Chapter Sixteen
SMASH!
Another water-filled glass bubble exploded against the lower slopes of Salamandastron, soaking the rocks and sending dangerous shards flying in all directions.
"Well, M'Lord, they're gettin' better," Captain Mattoon said to Urthblood. "Leastways, I reckon they are ... "
Weasel and badger stood at the crater rim of the mountain's plateau, observing these seagull exercises. Behind and all about them perched scores of the large seabirds, watching the proceedings or just idly waiting their turn, and occasionally squabbling amongst themselves in their raucous, screeching, beak-stabbing manner. Far below, near the southeast foot of the fortress, painted rocks had been arranged into a crude target range, visible from high in the sky. The entire target zone glistened with a damp sheen in the late winter morning, and countless fragments of broken glass glittered and sparkled on the rocky ground in a wide circle around the targets.
"They have been training for less than a day, Captain," Urthblood said to Mattoon. "You cannot expect them to perfect this technique right away."
The weasel captain snorted. "You'd think they would, M'Lord, listenin' to 'em brag 'bout how good they are at breakin' open shellfish on th' rocks to get at th' meat inside. Been doin' it fer generations, they boasted. Can hit a solitary rock with a clam from halfway up th' sky, they claimed." He gazed down at the lower slopes; the evidence there suggested anything but that kind of precision. "Sure coulda fooled me, sir."
"These vessels they're dropping now are not shellfish, but something more unwieldy, and to which they are unaccustomed. We must be patient while they hone this skill."
"As you say, M'Lord. But all this practice o' theirs is turnin' that stretch o' ground into a right hazard. Anybeast who ventures near there had best be wearin' boots, elsewise their footpaws'll be sliced t' ribbons on all that busted glass."
"We can send out a cleanup crew to sweep it all away in a few days, after the gulls' training is complete," said Urthblood. "But in the meantime, it cannot be helped."
On the plateau behind them, a team of Gawtrybe worked nonstop on fitting new glass bubbles into carrying harnesses and filling them with seawater being pumped up to the mountaintop through wood pipes, since fresh water would be too precious to spare for these exercises. Another two gulls stepped forward to claim the next prepared bubble, and immediately set upon each other with flapping wings and clashing beaks, each wanting to claim this honor for itself. The squirrels quickly retreated from the momentary melee, while Mattoon just rolled his eyes.
"I swear, these birds're nasty as any vermin I ever knowed, an' they argue worse'n shrews! Are you sure you want 'em fer allies, M'Lord?"
"This alliance is necessary for the coming conflict, Captain. I have taken ill-mannered and unrefined creatures into my service before, and made respectable fighters out of them. We have no choice but to do so again."
The quarrelsome gulls finally sorted out their differences when one backed down, and the victor took off with his heavy load clutched in his webbed talons. As he circled high over the target range, King Grullon flew in from the north and landed alongside Urthblood. The seagull ruler stood next to the crimson-armored badger and watched as the latest trainee released his burden onto the rocks far below, where it shattered most spectacularly.
"Lord Stripedog gonna drop water on searats?" Grullon inquired, puzzled.
"It will not be seawater filling those globes when we drop them on Tratton's forces," Urthblood replied cryptically.
"Oh no?" Grullon did not pursue the matter, his flighty bird thoughts flitting this way and that as was usual for his species. "Grullon's gulls tell me stripedog's bushtails having trouble maybe up north."
Urthblood turned to the seagull king. "What kind of trouble?"
"Second searat ship come, now chase stripedog's groundbeasts along shore."
Mattoon straightened in alarm. That assault force sent to attack the lumber mill represented a considerable portion of Salamandastron's troop strength, including two of his fellow captains. If it were to be wiped out ... "M'Lord, do you think we oughtta send reinforcements?"
Urthblood asked Grullon, "Have the searats tried to land and engage my forces yet?"
"Not last Grullon's gulls tell me."
"Very well," Urthblood said. "Altidor and Klystra will let us know if Captain Matowick requires assistance. That is one of the reasons I sent them along on this mission. Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Your Majesty, and please do let us know if your gulls see any change in the situation there."
"But, M'Lord!" Mattoon protested. "They're prob'ly still so far north it'd take days fer reinforcements to reach 'em! If we wait 'til the searats try anything, it'll be too late!"
"I am sure Captains Matowick, Saybrook, Riveroll and Flusk will be able to handle a single searat ship, even a full sized dreadnought. Remember, the searats would have to land in groups if they think to attack our troops, since their ship will be too big to approach the shore closely. And once they set foot on land, they will be no match for the Gawtrybe. I would not favor their chances in such a contest."
"Um, yes, M'Lord." Mattoon didn't press the point; he'd served with the Badger Lord for enough seasons to know that Urthblood was not to be second-guessed in matters of military strategy and tactics. So the weasel shut up.
"Now then," Urthblood continued, "let us try sending two gulls out at a time. It will be important for them to learn to work in unison, since any attack on Tratton will be made in force ... "
A Gawtrybe squirrel stepped forward. "My Lord, at this rate we'll have used up all the glass that Trelayne has made in just a few days ... "
"The main ingredient of glass is sand, and that we have in abundance," Urthblood responded, "so we will be able to make as much as we need. And I do have some dummy armaments these gulls can use, so that Trelayne and his assistants will not have to work themselves ragged turning out enough glass to meet our demands. I would not deplete our entire inventory just for these exercises. I realize the importance of keeping a sizable reserve on paw, just in case Tratton decides to press the matter of exactly who is the true Lord of these coastlands."
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Matowick and his squirrels almost meandered as they marched south along the coast that morning. He figured they weren't on any schedule to return to Salamandastron, and if the searats wanted to try to tire them out with mind games, he would rewrite the rules on his own terms. Thus, he struck a pace that wouldn't run his marchers ragged. It wasn't quite resting on their footpaws, and it would hardly make up for the sleep they'd missed the night before, but it would leave them enough energy to meet any attack their foe might launch.
Just beyond the breakers, the logboat fleet matched the squirrels' slow progress by doing little more than floating along on the currents, maintaining their position with the occasional paddle stroke to keep abreast of their landbound comrades. And farther offshore, the Sharktail continued to shadow the southbound woodlanders, maintaining a necessarily discreet but everpresent menace to remind Urthblood's troops what was really at stake here.
As the noontide approached, the Gawtrybe halted for a leisurely lunch. Their boatmates agreed that this was a fine idea, and once more dragged their logboats up onto the sand to join their squirrel companions. Most of the otters dove into the surf and looked at first to be swimming toward the pirate dreadnought. All of these activities were being observed in minute detail from the Sharktail's deck.
"Are they ... attackin'?" Gumbs the boson asked incredulously; the notion of a couple of dozen otters, armed with nothing more than knives and javelins, attacking a full-sized warship was one that would normally never have occurred to the rat, but after the way these woodlanders had been acting ...
"No, they ain't attacking," Captain Rindosh scowled, pointing shoreward. Some of the first otters into the water had already returned to the beach, clutching shellfish of various kinds. "They're fishin', that's what they're doin'! Heh heh. At this rate, moseyin' along like they're on a woodland stroll an' stoppin' fer meals, they'll not reach Salamandastron 'til near the first o' spring! An' that's fine by me! How're we doin' on those powderkegs?"
"Um, we got about a dozen packed 'n' ready fer launchin', Cap'n," First Mate Bodor reported. "Wanna hit 'em now, while they're all jus' sittin' there?"
Rindosh shook his head. "Naw, they're too spread out. Better to hit 'em when they're marchin' in that tight column they like so much. It's mostly those squirrels I wanna target. An' when I do hit 'em, I wanna hit 'em hard! Y'say we got about a dozen powderkegs prepared, Bodor? Well, I want double that number! No, triple it! Work straight through th' night if you hafta. I want those bushtailed terrors obliterated!"
Bodor felt it was his responsibility to remind his commander of one salient point. "Um, Cap'n, th' powder's never been tested in battle b'fore, unless I'm mistaken. What if it don't work?"
"Oh, it'll work, Bodor. I was at King Tratton's side fer some o' th' tests on Terramort. It's simple as lightin' th' fuse an' launchin'. An' it'll be th' last surprise most o' those squirrels ever get!"
"Well, even if it does work okay," Bodor said, "ain't it risky waitin' fer tomorrer? What if they change their minds 'bout wantin' to fight us an' run away? Scatter, so we can't use th' stormpowder on 'em?"
"They won't," Rindosh answered with certainty. "They want our blood too badly. An' they know we want theirs. They won't run from this fight. But, ah - " the searat captain stroked his chin and grinned malevolently, " - I think it is near time t' give 'em a little taste o' battle, just t' keep 'em interested. Don't want 'em gettin' bored with this game, eh?"
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The woodland warriors finished their meal in their own sweet time, then resumed their casual march in plain view of the searats, the logboat flotilla back on the water paralleling them. The Sharktail too hauled up anchor and followed after them. But it quickly became apparent that the pirate vessel was intent on doing more than just following this time.
The giant ship veered landward unexpectedly and without warning. "Hey," Flusk yelled out, "what're those crazy seascum tryin' t' do, ground themselves?"
"Watch out on yer starboard sides!" Saybrook shouted to every logboat within earshot. "Searats comin' in!"
Rindosh had no intention of grounding his ship, and straightened out the dreadnought well before it was in any danger of that. The Sharktail was still considerably farther from shore than the logboats, but her huge size gave the illusion of towering over the tiny river craft.
The searat captain had twoscore archers lined along the port railing. As soon as the Sharktail straightened her course, the rats unleashed their shafts. They were too far from shore to reach the Gawtrybe, but the logboats were easily within range, and that was where the archers aimed.
Several shrews and an otter were hit in the first volley, one of the shrews slain instantly. Only the spacing between the logboats prevented higher casualties; Flusk and Saybrook had kept their fleet scattered and widely separated in the event of just such a move by the searats. But the pirate archers were already notching arrows to bowstrings for their second volley.
Dozens of shrews grabbed for their own bows and stood up in their logboats to return fire. This reflexive strategy proved utterly futile; the shrew bows simply didn't have the same reach as the rat longbows, and all of their shafts fell short even as three more shrews and a second otter were impaled by searat arrows.
Those beasts still at the oars also reacted instantly at the first volley. The shrew logboats were pointed at both prow and stern, so that they could cut through the water in either direction. The rowers immediately faced about in their seats and began furiously paddling in the opposite direction. They needed to get out of arrow range, and while there was no way they could expect to outpace the tremendous warship, that huge craft likewise could not reverse herself on a moment's notice like the maneuverable logboats could. The shrews and otters knew their best chance was to put themselves back behind the searat ship, rowing back north even as the Sharktail bore south.
Captain Rindosh had anticipated this response, and the woodland waterbeasts saw two landing boats emerge from behind the Sharktail and speed toward them in an effort to cut off their escape route. Each landing boat carried a score of burly oarsrats, rowing for all they were worth, and another dozen archer rats standing with bows at the ready. A glance over nervous shoulders revealed a third landing boat nosing out from behind the Sharktail's prow. Worst of all, the immense dreadnought had come to a stop that should not have been possible for a ship of her size. The logboat fleet was effectively boxed in fore, aft and starboard. The only option left was to flee up onto the beach.
The Gawtrybe, seeing what was happening, rushed down to the shoreline with their own longbows brandished, but there was nothing they could do; the Sharktail still lay beyond their range. They could only stand and watch helplessly as the logboats made for shore under further hails of searat arrows. Many more shrews and otters were shot before they could reach the safety of the beach. Two logboats never even made it that far, their entire crews wiped out by the searat barrage. Those floating coffins now bobbed macabrely out on the waves, beyond retrieval and beyond anybeast's help. They would ride the swells until the tides carried them ashore somewhere along the coast.
While the most accomplished healers amongst their present company set to work on the wounded, the rest of the squirrels lined up in defensive formation, arrows to bowstrings to meet the rats aboard the landing boats if they decided to press an attack. The smaller searat craft held their positions well offshore, making no move to approach.
"How bad is it?" Matowick asked, not sure he really wanted to hear the answer.
"Not as bad as it coulda been, I reckon," Flusk growled, lending a paw to help drag his own boat above the tideline. "Good thing those seascum ain't half the archers you Gawtrybe are. Still, they were good 'nuff to get nearly a score o' my shrews, looks like ... "
"An' about a half-dozen otters, too," Saybrook added, glancing out to sea. "Don't seem too int'rested in followin' up on this, do they? Guess they figger they don't hafta - they got what they wanted, which was us outta th' water. Never reckoned they'd try somethin' like that, comin' at us from three sides at once ... "
"This is my fault," Matowick bit off. "I was trying to goad them into an attack. It didn't occur to me they'd target the boats like this and ignore the rest of us. The captain of that dreadnought knows a thing or two about strategy."
"Aye," Saybrook agreed with a nod, "most o' Tratton's high officers do, or so 'tis said. Problem now is, they'll be able t' do th' same thing to us again if we return to th' water, an' I don't see any way we c'n defend 'gainst it."
"Unless mebbe we string out th' boats so few an' far between that those vermin can't bottle us up in a cluster agin like they just did," Flusk suggested. "Either that, or have us row on ahead, so's they won't know whether t' chase after us or stick with you squirrels 'n' slaves ... "
Matowick shook his head. "I don't want us to split up if we can help it. We've got a strength together that we wouldn't have separately. If they drive us off the water, we'll be forced to fight them on the land alone when they attack, and that's not an advantage I'm sure I want to give up."
"Only one thing to do then," said Saybrook, "an' that's fer us t' stick closer t' shore, an' make right back fer th' beach th' moment we see that big ship movin' in on us again." The otter captain glanced out at the waiting searats. "If they'll even let us take to th' waves again, that is."
"Oh, they'll let you," Matowick said with grim determination, and his eyes went to one of the beached logboats. In the bottom of it lay some of the tools the otters had used to sink the Wavehauler. "I think it's time to let the rats out in those landing boats know they're not welcome on these shores ... "
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It was fortunate for the woodlanders that the searats were totally unfamiliar with their burial practices. Thus, when the deceased shrews and otters were reverently laid out in several of the logboats, solemnly arranged in poses of eternal rest, the watching rats had no way of knowing it was all a ruse.
Four otters guided each funeral boat past the breakers to the gentler swells beyond, out where the other two abandoned logboats still floated. It looked like they intended for all their fallen comrades to ride the waves together wherever time and tide carried them.
It came as a complete surprise when the otters propelled the funeral boats all the way out to the waiting searat landing boats, where hull met hull with a solid wooden thunk!
The rat archers aboard the landing boats had no clear shots at the otter escorts, who stayed in the water where they could shelter behind the shrew craft. This didn't stop the archers from trying, however, even though none of their shafts found a target. A few of the errant arrows struck the dead lying in the logboats, but they were past complaining.
Thus shielded from the searats' barbs, Saybrook's squad was free to work in relative safety. Otters can hold their breaths much longer than any other land creature, and each one was able to drill completely through the bottom hull of one landing boat or another before having to swim back out behind the logboats to stick their heads up for air. They repeated this cycle as many times as they could.
When the holes began appearing faster than they could be plugged, the searats were left no choice but to retreat to the Sharktail. The otters steered the dead-laden logboats back to shore, retrieving the two errant vessels for good measure so that none of the rats' victims would be left out on the high seas.
"Hah, lookit them run!" Flusk crowed triumphantly. "That'll show 'em who owns these coastal waters!"
"Still, I wish we could have killed at least a few of them," Matowick added in disappointment. "Just to show them we're not to be trifled with."
"Woulda been too dangerous, Matty matey," Saybrook said, dragging his logboat ashore. "If we'd poked our heads above water long 'nuff t' chuck knives an' javelins at 'em, we'd o' lost more otters. S'pose we coulda tried t' capsize those tubs an' had at 'em on our own turf ... "
"Maybe you can use that strategy the next time ... if there is a next time." Matowick looked to the beached logboats full of the dead. "Now let's give our fallen brethren the proper heroes' burial they deserve."
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Rindosh personally inspected the damaged landing boats once they were winched back aboard the Sharktail. The searat captain poked his paw through the various holes that had blossomed in the hulls of the small craft. "This explains how they were able t' sink th' Wavehauler," Rindosh muttered to himself. "An' mebbe th' Scorpiontail too ... "
Choxin, the rat who'd been in charge of the assault on the shrew and otter convoy, fretted and fidgeted at his captain's side. "There was nuthin' we could do, Cap'n sir! They was hidin' behind their own dead! An' when they drilled these holes, they was right under us - no way fer us t' get at 'em!"
"Don't worry yer whiskers gray, Choxin - I ain't gonna reprimand you fer this." Rindosh stood back, paws folded across his chest as he studied the damaged landing craft. "At least now we know what they might do if we try a massed landin' ... "
"Aye," nodded Bodor, standing at his captain's side. "An' didja see how them squirrel devils came rushin' right up t' th' tideline, their bows all out an' ready t' shoot? If we'd attacked, they'da cut us down afore we'd stepped outta th' boats!"
"Precisely why I haven't tried a massed shore assault," Rindosh confirmed.
"Yeah, but them otters was right there, so close we coulda reached out an' touched 'em!" Bodor complained. "Not only did we not get any of 'em, but they ruined our boats!"
Rindosh gave his first mate's shoulder a companionly pat. "Hardly ruined, Bodor matey. A little pitch an' a few patches, an' they'll be good as new. An' as fer those woodlanders, I reckon we slew near a score of 'em ... an' they can't absorb losses like that th' way we could. We hurt 'em more'n they hurt us, an' that's what counts!"
"Yeah, I guess, Cap'n. So, whatta we do now?"
"We've shown them who owns these seas." Rindosh turned to return to his command deck. "Move the Sharktail back to her former position. We'll keep an eye on our woodland friends, and leave th' next move to them. But as long as they're still in sight come tomorrow, won't much matter what they do!"
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It took the rest of the afternoon for Urthblood's troops to bury their dead, high enough above the tideline so that the graves would not be eroded by stormy seas. Two pits were dug, one for the shrew casualties and one for the otters, and when the sandy soil was filled in over the bodies, a logboat was placed over each mound, upside down and with the names of the fallen carved into the skyward-pointing hulls. The two craft could be spared, sadly, now that there were that many fewer crewbeasts among their caravan.
It was too late in the day to resume their march, so the squirrels headed back up to the foothills to set up camp for the night, while the shrews and otters returned to their logboats to keep their offshore vigil. In spite of the proven risks in staying afloat, it was still the best way to protect against a nighttime invasion by the searats.
Or so they wanted the rats aboard the pirate dreadnought to think.
The Gawtrybe campfires blazed well into the night, finally dying down after midnight as most of the squirrels presumably fell into their nocturnal slumbers. The line of shrew logboats held their position, their crews sleeping in turns, the first tier of defense that any searat attack would have to penetrate.
Halfway toward dawn, all the shrews and otters unexpectedly took up their oars and began paddling southward, vacating the waters between the Sharktail and shore. Even in the dark of an overcast night, this development did not go unnoticed by the searat watchers, and shortly Captain Rindosh was up on his command deck, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders over his hastily-donned uniform to help ward off the winter sea chill. Leave it to these accursed woodland warriors to interrupt his sleep with some trick like this and force him out of his warm bed and into making tactical decisions while he was still fuzzy-headed!
"What're yer orders, Cap'n?" Gumbs the bosun wanted to know.
Rindosh thought aloud. "Did they all leave, or just th' boats? If the squirrels went too, then they're all headed south right now while we're just sittin' here. Mebbe those squirrels are still there, an' this is another ruse, t' make us go chasin' th' boats while they head off in a diff'rent direction. But, if we send a team ashore t' find out, they could be lyin' in wait fer us, wantin' payback fer what we did to 'em yesterday ... "
"I thought you said they weren't gonna run from us?" Gumbs asked.
"Still not sure they are," Rindosh replied, "but they may've had a change o' heart after th' damage we did 'em, knowin' they can't weather too many more clashes like that. Still, th' mountains are at their backs, so they can only go north or south." He considered the situation in silence for a few moments, while his crewrats stood by in anticipation awaiting his orders.
"Okay," he said at last, "send two landing boats ashore well north o' here, an' set up an ambush line. If those bushtails try t' double back th' way they came, we'll cut 'em off. An' if they went south, we'll have no trouble catching up with 'em once day breaks. They can't run or paddle as fast as we can sail, an' we're south o' th' River Moss, so there's no bay or estuary 'tween here an' Salamandastron where they can detour inland. We'll overtake 'em in no time ... an' then we'll give 'em the surprise o' their short lives!"
"But ... why're they runnin' at all, if they know they got nowhere t' run to, an' we c'n catch 'em up with no trouble?" Gumbs asked, confused.
"They may not all be runnin'," Rindosh reminded his bosun. "That's why we're stayin' put 'til mornin'. It's called tactics an' strategy, Gumbs. Learn it, an' mebbe someday you'll get yer own ship t' command." Rindosh flashed his underling a fang-filled grin, then went below to warm his bed once more until daybreak.