Martin The Warrior Part 31

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.

314.

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 l.u.s.tily 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 ma.s.sive patterned s.h.i.+ning 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.

315.

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

316.

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 sh.o.r.e, 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 rea.s.sure himself there was no immediate danger of attack.

Badrang appeared on the walltop with scores of arch- 317.

ers and slingers. He s.h.i.+elded 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 t.i.tle. 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.

318.

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 sh.o.r.e, 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."

319.

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, das.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.sed 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, shrug- 320.

ging 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 sn.i.g.g.e.ring. Stung by Felldoh's insults, the Tyrant drew his sword.

"n.o.beast 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 321.

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 wis.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+n 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, 322.

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 b.u.t.t 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 s.h.i.+ning 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 sh.o.r.e. Ignoring his injured footpaw, the squirrel raised the javelin. He brought it down with punis.h.i.+ng 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!'"

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

324.

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 a.s.sured 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?"

325.

"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 a.s.sured me that Brome was lively as a gra.s.shopper 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."