Brian Jacques - Mossflower

"You'll soon find out, old fellow."

Five flights of stairs hewn into the rock, one more cave and another steep

corridor led them to their destination.

The very heart of Salamandastron!

Bane the fox came down the dusty road from the north with his band of

mercenary plunderers.

They numbered about sixty in all, mainly foxes, with a scattering of rats and

weasels—a motley group, part tramp, part scavenger, mostly thieves. All were

well armed and capable, despite their ragged appearance. Food they had in

plenty: fish, birds, and vegetables to cook with them. By craft, guile and

murder they had crossed the boundless northern lands, seeking warmer climes

and easier living.

Bane was weary of living on his paws, always on the move. He was on the

lookout for some fat prosperous little community where he could hold sway

without much argument.

Then he spotted Kotir. A grand ruin that had seen better days, but the

possibilities were there. Backed by woodland, fronted by flatland, practically

skirting a road used by travelers—it was a dream come true.

Leaving orders for his band to camp in the ditch at the roadside out of sight,

Bane circled Kotir by himself to spy out the lie of the land. The more he saw

of Kotir, the more he fancied it. There would be no more winters in the

freezing northlands once he gained entry to this place.

Striding purposefully around the woodland edge at the south side, he

practically bumped into Tsarmina returning from the forest. It would have been

hard for a bystander to tell who was the more surprised, the fox or the

wildcat. As Tsarmina quickly nocked an arrow to her bowstring, Bane's paw shot

down to the curved sword he wore at his side. There was a moment's silence as

they both stood still, gathering their wits. Finally Bane cocked a paw toward

the fortress.

"Whose place is this?"

"It is mine. Who are you?" Tsarmina demanded haughtily.

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"They call me Bane. I'm a fighter, but if there's an easier way of getting

what I want I'll always try it."

"Hmm, a fighter. My name is Tsarmina, Queen of the Thousand Eyes. That is my

headquarters; it is called Kotir."

"Thousand Eyes," Bane said thoughtfully. "There was only ever one with that

name, old Verdauga Greeneyes. He was a wildcat, too."

"Yes, he was my father."

"Was?"

"Verdauga is dead now. I alone rule here. If you want, you may come into my

service. Kotir is in need of fighters. Are there any with you?''

"Sixty in all. Trained warriors—foxes, rats and weasels."

"I don't trust foxes. Why should I trust you?"

"Ha, who trusts who these days?" Bane snorted. "I'm not particularly fond of

wildcats. I've fought alongside your father, and against him, too."

"No doubt you have, but that is in the past now. You say you have threescore

warriors at your command. What would be your terms if you came to serve

Kotir?"

"Make me an offer."

"I'll do better than that. I'll make you a guarantee, Bane," Tsarmina told the

fox. "There are certain creatures—otters, squirrels, mice, hedgehogs . . .

woodlanders. One time they used to serve my family, now they choose to live in

Moss-flower Woods and resist me. Once we have flushed them out of hiding

together and enslaved them, then you can have an equal place alongside me. We

will rule Mossflower jointly."

Bane's paw left the sword hilt. "Done! I'll take you at your word."

"And I will take you at yours," Tsarmina replied, clasping the proffered paw.

Their untruthful eyes smiled falsely at each other.

Tsarmina saw that at least Bane had told the truth about his followers; ragged

and unkempt, but fighters to a beast.

They entered Kotir together.

Bane felt as if the place had been built for him.

The uniformed soldiery of Kotir looked askance at the tattered but well-fed

band of mercenaries.

Bane's fighters cast scornful eyes over the ill-fed soldiers in their

cumbersome livery.

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Tsarmina and Bane were closeted together in the Queen's Chamber. She listened

to his ideas with respect; treachery could come later, but for now she gave

the fox full credit as an experienced campaigner.

Bane's plan was simple. "Don't give *em an inch; show them you mean business;

forget about subterfuge and spies-thai only makes for prolonged war—strike

hard and be ruthless. We have the superior number of trained fighters. Start

tomorrow morning, have the full strength out in skirmish line, comb the forest

thoroughly, kill any who resist and take the rest prisoner. It's the only way

to get results, believe me."

"Bold words, Bane," Tsarmina told him approvingly. "But have you tried

fighting squirrel archers? They can vanish through the treetops as quick as

you can think."

"Then burn the trees, or chop them down. I've seen it all before. If small

creatures scurry off down holes, then block them up, fill every possible exit.

That's all they understand. You take my word, it works every time. I know, IVe

done it."

Tsarmina pointed out of the window at the fastness of Mossflower. "Could you

do it again out there?"

"With our combined forces, easily."

"Then we start tomorrow morning," she said decisively.

"At first light!"

Columbine was learning to use one of the smaller squirrel bows. Lady Amber had

set up a target while they patrolled the digging areas to protect the workers.

"Pull the string right back," Lady Amber instructed. "Look along the arrow

shaft with one eye. See the target? Good. Now breathe out and release the

arrow at the same time . . . Fine shot, Columbine!"

The shaft stood quivering near the target's center.

"Haha, I'm getting better at it all the time, Lady Amber."

"You certainly are. Keep it up and you'll soon be as good as me."

Foremole and Old Dinny came trundling up. The mole leader tugged his snout to

Amber.

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"Marm, Dinny an' oi filled up yon holler oak stump whurr 'ee got'n out Kotir

from,*' he reported.

Old Dinny plucked the arrow from the target and returned it to Columbine.

"Hurr, that we'ave," he agreed. "Doant want Sudden com men out thurr. We'm

gotter fludd cat place, not 'm woodlands."

Amber sighed. "It's a long dig. Let's hope we can do it before the cat and her

army make any surprise moves."

Skipper sprang dripping from the river.

"Never fear, Amber. My crew and I have done our bit. We've dug from under the

water clear to the floodgates your crew sunk into the ground, where the moles

began digging. Mind, I wish we could tunnel as well as Billum, Soilflyer and

Urthclaw. Strike me colors, you ought to see those lads shift earth."

Foremole and Old Dinny smiled with pleasure, but Amber slammed her paw against

the target.

"I just wish there was more my squirrels and I could do. Oh, I know we're

patrolling and keeping watch, but we don't seem to be contributing any real

work." She sighed again.

"Then why don't you let me and my crew do a bit of guard duty?" Skipper

suggested. "We could certainly do with the rest after all that underwater

diggin'. Listen, Billum reckons they'll strike some big rocks soon; why don't

you see if you could rig up something that'll help the moles to move them?"

Amber was delighted with the suggestion.

"Righto. I'll get Barklad and Oakapple onto it. They could rig tree hoists.

Thanks, Skip."

Chibb had flown a wide patrol merely for the exercise, but soon he grew weary

of such energetic practices. Perching on a branch not far from the sleeping