Martin the Warrior

Clogg looked at the ground, chewing one of his beard plaits.

"Covered, ye say? Bad fortune fer us, matey. Lookit, 'ere comes ole Crosstooth. May'ap 'e 'as some news.

The fox pointed at a tangent to where the cart tracks had finished.

"Found a set of pawprints goin' thataway, Cap'n, but 'tis only one beast."

Clogg spat the plait out and scratched his nose. "Cfcie beast is better than none I allus says mate, lead on!"

They had not gone far when the sounds of Celandine's lamentations reached their ears. Tramun Clogg signalled for silence. Bellying down, the corsairs breasted a low hill. They peered over at the weeping squirrelmaid.

Gruzzle shook his head sympathetically. "Ain't she pretty, Cap'n.

It's enough t' break yer 'eart!"

Clogg chewed at a dandelion still attached to its stem. "Aye, 'tis sad, matey, an' even sadder when I thinks of the way I'm goin' to make that liddle beauty wail when I tickles some information out o' her with me cutlass point."

Celandine was still crying and talking aloud to herself.

"Oh, why don't any of the troupe come and find me? Owww! Oh dear, I mustn't weep so much or I'll look all ugly and puffy."

"Ho, that ye will, me liddle weepin' willow. Come on now, dry yore eyes an' give ole uncle Clogg a big smile!"

Celandine looked up in terror. Standing not ten paces from her was the corsair stoat and his villainous crew. She choked out a small frightened whimper as Clogg drew his cutlass and advanced on her, grinning wickedly.

21

Martin and his friends were captured so quickly it made their heads whirl. One moment they were sleeping peacefully, and in a twinkling they were dragged up on to their footpaws. Tough vine ropes secured their paws tight with nooses that locked around their necks. The dark slithering shapes of lizards were everywhere, slinking around the treetrunks and writhing over each other, making no other sound than a sibilant hiss.

With his paws pinioned to the sides of his head by the vine that encircled his neck, Martin struggled to get loose and reach his short sword, shouting to Rose and the others.

"Rose! Are you all... gaaaargh!"

The big red frilled lizard pulled savagely on the vine, choking Martin into silence. The young mouse tugged either side of his neck, striving to loosen the vine so he could breathe properly. Then they were off at a headlong run, pulled along cruelly with countless lizards flanking them and shoving from behind. Splashing through marshwater, cludging through mud, crashing through nettles, they rushed through the night.

Rose sobbed for breath. Tripping on a root, she fell flat in some ferns. The speeding reptiles did not stop or even slow, they continued their mad stampede, dragging her along thumping and bumping across the soggy earth. How she fought her way back upright Rose never knew, but she was certain she would have been dragged to her death had she not done so.

Grumm's short legs battered the earth as he was dragged and swept along in the midst of the lizard throng. Somewhere close he could hear Pallum's ragged gasps as his friend fought for air on the end of a strangling vine noose.

Battering through evil smelling liquid and bubbling marsh gases, they pelted onward, mud flying everywhere as lizard tails waved and scaly legs leaped high in the reptile stampede. Martin lost all count of time or distance until, like his three friends, he passed out from lack of air and was dragged along by the neck.

Morning in the marshes was overcast with wraithing grey mist tinged with yellow sulphurous wisps. The four bodies that lay tied to stakes were practically unrecognizable as a mole, a hedgehog and two mice. They were completely covered in thick caking mud and clay from the wild run.

Martin stirred and coughed. His throat hurt abominably.

"Martin, are you all right?"

It was Pallum. The hedgehog resembled a round ball of clay.

"Pallum. I'm alive at least. How are you?"

"Be much better when my old neck stops hurtin'. I've been awake an hour or more, but I lay still. Didn't want to attract attention from those creepy lizards they're all round us."

Martin strained his neck slightly. The vine was still looped around it, though now his paws were free. Lizards were everywhere, just sitting and staring at them. He noticed the large red frilled leader had the short sword lying on the ground in front of him.

Martin crawled across to Rose. Loosening the vine on her neck, he patted her muddied cheeks, calling her name. "Rose, Rose!"

A jumble of lizards dived on him, pulling the noose tight as they dragged him away from Rose. Martin fought back as best as he could, shouting through the scaly bodies that enveloped him, "I was only trying to let her breathe, you scaly villains. Let me go. We weren't trying to escape!"

The big red frilled lizard stalked slowly across. He kicked the others off Martin and dragged the young mouse back to his stake. Hissing softly, he gave the vine a final sharp tug, indicating that Martin should stay in that spot. Flicking his serpentine tongue, he turned and slid gracefully back to his former position.

Pallum looked across at Martin and shrugged. "Don't say much, do they? We'd best sit tight and wait for Rose and Grumm to come around."

Both Rose and her mole friend revived some short time later. They sat massaging sore necks, easing the tight vines off to enable easier breathing. The big red frill gave the vines a tug when he thought they had messed enough with them. He hissed softly and sat watching the four captives.

After a while, they got to know the rules. They were allowed to talk, but only in quiet tones. If they talked loudly, or pulled at the nooses, the lizards would yank hard, tightening the vines, and hiss soft warnings at them.

Grumm picked burrs and mud from his face. "They'm sloimy vurmints, aroight. Soilent, tho'. Nary a word do they'm lizzyards be a speaken."

"Hush now, Grumm," Martin muttered quietly and urgently.

"They're coming over here!"

Silently a group of lizards came to each of the prisoners and deposited by them four large gourds of water. The reptiles retreated and sat watching.

Rose tilted one of the gourds and sipped, then she drank deep gratefully. "It's water, good clean and fresh. I never knew it could taste so nice."

They drank their fill, dashed some in their faces to wash away the dirt and grime, then sat waiting. Next to come was a great wooden pan fashioned from a section of lime trunk. The red frilled leader indicated that it be placed in the centre of the area between the four stakes, where the captives could reach it. Again the reptiles retired to watch.

The vessel was filled with a warm cream coloured mixture. Pallum ventured a dip into it with his paw. He licked at the stuff and shrugged.

"Food. Tastes like some kind of porridge. Not much flavor in it, though. Hmmm, yes. I think it tastes a bit like mushroom."

They all tried some and agreed it was palatable enough, but had hardly any taste.

Grumm shovelled a pawful into his mouth. "Hurr, tain't zoop or nothink noice, but et ain't bad, burr no."

Rose had taken several mouthfuls. She splashed a little water on her paws to cleanse them. "Huh, it's not very good either. I've had enough of that tasteless mush, thank you."

The red frill stalked sinuously over to her. He tugged the vine sharply, indicating that she should carry on eating.

Rose sighed and looked across at Martin. "Old frilly neck won't be happy until we've eaten all our dinner up like good little creatures. I suppose I'd better try some more."

Martin licked his paw and dug in again. "Mushroom porridge. It's deadly boring."

"Huh hu huh!" Pallum chuckled as he spoke through a mouthful.

"D'you think they're trying to fatten us up a bit?"

Suddenly they stopped eating. The horror of what the hedgehog had just said dawned on them.

"What was it Mr. Mirdop said," Rose whispered in a hushed voice.

"Cannibal lizards!"

Twice that day more bowls of porridge and gourds of water were brought to them. If they showed signs of refusing to eat, the big red frill would tug on the vines until they began choking.

Grumm groaned as he noticed several of the reptiles scraping ashes from a long pit at the edge of the lizard settlement. Others began laying charcoal and dry wood in it.

Martin seethed silently. If only he could break away and reach his short sword, but it was impossible they were watched by scores of gaping lizards who seemed to have little else to do but sit and look at them. The young mouse lay back, his mind racing furiously against the insurmountable problem.

A dipper appeared on a low branch nearby. The little bird nodded its head from side to side, ruffling its handsome browny red plumage and preening at its fawn colored breast. It made a twittering noise and Rose looked at it strangely.

"Martin, that bird is talking to us."

Noting that the lizards were still watching, Martin kept his voice to a quiet conversational level. "Can you understand it, Rose?"

"I think so. It's said the same thing twice now. Ganna aitcha gannc aitcha. I'm pretty sure it's saying, Going to eat you, going to eat you, meaning the lizards are going to eat us."

"You're right, Rose." Martin trembled with excitement, trying hard to keep his voice under control. "The lizards must not be able to understand it or they'd have chased it off by now. See if you can get it to carry a message to the Warden of Marshwood Hill."

"Ganna alpiz, ganna alpiz?" Rose made a strange noise halfway between a whistle and a chatter.

The little dipper nodded, pecking at the branch. "Alpi choo alpichoo!"

Pallum had been listening. "What did it say?" "I tried to ask it for help." Rose explained. " Ganna alpiz, sounds a bit like going to help us. It replied, Alpichoo, which sounds like help you!"

Grumm came in on the conversation. "Ho urr, but 'ow you'm goin'

t' say Warden o' Marshywood 'ill?"

Rose pondered a moment. "Right, how does this sound?" She made a lilting sound. "Whoa hoo din alpiz! Whoa hoo din alpiz!"

The dipper puffed out his tiny chest and flew off trilling, "Whoa hoo din! Whoa hoo din!"

Martin sat up slowly. "Well, he's gone now. I take it that whoa hoo din meant warden, Rose?"

"It was the closest I could get. Whoa hoo din alpiz. Warden help us. Let's hope the dipper understood. Oh no, they're bringing more porridge."

Silent lizards replaced the empty bowl with a fresh one of the sickly warm mushroom porridge and full water gourds were brought.

Rose held her stomach and pulled a face. "Yukk! I can't eat any more of this filthy rubbish!"

The red frill came striding over. Martin could tell that he was going to tug Rose's neck vine tight. The young mouse's warrior spirit boiled over at the thought of the reptile tormenting Rose. As the red frill stalked past him, Martin let out a yell and smashed the water gourd over its head. In a flash they were grappling. Martin's neck vine strained tight as he pushed the red frill's head straight into the porridge, leaning his full weight to keep it there as he tried to drown the reptile.

"Here, frilly. Try some of your own medicine!" Before Rose, Pallum or Grumm could help, a mob of lizards were upon Martin, smothering him with their pulsing bodies as they freed their leader. Four of them untied Martin's neck vine from its stake. The red frill hissed balefully at him, tongue flickering in and out constantly. Helpless and weighted down by numbers, the young mouse was dragged off towards the firepit. Two lizards put flint to tinder and leaped back as a curl of smoke arose. Other lizards flung themselves on Rose, Pallum and Grumm as the mousemaid screamed at the top of her voice,

"Leave him alone, you filthy crawlers. Put that fire out!"

22

Sometimes in a pinch frivolous young squirrelmaids can turn out far more resourceful than they themselves would have known. So it was with Celandine. As a Rambling Rosehip Player, she had acted the part of the brave and beautiful heroine many times. Now was her chance to give a star performance.

Cap'n Tramun Clogg advanced on her, leering and winking roguishly. "Haharr, don't be afeared o' me, pretty little bird. Soon you'll be singin' just fer me!"

Celandine backed off, throwing up her paws in horror. "Begone, you great ugly toad. Put not a paw near me!"

Clogg, who had always imagined himself as a handsome buccaneering beast, halted indignantly. "Ugly toad? You hardnosed liddle snip, come 'ere, I say!"

"Never. I would rather die!"

"Hoho, missy, that kin be arranged. Now be still or you'll make it worse on yoreself.. ."

Clogg leaped at her, clutching with his free paw. Celandine stumbled back, half tripping. She grabbed a pawful of the sandy soil and flung it straight into the corsair's face. Regaining her balance, she dashed off.

Clogg dropped his cutlass and sat down hard, pawing at his eyes, which were jammed full of loose, gritty dust.

"Get after that bold baggage an' catch 'er," he howled at his crew.

"Lively now! I'll 'ave 'er ears fer dinner an' 'er liver 'n' tripes tore out!"

Only Gruzzle stayed back to look after Clogg. The rest set off at a run after Celandine, laughing and cheering. They knew a single squirrelmaid could not get far with an entire crew of corsairs hard on her paws.

Celandine ran as she had never run before, wishing that she had not added all the frills and furbelows to her Rambling Rosehip tunic.

They impeded her and often caused her to stumble. Behind her she could hear the whoops and guffaws of her pursuers as they drew closer. The squirrelmaid's breath came in ragged sobs. She was unused to running any great distance. Cap'n Clogg had made it plain that he meant her harm, and there was no telling what might happen to her if she fell into the claws of searats and corsairs. Death would be inevitable. Not knowing where she was running to, Celandine forced her flagging limbs onward.

Three searats, Critter, Crableg and Bluddnose, took the lead, outstripping the rest of Clogg's crew easily. They were good runners, lean and fit.

A sand dune rose up in front of Celandine, and there was no way round it. She panted fitfully, going down on all fours as she attempted to scramble up the hill. Crableg put on an extra spurt and dived forward. He managed to catch the squirrelmaid's back footpaw.

Wriggling swiftly on to her back, Celandine kicked out. She caught him hard on the snout, causing Crableg to release her. The searat was so close he could have reached out and touched her.

"You ain't goin' to be pretty no more, squirrel!" he snarled as he wiped a stream of blood from his snout on to the back of his paw.

Whipping a curved dagger from his waist sash, he brandished it.

Suddenly a wooden lance seemed to grow out of his chest. Crableg looked down at it and fell dead with a foolish expression of surprise on his face. The slaying happened so quickly that Gritter and Bluddnose had not seen it. They arrived panting at the dune to find their messmate lying dead, with the short wooden lance protruding from him like a ship's mast. There was no other creature in sight except the squirrelmaid, her eyes wide with horror.

Gritter drew his sword and walked uphill towards her. "You killed Crableg wi' that piece o' wood, you lid die serpint!"

As he raised the sword, another javelin came whistling through the air and transfixed him through the throat.

Bluddnose had drawn his sword, but his nerves failed him. With a small wail of fright he flung the weapon away and took to his heels, back towards the main group, who were now in sight.

Celandine sat shocked, looking at the two dead searats in front of her.

"Celandine, climb the hill, get up here quickly!" a hoarse, urgent voice called from the hilltop.

She sat staring at the carcasses of Crableg and Gritter, unable to comprehend what had happened.

"Move yourself, missy," Ballaw's voice rang out theatrically. "Come on, up here or you'll miss your cue!"

Automatically, Celandine picked herself up and scrambled dumbly to the hilltop. Rowanoak's huge paws swept her over the hill and out of sight. The badger clamped a paw over the squirrelmaid's mouth, and Ballaw and Felldoh fixed fresh javelins on to their throwers.

Crosstooth the fox had always liked Crableg's curved dagger. He took it from the searat's lifeless paw and tucked it into his belt as he nudged Critter's body with his spearshaft

"Y'mean to tell us that the pretty liddle squirrel did this?"

Bluddnose was shaking uncontrollably. "Well, there was nobeast else 'ereabouts. She musta did it!"

The ferret Boggs curled his lip scornfully. "Did ye see the squirrel kill 'em?"

Bluddnose sat down on the duneside, head in paws. "No, I never.

One moment they was large as life, next thing they're both dead. She must've done it. Can't yer see, she's vanished. I knew we should never

'ave messed with magic beasts!"

A weasel called Floater swapped his own chipped and rusted sword for the better blade that Gritter had once owned, and scoffed aloud,

"Vanished me tail! We seen 'er go over this 'ere dune. See, there's the beauty's paw tracks. I'm goin' up there an' get 'er meself."

Clogg stumped to join the rest, with Gruzzle at his side, still trying to clear the corners of his Cap'n's eyes with a none too clean silk kerchief. Tramun shoved him away and patted Floater's back.

"Aye, there's the laddo. Up the 'ill ye go, Floater. Sing out if you sees anythin' up there."

As they stood watching the weasel scale the dune, Clogg muttered in his beard to himself. "Nay, it weren't no snip of a squirrelymaid did fer two tough rogues like Crableg an' ole Gritter. The beast that did this could sling a lance good an' proper."

Shielding his eyes, Clogg squinted up at the weasel, who had made it to the top of the hill.

"Ahoy, Floater. Any signs o' life up there?"

The weasel waved his paws wildly, shouting aloud, "Cap'n, it's threeeeeeeeeee!"

Floater came rumbling awkwardly back down the dune, flopping this way and that, hampered in his fall by the short lance through the center of his back. The body halted its sliding descent right in front of the Cap'n's big wooden clogs.

"Three o' me best fightin' beasts slain. Harr, the mur derin'

scoundrels, 'ooever they are. Right, buckoes, arm yerselves an' take the

'ill. Chaaarge!"

Clogg stood back, whirling his cutlass as he urged them on. The charge was not a notable success. Nobeast wanted to reach the top first, and there was a deal of hanging back and accidental stumbling before Clogg realized what was going on. The pirate stoat did a small dance of anger, clogs clicking sharply.

"You bottlenosed bloaters, get up that 'ill right now, d'ye hear me.

That's an order from yer Cap'n. Go on, chaaaaarge!"

They stood awkwardly about a third of the way up the dune, still unwilling to storm the hilltop. Clogg unsheathed his cutlass and began bustling his way up, knocking crew members left and right as he did.

"Out o' me way, yer mack'rel faced, milk swiggin', muck'eads. Yore nothin' but a pack o' ring tailed cowards!"

As they turned to look sheepishly at him, a searat called Wulpp screamed when a short javelin zinged out of nowhere and slammed right through his footpaw. The charge immediately deteriorated into an undignified rush down the hill.

Clogg followed in their rear, berating them soundly. "One liddle spear an' yore all runnin' about like beetles in a bucket. Ho shame! I never thought I'd see the day a crew o' mine would dash off without even seein' the enemy!"

When they were a reasonable distance from the big dune, the corsairs stopped and sat down on a grassy sward. Tramun came clattering up, with Wulpp limping slowly several lengths behind. The corsair Cap'n slumped down and began emptying sand from his clogs.

"Gruzzle, I'm fair disappointed in you, matey, an' you, Dedjaw, an'

you, Boggs. Mateys, what are ye all afeared of, a few ole sharpened wooden sticks?"

Whang!

A needle pointed lance arced out of the blue summer sky, narrowly missing Tramun Clogg as it pinned his coat skirt to the ground. The corsair Cap'n leaped up as if he had been beestung, ripping his coat from the quivering lance in the process.

"Tidal waves an' typhoons! There must be a monster be'ind yon 'ill.

Nobeast could hurl a lance that far!"

The rout continued, with Clogg in the lead as they scurried back to the safety of Marshank.

Behind the sand dune, Felldoh lay watching over the rim at the retreating corsairs.

Ballaw blew a long sigh of relief as he put down his javelins and thrower. "Good job they never charged the bally top an' stormed us.

There was enough of the blighters."

Rowanoak dusted sand from herself. "There certainly was. Imagine if they'd got past us, our camp is only over the next hill, south and east on the clifftops."

Celandine suddenly bounced back as if nothing had happened.

Primping the lace hems of her tunic, she remarked airily, "Oh yes, I had an idea it was, that's why I headed over this way!"

Ballaw rolled his eyes upward in mock despair. "You dreadful little fibber, miss! You were coming this way because a band of ruffians were chasing you."

"O them!" Celandine tossed her tail huffily. "I knew they wouldn't get me!"

Felldoh turned around from the dune rim. "But how did you know?

"

Celandine clasped both his paws, fluttering her eyelids wildly.

"Because I knew in my heart that my brave Felldoh would come to my rescue, and you did."

Rowanoak smiled and shook her huge head. "Come on, brave Felldoh, let's get this ruthless charmer back to camp!"

Felldoh felt his face burning as Celandine hung on his paws, praising him outrageously.

"You're so strong, so courageous, and so accurate with your sharp little sticks. Ooh look, I pricked my paw on one!

When they had gone, Brome emerged from hiding. He had followed Felldoh with the intention of joining him, until the badger and the hare decided to help his friend. Brome had stayed out of sight, knowing that Ballaw and Rowanoak would have sent him packing, back to camp. So he secreted himself in a clump of tor grass and watched them rescuing Celandine. Brome had grown a lot bolder since his escape from Marshank. He admired Felldoh and wanted to be like him, but he was treated as a young one in the camp. Brome climbed the dune and peered down on the three dead corsairs, imagining himself launching lances alongside Felldoh and simmering with resentment at being left out.

He slid down the dune on his bottom and sat looking at the three lifeless figures. After a while the young mouse ventured to pick up the sword which lay near Gritter. He swung it in the air, trying a few fancy strokes, an idea forming in his head as he did. There were still a good number of slaves to be freed from Marshank. Imagine the looks on the faces of Felldoh, Ballaw and Rowanoak if he, Brome, came marching back with a score or so of slaves that he had rescued.

The more Brome swung the sword the more he liked the idea. He would do it!

Arming himself with the sword and a dagger from Floater's belt, he dressed himself up in an assortment of corsair gear which he took from the three bodies. Smudging up his face with a few pawfuls of dust, Brome pulled the brim of Crableg's floppy hat down at a rakish angle and set off for Fortress Marshank. Swaggering along like a villainous searat, he practised the brogue.

"Haharr, I'm Bucktail, as good a matey that ever sailed the seas an'

plundered landlubbers. Haharr an' hoho!"

23

As Grumm, Pallum and Rose tugged at their neck vines they screamed and shouted insults and threats, despite the menacing presence of the lizards who surrounded them. Martin did not waste breath on words. He fought savagely tooth and paw as the reptiles dragged him bodily towards the fire pit. The red frilled leader stood impassively by, tongue flickering, throat pulsing, silent as the rest of his tribe. Martin drew blood from several of the beasts, kicking, butting, biting and gouging whenever he could force a movement among the swarming lizards whose bodies swamped and stifled his every attempt. The fire took off and began crackling, pale wisps of smoke rising to blend with the fetid air as hungry golden red flames danced and nickered in the cooking pit.

A piercing off key cry rang through the marshlands. Immediately all activity among the lizards stopped. The noise rent the still air a second time. It was not a pleasant sound, something akin to the screech of a gate with rusty hinges, coupled with a loud gurgling ululation. The red frilled leader's head shook from side to side, eyes flickering and filming as he hissed what appeared to be some type of warning or command. The rest of the reptiles went into swift, silent action.

Hustling Martin and his three friends together, they hauled the neck vines tight, securing them firmly to the stakes so that the four captives were forced to lie with their faces in the dirt. Ferns, leafy boughs, rushes, shrubs and all manner of vegetation were piled hurriedly on the prisoners until they were lost to view. Several lizards perched on top of the pile, stretching themselves out as if napping. Beneath the oppressive heap, Martin and his companions fought desperately for breath.

A fully grown male grey heron stalked majestically into the lizard encampment, towering high over the heads of the reptiles as they stood still like statues. The Warden of Marshwood Hill was an immense bird. He glared down at the lizards from his enormous height, dark pupilled, pale gold eyes watching them from over a savage yellow pair of beak spikes. Throwing back the snakelike column of his powerful neck, he gave throat to a chilling shriek, the twin black feathers on his skull back vibrating.

The dipper zoomed down from the branches of a gnarled wych elm at the edge of the clearing. It landed among the lizards perched on top of the vegetation and did an excited hopskip dance. The grey heron moved fearlessly and fast, long black sticklike legs pounding the ground as it spread awesome silk grey wings and charged the heap.

The lizards scuttled over each other in their attempts to get out of its way, but they were flung high into the air as the heron scattered the foliage, demolishing the entire pile with wings, beak and claw webbed feet.

Martin, Rose, Grumm and Pallum lay exposed on the ground, writhing feebly as they pulled at the taut neck vines. The Warden's dangerous amber beak clacked perilously close to their heads as he severed the vines with careless ease. He watched them for a moment until Martin's eyes opened. Leaning close, he spoke to the young mouse in a precise clipped manner.

"Lie still, stay there. Do not interfere, lizards! Got to deal with them!"

The Warden strode a measured pace around the camp. There was complete silence. He glared at the reptiles. The lizards stood motionless, tongues in, eyes filmed over as if completely cowed by the mad intensity of the heron's stare. Martin watched, fascinated. The whole affair was carried out in complete silence. The heron would point to the captives with its beak then glare at the lizards. They remained motionless. Regardless of whether or not he trod on heads, bodies or tails, the Warden stalked about the camp, finally halting in front of the red frilled leader. With a slow contemptuous movement of one leg, the heron flicked the red frill over on to its back. It was obviously a challenge that the lizard leader had to accept. Wriggling upright, the red frill hissed and circled to attack.

Lying between Pallum and Martin, Rose watched in horror as the grey heron's beak flashed down. "Oh, how horrible!"

Martin covered her eyes with his paw. "Don't look, Rose. I think I can guess what he's going to do next!"

Grumm turned his face aside. "Burr oo, dearie oi! Never could oi be that 'ungry!"

Pallum nodded in agreement as the Warden turned on another lizard. "Guaw! I never seen nothing like that. It's disgusting!"

Martin shrugged. "Maybe you've forgotten, but those lizards were going to eat us. The big bird is dealing out his justice to them."

The killer's beak flashed down several more times until the Warden of Marshwood Hill had taken his fill. He swallowed and gulped, then threw back his head and gave a sharp cry. It was a signal that the lizards were dismissed. They scattered into the marshes in seconds, leaving the camp deserted except for the four friends and the grey heron. Wiping his beak methodically on a grassy tussock, he strode across to them.

"I am Warden of Marshwood Hill. These are my marshes, and I am the only law. Lizards are lawbreakers, toads and snakes also. I do what must be done!"

Martin bowed formally. "I am Martin, this is Rose, Pallum and Grumm. We wish to thank you for saving our lives. We are travelling through your marshes on our way to Noonvale. I was hoping you could help us with some directions."

The little dipper had landed next to Rose. She was stroking its head. The Warden preened his huge downy breast awhile as if considering what Martin had said.

"I know no Noonvale, but I have heard its name spoken. I will guide you through my marshes. Obey my laws, or I kill you.

Lawbreakers must be killed. Gather your things, and follow me."

Martin picked up his sword, Grumm found his ladle, Rose and the dipper found the packs they were untouched, the lizards had not bothered with them.

"Can you put out fire?" The Warden pointed his beak at Pallum. "I do not like fire."

The hedgehog was about to reply when Grumm ambled over.

"Oi c'n put they'm foire out, zurr Wardun, ho urr."

The mole positioned himself by the fire pit and set to work with his remarkable digging claws. Shooting damp marsh earth backwards, he dug furiously. In a short time the fire pit was reduced to a smouldering mass, covered in the earth that Grumm had spread on it.

The Warden nodded abruptly. "I could not do that. You are a useful creature."

Grumm tipped a paw to his snout. "Thankee, zurr, tho' you'm 'as thoi own uses, oi 'spect, keepin' 'ee law in these yurr swamps."

But the Warden was not listening, he was stalking off out of the camp, calling back to them, "Come, follow me. I will guide you through my marshes to the mountain. I must stay here, I am the law."

As they trekked over what appeared to be a slender trail through the wetlands, Grumm whispered to Pallum, "Yurr, they burd doant say much, do 'ee."

Pallum could not resist doing a comical impression of the Warden.

Strutting stiff legged, he glared at Grumm and spoke sharply. "I am the law. These are my marshes. I am the law!"

Both the hedgehog and the mole burst into subdued chuckles.

The Warden turned and glared at them. "Make fun of the law, and I deal with you. I am the law!"

Pallum and Grumm froze for a moment then they saluted vigorously. "Yes, sir. Understood, sir!"

"You'm 'ee law, zurr. Ho urr, gudd, foine!"

Martin walked along with Rose. He nodded at the little bird hopping by her side. "I see you've got a new friend, Rose. What's his name?"

The mousemaid stroked the little creature's downy head. "Dipper, that's what he is and that's what I'll call him. Martin, did you hear what the Warden said he'd guide us to the mountain. I wonder where that is."

"Me too. I suppose the only way we'll find out is by following him.

He seems to know the country well enough."

"Oh yes, and d'you know why that is?"

Martin smiled knowingly. Leaning close he whispered into Rose's ear so that the Warden could not hear.

"Because he is the law!"

The marshes were dreary, foggy and misty, drab and treacherous.

The travellers followed the grey heron step for step, being careful not to deviate from the tortuously narrow trail. Either side of them, moss hung branches stuck up like spectral limbs from the green dark ooze that exuded occasional bubbles and wisps of swamp gas. The only sign that evening was approaching was that the atmosphere grew decidedly gloomier. The Warden halted at a juncture where two paths crossed to form a wooded islet. They sat down in the damp grass as the grey heron looked about.

"Camp here tonight, travel tomorrow."

Grumm took out his ladle and set about snapping dead twigs.

"Hurr, thank gudness fur that. C'mon, Pallum, lend ee thoi paw yurr."

The piercing eyes of the Warden stopped them in their tracks.

"What do you do?"

"Make zoop, zurr." Grumm waved his ladle about, chuckling. "Per zoop you'm need a foire. You'm loik moi zoop."

"I do not know zoop. Make no fire. I am the law. I do not like fire!"

Somewhere nearby a frog croaked in the marsh. The Warden followed the direction of the sound with his savage eyes. He swallowed hungrily. "Stay here, do not move. Frogs are about. They are lawbreakers. I am the law, I will deal with them!"

He stalked off into the darkening mists. When he was out of sight, Pallum gave a short, humorless laugh. "Looks to me like the law wants its supper."

Rose was unpacking rations. "What a dreadful idea!" she shuddered.

Martin helped her prepare their meal. "Maybe so, but without the Warden of Marshwood Hill we'd have been lizard lunch today. The bird is a necessary evil, believe me."

Rose laid out two fruit flans, some hazelnut scones and the last canteen of mint and lavender cordial. The food was a bit battered and squashed but still very tasty. Rose laughed as they watched the dipper pecking furiously at a scone.

"Oh look, Martin, Dipper's really enjoying himself. I'll bet he's never tasted anything as nice."

The tiny bird sprayed them with crumbs as he attempted to communicate his pleasure to his new found friends.

"Goodiz, goodiz!"

After supper, the dipper whistled and chirped happily. When he had finished they applauded him. Martin lay back, sipping at the tangy cordial.

"Wish I could sing like that. I've got the worst singing voice in the world. Come on, Rose, sing something to cheer us up in this gloomy marsh."

The mousemaid obliged willingly, her wondrous clear voice ringing melodiously into the deep marshland night.

"O happy is as happy does,

Misery never useful was,

And I am happy now because

I'm with the ones I love.

Sing fol lol loh a lairy lay,

Let the sun shine bright all day,

So I'll go happy on my way

With the good ones that I love.

O fie on you, O great disgrace,

Look at that sad unhappy face,

I'll not walk with you, not one pace,

You're not the one I love.

Sing dumble dum and derry dee,

You'll have to smile to come with me,

Till happiness doth let you see

You're the one that I love!"

The dipper chirped appreciatively as they applauded. Grumm shook his head admiringly. "Oi loikes that un, Miz Roser. Allus makes oi feel loike darncen!"

Rose gave the mole a playful shove. "Well come on, old Grummchops, it's ages since I saw you dance!" Grumm stuck his digging claws in his ears, rolling from side to side with embarrassment. "Ho no, oi'm no gurt shakes at 'ee darncen. You'm papa allus used to larff when oi darnced."

"Well, papa's not here now, so you'll dance or we'll tell the Warden that you've been making fun of him!"

Rose picked up Grumm's ladle and shook it at him in mock anger.

"Ho no, you'm wudden do a thing loik that."

"Oh yes she would!" Martin and Pallum chorused together.

Grumm stood up, shuffling his paws. "Hurr, s'pose oi better sing 'n'

darnce then. You'm awful crool beasts."

Rose could see that the mole wanted to sing and dance. "Come on, Grummyface, do your party piece, the one about your old grandfather.

I like that one."

Mole dancing is a curious spectacle and is invariably accompanied by singing. Grumm held up his digging claws and did a small hopskip,

"Naow Granfer were a pow'ful mole.

Scratch a tunnel dig an 'ole,

The moightiest eater, so oi'm tole,

In all of all 'ee wuddlands.

You'm should've seen him eaten cake.

Granmum said, fer gudness sake,

Oi'll start 'ee oven up to bake

An' twelveteen cakes oi'll make.

If Granfer ate wun, him ate two,

Ho dearie me, oi'm tellen you,

Him ate those twelveteen cakes roight throo,

Then went asleep till zummer.

An' when 'ee zummer sun did break,

My ole granfer came awake,

The gudd ole beast drinked all 'ee lake

An' left 'ee fishes sobbin'.

Him'n story as oi've toald to you,

Oi swears as every wurd be troo,

Iffen you'm think oi tole fibs to you,

Then go an' arsk 'ee fishes!"

Rose, Pallum and Martin were falling about laughing as Grumm took a bow. He was puffing from the exertion of song and dance combined.

The Warden appeared as if from nowhere. He stared hard at Grumm and shook his head once. "Good at putting out fire, not at singing. Mouse Rose is the best singer. I know this. Sleep now! Dipper, you go back to your family nest!"

Sometime before dawn Martin stirred. Vague muffled sounds had gradually wakened him. He lay awhile taking stock of their hostile surroundings. The muffled sounds continued. Rolling over slowly, he checked the sleeping forms of Rose, Grumm and Pallum. They were deep in slumber, breathing peacefully. Martin's eyes strayed over to where the grey heron was lying. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but he sensed that something was not right. He peered long at the bird, his paw straying to the short sword stuck in the ground near his head.

The Warden appeared to be rolling about in his sleep, making muffled noises.

Slowly Martin rose until he was crouching. Placing his paws carefully among the damp grass tussocks, he edged over. Something slimy slapped him in the face as he reached the moving figure of the Warden. There were dark shapes all over the great bird, and it was moving more slowly and weakly As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, Martin saw that creatures he could not make out were strangling the grey heron, winding about its neck while others secured its legs and wings.

So that was what the muffled noises were. They must have been attacking the Warden for some time because the big bird's struggles were very weak. Martin threw himself into the fray with a shout that wakened his three friends instantly.

"Yaaaaah, Maaaaartin!"

24

It was getting towards evening and shadows were beginning to lengthen on the shoreline as Brome climbed down from the cliffs.

Ahead of him he could see Wulpp, the searat who had taken Felldoh's javelin through his footpaw, limping along by himself. Suddenly Brome had an idea that might gain him entrance into Marshank. He padded silently up until he was almost level with Wulpp.

"Hi there, mate. You the beast they left be'ind?"

Wulpp sat down on the sand, wincing as he nursed his paw. "Aye that's me. What's yer name, matey?"

Brome sat down by him and began ripping a strip from his shirt.

"Harr, I'm Bucktail. Cap'n sent me back for ye. I was walkin' along the clifftops when I saw you down 'ere. 'Old still while I binds that paw up fer ye, messmate."

Wulpp gritted his teeth as Brome worked. "Aagh, it 'urts bad, Bucktail. Wot d'ye think, will it give me a limp for the rest o' me life?"

"More'n likely, bucko." Brome nodded as he tied the improvised bandage off neatly. "You was lucky it didn't catch you 'igher, or you'da been a goner. Come on, mate, up on yer paws. I'll give yer a lift back to the fortress."

Hopping on one paw, the injured searat threw an arm about Brome's shoulders and leaned on him as they made their way slowly back. "Bucktail, eh. Well my name's Wulpp, an' I won't fergit yer fer the 'elp you've give me this day, messmate."

They entered the fortress as darkness fell. Nobeast paid much attention to them both. The main center of attraction was the continuing feud between the two leaders. Clogg sat on the courtyard stones, surrounded by his crew as he tore ravenously at hard bread and dried fish, guzzling seaweed ale from an oversized tankard.

Badrang stood on the porch of his longhouse, haranguing the corsair.

"Now let me get this right, one creature, a single squirrelmaid at that, killed three of your great hairy waverobbers and wounded another. Well, lack a season and lose a day!"

Clogg hurled a hard crust at Badrang. It fell short. "Harr go an' boil yer 'ead, stoatears. You was safe enough inside o' yer fancy fortress surrounded by yer lubbernosed 'orde!"

Badrang leaned over the porch rail, his voice mocking. "And what, pray, was the dreaded Cap'n Tramun Clogg doing while this dreadful slaughter took place? Hiding from the squirrelmaid?"

Clogg's nose glinted purple with rage as he spat out dried fish. "It weren't no squirrelymaid did the killin', it was those excaped slaves o'

yourn throwin' javelins, an' by the way they could throw I'd 'ate t' be in yer shirt if they attacks 'ere!"

The Tyrant spread his paws appealingly to the listeners. "Why should they come back here after escaping? Strikes me they'd want to put as much distance between themselves and Marshank as possible.

By the way, how's your ship refloating coming along?"

A slow smile spread across Clogg's villainous face. "Much the same as yer stone quarryin' an' field croppin', me ole messmate. 'Ave yer done much empire buildin' today, haharrharr?"

Stung by the taunt that had rebounded on him, Bad rang pointed his sword at the corsair. "I'll remind you that you're eating my food, Clogg, and your worthless mob of seascum are filling their bellies at my expense too. But all that's going to change. From now on if you want to eat our supplies at Marshank you'll have to earn your food like any of my creatures!"

Clogg hurled the tankard. It smashed on the ground in front of Badrang as the corsair bellowed defiantly, "We ain't yer creatures, me an' my crew is seabeasts, rovers an' freebooters. We're 'onourin' you by takin' our meals 'ere 'cos you owe us that much, you boat burnin'

barnacle. We'd 'ave sailed off from this fort long since but for yer treachery!"

Brome threw a paw about Wulpp, steering him towards the walls of the slave compound. "C'mon, mate, let's find someplace for you to sit easy. We can't stand around listenin' to those two stoats jawin' each other to death while yer paw's injured bad."

They sat with their backs against the wooden fence. "Harr, 'tis rest you need, Wulpp." Brome spoke loudly on purpose. "A good deep sleep'd do you a power o' good, matey. Sleep, the best healer of all!"

Wulpp did not argue. He was weary and his footpaw throbbed relentlessly. Closing his eyes, he lay back.

"Right you are, Bucktail. I feel like I could sleep fer a season!"

Keyla had been listening to the two creatures on the other side of the fence. Curiosity overcame the young otter, and he was not long in climbing the timbers to peer over the top at the pair.

Brome made sure that Wulpp's eyes were closed and they were not being observed, then he swept the floppy hat from his head and grinned cheekily up at Keyla.

Holding up a warning paw, he pointed at Wulpp, stroking the searat's head gently and crooning in a soft voice, "Sleep, matey. You need a long deep sleep, long an' deep."

Keyla understood. He gave a broad wink and disappeared.

Brome continued speaking soothingly to the half asleep Wulpp.

"Sleep, matey, that's all you need, sleepy sleep sleep ..."

Wulpp's eyelids flickered. He glanced at Brome and smiled lazily.

"Bucktail, me ole matey, you looks like some kind o' mouse without yore hat on ..."

Assisted by a mouse named Yarrow, Keyla popped up over the compound top. Between them they held a big improvised sandbag.

Whump!

Wulpp's head was a target they could not miss. The heavy object landed forcefully, knocking the searat out like a light.

"He's got enough on his mind to keep him asleep a good while," the irrepressible Keyla giggled. "Brome, what are you doing back here, friend?"

The young mouse clamped his floppy hat back on. "I've come to get you and the rest away from here, Keyla, though I thought you'd have escaped with the last lot."

The young otter shook his head. "I could have, but there's old ones and some babes here that weren't quick enough to get away. I couldn't hop it and leave them just because I was young and fast, now could I?

"

Brome propped Wulpp's head on the sandbag as if it were a pillow.

"You're a good otter, Keyla. Listen, here's the plan. We'll get them all out between us, tonight."

Gurrad watched as Badrang poured poison into a flagon of blackberry grog.

"Great seasons, Sire, there's enough in there to lay an army out!"

Badrang shook the small vial to make sure the last drops went in.

"Clogg could never resist a drop of blackberry grog. It'll be his last drop, laced with wolfbane and hemlock. There's not a creature born who could drink that and live to tell the tale." He pulled Gurrad close, his voice a sinister hiss. "Listen now, rat. Here's what you must do!"

The rat called Oilback threw his knife. It zipped through the air to bury itself deep in the driftwood spar set up on the beach. Cap'n Tramun Clogg grunted as he tugged the quivering blade free and returned it to its owner.

"Good throw, matey. I likes to see a beast who's skilled at slingin' a frogsticker. Do it agin, Oilback."

The searat twirled his knife expertly, closed one eye, sighted and threw hard. This time the blade went a third of its length into the timber. Clogg clapped his back heartily.

"Haharr, yore a murderer born, Oilback. Now cock a lug, matey, an'

listen to a liddle plan that I've arranged fer that stingy grubswipin'

former partner o' mine .. ."

The moon appeared over Marshank, casting pale light and deep shadow over the fortress where three separate schemes were being laid, two for death and one for freedom.

Brome hastily rearranged his corsair gear. There was little difference in the ill assorted rags worn by Clogg's pirates and those of Badrang's soldiers and in no time Brome looked every inch the hordebeast. Keyla did the same, improvising with Wulpp's tawdry rags.

Minutes later, two ruthless hordebeasts marched straight past the guards and into the slave compound.

"Stay at the rear and help any stragglers," Brome signalled to Yarrow. "Righto, listen friends, all you have to do is follow Keyla and me. If anybeast stops or challenges us, don't you say a word, leave the talking to me.

Stay in the shadows as much as possible, don't hurry too much and above all, be silent!"

They set off towards the main courtyard with Brome and Keyla leading the group.

Badrang corked the flagon, shaking it well before he gave it to Gurrad.

"See if they're asleep, don't chance it otherwise. If everything is all right, then sneak up close to Clogg. He's usually sleeping near to the largest campfire. Place the flagon in his paw, or as close as you can get to it. That stupid plaited buffoon doesn't care what he drinks. When he wakes in the morning the flagon will be the nearest thing to him.

He'll pop the cork and guzzle it right off. I know him of old. Go now.

I'm trusting you to do the job right, Gurrad."

Swathed in a dark cloak, the rat left the longhouse.

Standing in the shadows at the side of the longhouse was another cloaked figure. Oilback held his knife by the blade, ready to throw. The doorway area was illuminated in a patch of moonlight. His paw trembled a little from the tension of waiting and the enormity of his task. It was not just any common crewbeast that got to kill Lord Badrang, the Tyrant of Marshank. No, it was he, Oilback, the best knife thrower in all Cap'n Clogg's crew.

He heard the creak of the door as it opened. Tightening his grip on the blade, he closed one eye and took aim. A cloaked figure stole out, shutting the door carefully behind it. Oilback grunted with exertion as he hurled his weapon.

It was a good throw. The cloaked figure collapsed silently off the porch. Oilback hurried forward. Retrieving his knife from Gurrad's throat, he wiped the blade, giving a low snarl of dismay when he saw the dead features of the creature he had slain. It was not Badrang!

His footpaw struck something a flagon of wine. Never being one to pass up a free gift, he rammed it into his runic and turned to run away. It was at that exact moment Brome was passing with the slaves.

Oilback ran slapbang into Brome.

There was a moment's silence as they confronted each other, then Brome said in a quiet but commanding tone, "What are you doing around here?"

Oilback answered hesitantly, thinking fast as he did. "Er, oh, I'm, er, gettin' rid of this dirty spy for Lord Badrang. He's one o' those corsairs. I caught 'im 'angin' about 'ere!"

Brome nodded. "Good!"

He was about to turn away when Oilback became suspicious. "Just a moment, mate. What are you doin' wid that bunch?"

Keyla stepped in boldly. "If it's any of your business, we're puttin'

them in the prison pit. Lord Badrang doesn't want this lot escapin' like the others. He wants 'em down the pit where he can keep an eye on

'em!"

The corsair was slightly taken aback by Keyla's aggressive stance.

"Oh, er, right. Well I'll bid ye good night."

Unfortunately they were both travelling in the same direction. Keyla and Brome were forced to walk along with Oilback, who was heading for the main gate, which lay in the same direction as the prison pit.

They walked in silence with the slaves following.

Oilback glanced at the thirty creatures. "Yore gonna have a job on yer paws gettin' all them down that pit. They'll be standin' on each other's 'eads."

"Do em good!" Brome sniffed officiously. "We're not here to argue, we carry out our Leader's orders an' don't ask too many questions."

The searat nodded agreement. "Aye, that's all the likes of us can do, eh, mate!"

Though the gates of Marshank were open to the corsairs camped on the shore, there was still a sentry posted on top of the wall. It was the ferret Bluehide. He saw the slaves being led to the pit and called down,

"What in the name of frogfeathers are you doin' down there?"

Oilback winked at Keyla and shouted back arrogantly, "What does it look like we're doin', takin' a swim?"

Bluehide shook his spear. "Leave that gratin' alone. All those beasts can't fit down there. Besides, there was three escaped from that pit!"

Brome sighed wearily. Placing paws on hips, he called out in an insulting manner, "It's none of your business how many slaves Lord Badrang wants us to put in the pit. And another thing, those three wouldn't have escaped if the sentry that night had been keepin' an eye on this grating. They broke out by movin' it."

Bluehide fixed his eyes on the grating, leaning his elbows on the walltop. "Well, they won't escape from there tonight while I'm watchin'."

"You weren't put up there to watch gratings, slop head." Keyla called out in a stern voice. "It's your job to keep a close eye on those corsairs on the shore!"

Now Bluehide was completely confused. Keyla chuckled as he slapped Oilback heartily across the shoulders. "Ha ha ha! That showed him, eh, matey?"

Oilback continued on his way, laughing falsely as he answered. "Ho ho ho! It certainly did, mate. I'll just take a look out there meself. You can't trust corsairs y' know!"

Keyla and Brome waited until Bluehide had his back to them on the wall top, then shifted the heavy grating to one side.

"Whew, that was a close thing!" the young mouse murmured under his breath.

Outside in the shadow of the wall, Oilback wiped sweat from his nose, muttering silently to himself. "Whew, that was a close thing!"

He uncorked the flagon and took a deep drink to calm his nerves.

* * *

Brome and Keyla ushered the freed slaves into the pit and then climbed in after them, pulling the grating shut over them once they were in.

An old mousewife called Geum started to complain aloud. "It's stuffy down here. I'm stuck like a pea in a pod. Why did we have to come into this dirty place?"

Brome was thumping the walls to find the opening. "Hush, Mother, this is the way we're going to escape. Keep your voice down."

But Geum was not about to be quiet. "The main gate was open. Why didn't we just go out that way? And don't call me mother, cheekyface.

I'm not your mother!"

Keyla clamped a paw across her mouth. "Silence, you old scold!

Brome knows what he's doing. We wouldn't stand a lame sea bird's chance of walking through Clogg's crew to freedom. This way we'll come up between some rocks beyond their camp. Have you found the opening yet, Brome?"

A shower of loose earth and some pieces of driftwood fell on to the heads of Keyla and Geum.

"Hahah! Here it is," Brome cried excitedly. "For a moment I wasn't sure I could find it. Good old Grumm, he did a great job disguising his tunnel. I'll go first. Keyla, you and Yarrow help the others in and bring up the rear. We'll have to move fast, there's not many hours left until dawn. The last thing we want is to be caught out on the open shore."

It took a considerable time to get all the slaves into the tunnel.

They pushed up against each other in the darkness, infants began whimpering and Geum started to complain again.

"Ugh! It's dark and stuffy down here. I don't like it!"

Yarrow shoved her further along from behind. "None of us are exactly joyful about being down here, old one. Just keep going, and put a latch on your lip. You're upsetting the little ones."

Geum's dignity was offended. "Stop pushing me, you young rip, and mind how you speak to your elders. Oh dear, there's sand falling on the back of my head."

Brome crawled as fast as he was able to. Hearing Geum's last statement added to his haste. He knew the tunnel was only a makeshift affair and could collapse at any moment, particularly now, with the added disturbance of thirty odd creatures blundering their way through it. Suddenly, just when he thought he was at the end of the tunnel, Brome found he could crawl no farther. The young mouse let out a groan into the thick air.

The tunnel had caved in at the exit end. They were trapped!

25

Rose was wakened by Martin's cry and the great feathered bulk of the grey heron rolling over her. Something brushed by her. She felt slithering scales and kicked out at them.

Martin was locked in the coils of some reptilian creature, what it was he did not know. It felt like a snake, but it had more than one head and tail. Stabbing viciously with his short sword, he was rewarded by the sound of anguished hissing as the coils fell away from him. Nearby Grumm swung out with his ladle and caught something hard on the skull. It went limp. Pallum hung on grimly to a third sinuous shape as Rose battered it with a supply pack. Martin felt another reptile at his back. Swinging sharply, he slashed crosswise and stabbed down twice. The creature was instantly slain.

Rose was still hitting with the pack as she cried out in the darkness,

"Fire, Grumm. Make fire!"

The mole fumbled for flint and tinder as Martin found Rose and Pallum in the darkness. Afraid to use his sword in such close proximity to them, he dropped it and went headlong at the creature they had been trying to tackle. Butting, punching and kicking like a mad beast, Martin rendered the thing senseless.

There were no more opponents to fight. They stood still while sparks flew and Grumm could be heard blowing on the tinder.

Suddenly there was a small flame. The mole fed it with dry grass and twigs. In the ensuing firelight they viewed the attackers and the attacked. It was the two slowworms they had first seen on entering the marshes. They were both dead, slain by Martin, and lying stunned close by was an enormous grass snake and a young adder.

Grumm shuddered violently. "Surrpints!"

Pallum scrambled over to the limp figure of the Warden. "I think they've killed him!"

Rose was at his side instantly. "Let me take a look."

As she inspected the big bird, Martin called Pallum and Grumm to help him. Between the three of them they heaved the bodies of the four reptiles into the deep ooze of the marsh.

"Over here! This bird is alive!"

Rose was massaging the Warden's long neck. His eyelids fluttered feebly as she rubbed skillfully. One of the heron's eyes opened momentarily. "I am the laaaaaww!" it managed to croak.

The mousemaid put a paw to its beak. "Yes I know. Be still now, those snakes nearly strangled you. Grumm, put some water on to heat and see if you can find some soft moss and herbs to make a poultice."

As dawn broke over the little camp, Rose sat nursing her patient.

The Warden was a fierce bird, quick to recover and hard to keep still.

She had bound his neck with a warm soothing poultice of moss and herbs, checking the rest of him to assure herself that the young adder had not struck him.

"You'll be all right, the adder didn't bite you. Warden, please lie still. Your neck was badly squeezed. Try not to move it."

The grey heron tried to rise but fell back croaking hoarsely, "Snakes are lawbreakers. I will punish them. I am the law!"

Grumm looked up from the soup he was making. "Doant you'm never be soilent, burd? Close thoi gurt beak. Hurr!"

As they were held up by the Warden's injuries, breakfast was a leisurely affair. Pallum roasted some vegetables, leek, pennycress, and shallots. Grumm made excellent wild celery and herb soup then experimented on some barley scones. The Warden became so fierce when Pallum tried to feed him soup that the hedgehog hid behind Grumm. "I don't think he likes your soup."

Grumm shook his ladle at the heron. "Doant be natural, creetur not loikin' moi zoop. He'm never grow big 'n' strong loik oi."

"I am Warden of Marshwood Hill. Warden does not eat zoop!"

"Oh, goo an' boil thoi 'ead, gurt burdbag!"

Rose was surprised at the Warden's powers of recovery. Barely halfway through the morning he was up and walking as he conversed with Martin. The young mouse told him the story of what had taken place in the night. The big bird glared savagely at him.

"I thank you. Martin is mouse warrior, but you must learn!"

"Learn what?"

"Learn to kill all lawbreakers. Two snakes not dead!"

"But I threw them in the swamp."

"Next time kill first, then they will never break the law again!"

The Warden was inflexible when dealing with lawbreakers.

By noon they were back on the path again, travelling behind the Warden. Rose was mentioning to Martin that the mists were beginning to clear and sunlight was now plainly visible filtering through, when Pallum called, "Ahead, look up!"

There was the mountain. Rising above the mists into the summer day, it towered in solitary splendor, the lower slopes clad in verdant pine, rising to shrub and wild lupin, which gave way to naked dun hued rock all the way to its majestic peak.

Grumm shielded his eyes with a digging claw, peering up. "Well, dig moi tunnel! Us'ns got t' cloimb yon gurt 'ill?"

The Warden halted, fixing them with his fierce eye. "You can see the mountain?"

Rose nodded her head, awed at the sight. "We surely can. Have we got to climb over it?"

The heron stood on one leg. "No, only halfway. Do you see the cave?"

The four friends searched the rocky mass, straining their eyes.

Martin looked at Rose and shrugged before turning to the Warden.

"We cannot see a cave, but if you say it is there then we believe you.

Halfway up, you said."

The Warden nodded. "Yes, halfway up. It is a runnel through the mountain. Now I must leave you. These are my marshes. I am the law here. I stay."

With an awkward hopskip he took to the air, wings beating until he caught a thermal. Swooping over them, the bird called out, "You saved my life. I will not forget this. You are not lawbreakers. Maybe I will be able to help you someday. I go now. Goodbye!"

As he swooped away, Rose cried aloud, "Thank you for your help.

Besides the cave, is there anything else we should look out for when we climb the mountain?"

Wheeling in a half turn, the heron called a final message, "Ask Boldred, the mountain is not mine. These are my marshes and I alone am the laaaaaa aawwwwwww!"

With that, the Warden of Marshwood Hill was gone, soaring above his domain of treacherous ooze and reptilian subjects.

In the late afternoon they came out of the marshlands. Crossing a stretch of dry scrub country, the four travellers stopped at the fringe of pines in the mountainous foothills. It was green and shady where Martin decided they would camp.

"We'll rest here until the morning before attempting to climb the mountain. A good meal and a long sleep is what we need."

Grumm shook the food packs out, his homely face a picture of dismay as he took stock of their supplies. "Burr, 'ardly any vittles left!"

Two wizened apples, a few pawfuls of wheat flour, one or two candied nuts and three raspberry scones were all that remained of Polleekin's good food. The mole shook their final canteen. "Lack a day, on'y arf full o' mint cordial!"

Rose chuckled as she prodded her friend's tubby little stomach. "Oh dearie me, Grumm Trencher, are you going to let us all starve and waste away to leaf shadows?"

Grumm polished his ladle vigorously with dry grass. "You'm a snip, Miz Roser, no mistake about that! Roight, oi'm taken charge yurr an'

now. Pallum, surch furr veg gibles, zurr Marthen, an' you'm, Miz Roser, lukk for water an' gather wudd. Oi'll see wot can be 'unted oop.

Listen now, oi wants you'm all back yurr afore sunset. Be that clear?"

Pallum, Martin and Rose giggled as they whispered among themselves. Grumm waved the ladle at them. "Oi said, be that clear?"

They turned to him with serious faces, trying hard not to laugh as they stood stiffly to attention saluting.

"To hear is to obey, Lord Grumm!"

"We will not come back empty pawed, O Mighty One!"

"We are yours to command, for you are the law!"

They dashed off laughing, leaving Grumm polishing his ladle. "Oi doant see nuthin' funny. Vittles be serious, ho urr!"

Twilight found the four friends seated around a cozy little fire.

Their foraging had proved extremely fruitful: apples, early wild plums and some green acorns, parsley, dandelion, wild oats and a piece of honeycomb, which Pallum had found floating in a small rivulet of ice cold mountain water. There were also a few mushrooms and some watercress which had been growing by the rivulet. Grumm borrowed Martin's sword and used the blade to peel and chop. The others took their ease, laying back under a small spreading pine to watch him.

"Hurr, mushrooms 'n' cress goes with parsley 'n' danneeline," the mole explained as he prepared supper. "Chop up they green acorns too. Twill make gudd zoop, a'most thick as stew." He paused to rap Rose's paw with the ladle as she tried to steal a wild plum. "Gurroff, mizzy! Oi needs they, to put wi' last o' flour and woild oaters an'

hunny. Chop 'ee apples vurry liddle. Pass oi yon flat stone, oi needs it furr moi asperimend."

Martin looked at Rose as he passed Grumm the flat thin rock.

"Asperimend? What does he mean?"

"He means experiment. Grumm is always experimenting with food.

He's very good, his experiments can turn out tasty."

The soup when it came was savory, and they blew on it as they sipped it from their scallop shells. Grumm had patted his mixture of wild plum, flour, oats, honey and apples into small round cakes that he cooked on the flat rock over the fire. The sweet smell wreathed round the camp as he turned off the first batch to cool in the grass.

Taking one gingerly, he broke it, giving half to Rose. "Wot you'm think o' that, mizzy?"

The mousemaid juggled it in her paws, blowing on it as she took several quick nibbles. "Oh, Grumm, it tastes wonderful. So sweet and sticky!"

The mole wrinkled his snout in a satisfied manner. "Hurr, oi knew 't would. Oi'll make a couple o' batches an' we'll pack they'm furr rations. Oi 'opes oi c'n amember moi asperimend when we reaches

'ome to Noonvale."

Grumm gave them a cake apiece to eat after their soup. He was packing the rest of them away when a cracking of branches coupled with screams and wild laughter sounded close by. Before Martin could retrieve his sword from Grumm, a dozen or more young squirrels bounded into the camp, screeching, scrabbling and fighting. One of the creatures tripped and stumbled over Rose. He snapped at her and pushed her roughly as he struggled to rise. Martin was across to him in a twinkling. He dealt the squirrel a hefty blow and sent him sprawling again. Now the camp seemed to be full of wild looking squirrels. They wore sashes of gaily colored barkcloth and had bird feathers fastened to their tails. Disregarding the four travellers, they fought and screeched all round them, ignoring the upset and discomfort they were causing. One creature grabbed hold of Grumm, using him as a shield to escape from another, who was trying, apparently, to steal the feathers from his tail.

Martin had stood enough. He did not want to kill any of them as they had not directly attacked him or his friends, but he was determined that they should be taught a lesson. Seizing Grumm's ladle, he dashed at the two who were whirling the mole about as one tried to catch the other.

Whopp! Thock!

Martin dealt out two stunning blows which sat the wild pair down flat on their tails. He brandished the ladle and roared, "Stop this!

D'you hear me? Stoppit this instant!"

The squirrels halted, panting heavily and grinning at each other.

Martin shook the ladle, his voice stern and loud.

"You hooligans, what d'you mean by dashing in and wrecking our camp like this, eh? Have you no manners at all? You're like a mob of wild beasts!"

One squirrel grabbed a feather from the tail of another and hopped nimbly on to a low pine branch. "Hah! 'Snot your land, it's ours. We're the Gawtrybe, we do what we like. So there!" He stuck his tongue out impudently at Martin.

Pallum was quick. Leaping up, he caught the branch and twanged it, catapulting the squirrel onto the ground. The other squirrels thought this was hilarious and started doing it to each other, one leaping on a low branch as the other twanged it off.

Rose was furious. Placing her paws on her hips, she yelled at them,

"Do you want me to call the Warden of Marshwood Hill?"

They stopped momentarily again, then started laughing as one of their number began imitating the grey heron's sticklike walk and doing a passable impression of the bird.

"I am the law, I slay all lawbreakers! Heeheehee, Warden can't touch us, he only rules the marshland, never comes up here!"

Rose drew herself up to her full height. "Then I'll tell Boldred!"

All activity ceased. They looked around nervously, then one of them pulled an impudent face. "Yah, you can't, 'cos she's not here, look!"

Jumping up and down, he chanted, "Boldred, Boldred, boulder head old Bold red!" Spreading his paws wide, he smirked cheekily, "See, she's not here!"

With a series of wild whoops the squirrels sprang off into the trees, leaving the camp at peace once more. Martin stood listening to them as they shrieked and shouted off into the gathering night.

"The Gawtrybe, eh. I don't like that crowd one little bit. We'd best post a sentry tonight. I'll take first watch. Grumm, will you take second? You can use my sword."

The mole brandished his trusty ladle fearlessly. "Burr, this be all oi'll need furr they rarscally beasters!"

Rose placed damp wood on the fire to burn slowly through the night. She sat with her back against a pine and settled to rest. "Martin, did you notice how they stopped when I mentioned Boldred? I know they joked and clowned a bit, but they're obviously scared of her. I wonder who Boldred is and where we can find her."

Martin shouldered the small sword, his keen eyes questing around the night cloaked woodland. "Your guess is as good as mine, Rose. I don't think we've seen the last of the Gawtrybe, though."

However, the night passed uneventfully for the four travellers, the wooded foothills remaining calm and peaceful. The following morning was presided over by a hot blue cloudless sky, promising even greater heat as the day progressed. They breakfasted sparingly on cold water and some of Grumm's invention cakes before setting off to scale the mountain.

Three hours after dawn, they left the forest, entering a country of sloping shale scree carpeted with shrub, fern and lupin. As they toiled upwards in the oppressive breezeless warmth, Martin gritted his teeth.

Jibes and insults were coming at them from all around, though they saw no squirrels.

"Heehee, I'll tell the Warden on you!"

"Bad mannered hooligans, camp wreckers!"

"Heehee, still no sign of Boldred!"

"Please, Boldred, save us from the Gawtrybe, heehee!"

Pallum clapped a paw to his ear. "Yowch! They're chucking pebbles at me!"

A small stone clacked off Martin's swordblade. He kept his eyes straight ahead, speaking in a voice strained by temper. "Ignore them, the stupid vermin!"

"Ignore them, the stupid vermin, heeheehee!" a voice echoed back at him.

The young mouse was about to pick up a pebble and hurl it back in the direction of the voice when Rose halted. She muttered urgently to him out of the side of her mouth, "Look up ahead!"

The way was blocked by about fifty Gawtrybe squirrels. One, larger than the rest and obviously some kind of chieftain, stood forward. He scuffed the ground with his paw and pouted like a naughty infant as he spoke. "This is Gawtrybe land. You've got to pay to pass through."

Martin eyed him levelly. "We have only some food for ourselves, nothing of any value. I am Martin the Warrior, this is Rose, Pallum and Grumm. Let us pass. We will be off your land by nightfall."

The squirrel leader did a mincing little dance, holding his paws together imploringly as he mocked, "Let us pass, please. Let us pass!"

Martin noticed that more squirrels had come up behind them, cutting off any chance of retreat. The leader squirrel had more feathers in his tailbrush than any of the others. He arched the bushy tail skillfully towards Martin.

"I am called Wakk, leader of the Gawtrybe. Give me your sword and I'll let you pass."

The young mouse's eyes were cold as he answered, "Nobeast takes this sword from me!"

Wakk puffed out his chest and made his tail stand straight. "Then I will fight you for it!"

Martin curled his lip derisively. "Oh, you'll fight, my friend, backed up by all your bunch, I suppose."

Wakk did not sneer or joke. He held up both paws to show he was not armed. "No no, we two will fight together, just me and you. None of my bunch will interfere. Give your sword to the mousemaid, and let's see how good you are without a weapon."

Instantly, the squirrels formed a large ring. As Martin passed the sword to Rose he had his back turned to Wakk.

"Look out, Martin!" Pallum shouted.

He thrust the sword into Rose's paws and whirled around to see Wakk hurtling through the air at him, teeth bared and claws outspread.

26

Trapped!

The word ran back like wildfire along the creatures packed into the escape tunnel, and panic took over in the dark airless place.

"We're all going to die down here. Help!" "Ooh, I knew we should never have tried to escape!" "I can't breathe. Let me out of here!" "At least we were alive in the stockade!" "It's that Brome's fault, the stupid young fool!" Something within Keyla snapped. Suddenly the young otter was crushing and pushing, lashing out as he climbed over heads, squeezing and scraping past other creatures, bashing out with all paws and his rud derlike tail as he battled towards Brome at the blocked exit.

"Gerrout of my way! I never came down here to suffocate an' die.

Let me by, you stupid snivellin' moaners!" Bulling and pushing, kicking and shoving, the resourceful otter strove on through the packed airless tunnel until he felt Brome's corsair rags in his paws.

"Brome, what's the matter. Why can't we get out?"

His face touching Keyla's, Brome yelled in the darkness, "We were nearly out, I'm sure of it, but the exit's caved in!"

The otter pushed him backwards into the press of wailing slaves.

"Get out of my way and give me space. I'll get us out of here!" With a surge of strength born of desperation, Keyla threw himself at the blockage, all four paws going like windmills. Despite the screams and cries of outrage from behind, he tore, bit, gouged, kicked, dug and flailed at the sandy earth as it sprayed around him in gouts and showers. His shouts could be heard throughout the tunnel as he flung his body forward.

"Eeyaahhh! What d'ycm want? Somebeast to dig? I'll show you how Keyla digs! Like this! And this! Wahoooooooooo!" The otter's nose fountained blood as it struck a large rock. Keyla wrapped his whole body around it and yanked, grunting and squeezing past the rock, he savaged the loose earth, scraping, biting and thudding until his head burst through into the hole on the shore between the rocks. Wriggling out, Keyla spat earth, and wiped his mouth out with a paw. Chuckling quietly, he shook with delight.

"Haha, just shows what you can do when you feel like it!"

Brome leapt from the tunnel, casting aside his disguise and hugging Keyla tightly at the same time. "Keyla, you rogue, you did it, you got us free!"

Then it was Brome's turn to act sensibly. As he helped the first slaves out of the hole he issued instructions to Keyla.

"We were trapped down there quite a while. Time was lost, and it's not long until dawn. I'm going to run to the camp and get Felldoh with some others to help. I'll bring them back as quickly as I can. You must follow my pawprints, and move everybeast along as fast as you possibly can. Once the fortress is roused, Badrang will have his horde out after our blood!"

Dawn was crimsoning the grey from the sky as the ebb tide lapped gently on the shore. It was Bluehide's favorite time of day. He had catnapped most of the night through his sentry watch on the walltop of Marshank. Now he stretched gratefully in anticipation of breakfast and a sleep until noon. Shortly his relief arrived, another ferret called Stumptooth.

Bluehide passed the sentry spear over happily. "It's goin' t' be a scorcher of a day, mate. You'll sweat up 'ere."

Stumptooth took the proffered spear and leaned heavily on it. "Aye, yer right there, Blue'ide. Tain't fair, is it, me stannin' up 'ere on guard all day while those bone idle slaves lie round the compound scratchin'

their selves."

"Hoho, don't you fret yer 'ead about the slaves, Stumpy." Bluehide began climbing down a wall ladder. "They're all down the prison pit.

'Alf of 'em will be dead afore the day's through!"

Stumptooth was pushing past Bluehide on the ladder. "Slaves in the prison pit? I never seen any an' I looks down there every mornin'

when I passes!"

Bluehide landed on Stumptooth's head. They bumbled down the ladder to fall in a heap at the bottom. Scrambling on all fours, they both raced to the pit. Bluehide's jaw went slack in dismay.

"But, but, they was there last night," he began explaining. "I saw

'em go down with me own eyes. It was two of our horde put 'em down there ..."

Stumptooth was not listening. He was dashing for the longhouse, screaming, "Escape! Escape! The slaves 'ave escaped!"

Badrang came thundering out, tripped over Gurrad's body, picked himself swiftly up and kicked the carcass bad temperedly. "Slaves escaped? How many? Where?"

"From the prison pit, Lord!"

"Prison pit, who put 'em down there?"

"I don't know, Sire. Blue'ide was on duty las-"

But Badrang was not listening, he was dashing about the courtyard yelling, "Hisk! Fleabane! Get the horde together. Now!"

Half asleep weasels, ferrets and rats stumbled out, pulling their clothes on as they trailed weapons behind them. Badrang was in a towering fury. He lashed out with the flat of his sword.

"You half baked, slobberfaced slugs! Move! There still might be time to catch those slaves. Stir your stumps, you useless blatherbrained beasts. Filling your stomachs and resting your heads is about all you lot are good for!"

Hisk and Fleabane scuttled about, echoing their master's threats and insults, not quite sure of what they were supposed to do.

The Tyrant returned to Gurrad's carcass. Obviously Clogg had forestalled the assassination attempt. He would get rid of the body before Clogg saw it and started gloating. Grabbing a passing rat, Badrang snarled, "You, Nipwort, bring that thing and follow me."

Nipwort struggled along behind Badrang, dragging the limp figure as he tried to keep up.

With a frenzied burst of energy, the Tyrant stoat dragged the grating from the pit. Lying flat, he thrust his head in and could not fail to see the escape hole. "Here, Nipwort. Leave the body there and climb into this pit. See that hole in the side of the wall? Get yourself in there and see how far it goes. Report back to me when you find out where the exit is."

Before going to attend his horde, Badrang watched the unhappy Nipwort climb into the escape tunnel. When the rat was lost to view, Badrang pushed Gurrad's body into the pit and replaced the grating with a swift heave.

Tramun Clogg had been up and about before Badrang that day, anxious to know the result of his murderous plan. When Gruzzle and Boggs reported the rinding of Oilback's body, Clogg knew the scheme had failed. Hastily they disposed of the poisoned rat, tossing him into the sea. Clogg had his crew stand by fully armed lest Badrang should come seeking revenge for the attempt on his life.

Crosstooth the fox took a swift glance toward Marsh ank's open gates. "Stand by, Cap'n. 'Ere comes Badrang with trouble aplenty!"

Tramun stood prepared as the Tyrant and his horde pounded out across the shore. However, his keen ears caught the drift of what Hisk and Fleabane were shouting.

"Double quick, you lot. Come on there, Lord Badrang wants every last one o' those slaves back!"

"Aye, if you don't catch those escapers you'll find yourselves doing their work. So move!"

Clogg sheathed his cutlass, chewing thoughtfully on a beard plait as an idea formed in his sly fertile mind. "Ho buckoes, put up yer weapons an' foller me!"

With a look of concern on his villainous face, the corsair ran towards Badrang, calling out aloud, "Ahoy, matey. Wot's the trouble?"

The Tyrant stoat halted, glaring suspiciously at Clogg. "Didn't you know? The rest of the slaves escaped during the night!"

Horror and indignation stamped themselves on the corsair's features. "Why, the rotten bunch o' scallawags! I'll never get me new ship built now. Badrang, matey, let's call a truce between us until we catch 'em. Which way d'you reckon they went?"

Badrang could not waste time bandying words with his old adversary. He realized he would need all the help he could get to recapture the slaves. "They've probably headed south and to the cliffs.

That's the way we're going."

Clogg stroked the braids on his chin thoughtfully. "Aharr, maybe that's wot they wants you to think, mate. Maybe they went north to fool ye. I'll take my crew that way."

Before Badrang could reply, Clogg had hauled out his cutlass and was running north along the shore with his corsairs. "Come on, you flotsam. If ye ever want to feel a deck neath yer paws agin, you'll 'ave to find them scummy slaves!"

Badrang led his horde off to the south at a lively run.

Nipwort emerged from the escape tunnel. Dusting himself down, he climbed on to the rocky outcrop to get his bearings. The tracks were clear. Shading his eyes against the morning sun, Nipwort scanned the shoreline. He saw the unmistakable form of a group in the distance.

They were hurrying towards the cliffs. Turning round, the rat could see Badrang and the horde running in his general direction. Jumping up and down, he waved frantically.

"Over here, Lord! I can see them!"

Ballaw, Rowanoak, Buckler and Felldoh, in company with ten or more of the most able bodied free slaves, jogged along the clifftop behind Brome. Felldoh looked grim as he muttered to the hare, "What a reckless little fool Brome is. He could have been captured at Marshank or smothered in that tunnel!"

Ballaw hefted his lance lightly. "Matter of opinion, old lad. If you fail you're a bally fool, if you win you're a jolly hero!"

Rowanoak puffed along behind them, towing the cart. "Ballaw's right. I'd say if he pulls this off he's a reckless hero; who would have thought it, young Brome!"

Brome stopped. Pointing down to the shore he yelled proudly,

"There they are!"

Felldoh's eyes roved further afield. "Aye, and look who's following on the double!"

Rowanoak gave a great groan of dismay. "There's far too many of them for us. Our only hope is to get those poor creatures on to the clifftop up here before the horde gets to them. Come on, let's give it a try!"

Stout vine ropes were anchored to rocks and thrown over the steep cliff slope. Ballaw roared to the slaves, projecting his voice magnificently, "I say, you chaps. Over here!"

Felldoh and some others shinned hurriedly down the ropes on to the shore, and ran to help the stragglers. Buckler threw his paws about an old mousewife, glancing back at the pursuers. "They be comen on apace. Oi doant think us'ns ull make et!"

Badrang's paws slapped hard on the strand as he put on a great burst of speed, calling to his horde, "Come on, we've got 'em!"

Old Geum grasped the rope. Gazing upwards, she pursed her lips.

"I'll never be able to haul myself up there. What d'you think I am, a young squirrel?"

"I don't know about a young squirrel, Mother, but you'll be a dead mouse if you hang about here!"

Felldoh threw Geum across his shoulder with a single heave and began hauling himself up the rope.

Buckler and six others launched a salvo of short javelins directly at the horde. Four of Badrang's creatures fell. The rest parted ranks, spreading themselves to avoid being hit. All of the escapers were now on the ropes, scrambling up the steep cliff face, fear of their pursuers and the scent of freedom lending speed to their paws. Felldoh had delivered Geum and hopped back down without using the ropes. Now he was on his way back up with two small young ones clinging to his tail. Buckler and the others were backed up hard to the cliffside as the horde advanced on them. Two had been brought down by spears from Badrang's creatures. Rowanoak looked worriedly down as she called to them, "Get on the ropes! Come up here!"

Brome and those on the clifftop began hurling javelins and slingstones to cover their friends' retreat.

Badrang dashed forward as Buckler began scrambling up the rope.

He picked up a fallen javelin and hurled it.

The mole cried out in agony as it took him through the shoulder.

"Hold tight, Buckler, hold tight!" Rowanoak bellowed furiously as she seized the rope in both paws and heaved mightily.

Badrang leaped for the rope but found himself grasping dust.

Despite the fact that there were six others climbing the rope above Buckler, the strength of Rowanoak's tremendous pulls made the whole thing fairly fly up. She dashed backwards, muscles straining, as she towed the taut vine rope behind her. It hummed and sang under the tension, sending creatures who were clinging to it flying along the clifftop on their stomachs. Ballaw pulled the javelin from Buckler's shoulder. "How are you doin', old scout?"

The mole winced then smiled. "Take more'n a likkle ole spear to slay oi!"

"Ballaw, they're climbing the other ropes!" Brome's shouts brought Ballaw to the cliff edge. Bad rang was standing on the shore, directing his creatures upwards. "Get on those ropes, the rest of you start climbing. Come on, we can swarm them. They're too few to stop us!

Move, you dolts, get climbing."

Felldoh pulled the last slave over the clifftop. Below him he could see ferrets, rats and weasels scaling the remaining four ropes, while the rest were climbing up, spurred on by Badrang.

Rowanoak joined Felldoh and stood watching. "Let them get a bit closer to us then I'll move."

"Move what?" Felldoh looked at the badger quizzically.

"Those four large boulders the ropes are tied to, of course!"

Ballaw waggled his ears expressively. "Should give the rotters somethin' to think about, wot! Let's do it now before they get any further. I'll get all the gang to lend a paw. Right, gather round, chaps, and I'll explain the drill."

Badrang was about to mount one of the ropes himself when he heard the ominous rumble from above. Leaping clear he shouted up,

"Off! Get off the ropes! Back down, everybeast, quick!"

Some of the horde were almost at the top. They hesitated, looking at the long drop to the shore. Others clung to the cliff face, not knowing what to do.

Rowanoak threw her great bulk against the first boulder. It rolled quite freely. Ballaw and Felldoh had a thick branch under the next one. They levered down and the boulder began moving. Brome and some others charged the third boulder with the cart, setting it on the move as the stout little vehicle bumped it forward. Amid the screams and yells of panic as the first boulder came rumbling over the edge, Rowanoak dashed to the fourth and final one. She bulled into it with a deep growl. A ferret's head appeared over the clifftop as the boulder rolled forward. He gave a wail of dismay and flung himself into space.

The devastation caused by the four boulders was considerable. They tore huge chunks out of the cliff face as they bounced downwards, and several creatures tangled in the ropes attached to the boulders were given a fast, harsh sleigh ride on their backs down the steep slope. The less fortunate were crushed in the path of the great stones or caught by them as they bounced and thudded towards the shore.

Badrang had pulled a score of archers back. They knelt on the beach, directing a volley of shafts upwards. Cries from the clifftop told the Tyrant that his strategy was being rewarded.

As Rowanoak harnessed herself into the cart shafts, an arrow buried itself in the wood by her paw. "Time we weren't here, Felldoh.

Can you and Ballaw get the slow and wounded in the cart double quick, please."

It was but the work of a moment. The cart trundled off at a fast lick, propelled by Rowanoak and every able bodied creature.

"Cease fire, hold those bowstrings!"

Bluehide was the last to hear. He could not stop his arrow twanging off over the clifftop, nor could he avoid the swift kick from Badrang that sent him sprawling.

"What's the matter, cloth ears? Can't you tell that there's nobeast up there any more!" The Tyrant sighed heavily and sat on one of the boulders. "Hisk, Fleabane, count 'em up. How many did we lose?"

"Fifteen in all, Sire. About that many injured too."

"We got eight of theirs, though, and some more up on top must have been slain by arrows."

"Eight of theirs," Badrang snorted. "You mean eight of ours - they were my slaves. The only one of theirs was the mole. I got him, though I never got him good enough to finish him off."

The horde members sat about in silence, awaiting their leader's mood, which could range from indifference to foul bad temper.

Badrang watched them licking their wounds and retrieving their weapons. Then he summoned Hisk. "Take ten, make sure you've got a couple of good trackers. I want you to find where they've gone. When you do, report back to me at Marshank. Don't try to fight or even show yourselves, just come straight back to me with the information.

Have you got that?"

Hisk saluted with his spear. "Yes, Lord. I will do exactly as you say!"

"Good. When they are least expecting it, we will come in full force and ambush them. They are not soldiers or warriors, merely escaped slaves and some ragtag actors who have been lucky so far."

Cap'n Tramun Clogg sat back in Badrang's chair, enjoying the comfort of the longhouse. He drank damson wine and picked his teeth with the bones of a herring he had eaten. His clogs clacked noisily as he swung his legs on to the tabletop and gave Crosstooth a huge wink.

"Brains, that's wot y'need to outsail yer enemies, brains!"

The fox shook his head admiringly. "An' you've certainly got 'em, Cap'n. You fooled ole Badrang!"

Clogg's huge stomach shook with merriment. "I'll 'elp ye to find the slaves, sez I. You go that way an' I'll go this way. Aye, an' this is the way I goes, straight round the back o' the fortress, over the wall with me bold crew, an' captures Marshank for meself. Haharrharharr. Is the gate locked, matey?"

Crosstooth poured himself a beaker of wine. "Locked, barred an'

bolted tight, Cap'n. The crew is on the walls, well fed an' armed to the fangs!"

Clogg lost the fishbone in his stomach plaits and forgot it. "All waitin' for pore uncle Badrang to come visitin' with his tail atwixt 'is legs an' a flea in 'is ear. Hahaharr!"

27

Wakka, Chieftain of the Gawtrybe, was a savage fighter. Swift too, though not as swift as Martin the Warrior. The young mouse saw the squirrel hurtling through the air at him and danced nimbly to one side. Wakka hit the ground on all fours. Whirling fast, he was up and into Martin, setting his claws tight into Martin's sides, his sharp teeth seeking his opponent's throat as the bushy tail pushed itself stiflingly over the mouse's face. Martin bit into the tail hard, throwing himself backwards and shooting all four paws straight up. Wakka gave a shriek of pain and sailed over Martin's head, straight into a bunch of squirrels. Martin was up immediately. Joining both paws tight like a club, he swung out, knowing what the squirrels would do. They heaved their leader bodily back at the young mouse, hoping to crush him.

Whopp!

Martin's tight joined paws cannoned straight into Wakka's nose.

The squirrel sat down, licking away blood and seeing stars. His head cleared and he rushed Martin. This time he feinted slightly. As Martin leapt aside, Wakka went the same way and caught him. Locking his legs round the mouse's waist, the squirrel Chieftain clung like a limpet, scratching wildly at Martin's face. The young mouse winced as the foebeast's claws scored his cheeks deeply, trying to find his eyes.

Martin threw himself forward, hitting the ground with Wakka beneath him. The breath was knocked from the squirrel in one gasp. Punishing him with another hard double pawblow to the nose, Martin was first up. With both paws held tight to his damaged nose, Wakka staggered up. Martin grabbed him, spun him around and leapt on to the squirrel's shoulders. Clamping his footpaws round Wakka's neck, Martin grasped both the squirrel's ears as tight as he could and pulled upwards.

The squirrel screamed in agony, jumping from side to side and trying to dislodge his tormentor, but Martin hung grimly on, jaw muscles rigid as he pulled the ears tighter and locked his legs harder.

Wakka bucked and leaped all around the ring formed by his bunch as Martin rode him, pulling savagely until the tendons stood out on his paws. Half strangled and with his ears near pulled out by the roots, Wakka went down like a stone, dust rising around as both creatures hit the earth. Martin jumped free. Placing his footpaw on Wakka's head, he ground down hard, forcing the squirrel's injured nose into the dirt. The Chieftain of the Gawtrybe struggled feebly, sobbing for breath as Martin's paw stamped down harder.

The young mouse was breathing hard as he rasped out the question, "Have you had enough, squirrel? Because if you haven't, we can carry on until the death!"

"Gnurff! Gnurff!"

Rose ran out. Grasping Martin's paw, she cried pit eously, "He's had enough. Don't kill him, Martin!"

The sound of Rose's voice brought Martin back to reality. Veils of red mist fell from his eyes and the Warrior's desire to kill left him. He allowed her to lead him back to his friends, and Grumm set about bathing his deep scored face.

The Gawtrybe had gone unusually silent. They broke the circle, leaving their beaten Chieftain deserted in the dust. The squirrels dispersed into the ferns and lupins, where they immediately began howling with laughter and playing again, some of them sitting on others' shoulders and pulling their ears as Martin had done to Wakka.

Pallum shook his head gravely. "Listen to that. What a bunch of savages!"

Rose applied strips of dockleaf to Martin's wounded face. "There, that's the best I can do for now. Let's get away from this place. I hate it, and those horrible wild squirrels too!"

The tall lupins and ferns provided some coolness against the heat of the day as they made their way to the mountain slope. It was Pallum who spotted the cave, high up above them on the dusty dun coloured mountain face it stood, like a single eye on some great beast.

Martin shook his head. "I doubt if we'll reach it by nightfall."

Rose was all concern for him. "Never mind if we don't, we can camp on the mountainside until morning and reach it tomorrow.

There's no great rush, Martin. Take it slower. You must be tired after battling that big squirrel."

Martin touched his stinging cheeks. "Don't worry about me, Rose. I can walk as fast as anybeast."

The mousemaid put on a stern face. Stumping ahead, she imitated the Warden's stick like gait as she mimicked the grey heron. "I say you will walk slower. I am the law!"

They fell about laughing and sat in the ferns while Grumm unpacked some of his invention cakes and a drink of water for each of them. Martin accidentally dozed off as Pallum was singing a little ditty.

"Oh, the hedgehog is a fine old beast,

All covered o'er with needles,

Not smooth, oh no, like some I know,

Eels an' fish an' beetles.

Some creatures calls us hedgepigs,

An' others says hedgedogs,

But I do know that frogs is frogs,

An' hedgehogs is hedge hogs!"

Rose held a paw to her lips. "Hush now, let him sleep awhile. He'll feel better for it."

It was getting towards late afternoon when Martin was wakened by the sound of Gawtrybe squirrels hooting and hallooing close by. He rubbed his eyes and noted the position of the sun in the sky.

"Oh no, have I been dozing the day away? We'll never make it to the cave tonight now!"

Rose gave him water to drink and redressed his face wounds.

"Come on then, grumpy. Perhaps you'll be happier on the move."

Shadows were lengthening as they emerged from the ferns on to the scree and rocks of the actual mountain face. Again they found their way barred by large numbers of the Gawtrybe.

Pallum's bristles rose aggressively. "Not you lot again. What d'you want now?"

In the absence of their deposed Chieftain, they seemed to have several leaders.

"Wanna play!" one squirrel called out.

Rose eyed them frostily. "Well, we're not stopping you. Play as much as you like!"

"Heehee!" another squirrel sniggered. "No, we want you t' play!"

Martin drew his sword and took a pace towards them. "And supposing we don't want to play?"

"Heeheehee! Then the Gawtrybe kill you!"

It was then that Martin noticed many of the squirrels were holding axes made from a piece of shale tied in the notch of a heavy stick. He held up a paw. "Wait while I ask my friends."

The four travellers went into a huddle as Martin explained. "We'd last as long as a butterfly in a snowstorm trying to fight our way past that mob. I think we're going to have to play whatever stupid game they've thought up."

He could see that Rose was afraid, but she nodded. "Whatever you say, Martin. We're with you."

"Burr aye, iffen 'tis 'ee only way outen yurr, then so be el."

"You lead on, Martin. We trust you."

Martin smiled and patted Pallum carefully. Turning to face the waiting Gawtrybe, he addressed them.

"All right, we'll play your game. What do we have to do?"

"Heehee, you run and we chase you."

"That sounds like fun. Which way do we run?"

"Up the mountain, heehee!"

"Good, that was the way we were travelling, up the mountain. What happens next?"

"When we catch you ... Heehee ... We throw you off!"

Hatred for the Gawtrybe coursed through Martin's veins. He gripped his sword tighter but continued to smile as he spoke. "I don't think we're going to like this game. My friends and I could be killed."

Mass laughter greeted Martin's statement, many voices calling out from the bunch in imitation of him.

"We could be killed. Heehee!"

"What a nasty game. Heehee!"

Martin waited until the noise had subsided.

"Fair enough, we'll play," he continued in a reasonable voice. "But the Gawtrybe are squirrels, very strong, fleet of paw, very very fast!"

Cheers arose from the squirrels. They obviously enjoyed flattery.

Martin grinned cheerily, waving his paws for silence. "We are slow and weary. The game would not be much fun if you did not give us a start. Then it would be a really good game!"

Some of the squirrels started to chant. "Really good game, really good game, really good game!"

Martin pointed to a high ledge protruding some distance above them. "Let us climb to that ledge before you start chasing us. When we reach the ledge, I will shout Gawtrybe. That is your signal."

The squirrels changed their chant. "Gawtrybe! Gaw trybe!

Gawtrybe!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Martin yelled aloud.

They took up his cry. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Rose was trembling slightly as the horde of wild squirrels leaped and danced in front of them, waving their stone axes and chanting fanatically. Grumm gazed up at the high ledge through the digging paws that were covering his eyes.

"Hoo urr, oi bain't a beast oo loiks 'igh places, hurr no, zurr."

Holding his sword at the ready, Martin took Rose's paw. "Pallum, Grumm, stay close and tread carefully. Come on. If we can make it up to that cave, I think well have a good chance of holding them off."

Martin led the way. It was a tense situation. Howling squirrels waved axes in their faces, grinning unpleasantly Martin bared his teeth and growled if any tried to paw them or come too close. Step by step the four friends made their way through the mad throng, Martin brandishing his sword, Grumm wagging his ladle warningly, Pallum extending his spikes and Rose swinging a foodpack in a businesslike manner. It seemed like hours, though it was only moments before they were clear.

Walking with deliberate slowness Martin spoke quietly to Pallum, who was bringing up the rear. "Pallum, take a slow glance behind and see if they've made any move to follow us yet. Do it casually."

As Pallum turned his head, the Gawtrybe stopped chanting.

"They're standing stock still, the whole crowd of them, not making a move or a sound, just watching us!" Pal lum's voice carried in it the tinge of fear.

Rose could feel countless pairs of wild eyes focused on them. The fur on her nape rose stiffly. "I've a feeling I'm not going to like this game, Martin."

The young mouse held her paw tighter. "Blank it from your mind, Rose. Think of Noonvale."

Reaching the first ledges, they helped one another up, ready to run should the Gawtrybe show any sign of pursuit. Sandy rock crumbled beneath their paws and slivering pieces of shale slid away down the mountainside. Two more small ledges to go. Martin dug his sword into a crack to aid his progress, leaning over the ledge and helping Rose to haul Grumm up. Pallum pushed the mole from behind.

Grumm scrabbled his way on to the ledge, not daring to look down at the crowd far below, still standing silent and waiting. "Oi doant moind unnergrounds but oi bain't too fond of oop yurr!"

Pallum nearly tripped and fell backwards on the final ledge. He was windmilling his paws as he teetered perilously at its rim. Acting quickly, Rose swung the food pack. The hedgehog caught the shoulderstrap, and she hauled him back to the safety of the ledge.

Now the Gawtrybe were beginning to chant and dance again, eager to be on the chase. The four friends stood on the ledge which Martin had nominated, watching them. Martin took the pack from Rose and shouldered it.

"Are we ready?"

They nodded. Pallum spat on his paws and rubbed them together.

"Right, Martin. Give them the signal!"

The young mouse stared down at the dancing hordes below. "Look at them, mad, cruel beasts, playing games with the lives of other creatures. I wouldn't waste my breath shouting signals to the scum.

Let them guess whether or not the game has begun!"

The four friends took off as fast as they could, up the mountainside to the cave high above.

It took several seconds for the dancing, yelling mob to realize they had been cheated, Martin had not shouted the signal for them to start chasing. With a concerted howl of rage, the masses of squirrels dashed for the mountain, waving their axes. From the heights the four friends paused to glance down. Martin had been right: Gawtrybe squirrels were strong and fleet of paw. They were climbing at an amazing rate, every one agile and swift.

The game for the lives of the travellers had really begun!

BOOK THREE

The Battle of Marshank

28

Brome and Keyla, together with Felldoh and the Rambling Rosehip Players, were the heroes of the hour. The thirty or so slaves who had escaped from Marshank with their aid cheered wildly, towing them round and round the camp on their cart. Being actors, the Rosehip company enjoyed applause in any form.

Ballaw took outrageously leggy bows, clapping his ears together comically. "Thank you dear creatures, thank you one and all!"

Rowanoak smiled benevolently, waving a huge paw. "Oh, you shouldn't really, it was nothing!"

Buckler, with one paw bound up against his injured shoulder in a sling, bobbed his furry head up and down. "Thankee, thankee. Oi'H be roight as rain in a few days!"

The rest of the company took their adulation gracefully, with the exception of Celandine, who fluttered her eyelashes constantly and blew outrageously sloppy kisses. "Wasn't I, marvellous, dears? Yd like to thank the rest of the troupe and all the other little creatures who helped me!"

Brome was up on the cart with the rest, but Felldoh was unused to such admiration. He wandered off alone from the camp, enjoying the warm evening as he savored the heady feeling of freedom.

Back at camp, the liberated slaves were marvelling at the ample larder kept by the troupe. A mouse called Purslane led her husband, Groot, and their baby, Fuffle, through an inventory of the contents.

"Look, Groot, dried fruits and maplecream. How many seasons since we tasted maplecream, I can't remember. Oh my! Will you smell these violet crystals and candied mintleaves!"

Groot opened a box, shaking his head fondly. "Nuts preserved in honey, chestnuts, beechnuts and acorns! D'you recall when you used to do them in late autumn, dear?"

Purslane brushed away a tear as she laughed. "Do I? You were the one who kept eating "the nuts and licking the honey ladle. You were like a great babe. Fuffle, put those nuts down, they don't belong to us!"

The baby Fuffle gurgled around a mouthful of nuts. "Tasters nishe Fuffle likesum!"

Purslane was prising the nuts loose from his little paws when Rowanoak, who had deserted the victory parade, swept Fuffle up in a huge paw. She smiled fondly. "You eat as many as you like, little un.

What is ours is yours."

Purslane and her husband thanked the badger profusely, but Rowanoak would hear none of it.

"Now that's enough of that, good creatures. Purslane, did I hear Groot saying that you could preserve nuts?"

Purslane gazed at the huge larder and its contents, longingly.

"Preserve nuts? I could cook, bake, stew, make soups, salads, flans, cakes, tarts, trifles ..."

Rowanoak held up a paw. "Trifles! That's one thing the Rosehip Players can't do, make a decent trifle. My dear, you don't know how many seasons I have dreamed of trifle. But listen, don't stand there telling me how good a cook you are. Why not get cracking and make a victory feast? I imagine there are others from Marshank who'd love to try their kitchen skills again."

Purslane, Geum, Ferndew and a hedgehog goodwife called Burrwen washed their paws and went to work. Night fell over the Rosehips'

camp. The fires blazed merrily and old songs were brought forth to sing, as everybeast helped with the preparation of a great liberation meal. The young mouse Hoopoe, wearing a ridiculous hat woven from sedge grass, led the singing, conducting with a long onion shoot.

"Hey, give me cake and bring me ale,

And pudding ripe with plums,

Some cider, dear, so cool and clear,

To swill round teeth and gums,

Some round and golden mellow cheese,

And light brown nutbread, if you please,

With honey made by happy bees,

And I will be contented.

O fie the creature with long face

Who nibbles small and can't keep pace

With tartlets filled full berryfruit

And yellow meadowcream to boot,

Or soup with pepper and hotroot,

And burdock ale to quench it.

Oh, eat up, neighbour, drink up, friend,

May good fortune have no end.

Success to all that you intend,

And leave the pots till morning!"

The feast was one to remember, particularly since the freed slaves had young ones who had never attended a banquet, or even seen some of the dishes, let alone tasted them.

Old Geum sniffed as she passed Rowanoak a farl of hot barley bread filled with brown onion gravy and mashed turnip. "Just look at that little un, dipping strawberry tart into his soup. It's not right!"

The baby Fuffle was seated on Rowanoak's lap, enjoying himself immensely. The badger chuckled as she stroked his ears. "If it tastes nice to him and he likes it, then where's the harm? You eat up, you little rogue."

The two mice Yarrow and Hoopoe had purple lips and noses from drinking blackberry cordial, and yellow meadowcream tipped their ears, from where they had both been eating the same pudding out of a basin without using spoons or paws.

Celandine wiped her mouth daintily on a flimsy kerchief. "Oh goodness me, I don't think I can manage another bite!"

Ballaw eyed her plate, heaped high with summer salad and cheese.

"I was just saying to Kastern and Gauchee the other day that you're lookin' a touch plump these days, m' gel, wot!"

The vain pretty squirrel pushed herself away from the food. "Am I really? Tell the truth, Ballaw. I'd hate to be plump!"

Ballaw pulled her plate across and emptied it reflectively, speaking between bites. "Well, er, chomp chomp, a touch more exercise, bit of firewood choppin', munch munch, and you'll be back to your former lovely slim self, m' dear, grumpff grumpff. I wouldn't worry too much."

Gauchee and Kastern sat gazing sadly at a beautiful damson flan topped with crisp thin pastry covered in whiterose cream and decorated with candied mintleaves and nuts. They were poised over it, holding a wooden spoon apiece, sighing regretfully,

"Golly gosh, it does look lovely. Far too nice to eat!"

"Hmm, I agree with you. It'd be a shame to spoil it, really!"

"But some other creature will if we don't."

"True, true. I know, let's do it gently!"

Brome sat next to Buckler, sharing a beetroot and mushroom pastie, an enormous thing, swimming in leek gravy. "Burr, oi c'n feel et doen moi shoulder a power o' gudd!"

"Huh, there's nothing wrong with your other shoulder, it's doing the work of two. Stop shovin' me out of the way, you great hungry beast!"

Trefoil had an apple baked in honey. Each rime she looked away, a piece of it went missing.

Rowanoak winked at the baby Fuffle as he licked honey from his paws. "Good, eh, mate!" Fuffle winked back with both eyes. "Good for Fuffle!"

Old Barkjon accepted a platter of summer fruits from Geum. He picked at them as he gazed at the other revellers. "I don't see my son.

Have you served him with food, Geum?"

"He was hanging around at the edge of the camp before dark," the gossipy old mousewife sniffed. "Never sat down to eat with the rest. I suppose we're not good enough for him!"

Brome left his pastie to Buckler and spoke up in defense of his friend. "Don't you speak about Felldoh like that, old one. If it weren't for him and Keyla, you'd still be a slave!"

Geum bustled off in a huff. Barkjon smiled at the young mouse.

"Well said, Brome. You are a true friend to my son. Have you seen him?"

Brome gathered up some food a wedge of plumcake, a hunk of brown nut cheese, a small fresh baked wheat farl and a jug. "I haven't seen him, sir, but I know where he'll be: doing a lone patrol and keeping watch for foebeasts while we sit here filling our bellies. I'll go and find him with this food. He must be hungry wandering the cliffs by himself."

Felldoh laid his javelins and thrower down. He sat with his back to a rock at the cliff's edge, staring out at the calm sea and the star strewn sky. Though he was savoring freedom, the sturdy young squirrel was fighting down a rage that burned deep inside, against the seasons he and his father had spent in captivity. Hatred of Bad rang and all the Tyrant stood for gnawed at him. The sound of somebeast close by drew his paws swiftly to the weapons on the ground.

"Felldoh, is that you, mate?"

The squirrel sighed as he relaxed his hold on the javelins. "Brome, what are you doing out here?"

The young mouse sat beside him and laid out the food. "Brought you a bite of supper. Are you hungry?"

Felldoh accepted the food gratefully. "Well young Brome," he said thoughtfully,"that was a reckless, foolish thing you did, but no one can deny that you showed great courage. No one can deny that."

"Redcurrant and roseleaf cordial. I hope you like it."

Felldoh balanced the jug on his elbow. "Like it? Does a fish like water!"

They sat together watching the sea and the night sky. Brome sighed and voiced aloud the thought that tormented him constantly, whenever he looked out over the deep waters of the main. "I often look at the sea these days and wonder if Martin, Grumm and my sister made it to land. I'd hate to think of them lying somewhere out there underneath the waves."

"What a silly notion!" Felldoh chuckled as he punched Brome's paw lightly. "Huh, they probably made it to land while we were still floundering about thinking of the idea. Listen, mate, if your sister and Grumm are with Martin, they're safe as a deep rooted oak. That mouse has more warrior spirit in his left ear than most creatures I've ever come across. Why, I wouldn't be surprised to see them come marching across these cliffs right now, with the Noonvale army behind them!"

Brome looked out along the cliffs as if taking Felldoh at his word.

Suddenly he pointed north. "Look, there is somebeast coming. About a dozen of 'em, I'd say!"

The two weasel trackers, Bugpaw and FHnk, knelt to scan the ground in the moonlight. Hisk watched them impatiently. "What's the matter with you two? Surely the two wheel tracks of a loaded cart are clear enough to follow?"

Bugpaw looked up at the Captain. "The cart has been along here more'n once, Hisk. We're lookin' for the freshest set of tracks."

Flink traced the rutted outlines with his paw. "Buggy's right, an' it's double 'ard in the night. We could be follerin' our own tails. Why don't yer knock off an' rest up, it'd be a lot easier trackin' in daylight, Hisk."

There was a concerted murmur of agreement from the others.

The weasel Captain took a pace back and brought his spear up.

"What's all this, a mutiny? Dig the dirt out yer ears an' listen to me.

I'm Lord Badrang's Captain. If you disobey me you're disobeyin' him.

The orders is to follow the cart tracks an' find out where they goes, an'

that's what I intend doin'. Right, does anybeast want to argue it out with Lord Badrang when we get back to Marshank?"

There was a shuffling of paws and some sullen muttering.

"All right, Hisk, you've made yer point," a voice from the group called out. "Let's gerron with it."

Hisk gave a humourless laugh. "I'm glad you see it my way. Oh, and by the way, only Lord Badrang calls me Hisk. It's Captain Hisk to you lot. Remember that!"

Felldoh picked up his javelins. "They're Badrang's creatures. I can't hear what they're saying, but anybeast with half an eye could see that they're tracking the cart, trying to find out where our camp is. Here, take this javelin and follow me, Brome. Keep low and stay quiet."

The two companions headed back south along the clifftop, in the direction of the camp, scurrying on all fours as Felldoh followed the imprint of the cart tracks. Judging that he had gone far enough, Felldoh halted. "Do as I do, Brome. Cover the tracks until I tell you to stop."

Brome did not question his friend. He realized the urgency of the situation. Scuffing and brushing with their paws, they obliterated the twin ruts of the wheel marks from the loose sandy earth.

Felldoh took a quick look around. "Good, that should do. Now take one of these javelins, and hurry!"

Dashing back to the spot where the cart tracks ended, Felldoh set the blunt end of a lance in the ground and began a swerving furrow towards a low hill in an inland direction. Realization of the plan dawned on Brome. They were going to lead the trackers off on a false trail. Scoring the ground with his lance end, he caught up with Felldoh. Away the pair went over the low hill, leaving in their wake two grooves.

Bugpaw halted and stood upright. "Look 'ere, clear as daylight an'

fresh as a daisy. These are good tracks. Looks like they took on extra weight."

Flink sniffed the ground and nodded. "That's right, Captain Hisk. I can't smell badger anywheres near these ruts, and I can sniff badger a mile off. That means the big badger must've hurt its paw and had to ride up on the cart. The tracks are slightly deeper. Look!"

Hisk puffed out his narrow chest, satisfied he was back in control.

"Good work, you two. Keep it up. Come on, let's go!"

The tracks led west, over the low hill and out across some furze land, through a patch of damp sandy flats and into an expanse of reedgrass. Hisk and his soldiers followed diligently, the weasel Captain issuing whispered orders as they dogtrotted across the patchy moonlit landscape.

"Don't forget, silence at all times. When we find the camp we make a note of its position and head right back to Marshank. Lord Badrang'll take care of the rest."

Brome and Felldoh dragged the javelins behind them as they scurried into a heavily bulrushed area. The squirrel's paw squelched deep. He stopped, checking Brome as he did. "Halt, swampland! Let's hide over there, where the rushes are thickest. Here, take some more javelins. I'll cut you a throwing stick while we're waiting on Badrang's vermin. Hisk is their leader. Leave him to me I've got scores to settle with that scumnosed blaggard. He bent many a rod over my back!"

Hisk shook his spear triumphantly. "The marshlands, that's where they're hiding. No wonder they thought they were safe. Who'd follow anybeast into marshes? Well, their secret hiding place isn't a secret any more. Keep your eyes peeled for a campfire among these bulrushes."

As he was talking, the trackers bypassed him and went ahead. Eager to complete their mission, they raced along with the tracks clear in the soft heavy ground. Flink pawed at a broken rush, noting the way grass had been trampled. " 'S funny, the ground's pretty soft here. They must have found a firm path to get a loaded cart into marshland, eh, Buggy?"

"Waah! 'Elp, I'm sinkin'. 'Elp me, mates!"

Hisk hurried forward. "Shuttup, loudmouth, d'you want them to know we're here!"

Flink stared at the dark patch of smoothness beyond the rushes.

"It's Buggy. He's gone!"

Hisk grabbed Flink and shook him. "I told you to keep your voice down, idiot! Now, what d'you mean Bugpaw's gone?"

"S s sw swamp!" Flink's teeeth chattered with fright. As he was speaking, both he and the Captain had started to sink. Hisk pushed Flink away from him as the tracker grabbed wildly at his spear. Flink fell over backwards and the ooze gripped him and engulfed him. The weasel Captain pulled one footpaw free. Stabbing his spear deep into the firmer ground, he hurriedly hauled himself out. The others bumped into each other as they fought in the darkness to distance themselves from the swamp edge.

A rat called Fraggun stood on tip paw, peering into the patch where Bugpaw and Flink had been a moment before. "Where did they goooooo... oh!"

The javelin had filled his mouth, flashing out of nowhere like dark lightning.

Brome had never seen a creature killed at close quarters before.

One moment the rat had been alive and shouting. Then in a flash he was slain. The young mouse was no killer. He stared in horror at Felldoh, who had just thrown the javelin. The squirrel's face showed little emotion as he fitted another javelin on to his throwing stick and whipped his arm back. Sighting on a shape in the darkness, he flung the missile and was rewarded by a gurgling scream. "Got him!"

The javelins and throwing stick dropped from Brome's paws. "You killed them!"

Felldoh slid another javelin along his throwing stick. "Aye, young un. It's called war! You'd best give me those javelins if you can't use

'em. Stay here and rattle these rushes, but keep your head well down.

I'll be back soon."

With a grim light in his eyes, Felldoh crawled off.

Hisk threw his spear at the clump of bulrushes. "Over there, see the rushes moving, that's where they are!"

Spears and arrows flew in the direction he had indicated.

Brome was a brave and reckless young mouse, but the idea of slaying another living creature appalled him. Now other beasts were trying to kill him. Suddenly he knew the meaning of fear. He lay flat, doing as Felldoh had told him, tugging at the rushes so they rattled.

Fragments of bulrush showered down on him as missiles crashed by overhead. His paws were shaking so much with fright that the long stems rattled furiously. What had started out as an adventure had turned into the stark reality of life and death.

Felldoh worked his way around to the other side of his foes. Silent as a shadow, the powerful squirrel used a single javelin as a stabbing implement, taking out a ferret and another rat. Felldoh had a javelin sighted on Hisk when a rat stepped in the way and took it through his side. The rat let out an earsplitting scream as he went down. Hisk turned, catching a glimpse of his enemy as the squirrel dodged off into the cover of the rushes. "It's a squirrel, one of the slaves. After him!"

They crashed off into the marshes after him. Hisk took a swift head count as they went. A tremor of shock ran through him. Only five left, counting himself! He had taken ten soldiers and two trackers when he left Bad rang. The squirrel had slain five, plus the two trackers who had been lost in the swamp. Enraged, Hisk picked up the spear of the rat who had fallen to Felldoh's last throw and followed the others.

Brome stopped shaking the reeds and lay still, wondering if Badrang's soldiers had caught Felldoh. The young mouse was frightened at being left all alone in the hostile marshland, but determined he should do something to rescue his friend. Gritting his teeth, he grasped his throwing stick firmly. He had no javelins, but at least he could use the stick as a weapon. There was a rustle in the vegetation nearby. Brome froze as a paw fell on his shoulder.

"Come on, mate. Time to get out of here!" "Felldoh! Where did you come from?" The young mouse's voice sounded squeaky in the night silence.

The strong squirrel pulled him upright, explaining as he led the way to firmer ground, "I got about half of 'em, maybe more. Missed that scummy Hisk, though.

I've been leading them a pretty dance around the edges of this quagmire. They'll be lucky to find their way back to Marshank, let alone locate our camp."

They followed the false cart tracks back to the low hill and were soon in sight of the camp. Brome had to dogtrot to keep up with his friend's strong pace. "Felldoh, back there, I was, I mean .. ."

The squirrel winked and patted him kindly. "You don't have to explain anything to me. You're my matey. You were very brave tonight, young un. Not every creature can slay or take life. Don't worry about it. I've seen the time when I was like you. Wish I still was."

Brome shook his head. "You wish you were like me?"

Felldoh threw a paw about the young mouse's shoulder. "Indeed I do. It's slavery that has made me this way. I'd slaughter every one of Badrang's horde if I had my way. Then I'd be sure that every honest creature was safe from the threat of slavery, bending to the will and whim of a tyrant, cold in winter, hungry in summer, watching old friends dying around you from hardship. Hoping and longing for freedom through all those lost and wasted seasons of my life. You've never known that, Brome. Only a few days' captivity with Martin and me in the pit. I wish that I'd had a happy life in Noonvale like you, never knowing the burning hate that drives you on to slay enemies."

The camp was still. Fires had guttered low and creatures were sleeping peacefully. As they entered the camp, only Ballaw and the baby Fuffle were still awake, both munching steadily at the remains of the feast.

"What ho, you two." The hare waved a half eaten pastie at them.

"Come an' help us mop this lot up, wot?"

They sat down and tucked in gratefully, drinking deep from a bowl of cider with blossom petals floating on it.

Felldoh glanced at Fuffle over the rim of the bowl. "That little snip should've been snoring long ago."

Ballaw chuckled as he demolished the rest of his pastie. "I know he should. Amazin' little blighter really. Bit like me, I s'pose. Can't rest while there's still tucker about. Ain't that right, me old Fuffle?"

The infant mouse halted his attack on a carrot and parsley turnover long enough to reply, "Fuffle like foo'. Plenny foo' make y' big!"

It was still several hours to dawn when Badrang and the horde halted within sight of Marshank. They rested, waiting until Fleabane and Findo, who were the advance scouts, returned. The two weasels came panting along the shore to where Badrang sat, and made their report.

"Clogg's taken over the fortress, Sire!"

"Aye, Lord. We could hear the noises of his crew, singin' and feastin'. Sounded like they was 'avin' a fine time."

Badrang stared impassively at the fort in the distance. "I might have known something like this would happen. Has Clogg posted wall sentries?"

"Two, Sire. Both over the front gates."

"No others that you noticed?"

"None but the two, Lord. We circled the place to make sure."

The Tyrant stoat stood upright slowly. "Follow me. I'll gut anybeast who makes a sound. Clogg has got to learn that he is only an idiot corsair. I am Badrang, master of all this coast. He'll soon find that out!"

29

"Give me a bunk up, Martin. I'm a bit short in the paw for this."

Martin shoved his sword flat under Pallum's footpaws and heaved.

The hedgehog scrambled swiftly on to a higher ledge. Bringing up the rear, Martin hoisted himself alongside Pallum, halting a moment to note the progress of the Gawtrybe. The squirrels were catching up quickly, far too quickly for Martin's liking. He looked up to where the cave loomed like a black eye socket on the mountain in the night. Rose and Grumm were in the lead, assisting each other as they scrambled up the brown rocks which still radiated heat from the day's sun.

"Hurry, Martin," the mousemaid called down urgently. "With a bit of luck we might make it to the cave."

Grumm peered down at the crowds of nimble, screeching figures advancing upwards like the waves of a spring tide.

"Us'ns needen more'n a bit o' luck, mizzy. Need a gurt 'eap!"

"Don't stop, keep going," Martin yelled up to them. "Take Pallum with you! I'll act as rearguard. At least I'll stand a bit of a chance being above them with a sword in my paw. Go on, Rose. Do as I say!"

The mousemaid sat down firmly on an outcrop, her footpaws dangling over the landscape far below. "Oh no, if you don't start climbing I'm stopping here. Either we go together or not at all, Martin!"

Now the squirrels' wild faces could be picked out in the darkness, illuminated in silvery moonlight as they chattered and shrieked.

"Good game, good game!"

"Catch em an' throw 'em off, throw 'em off!"

Martin put up his blade and began climbing fast. "All right, I'm coming. Keep moving!"

Grumm slid back on the scree. Only the outcrop that Rose had been seated on saved him. Martin arrived behind him with Pallum, and together they shoved Grumm upwards. The mole was trying hard not to show his fear of high places, though every so often he clamped a digging paw across his eyes, moaning softly, "Oi carn't lukk up nor daown. Et makes oi vurry sick, oo urr!"

Rose reached down to grasp his paw. "Please, Grumm, keep climbing. It's not far to the cave now!"

Martin found a loose rock and hurled it down at the leading squirrels; they skipped aside with superb agility.

"Heehee, good game. We'll catch you, mousey!"

His paws aching from the strain, Martin pulled himself onward and upward, grunting with exertion as he shoved Pallum ahead. Suddenly Martin felt his footpaw being grabbed. One squirrel, faster than the rest, had sprinted up and caught him.

"Heeheehee, gotcha!"

With furious energy, he kicked back with his free footpaw.

"Yeeeeeeeeee!" With a drawn out howl of despair, the squirrel hurtled out into empty space and was lost in the night. Shaking himself, Martin clambered on with the shouts of the Gawtrybe ringing in his ears.

"Heehee, sillybeast fell. Yeeeeeeeeeee!"

Martin could hear the swift nimble patter of their paws on the rocks behind him. Glancing up, he saw that Rose had made it to the cave mouth. She pushed Grumm inside and reached her paws down to help Pallum, who was blowing and panting as he strove to gain the opening. The Gawtrybe were within a paw's length when Martin arrived at the cave. Pushing Rose inside he stood in the entrance and drew his sword. Chest heaving, limbs trembling, Martin still managed a short laugh of triumph.

"Hahah! Come on, you thick headed rabble. You can only come two at a time, and I'm more than a match for any two of you!"

Inside, the cave was like a huge rock faced tunnel. The first thing Rose saw were two great luminous orbs. She jumped back in fright.

"Who's there?" The voice was awesome, harsh and thundering. It echoed around the rock walls.

Rose shrank back in terror. "Please, we're only harmless travellers hiding in here from the squirrels. They're trying to kill us!"

An enormous short eared owl waddled out of the gloom. Rose cringed as it lifted a heavy taloned claw. It smiled, lowering its tone to a kindly whisper. "Don't be feared, mousemaid. We must act with all haste. Tell your friends to heed me not when I put on my great voice.

Come."

The Gawtrybe leaped and chattered on the narrow escarpment at the cave mouth. Martin bared his teeth, slashing the air menacingly with his small sword. "I am Martin the Warrior. Anybeast who is fool enough, come and meet death!"

The squirrels screeched and leaped, pushing one another forward, but for the moment it seemed that none were too keen to encounter the foemouse who stood defending the rocky entrance. However, Martin knew that it was only a matter of time before the frenzied squirrels were pushed to attack him. Still facing his enemies, he tried to communicate with Pallum in a low murmur.

"Hurry, get rocks to throw, sticks to beat them off, anything.

They're getting ready for a charge. I'll be overwhelmed!"

A mighty bark brown wing enveloped Martin, sweeping him lightly aside. The short eared owl filled the cave mouth, its legs thick as yew branches tipped with lethal talons.

A wail of fear arose from the Gawtrybe. They fell flat wherever they stood, pressing their faces down on the mountainside.

"Eeeeee! Skyqueen! Eeeeee!"

The massive feathered head swivelled back and forth, huge golden pupils distending as its glittering black irises reflected the moon at their centres. Hunching over, it glared murderously at the quaking squirrels. "Boldred sees all! I was many leagues from here, yet I winged high and watched you torment these travellers. Brainless ones who live for pleasure without any thought of others, did you not think I would return?"

A moan arose from the prostrate squirrels. The great owl repeated her question, raising her voice to a maniacal shriek. "Answer me, did you not think Boldred would return?"

The mob remained silent.

"Where is your Chieftain?" Boldred screeched at them.

She turned a squirrel over with a swift flick of her beak. Its terrified tear stained face stared pleadingly at her as it pointed in Martin's direction. "The mouse defeated him, Skyqueen. Eeeeee!"

Boldred gave a short coughing noise as if reassessing the situation.

"This I already knew. Do I not know all? Answer me truly, why were the Gawtrybe persecuting these travellers?'"

The squirrel Boldred had elected spokesbeast hung his head, like a naughty young one caught with his paw in the cream. "Skyqueen, it was a game, we were only playing."

With a speed that the eye could scarce follow, the short eared owl pinned the nearest six squirrels by their tails with her flashing talons, calling out over their cries, "Shall I play my game?" She spread her wings and rose from the ground, lining all six with ease as the outspread pinions beat slowly in the night. "Speak! Shall I play my game ... Or will you obey me?"

Rose clutched Martin's paw. "Is she going to kill them? Oh, I can't watch!"

"Don't fret, Rose," the young mouse whispered reassuringly to her.

"The owl knows what she's doing. Leave it to her.'"

The Gawtrybe cowered on the rocks sobbing piteously, "Do not slay us, Skyqueen. Mercy. Eeeeee!'"

She dropped the six on to the heads of the others. Landing, she resumed her stance, accentuating her words with clacks of the dangerous hooked beak.

"You are dull, witless beasts with short memories, but I will not slay you this time. Next time I will, every one of you! Heed my warning! As punishment you will all stay on the ledge below here until sunset on the morrow. You will neither eat, drink, move or talk. Go now!"

Without a sound the entire Gawtrybe vacated the space in front of the cave entrance, dropping to the lower ledges where they sat in utter silence. Boldred flew out, hovering low over their heads. "Remember and obey, or Boldred will return!"

The four friends stood back as the owl landed in the cave mouth.

She gestured them to keep quiet, indicating that they should move further into the tunnel, out of

Gawtrybe earshot.

Boldred went ahead awhile, before ushering them into a cunningly concealed side chamber. They entered, surprised to see that it was illuminated by a shaft of moonlight which came from somewhere up near the cave's craggy ceiling. A friendly looking full grown male, perched alongside a small fluffy owlet, nodded to them.

Boldred waddled up on to a moss covered ledge and blew a loud sigh. "That Gawtrybe! Lack a day, they must think everybeast as stupid as themselves. D'you know what they said, Horty?"

The big male chuckled. "Don't tell me, they were only playing a game."

"Game indeed," Boldred snorted. "The scatter brained little savages!"

She turned to the travellers. "Forgive me, but those squirrels do try my patience. This is my husband Hort wingle call him Horty, he hates his full title and this is our daughter Emalet. As you already know, I am the famous Boldred. Now, who do we have the honor of meeting?"

Martin, Pallum, Rose and Grumm introduced themselves. Boldred looked at Martin, nodding her head. "Martin, eh. You've got the look of a warrior. It's a good job you defeated the Gawtrybe Chieftain or they would have slain you all on the spot. Using the excuse of a game, of course."

Martin felt the scratches on his face. "Some game!"

Boldred nodded in agreement before turning to Horty. "I sat the entire mob of them on the lower ledges, no food or drink or talking until sunset tomorrow. That might teach them a lesson."

Horty stroked the downy back of Emalet. "You don't really believe that, do you? By tomorrow noon they'll have forgotten and wandered down to play in the foothills."

Martin inspected the cave. It was a comfortable jumble of family living with brushes, pens, inks, vegetable dyes and charcoal sticks scattered everywhere among large strips of bark parchment.

Grumm produced food and drink from their pack. As they ate, Boldred explained. "We are mapmakers and historians, that is why we don't have a lot of time to control the squirrels. One of us stays here with Emalet, while the other flies off to explore, and hunt for food too.

As you see, we are short eared owls, and as such are daytime hunters.

Normally we would be sleeping now, but the cries of the rabble wakened us."

Rose bowed politely. "We're extremely lucky they did. Thank you."

Horty cocked his head at Boldred, and they both nodded. He turned to Rose. "Are you Rose, daughter of Urran Voh and Aryah?"

"Yes. Do you know my mother and father?"

"Oh yes. You'd be surprised just how much we both know, though it must be many long seasons since we were at Noonvale. You wouldn't remember us, you were only a tiny babe then. Always singing, as I recall."

Grumm scratched his head then held up a paw. "Oi amembers you'm zurr, an' you'm, marm, tho' oi wurr on'y a liddle tyke two seasons elder'n Miz Roser. You uns wurr oft in Noonvale, that be whurr us'ns be travel len to."

Boldred smiled with pleasure. "Yes. What a beautiful place! We were mapping the area at the time. I'd dearly love to go back there.

Horty, would you take care of Emalet while I accompany our friends back there? It would make their journey a lot less perilous if I were to guide them."

Her kindly husband chuckled as he watched Emalet playing around his talons. "I don't mind at all, I'm a real homebird at heart. We get on well together, don't we, my little eggchick."

Emalet, who never made any sound, looked adoringly up at her father and snuggled under his wing.

The atmosphere in the owls' cave was so safe and homely that the four friends slept deeply for the remainder of the night.

Martin woke next morning and lay watching Rose feeding one of Grumm's sweet flat invention cakes to Emalet. The owl chick waited respectfully for each fragment then wolfed it down with gusto, enjoying the sticky sweetness greatly.

Horty bustled in, chuckling as usual. "Those squirrels are still sitting silent and tight, Boldred. You must have given them a really stern lecture last night. Hey, come on, you sleepyheads, it's two hours past dawn!"

As they breakfasted, the owls conversed.

"Pity we couldn't coax old Warden up here. He'd straighten a few Gawtrybe tails, I'll wager."

"Wouldn't he just. There'd only be tails left by now. Warden would have eaten the lot of them. Can you imagine? I am the law, you are lawbreakers. Glump! There goes another one!"

"Hahaha, I suppose you're right. Maybe Polleekin could keep them in order. What d'you think?"

"Maybe she could. Polleekin would probably feed them so much they'd be staggering around, too fat to get in any mischief."

Martin looked up from his food. "You know Polleekin?"

Boldred preened her feathers. "We know her, in fact we know lots of creatures that you do. I didn't want to interrupt the tale you told us of your escape and journey last night or I would have mentioned some. Warden, those prissy Mirdop rabbits, Polleekin, Queen Amballa and her tribe "

"And Badrang?" Pallum interrupted.

Horty shook his big feathered head. "We don't know that one, nor do we want to. He is evil, a blight upon the good land. It is certain death to know such creatures!"

Boldred spread her wings, indicating that she was eager to travel.

"Come on now, we can't wait around gossiping all season about who we know and don't want to know. Just take it for granted that we know many, both sides of the mountain. Right, young Rose, let's see what we can do about getting you back to your home."

From either side the tunnel looked as if it was only a cave on the mountainside, but it ran clear through the rock from one end to the other, twisting and turning with many offshoots and dead ends.

Boldred went in front, leading them out into brilliant morning sunlight on the other side of the mountain.

Martin blinked after the dark tunnel, taking his bearings. The slope on this side was much gentler, with areas of woodland and grassy glades dotting the warm stillness. Hardly a breeze swayed leaf or flower.

Grumm breathed deeply "Hoo urr, et do almost smell loik 'ome!"

Pallum took an experimental sniff. "I can't remember ever having a home. What does it smell like?"

Rose patted the hedgehog's paw fondly. "You'll know when we get to Noonvale. That will be your home."

They descended at a leisurely pace, stopping to pick wild plum, damsons, pears and apples, which grew in profusion on the sunny slopes. Sometimes Boldred would fly off, but she always returned after a short while.

"I've been giving instructions to some birds I know. They're flying ahead to let the otters know you're coming."

Martin wiped at the berry juice that was staining his chin. "Why would otters want to know we're coming, Boldred?"

"To save your paws, they'll take us part of the way down the Broadstream in their boat."

Grumm looked slightly nervous. "Only part o' way? Do us'ns 'ave to swim'ee rest o' way? Oi carn't swim, marm. Water be bad as 'igh mountings."

"You won't have to swim, Grumm," the short eared owl explained.

"The otters will pass us on to the stream shrews, and you'll have to travel on their logboats. Not as comfortable as the otter boat, but considerably faster."

Rose found a clump of purple saxifrage. She wove some into a wreath and placed it on her head. Then they came to a shallow stream weaving its way between the rocks and trees. Boldred perched in a rowan ash, watching them as they skipped downhill, splashing and laughing through the sun warmed water. She shook her head, remembering the visit she had paid to Polleekin's tree house the day after the travellers had been there.

"If Polleekin's visions are true, it's a long hard road ahead for you, little Warrior. Enjoy a happy day while you can."

30

Cap'n Tramun Clogg woke feeling tremendously braced. He drank a flagon of seaweed ale, devoured a huge platter of pickled whelks and cockles, then sat back rebraiding some plaits on his chest. There was a gentle knock on the longhouse door.

"Is that you, Crosstooth?" Clogg called out without looking up from his task. "Any sign of Badrang yet, matey?"

The door creaked open and Badrang stood framed in the doorway, sunlight pouring in around him. "Get your braided behind off my chair, Clogg!"

The corsair was so surprised that the chair fell over backwards as he tried to lurch up. Dust rose in a golden shower of motes around him as the Tyrant of Marshank strode across and placed a none too gentle footpaw firmly on his bloated stomach. "Go on, Clogg. Ask me how I got here."

"Ow did you get 'ere?" the corsair spluttered from his position on the floor.

Badrang smirked, pressing down harder on Clogg's stomach. "If you had as much brain in your head as you had fat in your gut, you'd know. I came in through the tunnel that the slaves escaped from. You can go both ways through it, in or out. Obviously you didn't think of that, swillhead!"

With a sudden move that belied his bulk, Clogg wriggled free of Badrang's paw and ran for the door shouting, "Crosstooth, Gruzzle, Boggs, arm the crew. Badrang's 'ere!"

The Tyrant stoat righted the fallen chair and sat in it, smiling.

"Shout your thick head off, bucko. You'll get no help."

Clogg stood for a moment glaring at the horde soldiers surrounding the longhouse, then he whirled to face Bad rang. "You foul 'earted blaggard, you've murdered all me lovely crew!"

Badrang sniffed the empty seaweed ale flagon, wrinkled his nose in distaste and pushed it away from him. "Hardly, but I could have. It's no trouble tying up a crowd of idiots who've drunk themselves to sleep on beetroot wine and seaweed ale. As for those two dozy sentries you left posted on the walltop over the gate, they've got lumps on their heads the size of gull eggs. Did you actually think that you could take Marshank from me?"

Clogg's attitude changed like a breeze at sea. Throwing his paws wide, he grinned in what he hoped was a disarming manner. "Matey, who said anythin' about takin' yer fortress from ye? Why, I was only mindin' it until you returned after chasin' those pesky slaves. Me an'

my crew was actin' duty bound as caretakers. Ho, by the bye, you didn't catch the slaves, did ye?"

Badrang shook his head coolly. "I didn't have to. Come with me and I'll show you why."

The corsair crew sat in ranks at a corner of the courtyard, tightly bound and closely guarded by the Tyrant's horde. Badrang led Clogg to the center of the courtyard. The pirate stoat was forced to stand silent and listen to Badrang's announcement as he addressed the crew.

"Pay attention, you corsairs. You have three simple choices. One is slavery. I have no slaves to serve me at the moment. Two is death. You can stay loyal to Clogg, and for that you will be executed. The charges are attempting to steal Marshank from me and siding with my enemy.

The third and final choice is that you swear allegiance to me and join my horde as soldiers. Well, what is it to be?"

The fox Crosstooth struggled upright. "Cut these ropes from me, I'll serve under Lord Badrang's colors!" It did not take long for the others to follow. "Aye, set me loose, I'm with Crosstooth!" "Me too, matey. I'll be an 'ordebeast!" "No point in bein' a corsair without a ship!"

"Better'n bein' a slave or gettin' executed!" Clogg shook his head sadly.

"Harr, 'twas an evil day when I landed up on this coast. Boggs, Gruzzle, Cross tooth, was I ever a bad Cap'n to ye?"

"No, Cap'n, you was a good un. We had some rare ol' times together."

"You just made too many mistakes, Tramun Clogg." "Aye, when it's sink or swim, a creature has to look after hisself, Cap'n. No 'ard feelin's."

While the new horde members took the oath and signed articles with Badrang, Clogg was led off to the prison pit by two soldiers. He stared down into the hole miserably. "So it's come to this, bein' slung in an 'ole like a worm."

They nudged Clogg towards a barrow with a spade in it. "You're not goin' in it, Lord Badrang's orders are that you must fill it in. Think yerself lucky. Instead of execution he's givin' you the chance to become an 'onest 'ardworking slave. And don't fret, there'll be work aplenty for you!"

Felldoh was training an army to attack Marshank: the Fur and Freedom Fighters. Their flag waved proudly over the camp on the cliffs, a green banner with the representation of a flying javelin severing a chain.

Rowanoak shook her aching paws. "I hope they don't want uniforms as well. It took me hours to make that flag, rummaging through our costume box and sewing this bit to that. It does look rather good, though."

Ballaw broke off from drilling a marching column. He swaggered jauntily across and threw Rowanoak an elaborate salute. "All present an' correct, marm. What time are you servin' us stout creatures some jolly old luncheon, wot? An army marches on its stomach an' all that, y'know."

The badger turned her eyes skyward as if seeking help. "It's a wonder you can do any marching at all with that stomach of yours, you great flop eared feedbag. Don't ask me, go and see the cooks."

Ballaw marched off, a blaze of military colour in the uniform he had designed for himself from the troupe's wardrobe. He sang to keep himself in step.

"All the ladies smile at me, lookit there, lookit there, He's a fine dashin' figure of a hare, of a hare.

He'd fight off a horde alone, he's a warrior to the bone. Feed him plenty an' you'll never have a care, have a care!"

Felldoh laid a lance on his throwing stick. The group he was training followed his actions, laying lances on their sticks as he instructed them.

"Arm right back at shoulder level, paw gripping stick firmly, lean your head in, take sight at the target along the javelin shaft, weight on the back footpaw and throw!"

The small hillock daubed with a likeness of Badrang was pincushioned by eighteen lances.

Keyla picked up a pebble, demonstrating to his group. "See, an ordinary stone, but it can become a weapon. In paw to paw combat you can use it held tight as a club. Hit the foe with it as hard as you can. Or you can throw it. Watch!" He hurled the pebble and struck one of the lances on the hillock.

The mouse called Juniper held up a sling. "Look what old Barkjon gave me. What is it, Keyla?"

The otter took the tough vine thong, shaking his head in admiration as he fitted a pebble to the tongue at its middle. He swung it experimentally, testing its balance. "This is a fine sling. Give me a target to throw at."

Juniper pointed to the hillock. "Hit one of those lances like you did when you threw the pebble."

Crack!

No sooner had the words left Juniper's mouth than Keyla sent the pebble whistling from its whirling sling. It struck a lance, snapping it near the point with a cracking impact.

Keyla wound the sling round his paw with a happy smile. "I'll go and see if Barkjon can make us more of these!"

Gauchee and Kastern had a good number of long poles, sometimes used by the Rambling Rosehip Players when they were erecting an improvised tent. Trefoil had suggested that they would make good pikes, using the pointed ends which had served as tentstakes.

Buckler, his injured shoulder still bandaged, drilled a group in the uses of the pike. "Poikes up! Poikes daown. Points for'ard .. . Charge!"

Celandine sat dabbing her paws in rosewater. "Silly creatures, you'll either get hurt or have nasty rough paws from using those great long things!"

She found herself looking down the point of Gau chee's pike. "Off to the cookhouse and help out if you don't want to train as a fighter, little missy fusstail!"

Ballaw waggled his ears at Tullgrew, Purslane and Geum in a very persuasive manner. "Top o' the mornin', cooks. When does a chap get some fodder round here?"

The baby Fuffle was dressed in an oversized apron tucked up twice at his middle. He was spreading honey on scones with a wooden spoon.

Tullgrew pointed in his direction. "Don't ask us, Ballaw. Put in your request to Quartermaster Sergeant Fuffle over there."

The tiny mouse waved the spoon sternly at the hare. "Fuffle say back t' work, or I chop y' tail off!"

Ballaw backed away from the sticky spoon wielding infant. "Muff said, old lad. Nod's as good as a wink to a starved warrior. I say, Purslane, you've got a very violent offspring there!"

Lunch was a simple affair, leek and cabbage soup, summer salad, followed by honeyed scones and strawberry cordial. The midday sun was tempered by a gentle breeze from the sea as the newly formed Fur and Freedom Fighters sat about, eating and taking their ease.

Rowanoak, Ballaw, Felldoh and Barkjon held an open discussion on the merits and drawbacks of going into battle. Barkjon and Rowanoak were not convinced that it was a good idea.

"Felldoh, you haven't got a tenth of the force that Badrang commands," the old squirrel cautioned his son. "We're not strong enough yet, lives could be lost needlessly in an attack on Marshank."

The strong young squirrel put aside his food. "I'm not talking about pitched battle, Father. Lightning attacks are what I plan. Hit hard and fast, then vanish. What's the matter with you? I've seen the days when we were slaves that you would vow vengeance on Badrang and all his kind."