Fragorl made an undignified retreat on all fours. It was wisest to do what Ungatt Trunn said immediately and without question, when he was in one of his dark moods. Which were growing more and more frequent as the days went by. Some Hordebeasts grubbing for seaweed nearby heard their leader laugh bitterly and talk aloud to himself.
"The mountain of my dreams. Hah! More like the mountain of my nightmares. So, these are the days of Ungatt Trunn, eh?"
Chapter 29
After breakfast next morning, Durvy was leaving with his crew to harass the fishing fleet. Frutch shook her ladle at him, and he held up both paws placatingly. "Don't say it, marm, we've got the message. No more shrimp!"
Brogalaw entered the cave, with Rulango stalking in his wake. "Ahoy, 'ere's a bird who's very partial to shrimp. Feed our friend well, Mum, he just sketched me out an important message. Stiffener, get the Bark Crew together, mate. There's a small party, about twenty-five bluebottoms, left the mountain at dawn. Rulango reckons they're 'eaded thisaways, armed with bags an' 'avvysacks."
Stiffener donned his barkcloth cloak and mask, arming himself with sword, bow and arrows. He beckoned to the rest of the hares and otters who were gearing themselves up.
"Another foragin' party. Let's send those vermin back sore-tailed an' empty-pawed, eh, mates!"
Woebee threw her apron up over her face. "Begone the lot of ye. I don't 'old with masks'n'cloaks, fair scare a body they do. Away with ye!"
Torleep bowed courteously. "No need t'fuss yourself, marm. 'Tis only us under this lot."
*****
Ripfang and Doomeye had taken a hundred and fifty Hordebeasts out of the mountain long before dawn. They concealed themselves in the crags and crannies behind Salamandastron. Each of them was personally picked by the rat brothers; there were a lot of former searats and corsairs among their ranks. All in all they were a mean and savage-looking bunch, armed to the teeth.
Ripfang climbed down from his lookout spot. "The forage party decoys are well on their way, 'eadin' nor'east to the clifftops an' dunes to scout for berries an' roots. Doomeye, take yore gang an' sweep southeast. Git well back from the cliffs afore ye start closin' in."
Doomeye fiddled with his spear, as if reluctant to go. "Which way are yore lot goin'? The short way, I'll bet."
Ripfang tossed a long dagger and caught it neatly. "We'll be follerin' the same route as the foragin' partyI been drummin' that inter yer 'alf the night. That way we'll catch this Bark Crew in a pincer movement, from back an' front. Simple plans alius works best, I told yer!"
Doomeye stuck out his bottom lip sullenly. "I still don't like it. From wot I've 'eard this Bark Crew just appear out o' nowhere. They say they're like spirits!"
Ripfang brandished his dagger impatiently. "That's 'ogwash an' yew know 'tis. I'll tell yer who I think they arethose threescore escaped longears, that's who. Are yew lot as 'ungry as I am, eh?"
There was a rumble of agreement, from both mouths and stomachs. Ripfang made a slashing movement with his blade. "Then wot are we waitin' for? There's meat on the paw fer the takin'. Y'want to eat, then move yerselves!"
Doomeye kicked at the dirt, staying where he was. "Yew still 'aven't said why me an' my gang got t'go the long way 'round. 'Tain't fair."
Ripfang flung the dagger, burying it in the earth right between his brother's footpaws. "Lissen, lump'ead, yew get goin', right now. Otherwise I'm goin' back inside to report to Ungatt Trunn, an' yew can see 'ow well y'do takin' charge o' this lot!"
Doomeye got up huffily and signaled his party to move off. "All right, all right, keep yer fur on, we're goin'! Huh, never thought I'd see a brother o' mine snitchin' to the chief on 'is own fur'n'blood. Enny'ow, wot's the signal for the ambush? I've forgotten it."
Ripfang turned his eyes skyward, as if seeking help from above. "Wot's to forget, shrimpbrain? I've told yer ten times already. Firrig 'ere will give two curlew cries that's the signal for youse to attack. Y'do know wot a curlew sounds like, don'tcher?"
Doomeye led his party out of the rocks, shouting back at his ill-tempered brother, '"Course I do. It sounds just like yew tryin' to snore through that single pickle-stabber of yores, twiddletooth!"
Ripfang flung a rock at Doomeye, but it fell short. "I'll get yew fer that, jus' see if'n I don't!"
Lying in concealment, the Bark Crew watched the foragers climb the cliffs at a place where a small streamlet trickled down. Brogalaw noted their every movement, murmuring low to Stiffener, "They're stoppin' to take a drink now, some of 'em pickin' crowberries an' eatin' them. Nasty, bitter-tastin' things. I've never liked crow-berries, 'ave you, Stiff?"
The boxing hare shrugged. "Not really. Still, you'll eat anythin' once the 'unger grips yore stomach. Dumb stupid vermin, I pity 'em in a way."
Willip snorted. "Save your pity for decent creatures, sah. These are the same rotten bounders who were plannin' on eatin' us when they had us locked up. Pity 'em, indeed!"
Brog saw two vermin detach themselves and climb to the top. A moment later they were calling back to the other foragers.
"There's nettles up 'ere, an' some bilberries!"
The rest of the party climbed up. Once on top they could not be seen by the Bark Crew, but their voices came back clear.
"More nettles than bilberries, I'd say. Ouch, they sting!"
"Well, that's wot nettles are supposed t'do, mate. Pick 'em, you can brew good beer with nettles."
"Huh, will yew lissen to 'im? Wot beast could wait a season fer nettles to brew? We'd all be starved dead by then."
"Oh, stop moanin'. Use yore blade an' cut the nettles they'll do to make soup with."
Brog picked up his javelin. "Ain't goin' t'be so easy, while they're out in the open. Still, if we jump those bluebottoms quick it should do the trick. When I show meself, see if you can get a few 'round the back of 'em, Stiff. Sailears, you an' the others stay just below the clifftop, but show yore weapons, to let the vermin think they're surrounded. Well, here goes. Good huntin'!"
The forage party leader was a weasel. He did not know that his band had been sent out as a decoy. While the others were busy at their work, he stuffed a pawful of bilberries into his mouth.
"Tut tut, matey, stealin' food," a voice nearby chided him. Without looking up, the weasel glimpsed the barkcloth robe and groaned inwardly. "Yore a leader, y'should be settin' an example to those under ye!"
The sinister cloaked and masked figure stood framed by the weapons that poked up over the cliff. Raising his voice, Brog called harshly to the vermin: "Move a muscle an' ye die. A Bark Crew javelin's a lot sharper than some ole nettles, you'll find!"
A rat knocked over his haversack, and berries spilled out. "Ow no, 'tis the Bark Crew!"
Stiffener walked up from behind him and rested a loaded sling upon the rat's bowed head. "Ow yes, 'tis the Bark Crew, y'mean. Toss yore weapons over by me, all of ye. Yore surrounded!"
Shielding his eyes against the sun, the weasel looked up at Brog. "Y'ain't gonna kill us, are yer, sir?" he gulped aloud.
There was a touch of humor in the masked figure's voice. "Not just yet. Pick those berries first, but leave the nettles. I don't want ye t'get yore paws pricked. Go on, pick!"
Nervously the forage party picked the bilberries. "Why d'yer want to slay us?" a rat whined at Torleep. "We ain't done no 'arm to nobeast."
The hare gave him a resounding kick on his blue-dyed rear. "Fibber, cad, bounder, don't look for mercy from me, sah!"
When the berries were all picked and bagged up, Brog made the vermin shed their uniforms. The weasel leader suddenly broke down and clung weeping to Stiffener's cloak. "Aaaaahaaaaggh! Spare us, sire, spare our lives, please, I beg yer, don't kill us. Waaahahaaa!"
Stiffener's loaded sling rapped the weasel's paws until he was forced to release the cloak hem. The boxing hare's voice was laden with contempt. "Spare your lives, eh, like you spared the old Badger Lord? But he went out like a true warrior, fightin' for his life. Look at yoreself, coward, blubbin' like a stuck toad!"