Brian Jacques - Martin the Warrior [Redwall 6]

As Marshank's gates slammed shut, the cart sped by Brome.

Scattering the last few venturesome horde members, it ground to a halt next to Felldoh's body.

Rowanoak leaped from the shafts as the first wave of arrows flew from the walltops. "Dig in, turn the cart on its side, get to cover quick!"

Ballaw assembled his throwers behind the cart. "Take your range, chaps, and drop those javelins in just over the walltop. You others, pick up any weapons you find lyin' about. That's the ticket! Slingers, get those stones from the cart. Look lively now, lads!"

Brome staggered up, tears streaming from him as he undid his healing bag and pulled out herbs and bandages. Barkjon sat with his son's head cradled in his lap, dry eyed.

"He won't be needing those, young one. Save them for the living.

My son has gone to the silent forest where he'll always be free."

Brome sat with Barkjon. The old squirrel wiped away the young mouse's tears. "It is good to grieve for a friend who has gone. He looks so happy and peaceful."

Brome shook his head. Placing a paw about Barkjon's shoulders, he said, "I've never seen anything like it; he was laughing aloud. It took a score and a half to get him down, and he still slew most of them. It was as if he knew his fate."

Barkjon nodded. "Never afraid, always a true warrior that was Felldoh's way."

The side of the cart was thick with quivering arrows. Ballaw barked out a sharp command: "Up an' at 'em, javelins!"

The line of throwers leapt up, flung their weapons off and dropped back down.

Immediately Ballaw called to the slingers, "Quick as y' like, one volley of stones. Go!"

The slingers stood, threw and dropped back down.

Howls and screams greeted the wave of javelins that dropped in on the archers at the walltop. They stood up to retaliate, and met the volley of slingstones zinging up hard on the heels of the javelins.

Crosstooth grabbed Wetpaw and Fleabane. "Take fifty fighters apiece over the back wall, an' spread out left an' right, advance along the shore an' dig in. We'll have 'em cut off at both sides, with the fort in front of 'em an' the sea behind. They'll have to surrender, or die!"

Buckler saw the hordebeasts pouring out either side of Marshank.

He found Rowanoak. "Lukkit, us'ns all 'ave to proteck 'ee flanks!"

Kastern, Gauchee, Trefoil and Celandine helped to shore up two long hillocks of sand either side of the cart. The slingers were split up and detailed to both sides, while the javelin throwers concentrated on the front facing the fortress.

Inside the fortress, Badrang lay on the longhouse table while Boggs and Growch dressed his wounds. The Tyrant had been beaten black and blue before his soldiers got to the rescue, and his head, face, shoulders and back were a welter of ugly lumps and long bruises. He arched his back painfully as Boggs treated the long javelin scratch.

"Haharr, matey, I thought you'd run into an army, but they tells me

'twere on'y one 'ard nosed squirrel. Scorch me sails, but 'e did a right good job on yer. Hah arrharrharr!"

Badrang glared at Clogg through puffy eyes. "Get out of my sight.

You're bad luck to me, Clogg!"

Boggs applied a dock leaf poultice to Badrang's shoulder. "Stay still, Sire. 'Ere, 'old that in place."

Clogg did a little jig in the doorway. "Aye, you 'old still, yer mightiness, lest yer ugly 'ead drops off, haharr!"

Badrang made as if to rise and grab his sword. Clogg scuttled off, chuckling to himself, "I'll 'ave the last laugh yet. Now, where's the galley round 'ere? I might as well eat an' drink me fill, seein' as all the rest are too busy warrin' an' fightin' fer glory!"

Ballaw gave a sharp gasp. He plucked out the arrow sticking from his paw and snapped it. "Ruined me best eatin' and gesturin' paw.

Rotters!"

Brome sat down behind the cart. Cleaning the wound, he applied a comfrey poultice and bound the paw with a clean linen strip.

"Good as new, eh wot!" Ballaw held it up, admiring the dressing. "I say, Brome old lad, you're gettin' to be a bit of a dab paw at this healin' lark!"

Wordlessly the young mouse crawled off to the next casualty.

Noon brought a lull in the fighting. The sun beat mercilessly down on the beach, and there was not even a welcome breeze. Behind Rowanoak's back, the sea shimmered, showing hardly a wave. The badger dusted sand from her paws as she gratefully accepted food from Keyla.

"It's only a mouthful of water and a scone. We don't know how long we'll be stuck here."

Trefoil nibbled at her scone. "Stuck is the right word, Keyla. We're boxed off on three sides, with the sea behind us if we fancy drowning ourselves."

Celandine sipped daintily at a scallop shell of water. "Drown ourselves? Ugh, how horrible! It'd ruin my tail!"

Kastern was making a bow with some springy wood and a cord.

"Well it's either that or carry on fighting a horde about thirty times greater than us. I should think that'd ruin your tail in the long run, Miss Fussbudget."

Buckler came to sit by Kastern. "Hurr, wot be you'm a maken a bow furr?"

"Well, there are so many arrows lying about and sticking out of everywhere, it seems a shame to waste them."

Rowanoak shook her head in admiration. "What an efficient trouper. Hey, Groot, see if you can make a few bows and help Kastern to use all these arrows messing the place up!"

Yarrow looked at Rowanoak strangely. "You Rambling Rosehip Players, you seem to make a joke of everything. Don't you realize we're in the middle of a battle, fighting for our lives?"

Ballaw patted his head with a bandaged paw. "What d'you want us to do then, laddie buck? Break down an' weep? Make the best of the situation, m' boy. Smile!"

The cart shook under a rattle of arrows, several piercing the wood by half a shaft length.

"Ah well, back to work, wot wot?" Yarrow yawned, fitting a stone to his sling.

Ballaw launched a javelin and ducked low. "Cheeky blighter!

Catches on fast, though."

Badrang was up and about, looking much the worse for wear but still bad tempered and active.

"Crosstooth, tell the horde to hold back their weapons a bit. I want to parley with that lot on the shore."

Archers and slingers stopped, Badrang's jaws were aching from Felldoh's blows, so he got a rat called Nip wort, who possessed a high squeaky voice, to call out his message.

Nipwort funnelled both paws around his mouth and shouted,

"Parley! Cease fire, we want a parley!"

"Then parley away, pipsqueak. What do you want?" Rowanoak's readily identifiable roar came back at him.

"My master, Lord Badrang, can keep you pinned down there and slay you at his leisure. If you surrender you will not be killed!"

This time it was Ballaw who answered. "Tell me my good chap, what happens to us after we surrender?"

"That will be for Lord Badrang to decide!"

Ballaw's head popped up over the cart. "Blinkin' nerve o' the rascal!

Listen, rustyhinge, you tell old Bad trousers that the Commander in Chief of the Fur and Freedom Fighters said that he can go an' boil his scurvy head, wot!"

The reply was accompanied by a healthy hail of sling stones, one of which knocked Nipwort senseless. Bad rang crouched beneath the parapet, massaging the numbness from his paws. "Get a fire going, use flaming arrows on that cart. We'll burn them out into the open!"

38

Guided by Boldred, Martin and his party made it in good time to the Broadstream inlet. They were greeted by Starwort's cheery cry as they came in sight of the water.

"Ahoy, mates, come on aboard!"

The big otter boat Waterlily was packed with tough looking otters, and in tow she had a flat bottomed barge, also filled to the gunwales with more otters. They made room for Martin and his contingent.