"Felldoh, what are you doing down here?"
"Awaiting the Tyrant's pleasure like you, Martin. That rotten toad Stiffear saw me flinging rocks at him while he was on the walltop.
Still, you saved my old dad and I did what I could for you, matey."
Martin grasped the big squirrel's paw in the darkness. "You are a true friend, Felldoh. Thank you!"
They both sat on the hard packed earth floor. There was a movement to Martin's right, and as he tensed a small quiet voice echoed hollowly in the pit.
"What do you suppose Badrang's going to do with us?"
Martin peered into the dimness. "Who's there?" Felldoh reached out and brought their paws together. "Martin, this young feller was here before I arrived. Meet Brome."
"So, Brome," said Martin
He was younger and smaller than Martin and Felldoh, and his voice sounded tiny and frightened. "I never did harm to anybeast. I was lost and blundering along the shore one night when the sentries on the wall saw me, and I was captured and thrown down here. Did they capture you, Martin? Will they keep us down here for ever?"
Patting his paw and ruffling his ears good naturedly, Martin reassured the youngster. "You stick with us, Brome. We'll get you out of here. While I was staked out on the walltop, Felldoh was throwing rocks from inside and your sister Rose chucking them from outside.
She's out there with a mole named Grumm. I owe them my life."
Brome grasped Martin's paw. "Rose and Grumm! Hahaha, good old Grumm, I knew they'd find me. With those two out there and you and Felldoh in here we'll escape easily. It'll be as simple as picking daisies!"
The joy and relief in the young one's voice was so evident that Martin felt a wave of sympathy for him. Nudging Felldoh in the darkness, Martin spoke with a confidence he did not feel.
"Aye, simple as picking daisies, eh, Felldoh."
The squirrel was a kindly beast, he threw his paws about both of them, playing along with Martin's bravado.
"Right, lads. Three warriors like us and extra help from outside?
Hah, the only thing Badrang'll eat for dinner will be our dust when we scoot out of here. Friends together!"
Shortly after that Brome fell asleep, cushioned between Martin and Felldoh. Their eyes now accustomed to the gloom, they sat staring at each other.
"Easy as picking daisies. Hmm, when was the last time you picked daisies, matey?"
"A long time ago, friend Felldoh. Some of them were pretty tough to pick as I remember. But not impossible."
"Aye, with a little outside help we might stand a chance."
Martin yawned and settled down beside Brome. "Sleep first. Being tied out on a walltop in a storm isn't the most restful place around here. We'll think of something later, friend. We can't disappoint this young un."
Felldoh sat listening to the soft snores of his companions. "Oh yes, let's think of something later," he chuckled lightly to himself. "How to sprout wings, and defeat Badrang and his horde with outside help from a mole and a mousemaid. By my brush, why didn't I think of those two good ideas before?"
4
The ship Seascarab rode at anchor in the bay as four longboats were beached above the tideline. The pirates had come ashore.
Surrounded by his savage ragtag crew, Cap'n Tramun Clogg strode into Fortress Marshank. Badrang had the way lined with heavily armed soldiers. They gripped spears tightly, scowling at the ill assorted mob from the Seascarab.
With a great clatter of clogs Tramun hauled out his cutlass and roared playfully as he made a mock dash at Badrang's soldiers. They drew back in alarm and Clogg winked roguishly at them.
"Haharr, caught yer nappin' there, mateys. You've all gone soft playin' at bein' landlubbers. Ho there, Frogbit, Nipwort, an' you, Fleabane. Been a bit o' water passed under the keel since we sailed t'gether. Yore lookin' plump an' prosperous these days."
Swaggering up to the Tyrant's wooden longhut, Clogg booted the door. "Anyone 'ome t'receive a pore seadog who's down on his luck?"
The weasel captain Hisk swung the door open and announced in a dignified manner, "Enter, Cap'n, my master awaits your pleasure."
"Oh do 'e now, well ain't that pretty!" a searat called Oilback sniggered at Hisk.
Badrang knew he was playing a dangerous game, but slyness and treachery had always been the order of the day between himself and Clogg. The idea was for neither stoat to show he was afraid of the other and to keep up a pretence of being old friends. With this in mind Badrang rushed at his former partner, hugging him tightly as he dropped into corsair slang.
"Well well, burn me bilges if it ain't Cap'n Tramun Clogg. How are yer, ye ole wavedog?"
Tramun pounded the other's back, grinning widely. "Badrang, me messmate, stripe me but yore lookin' fit as a fish an' spry as a wasp.
Oh, it is good for me ole eyes t'see ye agin, me 'earty. Look wot I've brought fer you!"
At a signal from Clogg two searats upended a cask upon the table.
They smashed in the head and scooped out two beakers, which they presented to the stoats. Badrang brought the drink swiftly to his mouth, halting slyly as Clogg took a great gulp of his. It flowed down through the pirate stoat's chinplaits as he swigged noisily.
"Damson wine, matey. The best on earth an' all fer me 'n' you!"
Badrang took a drink that was more of a sip than a gulp. "Prime stuff. You allus knew a good barrel o' drink, you rascal."
Clogg released Badrang and slumped down in the Tyrant's thronechair, resting his clogged footpaws noisily on the tabletop.
"Just like in the ole days, eh?"
Badrang seated himself on the edge of the table, smiling. "Aye, just like in the ole days, mate!"
"Ow long is it since we was last t'gether, d'you reckon?" Clogg took another swig, grinning and winking.
Badrang took a sip, pursing his lips. "Too long, I'd say, Tramun. It's good to see you agin."
They continued to play the game, this time with Clogg's paw straying close to his cutlass, while Badrang toyed with the bone handle of a long skinning dagger.
"I recalls when we was last together, you left me stranded on a reef whilst you sailed off wid twoscore slaves, half o' which was mine by rights." Now the pirate's voice began to carry a menacing undertone.
Badrang's face was the picture of injured innocence. "Me sailed off
'n' left you? More the other way round, as I recall. There was a mighty storm an' we were blown off course. My vessel was wrecked an' the slaves lost, all of 'em. When you never turned up to 'elp me, I trekked off overland an' ended up in this place."
In a trice the time for merriment and reminiscence was over. Clogg hurled his beaker at the wall and stood up.
"Aye, an' lookit you now, Lord Badrang if yer please! Surrounded by a fine fortress an' a passel o' slaves, I'll wager. Well, I wants what's due ter me, I've come fer my share!"
Badrang leaped up, confronting his enemy eye to eye. "I worked too hard to get what I've made 'ere, Clogg. Yore share is nothin' an' that's what y'll get!"
"Do yer hear that lads?" The pirate stoat drew his blade. "Let's show this black 'earted swab that we ain't 'ere to beg. We've come to take a full complement of slaves to row the Seascarab from all three decks!"
With a wild roar, Clogg's crew unsheathed their weapons and stood ready for slaughter.
"Make a move an' yer Cap'n's a dead un!"
The Tyrant made his move like lightning. Kicking aside Clogg's blade, he grabbed the stoat's plaited beard. A dagger appeared in his other paw, dangerously close to Tramun's throat.
"This blade is poisoned. One nick is all it takes. Hisk!"
"The archers have surrounded these quarters, Lord," the weasel Captain called from the doorway. "They're standin' ready with poisoned shafts. None of this scum will leave alive."