Martin the Warrior

Rowanoak intervened. "You both have valid points, Felldoh, but I agree with your father. We are not warriors, nor have we been into battle before. Granted that Badrang is evil and Marshank needs destroying, but you must realize that his horde are all seasoned killers and trained fighters. All that you have at the moment is a small bunch of freed slaves and some strolling players."

Ballaw finished off a scone, licking honey from his paws. “But we freed the slaves, didn't we? Brome walked right into old Badbottom's fort and bluffed it out. Who's to say we can't become a first rate fightin' force and whack them for good. What d'you say, eh, Brome old feller?"

Brome avoided Felldoh's eyes. "I can't say much. I may be good at bluffing, but I'm not a warrior. I know that now. I don't want to see creatures killed, particularly our own."

Felldoh ruffled his young friend's ears. "Then you can become a healer, one who cares for the wounded. It takes a brave beast to dash about in battle doing that."

Old Geum dipped a scone in her cordial to soften it. "All this talk of fighting and killing, why don't we just find another place far away from here, where we can enjoy life. Leave Badrang to his own devices and forget about the whole nasty thing, Marshank and these shores."

Suddenly Purslane was up, her eyes blazing. "I'll tell you why, because if Badrang is still there and Marshank still stands, then other creatures will be captured and taken as slaves. I have a little one, and I would fight with my life so that he could grow up a free creature!"

Keyla sprang up applauding her brave words. "Well said, marm. We know what it's like to live under the whips of a tyrant. It's not life, it's living death!"

Felldoh turned to his father and Rowanoak. "These creatures have said it all. I could not have spoken more strongly. I will lead the first attack tonight."

Barkjon looked up at his strong fearless son. "It has been in you to do this thing since you were a little one in the quarry, helping me to haul rocks. May the seasons and good fortune aid you, Felldoh, and keep those under you safe."

Rowanoak shrugged, knowing protest would be useless. "What can I say except, break a leg!"

Felldoh looked puzzled until Ballaw explained. "In the actin' game it's our way of sayin' good luck to a chap."

The baby Fuffle waved his wooden spoon. "Break bofe legs!"

There was laughter and applause for the infant's wisdom.

31

Travelling with Boldred was a real delight for Martin. The owl chose the prettiest paths and was friendly with every creature who dwelt beside them. They stopped often to eat the abundant fruits that grew everywhere. At one place Boldred showed them a tree laden with shiny dark red cherries. The temptation was too great to resist. They stood beneath the low hanging branches, plucking the juicy cherries and gobbling them down.

"Wonder, cudd oi make cherry zoop out'n these yurr?" Grumm ruminated.

Boldred spread a wing. "There's lots of cherry trees round here.

Take your time, enjoy them. I'll be back in a short while." She flew off to map new features and talk with other creatures.

They lay beneath the tree, devouring cherries and seeing who could spit the stones furthest.

Pallum plucked a cherry off one of his spikes and popped it into his mouth. "Ah, this is the life for us, pals!"

Without warning, an incredibly ancient hedgehog came crashing through the undergrowth towards them, waving a knobbly blackthorn stick. He was completely grey and quite shaky on his paws, but it did not diminish his temper.

"Get ye gone, ye rascals, ye cherry thievin' wastrels. Be off with ye, or I'll lay this stick across your robbin' backs!"

Pallum stood upright, holding out his paws in peace. "Here now, hold hard, Father. We're not robbers!"

The ancient beast swung his stick at Pallum, but he did it so slowly that the young hedgehog had no trouble avoiding it. "Don't call me Father, ye young brigand. I wouldn't be thy father for a whole plum orchard!"

The old hedgehog wore tiny square spectacles on his snout end, and as he swung the stick they fell off. He groped about, still whacking out feebly. Rose dodged under the stick. Retrieving the spectacles, she held the blackthorn tight as she resettled the glasses on the grey snouted creature.

"There, that's better. We're not thieves, sir. We didn't know the cherry trees belonged to you."

He tugged fitfully at the stick that Rose was still holding. "Let go of my stick, damsel. You're no better than ye should be!"

Martin sat up. There was no danger from the old one, but he was becoming very tiresome with his insults and rantings. The young mouse spoke sternly to him.

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, old one, and stop waving that stick about - or I'll take it from you!"

The hedgehog managed to get the stick loose from Rose and adopted a fighting stance. "Hoho, ye boldfaced mouse. So ye want to fight me now. Then so be it. Come on, have at ye!"

He raised the stick just in time for Boldred to swoop in and pluck it from his paws. She landed, shaking her head. "Aggril, stop this. How many times have you been told the cherry trees do not belong to you?

They are here for all creatures, not just for you!"

The old hedgehog Aggril knocked the heads from some daisies with his footpaws, muttering rebelliously, "Young uns today have no respect for age. Yon mouse with the sword offered me combat, 'twere no fault o' mine."

Grumm stood up indignantly. "Oo, 'ee gurt fibber. Marthen dood no such a thing. You'm a crafty ole beast, zurr, beggin' yurr pardon, iffen oi do say so."

Immediately Aggril's mood changed at the sight of Grumm. "Oh, a moley creature. Do accept my 'umble apologies, friends. Moleys are the nicest an' wisest beasts alive. Do ye an' thy companions have a liking for cherry cordial? Follow me!"

The four travellers looked at each other nonplussed.

Boldred shook with silent mirth. "Go on, follow him. He's harmless really, just a touch eccentric. I'm mapping a stream course-see you later." She winged off high above the trees.

Grumm started following Aggril, calling to the others, "Coom on, oi dearly wudd loik t' taste cherry corjul!"

The old hedgehog lived in a hollow oak, long dead but still standing, with a small door over a hole at its base. They followed him in. It was cool and dark. Stacked all around its walls were kegs, flasks and gourds of cordial. Aggril was very proud of his stock. He adjusted his glasses and peered closely at the labels on each receptacle.

"Mmm now, here be a cordial fit for kings an' queens, a score of seasons old, I lined the cask with honey myself to sweeten it."

There was pure white cheese and celery wafers to go with the drink.

They sat on upturned casks as he issued them with wonderfully carved cherrywood bowls to drink from.

"Cherrywood be the best of all trees to make bowls from. Taste this and see what thee think of my art."

It was absolutely delicious, dark, cool and sweet. Before they had finished he was opening a large gourd.

"This was made by my mother, or 'twas made by my grandmother, I'm not sure, 'twas so long ago. Notice, 'tis a brighter red and a fizzy taste, more suited to eat with salads."

Gourds were opened, casks unbunged and flasks broached. Martin and Rose sat together in the cool dimness of the hollow oak, eating cheese and celery wafers and sipping so many different cordials, each with its own history, that they lost count. Aggril's voice droned on like a bumblebee hovering round apple blossom, while outside the sun made leaf patterns in the still woodlands. Martin had never known such peace and happiness in all his life. He lay back and closed his eyes, the heavy fragrance of wild cherries scenting the air about him.

It was night. Rose came slowly awake with the sensation that she was drifting, floating under the soft dark canopy of the sky, star pointed and centered with a waning moon. The mousemaid lay at peace, feeling the swirl of water against silent paddles, hearing the gentle creak of timbers ...

She was on a boat!

"Be still, liddle shipmate, an' take yer ease."

The strong cheerful face of a big male otter appeared before her.

Rose sat up slowly, trying to shake off the feeling of unreality.

"Where am I?"

"Aboard the good craft Waterlily an' travellin' on the great Broadstream. Lay back an' sleep now, yore in safe paws, miss."

Martin, Pallum and Grumm were curled up nearby, their contented snores blending with the slight noises of the boat. The otter plied his oar with a hefty tattooed paw as he chuckled, "Ole Aggril certainly slipped you an' yer pals a good measure of his special sleepin' potion.

Them three won't know nothin' about it until way into mornin' light."

Rose felt helpless, a pleasant inertia stealing over her as she slumped gently back. "You mean to tell me that Aggril drugged us?"

The otter grinned and winked at her. "Sure as my name's Starwort.

That ole hedgepig don't like young uns noways. He reckons the cherry trees are his, an' it's good night to any beast that messes wi' them.

Lucky you was with Boldred, or Aggril might've sent you into a sleep you'd never wake from. As it was, he just popped you off temp'ry so's Boldred could get you out of the way. We 'ad to sling you an' yer pals into 'ammocks an' carry you a fair way to get you aboard Waterlily."

Rose half tried to keep her eyes open, murmuring drowsily, "Where is Boldred?"

The short eared owl's voice came from somewhere above her.

"Perched nice and comfy up here on the masthead. Do as Starwort says, Rose. Go back to sleep."

The mousemaid could hear her own voice as if from a distance.

"Back ... to ... slee ... p."

The sun was up, and birds serenaded the new day from the thick foliage bordering Broadstream. The travellers sat with their paws through the midship rails, letting the water run through them. A crew of two dozen otters hauled the single square sail to catch the mild breeze, singing lustily as they heaved on the ropes.

"Oh, the Broadstream comes from who knows where, It flows to who knows whither,

And I sail with it here an' there,

Wand'rin' yon an' hither.

The place of waters is my home,

For I'm a fearless rover.

Through calm an' storm I'm bound to roam,

Until my days are over.

Roll, roll and flow, and let the seasons gooooooooo."

As the last deep bass notes died, a triangle's discordant jangle rent the air.

Grumm sniffed. His homely face lit up. "Hurr, 'tis zoop!"

Small otters poured out of the forecastle cabin, leaping, somersaulting and banging ladles on wooden bowls. Starwort's wife Marigold issued the four friends with bowls and ladles.

"Were I you, I'd 'urry. Those nippers'll lick the pot dry. They're nought but stomachs on paws!"

Over a charcoal brazier on the afterdeck, a fat otter called Stewer was dishing out soup, loaves of barley bread and a concoction the otters drank called scupper juice. Stewer filled their bowls to brimming, cautioning them cheerfully, "Watershrimp, bulrush 'n'

hotroot soup, mates. It'll give you fur like velvet an' put a sparkle in yer eye. But drink plenty o' that scupperjuice to cool yer gills!"

Pallum's eyes watered. He fanned his mouth with both paws and gulped scupperjuice greedily. "Phwaw! My poor mouth's on fire. I never knew soup could taste so hot. Oh, my burning tongue!"

Martin and Rose were suffering equally. The soup was delicious, but the hotroot pepper must have been ladled into it.

Tossing aside his spoon, Grumm drank his soup with gusto. The heat of it did not seem to bother him. "Gurr, this be wunnerful zoop, ho aye. Furst clarss! Yurr, you uns 'ave moi bread an' moi drink. Give oi yurr zoop."

Willingly they exchanged their soup for the mole's bread and scupperjuice. Grumm slurped away merrily, watched by the entire otter crew and their families.

Starwort shook his head. "I ain't never seen a creature enjoy our soup so much in all me born days. We can't even take it without drinkin' scupperjuice to quench the burnin'. Grumm, matey, are you sure you've never 'ad this soup afore?"

The mole wiped a bead of sweat from his snout tip. "No zurr, never, tho' oi wisht oi 'ad. Think wot oi been a missen all these seasons, hurr!"

Streamsailing was a novel experience for the travellers. Under the otter crew's helpful paws they learned to reef and tack, scull, row and steer. Boldred had flown on ahead to contact the shrews. The otters reckoned to meet up with them sometime in mid evening.

Grumm and Pallum took instantly to the nautical life. The Waterlily was so large and flat bottomed that they forgot their fear of the water.

Both the hedgehog and the mole adopted the otters' rolling gait and streamslang.

"Ahoy, Grumm matey. 'Tis a fair day on an even keel."

"Ahurr, Pallum me 'earty, coom an' sit yurr midships an' drop anchor 'longside oi, you'm ole streamdog!"

Martin and Rose clapped paws to mouths, stifling their giggles at the antics of the pair.

Roach, tench, perch and the odd pike could be seen through the clear running stream, following the Waterlily for the scraps that were thrown overboard. Sometimes they would cruise where the bank was deepsided, enjoying the shade of the trees. Other times they would ride out on the broad swell, catching the breeze. Rose watched Martin waving at a kingfisher which hung over an inlet, whirring its wings in a ceaseless blur as it watched the water for small fry. It was an idyllic day.

Early evening passed, coloring Broadstream's banks a limpid green that gave way to gold flecked cerise in midstream.

They heard the chattering and squabbling of small gruff voices from around a sharp bend in the watercourse. Starwort shook his head despairingly as he manoeuvred the tiller.

"Them Broadstream shrews, never stops arguin' an' disputin', they don't. I once saw two of 'em jump in the water an' climb out to argue over who was the wettest. Reef yer sail, you two streamdogs. We're roundin' the point!"

Pallum and Grumm attempted an otter's footpaw salute.

"Haye aye, steady as she goes. Reefin' an' furlin' wi' all paws!"

Pulling smoothly into the bank, they disembarked into a noisy chaos.

The Broadstream shrews were odd little creatures, raggledy haired and clad in baggy pantaloons. They all carried short rapiers, which they constantly drew and jabbed the air with when making a point. Boldred perched by their campfire, checking the charts and maps she had revised. The travellers sat alongside her, surrounded by a horde of curious shrews. She squinted her large round eyes in exasperation.

"Shrews! They don't even have a leader of this tribe, but each one thinks that they are in charge of everything. Listen to them!"

"I'm not sailin' tonight, we've been on the stream all day!"

"I want to sail tonight, it's the best time for voyagin'!"

"We've done enough. I say we don't sail for the rest of the season!"

"Who asked you? Keep your opinions to yourself, rushmouth!"

"Hah! Rushmouth is it? When was the last time you put paw to paddle, boatbottom!"

"Boatbottom yourself. I vote we run the logboats ashore an' careen

'em. The hulls are filthy with moss!"

"A good voyage'd take the moss off 'em. You take my word!"

"I won't take your word, but you'll take the back o' my paw if you step on me tail again!"

The otters stayed on the Waterlily, shaking their heads sternly at the bad behavior of the little squabblers.

Grumm had been nosing around the fire, tasting the food from the various pans and cauldrons. He pulled a wry face, whispering to Rose,

"Gurr, no wonder they be ill tempered. 'Ee food tastes tumble, Miz Roser. Oi wouldn't feed et to a dead frog, burr no!"

The mousemaid took the foodpack from Martin's shoulder. "I've just had an idea. Here, do as I do!" Breaking one of Grumm's sweet invention cakes, she gave them a portion each and began eating her own piece with huge enjoyment. "Mmmm, this tastes good!" The others followed her example. Boldred snaffled hers in one bite and began pecking crumbs from her talons. "Delicious, can't afford to waste a single crumb!" "Hoo aye, 'tis vurry scrummy, 'seedin'ly noice!"

"Absolutely delightful, best I ever tasted!" "Oh yes, this is the stuff, pals. Great!" Gradually the shrews became silent, turning their attention to the friends as they praised the cake to the skies.

A shrew stabbed the air with his sword. "Gimme some, I want to try that stuff!"

Martin eyed him disdainfully. "Watch yourself, shrew. Don't wave that sword in my face and make demands of me!"

Rose wagged a stern paw at the offender. "Put that weapon away this instant and ask properly. Didn't your mother ever teach you to say please?"

The shrew was dumbstruck for a moment, then he put down his sword and lowered his voice. "Can I try your cake, please?"

Pallum took a reflective nibble and turned to Grumm. "What d'you think, is our cake too good for the likes of these?"

The mole licked a crumb from his chin. "Moight drive they'm mad, they'm on'y use to eatin' drefful swill."

Several of the shrews looked beseechingly to Boldred. The owl looked as if she were about to say yes, then shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I would have given them all the cakes from our pack, but they've made up their minds not to sail tonight. You can't make creatures go on the stream voyaging if they're afraid of the dark."

The owl's statement created uproar. Fights, scuffles and arguments broke out all over the shrew camp. Starwort bounded through the melee. Giving the friends a huge wink he roared out, "Ahoy, you can't talk about river creatures like that. My mates the stream shrews'll sail anywheres at anytime, ain't that right, lads?"

Immediately, the shrews stopped fighting and waved their swords.

"Aye, we'll sail anywhere, day or night!"

Rose put her head to one side and imitated a gruff shrew voice.

"Give us the cakes and it's a bargain!"

Boldred tossed the foodpack into a long shrew log boat. "You shrews drive a hard bargain. Those are the last of our cakes. But so be it, you've won the argument. Let's go!"

The short eared owl had to take to the air to avoid being swept into the logboats with her four friends. In a very short time they were out in midstream, the shrews poling their canoe shaped treetrunks hard, competing in a race between crews. The travellers barely had time to turn and wave at the cheering otters before they were swept out of sight. Water rushed by the bows of the six logboats as night fell.

Grumm and Pallum gripped the sides tightly as the narrow craft shot along on the swift current, shaking and rocking from side to side. Rose held Martin's paw, her face shining.

"We're travelling downstream. I recognize this part of the water. If we take a turn off to a side channel on the right we can be in Noonvale tomorrow afternoon!"

As she spoke, the shrews backed water, wheeling their craft into an inlet and down a sidestream. It was narrower than the main water, but just as fast running.

Rose laughed aloud with joy. "Ha, ha! See those knotty old willows drooping into the water? I sat under them when I was a little one. I knew it, we're going home to Noonvale!"

32

Cap'n Tramun Clogg had finished filling in the prison pit. His paws ached with weariness and his tawdry finery was coated in dust.

Pushing the barrow to a corner of the courtyard, he lowered himself gently into it and let the enormous wooden clogs slip from his footpaws as he heaved a melancholy sigh.

"Harr, 'tis an 'ard life an' no mistake, but at least Badrang ain't got me stannin' guard up on the wall like those fellers."

Clogg lay in the barrow, watching the guards on the walltop silhouetted against the early night sky, ruminating to himself. "Aye, 'is

'igh V mighty Lordship will be drinkin' wine an' dinin' off fish an'

roasted fowl in that long'ouse, while I've got to bide 'ere til mornin', waitin' fer a crust an' some water."

The corsair heard the thwock of the slingstones as the two wall sentries fell in a heap. He smiled wickedly in the darkness. "Hah, them slaves is learnin' fast. Now iffen me an' Badrang was still partners, I'd raise the alarm. But we ain't, I'm only a slave, an' raisin' alarms is nought to do with slaves!"

A volley of flaming javelins whooshed in over the walls. Clogg was well out of their range. He watched with great interest as they hit the longhouse, two or three

missing, some falling flat on the roof. But the majority thudded into the timber walls, blazing merrily. Another wave of burning javelins streaked through the night sky like comets, finding the wooden palisade fence of the slave compound. A mighty roar rose from the shores outside Marshank.

"Fur and freeeedooooom!"

Badrang came tearing out of the longhouse, stood on a lighted javelin by accident and hopped about on one paw yelling, "Attack, attack! Stand to arms! Walltop stations!" He grabbed two scurrying half asleep soldiers. "Put that fire out, quick!"

They stood undecided. "But we ain't got water, Sire!" The enraged Tyrant knocked their heads sharply together. "Addlepates, use sand, earth, dust!" He dashed off to the walltop, drawing his sword as he shouted orders to the horde milling in the courtyard. "Archers, slingthrowers, follow me!"

Ballaw and Felldoh doused the fire they had used to ignite the javelins. They split up, each taking half the force, Ballaw to the back of the fort, Felldoh to the left side.

Felldoh's attackers flattened themselves against the earth and lay quite still. The squirrel passed the order along to his group. "After Ballaw's troops send their javelins off, be ready!"

Badrang peered out across the deserted shore. The archers and slingthrowers stood ready for his command.

Crosstooth stood beside the Tyrant, watching. "They'll be hidin'

behind those rocks on the shore."

Badrang could see what the fox said was true. He raised a paw.

"Archers, put a volley or two over the back of those rocks. That should flush them out. Ready, fire!"

The shafts clattered harmlessly off the rocks, leaving the beach still silent. There was a hissing noise in the air. Instinctively Badrang threw himself flat on the walltop. "Down! Get down!"

Too late. Three hordebeasts fell to the javelins that sped in over the back walls. Propelled by the throwing sticks, they smashed and splintered on the fort side of the walltop.

Badrang was up and running around the rampart. "The slimy tricksters, they're round the back. Come on!"

Felldoh crouched low, watching the walltop, his javelins and slings ready "Here they come. Wait for it now, let them get to the middle of the wall. Wait for it, steady, steady. .. . Now!"

The javelins and sling stones whirred off into the night, wounding three and slaying a further two. Felldoh's troops immediately fell flat, blending with the landscape in the night.

As soon as they had launched their javelins, Ballaw's command dashed off to the right side wall and lay low. Badrang had left half his archers to fire at Felldoh's fighters, leading the other half around to the back, only to find the rear landscape deserted. He banged his sword handle hard against the wall.

"The scum, they've probably backed off into the marshes. Cringing curs, why don't they show themselves and fight!"

Boggs the ferret had served long in Clogg's crow's nest. He had the keenest eyes of any beast. Peering hard into the darkness, he stood stock still, straining his eyes. "There's creatures out there. I'm sure of it, Sire!"

"Where, Boggs? Can you see 'em?" Badrang's voice was low and excited.

"Aye, I can now, Sire. They're a good distance off, but comin' this way. Looks to be about six, no, five of 'em!"

Badrang took a bow from a nearby rat. "Give me your arrows. You there, give Boggs your bow and arrows.

The rest of you archers, notch up your shafts and lie low. Don't fire until I give the word!"

Plastered with mud, hungry and boneweary after trekking the country, lost since emerging from the marshes, Hisk and four survivors staggered through the darkness. The weasel Captain rubbed dirt from his tired eyes. Peering at the shape that loomed ahead in the night, he gasped in sheer relief, "It's Marshank! The fortress! We're safe. Come on!" They broke into a shambling run, cheering hoarsely.

To Badrang it appeared that the five figures were charging.

Mistaking them for enemies, he drew back the shaft on his taut bowstring. "Let 'em get a bit closer. Wait!"

Ballaw and his throwers released a salvo of javelins from over the right side of the fort.

The force on the left walltop had an idea where Felldoh and his troop were lying, they kept them well pinned down with arrows and slingstones. Ballaw's javelins caused disarray among them, and a weasel shrieked as he was struck in the side.

Young Juniper leaped up calling triumphantly, "Haha, that stopped

'em, they aaaargh!"

He fell with an arrow protruding from his chest. His friend, a young mouse named Yarrow, stood up, completely in shock. "They got Juniper. Look, there's an arrow sti-"

Keyla tackled him low around the footpaws. Yarrow fell, staring in amazement at the arrow that pierced his paw right through.

Felldoh was grim faced as he dragged Juniper's body to him. "Keep your heads down! Keyla, we've got to get out of here. Help Yarrow, I'll carry Juniper. Now all of you, crawl fast and stay low. Follow me!"

Badrang crouched below the parapet, straining the arrow against his taut bowstring as he watched Boggs scanning across the walltop.

The ferret dropped down by the Tyrant's side and nodded.

"They're very close now. We can pick 'em off like daisies!"

Badrang glared along at the archers ranged in a crouching row.

"We're not taking any prisoners. Kill them. Now!"

The five creatures went down like stones as the hail of barbed shafts hit them. Two more volleys followed, thudding into the bodies to make sure they were truly slain.

Badrang was shaking with exhilaration. "I only wish it had been day, then I could have watched the looks of surprise on their stupid faces!"

Ballaw took his fighters around the front and along the beach, meeting up with Felldoh and the others at the foot of the cliffs. The hare was in high good humor. "Top hole, wot! I think I could get to like this soldierin' life. We gave them a bally good lesson an' not one of us was harmed. How did it go with you, squirrel m'lad?"

Felldoh nodded towards the limp form on the ground. "Juniper was killed, Yarrow is wounded."

The exhilaration of victory left Ballaw and his command. "Poor little chap. Here I'll carry him."

It was a sad procession that made its way along the clifftops back to camp.

In the dawn light a group of horde soldiers gathered round the five carcasses shot full of arrows. Clogg watched the venomous look on Badrang's face and laughed humourlessly.

"You did well last night, matey. Slayed Hisk an' four of yer own.

Still, you could be forgiven fer the mistake. They're so covered in marshmud they could've been anybeast"

The Tyrant's paw shot to his sword, but then he thought better of it. Turning on his paw, he barked out an order as he stalked off. "Fleabane, Wulpp, make that slave dig five separate graves and bury that lot. Don't spare the rod, keep him busy!"

Rowanoak stood over the small grave that Felldoh and Ballaw had dug, as near to the cliff edge as the rocky ground would permit. Brome put the finishing touches to a herbal dressing and bandage on Yarrow's paw. "There, as good as new. How does that feel?" Yarrow lifted his paw up and down, wincing slightly. "Thank you, Brome. It still hurts a bit, but I'll live with it. Not like poor Juniper." He wiped away the bitter tears that flowed afresh on the bandage.

Brome threw a comforting paw around the young mouse. "Come on, let's go and say our farewells to him, Yarrow. Ballaw and Felldoh made him a nice resting place that will always stand free to the sunshine and wind, in sight of the sea."

The entire camp gathered round the grave. After a short ceremony, summer flowers were placed on the fresh filled in earth and Barkjon said some words.

"It is always sad when a young one who has not seen many seasons is taken from us. Juniper was such a mouse, cheerful and well loved by all. But he did not die in vain. This young one gave his life fighting tyranny, so that others in the seasons to come may live in peace and freedom. That is all I have to say. Would anybeast like to add a word or two?"

Felldoh stepped forward. He laid Juniper's sling and stones amid the flowers. "You were a brave fighter, Juniper. We will never forget you. Badrang and his horde will pay tenfold for your death!"

As the Fur and Freedom Fighters drifted away from the grave, Yarrow sat alone by the flowers, gazing numbly at the resting place of his friend. Brome caught up with Felldoh and motioned him to one side.

"That was not a goodbye to Juniper, it was an oath of vengeance.

How many more must die before you're satisfied?"

Felldoh's eyes were like rainswept pebbles as he answered, "As many as fate decrees, myself included. I will not rest until Badrang is dead and Marshank brought down!" He strode off in search of fresh lancewood.

Kastern watched them parting before going across to Brome. "Do not blame Felldoh, he feels for Juniper as much as you, Brome."

The young mouse shook his head. "No he doesn't, all he feels is that he must take revenge and carry on killing. He was my hero once, but now it's like talking to a strange beast. I don't know him any more."

Kastern watched the lone figure of Felldoh in the distance. "He is a warrior, and that is the way of warriors, just like the mouse Martin you are always talking about,"

Brome shouldered his healing kit. "If Martin is a warrior like Felldoh, then may the seasons help my sister Rose if she is still with him!"

33

It was as if the very air were enchanted. Martin, Grumm and Pallum followed Rose through serene woodlands quiet and high in the sun warmed afternoon. They had thankfully left the shrews in a backwater tributary of Broadstream. The creatures were arguing and squabbling over the remainder of the food and drink which Rose had given them because she wanted to travel fast and light. It was a forest as old as time, with a special feel about it, cool in the dark green shade, carpeted with a many flowered floor, shafted with golden rays casting their light on fern and bush. Velvety green moss was soft underpaw, and melodious birdsong was the only sound to filter through the variegated canopy of emerald and viridian green. Rose halted by a conical timeworn rock.

"Rose, what is it?" Martin felt his own voice ringing strangely in the stillness.

She stroked the monolithic stone and pointed downwards.

"Noonvale!"

Through the trees, Martin saw the land dip down into a huge valley.

The blue smoke of cooking fires rose in a lazy spiral above the foliage, and small thatched rooftops could be seen here and there. An aura of time forgotten hung over the beautiful scene. The softly colored patches of flower gardens mixed with the unmarked boundaries of brightly hued orchards, while the light and sparkle of a stream cascaded into full bloom of a waterfall below. High above them, Boldred circled and wheeled on the thermals, casting her great wingshadow over them as she soared gracefully downward.

"See you in Noonvale, friends!"

They stood looking at one another for a moment, happiness brimming between them.

Grumm waved his ladle. "Hurr, we'm made et. C'mon!" He broke into a run, went head over paws through the loam and rolled down the valley side chortling happily, his three companions' paws thrumming the ground as they took off in a dash after him.

Urran Voh was not an old mouse though he was completely grey and wore a beard. As the Patriarch of Noon vale he was an impressive figure, dressed in a flowing green robe with a thick cream colored cord at its middle. His wife Aryah stood beside him, beautiful and motherly in a lilac gown embroidered with green leaves. Rose threw herself into their welcoming paws breathlessly.

Both mice hugged their daughter affectionately. Aryan's welcome for Rose was interspersed with anxious enquiries about her son.

"Oh, Rose, my Rose, you're home. Did you find your brother? My, you've grown taller, slimmer too. That rascal Brome, did you see him?

Did he mention his mother and father? Noonvale has been quiet without your singing, Rose. Is Brome following along? Will he be here soon?"

Rose's heart sank. Brome and Felldoh had not found their way to Noonvale! She could only hope that they were safe, somewhere . . .

Rose began gasping out her story, but Urran Voh held up a paw.

"Later, it is enough for now that you are safely home, Rose. No doubt you've risked life and limb several times to help your brother. You must realize that Brome is a born wanderer, never content and stubborn to the last word. Well, that young mouse is getting big enough to look after himself. But if you've agreed to meet up here, I expect he'll turn up sooner or later. Maybe someday he'll have sense enough to stay in Noonvale and not go dashing off every time the mood takes him. Ah! Grumm Trencher, you good mole, greetings.

Who are these two young creatures?"

Grumm introduced them. "Yurr be Pallum an' Mar then 'ee Wurrier, zurr. They'm wunnerful gudd friends to oi an' Miz Roser."

Rose's mother Aryah cut short the introductions busily "We can talk later. You must be starving. Rose dear, show your friends where they can wash and find clean robes, then bring them to the Council Lodge. I must prepare a homecoming party for you!"

Sometime later Pallum and Martin stood at the entrance to Council Lodge. It was an immense, homely old thatched building, its foursquare banquet tables dominating the centre beneath smoke darkened rafters. Rose and Grumm led Pallum and Martin in.

Bathed in blossom water and clad in a clean faded purple tunic, Martin held Rose's paw, standing slightly behind the mouse maid. The Lodge was packed with the inhabitants of Noonvale. They stood, cheering Rose and Grumm heartily.

Rose tugged Martin's paw. "Come on, take a bow, Martin."

The young mouse bowed formally amid the applause. Urran Voh waved him up with the other travellers to their places at table.

Everybeast stood as the Patriarch raised his goblet. "Good food, good friends and peace for ever in this place!"

"May the seasons always be kind to Noonvale!" a multitude of voices answered as one.

They sat, and the welcome party began.

Throughout his life the memory of that happy day stayed locked secretly in Martin's heart.

He sat with Rose between her parents, speechless at the sight of the abundant tables. Flowers trailed everywhere, from the rafters, walls, windows and table edges. Roses, lilies, vines and blossoms festooned the whole place, twining around the urns of strawberry cordial, dandelion and burdock cup, mint and lavender water, chestnut ale, blackcurrant wine and cider. Platters and trays were heaped high with salads, cheeses, breads and pasties whose contents he could only guess at. Babies and little ones seated on their parents' laps gazed longingly at the array of trifles, flans, puddings, pies and tartlets, each with its honey covered contents peeking through mounds of cream.

Grumm chose a deep slice of cherrycake glazed with candied nuts.

Allowing the tiny mole sitting with him to take a huge bite, he chuckled. "Burr hurrhurr, doant boite off more'n you'm can chew, Bungo!"

It took a while for the infant to swallow it all. He tugged at Grumm's snout. "Hurr, then get oi some staw b'rry drink, Nuncle Grumm. You'm wouldn't loik oi to purrish o' thirst!"

A friendly hedgehog maid sat next to Pallum, offering him various savoury delights. "Try our leek and chestnut pastie. Here, let me pour some thyme and radish sauce on it for you."

Pallum dug in gratefully. "Thank you, marm. Most kind of you, marm."

"Marm? What do you think I am, some old spike maid?" she laughed. "My name is Teaslepaw. Have you tasted our chestnut ale?

My family brews it."

Pallum flushed beneath his spikes, burying his snout in the beaker.

"It's very tasty, marm, er, Peasletaw, Paw seltea, er, marm!"

Martin and Rose chose a damson and hazelnut flan topped with mintcream. They attacked the plate from both sides, meeting in the middle of the platter. Rose wiped cream from Martin's nose with a napkin.

"What'll we try next, cherrycake?"

Martin shook his head vigorously. "No thanks, I don't want to go to sleep yet!"

They both laughed, remembering the sly Aggril.

Boldred was slightly too large for any seat. She perched on a windowsill, demolishing a wild plum and apple pudding, watched by a group of admiring youngsters.

"Can you eat all of that by yourself, Missus Boldred?"

The owl raised a large talon. "I can eat three of these without stopping. This is excellent!"

The onlookers' eyes grew even wider. "Three plum 'n' apple puddens. Great seasons!"

The party went on until late into the night. Nothing was stinted, there was an abundance of everything for every creature. The guests sat back, sipping mint and lavender water as a quartette of otters performed an acrobatic dance, while a band of mice and moles accompanied them, playing a lively slipjig on reed flutes and drums.

At a nod from Rose, Martin excused himself quietly, and followed the mousemaid and her parents to their cottage.

Urran Voh relaxed in his favorite chair. Aryah took out her embroidery. She sewed slowly as they listened to Rose tell of their adventures.

Martin sat at a window seat, letting Rose do all the talking. As Rose described the evil and cruelty of the slaves' lives at Marshank, her parents' faces became more and more grave.

Rose came to the end of the tale. Her father nodded, "You did well to return home, Rose. While there is such evil you should be here with your family. If only Brome could see this too. I am sorry that he and his friend Felldoh are not here safe, as you are. Let us hope he has the good sense to see that the outside world is not for him and he returns to us before the autumn."

Martin took a deep breath. "Sir," he said, "I agree that Noonvale is a haven of peace. Would that we could all live in such. But outside there is evil, and I cannot rest here knowing that those I lived with in slavery are still under the heel of Badrang. I came here for help. Will you allow me to ask for that help among the folk of Noonvale? There may be some here who would join me in a quest to free my friends from slavery."

Urran Voh's face was serious. "You ask a great deal. Our creatures have never seen war, they are dedicated to our life of friendship and peace."

His wife said quietly, "But my dear, where there is such pain and hardship for so many innocent creatures, surely we could let Martin speak to our folk. Any who wish to help can decide for themselves."

Urran Voh turned to Martin. "My wife speaks wisely. I do not wish for evil to become part of our lives here, but maybe we can prevent the wickedness from spreading. Very well, Martin, ask my creatures for help and good fortune go with you.

"I see that you carry a blade. We do not have such things here. For the time you are with us you must not stay armed. Give me your sword, Martin."

The young mouse placed a defensive paw on his sword handle. "I am sorry, sir, I cannot do what you ask."

Urran Voh's eyes were stern in the awkward silence that followed.

Aryan intervened between the Patriarch and the Warrior. "Martin, I know my husband's feelings, but I think I also know yours too. You have seen suffering and evil in your life. There is none of that to be found at Noon vale. Would you do something for me? I am not asking you to give your sword to Urran. Take it and hang it on the peg by the door. Do this yourself, no one else will touch your blade."

Without a word Martin drew his sword. Going over to the door, he hung the weapon upon a peg protruding from the wall, balancing it by the hilt. It hung there, small and lonely looking. The young mouse could not help thinking of his father's blade, big and worn, but a proper warrior's weapon, now in the paws of the Tyrant. He would take it back someday ... somehow.

Rose smiled happily at him. "Good, come and I'll show you to your room."

At a glance from Urran Voh, Aryan intervened once more. "No, Rose, you'll have Martin up half the night talking. I'll do it. Follow me, young mouse."

When they had gone, Rose's father put his paw about her shoulders and sighed unhappily. "Rose, listen to me carefully, daughter. What I tell you is for your own good. This Martin, he is a warrior, and death walks alongside such creatures. You must never let yourself grow too close to him."

The mousemaid smiled. "Father, you're not a warrior, you're a worrier. Martin is my best friend in the whole world, he would never hurt me or let me be hurt. I'll change him, you'll see. One day he will be the most peaceful creature in Noonvale!"

Urran Voh rose from his chair slowly. "You and Brome are alike, both strong willed. I only hope that you are right, Rose, though I think no good will ever come of your friendship, because I can tell that Martin has a will and determination far stronger than any I have ever come across. Good night, my Rose. Before you sleep, think on what I have said."

Rose ruffled her father's grey beard. "Good night, you great fusspot.

There's nothing to think about except a much needed night's rest.

When you come to know Martin the Warrior as well as I do, you'll understand."

34

Felldoh had planted caches of javelins all around Marsh ank. In the half shadowed world of twilight he was like a phantom. Two sentries hung over the wall, slain by his accurate throwing. Inside the fortress another one had been slain and three lay wounded.

"More pesky buryin' fer me to do in the mornin'," Tramun Clogg snorted as he peered out from under his wheelbarrow. "Stripe me, iffen I waits long enough I'll 'ave Marshank alone to meself, 'cos I'll be the only beast left livin' 'ere!"

Badrang paced the floor of his badly charred longhouse. Several prominent horde figures sat in silence as he ranted angrily.

"We're not dashing out into the night to get picked off like flies.

That's what those slaves want. I'm not going to fight on their terms, I'll do it my way when the time's right!"

Crosstooth played with a dagger, twirling it deftly. "Yore right, Sire.

I've told everybeast to keep under cover. Them that gets 'urt or slain,

'tis their own fault."

Slamming himself down in his chair, the Tyrant gulped wine.

The weasel Lumpback unwisely voiced an opinion.

"But if we don't fight back, they've got us pinned down. They'll start thinkin' we're frightened of 'em an' begin attackin' 'arder!"

Badrang hurled the wine jug. Lumpback scarcely had time to duck as it smashed on the wall behind him, covering the hapless weasel with pottery shards and damson wine. Badrang's teeth were bared as he hissed at Lumpback, "Who asked you, dirtbrain? I don't need the thoughts of idiots and halfwits to do my planning for me. Maybe you'd like to get out there and face them yourself!"

Boggs felt sorry for Lumpback. He could see it would only take a sudden whim for Badrang to send the weasel out on the shore alone.

"Go easy, Lord. He was only sayin' "

"Easy?" Badrang's face flushed dark with rage as he stood and threw the chair over. "Go easy, you say, while a stinking pawful of slaves are holding Marshank and an entire horde under siege...!"

Whipping out his sword, he leaped at the group. "Get out of here! Go on, out of my sight, you mindless mud crawling morons. You're about as much use as a one winged gull!"

Yelling and shouting, they scrambled over each other to avoid the flailing blade and get out of the door.

Felldoh came out from behind a rock, his keen ears twitching as he pinpointed the sounds of the scuffle. With remarkable precision he quickly sent off two javelins, one after the other.

Lumpback was last to leave, he had been dodging the swordplay as Badrang chased him. With a yell he dived out of the open door, straight into Felldoh's first javelin.

Badrang slammed the door shut quickly.

Thruck!

Felldoh's second javelin pierced the half burned timbers. The weapon came right through, stopping a hairs breadth from the Tyrant's bloodshot eyes. Badrang slashed with his sword, chopping the javelin in two pieces. Flinging back his head, he roared out into the gathering night, "Sneaks, cowards! I'll chop you into n'shbait if I catch you!"

"Come on out then, stoatface," Felldoh's deep voice boomed back from the shore. "Two can make fishbait!"

"Scum!" Badrang yelled back at his unseen foe. "I'll fix you good and proper when the time is right!"

Felldoh's harsh laughter rang out in reply. "Hahahah! Scum yourself, yellowbelly. Hide in your fort. I know you're scared!"

"Scared, me?" Badrang's voice went shrill with spleen. "I am Badrang, Lord and Tyrant of all these lands. Nobeast can stand against me. I was killing and fighting while you were still clinging to your mother's tail!"

Felldoh had got a fix on the voice. Three javelins in swift succession burst through the longhouse door, another one thudded into the roof.

Badrang lay flat behind his upturned chair, gripping the wood tightly to stop himself trembling.

"Hahaha, missed me," he managed to laugh back. "Pity you can't throw those things straight!"

Felldoh's reply came deep and confident. "Don't worry, I've got all night to practice. Don't go to sleep now!"

Gathering his javelins, Felldoh slid off into the night, leaving behind a very worried stoat.

Peering through a crack in the gate, Tramun Clogg saw the shadowy figure hurry off south toward the cliffs.

"Harr, 'twere as I reckoned only one beast. Well, I'd best get me sleep. No use tryin' to tell 'is Lordship he's safe to 'ave a bit o' shuteye.

He wouldn't take the word of a slave."

Away in the safety of the clifftops, Ballaw sat watching the gloomy little groups of creatures sitting around the campfire. All day long the mood had been heavy among them. The hare finished sipping cider from a scallop shell and made his way over to where the Rambling Rosehip Players lounged about by the cart.

"Evenin', chaps an' chapesses, wot! My my, you lot look like a pile of frogs that've been to a rock swallowin' party. No wonder our chums are lookin' glum if an entertainin' troupe can't smile."

Brome smiled wanly at the garrulous hare. "What do you want us to do?"

Ballaw twiddled his long ears cheerfully. "That's the spirit, young Brome me laddo. I'll tell you what I want you all to do. Bring a bit of cheer into those creatures' sad little lives, a laugh, a smile and a song.

Let's do a show!"

Celandine fluttered her eyelids and cooed. "What a lovely idea.

You'll have to wait until I've got myself ready though, Ballaw. Dearie me, I must look an absolute fright!"

"Fright?" Ballaw tickled her under the chin. "You, me pretty one, never. You look absoballylutely gorgeous. Come on, you apprehensive actors, the show's tonight!"

The audience sat shaking with laughter, their eyes shining in the firelight, the day's troubles temporarily forgotten as they watched the antics of the Rambling Rosehip troupe.

Rowanoak braced her huge back as Gauchee, Kastern, Trefoil and Buckler formed a pyramid on it. Buckler stood highest, on top of Trefoil's head.

Ballaw swirled a floppy cloak as he placed a scrap of material on the ground and called to the audience, "Pray silence. Please, no tittering or throwing objects whilst this dangerous trick is in progress.

Malcolm the Magnificent Mole will dive from a very great and perilous height on to this damp cloth. Ladies an' gentlebeasts, I present Malcolm the Magnificent Diving Mole!"

There was a round of applause. Buckler, dressed in a baggy costume and wearing a curly black moustache, took a wobbly bow from on top of the pyramid and announced dramatically:

"Oi be ready an' willin' to die,

An' moi wages be a custard pie!"

Dressed in a spangled gown, Celandine paraded, showing the audience a huge custard pie.

"Oh, dive, my loved one, my dear.

I have your wages here!"

"Well, hurry up, my back's killing me!" Rowanoak roared out in mock agony.

Ballaw did an elegant bow in the badger's direction. "Do not worry, madam. Your face has been killing me for years, let alone your back.

Keep quite still now. Malcolm, are you ready?"

"Oi be ready t' dive frum this gurt 'igh place on to 'ee damp cloth!"

Ballaw drummed his footpaw on a small tambourine. "We will not be responsible for small infants an' nervous folk who faint durin' this death defyin' performance!"

Fuffle leaped up and pulled Rowanoak's stubby tail. "Ho, gerron wivvit!"

" Yaaaaaaaahhhhhhh! "

Rowanoak tried to stand up and the pyramid collapsed. Amid loud laughter the troupe lay on the ground pretending to be stunned, while Buckler appeared with the damp cloth balanced on his nose. He struck out as if swimming. "Oi did et, oi did et! Oh, 'elp, somebeast, afore oi drowns. Oi carn't swim!"

Celandine ran forward holding the custard pie and calling sweetly,

"Oh, save him, someone. Don't let poor Malcolm drown before he's had his custard pie!"

"Fear not, fair maid, I will save the poor lad, for I can dive like a duck and swim like a rock!" Ballaw ran to the rescue. Celandine tripped and fell beautifully The custard pie sailed through the air, and Kastern caught it just as Ballaw whipped the damp cloth from Buckler's nose. He waved it dramatically "Saved, saved from a fate worse than tummyache!"

The flapping cloth hit Kastern in the face. She let go of the pie and it splattered all over Buckler's head. The audience fell about, holding their sides and hooting with laughter. Buckler bowed.

"Yurr am oi, Malcumm, cumpletely disgusted,

'Stead o' water oi bin drownded in custed!"

From the edge of the firelight Felldoh watched the performance.

Barkjon suddenly noticed his son sitting next to him. "Ha ha, oh hohoho! What a good show. Felldoh, where did you come from, son?"

Felldoh kept his gaze on the performers, smiling as he clapped his paws together. "I've been here all the time. Funny, wasn't it? Cheers you up to see somebeast taking a tumble, eh Dad!"

His father was about to reply when Felldoh pointed. "Oh, look out, here comes young Brome. I wonder what he and Ballaw are up to?"

As they began the next act, Barkjon looked strangely at his son and murmured in his ear, "Yes, and I wonder what you've been up to."

Brome sat banging a large drum.

Boomboomboomboom!

Ballaw appeared from behind the cart in a long nightgown and a tasselled nightcap. He yawned, stamping his paw bad temperedly. "I say, what d'you think you're doin' bangin' that thing all night, you young rip. I'm tryin' to sleep!"

Brome continued to bang the drum vigorously.

Boomboomboomboomboom!

"I'm practicing for the Periwinkle Parade!"

Ballaw wriggled a paw in his ear over the drum noise. "The whatiwinkle hooray, did y'say!"

Brome banged the drum louder as he shouted, "The Periwinkle Parade, you silly fool!"

Ballaw wriggled paws in both ears as if to hear better. "The pretty pinksnail in a slippy pool?"

Brome continued banging as Ballaw turned to the audience. "What did he say?"

"The Periwinkle Parade, you silly fool!" everyone yelled aloud.

Ballaw nodded. "Oh, I see. The gritty pigstail of a swilly cool!"

The audience roared out as Brome banged even louder.

Ballaw shook his head. Grabbing Brome's paw, he halted the noise.

"Listen, you young rogue, I'll give you a cream pudden if you stop that bangin'. Is it a bargain?"

Brome smiled foolishly. "Done! Where's the cream pudden then, flopears?"

Ballaw produced a big knife. "Inside the drum. It's all yours if you stop that beastly bangin'."

Still smiling foolishly, Brome cut the drumskin wide open and poked his head inside. There was a moment's silence then he called out. "Hey, lankypaws, there's no cream pudden in here!"

Ballaw did a huge wink at the audience and grinned wickedly. "Oh, isn't there? What a jolly old shame. Ah well, I'm off for a nice long sleep, 'cos I'm playin' my drum tomorrow in the Periwinkle Parade y'know. Good

night!"

Gauchee walked up holding a lantern. "Goodnight Mr. Ballaw!"

Ballaw shuffled past her. "Good night, Mrs. Gauchee. Oh, don't forget and leave my big drum out for me in the morning, I'm playin' in the Periwinkle Parade."

Gauchee threw her paws up. "Oh corks! I'd forgotten all about that, Mr. Ballaw. I'd better go and get your drum back off young Master Brome. I lent it to him to practice on!"

Ballaw clapped a paw to his head and collapsed in a faint. Gauchee turned to Brome. "Leave that silly old drum with Mr. Ballaw and come in for your supper. I've made you a nice cream pudden, Master Brome!"

Tullgrew, Keyla and Baby Fuffle leaned on each other, the tears coursing down their cheeks as they tried to stop laughing. Purslane was shaking with laughter herself as she swept Fuffle up in her paws.

"Come on, mischief. Time for bed. Are you coming, Groot?"

Purslane's husband Groot was saying his good nights to the others.

He passed Felldoh at the edge of the firelight. "Good night, Felldoh.

It's nice to see you smiling again."

The strong squirrel patted Groot's back as he passed. "Yes, it was very good night altogether!"

Brome had been watching Felldoh. He was rather puzzled by the squirrel's jolly mood. The young mouse lay down to rest near the campfire embers, next to Keyla and Tullgrew. The three lay staring at the myriad hosts of stars piercing the velvet cape of night.

"Felldoh is up to something," Brome said softly to the two otters. "I can't quite put my paw on it, but I'll swear he's hatching some plan or other."

Keyla half sat up. "Funny you should say that, Brome. I couldn't help watching Felldoh tonight myself. He's being far too smug, sort of secretive. Have you noticed anything, Tullgrew?"

"About Felldoh? Well, he's been going about patting backs and shaking paws, grinning like a demented frog. That's not like him, he's usually a dour creature these days."

Brome listened to the guttering fire crackle gently. So, it was not only he who had observed Felldoh acting oddly. "Listen, you two, I don't like it one little bit. In fact, I've been thinking. I'm going to follow that squirrel tomorrow and see what he's up to. Fancy coming along?"

Keyla and Tullgrew both nodded silently. Brome clasped their paws. "Good, as soon as it's light we stick to him like limpets!"

The campfire burned down to a tiny glimmer of light on the clifftops. Ballaw and Rowanoak snored gently in the cart, and a soft summer wind rippled the grass. The encampment slumbered peacefully in the calm night. Only Felldoh was still awake. He sat with his back against a rock, planning.

35

Dawn light crept over Noonvale in a golden haze. Unused to sleeping in a bed under a roof, Martin was up and about, feeling strangely light without the short sword tucked snugly at his side. He wandered about the settlement, marvelling at the beauty and proliferation of fruit and flower, a tribute to the industrious inhabitants. Sitting beside the waterfall, he enjoyed the cool atmosphere. Perch and trout could be seen gliding lazily in the crystal depths of a pool at the base of the falls. The young mouse stared at his reflection in a shadowed inlet. The marks of the deep scratches on his cheeks were still there, and his face was thinner, though the resolute jaw was firm and the eyes that stared back at him shone with the light of determination.

He was not surprised to see Aryah appear beside him. She placed her paws on his shoulders, watching his image in the water. "You are an early riser, Martin." "I could not sleep, but I see you are up early too." "Yes, I have spoken to Boldred. I have asked her to seek out Brome. What is the matter, Martin? Are you not happy here?"

"It is a beautiful spot."

"But you must soon return to Marshank?"

The young mouse flicked a pebble into the pool and watched it sink.

Aryah sat down beside him and patted his paw. "You and my husband Urran Voh are both alike in many ways, warrior and peacemaker, both walking different paths, but both stubborn and immovable. The world needs such creatures. Rose told me that the Tyrant holds your father's sword. Is that the reason you must go, to take the sword back from him?"

Martin stood up. He helped Aryah on to her paws. "Yes, the sword belonged to my father, Luke the Warrior. I swore a warrior's oath to him that I would never let another beast take it from me. I was little more than an infant when Badrang stole my sword, but now the seasons have given my paws the strength to take it back. You understand, I must do this, and I must free Marsh ank of slavery."

Martin thought he saw the glimmer of a tear in Aryan's eye.

"I understand, young warrior. The thing that grieves me is that Rose will go with you, no matter what I, or her father, may say."

Martin reached out, wiping the teardew from Aryan's cheek. "I will take far greater care protecting her life than I will my own."

Grumm ladled creamy pale batter on to a heated stone, grunting eagerly as he watched it cook. "Gurr, pan cakers. Oi dearly do luv pancakers wi brekkist."

His tiny nephew Bungo stirred a cauldron furiously. "Hurrhurr, an'

zoop, Nuncle Grumm. Doant furget 'ee

zoop!"

Grumm turned the pancake over. "Gurrout you'm darft liddle moler. 'Ow could oi furget zoop! Yurr, doant stir et too farst, you'm ull spoil et."

Bungo's tiny paws were a blur as he stirred faster and faster.

"You'm doant tell oi 'ow to stir zoop, oi been doin' et since oi were nought but a liddle un. Pay 'tenshun to thoi pancakers!"

Tables and forms had been set out under the trees in the sun splashed shade, and creatures bustled to and fro with breakfast items. Rose dashed by Martin. She was carrying a tray of hot pancakes spread with honey and decorated with pear slices and raspberries.

"Out of my way, sir, or you won't get breakfast today!"

Martin sprang nimbly aside and bowed low. "My apologies, marm.

Nothing should get in the way of good food!"

"Then don't get in the way, lend a paw over here!" Pallum shouted across as he staggered under an immense beechwood bowl of fruit salad.

Mice, hedgehogs, moles and squirrels called out their morning greetings to each other as they went about their chores. Every creature helped until the tables were ready. Little ones scrubbed from tail to eartip and freshly besmocked clambered up on to familiar laps. Young ones, giggling and gossiping together, sat next to their closest friends.

Old ones and parents made sure their families were comfortable before perching in their time honoured positions at table. When every creature was settled, Urran Voh recited the grace and the meal began in earnest.

"Pass the barleybread, please!"

"Ooh, it's hot! Mind your paws."

"We'm bain't 'ad a gudd pancake since Grumm been away. Parss they yurr, Gumbler!"

"Martin, would you like some fruit salad? It's very good!"

"Thank you, Rose. Here, try some of this maple and buttercup wafer."

"Oh yes please. Auntie Poppy baked them they're my favorite.

Teaslepaw, can you stop baby Bungo dipping those pancakes in the soup!"

The hedgehog maid put aside her maplescone and tried to prevent the infant mole from dipping a pancake that oozed honey into the leek and mushroom soup.

Bungo eyed her indignantly. "Keep thoi spoiky paws offen oi an' eat thoi own brekkist, mizzy."

Grumm nudged Pallum as the hedgehog finished off a heavy slice of nutbread. "That Bungo be a liddle savage. He'm rooned a gurt pot o'

zoop sturrin' et loik a wurlywind. Oi maked a speshul pot, jus' fur you'n oi. Do 'ave some."

Pallum ladled the broth into his bowl.

"Thankee, Grumm. Mmm, smells nice!"

"An' so et should, hurr. Oi maked et wi' roses an' onions an' daisies an' carrot, an' plums an' turnip too, ho aye, gudd zoop! An' oi sturred et slow, not loik some villyuns not arf a league from wurr oi sits!"

After breakfast, Rose showed Martin round the orchard. Plums, greengages and damsons, hung red, yellow and purple amid other trees bearing pears, apples and cherries. Neat rows of raspberry, blackcurrants, bilberry and redcurrants provided a border between the orchard and the vegetable garden. At the far end of the orchard a crew of moles was digging around a gaunt dead sycamore tree. Grumm was helping. He greeted them with a wave of his huge digging paw.

"Hurr, look at oi, not 'ome a twoday an' oi'm back at work!" He explained that they were digging to bring the dead sycamore down. It would be cut up and used as stump seats around the waterfall pool.

Martin immediately rolled up the sleeves of his smock and began to help. Rose watched for a while, then tossing off her headband of woven flowers, she jumped into the hole alongside Martin.

All through the day they toiled. Six holes had been bored in and around the base of the dead forest giant and still the sycamore refused to budge. A crowd of Noonvale creatures who had finished their chores gathered round to watch. Grumm and several other moles shook soil from their digging claws and wiped perspiring snouts.

"Gurr, that thurr old tree doant want to budge, Grumm!"

"Hurr no, Gumbler. Nor wudd you'm iffen thoi roots 'ad been thurr for all they long seasons."

"Hurr, us'ns be yurr till winter shiften this'n!" "Wot's 'olden et up?

We'm digged deep all round et?" Grumm vanished down a hole and reappeared, spraying earth about. "Taproot, gurt fat un. Et ull 'ave to break afore she moves, hurrr!"

Martin took a small mole axe and climbed into the hole. "I'm going to have a go at that taproot. Rose, take all these spectators and find the longest, thickest piece of wood you can. Bring it over here and give me a shout when you do."

Rose and her party scoured Noonvale. The only thing they could come up with was a long thick rowan trunk, forked at one end. Urran Voh watched them rolling it away.

"Where are you taking that? We were going to reinforce the ridgepole rafter of the Council Lodge with it."

Rose tugged her father's beard playfully. "Martin wants it to move the old sycamore. Don't worry, we'll bring it back."

Urran Voh snorted. "I should hope you will, though how you plan to move that big sycamore with it is beyond me."

Baby Bungo took the Patriarch's paw. "Hurr, then coom an' watch.

You'm never too seasoned to lurn, zurr!"

Martin tossed aside the axe. He had cut as deep into the taproot as the limited space in the hole allowed. Climbing out of the hole, he directed the group rolling the rowan trunk into position.

"Push it over here. That's it! Let the forked end down towards me.

Grumm, build up some earth and stones at the edge of the main hole here. Watch out! Let the rowan slide down. Good!"

The rowan trunk stood at an angle down into the main hole, its twin forks buried in two more holes at the sycamore's roots.

Martin climbed from the hole and inspected it.

Urran Voh nodded. "A lever. Don't you think it's a bit big, Martin?"

The young mouse shook his head. "The bigger the better, sir. Right, come on, everybeast climb up it and perch on the high end. You too, Bungo. Every little

helps."

Amid much merriment and whooping, the crowd climbed up the rowan trunk. They balanced precariously at its tilted top, hanging on to each other.

Urran Voh looked up at them. "There's too few. Not enough room for all up there. Get some ropes."

It was not long before Aryah and the otters who had sung in quartette came hurrying along, carrying coils of stout vine rope. "This is all we could find, dear. Will these do, Martin?"

The young mouse threw a rope up to the creatures balanced on the end of the rowan. "Perfect, marm! Tie those ropes fast up there, the rest of you swing on the ends for all your worth. You on top, when I give the word, jump up and down. Ready!"

Every creature waited on Martin's word.

"Right, jump up and down, now! Swing hard on the ropes. Swing!"

The rowan dipped and bent slightly, then loud crack was heard from beneath the sycamore. Martin and Urran Voh threw themselves on the ropes, yelling aloud to the others crowding above and below.

"Jump! Swing! Jump! Swing!"

There was more rumbling and cracking from beneath the base of the sycamore. It began to tipple as the rowan bent under the strain.

Rose and her mother laughed aloud as they swung on the ropes.

"It's going, see, it's starting to topple!"

The sycamore could take no more. With a groan of creaking and splitting wood it crashed slowly over,

Krrrraaaaakkkkk!

The end of the rowan lever had dipped so low that it almost touched the ground. Loud cheers rang through the valley, Martin and Urran Voh pounded each other's backs. "We did it, hooray!"

The moles were quite carried away, and went into a wild stamping dance. Rose and her mother kicked up their paws happily at its center.

Soon everybeast was dancing, singing and cheering. The great sycamore stood nearly as high as Council Lodge at its upturned base, a forest of roots, soil and rocks.

By evening a sprawling picnic had broken out along the fallen treetrunk, and strawberry cordial and waterfall cooled gourds of cider flowed freely. Singing lustily in chorus, the moles brought out ten of their deeper 'n' ever turnip 'n' tater 'n' beetroot pies, huge, deep, hot and satisfying, made in traditional mole manner with massive patterned shining piecrusts topping each one.

"Give 'ee, give you, give them'n give oi, Turnip 'n' tater 'n' beetroot poi,

Gurt platters each morn, an' more at 'ee noight, Fill oi a bowlful, et tasters jus' roight.

An' iffen 'ee infant wakes, starten to croi,

Feed 'im turnip 'n' tater 'n' beetroot poi.

Et's gudd furr 'ee stummick, et's good furr' ee jaws, Makes' em grow oop wi' big strong diggen claws.

Nought gives us molers more pleasure 'n' joy

Than turnip 'n' tater 'n' beetroot poi!"

Pallum, Rose, Martin and Grumm lay back exhausted, picking idly at half filled bowls and sipping their drinks, contented after the long hard day's work.

It was then that Boldred dropped out of the sky like a thunderbolt with her news.

36

Three pairs of eyes watched Felldoh set off silently into the rosy dawn that tinged the clifftops. Brome nodded to his two otter companions. "There he goes, laden with enough javelins to stock an army. Come on, let's follow him!"

Felldoh's mood was light and carefree now that he had set out to complete his lone mission. With a bundle of javelins beneath each arm and his thrower strapped across his back, he hummed a cheerful little tune. What need of armies and hordes? He could rid the world of Badrang by himself. Once the Tyrant was dead, Marsh ank would be a snake without a head.

White crested rollers boomed in over the shore, the sun seemed to smile out of a cloudless sky of powder blue, and a cooling breeze drove the thin layer of sun warmed sand aimlessly around the foot of the cliffs.

For the first time in many seasons Felldoh's heart felt light.

Cautiously the gates of Marshank creaked open, and a phalanx of hordebeasts, armed to the fangs, filed outside. Crosstooth looked all around to reassure himself there was no immediate danger of attack.

Badrang appeared on the walltop with scores of archers and slingers. He shielded his eyes against the sun's glare as he issued orders. "Search every rock, hollow, dune and outcrop from here to the sea!" He stood enjoying the morning's warmth, the light wind blowing his cloak playfully about as he watched his soldiers scouring the beach.

Crosstooth was near the tideline. He waved his spear from side to side, calling aloud, "All clear down here, Lord. No sign of anybeast!"

Badrang cupped paws about his mouth, shouting a reply. "Get those beasts dug in where they can't be seen!"

Crosstooth ran back and forth, placing the soldiers in position.

Some were behind rocks, others lay flat on the seaward side of low dunes, the rest dug shallow trenches above the tideline.

Tramun Clogg rested one clogged paw on his spade, cackling as he called up to the Tyrant, "Haharrharr, you got those beauties diggin'

their own graves. That'll save me some work, matey!"

Nipwort and Frogbit, the two rat guards who had been left in charge of the corsair, prodded him with their spears. "They're diggin'

slit trenches to keep themselves alive in case of attack. You get on with buryin' the dead."

Clogg dug with ferocious energy, muttering to himself, "Haharr, wait'll ole Tramun's diggin' yer grave, Bad rang. I'll dig it deep an'

'andsome. Aye, an' put a great rock atop of it so's you won't be a climbin' out again. Ho, that'll be a glorious day in the life of Cap'n Tramun Josiah Cuttlefish Clogg, to give me my full title. Ye won't be able to badmouth me when I'm throwin' spadefuls o' good earth in yer ugly gob, Badrang!"

Boggs stood atop the battlements, peering southward. He leaped down and ran to make his report. "Onebeast comin' along the cliffs in this direction, Lord!" Badrang was slightly taken aback. "Only one?"

"Aye, just a loner, still a fair way off, but I spotted im.@

The Tyrant pulled the closest two archers to him. "Rot nose, Wetpaw, get down there as quick as you can. Tell Crosstooth to hide with the others. You two do the same. When I shout the word Marshank aloud, break cover and capture this one. Hurry now. Tell everybeast to be totally silent. If he sniffs a trap he'll be off!"

Once the two messengers had departed, Badrang turned to his archers. "Down, all of you. Be quiet and keep your heads low.

Remember, the word is Marshank. You, Wulpp, go and shut the front gates."

As Felldoh trotted along from the cliffs to the shore, he hardly noticed the unusual silence that hung over the fortress. Had he been more vigilant he might have noticed the telltale signs that the foe were lying in concealment on the beach. But the squirrel's vengeful eyes were riveted on just one thing, Badrang, standing out bold and alone on the walltop over the gates. Felldoh's paws gripped the javelins like vices and his teeth made a grinding noise as his jaw muscles bulged, the breath hissing fiercely from both his nostrils. Now he broke into a run, his paws pounding rock and dry sand as he sped along, oblivious to all else but the figure of his most hated enemy.

At the edge of the cliffs, Brome threw himself flat with Keyla and Tullgrew either side of him. "Is he mad? Look at him!"

They watched the javelin carrying squirrel skid to a halt within earshot of Badrang.

Tullgrew bit her clenched paw. "He's going to be killed, I can feel it in my bones. Surely they wouldn't let a lone escaped slave run up to the place like that in broad daylight?"

Keyla watched in horrified fascination, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. "You're right, I'll bet my rudder he's walked into some sort of trap. Maybe we can shout a warning."

Brome was doubtful. "I think we're too far away, but let's give it a try. Shout his name. One, two, three. Shout!"

"Felldoooooooooh!" The three voices rang out as one.

Tullgrew struck the clifftop with her clenched paw. "I don't think he heard us, or even if he did he isn't paying any heed to us. What in the name of thunder is he doing down there?"

Keyla shook his head. "I don't know, but something awful is going to happen, I'd take my oath on that. I think one of us should go back to camp and bring help quickly."

"I'll go!" Brome cast off his healing bag and began wriggling backwards.

Keyla went into a low crouch, dashing past Brome. "You stay here, mate. I'm the best runner in these parts!" Leaping upright, he took off with dust spurting from his heels.

Wordlessly Felldoh dropped his bundles of javelins. Taking the throwing stick, he fitted one along it. Bending his whole body back, he sighted along the shaft and hurled it with tremendous force at Badrang.

The Tyrant was a fair distance away. He saw the javelin launched and leaped to one side, watching it as it sped harmlessly by. Leaning on the wall, he called out scornfully, "Try another one, squirrel!"

Felldoh did, this time with a short run and skip to give his javelin impetus. Badrang had dropped below the wall as the missile was thrown. He heard the thin whistle of wind as it passed overhead.

Smiling, he stood up and shouted at the squirrel, who was just about within earshot, "Best you can do, slave?"

"I am not a slave of yours," Felldoh's voice roared back at him. "My name is Felldoh and I've come here to kill you, Badrang!"

Another javelin came hurtling through the air. This time Badrang jumped back to his former position, shrugging expressively as the pointed wood sailed off towards the back wall of the fortress. "Tut, tut, missed again. You'll run out of those things soon!"

Quivering with rage, Felldoh held up a javelin in both paws. He broke it as if it were a straw. "I could break you like that if you weren't such a mud sucking coward. Come down and fight me, paw to paw, beast to beast!"

Badrang swept his paws wide. "No doubt you have laid a trap for me. Those cliffs will be swarming with your friends, ready to leap up and come running to the attack at your signal, the same group you had with you last night, treacherously slaying my creatures in the darkness. Do you take me for a fool?"

Felldoh moved closer to the fortress, as Badrang hoped he would.

Throwing caution to the winds as his temper got the better of him, the squirrel curled his lip contemptuously.

"You are both a fool and a coward! Last night there was only me out here. I am as you see me now, without any army or horde and without a fortress wall to hide behind like you have. So come out and fight. Poltroon, craven cur! Dithering idiot!"

Suddenly the positions were reversed. Badrang could hear his archers below the wall sniggering. Stung by Felldoh's insults, the Tyrant drew his sword.

"Nobeast uses words like that to me. I am Lord Bad rang. Get ready to die, squirrel. I am coming down!"

Even in his rage the Tyrant was still playing the odds. Armed with a sword, he was sure he could defeat the squirrel, who had only some short wooden stakes to defend himself. As a last resort he could always call in his soldiers; they had his adversary surrounded. As Badrang pushed past the grinning archers, he swore silently to himself that he would slay the bold squirrel, wiping away any doubts in the minds of his horde that he, Badrang, was a leader to be feared and respected.

Brome gasped in amazement as the fortress gates swung open and Badrang walked out alone to face Felldoh.

Tullgrew shook her head. "I don't believe it. Whatever Felldoh's been saying must have stung Badrang into action. Look, they're going to fight!"

Brome stared at the lone figure, and all his hostility to Felldoh evaporated. He remembered the squirrel's words, that he would die if it was necessary to bring down Badrang and Marshank. The young mouse found himself wishing that he possessed the bravery to be a warrior and help his friend by standing alongside him.

Badrang leaped at Felldoh, cleaving only empty air with his sword as his adversary skipped back nimbly. Gripping the sword tight in both paws, the stoat rushed in, swinging wildly, hoping to overwhelm his foe with the ferocity of the attack. Felldoh was like a stinging hornet. He weaved in under the flailing blade, jabbing at the Tyrant's face with his javelin as he flashed by. Badrang turned, drawing in his breath sharply as he felt blood trickle from a small wound on his jaw.

Balanced lightly on his footpaws, Felldoh grinned insolently, threw himself into a swift roll and whacked his adversary hard on the shin with the wooden shaft. Badrang yelped with pain, spinning fast and chopping down with his sword. He chopped only sand, arching his back as the wicked javelin point raked a long scratch on it. Breathing heavily, he held the sword point forward and low, shuffling slowly towards the squirrel, watching for a sudden move. Felldoh stood his ground, eyeing the sword carefully as it rose fractionally, guessing the exact moment Badrang would choose to thrust. The stoat lunged!

Felldoh skipped sideways, bringing the javelin down with numbing force on his opponent's left paw. Tears sprang unbidden to the stoat's eyes as he held on to the sword with his right paw, the left stinging and throbbing as it hung limp at his side. Felldoh was still smiling, adding insult to injury. Badrang feigned helplessness for a moment, trying to move his deadened paw. Suddenly he dropped flat, rolled over and swung out wildly. Felldoh was taken by surprise. The blade cut deep into his footpaw. Badrang moved in for the kill, swinging the sword in his good paw. The butt of the javelin struck him hard in the stomach, knocking his breath out in a sharp gasp. He doubled over, fighting for air.

Thwack!

The wooden haft struck the sword into the air. It curved in a shining arc, landing point down in the sand as Badrang's right paw fell numbly to his side. Holding the javelin in both paws like a quarterstave, Felldoh knocked his enemy flat on the shore. Ignoring his injured footpaw, the squirrel raised the javelin. He brought it down with punishing force.

Tullgrew clapped a paw across her eyes. "Has he killed him? I can't look. Is Badrang slain?"

Brome shook his head in astonishment. "No, Felldoh is beating him with the javelin as if it were a rod!"

Tullgrew uncovered her eyes, smiling with grim satisfaction. "Aye, just as he used to have slaves beaten. Lay it on, Felldoh!"

Badrang tried to curl up into a ball, yelping as he rolled about on the round. The javelin rose and fell across his back, each stroke punctuated by Felldoh's harsh shouts. "How does it feel to be beaten like a slave, O mighty one? Feel this! And this! You had me beaten when I was little more than an infant! My father was beaten with the rod because he was old and slow! You never made me cry out! Why are you wailing! Can't you take your own medicine!"

Tullgrew covered her eyes again, but Brome watched in horrified fascination. "He's going to beat Badrang to death, I can hear him yelling from here!'"

But the Tyrant was not crying out needlessly. "Marshank!

Marshank! Marshank!"

37

Boldred perched on the fallen sycamore as she related all she had seen.

"The first place I stopped at was a camp on the southeast cliffs.

There were many creatures there. A hare and a badger seemed to be in charge, Ballaw and Rowanoak."

"I have not heard of these creatures," Martin interrupted.

Boldred held up a talon. "Let me continue, it will soon become clear. I spoke to them of Brome, and they assured me that he was alive and well. When I told them of you there were many there who knew the name of Martin. One, an old squirrel named Barkjon, sends you a message." Martin leaped up, unable to constrain himself. "Barkjon, old Barkjon! He's Felldoh's father. What did he tell you, Boldred?"

"He told me that his son has gone alone to face Bad rang. Every able bodied creature in the camp was armed, and they are planning to go to Felldoh's rescue that is, if he still lives. Either way they will attack the fortress called Marshank, where the evil one rules with his horde of vermin."

Martin's eyes shone with the desire to be in the midst of battle.

"The creatures in this camp on the cliffs, are they a great army?"

"Alas, no." Boldred shook her head. "I have seen the comings and goings at Marshank before. Badrang's horde is far too vast to be opposed. The creatures at the camp are brave, but pitifully few compared to the horde."

"I must go now!" Martin jumped down from the sycamore trunk.

Boldred nodded. "The old squirrel Barkjon is a shrewd beast, he said that you would act thus, and here is his message to you. Tell Martin if he is coming to travel with all speed and bring plenty of help!"

Aryah looked at Boldred anxiously. "Did you see my son Brome?

Did you speak to him?"

Boldred spread her wings wide. "There was no time, I had many things to do. The hare Ballaw assured me that Brome was lively as a grasshopper and fit as a flea. The badger Rowanoak confirmed this.

She seemed like a wise and sensible creature. Badgers usually are."

Aryah climbed down from the sycamore and took Martin's paw.

"Bring my son back to me, please, Martin. I beg you!"

Rose leaped down to join Martin and her mother. "We will Mama, don't worry."

"Rose, how can you go?" Urran Voh gazed sternly at his daughter.

"Is it not enough that we have Brome caught up in a war far from home!"

Rose faced her father resolutely. "I must go. Martin and I are the only ones who would stand a chance of bringing Brome back to Noonvale."

"Hurr, you'm not leavin' us'ns yurr, mizzy!" Pallum and Grumm joined paws with Martin and Rose.

Another little paw sneaked in to clasp theirs. "Hurr, say 'ee wurd an' Bungo's with you'm!"

Grumm ruffled the dark velvety head of the infant. "Gurr, you'm gotter stay yurr an' chop up'ee gurt tree. Oi wants f see et chopped oop small when us'ns coom back."

Martin looked at Urran Voh, who nodded. Then he raised his voice so that all could hear. "Is anybeast with us? You heard Boldred, we need plenty of help!"

The otter quartette, several moles and a few hedgehogs stood forward. Martin counted, sixteen in all including his three friends.

"I am sorry, Martin," Urran Voh said, his tone more kindly, "but we are not warriors, my creatures do not have any knowledge of battle.

Many have families to care for. Those who have volunteered to go with you are few, but brave. None of them have ever used a weapon, yet they are prepared to go and help you with their very lives."

Martin bowed to his small army. "I thank you with all my heart."

Boldred tut tutted slightly and shook her head. "I've always said that the trouble with young creatures is they never listen properly, especially hot headed warriors. Did you not hear me tell Aryah that I never stopped to search for Brome because I had things to do?"

"Things, what things?" Martin looked nonplussed at the owl.

"Things that only a wise owl would think of, like getting an army together for you. But let's deal with first things first. We've got to find the shortest route to Marshank and get you there as quickly as possible. Now I don't wish to preen myself on this matter, but I am the foremost pathfinder, mapmaker and researcher of this whole country, from beyond here to the Eastern Sea. Find me a clear space, somebeast!"

The moles patted a bare patch of soil flat as Rose went off with Aryah and Urran Voh to gather provisions for the journey.

Boldred crooked a claw at Martin. "Come here, Warrior, and pay attention!"

Martin sat and watched, fascinated as the owl's skilful talons marked out the route.

"This is the Broadstream here. You came the long way round to Noonvale, probably because you were washed up down the far south coast. Marshank is further north, facing the Eastern Sea. There is a much simpler way back to the coast. I know this, and so does Starwort. At this moment he will probably have just arrived at a wide tributary two hours' journey from here, to the north of Noonvale. So the sooner you get going, the quicker you'll be able to join him and get under way."

Martin stood upright. "What happens then, Boldred?" The owl blinked impatiently. "Leave that to me, I'm coming too!"

Rose and her parents had just finished putting together some food and drink in packs when Martin strode into the cottage. Rose took the small shrew sword from its peg behind the door and held it out to Martin.

"You gave this up freely, now I give it back to you." The Warrior thrust the sword into his belt. "I'm ready!"

"Fur and Freedoooooooommm!"

The cart rattled and bumped, leaping off the ground as it struck humps and clumps on the clifftop. It roared forward with Ballaw and Keyla holding to its jolting bed as they waved the streaming banner aloft. Rowanoak pounded along. Sinew and muscle bunching and stretching, she towed the careering cart. The Fur and Freedom Fighters pushed as they pelted madly alongside.

Brome could not stop himself. At the sight of Felldoh going down fighting amid a welter of horde vermin, he dashed forward down the cliffside, sobbing and calling his friend's name aloud, "Felldoh! Oh Felldoh, I'm coming!"

But Felldoh did not hear his young companion. He lay with a calm smile on his face, surrounded by a score of slain hordebeasts who had died trying to defeat him.

Badrang rushed back to the fort, away from the carnage and the broken javelins, the memory burned into his beaten skull of the roaring, laughing squirrel who had died with a shattered piece of timber in each paw, still taking ferrets, rats and weasels with him as he went.

As Marshank's gates slammed shut, the cart sped by Brome.

Scattering the last few venturesome horde members, it ground to a halt next to Felldoh's body.

Rowanoak leaped from the shafts as the first wave of arrows flew from the walltops. "Dig in, turn the cart on its side, get to cover quick!"

Ballaw assembled his throwers behind the cart. "Take your range, chaps, and drop those javelins in just over the walltop. You others, pick up any weapons you find lyin' about. That's the ticket! Slingers, get those stones from the cart. Look lively now, lads!"

Brome staggered up, tears streaming from him as he undid his healing bag and pulled out herbs and bandages. Barkjon sat with his son's head cradled in his lap, dry eyed.

"He won't be needing those, young one. Save them for the living.

My son has gone to the silent forest where he'll always be free."

Brome sat with Barkjon. The old squirrel wiped away the young mouse's tears. "It is good to grieve for a friend who has gone. He looks so happy and peaceful."

Brome shook his head. Placing a paw about Barkjon's shoulders, he said, "I've never seen anything like it; he was laughing aloud. It took a score and a half to get him down, and he still slew most of them. It was as if he knew his fate."

Barkjon nodded. "Never afraid, always a true warrior that was Felldoh's way."

The side of the cart was thick with quivering arrows. Ballaw barked out a sharp command: "Up an' at 'em, javelins!"

The line of throwers leapt up, flung their weapons off and dropped back down.

Immediately Ballaw called to the slingers, "Quick as y' like, one volley of stones. Go!"

The slingers stood, threw and dropped back down.

Howls and screams greeted the wave of javelins that dropped in on the archers at the walltop. They stood up to retaliate, and met the volley of slingstones zinging up hard on the heels of the javelins.

Crosstooth grabbed Wetpaw and Fleabane. "Take fifty fighters apiece over the back wall, an' spread out left an' right, advance along the shore an' dig in. We'll have 'em cut off at both sides, with the fort in front of 'em an' the sea behind. They'll have to surrender, or die!"

Buckler saw the hordebeasts pouring out either side of Marshank.

He found Rowanoak. "Lukkit, us'ns all 'ave to proteck 'ee flanks!"

Kastern, Gauchee, Trefoil and Celandine helped to shore up two long hillocks of sand either side of the cart. The slingers were split up and detailed to both sides, while the javelin throwers concentrated on the front facing the fortress.

Inside the fortress, Badrang lay on the longhouse table while Boggs and Growch dressed his wounds. The Tyrant had been beaten black and blue before his soldiers got to the rescue, and his head, face, shoulders and back were a welter of ugly lumps and long bruises. He arched his back painfully as Boggs treated the long javelin scratch.

"Haharr, matey, I thought you'd run into an army, but they tells me

'twere on'y one 'ard nosed squirrel. Scorch me sails, but 'e did a right good job on yer. Hah arrharrharr!"

Badrang glared at Clogg through puffy eyes. "Get out of my sight.

You're bad luck to me, Clogg!"

Boggs applied a dock leaf poultice to Badrang's shoulder. "Stay still, Sire. 'Ere, 'old that in place."

Clogg did a little jig in the doorway. "Aye, you 'old still, yer mightiness, lest yer ugly 'ead drops off, haharr!"

Badrang made as if to rise and grab his sword. Clogg scuttled off, chuckling to himself, "I'll 'ave the last laugh yet. Now, where's the galley round 'ere? I might as well eat an' drink me fill, seein' as all the rest are too busy warrin' an' fightin' fer glory!"

Ballaw gave a sharp gasp. He plucked out the arrow sticking from his paw and snapped it. "Ruined me best eatin' and gesturin' paw.

Rotters!"

Brome sat down behind the cart. Cleaning the wound, he applied a comfrey poultice and bound the paw with a clean linen strip.

"Good as new, eh wot!" Ballaw held it up, admiring the dressing. "I say, Brome old lad, you're gettin' to be a bit of a dab paw at this healin' lark!"

Wordlessly the young mouse crawled off to the next casualty.

Noon brought a lull in the fighting. The sun beat mercilessly down on the beach, and there was not even a welcome breeze. Behind Rowanoak's back, the sea shimmered, showing hardly a wave. The badger dusted sand from her paws as she gratefully accepted food from Keyla.

"It's only a mouthful of water and a scone. We don't know how long we'll be stuck here."

Trefoil nibbled at her scone. "Stuck is the right word, Keyla. We're boxed off on three sides, with the sea behind us if we fancy drowning ourselves."

Celandine sipped daintily at a scallop shell of water. "Drown ourselves? Ugh, how horrible! It'd ruin my tail!"

Kastern was making a bow with some springy wood and a cord.

"Well it's either that or carry on fighting a horde about thirty times greater than us. I should think that'd ruin your tail in the long run, Miss Fussbudget."

Buckler came to sit by Kastern. "Hurr, wot be you'm a maken a bow furr?"

"Well, there are so many arrows lying about and sticking out of everywhere, it seems a shame to waste them."

Rowanoak shook her head in admiration. "What an efficient trouper. Hey, Groot, see if you can make a few bows and help Kastern to use all these arrows messing the place up!"

Yarrow looked at Rowanoak strangely. "You Rambling Rosehip Players, you seem to make a joke of everything. Don't you realize we're in the middle of a battle, fighting for our lives?"

Ballaw patted his head with a bandaged paw. "What d'you want us to do then, laddie buck? Break down an' weep? Make the best of the situation, m' boy. Smile!"

The cart shook under a rattle of arrows, several piercing the wood by half a shaft length.

"Ah well, back to work, wot wot?" Yarrow yawned, fitting a stone to his sling.

Ballaw launched a javelin and ducked low. "Cheeky blighter!

Catches on fast, though."

Badrang was up and about, looking much the worse for wear but still bad tempered and active.

"Crosstooth, tell the horde to hold back their weapons a bit. I want to parley with that lot on the shore."

Archers and slingers stopped, Badrang's jaws were aching from Felldoh's blows, so he got a rat called Nip wort, who possessed a high squeaky voice, to call out his message.

Nipwort funnelled both paws around his mouth and shouted,

"Parley! Cease fire, we want a parley!"

"Then parley away, pipsqueak. What do you want?" Rowanoak's readily identifiable roar came back at him.

"My master, Lord Badrang, can keep you pinned down there and slay you at his leisure. If you surrender you will not be killed!"

This time it was Ballaw who answered. "Tell me my good chap, what happens to us after we surrender?"

"That will be for Lord Badrang to decide!"

Ballaw's head popped up over the cart. "Blinkin' nerve o' the rascal!

Listen, rustyhinge, you tell old Bad trousers that the Commander in Chief of the Fur and Freedom Fighters said that he can go an' boil his scurvy head, wot!"

The reply was accompanied by a healthy hail of sling stones, one of which knocked Nipwort senseless. Bad rang crouched beneath the parapet, massaging the numbness from his paws. "Get a fire going, use flaming arrows on that cart. We'll burn them out into the open!"

38

Guided by Boldred, Martin and his party made it in good time to the Broadstream inlet. They were greeted by Starwort's cheery cry as they came in sight of the water.

"Ahoy, mates, come on aboard!"

The big otter boat Waterlily was packed with tough looking otters, and in tow she had a flat bottomed barge, also filled to the gunwales with more otters. They made room for Martin and his contingent.

Starwort grinned and held up a thonged sling. "Mainly uses these for sport an' fishin', but we've all got one. Miss Rose, good to see yer pretty face again. Still keepin' this Warrior of yours in check, I 'ope.

Pallum an' Grumm, well, shake me rudder yer lookin' plump an'

fitter'n ever!"

A flotilla of shrew canoes came racing round the bend and hit the bank with a loud damp thud. Starwort winked at Boldred. "Ho, look out, 'ere comes trouble on the tide!"

Boldred blinked at the teeming arguing masses of shrews, yelling and waving their swords angrily. "What are they doing here?"

Starwort flexed his powerful paws. "I thought we might need extra

'elp, so I told 'em they weren't allowed to follow us an' I forbid them to take part in any fight. You know the shrews, mate never do as they're told." The otter waved at his deck crew. "Cast off for'ard, cast off aft, cast off midships. Away we go! You shrews, stop 'ere, you ain't comin', see!"

Rose and Pallum chuckled at Starwort's ruse as a veritable armada of craft pulled out into the stream, with Waterlily in the vanguard.

Martin stood in the bows of the otter boat as if willing it to travel faster. Worry etched itself across his brow. Boldred perched on the for'ard rail. "Rest, Martin. Nothing you can do will make the river flow swifter."

Grim jawed, the young mouse pawed his sword hilt as he paced back and forth, heedless of the glorious sunset on the water. "I'll never forgive myself if we're too late. Travelling to Noonvale was a mistake, I should have stayed on the coast and sought Brome out, Felldoh too.

Things might have been different."

Boldred folded her wings, shifting from claw to claw.

"Aye, you could have all been slain, then what help would you be?

This way you are returning to Marshank with an army at your back.

Many more are coming to aid your cause. I have made sure of that."

Martin watched the stream slip by, gurgling and eddying. "Forgive me, friend. I must seem very ungrateful after all you have done to help."

"It is natural to worry when friends are in danger, Martin. Don't think about what you could have done, concentrate on what you plan to do; it is more useful." Boldred spread her wings, preparing for flight. "I must leave you for a while now. There are more things that I have to do. I'll see you at Marshank, Warrior mouse. Good seasons and fair winds go with us both."

Martin watched his feathered friend winging off downstream into the evening treetops, silhouetted against a sky of lilac and gold.

"Move yer stern a touch, matey, and let me get at the drum!"

Starwort's wife Marigold opened a locker and rolled out a big flat drum. She placed it on a coil of rope and began whacking it slowly with her rudderlike tail. The deep boom cut through the twilight stillness as Rose came to join Martin in the bows. They both looked on perplexed, until Marigold explained, "Just drummin' up a little more

'elp. My Starwort always says that willin' paws are welcome ones."

A rolling drum answered Marigold's summons. Rose pointed upstream. "Look!"

Waiting to join them was a sprawling flat raft with a rickety shed built at its centre. Lines of otters and burly hedgehogs stood by their long poles, waiting to join the fleet.

Starwort sprang to the bowsprit, waving at the newcomers. "Yoho, Gulba, me ole mucker, come to join in the fun?"

The biggest of the hedgehogs was a female. Colored tassels hung from her headspikes and she brandished a formidable warclub studded with chunks of crystal.

"Yoho, Starwort. Yore gittin' fat an' sleek these days. Wot's Marigold bin feedin' ye on?"

Starwort grinned mischievously as he ducked a swipe from his wife.

"Hard words an' hotroot when she's not bullyin' the babies!"

Gulba's husband Trung was small and fat. He emerged from the shack eating a watershrimp pastie and twirling a thong with two stones clacking on its split end. "Who are we fightin' an' when do we get at 'em, Marigold?"

Martin came alert as he listened to the information.

"The vermin in the big place by Eastern Sea. With a followin' breeze an' no stream blockages, we should get there by noon on the morrow.

Are you game?"

The raft pushed off as they passed, bumping several shrew longboats and following the Waterlily's wakeswirl.

Gulba leaned on her warclub and scowled. "We're with you. 'Tis only a matter o' time afore that scummy stoat takes over the whole coast an' starts foragin' inland for slaves. I say we put a stop to him smartlike!"

Throughout the night Martin's piecemeal slumbers were broken as the drums sounded and more woodland tribes joined the swelling ranks. Rose slept through it all. Waking at dawn light, she was amazed and delighted to see the stream packed with boats and craft of all shapes, each one low in the water with creatures ready to fight at their side. Along the banks she could see others, squirrels and mice, keeping pace with the vessels at a swift lope. Starwort dashed past her and leaped up on the rail. Steadying himself on a rope, he put a paw to his brow, scanning the mist wreathed waters ahead.

"Steady on, backwater buckoes, the outlet's in sight!"

Martin left off opening a food pack. "What's the outlet?"

Suddenly the Waterlily picked up speed as if she were being sucked along on the current, and a rushing noise became audible.

Starwort winked at Martin and Rose. "Best 'old tight, the outlet's where we join the main Broadstream again. Nothin' t' worry about, it's only rapids."

The whole craft gave a lurch, and it began to buck and leap.

Timbers groaned crazily as Marigold shouted forward. "Starwort, get yer hide aft an' do somethin' useful. I can't manage this tiller single pawed!"

There was no time for more talk. Rose hung grimly on to Martin.

Winding a rigging rope about his paws, the young mouse took a deep breath as the otter boat tilted into the rapids. A huge rainbow appeared through the mist of boiling spray as water engulfed everybeast aboard, and the craft stood almost on its end as it flew helter skelter down the sickening drop. Ragged rocks rushed by.

Grumm opened his mouth to yell, but it was filled with water. He clung to Pallum, ignoring his friend's spikes. The world seemed to turn upside down for several perilous moments, the drum rat tatting as rapid water beat at it.

Starwort and Marigold laughed with wild exuberance as they fought the swivelling tiller. Together they roared above the melee, "Down weeeeeee goooooooo!"

With a loud flat splash, the Waterlily landed in the Broadstream.

Starwort was immediately up on the stern, bawling orders. "Ship out, ship out, mates! Pull 'er clear, make fast that raft an' get 'er in midstream!"

The otter crew worked furiously as other craft dropped in behind them. Two shrew longboats collided in midair and overturned. Gulba and her husband Trung, the two hedgehogs who steered the ramshackle craft, together with their otter friends managed to make a perfect flat landing in an immense cascade of water. The hut at the center of the big raft half disintegrated under the impact, but Gulba paid it no heed. She was yelling sternly at the shrews.

"Hoi, shrewheads, don't ye know the meanin' of the order to backwater. Yore mad as scorched frogs, you lot!"

As if to prove her point, two shrew boats flew overhead, packed with shouting and arguing creatures. They sailed right over the raft.

Gulba ducked as they flew by in midair.

Splash! Crash!

Both boats hit the water, miraculously staying upright. A shrew stood up, waving his sword at the hedgehog. "Tend to yer own raft, spikedog. We know what we're doin'!"

As boats were righted and soaking creatures hauled from the water, the fleet gradually got itself back on to an even keel.

Rose shook Starwort and his wife by their paws gratefully. "Oh, you were so skillful, both of you, the way you took command and knew just what to do, steering this great boat right the way down those dangerous rapids. Only two creatures such as yourselves would know how to navigate that terrible drop in safety ..."

Marigold bobbed a comical curtsy. "Well, thankee now, pretty one.

That was the first time we've ever been down those rapids!"

Bump! Grumm fainted.

Swifts darted and wheeled over the water in brilliant morning sunlight as it burned the mists away. Martin finished breakfasting and went to stand up in the bows next to Starwort. The sturdy otter leaned confidentially close. "Listen, matey, while I tells yer three words you've wanted to 'ear ... Next stop Marshank!"

A tremor ran through the Warrior's body. He clasped the sword handle tight, his eyes shining like flints in firelight.

"I'm coming, Badrang!"

39

The cart was a charred, smoking thing, but it still stood. All night the fighting had been furious, with no let up.

Fur and Freedom Fighters had battled against flaming shafts with their bare paws and sand. Four lay dead and three wounded.

Smoke grimed and bleary eyed, they had plucked burning arrows from the wood, strung them on their bows and returned them to stick blazing in the gates of Marshank. The javelin supply was depleted, one shaft being retained for each creature in the event that paw to paw combat would be their final stand. There were still plenty of rocks to sling, Keyla and Tullgrew taking charge of the slingers while Ballaw managed a frugal breakfast. The hare sat wearily against one of the sandbanks that had been shorn up either side of the cart, Rowanoak slumped beside him. Both were singed and smoke grimed.

Rowanoak drank half her water, passing the rest on to Brome, who distributed it among the wounded. The badger wiped a sandy paw across her scorched muzzle. "Well, Ballaw De Quincewold, what's to report?"

The irrepressible hare wiped dust from his half scone ration and looked up at the sky. "Report? Er, nothin' much really, except that it looks like being another nice sunny day, wot!"

A flaming arrow extinguished itself in the sand close by Rowanoak.

She tossed it on to a pile of other shafts waiting to be shot. "A nice day indeed. D'you think we'll be around to see the sunset?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "I wonder if that owl Bold red, wasn't it I wonder if she ever managed to get through to this Martin the Warrior creature."

Ballaw picked dried blood from a wound on his narrow chest.

"Doesn't look like it, does it? No, old Rowan me badger oak, I think the stage is all ours and it'll be our duty to give the best performance we can before the curtain falls for the last time."

Groot plucked a pawful of arrows from the sand. Tossing them behind the smouldering cart, he took his bow from Buckler. Together they notched up their shafts, nodding to each other.

"Watch the cart, it's roasting hot. Right, fire!" Swiftly they stood and released the taut bowstrings, throwing themselves flat immediately. A hail of arrows hit the cart and the surrounding sand in reply. Groot scratched a mark in the sand next to a line of others. "Got one, big weasel type wearin' a red jerkin!" Buckler shook his head in disappointment. "Oi been arfter that vurmint all noight moiself, hurr!"

They notched up another two arrows. "At least the little ones'll be safe with Geum and Purslane," Groot sniffed. "Maybe they'll take off south and find some place where they can live in peace. Pity, I would've liked to see my little Fuffle grow up and take care of his mother when she's an old un."

Buckler wrinkled his homely face into a smile. "Ho urr, he'm be a right liddle roguer, that babe o' thoin. Doant you'm give oop 'ope, Groot. We'm bain't finished yet, burr no!"

Badrang sat in the courtyard. Shaded by the wall, it was the only place where missiles could not fall. He took a leisurely breakfast of smoked herrings and dandelion water.

Boggs came down from the walltop and saluted with his bow. "That cart's still there, Lord, though it can't be much more than splinters an'

ash by now. A good breeze'd blow it over."

The Tyrant delicately plucked a fish scale from his upper lip. "Keep those archers firing until I tell you to stop. Have we lost many through the night?"

"Twelve, maybe thirteen, Sire. There was quite a few wounded tryin'

to put the fire out on the gates."

Badrang nodded thoughtfully and beckoned to a passing ferret.

"You there, Stumptooth. Get the rest of the horde on their paws. Issue the long pikes and spears, have them stand by."

Boggs brightened up a little. "Are you goin' to start the charge, Lord?"

Badrang poured a beaker of dandelion water and passed it to Boggs. "Not yet. Drink that. It's cool, isn't it? Also we've got plenty of food, solid walls around us and plenty of shade. Those wretches out there have only sun, sand, a few drops of water and hardly any food by now. They've not been able to sleep all night, while we've had archers relieving each other to take a rest. I think I'll leave it a bit yet, keep them in suspense, make them suffer. Who knows, we might yet save a good number of slaves. Go and ask them to surrender again."

Tramun Clogg was digging graves in the soft ground near the corner of the wall. He leaned on his spade and eyed Badrang. "You never could go fer the clean kill, could yer, matey? Ho no, you likes pullin' the wings off butterflies an' watchin' them crawl round 'elpless, as I recall. Though maybe yore worried that if yer did charge now, they'd put up a good fight."

Badrang held the dandelion water out to Clogg. As the corsair reached for it, he upended the jug, pouring it out on the ground.

"You're right, of course, Clogg. That's why I like to keep you as a slave-it reminds me that once you tried to be my equal, or even my better, and now you have to take orders from the lowliest of my creatures.

You are lower than a worm, Tramun Clogg!" The corsair dabbed his paw in the wet sand and sucked it. "Haharr, I never was 'igh an'

mighty like you, Badrang. I'll just go back to buryin' yer dead an' wait fer you to turn up as a customer."

With his head wound in a bandage, Nipwort shrilled the message across to the creatures barricaded behind the sandbanks on either side of the burned out cart.

"My Lord Badrang is still merciful, he gives you a second chance to surrender and keep your lives. What is your answer?"

"Tell old Badthingy it is beneath our dignity to surrender to scum!"

Ballaw's voice came back insolently clear, this time accompanied by many others. "Stinky, slimy scum!" "Gutless, wet nosed crook tailed scum!" "Yurr, gurt fat bottomed vurmint scummer!" Nipwort's high pitched squeak cut across the insults. "Is that the answer I must take to my Lord Badrang?" A good sized, well placed slingstone from Rowanoak knocked the rat backwards from the walltop to the courtyard.

"Tell him he can chew on that for free!"

Badrang had heard the exchange. He rolled the stunned form of Nipwort over with a kick. "Boggs, redouble the archers on the walltop and continue without halting. I'll make those fools think it's raining arrows!"

Ballaw helped to shore up the banks, and Rowanoak piled sand against the flimsy burnt cart. Brome kept his head down as he bandaged Keyla's injured tail under a pelting hail of arrows.

The young otter gritted his teeth, forcing a tight as he gasped through a wave of pain, "D'you think it's somethin' we've said that's offended him?"

Brome ducked an arrow and continued with Keyla's dressing.

"Brave words. Slingstones and arrows is all we've got left, that's the last of my herbs and bandages."

At midday the arrows ceased. There followed a lull. Ballaw went around doling out the last of the food and water. Groot nodded to the trenched ranks on the south side. "Any chance we could charge them and break through? We could make it to the cliffs if we could."

Rowanoak patted his head lightly. "No chance at all. See, they're all still standing ready on the walltop. We'd be cut down before we got halfway."

Groot shrugged. "Just a thought."

Ballaw took Rowanoak to one side, out of the hearing of the others.

"This silence, I don't like it one bit!"

Rowanoak watched the still fortress and nodded. "They're definitely planning something. A charge, d'you think?"

Ballaw picked up a javelin. "Right, that's exactly my thoughts, old thing. Issue the javelins!"

Each creature took a javelin in silence, knowing what it meant.

Ballaw dusted himself down and stood to attention. "Listen up now, chaps. I'm not given to makin' jolly great speeches an' all that-"

"Oh you dreadful old scene stealer," Celandine tittered. "You've never made a short one in your life!"

The hare glared at her as Rowanoak took over from him.

"All that can be said has been said. I'm sure you know what I mean, but let me add this. For myself, it has been a pleasure to know you all and to serve with you in this great battle. May the seasons remember us kindly and what we tried to do here."

There was an embarrassed silence, then Brome held out his paw.

"Give me a javelin too. I will try to be a warrior like Felldoh!"

A wild yell arose from the fortress as Marshank's gates swung open and the horde poured forth fully armed, racing across the sands towards the beleaguered little group standing behind the ruined cart.

40

Martin drew his sword and leaped into the shallows. Splashing ashore, he watched the other boats empty out as he called to Starwort,

"Which way to Marshank?"

The draught from Boldred's wings nearly knocked Martin over as the owl landed at his side. "Over that hill. Follow me!"

Rose saw Martin stop at the hilltop. She ran to catch up with him, Grumm and Pallum following close behind her. "Martin, wait for us!"

When they reached him, the young mouse stood staring open mouthed at the scene below. Boldred ambled up, smiling. "Now you have a horde too!"

Queen Amballa stood at the head of her mighty army of pigmy shrews, and behind them the Warden of Marshwood Hill could be seen stalking among the crowds of Gawtrybe squirrels as they waved their axes eagerly, wanting to play a new game. Otters, hedgehogs, mice, squirrels, moles and vast numbers of shrews stood surrounding the hill.

From his vantage point on the hilltop, Martin looked to his left.

There in the distance he could see the north side wall of Marshank.

Rose stared at Martin; it was as if she were looking at a strange creature. He was still as a rock, the blood rising behind his eyes as his paw whitened with the furious grip he had on his sword handle. The blade rose above his head and fell in a straight line, pointing at Badrang's hated fortress. The horde went silent, staring up at the Warrior mouse, waiting on the word which rolled from his lips like steel striking stone.

" Chaaaarge!!! "

They went in a rush like a giant tidal wave covering the land, but none was more fleet of paw than the mouse Martin. He was out in front, teeth bared, sword still pointing as he tore through dune and foothill. Rose was swept along in the midst of the howling horde with Pallum and Grumm. Now and then, through the forest of spears, lances and swords, she could see him, a lone figure ahead of the rest.

Her heart went out to him as she remembered her first sight of him, bound between two posts, left to die on Marshank's walls, and recalled the words he had shouted into the stormy night. Now she heard those words as in a dream:

"I am a warrior! Martin son of Luke! I will live, I will not give in and die up here! Do you hear me, Badrang? I will live to take back my father's sword and slay you one day! Badraaaaaang!"

Javelins stuck in the sand at their sides, the archers knelt and drew back their bowstrings full stretch. Ballaw strode the line, holding up his paw. Bowstrings trembled with the tension as the screaming horde dashed across the shore in a mass, bound straight at them.

"Wait for it, chaps. Steady on, wait'll you see the scum on their snouts.... Now!"

The hail of arrows struck, hordebeasts fell and were trampled underpaw by those behind, but the horde kept coming.

"Load and throw!" Rowanoak cried to her line of slingers as the archers dropped back.

The stones hit true, but not well enough to halt the relentless charge. Spears from the horde ranks cut down several of the Fur and Freedom Fighters. They backed up, retreating towards the sea as the horde pressed forward.

Badrang stood on the walltop, unable to contain a thin smile of triumph as he watched the little army being battered remorselessly back to the Eastern Sea. He turned to Boggs. "Wait and see, we'll get a few slaves out of this yet those that aren't drowned."

Boggs looked up at the sky. "Strange, I thought I could hear thunder."

Badrang also looked up. "Fool, how could you hear thunder when there's not a cloud in the sky!"

Boggs cupped paws around both his ears. "I'm sure it's thunder, Sire. Comin' from over there ..." Speechless with terror, he pointed at the thundering horde breasting a low hill to the north, heading directly for them.

Even though he was practically numb with shock, Badrang found himself automatically giving out orders. "Call the horde back, Nipwort.

Boggs, get the archers on to the north wall. I'll hold the gates open until they're back in!"

Yarrow tripped and fell in the shallows. The front runners were in the water, grappling with Fur and Freedom Fighters, when Crosstooth began shouting, "Retreat! Retreat! Back to Marshank on the double!

There's a horde headed to attack the fort. Hurry!"

Ballaw sat down hard in the shallows and blew water from his nose.

"Hold up, where are they bally well goin'? Great seasons, relief's arrived! Hurrah! It's a horde! A flood! A mob! A bloomin' tidal wave of warbeasts attackin' the fort!"

Ballaw's fighters let out a loud cheer of delight, leaping about in the shallows like mad creatures.

The horde were streaming back to the fortress, leaving a bare dozen fighting in the sea. Swift javelin thrusts and throws found their way around pikes and spears, laying the hordebeasts low. Brome found himself standing, javelin poised, over a searat who lay wounded in the surf. He was trying to force himself to stab and slay the foebeast when the rat whined out pleadingly, "It's me, matey, Wulpp. Don't kill me!"

Brome gasped. It was Wulpp, the searat whose injured paw he had treated when, disguised as a corsair, he had gained entry to Marshank.

Brome thrust the javelin into the sea close to Wulpp's neck. Leaning down, he muttered to the terrified rat, "Lie still. When we've gone, take off south down the beach. I never want to see you again. Good luck!"

Turning, Brome picked up a spear and followed the triumphantly shouting fighters who were running towards Marshank.

Now the battle was joined! Horde fought horde that day by the Eastern Sea. Martin's army flooded around Marshank, surrounding its walls on all four sides. Sling stones, javelins, arrows and spears were loosed up at the walltops as roaring warcries rent the air.

"Fur and Freeeedooooom!"

"Broadstream for eveeeeer!"

"Amballa Amballa! Kill kill kill!"

"Maaaartiiiiin!"

Badrang was everywhere at once, waving his sword as he shouted encouragement to his fighters massed thick on the high walls.

"Crosstooth, more archers at the front. See the gates are defended!

Boggs, tell those spears to stand ready on the northside. Slash any ropes and grapnels don't let them over! Frogbit, get boulders and rocks to the back wall. Crush them! Bluehide, take the south wall. Use long spears and pikes throw fire down on them!"

Badrang was an experienced battler. He found his confidence and shrewdness returning as the horde looked to him as their leader.

Grabbing a passing ferret, he rapped out more orders.

"Stumptooth, take thirty wounded, four groups of five to supply the walls with arrows, spears and slingstones. Get the other ten to carry the big fishnets to the walltops and drop them over on any large groups. That'll slow 'em up. Come on, you fighters and hordebeasts, this is our chance to rule the whole country. Slaves, land, plunder, we'll have it all!"

Ignoring his sore and bandaged paws, the Tyrant snatched a spear from a searat, hurled it coolly and slew a shrew who was trying to climb the gates. "See, it's easy. They die like other creatures. We'll make the sands run red before nightfall!"

Arrows zipped down from the walltops in dark clouds like angry wasps, tearing into the packed ranks that charged Marshank.

Slingstones whirred like flights of small birds, clanging on armour and blade alike in their upward flight.

Rose found Boldred and the Warden on a hillock out of weapon range. The two great birds stood waiting their chance. Boldred greeted the mousemaid.

"We'd be shot out of the air in the middle of that lot. When it gets dark and the pace slackens, my friend and I will be able to fly in."

Rose looked out over the melee of battle. "Where's Martin? I lost sight of him in the charge."

The grey heron pointed his beak towards the front gates. "He is over there with otters and hedgehogs. They have a piece of timber to barter the gates, but it is not big enough."

Ballaw came panting up with the remnants of his gallant force.

Weary and battle scarred, the brave hare slumped down in the sand.

"Phew, what a day, chaps! Rowanoak and m'self pulled our little army out for a breather, wot. Let those other creatures have a crack at the foe, they're a lot fresher than my gang!"

Rowanoak sat with the owl and the heron, shaking her head. "You arrived just in time to save us from being slaughtered on the tideline; thank you. But your has been too furious. I am not a warrior or a commander, but I can see that they will never breach those walls by throwing themselves at them."

The owl blinked as she watched the assault on the fortress. "You are right, Rowanoak. Martin seems to be the only one who has any kind of plan, but he is unaware of others when his warrior blood is roused.

We need a plan of attack. Badrang is not stupid, he has the advantage of the walls and is using them well. Other creatures less shrewd might have been panicked by our charge; not him, though. He is a cool one in a pinch."

Ballaw brightened up. "That's it, a plan. Capital! What d'you suggest, marm?"

41

Martin let go of the shattered remnants of the inadequate chunk of driftwood he and his allies had been using as a battering ram.

Drawing his sword, he attacked the gates in a wild rage.

Starwort and Gulba ducked into the shelter of the gates as missiles rained down from above. They tried to restrain Martin. "It's no use, mate, the gates are too strong. Come away!"

Martin hacked and hammered at the stout timbers, oblivious to everything about him. Rose pressed through the chaos, sided by Grumm and Pallum. They forced a way through to the gate. Martin halted at the sight of her, deflecting a broken spear haft with his short sword. "Rose, get out of here. It's too dangerous!"

She picked up the sharp pointed end of the spear boldly. "Not without you, Martin. Come with us, you are needed. Starwort, Gulba, you too. We need a proper battle plan, too many creatures are being killed needlessly. We won't get inside Marshank by charging and milling about willy nilly. Come!"

It had turned noon when otter drums sounded over the fray. The attackers broke off their charging and retreated back to the sands around the low dune.

Crosstooth shook his spear in the air jubilantly. "Yah, they've turned tail and run!"

Badrang knew better. He had seen Ballaw's fighters contacting the leaders it was a calculated retreat. However, the Tyrant said nothing of this. Imitating Cross tooth, he waved his sword. "See, I told you it was easy. Look at them, running like frightened babies now that they've had a taste of real fighting from warriors like us, eh lads!"

Gesturing and prancing on the walltops, the horde took up his cry.

"Haha, had enough, have you? Cowards!"

"Come back and fight me, I only slew ten!"

"Ten? I slew two score and I'd have got more of 'em if they hadn't scurried off in a fright!"

Tramun Clogg left off his grave digging and clambered to the walltop. He sized the situation up immediately. "Burn me clogs, buckoes. Yore a bunch of strawheads iffen you think those fighters are runnin' away. I'd save me breath fer more action iffen I was you lot!"

Whock!

Badrang dealt Clogg a ferocious blow across his head with a long pike he had snatched from Gruzzle. The corsair fell senseless in a heap. Badrang kicked him from the walltop, and Clogg's unconscious form fell with a thump on to a heap of sand he had excavated. The Tyrant stoat leaned on the pike, dismissing his former partner. "Don't listen to that old fool, his brains are all in his clogs. Crosstooth, see that everybeast has extra rations. Stay awake, lads. Maybe they'll get brave enough to give it another try. I certainly hope so, eh?"

This announcement was greeted with raucous cheers.

While the wounded were treated by Rose and Brome, food was divided up among the groups of creatures seated around the low hillock. Martin sat with the Council of Chieftains as they laid war plans. Rowanoak and Boldred were rocks of good sense, rejecting the wild schemes of hot headed beasts, considering the suggestions of cooler and wiser creatures.

Queen Amballa had several of her pigmy shrews drag a large square fishing net to the hill. It was made of strong woven kelp. "See, Martinmouse, wallbeast throw this, snarl us up plentygood!"

A Gawtrybe squirrel laughed scornfully. "Hehee, good game. They di'n't catch squirrels, Gawtrybe's too fast for nets. Heehee!"

Martin sat up alert, the light of idea dawning in his eyes. "That's it!

We go in over the walls on two sides when night falls, and use the nets one side, say on the north, while the squirrels take the south wall!"

Starwort's wife Marigold put down the pitcher she had been drinking from. "An' what's Badrang's crew goin' to be doin' while all this goes on, 'cos they won't be sleepin' or pickin' their claws."

Martin pointed across to where the old Rambling Rosehip troupe's fire charred cart lay half buried in the sand. "Will the wheels on that thing still turn?"

Ballaw shrugged. "What d'you think, Buckler old lad?"

The mole gazed at it for a while before giving his verdict. "Ho urr,

'twere a gudd ole cart that'n. Oi wager oi'll get 'er goin' tho' et woant go furr, Marthen."

The Warrior mouse shook Buckler by the paw. "It won't have to go far, friend. Only from here to those gates, loaded with burning grass and wood, just to create a diversion!"

Boldred blinked excitedly. "It could work! Hold back the attack until before dawn; that's when they'll least expect it. The Warden and I will fly the net and drop it over the north wall. Who'll be going over there, Martin?"

"Queen Amballa with her warriors and the big hedgehogs."

Trung thumped his loaded thong weapon gleefully into the sand, grinning at his wife as she nursed her immense warclub. "Y'hear that, me dearie? We'll go over paw in paw!"

"The Gawtrybe squirrels will help the otters to scale the south wall,"

Martin continued.

Starwort winked at a nearby squirrel. "Eat plenty, mate, an get yer stren'th up. I'm no featherweight."

Martin eyed the cart grimly. "I'll be in charge of that. All our hopes hang on it. Right, any more suggestions?"

Grumm held up a digging paw. "Aye, Marthen, thurr be other molers yurr. Us'ns tunnel round 'ee back wall, gurt woid 'ole, given everybeast a chance to get insoides."

Old Barkjon stood up, dusting himself off slowly. "I'll go with Buckler and the others to fix the cart up, then I'll bury Felldoh."

Martin put his paw about the old squirrel's shoulders. "We'll come with you, Rose, Pallum, Brome, Grumm and myself. We all started out together, so we'd like to help put our friend to rest."

The Rambling Rosehip Players voted to accompany Barkjon too, all wanting to pay their last respects to their friend.

Fleabane laughed against the walltop. "Boggs was right, mate, I can see them tryin' to fix up that burnt cart. Betcha they'll be gone by mornin'."

Rotnose peered out into the gathering evening. "Well, I won't be sorry to see the back o' them. They fought like madbeasts, an' as fer that big squirrel, Fellow or whatever 'e was called, that one was a real madbeast. I never seen nothin' like it!"

Fleabane nodded. "Aye, well 'e won't do no more slayin'. They buried 'im where 'e fell. I never want t' be within a league of a warrior like 'im fer the rest o' me days!"

Badrang passed by them as he inspected the walltop troops. "Cut the gossip and keep your eyes peeled. No sleeping while you stand at stations."

When he had passed by, Fleabane muttered to Rot nose, "That stoat's gettin' to be a right ole worrywart, mate. Take it from me, they ain't comin' back fer more of what we give 'em t'day."

Rotnose propped his chin on a battlement. "Y'right there, matey.

Listen, we only got a few hours shuteye last night an' we been fightin'

all day. Now I'm gonna take a liddle snooze. You keep watch then you can 'ave second nap."

Badrang descended from the walls and went in company with some of his Captains to take supper in the long house. Boggs rubbed his paws together in anticipation as he walked with them. "I'd give me whiskers fer a good beaker of kelp beer!"

A cracked voice came out of the shadows. "Badrang is the great Evil One, mates, leadin' you all to yer doom. Steer clear of 'im. Foller me an' dig graves deadbeasts can't 'arm yer!"

Boggs shuddered. "Sounds like Clogg, though I don't see 'im."

Crosstooth laughed harshly. "Ole Clogg isn't right in the brainbox no more. May'ap it was that crack you give 'im with the pike, Sire. The daft ole beast's been goin' about like that since 'e came to, rantin' an'

ravin'."

Clogg's crazy laugh seemed to come from nowhere.

"Haharrharrharr! Stay with Badrang the Evil One an' yore all dead meat. Come an' dig nice graves with me, mates!"

Badrang paused with his paw on the longhouse door. Staring out into the gathering gloom he called aloud, "Stay clear of me, you crazy old coot, or I'll let daylight through your hide, d'you hear me?"

"Haharrharr, ye can't see me 'cos I'm invisible. I've got a nice dark hole waitin' for ye, Evil One!"

The Captains hurried inside. As Badrang slammed the door, the upturned wheelbarrow over a freshly dug grave moved. Clogg peered out from under it.

"I'm arf a stoat an' arf a mole,

An' I'll bury youse all in a nice deep 'ole,

Down, down where it's still an' cold,

An' y'never live to get old!"

Every fighter had been fed. No fires glowed in the still summer night. It was warm and heavy. Martin sat awake with Rose as the camp lay in slumber. The mousemaid stared up at the stars which twinkled with pale fires in the midnight heavens.

"Strange isn't it, Martin, the same stars that shine on this terrible place with all its death and war, those same stars are shining over Noonvale, where all is at peace and war has never been. What are you thinking of, Warrior?"

Martin smiled, nodding at the sight of Grumm, his small fat stomach rising and falling gently. "I wasn't thinking of anything, Rose, I was just watching Grumm, flat out and snoozing with his ladle clutched in both paws."

The mousemaid relieved the sleeping mole of his ladle, placing it close to his side where he would find it on waking. "He's the most friendly and loyal mole anybeast could wish to know. Grumm has always looked out for me, ever since I was a tiny mousebabe in Noon vale. When we go back there you'll make lots of friends among our moles you're a hero to them."

"Me, a hero? What for?" Martin laughed softly.

"For bringing down that great dead sycamore. They've been at it for seasons, on and off, without much success. Then you came along and in a single day it was uprooted and fallen."

The young mouse passed her a cloak Trung had given him. "You look tired, Rose. Better get some rest. Go on. I'm not sleepy, I'll sit here close by."

Rose draped the cloak lightly about her, and she was soon asleep.

Martin sat up, thinking of many things as he felt the night hours slip slowly by.

42

Ballaw was wakened by a shake from Martin. It was still dark, though the night was on the wane.

"Come on, it's time!"

The camp was stirring quietly into life. Grurrun had taken off with Pallum and Rose and a lot of others; they travelled in a wide semi circle, round to the back walls of Marshank. Boldred and the Warden stood ready, the big kelp net clutched tight between them.

Queen Amballa and her pigmy shrews grouped with the big hedgehogs on one side, while Starwort and his otters mingled with the Gawtrybe squirrels. Martin, Ballaw and Rowanoak inspected the cart. It was flimsy in the extreme and wobbly on its wheels, piled high with grass, driftwood and brush.

Buckler patted it fondly. "Hurr, she'll do a gurt last run, oi'll stake moi name on et."

Amballa raised her paw to Gulba and their joint forces moved off.

Starwort gave the squirrels a stern nod to set them on their way. Now there were only fifty archers under Martin's command left in camp. At his signal, Buckler set flint to tinder and Rowanoak braced herself in the fire blackened shafts.

"Nearly curtain time, chaps," Ballaw whispered. "Here we go!"

Gruzzle was dreaming. In his dream he was back on board his old ship. Someone had lit a fire on the deck and creatures were dancing around it shouting. The searat felt drowsily happy. He wanted to join in with them and dance around the flickering flames. He moaned luxuriously and shifted. Slipping off his spear handle, Gruzzle cracked his chin hard on the battlement, thrusting him into wakefulness and horrifying reality. The blazing cart plunged madly over the shore towards the fortress gates.

"Owch! Wha, er, 'ey, y'can't do that! Fire, fire, 'elp!" In seconds all was chaos and mad confusion. Most of the soldiers on the walltops were sound asleep. They came awake tripping and bumping into each other. The longhouse door flew open and Badrang dashed out with his Captains stumbling behind. Hearing the shouts and seeing the bright glow against the darkness, the Tyrant drew his sword and yelled mightily, "Front wall! The gates! Hurry!"

He raced up the wall ladder, with Clogg's voice ringing over the alarm shouts. "Haharr, 'tis the ghost of me burned ship come back to take revenge on ye, Evil One. You should 'ave listened t' me, Badrang!"

The heat of the roaring conflagration scorched Rowan oak's cheeks as she pushed the blazing cart along. Martin and the others ran after her, having been driven from the sides of the cart by the searing flames. At a sharp shout from Rowanoak they halted, notching arrows to their bows. The badger continued running with the cart. Putting her every last ounce of strength into the act, she gave one mighty final push and fell flat. Crackling and hissing with tails of flame like a massive comet, the cart careered madly into the gates of Marshank.

Whoom! Crumph!

It struck the gates, blossoming like a monstrous fiery flower as the whole thing burst on the timbers, sending showers and cascades of angry red sparks upwards in a mushroom of smoke.

Ballaw already had the archers in three lines. He was in his element, ears quivering as he rapped out smart commands.

"First rank, shoot and drop!"

A volley of shafts hissed through the night.

"First rank, reload! Second rank, shoot and drop!"

Another hail of death followed in the wake of the first.

"Second rank, reload! Third rank, shoot and drop! Ready, first rank!"

Unable to see because of the bright light burning in their eyes, the walltop troops were hit hard. Amid it all Badrang was knocking the bows from fighters' paws. "Slopheads! Never mind shooting arrows, the doors are burning. Get sand, get water, put that blaze out!" He grabbed hold of Rotnose. "Did you hear me, muckears. Put the fi-"

The weasel slumped forward with a barbed arrow in his skull.

Boldred and the Warden released the net. It fell accurately, draping one end over three battlements while the rest of it trailed down the wall. Queen Amballa gave it a quick tug to make sure it was secure.

"Allbeast gonow, upupupupup!"

Gulba and Trung were alongside her as the net suddenly became alive with hedgehogs and pigmy shrews.

Ten Gawtrybe squirrels had made it to the top of the south wall. Six stood by on the narrow catwalk, fighting off hordebeasts as the other four let down ropes with sticks tied across them ladder fashion.

Starwort wound his sling about his waist and grabbed one of the ropes. "Come on, mates, just like climbin' up the riggin'!"

Grumm and the moles waited until they heard screams and shouts of combat on the other side of the wall.

"Roight, molers. Show'm 'ow to go a tunellen!"

Powerful digging claws tore at rock, sand, earth and grass as the hole began to sink deep and wide.

Pallum stood close to Rose. "I never was in a war, is it always this complicated?"

Rose shrugged as she twirled a sling. "Your guess is as good as mine, Pallum. I was never in one either!"

Standing on the darkened beach, Martin could see the confused figures in the light of the gates. He fired off his arrow, seeing a searat fall with it in his throat, as Ballaw bade his rank drop and reload their bows.

The firecart had done its work well. Despite copious doses of sand and inaccurately thrown water, the flames licked hungrily up the woodwork, eating into the timber until they were well established.

Rowarxoak came crawling, belly down, across the sand to Martin and Ballaw, joining them in time to see a ferret on the walltop beating wildly at his burning cloak.

"One badger reporting back. Mission successful what's next?"

Martin cast aside the bow and drew his sword. "I'm going round to climb that net on the north wall!"

Ballaw and the others went with him. Rowanoak heaved a sigh and sat down with a bow and arrow. "I'll stop here and practice my archery. I could've climbed that net though, when I was younger, and slimmer!"

The burning gate was a lost cause. Badrang sent a platoon of long pikes to stand in the courtyard and repel anybeast that tried to gain entrance once the gates fell. Dividing his walltroops into two groups, he gave charge of the north wall to Crosstooth and the south to Flea bane. Dashing down from the walls, he ran into the longhouse.

For the first time in his life the Tyrant felt the icy claws of terror grip him. With an awful certainty he knew he was defeated: Marshank would fall. He stifled a sob of fear in his throat as he looked around frantically.

What to do?

He was trapped inside his own fortress, surrounded by a determined horde of fighters. Some of them had been slaves of his, slaves that he had starved, beaten and ill treated. His paws began to shake. Suppose he was captured by those same slaves? Striving desperately not to think what they would do to him, he climbed out of the back window of the longhouse. He was facing the north wall, and the sounds of fighting above him were loud and furious. Badrang looked up. In the red glow from the blaze he saw his troops being pressed back by a growing multitude of small shrews and large fearsome hedgehogs. Bodies hurtled from the walltops amid wild battle shouts and war cries.

Suddenly the Tyrant's blood chilled, his mouth went dry with fright.

There illuminated in the light from the burning gates stood a warrior on the battlements. Bad rang recalled him in a flash. This was the one called Martin, the young mouse who had defied his authority, the one he had tied over the gate and imprisoned in the pit. The mouse warrior fought like ten beasts. Reckless of caution, he was everywhere at once, teeth bared, eyes glittering as he threw himself into the fray.

Hugging the wallshadows, Badrang whimpered and ran for his life, before he was seen and identified by the fearless avenger.

Starwort and Marigold left the savage Gawtrybe squirrels to deal with the troops on the south wall, laughing crazily as they wielded their stone headed axes against sword, spear and dagger. Heading their contingent of Broadstream fighters, the two otters descended the wall ladders to the courtyard. They charged straight into the platoon of pikebeasts who had been left to defend the burning gateway. With lightning agility the otters were in under the pikeshafts before the surprised foe had a chance to retaliate. Swinging stone loaded slings, the fighting otters battered their enemies to the ground with startling speed. As the last one fell, there was a sagging and creaking of timbers, and the gates began caving slowly inwards.

"Gangway, the doors are openin'!" Marigold yelled out urgently.

Otters scattered left, right and back, as the gates buckled and groaned, collapsing inwards with a crash of dust, fire, smoke and sparks.

Starwort picked himself up from where the scorching air had bowled him over. "Stan' aside, mates. Badger comin' through!"

Rowanoak came at full tilt, sand flying from her paws as she galloped straight at the inferno. With an ear splitting roar, the big badger leaped over the fallen gates. It was an awesome sight. Sailing through the flames, she landed square on all four paws inside the courtyard. The otters crowded round her, beating out the smouldering patches on her fur.

"There now, I wasn't as old as I thought," Rowanoak laughed, shuffling her paws to cool them on the ground. "Still life in the old stripes yet!"

Crosstooth fought his way along the north wall to the rear, hoping to reach the back wall, which offered quietness and a chance of escape.

The fox was a seasoned battler, and cut his way through several pigmy shrews with the long bladed spear he carried. Thrusting hard, he sent a shrew spinning from the walltop, knocking another flat with his spearshaft as he did.

Queen Amballa wriggled away from the questing spearpoint as the fox sought to skewer her, striking out valiantly with her small shrew sword. Martin came in with both footpaws first, catching Crosstooth in the lower back and sending him sprawling. Amballa was quick; she dispatched the foebeast with a single thrust as he fell forward upon her. Pushing her way free of the body, she leaped upright.

"Martinmouse save Ballamum!"

But Martin was not listening. He ran past her, along the walltop to where he had caught sight of Badrang down below, scurrying from the wall shadow to the burnt out slave compound.

Lying low, the Tyrant peered through the ash blackened stakes of the compound to the base of the rear wall. Moles, squirrels and mice were climbing out of a sizeable tunnel which had been dug through from the outside. Badrang saw his one chance of escape.

"Badraaaang, I am here!"

The Tyrant heard the challenge over the melee of battle. Casting a swift glance over his shoulder, he saw Martin dashing along the walltop. It was now or never. Badrang broke cover and ran for the tunnel, slashing viciously with his sword at anybeast who barred his way. Brandishing a ladle, a mole leaped growling at him. Badrang swung his sword. It caught the side of the ladle, sweeping Grumm away as his own ladle was smashed against the side of his head. A mousemaid threw herself on him, battering at his face with a pebble loaded in her sling. Once, twice, thrice she struck. Taken aback by the ferocity of the attack, Badrang tasted blood from a mouthwound. The loaded sling caught him hard in his left eye. Snarling with pain and rage, he grabbed the mousemaid. Lifting her easily, he flung her savagely from him. Rose's head struck the wall heavily, and she slid down like a broken doll.

Roaring and screaming like a wounded wolf, Martin threw himself from the walltop. Badrang leaped into the hole, only to find Pallum in a needletight ball blocking his way. The burned palisade of the slave compound saved Martin, breaking his fall as it exploded in a cloud of black ashdust to the dawn streaked sky. Badrang had time to hack at Pallum only once before the Warrior was on him. He was heaved bodily from the hole, arching his back in agony as the flat of Martin's small sword whipped him.

"Get up, you scum! Up on your paws and face me!"

Badrang scrambled up. Holding the long sword of Luke the Warrior before him with both paws, he rushed Martin. The onlookers gave a cry of dismay as the sword raked Martin's chest. Heedless of it, the Warrior began striking back. Steel clashed upon steel as the young mouse with the short sword battered Badrang round and round the ruins of the compound. Badrang flailed out in a panic, catching his enemy on the shoulder, arm and paw. They locked blades and stood with their noses touching, Badrang's eyes wide with horror as he stared into the face of the snarling, unstoppable Warrior who was forcing him backwards as he gritted out, "I told you I would return someday and put an end to you!"

Wrenching his face away, the stoat bit deep into his foe's shoulder, only to find himself lifted bodily and hurled hard against the wall.

Martin flung the shrew sword from him, locking both paws around Badrang's grip on the sword. The Tyrant wailed as he felt the Warrior's inexorable power turning the weapon until its point was hovering close to his heart.

Badrang's nerve deserted him. "Don't kill me," he sobbed. "You can have it all, the fortress, everythi-!"

The Tyrant of Marshank's mouth fell open and his head lolled to one side as he fell forward, carrying Martin to the ground underneath him. With his last vestige of strength, the young mouse pushed the slain foebeast from him and tugged his father's sword loose. Lying on his side with sand crusting the blood of his warwounds, Martin saw dawn's light beam across the face of Rose where she lay close to him by the wall.

The merciful darkness closed in on him as he murmured to her,

"Rose, we could have chopped the sycamore down with this."

43

The sun rose in summer splendor as Starwort's drum beat out a victory roll. Unaware of certain events, a large crowd stood cheering in the smouldering gateway that lay open to the sun warmed shore and the sparkling sea. Rowanoak strode slowly up, placing a restraining paw on the jubilant otter Chieftain. "Silence the drum, friend. Our battle was won at a bitter price."

Brome worked away dry eyed on the wounds of the unconscious mouse warrior, binding and staunching as he applied herb poultices, all the time talking to himself. "It was all my fault, if I had stayed at Noonvale and not gone wandering I would never have been captured by Badrang's creatures and none of this would have happened. I am to blame!"

Ballaw sniffed. Bending down one ear, he wiped his syes. "There, there, old lad. There's only one beast t' ?lame for all this and that's Badrang. Martin settled the >core with him for good; the evil has gone from this and for ever."

Grumm stumbled up with a large dressing on the side :>f his face and neck. Deep rivulets carved their way iown his face where the tears flowed constantly, and he nade several small gestures with his paws before Buckler sat him down with a large kerchief. "You'm 'ave to

'scuse Grumm, Maister Brome, him'n losed 'is voice through a grieven.

We'm puttin' fallen uns t' rest.... Wot abowt Miz Roser?"

Brome left off ministering to Martin's senseless form. He took a huge breath, letting it out in a shuddering sigh. "Thank you, friends, but I'm taking her home to Noonvale with me." Reaching out, he tucked in a corner of the simple white linen cloth that covered his sister's pitiful body. "Rose would have been alive today but for me, you know."

Buckler shook his head. "You'm not to blame, maister, nor Marthen, nor nobeast yurr."

Rowanoak looked bleakly around at the ruined, smoke stained walls of Marshank, where not one foe beast had been left alive. "I don't know where we're all bound, but let's get away from this place!"

Boldred seconded the badger's wise words. "Rowanoak is right.

There's been too much death and grief here, it seems to be part of the very stones. We'll leave what's left of Marshank standing as a reminder to any bad ones of what free and peaceful creatures can do when they're driven to it!"

Helped by Marigold, Brome placed Martin on a stretcher. He stood upright and addressed the multitude.

"Some of you, like the otters and the shrews of Broad stream, have homes to return to. Those of you who have no homes, listen to me.

Noonvale can be your home, a place of peace to live happily in for all seasons. Put aside your weapons if you wish to go with me to Noonvale."

A pile of javelins, swords, daggers, bows and arrows lay at the center of the deserted compound that had once held Badrang's slaves.

On the shore outside the fortress, comrades who had fought together now took their leave of each other. Like a stern father, the Warden of Marsh wood Hill shepherded the wild and wayward squirrel tribe back to their mountain foothills beyond the marshes. Boldred watched them go. "He'll keep his eye on those rogues. Come on, let's get Martin away from here."

Bound to the stretcher, and still clasping his father's sword tightly, the unconscious young mouse was carried south along the beach by Pallum, Grumm, Boldred and Rowanoak.

Ballaw turned to the remainder of the Rambling Rosehip players, who stood alongside others bound for Noonvale. "Old Rowanoak'll join us once Martin's safe, wot! Right ho, Starwort, lead us to your vessel, my good otter!"

Queen Amballa stood with her pigmy shrews. They were the last to leave. One of the shrews had picked up the sword she had once given to Martin. Waddling behind Brome, she called out, "Waitmouse!"

Brome halted. He watched as the Queen of the pigmy shrews signalled the otters carrying Rose's bier to lower it. Placing the small sword beside the mousemaid's still form, Amballa spoke in her curt vigorous manner.

"Rosemouse bravemouse! We remember hername allseasons!" She waved to the pigmy shrews and they set off south along the shoreline for their own territory.

High noontide hung over Marshank. It lay open to the insects, birds and seasons. A breeze lingered there, swirling the dust and sand into miniature spirals, mingling it with ashes around the carcasses of Badrang's horde, which had been left for the gannets and scavenging sea birds to dispose of. The once proud fortress of the Tyrant now stood deserted and forsaken.

The first gannet to land was chased off by Cap'n Tramun Clogg, waving his spade as he trundled out of hiding from the grave surmounted by the upturned wheelbarrow.

"Garn! Gerroutofit, you robbin' featherbag! Leave my 'orde alone.

I'm master 'ere now, just like I said I'd be one day, haharrharr!" The crazed corsair clumped about, turning first this one and then another, chatting amiably with the slain.

"Crosstooth, me ole matey, yore lookin' prime!"

"Harr, Boggs, sorry ye didn't join yer ole Cap'n to dig graves now, are ye?"

"Stumptooth, I allus said you should've sided with me. Never mind, mate, I'll find ye a snug berth. Leave it to Cloggo!"

He worked his way around until he found what he was looking for.

"Badrang! Arr, where's yer fine dreams of empires now, you swab?

Met a warrior who was more'n a match for ye, eh! Well, we're gonna be 'ere for ever now, you'n me, so let's not quarrel an' fall out with each other, matey. Tell yer wot, I'll dig ye a smart new grave, nice an'

deep, aye, with rocks piled atop an' yer name carved all 'andsome like on one of 'em!"

The sea birds wheeled and soared over the lone figure below, sitting in the slave compound as he argued and gossiped with the dead stoat, who made no reply as he stared through sightless eyes at the unclouded blue sky of the Eastern Coast.

44

Days shortened, and the flowers of summer died one by one as leaves began turning brown and gold. It was on one such mist shrouded autumn morning that Martin sat in the odd tree house, with the molewife Polleekin and his three friends, Boldred having long since departed for her mountain and her family.

All through the remainder of the summer Polleekin, Grumm, Pallum and Rowanoak had spent sleepless nights and restless days, nursing the Warrior back to health. Martin had come through it in silence, never speaking a word. He looked young still. Though healed in body and getting stronger by the day, his eyes still had a faraway look in them.

Grumm was about to speak when Polleekin silenced him with a glance. She nodded to the sword at Martin's side. "Oi be a needen more foirewood, Marthen. Will you'm cut some?"

Wordlessly Martin took up his sword and went off, descending to the forest to cut wood. Pawing at the scar cut through his backspikes, Pallum got up as if to follow, but the molewife forbade it. "You'm set thurr, 'edgepig. They Wurrier garn off to shed tears!"

Rowanoak shook her head wonderingly. "I heard him yesterday as I was walking through the forest. It must be very hard for him, he never mentions Rose."

Polleekin busied herself with breakfast. "No, marm, nor will him'n, oi doant think never. That liddle mousey maid be locked in Marthen's

'eart, and thurr she'm bound to stay."

Grumm blinked and sniffed. "Marthen be a gurt brave wurrier, tho'

him'n woant go back to Noonvale; too many mem'ries furr 'im thurr."

Polleekin's breakfast was good homely fare, oatmeal with honey, nutbread spread thick with strawberry preserve and a steaming pot of mint and dandelion tea. Martin ate automatically, neither tasting nor commenting on the food. When he had finished he made a simple announcement. "I am leaving today."

It was the first time he had spoken since the battle at Marshank.

His friend waited for him to say more, but he sat silent, staring at his empty plate, face calm and resolute.

It was then that Rowanoak knew Martin had rejoined the land of the living. "Will you come to Noonvale with us? We will be leaving to go there today."

The young mouse sat, testing the swordblade against his paw, pressing so hard that he almost drew blood.

"I can never return to Noonvale. I will travel alone. South."

Grumm knew it was no use trying to change his friend's mind.

"Whurr be you'm a goen? Wot be you'm a goen t' do, Marthen?"

They listened carefully, knowing that this would be the last time he would speak to them at any length. "One day maybe I will hang up this sword and be a creature of peace. Until then, I must follow the way of the Warrior; it is in my blood. Have no fear, I will never mention Noonvale, or any of you. Noonvale is a secret place untouched by evil. I could not forgive myself if I unknowingly sent trouble there. Nobeast will know from where I came."

Pallum stared quizzically at his stern eyed friend. "But what will you say? We had such adventures together, maybe in another time and another place you will tell the tale."

"Never!" Martin shook his head slowly. "I will only say that I guarded my father's cave against searats while he was away. When I felt that he would not return I began my wanderings. How could anybeast understand what we went through together, the freedom we won and the friends we lost?"

The comrades sat in silence, each with their own memories.

Polleekin rose stiffly and cleared away the remnants of their final meal together.

Soft autumn sunlight had cleared away twining wreaths of mist that hung over the still woodlands, leaves were falling in a crisp brown carpet, and a mild hoar frost melted to glistening dewdrops as the five companions took their leave of each other in the silent, timeless morning. Martin carried his sword slung across his back over an old cloak. Polleekin had made packs of food for them all. Grumm held his ladle in front of his face to hide the tears he could not stop from flowing. Rowanoak embraced the Warrior awkwardly, standing back as Pallum and Grumm did likewise. Polleekin kissed them all on the cheeks.

Rowanoak squared her broad shoulders and smiled. "We will never forget you, Martin the Warrior. Come on, let's see if we can make this place ring one last time with the old war cry!"

Birds flapped their startled wings as four voices yelled aloud, "Fur and Freedoooooom!"

Polleekin stood alone, watching as Martin was lost among the trees, a solitary figure going south. The ancient molewife slowly pawed her flowery apron, eyes clouding over as the destiny of the lone traveller stole unbidden into her mind.

"Hurr, oi told you'm 'twould be bad fate iffen you'm returned t'

Marshank wi' thoi mousemaiden. Naow thurr be on'y you'm left, young un. Bo urr, you'm got some 'ard days to go yet awhoil, tho'

'appiness will be thoine in toime yet t' come. But furr all seasons every beast shall amember thoi name, Marthen 'ee Wurrier!"

45

Down in Cavern Hole at Redwall Abbey, a night and a day had passed and the fire and wall torches had been replenished four times since the mousemaid Aubretia had begun her story. There was not a one who had fallen asleep throughout the whole epic tale, nor was there a creature who had not shed a tear.

Abbot Saxtus took off his spectacles and sighed in the silence that had reigned since Aubretia stopped talking. "Polleekin was right, of course. Martin did go on to find happiness. He forsook the Warrior's way and dedicated himself to peace, the founding of our order and the building of Redwall. But tell me, how did you know all this, who told the story to you, Aubretia?"

The big hedgehog Bultip put aside his tankard. "I can answer that, Father Abbot. Aubretia comes from the ruling line of Noonvale, though she and I have not been back there in a full season. The blood of Urran Voh runs in her veins-her great ancestor was called Brome the Healer, Brother of Rose. My great ancestor, far back in the mists of countless days, was called Pallum the Peaceful. I am a direct descendant of his line."

Simeon passed his sensitive paws gently over Aubretia's face. "You have inherited the beauty of Brome's sister."

The mousemaid undid a thong from about her neck. On it was a brilliantly carved locket of scallop shell. She opened it. "Every creature who sees this says the same thing."

Abbot Saxtus took the locket carefully. Inside was a picture painted with plant and vegetable dyes on a small tablet of polished cherrywood. It was a miniature portrait of Martin and Rose carried out in loving detail. Both their faces seemed to stare out at him across the dust and time of bygone seasons. "Martin looks exactly like his picture on the tapestry, though younger. You are right, Aubretia. You could have passed for Rose's twin sister. This is a marvellous thing, where did it come from?"

"It was given to the family of Brome by an owl called Emalet, the mousemaid answered as she rummaged in her herb satchel. "Boldred her mother was a great artist, besides being a good mapmaker. Bultip and I left Noonvale early last summer. We had heard tales of Martin and Redwall from travellers since we were babes, so we set out to see the Abbey for ourselves. Here is something I brought with me for Redwall."

The Abbot took the gift. Donning his spectacles, he looked at it curiously, turning it this way and that. "Thank you very much, but please excuse my ignorance, what is it?"

Aubretia explained about the sprig with its attached wet loam bag.

"Grumm planted a rose on the grave of Rose. It is a red rose.

Sometimes it flowers later than others, and we call it Laterose. This is a cutting from the original bush. It is very sturdy."

Simeon felt the little shoot tenderly. "This spring I will plant it in our Abbey grounds. It will bloom and flourish in memory of the mousemaid. Laterose, what a pretty name. That was Rose's full title as you told it, Laterose of Noonvale, daughter of Urran Voh and Aryah."

Abbot Saxtus returned Aubretia's locket. "We thank you, my child, for everything. Laterose will remain precious to Redwall Abbey.

Martin gave it strength, now Rose will give it beauty. Now I am tired, and you must be too, friends. Go and rest. Stop at our home for as long as you wish you are both welcome."

The entire company walked together up the stairs from Cavern Hole to their rooms. Aubretia and the Abbot went paw in paw. "Thank you for your offer, Father Abbot. Bultip and I would love to stay here through winter, until the spring."

"There is always room for you and Bultip here, Aubretia. Our Abbey is a place of friendship. Anyone, young or old, who has read or heard of Redwall may come and visit us. If you are honest and of good heart, no matter what the season our door is open to you. Whether for the first time, or for the return of an old companion, you are welcome.

Please feel free to visit us anytime you pass by this way."

The End