Marlfox

With a wave, Gelltor summoned his rats from the underbush. "No need to look so smug, sister. As it happens I do have an idea, a good one!"

The otter Borrakul made his way over to Skipper from the north wall. "Bargle says that they're rainin' stones an' arrows heavy on the north side, Skip. He thinks they're plannin' some kind o' move over that way, usin' their firepower t'keep our heads down."

From his position by the south wallgate, Skipper called up to Janglur, "Y'hear that, mate? What d'ye think they're up to?"

The warrior squirrel called back confidently, "Hah! That's the oldest trick in the book, Skip. They're tryin' to decoy us away from 'ere so they can burn the wallgate. Borrakul, tell Bargle to sit tight there an' keep low."

Rusvul had spotted movement at the woodland edges. Notching a shaft to his bowstring, he murmured calmly to Janglur, "Here they come again, matey. Spread out this time, about eight o' them, I count. They're goin' to take some stoppin' this time!"

Janglur called to the otter on the ground below. "Best make yore move now, Skip, while they're still far enough away."

Skipper gave the nod to Gubbio Foremole and his crew, half of whom were carrying pails of water. "You ready, Gubb?"

"Say ee word, zurr, us'n's be's never readier, hurr aye!"

Skipper unbolted the wallgate and swung it open. "Go!"

Those moles not carrying pails scuttled outside and cleared the gateway of inflammable wood and brush, heaving it inside, while the rest doused the outside of the gate down with pails of water. Skipper stood out in front of them, his longbow bent with a big arrow resting on its taut string, protecting the moles from attack. Now vermin were about halfway across the open ground. Janglur watched them pause, spread wide in a half-circle. Suddenly the night blossomed with orange flame, as the water rats set burning tow to speartops bound with oily rags and charged for the gate.

"Front'n'center, Skip!"

The otter heard Janglur's warning. Gritting his teeth, he strained the longbow to its limit, letting the middle rat run straight at him. So strong was Skipper's shot that the arrow passed clean through the charging rat, who fell forward upon the burning spear. When the door was clear of brush and soaked well with water and all the moles were inside, Skipper jumped back in and slammed the bolts home. Janglur let his bow drop, unwrapping the sling from about his waist.

"They're close enough for stones now, Rus. Don't need these longbows." He had already dropped one rat before Rusvul could load his sling.

"Come on, scum, my name's Regubaaaaaa!"

Another rat fell to Rusvul's whirling sling. The rest broke and ran back to the tree cover, all except one who carried on charging forward. Seconds before both the squirrels' slingstones laid him low he threw his spear. It thudded, blazing, into the wallgate door. "Pail o' water on a rope, quick!" Rusvul yelled out.

Skipper hurled the rope end up. Rusvul hauled the water pail to the battlements, and then lowered it over the top until it struck the outstretched spear haft, upsetting its contents over it. Rewarded by the hissing sound of extinguished flames, Rusvul winked at Janglur. "No sense takin' chances, even if the door is soaked."

Janglur Swifteye retrieved his longbow and loosed off an arrow. It thudded into the far sycamore trunk, quivering. "Aye, yore right there. Let's turn the tables on 'em an' keep their 'eads down for the night!"

Foremole gathered pawfuls of the bracken and wood that had been intended to burn the gate. "Noice of ee vurmints to gather kindlin' for ee kitchen ovens, hurr!"

Gelltor stayed well back in the woodlands, issuing orders to a rat. "Tell Ascrod and Predak to pull back from the north wall and meet me back here. Vannan, this is no time to be dozing. Liven yourself up, we've got to plan our next move."

The vixen grinned maliciously at her brother. "Oh, given up the idea of burning our way in, have we? What's the matter, didn't your good idea work?"

In the gray hour before dawn, Song came awake. All around her in the packed cave watervoles were snoring and snuffling in the hot stuffy atmosphere. The squirrelmaid shook Dann lightly. Startled awake, he instinctively touched his swordhilt to make sure it was still there. Song gestured for him to make his way outside, then prodded the sleeping Dippler. Rolling over, the Guosim shrew muttered drowsily, "Mmm. Any o' that stew left, mate?"

Song stifled his mouth with a paw, whispering in his ear, "Wake up, Dipp. We're going, if the boat's still there."

Luckily it was. Dippler grumbled as they carried it to the water's edge. "Wot's all the rush for? I liked it in there, that stew was nice."

Dann tugged the shrew's tail sharply. "Keep your voice down an' stop thinkin' of just yore stomach. Song's right, we'd best get goin' while the goin's good. I don't trust that ole gray watervole. He'd like it fine if'n he could hang on to both the Leafwood an' his boat. Those voles seemed friendly enough, but you never can tell."

"Yiss yiss, y'could never tell, 'specially with a crafty ole beast like the Gray One!"

They whirled around as Burble emerged from the willows, carrying a sack of food and two extra oars. Dann eyed him levelly. "Where d'you think you're goin'?"

Brushing past them, Burble slid the boat into the water and threw his gear aboard. He leapt in after it and held the vessel still by grabbing firm hold of overhead branches. "Goin' wid you, yiss yiss, ain't livin' in some ould hole on a riverbank till I got gray whiskers like the rest of 'em. Stir yer stumps an' get in 'ere. We've got to get goin' quickish, afore the River'eads wake up an' find their Swallow gone!"

Dippler was about to debate the point when Song shoved him unceremoniously into the boat and thrust a paddle at him. "Don't argue, Dipp, we haven't got time. Something tells me Burble's right. Let's get away from here. We can argue all you like as we paddle. I'll take this side with you, an' Dann, you an' Burble take the other side. Don't waste time, dawn'll soon be up!"

With the two oars already aboard the friends had an oar each. They steered their vessel out into the fast-flowing center of the river, heading downstream. Wise in the ways of boats, Dippler praised their new craft immediately. Even with their limited knowledge, Song and Dann had to agree with him: the watervole's boat was a traveler's dream. The Guosim shrew watched happily as the boat responded to their paddles.

"Light as a feather she is, mates. This'n don't sit in the water, she skims it, like a bird. So that's why y'called 'er Swallow, eh?"

Burble nodded vigorously, casting worried glances behind. "Yiss yiss, Dipp, now less o' the tongue an' more o' the paddle!"

Song peered suspiciously across at the young watervole, even as she took his advice and paddled harder. "Burble, I've got a feelin' you haven't told us all. The way you talk, anybeast would think we stole the Swallow."

Burble explained in part as the Swallow shot along the river like a glittering arrow. "Ah well, y'see, missie, that Gray One is a real slybeast. The Swallow don't belong to 'im, she belongs to the River'ead tribe, but they all think Gray One traded his ole boat for yore Leafwood, an' he never told 'em different. They'll come after us soon, oh yiss yiss, sure as trout like mayflies. The River'ead'll want their Swallow back."

Dann dug the paddle deep, his jaw tight with anger. "So we're sailin' a stolen vessel. That ole watervole tricked us. He gets the Leafwood, but if they catch up with us we get nothin'!"

The prow dipped and rose beautifully, skirting a rocky outcrop poking from the river as they feathered their paddle blades. "Rotten old swindler!" Song burst out, expressing her dislike of the Gray One.

However, Burble was smiling fit to burst, now that he judged there was some distance between themselves and the Riverhead voles. "Heeheehee! Don't git yore paws in an uproar, pals. Gray One thinks that 'cos he's old it makes 'im smart. But I'm younger an' smarter than 'im by a good stretch o' river. Yiss yiss!"