Brian Jacques - Mossflower

on the roof pinned down."

A weasel called Foulwhisker peered around the doorway to the parade ground.

"All clear, Milady. They think we're still on the roof," he reported.

"Good. Get across the open ground quickly and don't drop those ladders."

The attack force was a large one. Brogg led them across the parade ground to

the wall.

"Right, you lot. Set the ladders up and get climbing," he ordered.

They scaled the walls until the top of the stonework was thick with soldiers.

Nervously they watched the trees, until Brogg came up last, panting hard.

"See anything?"

"No, Cap'n. All clear."

' 'Then haul these ladders up and let them down the other side."

As the last troops set paw on the woodland side, Martin appeared from the

trees. He was backed by six hares carrying pikes. Brogg grinned; not a very

large reception.

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"Troops charge!"

Otters poured out of the undergrowth from behind Martin and the hares. From

the left and right flanks, a horde of Mossflower irregulars sprang from

hiding, closing like pincer jaws.

Pike clashed upon spear as the two sides met, and battle cries arose.

"Death to the woodlanders!"

"Martin for Mossflower!"

A fox struck down an oar slave. He was about to finish him off when Skipper

thwacked him hard with a rock-laden sling, knocking the spear from his paws.

The six hares were causing devastation, with their pikes easily outreaching

Kotir spears. Soldiers facing fierce otters ran to the left or right, only to

see the way barred by mobs of shrews, mice, moles and oar slaves.

Brogg was no coward when his blood was roused. He fought madly to reach the

warrior mouse who carried the whirling sword.

Martin took a stoat low down, whipping the blade up and round at head height

as Boar had shown him. Turning, he felled a weasel. Then Brogg was upon him,

bulling forward. Unable to use his spear, the Captain threw himself at the

warrior mouse. Martin saw him coming. Falling backward and throwing his paws

up, he caught Brogg off balance, tossing him neatly. Skilfully, Brogg landed

on all fours. Grabbing his curved sword, he came thundering back with the

point held low. Martin rolled to one side, leaped straight up, and chopped

down with a double-pawed swing. The weasel Captain found himself holding a

sword handle from which the blade had been completely shorn. He backed up to a

tree, with Martin's sword at this throat.

"Back over that wall. Now!" The warrior mouse's voice snapped like a whip.

To Brogg's surprise, the blade lowered. He found himself dashing for the wall,

shouting aloud, "Retreat, retreat. Back to Kotir!"

Skipper hefted a javelin, taking aim at Brogg, but Martin's sword pushed the

weapon aside.

"Enough, Skip. Let them go."

* * *

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The vanquished troops fought tooth and claw among themselves to be first over

the wall lest the warrior mouse change his mind.

Loamhedge mice moved in to help the wounded.

Martin, Skipper and Gonff stood breathing heavily.

"You should have let us finish it, Martin."

"No, Skipper," Martin said firmly. "The only time I would have allowed that

was if the cat had been here."

Gonff sheathed his two fighting daggers. "Blow me, matey. We had them whipped

there. Why did you let 'em go?"

.Martin wiped his sword on the grass, staring at the slain of both sides

strewing the woodland floor.

"To show them we are not evil," he said at last. "We only want what is ours,

and now I think they know we're strong enough to get it. Could you not see,

the fight is going out of those soldiers? They are beginning to look as if

they need food. Their larders must be just about empty, and only the fear of

their cruel Queen keeps them going. Besides, when I put my plan in motion with

the help of some otters and my friend Timballisto, Kotir will be truly broken

and defeated until it is only a bad name to frighten little ones off to bed

with in the seasons to come."

Bella shook her head sadly as she picked up the limp form of a squirrel who

had been a former oar slave.

"You did right, Martin," she told him. "There is no greater evil than killing.

I don't care whether they call it war or justice. Life is precious."

A Loamhedge mouse wiped away a tear as she turned to Timballisto. "I think

Bella's right," she added.

"Aye, and so do I, young missie. But what can Martin do? He has to lead us to

a lasting peace against a cruel and coldblooded cat," Timballisto said gently.

There was no more fighting that day. Both sides halted to lick their wounds.

Martin waited for sunset, whilst Tsarmina berated her soldiers as she tried to

think up fresh schemes for victory.

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47

It had been a hot afternoon. The sun started to redden against a dusky purple

sky as Tsarmina ventured to stand at her high window. There was the warrior,

standing armor-clad on top of the wall. He had probably used one of the

ladders left behind by the cowards who had retreated. Tsarmina raked her claws

across the window ledge in helpless fury.

"What do you want, mouse?"

As she asked the question, she was groping furiously for the bow and arrows

which she kept close to paw.

"The sun is nearly set, Tsarmina. Remember the ultimatum I gave you this

morning?"

The wildcat Queen played for time as she fumbled with bow and arrows beneath

the window ledge.

"Tell me again, mouse. Refresh my memory."

"The message has not changed. There is still time for you to take your army

out of here and leave us in peace," he said reasonably. "You will not be

harmed if you leave before the sun is down."

The arrow came speeding through the air and struck Martin in the side. The

warrior mouse flinched and swayed with pain, but he stood firm. Tsarmina bit

her Up until blood flowed.

Martin turned and painfully mounted the ladder, with the shaft still sticking

in him. As he went, his words were like a final knell:

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"Then it is finished. I will bring this place down around you stone by stone.

You will travel to the gates of Dark Forest."

The troops sitting in the mess hall heard every chilling word in the failing

light.

"We should have got out of here long ago," a ferret called Ditchpaw snarled at

Brogg. "With an army our size we could live off the fat of the land anywhere."

Others joined him.

"Aye, why should we fight for this old ruin? It's hers, not ours."

"I was with Bane. He let us fight and keep our plunder sacks filled. There

isn't even 'enough to eat in this stinking place."

"I don't know what the mouse has planned, but you can bet he really means

business."

"Aye. We must have been mad ever to think woodlanders were soft."

"Right. Look at the mates we lost today, and where was she?"

"Hiding on the other side of the wall like a worm from a fish."

"More like a cat from a mouse, hahaha—"

Tsarmina stood in the doorway. "You were saying?"

Silence fell across the mess hall.

"Well?" Tsarmina's eyes narrowed.

The rat called Whegg stood up. "We want to get away from this place," he

whined.

Tsarmina prowled across to him, her face almost touching his nose. "Too late,

rat. The sun has set. However, there is one way you could get out: by the

gates of Dark Forest. Do you want me to send you that way?"

Whegg stood trembling with fear as Tsarmina slid back to the doorway. Turning,

she smiled disarmingly.

"Look at you. All of you panicking because of a mouse in armor and some