At the edge of the cliffs, Brome threw himself flat with Keyla and Tullgrew either side of him. "Is he mad? Look at him!"
They watched the javelin carrying squirrel skid to a halt within earshot of Badrang.
Tullgrew bit her clenched paw. "He's going to be killed, I can feel it in my bones. Surely they wouldn't let a lone escaped slave run up to the place like that in broad daylight?"
Keyla watched in horrified fascination, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. "You're right, I'll bet my rudder he's walked into some sort of trap. Maybe we can shout a warning."
Brome was doubtful. "I think we're too far away, but let's give it a try. Shout his name. One, two, three. Shout!"
"Felldoooooooooh!" The three voices rang out as one.
Tullgrew struck the clifftop with her clenched paw. "I don't think he heard us, or even if he did he isn't paying any heed to us. What in the name of thunder is he doing down there?"
Keyla shook his head. "I don't know, but something awful is going to happen, I'd take my oath on that. I think one of us should go back to camp and bring help quickly."
"I'll go!" Brome cast off his healing bag and began wriggling backwards.
Keyla went into a low crouch, dashing past Brome. "You stay here, mate. I'm the best runner in these parts!" Leaping upright, he took off with dust spurting from his heels.
Wordlessly Felldoh dropped his bundles of javelins. Taking the throwing stick, he fitted one along it. Bending his whole body back, he sighted along the shaft and hurled it with tremendous force at Badrang.
The Tyrant was a fair distance away. He saw the javelin launched and leaped to one side, watching it as it sped harmlessly by. Leaning on the wall, he called out scornfully, "Try another one, squirrel!"
Felldoh did, this time with a short run and skip to give his javelin impetus. Badrang had dropped below the wall as the missile was thrown. He heard the thin whistle of wind as it passed overhead.
Smiling, he stood up and shouted at the squirrel, who was just about within earshot, "Best you can do, slave?"
"I am not a slave of yours," Felldoh's voice roared back at him. "My name is Felldoh and I've come here to kill you, Badrang!"
Another javelin came hurtling through the air. This time Badrang jumped back to his former position, shrugging expressively as the pointed wood sailed off towards the back wall of the fortress. "Tut, tut, missed again. You'll run out of those things soon!"
Quivering with rage, Felldoh held up a javelin in both paws. He broke it as if it were a straw. "I could break you like that if you weren't such a mud sucking coward. Come down and fight me, paw to paw, beast to beast!"
Badrang swept his paws wide. "No doubt you have laid a trap for me. Those cliffs will be swarming with your friends, ready to leap up and come running to the attack at your signal, the same group you had with you last night, treacherously slaying my creatures in the darkness. Do you take me for a fool?"
Felldoh moved closer to the fortress, as Badrang hoped he would.
Throwing caution to the winds as his temper got the better of him, the squirrel curled his lip contemptuously.
"You are both a fool and a coward! Last night there was only me out here. I am as you see me now, without any army or horde and without a fortress wall to hide behind like you have. So come out and fight. Poltroon, craven cur! Dithering idiot!"
Suddenly the positions were reversed. Badrang could hear his archers below the wall sniggering. Stung by Felldoh's insults, the Tyrant drew his sword.
"Nobeast uses words like that to me. I am Lord Bad rang. Get ready to die, squirrel. I am coming down!"
Even in his rage the Tyrant was still playing the odds. Armed with a sword, he was sure he could defeat the squirrel, who had only some short wooden stakes to defend himself. As a last resort he could always call in his soldiers; they had his adversary surrounded. As Badrang pushed past the grinning archers, he swore silently to himself that he would slay the bold squirrel, wiping away any doubts in the minds of his horde that he, Badrang, was a leader to be feared and respected.
Brome gasped in amazement as the fortress gates swung open and Badrang walked out alone to face Felldoh.
Tullgrew shook her head. "I don't believe it. Whatever Felldoh's been saying must have stung Badrang into action. Look, they're going to fight!"
Brome stared at the lone figure, and all his hostility to Felldoh evaporated. He remembered the squirrel's words, that he would die if it was necessary to bring down Badrang and Marshank. The young mouse found himself wishing that he possessed the bravery to be a warrior and help his friend by standing alongside him.
Badrang leaped at Felldoh, cleaving only empty air with his sword as his adversary skipped back nimbly. Gripping the sword tight in both paws, the stoat rushed in, swinging wildly, hoping to overwhelm his foe with the ferocity of the attack. Felldoh was like a stinging hornet. He weaved in under the flailing blade, jabbing at the Tyrant's face with his javelin as he flashed by. Badrang turned, drawing in his breath sharply as he felt blood trickle from a small wound on his jaw.
Balanced lightly on his footpaws, Felldoh grinned insolently, threw himself into a swift roll and whacked his adversary hard on the shin with the wooden shaft. Badrang yelped with pain, spinning fast and chopping down with his sword. He chopped only sand, arching his back as the wicked javelin point raked a long scratch on it. Breathing heavily, he held the sword point forward and low, shuffling slowly towards the squirrel, watching for a sudden move. Felldoh stood his ground, eyeing the sword carefully as it rose fractionally, guessing the exact moment Badrang would choose to thrust. The stoat lunged!
Felldoh skipped sideways, bringing the javelin down with numbing force on his opponent's left paw. Tears sprang unbidden to the stoat's eyes as he held on to the sword with his right paw, the left stinging and throbbing as it hung limp at his side. Felldoh was still smiling, adding insult to injury. Badrang feigned helplessness for a moment, trying to move his deadened paw. Suddenly he dropped flat, rolled over and swung out wildly. Felldoh was taken by surprise. The blade cut deep into his footpaw. Badrang moved in for the kill, swinging the sword in his good paw. The butt of the javelin struck him hard in the stomach, knocking his breath out in a sharp gasp. He doubled over, fighting for air.
Thwack!
The wooden haft struck the sword into the air. It curved in a shining arc, landing point down in the sand as Badrang's right paw fell numbly to his side. Holding the javelin in both paws like a quarterstave, Felldoh knocked his enemy flat on the shore. Ignoring his injured footpaw, the squirrel raised the javelin. He brought it down with punishing force.
Tullgrew clapped a paw across her eyes. "Has he killed him? I can't look. Is Badrang slain?"
Brome shook his head in astonishment. "No, Felldoh is beating him with the javelin as if it were a rod!"
Tullgrew uncovered her eyes, smiling with grim satisfaction. "Aye, just as he used to have slaves beaten. Lay it on, Felldoh!"
Badrang tried to curl up into a ball, yelping as he rolled about on the round. The javelin rose and fell across his back, each stroke punctuated by Felldoh's harsh shouts. "How does it feel to be beaten like a slave, O mighty one? Feel this! And this! You had me beaten when I was little more than an infant! My father was beaten with the rod because he was old and slow! You never made me cry out! Why are you wailing! Can't you take your own medicine!"
Tullgrew covered her eyes again, but Brome watched in horrified fascination. "He's going to beat Badrang to death, I can hear him yelling from here!'"
But the Tyrant was not crying out needlessly. "Marshank!
Marshank! Marshank!"
37
Boldred perched on the fallen sycamore as she related all she had seen.