Pikkle stood pressed against the rock face with Nordo. "Dead? I wonder what killed the dreadful old blighter?"
Mara moved around the lifeless head until she could touch the cold steel that stood out from the center of the skull. "This is what slew the Deepcoiler. Urthwyte, Loambudd, lend a paw herewe'll get the head on its side and open the mouth."
Between the three of them the badgers managed to push the wet scaly head on its side. It was a repulsive dead weight, and foul-smelling water gushed from the mouth as they prised it open. Urthwyte propped the jaws apart with his club as Mara reached in with both paws. She began tugging. The steel that protruded from the skull waggled back and forth. Loambudd struck the pointed steel with a rock, driving it downward as Mara pulled and tugged with both paws, setting her foot-paws against the sides of the fearsome rows of teeth framing the mouth. Finally the object came loose and the badger maid fell backwards onto the rock ledge with a beautiful sword in her paws.
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A cry of wonder went up from the shrews crowding the clifftop. Loambudd inspected the head, speculating as Mara washed the fabulous weapon in the lake, "Somebeast stabbed it in the roof of its mouth. The thing must have swum off then and tried to close its jaws. The brain was pierced, because as it forced its mouth shut it drove the sword right up through its head, killing itself. The storm must have washed it up here last night sometime."
Mara held the sword aloft. It glittered and shone in the sunlight, completely undamaged and sharp as any razor's edge. "What do you think, Loambudd? It's too small for a badger, but slightly too large for a shrew to wield. But what a weapon!"
The older badger inspected it. "The beast who carried this must have been a famous warrior. This sword was made by badger skillI know, I have heard of weapons like thisand nothing can turn or damage the blade."
Pikkle plucked a hair from his tail and split it across the blade. He gave a whistle of amazement. "Well, chaps, I think we should all be grateful to the warrior who slew this horror. Now the lake is safe to sail on!"
The Guosssom raised a mighty cheer and began preparing for the voyage. Urthwyte scaled the cliff and lowered both boats down to the ledge, then supplies were packed on board the vessels. With light hearts the Guosssom took up their paddles. The boats were riding low in the water because of their extra passengers, but two more badgers added considerably to the paddle power as they shot out across the wide lake.
"From lake to the river and down to the sea, Paddling, paddling, onward go we. The sun on the water does shine merrily As away go the logboats like birds wild and free. So paddle, my brother, I'll sit next to you, A fine handsome creature, a bold Guosssom shrew. High sky and deep water are both colored blue. Our boats like our friends are all solid and true."
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The weather stayed fine, and they pushed onward until the island was a mere dot on the horizon behind them. Log-a-log noted the position of the sun and set a further course. Mara could not help noticing the admiring glances everybeast cast at her sword; as she paddled, it lay beside her, sparkling in the sunlight, its beautiful red pommel stone shining above the black bound hilt with its flaring silver crosstrees, the mirrored steel of the blade clear ice-blue, deep blood-channeled, and keenly double-edged down to the awesomely dangerous tip. It was a true warrior's weapon with no unnecessary fancy bits and no sign of weakness in its design; the swordmaker had forged and tempered it with one thing in mind; a stout blade that would serve its owner well in battle. She stared at it hard until a dizziness came over her. Shaking her head, the young badger maid blinked and rubbed her eyes as she glanced out over the lake, then back to the sword. She gave a start. Pikkle noticed her strange behavior.
"What ho, old gel. Are you all right?"
Mara picked up the sword. Bringing it close to her face,
she peered at the blade until her breath misted it. "Can you
see anything in this blade, Pikkle?"
The young hare took a look and shook his head. "No, not
a bally thing. Why d'you ask?"
"I saw the face of a mouse looking at me from the blade,
a warrior mouse, fiercer than any fighting badger." Mara kept
her voice low so that only he could hear.
Pikkle let one ear droop comically. "You didn't eat any
strange fruit or plants on that island, did you? I remember one
time I scoffed an old preserved damson I was sick as a frog
for a day, and you wouldn't believe the things I saw when I
tried shuttin' me eyes ..."
Mara jabbed him with the end of her paddle. "Don't talk
silly, it was nothing like that. I tell you, I'd swear I saw this
warrior mouse looking straight at me from the blade of that
sword!"
Log-a-log had overheard Mara. He offered an explanation. "What you saw was probably the face of the shrew sitting behind you; the blade was lying at an angle where it caught
his reflection and distorted it, what with the sunlight and the movement of the boat. It couldn't be anything else, Mara, believe me."
Mara thought about it for a moment then nodded. "Aye, you're probably right, Log-a-log."
As she resumed paddling she glanced back at the shrew behind her. He was an old Guosssom member with a thin face, one good eye and a flowing gray beardnothing remotely like the fierce hot-eyed warrior she had seen reflected in the mirrored blade.
Morning gave way to noontide. They ate as they paddled, traveling on without any untoward event.
Urthwyte stood up carefully and stretched his cramped limbs, turning this way and that as he rolled the stiffness out of his thick leg muscles. Suddenly he pointed and cried out, "Over there, to the left, dark shapes in the water!"
Immediately the crews felt a chill of fear run through them. Was there more than one Deepcoiler? Perhaps the monster had a mate that was seeking vengeance for the slaying of its partner.
Log-a-log gave orders for them to ship paddles and be silent. The two logboats lay still and quiet on the waters, some of the Guosssom shrews even holding their breath with apprehension.
When Mara could stand the suspense no longer, she turned to Pikkle. "Come on, Ffolger. You've got good long-sight up on my shoulders and tell us what you can see."
Nordo and Log-a-log steadied Mara's footpaws as Pikkle climbed up and stretched his lanky frame. "Can't see much, you chaps. 'Fraid it's too far away. Paddle over to the left a bit, please, and maybe then it'll become clear."
Log-a-log gave the order. "Stay where you are in that other boatno sense in putting two craft in danger. Right, Guosssom, no paddle-splashers nownice and easy, long deep strokes, paddle over that way."
Still balanced on Mara's shoulders, Pikkle shaded both eyes with a paw, flopping his ears over to add to the shade. The
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shrews pulled well and strongly; not a spare drop of water fell from their paddle blades as the logboat glided smoothly over the lake, silent as a feather floating on the breeze. Mara stood still as the trunk of a tree as Pikkle narrowed his eyes and strove to make something of the dark shapes that shimmered in the sunlight on the surface. Suddenly his ears stood erect and he muttered out of the side of his mouth, "Log-a-log, old scout, you've got friends out heresomebeast is cal-lin' your name."