Hurtling down the stairs, he grabbed baby Dubdub from his mother's paws. Holding his blade against the tiny hog's throat, Zwilt rasped viciously, "Get back, or this one's a deadbeast!"
Dymphnia Witherspyk tried to snatch her baby back. "Don't hurt him, give him to me! Oh, please!"
Abbess Marjoram pulled Dymphnia away. "Stay clear, friend, or he'll hurt the little one, I know he will. His kind are evil--stay clear!"
Dubdub squealed as Zwilt squeezed him. The sable gestured at the ladies, snarling savagely, "Get out of here, you lot. My business is with the rabbet, not you. Begone quickly or the babe suffers!"
Buckler beckoned the ladies away. "The babe will be alright. Go now. I'll settle things with this vermin!"
Abbess Marjoram shepherded them away to the other end of the hall. Still keeping his blade ready, Buckler confronted his foe. "So, now what?"
Zwilt moved out into the open, holding the baby hog tight. "Throw your sword away, rabbet!"
The young hare hesitated.
Zwilt raised his voice. "Cast that blade away or I'll have this one in two pieces!"
The long rapier clattered on stone floor as Zwilt ordered his four Ravagers, "Get him--take hold of him, now!"
Buckler called out as they seized him, "Are you going to let the babe go free?"
Zwilt's smile was cold evil. "Of course I am. As soon as I've slain you!"
Dubdub wriggled, squealing, "Leggo me, nastybeast!"
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Buckler held out his paw, cautioning the infant hog, "Be still, now, and stay quiet. You'll soon be back with your mamma."
He nodded at the tall sable. "A life for a life, then. Is that the bargain?"
Skilfully, Zwilt flicked Buckler's fallen rapier with the blade of his broadsword. It skittered away to where it was totally out of the young hare's reach.
The sable eyed his captive coldly.
"The time for bargaining is over. You are in no position to bargain. This babe may live, then again, he may not. A lot of your friends will die before Zwilt the Shade and his Ravagers are done here."
Enraged by his captor's treachery, Buckler bounded forward, trying to reach Zwilt, but the vermin guards clung to him. Sinews stood out on the hare's neck as he yelled, "Coward! Liar! The old sayin' is right! The best vermin is a dead one! Zwilt the Shade? Hah! Zwilt the Scum, more like it!"
The sable was shaking with rage at the insult. He passed Dubdub to one of the Ravagers.
"Get him to those stairs. Kneel him down and grab his ears. We'll see what he has to say when his head is decorating the point of a spear!"
The guards dragged Buckler, struggling wildly, to the stairs. Forcibly, they made him kneel, two holding his fore-paws from behind, with the remaining one tugging on his ears, stretching his neck taut.
Zwilt stood over his victim, raising the big broadsword aloft to judge the strike. "Well, rabbet, you don't look so brave now, do you?"
Craning his head sideways, Buckler stared with loathing at his enemy. "I don't answer to cowards!"
The broad blade flashed in the candlelit hall. Then it stopped in midair. Zwilt was still grasping it, but his mouth was wide open, as though he was silently screaming.
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Buckler watched in amazement as the sable lost his grip on the sword. He swayed once, then fell to a kneeling position, facing his intended victim. A hoarse rattle issued from Zwilt's throat; his eyes held a look of surprise as he stared at Buckler. Then he toppled sideways on the stairs. Dead!
Clarinna was bent over him still holding the hilt of Martin the Warrior's legendary sword, which she had driven deep between Zwilt's shoulder blades. The hare-wife stood dry-eyed, her voice unusually harsh for such a gentle creature.
"That's for Clerun Kordyne, the father of my babes, who you murdered!"
Baby Dubdub lay on the floor where the guard had placed him before running off with the other Ravagers, who had quickly released Buckler. He seemed none the worse for his recent ordeal, repeating the last word he had heard, over and over.
"Murdered, murdered, murdered!"
Leaving Martin's sword protruding from Zwilt, Clarinna picked up little Dubdub. She wept into his tender spikes.
Abbess Marjoram came hurrying with her friends. Buckler stood, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the stiffness. He gathered the broadsword and the medal from his fallen enemy's neck, passing them to Clarinna. "These belong in your family. I'm sorry I couldn't have slain Zwilt for you, marm."
Abbess Marjoram had retrieved Buckler's blade. She held it out to him. "Don't be sorry. You did something far braver than slaying a vermin--you offered to sacrifice your life to save another."
The young hare did not stop to dispute the point. He sped off, rapier in paw, for the door.
"Maybe so, but there's four vermin loose within Red-wall, and we're being invaded from the west flatlands!"
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Buckler came running up to the walltop, thinking to use it as a viewpoint to seek out the four vermin guards. He was almost knocked flat by Bartij, who bustled past him carrying a boulder.
The big hedgehog beckoned to the stones piled on the walkway. "Lend a paw here, Buck. We need more stones. That young badgermaid's got our cattypult goin'. Hoho, ye should see it lobbin' stones at yon vermin!"
Skipper was alongside theballista, waving. "Ahoy, mate, come an' see this thing workin'!"
Ambrevina had made a few alterations to the weapon. Now it had two thick young alder saplings, sturdy trunks, culled from the Abbey grounds. Between these, an old canvas groundsheet was laced. She had rigged the whole thing up on the original timbers. Ropes were attached to the tops of the alders. These were secured to a heavy baulk of oak, which had a hole drilled in it. A team of moles and Witherspyk hogs hauled on the ropes, leaning their weight on the oaken baulk. This bent the alder saplings backward until a wooden peg, anchored to the timber base, could be inserted into the baulk hole.
Four good-sized rocks were laid in the canvas sling. Jango stood on the battlements, watching the oncoming
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Ravagers. The Guosim Log a Log called the range. "Back! Stop! Left a bit! Stop! Ready, Ambry!"
Using a bung mallet, the badgermaid knocked the peg out with a sharp tap, releasing the stone load. There was a whoosh of air as the four rocks shot off over the battlements and out over the flatland into the ranks of the advancing vermin. Even though they scattered, the missiles fell so swiftly that two were slain and three more lay injured, screaming in the dust.
Skipper nodded at the Abbey building. "Everythin' alright down there, Buck?"
The young hare moved out of the way, allowing a mole to stumble past under the weight of a big sandstone chunk.
"Zwilt was in the Abbey, but he's been slain. There's four vermin loose in the grounds, an' Diggs is lyin' wounded in the kitchen!"
Skipper picked up his javelin. "I'll see t'the vermin. Sister Fumbril, will ye go an' attend our mate Diggs? He's been injured."
The Warrior mole Axtel had been listening. He stumped off down the wallstairs, brandishing his war hammer. "You'm leave ee vurmints to oi, zurrs. They h'aint a-goin' nowheres twixt ee four walls. Oi'll see to 'em. Hurrr!"
Sister Fumbril joined Axtel. "Then ye can walk me as far as the kitchens, sir."
Buckler took a rock from old Granvy. It was far too heavy for the aged Recorder, who smiled his thanks.
"Thank the seasons we have a creature who knows about these ballista things. Dame Fortune must've sent the badgermaid to us. Apparently, the beasts where she comes from, on the eastern coastlands, use them all the time. Both she and her family have sunk many a searat galley before it ever came to shore."
Oakheart Witherspyk leaned on the threshold wall, watching the vermin advance. "The scoundrels are still comin', sirrah. It strikes me that one ballista ain't enough to stop all of 'em. What say ye, Buck?"