He stole off to the left. Tiria made as if to follow him, but Captain Granden placed a restraining paw on her. “You stay with us, Lady. The Major ain’t a beast to be around today. Did ye see how wild his eyes were? Right! Kolun, Banya an’ you, too, miss, follow me. I’ll show ye the ropes, ’tis quite simple. You’ll each be in charge of a rank. Don’t worry, you’ll soon pick it up!”
Pitru peered over the top of his wall, then ducked down to Hinso at his side. “Well, that soon stopped them. We’ll give them another shower of rocks in a bit. Huh, they won’t be so eager to charge us then, eh?”
Hinso glanced back over her shoulder. “Lord, we’ve used up all the stones we collected.”
The young warlord replied scathingly, “Then don’t argue with me! Get some more, and get them fast. Move yourself!”
There was a cry from the otters below. “Ee aye eeeee!”
Some slingstones rattled in over the walltop. One struck Pitru on the paw. He winced and sucked his paw, then scoffed, “If that’s the best they can do, we’ve no need to fret.”
Another shout came from below. “Redwaaaaallll!”
Hinso was just moving off to issue orders to the rockgathering crew when the second wave of slingstones came over. This time they struck with more force. One hit Hinso in the mouth, knocking a fang out.
Crouching down behind the wall, Pitru yelled, “Archers, slingers, spearcats, up here!”
“Galedeeeeeeep!”
On this third warcry, which issued forth from Kolun, a big salvo of slingstones came whipping in, dropping several guards in their tracks. Pitru chanced a glance through a chink in the wallstones. The otters had gained ground. A long line of them stood up, whirling their slings as Banya sang out the eerie clan warcry. “Ee aye eeeeeee!”
Suddenly it was raining slingstones fast and hard. The otters dropped down low, and another long rank ran ahead of them, slinging for all they were worth. Tiria stood alongside them, shouting, “Redwaaaaaallll!”
Gritting his teeth, Pitru drew his scimitar. Anger coursed through the young cat; things were not going as he had planned. He called to his catguards, “Get to this wall, rally to me!”
As the guards ran forward, a bloodcurdling roar came from lower down the rim, past the wall. “Eulaliiiiiaaaaa!”
Using a long pike axe which he had captured, Cuthbert came vaulting over the crater rim onto the narrow path. The Long Patrol hares and some clanbeasts were hurrying behind to catch him up, but their major was gone forever. In his place was a berserk animal whom none could control or stand against. Cuthbert made straight for the silk-robed cat carrying the broad scimitar. Foebeasts fell like chaff to the scythe before his insane attack. He was roaring like a madbeast—no Eulalias or warcries, just a continuous spine-chilling screech. There were several guards, including Hinso, blocking his path. Holding the long pikestaff sideways, Cuthbert hit them, bowling the lot backward in a heap. They struck Pitru, knocking him into the wall, which crumbled and collapsed. Cuthbert hurled himself upon them, trying to wield the pike axe, which was far too long for close combat.
Pitru scrambled from under the melee. Naked fear shone in his eyes as he gasped, “Get him away from me. Kill him!”
Hinso lashed out with a lance from behind the hare, sticking him through the side. Cuthbert turned, snapping the weapon like a twig and going for the cat’s throat with bared teeth. Dust billowed up from the narrow path in the ensuing chaos. Seeing that the mad hare’s back was turned to him, Pitru struck with his scimitar. Three guards fell upon Cuthbert. Hinso tried to wrest the pike axe from his paws, but nothing could stop the beast they called “Old Blood’n’guts.” He went forward, stumbling over fallen wallstones, dragging four cats with him before reaching Pitru. With one swift move, he trapped the young warlord, locking him to his chest with the pikestaff.
Colour Sergeant O’Cragg was battering his way through the guards to reach his major, when the three ranks of clanbeasts burst over the rim in a wild charge, bellowing, “Death’s on the wind! Eee aye eeeeeee!”
Captain Granden, not having heard his major give the signal cry, had decided to move swiftly. The catguards battled wildly, knowing they were fighting for their lives, realising the otterclans would cede no quarter. Tiria was whipping her loaded sling right and left, watching the enemy falling before it. She saw Cuthbert besieged by Pitru and the four cats on the far rim, and began battling ahead to go to his aid. But too late!
Still making that awful sound he had last uttered on the day of his daughter’s death, Cuthbert leaped over the rim, taking Pitru and the cats with him. Tiria reached the rim, along with Rafe Granden, Sergeant O’Cragg and Big Kolun, who was carrying half a shattered oar in his paw. They watched for a moment in frozen horror at the scene below, then leaped over the rim and went skidding down the steepshaled slope toward the vast, sinister expanse of water called Deeplough.
Cuthbert could not halt his rushing descent. He hit the water holding the lifeless body of Pitru, whose back he had broken in the crushing grip of the pikestaff. The others splashed in beside him, wailing in panic and trying to pull themselves out by scrabbling at the steeply banked loose scree.
Without any prior warning, the dark waters rose in a hump, and Slothunog was among them! The monster was a throwback of some primitive age, covered in jet-black scales with a humped back and a long serpentlike neck. It hissed aloud, blowing out a spray of water, its reptilian head swaying back and forth as it struck with a cavernous mouthful of glittering teeth. The body of Pitru was wrenched from Cuthbert’s grasp into the creature’s jaws, which snapped shut on the dead cat. Tiria and the others, having managed to stop their descent, lay on their backs in the shale, footpaws dug in tight as they gazed in disbelief at their friend.
Cuthbert had scrambled up onto the back of Slothunog, hacking at its neck with the pike axe. It sped out onto the lough, wriggling and thrashing furiously as it tried to rid itself of its berserk passenger. The hare, however, could not be shaken off. He hacked, speared, chopped and stabbed frenziedly, like some wildbeast trying to regain the prey which had been stolen by another. Then, with one massive effort, he plunged the spiked head of the weapon deep, pushing with the last of his strength as he drove it home.
Slothunog hissed loud and long before its head finally fell forward. It shuddered, sent up a crimson gout of its lifeblood and vanished beneath the unplumbed depths of Deeplough, taking with it a hare who had become, in the last of his many roles, a dragonslayer!
Colour Sergeant O’Cragg saluted, blinking through the tears which coursed down his tough face. “Perilous! I think the word was made for Major Frunk. Perilous!”
Captain Granden nodded agreement as he passed Tiria his kerchief. “Perilous indeed, Sarn’t. No Badger Lord in a Bloodwrath could’ve done better. Dry your tears, lady. He went exactly the way he wanted to. Right, Sarn’t?”
O’Cragg sniffed. “Right y’are, Cap’n. Pore ole Major weren’t the same h’after ’e lost ’is lovely daughter.”
He borrowed the captain’s already tear-drenched kerchief from Tiria and dabbed at his eyes. “Tell ye wot, miss. We’ll both stop weepin’ an’ watch the sky tonight for the Major, eh?”
The ottermaid squeezed the sergeant’s big paw. “Thank you, Sergeant, I’d like us to do that. If we spot a specially big star, with a small pretty one close to it, we’ll name them Cuthbert and Petunia, after the Major and his daughter.”
Colour Sergeant O’Cragg gave his eyes another wipe before returning the captain’s kerchief. “Bless ye, miss, that’s h’a very nice thought.”
Big Kolun got the situation back on an even keel with his next remark. “I’ll give ye a very nice thought, Sergeant. Just’ow in the name o’ seasons do we get out o’ this crater?”