Now it was Saltar's turn to laugh. "Hoho! Then hurry and get yourself one, King of Searats, although I heard that even armed with a sword you were beaten by a little mousemaid ..."
Gabool sent the table toppling as he kicked it and freed his swordblade, his face a mask of ugliness and cruelty as he launched himself forward.
"That's a lie! A black-hearted lie, and you'll die for it, Saltar!"
Automatically the searats stood back; this was not only a battle to the death between two famous fighters, it was also a contest to decide Kingship.
Gabool the Wild slashed viciously at Saltar; the corsair dodged nimbly to one side, swinging his sword in one claw as he wound the cord of the steel hook round his other and beckoned with it, insulting and taunting in the manner of searats to goad his victim into a false move.
"My brother could've taken you with a cooking ladle, coward!"
Gabool circled, the light glinting off his golden, emerald-studded fangs. "I'm goin' to hang you by your hook and let the gulls rip out your lyin' tongue, crabsbait!"
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Suddenly they clashed, sword ringing upon sword. Saltar's hook ripped through Gabool's cloak, pulling him inward. Quick as a flash, Gabool cut his cloak loose with one of the daggers from his waist sash, staggering back as Saltar's clanging blade drove him down the hall.
"You'll die screaming, Gabool. I'll make you call me King before I put you out of your misery."
Smiling inwardly, Gabool allowed Saltar's onslaught to press him backward down the hall, though outwardly the Warlord's expression was grim and he acted as though he were hard-pressed, panting, parrying and dodging the cleaving blade and pointed hooktip. This gave Saltar the feeling that he had gained the upper claw.
"Not as easy as fighting my unarmed brother, eh, Your Majesty?" he taunted Gabool. "But no matter, Saltar the Corsair isn't a mousemaid. I'll finish the job properly, so that when you're hacked to dollrags you'll know it was me who did it!"
Stumbling over footstools, bumping into tables, reeling off walls, Gabool seemed to blunder backward, Saltar's sword threatening to spit him at each thrust, the flailing hook coming to within a hair's-breadth of his throat. Now the King of Searats was down on one knee, a short distance from the hanging wall curtain. Saltar smashed mercilessly downward at him. Gabool's sword, held sideways deflecting the blows, seemed to quaver for one desperate moment. A gasp arose from the piratical assembly. Suddenly Gabool fell, rolled over and, leaping high, snatched a walltorch from its brackets. He regained his stance on the other side of Saltar. Like lightning the corsair turned.
"Aaaaiiieeee!"
Gabool struck Saltar with the blazing torch, driving him backward into the hidden blade behind the wall hanging. The trap worked efficiently; Saltar died
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instantly, an expression of pained surprise stamped indelibly upon his brutal features.
Silence fell over the banqueting hall. Gabool spat carelessly at the impaled carcass of his one-time enemy. Turning on his heel, he sprang up on the largest dining table. Scattering cups, food, plates and drink with a series of resounding smashes, the Warlord turned upon the gathering of searats. Gabool's eyes blazed, his rings and bracelets jangled, the gold emerald-studded teeth showed in a ferocious grin through his matted and beribboned beard. Pointing to all corners of the hall with his curving sword, he roared at the top of his lungs:
"I am Gabool the Wild, King of all Searats! Who am I, you carrion of the water? Speak my name, you vermin of the main!"
Swords, daggers, spears and pikes waved in the air. There was not one in all the crowd who dared not shout out aloud: "Gabool the Wild! King of all Searats!"
A pounding upon the hall doors echoed in the silence which followed. Blaggtail threw the doors open, to reveal one of the Darkqueen's prize crew, Shornear, wounded and half-drowned. He staggered in, collapsing in an exhausted heap upon the floor. Raising himself on one claw, he pointed out of the window.
"Lord, Graypatch has sailed off with the Darkqueen\"
Gabool came off the table like a springing panther. Seizing the wretched Shornear, he hoisted him to his paws.
"What! How did this happen?"
"Lord, he had it all planned with the others. I would not go along with his wishes so I was thrown overboard ..."
"Graypatch, my faithful old shipmatewhy would he do this to me?"
"He said that you were too dangerous, too wild and treacherous. Graypatch said to us all that anyrat who followed him would at least be able to sleep at night
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without fearing a knife in his back. He said that you were death to any creature your shadow fell upon, friend and enemy alike. I heard him say that he would take his crew to a place of safety where none could follow."
Gabool absently let Shornear drop to the floor.
"Well well, who would have thought it, eh? Me old messmate Graypatch, the one searat I thought I could trust, turned traitor on me. The Darkqueen was my best ship. Blaggtail, is there any more of my fleet anchored around the coves?"
Blaggtail scratched his chin. "Nightwake and Seatalon are beached in the north cove, Lord. They both need careening and recaulking. Crabdaw too, but she was holed and lost her rudder on the rocks. None of them are seaworthy."
Gabool scowled. "Where are the rest of my ships?"
"Waveblade, Blacksail, Rathelm and Greenfang are all on the high seas, Lord, but they should be back by the next full moon."
The Warlord banged the table to emphasize each of his words. "As soon as they come in, turn 'em round and get 'em out to sea again. I want the Darkqueen back, I want to see her heading into Terramort cove with Graypatch's head stuck on the bowsprit and his crew in chains. Whoever does this for me will be made Sea-captain of all me fleet, next only in rank to me." Immediately three rats sprang forward. Gabool hailed them. "Riptung, Catseyes, Grimtooth, pick yourself a crew each. Get those three craft in north cove shipshape again. I want them seaworthy two days from now. Take my houseslaves and chain 'em up as your oarcrews in the galleys. I will hunt Graypatch down, do you hear me! My fleet will track him across the main from tide-send to Hellwaters. There will be no place on land or sea where he will hide from the wrath of Gabool. Now go!"
Just over half a day of being tugged about blindfolded by the ill-tempered Pakatugg was quite enough for Storm. She had been scratched by nettles, poked by branches and bumped by trees, when finally the recluse squirrel called a halt for lunch. They sat down beneath a wide-trunked sycamore which had pushed itself a fair living space in the dense forest. Storm unbound Gullwhacker from where Pakatugg had placed it about her eyes.
"Hoi! Get that blin'fold back on right now, d'you hear!"
The mousemaid blinked and rubbed her eyes at the shafting sunlight of the green woodland aisles.
"Oh, go and boil your tail, squirrel. How do you expect me to eat lunch with a rope round my eyes?"
Pakatugg pulled food and drink from his knapsack and sniffed. "Leave it off then, but only for mealtimes and don't be gazin' all round, tryin' t' get a fix on your bearin's, eh?"
Storm saw that the hares had left a small stone medallion threaded about her neck as she slept. It bore a badger's head and a flat-peaked mountain insignia. She looked up, countering the squirrel's remark.
"Huh, who wants to see your silly old forest! It's not