The battering ram had begun its work on the front gates. Tarquin had his forces screaming and yelling as they charged with the ram.
"Trag! Trag! Trag! Eulaliaaaa! Trag! Trag! Trag!"
The massive treetrunk, still matted with earth and
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grass, pounded its blunt head against the quivering timbers of the gates.
Grimtooth dashed around to Riptung. "They're smashin' the gates in, matey! Take your force from this side an' stand 'em off. I'll get Hookfin to do the same!"
Soon the searats were massed halfway between the fort building and the gates. They fired arrows upward in a curving arc. The shafts fell on the ram crew, slaying several with their first volley. Tarquin ordered his archers to return fire. "Give 'em blood an' vinegar, chaps. Fire!"
Gabool could see only the sea and the rocks below from the big banqueting hall window, but he darted around the slit windows on the other walls, the noise of battle ringing in his ears as he peered out at the dark shapes scurrying below. Dashing to the slit window on the far side, he stared out at the back hillside in horror. The badger had emerged from somewhere high upon the hill and stood there like some giant out of the worst nightmare, framed against the night sky, battlesword stuck in the ground beside him, clad in warhelm and breastplate.
Gabool stood framed in the big window, screaming threats and challenging the enemy who had haunted his waking dreams so long. But Rawnblade was only concerned with the task of the moment. Setting his paws against the vast boulder, he sucked air into his lungs, feeling his mighty chest swell against the metal breastplate. He pitted his weight and strength against the monolithic ball of rock; it budged slightly, then settled back. This time the badger threw his back against it, digging his blunt claws and wide footpads hard into the earth. He crouched and grunted with exertion as sweat trickled across his striped head, forcing his bulk into the boulder. This time it moved out of its depression in the stony soil. Feeling the mass move, Rawnblade attacked it with primeval ferocity.
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Roaring and bellowing, he hurled all his weight into the side of the formidable stone, sinew and muscle bunched as flesh hit rock. The boulder began to trundle away like some dread juggernaut, slowly at first, then gathering speed on the sloping hillside. Lord Rawnblade seized his battlesword. Throwing back his head he howled the war cry of Salamandastron to the night sky.
"Eulaliaaaaaa!"
The boulder crashed through the hill gorse, spinning and bouncing, a mighty stone ball of destruction, with the badger Lord charging in its wake. With a thunderous rumble it smashed through the wall, sending an explosion of sharded masonry high in the air. Either side of it sections of wall fell like wheat before a scythe. Several rats guarding the back wall stood paralyzed with fright as Rawnblade came bounding through the dustcloud in the shattered breach, followed by Joseph the Bellmaker and a chanting mass of Trag warriors.
"Trag! Trag! Trag! Redwaaaaalll!"
The rats at the main gates stopped shooting arrows. They turned to see what was happening at the back wall.
Riptung dashed through them. "Come on, they've burst through the walls back there!"
Reluctantly the searat archers turned to face the latest peril, Hookfin and Grimtooth shoving and pushing them toward the foe.
"Push 'em back, or we're done for, mates!"
"There ain't that many of 'em, we've got 'em outnumbered, buckos. Charge!"
Spurred on by desperation, the rats clashed with their attackers. Steel clashed against steel as both sides met like two waves crashing together. The bigger, more powerful searats in their barbaric finery did not intimidate the young Trag fighters, who threw themselves upon their hated oppressors with insane ferocity, hacking and cleaving as the melee swayed back and forth;
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but the rats were experienced skirmishers, each searat and his mate taking one Trag warrior between them, slashing and stabbing from back to front. Soon it became evident that Joseph's force would be routed, without reinforcements.
Rawnblade was fighting his own fight. The Blood-wrath had come upon him, his one aim was to get inside Bladegirt to find Gabool. Oblivious of Trag difficulties, he fought his way toward the fort, seeing nothing through the fiery red mist that engulfed his eyes but the building which contained his sworn enemy. Searats flew before the blade of Verminfate like butterflies caught in a gale.
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Outside the main gates they heard the noise as the back wall was broken by the boulder. Within moments the searat arrows stopped raining over upon them. Mariel, Tarquin, Dandin and Durry lifted their heads and listened. The pounding of receding paws and the shouts that followed told them the battle was being joined inside.
Durry did a little dance of impatience. "Use the ram as a ladder. Quick, quick!"
Mariel weighed up and cracked and splintered gates. "No, there's twice as many of us now. Let's see what we can do against these gates. Right, Tarquin!"
"All paws now, every Tragjack of you, grab the ram. One, two, hup!" the hare roared out in his best parade ground voice.
Rank upon rank of willing paws gripped the battering ram, lifting it high above their heads with a rush of strength and energy. Tarquin shouted out commands from the front.
"Righto, chaps. Back up. Back, back, backa bit more! Come on, you lot on the end, stop bunchin' together and back up. We need a good long run to gain momentum, wot! That's it, laddie buck. Back, back . . . Ah, that's more like it. Halt!"
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Mariel stood with Dandin and Durry at the front of the ram, gazing down the long run toward the gates. Tarquin joined them, throwing his shoulder under the log and lifting it high.
"Listen up now, chaps. When I give the word, altogether, fast as y'can. Ready . . . Chaaaaaarge!"
Dust pounded and flew from under the thundering paws. Eyes wide and mouths agape, screaming and yelling bloodcurdling cries, the army of rammers with the log swaying madly above their heads tore onward to the gates in one single mad rush.
Whakkarraboom!!!
There was no sound of splintering timber, just a tremendous whump\ Door, timbers, locks, bars and bolts, even the two impressive stone gateposts, were knocked flat as if hit by a thunderbolt. Carried on in the momentum of the heroic charge, the rammers clattered across the fallen gates and over the courtyard, the battering ram still held high.
Swept on in the rush, with the blood singing through his eardrums like a high-pitched siren, Durry Quill yelled aloud, "Eeyahoooo!"
The battering ram hit the rear of the searat hordes, scattering them like ninepins. Over the clamor of battle Joseph laughed in relief. The reinforcements had arrived in a spectacular manner.
oo
Riptung knew the tide had turned. He strove madly to group a fighting force about him, but the searats ignored his cries, each fighting with the strength of despair. The searat Captain whirled his curved sword with long-born expertise, taking out a vole and a field-mouse, only to find himself confronted by Dandin. The blade of Martin the Warrior flashed in the young mouse's paws as he closed in to attack. Riptung parried, frantically backing to get creatures between himself and the cold-eyed swordsmouse. The searat tried every move and trick he knew, but his assailant kept coming
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on, battering the curved corsair sword aside ferociously until he had Riptung backed up to the wall. Above the clash of battle Riptung swung his sword high for a downward slash, screeching in Dandin's face, "You'll never take me alive!"