Salamandastron, page 30
Ferahgo tapped the knifepoint against his son’s chest. ‘And while you’re in there, young one, remember: just keep fighting, don’t stop to look for badger treasure. I’ll do that when my horde have finished the job.’
‘Your horde?’ Klitch turned the knifepoint aside with his spearshaft.
The Assassin twirled the knife deftly. ‘Yes, my horde – and so it will remain while I’m alive!’
The younger weasel leapt up and bounded athletically up the rocks to the opening, turning to address his father before disappearing inside.
‘Once again we agree, old one. It is your horde . . . while you’re still alive!’
39
In the hour before dawn, Guosssom shrews leapt from the logboats into the shallows, willing paws pushing and tugging as they beached the five vessels on the shore in front of Salamandastron. Samkim and Arula looked up and down the empty beach, paws close to their weapon handles.
‘Yurr, Sanken, it be turrible soilent ’ereabouts. Oi wunner where all ’ee vurmints be agone to?’
Sapwood was tracking through the sands. ‘Not too ’ard to tell Harula. I’m a-thinkin’ we might’ve arrived ’ere too late!’
Loambudd lifted Ashnin lightly from the logboat and set her on dry land. Hefting a paddle, she joined them. ‘No time for gossip now. Gather round, everybeast!’
Every creature present dropped what they were doing and crowded about the wise old female badger as she rapped out orders.
‘Urthwyte, Samkim and Arula – go with Alfoh and his tribe and find out what the position is at the mountain. Pikkle, you go with them and act as runner. The rest of you stay here with me.’
Armed with rapiers and paddles, the tribe of Alfoh stole silently across the shore in the wake of Pikkle and the white badger. Samkim drew the sword of Martin as he hurried along with the frontrunners; Arula waddled alongside him, swinging a loaded sling. Automatically Pikkle made for the main entrance. He groaned softly as he saw the unblocked fissure yawning wide.
‘Oh no, it looks like Ferahgo’s stinkin’ lot have found a way inside!’
At the opening, Samkim held up a paw for silence. ‘Hist!’ Badtooth had taken an arrow in his paw. Hauling himself painfully through the opening, the stoat sought a soft resting place on the sand. He was halfway through the opening when a huge white paw seized him by the throat. Badtooth gave a terrified gurgle as he was dragged out on to the rocks. Samkim held the edge of the sword across his throat, growling viciously, ‘One false move or a wrong word and you lose your head! Now speak up, what has happened here?’
The unfortunate stoat gulped and whimpered out all he knew. ‘The horde are in there, tryin’ to fight their way through the mountain . . .’
Pikkle grabbed him by the ear. ‘Where’s Ferahgo an’ Klitch?’
‘Klitch is in there, an’ Crabeyes, an’ Dragtail an’ the rest. I ’aven’t clapped eyes on Ferahgo since the attack started, I swear it!’
Urthwyte and Samkim exchanged glances.
‘We’ll have to take his word for it,’ the white badger grunted. He knocked the stoat senseless with a sweep of his paw, looking about as if undecided what to do next.
Samkim took charge, coming up with a fast and workable solution. ‘It’s going to be light soon – we’ll have to move fast. Pikkle, tell Loambudd that we’ve gone up the mountain to reinforce those inside. If she brings the rest up through this opening we can mount a two-pronged assault.’
Alfoh clapped him on the back. ‘Good idea. Are you sure you’ve never done this sort of thing before, young squirrel?’
Samkim shouldered Martin’s sword with a wry grin. ‘There’s a first time for everything, matey!’
Pikkle was gone in a spray of loose sand. Strapping his mighty dub to his back, Urthwyte began climbing. Arula threw up her paws in resignation as she started the ascent.
‘Burrhoo! Oi doant loik ’igh places, bein’ naught but ’ee mole. Bohurr, yur goes one cloimbin’ young beast.’
Dawn broke in roseate splendour over Salamandastron as Mara and Loambudd thundered over the sands with the Guosssom of Log-a-log hard on their heels. Pikkle rested a moment as they surged by him. Eventually he regained his breath and grabbed a paddle.
‘I say, chaps. Wait for me!’
Moonpaw was slain defending the stairwell. The gallant hare placed Pennybright and Lingfur behind her. The two young ones thrust either side of Moonpaw with their lances at the ravening pack of vermin that pressed its way forward up the stairs.
Wounded in a dozen places, Moonpaw yelled to the two young ones, ‘Get back to Oxeye quickly. Tell him to send reinforcements.’ She gazed for a moment at Pennybright’s tearstained face. ‘Don’t stand there gawping, young Pen. Do as I say. Go on!’
Moonpaw had a double-pointed javelin. Wildly she broke it in half over the head of a ferret. Brandishing both halves, she dived headlong into the press of foebeasts, yelling a last warcry.
‘Eulaliaaaaaa!’
Breathlessly the two young hares sobbed out their story to Oxeye. He sat them down, keeping his voice calm.
‘Well, it looks as if we’ve lost the lower levels. Sorry I haven’t any food or drink to offer you two. Sit there and rest awhile. I say, Barty old thing, how’re you feelin’?’
Bart Thistledown flexed his paws. Nodding to two other hares, he picked up his bow and quiver of arrows and limped off. ‘Oh I suppose I’m about ready for another scuffle, Big Ox. Come on, you chaps – duty calls, an’ all that. Oh, if I don’t manage t’ make it back, you’ll know its bye-bye Barty. Under those circumstances you’d be best movin’ His Lordship out of here an’ up to another chamber, wot? Toodle-oo!’
The sounds of yelling, chanting vermin stamping about inside the mountain was growing louder. Big Oxeye threw a paw about Lingfur’s trembling shoulders and chuckled. ‘Noisy old lot aren’t they?’
In the full flood of bright morning sunlight, Urthwyte’s party neared the top of the crater.
Alfoh was staring at something up above as he fitted a rock to his sling. Whirling the weapon, he called out to Samkim, ‘Look, that’s a rat up there. Hey you!’
The rat’s head was barely visible, but as Alfoh shouted he turned and showed himself. The slingstone took him under the ear with a distinctive thud. The rat screamed and toppled over the crater top. Instantly there was a mob of vermin, hurling rocks and firing arrows down on them.
‘Where did they come from? Who are they?’ Ferahgo could be heard yelling from the top of the mountain.
Arula aimed a rock from her sling in the direction of the voice. She was rewarded with a cry from the Assassin.
‘Ow, my paw! Kill them, whoever they are!’
A shrew stood to whirl his sling but an arrow took him through the eye and he fell back dead. Urthwyte picked up a sizeable boulder and hurled it upwards, taking out a rat and injuring a fox.
‘Charge! Eulaliaaaaa!’ The great white badger went surging forward regardless of arrows and stones.
Samkim and Arula took up the cry. ‘Forward, Redwaaaaaallll!’
‘Logalogalogalogalog!’ The shrews broke cover and began scrambling up the rocks, slinging as they went.
Klitch led a band of Corpsemakers along a twisting rock passage towards the stairwell. He trod scornfully on the body of Moonpaw as he mounted the stairs.
‘Kill! Kill! Kiiillll!’
Standing to one side, he let his attack force sweep up the stairs, smiling craftily as he heard the death screams of the front rank who had walked into the range of Bart Thistledown’s bows. ‘Come on, you lucky rabble. It’s only a couple of hares. Rush them!’
Big Oxeye picked up a longbow and arrows. Issuing slings and stone pouches to Pennybright and Lingfur, he nodded towards the clamour of battle echoing up through the passage outside.
‘Right, hares, up on y’ paws. Quick’s the word an’ sharp’s the action. We’ll have to go an’ give ol’ Barty a pull-out. His Lordship’ll be safe here until we get back. Young Pen, an’ you, Ling, give me a big smile – come on now. That’s the ticket. Now yell after me as we go. It’s the Loooong Patrooool! Eulaliaaaaa!’ Yelling like demons, they sped down the passage to Bart’s aid.
Standing at the back of his command, Klitch watched as an ashen-faced Dragtail came running up from the lower levels. The young weasel eyed him cynically.
‘Where in the name of Hellgates have you been? It’s up here you should be, where the fighting’s taking place, not down there in the peace and quiet!’
Dragtail was plainly scared and, breathing heavily, he hooked a paw back down at the lower levels. ‘Listen to that!’
Echoing hollowly up through the rocky corridor the sound reached the young weasel’s startled ears.
‘Logalogalogalogalog!’
Undecided as what to do, Klitch shrugged and smiled nervously. ‘Logalog? What’s that supposed to mean?’
A well-aimed arrow took Dragtail through the chest as Log-a-log, Mara and Pikkle came hurtling along the passage at the head of a charging Guosssom band.
With a terrified yelp, Klitch took to his heels, fighting his way through the vermin crowding the stairwell until he was safely ensconced in the middle of the pack. Unreasoningly he grabbed a fox by the throat and shouted into his face, ‘Nobeast told me about this.’
The fox was about to reply when one of Big Oxeye’s arrows snuffed out his life. Klitch looked wildly about as he moaned, ‘It’s a trap. We’re trapped!’
With a stentorian roar Lord Urthstripe burst through the restraining bandages, ripping his huge bulk up from the bed. Seizing a forge hammer, he lumbered off towards the upper levels. From some amazing reserve, the mountain Ruler had dredged up his wild strength; the madness of the warrior badgers was upon him – nobeast could stand in his path now, even despite the fearsome wounds that scarred his giant frame.
Urthwyte’s party had gained the summit, and now they were fighting around the top of the crater. Ferahgo stared at the white badger, a wave of fear sweeping across him.
‘Kill the white one! Kill him! The one who slays the white badger is a richbeast!’
Twenty crowded round Urthwyte as he battled furiously. Roaring mightily, he swung his oaken club. Samkim forged around the crater top, his sword flashing in the sunlight, leaping, dodging, hacking, thrusting – with Arula covering his back, swinging her loaded sling.
‘Goo on, Sanken, urr hurr. Make Redwell proud of ’ee!’
Alfoh and his shrews fought valiantly with rapier, paddle and sling. There was no quarter given; shrew and vermin alike died that day on the heights. The creatures of Ferahgo fought with the ferocity of despair, bemused by the strange force that had scaled the mountain to offer them battle. Seeing his chance, Ferahgo sneaked up on Urthwyte, knowing that if he could slay the white badger the fight would swing his way. Urthwyte had his back to Ferahgo, hammering relentlessly at any creature coming into club range. The Assassin drew both his best knives, the killer and the skinner, and crouched low, bunching his muscles for the spring that would carry him on to the white badger’s back, where his blades could feast on the unprotected neck. Nerving himself, he made the spring.
In midair time seemed to stand still. He heard the roar, saw Urthstripe appear in front of him and felt the shock as two fearsome paws caught him in their vicelike grip. Ferahgo screamed with shock. Galvanized into action, he began stabbing with both knives, plunging them into the body of the roaring badger Lord.
The massive injuries he had formerly sustained, together with the horrendous wounds of Ferahgo’s daggers, now caused Urthstripe’s fierce dark eyes to cloud over with deathmist, but his fate was not yet sealed. From the deep wells of strength within his gigantic frame he called up a last mighty surge that would enable him to rid Salamandastron of Ferahgo.
Crushing the blue-eyed weasel to him, Urthstripe leapt from the top of the mountain, yelling his last beloved battle cry:
‘Eulaliaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!’
The knowledge that he had glimpsed his lost brother for a moment hit Urthwyte; the look on his face caused every creature who had followed Ferahgo to lose their nerves completely.
Alfoh pulled Samkim to one side. ‘Leave him here. Get Arula and my shrews down inside the mountain before he kills us all. Leave him here with the vermin!’
Samkim could readily understand Alfoh’s meaning; the sight of the berserk white badger hurling himself bodily at the panic-stricken vermin was enough. Pushing Arula in front of him, the young squirrel followed the Guosssom band down the walkways that spiralled into the heart of Salamandastron.
Pennybright hurried up from the forge room with a quiver of arrows. She passed them to Oxeye.
‘These are the last. There are no more!’
Oxeye grinned as he fitted a shaft to his bow. ‘Good gel. Keep slingin’, Penny. Look at young Ling there – he’s tossin’ rocks like a good un. Want some good news, m’dear?’ There’s a band of shrews an’ whatnot attackin’ from the lower levels. Listen to this.’ Oxeye shouted over the mêlée at the top of his voice. ‘Duck ’n’ weave! Blood ’n’ vinegar! Long Patrol’s here!’ The sound echoed down the rocky stairwell.
A moment later there was an answering call.
‘Jab an’ move! Give ’em a towsin’! Long Patrol’s ’ere too!’
‘Good ol’ Sapwood.’ Oxeye’s grin spread from ear to ear. ‘Knew I never sent him on that cruise for nothin’.’
Lingfur looked fearfully over his shoulder. ‘Sir, look out! They’re behind us!’
Carrying a heavy paddle and her sling, Arula bowed low. ‘We’m not behoind ’ee, young un. Us’ns are with ’ee!’
Oxeye stifled a laugh as he shook paws with the molemaid. ‘Well, thank goodness for that. I’d hate to face a warrior like you, young molemaid.’
Arula wrinkled her nose. ‘Thankee koindly, zurr.’
‘Pleased t’ meet you, I’m sure.’ Oxeye clasped the paws of Samkim and Alfoh gratefully. ‘But could we leave the introductions until after the war, old lads?’
Samkim immediately liked the big hare. Gripping his sword in both paws, he took up a fighting stance and nodded. ‘That seems fair enough, sir. Shall we charge?’
Paddles, slings and rapiers waved behind Samkim and Oxeye as the hare tossed aside his bow and picked up a lance.
‘Well said, sir! Ready, chaps. . . . Then . . . charge!’
‘Eulaliaaa! Redwaaaaall! Logalogalogalog!’
Taking up the call, the band at the bottom of the stairwell howled their own battle cries as they charged from their end.
The war was hopelessly lost for the once vaunted horde of Corpsemakers. Klitch killed the two vermin closest to him and fell flat on the stairs, pulling their bodies over his to act as concealment. The rocks echoed with the clangour of battle. Trapped and cut off on the long rambling flight of stairs, the last of the horde fought with desperation, but they were no match for the Guosssom, two badgers and the remaining hares of the Long Patrol. Mara felt herself swept along in the rush. Ahead of her she glimpsed Samkim, his face alight with the madness of battle as he fought his way through the tight-packed ranks of vermin, some of whom were standing dead, having no room to fall. At the centre of the turmoil they met, the young squirrel and the badger maid. A sudden silence prevailed. The madness was over, Salamandastron stood free.
Creatures who a moment before had been yelling and slaying stood weary and quiet, as if shamed by the indignity of war. Bodies of friend and foe alike lay strewn on the rocky steps like leaves after an autumn gale.
The voice of young Pennybright echoed hollowly round the scene of carnage: ‘Oxeye, sir, I want to go out into the sunlight. I don’t want to be here!’
Oxeye stroked her ears gently as he gazed around. ‘Neither do any of us, young Pen. Come on, let’s all go out into the fresh air!’
As they climbed out of the opening, Loambudd grasped Mara’s paw.
‘Ayaaaaaaah!’
The sound that tore from the old badger’s throat was like the cry of an animal being slain. She released Mara’s paw and went rushing out. The young badger maid was about to call after her when she too saw what had made Loambudd cry out. As fast as she could she ran after her.
Urthstripe the Strong lay with his paws still clutching Ferahgo the Assassin. Both were dead. On all fours beside the two bodies was Urthwyte, weeping like a baby, his paws bruised and cut from the wild rushing descent he had made from the mountain top to be with his brother.
Loambudd unlocked the dead badger Lord’s paws from around Ferahgo. As she removed the golden medallion from the weasel’s neck, Sapwood and Oxeye approached her and bowed low.
‘Can we be of help, Lady?’
She turned the Assassin’s carcass over with her footpaw. ‘Take this worthless thing and cast it into the sea. It does not deserve a resting place like any decent creature.’
Blinded by hot tears, Mara watched as Loambudd placed the medallion about Urthwyte’s snowy neck.
‘This belonged to my father and to your father. It should have been worn by your brother Urthstripe. It now belongs to you, my grandson. Wear it proudly.’
Mara knelt and clasped the big battle-scarred paws of the fallen badger Lord. Words tumbled out with her tears. ‘I came back too late. Now it is past the time when I could tell you what is in my heart. I have ranged far and wide to be back home here with you, and in that time I have slowly understood what you tried to teach me – you who were ever true to your own code of honour and duty. To everybeast you were Urthstripe the Strong, Lord of the mountain; so will your name be always remembered. You cannot hear me now, but I wish to add one more name to your title.’
The young badger maid took both the lifeless paws and placed them on her bowed head as she spoke a single word:
‘Father!’
Klitch lay still, listening until the victors had departed. Beneath the slain bodies it was hot and airless. His tongue clove to the roof of a dry mouth, parched from battle, thirst and the fear of discovery. The silence became total, oppressive, like the weight of the two creatures he had slain lying on top of him. Pushing and kicking, he freed himself from the carcasses and sneaked off up the stairs. His only hope now was to gain the crater top and slip away over the east rim whilst his enemies rested on the sands at the west side of the mountain.
