‘I just wish there was more my squirrels and I could do. Oh, I know we’re patrolling and keeping watch, but we don’t seem to be contributing any real work.’ She sighed again.
‘Then why don’t you let me and my crew do a bit of guard duty?’ Skipper suggested. ‘We could certainly do with the rest after all that underwater diggin’. Listen, Billum reckons they’ll strike some big rocks soon; why don’t you see if you could rig up something that’ll help the moles to move them?’
Amber was delighted with the suggestion.
‘Righto. I’ll get Barklad and Oakapple onto it. They could rig tree hoists. Thanks, Skip.’
Chibb had flown a wide patrol merely for the exercise, but soon he grew weary of such energetic practices. Perching on a branch not far from the sleeping Argulor, he listened to the eagle talking in its sleep.
‘Hmm, pine marten, one little pine marten, that’s all, maybe they taste like pine, hmmmmmm.’
35
DESPITE THE FEELING of awe, Gonff could not help smiling to himself. After watching Salamandastron from afar, seeing the column of fire that spouted from its top, and recalling the very name meant ‘mountain of the fire lizard’, the little mousethief immediately saw it was a trick worthy of some mind as clever and resourceful as his own. There were no fire-breathing dragons here, but there was something equally as impressive in this great cave.
It was more than a cave, he decided. It was a huge mountain hall. At its centre was a mighty furnace-like forge. A towering column of rockwork took it up to the ceiling, away out of sight. Surrounded by hares, there stood the father of all badgers. He was pure silver from tip to tail with a double broad creamy white stripe either side of his forehead. Above the thickly muscled limbs and barrel chest, a pair of wild eyes surveyed the newcomers. Giving the mighty bellows handle a powerful downward swing, he tossed a red-hot spearpoint with a quick flick of his bare paws. It landed in a water trough with a boiling hiss of bubbles.
As the badger stumped across to them, Martin could almost feel the reverberations through the rock floor. He towered above them, extending a calloused paw that resembled a chunk of rock.
‘Welcome to Salamandastron, friends. I am Boar the Fighter,’ the big voice boomed and echoed about the hall.
His paw enveloped by Boar’s, Martin felt very tiny. Now the full impact of Bella’s words came to him. Here indeed was one to save Mossflower; the silver badger looked as if he could tear Kotir to pieces with his paws.
‘I am Martin the Warrior. This is Young Dinny, and these two are Gonff and Log-a-Log. I have travelled from Mossflower with my friends to bring a message from your daughter, Bella of Brockhall.’
Boar unfastened his apron and shed it.
‘All this I know. Come, let us go to my cave. It is more comfortable there. My hares will bring you food and drink, and you can clean yourselves up.’
As they followed Boar, Gonff whispered to Martin.
‘How does he know, matey? Is he a magic badger?’
‘Sshh,’ Martin silenced the mousethief. ‘Watch your manners. We’ll get to know soon enough.’
Boar’s cave was indeed comfortable. There were ledges to sit or lie upon covered in velvety moss, plants grew around the walls and hung from the ceiling. There was a rough rock table and a pool in one corner with steam rising from its surface.
‘The pool is heated from my forge,’ Boar said, noticing their surprise. ‘You may bathe there later. You will observe that it is never cold here, again thanks to the forge. But please be seated. Here comes the food.’
The hares brought in new bread, fresh salad, baked fish, mint water and a selection of last autumn’s fruits crystallized in honey. After the frugal seashore meals, the four travellers ate like a regiment many times their number.
Boar watched them with something approaching amusement on his gigantic face.
Gonff gave him a friendly wink. ‘So, the flames of the forge carry up that rock flue and shoot out the top of Salamandastron, eh.’
Boar winked back at Gonff. ‘You are a very perceptive little fellow, Gonff the thief.’
‘Prince of Mousethieves, matey,’ Gonff corrected him.
‘But how did you know he was a thief?’ Martin interrupted.
Boar leaned his chin on muscular paws, bringing his eyes level with Martin. ‘I know many things, little mouse. Later I will show you how. Now, is that young Dinny, grandson of my childhood friend Dinny the mole?’
‘Hurr, Zur Bowar, that oi be. You’m know moi granfer Owd Dinny?’
‘Of course I do. Is the old rascal still going strong?’
‘Ho urr, ’ee be fitter’n a flea an’ owder’n twenny ’ogs,’ Dinny laughed.
‘Good, I’m glad to hear it. And what about you, Log-a-Log?’
‘Sir Boar, I am a boat builder, one-time leader of the Northwest Shrew Tribe.’
‘Oh? Why one-time leader?’
‘Because I’m all that’s left of my tribe in freedom,’ Log-a-Log explained. ‘We were captured by sea rats. I was the only one to escape the galleys.’
Boar’s eyes hardened to a burning ferocity and the bones in his paws cracked audibly as he ground them together.
‘Sea rats! Dirty, treacherous, murdering scum!’
Martin was shocked at the deep hatred in Boar’s voice, he listened intently as the badger continued.
‘Not only do they burn and plunder among honest creatures, but they are savage to their own kind. Sinking each other’s ships, murdering their own companions for an extra pawful of loot.’
‘Log-a-Log has told me of a sea rat called Ripfang of the Bloodwake,’ Martin interrupted. ‘Do you know him?’
Boar pointed seaward. ‘That one, he’s out there now – my spies have been watching him all spring – sailing from north to south of here, waiting his chance to attack Salamandastron. Ripfang is the most evil of all sea rats. He has fought and sunk all others who sail in these waters, pressing their crews as slaves in his service. He is also the cleverest and most cunning of them all.’
‘In what way is he clever and cunning?’ Gonff asked, noting the concern on Boar’s face.
‘Well, he has never feared Salamandastron, or the legends that surround this place. Ripfang is very daring, too. He has personally been here and knows that it is only myself and a few hares who keep the myth of the mountain alive. Others we can scare off, but not Ripfang. It is written that soon he will mount a major war against Salamandastron.’
This was the second time that Boar had spoken of things that had not yet happened. Martin was curious.
‘You say it is written, Boar?’
The badger stood tall, pointing at Martin. ‘What is that broken weapon you wear about your neck like a medal?’ he asked.
The warrior mouse took it off and gave it to Boar, who inspected it closely as Martin explained.
‘That was once the sword of my father, He was a warrior. How it came to be broken I will tell you, because your daughter Bella asked me to inform you about all that is going on in Mossflower.’
As they ate and rested, Martin told Boar how he came to Kotir, the plight of the woodlanders and Bella’s plea for Boar to return to his birthright and free the land. Throughout the narrative, Boar the Fighter said nothing. He paced the room, turning the broken sword hilt over in his paws, looking at it as if it carried some message for him.
Martin finished his recitation of the events. ‘So you see, Mossflower has need of its son, Boar,’ he concluded. ‘You must come back with us.’
There was silence. When the silver badger spoke, he did not answer the plea.
‘This is a very ancient sword hilt, a good one. I can make it into a new weapon. I must give it a blade that will not be broken again by anything.’
Martin saw that Boar would not be pressed for answers; he decided to comply until the badger’s mood changed.
‘Thank you, Boar. I would dearly like to see my father’s old sword forged into a new weapon. Since it was broken I
have felt like half a warrior carrying half a sword.’
Boar shook his massive head. ‘Your mistake, Martin. You are a real warrior, a full and true one. You have the heart – I can see it in you. But when I make this sword anew you must always remember that it is not the weapon but the creature that wields it. A sword is a force for good only in the paws of an honest warrior. But enough now. You and your friends are tired. I will talk to you tomorrow and show you many things. Sleep here. If you wish to bathe the dust of travel away I will send my hares with dry towels for you.’
Boar took his leave of the travellers.
The hot bath was deep and refreshing. Trubbs, Wother and Ffring turned up with huge soft towels.
‘One each, you chaps. No splashing.’
‘Wash behind your ears, old sport.’
‘Night-night. See you in the morning.’
Dry, full and warm, they lay on the moss-covered ledges.
‘Hoo urr,’ Dinny yawned, ‘so we’m come to Sammandastor at larst.’
Log-a-Log stared at the high ceiling.
‘A wonderful place indeed. Strange creature that Boar, eh, Martin?’
‘Oh he’ll tell us what he intends when he’s good and ready,’ Martin said airily. ‘Let’s get some sleep. I’ve a feeling tomorrow’s going to be a full day.’
Gonff could not resist a rendition of his latest song.
‘At last the weary travellers
Have reached their hearts’ desire.
We quested overland to reach
The mountain of the fire.
To meet with Boar the Fighter,
Who knows secrets dark and deep—’
Gonff sat upright scratching his whiskers. ‘What rhymes with deep, mateys?’
Three wet towels knocked him flat.
‘You’m moight troi sleep!’
36
THE WOODLANDERS WERE caught completely unawares in the early morning.
Led by Bane and Tsarmina, the joint forces hit swiftly. Luckily the little ones were still abed at Brockhall and the Loamhedge mice were preparing breakfasts. The only creatures at the diggings were moles, otters and a few squirrels.
Bane’s mercenaries dashed in, hacking madly, backed by Tsarmina’s spears. Urthclaw, Billum and Soilflyer were deep underground. The rest were caught in the open.
It was chaos!
Skipper took an arrow in his side. Lady Amber lost an ear to a fox’s sword. The woodlands were alive with yelling, slashing animals. There was only one thing to do: retreat with all speed. Disregarding his wound, Skipper stood fast with a small band of otters, hurling stones as he roared aloud, ‘Get away quickly!’
Amber and her squirrels managed to escape through the treetops, leaving two slain on the ground. Skipper and his otters saw to it that the few moles were safely carried off across the river, before vanishing into the water themselves.
Tsarmina gave out howls of victory across the now silent woods.
Bane leaned on his curved sword breathing heavily. ‘See, I told you they’re no match for us. Phew! But they can put up a tidy fight, even when they’re outnumbered.’
Brogg swaggered up and saluted.
‘Two squirrels, three otters and a mole slain, Milady,’ he reported.
He was about to turn away when Bane tugged on his cloak.
‘How many of ours lost?’ he asked tersely.
‘Three ferrets, a stoat and a weasel, four rats and a fox.’
Bane shook his head in amazement. ‘Good job we outnumbered them. No prisoners?’
‘No, sir, not a one.’
‘Hmm, pity.’
Ratflank limped up, nursing a cracked paw.
‘We’ve found three big holes over there by the river,’ he said.
The commanders strode across to the spot. Bane bent down and sniffed the earth around each hole, while Tsarmina stood watching.
‘What d’you suppose they were up to?’ she wondered.
Bane spat into one of the holes. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. We didn’t get time to chop the trees or fire the woodland. Maybe there’s some of ’em still down these holes.’
‘Then we can fill them in.’ Tsarmina grinned wickedly. ‘Brogg, get some big rocks, fetch that timber lying about there, use the spears, fill them in well and press the earth down hard. They’ll be imprisoned down there until the air runs out.’
Bane wiped his sword and sheathed it.
‘Well, that’s that. There’s not much my band can do around here. We’ll head back to Kotir and try another dawn raid tomorrow.’
Tsarmina was right beside the fox leader. She was not about to stop out in the woods with her soldiers, leaving Bane to take over Kotir in her absence.
‘Right, Bane. I’ll leave Brogg with some of the others to get on with the job. The rest of us will go back to Kotir with you.’
As they marched off through the morning brightness of Mossflower, one of Bane’s foxes sniggered as he trod on the back of Ratflank’s cloak.
‘Yah, I think you’re pussycat Queen’s frightened of us locking the fortress door on her.’
Ratflank tugged his cloak free, sneering. ‘Oh yes? Well you just try calling her pussycat to her face, hero!’
The first Bella knew of the attack was when the Corim leaders regathered their crews at Brockhall. Abbess Germaine and Columbine organized bandages and herbs, Loamhedge mice bustled about ministering to the wounded. Skipper refused to stand still, and Goody Stickle chased about after him, dabbing at his injury, trying to get a bandage around it.
There were tears of rage in the otter’s eyes. ‘Six lost, by the fur. Where did they come from? Who was that fox with all those scruffy murderers? Tsarmina could never have done this on her own.’
Lady Amber adjusted the bandage around her head so she could see properly.
‘I heard someone call him Bane,’ she told him. ‘Get Chibb. Tell him to go to Kotir. He’ll have to be very careful, but we’ve got to find out all we can about this other lot.’
Foremole tapped a digging claw upon the table.
‘Us’ll avter do summat ‘bout Urthclaw, Soilflyer ’n’ Billum. They’m stucken down ’oles. Oo be a-tellen wot they villyuns do to ’ee.’
‘Yes,’ Bella agreed, ‘it’s most important that we rescue the moles from the tunnels. Next on the list is to make sure that the area around Brockhall is completely hidden. If they don’t know where we are, they can’t attack us. Furthermore, we will need to find a second hide-out, somewhere deeper into the east of Mossflower. If ever Brockhall is discovered, another refuge will be very necessary.’
Messengers were sent out to find Chibb, and the woodlanders set about erasing the tracks around Brockhall, while Germaine and her mice tended the wounded with dedicated care.
The memory of the murderous ambush still lingered.
Lady Amber was not one to forget.
Neither was Skipper.
Before noon, Chibb had reported back to the Corim, but the news was not good.
‘Er, ahem. Very serious, very serious. It seems that this fox Bane is an expert, a mercenary with a band of about sixty. Harrumph. ’Scuse me. Evidently they are planning another ambush, as deep as they can get into Mossflower in one early morning march. Tomorrow, they plan to set out at dawn in a skirmish line, killing or capturing all before them.’
Columbine held up her paw. ‘Then we must not give them any targets. Everyone should stay here, completely out of sight, in case Brockhall is discovered.’
Bella nodded approvingly. ‘I second that. Good thinking, Columbine. Are we all agreed?’
There was a low murmur of assent. Nobody noticed the look that passed between Amber and Skipper.
In the early afternoon, Bella left command of Brockhall to the Abbess and Columbine. Alone, the badger set out eastward into the woodland depths to find a second place of refuge.
37
MARTIN WOKE FEELING pleasantly fresh. He opened his eyes to see Boar supervising the laying of a beautiful
breakfast table. Hares were wreathing flowers across the board. The food they brought had been grown in small gardens dotted about the landward side of the mountain top. Boar had small rosebuds and sweet peas twined in his beard; a garland of ivy leaves sat on his head. The huge badger looked like some benevolent spirit come down from the mountain, holding a green wand in his paw.
Pointing to a high arrow window that streamed down golden sunlight on him, he boomed out to the waking travellers, ‘Welcome to Salamandastron on the first day of a new summer!’
Young Dinny’s heart leapt at the sight of Boar and the mention of his favourite season. ‘Burrhoourr, oi dearly loiks summertoid, Zurr Bowar!’
During a fabulous meal in which all took part, they were introduced to the other hares who lived in the mountain. Besides Trubbs, Wother and Ffring there was also Harebell, Honeydew and Willow, three doe-eyed beauties who could render Trubbs and co speechless with a single flutter of their eyelashes. There were four others, a huge fellow named Buffheart, his wife Lupin and their two young ones, Starbuck and Breeze.
‘These hares are my eyes and ears,’ Boar explained. ‘I can stretch out my paws through them and feel what is going on for miles around. They are also fearsome fighters. Yes, every one of them. Don’t let silly talk and pretty eyes fool you. They’ll show you later. As for the present, they’ll take your friends off and show them something of this mountain we live on. Martin, will you come with me? I would talk to you alone.’
The warrior mouse followed the silver badger up through many caves, flights of rock stairs and long passages. High up the pair went, into the topmost cave. It was still warm from the heat of the forge. Martin looked out of a long open window to see the beach below and the waters beyond, sparkling and glinting in early summer sunlight.
‘This is where you heard my voice when you were down on the shore last night,’ Boar whispered to him. ‘I must whisper now because if I were to raise my voice, the echoes would deafen you.’
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