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ing stood weary and quiet, as if shamed by the indignity of war. Bodies of friend and foe alike lay strewn on the rocky steps like leaves after an autumn gale.
The voice of young Pennybright echoed hollowly round the scene of carnage: "Oxeye, sir, I want to go out into the sunlight. I don't want to be here!"
Oxeye stroked her ears gently as he gazed around. "Neither do any of us, young Pen. Come on, let's all go out into the fresh air!"
As they climbed out of the opening, Loambudd grasped Mara's paw.
"Ayaaaaaaah!"
The sound that tore from the old badger's throat was like the cry of an animal being slain. She released Mara's paw and went rushing out. The young badger maid was about to call after her when she, too, saw what had made Loambudd cry out. As fast as she could she ran after her.
Urthstripe the Strong lay with his paws still clutching Ferahgo the Assassin. Both were dead. On all fours beside the two bodies was Urthwyte, weeping like a baby, his paws bruised and cut from the wild rushing descent he had made from the mountaintop to be with his brother.
Loambudd unlocked the dead badger Lord's paws from around Ferahgo. As she removed the golden medallion from the weasel's neck, Sapwood and Oxeye approached her and bowed low.
"Can we be of help, Lady?"
She turned the Assassin's carcass over with her footpaw. ' Take this worthless thing and cast it into the sea. It does not deserve a resting place like any decent creature."
Blinded by hot tears, Mara watched as Loambudd placed the medallion about Urthwyte's snowy neck.
"This belonged to my father and to your father. It should have been worn by your brother Urthstripe. It now belongs to you, my grandson. Wear it proudly."
Mara knelt and clasped the big battle-scarred paws of the fallen badger Lord. Words tumbled out with her tears. "I
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came back too late. Now it is past the time when I could tell you what is in my heart. I have ranged far and wide to be back home here with you, and in that time I have slowly understood what you tried to teach meyou who were ever true to your own code of honor and duty. To everybeast you were Urthstripe the Strong, Lord of the mountain; so will your name be always remembered. You cannot hear me now, but I wish to add one more name to your title."
The young badger maid took both the lifeless paws and placed them on her bowed head as she spoke a single word:
"Father!"
Klitch lay still, listening until the victors had departed. Beneath the slain bodies it was hot and airless. His tongue clove to the roof of a dry mouth, parched from battle, thirst and the fear of discovery. The silence became total, oppressive, like the weight of the two creatures he had slain lying on top of him. Pushing and kicking, he freed himself from the carcasses and sneaked off up the stairs. His only hope now waito gain the crater top and slip away over the east rim white his enemies rested on the sands at the west side of the mountain.
The young weasel took several wrong turns as he roamed the passages and upper galleries, seeking an exit. Panic was beginning to set in. Fearing the return and possible vengeance of his foes, Klitch ran desperately. Some passages ended in a blank rock face, others opened out into caves and chambers. He padded along, silently cursing Ferahgo's stupidity and the bumbling horde that had followed blindly on such an addle-brained enterprise. Licking bone-dry lips with a parched tongue, Klitch stumbled along a passage that opened out into a cool dark cave. Feeling his way around the rocky walls, he sobbed raggedly. Was there no way out of this accursed mountain, no way back to the good lands of the Southwest where he could terrorize the creatures that had been subdued by his father? Surely they would know that he was the son of Ferahgo the Assassin and learn to fear him as they had feared the old one.
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Klitch's footpaw stubbed against something hollow and wooden in the gloom. He hopped painfully, biting his lip to keep from crying out. When the pain receded he looked more closely. There were several of the objects. He tapped their sides.
Barrels!
Pulling one over, Klitch was rewarded by the swishing sound of dregs swilling about. The top was open. The young weasel smiled in the darkness; maybe now his luck was beginning to change. The water sloshed out of the open barrel on to the rocky floor, and Klitch went down on all fours and lapped gratefully at it. The cool liquid refreshed him, lending a new sense of purpose and resolve to the Assassin's son.
Standing upright, Klitch squared his narrow shoulders and strode out of the cave purposefully, fear receding as he mentally planned a campaign of terror that would mark his return to the Southwest Lands.
Now every passage and corridor appeared light and airy, and the way to the top was clear. His bright blue eyes gleamed confidentlyyes, this was the day luck had returned to him. Up ahead he could see the bright summer morning and the catwalk to the crater top.
An unexpected stomach twinge caused him to double up. He stood still a moment until it passed. Straightening up, he smiled. There, the pain was gonenothing was going to ruin his newfound luck. Mounting the catwalk, he started to run for the crater top and freedom.
Twice, thnce, he was stopped by the sudden lightning bolts of pain that lanced through him, but each time he recovered and hastened upward.
Now Klitch was going slower, his limbs became numbit was like wading through deep cold water. The young weasel blinked. Why had the day become foggy and dark? Finally he made the top and lay down upon the edge of the crater, fighting off the dizziness and agonizing lances stabbing through his body. Klitch doubled up and wedged himself between two rocks. He would sleep here awhile until he felt
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better. Fixed in this position he could not roll over the mountain edge as he slept. Nothing was going to ruin his good luck ... The once bright blue eyes clouded over and went dim as he slipped into an endless dark dream.
40
Two days had passed, two days of sadness and hard work. Salamandastron was cleared of the horrifying debris of war. Pennants waved from lances fixed in the sands of the shorelinethese were the graves of hares and shrews who had fallen in the struggle to free the mountainand farther along in an unmarked place the carcasses of Ferahgo's horde found their last resting place. Now was the time to bring light and fresh food to the rocky fortress by the sea. Parties were sent out to forage, others worked on the slopes, unblocking window spaces and replanting the mountain terraces with flowers, crops and trees.
Deep in the cellars Arula had discovered a fault in the rock. She supervised a band of shrews as they levered, chiseled and chipped at the fissure. The young molemaid had smelt water below, a cold clear spring of good fresh drinking water. It would make the mountain invulnerable to siege, giving an endless supply of the most precious of liquids. She shook paws with Log-a-log and Alfoh as they watched the spring gurgle gently through the hole they had sweated to cut into the living stone.
"Hurr hurr, it baint no 'Tober ale, guddbeasts, but oi wager 'ee taste just as gudd, hurr hurr!"