Brian Jacques - The Rogue Crew

Rake watched it come, calling to his warriors, “Hauld tight here until she strikes the gates!” He commented aside to Scutram, “Then Ah’ll know best what move tae make.”

Young Kite Slayer was easily the swiftest of paw in the crew. The ottermaid was first down the wallsteps, arriving in the curved stone alcove of the main gates. Brandishing spear and buckler, she called to her comrades, who were still coming down the steps. “There’ll be a lot more notches on this shield rim afore the night’s out. Come on, ye stinkin’ vermin, we’re wait—”

Her words were cut off as the giant arrow hit the gates dead centre. Both gates fell open, and the big shaft whizzed through, slaying Kite and whizzing on across the lawns. The Abbey’s main door shook under the impact as the shaft buried its point in the stout oak timbers.

On the walltop, Sergeant Miggory bawled out a warning to the Rogue Crew as the Greenshroud shot over the narrow ditch. “Stan’ aside beloooooooow!”

The otters hurled themselves to both sides of the long sandstone arch as the enemy vessel arrived.

Thrust onward by the immense gale force, the ship rammed into the open gateway. Both gates were ripped from their hinges, carrying on with the momentum as they were cleaved to the sides of the foebeasts’ craft. With a cracking and snapping of timber, the masts hit the main arch, breaking like twigs as they struck the stonework. Some vermin were killed amidst the wreckage, crushed under falling timbers and rigging. Yet still the Greenshroud continued its wild rush forward.

With the awful din singing in his ears, Razzid Wearat had fallen flat on the bowsprit. His good eye stared wildly about as he scrambled upright. Seeing the gateway wide open in his wake, he felt the ship still rolling across the Abbey lawns. Razzid grabbed his trident, bellowing jubilantly, “Ahoy, mates, we’re in! Now for the slaughter. Yahaaaaaar!”

33

The defenders on the walltop above the gates felt the rampart stonework shudder as the big ship was forced, under the storm’s momentum, right through into the Abbey. Skor and his Rogue Crew were already racing in pursuit of Greenshroud as it rattled over the lawns.

Captain Rake hastily ordered the hares and shrews, “On the double now, down intae the grounds!”

Inside, the Abbey walls became a scene of wild and stormy chaos. However, the only positive action of the moment came from Skor’s son Ruggan. Speedily he caught up with the ship’s stern, grabbing hold of a line, which trailed after it. With his sword clenched in his teeth, Ruggan hauled himself nimbly upward, finding holds for his footpaws as he went. The ship was on its set course, heading for the main Abbey door. The daring young otter had already noticed this. With a bound, he vaulted over the stern rail, almost bumping into a startled searat, whom he despatched with a swift sword thrust.

Ruggan slashed the lashings, which had been holding Greenshroud on course. Gale-force winds caught the rudder, causing the tiller to swing loose so the vessel yawed, running off course. It heeled broadside on to the storm, slamming hard into a huge, ancient elm, which brought the ship to a shuddering halt. The crew were knocked flat but quickly recovered as Razzid hurried amongst them. He bellowed orders through the sheeting rain.

“Loose the riggin’! Throw all ropes over the side—use’em to abandon ship. Quick now!”

Searats and corsairs promptly obeyed, swarming down over the lines to the saturated lawns below. Skor Axehound and his Rogue Crew charged to meet the foebeast. They were far outnumbered by enemies, but Skor was of the opinion that one good sea otter was worth any five vermin.

The Wearat, garbed in his iron-spiked helmet and a thick red cloak, stood at the centre of his crew as they fought to repel the otters.

Rake sized the situation up before he threw his fighters into the fray. He formed a swift strategy. “Most o’ the vermin got off on the side which wasnae hit by the tree. So we’ll circle aroond an’ board the ship on the other side, eh, Dandy!”

Log a Log Dandy smiled grimly. “Good idea, Cap’n. ’Twill put us up on deck so we can come down behind ’em! There ain’t too many came down on our side—about two to one, I’d say. Come on, me buckoes, let’s give the scum some steel!”

It was no easy task, as the vermin had their backs to the ship’s side, facing Rake’s warriors. Hares and shrews knew enough not to warn the rest of Greenshroud ’s vermin, so they fought without war cries, in savage silence.

Rake went at it with twin claymores flailing. Behind him came Sergeant Miggory, who had picked up a fallen spear. Log a Log Dandy and Lieutenant Scutram attacked from both sides, fore and aft, with rapier and sabre flashing. Churned up by rain and fighters, the lawn around them became a welter of mud. Both sides battled for their very lives, with no quarter given as steel clashed upon steel.

Lancejack Sage became surrounded by four of the foe. She took a knife throw in her shoulder as they closed in on her. A corsair ferret raised a scimitar as he leaned over the young hare. He snarled wickedly, “Haharr, time ta die, rabbet!”

He was about to slash down at Sage with the broad curved blade when a long oarshaft swept across, breaking his skull. Ruggan Axehound, leaning over the ship’s side, swung the oar again, wiping out the life of a searat. Big Drander and Buff Redspore fought their way to the lancejack’s side. As Buff stanched the wound in Sage’s shoulder, Drander leaned over, shielding them both with his body. He winked at Sage.

“Steady on, old gel. We’ll soon have ye up’n’about, wot!”

The breath was knocked from both haremaids when Drander suddenly slumped on top of them, a spear embedded deep between his shoulders.

Lieutenant Scutram slew the spear thrower with a hefty sabre slash. The ferocity of Long Patrol hares and Guosim shrews was so swift and ruthless that the vermin fled willy-nilly.

The shrew Chieftain chased after a corsair stoat; he despatched his quarry and divested him of his footwear, chuckling grimly. “Hahah! So this is the villain who stole my clogs!” Donning them, he skipped back to the ship, clicking both heels and sending sparks about.

“Ahoy, Rake, lookit me! I’m Log a Log Dandy Clogs agin!”

The tall Captain smiled momentarily. “Och, an’ so ye are, bonny lad. Right, all aboard, buckoes!”

On the other side of the vessel, Skor Axehound and his warriors found themselves outnumbered and hard pressed. Razzid Wearat stood at the centre of his crew, urging them forward in a bid to wipe out the otters and gain entry to the Abbey building.

Skor battled stoically on, ignoring minor wounds, the red light of Bloodwrath blazing in his eyes. Being outnumbered had never bothered the Warchief of the High North Coast. From where he stood, Razzid could see Skor. He was not anxious to cross steel with the big sea otter, so he drove the vermin hard, feeling that they could soon overwhelm the defenders. By then the heroic chieftain, wielding his mighty battleaxe amidst the storm-rent night, would doubtless be wounded many times.

Razzid sneered as he imagined himself finishing Skor off slowly with the trident. However, the sight of his mortal enemy seemed to send Skor into a frenzy. He beckoned with his axe, bellowing, “Don’t hide there in the middle of yore crew, dribblesnout! Come an’ get yore ugly head chopped off. I’ll stick it on that ole pitchfork ye call a weapon. How’ll that do ye, eh?”

Bloodwrath kept welling up in Skor Axehound’s eyes. He hurled himself into the vermin ranks, regardless of the wounds he was taking in his attempts to reach Razzid. The sight brought fear to the Wearat; he started retreating through his crew. He was almost at the rear when Shekra appeared at his side, urgently tugging his cloak.