Martin the Warrior

"I see you. Beware!"

Quick as a flash, Martin leaped up, drawing his sword at the sound of a booming voice in the half lit forest. He held up a paw, cautioning his friends to silence. They waited a moment, then the voice echoed out a second time.

"Go back, small ones. Leave my path!"

"Who are you?" Martin shouted then, surprised at how the forest echoed and magnified his voice.

"I am the Mirdop." The spectral sound rumbled about the treetrunks. "I see all. None can pass me. Go back!"

"We mean no harm," Martin replied, keeping his voice friendly as possible. "We are only travellers trying to reach Noonvale!" Leaning aside he whispered quickly to Rose. "Keep him talking. I'll try and find out where he is!"

"Be still, all of you!" the voice rang out, hollow and angry. "For I am Mirdop, born in a storm at the night of winter's moon! I see all! I slay all!"

Placing her paws firmly together, Rose did a magnificent harsh grating voice which rang and echoed wildly.

"And I am Martin the Warrior. I have slain more than the hairs on your hide! I have defeated Amballa and Badrang. Let us pass!"

There was more silence, then the voice called threateningly, "One warrior is nought to a Mirdop. I will eat him up!"

Rose resorted to her own natural voice as she answered, "There is more than one warrior here, there are four! I am Rose, the deadliest slayer in Noonvale. I eat Mirdops for breakfast. What say you, Pallum the Mighty?"

Pallum swelled until his stickles separated and shrieked out,

"Yahoooo! I am Pallum the Mighty. I carry a thousand swords! I too eat Mirdops, though generally as snacks! Stay clear of me and watch out for my friend Grumm the Growler!"

"What is a Grumm the Growler?" the mysterious Mirdop voice answered them. This time Rose thought she caught a note of hesitation in it.

The mole shuffled forward, brandishing his ladle. "Oi be Grumm the Growler, a gurt moighty beast! Oi makes zoop out o' Mirpods an'

sangwiches from they tails, ho urr!"

"I care not who you be." The Mirdop's voice sounded definitely unsure now. "Go back or die. Nobeast passes the Mirdop!"

"Hurr, then they be allus a furst toime!"

"Stand aside or we'll go right over you!"

"Mirdop or no Mirdop, we're coming!"

"Stay back, keep away." The Mirdop voice sounded strained and frantic now. "I've fought foxes, battered badgers, whipped weasels, strangled stoats... Owooooaaahhheeeh!"

"Over here, friends. Hurry!" Martin's voice rang out loud and clear.

From somewhere up in front of them came a crashing and the most dreadful earsplitting screams and yells.

Rose grabbed a fallen branch and shook it fiercely "The Mirdop must have got Martin. Come on. Chaaaaarge!"

The three travellers rushed forward along the path to where the horrible noises rose to a deafening intensity.

18

Tullgrew and Keyla threw themselves upon Felldoh, hugging and patting the brave squirrel.

"Haha! Good to see your battered old face again, mate!"

"Aye, yore a sight for sore eyes all right friend!" Felldoh winked at them cheerily. Helped by Tullgrew and Keyla, Felldoh battered aside two logs from the compound wall. It was difficult to keep the joyous slaves silent and orderly. Barkjon and Hillgorse hurried them through, encouraging and advising quietly.

"You get through, marm. I'll pass you the young un." "Haha! We're free, Barkjon. Free as the air!" "Not quite. Keep your voice down and hurry please." "Hillgorse, can I take my bag of shells? They'll make good cups and platters. I've collected them for three seasons.

"Leave them, we may have to run for it. You'd only be slowed down lugging that lot along."

Felldoh and Keyla had taken the two logs from the palisade, laying them against the back of the fortress main wall to form an easy way to the top. They lifted and pushed the slaves up to where Tullgrew waited with a stout kelp rope. One at a time she swung them out over the top.

"Now I'm going to lower you down. Let go of the rope and jump as soon as you can. There's bedding mattresses down there to break your fall. Hurry now, we need the rope for the others."

In the midst of the bustle, Barkjon found time to grasp his son's paw. "Felldoh, I knew you wouldn't let us down. Where's Martin?"

The squirrel hugged his father quickly. "That's a story for another day. Come on, let's free these slaves, old bushtail!"

For the first time in many a long day Barkjon grinned happily. "Old bushtail yourself, whippersnapper. I'll wager you don't go over that wall faster than I do!"

It was as they were laughing together that Druwp shouted, "The slaves are escaping, help, come quick, they're escaping!"

Badrang kicked over the banquet table. Hauling out the sword that had once belonged to Martin, he laid about him with the flat of the blade.

"Get to the compound, quick! I knew something like this would happen. Come on, stir your stumps, you addlebrained scum. Move!"

The Tyrant's horde stumbled over each other, grabbing weapons as they rushed to do their master's command. Badrang dashed about like a madbeast, using the flat of his blade as a rod, smacking heads and paws with numbing force.

"Hurry, run! Are you deaf or stupid? Move, you mudworms!"

Tramun Clogg sat on the overturned table, still drinking and eating, a sly smile hovering on his greasy lips.

"Ho dearie me, the liddle slaves are all runnin' off. 'Ere, Gruzzle, d'you reckon it's 'cos they don't like it 'ere?"

The Tyrant cast a murderous glance at the corsair stoat. "This is all your fault, Clogg you and your magic rabbit with his performing friends. They've got something to do with this, I'm certain of it! Well, aren't you going to help?"

Clogg slopped kelp beer down his whiskers as he drank. "They're yore slaves mate, you see to 'em. I'm only a pore 'onest wavebeast who's down on 'is luck."

Quivering with rage, Badrang pointed his sword at the corsair.

"Don't worry, I will. But you look to those magic friends of yours and hold them here until I get back. I'm holding you personally responsible for them!"

The Tyrant dashed off after his horde.

Ballaw glanced uneasily at Rowanoak. "D'you hear that, old gel, looks like we're in for a spot of bother, wot? Plan number two I'd say, eh!"

Brome tugged at Buckler's tunic. "What's plan number two?"

"Hurr 'tis pretty simple, maister. When you'm be in trouble an' they audience doant loik 'ee no more, then us'ns run fer it loik billyoh!"

Rowanoak began singing softly to the Rambling Rosehip Players.

"I think we'll call it a day,

Back to the cart I say.

It's exit left without any pay. We'd be better off far a way!"

The company began sidling unobtrusively towards their cart.

Clogg staggered upright. Throwing his drink down, he began rugging to free the cutlass from his waist sash.

"Ahoy, Tibbar. 'Old 'ard there. Where d'you think yore off to?"

Completely unruffled, Ballaw made an elegant bow.

"Love to stay, old Cloggo old stoat, but you know how 'tis. We need our jolly old beauty sleep."

Tramun tipped the wink to Boggs, Crosstooth and Gruzzle. In a trice they had the pirate crew surrounding the players.

Clogg licked the blade of his cutlass and closed one eye. "An' all the time I thought you was me mateys. It ain't friendly like runnin' off so soon. 'Ow's about you doin' one more bit o' magic fer ole Tramun?"

Ballaw gave the stoat a large toothy grin and a wink. "Why certainly, me old wave walloper. One more piece of magic, just for you, comin' up right away. How'd you like to see me vanish the entire troupe, cart an' all, presto, just like that!"

"Vanish the 'ole crew of ye?"

"That's what I said, old sport."

"An' the cart too, an' all of this whilst yore surrounded?"

"That's the ticket, Cap'n!"

"Haharr, 'tis impossible. But you carry on, matey!"