Gurrad slashed at a climbing rope with his cutlass. Feeling the walltop shudder slightly as the ram struck once more, he looked anxiously towards Badrang. The Tyrant had a stack of light javelins at his side, and he was throwing them with deadly accuracy, snarling with satisfaction each time he was rewarded with the screams of another searat impaled by his good aim. Pausing momentarily, he grabbed a passing ferret.
"Tailwart, get down below and see that the gates are well shored up with rock and rubble. Clogg can batter our doors until his whiskers turn grey. If there's enough packing behind 'em he'll never break through."
The battle raged on into the night, its infernal din of roaring clangour overriding the hiss and swell of the restless sea.
Brome was last to enter the escape tunnel. Grumm hauled the young mouse in alongside him.
"Gudd to see you'm, maister. You be looken fitter'n a bumblybee."
Martin and Felldoh pounded the mole's furry back joyfully. "Well done, friend. Brome was right, you are a champion digger!"
Grumm wrinkled his nose modestly. "No more'n moi job, zurrs. You uns get along naow, Oi'll bide yurr awhoil an' patch up yon 'ole so's nobeast be a knowen 'ow him'n excaped. Hurr hurr, 'twill give they Bardang vur mint sumthen to puzzle o'er, a hempty pit wi' no marks o'
breakout, hurr hurr."
The three friends crawled on all fours through the darkness, Felldoh's tail touching the tunnel top and brushing down a light drift of sand. Closing their eyes, they pushed forward in the eerie underground silence, their bodies quivering with the anticipation of freedom. It was the battlenoise and a soft breeze tickling his whiskers that told Felldoh they had made it. He sneezed and rubbed fine sand from his eyes as Rose helped him out.
"Up you come, treejumper. Is Grumm with you?"
The squirrel rolled to one side as Martin pulled himself from the runnel. Together they hauled young Brome out as Martin answered,
"He'll be along shortly when he's blocked off the hole. Phwah! I've swallowed so much sand I'll be spitting it out all season."
"Here, wash it out with some cold mint tea."
Martin rubbed dust from his eyes and stared at the mousemaid as he accepted the canteen of liquid. He was thunderstruck.
"You must be Martin."
He stared silently into the most gentle hazel eyes that ever reflected starlight, lost for words as a quiet smile spread over the mousemaid's serene features.
"Drink up, Martin. Your friend and my brother are waiting their turn."
He took a quick mouthful, suddenly finding his voice as he did.
"Yurn b'rosty nose!"
"I beg your pardon?" Her laughter was like a summer breeze among bluebells.
Martin took another gulp and cleared his throat. "Sorry. You must be Rose."
Felldoh grinned as he grabbed the canteen from his friend's faltering paws. "Aye, she is. Remember me? I'm Felldoh, and this other creature is Brome. Your name's Martin and the beast whose head you're standin' on is our rescuer Grumm."
Martin hastily shifted his footpaw, mumbling an apology as the mole levered himself from the tunnel.
"Thankee, maister. Hurr, et be gurt 'n' noisy out 'ere wi' they vurmin a killen each other o'er yonder."
Suddenly Martin became aware of the battlenoise around Marshank. It shook him out of his daze and he began thinking clearly.
"Oh er, right! Well, I think our best bet is to put as much distance between ourselves and that lot right away!"
Felldoh bristled slightly. "I can't leave until my father is free. I'm staying."
Martin gripped his friend's paw. "We won't be a bit of help to anybeast if we get killed or captured in the midst of a battle. Listen, Felldoh, I'm with you. One day we'll free all the slaves from Badrang's clutches, but right now we're only five, too few to stand against the Tyrant's horde. I say we should go to Noonvale. Brome and Rose's father is a Chieftain, and surely he will tell his tribe to help us. Then when we are strong in numbers we can return and defeat Badrang and all his vermin, wipe them from the face of the land and free our friends. What do you say?"
Brome shook his head. "My father Urran Voh is a creature who goes his own way. He will never leave Noonvale. As for our tribe, well, they generally do what he tells them to."
Rose spoke up. "Aye, brother, our father is as stubborn as you that's why the two of you always quarrel. But maybe I can persuade Mother. She'd ask him to help you. I know she would."
Martin held the squirrel's paw tighter. "What do you say, Felldoh?
Shall we give it a try?"
There was a moment's silence, then Felldoh nodded. "I'm with you.
If we can raise an army at Noonvale then one day I'll return to dance on Badrang's grave!"
Martin's eyes shone at the thought of it. "And I'll be dancing with you, friend, holding the sword that once belonged to my father!"
Rose, Brome and Grumm clasped their paws with Martin and Felldoh over the escape hole. "We'll do it, friends together!"
8
Cap'n Tramun Clogg was beginning to feel discouraged. No matter how hard and long he beat at Marshank's gates with his battering ram, they seemed to hold up. Gruzzle, Dedjaw, Floater and the rest were seated on the shore beneath the upturned boat, blowing for breath as they massaged weary paws. Clogg struck the side of the boat with his cutlass.
"Wot's the matter, yer lily livered seascum? Weary already? Come on now, 'earties, up on yer paws an' give it one more go. She's splinterin', I tell yer. Why, a couple more bangs an' we'll be through inter the fortress!"
Gruzzle sucked noisily at a skinned paw. "Ahh, Cap'n, I thought you said one more go arf an hour back, an' we're still chargin' those gates like madbeasts."
Clogg cocked a fierce eye at the complaining sea rat. "Yore grizzlin', Gruzzle, always grizzlin'. Now up off those hunkers, mate, an' charge that gate, afore I charges you wid this frogsticker!" He waved his cutlass threateningly.
There was a knocking on the outside of the boat.
"Cap'n, it's Wetpaw. Come quick an' take a look out 'ere!"
The boat was lifted and Clogg poked his head from underneath.
"Lookit wot, mate?"
The ferret pointed to reddy orange glow illuminating the sky beyond the headland. It took a moment for realization to sink in, then the pirate stoat let out an agonized wail and began tearing at his braided beard, the clumsy wooden clogs clicking together as he performed an anguished jig on the shore.
"Whaaaagh! The slime coated villain's burnin' me ship! Yarrggh!
Me luvverly Seascarab, pride o' me 'eart! Badrang, yer rotten foul nosed worm, stinkin' screw tailed stoat, warp eyed snotty snouted shark!"
The corsair crew looked on in dismay as their Cap'n gave full vent to his spleen. Hurling himself at the gates, he hacked with his cutlass, kicked with his clogs, even gnawed savagely at the woodwork with his teeth as he yelled between mouthfuls of splinters, "I'll rip yer liver 'n'
lights out an' feed 'em to the crabs. I'll cut off'n yer 'ead an' throw it in yer face. I'll string up yer tripes fer riggin'. I'll pickle yer tail in burnin'
brine. I'll... I'll.... Yaaahaaagh!"
Skalrag and his archers stood paw deep in the sea, the water scarlet and gold with reflections from the blazing vessel. They blinked as ashcloth from the sail drifted sootily by on the breeze. The Seascarab was settling down in flames on the shallow bay bed, and timbers crackled as blazing pitch bubbled from seams. Two rats who had been left on watch were draped limply in death over the gunwales, blazing arrows extinguishing themselves in their backs. With its great green sail burned away, the mast stood like a fiery beacon against the star studded night. It cracked and broke, falling in an avalanche of sparks. The vessel heeled over, listing at a crazy angle as sea water met flames with a loud steaming hiss.
Skalrag turned to his archers, satisfied. "There's one ship that won't put out to sea again. Form up and follow me. We'll take care of those longboats before we head back to Marshank."