Part 32 (2/2)

”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!”

332.

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!”

333.

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?”

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