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they had travelled from the Abbey. Again, his thoughts strayed, this time to the stolen babes. Pitiful little mites, how they must be missing their friends and families! Were they still alive? He banished the idea from his mind, plodding onward.
"Mister Buck, a word with ye, sir--you, too, Chief."
Log a Log Jango and Buckler both heeded what Sniffy had to say.
"I feels we're gettin' close to 'em now--best keep our 'eads down. Go bellyflat'd be better!"
The word was passed along. Everybeast began crawling along the flatlands, through the still-wet grass.
Zwilt had not let his vermin light any fires, lest the glare betray them. The Ravagers slept soundly on the open ground, damp as it was. Even their three sentries were slumbering, hunched in sitting positions.
Buckler and his group were only a very short distance from the foebeast. The young hare crouched with Sniffy and Jango, trying to attain a tally of the enemy's numbers. That was when everything went wrong.
Fallug and his party had not chopped down a tree for the battering ram. They found an old sessile oak, which had been blown askew by the winter storms. The ground was loose soil, so the fivescore vermin only had to rock it back and forth, felling it with a final mighty shove. The sessile oak had a fine straight trunk, which was soon trimmed into shape. Fallug left most of his contingent to carry the long timber.
Taking eight runners with him, the Weasel Captain set off at a loping trot to bring the good news to his superior. He speeded up as he spied the forms of creatures out on the flatlands, right where Zwilt had said they would be. Unable to contain himself, Fallug called out as they neared the encampment, "Lord Zwilt, I gotta fine oak trunk, just wot ye wanted, Sire!"
He tripped over a figure crawling along the ground. The
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weasel stumbled and fell; his paw reached out and came into contact with a huge digging paw. He shouted, "Huh, wot the--you ain't no Ravager!" Axtel's hammer strike missed Fallug but wiped out a river rat who was running behind him. A vermin screamed as Jango's blade plunged into him. Then everything became chaos on the darkened plain.
Buckler took out a stoat with one strike of his rapier. Aware that they were vastly outnumbered, he yelled, "Gather t'me--retreat to the Abbey!"
Zwilt was upright now, whirling his broadsword. "On guard, Ravagers! Strangers in camp! Kill them!" Zwilt struck out, missing his target in the dark. His blade went sideways, smacking down on Jango's head and stunning him. Sniffy lugged his fallen chieftain clear, yelling, "Mister Buck, our Log a Log's down. 'Elp me!"
Buckler rushed through, his blade scything a deadly path as he helped Sniffy to support Jango. They stumbled away with the other Guosim rallying around them.
One or two of the bolder vermin tried to strike at their rear. They met Axtel Sturnclaw. The Warrior mole seemed in his element, pounding vermin with his war hammer, butting with his rocklike skull and lashing out with a mighty digging paw. He began roaring his war cry.
"Hooooaaaarggggh! Cumm to ee Deathmoler! Hoooo-aaarrrgh!"
Buckler grabbed Flib. "Here, help with yore pa. I've got to get Axtel out of here. Bartij, over here, mate!"
Bowling vermin aside, the big hedgehog found Buckler.
The young hare grabbed his paw. "We've got to get Axtel away afore he's mobbed an' brought down. Come on!"
Bartij booted a weasel aside. "I can hear him. Has he gone mad, Buck?"
Buckler dodged a spearpoint, running its owner through. "Aye, mate. I didn't know it 'til now, but Axtel is a berserker. He's got the Bloodwrath, like a Badger Lord. We've
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got to stop him fightin' an' make him retreat with us, or he'll battle to the end. There's too many for him!"
Axtel was scarred from ear to tail, bellowing and battling with no thought of defence or safety. Buckler confronted him, clearing a space with his long rapier. He pointed behind Axtel in the direction of Redwall, shouting in his face, "Over there--the enemy's over there!"
The Warrior mole halted for a brief moment, glaring at the young hare through blood-misted eyes. Buckler knew he was taking an awful risk, but he grabbed Axtel and spun him around, yelling urgently, "They're attackin' the Abbey. The Redwallers will be slain if they don't have a warrior to save 'em. Quick!"
Axtel lumbered off toward the Abbey, roaring his war cries and pounding the air with his war hammer. Buckler and Bartij defended his back as they retreated over the flatlands.
Guosim fighters turned every few paces, slinging stones as hard as they could at the Ravagers. Most shrews carried a sling and a pouch of round stream pebbles. Their throwing was so intense and accurate that the vermin slowed their pursuit, trying to stay out of range. Flib was particularly good. Even in the dark, her rapidly hurled missiles found targets amidst the vermin ranks.
Sniffy grabbed Flib, dragging her along with the retreating Guosim. "Back off, ye young rip, or you'll be left alone outside the Abbey. C'mon, you've done enough, Flib!"
Zwilt had not taken part in the fight. He reasoned that there was little sense in a commander being faced with a crazed, hammer-wielding mole or cut down by a chance slingstone.
Fallug ventured forward with the Ravagers, but only as an observer. He trotted back to make his report to Zwilt. "They fight fiercely for such a small force, Lord, but they're in retreat now, back to their Abbey. Hah, woodlanders can't stand against our Ravagers!"
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Zwilt regarded his Weasel Captain with cold scorn. "Where are the beasts I left you in the woodlands with?"
Straining his gaze into the darkness, Fallug pointed. "Comin' right now, Sire. They're carryin' the tree trunk ye wanted. It's a big 'eavy one!"
The tall sable issued fresh orders. "Quickly, now, go to them, leave the battering ram. Tell them to drop it--I mightn't need it if they're fast enough."
Fallug was perplexed, but he saluted dutifully. "Right away, Lord, but how'll we get into Redwall without battering the door down?"
"Come!" Zwilt pulled him along, explaining as they ran. "We'll split into two more groups. Take yours off to the left--I'll take mine to the right. If we're fast enough, we can cross the ditch, get onto the path and cut them off. The ones inside the Abbey are bound to open the big gates to let their friends in. My Ravagers will be coming in from three sides--from the left, the right and the back. We'll slay all those outside and rush in before they close the gates, but only if we act fast!"
Skipper and Oakheart had the west walltop covered with guards, who were mainly composed of older Redwallers, some mothers, Foremole and his full molecrew. They could hear the sounds of a running skirmish.
The Otter Chieftain tightened his jaw grimly. "Buck'n'Jango's gang are in trouble. They must've been seen by the vermin."
Oakheart dabbed at his eyes with a spotted kerchief. "Indeed, 'twould seem so, but 'tis confounded dark out there--too dark to give them any help. Can't tell which is t'other, it's all a mass of shapes. Very confusin', sirrah. Let's just hope they get back safely, eh?"
Foremole Darbee furrowed his velvety brow. "Hurr, an' us'll 'ave to h'open ee gates so they'm can coom h'insoide. 'Ow'm uz a-goin' t'do that, zurr?"
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Skipper thumped his rudder down fretfully. "Aye, mates, that's the problem. If'n we throw our gates open, we'll get all manner o' vermin chargin' in here!"
Granvy the Recorder emerged from the wallshadows. "Light a fire in the gateway."
Skipper frowned at the ancient hedgehog. "Wot are ye doin' up here, mate? Yore far too old for this sort o' thing. An' wot good will a fire in the gateway do?"
Granvy outlined his plan. "It's worth a try, for want of a better idea. We build a large fire not far from the main gate, surround either side of it with pike or javelin beasts, then at my signal, open the doors."
Oakheart scratched his headspikes. "It might just work! That way we can sort out the riffraff--let our friends enter and fight the vermin off. Keep the villains out, then as soon as Buck an' the others are in, we slam the gates!"