Martin The Warrior Part 26

The four friends stood back as the owl landed in the cave mouth. She gestured them to keep quiet, indicating that they should move further into the tunnel, out of Gawtrybe earshot.

Boldred went ahead awhile, before ushering them into a cunningly concealed side chamber. They entered, surprised to see that it was illuminated by a shaft of moonlight which came from somewhere up near the cave's 262.

craggy ceiling. A friendly-looking full-grown male, perched alongside a small fluffy owlet, nodded to them.

Boldred waddled up on to a moss covered ledge and blew a loud sigh. "That Gawtrybe! Lack a day, they must think everybeast as stupid as themselves. D'you know what they said, Horty?"

The big male chuckled. "Don't tell me, they were only playing a game."

"Game indeed," Boldred snorted. "The scatter-brained little savages!"

She turned to the travellers. "Forgive me, but those squirrels do try my patience. This is my husband Hort-wingle-call him Horty, he hates his full t.i.tle-and this is our daughter Emalet. As you already know, I am the famous Boldred. Now, who do we have the honor of meeting?"

Martin, Pallum, Rose and Grumm introduced themselves. Boldred looked at Martin, nodding her head. "Martin, eh. You've got the look of a warrior. It's a good job you defeated the Gawtrybe Chieftain or they would have slain you all on the spot. Using the excuse of a game, of course."

Martin felt the scratches on his face. "Some game!"

Boldred nodded in agreement before turning to Horty. "I sat the entire mob of them on the lower ledges, no food or drink or talking until sunset tomorrow. That might teach them a lesson."

Horty stroked the downy back of Emalet. "You don't really believe that, do you? By tomorrow noon they'll have forgotten and wandered down to play in the foothills."

Martin inspected the cave. It was a comfortable jumble of family living with brushes, pens, inks, vegetable dyes and charcoal sticks scattered everywhere among large strips of bark parchment.

Grumm produced food and drink from their pack. As they ate, Boldred explained. "We are mapmakers and 263.

historians, that is why we don't have a lot of time to control the squirrels. One of us stays here with Emalet, while the other flies off to explore, and hunt for food too. As you see, we are short-eared owls, and as such are daytime hunters. Normally we would be sleeping now, but the cries of the rabble wakened us."

Rose bowed politely. "We're extremely lucky they did. Thank you."

Horty c.o.c.ked his head at Boldred, and they both nodded. He turned to Rose. "Are you Rose, daughter of Urran Voh and Aryah?"

"Yes. Do you know my mother and father?"

"Oh yes. You'd be surprised just how much we both know, though it must be many long seasons since we were at Noonvale. You wouldn't remember us, you were only a tiny babe then. Always singing, as I recall."

Grumm scratched his head then held up a paw. "Oi amembers you'm zurr, an' you'm, marm, tho' oi wurr on'y a liddle tyke two seasons elder'n Miz Roser. You uns wurr oft in Noonvale, that be whurr us'ns be travel-len to."

Boldred smiled with pleasure. "Yes. What a beautiful place! We were mapping the area at the time. I'd dearly love to go back there. Horty, would you take care of Emalet while I accompany our friends back there? It would make their journey a lot less perilous if I were to guide them."

Her kindly husband chuckled as he watched Emalet playing around his talons. "I don't mind at all, I'm a real homebird at heart. We get on well together, don't we, my little eggchick."

Emalet, who never made any sound, looked adoringly up at her father and snuggled under his wing.

The atmosphere in the owls' cave was so safe and homely that the four friends slept deeply for the remainder of the night.

Martin woke next morning and lay watching Rose 264.

feeding one of Grumm's sweet flat invention cakes to Emalet. The owl chick waited respectfully for each fragment then wolfed it down with gusto, enjoying the sticky sweetness greatly.

Horty bustled in, chuckling as usual. "Those squirrels are still sitting silent and tight, Boldred. You must have given them a really stern lecture last night. Hey, come on, you sleepyheads, it's two hours past dawn!"

As they breakfasted, the owls conversed.

"Pity we couldn't coax old Warden up here. He'd straighten a few Gawtrybe tails, I'll wager."

"Wouldn't he just. There'd only be tails left by now. Warden would have eaten the lot of them. Can you imagine? I am the law, you are lawbreakers. Glump! There goes another one!"

"Hahaha, I suppose you're right. Maybe Polleekin could keep them in order. What d'you think?"

"Maybe she could. Polleekin would probably feed them so much they'd be staggering around, too fat to get in any mischief."

Martin looked up from his food. "You know Polleekin?"

Boldred preened her feathers. "We know her, in fact we know lots of creatures that you do. I didn't want to interrupt the tale you told us of your escape and journey last night or I would have mentioned some. Warden, those prissy Mirdop rabbits, Polleekin, Queen Amballa and her tribe-"

"And Badrang?" Pallum interrupted.

Horty shook his big feathered head. "We don't know that one, nor do we want to. He is evil, a blight upon the good land. It is certain death to know such creatures!"

Boldred spread her wings, indicating that she was eager to travel. "Come on now, we can't wait around gossiping all season about who we know and don't want to know. Just take it for granted that we know many, both sides of the mountain. Right, young Rose, let's see what we can do about getting you back to your home."

265.

From either side the tunnel looked as if it was only a cave on the mountainside, but it ran clear through the rock from one end to the other, twisting and turning with many offshoots and dead ends. Boldred went in front, leading them out into brilliant morning sunlight on the other side of the mountain.

Martin blinked after the dark tunnel, taking his bearings. The slope on this side was much gentler, with areas of woodland and gra.s.sy glades dotting the warm stillness. Hardly a breeze swayed leaf or flower.

Grumm breathed deeply "Hoo urr, et do almost smell loik 'ome!"

Pallum took an experimental sniff. "I can't remember ever having a home. What does it smell like?"

Rose patted the hedgehog's paw fondly. "You'll know when we get to Noonvale. That will be your home."

They descended at a leisurely pace, stopping to pick wild plum, damsons, pears and apples, which grew in profusion on the sunny slopes. Sometimes Boldred would fly off, but she always returned after a short while.

"I've been giving instructions to some birds I know. They're flying ahead to let the otters know you're coming."

Martin wiped at the berry juice that was staining his chin. "Why would otters want to know we're coming, Boldred?"

"To save your paws, they'll take us part of the way down the Broadstream in their boat."

Grumm looked slightly nervous. "Only part o' way? Do us'ns 'ave to swim'ee rest o' way? Oi carn't swim, marm. Water be bad as 'igh mountings."

"You won't have to swim, Grumm," the short-eared owl explained. "The otters will pa.s.s us on to the stream shrews, and you'll have to travel on their logboats. Not as comfortable as the otter boat, but considerably faster."

Rose found a clump of purple saxifrage. She wove some into a wreath and placed it on her head. Then they came to a shallow stream weaving its way between the rocks and trees. Boldred perched in a rowan ash, watching them as they skipped downhill, splas.h.i.+ng and laughing through the sun-warmed water. She shook her head, remembering the visit she had paid to Polleekin's tree house the day after the travellers had been there.

"If Polleekin's visions are true, it's a long hard road ahead for you, little Warrior. Enjoy a happy day while you can."

266.

267.

30.

Cap'n Tramun Clogg woke feeling tremendously braced. He drank a flagon of seaweed ale, devoured a huge platter of pickled whelks and c.o.c.kles, then sat back rebraiding some plaits on his chest. There was a gentle knock on the longhouse door.

"Is that you, Crosstooth?" Clogg called out without looking up from his task. "Any sign of Badrang yet, matey?"

The door creaked open and Badrang stood framed in the doorway, sunlight pouring in around him. "Get your braided behind off my chair, Clogg!"

The corsair was so surprised that the chair fell over backwards as he tried to lurch up. Dust rose in a golden shower of motes around him as the Tyrant of Marshank strode across and placed a none too gentle footpaw firmly on his bloated stomach. "Go on, Clogg. Ask me how I got here."

"Ow did you get 'ere?" the corsair spluttered from his position on the floor.

Badrang smirked, pressing down harder on Clogg's stomach. "If you had as much brain in your head as you had fat in your gut, you'd know. I came in through the tunnel that the slaves escaped from. You can go both 268.

ways through it, in or out. Obviously you didn't think of that, swillhead!"

With a sudden move that belied his bulk, Clogg wriggled free of Badrang's paw and ran for the door shouting, "Crosstooth, Gruzzle, Boggs, arm the crew. Badrang's 'ere!"

The Tyrant stoat righted the fallen chair and sat in it, smiling. "Shout your thick head off, bucko. You'll get no help."

Clogg stood for a moment glaring at the horde soldiers surrounding the longhouse, then he whirled to face Bad-rang. "You foul 'earted blaggard, you've murdered all me lovely crew!"

Badrang sniffed the empty seaweed ale flagon, wrinkled his nose in distaste and pushed it away from him. "Hardly, but I could have. It's no trouble tying up a crowd of idiots who've drunk themselves to sleep on beetroot wine and seaweed ale. As for those two dozy sentries you left posted on the walltop over the gate, they've got lumps on their heads the size of gull eggs. Did you actually think that you could take Marshank from me?"

Clogg's att.i.tude changed like a breeze at sea. Throwing his paws wide, he grinned in what he hoped was a disarming manner. "Matey, who said anythin' about takin' yer fortress from ye? Why, I was only mindin' it until you returned after chasin' those pesky slaves. Me an' my crew was actin' duty bound as caretakers. Ho, by the bye, you didn't catch the slaves, did ye?"

Badrang shook his head coolly. "I didn't have to. Come with me and I'll show you why."

The corsair crew sat in ranks at a corner of the courtyard, tightly bound and closely guarded by the Tyrant's horde. Badrang led Clogg to the center of the courtyard. The pirate stoat was forced to stand silent and listen to Badrang's announcement as he addressed the crew.

"Pay attention, you corsairs. You have three simple 269.

choices. One is slavery. I have no slaves to serve me at the moment. Two is death. You can stay loyal to Clogg, and for that you will be executed. The charges are attempting to steal Marshank from me and siding with my enemy. The third and final choice is that you swear allegiance to me and join my horde as soldiers. Well, what is it to be?"

The fox Crosstooth struggled upright. "Cut these ropes from me, I'll serve under Lord Badrang's colors!" It did not take long for the others to follow. "Aye, set me loose, I'm with Crosstooth!" "Me too, matey. I'll be an 'ordebeast!" "No point in bein' a corsair without a s.h.i.+p!" "Better'n bein' a slave or gettin' executed!" Clogg shook his head sadly. "Harr, 'twas an evil day when I landed up on this coast. Boggs, Gruzzle, Cross-tooth, was I ever a bad Cap'n to ye?"

"No, Cap'n, you was a good un. We had some rare ol' times together."

"You just made too many mistakes, Tramun Clogg." "Aye, when it's sink or swim, a creature has to look after hisself, Cap'n. No 'ard feelin's."

While the new horde members took the oath and signed articles with Badrang, Clogg was led off to the prison pit by two soldiers. He stared down into the hole miserably. "So it's come to this, bein' slung in an 'ole like a worm."

They nudged Clogg towards a barrow with a spade in it. "You're not goin' in it, Lord Badrang's orders are that you must fill it in. Think yerself lucky. Instead of execution he's givin' you the chance to become an 'onest 'ardworking slave. And don't fret, there'll be work aplenty for you!"

Felldoh was training an army to attack Marshank: the Fur and Freedom Fighters. Their flag waved proudly 270.

over the camp on the cliffs, a green banner with the representation of a flying javelin severing a chain.

Rowanoak shook her aching paws. "I hope they don't want uniforms as well. It took me hours to make that flag, rummaging through our costume box and sewing this bit to that. It does look rather good, though."

Ballaw broke off from drilling a marching column. He swaggered jauntily across and threw Rowanoak an elaborate salute. "All present an' correct, marm. What time are you servin' us stout creatures some jolly old luncheon, wot? An army marches on its stomach an' all that, y'know."

The badger turned her eyes skyward as if seeking help. "It's a wonder you can do any marching at all with that stomach of yours, you great flop-eared feedbag. Don't ask me, go and see the cooks."

Ballaw marched off, a blaze of military colour in the uniform he had designed for himself from the troupe's wardrobe. He sang to keep himself in step.

"All the ladies smile at me, lookit there, lookit there, He's a fine das.h.i.+n' figure of a hare, of a hare.

He'd fight off a horde alone, he's a warrior to the bone. Feed him plenty an' you'll never have a care, have a care!"

Felldoh laid a lance on his throwing stick. The group he was training followed his actions, laying lances on their sticks as he instructed them.

"Arm right back at shoulder level, paw gripping stick firmly, lean your head in, take sight at the target along the javelin shaft, weight on the back footpaw and throw!"

The small hillock daubed with a likeness of Badrang was pincus.h.i.+oned by eighteen lances.

Keyla picked up a pebble, demonstrating to his group. "See, an ordinary stone, but it can become a weapon. In 271.

paw-to-paw combat you can use it held tight as a club. Hit the foe with it as hard as you can. Or you can throw it. Watch!" He hurled the pebble and struck one of the lances on the hillock.

The mouse called Juniper held up a sling. "Look what old Barkjon gave me. What is it, Keyla?"

The otter took the tough vine thong, shaking his head in admiration as he fitted a pebble to the tongue at its middle. He swung it experimentally, testing its balance. "This is a fine sling. Give me a target to throw at."

Juniper pointed to the hillock. "Hit one of those lances like you did when you threw the pebble."

Crack No sooner had the words left Juniper's mouth than Keyla sent the pebble whistling from its whirling sling. It struck a lance, snapping it near the point with a cracking impact.

Keyla wound the sling round his paw with a happy smile. "I'll go and see if Barkjon can make us more of these!"

Gauchee and Kastern had a good number of long poles, sometimes used by the Rambling Rosehip Players when they were erecting an improvised tent. Trefoil had suggested that they would make good pikes, using the pointed ends which had served as tentstakes.

Buckler, his injured shoulder still bandaged, drilled a group in the uses of the pike. "Poikes up! Poikes daown. Points for'ard .. . Charge!"

Celandine sat dabbing her paws in rosewater. "Silly creatures, you'll either get hurt or have nasty rough paws from using those great long things!"

She found herself looking down the point of Gau-chee's pike. "Off to the cookhouse and help out if you don't want to train as a fighter, little missy fusstail!"

Ballaw waggled his ears at Tullgrew, Purslane and Geum in a very persuasive manner. "Top o' the mornin', cooks. When does a chap get some fodder round here?"

272.

The baby Fuffle was dressed in an oversized ap.r.o.n tucked up twice at his middle. He was spreading honey on scones with a wooden spoon.

Tullgrew pointed in his direction. "Don't ask us, Ballaw. Put in your request to Quartermaster Sergeant Fuffle over there."