Mara and Pikkle shook Nordo's paw.
Pikkle pawed sludge from his ear in disgust. "Please t' meet you, Nordo. Hah, Foodslaves indeed. We'd be filthy if we attempted to serve 'em food in this bally state!"
Several shrew voices piped up. "Oh, you won't be servin' food, matey. You are the food!"
"Aye, the mud'll roast off pretty easy in a cookin' fire!"
"Foodslave's only good for one thing matey. Food!"
Mara was horrified. "You mean they intend to eat us?"
Nordo led them to a small cave scooped out in the pitside. He sat them down and explained.
"Glagweb and his tribe are cannibal toads. If there are no captives they eat the weaker ones of their own kindyou
wouldn't believe some of the stories about King Glagweb and his band. At the moment we are lucky; yesterday we numbered forty, but they took six of us last night. We have a temporary reprieve. I heard some of the guards talking today, and it seems that we are to be kept and fed until the King's Feastday, then it's our turn."
Nordo held up a paw. "I know what you're going to ask me next: when is the Feastday? Sorry, I don't knowyour guess is as good as mine. But while there's life there's hope, eh. At least we'll be given food for a while."
"And then jolly well served up at a party." Pikkle gulped. "What a nice surprise. Makes a chap feel wanted, wot, wot?"
Mara could not stand in the enclosed space, but she clenched her paws and growled fiercely, "I'd like to see them try to eat me. I'd give them a few bodies of their own to cook before they got me on the table. Nordo, why do you all wait down here doing nothing? Can't you attempt some kind of escape instead of just sitting here waiting for those filthy creatures to eat you?"
Nordo drew them close and whispered, "That's exactly what we are doing. Are you with us?"
Mara and Pikkle clasped his paw in the darkness.
"We're with you, all the way!"
"Just say the jolly ol' word an' we'll stick t' you like slime on a toad's back, if you'll pardon the pun, old lad!"
Nordo chuckled grimly. "Good! Let me explain. We have a messenger. When it is daylight if you look up you may see a wren fly over. That is Leaflad. He is a friend of the shrews, so keep a watchout for him. The day he drops an acorn into tills hole, that's the day we escape from here."
"You mean you're going to break out with an acorn?" Pikkle Ffolger scratched his nose.
Mara slapped his paw. "Stop fooling, Ffolger, and listen to what our friend has to say. Sorry, Nordo. Carry on."
"Right. When the acorn drops in it means that my father and his shrews will attack from the river south of here. They Will have to act quickly and drive the toads back beyond this hole. It is our job to defend ourselves until help arrives."
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Mara nodded. "How will we do that?"
"Simple really. The cave we are sitting in was dug by us to prevent the toads hooking us out when they want us. While we were digging this cave and others like it, we found lots of good heavy throwing pebbles in the mud. So we stockpiled them and tore up our jerkins to make slings. That's how we'll defend ourselves until the shrew warriors can get us out of this pit."
"Krrike! Hey down there, here's food for you. Eat it ail up now. Kraahaahaa!"
As they piled out of the cave they were hit by a pile of watercress, roots, tubers and dandelions that the guards had thrown down. Mara gathered them and heaved them into the cave while they were still dry and edible.
"As you said, Nordo, while there's life there's hope, and we need food to stay alive, so let's eat up and keep our hopes high!"
Pikkle mumbled through a mouthful of roots, " 'Sright old gel, couldn't have said it better m'self, wot!"
BOOK TWO
Warriors and Monsters
Hazy sunlight pierced a pale-washed dawn, sending streaks of gold lancing to banish the sea mists over Salamandastron. Urthstripe the Strong strode boldly out onto the sands in front of his mountain with ten hares at his back. The badger Lord looked every inch what he wasa true warriorclad in shining metal greaves and breastplate with a plumed and visored headgarb fringed in fine chainmail. Across his back a mighty double-hiked war sword was strapped; resting easily in his right paw was his famed spear, which weighed more than a grown hare and was tipped by a long double-edged blade with ornate iron crosstrees a third of the way down its length. He threw back his head and bellowed out the badger Lord's challenge in a voice like rolling thunder.
' 'Eulaliaaaa! I am Urthstripe the Strong, Ruler of the mountain! Who dares trespass on my domain?"
A white flag appeared from behind some rocks on the shore, followed by the call of a high-pitched voice: "Flag of truce, flag of truce. My master would parley with you!" Rap-tail the rat showed himself, waving the flag furiously.
Behind the visor Urthstripe's eyes glittered in anticipation. "Urthstripe does not parley with vermin, he buries them!"
A tall blue-eyed weasel stood up behind Raptail. His voice
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carried neither menace nor challenge as he sidled forward. "I am called Ferahgo. We have no need to fight each other, Lord Urthstripe. Besides, if I did want to fight, you would lose sorely. I see you have only ten hares at your back."
Urthstripe had gone silent. He stared hard at Ferahgo, as if trying hard to call up something from the depths of memory. Sunlight flashed upon the badger medallion around the weasel's neck, causing it to glimmer like fire, and his blue eyes opened wide in a disarming smile. The badger Lord peered at Ferahgo through the slitted visor; voices were calling dimly down the corridors of his mind, too distant for him to make sense of. The hardeV he looked the more the blue-eyed weasel with the golden medal seemed to confuse him. Urthstripe shook his head and lifted the visor.
' 'Ferahgo, Ferahgo ... where have I heard that name before?" He banged the spearshaft down, bringing himself back to normality. "Hear me, Ferahgo. There may be only a few warriors at my back, but there are many more inside my mountain."
The Assassin stopped a few paces from the badger Lord and waved his claws once in the air. In a trice the rocks were bristling with armed vermin behind him. He turned right and left to wave his claws again. They flooded onto the sands of the shore and stood like a pestilence of evil weeds sprung there by magic: line upon line of ferrets, stoats, weasels, rats and foxes, each one armed to the fangs. Banners of blood red and standards decorated with skins, hanks of beast hair and skulls swayed in the light breeze.
Ferahgo turned to Urthstripe with a confident smirk. "You have thirty more fighting hares inside, I know. The odds would be well over fivescore to one. But let us not talk of fighting. I am a visitor to this countrywhere is your famous hospitality? Invite me into your mountain and let me look around, we will talk..."
"Never! I do not allow vermin into Salamandastron!"
As he was speaking, Urthstripe noticed the front ranks of the horde advancing slowly. Behind him he heard the slither of arrows being drawn from quivers. Sapwood and the ten
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hares were readying themselves for trouble.
Ferahgo shook his head. "You say you never allow vermin into your mountain, yet my son Klitch and his friend Goffa took breakfast with you not so long ago."