’illtop, Chief. What d’ye want me to do?”
The shrew Chieftain went back to cleaning his boat. “Just
take things easy, mate. Tell the crews not t’look
suspicious, Pass the word to the archers t’drift back to their boats an’ git their bows’n’arrers ready. We’ll give those
vermin a warm welcome if they comes down offa that ’ill an’ tries crossin’ the stream.”
Panting and breathing heavily after their long run, Vendace, Borumm, and forty-odd Rapscallion fugitives lay flat
among the trees on the hilltop, watching the shrews below.
Borumm stared at the packs that had been unloaded from the boats. “There ain’t time fer Us t’stop an’ forage in
this country. We needs those packs o’ vittles if’n we’re gonna circle an’ make fer the sunny south.”
One of the fugitives crawled up alongside the weasel. “Cap’n Borumm, those are the beasts that set on us. They kin
fight like wolves wid those liddle swords o’ theirs. Huh, you shoulda seen the way that ole Chief one finished off
Hogspit!”
Vendace curled his lip at the vermin in a scornful sneer. “Stow that kinda talk, lunk’ead, yore with real officers
now. Huh, ‘Ogspit? I coulda put paid to ’im wid both paws tied be’ind me back. Bunch o’ river shrews don’t bother
me’n’Borumm none, do they, mate? Phwaw! They’re bakin’ sumthin’ down there, I kin smell it from ’ere. Mmmm!
Biscuits, or is it cake?”
Borumm smiled wickedly at the fox. “Wotever it is we’ll soon be samplin’ it. Right, let’s make a move. Keep
’idden climbin’ down the ’illside, play it slow. I’ll give the word ter charge if they spots us.”
The shrewboats were all cleaned and anchored in the shallows. Log-a-Log and his shrews stood around the
cooking fire, all acting relaxed, but keyed up for action.
“Scubbi, Shalla, take the archers an’ use our boats fer cover. Spykel, Preese, get be’ind those big rocks wid yore
sling team. Lead paddlers, stay back ’ere with me an’ Frackle, ready to jump in the boats an’ launch ’em. Those
vermin are startin’ downhill, too far out o’ range yet. If we ’ave to make a run fer it, stay out o’ midstream and use the
current close t’this bank.”
A rat named Henbit came running to the hilltop. His eyes took in the situation at one quick glance. Turning, he
dashed back pell-mell to where the ferret Skaup was leading the main party at a run, hot on the tracks of the fugitives.
Henbit dashed up and threw a hasty salute. “Borumm an’ Vendace straight ahead, Cap’n! They’ve jus’ left that
’illtop to cross the stream an’ attack those shrews!”
Skaup acted quickly. “You there, Dropear, take fifty an’ ran on ahead. Don’t go up the ’ill, go ’round it—come at
’em along the shore. I’ll take the rest an’ make for the shore from ’ere, that way we’ll get ’em between us. Never mind
the shrews, we’re ’ere to bring those traitors back, not to fight wid .a gang o’ boatmice. Get goin’!”
Vendace and Borumm were almost down the hill when the fox whispered to his partner, “D’yer think they’ve seen
us? I coulda swore I saw the ole one lookin’ over this way once or ijwice.”
Borumm waved his paw to the vermin scrabbling downhill, urging them to move a bit faster. “Nah, if’n they’d seen
us we’d ’ave known by now, mate. Best stop our lot when we reach the stream bank, that way we can all charge
together. That water looks pretty shallow t’me.”
It took more time than Vendace liked for the last vermin to get down off the hill onto the shore. He fidgeted
impatiently, conveying his anxiety to Borumm. “All of a sudden I don’t fike this, mate. Those shrews gotta be blind if
they ain’t seen as by now. Lookit our lot too, barrin’ for me an’ you an’ a jcouple o’ others, there’s scarce a decent
blade between us—they’re mostly armed wid chunks o’ wood or stones.”
The weasel glared bad-temperedly at the fox. “Fine time ter be tellin’ me you’ve got the jitters. Wot’s the matter,
mate, don’t you think we kin take a pack o’ scruffy shrews? Straighten yerself up! Come on, you lot. Chaaaaaarge!”
Bellowing and roaring, they made it into the shallows—then they were besieged on three sides. Log-a-Log and his
Guosim loosed arrows and slingstones across the water. The charging jfine faltered a second under the salvo, then they
were hit by file forces of Dropear and Skaup coming at them from both sides. It was a complete defeat for Vendace
and Borumm’s mwn.
“Stay yore weapons, Guosim,” Log-a-Log called to his shrews, “this isn’t our fight no more. But stand ready to
bring down any vermin tryin’ to cross the stream!”
The fugitives could run neither forward nor sideways. Some tried running back uphill, where they made easy
targets for arrow and lance. The remainder, knowing what fate would await them at the paws of Damug Warfang,
fought desperately, trying to break free and run anyplace.
Across the stream the shrews sat in their logboats, paddles poised as they watched the awful carnage.
Frackle averted her eyes, as if she could not bear to watch. “They’re from the same band. Some of those creatures
must’ve fought together side by side. How can they do that to one another?”
Log-a-Log watched the slaughter through narrowed eyes. “They’re vermin, they’d kill their own families for a
crust!”
There were only ten of the original fugitive band left alive—the rest lay floating in the stream or draped on the
hillside. Skaup grinned evilly at Borumm as he noosed his neck to the others, forming them into a line. “Firstblade
Damug’Il be well pleased to see you an’ the fox safe back under ’is paw, weasel.”
Bound paw and neck, the prisoners tottered painfully along the shore, driven by spearbutts and whipped with
bowstrings. Skaup turned to stare across the stream at the Guosim sitting in their logboats. “You got off light t’day, but
you’ve slain Rapscallions. We’ll settle with you another day!”
Log-a-Log’s face was impassive as he picked up a bow and sent an arrow thudding into Skaup’s outstretched paw.
“Aye, we’ve slain Rapscallions, an’ we’ll slay a lot more unless you get gone from this place. I warn ye, scum, next
time I draw this bowstring the arrow won’t be aimed at yore paw. Archers ready!”
Guosim bowbeasts stood up in the logboats, setting shafts to bowstrings, awaiting their Chieftain’s next command.
Skaup’s face was rigid with agony. He looked at the shrew shaft transfixing his paw and the Guosim with bows
stretched, and slunk off, his voice strained with pain and anger as he yelled, “We’ll meet again someday, I swear it!”
A ribald comment echoed across the stream waters at his back: “Be sure t’bring that arrow with ye, ’twas a good
shaft!”
Skaup was close to collapse when he made it back to his party. Dropear threw a paw of support around his
shoulders. “Siddown, Cap’n, an’ I’ll dig that thing outta yore paw.”
The ferret pushed him roughly aside and staggered onward. “Not here, fool. Let’s get out o’ sight farther down the
bank!”
Log-a-Log and his shrews stood watching them until they were behind a curve in the stream course. The shrew
leader stroked his short gray beard. “Hmm, what we saw ’ere t’day tells me somethin’, mates. If they could afford to
slay more’n thirty o’ their own kind, then there must be more of ’em than I thought—a whole lot more! Right, let’s get
these craft under way midstream, where the current runs swift. Watch out for a weepin’ willow grove on yore port