his trusty old sword, then he left carrying spear and shield.

My father said that I should stay behind and defend our cave and land, but if

he did not return by late autumn then I was to do as I felt fit."

Gonff nodded. "And he never returned?"

Martin closed his eyes. "No, he never came back. I defended our land alone,

against all comers. That was when they started calling me Martin the Warrior

instead of Son of Luke the Warrior. I left it as late as I could that autumn;

then there seemed no point in defending a cave and land just for myself. I

started to march south alone. Who knows how far I would have got if I hadn't

been stopped at Kotir."

Gonff stood up and stretched. "I'm glad you did stop here, matey. I'd hate to

be sitting in this cell talking to myself. I'd sooner talk to a warrior like

you."

Martin passed the wine back. "Aye, and I'd sooner be locked up with a thief

like yourself than wandering about alone, matey."

33

It was strange that at the very moment Gonff and Martin were discussing Corim,

the council of that name was talking of them. Ben Stickle's humble home was

crammed with woodland creatures, the largest of whom was a badger, Bella of

Brockhall. She presided over the meeting. Also present were the Skipper of

otters, Lady Amber the squirrel Chief, Ben Stickle and Billum, a dependable

mole who was deputizing for his leader. Seated by the fire, Beech the squirrel

answered council questions.

"Where did you see Gonif captured?" "Westerly, over near the fringe by Kotir."

"Whatever was Gonif doing to let himself get captured?" "Oh the usual,

skylarkin' and foolin' about." "You say it was two of Verdauga's soldiers."

"Aye, no doubt o' that. In uniform and carryin' spears." "Where were you when

all this took place, Beech?" "Sittin* up an old oak not far off." "Did you

hear what they said?"

"Heard 'em say they was takin* him off to Kotir, Of course, you know Gonff.

Treated it like a big joke, he did. No doubt they'll have wiped the silly grin

off his whiskers by now down in old Greeneyes' cells."

Lady Amber nodded at Beech. "Well done. Anything else to report?"

"No, marm. I followed them as far as I could, then I

34

spotted Argulor perched in a spruce. Couldn't say if he was awake, so I

decided to come back here, knowin' there was a gatherin' of Corim."

Ben Stickle winked at Beech. "Aye, it's late noon, too. There's a pot of

spring vegetable soup, cheese, and nutbread. D'you think you could manage

some, Beech?"

The squirrel winked back at Ben, bobbed his head respectfully to the Corim

leaders and was gone before further questions could be thought up.

Bella rubbed huge paws across her eyes and sat back with a grunt of despair.

"Well, here's another pretty pickle our mousethief has got himself into. Any

suggestions?"

Amber clucked disapprovingly. ' 'If I had my way, I 'd leave the silly

creature to stew his paws in Kotir awhile. That'd teach him a lesson."

There were murmurs of agreement.

The Skipper of otters whacked his rudderlike tail against the hearth. "Belay

that kind o' talk, mates. You all know that the little uns would have gone

hungry many a time, 'cept for the thief." Skipper gave a good-natured chuckle.

"That Gonff is my kind of mouse, a true messmate. A bit light of paw, but

good-hearted and an able-bodied shanty singer.''

Ben Stickle raised a paw. "I vote we rescue GonrT. We'd be ashamed to call

ourselves true woodlanders, leaving one of our own in Kotir prison."

Billum lifted a velvety paw. "Hurr, do moi vote count whoil gaffer Foremole's

not yurr?"

Bella thought for a moment while they all digested the meaning of the rustic

molespeech. "Of course, Billum. After all, you are Foremole's deputy and the

Corim respect your judgment as a sensible mole."

Billum squinted his round eyes with pleasure at the compliment.

By a show of paws the vote to rescue Gonff was unanimous. Then there was a

temporary respite for refreshment, while the assembly helped themselves to

bowls of Goodwife Stickle's famed spring vegetable soup, farls of warm

nutbread and ripe yellow cheese.

Lady Amber smiled fondly at two little hedgehogs who were trying to look very

fierce and brave, knowing that she

35

was always ready to recruit warriors into her band. She dealt with them as if

they were two bold squirrels.

"Shows me your paws. Hram, you'd probably make good climbers after some

training. You certainly look tough enough. Goody, are these two young villains

very strong?"

Goodwife put down her ladle and wiped her paws on her apron. "Ho my, yes.

Ferdy and Coggs are two of the strongest. Why, you wouldn't believe your eyes

if you saw these two a-gatherin* up all those great heavy dishes and washin'

pots. There's no two hogs more powerful."

Much smiling and winking was in evidence as Ferdy and Coggs gathered bowls,

grunting with exertion as they proved their strength by scouring a large

cauldron between them.

Buckling down to the business of Gonff, the Corim set about planning his

escape.

Argulor had returned to Mossflower. No creature could say why he had deserted

his mountain stronghold hi the far West; maybe it was that he enjoyed the

comfort of woodlands where prey was far more plentiful. Argulor was a golden

eagle of great age. He had grown too slow and short-sighted to pursue small

creatures, so staying within handy range of Kotir and Verdauga's troops suited

him. But the frightening strength and savagery of an eagle had not deserted

Argulor, and if the chance of a larger animal came his way he took it, with

curving talons and fierce hooked beak. Ferrets, rats, weasels and stoats made

good eating, and besides, there was a pine marten living in Kotir. Admittedly

it was a bit battered and bent, but Argulor had never tasted pine marten

before and was determined that one day he would do so. The eagle and the

wildcats had crossed trails many times over the years. Each had a healthy

respect for the other. With the exception of Tsarmina. Whenever Argulor was

sighted circling the sky over Kotir, Verdauga's daughter incited the soldiers

to fire arrows and throw stones at the great bird, offering rewards to the

creature that could bring him down. Argulor was not unduly worried by a mob of

vermin loosing missiles at him, as he could outdistance anything they chose to

throw. Sometimes he would hover on a thermal, slightly out of range, trying

with his failing eyesight to catch a glimpse of the de-

36

sired marten, or Tsarmina, whom he hated. Bright spring sunlight warmed his

wings as he wheeled above the fortress.

Ashleg cringed behind his wildcat mistress as she stood glaring upward at the

soaring eagle. "Shoot, you fools! Not over there, idiots! There, see, right

above your thick heads."

The soldiers continued firing without success. Tsarmina grabbed a particularly

slow ferret and cuffed him soundly about the head. Hurling the smarting

creature to one side, she picked up his bow and notched an arrow to the

string. Taking careful aim, she paused a moment as the eagle swooped lower.

Swiftly she loosed the barbed shaft with a powerful hiss of flighted feathers.

To the surprise of the watchers, Argulor wheeled to one side then shot upward

in pursuit of the arrow. Up he went until the shaft had reached its peak of

flight, then wheeling quickly inward the eagle caught the arrow in his talon

and contemptuously snapped it. Zooming downward, he flew low enough to stare

for a second at Tsarmina, then he beat the air with massive wing-strokes,

flying away into the blue yonder.

Tsarmina would have vented her rage upon Ashleg, but he had vanished inside

when he saw the eagle diving.

"Get out of my sight, you useless lot of buffoons!"

The soldiers followed Ashleg with all speed, each trying not to be last as

Tsarmina was in the mood for making examples.

The wildcat stood alone pondering a question: where had she seen that same

look of vengeance and fearlessness before? The mouse, that was it! She could

not even recall his name; anyhow, he probably hadn't lasted the winter down in

the cells.

Tsarmina watched a furtive figure coming across the parade ground, ducking and

weaving, flattening itself in the shadows. She snorted scornfully; it was only

Fortunata. "Frightened of a blind old eagle, vixen?"

"Milady, I was ducking the arrows and stones of your soldiers as they came

down, but that was a good shot of yours," Fortunata said in a fawning voice.

"A pity that the eagle caught it in midair."

The vixen jumped sharply to one side as Tsarmina fired an arrow from the

ferret's bow. It landed where her paw had been a moment before.

37

Tsarmina notched another arrow, her eyes glinting cruelly. "Right, let's see

what you're best at, fox—catching arrows or getting inside with a civil tongue

in your head."

She bent the bow back and giggled wickedly at the sight of Fortunata beating a

hopskip retreat.

Sooner or later the Queen of the Thousand Eyes had the final say in all

things.

Something rattled though the slit window above Martin and Gonff. In the

semigloom they groped about in the straw until Gonff found the object.

Martin could not conceal his disappointment. ' 'Goodness me, a stick. How

helpful. We could take this place single-pawed with a stick. What a useful

thing to send us."

It was not a stick. Gonff ignored his cellmate and set about undoing the thin

wire that bound the bark parchment to the slim blade. He unfolded the

parchment and moved into the light, where he read aloud the message it

contained.

Gonff.

Here are your tools. Leave by the woodland side of Kotir at the first light of

dawn. We will be waiting to cover for you.

Corim

Gonff laughed quietly as he destroyed the message. "This is what weVe been

waiting for, matey. Of course they don't know about you. The plan is only

supposed to cover my escape, but don't worry, we'll sort it out. The council

will be glad to have a real trained warrior on their side. Now, d'you see this

silly old bit of wire and this little knifeblade? Well, they're going to get

us out of here, matey. These are the tools of an honorable thief.''

Martin clasped Gonff's paw warmly. "I'm sorry, Gonff. All I did was stand here

making stupid remarks. You are the expert. From now on you have an assistant

who is willing to leam from your experience. In fact, you've got a real mate,

matey.'*

Gonff laughed and winced at the same time. "Righto, matey, the first lesson is

not to break the expert's paw by

38

crushing it 'cos you don't know your own strength. Let's settle down now. When

is the next guard patrol due?"

"In about an hour's time, regular as clockwork since I've been here. After

that, there'll be nobody by until two hours after dawn when they bring the

bread and water."

"Good, that gives us time for a little rest," Gonff said, stretching out

comfortably on the straw.

Martin lay down, willing himself to relax against the flood-tide of excitement

building inside him. Gonff played on his flute awhile, then he began singing

softly.

Pickalock pickalock, you'll regret the day,

When you took a mousethief and locked him away.

Sillycat, look at that, it's two for one,

The thief and the warrior

By dawn will be gone.

Martin lay with his eyes closed, listening. "Who taught you that song?"

Gonff shrugged as he packed his flute away. "Nobody. Songs just spring into my

head. Silly, isn't it. Sometimes old Goody Stickle says that it's Mossfiower

singing through me. Now and then she'll say it's a sight of seasons the sun

hasn't yet shone upon."

Martin savored the phrase as they lay in the straw.

"A sight of seasons the sun hasn't yet shone upon, eh. I like that, matey,

your friends sound like nice creatures."

Gonff chewed on a straw. "You'll like Goody Stickle. If I did have a mother

one time, then she couldn't be any nicer than Goody. Wait till you taste her

spring vegetable soup, or her oat and honey scones, piping hot and oozing

butter, or her apple and blackberry pudding with spices and fresh cream, or

just her new yellow cheese with hot oven bread and a stick of fresh celery,

aye, and a bowl of milk with nutmeg grated on top of it ..."

The straw slipped from Gonff's lips. Martin was glad that he had dozed off.

All that delicious mention of food had set his mouth watering like a stream.

He was positive that he would like Goody Stickle. In fact, she would never be

short of a constant admirer if her cooking was half as good as Gonff described

it.

39

It was still three hours to dawn as the rescue party headed by Amber and

Skipper left the Stickle dwelling. Goody pressed parcels of food upon them,

clucking worriedly, "Now I don't want to hear of anyone a-gettin' theirselves

catchered by those madcats. They'll eat you for sure."

Amber the squirrel Chief smiled as she hefted a pack of food. "Don't fret your

spines, Goody. We're more likely to be laid low by the amount of rations

you're making us take than by an enemy."

Skipper peeked inside his pack. "Marm, my old sturn-mick'd sink in a stream if

I ate half o' this. I'd be down at the bows for a week."

The small band of tough, capable woodlanders were paw-picked from Amber's

squirrel archers and Skipper's otter crew. They stood about checking weapons.

The otters twirled slings and selected stones, some of them balancing light

throwing javelins. The squirrels waxed bowstrings and belted on full quivers.

Ben Stickle remarked to his wife, "As fine a body o' woodlanders as I've seen.

Let's hope they can be of help to our little Gonff."

Ferdy and Coggs strolled out to join the band. The two small hedgehogs wore

cooking pot helmets and blanket cloaks, each carried a piece of firewood, and

they scowled in a warlike manner as they stood among the squirrels and otters.

40

The Skipper of otters clapped a paw to his brow and staggered about in mock

fright. "Strike me colors, if it ain't two bloodthirsty savages. One glance at

these two'd put a wildcat off his skilly an' duff for life!"

Ferdy and Coggs strutted about, tripping on their blankets but still managing

to maintain fierce grimaces. Concealing a smile, Lady Amber took the two

would-be warriors by their paws and positioned them outside the Stickle house.

She placed one on either side of the doorway, where they stood scowling and

stabbing the air with their firewood weapons. The otter and squirrel band

dutifully scowled back in recognition of two fellow fighters.

Skipper gave them a broad wink and waved his muscular tail for silence. "Belay

the gab and listen to me now. These here rough-lookin' coves has offered to

spill some blood V guts over at Kotir, but what I say is, leave the easy work

to us, we'll manage that. What we need is two ruffians who'll stop at nothin'

to patrol round this cottage and guard it while we're gone. I'll tell you

otters 'n' squirrels, 'tis hard and dangerous work, so I'll leave my packet of

tuck to keep you two villains alive while you're on watch here. That's if you

mink you can manage the job."

Ferdy and Coggs stood to attention, spikes bristling, cheeks puffed out with

authority, practically bursting with enthusiasm. They saluted officiously as

the rescue party moved off in the direction of Kotir.

Amber sniffed the light breeze. "Not more than two hours to daybreak now.''

Skipper wound a slingshot about his paw. "Aye, marm. That'll give us enough

time if we move along handy."

On the fringe of Mossfiower, Kotir stood dark and forbidding, the very

embodiment of evil and tyranny, awaiting the dawn.

Martin sat bolt upright at the sound of a bird on the outside. He shook Gonff

soundly. "Wake up, sleepyhead. It'll be dawn in less than an hour."

The mousethief sat up. Rubbing his paws into half-opened eyes, he looked

upward to the narrow strip of sky through the barred window slit. "Time to go,

matey."

Gonff took out his slim knifeblade. Sliding it into the key-

41

hole of the cell door, he twitched it back and forth. "Oh good, an easy one."

With both eyes closed and a smile of pleasure on his chubby face, he jiggled

the blade until there was a metallic click. "That's it, matey. Give it a

shove."

Marten pushed the door, but it refused to open. "It's still shut. What's gone

wrong?"

Gonff tested it carefully, pushing until he heard a slight rattle. "Bolts.

I'll need a boost—can you hold me up, matey?"

Martin braced his back against the door, cupped his paws and squared his

shoulders. "Try me."

The mousethief climbed up and balanced on his friend's shoulders.

Martin bore his weight patiently, hoping that GonfFs talents would do the

trick. "How does it look up there?" he asked anxiously.

Gonff's voice came back punctuated by odd grunts of concentration. "No real

problems, matey. Leastways, nothing that a Prince of thieves can't handle. Ha,

rusty old bolts, shove a bit of greasy cheese on 'em with my knifeblade, loop

the wire round the bolt handle, then it's just a matter of wiggle and jiggle

and tug until it comes loose, like this one. Ha, got it!"

Martin squared his shoulders once more as Gonff sought a new position. "Now

for the other lock. Hee-hee, this beats scrabbling and climbing up doors, a

good strong matey to stand on. Martin, you're as solid as a rock."

"Maybe," Martin grunted. "But I'm not as thick as one, so stop prancing about

on the back of my neck like that. I Ve been standing here for ages."

Gonff was never short of an answer. "Ages, huh? YouVe not been there ten

seconds, and the job's near done. I've known clumsy thieves and burglars who'd

keep you there until you grew gray whiskers. Just thank your lucky stars

you've got an honest thief like me to look after you, matey. Look out, here it

goes!"

Suddenly the door swung open, and they both tumbled in a heap out into the

passage. Gonff was laughing uproariously. Martin clapped a paw across his

noisy friend's mouth. "Sssshhh! You'll have the guards coming down to check on

the din."

Martin closed the door carefully and rebolted it.

Gonff was halfway along the passage when he noticed Mar-42

tin was not with him. Glancing back, he saw his friend standing by a cell far

down the corridor. It was Gingivere's cell, and Martin was speaking to the

wildcat.

"Gingivere, do you remember me? I'm Martin the Warrior. When I was taken

prisoner you were the only one who tried to help me. I've not forgotten that,

even though we're on opposite sides. I've got to go now, but if there's a way

that I can help you when I'm free, then I will."

Gingivere's voice reached Martin. He sounded weak and despairing. "Save

yourself, Martin. Get far away from this place and my sister.''

Gonff pulled Martin away, calling as he went, "I'm Gonff, the Prince of

Mousethieves. WeVe got to go now, but if you've helped my friend then I'll try

and help you someday."

As they hurried along the corridor, Gingivere's voice echoed behind. "Thank

you. Good fortune go with both of you friends."

They reached the end of the passage and mounted the stairs. Gonff was panting

slightly, so Martin waited while he regained his breath. The stairs were built

in a spiral. At the top was a wooden door. Gonff held up a paw for silence as

he eased it open. It was all clear. They stepped out into a broad hallway

which stretched away to the left and right of them.

Martin scratched his head. "Which way? Left or right?"

Gonff placed his slim blade on the floor and spun it. They stood watching

until it stopped. "Left. Come on, matey."

Continuing down the hallway, they saw a high window with the morning sunlight

streaming through onto the top of a flat wide stairway. Gonff groaned. "Oh no,

we're late. We've mistimed it because of that dark cell. Ah well, if we hurry

they may still be waiting outside for us. Which way now?"

As the steps took a turn they were in a smaller hall with a door at either

end. The sound of Tsarmina's voice could be heard. They froze. "If one word of

this ever gets out, just one, you vixen and you Ashleg, I'll see you both

hanged in chains over a roasting pit. The army will only follow the rightful

leader, and now that my brother is in the cells, that's me. I am Queen of the

Thousand Eyes. I rule Kotir and Mossflower."

The escapers backed down onto the stairway they had just

43

ascended, the echoes of Tsarmina's voice all around them as they ran round the

turn of the steps.

Martin and Gonff crashed straight into Tsarmina, Ashleg and Fortunata, who had

unknowingly been walking up the stairs behind them!

In the shrubs and small trees that bordered the woodland edge of Kotir the

otters and squirrels lay low. It was full bright morning, long past the dawn.

Birds were singing. The sun beamed over bright greenery dotted with daphne,

spurge laurel and late winter jasmine.

Oblivious to the beauty around him, Skipper lay whispering to Amber. "We can't

hang the anchor round her much longer, marm."

Amber stared at Kotir's gloomy walls. "You're right, Skip. We could be spotted

in broad daylight from those walls quite easily. Where in the name of the fur

has that little thief got to?''

"We can only give him a little longer," Skipper shrugged resignedly. "Then

we'll have to push off and try another day."

A young dark-colored otter came wriggling through the grass on his stomach and

saluted them. "Huh, you're never goin' to believe this, Skip, but there's a

whole fleet of mice dressed in funny-lookin' robes comin' this way through the

woods. Never seen ought like it in all me bom days."

Skipper and Amber looked quizzically at the scout. "Where?"

"Sort of circling from the south. Look, there!"

Sure enough, he had spoken truly. Through the trees a band of mice were

marching, all dressed in green-brown robes, complete with cowls and rope ties

about the middle.

Amber shook her head in amazement. She signaled a squirrel in a nearby tree.

"Quickly, take this otter with you. Get over and tell that bunch of ninnies to

get down flat. Don't they know where they are?"

Before the pair dashed off, Skipper spoke. ' 'Stay with 'em. Soon as it's

safe, take 'em in tow. Go to Brockhall—that should be large enough. Get in

touch with Bella, and tell her about them. Say that me and Lady Amber will be

in touch afore nightfall. OfFy'go."

Amber watched them bound away, ducking and weaving. Beside the army of Kotir,

there was always Argulor to watch out for. She turned to Skipper. "What a

prize bunch of boo-

44

bies! Imagine parading around Kotir in broad daylight. Where d'you suppose

they've come from?"

The otter snorted. "Search me. Bella will probably know as she's done a fair

bit of roaming in her time. Huh, talkin* of time, I think it's nearly run out

for young Gonff if he doesn't show himself soon."

Even at this early morning hour the warmth from the sun had lulled old Argulor

into a drowsy sleep. The eagle perched high in a spruce, partially leaning

against the trunk. In his sleep he groaned pleasurably, ruffling his plumage

slightly to let the glorious warmth seep through to his ancient flesh and cold

bones. If only there was a place that had no cold winter or damp windy autumn,

just eternal spring followed by summer. Life passed Argulor by as he slept the

day through on his perch. It passed by more importantly in the forms of an

otter and a squirrel leading a band of robed mice directly beneath the very

tree where he slumbered.

It would have been hard to tell who was more surprised, the escaping prisoners

or the wildcat and her minions.

Immediately they collided, Tsarmina gave a yowl of rage and more by luck than

judgment seized Gonff's leg. This was followed by a more anguished yowl as

Martin whipped the blade from GonfF's belt and stabbed Tsarmina sharply in the

paw, forcing her to release his friend.

"Follow me!" Martin grabbed Gonff and ran back up the stairs, giving Fortunata

a good slash across the rump with the blade as he went. The vixen collided

with Ashleg, and they fell in a jumble. Tsarmina tripped over them. She

struggled to extricate herself, screaming curses and raking the un-- lucky

pair with her claws.

"Blockheads, idiots, out of my way."

Martin and Gonff dashed headlong down the hall. Taking die door to the right,

they dived inside, slamming it shut behind them.

It was the late Lord Greeneyes' bedchamber. With the shouts of their pursuers

ringing closer the escapers scuttled for cover beneath the large canopied bed.

"We cant stay here long!" Martin panted as he felt about In the darkness and

found Gonff's paw.

U'

" 45

"Don't worry, matey. Get ready to make a bolt when I shout."

There was no further opportunity for conversation, as the door banged open.

Tsarmina pushed her creatures before her and closed the door. She was licking

her wounded paw. Fortu-nata, who had suffered a loss of dignity, tried not to

rub at her wounded rump. Ashleg stumped about, trying to sound helpful.

"At least we know we've got them cornered in here somewhere."

"Somewhere," echoed Fortunata. "But where?"

Tsarmina lowered her voice as she called the other two close. "We don't know

how much those mice overheard. They must not leave this room alive. Let us

search every corner thoroughly.''

Stretched out flat beneath the bed, Martin could see the paws of their

pursuers. He watched as they dispersed in separate directions, then turned

toward Gonff.

In the name of mice! That little thief was the absolute limit. Gonff had

actually closed his eyes and appeared to be napping. Martin prodded him

urgently. The three hunters were getting closer to the bed as other hiding

places were discounted.

"Ashleg, have you checked those wall hangings properly?"

"Yes, Milady. Maybe they're up on top of the bed canopy."

The pine marten was actually leaning against the side of the bed now. Gonff

patted Martin reassuringly as he wriggled silently past him. The warrior mouse

could only watch in dumb suspense as his daring little friend went to work.

Gonff carefully pulled the end of Ashleg's long cloak beneath the bed, slitted

it expertly with his blade and crawled a short way toward the bedhead, where a

tall, heavy folding screen stood to one side. Working quickly, he tied the

slit ends of the unsuspecting marten's cloak around one leg of the screen.

Gonff did three things almost in one movement. He pricked Ashleg's good paw

viciously with his blade, grabbed Martin and shot from beneath the bed,

roaring as they went.

"There they go! Stop 'em!"

Pandemonium ensued. Ashleg screamed and lurched for-

46

ward. The heavy screen went with him; it tottered and fell. Tsarmina managed

to leap out of the way, but the vixen was not so lucky, she was struck by the

screen. Half-stunned, she pushed it away. The cumbersome screen toppled

sideways into the fireplace, falling directly into the grate, which held the

embers of a previous night's fire. In a trice the room was a thick choking

mess of ashes, cinders, dust and smoldering embers.

Martin and Gonff pushed the door open. Two weasel guards who had heard the

noise in passing came thundering into the room as Martin and Gonff hurried

past them out into the hall. Behind them the shouts reached a crescendo as

unprotected paws came in contact with a floor strewn with red-hot embers.

This time Martin took the lead as they went straight down the hall and through

the door at the opposite end.

They found themselves in an upper messroom full of soldiers, stoats, ferrets,

and weasels, all eating breakfast at a long trestle table with a window at one

end. Taken completely by surprise, the soldiers sat gaping at the two

fugitives.

"Stop those mice! Kill them!" Tsarmina's enraged shouts reached them as she

ran toward the mess.

Gonff sized up the situation at a glance: the unexpected was called for.

Without a second thought he pulled Martin with him. They ran across the room,

bounded from a vacant seat up onto the tabletop and dashed madly along it,

scattering food, drink and vessels everywhere as they went. Together the thief

and the warrior leaped through the open window into empty space with a loud

defiant shout.

' * Yaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!''

Skipper and Amber both heard the cry.

So did Argulor.

It came from the north side of Kotir, not far from where the woodlander

squirrel scout stood perched in a tree. He bounded down and made his report to

Amber. "It's Gonff, but there's another mouse with him. They jumped from the

upper barracks window."

"We'd better get round there. Are they hurt?"

"No, but talk about lucky, they landed right in the foliage of a big old yew

growing on that side."

Amber leaped up. "Get Beech and the others. We'll have

47

to get them out of there double quick. Skipper, you bring the crew and give us

cover."

Argulor launched himself from his spruce, flapping ponderously. Once he was

airborne his natural grace and ability took over. Circling to gain height, he

squinted over to where the sounds had come from. The yew's upper foliage was

shaking. The eagle soared downward to see if it was anything edible.

Inside the messroom, Tsarmina laid about herself with a sturdy wooden ladle.

"Don't stand gawping, you dimwitted toads! Someone get out there and capture

them!"

There was an immediate stampede to grab weapons and buckle armor on. Nobody

seemed disposed to leap out of the window, though they all tried to look as if

they were helping in some way.

Tsarmina Hailed the ladle about in a fury. Suddenly a bright young stoat, more

reckless than his comrades, saw a chance to distinguish himself in the eyes of

his mistress. He bounded up onto the table.

"Leave it to me, Milady. I'll stop them." Striking a gallant pose, the stoat

ran to the window ledge and stood nerving himself for the leap.

Argulor soared low, close to the yew. His rheumy eyes could not distinguish

much between the crisscross branches. He was about to abandon hope of a quick

meal and turning away on his huge wing span, when suddenly a fat juicy stoat

with an expression of heroic duty upon its face jumped out into midair,

straight into the talons of the wheeling eagle.

Argulor gave a screech of delight, which contrasted jarringly with the stoat's

ragged squeal of dismay. The old eagle flapped joyfully off to his spruce

branch with the tasty burden.

Gonff wiped perspiration from his whiskers. "In the name of mice and crab

apples, that big feller nearly had us there, matey!"

Martin pointed to the open window. "It's not over yet. Look!"

Tsarmina stood glaring at them. The mess was crowded with frightened

creatures, none of whom would venture near the window.

Ashleg shuddered and clutched at his clammy fur.

"Did you see those claws, ugh, the size of its beak!"

48

Tsarmina swung him round by his cloak. "Shut your blathering face and get me

my bow and arrows. Just look at that for a prize piece of impudence."

Gonff was pulling faces at the wildcat Queen. He blew out his cheeks, stuck a

paw to his nose and rolled his eyes in the most ridiculous manner.

Tsarmina snatched up a spear and flung it, but the weapon was deflected by the

close-knit yew branches. A well-aimed arrow would do the trick, she thought.

"Where's that dithering woodenleg with my bow and arrows?"

Eight sturdy red squirrels came bounding through the yew branches as easily as

walking a paved path. They split into two groups of four, each taking charge

of the two escapers.

Lady Amber came swinging in. She spoke sternly to Gonff. **Now none of your

shenanigans, young thief. You, whoever you are, just relax and leave the rest

to us. You're in safe

Before he could say a word, Martin was seized by paws and tail. He felt

himself tossed about like a shuttlecock. Never in his life had he descended

from a height so swiftly, or with such ease; it was like being a flower petal

on a gentle breeze. In a trice he and Gonff were on firm ground.

A horde of armed soldiers poured out of Kotir. Martin sought about for a

weapon, anything to defend himself with. There was a whirring sound, and the

first four soldiers running forward seemed to relax, lying down upon the grass

as if they were taking a nap. Two more went down. Martin saw a line of otters

swinging slings; they were hurling large river pebbles with deadly accuracy.

A big burly otter came running to them. GonfF clasped his strong tattooed

paws. "Skipper, I knew me old messmate wouldn't leave his favorite thief in

the lurch. Oh, by the way, this is Martin the Warrior. He's my friend,

y'know."

Skipper signaled his crew to retreat, waving to Lady Amber as he lifted

another stone to his slingshot. "Ha, welcome aboard, Martin. Though how an

honest fellow like you came to be mixed up with this little buccaneer, I don't

know."

Skipper introduced Martin to Lady Amber, who said rapidly, glancing anxiously

about her, "Pleased to meet you, I'm sure, Martin. Skipper, I don't like this,

they're planning something ..."

49

As Amber spoke, a horde of soldiers bearing Thousand Eye shields came

streaming out of the main door with Tsar-mina leading them. There were far too

many to contend with.

Amber muttered to Skipper, "Take Martin and Gonff. Break and run for it. We'll

cover you."

Tsarmina was furious. She guessed what was happening: the squirrels were

taking a stand while the otters slipped off into Mossflower with the

fugitives. She issued orders to a ferret Captain named Raker. * 'Stop here

with a platoon and face the squirrels. I'll take the rest and circle around

them, and we'll cut them off. They won't realize I'm following, so they'll

slow down a bit when they think they're in the clear."

Raker saluted. "As you say, Milady. Here you, Scratch, and you, ThicktaU, take

your squads and follow the Queen."

The two weasel Captains saluted with their spears, then detailed their

creatures to follow Tsarmina. The wildcat had bounded off alone, taking a wide

loop south and back east.

Nothing aggravated Raker more than squirrel resistance fighters; they were

like smoke in a breeze, here and gone. He took aim and heaved his spear at

their leader, but it was a complete waste of time. Amber stood back drily,

twirling her sling, and ducking as she let the spear graze harmlessly past.

Directing her troops back across the open ground, she loosed a heavy pebble at

tremendous speed. Raker threw his shield up in the nick of time, staggering

backward as the stone struck his shield and bounced off. When the ferret

lowered his shield it was as if there had never been a squirrel inside Kotir's

grounds.

They were gone into Mossflower.

High in the branches of the trees that fringed the woodland, squirrels shook

with silent laughter at the dumbfounded expression on Raker's face. He shook a

mailed paw at the trees. "Come out and fight, you cowards!"

One last thunderous hail of stones, arrows and javelins sent the Kotir

soldiery scurrying for cover.

The treetops rustled and swayed. Distant laughter told the enemy that the

squirrels were swinging away through the sunlit upper terraces of leafy

Mossflower.

50

Bella of Brockhall's huge striped face lit up with pleasure. "Well, this is a

rare and unexpected pleasure, Abbess Ger-maine. Come in, all of you, welcome

to Brockhall."

Abbess Germaine led me Brothers and Sisters of Loam-hedge into Bella's

ancestral home, down the long twisting passage into the massive cavelike main

hall, whose ceiling was the arched roots of the great oak above Brockhall.

They made themselves at home around the wide hearth, whilst Bula die otter and

Pear the squirrel, who had acted as their guides, explained to Bella what had

taken place.

The badger listened carefully, settling back in her old armchair. "I had an

idea something like this would happen. That's why I left Goody Stickle's and

came home here. Nothing ever goes as planned with Gonff. Still, not to worry,

that young

•lip will be as right as rain, you'll see. First things first. Let's 'get you

all fed. You must be famished. I was baking a batch of chestnut bread. It'll

be ready soon. I'll make some celery and fennel stew with hazelnut dumplings

and get a cheese up from the storeroom. Now stop looking noble, the pair of

you. I know what growing otters and squirrels are like. You can

*ait here after you've eaten until the rest get back. Fetch bowls from the

shelf for our guests. That's it, make yourselves useful."

Eagerly the woodlanders did as they were bid, then they Sat with the Loamhedge

Brothers and Sisters.

51

Bella rose and embraced Abbess Germaine. "My old friend, we were many summers

younger when last we ate together."

The Abbess placed a thin, worn paw over Bella's hoary pad. "Yes, the seasons

are born anew, but alas we grow older, my friend."

"But not you, Germaine," Bella chuckled. "You look as young as ever. What news

of Loamhedge?"

The Abbess could not prevent a tear trickling onto her gray whiskers.

"Loamhedge, what magic in that name. But the happy times there are gone like

leaves down a stream. You heard of the great sickness?"

Bella nodded. "I had heard something from travelers, but I thought it was far

south. I did not think it had found its way to your home."

Germaine shook and closed her eyes as if trying to ward off the memory. "Only

those you see here escaped. It was horrible. Everything it touched withered

and died, I could not . . ."

Bella patted the old mouse gently. "There, there, no need to say more. Try to

forget it. You can call my home your own, for you and your mice, as long as

you like, and please don't thank me—you'd do exactly the same if I needed

shelter. In feet you did, many years ago, when I was young and liked to

travel.''

The two old friends went to the kitchen and began preparing the meal. Bella

told Germaine of all that had taken place in Mossflower. "This is a sad and

oppressed place you have come to, though once it was happy under the rule of

my father, Boar the Fighter. I was still young then. I returned from my

wanderings with Barkstripe—he was my mate; we met far to the southeast and

returned to stay with my father at Brockhall. I think that rather was waiting

for this to happen. My mother was long ago gone to the gates of Dark Forest;

she died when I was a cub. Boar the Fighter was a good lather, but a restless

spirit. He had tired of ruling Moss-flower and wanted to go questing, just as

his father, Old Lord Brocktree, did before him. One day he left here and

Bark-stripe ruled in his stead. Those were good seasons. We had a cub, a

little male called Sunflash because of his forestripe, which had an odd golden

tinge. He was a sturdy little fellow.

52

"In the autumn of that year the wildcats arrived. Verdauga and his brood took

over that old ruin of a fortress. There was no one to oppose him, and he

brought with him a vast horde of wicked vermin. At first we tried to fight

back, but they were so cruel and merciless that they completely crushed us.

Barkstripe led a great attack upon Kotir, but he was slain, along with many

others. Those who did not escape into Mossflower were caught and left to rot

in Verdauga's prisons. Alas, that was all long ago. We have learned to keep

ourselves safe here in the thick woodlands now."

Germaine drew loaves from the oven on a long paddle. "Where is your son,

Sunflash? He must be quite big now."

Bella paused as she laid the bread to cool. "While I was ill and grieving for

Barkstripe, our son stole out of here one night. They say he went to Kotir to

avenge his father's death, but he was far too young. Sunflash has never been

seen or heard of since. Many, many seasons have gone by since then, 90 I think

that one way or another my son ended up at the gates of Dark Forest with his

father."

Outside in Mossflower the afternoon shadows began to lengthen over the trees

that were budding and leafing, promising a thick emerald foliage for the

summer. In another part of Mossflower not far from Kotir, a mailed tunic and

tabard bearing the Thousand Eye device slipped carelessly from a high spruce

branch and landed in a crumpled heap on the forest floor. Argulor shifted from

claw to claw as he preened his pinions, carefully arranging his long wing

feathers. A good fat stoat would be extremely welcome, but pine marten ... ah,

that was a delight he had yet to savor. Argulor would wait. His time would

come; a marten with a wooden leg could only run so fast in any direction. The

eagle snuggled down into his plumage, glad that the spring nights were kind to

young and old alike. It was good to visit old hunting grounds again.

53

The evening chorus of birdsong fell sweetly upon Martin's ears as he strolled

along through the woodlands with Skipper and Gonff, reveling in his new-found

freedom after the long winter in Kotir prison. The otters were never still;

they were playful as puppies, bounding and cavorting through the trees and

bushes. Skipper was instructing Martin in the art of the slingshot. He was

delighted to have such a keen pupil and took every opportunity of amazing the

warrior mouse with his expertise. Casting a pebble high into the air, Skipper

re-slung a second pebble and shot it, hitting the first one before it had time

to fall to earth. The otter shrugged modestly. "It's only tricks, me hearty. I

can teach you them anytime. Ha, I'll bet afore the summer's through you'll be

able to sling a pebble across any villain's bows."

Gonff was great friends with the otters. He wholeheartedly shared their

recklessness and sense of madcap fun. The little thief imitated their nautical

mode of speech perfectly, telling Martin that he was, "As likely a cove as

ever pirated vittles from Kotir's galley."

Martin enjoyed himself. Having been a solitary warrior for so long, he found

it a pleasant change to be in the company of such gregarious friends. Skipper

presented him with his own personal sling and pouch of throwing pebbles. He

accepted the gift gratefully. The otters were naturally curious about the

broken sword hilt Martin kept strung about his

54

neck, so he told them the story, and was taken aback by their hatred of

Tsarmina. Though, as Skipper remarked, "Wildcats never bothered us. Once our

crew is together, there ain't nothin' on land or afloat that'll trouble

otterfblk."

Looking about, Martin could quite believe it. Gonff danced on ahead with two

otters who did a hornpipe as he sang.

I'm a mouse with a very long tail,

With a heart and voice to match,

I've escaped from the pussycats gaol.

They'll find me hard to catch.

So, away, through the grass, the flow'rs and leaves,

Like smoke on the breeze, the Prince of Thieves.

Let's cheer for the day when we will see

The Mossflower country safe and free.

Martin was tapping the happy tune from paw to paw when be saw that Skipper had

dropped back a few paces. The otter was standing with an air of intense

concentration, swaying from side to side, sniffing the breeze. At a sign from

him, Gonff stopped singing and the entire crew grew silent.

Skipper said in a gruff whisper, "Some beast's a-comin', mates. Not from

astern, mind. Over yonder there. Birds stopped singin' over that way first.

Ha, I'll wager it's the cat." Skipper pointed. They could soon make out shapes

moving from tree to tree. As the intruders drew nearer, it was plain to see

they were Kotir soldiers in full armor, led by Tsarmina, a barbaric figure

wearing a splendid cloak and a helmet that covered her head completely except

for slitted eye, ear and mouth apertures.

At Skipper's growl of command, the otter crew spread themselves out in

fighting formation, faces grim, weapons at the ready. Skipper stood fearlessly

out in the open where l&armina could see him, paws folded across his chest, a

sling hanging from the right one, loaded and ready. Tsarmina halted a short

distance away. She stretched out a paw, letting a wickedly sharp claw spring

dramatically forth to point at Martin and/Gonff.

"The mice are mine, otter. I will take them from you."

Skipper's voice was hard as flint. "Back off, cat. You're pn my quarterdeck

now. This is Mossflower, not Kotir."

55

"All the land belongs to me," Tsarmina said imperiously. "I am Tsarmina, Queen

of Kotir and Mossflower. These mice are escaped prisoners. Give them to me

now, and I will not punish you. Yonr creatures will be allowed to go

unharmed/'

A thin smile played about Skipper's mouth. "Go and chase your mangy tail,

pussycat!"

The breath hissed from between Tsarmina's teeth at the otter's fearless

impudence. She raised a paw to her soldiers, who began fitting arrows to

bowstrings. As they did, some sixth sense tingled through the wildcat and she

looked up. Lady Amber stood in a tall elm, in her paw a light javelin poised

for throwing. Reacting instinctively, Tsarmina grabbed the nearest soldier to

her—a ferret.

There was a swish and a thud. She felt the impact as the luckless soldier took

the javelin that was intended for her.

The squirrel Queen concealed her disappointment at the lost opportunity by

aiming another javelin and calling out, "Unstring those bows quick, all of

you. She can't hold him in front of her for long, and this next one will get

her between the eyes if you don't obey me right now!"

Tsarmina, still holding the ferret with the spear protruding from his lifeless

form, said urgently out of the side of her mouth, "Do as the squirrel says."

They obeyed instantly.

Tsarmina let the ferret fall, twisting the body as she let go of it. Skipper

was backing off into the bushes with his crew. He waved up to Amber. "Thankee

kindly, marm. D'you mind keepin' a weather eye clapped on 'em while we push

off?"

Suddenly the wildcat plucked the javelin from the fallen soldier and flung it

up at Lady Amber.

"Cut and run crew!" Skipper shouted as he bolted off with the rest. Amber had

momentarily relaxed the javelin in her paw; she ducked in the nick of time as

her weapon came hurtling back at her. Tsarmina did not wait to see if she had

scored a hit but took off after Skipper and the crew, yelling, "This way! Cut

them off through die bushes!"

Martin and Gonff ran with the otters, Skipper urging them on as they pounded

through the undergrowth. "Hurry now, crew. Amber can't hold 'em off

forever—there's too many of 'em. Hark, they're back on to us."

Tsarmina was no fool; she had sensed the direction they

56

would take. Accordingly, she retreated then came back at a tangent to cut down

the distance on an angle. Suddenly Martin and Gonff found themselves on the

banks of a broad fast-flowing river with steep grassy sides. Skipper stamped

his paws and sighed. "Belay, we nearly made it. Too late, here Ihey come!"

Tsarmina and her troops broke through the trees and came hurrying along the

bank toward them.

Martin could see there would be no talking this time. He drew his sling, as

did the otters around him. They let fly the first volley before their foes had

time to notch arrows or raise spears. The hail of stone caught the enemy

head-on. Rock clattered on armor as Tsarmina threw herself flat yelling at her

soldiers, "Down, get down and return fire!"

Martin saw two otters felled by heavy spears. Now Skipper's crew was trapped

between the open stretch of bank and the river. The otter crew rattled off

another salvo of rocks.

This time Tsarmina had anticipated it; she had the front rank take the stones

on their shields, while another rank behind hurled their spears over the tops

of the shield-bearers. Some of the spears went too far, but one found its

mark: an

• otter standing up with a whirling sling dropped back, killed

•by a well-aimed throw.

Reinforcements arrived, with Lady Amber bringing squirrel archers through the

trees to fire at the Kotir troops from behind.

Skipper saw Tsarmina's forces turn to face the new foe. He seized his chance.

Martin found himself grabbed by the otter leader, while Gonff was clasped by a

big otter named Root. .'Take a good breath, messmate. We're goin' for a swim!"

The entire otter crew took a short bounding run and dived into the river with

a loud splash.

r Tsarmina was facing the squirrels with an arrow notched to a bow. She spun

round and loosed the shaft, catching the last otter in the back before it hit

the water. Despite this, the otter still managed to submerge and get away.

Lady Amber found that she was losing troops. She decided on a quick withdrawal

now that the otters had escaped. Ducking the arrows and spears, the squirrels

took off through the bees.

Tsarmina howled her victory to the sky. Running to the

57

water's edge, she called a halt to those soldiers who were aiming weapons into

the river. "Enough! Cease fire! They're gone. Stand still, everyone."

The troops stood fast as the wildcat peered into the depths. They watched

Tsarmina draw back from the river's edge. She was scratching at her fur as if

trying to dry herself, shuddering as she muttered, "Urgh! Dark, damp,

wet—water everywhere, swirling, swirling. Ugh!" When she was away from the

water, Tsarmina recovered her composure. Throwing off her helmet and cloak,

she slumped moodily at the foot of a beech tree. Night had crept up unawares.

The soldiers stood watching, puzzled at their Queen's strange behavior.

Tsarmina stared back. "Well, what are you all gawping at? Brogg, Scratt,

listen carefully. I want you to go back to Kotir, see Fortunate, and tell her

to bring the Gloomer to me. I want you back before dawn. Get going, the pair

of you!"

Brogg and Scratt stood rooted; terror loosened their tongues. "The Gloomer,

Milady? Surely you don't mean ..."

"Lady, he's completely mad!"

Tsarmina rolled herself in her cloak and settled down beneath the tree. "I

know he is, idiots. But I'll get a sight madder if you don't move yourselves.

Now be off! Guards, set up a sentry on river watch. If anything happens, let

me know straightaway. Otherwise I'm not to be disturbed until Fortunata

arrives with the Gloomer. If Brogg and Scratt are still here, give them a good

whipping with bowstrings for idling." Tsarmina settled down to sleep, lulled

by the sounds of the two ferrets crashing and blundering off through the

undergrowth.

Nothing could escape the Gloomer in the water. The wildcat Queen had tasted

victory that day. She was not about to let it all slip away because of

incompetent soldiers. The Gloomer must be brought here quickly to consolidate

her triumph.

1O

58

The whole world was black, icy cold, airless, and wet.

Martin concentrated on holding his breath. When he ventured to open his eyes,

it became a murky dark gray, but he could sometimes make out shapes moving

around him. He began to wish he were anywhere but beneath a river—even back in

his cell at Kotir. At least there had been air to breathe there.

Skipper's strong paws gripped him relentlessly by the scruff of his neck.

Water rushed by them, roaring in his ears as the powerful swimming otter

dragged him along.

Fresh air, just one breath, he wished, one lungful of good clean air.

Skipper held Martin tighter as he began to wriggle in panic. Bubbles of air

were escaping from his mouth, an iron band was crushing his skull. Why was

Skipper drowning him?

Martin opened his mouth to shout, but the water came pouring in. With a huge

rush accompanied by much barking and shouting, the otters broke the surface,

shaking their coats.

Skipper hefted Martin's body and tossed him out upon the bank. The warrior

mouse lay coughing and gasping, gulping in vast quantities of clean fresh air.

Never again would he take such a wondrous gift for granted.

All around him otters were whooshing playfully in and out of the water,

ducking one another and generally behaving as if the whole thing were a great

lark. Martin looked about

59

until he sighted Gonff. Immediately he dashed across to his friend. Gonff had

not fared as well as he on the underwater journey; the little thief lay face

down on the bank, his body looked forbiddingly limp and still. Root, the big

otter who had borne Gonff underwater, began pushing and pumping at Gonff's

inert form with his strong forepaws.

Martin felt a surge of panic. "Is he all right? He's not drowned? He'll live,

won't he?"

Root laughed and gave Martin a huge wink. "Bless yer life, matey, he's fine.

Little thief, stealin' our riverwater like that. Here, he's comin' around

now."

A moment later Gonff was spluttering and shaking indignantly. "Root, you great

clodhopping water monster, I'm sure you took the long way around to get here.

Have I coughed all that water back? Yuk! Bet I lowered the river level by a

foot or two, matey. Oh, hello Martin. Well, how d'you like Camp Willow?"

Martin had not looked at his surroundings. Now that the danger was past, he

took stock of where they had beached. It was a large, sandy, shelf like area,

the roof of which was a mass of gnarled willow roots. Phosphorescence from the

swift-flowing water palely illuminated the cave system of the underground

bank. A canal ran through the middle of Camp Willow, emanating out of the

gloomy darkness of hidden caves and bolt holes in the rear.

Skipper watched proudly as Martin gazed about. "You won't find no better

'ccommodation for an otter anywhere, Martin. Camp Willow was built by otter

paws."

Martin nodded shrewdly. "A right fine job they did of it, too, Skipper."

The Skipper of otters swelled out his barrel-like chest.

"Andsome of you to say so, mate, but belay awhile and I'll call muster."

It soon became apparent that three of the crew were dead, possibly four;

nobody could account for the fact that a young female called Spring was

missing. Skipper's face was grim as he called two young males, Duckweed and

Streamer, to search the river for the missing one. With barely a ripple, the

two plunged back into the water and were gone.

Martin and Gonff were given rough barkcloths to dry themselves. They sat upon

the bank with the otters around a bright

60

fire, eating thick wedges of carrot and parsley bread, which they dunked in a

steaming bowl of river shrimp and bulrush soup, seasoned with fiery

ditchnettle pepper. It was delicious, but extremely hot.

The otters munched away happily, laughing at the two mice and calling out old

river proverbs.

*'Haha, don't taste no 'otter to an otter, matey."

"The more 'otter it is, the more 'otter otters likes it."

Martin and Gonff swigged cold water and laughed along with the crew.

Not long before they settled down to sleep, Duckweed and Streamer returned.

They emerged, dripping, into Camp Willow. Between them they were supporting

young Spring. Streamer had removed the arrow from Spring's back. Fortunately,

she was not badly hurt.

Skipper was delighted to see her, and he dressed the wound carefully. "Ho,

'tis me, little matey Spring. Never you fear, young un. If they gave you an

arrow, we'll pay 'em back with a shower of javelins. You get some vittles and

a good rest. \bu'll be right as a river rock tomorrow."

Spring told them what had happened.

"When I got hit I didn't swim away for fear of leavin' a blood trail in the

water, so I swam a little ways then laid under a bush hangin' over the bank. I

slapped a good pawful o' mud on my wound to stop the bleedin' and lay waiting.

I knew Skip wouldn't leave me long afore he sent help. I was that close to

some of those vermin sittin' on the bank that I could have reached out and

laid a flipper on 'em. They were all talkin' about somethin' called a

Gloomer—said that the cat had sent messengers to Kotir to fetch this Gloomer

thing."

Skipper patted Spring. "Well done, matey. You get some sleep now, and don't

fret your 'ead about nothin'. Old Skip'11 take care of it."

Root struck his thigh with a heavy paw. "Ha! The Gloomer—I might've knowed it,

Skip. What'll we do now?"

The fire burned low in the Stickle dwelling as Goody tidied around before

going to join Ben outside. It was a peaceful Spring night. Ben knocked his

pipe out on the gatepost. "Should be a fair day on the morrow, old girl." ;

They both stood nodding. Suddenly Goody threw up her

61

paws. "Well, in the name of Stickles, will you just look at those two liddle

'ogs a layin' there."

Ferdy and Coggs had really taken their sentry duty to heart. They had rigged

up a tent from a blanket and branches. Nearby lay a jug of strawberry cordial

and a half-finished apple pie which they had requisitioned from Goody's

cupboard. The two little hedgehogs lay with their arms about each other,

snoring uproariously, cooking pot helmets askew, mouths wide open.

Ben chuckled fondly. "I do believe we'll sleep sounder in our beds, Goody, k

no win' we've got these two terrors to guard us through the night."

As Goody folded the blanket away, Ben carried Ferdy and Coggs inside.

Still asleep, Ferdy waved his stick. "Who goes there? I'll fight the six of

you!"

11

62

At Kotir, Fortunata was also sleeping peacefully, until the banging of

spearbutts against her chamber door brought her yawning and shuffling from her

bed.

"Who's there? Go away and see Ashleg about it, whatever it is."

Brogg and Scrait stood aside as Cludd, the weasel Captain of the guard, kicked

the door open. "Come on, fox. You're Granted by Queen Tsarmina. She's camped

by the River Moss."

Fortunata rubbed her injured rump. "Couldn't Ashleg go? Fin injured."

* Cludd's stolid face was expressionless. "No, the Queen wants you there by

dawn. You're to bring the Gloomer with you. Brogg and Sc rat I'll lend a paw."

' Fortunata recoiled with fright and distaste. "The Gloomer! 1 thought that

horror had died years ago or gone away." Cludd pointed his spear at the vixen.

"Come on now, no nonsense. Ifou know what Milady's like if you disobey her

orders. We'll make sure Gloomer's well secured."

-'• Fortunata had no choice. In a foul temper, she followed the three soldiers

down corridors and flights of stairs to the «ery bowels of the fortress.

*• Far beneath the cells there was an underground cavern and

• great lake. The only one who ever went down to the lake Was the guard who

was detailed to feed the Gloomer. Once

63

a week he would take down the refuse from the barracks, leaving it a

respectable distance from the post to which Gloomer's long chain was attached

at the lake's edge.

Verdauga had captured Gloomer and brought him to Kotir long ago. The monster

water rat was robbed of normal sight after years of swimming in the dark murky

waters of the lake. It had little hearing and no speech at all. None of this

mattered while it still possessed the instincts of touch and smell; the

Gloomer was a killer, savage and mindless, particularly when there was fresh

meat to be had.

Fortunata was frightened; this was no place to be in the night hours. Gingerly

she picked up the chain. The rattling iron links echoed eerily around the cold

musty cavern, and what little courage the fox had failed her. She dropped the

chain, looking imploringly toward Cludd. "I'm only a vixen. This will take a

creature strong and brave as a Captain of the Guard."

The obvious slyness of the remark did not escape Cludd, yet he swelled

slightly at the flattery. Taking the chain firmly, he nodded at the others.

"Right. Stay out of the way and leave this to me. I know how to deal with

Gloomer."

Tugging hard on the rusty chain, Cludd splashed it up and down in the water as

he pulled. The underground lake rippled, and there was an audible gasp of

shock from the three onlookers as the Gloomer's monstrous head appeared from

the depths like the worst kind of vision from a bad dream. The eyes were

staring, sightless white marbles veined with blood-red streaks, the snout

ribbed and scarred like a wet black patch of leather. What little fur there

was on the head was plastered flat. Water ran off it as the mouth opened wide.

Even Cludd felt his paws shaking as the Gloomer swam toward land. The

sightless eyes were fixed upon the weasel Captain as if they could actually

see him. The mouth worked hungrily open and shut, purple blubbery lips drawn

back to reveal curving greeny-yellow fangs spread this way and that, the very

oddness of them adding to their revolting appearance.

Cludd dropped the chain and picked up his spear, his voice snaking noticeably.

"Here, Brogg, Scratt, grab your spears and do as I do. Keep driving that thing

in a circle around the post."

64

Gloomer paused for a moment in the shallows, water dripping from its ugly

bulk, the hideous head moving to and fro as it scented the soldiers and

pinpointed them by their sound and movement. Then in a sudden rush Gloomer

charged with an awesome turn of speed.

- The trio were highly nervous but ready. Dodging and prodding Gloomer

with spearpoints, they kept the monster pursuing them clockwise around the

post, Cludd bawling instructions as he ran.

"Don't stop, whatever you do. Keep it moving!" Fortunata was impressed; the

plan was simple but effective.

The trio skipped, jumped and ran as Gloomer pursued them mindlessly. It was

not until the entire chain had been wound around the post that Gloomer was

forced to stop. The post shook with the beast's maddened efforts to push

forward. Brogg and Scratt kept their spearpoints at its back, so it conld not

unwind the chain by going in the reverse direction. Cludd leaned his weight

against the chain to keep it tight, and called to Fortunata, "Get the leads

attached to the collar, quickly!" With icy fear coursing through her veins and

an expression of extreme distaste on her face, Fortunata obeyed. Cludd

strained at the chain, watching Fortunata impatiently. "Stop dabbing and

primping, fox. Get those leads fastened, or I'll loosen this chain."

Fortunata secured the last of the three heavy greased leather

;; halters around the short, powerful neck, which already bore

''•-. a studded iron collar. Detaching the chain, she jumped back-

. ward and made for the stairs. "There. It's done! I know which

way to go. You three get hold of the leads and follow me."

V Cludd called out sternly, "Get back here, lily liver, I'm

':, Dot going anywhere. Captain of the Guard's my job. If the

•-[ Queen had wanted me, she would have said. Come on, take i one of these

leads."

£; Immediately Fortunata picked up the lead; Gloomer moved "•(toward her.

She hurried swiftly ahead to keep Gloomer from fier. Brogg and Scratt stood on

either side and slightly back, pulling their leads tight, straining to control

Gloomer. Cludd pwatched them go, glad he had completed his distasteful task.

Fortunata led the way. Having lived in Mossflower all her fe, she was familiar

with the area. She increased her pace

65

to keep the maximum distance between herself and the huge gray and black

beast. Gloomer snuffled and tugged, this way and that; Brogg and Scratt

strained on the leads to keep it going the right way. The moon over the

woodlands shone through the trees on the reluctant trio and their monstrous

charge as they blundered and crashed through Mossflower, disturbing the

peaceful night, tainting it with evil.

12

66

Martin was awake before dawn. He fed the fire and sat by .it. Skipper came and

sat with him. "Now then, messmate. YouVe got a face on you like a wet

water-beetle's grandad. Why so worried?"

Martin smiled half-heartedly. "Oh, it's listening to those stories that the

crew were telling about the Gloomer, I suppose. It's all my fault for coming

here and causing trouble for you, Skipper."

The big otter gave Martin a hearty clap on the back that nearly sent him head

over tail. "Ha harr. Bless your little *eart, me old warrior. You don't want

to listen to that scuttlebutt. Was that all you was afeared of? You come with

me .and I'll introduce you to our Stormfin." V "Stormfin?"

, "Aye, Stormfin, matey. Come 'ere to the back of the cave."

In the darkness of the cavern recess, Skipper showed Mar-- tin a sluicegate

the blocked the canal across its middle. There :swere narrow spaces in the

gate, allowing the water to flow '.through. At one side was a hollow log. :v£.

Skipper picked up a cudgel and passed it to Martin. "Us-S;ien, mate, that big

pussycat may 'ave a Gloomer, but us ot-iillws got a Stormfin. You start

thumpin' that there log and I'll )a|Baise the sluicegate. Stay clear of the

water's edge, though." Mystified, Martin began banging the log. The eerie

sounds

67

bounced off the cavern walls as Skipper raised the gate clear of the water.

The otter nodded sagely. "That'll warn anyone who's in the water to get out,

Stormfin's comin'. Watch the canal, now, and don't forget to stay clear."

Far back in the darkness something was beginning to come forward. A smooth

wave rose; it slopped over the sides as the water was pushed along by some

tremendous force. Martin was about to question Skipper when the otter lowered

the gate slightly, and the water began roiling and bubbling. A long shape,

like a section of tree trunk, smooth, with a many-spiked dorsal fin emerged.

Martin gasped and jumped back. "That's Stormfin?"

"Aye, this is Stormfin, matey. Me and my brother trapped him long ago."

Skipper leaned forward and patted the giant pike's fin, causing it to lash its

tail. The water boiled into a white foam as the otter leaped back laughing.

"Hohoho! Take a look, Martin. You wouldn't like to cross mat cove's path if

you was out a swimmin', now would you?"

Martin leaned forward. He saw the powerful bony head with its muddy eyes and

long hooking underjaw. The mouth opened slightly. He had never seen so many

teeth in one mouth; there were row upon row of jagged backward curving

rippers, needle-sharp and milky white. Stormfin seemed to be smiling in

anticipation. With a flick of his mighty silver-and-black-banded bulk he

butted his head against the lowered sluicegate, anxious to be freed into open

water.

Skipper stood with both paws on the gate lever. "Right then, you old

buccaneer. Don't eat him too quick, now; you'll make yourself sick."

Martin helped Skipper to weigh down upon the lever. The sluicegate lifted.

Stormfin rushed through, creating a miniature tidal wave as he traveled.

Skipper left the gate open.

"He'll be back in a few days. We coax him in with tidbits. Pity there ain't

more'n one Gloomer. That pike has a terrible appetite."

Panting and rasping, the Gloomer dragged on the leads. The trio looked toward

Tsarmina as they dug their paws into the turf and were dragged helplessly

toward the River Moss.

68

Fortunata began to panic. "Milady, quick, give the word, 0r it will have us in

the water!"

Tsarmina extended her paws and raised them as if starting 8 race. "Right, you

three, when I let my paws drop the—"

Too late. Gloomer snapped the lead Fortunata was holding «ad the two guards

were pulled over on their faces. Immediately they let their leads go; Gloomer

sploshed noisily into the water.

The monster water rat swam about in slow circles, scenting apd feeling

vibrations in the river current. Without warning it dived, heading in the

direction of Camp Willow.

The soldiers of Kotir ran alongside the bank, following Gloomcr's progress and

shouting excitedly.

*'Look, he's after something. Hey, Gloomer, eat an otter 'forme!"

"Don't eat 'em, kill 'em all, Gloomer! Rip them to bits!"

A ferret who had run ahead of the rest called back to his comrades,

"Something's coming! I think it's the otters. No, wait, it's a big fish of

some sort."

Swift chevrons of water rippled out to both sides of the bank as Stormfin sped

downstream like a great arrow. : Gloomer thrashed the water as he swam

upstream, feeling his prey getting near.

, Closer and closer the leviathans came toward each other. Oloomer lifted his

snout clear of the water, sucking in a huge gasp of air. He submerged again

and waited, facing the oncoming foe, mouth slightly agape, claws at the ready.

Stormfin looked as if he was smiling. The underslung jaw clamped shut,

pointing at his adversary like a battering ram, he piled on extra speed, drew

his fins in tight and came at Oloomer like an arrow from a bow. The onlookers

on the bank saw a spout of water shoot high like a geyser as the combatants

crashed together.

K;> Gloomer had the breath driven from him as Stormfin struck IBS ribs.

Disregarding the pain, the rat sought the pike with

•ISs teeth, feeling his heavy claws rake searingly through its

Kales.

P With the madness of battle upon him, Stormfin rose clear

*Jlthe river, swishing his tail in a mighty leap; then twisting ^midair, he

launched himself back into the water like a nward torpedo with gaping teeth.

Gloomer was waiting.

69

He pushed his head clear of the river, sucked in a quick breath and locked

jaws with the descending pike. The surface boiled in a welter of cascading

water, shimmering scales and ragged far, the whole scene streaked with blood.

They snapped and bit at each other, locking jaws, rolling over and over, now

letting go, now seeking another hold, contorting madly. Gloomer had the pike

by the tail. He chewed voraciously. Pain seared through the big fish, but

Stormfin had his enemy by the stomach, and ripped viciously.

Tsarmina dashed up and down the bank with a spear at the ready. She could not

throw it for tear of hitting her destroyer. Mud boiled up from the bottom to

mix with the floatsam of combat. Silver scales and gray black far became

indistinguishable in the melee.

Now Gloomer had latched his claws into Stormfin's side and bitten deep into

the pike's dorsal fin. Stormfin thwacked away at Gloomer's injured side with

his heavy tail like a stout paddle. He had severed Gloomer's tail and was

tearing ferociously at the rat's hindquarters.

The need for breath forced Gloomer to relinquish his hold momentarily, and

Stormfin slid off like a wraith, following the current. Gloomer surfaced and

gulped in several grateful breaths.

Dementedly Tsarmina shouted from the bank, "Gloomer's won! Where's the pike?

Is it dead?"

Fortunata was caught up in the excitement. "It must be, Milady. Nothing could

stand against the Gloomer for long."

The soldiers raised a ragged cheer. It was immediately stifled as Stormfin

came back to the attack!

Driving low, hard and fast, the big pike crashed into Gloomer with staggering

force, catching him unawares. The huge rat had the breath smashed from his

lungs as he was battered swiftly up against the far bank. Falling back into

the water, he swallowed liquid instead of air. Still lashing out with tooth

and claw, Gloomer was unconsciously inflicting injuries on the pike, but the

damage was done.

Stormfin knew every inch of his river. He slid into a deep pit beneath the

bank and attacked the rat's soft underbelly with the mad power of one who

feels victory in sight. Gloomer scratched blindly at the rock either side of

the un-

70

derwater hole, missing his adversary's head completely. Baffled, he tried to

turn away.

Stormfin's jaws clamped tight on Gloomer's back legs. The monster pike backed

water as he dragged the rat backward down the pit with him. The watchers on

the bank saw Gloomer's front claws emerge wildly from the water, grasping at

thin air before they vanished beneath the surface.

The destroyer from Kotir was beaten. Stormfin had finally won!

Tsarmina shot several arrows into the area where the pike had pulled her rat

down. The soldiers stood about on the bank, shuffling awkwardly and fidgeting.

A sense of foreboding hung over them after the defeat of Gloomer. Fortunata

tried to stroll casually out of sight, knowing the wildcat Queen would be

looking for a scapegoat to vent her wrath upon.

"Get back here, fox. Don't try to slink away." Holding out her paw, the

wildcat Queen snapped at a stoat close by, "Give me your spear."

Keeping her eyes fixed on the quaking vixen, Tsarmina accepted the spear. She

swung it around until the point was at Fortunata's throat. "So, nothing could

stand against the Gloomer, eh, fox?"

The terrified fox could think of nothing to say. She merely gulped.

Tsarmina swung the spear away and dipped it into the river. She fished about

for a moment then whipped the point out of the water. Looped over the

spearpoint was the collar once worn by the Gloomer. Tsarmina hurled the

weapon. It whizzed past Fortunata and buried itself in an ash trunk, quivering

with bright droplets of water shaking from it.

From somewhere along the river came the deep, barking laugh of an otter.

The wildcat's cloak swirled about her as she tore the spear from the tree and

ran to the water's edge brandishing it.

"Laugh, yes laugh all you like, but stay hidden while you value your miserable

lives. I am Tsarmina, Queen of the Thousand Eyes. Before I am finished with

Mossflower, every creature who defies me will wish mat its mother had never

given birth to it. The crying and the dying will be loud and long. Now let me

hear you laugh at that!"

As Tsarmina finished her speech, Fortunata leaped for-

71

ward. The vixen was thinking of ingratiating herself with her Queen by adding

a few words to the speech.

"Thus speaks the mighty Tsarmina, ruler of all Mossfl—" As Brogg turned from

die river's edge he collided with the leaping fox. Their heads clashed

painfully. The weasel staggered back a step and trod on the hem of the vixen's

cloak. They tripped, landing ungraciously in the mud of the shallows.

The otters' laughter was mingled with the chuckling of squirrels.

72

The sun was at its zenith in the woodlands. Young bees droned fuzzily around

the flowers in anticipation of their first summer. A venerable oak of massive

girth and height towered above the surrounding trees. Beneath its spring

foliage of small green leaves and below its aged trunk was Brockhall, the

ancestral home of badgers. The solid, intricate root structure of the oak

provided ceiling beams, wall columns, shelves and in some places flooring for

the beautiful old dwelling. A door was set between the fork of two roots at

ground level. From there a long passage ran downward with rooms leading off

it—Bella's private study, small sitting rooms, a nursery and small infirmary.

At the other end the passage opened out into the main hall. This was large and

well-appointed, with a hearth, fireplace, full dining board and small seated

alcoves around its walls. Several doors led off the main hall; to the left was

the master bedroom and dormitories, while off to the light was the larder,

kitchens and storerooms, behind which lay the bolt hole or escape door,

constructed with typical woodland common sense.

Brockhall had been built by badgers in the dim past, and they had taken great

pains that everything should be just the way woodland badgers like it to be.

Great care and the skill of many craftbeasts had provided every conceivable

comfort in the underground mansion; there were elaborate wall torches and

beautifully carved furniture (again, much of this cut into

73

the living root to blend with the surroundings). The walls were lined with

fawn- and pink-colored clay, baked to give it a fine rustic atmosphere. Here

and there throughout the chambers were large overstaffed armchairs of the type

badgers prefer, each with a fuzzy old velveteen pawstool, often used by young

ones in preference to the small polished maple chairs made specially for them.

Overall it was an admirable country seat which could easily accommodate the

entire Corim membership.

All the woodlanders were gathered to meet the mice who had journeyed from Loam

hedge; it was an occasion for feasting. The Council of Resistance in

Mossflower leaders sat in the main hall, infants were taken to the nursery,

and friends went to help with the cooking and preparation of food in Bella's

much admired kitchen. Though the badger was not short of provisions, she

always welcomed the addition of otter, squirrel and mole food. All had arrived

well burdened. Bella liked tasting other dishes, after cooking for herself all

the time.

Gonff introduced her to Martin. She greeted him warmly.

"Martin, welcome, friend. We have heard of you already from Ben Stickle. I

believe you gave a Kotir patrol a taste of your warrior skills single-pawed,

before they managed to capture you. We shall be grateful if you would share

your talents with us in the times that lie ahead. Tell me, did you come from

the northlands?"

Martin nodded as he shook Bella's big paw. The badger smiled knowingly. "Ah, I

thought so. You probably cut your eyeteeth on rats and foxes. I've heard all

about the warrior mice from up north. Come and meet some friends of mine from

the south."

Bella took them to the kitchen, where they were introduced to Abbess Germaine,

who was presiding over the preparations. From there Gonff took Martin to be

introduced to Ben and Goody Stickle.

The two hedgehogs were overjoyed to see Gonff back safe. They patted him

furiously on the head, as their spines prevented them hugging anyone other

than fellow hedgehogs.

Goody patted and scolded Gonff at the same time. "Oh, my goodness, thank mice

you're back, you Hddle rip. Don't

74

go evergettin* yourself locked up like that again. Me 'n Ben was plain worried

for you, Gonff."

Ben was patting Martin's head enthusiastically. "Heed what Goody tells you,

Gonff. "Tis for your own good. Be more like young Martin here—only get

yourself caught when there's nought else for it."

Goody nodded in agreement, trying to look severe, but Gonff caught her by the

paws and danced her about.

YouVe been more than a mum to me, And you brought me up very well I'm a little

mousehog to thee. My Goody, no words can tell, When I see your old prickle

face—

"Get on with you, thievin' fiddle fibber!" Goody shooed Gonff off, wiping her

eyes on her old flowery apron.

Gonff flung a paw across Martin's shoulder. As they strolled away smiling, Ben

sniffed loudly. "Can't fail to like that little rogue, some'ow."

"Silence, woodlanders, please." Bella called out, "Could you all find a seat?

The food will be served after the talking has been done."

The hall was full, creatures occupying seats, shelves, hearth and floor.

Skipper banged his tail. The hubbub subsided, and he nodded for Bella to

continue.

"Thank you. Welcome, one and all. As you can see, there are many new friends

in our midst, not the least of whom is Martin the Warrior. He and Gonff

recently escaped from Kotir prison in a very brave and daring manner."

Heads turned to look at Martin. There were winks, nods and pawshakes.

"Also I have great pleasure in introducing some mice that you may not know of

yet," Bella continued, "Abbess Germaine with her Brothers and Sisters of

Loamhedge. I am sure the Abbess would like to say a word."

There was general applause as the old mouse stood up.

"My mice and I wish to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for allowing us

to settle in your beautiful Mossflower country. We are a peaceful order of

builders and healers; in our own tradition we are wise in the ways of mother

nature.

75

Please feel free to come to us with your families, the sick, injured, or just

fretful little ones. We will do all we can to help. The only price we ask is

the gift of your friendship. Perhaps one day when this land is free of the

tyranny which shadows it, we can work together to raise a mighty building,

giving settlement and security to all who wish to dwell peacefully within its

walls."

The Abbess sat down amid loud cheering and many offers of help from decent,

hardworking family creatures. Order was nearly restored when a young squirrel

voice piped up, "Caw, is that roast chestnut with cream and honey I can

smell?"

"Indeed it is, made to an old Loamhedge recipe, too." Abbess Germaine called

back, "Is the talking finished, Bella?"

"It certainly is, Abbess. I haven't had Loamhedge roasted chestnuts in many a

season. Stay where you are, everyone. The food is ready."

Suddenly a fat dormouse leaped up with a squeak of fright. "Ooh, the floor's

moving!"

"Don't be afeared, matey," Skipper laughed. "That'll be Foremole arrivin*.

He's smelled the vittles, too."

Willing paws united to lift a floorstone. There was a moment's silence, the

earth trembled slightly, then a huge pair of paws with powerful digging claws

broke through. Seconds later they were followed by a dark velvety head with

tiny bright black eyes, a moist snout, and a gruff whiskery mouth.

"Boy urr, a mornin' to 'ee, do be sorry bouten tunnel. Cooken smells roight

noice." Foremole popped out like a black furry cannonball, followed by a score

and a half of grinning moles. Like their leader they all spoke in heavy rural

molespeech.

"Ho urr, 'lo Bella stroip'ead."

"Yurr, be that chesknutters oi smell?"

"Hoo arr, oi gets powerful 'ungered a-tunellen."

"Harr, morrow to 'ee, Skip. 'Ow do 'ee do."

The industrious moles were loved by all the woodlanders. Infants shrieked with

laughter at their quaint speech, and the moles would smile, speaking more

broadly, if that were possible.

Exclamations of admiration and delight greeted the food

76

as it was served. After all, who could resist roast chestnuts served in cream

and honey, or clover oatcakes dipped in hot ledcurrant sauce, celery and herb

cheese on acorn bread with chopped radishes, or a huge home-baked seed and

sweet barley cake with mint icing, all washed down with either October ale,

pear cordial, strawberry juice or good fresh milk.

Martin muttered through a mouthful of cake and milk, "In the name of mice, I'd

have been a cook and not a warrior if I knew food could taste this good."

Gonff grinned, trying to answer through a face crammed with chestnut, honey

and strawberry juice. "Mmmfff, shoulden talk wiff y'mouff full."

Bella sat with the Corim leaders. As they ate they talked. *'I think for the

future we should all live together here in Brockhall—at least all those that

can't climb trees and swim rivers. They'd be caught by Tsarmina and her army

sooner or later."

"Aye, marm, good idea." Skipper agreed. "They can't be found out here; the cat

knows nothing of Brockhall. But that doesn't mean my crew and Lady Amber's

band. We don't strike our colors and run at the first sign of trouble."

"Nobody doubts your courage, Skipper," Abbess Germaine interrupted. "But maybe

we're jumping ahead a bit. With all the woodlanders hiding out here, the cat

will have little to do except sit on her tail. Why not form a good spy network

and see what she is up to? Maybe then we can form a plan of action. What do

you think, Martin? You're a seasoned warrior?"

Martin had been listening. He cleared his mouth. "I think all your ideas are

good and sensible. Let's try them. But peace is not found like a pawful of

nuts or an apple. The wildcat is here, and Kotir won't go away if we close our

eyes. Sooner or later we will have to fight to rid the land of them. Only then

can we talk of building and peace."

Skipper and Amber both clapped him on the back.

"Let us attend to one thing at a time," Bella advised. "First, we need a good

spy to keep us informed. If we know , our enemies, we will know their

weaknesses."

Ferdy and Coggs marched up, trying to look warlike yet ^secretive at the same

time. "We've heard you're looking for >two good spies, Miss Bella."

I-

77

Before any laughter could start, Skipper was up and marching around inspecting

them. They stood stiffly to attention, knowing a good officer when they saw

ohe. Skipper eyed them up and down.

' 'Ho yes, I remember you coves—two of the fiercest fellers as ever stood

guard at the Stickle place. I heard weasels and ferrets was a-shakin' in their

skins at the thought you might attack Kotir. Shall we let 'em be spies, Lady

Amber?"

The squirrel looked serious, shaking her head. "Spying is too tame for these

old wardogs. I think that with the good job they did at Stickle's we should

promote them to Captains of the Home Guard at Brockhall."

The two little hedgehogs nearly burst with pride. They set off to make

themselves badges of office.

Gonff threw in a suggestion. "The best spy I know is Chibb."

Objections flooded in.

" Chibb's not one of us."

"He's a bird."

"He'll want payment."

"I wouldn't trust a robin."

"Why not one of our own?"

Bella pounded her chair until a heavy dust cloud arose and silence was

restored.

"Gonff is right. No one could get closer to Kotir than Chibb. If he wants

payment, then so be it, we'll pay him. I think it's a good idea."

"Hurr, a burd 'tis, we'ns say let Chebb be a spoiy. Save us'ns doin' the job.

Asoides, we doant 'ave wingers to floiy wiV

The Foremole's logic was irrefutable. Unanimous agreement was given by a show

of paws.

Chibb it was to be.

Ben Stickle had the final word. Being one of the last to leave the shadow of

Kotir, he received a sympathetic hearing.

"I don't know much about fightirT and spyin' but I still think it's a good

idea. One thing I do know, me an my missus an our liddle family won't be goin'

back to slave for no cat and her soldiers. We'd be as well off dead as havin'

to do that again. But we'd all best listen to the good Abbess here. Let's not

jump too hasty; war means creatures gettin' theyselves

78

killed. If it must come to that, then so be it, but meanwhiles let's keep

level heads about us, concentrate on safety for now. Aye, that an keepin'

ourselves an' our families safe. I want to see my little ones grow to farm

their own food and not have soldiers comin' around to tell us that our land is

theirs an' takin' toll and tax of over half the vittles we have. That ain't

fair nor right. Mind, though, weVe got time on our side. I know that Kotir

larders must be run down considerable since we all left. Huh, the cat and her

soldiers can march about all season, but there's no one left to order about

and they ain't no farmers, that's sure. They'll starve without others to do

their labor."

79

The sun beat down on the soldiers of Kotir as they stood in serried ranks upon

the parade ground. Each creature stood stiff as a ramrod, and all wore every

available piece of equipment, including heavy spears, shields and full packs

stuffed with rocks strapped to their backs.

Black tooth licked a drop of sweat that rolled past his lip. He muttered to

Splitnose, "Huh, what's all this about? It was the Gloomer lost the battle,

not us. As far as I can see, we didn't do too badly against those river

wallopers and tree jumpers."

Splitnose twitched his eyelid against an inquisitive fly. "You're right there,

Blackie. Sometimes I think I'd like to pack in all this soldierin' lark at

Kotir."

Behind them in the next rank, Brogg could not resist a titter. "Heehee, just

you try it, stoat. Where would you go on your own, eh? Nan, she'd have you

dragged back and made an example of.' *

Scratt in the rank behind Brogg agreed. "Aye, you're right there, Brogg, but

there's not many would pass up a chance of sliding off from here and starting

up somewhere else. Perhaps we might form a little group sometime and try it."

Blacktooth was skeptical. "Oh yes? Let me tell you something, Scratt. That'd

be worse than going off on your own, it'd be mutiny or mass desertion—and you

know how Tsar-mina'd punish that little lot."

80

Scratt knew only too well. "Death!"

Blacktooth chuckled humorlessly. "Right. Deader than a fallen log. Huh, you'd

be glad to be so when she finished with you, bucko."

Cludd's heavy voice bellowed out across the parade ground, "Silence in the

ranks! No talking back mere!"

Scratt muttered under his breath, "Oh dry up, slobber-chops. You weren't even

out in the forest when we had to fight."

"No, he was back here with his nightie on, snoring like a dead dog," Splitnose

sniggered.

"I won't tell you again. I said, silence in the ranks!"

From the rear of the army a complaining voice called out, **I reckon we've

been stood here nearly two hours now. What for?"

Other voices began complaining before Cludd could silence them.

"Aye and why the full uniform and rock packs? Are we supposed to roast alive?"

"Pretty daft, if you ask me. I'm only a storeroom guard."

Tsarmina prowled silently out of the main door onto the sunlit parade ground.

An immediate deafening silence fell overall.

She signaled to Cludd.

The Captain of the Guard bellowed to the sweating troops, "Tribute to the

Queen followed by twelve circuits of the square at the double. Begin!"

With a loud shout, ferrets, stoats and weasels roared in unison.

"Tsarmina, Queen of Mossflower!"

* 'Slayer of enemies!''

"Lady of the Thousand Eyes!"

"Conqueror of all creatures!"

"Ruler of Kotir!"

"Daughter of Lord Greeneyes!"

Breaking off, they commenced running in a swift trot around the parade

grounds, paws punished by the harsh gravel, muscles aching with the strain of

the heavy packs and cumbersome weapons.

Tsarmina watched impassively, remarking to Ashleg,

81

"Daughter of Lord Greeneyes. Who said that was to be kept among my list of

titles?"

Behind her back, Ashleg looked at Fortunata and shrugged.

The wildcat Queen stared fixedly ahead as her troops lumbered by on their

second circuit. "Well, I'm still waiting for an answer. Who said that my

troops should be shouting about my dead father instead of me? Am I not capable

of ruling Kotir alone?"

Fortunata got in ahead of Ashleg. "There has never been a more capable ruler

than you, MUady. On my oath as a healer, it was not I who arranged your title

list."

Tsarmina rubbed her injured paw thoughtfully. Behind her, Ashleg's wooden limb

made nervous little shifting noises.

"What have you got to say for yourself, marten?"

"Your Majesty, I thought that—"

Tsarmina's snarl overrode Ashleg's nervous muttering. "Thought? Who gave you

permission to think? Get out on that parade ground this instant!"

The unhappy Ashleg stumped out, knowing it was useless to plead or argue.

Tsarmina halted the march on its next circuit. They ground to a halt in front

of the marten. She called out to Cludd, "Keep Ashleg in front of the army.

First rank, point your spears at that marten. All of you, remember this: I am

no longer called Daughter of Lord Greeneyes. That title is dead. It will be

replaced by the name Tsarmina the Magnificent."

At a wave of Cludd's spear the army chanted aloud,' 'Tsarmina the

Magnificent!"

Ashleg looked around nervously. He was standing out in front of a rank of

gleaming spearpoints, all pointed at his body. The marten gathered his cloak

up, knowing the cruel command that was imminent. Tsarmina's snarl cut cross

his thoughts. "At the double. Carry on!"

Fortunata stood to one side, knowing that a careless word could have placed

her alongside the hapless marten.

Ashleg tried not to think. Desperately he dragged himself along in a frantic

hop cum hobble, in front of the lethal spears. Madly he tried to gain a little

ground, only to realize that he was hard put to keep what lead he had from the

relentlessly double-marching soldiers.

Tsarmina laughed mockingly and she dug Fortunata in the

82

ribs. "Ha, thumpitty clump, eh, fox. How long d'you reckon he'll last?"

"Not long at that rate, MUady. Look at him trying to keep ahead of those

spears. Ashleg mightn't be too bright, but at least he's obedient and loyal."

Tsarmina sighed moodily; her fun had been spoiled. "Hmm, you're right, I

suppose. Tell Cludd to call a halt."

Fortunata waved a signal to the stolid weasel Captain. Cludd halted the troops

at the very moment Ashleg fell face forward on the gravel, his tortured body

unable to travel another pace. He was sobbing pitifully for breath.

Tsarmina prowled purposefully out in front of the ranks, ignoring Ashleg, who

was dragging himself painfully toward the indoor coolness of the entrance

hall. The wildcat Queen faced her command as they stood in the gravel dust

with heaving chests.

"Look at you. See how you have grown fat and lazy, slugs, worms! As from

today, all of this will change. Believe me, or die. Mice, two silly little

mice, have escaped my prison. Together with a rabble of woodlanders, they have

made fools of you all."

Nervous paws crunched the gravel as Tsarmina's fury and scorn lashed them.

"I'll take revenge for the insult to my majesty. Mossfiower will be drenched

in the blood of any creature who will not obey me, whether it be a woodlander

or a soldier of Kotir!"

Fortunata shuddered inwardly at the mad light that shone in Tsarmina's eyes as

her voice rose in the sunlit stillness.

"Cludd, Ashleg, Fortunata, you will split the army four ways. Take a group

each. I will stay here to guard Kotir with •flic remainder. You will go into

the forest and hunt out every last woodlander. Take them prisoners. Any that

resist, kill. Kotir will grow strong again with prisoners to serve it. We will

enslave them. The flatlands to the west will be cultivated and farmed. My

father was too soft with those creatures. They took advantage of his good

nature in letting them live outside the walls in a settlement. That's what

encouraged them to desert: too much freedom. Well, I'll tell you all right

now, no more settlements. It'll be the cells for them this time; separate

cells, punishment, that's what they'll be here ;for. We will hold their young

as hostages. To stop any upris-

?'

83

ing, they will toil from dawn to dusk—or their families will starve. Go now,

and remember, this time there will be no failure."

There was a hurried clanking and stamping from the already armored and kitted

troops. Orders were called amid wheeling and marching. In a short time

Tsarmina stood alone on the empty parade ground, staring at a single fallen

spear.

Whoever had dropped it would be far too scared to come back and retrieve it.

She stooped and picked up the weapon as something whooshed by close overhead.

Argulor!

As big and powerful as she was, Tsarmina did not wait around to challenge the

eagle. Taking a swift run, she vaulted through a ground-floor window, using

the spear shaft as a pole. Peering out, she saw Argulor circle away to his

perch, well out of arrow range.

The wildcat Queen was glad that no one had witnessed her retreat.

84

Chibb the robin watched the little procession of woodlanders marching

southward. He had no doubt that they were coming to visit him. They were

carrying food. If they were not coming to see him, then what right did they

have wandering about Mossfiower carrying bags of candied chestnuts? . He was

different from other birds. For the sake of his little fat stomach, Chibb had

overcome all barriers. Greed was the ooe motive that drove him to sell his

spying skills to others— greed, tempered with wisdom. Chibb would never sell

his services to Kotir, as he had narrowly escaped being eaten by weasels and

such on more than one occasion.

The woodlanders used Chibb whenever they had cause to, Sometimes to locate a

missing young one, more often than nott to find out what was going on in other

parts of the forest. Chibb did not come cheaply, however. The fat robin had a

fondness amounting to a passion for candied chestnuts.

He watched the party below him: Martin, Lady Amber and

a young Loamhedge mouse called Columbine were in the lead; Gonif and Billum

the mole trailed behind, both carrying small barkcloth bags of candied

chestnuts. Chibb could not take his bright eyes off the bag that Gonif was

bouncing play-fully in his paws.

"Ha, candied chestnuts, eh, Billum. What's the good of giving these to old

Chibb, just for a skinny bit of spyin'?

85

I'll bet me and you could scoff these between us and get their spyin' done for

*em easy enough."

The trusty mole caught the bag in midair as Gonff tossed it. He crinkled his

velvet face in a deep chuckle.

"Ho hurr hurr! Liddle wunner they send oi t'keep watch on 'ee, you'm a

villyen, Maister Gonff. Keepen 'ee paws outten 'ee chesknutters, or oi tells

Miz Bell offen 'ee."

Gonff threw up his paws in mock horror and ran to catch up with Martin,

complaining aloud. "The nerve of Billum! Fancy not trusting honest old

Gonff—me, that was sent on this mission specially to keep an eye out for

greedy moles. I'll bet I end up getting scragged by you lot, trying to keep

those chestnuts safe. There's no room for an honest thief these days."

Martin chuckled as he watched Columbine from the corner of his eye. The pretty

young fieldmouse was laughing merrily, obviously taken by Gonff's roguish

charm. Martin encouraged her by putting in the odd word or two on his friend's

behalf.

"Be careful of that fellow, Columbine. He's not one of your Loamhedge order.

If you don't watch Gonff, he'll steal the whiskers from under your nose."

Columbine's eyes went wide with amazement. "Would he really?"

Gonff winked at Martin. Cartwheeling suddenly, he shot across Columbine's path

so close that he brushed by her face. With a squeak of shock she put up her

paws. Martin shook his head seriously.

"You see, they don't call Gonff the Prince of Mouse-thieves for nothing. Have

you counted your whiskers?"

Columbine put her paws up then dropped them smiling. "Oh really, you two!"

Gonff bowed and produced two thin strands. "What do you think these are, O

wise beauty?"

Columbine's mouth fell open. "But, I didn't feel a thing."

Billum had caught up. He chuckled and scratched his snout. "Nor oi wagers you

didden, missie. They whiskers is offen Gonff. Tha's 'ow you'm never feeled

owt."

Lady Amber pointed at a long-dead elm covered in ivy. She held up her paw for

silence. "Hush now. This is Chibb's

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*s home. We don't want to frighten him off. Gonff, you do the

* talking."

Gonff rapped upon the trunk of the elm and shouted up toward a hole left by a

broken branch, "Hey, Chibb! Come out, you old redbreast. It's me, Gonff."

There was no response, Gonff tried again. "Come on, matey. We know you're in

there. What's up? Don't you want to earn some candied chestnuts?"

Billum opened one of the bags and selected a large nut.

**Harr, may'aps you'm roight, Gonffen. Us'ns could ate chesknutters an' do 'ee

jobs ourselfs."

The mole popped the dark sugar-glazed nut into his mouth, licked the sweetness

from his digging claws and chomped away with an expression of rapture on his

homely face.

**Umff, gurr, oo arr, mmmmm!"

Much to Columbine's amusement, Gonff did likewise, imitating perfectly the

mole speech and gesture.

*'Hurr, oo air, Billum, these yurr be fiirst-clarss chesknutters. Hoo arr,

that they be."

They had eaten a nut apiece when a bout of nervous coughing erupted from the

branches of a nearby rowan. "Err, harrumph, ahem hem!"

Chibb puffed out his chest importantly, ruffling his feathers to increase his

stature. He paced a branch with wings folded behind him in a businesslike

attitude. Politely he cleared his . throat once more before speaking.

"Harrumph, ahem, 'scuse me. Let me warn you before we proceed any

further, if anyone eats another nut I will judge it an insult, then of course

you will have to take your business elsewhere, ahem."

"Please consider what I say before answering." Martin

responded in an equally formal tone. ' 'I have been authorized

to make you an offer. Here are our terms: you, Chibb, will

'Spy on Kotir and find out what plans are being made by Tsar-

mina against the woodlanders of Mossflower. The Corim wish

to know all details of any reprisals or attacks directed at our

Creatures. For this you will be paid two bags of candied chest-

nuts now and a further two bags upon bringing back your

Information. Is that agreed?"

Chibb cocked his head on one side. His bright eye watched

87

Gonff as he picked crumbs of chestnut from his whiskers with his tongue. The

robin coughed nervously.

Columbine had assessed the situation correctly. She interrupted in a more

friendly tone. "Of course the nuts will be carefully counted, Mr. Chibb. The

bags will be completely filled. I will see that four more nuts be added as an

interest for the two that have just been eaten, and another four added as

evidence of our good faith in your well-known skills."

Chibb shifted his claws and fixed Columbine with a quizzical stare. "Ahem,

hem, you are the one from Loamhedge they call Columbine. I shall do business

with you, harrumph, 'scuse me. These others are not required for our

dealings."

Lady Amber breathed a sign of relief. Chibb could be incredibly pompous and

stubborn; thank the fur for the good sense and initiative shown by Columbine.

The robin flew down and bowed courteously to the Loam-hedge mouse. "Aherrahem!

There is, however, one small matter that may cost an extra nut or two ..."

Billum nudged Gonff. "Oi 'spected thurr moight be, hurr hurr."

Chibb ignored the mole. "Harrumph, yes, there's the question of the eagle,

Argulor. Ahem, as you know, he is back in the area of Kotir. This puts an,

ahem, element of risk upon my espionage activities."

Columbine nodded in agreement. "Indeed it does, Mr. Chibb. I appreciate this.

Should you be attacked or injured in any way by large birds, we propose in

doubling your fee. Do we have a bargain, sir?"

Chibb was almost dumbfounded by this generous offer. He held out a claw to

Columbine. "Er ahem, a bargain, Miss Columbine. A bargain indeed!"

Paw shook claw. Lady Amber interrupted to give details of the spying mission

to the robin, Gonff tossed the two bags expertly up into Chibb's home hi the

elm, and goodbyes were made all around as the friends departed. A few paces

into the undergrowth Lady Amber held up a paw.

"Hush! Listen!"

Silently they tried to stifle their laughter as the sounds of Chibb reached

them. The robin was stuffing himself with his fee, coughing with excitement as

he crammed candied chestnuts into an already overflowing beak.

88

'' Ahemcawscrunffmmmharrumphcrunch!'' Martin held his sides as tears from

stifled laughter ran down his cheeks. "Hahaha, oh dear, listen to that. Oh,

the little glutton! Columbine, whatever possessed you to offer him a double

fee like that?"

Columbine leaned up against a tree, helpless with mirth. "Well I, oh,

heeheehee, I could have offered him ten times the fee, if I'd have thought,

ohahaha. Imagine a robin coming back to claim a fee after being attacked by a

golden eagle, - hahaheeheee. There wouldn't be enough of him left to make a

smear on Argulor's beak. That eagle could scoff Chibb in a half-mouthful,

hahahaha!"

Tsarmina stood at a barred window in full view of Argulor's perch.

"I'm here, you great feathered blindworm," she called.

Argulor took the bait; the fierce instinct of his ancestors would not allow

him to do otherwise. The eagle launched from his perch with a blood-chilling

screech, diving like a great winged missile at his insolent tormentor.

Tsarmina danced triumphantly and laughed aloud at the sight of the half-blind

eagle smashing against the barred window. "Haha, you blundering old feather

mattress. Dozy farmyard fowl."

Argulor struggled awkwardly on the narrow window ledge, trying to marshal his

wings into a proper flying position to regain what was left of his dignity.

The great eagle slipped from the sill, landing on the ground. He had to resort

to an 'ungainly lopsided shuffling run to attain flight.

Tsarmina purred aloud and dug her claws into a rug, open-Ing and closing them,

reveling in the pretense of pinioning lietpless woodlanders in her needlelike

grip, puncturing imaginary hides. Suddenly she whirled over, tossing the rug

Tiigh in the air. Leaping upon it, she rent it fiercely with her savage

strength. Fragments of the flayed rug flew about the toom as she ripped and

slashed. Hairs and fibers floated in fine sunlit shafts from the bars, dancing

with golden dust

•^inotes on their way to the floor.

* Filled with exuberance, the big cat paced restlessly. Soon ;% bunch of

woodlanders would be marched in, sniveling and bound, to await her pleasure.

89

And what pleasure! Some she would deal with personally; otters, yes, she would

take them down to the Gloomer's lake and see how well they would swim bound up

and weighted with stones—that would teach them manners. There were one or two

squirrels that could do with jumping lessons from the battlemented roof of

Kotir. As for the rest, well, there were always plenty of good hard work and

cells.

Tsarmina sprang down the stairways and the dripping passages of her fortress,

heading for the cells, where sunlight seldom penetrated. Two stoat guards

tried hastily to come to attention as their Queen hurtled past, but they were

knocked spinning sideways.

Picking himself up from a pool of slimy water, one of the stoats rubbed his

head where it had banged against the walls.

"By the fang! What d'you suppose is wrong with her, this time?"

His companion felt gingerly at the sore beginnings of a lump on his snout.

"Huh, your guess is as good as mine. One thing I do know, she's not down here

for the good of our health. We'd better get straightened up before she comes

back this way."

Tsarmina ran from cell to cell, peering through the bars at the hostile

interiors as she muttered aloud, "Yes, good, this is ideal. They'll soon learn

obedience down here. Males in one cell, females in another and young ones in a

special prison all of their own, where they can be heard but not seen by their

parents. Haha, I must remember that: heard but not seen. Well, what have we

here, all alone in the darkness?" > Gingivere was fading into a gaunt

skeleton. The once glossy coat was ragged and graying, his whole body had an

air of neglect and decay about it, except the eyes. They fixed Tsarmina with

such a burning intensity that she was forced to look away.

"Well, well, my one-time brother, I thought perhaps that you had perished by

now in this unhealthy atmosphere, dark, cold, damp, with little to eat. But

cheer up, I'll find you an even darker and deeper prison when you move out to

make room for the new lodgers I'm planning. How would that suit you?"

90

Gingivere stood clasping the cell bars. He stared at his sister.

Tsarmina shifted nervously. Her previous mood of euphoria rapidly

disintegrating, she became irritable.

"Never fear, my silent, staring brother. I can soon fix up other arrangements

for you. A sword, perhaps. Or a spear during the night to deepen your sleep."

Gingivere's eyes burned into Tsarmina, and his voice was like a knell.

"Murderer!"

Tsarmina broke and ran, pursued by the voice of her brother like a spear at

her back.

"Murderer! You killed our father! Murderer! Murderer!"

When the sounds of Tsarmina's flight had died away, Gingivere let go of the

bars and slumped to the floor, hot tears pouring from his fevered eyes.

After their trek through Mossflower to find Chibb, the little party were ready

for food. Now that all the woodlanders were billeted at Brockhall, mealtimes

were like a constant feast, so many different dishes were contributed. A

pretty posy lay in the middle of the festive board symbolizing the coming

together in springtime to oppose the reign of Kotir.

Gonff was conscious of Columbine watching him. Bella had given the little

mousethief permission to sing grace, and he stood up boldly and sang aloud,

>i

Squirrels, otters, hedgehogs, mice, '• Moles with

fur like sable,

Gathered in good spirits all,

Round this festive table.

Sit we down to eat and drink.

Friends, before we do, let's think.

Fruit.of forest, field and banks,

To the springtime we give thanks.

; The woodlanders began passing food. As Gonff sat down, s he winked at

Columbine, showing no sign of modesty. '"<•'- "Good, eh? That's an ancient

chant that has been sung Jr through the ages. I composed it a moment ago for

today." V Gonff was so pleased with himself that Columbine could **«* help

laughing with him at his outrageous statement.

91

Martin had sat at many tables—farm tables, inn tables, and, more often than

not, any handy flat piece of rock where he could lay his food. Now he sat back

and surveyed the board before him with wonder. Bulrush and water-shrimp soup

provided by the otters; a large flagon of Skipper's famous hot root punch;

hazel nut truffle; blackberry apple crumble; baked sweet chestnuts; honeyed

toffee pears; and maple tree cordial, a joint effort by hedgehogs and

squirrels. The Loamhedge and Mossflower mice had combined to provide a number

of currant and berry pies, seedcake and potato scones, and a cask of October

ale. By far the biggest single offering was a colossal turnip 'n' later 'n'

beetroot 'n' bean deeper 'n' ever pie with tomato chutney baked by the

Fore-mole and his team.

Normally a solid trenchermouse, Martin would have stuck to deeper 'n* ever

pie, but Gonff encouraged him and Columbine to sample some of everything.

"Here, matey, how's that for October ale? Columbine, try some of this hot root

punch. How d'you like seedcake? Try some of this, both of you. Come on, have a

wedge.

"Hey, Martin, d'you reckon you'd get the better of one of these toffee pears?

Come on, get stuck in, stuck in, hahaha.

"Put that hot root punch down, Columbine. You look as if your face is on fire.

Try some of the maple tree cordial."

Ferdy and Coggs sat nearby, hero-worshipping Martin and Gonff.

"Tell you what, Coggs. If ever I come across a broken sword I'm going to hang

it round my neck, just like Martin the Warrior."

"Huh, fancy trying to keep old Gonff locked up in Kotir! I'll bet he could

come and go with both paws tied. You know, I think I look a bit like Gonff."

"Of course you do. I look like Martin—pretty quiet and very brave—or I will be

when I'm older. Just wait and see."

"Come on, matey. We've eaten enough. Let's go off together and invade Kotir

before we get sent to bed. We can slip away quietlike."

In the hubbub and confusion of the feast, nobody noticed the two baby

hedgehogs take their leave.

92

A crescent moon hung over the warm spring night, casting its cloak over the

light early foliage of Mossflower Woods. Indifferent to the woodland floor

carpeted with dark green grass, dotted with bluebell and narcissus, Fortunate

stopped in her tracks and held up a paw for silence. Immediately she was

bumped by Brogg and Scratt, two weasels who did not stop fast enough. Ferrets

and weasels in their turn blundered sleepily into each other.

Fortunata bared her teeth impatiently. "Stand still, can't you. I think I hear

something."

The patrol held its collective breath and listened intently. | Scratt dropped

his shield with a clang. They all jumped with '• fright. Fortunata cursed at

the hapless weasel, but he was tired and weary of listening to pointless

orders.

*'Ahh, what's the difference, fox? We're on a right fool's

errand in this jungle, I can tell you. Huh, tramping about all

day in full kit and armor, without anything to eat, and not a

sight or sound of a living thing, except the sign of our own

pawtracks that we keep coming across. What are we sup-

1 posed to be doing out here, anyhow? That's what I'd like to

: know."

' There were murmurs of agreement. Fortunata cut in quickly to stem any ideas

of mutiny. ' 'All of you, get the soil out of your ears and listen to me. Can

you imagine what will happen if we march back to Kotir empty-pawed? Well, can

93

you? By the claw, it doesn't bear thinking about. Imagine the Queen—d'you

think she'll say: 'Oh, you poor creatures. Didn't you find any of those

naughty woodlanders? Well, never mind, come in and take off your armor, sit by

the fire and have a bite to eat.' "

One particularly stupid ferret grinned hopefully. "Oh, that would be nice."

Fortunate was about to give him something painful to think about when she

heard the noise once more.

"Ssshhh! There it is again, coming right toward us. Right, this is your chance

to carry out the mission properly. I want you all out of sight. You lot, get

behind those trees. You others, hide in the bushes. When I give the signal,

come out whacking. Use your spear handles, shields, branches— anything. I want

them taken alive. Here they come! Hide quickly."

As the soldiers dropped out of sight, a cloud obscured the moonlight. At that

moment a band of dark shapes came into view.

The vixen ran out shouting, "Now, up and at 'em, troops!"

Spurred on by Fortunata, the soldiers dashed from hiding. They charged with a

roar into the midst of the intruders, dealing out heavy blows, kicking,

biting, scratching and pounding away at the enemy. The air was rent with

blows, screams, thuds and yells of pain.

Exulting in the chaos of the ambush, Fortunata seized the nearest figure and

thrashed it unmercifully with her staff.

Thwack, bang, crack!

"Yeeow, aargh, oo mercy, help!"

It was only when she kicked out savagely and splintered the wooden leg that

the vixen realized she was close to slaying Ashleg.

"Stoppit! Halt! Pack it in, you fools. We're fighting our own!" Fortunata

yelled at the top of her lungs.

When the clouds moved, moonlight illuminated a sorry scene. The soldiers of

Kotir sat about on the grass, moaning pitifully. Broken and fractured limbs,

collective bumps, bruises, sprains, missing teeth, blackened eyes, contusions

and some very nasty scratches were much in evidence.

Ashleg sat on the ground, nursing his wrecked wooden

94

leg. "You booby, you knothead, you nincompoop of a fox, you, you . . . !"

"Er, sorry, Ashleg. But how were we to know? Why didn't you signal that you

were coming?"

"Signal, you brush-tailed blockhead! I'll give you a signal!" The marten flung

his broken wooden leg, catching Fortunata square on the top of her nose.

"Yowch! You twisted little monster, there was no call for that. We thought you

were woodlanders; it was a genuine mistake."

Ashleg rubbed a swollen ear. "Woodlanders! Don't talk to me about mat lot!

We've patrolled this forest until our paws are sore. Not a solitary mouse, not

so much as the hair off a squirrel's tail or the damp from an otter's back."

The vixen slumped down glumly beside him. "Same here. Where d'you suppose

they've vanished to?"

"Huh, search me. Tsarmina will skin us alive when we get back."

Scratt threw down his spear and sat with them. "Aye, you're right there. Ah