"Marrahagga lagor Rabbatooma! Lagor!"
Vurg swiftly freed his spear from the snake's carcass and joined Luke, pressing his spearpoint at the weasel's heart. Luke kept the sword at her throat as he growled, "Tell 'em to back off an' cut my crew loose!" He nodded to the bound figures hanging on their poles from the cave ceiling. "My crew. Cut 'em down afore I cut you down. Now!"
The weasel raised a paw slowly and pointed at the crew. "Rabbatooma, lagor, Ko!"
One rodent, obviously some kind of minor chieftain, bowed curtly to the weasel. "Ya Marrahagga!" Turning sullenly to the rest he indicated the prisoners. "Lagor Rabbatooma."
Beau had recovered from his shock and rediscovered speech.
"I should jolly well say so, you foul little fiends. You heard him. Let us Rabbatoomas go, this very instant!"
The rodents obeyed. Swinging out on ropes, they perched on the poles and sawed through the crews' bonds with their daggers. With shouts of relief and pain, Beau and the Sayna's crewmice fell to the dusty cave floor, where they lay groaning.
Cardo whimpered as he tried to rise. "Paws've gone numb with bein' tied tight for so long!"
Luke's reply was brusque. "We can't linger here, mates. Crawl out on your bellies, move yourselves. That's an order!"
Luke and Vurg were still menacing the weasel as the crew hauled themselves out in a sorry complaining bunch.
"Ow ow, I got pins'n'needles in all me paws!"
"My pore head's achin' fit to split, mate!"
"Look, that rodent slashed m'tail when he cut the ropes!"
"Huh, you should complain. My backfur's all scorched from hangin' over that blazin' fire!"
Luke kicked the last one's tail lightly. "Mebbe next time you'll wait my orders afore dashin' ashore to stuff drugged fruit down yore faces!"
When the crew were gone, Luke spun the weasel around and held the blade across her throat from behind.
"Keep an eye on those savages, Vurg. Stick 'em if'n they get too close. Right, weasel, we're backin' out of here nice'n'easy. Don't move or yore a dead 'un!"
As they retreated, the rodents followed them, crying, "Lagor Marrahagga!"
Luke was beginning to understand what they said. "Don't fret, buckoes, we'll let go of yore Marrahagga as soon as we're out o' this stinkin' place. Now back off!"
They negotiated the short, winding tunnel. Waiting outside, the crew were massaging life back into numbed paws. Luke guided the weasel around the shallow pit they had dug, and the rodents had just reached its edge when he nodded to Vurg. "Knock that wedge aside, sharpish!"
Vurg hit the piece of rock a sharp tap with his spear-butt, moving it aside. The boulder rolled forward half a turn and landed in the shallow hole with a bump. It blocked the tunnel entrance off completely and muffled the squeaks of rage sounding from behind it.
Vurg leaned on his spear, grinning. "A good tight fit, I'd say, mate!"
Luke ordered his crew to get back aboard the Sayna, while he and Vurg took the weasel and forced her to sit next to the pile of squashed fruit. With his swordpoint Luke drew a picture of the Goreleech in the sand, then he transferred the point back to the weasel's throat.
"Marrahagga see red ship sail by here? Red ship, big one?"
The weasel watched Luke's face as he repeated the question several times over. Carefully she drew three circles in the sand, with squiggly lines radiating from them and an arrow pointing south. While Vurg squinted at the drawing, the weasel tapped Luke's sketch of the ship thrice.
Luke understood. "Three suns, that's three days," he explained to his bemused friend. "She says the red ship sailed by here three days back, bound south."
Vurg dusted his paws off in a businesslike manner. "That means we ain't far behind her, mate. Better get under way. What do we do about this 'un, Luke?"
The weasel looked unhappily at the Warrior. Touching the swordblade with a paw, she tried to shake her head. A mischievous smile crept over Luke's face, and he thrust a big squashed plum at the weasel's mouth. "Eat!" She shut her lips tight in revulsion. Luke swung his blade aloft as if to slay her with one blow. "Marrahagga eat! Eat!"
The weasel gobbled the fruit with great alacrity.
Vurg giggled like a mousebabe and selected a bruised pear. "Cummon, Marryhaggit, try some more o' yore own medicine!"
The weasel was forced to down two more plums and a peach. She sat unhappily, juice dribbling down her chin.
Vurg turned to Luke, full of mock sympathy. "Dearie me, she don't look too 'appy, mate. D'ye think she's still hungry?"
Luke passed the weasel a half-eaten apple that one of his crew had sampled earlier on. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about ole Marrahagga, mate, she'll cheer up soon. Come on, let's get goin'."
When they looked back, the weasel had picked up a piece of fruit and was about to hurl it at them. She swayed, dropped the fruit and sat down with a bump, a silly grin plastered on her painted face.
Vurg waved to her. "G'bye, ole Marryhaggit, 'tis nice to see we're leavin' you happy. I can't abide sad farewells!"
Luke waved, too. "Aye, an' take care of that headache you'll have tomorrow!"
As the Sayna left the island in her wake, the crew sat sipping hot tea of a herbal remedy brewed by Denno. Cardo, voted spokesmouse by his crewmates, addressed the Warrior.
"Luke, we're sorry we raced ashore an' ate that fruit. 'Twas silly of us. But we'd like to offer a hearty vote of thanks to you for savin' our lives. Yore a true warrior!"
Luke held up his paws to silence the cheers. "Aye, I saved you because I was able to, mates. Pity I wasn't there when the red ship hit the northlands shore. Every night an' day I think of my son Martin back there, growin' up without a mother to care for him, nor a father, with me off here chasin' the red ship. But we'll catch her, I swear we will. An' I'll make the name Vilu Daskar just a dirty memory in the minds of honest beasts!"
The crew went off to their sleeping places as the ship sailed south in the soft warm night, each with their own memories of family lost or left behind. Luke stood in the prow, keeping watch, lost in thoughts of Martin's small figure on the strand, waving his father's old battlesword. He stared forlornly at the gentle bow wave dispersing into the calm dark sea.
"Someday I'll come back and find you waiting for me, son.
Chapter 25
On an island many leagues to the south, black smoke billowed above the crackling flames of what had once been a peaceful community of squirrels. Vermin, armed to the fangs, roamed in bands through the forestlands, slaying anybeast who dared to oppose them. Screams rent the air, whips cracked as pitiless rogues rounded up those left alive. Bound neck and paw into a straggling line, the bewildered captives were dragged out of the sheltering trees, into the dunes above the tideline. Akkla, the ferret mate, sniggered evilly, watching the prisoners' horror as they glimpsed their home to be: the red ship Goreleech, riding at anchor in the sea offshore.
"Move yerselves, me beauties, we'll soon find yer a snug liddle berth aboard the pretty red boat!"
Vilu Daskar sat on the beach, chin on the bone handle of his scimitar, pensively watching while Parug, his bosun, forced the terrified squirrels to kneel and bow their heads before the master of the red ship. Vilu stayed silent until the pitiful heap of provisions and plunder was piled in front of him. Lazily the stoat's eyes flicked over the crewbeasts standing around the pile.
"Is this the best you could do?"
One, a burly weasel called Rippjaw, shrugged. "Dat's all we be findin', cap'n!"
Vilu stood slowly, his eyes fixed on a necklace of yellow beads, which Rippjaw sported about his neck.