The shrew held a beaker of water as Samkim drank slowly. "Hmm, can't remember, eh? Well, let me refresh your memory, though I don't know whether you'll trust the word of a stupid shrew. Or maybe you'd like to ask the blundering mole?"
Arula leaned over her friend's face and winked broadly. "Blunderin' mole 'ee called oi, hurr hurr. Oi blundered 'ee one o'er yore 'ead wi' moi paddle! Sanken, you'm wurr loik some orful woild beastie. You'm said bad things 'bout us'ns."
The young squirrel winced as memory of the events flooded back. "Arula, and you, Alfoh, I'm very sorry for what I said, but it was the thought of losing Martin's sword like that. Forgive me."
"You'm a mad ol' feller, but you'm moi best matey." The molemaid's homely face creased into a friendly smile.
Arula took over the ministrations with the damp cloth as Alfoh explained what had happened while Samkim had lain unconscious.
"Deepcoiler went straight down and never reappeared, at least not so far. We lost six shrews, all the rats and one boat. I can tell you it wasn't much fun trying to turn three boats upright in that storm and keep you and Spriggat above water at the same time ..."
Samkim pushed the cloth aside and sat up. "Where is Spriggat? Is he all right?''
Alfoh pointed across to one of the other boats. "He's over there. We can't really see how badly the poor creature is injured. When it gets light we'll check up on him. Don't worry, my Guosssom are attending to him as best as they can. Rest
280
Brian Jacques
now and try to sleep. Our position is none too goodwe lost all the provisions and this wind is driving us along very fast, though to goodness knows where. There's no point in paddling or fighting against things. Lie back and restthat's all we can do. At least the rain's stopped and that horrible monster hasn't shown up again,"
It was a long night. Completely exhausted, wet and shivering in the blustery wind, they curled up in the bottoms of the speeding logboats, trying to ignore waves splashing over the sides as they were rushed on through the gusty darkness.
Samkim was the first to wake at dawn. His headache had cleared up and he felt much better. He lay still awhile, enjoying the light warmth of early sunlight. Alfoh, Arula and the rest were still snoring peacefully as Samkim sat up slowly and looked about. The wind had dropped and the clouds were gone. The lake was calm, mirrorlike and silent, and the three logboats lay side by side, becalmed on the tranquil surface of the great waters. Ripples spread as Samkim dipped his paws to drink the clear lakewater.
"I'd give a whole waspnest fer a drink o' that. C'n yew get some across t' me, young un?"
Spriggat's head lolled against the boatside as he watched Samkim drinking. The young squirrel found a beaker and filled it. Treading carefully, he stepped over sleeping shrews, and the logboat wobbled slightly as he climbed across into the other craft. Cradling the old hedgehog's head in his lap, Samkim held the beaker to his lips.
"Take it easy now, Sprigjust small sips, don't try to gulp it. Well, how are you feeling today, you old flyscoffer?"
Water dribbled from Spriggat's mouth as he smiled wearily. "Yore a good young un an' I don't want to upset ye."
Samkim wiped his friend's mouth. "Why, what's the matter?"
"I'm right sorry I can't stay much longer." Spriggat held feebly on to Samkim's paws as he spoke. "No, be still an' listen t' me! That there monster chewed me up like a fat juicy dragonfly. Don't try to turn me over an' look at me back,
Salamandasvran
281
SamkimI'm all broken up." Spriggat moved slightly, screwing up his face in agony. "Uhhhhn! Wish I could've gone with me paws on good dry land. Taint too bad, though. It's a fair morn an' I'm in the arms of a friend."
Arula and Alfoh were awakened by the sound of Samkim sobbing. With the three boatcrews, they watched in silence as the young squirrel sat rocking back and forth. Regardless of the hedgehog's spines, Samkim held Spriggat's limp body as though he were nursing an infant, and tears coursed openly down his face onto the wrinkled old paws.
"He said he was going to find a summer forest, full of wasps and flying insects. Then he just smiled at me and, and ... Oh, my poor old friend!"
Arula and Alfoh climbed across. Together they held Samkim and Spriggat tightly, letting the support of their strength flow through their paws, united in their grief at the passing of a fatherly creature who had given his all for them.
35
Klitch and Ferahgo, backed by a hundred armed vermin, strode boldly across the sun-warmed sands toward Salaman-dastron. The golden badger medal bobbed on the Assassin's chest as it reflected the hot summer morning.
Urthstripe watched them from an unblocked windowspace. Resting his huge paws on the sill, his eyes locked on the shining medallion as he tried hard to recall some long-gone event.
The two weasels sat down on the sand within hailing distance of the badger Lord. Food and drink was placed before them by Migroo and Feadle, and they ate and drank noisily, slopping water into the sand and carelessly chewing on bread and a roasted fish from the sea, spitting out bones and throwing away crusts. Ferahgo's blue eyes held a trace of mock pity as he called out to Urthstripe, "What a pity that you can't come and join us, badger. Food and drink must be pretty scarce inside your mountain by now."
Urthstripe tried hard to control his rising temper. "Hear me, scum! The only thing that will be scarce will be your breath if I get my paws around your miserable neck!"
Klitch threw a clay beaker. It smashed against the rocks as he shouted out contemptuously, "You talk a good fight,
282
Salamandastron
283
stripedog, but words never won wars!"
Swiftly Urthstripe brought up his longbow. Fitting a shaft to its string, he drew it full back. "Here, this is for you, little snotnose!"
Klitch leapt up. Pulling back his jerkin to expose his narrow chest, he challenged the badger. "Fire away. Go on, kill me! But the moment you loose your arrow you will slay two of your own creatures. Look out by the tideline, you great stupid beast!"
Big Oxeye and Sergeant Sapwood lay staked out upon the damp sands below the tideline, and Crabeyes and Badtooth had spears pressed to the throats of the two hares. Urthstripe had to stare long and hard before he understood what was going on. It was a fair distance away, too far for bowshot. The badger Lord slacked his bowstring and withdrew the arrow.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing, really." Klitch sucked a fishbone and flicked it away. "We can sit out here until you all starve to death in there, and just to make things a little more interesting you can watch your two best hares get a good wash each time the tide comes in. At least they'll die clean."
Baffled rage was stamped on the striped features of the badger. "Then tell me what you want of me. What do you want?''
Ferahgo took out his long skinning knife and began drawing patterns in the sand. "When we first arrived here we were only after your treasure. But now things have changed, as you can see, so now we want the treasure and your mountain too."
Urthstripe shook his head vehemently. "There is no treasure, weasel, and as for my mountain, you will never have it, no matter what evil plans your twisted minds can think up. You will never be Master of Salamandastron. Never! Do you hear me?"