"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 c.u.mbersome livery.

256.

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.

257.

"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 Argulor, he listened to the eagle talking in its sleep.

"Hmm, pine marten, one little pine marten, that's all, maybe they taste like pine, hmmmmmm."

35.

258.

Despite the feeling of awe, Gonff could not help smiling to himself. After watching Salamandastron from afar, seeing the *column of fire that spouted from its top, and recalling the very name meant "mountain of the fire lizard," the little mousethief immediately saw it was a trick worthy of some mind as clever and resourceful as his own. There were no fire-breathing dragons here, but there was something equally as impressive in this great cave.

It was more than a cave, he decided. It was a huge mountain hall. At the its center was a mighty furnacelike forge. A towering column of rockwork took it up to the ceiling, away out of sight. Surrounded by hares, there stood the father of badgers. He was pure silver from tip to tail with a double broad creamy white stripe on either side of his forehead. Above the thickly muscled limbs and barrel chest, a pair of wild eyes surveyed the newcomers. Giving the mighty bellows handle a powerful downward swing, he tossed a red-hot spearpoint with a quick flick of his bare paws. It landed in a water trough with a boiling hiss of bubbles.

As the badger stumped across to them, Martin could almost feel the reverberations through the rock floor. He towered above them, extending a calloused paw that resembled a chunk of rock.

"Welcome to Salamandastron, friends. I am Boar the Fighter," the big voice boomed and echoed about the hall.

259.

His paw enveloped by Boar's, Martin felt very tiny. Now the full impact of Bella's words came to him. Here indeed was one to save Mossflower; the silver badger looked as if he could tear Kotir to pieces with his paws.

"I am Martin the Warrior. This is Young Dinny, and these two are Gonff and Log-a-Log. I have traveled from Moss-flower with my friends to bring a message from your daughter, Bella of Brockhall."

Boar unfastened his ap.r.o.n and shed it.

"All this I know. Come, let us go to my cave. It is more comfortable there. My hares will bring you food and drink, and you can clean yourselves up.'*

As they followed Boar, Gonff whispered to Martin.

"How does he know, matey? Is he a magic badger?"

"Sshh," Martin silenced the mousethief. "Watch your manners. We'll get to know soon enough."

Boar's cave was indeed comfortable. There were ledges to sit or lie upon covered in velvety moss, plants grew around the walls and hung from the ceiling. There was a rough rock table and a pool in one corner with steam rising from its surface.

"The pool is heated from my forge," Boar said, noticing their surprise. "You may bathe there later. You will observe that it is never cold here, again thanks to the forge. But please be seated. Here comes the food."

The hares brought in new bread, fresh salad, baked fish, mint water and a selection of last autumn's fruits crystallized in honey. After the frugal seash.o.r.e meals, the four travelers ate like a regiment many times their number.

Boar watched them with something approaching amus.e.m.e.nt on his gigantic face.

Gonff gave him a friendly wink. "So, the flames of the forge carry up that rock flue and shoot out the top of Sala-mandastron, eh?"

Boar winked back at Gonff. "You are a very perceptive little fellow, Gonff the thief."

"Prince of Mousethieves, matey," Gonff corrected him.

"But how did you know he was a thief?" Martin interrupted.

Boar leaned his chin on muscular paws, bringing his eyes 260.

level with Martin. "I know many things, little mouse. Later I will show you how. Now, is that young Dinny, grandson of my childhood friend Dinny the mole?"

"Hurr, Zur Bowar, that oi be. You'm know moi granfer Owd Dinny?" . "Of course I do. Is that old rascal still going strong?"

"Ho urr, 'ee be fitter'n a flea an' owder'n twenny 'ogs," Dinny laughed.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. And what about you, Log-a-Log?"

"Sir Boar, I am a boat builder, one-time leader of the Northwest Shrew Tribe."

"Oh? Why one-time leader?"

"Because I'm all that's left of my tribe in freedom," Log-a-Log explained. "We were captured by sea rats. I was the only one to escape the galleys."

Boar's eyes hardened to a burning ferocity and the bones in his paws cracked audibly as he ground them together.

"Sea rats! Dirty, treacherous, murdering sc.u.m!"

Martin was shocked at the deep hatred in Boar's voice, he listened intently as the badger continued.

"Not only do they burn and plunder among honest creatures, but they are savage to their own kind. Sinking each other's ships, murdering dieir own companions for an extra pawful of loot."

"Log-a-Log has told me of a sea rat called Ripfang of the Bloodwake," Martin interrupted. "Do you know him?"

Boar pointed seaward. "That one, he's out there now-my spies have been watching him all spring-sailing from north to south of here, waiting his chance to attack Salamandas-tron. Ripfang is the most evil of all sea rats. He has fought and sunk all others who sail in these waters, pressing their crews as slaves in his service. He is also the cleverest and most cunning of them all."

"In what way is he clever and cunning?" Gonff asked, noting the concern on Boar's face.

"Well, he has never feared Salamandastron, or the legends that surround this place. Ripfang is very daring, too. He has personally been here and knows that it is only myself and a few hares who keep the myth of the mountain alive. Others 261.

we can scare off, but not Ripfang. It is written that soon he will mount a major war against Salamandastron."

This was the second time that Boar had spoken of things that had not yet happened. Martin was curious.

"You say it is written, Boar?"

The badger stood tall, pointing at Martin. "What is that broken weapon you wear about your neck like a medal?" he asked.

The warrior mouse took it off and gave it to Boar, who inspected it closely as Martin explained.

"That was once the sword of my father. He was a warrior. How it came to be broken I will tell you, because your daughter Bella asked me to inform you about all that is going on in Mossflower."

As they ate and rested, Martin told Boar how he came to Kotir, the plight of the woodlanders, and Bella's plea for Boar to return to his birthright and free the land. Throughout the narrative, Boar the Fighter said nothing. He paced the room, turning the broken sword hilt over in his paws, looking at it as if it carried some message for him.

Martin finished his recitation of the events. "So you see, Mossflower has need of its son, Boar," he concluded. "You must come back with us."

There was silence. When the silver badger spoke, he did not answer the plea.

"This is a very ancient sword hilt, a good one. I can make it into a new weapon. I must give it a blade that will not be broken again by anything."

Martin saw that Boar would not be pressed for answers; he decided to comply until the badger's mood changed.

"Thank you, Boar. I would dearly like to see my father's old sword forged into a new weapon. Since it was broken I have felt like half a warrior carrying half a sword."

Boar shook his ma.s.sive head. "Your mistake, Martin. You are a real warrior, a full and true one. You have the heart- I can see it in you. But when I make this sword anew, you must always remember that it is not the weapon but the creature that wields it. A sword is a force for good only in the paws of an honest warrior. But enough now. You and your friends are tired. I will talk to you tomorrow and show you 262.

many things. Sleep here. If you wish to bathe the dust of travel away, I will send my hares with dry towels for you." Boar took his leave of the travelers.

The hot bath was deep and refreshing. Trubbs, Wother and Ffring turned up with huge soft towels.

"One each, you chaps. No splashing."

"Wash behind your ears, old sport."

"Night-night. See you in the morning."

Dry, full and warm, they lay on the moss-covered ledges.

"Hoo urr," Dinny yawned, "so we'm come to Samman-dastorat last."

Log-a-Log stared at the high ceiling.

"A wonderful place indeed. Strange creature that Boar, eh, Martin?"

"Oh, he'll tell us what he intends when he's good and ready," Martin said airily. "Let's get some sleep. I've a feeling tomorrow's going to be a full day."

Gonff could not resist a rendition of his latest song.