The young hare sniffed as she wiped her eyes against the apron. “Absolutely, Sire. Theyll never have tface a rotten ol winter again; theyre both happy now, along with your grandsire.
Throughout that long winter the hares of Salamandastron came to know and love their new Lord. Sunflash was all things to them: friend to the old, counselor to the young, and playmate to the babes, who were his constant delight. He looked forward eagerly to the spring, when he planned to take up farming once more. Often on dreary winter afternoons the forge room was alive with helpers as Sunflash and his blacksmiths turned out spades, hoes, rakes, and trowels, in readiness for the coming seasons planting and cultivation. The badger had almost forgotten about his foebeast, Swartt Sixclaw, and would not think of him until the arrival of Skarlath in the early spring.
23
The vermin horde found the path broad, smooth, and easy to march on, and good progress was made on the first day traveling south. That evening, they camped in an untidy sprawl, right across the path and on both sides of it. Tender young shoots and new green foliage, which would have been shunned as food any other time, were welcomed after their winter starvation.
Next day blustered in bright and breezy, lightly warm with random fleece clouds scurrying across spring skies. Swartt was in a good mood, pleased with the ground he had covered the previous day. Muggra the weasel Captain was still out in front of the army, dragging himself painfully along on all fours, his injured footpaw causing him great pain.
Pitilessly, Swartt marched hard behind Muggra, watching him crawl as he spoke to him in a cruel voice of mock reason..See now, friend, you couldve been marchin upright an brisk like the rest of us if you adnt chosen to argue wid me. Come on now, dont go sulkin an mopin, apologize tme like a goodbeast an ask me fer mercy. He kicked the Captain, sending him sprawling on the road.
Muggra spat earth as he whimpered, “Mercy, Lord, I was wrong to argue with yer!
Swartt laughed harshly, stepping on Muggras back as he passed him. “Get out o me sight, ysnivellin1 craven, an1 thank yer lucky stars Im in a good mood tday!
Sss.sssthunk!
A javelin came streaking out of the blue and buried itself deep in the path, in front of the Warlord. It stood quivering as the ferret fell back and seized Nightshades paw. “Where in the name o blisterin blazes did that come from? he cried.
The vixen tried desperately to extricate her paw from the ferrets viselike grasp. “I dont know, Lord, but it looks to me like some sort of warning that we should go no farther!
Swartt held on to the paw, glaring at her. “Tell me true, fox. Did you ave any visions or dreams about this?
Nightshade wrenched her crushed paw away, shaking her head. “None, Sire, I saw nothing!
Tugging the javelin loose, Swartt broke it across his mailed paw. “One javelin aint goin tstop this horde. Forward march!
The Warlord stood still, allowing the marchers to walk past him. Screams rang out as the foremost three vermin fell, two pierced by arrows, the other felled by a hefty rock. Suddenly the horde was in disarray.
“Theyre in the woods on the east side! Swartt roared. “Scraw, charge em with spears, wipe every last one of em out! Aggat, Nightshade, line some archers up, herejump to it!
Redfarl watched the spearbeasts charge into the woodlands, letting them get sufficiently far from the path before nodding to a score of squirrels perched in the treetops. Half of the vermin were cut down by a hail of arrows, the rest, turning to run back, were set upon by otters whirling heavy loaded slings, which they used as clubs. As quickly as they struck, the attackers faded into the woodland.
On the path all Swartt heard was a few distant screams, then silence. He held up a warning paw, saying, “Stretch those bowstrings; be ready; keep yer eyes peeled on them woodlands!
Still not a sound. Then Swartt heard a strange noise and saw the bushes shake not far from the path. “Shoot at those bushes! he said, pointing.
A volley of barbed shafts shredded the foliage, and the rat Captain, Scraw, toppled out, already wounded by a squirrel arrow but now transfixed by seven more from his own side. Swartt performed a dance of rage, whirling his sword wildly. Horde archers ducked to avoid the blade.
“Idiots, did none of ythink to look before shootin? he yelled. “Put up those bows until we can see “em!
As the vermin archers relaxed their bowstrings, there was a shout from the east woodlands. A whistling rain of rocks and javelins hit the unsuspecting archers, and one large stone caught Swartt a glancing blow, stunning him. Nightshade signaled four vermin to carry him to safety, as she called out to Ihe rest of the horde, “Into the woods on the west side of this pathhurry!
The vermin needed no second bidding. They hurled themselves at the bushes, helped on their way by a shower of missiles from the hidden attackers.
The old rat carrying Swartts son was hit. Clutching at the javelin protruding from her side, she tugged at the backsling..Tearing loose the carrying cradle, she dropped it, babe and all, into a shallow ditch bordering the west pathside. She crawled painfully after the retreating horde and was trampled by other vermin in their haste to escape death.
Down in the ditch the ferretbabe wriggled from its restricting sling and began gobbling a mess of frogspawn from a muddy pool. It fed voraciously, neither whimpering nor crying.
Nightshade pressed cobwebs and damp leaves to the side of the Warlords head. Swartt gritted his teeth and staggered upright, grabbing a weasel as it sneaked past. “You! Did yer see em, who were they, ow many ...
The unfortunate weasels reply was cut short by a gigantic arrow, which silenced him forever. A jovial voice rang out from somewhere deep in the woods. “I say, top marks there, Jodders. Good shot, wot?
Swartt looked around wildly. He could not stop the horde retreating deeper into the woods; they ignored his commands.
“Halt! Stop there! he yelled. “What are ye runnin fromsome ragtailed little bunch o woodlanders? Stand an fight!
Another spearlike arrow thudded into the trunk of a sycamore, right near the Warlords head. Silently, he decided that discretion was die better part of valor and fled too.
The great otter Skipperjo was left in command of the path. His otters crouched in the foliage on the west side, ready to deal with any vermin who tried to regain control of the road. Sumin and Redfarl pursued the horde; travelling high in the trees, they picked off stragglers. The vermin ran as if chased by unseen demons, each trying not to be at the back of the horde, which was the most vulnerable position. Gradually they slowed, weariness taking toll of their trembling limbs.
Late afternoon found them in a deep natural hollow somewhere in the west reaches of Mossflower. Swartt sat, allowing the vixen to bandage his head with a mud and leaf poultice.
He glared at the silent horde, venting his spleen on them.
“Squirrels n otters, thats all they was, a bunch o misr-able squirrels n otters, an you beauties ran from em. Tell em, Nightshadeyou saw them, didnt yer? Squirrelsnot-ters, dials all they were!
A surly voice called out from the horde, “I never seen squirrels shootin arrers as big as thatn wot wiped out pore Grinflit!
Swartts head was aching; he was too tired to reprimand the culprit. Instead he beckoned his Captains, and they gathered round as he lay back, covering his eyes with his mailed paw. “Well, whatve you lot got tsay fer yerselves, eh? he growled.
The replies were what he expected.
“No point in gettin slain for trespassin on some other-beasts road, Chief.
“Keep travellin west, thats what we were doin in the first place.
“Aye, you cant slay an invisible army. We lost a good number today, an didnt even see who did the killin!