Stooped almost double, they took off along the tunnel. It was wide enough to take two hares, but low-ceilinged, dark and damp.
Groddil came scuttling to the edge of the melee. All he could see was blue vermin pushing forward into the rift. The stunted fox nodded at Mirefleck. "So, this was where they were hiding. Have they taken the stripedog yet? Remember, the Mighty One wants him alive."
Mirefleck watched vermin trampling their slain companions while Captains Fraul and Swinch urged them on with whips.
"Get through there, you slackers, into the cave an' 'elp yer mates to capture that beast. Come on, move yerselves!"
Mirefleck curled her lip scornfully at the magician. "Ye want to find out how 'tis goin', Groddil? Then why not join our brave soldiers an' see for yerself, eh?"
Groddil shot her a hate-filled glare, but did not move.
Force of numbers had finally driven Stonepaw back into the cavern, and now they were coming at him from all sides. A quick glance told him that his hares had escaped safely. He battled on doggedly, wounded in a score of places. Snapping off an arrow which had pierced his shoulder, he roared and charged, wreaking havoc with his shattered javelin. But there was no end to the vermin. Lord Stonepaw began to feel weary and old. Fraul sneaked through, with a bunch of soldiers bearing between them a large stone-weighted net. He signaled them to climb upon a low ledge. Some others followed, through, and swiftly he whispered orders to them. "See, the stripedog won't last much longer. Get behind and drive him over, close to this ledge as y'can."
The plan worked. Stonepaw was beaten back. Facing his attackers, he could not see the trap that awaited him. Back, back he went, stumbling upon the carcasses of those whom he had slain on either side. Fraul shouted as the badger's shoulders brushed the ledge.
"Now!"
Instantly the badger was borne to the ground by the cumbersome coils of the net and the lumps of stone tied to its edges as weights. Letting his javelin fall, he lay flat, gasping for breath. A roar of triumph arose from the vermin. Groddil hobbled through the rift to watch. Nudging Captain Swinch, the fox sniggered.
"We've got him now. The stripedog's finished!"
Swinch swaggered forward boldly and kicked at the prostrate badger trapped beneath the net. "How d'ye feel now, stripedog? Aaaaagh!"
Wreathed in ropes, Stonepaw surged forward, crashing the horde captain into the ledge and finishing him. Groddil howled: "Stop him, he's away again, stop him, stop him!"
Rearing up, Stonepaw pulled the net along with him it was far too snarled up and heavy to be rid of. He looked for all the world like some primeval colossus from the dawn of time. Bellowing and roaring, he swept one of the big lanterns from the ledge and smashed it into the barrel of lamp oil near the entrance. Then, giving the barrel a powerful kick, Stonepaw crashed it into the rift. Flames crackled and leapt.
Fearing he would be trapped in the cavern and slain, Groddil pranced about screaming hysterically. "Kill him! Finish him off! Hurry, you fools, kill him!"
Stonepaw began to laugh aloud, the sound booming eerily until it filled the cavern. Dragging rocks and net, he threw himself onto the closest group of vermin, wrapping his fearsome paws about as many as he could grab. Four he held, with another three trapped in the net, to be swept along with him to the edge of the bottomless pool. They bit and scratched and stabbed, to no avail. With one last war cry, Lord Stonepaw of Salamandastron summoned up his final strength and jumped.
"Eulaliiiiiaaaaaa!"
Groddil and the Blue Hordebeasts packed around the pool rim. Pale green luminescence deep down in the icy water shrouded itself around the dark wriggling mass which sank down, down, down, until it was lost to sight. Wordlessly they stared at the waters, the silence broken only by water dripping, flames crackling and the agonized moans of their wounded.
Thus died Lord Stonepaw, he who had ruled the mountain longer than any other Badger Lord.
Hares halting in front of him caused Stiffener to stop sharply. "Trobee, Purlow, what's goin' on up there?" he called to the leaders.
"A blue light! There's a blue light up ahead, Stiff!"
The boxing hare made his way up to the front of the column. The tunnel was beginning to tilt slightly uphill, and the stones beneath his paws contained small shallow pools. From around a bend up ahead there shone a soft blue light.
Stiffener took the torch from Blench. "Trobee, Willip, come with me. Purlow, you stop here with the others an' rest yoreself."
Willip sniffed the air as they drew nigh to the blue light. "Well, great seasons o' salt, there's only one thing smells like that, chapsseawater! Haha, I was right! Listen!"
Stiffener's ears picked up the faraway sound. "Aye, marm, that's the sea right enough!"
"He went up through an' chased the blue,
An' made it home for tea, sir,
He beat the tide an' spinies, too,
But his mamma tanned his tailfur!"
Trobee smiled proudly. Stiffener cast a curious eye on him. "You feelin' all right, mate? Is that blue light affectin' ye?"
Trobee chuckled happily. "I'm feeling fine, Stiff old chap. I was just repeating the last lines of Bramwil's skippin' poem, the one about Littlebob Hare, wot! My old memory must be improvin'."
When they rounded the bend, the blue light was clearer, with water patterns shimmering off the rough rock walls. The ground began a downslope. Trobee went back to fetch the others, while Willip, who was a sensible creature, summed up their position.
"Seems like we'll come out very close to the great sea. It must run up here rather strong at high tide, but this slope stops most of it. Can't be high tide now, though this tunnel's too jolly dry. So I suppose we're all right to proceed, wot. The poem says that Littlebob beat the spinies, too. Anybeast know what a blinkin' spiny is?"
Stiffener shrugged. "Just have t'find out as we go, marm. Look, we don't know when 'igh tide is due, so we'd better shake a paw."
Despite the tragedy they had left behind, the hares felt their spirits rising after being down in the gloomy caves for so long. The blue light promised a good clear day and fresh air, wind, breeze, the sight of green growing things, and most of all freedom. They started singing to set up a good pace, sloshing through pools and stumbling over rocks, but returning to their irrepressible nature.
"There's hares on the mountain much older than I,
An' still they can manage to scoff the odd pie,
I remember ole Grandma had no teeth to boot,
She used to eat rock cakes an' lots o' hard fruit.
Older'n I, scoff the odd pie,
No teeth t'boot, rock cake an' fruit,
A hare is a marvelous creature!
My uncle Alf with long seasons was grey,
'Stale pudden an' pasties'll do me,' he'd say,
'Oh fetch me good cider an' no fancy cuts,
An' a big rusty hammer to crack hazelnuts.'
Older'n I, scoff the odd pie,
No teeth t'boot, rock cake an' fruit,
Seasons was grey, pasties he'd say,
No fancy cuts, crack hazelnuts,
A hare is a marvelous creature!
My auntie Dewdrop was old as the hills,
She wondered why ducks always ate with their bills.
"Their tummies must flutter,' the old gel would cry,
'I once knew a duck ate a dragonfly pie.'
Older'n I, scoff the odd pie,
No teeth t'boot, rock cake an' fruit,
Seasons was grey, pasties he'd say,
No fancy cuts, crack hazelnuts,
Old as the hills, ate with their bills,
Auntie would cry, dragonfly pie,
A hare is a marvelous creature!"
Chapter 19
Ungatt Trunn was furious, though he did not let it show. Groddil, Fraul and Mirefleck lay flat on their faces in front of the wildcat, each waiting to be interrogated by him. Lord Stonepaw's former bedchamber was festooned with fresh spiderwebs, flies caught by horde vermin buzzed about, and the fire was stoked up high. Trunn let his eyes wander to the spiders waiting in their webs. Flies never changed their ways; sooner or later they would blunder into the sticky gossamer snares. The Grand Fragorl drifted silently about in the background, sprinkling powder on the braziers to make them give off blue smoke.