7
A sliver of moon appeared, like a slice of lemon rind suspended in the soft star strewn darkness. The tide was at full flood, without a wind to drive it. Small silver tipped waves lapped shyly on the shore, gradually devouring the coastland up to the tideline. Little sound was heard, save for the muted splash of muffled oars and the hoarse muttered curses of Cap'n Tramun Clogg as he urged the four longboats through the dark waters.
"C'mon, bend yer backs, ye bottlenosed bandits. Yer might've broken yer mothers' 'earts but ye won't break mine. Pull, me bullies, pull!"
Clogg's ship was beached around a point south of the headland. The wily stoat was planning a surprise attack on Marshank. The corsairs rowed steadily as Clogg kept watch.
"Harr, there 'tis, me buckoes. Badrang's fine castle! May'aps it won't look so fine when I'm done with it. Oilback, Wetpaw, keep those ropes an' grapplin' 'ooks close by. Poison arrers, eh. I'll give that schemin' stoat a night to remember. 'Ere, but wot am I talkin' about?
Deadbeasts don't 'ave no memory, an' that's what 'igh 'n' mighty Badrang'll be when I lays sword to 'im. Dead!"
The four boats pressed on through the night waters, laden with hardened ruffians all armed to the teeth with bows, arrows, pikes, spears, daggers, slings and a variety of swords.
Lumpback and Stiffear were on the walltop keeping guard. The two weasels lounged against the timber posts. Lumpback was not in the best of moods. He prodded Stiffear with his spearbutt.
"Stop drummin' yer paws. It's gettin' on me nerves!"
Stiffear had been half asleep. He grabbed his spear, bristling. "I'm not drummin' me paws, slobberchops. Look, they're still!"
"Watch who you're callin' slobberchops, you. Something's drummin'. Can't yer 'ear it, like a sorta soft tappin noise?"
"No I can't, an' if you prod me once more with that spear I'll shove it up yer snout. Huh, drummin' noises. It's prob'ly yore tiny brain drummin' round in yer thick skull!"
They jabbed their spears at each other and snarled a bit before going back to watching the sea.
"I can 'ear it, drummin' away," Lumpback started muttering again,
"only softlike, but I know I can 'ear it. Stiffy, see that rock out there on the shore, that one yonder I could swear I saw a pile of sand bein'
chucked up in the air above it!"
"First drummin', now it's piles o'sand!" Stiffear blew a long sigh of impatience. "Wot's the matter with you, toadbrains? Did you eat some bad fish for yer dinner?"
Lumpback pointed with his spear. "Hah, there! I saw it again, like sand bein' tossed up in the air, right above that rock, see!"
Stiffear stared hard at Lumpback, shaking his head pityingly.
"That's the crabs 'avin' a dance. They do it every few nights y'know, kickin' the sand up with their liddle claws an' jiggin' away like billyo."
"Don't talk rubbish!" Lumpback curled his lip in a sneer.
Stiffear lost his temper then. "Yore the one talkin' rubbish, y'fool!
Next thing, I suppose you'll be seein' the shore swarmin' with corsairs.... Garrgh!" He fell forward with a long barbed arrow protruding from his neck.
Lumpback screamed as the dark shapes hurried towards the fortress walls.
"Attack! Attaaaaaack!"
Rose had seen the corsairs first. She was about to empty more rubble away when the soft thud of paws on sand reached her ears.
Turning towards the sea, the mouse maid could see the four boats on the tideline and a mob of dark shapes scurrying across the shore towards Marshank. She jumped down into the shaft Grumm had dug and held her breath. Fortunately, nobeast saw her. They dashed past swiftly, intent on reaching the fortress.
Anxiously she crouched at the tunnel entrance, murmuring under her breath, "Grumm, where are you? Oh, hurry, Grumm, please!"
Brome had fallen asleep. He lay between Martin and Felldoh as they slapped their feet wearily against the prison pit wall. Exhaustion was overcoming them both, and they grunted with exertion as they tried to continue.
"Can't keep this up any more, Felldoh. How about you?" Martin gasped.
The squirrel nodded droopingly "Me too, mate, the young un could be right. Maybe his mole friend has tunnelled in the wrong direction."
Suddenly Martin's frustration boiled over. With a wild effort he kicked the wall fiercely, shouting between each thud, "We're not going to die down here!"
Without warning both his footpaws shot through the side of the wall and a muffled cry rang out from the hole.
"Bo urr, zurrs. 'Old 'ard, tis oi, Grumm!"
Badrang leaped from his bed as Gurrad roused him with a panicked squeak.
"Lord, it's Clogg an' his corsairs. They're attackin'!"
Throwing on a chainmail vest and grabbing his sword, the Tyrant pushed his frightened henchrat to one side.
"Of course he is, addlebrain. I wouldn't expect him to do anything else. Come on. Are the horde positioned on the walls?"
Gurrad scurried along at Badrang's side. "Aye, Lord, they were up as soon as the guard shouted a warning."
"Good. I'll be at the main gate. Send Skalrag to me right away!"
Moments later Skalrag came hurrying down from the walltop. "Sire, they're pressing hard, but we're holding 'em off!"
"Where's Clogg's ship? On the tideline or in the bay?" Badrang yelled to the fox above the clash of battlesound.
"There's no sign of it, sire. They came in longboats."
Badrang pondered a short moment then rapped out orders. "He'll have come in from the south he sailed off that way. The ship is probably beached or anchored round the other side of the headland.
Right, listen hard now, Skalrag. Take ten good archers, get oil, tinder and flints, find Clogg's vessel and burn it to ashes with fire arrows.
Leave over the back wall while the thick of the fighting's at the front.
Go, and don't fail me!"
As Skalrag hurried to do his master's bidding, the Tyrant dashed up the ladder to the walltop and joined the mêlée.
Arrows whistled through the night from both sides. Clogg was trying to keep up heavy volleys of shafts and slingstones to make the defenders keep their heads down. Badrang seemed to be everywhere at once, hacking at grapnel ropes, hurling boulders and roaring orders.
"Don't let them grapplers get ahold, slash the ropes! Push that siege ladder over! Risk, get to the north corner, use the big spears and long pikes to stab downward! You there, take four more and get down into the courtyard. Reinforce the gates with anything rocks, timber, sand anything you can lay paws on!"
Cap'n Tramun Clogg howled aloud at his archers and slingthrowers as he awaited the upside down longboat that was being trundled over the beach towards him.
"Give 'em blood an' brokenbones, ye black livered flotsam! Growch, keep those arrows a flyin' an' make every one count! Haharr, Badrang, I'll soon be wearin' yer guts fer garters! Bring that longboat t'me,
'earties. We'll knock on the Tyrant's door, haharrharr!"
The longboat's keel was plated with a heavy sheath of copper that culminated in a lump at its prow. Upside down, it made a battering ram. Twenty or more vermin stood underneath the boat, using it as an umbrella against missiles from the walltop. Tramun Clogg joined them, heading the operation, roaring orders gleefully.
"Straight ahead as she goes, buckoes. Pound that ole door to splinters, mates. Charge!"
Paws grasped the undersides of the craft tightly as they raced madly across the shore. Arrows, spears and rocks bounced vainly off the plated keel, unable to stop the corsairs' battering ram striking Marshank's gates with tremendous force.
Whump!
Most of the ram crew fell flat under the impact as thick copper plate met door timber with a splintering crash. Paws a tingle from the reverberation, they hoisted the boat aloft under Clogg's triumphant commands.
"Hoho, cullies. Back 'er off an' let's do it again! Gruzzle, Dedjaw, Floater! Up front 'ere with me. Arf a dozen whacks like that'n an' we can use yonder gates fer toothpicks at our victory feast! Nothin' can stop wavebeasts such as us mates. Chaaaaaarge!"