Queen Amballa stood at the head of her mighty army of pigmy shrews, and behind them the Warden of Marshwood Hill could be seen stalking among the crowds of Gawtrybe squirrels as they waved their axes eagerly, wanting to play a new game. Otters, hedgehogs, mice, squirrels, moles and vast numbers of shrews stood surrounding the hill.
From his vantage point on the hilltop, Martin looked to his left.
There in the distance he could see the north side wall of Marshank.
Rose stared at Martin; it was as if she were looking at a strange creature. He was still as a rock, the blood rising behind his eyes as his paw whitened with the furious grip he had on his sword handle. The blade rose above his head and fell in a straight line, pointing at Badrang's hated fortress. The horde went silent, staring up at the Warrior mouse, waiting on the word which rolled from his lips like steel striking stone.
" Chaaaarge!!! "
They went in a rush like a giant tidal wave covering the land, but none was more fleet of paw than the mouse Martin. He was out in front, teeth bared, sword still pointing as he tore through dune and foothill. Rose was swept along in the midst of the howling horde with Pallum and Grumm. Now and then, through the forest of spears, lances and swords, she could see him, a lone figure ahead of the rest.
Her heart went out to him as she remembered her first sight of him, bound between two posts, left to die on Marshank's walls, and recalled the words he had shouted into the stormy night. Now she heard those words as in a dream:
"I am a warrior! Martin son of Luke! I will live, I will not give in and die up here! Do you hear me, Badrang? I will live to take back my father's sword and slay you one day! Badraaaaaang!"
Javelins stuck in the sand at their sides, the archers knelt and drew back their bowstrings full stretch. Ballaw strode the line, holding up his paw. Bowstrings trembled with the tension as the screaming horde dashed across the shore in a mass, bound straight at them.
"Wait for it, chaps. Steady on, wait'll you see the scum on their snouts.... Now!"
The hail of arrows struck, hordebeasts fell and were trampled underpaw by those behind, but the horde kept coming.
"Load and throw!" Rowanoak cried to her line of slingers as the archers dropped back.
The stones hit true, but not well enough to halt the relentless charge. Spears from the horde ranks cut down several of the Fur and Freedom Fighters. They backed up, retreating towards the sea as the horde pressed forward.
Badrang stood on the walltop, unable to contain a thin smile of triumph as he watched the little army being battered remorselessly back to the Eastern Sea. He turned to Boggs. "Wait and see, we'll get a few slaves out of this yet those that aren't drowned."
Boggs looked up at the sky. "Strange, I thought I could hear thunder."
Badrang also looked up. "Fool, how could you hear thunder when there's not a cloud in the sky!"
Boggs cupped paws around both his ears. "I'm sure it's thunder, Sire. Comin' from over there ..." Speechless with terror, he pointed at the thundering horde breasting a low hill to the north, heading directly for them.
Even though he was practically numb with shock, Badrang found himself automatically giving out orders. "Call the horde back, Nipwort.
Boggs, get the archers on to the north wall. I'll hold the gates open until they're back in!"
Yarrow tripped and fell in the shallows. The front runners were in the water, grappling with Fur and Freedom Fighters, when Crosstooth began shouting, "Retreat! Retreat! Back to Marshank on the double!
There's a horde headed to attack the fort. Hurry!"
Ballaw sat down hard in the shallows and blew water from his nose.
"Hold up, where are they bally well goin'? Great seasons, relief's arrived! Hurrah! It's a horde! A flood! A mob! A bloomin' tidal wave of warbeasts attackin' the fort!"
Ballaw's fighters let out a loud cheer of delight, leaping about in the shallows like mad creatures.
The horde were streaming back to the fortress, leaving a bare dozen fighting in the sea. Swift javelin thrusts and throws found their way around pikes and spears, laying the hordebeasts low. Brome found himself standing, javelin poised, over a searat who lay wounded in the surf. He was trying to force himself to stab and slay the foebeast when the rat whined out pleadingly, "It's me, matey, Wulpp. Don't kill me!"
Brome gasped. It was Wulpp, the searat whose injured paw he had treated when, disguised as a corsair, he had gained entry to Marshank.
Brome thrust the javelin into the sea close to Wulpp's neck. Leaning down, he muttered to the terrified rat, "Lie still. When we've gone, take off south down the beach. I never want to see you again. Good luck!"
Turning, Brome picked up a spear and followed the triumphantly shouting fighters who were running towards Marshank.
Now the battle was joined! Horde fought horde that day by the Eastern Sea. Martin's army flooded around Marshank, surrounding its walls on all four sides. Sling stones, javelins, arrows and spears were loosed up at the walltops as roaring warcries rent the air.
"Fur and Freeeedooooom!"
"Broadstream for eveeeeer!"
"Amballa Amballa! Kill kill kill!"
"Maaaartiiiiin!"
Badrang was everywhere at once, waving his sword as he shouted encouragement to his fighters massed thick on the high walls.
"Crosstooth, more archers at the front. See the gates are defended!
Boggs, tell those spears to stand ready on the northside. Slash any ropes and grapnels don't let them over! Frogbit, get boulders and rocks to the back wall. Crush them! Bluehide, take the south wall. Use long spears and pikes throw fire down on them!"
Badrang was an experienced battler. He found his confidence and shrewdness returning as the horde looked to him as their leader.
Grabbing a passing ferret, he rapped out more orders.
"Stumptooth, take thirty wounded, four groups of five to supply the walls with arrows, spears and slingstones. Get the other ten to carry the big fishnets to the walltops and drop them over on any large groups. That'll slow 'em up. Come on, you fighters and hordebeasts, this is our chance to rule the whole country. Slaves, land, plunder, we'll have it all!"
Ignoring his sore and bandaged paws, the Tyrant snatched a spear from a searat, hurled it coolly and slew a shrew who was trying to climb the gates. "See, it's easy. They die like other creatures. We'll make the sands run red before nightfall!"
Arrows zipped down from the walltops in dark clouds like angry wasps, tearing into the packed ranks that charged Marshank.
Slingstones whirred like flights of small birds, clanging on armour and blade alike in their upward flight.
Rose found Boldred and the Warden on a hillock out of weapon range. The two great birds stood waiting their chance. Boldred greeted the mousemaid.
"We'd be shot out of the air in the middle of that lot. When it gets dark and the pace slackens, my friend and I will be able to fly in."
Rose looked out over the melee of battle. "Where's Martin? I lost sight of him in the charge."
The grey heron pointed his beak towards the front gates. "He is over there with otters and hedgehogs. They have a piece of timber to barter the gates, but it is not big enough."
Ballaw came panting up with the remnants of his gallant force.
Weary and battle scarred, the brave hare slumped down in the sand.
"Phew, what a day, chaps! Rowanoak and m'self pulled our little army out for a breather, wot. Let those other creatures have a crack at the foe, they're a lot fresher than my gang!"
Rowanoak sat with the owl and the heron, shaking her head. "You arrived just in time to save us from being slaughtered on the tideline; thank you. But your has been too furious. I am not a warrior or a commander, but I can see that they will never breach those walls by throwing themselves at them."