Lord Brocktree Page 11

‘Oh no, slyboots, yore not leavin’ me alone wid no light!’

  ‘Well, you go. I’m not scared, I’ll wait ’ere. Go on!’

  Grinak went cautiously, holding the torch high, calling out softly, so it would not echo, ‘Cap’n Swinch, Magician Groddil, is that you, sirs?’

  A voice called from round a bend in the passage: ‘Who d’you think it is, addlebrain? We’re here!’

  Grinak hurried round the bend, his face illuminated by the torch. ‘We been lookin’ all over for y—’

  His words were cut short by a swift powerful right and a left uppercut which battered him flat with lightning speed. Stiffener even caught the torch before it fell.

  Rotface peered down the passage and saw the light of the torch wave from side to side.

  ‘Wot is it, mate? ‘Ave yer found ’em?’

  A passable imitation of Grinak’s harsh voice answered, ‘We’re goin’. ‘Urry up!’

  The rat scuttled down the passage dragging the food and drink behind him, afraid of being lost and alone. ‘Wait, ’ang on, I’m comin’!’

  As he rounded the bend Stiffener struck. Unfortunately, the boxing hare had not realised that Rotface’s head was bowed as he struggled with the packs. Stiffener’s blow hit the rat, but only grazed his skull.

  Rotface dropped the packs. He was a big, solid rat. Shaking his head, he went for his dagger. ‘Hah! ’Tis only an old rabbit. Come on, Grandad, let’s see the colour of yer insides!’

  Stiffener Medick was not given to exchanging badinage with vermin. Coolly he sprang forward, feinting with a left at the rat’s stomach. Immediately the rat stabbed downward with his blade. A swinging right hit him like a thunderbolt, breaking his jaw, and he collapsed with a sigh. Stiffener was off down the passage, the two packs in either paw, the torch clamped in his jaws.

  Lord Stonepaw and the others fell on the food with gusto, though the badger shook his head disapprovingly. ‘You could have got yourself slain. Why didn’t you wake me?’

  Stiffener turned his attention from a fruit scone. ‘You need yore sleep, sah. So did those two vermin. Couldn’t box for acorns, either of ’em!’

  Blench winked at him. ‘That’s ole Stiffener for ye, lays ’em out stiff he does! Here, my dearie, try some o’ my plum pudden.’

  The boxing hare accepted it, chuckling. ‘Only did it ’cos I couldn’t stand the thought of vermin gettin’ used to yore wunnerful cookin’, marm. Now if’n those two grandsons o’ mine was with us, young Southpaw an’ his brother Bobweave, they’d ’ave put those two rats down an’ gone lookin’ for more. Pair o’ rascals. Talk about fight? Those two’d swim the great sea just t’be in on a good scrap. Course, I taught ’em, y’know.’

  Ungatt Trunn had now taken up residence in the mountain. He liked the view from Lord Stonepaw’s chamber. Sprawling on the bed, he sampled the badger’s best mountain ale, whilst chewing a savoury cheese and onion flan from Blench’s kitchen. A knock sounded on the door. At a nod from Ungatt, the guard opened it. Grand Fragorl glided in, standing to one side as Groddil, Captain Swinch, Rotface and Grinak were ushered in by the stoat Captain Fraul. Putting aside food and drink, the wildcat rose from the bed. He circled the four culprits slowly, his banded tail swishing as he noted their trembling paws.

  ‘I take it that the news is not good. Talk to me, Groddil.’

  Fighting to keep his voice calm and level, the stunted fox made his report. ‘Mightiness, we have searched through endless dark caves beneath your mountain, with no taste of food nor drink passing our lips. It is cold down there and totally dark. Alas, Great One, we found no trace of the stripedog or his creatures, though it was not from lack of trying.’

  Ungatt leapt on to the window ledge and stood there, framed by the sky outside. ‘Who are these two Horderats? Why are they here?’

  Captain Swinch rapped orders at Rotface and Grinak. ‘One pace forward, you two, stand to attention, eyes front, tell His Mightiness what happened to you!’

  The rats’ heads shook uncontrollably as they rattled forth their concocted story to their fearsome master. They did it piecemeal, alternating one to the other, Rotface nursing his broken jaw.

  ‘We was sent back fer vittles by Cap’n Swinch, sire.’

  ‘Aye, an’ when we returned with ’em the main search party wasn’t there, Mighty One, so we was sort of lost.’

  ‘But we never ate nor rested, sire, we searched for ’em. We searched an’ searched an’ searched, sire.’

  ‘Enny’ow, Mightiness, there we was, a-searchin’, when all of a sudden we was surrounded. It was the stripedog an’ more’n a score o’ those rabbits!’

  ‘Er, but well armed they was, sire. We fought ’em like madbeasts – there was blood everywhere!’

  ‘Mightiness, there was too many of ’em. They stole the vittles an’ left us fer dead, sire!’

  Ungatt Trunn was on the hapless pair like a hawk with two chickens. Rotface and Grinak screeched as the wildcat’s claws sank into their shoulders. He shook both of them, snapping their necks, and then with a mighty heave he hurled the two carcasses out of the wide window on to the rocks below. He was not breathing heavily, nor was there a trace of anger or bad temper on his face as he turned from the window ledge. He stared impassively at Groddil and Swinch as though nothing had happened.

  ‘Tomorrow at first light you will return to your task. The stripedog is alive and hiding down there with his hares. He will not escape me, because you will find him. Take as many to assist you as you wish, take supplies, extra torches, anything, but remember this. Return empty-pawed and you will wish you had died quickly, like those two fools who stood lying barefaced in front of me. Fail me and your deaths will take the best part of a season, as an example to all. Do you understand what I have just said to you both?’

  Swinch and Groddil retreated, bowing.

  ‘As you command, Mightiness!’

  ‘We will find the stripedog and his hares, Great One!’

  Ungatt waited until they had made it to the door. ‘Wait! Captain Fraul, have these two staked out on the shore below, where I may see them from this window. They are not to have food or water. Choose two strong soldiers to beat them with the flats of their own sword blades, and tell them to lay on hard. It will serve as a warning to my forces that nobeast fails to carry out the orders of Ungatt Trunn, not even a captain or a magician. They may be released at dawn tomorrow to continue their search.’

  Ripfang and Doomeye, the new recruits, were chosen to administer the punishment. They stood over their staked-out victims holding the swords high, looking up to the window. Ungatt signalled that the beatings should begin with a wave of his paw. Ripfang smiled apologetically at the two quivering figures pinioned on the sand. ‘Orders is orders. No ’ard feelin’s, eh?’

  Swish thwack! Swish thwack!

  The sound of the flogging was soon drowned out by Swinch and Groddil’s screams.

  Ungatt Trunn turned from the window and prowled down to the dining hall with his Grand Fragorl hurrying behind. Threescore captive hares were herded into a corner, ringed by armed Hordebeasts. Captain Roag, a tough female weasel, saluted the wildcat smartly. ‘These sixty of the lesser orders await your judgement, sire!’

  As usual, the Grand Fragorl addressed her master’s words to the prisoners in her toneless cadence. ‘You longears are of an inferior species, not fit to live in the shadow of the higher orders. It is only on the whim of my master that you still draw breath. Ungatt Trunn, he who makes the stars fall and the earth tremble! Ungatt Trunn the Fearsome Beast who drinks wine from the skulls of his enemies, Conqueror of the World! You live now only to serve him in slavery. If your work is not satisfactory, one of you will be hurled from the top of this mountain each day. You hold the lives of your own comrades forfeit!’

  Sailears could not restrain herself from crying out, ‘I hope I live to see the day you’re chucked from the mountaintop, cat!’

  A spear butt struck her in the face and she went down. The rat who had deliv
ered the blow raised his weapon again, point down, to slay the old hare.

  Ungatt stopped him. ‘Halt! Leave that creature be!’

  Parting ranks, the guards allowed Ungatt passage to Sailears. He stood over her, shaking his head. ‘I wish my creatures had spirit like yours, hare. What is it that creates such bravery and loyalty to some old fool of a stripedog?’

  Ignoring her swollen jaw, Sailears levered herself upright. ‘You wouldn’t jolly well know, cat, an’ you prob’ly wouldn’t understand if I tried to tell you, wot!’

  The wildcat stood, paws akimbo, smiling slightly. ‘All I know about is conquest. I rule through fear, not affection. I’ll wager you know where the stripedog is hiding at the moment, eh?’

  Sailears maintained a defiant silence, exploring a loosened tooth with her tongue. The wildcat shook his head admiringly. ‘Aye, I can see you do! More than likely you’d rather die than tell me, and so would all your comrades. No matter, I’ll find him. Just remember now that you are my slaves – you are all prisoners until you die!’

  Then Sailears did a strange thing. She placed one paw against her head, the other over her heart, and smiled. ‘If that’s what y’think then you’ve lost, cat. We all are free, here in our minds an’ here in our hearts!’

  Ungatt turned on his paw and strode off, calling back, ‘Don’t push your luck or I’ll show you how easy it is to break a creature’s spirit!’

  He was answered by a concerted roar from the prisoners. ‘Eulalia!’

  Whispering something to Fragorl, the wildcat departed the dining hall without a backward glance. The Grand Fragorl held her paws up to gain the hares’ attention.

  ‘His Mightiness has decreed that you starve, every one of you, the next two days for your insolence. Take them away and lock them up!’

  Before any of the Horde could lay paws on the captives, Torleep, a fine upright old hare, rapped out some orders. ‘Form twelve ranks five deep, you lot! Look lively now, dress off to y’right! ‘Ten . . . shun! Straighten up at the back theyah, laddie buck, show these vermin how it’s done! Chin in, head back, shoulders straight, eyes forward, ears stiff! That’s the stuff! Now, by the right, quick march! One two, one two! Right markers, keep those lines straight!’

  Off to their prison cave they marched, surrounded by Captain Roag’s bewildered vermin, who could not comprehend how a defeated band of ancient hares could sing in captivity, although sing they did, loud, long and courageously.

  ‘I’m a hare of Salamandastron,

  An’ foes don’t bother me,

  I’ll fight all day an’ sing all night,

  This song of liberty!

  Liberty! Liberty! That’s for me,

  The mountain hares are wild an’ free!

  One two three hooray!

  You can’t stop sunrise every day!

  I’m a hare of Salamandastron,

  I wander near an’ far,

  You’ll know me when y’see me,

  ‘Cos I’ll shout Eulalia!

  Liberty! Liberty! That’s for me,

  From good dry land to stormy sea!

  One two three hooray!

  You can’t stop sunset every day!’

  Ungatt Trunn could hear it from where he stood at the mountain’s main shore entrance. He looked at the black charred doors, still solid upon their hinges, and out to the shoreline, crowded by his mighty hordes. To nobeast in particular he commented aloud, ‘Fools, nought but old fools!’

  Striding down to the unconscious forms of Groddil and Swinch, he picked up a pail of seawater and hurled it on their backs. They were revived, moaning with pain. Ungatt leaned down close, so he had their attention. ‘I want that stripedog found!’

  He was about to threaten further when a vision of the other badger flashed into his thoughts. Big, shadowy and as forbidding as the war blade he carried across his back. Straightening up, the wildcat gazed out to sea. He could not explain it, but his confidence felt shaken. Moreover, he did not know whence the warrior badger would come, or the day he would arrive. The wildcat was certain of only one thing: the badger would come!

  14

  SUNSHADED, GREEN AND tranquil, the stream stretched, lazily meandering through the woodlands on this the questors’ first full day together. Dotti and Gurth sat up for’ard, chattering away in molespeech; Ruff and Brocktree were aft, paddling. The otter nodded approvingly at their new crew member’s velvety back. ‘Looks like we found a treasure there, matey. That brekkist ole Gurth cooked up this mornin’ would’ve made his dad proud o’ him. Bet yore glad we brought him along.’

  Brocktree could not help but agree with his companion. ‘Aye, and he’s not feared of boats or water, like most moles. He looks as strong as you or I, Ruff!’

  ‘D’ye think so? Well, we’ll find out soon enough. Ahoy there, you two in the prow, pick up yore paddles an’ lend a paw here. Let’s make a liddle speed, eh?’

  Gurth was a bit inexperienced, but as soon as he got the knack of wielding a paddle, there was none better. Enjoying himself hugely, he commented, ‘Hurr, Dott miz, this be better’n diggen at tunnel ’oles. Ee can keep ee paws noice’n’clean. Oi loiks boaten on ee stream gurtly. Et be foine furr ee choild such as oi!’

  The haremaid found herself panting as she struggled to keep stroke with Gurth. His strength and endurance seemed boundless; he was not even breathing heavily. ‘Whurr did ee getten t’be so strong, zurr Gurth?’

  ‘Ho, oi ’spect et be all ee vittles oi scoffed. Gudd grub an’ lots o’ sleepen, that be’s ee stuff. Least that’s wot moi ole mum allus sez!’

  In the early noon a watermeadow appeared to the south. Dotti’s keen ears soon picked up sounds from its far side. She called sternwards to Brocktree.

  ‘I say, sah, some kind o’ jolly old hubbub goin’ on over there. Shall we wander over an’ take a look, wot?’

  The Badger Lord scanned the sidestream, searching for an entrance, but it seemed to be blocked by dead wood cast there from the streamflow.

  ‘There’s no way into the watermeadow. Perhaps we should leave our log here and skirt the banks.’

  ‘You’m set thurr, zurr, oi’ll sort ’er owt!’

  Gurth grabbed a hefty beech limb with his big digging claws. With a mighty tug he tore it free from the debris of driftwood, creating an entrance for them.

  ‘Thurr y’be. Naow take ’er in noice’n’easy, miz Dott.’

  Ruff chuckled. ‘I never seen that done afore by a mole!’

  The watermeadow was extremely hard to negotiate. They were constantly shaking thick bunched weed and long waterlily stems off the paddles. From the far side the sounds of urgent shouts and creatures thrashing about in the rushes echoed over the water.

  ‘Get ahead o’ the rascal. Cut ’im off, Riggo!’

  ‘I got ’im. No I ain’t – the liddle scallywag’s away agin!’

  ‘Kangle, Furrib, there ’e goes. Stop the scamp!’

  This was followed by a sharp screech and a splash. ‘Owow, the blighter spiked me. ’E’s fallen in, chief!’

  ‘Fur’n’snouts, look out, ’ere comes a pike, a big ’un!’

  The pointed log prow broke through a reedbank, and the four travellers took in the scene at a glance.

  Several shrews were dancing in agitation, pointing wildly at the water. A tiny hedgehog was going down for the second time, splashing and gurgling. He was in deadly danger. Gliding smoothly towards the hogbabe was a pike, its rows of needle-like teeth exposed as its jaws opened in anticipation, the dorsal fin near its tail sticking out of the water, dragging weeds along.

  Dotti yelled out in dismay. ‘By the left, look at the size o’ that brute. He’ll crunch the little tyke in one bite, spikes and all!’

  The shrews threw up their paws hopelessly.

  ‘He’s a dead ’un all right!’

  ‘Nought we kin do now, mates!’

  Gurth tried to reach out with his paddle to the hogbabe, but he was too far away for it to do any good. ‘Burrhurr, ee pore likkl
e h’aminal!’

  Then Ruff dashed the length of the log to gain momentum and leapt high, soaring over Gurth and Dotti in a spectacular dive, roaring whilst he sailed through the air, ‘Ye great slab-sided wormgargler, come t’me!’

  Vegetation and spray flew everywhere as the big otter hit the water purposely to divert the pike from its prey. Instead of swimming for the babe, Ruff went like lightning at the fish. He shot by the pike like an arrow, swirled and brought his powerful tail crashing against its flat vicious head. Rearing up out of the water, he threw himself on the predator. They both went down. Brocktree, Dotti and Gurth paddled furiously, taking the log in between the pike and the hogbabe. Gurth hooked the tiny creature’s little belt with a digging claw and fished him on board.

  The shrews were jumping up and down with excitement, yelling encouragement to Ruff. ‘Yiiiiihaa aaa! Hold him, big feller, you got the Riverwolf!’

  Flashes of otter fur and green-gold scales revolved furiously in the clouded water, then the two broke the surface. Ruff had his paws clamped like a vice about the pike’s mouth, holding it tight shut, while harsh wet slaps rang out as the mighty predator battered its tail, fins and body against its captor, struggling to break free and attack him. Ruff used his tail rudder like a club, striking the pike’s head madly.

  Whack! Smack! Splat! Thwock! Bang!

  The pike fell back under Ruff’s assault, eyes glazing over, speckled body going limp. Releasing it, the otter practically flew through the water and surged on to the log, blowing water.

  ‘Whooh! That’ll put paid to ’is gallop for a while, Dotti, though he’ll wake up with a headache like nobeast’s business. ‘Tweren’t easy, though. You ever tried stunnin’ a full-growed pike with yore tail?’

  Dotti peered behind at her small round scut. ’Er, ’fraid I haven’t, old chap. A hare’s tail’s not exactly built for biffin’ pike with, wot!’

  The pike must have had a thick skull. Partially recovered, it displayed its savage nature by charging the log. Brocktree thumped it, none too gently, on its snout with his paddle. ‘Gurcha! Away with you, or I’ll really put something on your mind. Be off, sir!’