The Rogue Crew

14

The army of pygmy shrews and sand lizards was taken completely by surprise. A huge piece of the wall smacked down on their front rank. In that same instant, Captain Rake Nightfur and Colour Sergeant Miggory came at them, leading over a halfscore of Long Patrol hares, all of them bellowing and roaring fearsome war cries.

“Eulaliiiiaaaa!”

“Give ’em blood’n’vinegar!”

“Forward the buffs an’ lay on ’em!”

“Eulaliiiiiaaa!”

Demoralised by the speedy assault and deafening battle shouts, Queen Dukwina’s horde fled in disarray. They left eight of their number stunned flat by the section of wall.

Miggory came smartly to attention, saluting Rake. “H’all runts defeated, sah! Tootled h’off like billyoh h’at the sight o’ proper warriors, sah. H’any further ordahs, Cap’n?”

The tall, dark hare sheathed his claymores. “Ah cannae see us pursuin’ ’em, Sarn’t. Form the column up, an’ let’s follow the others, at the double!”

The young Patrollers were jubilant at such a quick victory.

“I say, chaps, see how those blighters took off, wot!”

“Shouldn’t wonder if they’re still jolly well runnin’, eh!”

“I say, we should’ve pursued the little scoundrels an’ kicked a few tails, wot wot!”

It was Sergeant Miggory who brought them back to reality. “Nah, then, young gennelbeasts, h’I’ll be kickin’ h’a few tails if’n yore not back in line smartish. Follow yore offisah’s h’orders now, lead h’off by the left!”

The main party had come out amidst the dunelands. Buff Redspore was sufficiently recovered to use her pathfinding skills; she led them as her instinct directed.

“Let’s get to the flat coastland so I can get a bearin’ on our position.”

Lieutenant Scutram was feeling his temper sorely tried by Queen Dukwina. She stamped her paws in the sand, trying to intimidate him with her imperious manner.

“I’m not moving from here, d’you hear me, rabbet! I’m a queen, being dragged off from my own domain! Well, I won’t have it, you ruffian. I’m not going another step!”

Scutram favoured her with a small stiff bow. “Apologies, marm, but I’ve got my orders, an’ you’ve got to accompany us. ’T’aint your decision, d’ye see!”

With that, Dukwina plumped her backside on the ground. “Hah! Well, I’m not going, an’ you can’t make me—so there!”

The empraking tugged at Scutram’s tunic. “Stick things in her—that’ll shift her!”

Dukwina spat at him, in a most unqueenlike manner, “Shut up, you little worm!”

The little empraking twitched his snout and stuck his tongue out at her. “Yah, yah, ole bossy bum!”

Scutram had taken enough. Grabbing a rope, he looped it around Dukwina, pulling it tight.

“Drander, tow her along if she won’t walk!”

The empraking found himself a thick twig. “Please, can I beat her if she slows down?”

Big Drander turned aside, stifling a laugh. “As ye wish, Majesty.”

The queen was forced to comply, but that did not stop her screeching the direst threats and insults upon the heads of her captors.

Scutram winced, commenting to Drander, “’Strewth, what flippin’ language. It’s enough t’make a stricken toad blench, wot!”

Crumdun, the corsair stoat, climbed a small rise and peered behind. “Ahoy, ’ere’s yore cap’n an’ ’is mates comin’ through, an’ they ain’t ’angin’ round!”

When Rake Nightfur and his party caught up with Scutram and the rest, the captain was a bit breathy.

“We routed ’em back there, an’ they retreated, but Ah’m bound tae tell ye, Lieutenant, nae sooner were we in the clear than the wee villains came back in greater numbers than afore. There’s a great, braw assemblage o’ wee beasties hot on our tails. Like leaves in an autumn gale, ye ken. Och, there’s far tae many for a score o’ Long Patrollers!”

Scutram nodded. “I see, sah. Then we’d best put a bit o’ jolly fair space betwixt us’n’em. Young Redspore’s takin’ us out o’ these confounded dunes—t’the shore, she says, wot?”

Behind them the sandhills resounded with the yipping and hissing of countless pygmy shrews and sand lizards. Captain Rake signalled the column.

“Forward at the double, mah buckoes. Once we’re on flat shoreland, we’ll leave them a guid league in our wake. There’s nae a creature livin’ can outrun Long Patrol hares!”

Speed was imperative, even though it was heavy going through the soft, deep dune sand. Sergeant Miggory, bringing up the rear with another young ranker named Bribbs, could feel the enemy gaining on them. He jollied the young hare along, noting the look of fear on his face. “C’mon, young Bribbs, make a shape. Yore pa was battalion sprint champion. Let’s see ye do h’as good h’as ’im. Those shrews’n’lizards are lighter’n us, so ’tis h’easy goin’ for ’em. They don’t sink h’in the sand like h’us, y’see.”

Miggory dropped back slightly, allowing Bribbs to take the lead. “That’s the ticket, laddie buck, make ’em h’eat yore pawdust. We’ll show the blighters, eh?”

Bribbs managed a tight smile. “Indeed, Sarn’t, we certainly will!”

The column broke out onto the shoreline, setting a flock of gulls, who had been resting on the sand, wheeling into the air, crying harshly. Rake called a brief halt and issued further orders.

“Corporal Welkin, Lancejack Sage, take left an’ right point! Redspore, front an’ centre. Head north along the tideline. Scutram, ye an’ Ah’ll drop back tae the rear. Sarn’t Miggory may need us, Ah’m thinkin’.”

As they ran back toward the rear, scores of foebeasts could be seen, sweeping over the dunes in massed waves. Scutram spotted Miggory, who appeared to have been slowed down. He was supporting Bribbs. They hastened to join him, relieving him of the burden as they shouldered Bribbs between them.

Miggory ran alongside, explaining. “Young Bribbs was’it by somethin’, sah—a dart, h’I think. Couple h’of ’em just missed me, but ’e was unlucky. One or mebbe two of ’em got ’im h’in the back, sah.”

Bribbs winced, then blinked, his footpaws hardly touching the sand as he was rushed along. “Sorry about that, sah. Silly little things, never hurt much, just slowed me down a flippin’ bit.”

Scutram peered across his shoulders at the two tiny spikes tufted with downy feathers. They were buried right in the centre of Bribbs’s back.

“Slowed ye down, eh? Don’t fret—we won’t tell your pa. Get ’em out for ye once we’ve outdistanced this little lot, eh!”

As they rounded the final dune, Captain Rake was nonplussed when he saw the column waiting on their arrival. “Corporal Welkin, Ah thought Ah told ye tae take them north along the shore. What are ye doin’ stannin’ roond here?”

Welkin waved a lance in a sweeping gesture along the dunes. Both sides of the sandy hilltops, north and south, were teeming with the foebeast horde, ready to charge down on them. It looked like a hopeless position.

Scutram frowned. “Ye did well t’keep the column here, Corporal. If they’d have caught us runnin’ north, strung out along the shore, it would’ve been a flamin’ massacre, wot!”

Rake weighed the situation swiftly. Silence had fallen on the dunetops. A whole army of shrews and lizards were watching the hares, waiting for them to make the next move.

Queen Dukwina squeaked scornfully, “It’s over, rabbets—surrender or die!”

Buff Redspore glared at the queen. “Nobeast asked for your comments, marm!”

Rake moved casually, flicking the sand with a footpaw as he spoke with Scutram and Miggory. “There’s no way out o’ this, mah friends. If we fled, they’d pick us off one by one, eh, Lieutenant?”

Scutram smiled grimly. “Fled, sah? Fled, did ye say? Sorry, but we ain’t much good at fleein’, doncha know.”

The tall, dark captain nodded. “Ah’m obliged tae ye for sayin’ that. So how d’ye feel about stannin’ an’ fightin’?”

Scutram held out his paw. “Thought ye’d never ask, old lad!”

As they shook paws, Miggory’s paw closed over theirs. “Pardon me sayin’, but h’a quick dash down t’the tideline. Keep the sea at our backs, dig into the wet sand, make ourselves a trench an’ make a barrier, a fort. May as well do h’it proper, sahs!”

Scutram smiled approvingly. “Jolly good, Sarn’t—a tiptop plan. How’d ye think of it, wot?”

Miggory saluted both officers respectfully. “Put it this way, sah, h’I was fightin’ vermin while you chaps was waitin’ t’be h’enrolled as cadets.”

Captain Rake winked admiringly. “Och, there’s a deal tae be said for experience. Thank ye, mah old friend. Ah, weel, we’d best be aboot our business!”

None of the horde on the dunetops was expecting the next move. Without a word or sign, the Long Patrol column broke away, going pell-mell for the sea, carrying their wounded and captives along with them. The departure was so sudden, it took their foes a few moments to realise what was going on and mobilise themselves. Some of their leaders, who seemed to be female shrews, began to scream and brandish their thin reed lances, urging the main body forward. The horde took up their cries and charged down the dunesides.

Big Drander had hauled the queen onto his back; the empraking was hurried along between Lancejack Sage and Ferrul; Crumdun, though fat, was quite fleet on his paws, running with the column. Bribbs had totally lost the use of his limbs, so Buff Redspore, Wilbee and Flutchers bore him between them. Captain Rake, Miggory and Scutram guarded the rear of the column. They made it to below the tideline just as the first of their pursuers landed on the flat beach.

Digging like madbeasts, young hares scrabbled in the wet sand, piling it up in front of them. Captain Rake was last to leap over the barrier, into the soggy trench. He gave rapid orders. “Dinnae hurl any lances, hauld on to ’em. Those wi’ bows an’ slings, load up an’ stand ready for mah command! How’s young Bribbs farin’, Wilbee?”

The young hare saluted, choking back tears. “Bribbs’s dead, sah. We left him a moment so we could dig the trench. When I went back to him, he was lyin’ there all limp, lookin’ up at the sun, poor chap!”

Sergeant Miggory, seeing Wilbee’s distress, stepped in. “Loss of h’a young life—we’re h’all very sorry, Wilbee. But stand ready for action now, h’or you’ll be next. Time for grievin’ later. Steady in the ranks, there!”

Corporal Welkin took a hasty look at Bribbs. “Cap’n, sah, they’re usin’ poisoned darts—otherwise, Bribbs would’ve been just wounded.”

Sergeant Miggory bellowed out an order. “Off tunics, wet’em in the seawater an’ use ’em as shields. Darts won’t git through wet cloth!”

Then the charge came like a breaking wave.

There were three bows and ten slings in the column. They launched a salvo at the attackers. All the hares were bellowing war cries, loud and wild. The strike of missiles, and the fierce shouts, seemed to drastically slow the enemy onslaught.

Captain Rake decided that it was time to utilise the queen once more. Holding her in front of him, he roared stridently, “Back, all o’ ye, or Ah’ll fling her intae the sea—take mah word for it, she’ll drown!”

The empraking leapt about, assuring them eagerly, “He will, y’know, just you watch! The rabbets have lost one of their young uns, so they’re out for revenge!”

Wriggling furiously in Rake’s iron grip, Queen Dukwina shouted, “Hold! Keep back—don’t charge ’til I give the command!”

The empraking whispered to Lancejack Sage, “That did the trick. She’s terrified of the big sea. All of us are, really, an’ the lizards can’t abide salt water.”

Sage watched the horde shuffling back. “Jolly well seems to have worked, wot!”

Corporal Welkin lowered his wet tunic. “It’ll work for a while, but the chaps at the back don’t really know what’s goin’ on. They’ll start pushin’ those in front of ’em, right, Sarge?”

Miggory nodded. “Right enough, Corp. Sooner or later, the front rankers’ll ’ave nothin’ t’do but be pushed flat or shoved for’ard—that’ll be the charge. I’ve seen h’it ’appen afore.”

An uneasy deadlock fell over both sides. The trench which the hares had dug in the damp sand below the tideline began to fill up. However, they stayed put, peering over the small barricade of sand.

A short distance from them, some of the queen’s supporters were beginning to chant, waving their venomous blowpipes and lances. It was a highly charged situation.

Lieutenant Scutram conferred with the captain. “Won’t be long now, sah, by the flippin’ look of it. Seems like we’re up the jolly old creek without a blinkin’ paddle, wot!”

Rake twitched his dark furred ears grimly. “Aye, they’d have charged long since, if only they knew Ah wouldnae drown their queen in the sea. Yer right, mah friend. There’s little left for us tae do but stan’ an’ go doon fightin’.”

Big Drander brandished his sabre. “Take as many o’ the blighters with us as we bloomin’ well can, sah—what d’ye say?”

Rake Nightfur gave the sturdy young hare a smile. “Ah, weel, laddie, we’ve got a braw day for it. Ah’m thinkin’ we may’s well open the ball!”

Drawing both claymores, the tall captain was about to launch into a war cry when a piercing scream rent the air. “Yeeeeeggh!”

This was followed by another, and yet a third scream. Pygmy shrews and sand lizards began scurrying hither and thither. A long red-fletched arrow with a fishbone tip came soaring over the enemy ranks, thudding into the sand barricade.

Buff Redspore climbed onto the sandy rampart, pointing toward the dunes. “Otters, sah—they’re bein’ set upon by otters!”

Queen Dukwina threw herself flat into the flooded trench, moaning, “Axehound’s beasts, the Rogue Crew!”

There were only six of the sea otters, and a seventh one who did not seem to be one of them. Their leader, a burly young beast, armed with a longbow, quiver and battleaxe, came running forward, giving a long ululating call. “Hoolawhey! Hiyareeeee! Fall down or be slain! Hoolawhey!”

The effect of this was astonishing to see. Pygmy shrews and sand lizards dropped their weapons, flinging themselves flat on the shore and covering their heads with their paws. The lead otter strode boldly up to the barricade, treading purposefully on the foebeasts’ prostrate bodies. He was a barbaric sight, wearing a woven bark kilt, carrying a round shield across his back and sporting a chunky coronet of amber pieces strung through with silver.

He pointed a battleaxe at the hares in the trench. His voice bore no sign of welcome. “Who are ye, an’ where come ye from? Speak!”

Rake mounted the barricade, matching him eye to eye. “Ah know you, mah bucko. Ye’ll be Ruggan Axehound, son o’ Skor, the bigbeast hissel’. Last time I saw ye, y’were nought but a wee bairn huntin’ crabs. Ah’m Captain Rake Nightfur o’ the Long Patrol. Did yer daddy never talk o’ me?”

The faintest hint of a smile crossed Ruggan’s fierce face. “I recall he did. We’ll talk of this soon—give me but a moment, Nightfur.”

He turned to scan the shrews and lizards, none of whom dared look up at him. Ruggan spoke out, harsh and loud. “Who gave ye right to war upon the lands o’ my father? Ye live here only by the grace of Skor Axehound, mighty Warchief of the High North Coast! Ye skulking shorescum, where are your rulers? Send them here to stand before me!”

Trug Bawdsley pushed the queen forward. “C’mon, old gel. I think he wants a word with you, wot!” Lancejack Sage collared the empraking, who was trying to hide himself behind Drander.

“Up ye come. I think this jolly well includes you, sah!”

Drawing his battleaxe, Ruggan tested its edge. “Now, speak truly. How came all this to be?”

Captain Rake interrupted courteously. “Ah think it’d be mahsel’ should explain. Y’see, in a manner o’ speakin’,’twas us who were the cause o’ the ruckus.”

Ruggan nodded to a female sea otter. “Endar Feyblade, guard these two, hold them here. I will talk with them later. Nightfur, we will rest and dine in drier sand, by the dunes.”

One of the other sea otters turned to the vanquished army. “Did ye not hear my lord? Go you and bring the best of food an’ drink for his guests. Then stay in your dwelling until he comes to speak with ye!”

The seventh otter, who did not seem to be one of Ruggan’s warriors, came across to Miggory and pounded his back cordially. “D’ye remember when ye visited Redwall, we sat drinkin’ good October Ale in my cellars one evenin’? Sergeant Miggory, ain’t it?”

The sergeant shook the otter’s paw warmly. “By me scut, h’I do believe ’tis ole Jum Gurdy! Wot are ye doin’ h’around’ere, mate?”

Jum slumped down in the warm sand at the foot of a dune. “Oh ’tis a long story, Sarge, a long story!”

Bread, cheese, pasties, soup and cordial were served to them by a group of grovelling shrews and lizards. They rested and ate in the early noon sun whilst Rake narrated what had happened since he saw the line of skulls and hair strung out on spears. Ruggan listened intently to every word, then sent for Dukwina and the empraking to be brought before him.

He frowned at the pair. “So, ye disobeyed the Axehound’s rules an’—I make mention—not for the first time. What have ye to say?”

Dukwina and the empraking immediately fell to bickering.

“It was her—she wouldn’t listen to a word I’d say!”

“Hah, look at who’s talkin’. That’s all you ever did. Talk talk talk talk!”

“Wot, me? I wasn’t allowed t’get a word in once you started!”

Thwack! The battleaxe head buried itself in the sand between them. Ruggan’s eyes glittered dangerously.

“Silence—enough! One more word, and you’ll both be deadbeasts. I do all the talking from henceforward. When my father gave you settlement on his land, it was to rule jointly in peace. You, Dukwina, this is not the first time you have tried to seize all power for yourself, and you, Dibby, cowardly little worm, allowing yourself to be bullied. Hah, I think I shall slay ye both an’ put an end to all this argument. Endar, find me a log to use as a chopping block!”

The empraking and Dukwina threw themselves down, kissing Ruggan’s footpaws and sobbing pitifully.

“Oh, no, noble Ruggan, spare me, I beg you!”

“No, spare me—I was the one who helped the rabbets!”

Across their bowed heads, Ruggan winked at Rake. “What think ye, Captain Nightfur? Do they deserve to die?”

Rake returned the wink. “Och, Ah’ll leave the decision tae you, mah friend, though they are an awful wee pair.”

Ruggan beckoned to a serving shrew. “What name do they call you?”

The shrew tugged her forelock. “Wuzgo, sire.”

Ruggan nodded. “An’ have ye a mate, Wuzgo?”

She shook her head. “No, Lord. My mate died a long time ago. I’ve only got a friend, Luggi. That lizard over there.”

Ruggan looked from one to the other. “An’ what’s your position in this tribe?”

The little sand lizard, Luggi, flattened his tail in salute. “We serve an’ carry, sire, sweep floors an’ scrub pots.”

Ruggan pondered this briefly, then gave a pronouncement. “From henceforth, you, Wuzgo, an’ you, Luggi, are the rulers here, over all this tribe. Dukwina, Dibby, I spare your lives.”

The queen and the empraking were sobbing, this time with relief. Ruggan kicked them loose from his footpaws.

“Give all your finery to Wuzgo and Luggi—you can do their jobs now. I give your rulers permission to beat you both harshly if you are idle or talkative. That is my command, and any who disobey it are breaking the law of me and my father, Skor Axehound, Warchief of the High North Coast!”

Lieutenant Scutram murmured to Sergeant Miggory, “Well, now, there’s a chap doesn’t mince his flippin’ words, wot. He certainly laid the law down to ’em there!”

Ruggan, who had overheard the remark, replied pointedly. “Life on the High North Coast is hard. My father’s word is law, with little room for disobedience or rebellion. I see that one of your hares was slain by these shrews and reptiles. If your captain so wishes, I will slay ten of them in reprisal for that death.”

Captain Rake shook his head. “Och, no thank ye, mah friend. The Long Patrol does its own slayin’, ye ken. We don’t need others tae do it for us!”

Skor Axehound’s son bowed his head deferentially. “My apologies, sir, I meant no offence. Tomorrow I will take ye to see my father.”

He beckoned to Wuzgo and Luggi.

“We will stay as your guests tonight. Make provision for us. Tell some of your creatures to bury that slain hare.”

Sergeant Miggory snapped to attention. “Beg pardon, sah, but we buries fallen comrades h’ourselves.”

The sea otter nodded. “Again, I must apologise. Might my warriors and I attend?”

Lieutenant Scutram smiled. “Indeed, sah, ’twould be an honour to have your company. Jolly decent, wot!”

A solemn procession of hares and otters bore the body of young Bribbs to the summit of the highest dune available. He was carried shoulder high on sea otter shields, a hare one side and an otter the other side of each shield. The burial was accomplished smoothly, after which Lieutenant Scutram spoke a brief poem.

“Here, far from his mountain home,

our fallen comrade must lie,

whilst we go on together,

’til our time comes to die.

His spirit will march alongside us,

we’ll honour his memory and say

he died for truth and freedom,

aye, an’ that’s the warrior’s way!”

Corporal Welkin laid a flat stone, engraved with Bribbs’s name, on the grave. Everybeast raised a weapon in silent salute, then they turned and walked away. The otters began beating their shields with their axe, sword and spear blades in a dirge, chanting.

“Heyla ho! Heyla hay!

Night must conquer weary day.

Hiyarooh! Hayaree!

Bloodred sun sinks into sea.

O, bravebeast who fell, fare thee well.

Fare . . . theeeeeee welllllllll!”

The eerie sound echoed around the dunes and shoreline. Lancejack Sage blinked away a tear, remarking to the warrior sea ottermaid she was walking alongside, “By the scut’n’paw, when the fur on the back o’ my neck stops standin’ straight up, I’ll thank ye for that. ’Twas jolly well done. My name’s Sage, like the herb. What’s yours, friend?”

Her tough-looking companion replied, “Kite the Slayer, Kite like the bird, and Slayer because of the number of vermin I’ve slain.”

It was said so coolly that Sage felt bound to enquire, “Oh, an’ how many vermin have you slain?”

The ottermaid showed Sage her shield, which was scored around its rim with a circular pattern of nicks. “Can’t remember the exact count—have to start on my axeshaft soon, though. Just call me Kite, they all do.”

Big Drander, who was walking behind them, chuckled. “No flippin’ wonder our Badger Lady wants to talk with your warlord. Wonder how many bloomin’ vermin he’s slain.”

Kite replied without turning to face him. “Never knew anybeast who made so bold as to ask him.”

A late spring wind chilled the night air, chasing sand along the shore and drifting up the dunesides as it swept in from the sea. None of this affected the Long Patrol hares or the sea otters, who were spending the night inside the ingenious structure created by pygmy shrews and sand lizards. Wrapped in blankets, they basked in the glow of oven fires as Rake Nightfur explained to Ruggan Axehound the purpose of the column’s mission.

As soon as he mentioned the name Wearat, Ruggan interrupted. “Surely not! We thought he had been slain when he tried to invade our territory. His ship left our coast in flames, the sea was red with vermin blood. My father was sure that Razzid Wearat was either burnt to death or feeding the fishes beneath the water!”

Lieutenant Scutram spoke. “Sorry to disappoint ye, old lad, but the villain’s back. Er, by the bye, we are talkin’ about the same foul beast, ain’t we? Captains a ship called Greenshroud, long galley with green sails an’ the Wearat corsair sign on one, eh?”

Ruggan nodded. “There’s only one Wearat we’ve ever heard of, and that’s him, the master of the green ship. You say he’s back again. Tell me more, friend.”

Scutram went on to explain the incident at Salamandastron, which had resulted in the murder of the young cadets. Then he revealed how the ship had been refitted, this time with wheels, so it could also sail the land, and the addition of two giant bows, fore and aft.

Ruggan’s fierce eyes hardened. “Which way did the ship sail after it left your shores?”

Captain Rake took up the report. “’Twas headed north, an’ we’ve had evidence o’ that since. Mah hares captured a wee vermin who’d deserted from the Greenshroud a day an’ a half ago, south o’ here. Aye, an’ we found a poor auld deadbeast, an otter like yersel’. He’d been tortured tae death by the vermin, ’twas a grievous sight, ye ken. We buried him an’ marked the grave wi’ a paddle from his boat, which the scum had burnt.”

Jum Gurdy looked stricken. “This ole otter, a bigbeast, was he? An’ his boat—could it ’ave been a coracle, Cap’n?”

Buff Redspore replied, “I was first to find the poor chap. He’d been a fine big otter, an’ though the boat was in ashes, it could well have been a coracle. Did ye know him?”

Jum Gurdy blinked through his tears, staring at the oven fire fixedly. “Aye, I knowed him a’right. He was my ole uncle Wullow, who never did harm to anybeast.”

The ottermaid Kite echoed the name. “Old Wullow, he often visited our holt.”

Ruggan agreed. “Aye, Wullow an’ my father were great friends. This captive ye took, Captain—is that him?” He pointed to Crumdun, who was sitting hobbled between Wilbee and Flutchers.

Rake glanced at the fat little stoat. “Aye, that’s him, but Ah reckon he’s told us all he knows.”

Ruggan rose and went to Crumdun, seizing him by the neck. “So, ye told him all ye know, eh? Have ye anything more to tell me, vermin?”

Crumdun was terrified, gasping hoarsely in the viselike grip. “On me mother’s ’eart an’ me family’s honour, Lord, I told the rabbets everythin’ I knows. I’m only a simple crewbeast!”

Ruggan hauled him up on his paws, smiling coldly. “Garrent, Bartuk, take this piece of slime outside and get the truth out of him.”

As the corsair stoat was dragged off kicking and screaming, Ruggan remarked flatly to Rake, “Vermin were ever liars. He’ll talk once those two get to questioning him.”

Young Ferrul could not stop herself protesting. “Beg pardon, sah, but do your chaps mean to harm him in any way? T’ain’t the sort o’ thing we’d ever do!”

The ottermaid Kite stared at Ferrul oddly. “No, an’ ’tis not the sort o’ thing that old Wullow would have done. Look what happened to him.”

Ruggan Axehound addressed Ferrul. “Life’s harder up here on the High North Coast, miss. Codes of honour are different toward searats, corsairs and vermin murderers. That’s how my father’s Rogue Crew has always survived and been victorious, you’ll learn.”

Captain Rake sighed ruefully. “Aye, Ah’ve nae doubt she will, mah friend, but Ah’d be pleased if ye’d keep in mind that these are mainly young uns who’ve never been in real war before.” Wrapping the blanket about him, Rake lay back. “Sergeant Miggory, post two sentries an’ relief through the night. The rest of ye can sleep now. We’ll be marchin’ on the morrow.”

The oven fires glowed as they took their rest, each wondering how their encounter with the legendary Skor Axehound would be.