er, stop that, you, y’can’t shove me, I’m an officer now!”
Sneezewort advanced on him, sneering ominously. “So I— can’t shove yer, eh? Who’s gonna stop me,
Scrawfonk?”
Lousewort grabbed hold of Sneezewort and held him firmly. “Ooh, you shouldn’t a called me that, that’s a bad
name to call anybeast! Er, er, I know who’ll stop yer, my brother officer. Hoi, Hogspit, there’s a low common pawrat
’ere, callin’ an officer naughty names an’ shovin”im too.”
The big nasty weasel strode aggressively up and punched Sneezewort hard in the stomach. “Lissen, popguts, don’t
let me ever catch you givin’ cheek to a Rapscour. An’ you, blam-, erbonce, don’t let ’im shove yer, see!” I Grabbing
them both by the ears, Hogspit banged their heads I—together resoundingly. He strode off, leaving them both rue-T
fully rubbing their skulls.
Lousewort looked at Sneezewort dazedly. “Er, er, let that be a lesson to yer, matey!” he muttered.
A short while after the Rapscours had left with their scouts, the great army got under way. Drums beating to the
pace of their march battered out at a ground-eating rate as the day advanced into warm sunny afternoon. Northward
the Rapscallion host tramped, dust rising in a cloud behind their banners and drums—only three days away from the
southernmost borders of Mossflower Country.
A young female hare named Deodar stood on a hilltop close to the west shore. She nibbled at a fresh-plucked
dandelion flower, watching a Runner approaching from the northeast. Deodar knew it was Algador Swiftback, even
though he was still a mere dot in the distance. His peculiar long leaping stride marked him out from all the others at
Salamandastron.
Now he would appear on a hilltop, then be lost to sight as he descended into the valley, but pop up shortly atop
another dune, traveling well, with his graceful extended lope serving to eat up the miles easily. The sun was behind
Deodar now, hovering over the immeasurable expanses of sea that lapped the coast right up to the shore in front of the
mountain. She waved and was rewarded by the sight of Algador waving back. Deodar sat on the sandy tor, enjoying
the heat of the sun on her back.
Algador took the last lap at the same pace he had been running all day. He could run almost as fast as his brother,
Riffle, the Galloper of Major Perigord’s patrol. Breathing lightly, he sat down next to Deodar.
“Hah! So you’re my relief. What’ll this be now, miss, your third run o’ the season?”
Deodar stood, flexing her limbs. “Fifth, actually. Where did you cover, Algy?”
Algador made a sweep with his paw. “Northeast from there to there. No sign of Perigord returning yet, and no
signs of Rapscallions or other vermin.”
Deodar closed one eye, squinting along the pawtracks her friend had just made. “Righto, Algy, I’ll follow you out
along your trail then cut west and come back, coverin’ the jolly old shoreline.”
Algador rose and turned to face Salamandastron farther down the coastline. Between patches of green vegetation
growing on its rocky slopes, the mountain took on a light buff tinge. An extinct volcano crater jutted in a flat-topped
pinnacle over the landscape. He nodded in its direction. “How’s Rose Eyes, showed herself lately?”
His companion shook her head. “‘Fraid not, you’ll have to shout your report through the forge door. Lady Cregga
sees nobeast while she’s forgin’ her new weapon. D’you recall the day she broke her old spear, wot!”
Algador could not resist a chuckle. “Hahaha! Will I ever forget it, missie! Standin’ neck high in the sea an’ sinkin’
two Rapscallion ships, was that ever a flippin’ sight. I thought she’d have burst with rage when the spearhaft snapped
an’ she lost her blade in the water!”
Deodar took off into a loping run, calling back, “Can’t stop jawin’ with the likes o’ you all day, must get goin’!”
Algador waved to her. “Run easy, gel, watch out for those shore toads on the way back, don’t take any nonsense
off the blighters. Take care!”
The sun’s last rays were turning the sea into a sheet of fiery copper as Algador entered the mountain. Without
breaking stride he took hallway, stairs, and corridors as though they were hill and flatland, traveling upward from one
level to another. Sometimes he swerved around other hares and called out a greeting, other times he caught a glimpse
of the setting sun through narrow slitted-rock windows. Arriving at a great oak double door, he halted, waiting until
his breathing was normal and mentally going over his report speech. Standing stiffly to attention, he reached out a paw
and rapped smartly upon the door. There was no answer, though he could hear noises from inside the forge room.
Algador waited a moment, knocked once more, and gave a loud cough to emphasize his presence.
A massively gruff voice boomed out, echoing ’round the forge room and the antechamber outside where the hare
stood, “I’m not to be disturbed. What d’you want?”
Algador swallowed nervously before shouting back, “Ninth Spring Runner reportin’, marm, relieved nor’west o’
here this afternoon!”
There was silence followed by a grunt. “Come in!”
Algador entered the forge room and shut the door carefully behind him. It was only the second time he had been in
there. A long unshuttered window, with its sill made into a seat, filtered the last rosy shafts of daylight onto the floor.
Massive, rough-hewn rock walls were arrayed with weapons hung everywhere: great bows, quivers of arrows, lances,
spears, javelins, daggers, cutlasses, and swords. A blackened stone forge stood in the room’s center, its bellows lying
idle, the white and yellowy red charcoal fire embers smoking up through a wide copper flue.
The hare’s eyes were riveted on a heroic figure standing hammer in paw over a chunk of metal glowing on the
anvil. Lady Cregga Rose Eyes, legendary Badger Ruler of Salamandastron.
Her size was impressive: even the big forge hammer in her paw seemed tiny, like a toy. Over a rough homespun
tunic she wore a heavy, scarred, metal-studded apron. The glow from the red-hot metal caught her rose-colored eyes,
tingeing them scarlet as she glared down at Algador. His long back legs quivered visibly, and he felt like an acorn at
the foot of a giant oak tree.
The Badger Lady nodded wordlessly, and Algador found himself babbling out his report in a rush.
“Patrolled north by east beyond the dunes for two days, marm, spent one night by the river, saw no signs of
anybeast. No track or word of Major Perigord so far, no sign of Rapscallions or vermin. Sighted a few traces of shrews
yesterday morn, marm.”
Lady Cregga rested the hammerhead on the anvil horn. “You didn’t contact the Guosim shrews or speak to them?”
“No, marm, ’fraid I didn’t. Traces were at least three days old, campfire ashes an’ vegetable peelin’s, that was all,
marm.”
Cregga took tongs and replaced the lump of metal she was working back in the forge. Then she gave the bellows a
gentle push, flaring the charcoal and seacoal into flame.
“Hmm, pity you missed the shrews. Their leader, the Log-a-Log, might have had some information for us. Never
mind, well done. Ask Colonel Eyebright to come up here, will you?”
“Yes, marm!” The young hare stood motionless to attention.
Lady Cregga watched him for a moment, then unusually she gave a fleeting smile. “If you stand there any longer
you’ll take root. Go now—you’re dismissed.”
Algador saluted and wheeled off so quickly he almost tripped over his own footpaws. Lady Cregga heard the door