Lord Brocktree

Stiffener saw the last vermin stumble down to the shore. "Well, we got no more use for 'em, an' we certainly can't feed the scum. I say we let 'em go, what d'ye think, Brog?"

"Aye, let's rid ourselves of the pests. Ahoy there, weasel, git yoreself over 'ere!"

The forage patrol leader practically crawled across. "Yore goin' t'kill us, I know ye are, I kin feel it!"

Brog hauled him up sharply by the ears. "Good news, blubberchops, we're lettin' you go, all of you!"

"Wha . . . er ... y'mean yore lettin' us go, sir?"

"Aye, that's wot I said, though if you 'ang around 'ere weepin' an' moanin' all day we'll slay ye just for the peace'n'quiet 'twould give us. So you'd better run fer it!"

As Ripfang was giving the orders to form a circle around the rocks, Doomeye, who was still a fair shot despite his swollen eye, unshouldered his bow and shot off an arrow at one of the freed prisoners.

"Haharr, got one of 'em! 'E was tryin' to escape. Look, there's more of the Bark Crew!" Ripfang's cutlass chopped through Doomeye's bowstring. "Wot did yer do that for? Leave me alone, will yer!"

Ripfang pointed angrily at a fallen weasel. "See wot you've done now, pan'ead, shot one of our own!"

Doomeye looked sheepish. "Well, wot if'n I did?" he muttered sulkily. "You said 'twas all right, long as we got the Bark Crew."

Ripfang ignored him. He called to the forage party, who were half in and half out of the rocks, not knowing which way to go. "Over 'ere, you lot. C'mon, we won't shoot no more of yer!"

They hurried across, keeping nervous eyes on Doomeye, who was restringing his bow. Ripfang sneered at them. "Well, well, wot've we got 'ere? A shower o' cowards with no uniforms or weapons. You lot better make yer selves slings an' gather some stones. Might look better on yer if you 'elp to capture the Bark Crew."

Back at the rocks, Stiffener was assessing the situation. "Well, we've given the vermin some reinforcements now. Still, we'd never 'ave killed 'em in cold blood. They can't wait us out, 'cos they ain't got the supplies to do it, though neither've we. The bluebottoms still outnumber us by far too many, but we're still dangerous an' well armed. They'll try to pick us off one by one, now that they've got us surrounded. Mebbe when dark falls they'll try a charge. What d'you think, Brog?"

The sea otter was sharpening a javelin against the rock. He nodded grimly. "Aye, that's when they'll come. It'll be the Bark Crew's last stand. Haharr, but we'll make it a good 'un, eh, mates?"

Hares and otters gripped their weapons tighter.

"Aye, no surrender an' no quarter given or asked!"

"Take as many as we can with us!"

"Remember Lord Stonepaw and the others, chaps!"

This time Ripfang kept Doomeye close by, where he could keep an eye on him. Both rats lay behind a mound of sand they had set up. Ripfang watched the noon shadows beginning to lengthen. A cry rang out from the rocks.

"Eulaaaliiiiaaaa!"

The ferocity of the war cry caused the searat a momentary shudder. But he soon recovered himself. "Hah, we've got ye outnumbered by far. Shout all ye want, it won't do youse any good when night comes an' we charge. I'll paint those rocks red with yore blood!"

No news had come back to the mountain of the trap that had been laid for the Bark Crew, but Ungatt Trunn felt in better humor than he had for some while. One of his captains had come across a hidden cupboard in the larders, containing three casks of aged rose and greengage wine. He donated two of the casks to be shared among his horde captains, and the remaining one he had broached himself. All afternoon he drank deeply from it. The wine induced a pleasant and languorous feeling, and he drifted off into a peaceful sleep as noon sunlight poured through the chamber windows.

Stretched on Lord Stonepaw's bed, the wildcat dreamed of nothing in particular. The North Mountains, where his old father reigned, his younger brother Verdauga Greeneye, waiting to inherit the throne. Or maybe he was nothe might be considering the life of a conqueror, like his elder brother Ungatt. The sleeper smiled. Nobeast living could claim to have won anything as spectacular as this mighty mountain. Salamandastron, the legendary home of Badger Lords. Ungatt Trunn sighed and turned in his sleep. Then the vision altered. A huge dark paw wrapped itself about his face, blinding and smothering him. The Badger Lord, he had come, he had come!

"Mmmmffff! Uuuurgh! Help me! Gmphhhh!"

"Sire, lie still while I get this blanket from your head."

Writhing wildly, Ungatt Trunn lashed out, and caught his Grand Fragorl a blow which sent her spinning across the room. Ripping and shredding with lethal claws, the wildcat tore the homely blanket from about his head and sat up panting, his head aching abominably. All semblance of good humor had deserted him. "Who gave you permission to enter my chamber?" he growled at Fragorl.

The ferret rose groggily. "Sire, you called for help. I came to assist you."

The wildcat tossed the tattered blanket aside and made to rise. "Assist me? You whey-faced poltroon, you dared to think that you have the right to assist me? Begone before I throw your worthless hide from the window!"

The Grand Fragorl fled the chamber, followed by a wine goblet, which smashed on the door as it slammed.

"I could have taken this mountain unaided! Ungatt Trunn the Earth Shaker needs help from nobeast. Go on, whine, starve, moan, blunder about, all of you! This is my mountain, I rule it alone, I can hold it alone! Every creature here depends on me, I don't need any of you!"

Outside, the two guards moved further down the passage, away from the door.

"Shift along there, mate. Don't get too close when the chief's in one of 'is dark moods."

"Aye, the cap'ns are all like that, too. Wot d'you suppose started it all?"

"Guzzlin' wine on a midsummer noon, on empty stomachs, too. I done it meself once. Doesn't improve the temper, I can tell ye. Wish it'd get dark, so the night watch could come an' relieve us. 'Tis dangerous stannin' 'round 'ere."

Ignoring the glories of a setting sun on the sea's far horizon, the Bark Crew perched in the rocks, anxiously scanning the humps of sand surrounding them. Behind each one, several vermin lay, armed and ready, waiting for the shades of night to descend. Brogalaw spoke without turning to Stiffener, his eyes roving back and forth.

"Wot grieves me about all this is no matter 'ow many we takes t'the Dark Forest with us, 'twon't make much difference to the numbers Trunn 'as to serve 'im."

The boxing hare checked the shaft on his bowstring.

"Shame, ain't it, but that's the way o' things, Brog. Willip, are you all right, mate?"

The old hare adjusted the makeshift bandage on her brow. "Fit enough t'fight, sah! But I'm jolly hungry, doncha know. Funny how a bod can think of food at a blinkin' time like this, wot? Can't help it, thoughthe old turn's rumblin' twenty t'the dozen!"

The sea otter chuckled and shook his head. "Tis no wonder they call hares perilous beasts. Death facin' us, an' that 'un has dinner on 'er mind!"

Stiffener shrugged. "Wot's on yore mind, Brog?"

Brogalaw glanced at the darkening sky. "My ole murn, the rest o' my crew, Durvy, young Konul an' the mateys I grew up with. I'd just like to clap eyes on 'em one last time. Any beast you'd like t'see, Stiff?"

"Hmm, those twin grandsons o' mine, Southpaw an' Bobweave. You should've seen 'em, Brog. Two braver fighters you'd never come across in a season's march. I reared 'em, y'know, until they grew restless an' left the mountain. Mebbe 'twas just as well they did, the way things turned out."

As the night drew on, voices began chanting from behind the sand humps which the vermin had put up for protection.

"Ungatt! Trunn Trunn Trunn!"

Brogalaw's grip tightened around the javelin. "Haharr, 'twon't be much longer now, mates. 'Ear 'em gettin' their nerve up to charge."

The speed and volume of the chant increased.

"Ungatt! Trunn Trunn Trunn! Ungatt! Trunn Trunn Trunn!"

From the rock circle the otters and hares answered with their own defiant war cry.

"Blood'n'vinegar! Eulaliiiiiaaaaaaaa!"

Stiffener centered his arrow on the dark forms breaking cover. "Stand fast, mates, 'ere they come!"

The vermin charged.

Chapter 30

In a wide valley formed by four grass-topped sand dunes, Lord Brocktree put aside his empty plate and beaker. He lay back upon the sand next to Fleetscut and sighed contentedly, gazing up at dizzying myriads of stars strewn about the soft night sky.

"Tomorrow you say, around late noon?"

Fleetscut left off munching wild raspberries from the prone position and nodded. "Indeed, sah, we should reach Salamandastron about then, providin' we're up an' about by dawn, wot."

Ruff joined them, Bucko, too, both highly pleased.

"Well, we did it, Brock, a half-season march!"

"Och, an' ye said et were nae mair than a wee patrol!"

Fleetscut wrinkled his nose mischievously. "Had t'say somethin' t'keep you chaps goin', wot? Bit of a fib, but we made it. Heehee, sorry 'bout that, my wee patrol turned out t'be somethin' of a long patrol, wot wot!"

The Badger Lord closed his eyes and mused. "Long patrol, hmmmm. I'd say that was a Whooooofh!"

Skittles had jumped from somewhere high up one of the dunes. He landed like a stone on Brocktree's stomach, driving the wind from him completely. The hogbabe seized his friend's whiskers and hauled on them.

"Cummon, B'ock, we go an' fish f'fishes inna big water!"

The badger gasped breathlessly as he tried to sit up. "Dotti, get this fiend off me! Throw him in the sea!"

Dotti had been trying to patch up the battered shawl she was taking as a gift for her aunt Blench. She stuffed it carelessly back into her bag and grabbed Skittles's paw. "Come on, wretch, we'll go down t'the water for a paddle."

Skittles held out his other paw to Bucko, whom he was quite friendly with. "Buck go for paggles, too?"

The mountain hare rose, dusting off sand. "Aye, ah like wettin' mah paws in the sea. C'mon, laddie."

"Goin' paddlin', miss Dotti? Splendid! We'll join you, wot?"

"Rather! Nothin' like a jolly old paddle 'neath the stars!"

Southpaw and Bobweave joined the ever-growing paddling party.

"Burr, oi bain't feared of ee gurt sea, oi'll cumm, too!"

Mirklewort chased after them, waving a towel. "Wait fer me. I'll need to give my liddle babe a good dryin' when he's paddled. Seawater can cause cornfluggenza, y'know. That's wot my ole grandma used ter say, an' she knew!"

Southpaw winked at Bobweave. "Cornfluggenza, eh? Sounds pretty serious, wot?"

"Oh, I don't know. With a blinkin' name like that, you wouldn't know whether to eat it or suffer from it, old lad."

When they reached the tideline the sea looked enchanting. A half-moon cast a path of golden ripples out from the horizon, and small foam-crested waves ran ashore, spangled with starlight, hissing softly on the cool, wet sand as they broke. Those who wore smocks tucked them up into their belts. Holding paws in a line they jumped over each wave as it arrived, splashing and laughing joyously.

"Oh one two three, come to me,

From far o'er the briny sea,

Four five six, each wave flicks,

Past my paws, the sand it licks,

Sev'n eight nine, all in line,

This one rolling in is mine,

One to ten, rise and wane,

Swelling as they come again!"

Bucko Bigbones splashed water at Gurth. "Yeehoo! Ah've no done this since ah was a bairn!"

The smiling mole splashed back. "Hoo urr, oi bain't never dunn ee pagglen afore, zurr. Gurt fun 'tis furr a choild loik oi!"

Skittles wriggled free of Dotti and Bucko. Throwing himself flat, he lay on his back in the sea, spouting water like a tiny whale. "Yeeuk! Dis water tasters salty t'me!"

Mirklewort, who had stayed dry on the shore, dashed into the shallows brandishing her towel frantically. "Spit it out, yew naughty 'og, or ye'll get seahytiss an' yore teeth'll drop out! Owww! Why diddent I 'ave a liddle nice-mannered 'ogmaid, 'stead o' this umthreekerr-fumchin!"

The instant Skittles saw his mother bearing down on him, he took off. In a spray of giggles and splashes he romped away along the edge of the tideline. Dotti and the rest gave chase. Skittles, as they had noticed before, could move surprisingly fast for an infant hedgehog.

"I say, come back, you little rip!"

"Och, the wee pincushion's awa' like a fish!"

"Get ee back yurr, maister Skikk!"

They pursued him until he could run no more. The hogbabe sat down in the shallows, twitching his head-spikes resignedly. "Skikkles 'ad 'nuff now. Muvver can dry me!"

The paddling party sat down on the beach, while Mirklewort scrubbed at her son with the towel. "Wot've yew been told about runnin' off, yew drefful liddle 'og? Wait'll yer father 'ears about this, yew brigand!"

Gurth silenced her with a wave of his digging claws. "Yurr, 'ush ee, marm. Miz Dott, can ee 'ear ought?"

Dotti's finely tuned ears quivered this way and that. "Matter o' fact, I can, Gurth. South of here, it seems t'be comin' from. Sounds like some sort of a ding-dong goin' on!"

Southpaw and Bobweave were up and running south along the shoreline, calling back to the others.

"Sit tight, chaps, we'll be back in a tick, wot!"

"Aye, you stay an' rest y'self, miss Dotti. We'll investigate!"

Bucko sat the well-dried Skittles on his lap. "Hoots, laddie, bide here they say. Look at yon pair go!"

Dotti borrowed the damp towel to wipe her footpaws. "Indeed, sah, I think the bloomin' wind would have trouble tryin' to keep up with those twins!"

Gurth found some flat pebbles, and they passed the time by skimming them across the shallows.

Neck and neck, sand spurting from their paws, the hare twins raced back, looking as fresh as when they left. Both were excited and disturbed at the same time.

"Vermin, those blue vermin old Fleetscut mentioned!"

"About a hundred an' fifty o' the blighters!"

"Got a small bunch o' hares'n'otters surrounded, the cads!"

"That's right, an' they're attackin' the poor creatures!"

"Jolly unfair, I'd say. Those otters'n'hares are takin' a terrible hammerin'!"

Bucko Bigbones grabbed a chunk of driftwood. "Dorothea, awa' wi' ye, bring Brocktree an' the tribes! Mirklewort, bide here wi' Gurth an' the bairn, point the way for 'em! Ye twins, find yersel' a weapon apiece an' take me tae the battle. We'll lend a paw 'til oor clans arrive!"

***********

Willip lay dead on the rocks. Stiffener stood over her body, a whirling sling in one paw, a sword in the other, slashing and whacking at the vermin as they hurled themselves at him. A spear had chopped a chunk out of one of Trobee's ears, and he and Sailears had been driven from their position. They stood out on the sand, backs against the rocks, thrusting hard with their spears. Brogalaw shouldered an otter who had been struck twice by arrows. The sea otter Skipper was using his broken javelin as a club. He roared out to Stiffener, his voice ringing over the melee.

"Stiff, there's two outside the circle. Get 'em back, mate!"

Stiffener bounded down onto the sand. Cracking the skull of one rat and slashing ferociously at two others, he drove them away from Sailears and Trobee, giving them space. "Git back up on those rocks, you two, quick!" Turning, he ran a weasel through and flattened a stoat with a swift, hefty punch.

Ripfang had done what all careful vermin officers usually do; he had stayed out of the battle, directing it from the rear and laying about the half-hearted ones who tried to hang back. He had kept Doomeye with him, but his brother had bloodlust in his eyes now that he could see victory in sight. The searat licked his cutlass blade and danced on the spot with frustration.

"Lemme at 'em, Rip. I wanna kill a few!"

Ripfang nudged him sharply. "Nah, yew don't wanna do that, Doom. Look, they've retreated fer their last stand. There ain't many left, but they got nothin' t'lose now, so they'll be real dangerous. Stay out!"

But Doomeye dashed forward, waving his blade. "I ain't scared! C'mon, Rip, let's see the color o' their guts! Yahaaarrrr, char"

Doomeye got no further. Bucko laid him senseless with the chunk of driftwood he was swinging. Ripfang turned and dodged just in time to avoid his second blow. "Wha ... you ain't one o' them, are yer? I ain't seen you before."

Southpaw and Bobweave needed no weapons. Both their long hind legs crashed into Ripfang's head, knocking him out cold.

Only ten hares and otters were left, forming a tight circle in the sand at the center of the rock circle. The vermin stormed over the rocks and leapt at them, but were repulsed by the ferocity of the reception they received from the gallant defenders. However, the vermin knew they had won the battle, and they pressed home their assault once more. Stiffener had lost his weapon, and was using only his knotted paws now. Brog pounded away at the wave of foebeasts with all he had left, a shattered javelin and a lump of rock.

Over the clash of battle the Skipper of Sea Otters called out to his remaining friends: "Give it one last go, mateys. We'll meet by the banks o' the sunny streams, along with those who've already gone!"

Suddenly a cry arose from outside the circle.

"Eulaliiiiiaaaaa!"

Bucko and the twins came roaring in. They crashed into the enemy's flank and broke through to join the beleaguered party. Momentarily the vermin fell back.

"Ah'm Bucko Bigbones, the mad March hare frae the North Mountains. Och, 'tis a grand auld evenin' tae be battlin'!"

Stiffener wiped blood from his eye and gaped in amazement. "By the fur'n'fang, what are you two doin' 'ere?"

Southpaw and Bobweave crouched in fighters' stances, grinning at the hesitant vermin surrounding them.

"What ho, Gramps? Nice time t'pay a visit, wot!"

"Thought we'd drop in an' lend a paw. Left or right, no difference to us, old chap!"

A venturesome ferret, who had aspirations to captaincy, charged forward, urging the rest on. "There's only three of 'em. Charge!"

He collapsed under a frightening barrage of hefty blows from Bobweave, who shouted as he delivered the punches, "Sorry t'make a liar out of you, old lad, but listen. Eulaliiiiaaaaaa!"

His war cry echoed back at him like rolling thunder.

"Eulaliiiiaaaaaa!"

Blue Hordebeasts were battered in all directions as Lord Brocktree mounted the rocks, swinging his mighty sword. The vermin fled screaming, though none of them got more than twenty paces. Squirrels, shrews, hares, otters, moles and hedgehogs fell upon them. They took no prisoners. Stiffener sat down upon the sand, staring at the Badger Lord, completely bewildered.

"It's like seeing Lord Stonepaw when he was young, but bigger, much bigger. Who is this badger?"

Fleetscut ambled up and sat down beside his old friend. "That's the great Lord Brocktree. Big, ain't he? A regular one-beast army an' no mistake, wot!"

"Fleetscut! My dear ole chapwhere did you spring from? Is this your doingdid you find Southpaw and Bobweave, and bring Lord Brocktree to our aid? Tell me everything!"

"Later, ole friend. There's business to do first."

Introductions were made all around, then the Badger Lord took command. "Log a Log Grenn, see if any vermin survived. I want no more killingbring them to me. Jukka, tell your squirrels to take these dead Hordebeasts and leave them below the tideline. The sea will take care of them."

Immediately, Jukka's tribe set about stripping the dead vermin of armor and weapons. Fleetscut could not help making a loud observation, within Jukka's hearing.

"Scavengers! Nought but a pack o' carrion crows!"

Jukka hurled herself at him, but the sturdy Ruff leapt between the beasts as they strained to get at each other.

"Thou longeared glutton, who gave thee the right to talk of my tribe in such a manner?"

"I did, that's who, you bunch of bushtailed carcass-thieves!"

Brog came across to help Ruff hold them apart. "Whoa now, less o' that talk. Stow it, you two. At this rate you'll end up no better than the vermin we're against!"

"Aye, lissen t'the sea otter an' get some sense in yore skulls. We're supposed t'be friends, not foes!"

They backed off from each other, glowering.

Ripfang, Doomeye and around a dozen vermin, who had been knocked unconscious and still looked distinctly groggy, were paraded in front of the stern-faced Brocktree. He silenced their excuses and pleas by picking up his sword. "Stop whining. There's nought worse than cowards crying. Now, are your leaders slain, or are they here? Speak!"

"Those two, sire, Ripfang an' Doomeye!"

Both searats glared daggers of hatred at the one who spoke.

Brocktree looked the brothers over. "Heed me if you wish to live. You and your creatures will bury our dead. Here, in this sand at the center of this rock circle. Carry them carefully, treat them respectfully. My creatures will be watching you, to see that you do."

On all fours, the vermin were forced to dig a hole with their paws. Brog, Stiffener and the remainder of the Bark Crew placed their slain friends gently in the grave. When it was filled in, the Badger Lord turned his attention back to the huddle of trembling vermin.

"This shall be the epitaph of these brave warriors, that they died fighting against superior odds, with no hope. Yet they never deserted their comrades, in whose memories they will live on. If fortune had been reversed, do you think they would have trembled and wept for their lives? Do you?" His voice rose so sharply that the vermin sat bolt upright. Brocktree did not wait for their answer, but continued, "No, they would not act as you do now, they had courage! And I will not act now as you would have, had you been the victors of this fray. I will not kill youyour miserable lives are spared. But I want you to take a message back to your master, from me, Lord Brocktree of Brockhall!"

Chapter 31

It was late morn of the following day. Ungatt Trunn exited by a window space, high up on the mountain, and strode up a winding path to a lookout post. Karangool was there with two sentries. He saluted the wildcat. "Might'ness!"

Both sentries slid past Trunn and backed off down the path, saluting and bowing furiously. He watched them, puzzled. "Where are those two going?"

The saturnine fox pointed north and slightly west. "Ambush party be comin' back, Might'ness."

The wildcat's first reaction was to smile, but his face stiffened as he glimpsed the fourteen figures, neck deep in the sea, plowing their way homeward. Wordlessly he swept past Karangool, back down the path. The fox followed him. As they came out onto the shore, Karangool looked back. Fragorl was watching from a chamber window, but now she ducked down out of sight, not wanting to be involved with what would follow. Wisely, Karangool dropped behind a pace or two.

Ungatt Trunn stared in disbelief as the pitiful party stumbled out of the sea. As before, the blue dye had gone from their coats; only their heads were still blue. Each had their paws bound tightly in front. Moreover, they could not avoid walking in a straight line. They had been linked together, at neck height, by four long pikes, lashed two by two, the poles pressing close against their necks. At either end of the pikes were long metal spearheads, which had been twisted together, two at each end, sealing the fourteen like peas in a pod. They collapsed on the sand, fighting for breath, for seawater had swelled the wooden pikeshafts, tightening their grip about the captives' necks.

Karangool signaled some vermin. They prized the pikes apart, slicing at the ropes that held them together. When they were freed, Ripfang and the rest lay exhausted, rubbing their throats as they gasped in fresh air. The fox inspected the metal pikeheads, wondering what creature possessed the strength to twist them into two spirals like that.

Trunn snatched the cutlass from a nearby Hordebeast. Karangool averted his eyes as the wildcat honed the blade on a rock, putting a sharp jagged edge on it. This he placed against Ripfang's throat.

"Where are the bodies of the Bark Crew? Where are the hundred and a half soldiers I sent out to deal with them? Answer me truthfully and I will spare you a slow death!" The wildcat stepped back a pace and swung the sword high to one side. He brought it slashing down, expertly stopping the blade a fraction from Ripfang's exposed neck, and roared, "Tell me, you worthless lump of offal!"

Ripfang spoke four words as if they were a magic spell. "I saw the badger."

The sword clattered against a rock as it fell from Trunn's paw. He sat down in the sand next to Ripfang, as if pushed there by a giant paw.

"Leave us. Everybeast go!"

Karangool, the guards nearby, Doomeye and the others scattered, leaving Trunn and Ripfang together, alone on the shore. The tail flicked out and pulled the searat close.

"I will not slay you. I have a half-cask of wine; it is yours if you tell me all. What did he look like, what did he say, who was with him, what manner of beasts? Tell me.

Ripfang relaxed and squinted up at the sun. "Er, an' I'm still a cap'n, an' me brother Doomeye, too?"

"Yes, of course. Now tell me . . . please."

The searat pulled Trunn's tail from around his neck. "Where's this 'alf-cask o' wine first? I'm thirsty."

As night fell, campfires blazed openly in the dunes facing the cave in the cliffs. Frutch sat out on a tussock at the cavemouth, her son by her side. Several others sat around close, enjoying some of the ottermum's plum and nut slices, hot from the oven. She looked about at the teeming scene and clapped a paw to her cheek. "Well dearie me, well I never, fates a mercy! I never did see so many creatures in all me born days!"

Brogalaw hugged his mother and planted a big kiss on her brow. "Ahoy there, Mum, are you goin' t'keep on sayin' that all night? You left out 'well nail my rudder'!"

Frutch wiped her eyes on an apron corner, passed Dotti another slice and patted her son's paw thankfully. "Well, seasons o' saltwater an' nail my rudder, where did ye find all these nice beasts, Brog?"

The sea otter grinned at his new friend Ruff. "Well, at least she's changed 'er tune, mate. Oh, look out, 'ere comes tears by the blinkin' pailful!"

Blench and Woebee joined Frutch. In a trice they were all passing kerchiefs, weeping and snuffling. Dotti licked crumbs from her paw and looked quizzically at Brog. "Beg pardon, sah, but do they always do that?"

"Only when they're 'appy, miss. P'raps you'd like to give 'em a song? That always calms 'em down a mite." He winced as Brocktree's paw dug him in the side. "Oof! Wot did I say?"

The Badger Lord shook his head mournfully. "You'll find out, my friend, you'll soon find out!"

Stiffener remonstrated sternly with the hare twins. "Stop fightin', you two. Wot are you doin' with the young 'un's bag?"

"Just gettin' miss Dotti's harecordion out, Gramps."

"No you ain't, chum, I'm gettin' it for miss Dotti. I say, Gramps, wait'll you hear her sing. She's a pip!"

Dotti rescued her instrument, smiling sweetly at her admirers as she explained to the weeping trio, "My fatal beauty, y'know, does it every time. Did I tell you I was nearly a queeness, or somethin' like that? Never mind, ladies, I'll sing you a cheery old ditty, wot!" Without further ado, Dotti launched into her song.

"Did ever I tell you when I was born,

Pa cried we were clear out of luck,

He sent me out searchin' for honey,

An' my head in a beehive got stuck!

Poor mother was so forgetful,

She put a plum pudden in bed,

An' covered my brother with custard,

"That'll do us for supper,' she said!

Oh woe is me, what a family,

There used t'be just six of us,

But now there's thirty-three ... heeheeheeheeeeee!

The day Grandma took up knitting,

She couldn't tell yarn from fur,

But she clacked her needles all evening,

An' knitted herself to the chair!

My sisters left home for ever,

Then returned wet an' soakin' with tears,

The fire had died, so 'twas I got 'em dried,

I pegged 'em all out by their ears!

Oh woe is me, not another more,

There used t'be thirty-three of us,

But now there's thirty-four ... hawhawhawhaaaaaw!

Old uncle was hard of hearing,

He'd a trumpet to hold by his ear,

Poor auntie was so shortsighted,

That she often filled it with beer!

When a squirrel dropped by for a visit,

She tidied the place in a rush,

Auntie swept the floor an' varnished the door,

By using his tail as a brush!

Oh woe is me an' hares alive,

There used t'be thirty-four of us,

But now there's thirty-five . .. iiiiiiiiiiiiive!"

Blench had been staring hard at Dotti, gnawing the hem of her kerchief, while the haremaid was singing. They had not been introduced. The old cook's ears suddenly stiffened as she recognized the family likeness, and her paw shot out accusingly.

"Dillworthy! I knew it as soon as I clapped eyes on you, miss. Those young hares called you Dotti. You must be Daphne's daughter, Dorothea!"

Dotti's harecordion gave out an unearthly squeak, as both she and it were squeezed in a viselike hug.

"Aunt Blench?"

"Of course it is, ye young snip. I should've reckernized that voice right away. Last time I saw ye was when you were a liddle fluffy babe, yellin' for lettuce broth. What a racket!"

Overcome by the emotion of the moment, Dotti burst into tears, as did her aunt. Brog led them back to his mum and Woebee, who joined them in a good loud weep. Ruff groaned and covered both ears. "Rap me rudder, mate, 'tis 'ard to tell wot's worse, lissenin' to Dotti's cater-waulin' or yore mum's cryin' choir!"

Baron Drucco hurried them both into the cave. "Let's see if there's somewheres quieter in 'ere. I tell yer, we could use those four agin the enemy. Bet they'd drive 'em offa that Sammalandrocrum mountain!"

Log a Log Grenn went with them. As she patted Brog's shoulder she noticed him wincing. "Yore shoulder's wounded, Brog!"

The sea otter managed a rueful grin. "So 'tis, marm, but don't tell my mum, or there won't be a dry eye this side o' winter. I'll take care of it."

The shrew beckoned one of the squirrels over. "Let Ruro see it. She's the best ever for healin' wounds."

An immense feeling of joy and relief reigned over the cliffs and cave, which the small party of hares and otters had used as their hiding place. The center of it all was Lord Brocktree. The big badger radiated quiet strength and confidence. Creatures passed close to him, so that they could reach out and touch his huge form, or admire the massive sword, with Skittles perched half asleep between its double hilts. Now they could sit out in the open, feeling safe and reassured by his presence. Sailears summed it all up in a single phrase.

"At last we've got a leader, a real Badger Lord!"

Cooking fires were stoked up to full pitch that night. Frutch left off weeping to show her multitude of guests what sea otter hospitality was all about. The ottermum and her helpers were happy to accept the offer of assistance from Guosim cooks, squirrels, hedgehogs, and the ever-smiling Gurth, son of Rogg Longladle.

"Yurr, missus, whurr did ee foind all ee shrimpers?"

Woebee hauled out another netful, which Durvy and his crew had brought back that afternoon. "From our very own fisherbeasts, sir, good old Durvy an' the seafarin' Bark Crew!"

Konul the cheeky ottermaid raised her rudder in surprise. "You was singin' a different tune this mornin', marm. Ye threatened to boil me whiskers if we brought back more shrimp. Good job we did, though."

Blench appeared in their midst, swirling proudly. "My niece Dotti brought me this shawl from my sister Daphne. It's been in our family a long time. Isn't it pretty?"

The shawl had been shredded, patched, torn, tattered and inexpertly repaired. But Blench was enchanted with the family heirloom and nobeast was about to hurt her feelings.

"Oh, it's, er, very unusual, but beautiful!"

"Rather! I like that light brown weave on the hem!"

The light brown weave crumbled off under Woebee's paw. It was mud which had turned to dust. Blench carried on swirling and showing it off, blissfully unaware.

"Lovely, ain't it? An' can ye smell that perfume from it? Reminds me of somethin', though I can't just think wot it is."

"Hmm, a bit like pale ole cider, eh?"

Dotti trod meaningly on Ruff's footpaw and glared at him. "Never! 'Twas a special perfume belongin' to Grandma. I had a lovely letter from my mother, too, y'know, but it got lost."

Southpaw and Bobweave took Dotti's paws and hauled her away.

"I say, miss Dotti, come an' lend a paw with the supplies!"

"These chaps have got a great caveful o' vittles up yonder!"

She made a hasty exit accompanied by the twins.

The feast was an epic triumph, with the centerpiece a great cauldron of shrimp'n'hotroot soup, cooked to Frutch's own family recipe. The Guosim cooks produced pear flans, apple pies, blackberry tarts and rhubarb crumble. Mirklewort and her hograbble contributed loaves and biscuits, hot from the ovens. Gurth placed himself in charge of drinks. He made mint and rosehip tea, a cordial of dandelion and burdock and a great deal of fruit punch. Brogalaw had the sentries relieved often, so that all could join in. Skittles tried to keep his eyes open, but he was so tired that he fell asleep with a ladle of crumble still in one paw. It was inevitable that singing and dancing would break out; there were many good dancers among the tribes gathered there. A sea otter shanty was started by Brog's two young singing otters, accompanied by drums, flutes and stone clappers. Amid much fancy pawstepping by hares, otters, hedgehogs and squirrels, the music rattled along at a breakneck pace.

"Oh rowtledy dowtledy doodle hi ay,

We're full of plum duff an' salt water!

Now the Rowtledy Dow was a leaky ole craft,

With aprons an' kerchiefs for sails fore an' aft,

An' all of her crew thought the cap'n was daft,

An' he was sure they was all barmy!

Her anchor was made from a big rusty pot,

That they hauled up each mornin' to serve dinner hot,

But the crew was too slow so the cook scoffed the lot,

An' a seagull flew off with the pudden!

So 'tis heave away mateys the wind's blowin' west,

An' the cabin mole's wearin' his grandma's blue vest,

While the mate's got a blanket tattooed on his chest,

To keep his fat stummick from freezin'!

Well, there's fish in the sea better mannered than we,

For they washes their flippers an' don't slop their tea,

An' we'd be better off on the land don't yer see,

'Cos I think that the ould ship is sinkin'!

Oh rowtledy dowtledy doodle hi ay,

Nail a pie to the door for me mother!"

They sang it again, this time at double speed. Hares leapt high, seeing if they could wiggle their ears six times before hitting the ground again (Bucko could do eight earwiggleshe was the envy of all). Dancers had often to jig out of the way of hedgehogs revolving in mad spins. Otters twined their tails and somersaulted over the fire. Squirrels high-kicked wildly, gritting their teeth as sand flew about. Around them all, the Guosim shrews joined paws and spun in a wide eye-blurring wheel. Right at the center, Gurth danced sedately with Brog's mum, bowing and hopping gracefully, while Frutch curtsied and performed dainty little steps, holding her apron wide.

Old Bramwil sat chuckling with Brocktree. "Will y'look at them, sire! I never saw such jiggin' in all me seasons, wot! I say, that pretty young 'un, Dotti, those hare twins won't leave her alone. They want every blinkin' dance with her!"

Brocktree chuckled. "She'd be disappointed if they did leave her alone, a fatal beauty like our Dotti. Tell me, Bramwil, what was my father Stonepaw like? You served under him, didn't you?"

Bramwil wiped both eyes on a large spotty kerchief and blew his nose. "Lord Stonepaw was the wisest, gentlest beast a hare ever knew. He was my Badger Lord and my good friend, sire."

Brocktree knew he was upsetting the old hare, but he had to put the question to him that he had been too moved to ask when Stiffener had sat between himself and Fleetscut and told them that Lord Stonepaw was dead.

"I never knew him very well, you see. Badgers leave home while their sons are still young. 'Twould be a tense household with two grown male badgers in it. Now, I don't want every little detail, but please tell me, how did he die?"

Bramwil stared into the fire, answering without hesitation. "He went bravely, lord, more courageously than anybeast could imagine, surrounded by those blue murderers! He laid down his life to give us time to escape."

Brocktree put a paw about Bramwil's shaking shoulders. "You've no need to distress yourself further, old one. I know now. My father died like a true Badger Lord, full of the Bloodwrath, taking many vermin with him."

Bramwil's tears sizzled in the embers at the fire's edge as he nodded and dabbed at his eyes. '"Twas so, lord, 'twas so!"

Brocktree rose, flickering flame shadows playing over his immobile face. Bramwil looked up at him. The Badger Lord looked like something carved from rock, which had stood there since the dawn of time.

At last, Brocktree shouldered his sword. "Waste no more tears, you good old beast. Stonepaw would not want grief, he would want retribution. I am here now. It is the turn of Ungatt Trunn and his vermin to suffer. I will make them weep full sore before they die!" He strode off toward the clifftops, alone.

Bucko Bigbones threw himself down beside Bramwil, panting from the dance. He seized a flagon of cordial and drained it. "Hey, auld 'un, I seen ye talkin' wi' the big boyo. Och, 'twill be a thing tae see when that'n takes hamself aff tae battle!"

Ungatt Trunn could not sleep. He wandered the upper passages of Salamandastron until he came to a small chamber on its north side, where he had chosen to store his own armor and weapons. His restless eyes sought out a long trident leaning against the wall. He took the weapon and hefted it. This trident had served him well many times in battle. Three barb-headed copper prongs gleamed dully in the torchlight; he ran his paw over the oaken shaft until it met the cord-bound grip at its middle. Grasping it firmly, he went to the window and stood staring out toward the cliffs in the distance.

"Brocktree of Brockhall, eh? So that's what they call you. I know you are out there somewhere, Badger Lord. I am Ungatt Trunn the Earth Shaker, who makes the stars fall from the sky. This mountain is mine by right of conquest. Here I staycome to me!"

He pointed out of the window at the cliffs with his trident.

Brocktree stood on the clifftops, the night breeze ruffling his fur, though his eyes never once blinked against the wind. He gazed at the dark shape to the south, the mountain looming high on the western shore edge. Drawing his sword, he pointed it at Salamandastron, starlight shimmering along the burnished blade's length.

"I know your face, wildcat; soon you will see mine. I am coming. Eulaliiiiiaaaaaaa!"

Chapter 32

Morning sun shone down on a strange scene. Durvy and his crew also witnessed it, and they turned from the water's edge and hastened back to camp. Leaders of all the tribes and crews were taking breakfast inside the cave with Brocktree, about to begin a council of war, when Durvy and Konul dashed in, breathless and excited.

"Come an' see! All the bluebottoms are paradin' out along the shore!"

The Badger Lord put aside his food. "Where?"

"I'd say 'bout a third the distance 'twixt 'ere an' the mountain. 'Tis a sight t'see, eh, Konul?"

The cheeky-faced ottermaid was grim and shaken. "Aye. You can't see the sands o' the beach for 'em!"

Rulango the heron stalked into the cave. Log a Log Grenn took a backward pace at the sight of the fearsome bird. "Where did that monster come from?"

Brog went to Rulango and stroked his neck. "I forgot to tell ye about this 'un. He's Rulango, the eyes'n'ears of the Bark Crew. Where'd you get to yesterday, mate?"

He cleared a patch in the sand, and Rulango sketched out several fishes. Brog nodded. "Fishin', eh? Well, you've got to eat, just like anybeast. No need to tell us wot's down on the shore, we know."

But the heron kept dabbing his talons down on the sand, until it was covered in tiny dots.

"See all these dots? Each one's a bluebottom," Brog explained.

Rulango scraped out a row of scratches.

"He says that for every scratch there's that many again. Too many for 'im t'sketch!"

Brocktree shouldered his sword. "Come on, I've got to see this. Bring your weapons!"

Brocktree took with him a selected small band, Dotti and the twins among them. Using the dunes as cover and keeping low, they threaded their way south, between the sandhills at the base of the cliffs. When Durvy judged they had gone far enough, he led them west toward the shore. Dotti wriggled her way forward, joining Brocktree and Ruff in the long grass on top of a high dune.

"Oh my giddy aunt, look at that lot!"

Rank upon rank of Blue Hordebeasts lined the beach, twenty wide and ten deep, almost as far as the eye could see. Each section comprised vermin carrying different weapons. One group had pikes, another javelins, yet another was made up of archers; there were slingers, swordbeasts and club wielders, each headed by a captain. Ruff started a hasty calculation in the sand, but he soon gave up.

"'Tis no use, matey. They'd eat our little army alive."

Bucko and Fleetscut crawled up beside them and lay gaping.

"By the left, sah, I didn't imagine there were that many blinkin' vermin on earth!"

"Och, 'twould be plain suicide goin' up against yon vermin!"

However, the Badger Lord took no notice of their comments. His eyes roved slowly over the scene below. "I don't see their leader. Ungatt Trunn isn't there!"

Dotti pointed out a figure standing at the head of a group of officers below the tideline. "I say, sah, what about that chap? He looks like a sort of commandin' type, wot?"

The Badger Lord studied the one Dotti had singled out. "He's no wildcat. Looks like a fox to me. Anybeast know who he is?"

Durvy shaded his eyes against the sun. "That's Karangool, Cap'n in Chief of Trunn's fleet."

Bucko was halfway up, his eyes blazing madly. "Aye, so 'tis. Bide ye here. Ah'm bound tae kill the scum that slaughtered my family!"

Brocktree and Ruff bore the mountain hare down forcibly, though he struggled like a wild beast. "Take yer paws of fa me. Ah hae business wi' yon fox!"

Brocktree leaned heavily on Bucko, pinning him firmly. "Your business is our business, too, friend. I'm not getting this party slain or captured because of you. Now, do you want me to sit on you? I'm quite heavy, you know."

Bucko spat out sand, but did not attempt to move. "Ach, ye can let me go, Brock, ah'll deal wi' yon scum another time. Ah wiz behavin' like a fool!"

They released him and continued watching the vermin.

"What are you thinkin', sah?" Dotti murmured to Brock.

The Badger Lord never took his eyes off the Hordebeasts. "Right at this moment I'm thinking lots of things, miss. My first thought is that Brog and the Bark Crew have been doing an excellent job. Hah! That's what I was waiting for. Did you see that rat? Front rank third column, there!"

"I see him. He's just fallen over. Tripped on his spear, d'you think, sah?"

"No, Dotti, he's fainted with hunger. The captains seem well enough, but take a good look at the rank and file vermin. Ruff, what do you see?"

"Look like they're 'avin' a pretty thin time o' things. I'd say they was starvin', the whole gang of 'em!"

Brocktree glanced back at the clifftops. "Right, but more of that later. I think we'd best make ourselves scarce. I can see your bird hovering up yonder, Broghe'll be flying over here to tell you that there's more vermin leaving the mountain to come along the clifftops. The wildcat is a clever general. He wouldn't miss the chance of hitting us from behind, while we're busy watching his troops. Let's get out of here quickly and quietly."

As they slid down the rear of the dune, Brog gave orders. "Everybeast keep low. Back to the caves now, quickly. Durvy, take Urvo, Radd an' Konul an' cover our trail!"

Ungatt Trunn sat in council with Karangool and Fragorl. Ripfang was present, too. They waited respectfully until the wildcat spoke. "Do you think they saw the parade?"

Karangool shrugged. "Might'ness, who can tell? I did not see them."

Trunn nodded at Fragorl to make her report. "They could not have been there, O Great One. I led the ambush party along the clifftops. We searched the dunes, and there was no sign of them, not even pawprints, sire."

Ripfang put in his opinion. "I did like you said, Mightiness, took a ship along the coast. There was no sign of 'em watchin' from the sea."

The wildcat paced the chamber, shaking his head. "But I know they were there, spying on my Hordes. The badger is no fool. He would have taken the opportunity to assess our strength, I know it!"

Ripfang gave voice to what the others were thinking. "That 'orde on the beach t'day, they coulda swept up both sides o' the cliffs an' scoured yore enemies out."

Ungatt Trunn sat down, looking thoughtful. "Yes, I could have done that, but it would leave the mountain undefended. Any good commander knows that this mountain is the prize; the beast who holds it fights from a position of strength. I want them to come to me."

"Might'ness, what if they don't?"

Trunn's claws drummed a tattoo on the tabletop. "Then I will have to do as Ripfang says, send the Hordes to root them out, eh, Ripfang?"

The other two were surprised that Trunn should ask the former searat's opinion. So was Ripfang, but he answered readily enough.

"Aye, yer right there, sir, but I wouldn't leave it too long if'n I was you. Every day yore beasts are gittin' more 'ungry. Yew can't afford a long drawn-out wait."

Ungatt Trunn turned his eyes to his source of inspiration. "Spiders are like that, too. They will wait, but not for long. The moment the time is ripe, they pounce!"

Back at the store cave, Jukka gave out the last bundle of weapons, to be distributed around.

"There, 'tis empty now. This will be thy home for a while."

Frutch held her lantern up to get a better view. "I like the other cave better. This 'un's a bit poky!"

Blench tightened her apron strings resolutely. "Don't fret, dearie, we'll soon make this comfortable. I'll get some moles to scoop out the back there, where the rocks are loose. We'll put the ovens agin that wall. Woebee, what d'you think about that ledge yonder?"

"Spread with moss an' sailcloth 'twill make fine seats'n'beds. I'm glad we used up the last o' the shrimp mayhap we can get some decent meals cooked. Shall I ask the shrewcooks to lend a paw with the dinner, Frutch?"

"I'd be beholden t'them if'n they did. Such good cooks!"

Lord Brocktree was addressing a meeting in the big valley between the dunes outside the old cave. Everybeast fit to march or fight was in attendance. They sat on the dunesides and hilltops, listening to what their leader had to say.

"We saw many vermin on the shore this morning, more than a beast could shake ten sticks at. It was meant to be Ungatt Trunn's show of force, though the vermin looked so thin and starved that it was more a show of weakness! But still, they are far too numerous for us to meet in open warfare. Now I have some ideas of my own, but I am open to good and sensible suggestions as to how they can be defeated."

Brog immediately held up his paw. "I says we carry on cuttin' off their supplies. The Bark Crew was doin' a first-class job, you said it yoreself."

Ruff answered for the Badger Lord. "Aye, mate, but if we carries on cuttin' off their vittles Trunnll git desperate sooner or later, an' they'll come out in force after us. With the numbers they got, we'll lose!"

There was a murmur of agreement. Brocktree held up his paws. "Good. That's what I was hoping you'd say 'tis what I was thinking myself. But I have a plan!"

"Burr, then do ee tell uz ee plan, zurr. Us'n's gettin' orful 'ungered settin' owt yurr!"

General laughter greeted Gurth's good mole logic. Grenn had food brought out by the Guosim, Drucco's rabblehogs lending a paw.

It was late afternoon by the time Brocktree finished outlining his plan, which was wholeheartedly approved. Bucko winked admiringly at the badger. "Ah ken noo why Badger Lairds are braw canny beasts!"

Brocktree's fierce dark eyes looked appraisingly around. "Everybeast here has their own special part to play. I know 'tis a perilous and risky scheme, but I think it'll work. So, are you with me? Hold up your paws all in favor."

Not one creature held back. Every paw went up. Skittles held up all four paws, lying flat on his back.

"Us wiv ya, B'ock mate!"

The difficult part was explaining to Frutch and the very old ones, who would be remaining behind, hidden in the supply cave. Brogalaw tried to placate his weeping mother.

"Hush now, Mum, we'll take that ole mountain quicker'n you can say nail me rudder. You can 'ave a nice liddle room there, all of yore own, an' a rock garden, too. You alius wanted a rock garden, didn't you, me ole darlin'?"

But Frutch was not to be consoled. "Go an' do wot you gotta do, Brogalaw, but come back alive t'me, ye great tailwhackin' lump. Never mind tryin' to get 'round me wid mountain caves an' rock gardens. When this is all over, I don't want none of it. Tell ye wot I would like, thoughto go back down southcoast, to our ole 'ome. Oh, I do miss it!"

Blench loaned Frutch a corner of her apron to weep into. The old cook patted Brog's paw. "We'll take good care of yore mum, Brog. You get goin' now. Get our mountain back for us. Fates'n'seasons o' fortune go with ye. Oh, an' keep an eye out for that niece o' mine. Dorothea's a brave hare, but young an' 'eadstrong."

Brog gave the old cook a hug. "Bless yore 'eart, marm, I'll do me best for us all, you got my word. Stay safe now an' don't weep too much, it makes the bread soggy."

On the way out of the cave, Brog stopped to stroke the heron's long neck and speak softly to the bird. "You stay 'ere now, my ole matey. Take good care of these old 'uns an' don't stay out fishin' too long. I'll see you when 'tis all done, I 'ope!"

Rulango laid his beak on Brog's shoulder and blinked, and the sea otter Skipper patted him roughly. "Come on now, ye ole rogue, don't start gettin' soft on me." Brogalaw did quite a bit of blinking himself, then he straightened up, sniffed loudly, and left the cave.

A great pile of wood, sea coal and grass had been heaped not far from the front of the old cave. Everybeast was gathered there when Brog arrived.

"All ready, Brock. I've just been makin' me farewells to Mum an' the old 'uns."

Dotti clapped a paw to her mouth. "Aunt Blench! I forgot to say goodbye to her!"

Brog shouldered his javelin. "I already did that, missie. She said that you got to take good care o' me. Liddle Skittles was sleepin' an' Mirklewort is stayin' back to keep an eye on things. There ain't a thing to keep us now, so let's be about our work!"

Lord Brocktree turned to Jukka the Sling. Nobeast would have recognized her from the disguise she wore. The squirrel Chieftain had been dyed blue, her tail was shaven and she wore a Hordebeast's uniform. Brocktree nodded approvingly. "You look like a true vermin, friend. Now, you know what you have to do?"

"Aye, lord. As soon as the bluebottoms leave the mountain, I will shoot a burning shaft from one of the high windows."

Brocktree clasped Jukka's paw. "Good luck!"

"Huh, an' try not to plunder anythin' until we get there!"

Jukka eyed Fleetscut coldly. "When 'tis all over, thou an' I will have a reckoning!" Then she turned and hurried off toward Salamandastron.

Ruff shook his head in disapproval at Fleetscut. "It's not good to go into battle with bad blood 'twixt you two. Right, who's next to go, mates?"

Durvy and Konul stepped forward with their crew. Strapped to each one's back was a torch, wrapped tightly to protect it from the seawater. Brog issued final instructions. "Don't start anythin' until you see this fire in front o' the cave lit an' blazin' well. Fortune go with ye, mates!" The sea otters slipped silently off seaward.

Brocktree looked around at those left, and took Ruff's paw. "Your turn now, friend. You and Brog look after yourselves!"

"An' you do likewise, Lord Brocktree of Brock'all!"

Dotti and Log a Log Grenn stood watching as Brog and Ruff led the squirrels and rabblehogs off into the gathering evening. They climbed the cliffs and began a long sweep south.

"Ah well, chaps, that leaves only us now, wot?" Dotti observed.

Bucko Bigbones exposed his teeth in a wide grin. "Aye, lassie, so whit'n the name o' seasons are we hangin' aboot for? Let's be awa, mah bairns!"

Brocktree's hefty paw descended on Bucko's shoulder. "You stay close to me, sir, and none of your mad March mountain hare antics out of you, understand?"

Bucko checked the six long daggers he had thrust in his belt. "Ach, ah'll be as quiet as a wee molebabe, eh, Gurth?"

"Oi'm 'opin' ee will, zurr. Oi wurr a gudd h'infant moiself."

Stiffener led the little army off through the dunes. "We'll get up as close t'the tunnel afore dark as we can."

Dotti fell in between Southpaw and Bobweave, who were simultaneously loading their slings.

"Splendid evenin' for a jolly old war, eh, miss Dotti?"

"Rather! I say, d'you want me to load your sling, miss Dotti?"

"Tut tut, old chap, I'm the sling-loader 'round here, y'know!"

The haremaid rescued her sling from the irrepressible twins. "Oh, give it a rest, you two, I'm perfectly capable of loadin' me own bloomin' sling. Besides, Mother always told me to beware of sling-loadin' types."

"Wise old mater, wot?"

"Pretty, too, if she looks anythin' like her daughter!"

At a gruff cough from the Badger Lord, they fell silent.

Darkening clouds merged with dusky sky overhead, and the last crimson sunrays shimmered over the horizon, flaring briefly across the waves. A warm vagrant breeze stirred grass on the dunetops. Night fell, with moonshadows transforming the landscape into a patchwork of silver sand and velvet shadow. Dotti could scarce suppress a shudder of excitement and apprehension. The battle to win back Salamandastron had finally begun!

Chapter 33

Ungatt Trunn paced the mountain passages like a caged beast, agitated and impatient. Everywhere he went, guards stood stiffly to attention in the torchlit corridors, holding their breath as he prowled by, his long cloak swishing. From the top level of the inner mountain he went, through every floor to the bottom. Only the sound of restless waves greeted the wildcat as he emerged, past the sentries, out onto the shore. Two searats rowed a small gig into the shallows. Leaping out, they dragged it ashore.

Captain in Chief Karangool stepped onto the beach. "Might'ness, is quiet this night."

Ungatt Trunn stroked his whiskers slowly. "Too quiet altogether. I don't like it, captain. 'Tis as if something is waiting to happen. Can you feel it, too?"

"Yah, Might'ness."

Together they strolled back to the main mountain entrance. Patrols had been doubled around the perimeter, and six guards, with Ripfang at their head, marched around from the north side. They halted, saluting Trunn with their spears. He nodded to Ripfang.

"Anything to report, captain?"

"Nary a thing, sir. 'Tis like walkin' 'round a buryin' ground out there, but we're keepin' a sharp lookout!"

Fragorl interrupted further conversation. She hurried out of the main entrance, her dark cloak flapping like a bird of ill omen. She pointed. "Mighty One, over there, by the cliff side, northward, I saw it from my windowa fire!"

With Fragorl, Ripfang and Karangool scurrying in his wake, Trunn raced inside, taking stairflights in leaps and bounds.

He was breathing heavily by the time he reached the highest level. Vaulting through a frameless window space, the wildcat made his way to the high guard post. A ferret stood pointing his spear to the fire. "There, sire!"

Even from that distance the blaze was visible, lighting up the cliff side with an orange glow. The others arrived behind Trunn. He heard Ripfang chuckle and whirled on him.

"Something appears to be amusing you, searat?"

Ripfang indicated the distant bonfire. "You got to admit it, they ain't short o' nerve. Hah! S'posed to be 'idin' out from yer, sir, an' there they be, burnin' a whopper campfire. Aye, an' I'll wager they're cookin', too, stuffin' their gobs wid food they stole off us. Ho ho, if'n that ain't a sight ter see!"

Karangool watched the wildcat's paws shaking with anger. "Might'ness, it could be trap!"

Ungatt Trunn grabbed him so hard that his claws sank into the fox's paw. The Captain in Chief winced as the wildcat sneered scathingly, "Do you think I don't know that, imbecile? The insolence of those creatures, taunting Ungatt Trunn like that!"

Ripfang cleaned his single tooth with a grimy paw. "Aye, that's wot 'tis, a taunt. Plain, open defiance, like my ole cap'n used ter say. But wot are ye goin' t'do about it, that's the question, sir?"

"Karangool, take half of the entire Hordes, split them in three columns. One either side, clifftops and dunes, the third to go flat out along the shore and circle 'round behind them. I want the leaders alive; the rest must be slaughtered. Bring their bodies back with you!"

Shouting broke out from a sentry post facing the sea.

"Fire! Fire aboard the ships!"

Out at the western edge of the vast armada, flames could be seen licking around sails and rigging. Ungatt Trunn looked from one conflagration to the other.

"It wasn't a trap, it was a decoy to divert our attention. Well, I'm going to turn it into a trap. Karangool, take some crews out there, cut the burning vessels away from the others. Save the fleet! Fragorl, Ripfang, you will take command of those attacking the decoy fire by the cliffs. You heard my orders to Karangool. Go and carry them out!"

Ungatt Trunn went inside and beckoned the first creature he came across, a guard in the upper passages. "You, gather together my captains, bring them to my chamber!"

In an instant the quiet of the summer night was shattered. Horde captains dashed about bellowing orders, the entire mountain bursting into a hive of activity.

Ungatt Trunn met the group of captains in the doorway of his chamber. He marched them out into the corridor and issued hasty instructions.

"I am taking over the defense of my mountain against any outside attack. Listen to me. Bar all entrancesthat includes the window spaces and any paths going up the mountain. You six, take your patrols, bring in all outside sentries, repel any assaults from ground level. You four, spread your creatures about in the passages, watch out for enemy beasts trying to break in. I'll take the top levels. Send me up a hundred or more troops!"

Rulango returned to the new cave, minus the lighted torch he had been carrying in his beak. Frutch made sure the entrance was well camouflaged before she accompanied the big heron back inside. "Did the fire light well when you dropped the torch on it?"

Rulango ruffled his feathers, spread both wings and did an odd hopping dance, nodding his beak. The otter-mum smiled. "Yore a good bird. See, I baked some slices for you!"

"Slicer for Skikkles, too, eh, F'utch?"

"Bless yore liddle 'eart, o' course there is, my lovey."

Stiffener winked at Brocktree. "Nicely timed, sire. We won't even wet our paws, the tide's slipped out nice'n'quiet. Git the lanterns ready an' toiler me. Best be quiet, thoughit echoes loud in there."

Dotti and the twins rounded the rock point, to see Stiffener holding back a jumble of kelp and seaweed with his javelin.

"C'mon, you young rips, in y'go, we ain't got all night."

They entered the tunnel by which Stiffener and the prisoners had escaped. Southpaw lit their lantern from Gurth's torch.

"I'll be official lantern-bearer for you, miss Dotti, wot?"

To forestall further argument, the haremaid agreed. "Right, you do that, Southpaw. Bobweave, here, you can be the official sling-holder. I say, it's jolly damp an' gloomy in here, spooky, too. Yeeeek! What's that?"

Brocktree pushed in ahead of them, covering Dotti's mouth with a huge paw as he investigated the grisly object.

Still partially clad in tattered rags of a uniform, the skeleton of Captain Fraul gleamed white in the lantern light. The eye sockets of the skull remained fixed in a ghastly mask of death. Tiny spike-backed crabs scuttled hither and thither over the vermin's bare bones, seeking any semblance of a gruesome meal. The Badger Lord shifted the skeleton to one side with a sweep of his footpaw, and little crabs scuttled everywhere, holding their nippers aggressively high.

Brocktree took his paw from Dotti's mouth. "Nothing to be feared of, miss. Looks like the skeleton of a stoat, if I'm not mistaken. Wonder how he got down here?"

Stiffener viewed the remains dispassionately. "Who knows? One vermin less to deal with, I say. 'Tis those crabs we got to worry about, lord, there's lots'n'lots of the confounded beasts down 'ere. Pretty big 'uns, too!"

Bucko saw the long-stalked eyes, watching them from every crack and crevice. He thrust a torch at them and made them scuttle from its flame. "Ach, they'll no be a bother tae us. We got fire, lots o' it. Ah think frae whit ye were tellin' us, Stiff, 'tis only the high tide a-rushin' up here whit disturbs 'em!"

The mountain hare was right. In the absence of waves crashing into the tunnel, the crabs kept to the wallsides. There was room enough for everybeast to proceed in single file. It was a long, hard trek, though; sometimes they had to bend almost double in the confined rock tunnel. Brocktree had to wriggle along, flat on his stomach. Though they had only been going a few hours, it felt like days.

Fleetscut patted his stomach. "I say, you chaps, how's about stoppin' for a morsel o' jolly old supper? I'm fair famished, wot."

"You stay famished an' let young Dotti stay fair," Stiffener called back. "We'll be in the cave soon enough, then y'can eat supper."

After an interminable age of groping along through the damp rocky spaces, the boxing hare halted. "Sailears, Trobee, bring those ropes here, will ye?"

Lord Brocktree peered through the hole at the eerie blue-lit cavern beneath, with its stalactites, stalagmites, bottomless pool and echoing water drips. Dotti pushed through. She measured the hole's diameter with both paws, then tried to gauge the Badger Lord's burly width.

"Hmm, 'fraid you won't fit through that hole, sah."

Brocktree unshouldered his sword. "Seems you're right, miss. Stand clear, please."

He brought the swordpoint down hard a few times around the hole's edge, knocking out large cobs of the veined limestone. They crashed down into the cave, some into the pool. Blue wavery reflections of moving water gave the badger's face a spectral, fearsome appearance.

"Hope nobeast heard those stones falling. There, I'll fit through the hole smoothly enough, eh, Gurth?"

"You'm 'ave ee gurt way o' solvin' probberlums, zurr!"

They did not have to climb down the ropes. Lord Brocktree stayed on top and lowered them, four at a time, two to each rope. When they were all down, he lowered himself gingerly, using both ropes. "There now, that wasn't too bad. Let's rest awhile and eat."

Grenn's Guosim cooks had brought along some supplies, which they ate sitting around the pool. Brocktree hardly touched his food, but sat staring intently into the green-blue translucent depths. Grenn swigged from a flask of dark damson wine, watching the badger.

"So, what're ye thinkin' of, sire?"

Brocktree continued scanning the water.

"My father Stonepaw died in this cavea hero's death to enable his followers to escape."

Grenn nodded sympathetically. She uncorked another flask of the wine and tossed it into the center of the pool. Being filled to the top, it sank into the depths, sending up a tracery of dark purplish wine, like smoke from an oily fire on a windless day.

"There. That'll let yore ole dad know you've come to the mountain to take vengeance for him."

They all watched the bottle until it was lost to sight in the fathomless depths, leaving only a long, solitary spiral of dark damson wine. Brocktree stood up, dry-eyed.

"Thank ye for that, Log a Log Grenn. Stiffener, will you lead off? I'm completely lost down here."

The boxing hare scratched his ears. "I ain't too familiar with Salamandastron's cellars either, sire. We only stumbled on this place by accident when we were runnin' for our lives."

The ever-optimistic Dotti volunteered a suggestion. "I don't suppose it'll be that difficult to find our way out o' here, wot. An' I'll bet once Jukka has fired off her signal arrow she'll come lookin' for us. She should have a pretty fair idea of the place, havin' to find her way in an' whatnot."

Bucko picked up his torch and joined Stiffener. "Guid thinkin', lassie. Ah don't fancy hangin' aboot this place, et makes mah back preckle. Let's be awa'!"

Jukka's heart had been pounding as she approached the main gates. Standing almost barring the way was a group of vermin, who looked different from the usual Hordes, and the wildcat, who was obviously Ungatt Trunn. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, the squirrel, hoping fervently that her disguise would not be noticed, strode boldly forward. She passed them, as if she were carrying on with some chore or other which was keeping her busy, and breathed a sigh of relief as she made the main entrance. Next moment she was almost bowled over by a hooded and cloaked ferret, who dashed out and accosted Trunn and the others.

"Mighty One, over there, by the cliffside, northward, I saw it from my window, a fire!"

Jukka pulled to one side as the wildcat came bounding past, with the rest trying to keep up with him. Nobeast would dare challenge me in such company, thought Jukka. She tagged on and joined the rear of the party.

When Ungatt Trunn reached the high-level guard post, Jukka followed. However, she stayed almost hidden against the mountainside, keeping in the background as much as possible. Jukka saw the flames from both fires, and watched Trunn giving out his commands to Ripfang, Fragorl and the tall, saturnine fox called Karangool. When the vermin had departed hurriedly, Jukka ventured out. There were three lookout guards still at the post, a ferret and two rats. The ferret was obviously the most senior of the three. He eyed Jukka suspiciously, pointing at her with his spear.

"Hoi! What're yew doin' 'round 'ere?"

The squirrel knew her disguise had him fooled. She decided to brazen it out and spat on the ground in true vermin fashion. "Ain't doin' anythin'. What're yew doin'?"

The ferret was taken aback at her insolence. "Wot am I doin'? I'm the night watch in charge o' this 'ere lookout post, appointed by Cap'n Drull!"

Jukka made as if to stroll away, but one of the rats barred her way with his spear haft. "I ain't seen you afore."

Jukka sneered back at him. "An' I ain't seen you, or I'd remember yer ugly face. Now get that spear out o' me way!"

The rat's courage failed him when he saw the dangerous gleam in Jukka's eyes, and he allowed her to knock his spear aside. Accompanied by the other rat, the ferret stepped in. They menaced Jukka with their spear-points. Slightly unsure of himself, the ferret adopted an officious tone.

"You got no business bein' up 'ere. Who sent yer?"

"Ungatt Trunn did, an' stan' to attention when yer speaks to me. The Mighty One was right, things are gettin' far too sloppy 'round these 'igh lookout posts!"

Shooting the two rats a warning glance, the ferret came to attention, the rats speedily following his example. Jukka was beginning to enjoy herself. She circled the trio, inspecting them critically, while she pounded her brain in an effort to think how she could rid herself of them. Jukka needed to be at the high guard post, to fire off her signal arrow.

She saw the ferret's throat bob nervously. She nodded understanding^ and flashed him a brief smile. "I'm only doin' me job, same as you, mate. Let's take a look at yore spear a moment. Trunn's orders, y'know. At ease!"

The trio stood easy, the ferret passing over his spear for inspection. Jukka studied it closely. "Hmmm, pole's a bit splintery, could do wid a polish, too. When was the last time yer sharpened the blade?"

Some of the starch had gone out of the ferret. "Three days back, I think, or mebbe four," he muttered.

Jukka pursed her lips critically and shook her head at him. "This spear'ead ain't been sharpened in a season. D'yer know it's come loose? Could do wid a new nail. Look!"

She waggled the spearhaft, holding tight to the head. A rusty nail was all that held them together, and it soon snapped, leaving Jukka holding the haft in one paw and the head in her other. She raised her eyebrows knowingly. "See wot I mean, matey? Ah, but don't fret, I won't report yer. Y'know, sometimes a spearpole wid no blade can be a useful weapon. I'll show yer. Youse two rats, put down those spears an' stand either side of yer officer 'ere."

The sentries decided that this strange-looking inspector was not such a bad type. They obeyed, letting Jukka shove them about until she had them in the required position: outside the guard post, with their backs to the edge of the mountainside. There was a dizzying drop behind them.

Jukka threw away the spearhead and held the pole sideways. "When I did me spear trainin', my ole cap'n showed me this trick with a spearpole. Watch an' pay attention now, mates."

The pole moved in a blur. Whack! Thwack! Whock! Three stunning blows, one to the side of each rat's head and the last to the ferret. The pole butt hit him between the eyes. Without a sound the three guards fell backward over the edge. It was a long way down.

Jukka checked that the little fire was lit in the guard post and laid out bow and quiver, selecting the shaft with the oil-soaked rags bound to its point. Sounds drifted up from below; she peered down. Vermin came flooding out of the main gates and from the shores round about. They marched off at double speed in three groups, with Fragorl, Ripfang and Doomeye at the head of the columns. Karangool exited next, followed by every ship's crew that was on shore leave, dashing toward the fleet. Then Jukka saw the mountain perimeter guards hasten inside. She heard the main entrance doors slam shut and captains yelling for the windows to be barred. At last all became quiet, and the shores in front of the mountain lay deserted.

Touching the arrowhead to the fire, she waited a moment until it was blazing well. Then, fitting the shaft to her bowstring, Jukka turned south and fired off over the mountaintop.

Waiting on the tideline, not too far south of Salamandastron, Brog and Ruff stood at the head of their small army. The sea otter Skipper was first to see the signal arrow, arcing through the night sky, like a tiny comet. He pounded Ruff's back.

"There she goes, mate, right on time!"

Ruff's answer was to throw back his head and howl.

"Eulaliiiiaaaaa!"

They thundered along the shoreline, paws pounding the damp sand, weapons waving, a wild fearless band, giving out the challenge to anybeast daring to oppose them.

"Blood'n'vinegaaaaar! Eulaliiiiiaaaaa!"

It was only a short distance. Inside the mountain, a weasel Hordebeast heard the war cries. Moving aside a slat of driftwood from a ground-level window space, he peered out and was immediately cut down by a sling-stone. The rat Captain Drull leapt aside as a javelin clattered through. Grabbing the driftwood, he closed the space, shoring it up with the slain weasel and shouting, "Stand to! We're under attack! Get to the arrow slits!"

A bewildered stoat confronted Drull. "But cap'n, we blocked up the arrer slits. You tole us to."

Drull booted him to one side and drew his sword. "No I never. Get t'the main gate an' stand fastthat's where they'll try t'break through. Shift yerself!"

Jukka climbed back inside the mountain and began making her way down to the cellars. She was still on the highest level, racing along a passageway, when she ran slapbang into Ungatt Trunn. They fell headlong, both tripped by the wildcat's trident haft, down a short flight of stairs. Jukka landed on top, extricating herself from Trunn's cloak folds and mumbling hasty apologies. Momentarily forgetting herself, Jukka fell into her natural speech.

"I beg thy pardon, sire. Art thou injured, pray?"

Ungatt Trunn scrambled to get upright, locking eyes with her. "You're no Hordebeast, I can tell. Come here!"

Jukka did the only thing she could do in the circumstances. She leapt over the wildcat and ran for it. Trunn was speedily up and after her, calling for assistance.

"Guards, stop that creature, she's a spy, stop her!"

Jukka took a sharp left along a corridor which branched off two ways, and jammed herself into a darkened niche as Captain Drull and a mob of guards raced by.

Drull came to a forced halt as he turned the corner and the wildcat grabbed him.

"Where's the spy? Did you see which way that spy went?"

Ignoring the question, Drull babbled into Trunn's face. "Attack, sire, we're bein' attacked! They're all over the shore outside! They're attackin' us!"

Ungatt Trunn shook the unfortunate rat mercilessly. "I'll go and see to the attack. You take these with you and find that spythere must be others inside my mountain. Don't stand there dithering. Catch the spy!"

Jukka saw the wildcat race down the opposite arm of the corridor, and waited until he was out of sight before she emerged. Drull came skidding around the corner at the head of a large mob of vermin, almost face-to-face with her.

"That's the spy! Hey you, halt! Stop, I say!"

But Jukka was not about to stop or halt. She went off down the passage with the vermin pack hard on her heels.

Chapter 34

Dotti blinked. Lights shimmered in her vision each time she closed her eyes, and she stumbled against Southpaw. He gallantly held her upright. "Steady on, miss Dotti. Here, take m'paw!"

The haremaid was glad of his assistance. "Whew, we've been blunderin' 'round in the gloom down here for absoballylutely ages. Those lights are makin' my eyes go all funny. D'you suppose we're lost?"

"Good grief, I jolly well hope not, eh, Bob?"

"What, lost? I dunno, but it looks like we could be, old chap. I think this is the second blinkin' time I've passed this rock. It's shaped like a salad bowl. I've come t'know it rather well, wot!"

Brocktree held up his torch, illuminating the rock in question. "Is he right, Stiffener? Are we lost?"

The boxing hare's ears drooped in shame. "I 'ates to say it, lord, but I'm afeared we are."

A groan rose from those who had been following him.

"Lost? D'ye mean we've been traipsin' 'round here for hours'n'hours only to get lost?"

"Hmm, bit of a blinkin' frost if y'ask me, old lad!"

"Yurr, zurr Stiff dunn a gudd job, oi reckern. Us'n's nearly thurr, hurr aye!"

The Badger Lord sounded hopeful. "What makes you think so, Gurth?"

The good mole wet his digging claws by licking them, and held them up as high as he could. "'Coz oi be's feelen ee fresh hurr frumm above, zurr. 'Tis ee thing uz moles do be a-knowen abowt!"

Bucko, who hated the dark, congratulated Gurth. "Och, guid for ye, mah braw laddie. Lead on!"

Fleetscut chortled aloud. "Well, twoggle m'paws, the old salad bowl. I remember that when I used to pinch puddens an' come down here to eat 'em, when I was only a young 'un!"

Sailears chuckled dryly. "An' that must've been only last season. I recall cook Blench complainin' about a lot of missin' vittles, you lanky-shanked pudden-purloiner!"

But Fleetscut was not listening. He was away, helter-skelter down the rock tunnels, his cries echoing into the distance. "Haha, salad bowl, o' course! Can't fool old Fleetie. I know me flippin' way out, 'course I jolly well do!"

Dotti started to run after him, but Gurth stopped her. "Ee woan't catch zurr Fleet, missie. You'm toiler Gurth, oi'll get us'n's safe out, trust oi!"

Brocktree smiled at the stolid, reliable mole. "Friend Gurth, I'd sooner trust you than a cartload of Fleetscuts. We'll follow faithfully wherever you lead!"

Fleetscut halted for an instant to regain his breath, not too sure if he was on the right path. "I say, you lot . . . where've they gone? Oh, never mind. Now, was it this way, or that? Oh corks, I'm starvin'. Hope those blue-bottoms have left a morsel in the larder for supper. Or maybe tea. Huh, it could be blinkin' brekky time for all a chap'd know down this confounded hole. Hello, is that them comin' from the other way? I must've been travelin' in circles, wot?"

The sounds Fleetscut was hearing drew nearer, but they did not resemble any noises his friends would make.

"Come on, we've nearly got the spy!"

"Catch the spy! Stop that spy!"

It was one long passage, with no exits left or right. Fleetscut looked rather nonplussed as Jukka came panting up out of the gloom, and held up his torch. "Oh, it's only you. Stolen any good weapons lately, wot?"

Jukka collapsed beside him, words pouring out of her. "Right behind mea load of vermin coming fast! Where are thy friends? Are they not with thee?"

"No, they're back there a ways. Should imagine they'll be along in a while..." He caught sight of the yelling mob of vermin racing up the tunnel. "Great seasons, there'll be murder if they clash with our lot. We weren't expectin' anythin' like this."

Jukka grabbed him savagely. "No time for explanations now, longears. Hast thou weapons? We must hold them here, thee an' me!"

The enormity of it dawned upon Fleetscut. He snapped his javelin in half and brandished the torch. "We'll have t'stop 'em. Here, take this. Eulaliiiiaaaa!"

Holding a half of the double-pointed javelin apiece, they charged forward. Both creatures threw themselves at the vermin mob in the narrowest part of the tunnel. The move took the Hordebeasts completely by surprise. Battering away with the lighted torch and thrusting with his piece of javelin, Fleetscut battled side by side with Jukka. They gave no quarter and stood their ground, fighting like a pair of madbeasts, yelling when their javelins found marks and gasping with pain when vermin blades found theirs.

Further down the tunnel, Sailears held up a paw for silence. "What was that, sah? Did y'hear it?"

Brocktree was already rushing by her, his blade drawn.

"Battle ahead! Eulaliiiiaaaaa!"

They thundered along the tunnel and hit the vermin like a tidal wave. The awesome Brocktree went straight through the Hordebeasts, his sword scything a harvest of death. Dotti had hardly a chance to whirl her sling. Bucko shoved her to one side as he went in like a battering ram.

"Oot mah way, lassie. Yerrrahaaah! Ah'm the mad March hare frae the mountains! Tak yer last look at me, ye vermin!"

Skulls cracked against rock as Stiffener Medick and his two grandsons went in weaponless, punching and kicking. Dotti staggered upright, ducking again as a rat went sailing over her head. Gurth placed her politely out of his way.

"Stan' ee asoide, miz, lest ee get you'm dress mussed!"

Sailears hugged Dotti to her. "Don't look. We should never have brought a maid to this place. Turn your face away, Dotti, 'twill soon be done."

It was done in a frighteningly short time. No vermin was allowed to escape and raise the alarm. Treading carefully, Sailears led Dotti forward, clear of the carnage. On the other side of the battleground, Bucko was waiting for them. He stood up from the two forms he had been crouching over, Jukka and Fleetscut. The mountain hare wedged a torch into the rocks above them. As she knelt by their side, Dotti could see that Jukka was already dead. Fleetscut had tight hold of the squirrel's paw. His eyes flickered briefly. He was whispering something, and Dotti had to put her face close to his before she realized that the old hare was talking to Jukka.

"Held the tunnel . . . they never passed . . . lots o' weapons for you, my friend .. . odd though . .. don't feel a bit hungry. Jolly cold, wot!"

Fleetscut smiled at Dotti, his eyelids flickered one last time, and then they closed forever. The haremaid looked at Sailears through a shimmering haze of tears.

"They died as friends. Who'd have thought it?"

The older hare helped her upright. "Jukka an' Fleetscut were the bravest of the brave. Come now, young 'un, let them share the long sleep together." Ungatt Trunn felt the cold paw of fear traversing his spine. With no more than a hundred vermin at his command, he stood facing the barred main entrance. Rocks and boulders thudded noisily against the fortified oaken doors. Without his vast Hordes the wildcat was virtually a captive inside the mountain he had captured. There were roars of derision from outside.

"We're comin' to get ye, Trunn!"

"Is that the earth shakin', or is it yore paws tremblin'?"

"Bring up the batterin' ram. I'm tired o' knockin' on this door, mates. Let's knock it down!"

There was no aperture uncovered for the vermin to see what was going on, or to retaliate from. Hordebeasts stood grouped in the entrance hall, staring in horrified fascination at the reverberating doors. Stoat Captain Byle looked beseechingly to Ungatt Trunn.

"They're bringin' a batterin' ramdid you 'ear 'em, sire? Where's Drull an' the others got to? We'll be slain!"

A blow from the wildcat's trident shaft knocked Byle flat. Trunn aimed a kick at the cringing captain. "Get up, you whimpering worm. Find Captain Drull and his sentries, bring them here immediately!"

Byle scurried off to do his master's bidding.

Brog looked quizzically at Ruff asthey both flung rocks at the doors.

"We never brought no batterin' ram with us, mate?"

Ruff hurled a lump of limestone. It made a satisfying thud. "Haharr, but Trunn don't know that, do 'e? We'll need those doors in one piece once we're inside. Remember, Brog, our job's to provide a diversion. Make as much 'ullabaloo as possible 'til Brock an' our pals can find their way to the doors an' ambush Trunn from the rear, inside. Look out!"

Ruff pulled Brog to one side as a gang of rabblehogs loosed their slings. Pebbles rattled against oak like a spring hailstorm. Baron Drucco yelled encouragement.

"Now give 'em a few yells, my 'ogs, tell those vermints wot we're goin' t'do to 'em!"

"Yaaah, yer bluebottomed wifflers, we'll spike yer!"

"Yew can't get away from the rabble'ogs. We've thrown an accordion 'round yore mountain, so there!"

Brog and Ruff joined in with gusto.

"Chop yore 'eads off an' chuck 'em in yore faces, we will!"

"Set lights to yore tails an' use 'em for candles, too!"

"Aye, we'll make the stars fall on ye all right, the moon, too!"

On the other side of the door, Ungatt Trunn paced nervously about, waiting for Byle to return with the reinforcements he had sent him to get. "Stand your ground," the wildcat rapped sternly at his quivering vermin, "the doors will hold! This trident will take the eyes out of anybeast who moves without my permission!"

Trunn spied Byle. The stoat captain was dithering around at the hall entrance, as if unsure of which way to go next. Dashing down the hall, the wildcat cornered him.

"Where's Drull and the guard patrols? I ordered you to bring them to me! Well, where are they?"

Forgetting all titles and protocols, Byle blurted out, "'Ow should I know? There's a badger wid a sword twice the size o' me, there's an army wid 'im, an' they're comin' this way fast!"

Trunn's trident prongs prodded the stoat's neck. "Keep your voice down. You and I are leaving here." He shouted to the Hordebeasts guarding the doors, "Hold your positions, stay there! Captain Byle has found Captain Drull and the guard patrols. We're going to fetch them. I order you to hold the doors. We'll be back soon!"

"But sire," Byle protested, "we don't know wh"

He froze into silence as the trident pricked his throat. "One more word and I'll leave you behind with them. Now follow me up to the second level!"

***********

Brogalaw waved his paws furiously. "Whoa, mates, stop yore rock-throwin' an' shoutin, and lissen!"

The decoy attackers left off their activities. They did not have to strain their ears to know what was going on on the other side of Salamandastron's main doors. Screams, roars, yells and the thunder of Eulalias told them that the plan had worked. Lord Brocktree and his force had made it, up from the cellars to the entrance. Slaughter was raging unchecked against the vermin that Ungatt Trunn had deserted.

Ruff flung away a rock and grabbed his spear. "To the gates, me 'earties, to the gates!"

Durvy and his crew raced up from the shore, their coats dripping with seawater. Konul shook herself vigorously. "Ain't you lot got inside yet, Brog?"

Chuckling, the sea otter Skipper dodged a spray of water. "Ho, don't fret yoreself, missie, we soon will be!"

The ottermaid pointed seaward. "Then ye'd best make it quick, mate. Karangool an' his crews cut out the burnin' ships an' sunk 'em. But they caught sight of us an' they're 'ard on our rudders. See!"

Ten galleys were being rowed to land, crammed with horde crew vermin, led by Karangool. Brog issued hasty orders.

"Drucco, bang on them doors as if yore life depended on it, 'cos it does! Form up in four lines, mates, backs t'the doors, slings, arrers an' javelins. Stir yore stumps!"

Sounds of battle, loud and wild, rang out from behind the doors. The ships plowed into the shallows and armed vermin began leaping ashore in droves. Drucco battered the door, a rock in either paw, bellowing with all his might, "Brock! Brock! Open up, mate! We're 'ard-pressed out 'ere!"

Karangool stood on the prow of his vessel, urging the vermin on toward the mountain. "Slay streamdogs, they fired our ships, kill allbeasts!"

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

Ungatt Trunn tore driftwood and sacking from a narrow window facing east on the second level. He peeped out and saw a small band of squirrels below. The wildcat nodded, smiling at Captain Byle.

"We're lucky, my friend, it's all clear. Out you go!"

Two arrows took the stoat before he cleared the window. Trunn spoke up in a voice loud enough to be heard from below.

'"Tis no use, mates, the foebeast's waitin' below. 'Round to the south side, quick. I know a good place there!"

He stood perfectly still and waited a short time. When he looked out again the squirrels had run off to cover the south face. With all the litheness of a wildcat Ungatt Trunn descended to the ground. Treading contemptuously on Byle's carcass, he set off north toward the cliffs.

Once the vermin were above the tideline, Brog gave the first rank of archers their order. "Now!" Eight vermin fell, transfixed by flying arrows. The rest paused, but Karangool drove them onward from his ship's prow.

"Rush them, they be only few to us!"

They continued the charge. The archers dropped back to reload as Brog gave a command to the slingers who took their place.

"Shoot an' fall back, mates. Now!"

Drucco foamed at the mouth as he pounded the doors. "Open up afore we're slaughterfied! Open up, Brock!"

Ruff took out a front-runner with a well-aimed rock. "Too late, mate, we'll just 'ave t'go down fightin'!"

Brog judged the distance between himself and the charging vermin. It looked as if Ruff was right. The sea otter Skipper brought forward his spears and javelins.

"Kneel 'ere in line, mateys, points to the fore! Archers, place yoreselves between the spears. Right, now!"

Another deadly hail of shafts buzzed through the night air. Vermin fell, but they kept coming, their own front ranks unshouldering bows and fitting shafts to strings.

With a creak and a groan the mighty doors swung inward. Baron Drucco fell facedown, still pounding with his two rocks at the earth in the open gateway. Gurth and Bucko Bigbones poked their heads around the doors.

"Welcumm to ee mounting, zurrs, do you'm cumm in naow!"

"Och, mah bairns, ye'll catch yer death of arrers stannin' 'roond oot there!"

They piled in regardless, ears over tails in a jumble, and the great doors slammed shut in the vermin horde's face.

Lord Brocktree put aside his battle blade. The badger's eyes were red as flame on winter's eve. His huge chest rose and fell as he approached the otters, stumbling over the carcasses of vermin who would fight no more. He stood silent awhile, striving to control the Bloodwrath which coursed like wildfire through his veins. Brog and Ruff took a step backward from the fearsome sight. Brocktree shuddered violently, as if trying to rid himself of a phantom foe. Then he held both paws wide, bowed his head and spoke in a normal tone.

"This is my mountain. Welcome to Salamandastron!"

Chapter 35

Morning was well under way, warm and still under a powdery blue sky. Ungatt Trunn had traversed the clifftops for most of the night, searching for the mass of Hordebeasts he had sent to investigate the fire to the north. Only now had he found them. Telltale spirals of smoke marked their campfires in an area between the dunes and the cliff side. Still carrying his trident, the wildcat padded silently down to where Ripfang, his brother Doomeye and some other former searats were cooking things in their shields over the flames. Catching sight of Trunn, they started to stand to attention, but he waved them back down with a few flicks of his paw. Seating himself between Ripfang and Doomeye, he turned to the more intelligent of the two, showing neither anger nor anxiety.

"So, Ripfang, I don't see captives or the slain bodies of Bark Crew creatures. Nor do I see as many Hordebeasts as left the mountain last night. What happened?"

Taking his time cleaning a morsel of food from his single tooth with a knifepoint, Ripfang coolly pushed across a shield containing a form of stew in its curved bowl. "You musta been trampin' 'alf the night, boss. 'Ere, 'ave a bite o' brekkist."

The food did not look very appetizing, but it smelled good. Trunn picked up a clean seashell, scooped some up and tasted it, nodding agreeably. "Not bad at all. What is it?"

"When we was chasin' after Fragorl, we found clumps o' charlock growin' everywhere, an' stonecrop, too, sir," Doomeye explained proudly. "There was a liddle stream o' sweet water, wid tutsan sproutin' 'round it. Got some periwinkles an' mussels off'n the rocks below the tideline as well. So we cooked 'em all up together. Tasty, ain't it? Wish we 'ad some pepperwort, though. I likes pepperwort."

Ungatt Trunn cut him short, his voice calm and reasonable. "Very resourceful of you. But, Ripfang, why were you chasing after my Grand Fragorl?"

"Well, it was like this, see, cap'n. Fragorl was wid the band who was supposed to 'ead out along the shore an' circle back be'ind the enemy. But sink me if'n that treacherous ferret didn't just carry straight on goin'!"

The wildcat was hungry. He scooped up more of the mess. "You mean she deserted?"

"The very word, cap'n, deserted! Aye, an' she took a third of our force wid 'er. Went like a flight o' swallows, flyin' south, but o' course they 'eaded north. We did like yer said, closed in on that big bonfire, but there wasn't 'ide nor 'air of anybeast there, just a fire. Knowin' 'ow you'd feel about ole Fragorl takin' off wid yore soldiers like that, we tried to track 'er down. But they was long gone."

Trunn tossed away the shell and wiped his mouth. "I see. Thank you, my friends, you are both faithful and trustworthy servants. I'll reward you well when the time comes. But for now we'd best get back to the mountain."

"The mountain, eh?" There was a hint of irony in Ripfang's tone. "'Ow are things goin' back there, cap'n?"

Ripfang gulped as the trident prongs went either side of his paw. Pressing down, the wildcat pinned the searat firmly to the sand. Ripfang was immediately regretting the dangerous game of disrespect he had started.

Ungatt Trunn's gold-ringed eyes blazed savagely. "Let's go back and see, shall we? I trust you are still loyal to my cause, Ripfang, that you swear to follow and serve me? Or perhaps you'd like to stay here?"

Ripfang knew what the fearsome wildcat meant by the phrase stay here. He averted his eyes from the murderous gaze. "Loyal? Me an' me brother are loyal to ye, sire, that's why we signed up with yer in the first place. You lead an' we'll toiler yer, sire, true blue an' never fail. Er, soon as yew let me 'ave me paw back, sire."

The trident lifted, releasing Ripfang's paw. Trunn smiled. "Good! Get the columns ready to march, captain."

They took to the clifftops where the going was faster, Ungatt Trunn at the rear, his captains at the front. The brother searats held a muttered conversation as they marched at double speed.

"Did yer see 'is eyes, Rip? That 'un's mad, stark starin' mad!"

"Oh no 'e ain't, Doom. Dangerous, aye, but not mad. Somethin' strange 'as 'appened back at the mountain. Wotever 'twas, it brought Trunn out searchin' for us all through the night. I don't like it, mate, not one liddle bit!"

"Mebbe we should've run fer it, like Fragorl did?"

"Yore right, Doom. Too late fer that now, though."

"So wot d'yer think we should do, Rip?"

"I dunno, but I'll think of somethin'."

"Well, 'urry up an' think, will yer!"

"Shuttup. 'Ow can I think wid yew blatherin' down me ear?"

"So that's all the thanks I gets for cookin' yer brekkist. Well, keep yer ideas. I can think of ideas, too, y'know!"

"Hah, yew can think of ideas? Who told yer that? Yore brain's got a full-time job just figgerin' out 'ow to put one paw in front o' the other so yew kin march!"

Doomeye purposely stamped on Ripfang's paw.

"Yowch! Watch where yore treading y'great lolloper!"

Doomeye's smile was full of malicious innocence. "Sorry, Rip. Me brain mustn't 'ave been figgerin' right."

Lord Brocktree had ordered the midlevel windows and arrow slits to be opened. Now his creatures stood at every aperture, well armed and vigilant. Dotti and the twins took their lunchtime snack gratefully from the Guosim cooks and placed it on the windowsill. As they ate, the Badger Lord halted his inspection of the defenses to chat with them while he took his meal.

"No sign of Ungatt Trunn yet, miss?"

"Sorry, sah, the blighter hasn't shown up yet. D'you think he will? P'raps the rascal's scarpered, wot?"

Brocktree shook his great striped head. "No chance of that, I'm certain. He'll be back; this isn't finished yet. Look at those vermin below. They've completely surrounded the mountain, yet there's not been a single slingstone or arrow from them. That fox, Karangool, he's sitting on the sand just waiting. Waiting for orders, if I'm not mistaken. Doesn't want to make a wrong move."

Southpaw and Bobweave guffawed.

"Haw haw, the wrongest move old Trunn ever made was stealin' your mountain, eh, lord?"

"I'll say. The blighter must be a right puddenhead, wot? Should've stuck t'stealin' his grandma's pies!"

Brocktree waved a plum slice under their noses sternly. "Never underestimate your enemy. I shouldn't have to tell you thatyou're supposed to be fighters."

The Badger Lord pulled his paw back with half the slice gone. Bobweave grinned as he chewed. "An' never wave scoff near a hare's jolly old mouth. You should know that, sire, wot?"

Brocktree winked at Dotti, then tripped the hare twin slyly. Bobweave found himself flat on his back, with the great sword point prodding his stomach lightly. It was the badger's turn to grin. "Never steal food from the Lord of Salamandastronhe has a dreadful way of getting it back. You should know that!"

Dotti and Southpaw fell about laughing as Bobweave wailed, "I say, sir, steady on, you wouldn't chap a chop, er, I mean chop a chap open t'get a measly mouthful back, would you? Rotters, why don't you plead for my bally life instead of rollin' 'round grinnin' like daft ducks!"

Bucko Bigbones fitted an arrow to his bowstring and took careful aim, not wanting to hit the fox sitting on the sands below. It was a skillful shot. The shaft whizzed down, burying itself between the creature's footpaws. The mountain hare's voice rang out.

"Guid afternoon to ye, Cap'n Karangool, is it? Ah'm lookin' down anither arrer at ye, so dinna move! Mebbe ye cannae bring me tae mindah'm Bucko Bigbones, an' ah remember you weel. Aye, an' there's scars on mah back, so ah'll nae ferget ye. Ach, quit tremblin', fox, ah wouldnae slay ye wi' an arrer, 'tis far too quick an' clean, ye ken. But don't ye fret noo, we'll be meetin' soon, tooth tae tooth an' paw tae paw. Ye've got mah sworn promise on that! Off with ye now!"

Karangool leapt up and ran, four arrows zipping close by before he made the shelter of some rocks and shouted to his archers, "Get him, middle window, secon' level, big harebeast. Get him!"

Shafts rained through the window space. Bucko stood to one side, smiling grimly. Brog looked up from collecting the fallen arrows. "Ahoy, mate, a spot o' trouble?"

"Och no, ah was jist givin' yon fox somethin' tae think aboot, sort o' joggin' his bad auld memory a wee bit!"

Karangool did have a bad old memory. He could not recall, from numerous evil deeds in the past, why the hare was seeking revenge upon him. While he crouched behind the rocks reviewing his wicked career, Ungatt Trunn's claws tugged the back of his cloak.

"Why are you hiding here, captain?"

"Might'ness, not hidin', waiting for you."

"Well I'm here, as you see. Make your report. I need to know all that has gone on here in my absence."

Stiffener knocked on the Badger Lord's chamber door in the midafternoon. Entering, he found Brocktree hurling incense burners from the window. Wiping dust and cobwebs from his paws, the badger looked around.

"That's better. I'm sure this chamber wasn't full of muck and spiders in my father's day, eh?"

The boxing hare went to the window and stared down at the vermin crowded on the beach. There were even more than before.

"Yore right, sire, 'twas always neat'n'clean, but that's not wot I've come 'ere t'talk about."

Brocktree sat down on the edge of the bed. "I can see that you've got something on your mind, friend. I'm always ready to listen. Speak on, Stiffener."

The boxing hare banged his paws down on the sill impatiently. "We've been here most o' the night an' the best part o' the day... . When does the fightin' start?"

Brocktree joined him at the window and placed a paw about Stiffener's shoulders. "You're a brave beast, Stiffener Medick, a truly perilous hare, one of the true sons of Salamandastron! But you've only got to look out of this window to see that the foe still has far superior numbers to our small force. When we set out from Bucko's court I thought I had enough warriors at my back to face any army, but I was not prepared for anything like Trunn's Hordes. He must have every vermin on the face of the earth here. We have fought with him, wisely and with the aid of good planning. I could give the signal right now to continue the battle. I'm certain that my friends, brave friends like you, would hurl themselves on the foe, with no question or quarter given. Most of you would die, and that's no guess, it's a fact. Hear me. I refuse to sacrifice the lives of good and gallant creatures!"

Stiffener gnawed on his lip, troubled and puzzled. "But if we stay 'ere an' don't fight, Trunn ain't about to turn an' march away. That murderin' wildcat wants Salamandastron as much as you, lord. What do we do?"

Brocktree tapped his head with one paw. "We think, Stiffener, we use our brains. Listen, d'you hear?" Strains of music and merriment sounded faintly from the window spaces on the second level, growing louder by the moment.

Stiffener was scratching his ears as Brocktree showed him to the door. "What's goin' on, sire?"

"Oh, sorry, didn't you know? Go and see young Dotti she'll explain it all to you. Hurry now, or you'll miss a good feast. That should baffle the bluebottoms, eh?"

Dotti's scheme was simple, to show the starving vermin that there was no shortage of food on her side, nor of courage and good cheer. In short, to dishearten the Blue vermin Hordes. Lord Brocktree had given the plan his blessing. It gave him time to think of his own solution to the problem, in peace and relative quiet.

Down on the shore, the vermin could not help but stare pitifully up at the happy, well-fed defenders. Ungatt Trunn and Karangool were some distance away, behind the rocks, assessing their own force numbers and laying their own plans. Ripfang and Doomeye were behaving in a most undignified manner for two horde captains. Every time a pie crust or scrap of cheese was tossed from the second-level windows, they joined in the wild scrabble for it.

Dotti and her friends gave the impression that there was a limitless amount of food at their disposal. In reality there was not, but they kept up the pretense perfectly, stuffing down goodies and glugging down cordials, cheerily waving to the gaunt-faced vermin packing the shore. Log a Log Grenn even sang a song about nice things to eat, which had the vermin drooling. Guosim cooks burned branches of aromatic herbs used in their cooking, and the scent drifted downward, adding to the foebeasts' distress as Grenn sang.

"I won't eat pie or pudden,

Filled with grass an' roots,

For me a tart's a good 'un,

With ripe plump juicy fruits.

Take some cherries an' blackberries,

Honey so thick an' sweet,

In golden crust, all fit to burst,

Aye that's the stuff to eat, mates,

That's the stuff to eat!

Say nay who can, to mushroom flan,

All baked with onion sauce,

Unless you think 'tis better than

A crisp green salad course.

Sup cider pale, or nutbrown ale,

Oh isn't lunch a dream,

Surrounded by an apple pie,

With lots of meadowcream, mates,

Lots of meadowcream!"

A hollow-cheeked rat gave a strangled sob. Fitting an arrow to his bow, he shouted insanely, "Yahahaha! I can't stan' it no more, I tell yer. I'll stop 'em singin', just yew see if'n I don't!"

Doomeye grabbed the shaft from the crazed rat's bowstring and caught the unlucky vermin a hefty kick which sent him sprawling. "Yew ain't been given no orders to attack! Don't dare go shootin' at those creatures, they're chuckin' vittles down to us!"

A bitter-faced ferret laughed mirthlessly. "Vittles? Yew call those vittles? A few scraps o' cheese an' some crusts of pie an' bread. Tchah!"

Ripfang shoved a cutlass under the complainant's snout. "Shut yer scringin' gob. Any vittles is good vittles when a beast's starvin'!"

Gurth threw down an apple with only one bite out of it. Ripfang went after it, flaunting his authority. "Hoi, put that down. I saw it first. Gimme that apple. I'm yer cap'n, an' that's an order, y'hear?"

Toward evening Brocktree put in an appearance and called a halt to things. One or two of the hares, Dotti included, seemed puzzled by his decision. The Badger Lord ordered the second-level openings to be closed.

"Come to the dining hall. I have an announcement to make."

They completed blocking the window spaces with much speculation.

"Dorothea, whit d'ye think big Brock has tae say?"

"Dunno, old chap. Your guess is as good as mine, wot?"

"D'you think he's going to start the final battle?"

"Who knows? We're far too outnumbered, I reckon."

"True, but we're in the best position. We hold the mountain."

"Aye, but think, we could end up in the same blinkin' boat as the vermin. Under siege an' starvin', if the war takes any time at all!"

"Burr, whoi doan't us'n's jus' go to ee hall an' lissen to wot zurr Brock be wanten to tell uz?"

Brogalaw led off, patting Gurth's back. "Haharr, there speaks a wise cove, eh, Bucko?"

"Och aye, ye cannae argue wi' mole logic!"

Leaning on the hilt of his great sword, the Lord of Salamandastron waited until the hum of voices died away before explaining his plan.

"They say the only way to kill a snake is to cut off its head. Ungatt Trunn's blue vermin are the snake, he is its head. Without him they are leaderless. Tonight I am sending out a challenge to Trunn which should settle this conflict. I will meet him, face-to-face, claw to paw and tooth to fang in combat to the death!"

An immediate hubbub broke out. Dotti jumped up beside the badger, silencing them in her severest manner.

"Will you be quiet this instant, please! Such bad manners, behavin' like a horde of vermin, bad form!"

Baron Drucco's loud grumble echoed around the hall. "Ain't we h'entitled to no 'pinion?"

The haremaid shot him a frosty glare. "You certainly are, sah, but only after his lordship has had his say. Then we'll elect a spokesbeast to represent us all. I vote that'll jolly well be me!"

Amid the laughter which followed, the hare twins cried out, "Well said, miss Dotti. Capital idea, wot!"

"I second that, old chap. Motion carried without argument!"

Drucco's response was a shout which all heard. "Oh, awright, long as she don't start singin'!"

"Withdraw that remark, sah, or step outside with me!"

"Wot? Not before he's stepped outside with me. I'll box his ill-mannered spikes flat!"

Brocktree's booming voice silenced everybeast. "Stop this silly quarreling or I'll stop it for you!" An immediate hush fell. The Badger Lord continued, "There will be no arguments or opinions about this; it is my decision as your leader. Tomorrow at noon I will meet Ungatt Trunn out on the shore in front of this mountain. There will be no quarter given or asked and a free choice of weapons. Having said that, I do not expect for one moment that the wildcat will obey any rules. He did not get as far as he has by being a fair-minded creature. So, to guard against any treachery I will make my own arrangements with you so that the proper precautions are taken. Dotti, will you and Stiffener see to the guard patrols for tonight. Ruff, Grenn, Brogalaw, Drucco and Gurth, come to my chamber. Those of you not on sentry, get a good rest. You will need it to stand you in good stead tomorrow."

A blazing javelin whipped out of the mountain, cutting a fiery trail through the night. It buried its point in the damp sand below the tideline, extinguishing the flaming tip. Weasel Captain Bargut plucked the weapon from the sand and carried it to the rocks, where Ungatt Trunn was still in conference with Karangool.

"Mightiness, this came from the mountain. I think there is a message tied to it."

Taking the javelin, Trunn dismissed Bargut. He slit the twine holding the scroll to the weapon's middle with one razor-sharp claw. Karangool watched the wildcat as he scanned the parchment which had been rolled around the haft. Ungatt Trunn's shoulders began shaking. At first the fox thought his master was suffering an attack of ague, then he realized Ungatt Trunn was laughing, a sight no creature had ever beheld. The wildcat made no sound, but his eyes narrowed to slits and his mouth curved up at either end, his whole body quivering convulsively.

"Everything comes to the beast who waits, eh, Karangool?"

"Might'ness?"

"Here I am, trying to think of a way to accomplish my plan, when the stripedog unwittingly solves it all for me!"

"Good news, eh, Might'ness?'

"Better than you think, much better. Come, follow me!"

Ruff put his eye to a crack in the wood of a window shutter, peering at the approaching shapes.

"Well, they're comin', Brock, whole bunch o' the blue scum!"

"Can you see Trunn with them, Ruff?"

"Not so far, mate. 'Ang on. Aha, I sees the cat now, but just a glimpse. That 'un's takin' no chances. He's well shielded by three ranks o' guards, shields up, too."

The group halted within hailing distance. Trunn's shout rang out from between the ranks. "I received your message, stripedog!"

Brocktree's sharp growl answered. "Well, cat, do you agree to the terms?"

"How could I not agree? The one left standing takes all. But can I trust you to honor your word?"

"I am a Badger Lord. My word is my life and honor!"

"Good! I am Ungatt Trunn the Conqueror, I, too, will pledge you my word. I will respect your terms!"

"Tomorrow then, when the noon is high. We will meet there, where you stand upon the shore at this moment."

"Then I will look upon your face, stripedog!"

"And I will look upon yours, cat!"

"Not for long. I will close your eyes forever."

"You waste your breath on idle threats. Go away, cat!"

There followed a moment's silence, broken once or twice by outraged growls from the wildcat. Ruff returned to his spyhole in the shutter and peered out.

"Looks like they're gone, Brock."

Instinct guided Brocktree to the rift in the rock wall of his bedchamber. Moving the bed, he ran his paw along the crack. About halfway down he found the widening, where both his paws fitted. Only a beast with the strength of a badger could move the slab. Corded sinews stood out against bunched muscles beneath Brocktree's fur. Knowing that other badgers had done this before him, it gave Brocktree much pleasure to unleash his own raw power. The slab seemed to groan, then it moved inward, unable to resist his might. Though he had never been in the secret place of Badger Lords before, Brocktree felt at home there, his mind familiar with it. Fetching a lantern from his bedchamber, he traced the lines of carving which told the mountain's history, the legacy left him by the mummified figures of past Badger Rulers. Urthrun the Gripper, Spearlady Gorse, Bluestripe the Wild, Ceteruler the Just. He stared sadly at the place which stood unoccupied. His father, Lord Stonepaw, had been denied the right of taking his place there.

From the bedchamber, he carried through the big chair. It was almost like a rough throne. This had been his father's, he could feel it. Placing it in the space, he sat down. There was a heap of dark powder on a ledge, and he reached for some. It smelled like strange herbs, dried and crushed. A faint memory of a scent like this came to him. Brocktree sprinkled some in the lantern's air vent. Leaning back in his father's chair, he closed his eyes and inhaled.

It was an ancient fragrance, autumnal woods, faded summers, a winter sea and soft spring evenings. Badgers came and went through the crossroads of his mind, some dim and spectral, like those who had gone before, others light and ethereal, as if yet unborn. There was even a strong fearless mouse, bearing a beautiful sword, every bit as great a warrior as the badgers who roamed through his dreams. Battles were fought beneath forgotten suns, ships ranged the heaving seas through lightning-torn skies. Armies marched dusty paths, comrades in arms singing lustily. Brocktree's dream world turned through seasons of famine and feast, maidens singing, babes playing happily, silent lakes, chuckling streams, flower-strewn bowers and fruit-laden orchards. Then the tableaux changed: deserted caves, burning dwellings, vermin driving enslaved creatures over the slain members of their friends and family. Blood, war, misery, suffering . .. and finally . ..

The face of a wildcat he had not yet looked upon. Ungatt Trunn! The once fragrant aroma became bitter in Lord Brocktree's nostrils, and he awoke, shouting, "No, it shall not happen, do you hear me, cat? No!"

Smearing a flat rock with vegetable oil, the Badger Lord began to put an edge to either side of the broad blade. Never having been a singer, he recited the ancient lines of a badger's swordsong as he worked.

"My blade like winter's cold doth bite,

Come guide me, Badger Lord,

For truth and justice we must fight,

Wield me, your Battle Sword!

Defend the weak, protect the meek,

Take thy good comrades' part,

My point like lightning, send to seek

The foebeast's evil heart!

Eulalia loud like thunder cry,

Be thou mine eyes and brain,

We join in honor, thee and I,

To strike in war again!"

********

Ungatt Trunn had singled out his best ship and moored it at the fleet's south edge, close to shore. Closeted in the main cabin, with Karangool, Ripfang and Doomeye, he laid further plans. The wildcat was a beast who left nothing to chance, and now that the moment was close he took precautions by covering all angles.

"I need an archer, the very finest bowbeast, one who never misses. Is there such a creature in my Hordes?"

Brimming with confidence, Ripfang replied, "Look ye no further, cap'n. My brother Doomeye can pick off a butterfly on the wing, an' I'd take me oath on that. Yew ain't never seen a beast livin' that kin fire off a shaft like ole Doomeye 'ere, ain't that right, mate?"

Doomeye tapped the bow and quiver he always carried. "I'm the best, Mighty One, yer can count on me!"

Trunn's tail curled out and drew him close. Doomeye's paws quivered as he gazed into the wildcat's savage eyes.

"Fail me and I'll make sure you die bit by bit, searat! Now, here's what you must do. Climb the mountain tonight, letting nobeast see you. Find a spot where you can command a good view of the combat. If the fight is going against me, kill the badger. Go now. Take your brother with you, and make sure you find a good hiding place. Be certain none see you!"

When the pair had departed, Trunn gave Karangool his instructions.

"You are certain this is our fastest vessel?"

"Yah, Might'ness, she sail faster than wind."

"Then crew this ship with your best creatures, and be ready to make sail on the noon tide. If all goes wrong, I will need to get away from here with all haste. Understand?"

"Might'ness, she be ready, waitin'!"

Karangool was trapped by the bulkhead. He could move no further back as the trident points prodded his chest. "Make sure she is, my friend, or you will curse the mother who gave birth to you!"

Trunn left then, to go aboard his own ship and spend the remainder of the night in his more luxurious stateroom.

Hidden behind some hatch covers, Ripfang and Doomeye waited until the wildcat was gone. Karangool, still rubbing his chest, ushered them into the cabin. "You 'ear what Trunn say?"

Ripfang's face was the picture of wicked indignation. "Every word, mate, every word! So, 'Is Mightiness is feared that it might all go wrong? I never thought I'd 'ear Trunn talkin' like that. We don't wanna be sidin' wid nobeast who's got the idea 'e might be a loser!"

Doomeye's head bobbed up and down in agreement. "Yore right, Rip. Let's up anchor an' get away from it all right now. Us three could sail this craft easily!"

Karangool preened his brush thoughtfully. "No, best we stay, 'ear me. If Trunn be losin', you shoot the stripedog, yah. Then you kill Trunn also! Us three be lords then, we take all!"

"But wot if that stripedog slays Trunn right off? That'd knock all the fight out o' our 'Ordebeasts. Wot then, eh?"

Karangool produced two brass hoops from his cloak. He threaded them through the holes in his ears and smiled. "Yah, then you get off mountain fast. I be waitin' crewed up for sail. We forget diss place, go piratin' again!"

Ripfang did a little jig of delight, rubbing his paws. "Hohohoho, ain't yew the one, cap'n. We're with yer!"

Dotti and her friends were laying a few plans of their own at that very moment. Grenn had the floor.

"When our Badger Lord goes out there to face Trunn tomorrer, he'll have enough on his mind. Now I know Brock's given us our orders, but there ain't no reason why we shouldn't make double sure o' things. Trunn knows nothin' of honor. That cat can't be trusted, take my word for it, mates."

Brog nodded his agreement wholeheartedly. "Yore right, Grenn, so wot's the scheme?"

Grenn turned to Dotti. "Tell them, miss."

The haremaid outlined the plan she and the shrew had devised. "Right, listen up, chaps. Grenn and Drucco will stay inside the mountainthey'll have the Guosim, the rabblehogs and Jukka's tribe with them. Slings and bows, cover every window an' arrow slit. I'll be outside with our force of hares an' otters. We'll push in close to the place of combat, make two rough circles, more or less back t'back, fully armed of course. That way we'll be able to watch the vermin an' keep an eye out for trickery. If Lord Brock gets hurt, we'll surround him an' drag him back into the mountain, where Grenn'll be waitin' to barricade the main entrance once we're inside. But if our badger slays the cat, this is the counterplan. Bucko will give out with a loud 'Eulalia' to Grenn. She'll lead her forces outside an' try to circle the bluebottoms. With a bit o' luck we'll have 'em both ways, us in the middle, the rest at their backs. Not a word to Brocktree nowhe thinks he's goin' to carry the day by whackin' Trunn alone."

Gurth waved a digging claw airily. "Hurr, an' so ee will. Thurr bain't no wurrier loik zurr Brocko, boi okey thurr bain't! But us'n's be keepin' watch on ee vurmints, wun way or t'other. Moi ole dad alius sez count ee diggen claws if'n you'm shaken paws with ee vurmint!"

Bucko Bigbones looked up from honing his javelin point. "Och, yer auld faither's a braw rock o' sense, mah friend. Aff tae yer beds, mah bairns, 'tis after midnight, ye ken!"

Ruff shouldered a long-bladed sword. "I'll take first watch with the night sentries. Good night to ye all, an' good victory tomorrow, mates!"

"Thankee, zurr, oi bidden ee gudd noight, too!"

"Good night, miss Dotti, pleasant dreams, wot!"

"Don't drub too many vermin in your slumbers, it can be jolly tirin' y'know. G'night, Grandpa Stiff!"

'"Night, you two. I'll give ye a call at dawn."

"Aye, ye can call me'n'Drucco, too, if ye please, an' bring us a wee tray o' brekkist, auld pal!"

"Anybeast not on the breakfast line by dawn will be fightin' on an empty stomach. Did ye hear that, mister Bigbones?"

"I say, Log a Log Grenn marm, can I have Bucko's scoff if he's not there, wot?"

"You'll get wot yore given, Trobee. There'll be liddle enough to go 'round as it is, after wot you put away this afternoon."

Amid the good-humored joshing they filed off, some to bed, others to guard posts, laughing and joking. However, everybeast knew that at noon of the next day the merriment would cease, temporarily for some, permanently for others.

Chapter 36

Lord Brocktree of Brockhall unshouldered his great sword and strode into the sandy arena. Behind him the sea lay calm, like a glittering mirror. He breathed deep and stood ready, clad only in a loose green tunic, a broad woven belt circling his waist. Dotti and her friends jostled their way roughly through the blue-furred vermin. Trampling paws and knocking aside weapons, they pushed their way to the inner fringe of the wide sandy circle. It was hot; golden noon sun blazed down out of a cloudless blue sky.

Standing at the western edge of the ring, Dotti felt herself shoved to one side as Ungatt Trunn prowled into the place of combat. A tremor of apprehension ran through the haremaid; the wildcat was a barbarous sight. His pointed ears could be seen through the slits of a round steel helmet with a spike on top and a shoulder-length fringe of fine chain mail. He wore a purple tunic, topped by a copper breastplate. Above his paws were metal bracelets with spikes bristling from them. In one paw he carried the big trident, in the other a woven net edged with metal weights.

Silence fell upon the packed shore, a quietness that was almost unearthly in its intensity. Lord Brocktree came to the center of the arena. Lifting the sword level with his face, he saluted his enemy in the traditional manner of a beast about to do combat. But salutes, rules and formalities did not figure in Ungatt Trunn's nature. A screeching growl ripped from his throat, and he charged.

Krrraaaanggggg!

Metal struck metal as the badger met his rush. The sword slammed down between the tines of the trident, shock waves running through the paws of both beasts. Digging in their footpaws, they bent to the task of trying to push one another backward. Both were huge male animals in their prime, well matched. Brocktree allowed himself to be thrust back a pace, then he retaliated with a roar, sending Trunn skidding across the ring, plowing two furrows in the sand. Suddenly the wildcat whipped the net about his opponent's footpaws, catching the badger unawares and crashing him to the sand.

Rrrip!

The sword came thrusting and slicing through the net meshes, its point punching a hole in Trunn's breastplate. He let go of the net and danced backward. Brocktree tore the net from his body and came after his adversary whirling it. He flung the net and Trunn leapt to one side, the metal weights whacking his side painfully as it sailed by. He stabbed downward in an attempt to lame Brocktree, but the badger shifted swiftly, an outside prong tearing the side of his footpaw. Ignoring the wound, he stamped down on the trident, trapping it against the ground. Flicking up the huge sword, he laid Trunn's right paw bare to the bone. Trunn fell down, but only to grab the net. Whirling it about his paw, he came up, battering the badger's face with the weights. They broke and circled, the trident probing, the sword seeking. Then the net shot up, enveloping Brocktree's head, followed by a pawful of sand which the wildcat flung into his eyes. Trunn had no time to stab, so he hit Brocktree hard on the side of his head with the trident butt. The badger fell heavily, blinking and trying to rip the meshes from his face. Trunn raised the trident for the kill, but the badger rolled over. Folding his body into a curled-up position, Brocktree hauled sharply on the net and Trunn stumbled forward, his back bent. As he fell toward Brocktree, the badger lashed out with his uninjured footpaw, smacking it into the wildcat's nose with a sickening thud. Trunn fell backward. Brocktree struggled upright, tearing himself free of the net, and quickly pawed the sand from his eyes. From flat on his back Trunn beheld his foe bearing down on him, sword upraised. He shoved the trident out in front of him to counter the weapon's swing, and Brocktree's battle blade sheared right through one of the thick barbed copper prongs, which zinged off skyward.

Doomeye fitted the shaft to his bowstring. "Time fer the stripedog t'die. Trunn's flat on 'is back!" He drew back the seasoned yew bow to its limit, and sighting expertly down the arrow, he fired. The force of the blow which had severed Trunn's trident prong took Brocktree a staggering pace forward, but he whirled and straightened so quickly that the arrow, which would have pierced the base of the badger's skull from behind, thwacked through his left shoulder.

Ripfang clapped a paw to his brow. "Idiot, y'missed!"

Doomeye's lip pouted sulkily as he laid another shaft on his bowstring. "The stripedog cheated, 'e moved, but I still got 'im, Rip! Watch me finish 'im off wid this next arrer!"

But Ruff was already moving. Grabbing Bucko's javelin, he kept his eyes on the vermin head he had spotted, poking above the rocks, atop the second level. One paw out straight, the other wide outstretched, balancing the weapon, the big otter did a hop-skipping sideways run right across the arena. His footpaws pounded the sand as he gained momentum, one eye centered firmly on the high target, and he let out an almighty yell as he hurled the javelin with all his strength. It whistled up through the hot summer air, with almost every eye on it, up, up, with breathtaking speed. Doomeye had the arrow stretched tight on his bowstring. He stood up and placed his cheek against it, closing one eye to sight on Brocktree. Though he had not intended it, Ruff's javelin actually cut the bowstring. Doomeye could not lower his chin. He turned to show his brother the javelin, growing out of his neck on either side, and fell dead on top of him. With a sob of horror, Ripfang heaved the body off himself and fled.

Lord Brocktree towered over Trunn like a giant oak. As the wildcat tried to rise he kicked him flat again. The pandemonium which had rung through the arena when the arrow struck the Badger Lord fell hushed. Every eye was on Brocktree, standing over his enemy, the barbed shaft embedded in his shoulder, filled with the terrible Bloodwrath. Dragging the arrow out without the slightest sign of a flinch, the Badger Lord flung it into the wildcat's face. Kicking the net to one side, he stamped down hard on the trident shaft. It broke with a loud crack, leaving Trunn with a pawful of splinters. For the first time in his life, Ungatt Trunn felt cold fear. He tried to drag himself backward, but Brocktree's powerful paws seized him and hauled him up until their faces were touching. Like a knell of doom the badger's voice rang in his ears.

"Now I see your face, Ungatt Trunn. Look upon me!"

Trunn finally looked into the eyes of his tormentor, but this time it was no visionthe terrifying nemesis of his dreams had at last become flesh and blood. One word escaped the wildcat's lips and echoed around the silent, crowded shore.

"Mercy!"

The next thing everybeast heard was the bone-jarring snap of Ungatt Trunn's spine as Brocktree caught him in a swift, deadly embrace. He picked up his sword, pointing with it at the huddled figure on the sand.

"Cast this thing into the sea!"

The second-level barricades fell, and a hail of arrows and slingstones shot out over the crowd.

"Eulaliiiiiaaaaaa!"

Bumping, falling, scrambling and trampling over their comrades on the sand, vermin ran madly to the fleet of vessels moored in Salamandastron bay. Bucko Bigbones grabbed a sword and yelled, "Yaylahaaaar, mah bairns, let's send 'em on their way!"

Guosim came pouring out of the mountain, Log a Log Grenn roaring the shrew battle cry.

"Logalogalogaloooooog!"

Ripfang was already in the sea, half wading, half swimming after the stern of the lead vessel, which Karangool had already ordered to sail.

"Wait fer me, cap'n, 'tis Ripfang, wait fer me!"

He caught a rope trailing from the after end and hauled himself up, paw over paw. Karangool watched the exhausted searat climb wearily over the rail and spit out seawater.

"Trunn's dead, everythin's lost!"

The fox curled his lip contemptuously. "I know that, fool, why you think I sail?"

Bucko was first to the sea. Dashing into the shallows after the fleeing vermin, he chanced to glance south at the vessel which was already crewed and under way. The mountain hare's eyes lit up with grim satisfaction. There leaning over the stern rail was the fox called Karangool. Bucko tore south, spray flying everywhere. Grasping his sword in his teeth he gave a wolfish grin and went after the ship.

Still sprawled by the stern, recovering his breath, Ripfang watched the crew trim the sails to let the breeze take her south. He turned his attention to Karangool, who was guiding the tiller.

"Huh, some mate yew are, fox. Yew was goin' t'sail off an' leave me, after all the plans we made t'gether, eh?"

Karangool did not even bother to look at him. "Stop you moanin'. Got aboard, didn't ye?"

Ripfang was facing away from Karangool, and now he could see Bucko swimming strongly after the ship. Suddenly the searat became philosophical.

"Yer right, mate, I did get aboard, an' well shut o' that lot, too. Pore ole Doomeye's back there lyin' slainshame, that was. Still, worse things 'appen at sea, eh, mate?"

Karangool aimed a sharp kick at Ripfang. "You don't mate me, rat. I cap'n now!"

Ripfang continued appealing to the fox's better nature. "Yew don't mean that, do yer? Yew said we was all goin' t'be cap'ns. I know Doomeye ain't around no more, but that's no reason why we can't be cap'ns together, is it, me ole cully?"

A sword appeared in Karangool's paw. He swung it upward, readying himself to take Ripfang's head off. "Only room for one cap'n on diss ship!"

Ripfang leapt up and sprang to attention, saluting smartly. "Yer right there, cap'n. I wishes to report a beast follerin' yer ship, one o' those longears, just aft of us there!"

Karangool went to the rail and leaned over. He felt a momentary wave of fear as he glimpsed Bucko, but it soon passed when he realized the hare was in the water, while he was aboard a fast ship, headed south. "Yah, that longears come after me, I not know why."

Ripfang sneaked up behind Karangool and suddenly heaved him overboard into the sea. "Why don't yer go an' ask 'im wot 'e wants?"

Karangool wallowed in the vessel's wake, shouting at Ripfang, "Ahoy, pull me up, mate!"

The searat tut-tutted severely. "I ain't yore mate. 'Member wot yew said, only room fer one cap'n aboard this ship? Well, yer talkin' to 'im!" He tipped a broken mast spar over the side. "You kin be cap'n o' that. Steer 'er careful, cap'n. Goodbye, an' the worst o' luck to ye!"

Karangool had lost his sword in the fall overboard. Bucko still had his. He sat on the spar facing the fox, with the sword pointed at his eyes.

"Och, 'tis a braw day for sailin', mah bonny wee foxy. Now, ye set still there an' ah'll tell ye a sad auld tale, aboot a puir young hare, whit wis left for dead by a wicked auld fox who beat him wi' a sword blade." Bucko's chuckle was neither pleasant nor friendly. "Weel now, ah see ye reckernize me at last. Tell me, mah friend, how does it feel t'be wi'out yer great horde o' vermin tae help ye out?"

Whup!

Karangool screamed in pain as the flat of Bucko's sword struck him smartly across his shoulder. The mountain hare bellowed in his face.

"Tell me!"

Evening sun was dipping low on the horizon. Dotti sat with all her friends and comrades in arms. From where they rested, on a broad terrace of rock slabs and vegetation, above the mountain's main entrance, the whole scene of that day's activities was spread before them. Like autumn leaves strewn by the wind, distant vessels ranged far and wide over the darkening sea, to the north and south and out to the west.

Shading his eyes from the sun's crimson glow, Stiffener watched them growing smaller. "Lots o' those ships overladen with vermin, y'know. I'd say some of them'll sink afore the next dawn comes."

Baron Drucco wrinkled his browspikes, in that manner hedgehogs adopt when they could not care less. "Serves 'em right. Ain't our fault they wouldn't stand an' make a fight of it. Hah, ran like forficartickers, they did!" Nobeast bothered inquiring what a forficarticker could be.

"Well, I for one am jolly well glad they did run," Dotti admitted. "We never lost one creature in that little scrabble across the shore t'the shallows, what d'you say, Ruff old chap?"

"I'm with you, missie. There was more vermin drowned than slain in combat. A score or so of ours wounded, no great slaughter. Almost wot they call a bloodless victory."

An iron arrowhead clinked on the rocks, and Lord Brocktree emerged from an open window space to sit with them. "Anybeast want to keep that as a souvenir of the battle? Ruro dug it out of my shoulderthat squirrel's a marvel when it comes to patching a beast up!"

Gurth viewed the Badger Lord. He had compresses of herbs bandaged to shoulder, back, side and footpaw, plus one across his striped brow, which gave him a roguish air.

"Burr, you'm looken loik ee been in a gudd ole bartle, zurr!"

Brocktree took a sip from the tankard he was carrying. "I suppose I do, but I'm feeling no pain at all. One of your cooks gave me this to drink, Drucco. What is it?"

The baron took a drink and winked knowingly. "Special ole berry'n'pear wine wid some cowslip an' royal fern essence. That'll make ye sleep tonight, sire!"

Trobee took a mouthful and nodded approvingly. "Tastes absolutely spiffin'. Wish I'd been wounded!"

Brogalaw tweaked the hungry hare's ear. "Don't start talkin' about vittles an' drink again, y'great longeared stummick. We're flat out o' grub. But you won't need t'wait long. 'Ere comes my bird t'the rescue!"

Rulango soared gracefully in out of the evening sky. If it were at all possible for a heron to smile, Dotti would have said that the great bird tried his best. He was all over Brog, wafting him with both wings and knocking his beak against the sea otter's paws, as if checking he was unhurt. Brog stroked Rulango's neck to calm him down.

"Steady on there, ole mattressback, I'm all right. How's my mum an' the rest o' me mates? Snug'n'safe, are they?"

Rulango placed both wings over his eyes, letting his head bob up and down. Brogalaw roared, laughing.

"Still weepin' an' cryin', eh? Good ole Mum. She an' 'er pals ain't 'appy if they can't 'ave a good blubber. Lissen, matey, you get back t'the cave an' tell 'em to whomp up vittles fer victors, lots of the stuff, as much as they can cook afore mornin'. I'm sendin' Southpaw an' Bobweave, Durvy an' Konul an' some Guosim over there, an' we'll get 'em moved lock, stock an' vittles back 'ere. I tell ye, mates, I feels a feast comin' on!"

Stiffener's eyes lit up, as did many others'. "I say, splendid idea, old lad, wot!"

"Aye, a great feast at Salamandastron!"

"Wid enough scoff t'sink a gang of my rabble'ogs!"

"And singin' an' music, for days an' days!" Grenn added.

"Ho urr, an' darncin', too, oi loiks t'darnce!"

"An' when it goes dark we'll light big bonfires on the beach, so we can carry on all night!"

"Capital, an' miss Dotti can play the harecordion an' sing!"

"Why didn't I think of that, South? What a great wheeze!"

Ruff pulled a face. "Don't yer think we suffered enough in battle?"

Dotti stared severely at the otter, then broke out giggling. "Heeheehee, I'll sing an extra long ballad, just for you!"

Lord Brocktree laughed until the bandage on his brow slipped and fell over his eyes. "Oh, look out, it's gone dark. Time for bed, you lot!"

Sounds of merriment rang out from the happy creatures on the mountain, so loud that a pair of seagulls, building a nest in the rocks, squawked complainingly. The birds had come back to the western shores.

Chapter 37

It was lonely on the far reaches of shoreline to the north of Salamandastron. Night had fallen over the restless sea. A flood tide was rising, claiming back the flotsam and jetsam it had cast up on its previous visit. How long Ungatt Trunn had lain there, he could not tell. Salt water crusted the wildcat's eyes, slopping bitterly into his half-open mouth. He could not move his body. Most of it was numb, frozen solid, as if encased in a block of ice. But his chest, head and neck were on fire with unearthly pain. The last thing he could recall was the Badger Lord, crimson-eyed as they came face-to-face, snarling at him. "Now I see your face, Ungatt Trunn. Look upon me!" Beyond that, everything was a blank and unknown void.

But the wildcat was not dead. He recovered consciousness slowly, sodden, freezing cold and grunting in agony every time a wave smashed over his helpless body, moving him down the slope of the shore. Damp seaweed and the sharp edge of a shell pressed against his cheek. Something small and spiny scuttled across his face. From the corner of one eye he could see a half-moon and the star-scattered skies. Another wave buffeted him. Now he could see the sand and a rocky outcrop. Realization invaded his senses with a shock of terror as his awful position dawned upon him. He was lying at the mercy of the sea. Flood tide was drawing him back into the waves, where he would be swept out into the vast, unknown deeps.

Hissing like a huge reptile, another wave crashed over him, rolling his broken body into the shallows. The wildcat turned his gaze landward, and gave an agonized groan. Then he saw something. Two footpaws and a bushy tail. Somebeast, a fox, was sitting on the rocks, watching him. Karangool, it had to be Karangool! His own voice sounded distant, strange to him, as he croaked out, "Please . .. 'elp . . . mmmee!"

The fox came down off the rocks and crouched before him. Trunn managed one word before the fox pushed him further into the water.

"Groddil?"

Then he was swept away on the current, drawn out to sea with rollers lifting him high on their crests and tossing him down into their troughs.

Groddil watched the bobbing object until it became a far-out speck amid the night sea. He was chanting aloud, though his former master was beyond hearing the crippled fox magician whom he had bullied and tormented for so long. Nonetheless, Groddil chanted on.

"These are the days of Ungatt Trunn the Fearsome Beast! O Mighty One, he who makes the stars fall! Conqueror, Earth Shaker, son of King Mortspear, brother to Verdauga! Lord of all the Blue Hordes, who are as many as the leaves of autumn! O All Powerful Ungatt Trunn!"

Turning his back upon the sea, the crippled fox limped away and was never seen in those lands again.

Chapter 38

Mornings were dawning in soft mist; the days grew shorter, sunsets earlier and more crimson. The earth was turning its season from summer to autumn.

Hares had come to the mountain, traveling from far corners to serve under the banner of Salamandastron's ruler, the fabled Lord Brocktree. Travelers carried abroad tales of his valor and the brave army who had defeated the evil might of Ungatt Trunn and his Blue Hordes. There was a fresh spirit of joy and freedom upon the lands; now anybeast could range the earth in peace. But there were also creatures leaving the mountain to return to their homes. Ten ships from the defeated fleet had been recovered and made good and seaworthy. Twoscore vermin captives, their coats scoured clean of blue dye, had worked on the vessels, making them ready for this special day.

Brogalaw took five of the ships. His crew of sea otters and their families boarded, laden with gifts, for their voyage south. Then he came ashore with Durvy, Konul and the heron, Rulango, to say farewell. Dotti was embracing them when she went into floods of tears. She fought to stem them, to no avail.

"Oh, I say, you chaps, sniff sniff, I feel absolutely dreadful, boohoo! Can't help m'self, Brog, waahaah! Gettin' your tunic all wet, look. Boohoohaaah!"

The kindly sea otter Skipper gave her his kerchief. "Haharr, you carry on, miss. I'm used t'this sort o' thing, y'know. Wot with my mum weepin' an' wailin', I'll wager we end up balin' out tears to stop us sinkin' afore we're back 'ome down southcoast!"

Lord Brocktree stood in the mountain's main entrance, waving with his sword as Brog and his friends returned aboard their ship. "Farewell and fair winds, friends. Brog, you'll come back and visit, I trust?"

"Aye, lord. Keep the vittles a-cookin'you never know wot season the ole Bark Crewll come blowin' up the coast to eat you out o' 'ouse an' 'ome. Watch out for us, Ruff!"

Tears sprang into Ruff's eyes, and he looked at the badger. Brocktree nodded and clasped his paw fondly. "Go on, get along with you. See you next spring mayhap."

Kissing Dotti, Ruff bounded past her into the water. "Ahoy, Brog, I'm comin' with ye! I always wanted t'learn 'ow t'be a sea otter. Lend a paw 'ere, mates!"

As he was hauled aboard, Bucko Bigbones came marching out of the main gate, followed by his mountain hares.

"Ach weel, Brock, there's mah ships an' here am ah. Ah won't stan' aroond weepin' like a wee bairn. 'Tis aff tae the North Mountains for me'n'mah clan. Mind, though, we'll be ever ready tae come ef ye call for us. Not that ye'll be needin' help, a braw beast like yersel', with all these fine young hares a-floodin' in by the day. Fare ye weel!"

Dotti held Bucko's paw before he boarded his vessel. "I'm going to miss you pretty awfully, y'know, Bucko. Wouldn't you consider staying on a few seasons, help me to command the new Long Patrol that Lord Brock's forming? We'd have lots of super adventures, you'n'me, ranging the shores an' woodlands an' whatnot, wot wot?"

The mountain hare ruffled her ears affectionately. "Och no, lassie, ah'm yearnin' tae return tae mah mountains. But we'll be the highland branch o' yer Long Patrol if ye like, an' ah'll call mahsel' General Bucko. Fare ye weel, Dorothea, live lang an' happy. Yer a fatal beauty the noo!"

Biting her kerchief so as not to let Bucko see her weeping, Dotti hurried back to the main entrance. Ruro was waiting for her, wearing a silver medallion about her neck.

"Look at the honor thy Badger Lord bestowed upon me. I'm to be leader of my tribe. 'Tis called a Jukka medal!"

The haremaid inspected the beautiful insignia, a likeness of Jukka, twirling what else but a sling. "It's lovely, Ruro. I won't say goodbye, 'cos your pine grove's not more than a couple o' days' walk from us. We'll call and see one another often, wot?"

Ruro signaled her tribe to move off. '"Tis a promise, Dotti!"

Dotti turned to Log a Log Grenn. "An' you, Grenn marmyou and your Guosim will be on your way then, won't you, wot?"

The shrew Chieftain nodded, close to tears herself. "If ever you need us, just send word."

Mirklewort chased after Skittles. He came out of the mountain like a tiny boulder, knocking Dotti flat, a great smile plastered all over his cheeky face.

"We gonna stay onna mounting a few seasons, wiv you an' B'ock. I paggle every day inna water wiv ya, Dotti!" Mirklewort took a swipe at the hogbabe with a dish towel, but he scampered up onto the Badger Lord's sword hilt. "Choppa you tail off if ya do dat again, Mummy!"

Gurth flicked Skittles's snout with his digging claw. "You'm 'ave respecks for ee muther, likkle zurr. Oi'm stayin' yurr jus' to keep a h'eye on ee, villyun! An' as furr ee, miz Dott, you'm cumm with oi. Yurr h'aunt Blench sez ee got to lurn ee cooken!"

Dotti ducked beneath Brocktree's paw for protection. "Oh I say, sah, bit much, isn't it? How in the name o' seasons is a gel supposed to be bossess of your blinkin' Long Patrol an' whomp around the bloomin' kitchens helpin' Aunt Blench? What am I, Patrol Bossess or flippin' cook?"

Brocktree hid a smile as he looked down at her. "The title is Patrol General, miss, not Bossess, and there's a whole lifetime ahead of you, Dottiyou're still young enough to learn lots of new things. Now, is everybeast here? I see they've hauled anchors. Brog's bound south and Bucko's bound north."

Striding out on the sands, Brocktree looked about at the legions of hares, sitting on the mountain terraces and perched on the shore rocks. "Up on your paws now, my friends," he called. "Let's give our departing comrades a real Salamandastron farewell. Ready? One, two ..."

Leaning over the sterns of their vessels, both Brogalaw and Bucko Bigbones could not help joining in with the thunderous roar from the shore. The ten ships sailed off into the golden afternoon, with the farewell war cry gladdening the hearts of all.

"Eulaliiiiiiiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Epilogue

Lord Russano put aside the final piece of parchment. His pail was empty, the tabletop covered in bundles of scrolls. He looked around the crowded dining hall.

"So there you have it, my friends, how the great Lord Brocktree first came to our mountain, and the odd bond of comradeship which existed between him and a young haremaid. Dotti, as far as my researches show, became the first officer when our Long Patrol was formed. Thank you for listening to my account."

The audience cheered him to the echo, standing to give the Badger Lord an appreciative ovation. There was only one creature not applauding, Russano's son Snowstripe. He was three seasons younger than his sister Melanius and still a Dibbun in many ways. Snowstripe had been sitting on his mother's lap, listening to the final episode of his father's narrative, when he had drifted off into a slumber. Rosalaun had covered him with her shawl and let him sleep on. It was the noisy volume of the cheering that woke him.

Snowstripe yawned, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Russano gathered his little son up, still wrapped in the shawl. "Come on, matey, time you were in bed."

Looking up at his father, the youngster murmured drowsily, "Is the story finished, Papa?"

The Badger Lord shook his head solemnly. "Only a part of it, my son, a small part. One day you and your sister will rule this mountain and you will find that the story carries on. Both of you will live through your own adventures, make good friends of honest creatures. The defense of our coasts will be your responsibility, though fate and seasons forbid that you will have to face vermin invasion and war. Salamandastron's story will continue, as long as there are brave badgers to rule the mountain wisely. Your mother and I have often told you and Melanius the law of Badger Lords. Can you remember what we said?"

As they mounted the stairs, Snowstripe's eyelids began to droop, but he recited by heart the lessons he had been taught.

"Defend the weak, protect both young and old, never desert your friends. Give justice to all, be fearless in battle and always ready to defend the right."

Snowstripe gave out with a yawn, and his eyelids fluttered, gradually closing.

"Anything more?" Russano whispered in his ear.

As sleep overcame the little badger, he nodded. "Hmm, the Badger Lord of Salamandastron must always show a welcome an' good cheer to all of true heart who come to visit here in peace. Our gates will be ever open to them..."

Snowstripe's voice trailed off as slumber claimed him, and Russano completed the last line for his son.

"For this is the word of the Badger Lord and the law of Salamandastron, passed down to us from Lord Brocktree!"