Chaos was beginning to break out in the horderanks as the rats, realizing that they were the only ones light enough for the crows to lift into the air, started panicking. Pushing and shoving at weasels, stoats, and ferrets, the rats tried to occupy the center of the marching masses, where the crows dared not fly down upon them. Hordebeasts fought the rats viciously, claiming the center spot for themselves and their families, some with young ones. The crows, however, did not have it all their own way. Archers and slingbeasts began a relentless barrage of stones and shafts at the dark-winged harassers.
As night fell Swartt was forced to make camp. A burning ring of fires in the open surrounded the horde, stopping the crows picking off anybeast on the fringes. Half the soldiers were ordered to stand upright, pointing spears, javelins, and longpikes at the sky, while their comrades rested until it was time to relieve them. Swartt ordered Nightshade to sneak off under cover of darkness and scout ahead for a possible solution to their dilemma. Krakulat and his Brethren squatted out of range of the campfires. Bonebeak gave her husband no peace, as she constantly berated him.
“Rakaaah! Vengeance is a fools idea, what good will it do us when we are all dead? You have slain enough of the land-crawlers to pay for your mothers life ten times over. Our Brethren must get on with the business of living, we must find new homes. If you get us all slain, who will be left to say what brave birds we were, what a courageous fool Krakulat was? Kchaah!
She followed the Crow Commander as he waddled angrily between the sleeping Brethren, trying to shake her off.
“Agga! Give your feathers a rest, and your nagging beak too! he snapped. “I will say when I have had my revenge on the vermin. The Brethren follow me, my word is law here. Now leave me alone!
The night wore on with both sides fitful and uneasy, the horde unable to rest because of their guard duties, while the crows were kept awake by the constant tirades of their leaders wife.
It was still several hours to dawn when Nightshade slipped back into camp with news for Swartt. “Lord, there is a deep winding ravine not far from here. A stream runs through the center of it, and I think there are caves on the stream bank. I saw no sign of other creatures there.
Swartt stood and drew his sword decisively. “Right, tell the Captains tget this lot movin. Well get to the shelter of this ravine an take cover in the caves. Then I can figure out what tdo about these crows!
The horde entered the gorge in darkness, stumbling over the rocky defile at the shallow end of the ravine, still beset by the crows. It was a scene of chaos. Swartt and his Captains yelled commands at the hordebeasts above the cawing din of the birds, vermin fired arrows and slung rocks willy-nilly, others jabbed at the night sky with spears. Splashing through the stream, they bundled into the shaded gloom of the caves. There was not room for all the hordesoldiers, and many were forced to shelter amid the lupin and brambles of the steep ravine sides. Swartt had managed to light a fire in one of the caves. He looked around at the rushes and dry grass pallets in the corners, then said to the vixen, “So, you saw no sign of any other creature, eh? Well, who lives in these caves, tell me that?
Screams and terrified cawing from outside saved the vixen having to answer awkward questions. “Lord, listen, something strange is happening outside! she cried.
The Warlord peered outside, taking care to stay away from the cave entrance. “Well, itll be dawn soon, then well find out.
The agonized choking cry of a hordebeast rang out, causing Swartt and the vixen to start. Nightshade slunk to the rear of the cave, avoiding Swartts glare. He shook a mailed paw at her threateningly, snarling, “By rights I should send you out there, yer cringin cur! Sometimes I think yer more trouble than yer worth.
After a while it went quiet outside, and all that could be heard was the odd moan of vermin who were obviously wounded.
Dawn arrived gray and patched with lowering clouds. A fine drizzle caused the gorge to glisten wetly. Swartt poked his head out of the cave to see half a dozen foxes come splashing through the stream shallows toward him. The leader was a large, tough-looking vixen, and like the others of her escort she carried a bolas, four thonged, with rounded pebbles fastened to its ends. The Warlord tried to hide his surprise when the vixen spoke, for her tongue was a bright purple, unlike any he had seen.
“Be ye the leader of this motley array? she barked.
Swartt could see hordebeasts peeping cautiously from the other caves and scrambling down the gorge sides. His quick eyes took in the number of slain vermin draped over the rocks. More foxes, maybe fifty, were collecting dead crows and heaping them in a pile. The ferret drew his sword and put on a bold face, saying, “Im Swartt Sixclaw, Warlord of all this horde. I see youve slain some of my soldiers. Why?
The vixen spun her bolas idly, clacking the big pebbles together rhythmically. “Follynfie! Twas a mishap; did I not rid ye of the crows?
Looking up, Swartt had to agree. There was no sign of a crow flying anywhere about. He saw a young fox plucking feathers from the carcass of Krakulat to decorate his brush with. “Aye, the crows are gone, sure enough, he said. “What do they call you, friend? Never mind the few of mine you slew, those crows were becomin bothersome.
The foxs purple tongue showed vividly as she answered. “I am Shang Damsontongue, and this is my gorge. Ye may stop awhile, Swartt Sixclaw.... Shangs eyes glistened covetously as she watched Swartts sword. “Ye have many fine metal weapons, she continued. “Thy beasts carry spears and good daggers. I see shields, too, much metal.
Immediately Swartt was on his guard, though he took it as an advantage that the foxes seemed only to be armed with the primitive stone-and-thong bolases. Obviously metal arms were considered precious by the foxes of the gorge. Swartt sheathed his sword, the beginnings of a crafty plan forming in his mind.
12?
The reptiles hissed joyfully as they hauled on the vine hawser. Sunflash wallowed helplessly, and his great weight was sucked under as the tree limb submerged slowly into the ooze. By spreading his paws and holding his head back, he tried to halt his descent into the swamp, but it was useless. He gave a final battle cry before he was lost forever in the murky depths.
“Eeulaliaaaaaa!
Skarlath arrived like a bolt of lightning. In seconds the big eel was writhing in midair, clutched tightly in the kestrels savage talons as he pecked sharply at its head.
“Kreegaah! If my friend sinks, you die! Tell the slimy ones to get beneath him and buoy him up, quick now!
Though he was trapped fast by the neck the eel hissed aloud, “Ssssstop, do not let him sssssink!
Sunflash felt the mud well into his mouth, then suddenly he was pushed upward from beneath, the wriggling mass under his footpaws acting as a raft. Skarlath forced the eel to clench the vine hawser in its mouth, then, beating the air furiously with all his wingpower, the kestrel flew slowly upward, gripping the eel. Beneath him the reptile latched hard on to the vine hawser, knowing its life was at stake.
Fortunately the hawser was long, and Skarlath managed to reach a dry bank with lime and alder trees growing on it. Flying as high as he could, the kestrel dropped the eel among the topmost branches of an alder and grabbed the vine from it. Leaving the eel stranded high in the alder, Skarlath took three turns around the lower trunk, then, securing the hawser, he flew back to Sunflash, calling advice. “Kreeeeh! Feel around for the vine and pull yourself out!