“Now, don’t ye think of takin’ no after-vittle naps. Douse those fires, mates. All aboard the boats, quick as y’like. I wants t’be on the Moss afore midnight!” As Log a Log, Dandy Clogs brooked no arguments. Shortly thereafter, the logboats were on their way along the stream as twilight turned to dusk.
Posy dozed in the stern of the back boat, but she was aware of the little flotilla entering the main river. The boats eddied in the swirl of changing currents and gurgling waters. Downstream changed to upriver. The paddlers dug deep, though the river was not running at any great speed. They had been travelling awhile when Dandy called out orders.
“String ’em together across the river. Rawkin, Swiffo, moor the lead an’ rear craft to those elms. Finished with paddles, mates. Make the most of yore shut-eye—there’s another hard day t’come in the morn!”
Roped together and secured to an elm trunk on either bank, the logboats bobbed gently on the darkened river. Within moments, all that could be heard above the waterflow ripple was the snuffling and snoring of exhausted creatures. Everybeast was so wearied that they gave no thought to guards or sentries. After all, what need of keeping watch in mid-river? They slept deeply, every last creature.
Greenshroud came out of the night like a giant predator. The river was wide enough for Razzid to order full sail; she caught the wind from the sea that she had enjoyed earlier that day. The current was gentle. Mowlag was taking a turn around the deck when he discerned the glimmer of a single lantern on the water. As the big vessel closed in over the darkened river, it became clear that several small boats were moored, stem to stern, across the water. It was but the work of a moment for Mowlag to rouse his captain and the vermin crew.
The Wearat felt a shudder of evil joy run through him. This was too good an opportunity to miss, defenceless sleeping creatures with no knowledge of what was about to happen.
Greenshroud struck the rope at its centre, the force ripping both ends from the elm trunks. This left the Guosim logboats trailing both sides of the big ship, being towed upriver. Bleary-eyed shrews, still half asleep, sat up in bewilderment as Razzid Wearat gave his signal for the slaughter to begin.
21
Though he had never been a great walker, Skor Axehound marched doggedly onward alongside Rake Nightfur at the head of the column. It had been a difficult trek; Rake could hear Skor breathing heavily. Accordingly he enquired, “D’ye no’ think ye need tae rest awhile, mah friend?”
The sea otter Chieftain replied gruffly, “I don’t need any rest. D’you?”
The hare Captain chuckled. “Och, no. Ah’m jist fine, thank ye!”
Skor replied stubbornly, “Well, I’m fine, too, an’ I can march just as good as you can, Nightfur!”
Knowing his friend was in a prickly mood, Rake changed the subject by casting a glance at the waning stars. “It’ll be dawn soon, Ah’m thinkin’. We’ll both rest then.”
He was about to say more when Sergeant Miggory called out, “Scouts returnin’, sah. May’aps now we’ll find ’ow far h’off this bloomin’ Moss River we h’are!”
Buff Redspore, with the sea otter trackers, Gil and Dreel, loped out of the half-light. Buff saluted.
“River’s through that pine grove an’ over a small rise, sah!”
Jum Gurdy nodded to Ruggan. “We’ll be there in no time now, matey.”
The fine golden mist of a new day touched the eastern treetops as they arrived on the broad banks of the Moss. Lieutenant Scutram inspected the scene. “No signs of comin’s or goin’s, I fear.”
Trug Bawdsley giggled under his breath. “Ships don’t often leave blinkin’ tracks, do they?”
Corporal Welkin Dabbs commented tersely, “When we want your opinion, young Bawdsley, we’ll jolly well ask for it, eh, wot!”
Jum Gurdy spoke his piece. “The young un’s right, though, Corp. We don’t know whether they’ve passed ’ere, though mayhaps they’ve not yet come this far upriver. Wot d’ye think, Skor?”
The burly sea otter leaned on his battleaxe before giving a verdict that everybeast was secretly glad to hear. “I think we should rest, camp an’ eat right here. No cookin’ fires, though. Then if’n they ain’t sailed by us, we’ll have to assume they’ve already passed an’ are someplace ahead upriver. Does that suit ye, Rake?”
The tall, dark captain unbuckled both his blades. “Aye, that suits me grand. Ah’m fair starved!”
Jum Gurdy murmured, “If I ever meets a hare who isn’t,’twill be a rare sight. . . .”
Rake overheard the remark. He stared at the otter Cellardog. “Ye were sayin’ . . . ?”
Jum replied neatly, “I was just sayin’, Cap’n, we ain’t had a bite to eat since last night!”
They breakfasted on a make-do assortment of bread, cheese, wild onions, some dried fruit and clear, sweet water from the river. The older creatures took a rest, sunning themselves on the bank. However, the two young sea otter trackers went straight into the water.
Skor smiled at their antics. “Just look at ’em, will ye—an’ after a full night’s march, wantin’ to swim. There’s no stoppin’ those two scamps.”
Dreel waved to him. “Alright if’n we takes a liddle swim upriver, Chief?”
Skor nodded. “Go on, then, but keep yore eyes peeled, an’ git back here afore we march on.” He turned to Sergeant Miggory. “I’ve got ten times their strength, but I wishes I had half their energy. Still, that’s the price o’ gettin’ older, eh?”
Miggory gave him a crooked smile. “Yore strong as h’a bloomin’ h’oak, sah. That’s why yore chieftain of the ’Igh North Coast.”
There was no time for him to say any more. Skor took off like an arrow when a horrified shout rang out upriver. Sergeant Miggory was knocked backward as Skor Axehound bulled past him. The chieftain roared as he plunged into the river, “That’s one of our scoutmaids!”
Ruggan and a half dozen sea otters dived in after him.
Rake Nightfur called to his Long Patrol hares, “Cover them from the bankside, quick!”
Almost everybeast arrived on the scene together; it was a horrific sight. The broken stern half of a logboat had been grounded in the shallows. Lying in it was a Guosim warrior, pierced through his middle by an oversized arrow.
Skor lifted his scouts, Gil and Dreel, away from the wreckage; he touched the treelike shaft of the arrow. “So, the filthy, murderin’ scum have already passed by this way. Rogue Crew, scout upriver—stay armed. Ruggan, see if ye can find anybeast still livin’.”
Sergeant Miggory stared grimly at the slain shrew. “Cap’n, this is a bad business!”
Rake issued orders to his sergeant. “Take half the column to cover the otters from the bank. Go with ’em, ye may be able tae help.”
By midday the bankside was littered with Guosim, both the dead and the living. Three logboats had been found damaged but intact. The haremaids, Lancejack Sage, Ferrul and Buff Redspore, were assisting Lieutenant Scutram, who had some skill in dealing with wounds. Skor’s crew formed the burial detail, digging one long grave on the opposite bank and ferrying the slain across in two logboats. Rake and Skor were listening to Tibbro, a Guosim maid, who had witnessed everything the previous night. With haunted eyes and a hollow voice, she recounted her ordeal.
“Our crews were all asleep in their boats, strung across the river, moored twixt two trees. It’d been a long, ’ard day, y’see. We was so done in that everybeast went straight t’sleep. Next thing I knows, there’s noise, vermin cursin’ an’ roarin’. Our boats got rammed by a great big ship, one wid sails an’ everythin’. I was flung into the river, but there was nothin’ I could do but get t’shore. Those vermin, searats an’ corsairs, an’ one wid a face like a bad dream, wavin’ a great fork, a trident, I thinks ye’d call it . . .” Tibbro paused, staring straight ahead, like one in a trance.