Holding out the conical leaf cup, Smerc shook it in Sun-flashs face. “Yehhhh! A like it, goodgood, giz me sum-more!
The badger eyed it coldly until he heard the word.
“Pleez!
Refilling the leaf cone, Sunflash gave it to Smerc with the other half of the oatcake. The newts table manners were totally appalling. When it had finished eating, it grabbed at the amulet that Sunflash had hung around his neck, hissing, “Luvly meggle giz me it, for showyer across swampy!
Sunflash understood Smerc completely. He had spent a lot of his young life in a vermin camp where creatures behaved like that as a matter of routine. The only thing such creatures respected was brute force, and now he decided to show the newt a bit. Picking Smerc up, Sunflash set him on a low laburnum branch.
“So then, your name is Smerc. Watch and Ill show you why Im called Sunflash the Mace!
Sunflash seized the great hornbeam mace and swung it.
“Eeulaliaaaaa!
One sweeping sideways blow at the rotten beech stump caused it to disintegrate, exploding into a shower of damp wood, powdery dust, slugs, and wood lice. When the debris settled there was no sign of the stump. Smerc stood open-mouthed, quivering all over with fear. Sunflash shouldered his mace, saying, “Ive fed you, thats my half of the bargain. Now you will guide me through this swamp. Move, Smerc!
Slow worms, eels, and newts in a silent slithering procession followed as Sunflash negotiated a passage through the wide morass. He followed Smerc, sometimes waist deep as the newt skipped carelessly over lily pads, other times gripping the moss-covered limbs of long-submerged tree trunks. It was tough going. At the center of the swamp a jutting oak branch stuck up at an angle. As he moved toward it, the badger felt the shifting ooze gripping and sucking at his body. He floundered, tasting the foul mud in his mouth, unable to wipe it from his eyes as it flopped and splodged with his wild efforts.
Smercs voice rang out from somewhere nearby. “Grab old o dbranch, stripeydog, or yer sink!
Summoning his strength, Sunflash made a mighty surge forward, grabbing blindly at where he knew the tree limb to be. There was a moments cold panic, then he felt his paw grip wood. Looping the cord of his mace handle over a gnarled burr, he pulled himself from the sticky morass. After what seemed an age, his limbs came clear of the swirling, sucking mud.
Sunflash clung to the wobbly limb, shaking with exhaustion; it had been a formidable task pulling his huge bulk from the swamp. Feeling around slowly he was surprised to find his provision sack still hanging from the old cord that served him as a belt. He dug his paw into the sack and pulled out the flask of dandelion-and-burdock cordial; then, biting out the stopper, the badger tilted his head back and poured the fragrant liquid into his mud-blinded eyes until they were free of swamp dirt. Gratefully he cleared his throat by drinking what was left in the flask, then he looked up to see Smerc and the band of reptiles who had been following him. The wicked newt was perched on the head of a big eel, obviously the leader.
Sunflash tried ignoring them as he reasoned with Smerc. “Come on, be fair, you havent completed our bargain. Get me out of this swamp. Which way do I go now?
The eels, slow worms, and newts remained silent, fixing the badger with a concentrated basilisk glare. Smerc, however, was delighted that he had lured the badger into a trap. He pointed at Sunflash and giggled insanely. “Yeeheehee! Which way ya go now, stripeydog? Yeeheeheehee! Thiss yer deepest part o thswamp, ony one way tgo, badjerpadjer. Yeeheeheehee! Down!
Hot rage engulfed Sunflash the Mace, and he hurled the empty flask at the sniggering newt. Had his aim been tempered by calmness the missile would have slain Smerc, but as it was, die flask struck a glancing blow to both the newt and the big eel on whose head he was perched. Smerc flopped senseless on the eels head, which was now sporting a livid bruise and a rapidly rising bump.
The eel reared up, opening its mouth to reveal two rows of greeny-yellow, needle-pointed teeth. “Sssssink im! it hissed.
The whole mass of reptiles moved backward, and the oak limb began turning on its side. Sunflash threw himself flat, clinging tightly to the branches. To his horror he saw a thick hawser rise clear of the mud. It was attached underneath the oak limb and the reptiles were pulling on it.
The badger was helpless. He hung on to the turning limb, shouting, “Stop! Stop! What do you want?
The big eel sank back and, wrapping itself around the hawser, it pulled with the others as it answered, “Want you... Sssssink!
The awful realization that there was nowhere to go swept over Sunflash; he held on to the tree limb as it was pulled down, turning slowly into the fathomless depths of mud.
11
Krakulat withdrew his Crow Brethren to a place where the horde of Swartt Sixclaw could not see them. They settled behind low hillocks, waiting for nightfall. The Crow Leader had been off hunting with his Brethren when the weasels Scarback and Marbul had slain his mother with slingstones. Fearfully the old ones reported the murder to Krakulat on his return, and the savage crows rage and grief had been awesome, more so when his scouts reported back to him on the dreadful end his mothers body had met. Krakulat decided to take his ven-geance without regard to life and limb, and once his initial rage had subsided, he planned the time and place his Brethren would strike.
Swartt had suddenly become a great Warlord and the toast of the horde. Never, not even in the eastlands, had the hordebeasts known such a delightful spot. There was a broad-stream, fruit trees, and an abundance of edible vegetation. The fact that no birds were to be seen was forgotten when Aggal the stoat Captain speared a large fat chub in the stream. The vermin soldiers and their families flocked to the water and drank, sported and splashed, some catching watershrimp, others hunting caddisworm and tadpoles. Fires were lit, tents were pitched, and a holiday atmosphere prevailed. Using a tent canvas under the vixen Nightshades supervision, a team of soldiers dragged the stream, bringing in a goodly catch of chub, dace, perch, and even a big old pike.
The six-clawed ferret sat beneath a shady tree, painting glowing pictures of the good times ahead to his officers. Swartts unobtrusive wife, Bluefen, scurried about, serving fruit and fish. Swartt hardly noticed her.
“This is only the start, he said. “Give me one good season travelin southnwest an everybeast in the land11 be flockin to my banner, youll see.
“Hmm, southwest, eh? Is that where the badger is? Scraw the rat, now a Captain, mused idly.
The good mood of Swartt Sixclaw suddenly dissipated, and his voice became a questioning snarl. “Who told you about the badger?
Scraw was not intimidated by the Warlords ill humor. “Some o those beasts you were running with before you came to the tents of Lord Bowfleg, he answered. “They say the badger is young, but a great warrior, fearless in battle....
Swartt leaned forward anxiously. “What else do they say? Tell me.
“They say he was the one who ruined your sixclawed paw, made it dead forever, and that you have sworn to slay him.
Swartt upturned his metal drinking cup and suddenly dealt it a swift blow with the chain-mailed and copper-bound gauntlet he wore over the withered six-claw. The vessel crumpled, flattened beneath the force of the blow. Swartt stared at Scraw. “Dont ever make the mistake that my sixctaw is useless. Its slain more foebeasts than youve had hot dinners, rat. As for the badger, I hear he calls himself Sunflash the Mace now; take it from me, that ones a walkin deadbeast!
Aggal the stoat Captain made bold enough to ask, “Howll you know where to find this Sunflash the Mace?