"Lashed stoutly by good seafaring beasts, By honest soldiers locked firm,
No creature could possibly get out of there.
Not even the smallest worm."
Badrang plucked the long dagger from where it stood quivering in the table. He strode across to the box, his lip curling as he addressed Ballaw.
"Has the fox disappeared from inside the box now?"
Ballaw's long ears twitched. He held up a cautionary paw. "Wait, Sire. Let me weave the spell."
He circled the box, gesturing and leaping.
"Now you vanish, unfortunate one.
A wave of my wand and you are gone.
Others may search and seek in vain,
But you will never be seen again!"
By sleight of paw, Ballaw produced a hazel twig. He tapped the box sharply, once, twice, thrice, calling out,
"Ongum bongum wollagum woe,
Vanish, disappear, dematerialize. Go!"
Turning to Badrang, he panted in mock exhaustion and bowed. "He is gone, m'lord. The box is empty. Shall I show you?"
The Tyrant smiled evilly, shaking his head. "No. Leave the box secured. But if the fox is really gone, I'm sure you won't mind me doing this!"
Darting forward, Badrang slammed the dagger down with furious energy straight through the box lid, up to its hilt. There was a horrified gasp from the onlookers, followed by a mad roar from Cap'n Tramun Clogg as he charged out, cutlass upraised.
"Murderer! I warned ye, Badrang, none of these magic beasts was to be harmed. You treacherous scum!"
Ballaw acted swiftly. Tripping Clogg, he grabbed the cutlass and ran the box through with it, using both paws. Turning, he helped the pirate stoat up and dusted him off.
"Nay nay, Cap'n. If I say the fox is vanished, then you can be sure he's gone. Hi there, you, Gurrad! D'you fancy throwin' your spear at the box? Anybeast, come on, have a go!"
There was silence for a moment, then Gurrad threw his spear. The heavy weapon crashed through the box, protruding from the other side. It was like a signal. Immediately, daggers, spears, arrows and even swords flew through the air. In seconds the box resembled a pincushion. When the missiles had stopped, Ballaw gave the box a mighty kick with his long hindpaws. It fell apart, showing everybeast that the fox had really vanished.
The hare spread his paws wide, grinning. "You see, when Tibbar the magic rabbit performs magic, it is real!"
Amid the hearty applause that followed, Druwp's voice squealed out from the direction of the stockade.
"The slaves are escaping. Help, come quick, they're escaping!"
17
The four friends had trekked through the scrub woodlands all afternoon, their shadows lengthening in front of them heralding the onset of evening. It had been a still, hot day, and the going was slow in the heat. Rose wiped her brow as she caught up with Pallum. Martin had been clearing ahead with his shrew sword.
"Phew, it'll get a little cooler as night falls, but then we'll lose our frontshadows in the dark."
They waited as Grumm caught up with them. The mole blinked as he wiped the moist tip of his nose. "Hurr, be cooler unnerground, us'ns a goen f make camp soon, Marthen?"
"Good idea, Grumm. We deserve a rest. Where d'you suggest we camp?"
"Burr, oi dunno. Wot say 'ee, Miz Roser?"
The mousemaid stood on tip paw looking around. "Straight ahead, I'd say. It looks less scrubby and the trees are taller, like a proper forest. Let's camp by that old dead oak."
A slow smile spread across Pallum's face. "Do you mean that old dead oak with the three tops ...?"
Rose clapped her paws together as she recited the lines. " Follow your frontshadow, do not stop, till you reach the one with dead three top. Hahah, that's it, an old dead three topped oak. Come on!"
They lay in a mossy hollow at the base of the long dead forest giant, eating supper and looking up at the night sky Above the woody canopy countless stars bejewelled the dark velvet expanse, and a silent fiery tailed comet flashed across the peaceful scene. Rose picked at a small carrot and turnip farl as she passed the canteen of mint and lavender cordial to Martin.
"Well, we found the dead three top easy enough. Tomorrow we'll look for the twin paths. Oh, I do hope Brome and Felldoh are all right.
I'd hate to think of us lying here eating if they needed our help."
Martin took a sip from the canteen. "Trust Polleekin's words, Rose.
There's nothing else we can do. Brome is young, but Felldoh will look after him he's a warrior."
The mousemaid looked at the short shrew sword sticking in the ground close to Martin's paw where he could reach it quickly.
"What's it like, being a warrior?"
"I don't know really," Martin shrugged. "I won't consider myself a warrior until the day I take my father's sword back from Badrang."
Rose tossed a piece of her bread. It bounced off Martin's nose.
"Silly, of course you're a warrior. Even Polleekin saw that. I know you're a warrior because you protect others. Look at the way you've helped me and Grumm, and Pallum. And the way you dealt with that big seabird. Nobeast but a warrior could have done that."
Gentle snoring noises came from the mole and the hedgehog.
Martin chuckled. "No good asking them, they're sound asleep like I should be. Us warriors need lots of sleep, you know. Good night, Rose."
Long after Martin had gone to sleep, Rose lay awake thinking of her home in Noonvale.
"Noonvale." She said the name in a whisper to the star strewn night.
To her it meant peace, happiness and security, filled as it was with family and friends. Noonvale, the secret place of the ancient northeastern forest. The young mousemaid closed her eyes and fell into a deep slumber, far from home. Noonvale.
Dawn arrived soft as a feather on air. Martin opened one eye and watched two ants trundling off with the tiny piece of bread that Rose had thrown at him. He lay still, thinking of Noonvale. He had talked with Rose the previous day. As they walked, she told him about her home, with Grumm adding the occasional comment.
The more Martin heard of the place the more he liked it. Maybe someday he could live there, with Rose and her family and Grumm and Pallum . ..
"Coom on, zurr Marthen. You'm a goen t' loi thurr all season?"
Grumm prodded Martin with his little ladle. "Naow, wot'll 'ee 'ave fer breffist. Oi c'n make zoop."
Rose sat up, rubbing her eyes. "No soup, Grumm. We'll eat from the packs."
Martin stood and stretched. "Aye, best not light a fire in strange country."
Grumm wandered off, muttering to himself. "Burr, no foire. Oi do loiks moi zoop of a mornen, leastways oi'm not a goen wi'out fresh water. Oi'll go an' seek summ out."
Rose smiled as she dug apple turnovers out of her pack. "He's a proper old grump some mornings. Should've been called Grump instead of Grumm. Here, have one of these turnovers. He'll be back soon with fresh water. That's another thing he insists on most mornings. Even in winter, he'll sit out sucking icicles in the snow."
Pallum, Martin and Rose broke their fast with apple turnovers, some candied hazel and chestnuts and the remains of the cordial from the canteen. They sat enjoying the quiet woodland as the sun warmed the morning. Pallum kept some food out for Grumm as he repacked their provisions.
Rose stood up, looking around anxiously. "Where has that mole got to? He only went for water. I'll give him a shout..."
"No, don't raise your voice, Rose. If Grumm can hear it then so can others. Come on, we'll take a quiet walk and look for him."
Martin could see that Rose was concerned for her friend. She kept shaking her head and murmuring under her breath, "He's never usually gone this long. Grumm, silly beast, where are you?"
They were not far into the tall trees when Martin stopped. Pointing ahead, he leaned close and whispered, " See the twin paths, beware of one Sweet as the spreading atop of a scone. There they are, Rose. The twin paths. Look."