‘Welcumm to ee mounting, zurrs, do you’m cumm in naow!’
‘Och, mah bairns, ye’ll catch yer death of arrers stannin’ roond oot there!’
They piled in regardless, ears over tails in a jumble, and the great doors slammed shut in the vermin horde’s face.
Lord Brocktree put aside his battle blade. The badger’s eyes were red as flame on winter’s eve. His huge chest rose and fell as he approached the otters, stumbling over the carcasses of vermin who would fight no more. He stood silent awhile, striving to control the Bloodwrath which coursed like wildfire through his veins. Brog and Ruff took a step backward from the fearsome sight. Brocktree shuddered violently, as if trying to rid himself of a phantom foe. Then he held both paws wide, bowed his head and spoke in a normal tone.
‘This is my mountain. Welcome to Salamandastron!’
35
MORNING WAS WELL under way, warm and still under a powdery blue sky. Ungatt Trunn had traversed the clifftops for most of the night, searching for the mass of Hordebeasts he had sent to investigate the fire to the north. Only now had he found them. Telltale spirals of smoke marked their campfires in an area between the dunes and the cliffside. Still carrying his trident, the wildcat padded silently down to where Ripfang, his brother Doomeye and some other former searats were cooking things in their shields over the flames. Catching sight of Trunn, they started to stand to attention, but he waved them back down with a few flicks of his paw. Seating himself between Ripfang and Doomeye, he turned to the more intelligent of the two, showing neither anger or anxiety.
‘So, Ripfang, I don’t see captives or the slain bodies of Bark Crew creatures. Nor do I see as many Hordebeasts as left the mountain last night. What happened?’
Taking his time cleaning a morsel of food from his single tooth with a knifepoint, Ripfang coolly pushed across a shield containing a form of stew in its curved bowl. ‘You musta been trampin’ ’all the night, boss. ’Ere, ’ave a bite o’ brekkist.’
The food did not look very appetising, but it smelt good. Trunn picked up a clean seashell, scooped some up and tasted it, nodding agreeably. ‘Not bad at all. What is it?’
‘When we was chasin’ after Fragorl, we found clumps o’ charlock growin’ everywhere, an’ stonecrop too, sir,’ Doomeye explained proudly. ‘There was a liddle stream o’ sweet water, wid tutsan sproutin’ round it. Got some periwinkles an’ mussels off’n the rocks below the tideline as well. So we cooked ’em all up together. Tasty, ain’t it? Wish we ’ad some pepperwort, though. I likes pepperwort.’
Ungatt Trunn cut him short, his voice calm and reasonable. ‘Very resourceful of you. But, Ripfang, why were you chasing after my Grand Fragorl?’
‘Well, it was like this, see, cap’n. Fragorl was wid the band who was supposed to ’ead out along the shore an’ circle back be’ind the enemy. But sink me if’n that treacherous ferret didn’t just carry straight on goin’!’
The wildcat was hungry. He scooped up more of the mess. ‘You mean she deserted?’
‘The very word, cap’n, deserted! Aye, an’ she took a third of our force wid ’er. Went like a flight o’ swallows flyin’ south, but o’ course they ’eaded north. We did like yer said, closed in on that big bonfire, but there wasn’t ’ide nor ’air of anybeast there, just a fire. Knowin’ ’ow you’d feel about ole Fragorl takin’ off wid yore soldiers like that, we tried to track ’er down. But they was long gone.’
Trunn tossed away the shell and wiped his mouth. ‘I see. Thank you, my friends, you are both faithful and trustworthy servants. I’ll reward you well when the time comes. But for now we’d best get back to the mountain.’
‘The mountain, eh?’ There was a hint of irony in Ripfang’s tone. ‘’Ow are things goin’ back there, cap’n?’
Ripfang gulped as the trident prongs went either side of his paw. Pressing down, the wildcat pinned the searat firmly to the sand. Ripfang was immediately regretting the dangerous game of disrespect he had started.
Ungatt Trunn’s gold-ringed eyes blazed savagely. ‘Let’s go back and see, shall we? I trust you are still loyal to my cause, Ripfang, that you swear to follow and serve me? Or perhaps you’d like to stay here?’
Ripfang knew what the fearsome wildcat meant by the phrase stay here. He averted his eyes from the murderous gaze. ‘Loyal? Me an’ me brother are loyal to ye, sire, that’s why we signed up with yer in the first place. You lead an’ we’ll foller yer, sire, true blue an’ never fail. Er, soon as yew let me ’ave me paw back, sire.’
The trident lifted, releasing Ripfang’s paw. Trunn smiled. ‘Good! Get the columns ready to march, captain.’
They took to the clifftops where the going was faster, Ungatt Trunn at the rear, his captains at the front. The brother searats held a muttered conversation as they marched at double speed.
‘Did yer see ’is eyes, Rip? That ’un’s mad, stark starin’ mad!’
‘Oh no ’e ain’t, Doom. Dangerous, aye, but not mad. Somethin’ strange ’as ’appened back at the mountain. Wotever ’twas, it brought Trunn out searchin’ for us all through the night. I don’t like it, mate, not one liddle bit!’
‘Mebbe we should’ve run fer it, like Fragorl did?’
‘Yore right, Doom. Too late fer that now, though.’
‘So wot d’yer think we should do, Rip?’
‘I dunno, but I’ll think of somethin’.’
‘Well, ’urry up an’ think, will yer!’
‘Shuttup. ‘Ow can I think wid yew blatherin’ down me ear?’
‘So that’s all the thanks I gets for cookin’ yer brekkist. Well, keep yer ideas. I can think of ideas too, y’know!’
‘Hah, yew can think of ideas? Who told yer that? Yore brain’s got a full-time job just figgerin’ out ’ow to put one paw in front o’ the other so yew kin march!’
Doomeye purposely stamped on Ripfang’s paw.
‘Yowch! Watch where yore treadin’, y’great lolloper!’
Doomeye’s smile was full of malicious innocence. ‘Sorry, Rip. Me brain mustn’t ’ave been figgerin’ right.’
Lord Brocktree had ordered the mid-level windows and arrow slits to be opened. Now his creatures stood at every aperture, well armed and vigilant. Dotti and the twins took their lunchtime snack gratefully from the Guosim cooks and placed it on the windowsill. As they ate, the Badger Lord halted his inspection of the defences to chat with them whilst he took his meal.
‘No sign of Ungatt Trunn yet, miss?’
‘Sorry, sah, the blighter hasn’t shown up yet. D’you think he will? P’raps the rascal’s scarpered, wot?’
Brocktree shook his great striped head. ‘No chance of that, I’m certain. He’ll be back; this isn’t finished yet. Look at those vermin below. They’ve completely surrounded the mountain, yet there’s not been a single slingstone or arrow from them. That fox, Karangool, he’s sitting on the sand just waiting. Waiting for orders, if I’m not mistaken. Doesn’t want to make a wrong move.’
Southpaw and Bobweave guffawed.
‘Haw haw, the wrongest move old Trunn ever made was stealin’ your mountain, eh, lord?’
‘I’ll say. The blighter must be a right puddenhead, wot? Should’ve stuck t’stealin’ his grandma’s pies!’
Brocktree waved a plum slice under their noses sternly. ‘Never underestimate your enemy. I shouldn’t have to tell you that – you’re supposed to be fighters.’
The Badger Lord pulled his paw back with half the slice gone. Bobweave grinned as he chewed. ‘An’ never wave scoff near a hare’s jolly old mouth. You should know that, sire, wot?’
Brocktree winked at Dotti, then tripped the hare twin slyly. Bobweave found himself flat on his back, with the great sword point prodding his stomach lightly. It was the badger’s turn to grin. ‘Never steal food from the Lord of Salamandastron – he has a dreadful way of getting it back. You should know that!’
Dotti and Southpaw fell about laughing as Bobweave wailed, ‘I say, sir, steady on, you wouldn’t ch
ap a chop, er, I mean chop a chap open t’get a measly mouthful back, would you? Rotters, why don’t you plead for my bally life instead of rollin’ round grinnin’ like daft ducks!’
Bucko Bigbones fitted an arrow to his bowstring and took careful aim, not wanting to hit the fox sitting on the sands below. It was a skilful shot. The shaft whizzed down, burying itself between the creature’s footpaws. The mountain hare’s voice rang out.
‘Guid afternoon to ye, Cap’n Karangool, is it? Ah’m lookin’ down anither arrer at ye, so dinna move! Mebbe ye cannae bring me tae mind – ah’m Bucko Bigbones, an’ ah remember you weel. Aye, an’ there’s scars on mah back, so ah’ll nae ferget ye. Ach, quit tremblin’, fox, ah wouldnae slay ye wi’ an arrer, ’tis far too quick an’ clean, ye ken. But don’t ye fret noo, we’ll be meetin’ soon, tooth tae tooth an’ paw tae paw, ye’ve got mah sworn promise on that! Off with ye now!’
Karangool leapt up and ran, four arrows zipping close by before he made the shelter of some rocks and shouted to his archers, ‘Get him, middle window, secon’ level, big harebeast. Get him!’
Shafts rained through the window space. Bucko stood to one side smiling grimly. Brog looked up from collecting the fallen arrows. ‘Ahoy, mate, a spot o’ trouble?’
‘Och no, ah was jist givin’ yon fox somethin’ tae think aboot, sort o’ joggin’ his bad auld memory a wee bit!’
Karangool did have a bad old memory. He could not recall, from numerous evil deeds in the past, why the hare was seeking revenge upon him. While he crouched behind the rocks reviewing his wicked career, Ungatt Trunn’s claws tugged the back of his cloak.
‘Why are you hiding here, captain?’
‘Might’ness, not hidin’, waiting for you.’
‘Well I’m here, as you see. Make your report. I need to know all that has gone on here in my absence.’
Stiffener knocked on the Badger Lord’s chamber door in the mid-afternoon. Entering, he found Brocktree hurling incense burners from the window. Wiping dust and cobwebs from his paws, the badger looked round.
‘That’s better. I’m sure this chamber wasn’t full of muck and spiders in my father’s day, eh?’
The boxing hare went to the window and stared down at the vermin crowded on the beach. There were even more than before.
‘Yore right, sire, ’twas always neat’n’clean, but that’s not wot I’ve come ’ere t’talk about.’
Brocktree sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘I can see that you’ve got something on your mind, friend. I’m always ready to listen. Speak on, Stiffener.’
The boxing hare banged his paws down on the sill impatiently. ‘We’ve been here most o’ the night an’ the best part o’ the day . . . When does the fightin’ start?’
Brocktree joined him at the window and placed a paw about Stiffener’s shoulders. ‘You’re a brave beast, Stiffener Medick, a truly perilous hare, one of the true sons of Salamandastron! But you’ve only got to look out of this window to see that the foe still has far superior numbers to our small force. When we set out from Bucko’s court I thought I had enough warriors at my back to face any army, but I was not prepared for anything like Trunn’s Hordes. He must have every vermin on the face of the earth here. We have fought with him, wisely and with the aid of good planning. I could give the signal right now to continue the battle. I’m certain that my friends, brave friends like you, would hurl themselves on the foe, with no question or quarter given. Most of you would die, and that’s no guess, it’s a fact. Hear me. I refuse to sacrifice the lives of good and gallant creatures!’
Stiffener gnawed on his lip, troubled and puzzled. ‘But if we stay ’ere an’ don’t fight, Trunn ain’t about to turn an’ march away. That murderin’ wildcat wants Salamandastron as much as you, lord. What do we do?’
Brocktree tapped his head with one paw. ‘We think, Stiffener, we use our brains. Listen, d’you hear?’ Strains of music and merriment sounded faintly from the window spaces on the second level, growing louder by the moment.
Stiffener was scratching his ears as Brocktree showed him to the door. ‘What’s goin’ on, sire?’
‘Oh, sorry, didn’t you know? Go and see young Dotti – she’ll explain it all to you. Hurry now, or you’ll miss a good feast. That should baffle the bluebottoms, eh?’
Dotti’s scheme was simple, to show the starving vermin that there was no shortage of food on her side, nor of courage and good cheer. In short, to dishearten the Blue vermin Hordes. Lord Brocktree had given the plan his blessing. It gave him time to think of his own solution to the problem, in peace and relative quiet.
Down on the shore, the vermin could not help but stare pitifully up at the happy, well-fed defenders. Ungatt Trunn and Karangool were some distance away, behind the rocks, assessing their own force numbers and laying their own plans. Ripfang and Doomeye were behaving in a most undignified manner for two horde captains. Every time a pie crust or scrap of cheese was tossed from the second level windows, they joined in the wild scrabble for it.
Dotti and her friends gave the impression that there was a limitless amount of food at their disposal. In reality there was not, but they kept up the pretence perfectly, stuffing down goodies and glugging down cordials, cheerily waving to the gaunt-faced vermin packing the shore. Log a Log Grenn even sang a song about nice things to eat, which had the vermin drooling. Guosim cooks burned branches of aromatic herbs used in their cooking, and the scent drifted downward, adding to the foebeasts’ distress as Grenn sang.
‘I won’t eat pie or pudden,
Filled with grass an’ roots,
For me a tart’s a good un,
With ripe plump juicy fruits.
Take some cherries an’ blackberries,
Honey so thick an’ sweet,
In golden crust, all fit to burst,
Aye that’s the stuff to eat, mates,
That’s the stuff to eat!
Say nay who can, to mushroom flan,
All baked with onion sauce,
Unless you think ’tis better than
A crisp green salad course,
Sup cider pale, or nutbrown ale,
Oh isn’t lunch a dream,
Surrounded by an apple pie,
With lots of meadowcream, mates,
Lots of meadowcream!’
A hollow-cheeked rat gave a strangled sob. Fitting an arrow to his bow, he shouted insanely, ‘Yahahaha! I can’t stan’ it no more, I tell yer. I’ll stop ’em singin’, just yew see if’n I don’t!’
Doomeye grabbed the shaft from the crazed rat’s bowstring and caught the unlucky vermin a hefty kick which sent him sprawling. ‘Yew ain’t been given no orders to attack! Don’t dare go shootin’at those creatures, they’re chuckin’ vittles down to us!’
A bitter-faced ferret laughed mirthlessly. ‘Vittles? Yew call those vittles? A few scraps o’ cheese an’ some crusts of pie an’ bread. Tchah!’
Ripfang shoved a cutlass under the complainant’s snout. ‘Shut yer scringin’ gob. Any vittles is good vittles when a beast’s starvin’!’
Gurth threw down an apple with only one bite out of it. Ripfang went after it, flaunting his authority. ‘Hoi, put that down. I saw it first. Gimme that apple. I’m yer cap’n, an’ that’s an order, y’hear?’
Towards evening Brocktree put in an appearance and called a halt to things. One or two of the hares, Dotti included, seemed puzzled by his decision. The Badger Lord ordered the second level openings to be closed.
‘Come to the dining hall. I have an announcement to make.’
They completed blocking the window spaces with much speculation.
‘Dorothea, whit d’ye think big Brock has tae say?’
‘Dunno, old chap. Your guess is as good as mine, wot?’
‘D’you think he’s going to start the final battle?’
‘Who knows? We’re far too outnumbered I reckon.’
‘True, but we’re in the best position. We hold the mountain.’
‘Aye, but think, we
could end up in the same blinkin’ boat as the vermin. Under siege an’ starvin’, if the war takes any time at all!’
‘Burr, whoi doan’t us’n’s jus’ go to ee hall an’ lissen to wot zurr Brock be wanten to tell uz?’
Brogalaw led off, patting Gurth’s back. ‘Haharr, there speaks a wise cove, eh, Bucko?’
‘Och aye, ye cannae argue wi’ mole logic!’
Leaning on the hilt of his great sword, the Lord of Salamandastron waited until the hum of voices died away before explaining his plan.
‘They say the only way to kill a snake is to cut off its head. Ungatt Trunn’s blue vermin are the snake, he is its head. Without him they are leaderless. Tonight I am sending out a challenge to Trunn which should settle this conflict. I will meet him, face to face, claw to paw and tooth to fang in combat to the death!’
An immediate hubbub broke out. Dotti jumped up beside the badger, silencing them in her severest manner.
‘Will you be quiet this instant, please! Such bad manners, behavin’ like a horde of vermin, bad form!’
Baron Drucco’s loud grumble echoed round the hall. ‘Ain’t we h’entitled to no ’pinion?’
The haremaid shot him a frosty glare. ‘You certainly are, sah, but only after his lordship has had his say. Then we’ll elect a spokesbeast to represent us all. I vote that’ll jolly well be me!’
Amid the laughter which followed, the hare twins cried out, ‘Well said, miss Dotti. Capital idea, wot!’
‘I second that, old chap. Motion carried without argument!’
Drucco’s response was a shout which all heard. ‘Oh, awright, long as she don’t start singin’!’
‘Withdraw that remark, sah, or step outside with me!’
‘Wot? Not before he’s stepped outside with me. I’ll box his ill-mannered spikes flat!’
Brocktree’s booming voice silenced everybeast. ‘Stop this silly quarrelling or I’ll stop it for you!’ An immediate hush fell. The Badger Lord continued, ‘There will be no arguments or opinions about this; it is my decision as your leader. Tomorrow at noon I will meet Ungatt Trunn out on the shore in front of this mountain. There will be no quarter given or asked and a free choice of weapons. Having said that, I do not expect for one moment that the wildcat will obey any rules. He did not get as far as he has by being a fair-minded creature. So, to guard against any treachery I will make my own arrangements with you so that the proper precautions are taken. Dotti, will you and Stiffener see to the guard patrols for tonight. Ruff, Grenn, Brogalaw, Drucco and Gurth, come to my chamber. Those of you not on sentry, get a good rest. You will need it to stand you in good stead tomorrow.’