Kaltag waited until it was quiet outside before coming out of her room. Holding two blazing torches, she ascended to the antechamber at the top of the tower stairs and hid until she heard the catguards running downstairs to the slave compound. Now nobeast was outside the chamber which held Shellhound. Chuckling to herself, the demented cat crept along to it.
She tapped on the battered door, calling in a singsong voice, “Are ye coming out, murderer?”
Leatho’s voice came defiantly back at her. “No! Are ye comin’ in to get me?”
She cackled insanely. “Heeheehee! I can reach you without having to enter the room. Now you must pay for the death of my son Jeefra. Heeheeheehee!”
Leatho’s reply sounded puzzled. “Wot Jeefra? I don’t know anybeast named Jeefra!”
Kaltag screeched. “Liar! You and your otters slew him! Now you will roast before you reach Hellgates!”
More crazy laughter followed. Then something struck the door. The timbers were bone dry and heavily splintered from the guards’ axes and spears. In a trice, flames were licking at the door. Kaltag was screaming like a madbeast as she tore down wall hangings and flung them on the blaze. She had dropped the other torch on the floor. Standing back from the blazing door, she went into a crazy shuffling dance, her eyes glittering in the firelight as she crooned, “Burn! Burn! You cannot escape a mother’s vengeance! Hahahaheeeeheeee!”
The entire fortress was built of timber, mainly pine and spruce logs, all old and dry. Flames raced unchecked along the landing, ignored by Kaltag, who was screeching and dancing as tongues of flame licked greedily at her tattered cloak and gown.
On the other side of the door, Leatho felt the heat. He could see smoke billowing in under the door. A moment later, the fire broke through, making him realize that the whole place was about to go up in flames. Dashing to the window, he climbed out onto the sill. Waving his paws, he began shouting frantically to the raft on the lake, which was still a good distance away.
“Ahoy! Can somebeast help me, the place is afire!”
Both Tiria and Banya saw the figure high up on the windowledge. They could hear his shouts but were unable to hear his exact words. Banya suddenly realised what was happening when she saw smoke and a burst of flame, driven on the updraught, leap from the conical tower roof. She gripped Tiria’s paw.
“It’s Leatho, he’s locked in up there an’ the place is ablaze!”
Other otters saw Leatho and heard his shouts. They stared in horror at the outlaw, who was edging out on the high windowledge from which smoke and sparks were belching.
Banya Streamdog bit her lip, looking to Tiria. “Leatho’ll be burned t’death up there. Ain’t there anythin’ we can do, Lady?”
Every otter aboard the raft was watching their queen. Tiria knew she had to do something—and quickly. A vision of Martin the Warrior flashed through her mind. Then she heard him say just two words: “the birds!”
She must have said the words out loud, because Banya echoed them. “The birds, marm? Wot d’ye mean?”
Tiria beckoned to the osprey and the goose, both hovering down close to her. She pointed at the figure on the ledge. “Can you get him down from there?”
Brantalis replied, “I could not do it alone, I am thinking. Mayhaps we could do it together, this one and myself. We could only lift him a short way, but far enough to drop him into the lake. I will help Shellhound, he once saved my life. Will you do it, hookbeak?”
Pandion glared at Brantalis. They had never been the closest of friends. He snapped back at the goose, “Kayarr! I have lifted many big fish in my talons. Anything a honker can do, I can also!”
Tiria’s patience was wearing thin. She spoke abruptly. “Then don’t just bicker and argue about it, get him away from there and drop him into the lake. Do it now!”
Both birds sped off toward the blazing tower.
32
As the fortress doors swung open, a catguard came staggering along the hallway, coughing and gasping for breath as he caught up to the warlord. “Sire, there is a fire in the upper floors!”
The wildcat seized him by the neck and shook him. “I know that, fool! We will deal with it later! Where has Scaut got to with those slaves?”
He flung the guard to the floor. Rubbing at his neck, the cat whined hoarsely, “Lord, we cannot get into the slave compound. Strange warriors have taken it. Weilmark Scaut sent me to tell you!”
The warlord tore off his helmet, throwing it at the guard. “What do you mean, strange warriors?”
The catguard scrambled backward, out of Felis’s reach. “Tall ones, rabbits I think. They shout ‘alaylee,’ and fight like madbeasts. They are fearsome creatures!”
The wildcat stared at him in disbelief. “Tall rabbits? What are you telling me, blatherbrain?”
Loud shouting and cheering came from the lake and banks beyond the pier. Puzzled and seething with wrath, Riggu Felis shouted to the guards gathered in the hallway, “Forward, follow me!”
He marched out onto the pier, followed by his guards, who were relieved to be out of the smoky fortress. Otterclans were packing both sides of the shore and, though the raft was still some distance away, the warlord could see the creatures upon it. They were looking up toward the tower and pointing. Ignoring the enemy facing him, he, too, turned and peered upward.
Leatho Shellhound blinked against the billowing smoke which poured from the window. He could feel his fur beginning to curl and scorch in the constant blasts of heat. Hungry, flaming tongues were threatening to envelop him.
Then two great shapes swooped overhead, and he heard the hawk calling, “Karrraaaak! Seize onto our legs and hold tight!”
Pandion and Brantalis descended upon him in a noisy flapping of wings. Leatho, needing no second invitation, grabbed the hawk just above its talons, and the goose above its webbed pads. With the acrid reek of burning feathers in his nostrils, he cried out, “I’ve got ye, friends!”
They pulled away, dipping because of the otter’s weight. It was very difficult, owing to the different flight methods of both birds, but Brantalis and Pandion flapped bravely outward. They could not keep a level path, immediately going into a descent, though they were still heading for the lake.
Riggu Felis was shouting like a beast demented as he hastened, facing backward, along the pier. It was not essentially Leatho’s escape which caught the wildcat’s attention, however; it was the sight of Pandion Piketalon.
“The hawk! It’s the hawk! I’d know it anywhere!”
He raced ahead, reaching the pier end ahead of the trio’s descent. The catguards stopped halfway along the pier, watching as the wildcat stood to intercept the two birds, who were fast losing height with Shellhound hanging from their legs.
As he whirled his single-bladed war axe, Riggu Felis was bellowing, “Go to Hellgates, bird!”
The osprey, within three spearlengths of the warlord when he hurled the axe, could not be missed. A cry of horror went up from the otters on the raft. They were still too far off to do anything that would prevent the fatal throw. Without thinking, Tiria began whirling her sling. Round and round it sped until it was a thrumming blur. Automatically, the old Abbey warcry ripped from her mouth. “Redwaaaaaaaaallllll!”
Never before or since had anybeast witnessed a slinging of that magnitude. The barbed iron star whistled through the hot morning air like a thunderbolt, covering the long distance in the speed of a lightning flash. Both Leatho and the two birds hit the water beyond the pier end. The warlord knew that his axe had struck home. He turned to see the hawk splash limply down. Facing the open lake, Riggu Felis laughed aloud. But no sound came from him as he stood in frozen silence for a brief moment. Then he toppled headfirst into the lake, with a hole between both eyes and an iron star embedded in his brain. Thus ended the reign of Riggu Felis, Wildcat Warlord of Green Isle, slain by a humble Abbeymaid who was now High Queen of the Otterclans.