‘An’ you do likewise, Lord Brocktree of Brock’all!’
Dotti and Log a Log Grenn stood watching as Brog and Ruff led the squirrels and rabblehogs off into the gathering evening. They climbed the cliffs and began a long sweep south.
‘Ah well, chaps, that leaves only us now, wot?’ Dotti observed.
Bucko Bigbones exposed his teeth in a wide grin. ‘Aye, lassie, so whit’n the name o’ seasons are we hangin’ aboot for? Let’s be awa, mah bairns!’
Brocktree’s hefty paw descended on Bucko’s shoulder. ‘You stay close to me, sir, and none of your mad March mountain hare antics out of you, understand?’
Bucko checked the six long daggers he had thrust in his belt. ‘Ach, ah’ll be as quiet as a wee molebabe, eh, Gurth?’
‘Oi’m ’opin’ ee will, zurr. Oi wurr a gudd h’infant moiself.’
Stiffener led the little army off through the dunes. ‘We’ll get up as close t’the tunnel afore dark as we can.’
Dotti fell in between Southpaw and Bobweave, who were simultaneously loading their slings.
‘Splendid evenin’ for a jolly old war, eh, miss Dotti?’
‘Rather! I say, d’you want me to load your sling, miss Dotti?’
‘Tut tut, old chap, I’m the sling-loader round here, y’know!’
The haremaid rescued her sling from the irrepressible twins. ‘Oh, give it a rest, you two, I’m perfectly capable of loadin’ me own bloomin’ sling. Besides, Mother always told me to beware of sling-loadin’ types.’
‘Wise old mater, wot?’
‘Pretty too, if she looks anythin’ like her daughter!’
At a gruff cough from the Badger Lord, they fell silent.
Darkening clouds merged with dusky sky overhead, and the last crimson sunrays shimmered over the horizon, flaring briefly across the waves. A warm vagrant breeze stirred grass on the dunetops. Night fell, with moonshadows transforming the landscape into a patchwork of silver sand and velvet shadow. Dotti could scarce suppress a shudder of excitement and apprehension. The battle to win back Salamandastron had finally begun!
33
UNGATT TRUNN PACED the mountain passages like a caged beast, agitated and impatient. Everywhere he went, guards stood stiffly to attention in the torchlit corridors, holding their breath as he prowled by, his long cloak swishing. From the top level of the inner mountain he went, through every floor to the bottom. Only the sound of restless waves greeted the wildcat as he emerged, past the sentries, out on to the shore. Two searats rowed a small gig into the shallows. Leaping out, they dragged it ashore.
Captain in Chief Karangool stepped on to the beach. ‘Might’ness, is quiet this night.’
Ungatt Trunn stroked his whiskers slowly. ‘Too quiet altogether. I don’t like it, captain. ’Tis as if something is waiting to happen. Can you feel it too?’
‘Yah, Might’ness.’
Together they strolled back to the main mountain entrance. Patrols had been doubled around the perimeter, and six guards, with Ripfang at their head, marched around from the north side. They halted, saluting Trunn with their spears. He nodded to Ripfang.
‘Anything to report, captain?’
‘Nary a thing, sir. ’Tis like walkin’ round a buryin’ ground out there, but we’re keepin’ a sharp lookout!’
Fragorl interrupted further conversation. She hurried out of the main entrance, her dark cloak flapping like a bird of ill omen. She pointed. ‘Mighty One, over there, by the cliffside, northward, I saw it from my window, a fire!’
With Fragorl, Ripfang and Karangool scurrying in his wake, Trunn raced inside, taking stairflights in leaps and bounds.
He was breathing heavily by the time he reached the highest level. Vaulting through a frameless window space, the wildcat made his way to the high guard post. A ferret stood pointing his spear to the fire. ‘There, sire!’
Even from that distance the blaze was visible, lighting up the cliffside with an orange glow. The others arrived behind Trunn. He heard Ripfang chuckle and whirled on him.
‘Something appears to be amusing you, searat?’
Ripfang indicated the distant bonfire. ‘You got to admit it, they ain’t short o’ nerve. Hah! S’posed to be ’idin’ out from yer, sir, an’ there they be, burnin’ a whopper campfire. Aye, an’ I’ll wager they’re cookin’ too, stuffin’ their gobs wid food they stole off us. Ho ho, if’n that ain’t a sight ter see!’
Karangool watched the wildcat’s paws shaking with anger. ‘Might’ness, it could be trap!’
Ungatt Trunn grabbed him so hard that his claws sank into the fox’s paw. The Captain in Chief winced as the wildcat sneered scathingly, ‘Do you think I don’t know that, imbecile? The insolence of those creatures, taunting Ungatt Trunn like that!’
Ripfang cleaned his single tooth with a grimy paw. ‘Aye, that’s wot ’tis, a taunt. Plain open defiance, like my ole cap’n used ter say. But wot are ye goin’ t’do about it, that’s the question, sir?’
‘Karangool, take half of the entire Hordes, split them in three columns. One either side, clifftops and dunes, the third to go flat out along the shore and circle round behind them. I want the leaders alive; the rest must be slaughtered. Bring their bodies back with you!’
Shouting broke out from a sentry post facing the sea.
‘Fire! Fire aboard the ships!’
Out at the western edge of the vast armada, flames could be seen licking around sails and rigging. Ungatt Trunn looked from one conflagration to the other.
‘It wasn’t a trap, it was a decoy to divert our attention. Well, I’m going to turn it into a trap. Karangool, take some crews out there, cut the burning vessels away from the others. Save the fleet! Fragorl, Ripfang, you will take command of those attacking the decoy fire by the cliffs. You heard my orders to Karangool. Go and carry them out!’
Ungatt Trunn went inside and beckoned the first creature he came across, a guard in the upper passages. ‘You, gather together my captains, bring them to my chamber!’
In an instant the quiet of the summer night was shattered. Horde captains dashed about bellowing orders, the entire mountain bursting into a hive of activity.
Ungatt Trunn met the group of captains in the doorway of his chamber. He marched them out into the corridor and issued hasty instructions.
‘I am taking over the defence of my mountain against any outside attack. Listen to me. Bar all entrances – that includes the window spaces and any paths going up the mountain. You six, take your patrols, bring in all outside sentries, repel any assaults from ground level. You four, spread your creatures about in the passages, watch out for enemy beasts trying to break in. I’ll take the top levels. Send me up a hundred or more troops!’
Rulango returned to the new cave, minus the lighted torch he had been carrying in his beak. Frutch made sure the entrance was well camouflaged before she accompanied the big heron back inside. ‘Did the fire light well when you dropped the torch on it?’
Rulango ruffled his feathers, spread both wings and did an odd hopping dance, nodding his beak. The ottermum smiled. ‘Yore a good bird. See, I baked some slices for you!’
‘Slicer for Skikkles too, eh, F’utch?’
‘Bless yore liddle ’eart, o’ course there is, my lovey.’
Stiffener winked at Brocktree. ‘Nicely timed, sire. We won’t even wet our paws, the tide’s slipped out nice’n’quiet. Git the lanterns ready an’ foller me. Best be quiet, though – it echoes loud in there.’
Dotti and the twins rounded the rock point, to see Stiffener holding back a jumble of kelp and seaweed with his javelin.
‘C’mon, you young rips, in y’go, we ain’t got all night.’
They entered the tunnel by which Stiffener and the prisoners had escaped. Southpaw lit their lantern from Gurth’s torch.
‘I’ll be official lantern-bearer for you, miss Dotti, wot?’
To forestall further argument the haremaid agreed. ‘Right, you do that, Southpaw. Bobweave, here, you can be t
he official sling-holder. I say, it’s jolly damp an’ gloomy in here, spooky too. Yeeeek! What’s that?’
Brocktree pushed in ahead of them, covering Dotti’s mouth with a huge paw as he investigated the grisly object.
Still partially clad in tattered rags of a uniform, the skeleton of Captain Fraul gleamed white in the lantern light. The eye sockets of the skull remained fixed in a ghastly mask of death. Tiny spike-backed crabs scuttled hither and thither over the vermin’s bare bones, seeking any semblance of a gruesome meal. The Badger Lord shifted the skeleton to one side with a sweep of his footpaw, and little crabs scuttled everywhere, holding their nippers aggressively high.
Brocktree took his paw from Dotti’s mouth. ‘Nothing to be feared of, miss. Looks like the skeleton of a stoat, if I’m not mistaken. Wonder how he got down here?’
Stiffener viewed the remains dispassionately. ‘Who knows? One vermin less to deal with, I say. ’Tis those crabs we got to worry about, lord, there’s lots’n’lots of the confounded beasts down ’ere. Pretty big ’uns, too!’
Bucko saw the long-stalked eyes, watching them from every crack and crevice. He thrust a torch at them and made them scuttle from its flame. ‘Ach, they’ll no be a bother tae us. We got fire, lots o’ it. Ah think frae whit ye were tellin’ us, Stiff, ’tis only the high tide a-rushin’ up here whit disturbs ’em!’
The mountain hare was right. In the absence of waves crashing into the tunnel, the crabs kept to the wallsides. There was room enough for everybeast to proceed in single file. It was a long hard trek, though; sometimes they had to bend almost double in the confined rock tunnel. Brocktree had to wriggle along, flat on his stomach. Though they had only been going a few hours, it felt like days.
Fleetscut patted his stomach. ‘I say, you chaps, hows about stoppin’ for a morsel o’ jolly old supper? I’m fair famished, wot.’
‘You stay famished an’ let young Dotti stay fair,’ Stiffener called back. ‘We’ll be in the cave soon enough, then y’can eat supper.’
After an interminable age of groping along through the damp rocky spaces, the boxing hare halted. ‘Sailears, Trobee, bring those ropes here, will ye?’
Lord Brocktree peered through the hole at the eerie blue-lit cavern beneath, with its stalactites, stalagmites, bottomless pool and echoing water drips. Dotti pushed through. She measured the hole’s diameter with both paws, then tried to gauge the Badger Lord’s burly width.
‘Hmm, ’fraid you won’t fit through that hole, sah.’
Brocktree unshouldered his sword. ‘Seems you’re right, miss. Stand clear, please.’
He brought the swordpoint down hard a few times round the hole’s edge, knocking out large cobs of the veined limestone. They crashed down into the cave, some into the pool. Blue wavery reflections of moving water gave the badger’s face a spectral, fearsome appearance.
‘Hope nobeast heard those stones falling. There, I’ll fit through the hole smoothly enough, eh, Gurth?’
‘You’m ’ave ee gurt way o’ solvin’ probberlums, zurr!’
They did not have to climb down the ropes. Lord Brocktree stayed on top and lowered them, four at a time, two to each rope. When they were all down he lowered himself gingerly, using both ropes. ‘There now, that wasn’t too bad. Let’s rest awhile and eat.’
Grenn’s Guosim cooks had brought along some supplies, which they ate sitting around the pool. Brocktree hardly touched his food, but sat staring intently into the green-blue translucent depths. Grenn swigged from a flask of dark damson wine, watching the badger.
‘So, what’re ye thinkin’ of, sire?’
Brocktree continued scanning the water.
‘My father Stonepaw died in this cave – a hero’s death to enable his followers to escape.’
Grenn nodded sympathetically. She uncorked another flask of the wine and tossed it into the centre of the pool. Being filled to the top, it sank into the depths, sending up a tracery of dark purplish wine, like smoke from an oily fire on a windless day.
‘There. That’ll let yore ole dad know you’ve come to the mountain to take vengeance for him.’
They all watched the bottle until it was lost to sight in the fathomless depths, leaving only a long solitary spiral of dark damson wine. Brocktree stood up, dry-eyed.
‘Thank ye for that, Log a Log Grenn. Stiffener, will you lead off? I’m completely lost down here.’
The boxing hare scratched his ears. ‘I ain’t too familiar with Salamandastron’s cellars either, sire. We only stumbled on this place by accident when we were runnin’ for our lives.’
The ever-optimistic Dotti volunteered a suggestion. ‘I don’t suppose it’ll be that difficult to find our way out o’ here, wot. An’ I’ll bet once Jukka has fired off her signal arrow she’ll come lookin’ for us. She should have a pretty fair idea of the place, havin’ to find her way in an’ whatnot.’
Bucko picked up his torch and joined Stiffener. ‘Guid thinkin’, lassie. Ah don’t fancy hangin’ aboot this place, et makes mah back preckle. Let’s be awa’!’
Jukka’s heart had been pounding as she approached the main gates. Standing almost barring the way was a group of vermin, who looked different from the usual Hordes, and the wildcat, who was obviously Ungatt Trunn. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, the squirrel, hoping fervently that her disguise would not be noticed, strode boldly forward. She passed them, as if she were carrying on with some chore or other which was keeping her busy, and breathed a sigh of relief as she made the main entrance. Next moment she was almost bowled over by a hooded and cloaked ferret, who dashed out and accosted Trunn and the others.
‘Mighty One, over there, by the cliffside, northward, I saw it from my window, a fire!’
Jukka pulled to one side as the wildcat came bounding past, with the rest trying to keep up with him. Nobeast would dare challenge her in such company, thought Jukka. She tagged on and joined the rear of the party.
When Ungatt Trunn reached the high level guard post, Jukka followed. However, she stayed almost hidden against the mountainside, keeping in the background as much as possible. Jukka saw the flames from both fires, and watched Trunn giving out his commands to Ripfang, Fragorl and the tall saturnine fox called Karangool. When the vermin had departed hurriedly, Jukka ventured out. There were three lookout guards still at the post, a ferret and two rats. The ferret was obviously the most senior of the three. He eyed Jukka suspiciously, pointing at her with his spear.
‘Hoi! What’re yew doin’ round ’ere?’
The squirrel knew her disguise had him fooled. She decided to brazen it out and spat on the ground in true vermin fashion. ‘Ain’t doin’ anythin’. What’re yew doin’?’
The ferret was taken aback at her insolence. ‘Wot am I doin’? I’m the night watch in charge o’ this ’ere lookout post, appointed by Cap’n Drull!’
Jukka made as if to stroll away, but one of the rats barred her way with his spear haft. ‘I ain’t seen you afore?’
Jukka sneered back at him. ‘An’ I ain’t seen you, or I’d remember yer ugly face. Now get that spear out o’ me way!’
The rat’s courage failed him when he saw the dangerous gleam in Jukka’s eyes, and he allowed her to knock his spear aside. Accompanied by the other rat, the ferret stepped in. They menaced Jukka with their spearpoints. Slightly unsure of himself, the ferret adopted an offidous tone.
‘You got no business bein’ up ’ere. Who sent yer?’
‘Ungatt Trunn did, an’ stan’ to attention when yer speaks to me. The Mighty One was right, things are gettin’ far too sloppy round these ’igh lookout posts!’
Shooting the two rats a warning glance, the ferret came to attention, the rats speedily following his example. Jukka was beginning to enjoy herself. She circled the trio, inspecting them critically, whilst she pounded her brain in an effort to think how she could rid herself of them. Jukka needed to be at the high guard post, to fire off her signal arrow.
She saw the ferret’s throat bob nervousl
y. She nodded understandingly and flashed him a brief smile. ‘I’m only doin’ me job, same as you, mate. Let’s take a look at yore spear a moment. Trunn’s orders, y’know. At ease!’
The trio stood easy, the ferret passing over his spear for inspection. Jukka studied it closely. ‘Hmmm, pole’s a bit splintery, could do wid a polish too. When was the last time yer sharpened the blade?’
Some of the starch had gone out of the ferret. ‘Three days back, I think, or mebbe four,’ he muttered.
Jukka pursed her lips critically and shook her head at him. ‘This spear’ead ain’t been sharpened in a season. D’yer know it’s come loose? Could do wid a new nail. Look!’
She waggled the spearhaft, holding tight to the head. A rusty nail was all that held them together, and it soon snapped, leaving Jukka holding the haft in one paw and the head in her other. She raised her eyebrows knowingly. ‘See wot I mean, matey? Ah, but don’t fret, I won’t report yer. Y’know, sometimes a spearpole wid no blade can be a useful weapon. I’ll show yer. Youse two rats, put down those spears an’ stand either side of yer officer ’ere.’
The sentries decided that this strange-looking inspector was not such a bad type. They obeyed, letting Jukka shove them about until she had them in the required position: outside the guard post, with their backs to the edge of the mountainside. There was a dizzying drop behind them.
Jukka threw away the spearhead and held the pole sideways. ‘When I did me spear trainin’, my ole cap’n showed me this trick with a spearpole. Watch an’ pay attention now, mates.’
The pole moved in a blur. Whack! Thwack! Whock! Three stunning blows, one to the side of each rat’s head and the last to the ferret. The pole butt hit him between the eyes. Without a sound the three guards fell backward over the edge. It was a long way down.
Jukka checked that the little fire was lit in the guard post and laid out bow and quiver, selecting the shaft with the oil-soaked rags bound to its point. Sounds drifted up from below; she peered down. Vermin came flooding out of the main gates and from the shores round about. They marched off at double speed in three groups, with Fragorl, Ripfang and Doomeye at the head of the columns. Karangool exited next, followed by every ship’s crew that was on shore leave, dashing towards the fleet. Then Jukka saw the mountain perimeter guards hasten inside. She heard the main entrance doors slam shut and captains yelling for the windows to be barred. At last all became quiet, and the shores in front of the mountain lay deserted.