Martin The Warrior Part 32

"Hurr, you'm not leavin' us'ns yurr, mizzy!" Pallum and Grumm joined paws with Martin and Rose.

Another little paw sneaked in to clasp theirs. "Hurr, say 'ee wurd an' Bungo's with you'm!"

Grumm ruffled the dark velvety head of the infant. "Gurr, you'm gotter stay yurr an' chop up'ee gurt tree. Oi wants f see et chopped oop small when us'ns coom back."

Martin looked at Urran Voh, who nodded. Then he 326.

raised his voice so that all could hear. "Is anybeast with us? You heard Boldred, we need plenty of help!"

The otter quartette, several moles and a few hedgehogs stood forward. Martin counted, sixteen in all including his three friends.

"I am sorry, Martin," Urran Voh said, his tone more kindly, "but we are not warriors, my creatures do not have any knowledge of battle. Many have families to care for. Those who have volunteered to go with you are few, but brave. None of them have ever used a weapon, yet they are prepared to go and help you with their very lives."

Martin bowed to his small army. "I thank you with all my heart."

Boldred tut-tutted slightly and shook her head. "I've always said that the trouble with young creatures is they never listen properly, especially hot-headed warriors. Did you not hear me tell Aryah that I never stopped to search for Brome because I had things to do?"

"Things, what things?" Martin looked nonplussed at the owl.

"Things that only a wise owl would think of, like getting an army together for you. But let's deal with first things first. We've got to find the shortest route to Marshank and get you there as quickly as possible. Now I don't wish to preen myself on this matter, but I am the foremost pathfinder, mapmaker and researcher of this whole country, from beyond here to the Eastern Sea. Find me a clear s.p.a.ce, somebeast!"

The moles patted a bare patch of soil flat as Rose went off with Aryah and Urran Voh to gather provisions for the journey.

Boldred crooked a claw at Martin. "Come here, Warrior, and pay attention!"

Martin sat and watched, fascinated as the owl's skilful talons marked out the route.

"This is the Broadstream here. You came the long way round to Noonvale, probably because you were washed 327.

up down the far south coast. Marshank is further north, facing the Eastern Sea. There is a much simpler way back to the coast. I know this, and so does Starwort. At this moment he will probably have just arrived at a wide tributary two hours' journey from here, to the north of Noonvale. So the sooner you get going, the quicker you'll be able to join him and get under way."

Martin stood upright. "What happens then, Boldred?" The owl blinked impatiently. "Leave that to me, I'm coming too!"

Rose and her parents had just finished putting together some food and drink in packs when Martin strode into the cottage. Rose took the small shrew sword from its peg behind the door and held it out to Martin.

"You gave this up freely, now I give it back to you." The Warrior thrust the sword into his belt. "I'm ready!"

"Fur and Freedoooooooommm!"

The cart rattled and b.u.mped, leaping off the ground as it struck humps and clumps on the clifftop. It roared forward with Ballaw and Keyla holding to its jolting bed as they waved the streaming banner aloft. Rowanoak pounded along. Sinew and muscle bunching and stretching, she towed the careering cart. The Fur and Freedom Fighters pushed as they pelted madly alongside.

Brome could not stop himself. At the sight of Felldoh going down fighting amid a welter of horde vermin, he dashed forward down the cliffside, sobbing and calling his friend's name aloud, "Felldoh! Oh Felldoh, I'm coming!"

But Felldoh did not hear his young companion. He lay with a calm smile on his face, surrounded by a score of slain hordebeasts who had died trying to defeat him.

Badrang rushed back to the fort, away from the carnage and the broken javelins, the memory burned into 328.

his beaten skull of the roaring, laughing squirrel who had died with a shattered piece of timber in each paw, still taking ferrets, rats and weasels with him as he went.

As Marshank's gates slammed shut, the cart sped by Brome. Scattering the last few venturesome horde members, it ground to a halt next to Felldoh's body.

Rowanoak leaped from the shafts as the first wave of arrows flew from the walltops. "Dig in, turn the cart on its side, get to cover quick!"

Ballaw a.s.sembled his throwers behind the cart. "Take your range, chaps, and drop those javelins in just over the walltop. You others, pick up any weapons you find lyin' about. That's the ticket! Slingers, get those stones from the cart. Look lively now, lads!"

Brome staggered up, tears streaming from him as he undid his healing bag and pulled out herbs and bandages. Barkjon sat with his son's head cradled in his lap, dry-eyed.

"He won't be needing those, young one. Save them for the living. My son has gone to the silent forest where he'll always be free."

Brome sat with Barkjon. The old squirrel wiped away the young mouse's tears. "It is good to grieve for a friend who has gone. He looks so happy and peaceful."

Brome shook his head. Placing a paw about Barkjon's shoulders, he said, "I've never seen anything like it; he was laughing aloud. It took a score and a half to get him down, and he still slew most of them. It was as if he knew his fate."

Barkjon nodded. "Never afraid, always a true warrior-that was Felldoh's way."

The side of the cart was thick with quivering arrows. Ballaw barked out a sharp command: "Up an' at 'em, javelins!"

The line of throwers leapt up, flung their weapons off and dropped back down.

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Immediately Ballaw called to the slingers, "Quick as y' like, one volley of stones. Go!"

The slingers stood, threw and dropped back down.

Howls and screams greeted the wave of javelins that dropped in on the archers at the walltop. They stood up to retaliate, and met the volley of slingstones zinging up hard on the heels of the javelins.

Crosstooth grabbed Wetpaw and Fleabane. "Take fifty fighters apiece over the back wall, an' spread out left an' right, advance along the sh.o.r.e an' dig in. We'll have 'em cut off at both sides, with the fort in front of 'em an' the sea behind. They'll have to surrender, or die!"

Buckler saw the hordebeasts pouring out either side of Marshank. He found Rowanoak. "Lukkit, us'ns all 'ave to proteck 'ee flanks!"

Kastern, Gauchee, Trefoil and Celandine helped to sh.o.r.e up two long hillocks of sand either side of the cart. The slingers were split up and detailed to both sides, while the javelin throwers concentrated on the front facing the fortress.

Inside the fortress, Badrang lay on the longhouse table while Boggs and Growch dressed his wounds. The Tyrant had been beaten black and blue before his soldiers got to the rescue, and his head, face, shoulders and back were a welter of ugly lumps and long bruises. He arched his back painfully as Boggs treated the long javelin scratch.

"Haharr, matey, I thought you'd run into an army, but they tells me 'twere on'y one 'ard-nosed squirrel. Scorch me sails, but 'e did a right good job on yer. Hah-arrharrharr!"

Badrang glared at Clogg through puffy eyes. "Get out of my sight. You're bad luck to me, Clogg!"

Boggs applied a dock leaf poultice to Badrang's shoulder. "Stay still, Sire. 'Ere, 'old that in place."

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Clogg did a little jig in the doorway. "Aye, you 'old still, yer mightiness, lest yer ugly 'ead drops off, haharr!"

Badrang made as if to rise and grab his sword. Clogg scuttled off, chuckling to himself, "I'll 'ave the last laugh yet. Now, where's the galley round 'ere? I might as well eat an' drink me fill, seein' as all the rest are too busy warrin' an' fightin' fer glory!"

Ballaw gave a sharp gasp. He plucked out the arrow sticking from his paw and snapped it. "Ruined me best eatin' and gesturin' paw. Rotters!"

Brome sat down behind the cart. Cleaning the wound, he applied a comfrey poultice and bound the paw with a clean linen strip.

"Good as new, eh wot!" Ballaw held it up, admiring the dressing. "I say, Brome old lad, you're gettin' to be a bit of a dab paw at this healin' lark!"

Wordlessly the young mouse crawled off to the next casualty.

Noon brought a lull in the fighting. The sun beat mercilessly down on the beach, and there was not even a welcome breeze. Behind Rowanoak's back, the sea s.h.i.+mmered, showing hardly a wave. The badger dusted sand from her paws as she gratefully accepted food from Keyla.

"It's only a mouthful of water and a scone. We don't know how long we'll be stuck here."

Trefoil nibbled at her scone. "Stuck is the right word, Keyla. We're boxed off on three sides, with the sea behind us if we fancy drowning ourselves."

Celandine sipped daintily at a scallop sh.e.l.l of water. "Drown ourselves? Ugh, how horrible! It'd ruin my tail!"

Kastern was making a bow with some springy wood and a cord. "Well it's either that or carry on fighting a horde about thirty times greater than us. I should think that'd ruin your tail in the long run, Miss Fussbudget."

331.

Buckler came to sit by Kastern. "Hurr, wot be you'm a-maken a bow furr?"

"Well, there are so many arrows lying about and sticking out of everywhere, it seems a shame to waste them."

Rowanoak shook her head in admiration. "What an efficient trouper. Hey, Groot, see if you can make a few bows and help Kastern to use all these arrows messing the place up!"

Yarrow looked at Rowanoak strangely. "You Rambling Rosehip Players, you seem to make a joke of everything. Don't you realize we're in the middle of a battle, fighting for our lives?"

Ballaw patted his head with a bandaged paw. "What d'you want us to do then, laddie buck? Break down an' weep? Make the best of the situation, m' boy. Smile!"

The cart shook under a rattle of arrows, several piercing the wood by half a shaft-length.

"Ah well, back to work, wot wot?" Yarrow yawned, fitting a stone to his sling.

Ballaw launched a javelin and ducked low. "Cheeky blighter! Catches on fast, though."

Badrang was up and about, looking much the worse for wear but still bad-tempered and active.

"Crosstooth, tell the horde to hold back their weapons a bit. I want to parley with that lot on the sh.o.r.e."

Archers and slingers stopped, Badrang's jaws were aching from Felldoh's blows, so he got a rat called Nip-wort, who possessed a high squeaky voice, to call out his message.

Nipwort funnelled both paws around his mouth and shouted, "Parley! Cease fire, we want a parley!"

"Then parley away, pipsqueak. What do you want?" Rowanoak's readily identifiable roar came back at him.

"My master, Lord Badrang, can keep you pinned down there and slay you at his leisure. If you surrender you will not be killed!"

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This time it was Ballaw who answered. "Tell me my good chap, what happens to us after we surrender?"

"That will be for Lord Badrang to decide!"

Ballaw's head popped up over the cart. "Blinkin' nerve o' the rascal! Listen, rustyhinge, you tell old Bad-trousers that the Commander-in-Chief of the Fur and Freedom Fighters said that he can go an' boil his scurvy head, wot!"

The reply was accompanied by a healthy hail of sling-stones, one of which knocked Nipwort senseless. Bad-rang crouched beneath the parapet, ma.s.saging the numbness from his paws. "Get a fire going, use flaming arrows on that cart. We'll burn them out into the open!"

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Guided by Boldred, Martin and his party made it in good time to the Broadstream inlet. They were greeted by Starwort's cheery cry as they came in sight of the water.

"Ahoy, mates, come on aboard!"

The big otter boat Waterlily was packed with tough-looking otters, and in tow she had a flat-bottomed barge, also filled to the gunwales with more otters. They made room for Martin and his contingent.

Starwort grinned and held up a thonged sling. "Mainly uses these for sport an' fis.h.i.+n', but we've all got one. Miss Rose, good to see yer pretty face again. Still keepin' this Warrior of yours in check, I 'ope. Pallum an' Grumm, well, shake me rudder yer lookin' plump an' fitter'n ever!"

A flotilla of shrew canoes came racing round the bend and hit the bank with a loud damp thud. Starwort winked at Boldred. "Ho, look out, 'ere comes trouble on the tide!"

Boldred blinked at the teeming arguing ma.s.ses of shrews, yelling and waving their swords angrily. "What are they doing here?"

Starwort flexed his powerful paws. "I thought we might need extra 'elp, so I told 'em they weren't allowed 334.

to follow us an' I forbid them to take part in any fight. You know the shrews, mate-never do as they're told." The otter waved at his deck crew. "Cast off for'ard, cast off aft, cast off mids.h.i.+ps. Away we go! You shrews, stop 'ere, you ain't comin', see!"

Rose and Pallum chuckled at Starwort's ruse as a veritable armada of craft pulled out into the stream, with Waterlily in the vanguard.

Martin stood in the bows of the otter boat as if willing it to travel faster. Worry etched itself across his brow. Boldred perched on the for'ard rail. "Rest, Martin. Nothing you can do will make the river flow swifter."

Grim-jawed, the young mouse pawed his sword hilt as he paced back and forth, heedless of the glorious sunset on the water. "I'll never forgive myself if we're too late. Travelling to Noonvale was a mistake, I should have stayed on the coast and sought Brome out, Felldoh too. Things might have been different."

Boldred folded her wings, s.h.i.+fting from claw to claw.

"Aye, you could have all been slain, then what help would you be? This way you are returning to Marshank with an army at your back. Many more are coming to aid your cause. I have made sure of that."

Martin watched the stream slip by, gurgling and eddying. "Forgive me, friend. I must seem very ungrateful after all you have done to help."

"It is natural to worry when friends are in danger, Martin. Don't think about what you could have done, concentrate on what you plan to do; it is more useful." Boldred spread her wings, preparing for flight. "I must leave you for a while now. There are more things that I have to do. I'll see you at Marshank, Warrior mouse. Good seasons and fair winds go with us both."

Martin watched his feathered friend winging off downstream into the evening treetops, silhouetted against a sky of lilac and gold.

"Move yer stern a touch, matey, and let me get at the 335.

drum!" Starwort's wife Marigold opened a locker and rolled out a big flat drum. She placed it on a coil of rope and began whacking it slowly with her rudderlike tail. The deep boom cut through the twilight stillness as Rose came to join Martin in the bows. They both looked on perplexed, until Marigold explained, "Just drummin' up a little more 'elp. My Starwort always says that willin' paws are welcome ones."

A rolling drum answered Marigold's summons. Rose pointed upstream. "Look!"

Waiting to join them was a sprawling flat raft with a rickety shed built at its centre. Lines of otters and burly hedgehogs stood by their long poles, waiting to join the fleet.

Starwort sprang to the bowsprit, waving at the newcomers. "Yoho, Gulba, me ole mucker, come to join in the fun?"