THE CRIMSON BADGER - Chapter Seventy-Three
As the two badgers battled back and forth, it became quite clear to the onlooking ceatures that Urthblood held the upper paw. The duelling siblings were equally matched in size and strength, and Urthfist had the unrelenting fury of the Bloodwrath to drive him on, but Urthblood fought with a command of body and blade that was uncanny, turning himself and his sword into a single living, thinking weapon. While Urthfist raged and lashed out almost blindly, relying on his strength and force of will to overpower his opponent, Urthblood remained cold as steel, calculating and anticipating every parry, thrust, swing and counterswing with a silent intensity that betrayed no inward emotion. It was indeed as Urthblood had said; next to him, Urthfist looked sloppy. Urthblood took advantage of every mistake to drive his brother back, while making none himself. Several times he drove Urthfist off balance and forced him to the ground, but never once did Urthblood follow through to deliver the fatal blow. Perhaps he was toying with Urthfist, perhaps he was showing genuine mercy in his hesitation to take his brother's life, but whatever the reason, Urthfist remained alive and fighting long after he should have been dead.
Traveller led the remnants of Major Safford's seaward flank down the mountainside, flying through the mouse-hedgehog lines without engaging them. As the hares drew near the badger duel, a number of Urthblood's troops turned their way with weapons raised, but did not move to attack or block them. The Long Patrols cut a wide swathe around them to avoid confrontation, bypassing the hostile rats, weasels and foxes to join up with the other hares who stood below the two badgers.
Traveller sidled over to Hanchett, who was closest to paw. "See we're all just standin' 'round. So, it's down to single combat, wot?"
Hanchett shook his head uncertainly. "Not declared, sir. But nobeast on either side seems keen t' tangle, not with ... that goin' on." He motioned toward the battling behemoths. "Mostly, we're jus' guardin' Lord Urthfist's back, makin' sure none o' them verminous scum jump in against His Lordship."
"Looks like they're takin' the same bally approach, so I guess it's all down to Urthblood an' Urthfist now. How's His Lord holdin' up?"
"Could be better, sir. Watch a few moments, you'll see fer yerself. Urthblood, he fights like there's ice in his veins an' fire in his muscles. He's had Lord Urthfist on th' ropes a few times ... sir, we weren't sure whether we oughtta wade in ourselves, or let 'em be. Wot d' you think, Traveller sir?"
The veteran scout hare eyed Urthblood's troops, arrayed on the slopes just above them; like the hares, their attention was focused primarily on the two badgers, and they showed no indication of jumping into the fight. "If we join in, they will too, Hanchett chum. Right now, they got us outnumbered ... which wouldn't be so bad, if a dozen of 'em weren't those blasted foxes! They've been carvin' us up worse'n anybeast we ever faced before. No, I think we gotta let Urthblood an' Urthfist settle this. It's outta our paws now."
"Right, sir." Hanchett didn't sound totally convinced, but seemed content for the moment to accept Traveller's judgment.
And so the undeclared but observed single combat between Urthblood and Urthfist raged on, while scores of troops from the two sides forced themselves to stand by and watch without interfering. It was a fight unlike any Salamandastron had ever seen in its long history. Badger Lord had never fought Badger Lord before, and their clashing was like thunder on the mountainside. Even though Urthblood had plainly shown that his skill with a blade was greater than his brother's, at least in Urthfist's present Bloodwrath-fevered state, the younger badger was not to be deterred. On he fought, tapping into unimagined reserves of energy, unaware of the pain of his gashes, ignoring the mistakes that should have cost him his life, unheeding of any pause that might allow him to break off and end this duel, striving to find the opening in his brother's defense that simply wasn't there to be found. Clearly, Urthfist would not be content to depart this field of battle until one of them was dead, or until he collapsed from exhaustion.
It was beginning to look as if collapse was the more likely end. As the minutes passed - minutes that seemed like hours to the tensely watching and waiting creatures who hung on every sword swing - Urthfist began to falter more and more. His strength was finally starting to fail him, even as his mania continued to spur him on. The force of his swings was still tremendous, but now they were going wild, missing Urthblood's blade as often as not. Urthfist was a beast struggling through the haze of exhaustion, unable to summon the energy needed to direct his blade with his accustomed accuracy. But still he would not yield, flailing at Urthblood without cease.
"He's losin', sir," Hanchett bemoaned to Traveller.
"Doesn't look good, does it?" the old scout agreed. "Mebbe if a few o' us dove in an' pulled His Lordship back while th' rest of us keep those vermin at bay, we could get him outta this 'fore he gets hurt. T'would be risky, but ... hey!"
Hanchett took off before Traveller could finish. A fanatical light blazing in his eyes, the young hare ran around the two badgers toward the opposing line of rats, weasels and foxes. Swords and spears came up to greet him.
But these beasts were not his target. Hanchett sought only to get behind Urthblood. Veering aside in mid-charge, he easily avoided the half-circle of brandished enemy weapons. By the time Urthblood's troops saw what Hanchett intended, there was nothing they could do to stop him. Nobeast could outrun a hare under such conditions; he was quite beyond their reach.
Hesitating for just a heartbeat, picking a moment when Urthblood was just the slightest bit off-balance as he shifted his footing to fend off another ferocious sword swing from his brother, Hanchett tucked his head down into his paws and hurled himself full-body at the back of Urthblood's legs.
Machus alone of Urthblood's troops lunged forward when his master began to stumble.
It wasn't much of a stumble, really. Ordinarily, Hanchett's impact would barely have caused Urthblood to flinch. Even now, with his attention focused upon his brother's wavering onslaught, Urthblood stumbled but did not fall. Flinging his paws out to the sides as he was momentarily thrown off-kilter, he quickly regained his balance.
But it was all the opportunity Urthfist needed.
Seeing his brother's paw thrown out to help him recover his equilibrium, Urthfist closed in. The crimson-armored badger moved to shift his blade in front of him once more, but he'd left himself undefended for an instant too long. Even as his sword paw came forward to block the swing, Urthfist's blade caught it across the wrist, just below where the armor ended. Urthblood's sword clattered to the rocky ground, his severed paw still gripped tightly around the hilt.
Urthfist was oblivious to Machus, coming at him from the side with his own sword raised. The mad badger had eyes only for delivering the death blow to his mortal enemy.
Urthblood gave a roar of pain and flung himself backward onto the ground even as his paw went flying in a different direction, taking his weapon with it. But ground was not what the armored badger landed upon; Hanchett was behind him, just starting to rise from his assault on the enemy Lord. Now Urthblood's massive, steel-reinforced bulk smashed down atop the surprised hare, flattening him.
Overhead, Urthfist's death thrust met the empty air where Urthblood's face should have been. Urthblood rolled off Hanchett's tortured form toward his sword, which lay on the mountain slope two paces away.
Urthfist shifted position to swing at Urthblood again before he could recover his weapon, then felt a sudden lancing pain in his side. The afternoon's berserk fighting had left Urthfist's armor hanging loose and in disarray. The blade of Machus the Sword had found an unprotected spot in Urthfist's right side, just above the waist, and now that blade stuck half its length into the badger.
Urthblood's left paw closed around his severed right one. Holding his sword thus, he rose to his feet.
Other hares of the Long Patrol, alerted by Machus's entry into the fray even before the swordfox had reached Urthfist, were already rushing forward. They need not have bothered.
Urthfist instinctively twisted toward his unseen attacker. That movement locked Machus's blade tightly in place between two plates of armor whose edges jammed together; Machus pulled at his sword but could not dislodge it. In the same motion, Urthfist swung his broadsword in the fox's direction. Machus was left with no weapon to defend himself as the badger's blade sliced through his neck, neatly beheading the swordfox chieftain.
Roaring, Urthfist turned back to face his brother, swinging blindly as he did. Urthblood anticipated him perfectly. Waiting for the errant blade to slash harmlessly past him, Urthblood leaned in close before Urthfist could recover from the momentum of that wild swing, and drove his own blade between Urthfist's open jaws. The swordtip came out the back of his skull.
The charging hares skidded to a sudden stop. Other troops of Urthblood's who'd started forward in response did the same. For the space of many rapid heartbeats, the tableau held as if it were a diorama made of stone statues: Urthblood holding his blade through Urthfist's brain with his macabre double-pawed grasp; the decapitated swordfox lying at the side of the slain but still standing Badger Lord; the crushed hare lying behind Urthblood; and the stunned troops of both sides staring wordlessly at this final result of the bloodiest hour ever to unfold upon the slopes of Salamandastron.
Then, finally, Urthfist's sightless eyes clouded over with the glaze of death. Urthblood withdrew his sword, steel clattering against teeth in the now-slack jaw, and Urthfist toppled backward, crashing loudly to the stony ground.
The spell was broken. No shouts of victory went up from Urthblood's forces; they were as drained and battle-weary as their opponents, and stood at the ready in case the Long Patrol decided to continue the fight even without their master. But that was not to happen. The hares, many with eyes brimming full of unshed tears of grief, slowly stepped forward to stand over their fallen Lord.
The fox Andrus came forward and helped Urthblood staunch the flow of blood from his wound until it could be more properly treated. As the healer ministered to him, Urthblood looked to the hares. "Traveller," he said.
The seasoned scout glanced up in surprise. "You ... remember me?"
"Of course. You must give me your surrender, old friend. If you fight on, you will all be slain. I would not see that happen."
"Our surrender?" Traveller sadly shook his head as he regarded the fallen figure of Urthfist. "The Long Patrol's never surrendered to an enemy before."
"But I am not just any enemy," Urthblood said. "I am the Lord of the Mountain ... the only one, now. If you and your companions pledge me your loyalty, as you did once before many seasons ago, that will also be acceptable. Surrender, or allegiance. The choice is yours."
"An' if neither o' those strikes our fancy?" Traveller challenged.
"What would you do? Keep on fighting?"
Traveller surveyed the scene around him. Fewer than a score of hares were to be seen. Surely this couldn't be all that was left of the eighty-one who'd started this battle? But if there were anymore on other parts of the slope, he couldn't see them. Traveller called out, "Where's Cap'n Polifly?"
"He's dead, sir," one of the other hares answered, motioning to the headless corpse of Machus. "That fox got 'im."
"Oh, salt! Wot about Cap'n Taywood?"
"He's gone, too," another sniffed in reply. "Urthblood 'imself saw to that."
Traveller gritted his teeth. "Guess that makes me head hare here, wot?" He looked Urthblood in the eye. "Unless perchance you've still got Colonel Clewiston locked up in that mountain somewhere ... "
"No, I do not," Urthblood replied.
Traveller sighed. "Didn't figger any of th' Colonel's company would give up without fightin' to the very last. Guess you slaughtered th' lot of 'em, wot?"
"I entered Salamandastron without loss of life," Urthblood informed Traveller, "and I offered Colonel Clewiston the same chance to swear me loyalty that I offer you now. He refused, and went so far as to escape from the room where he was being held. Seeing this, I allowed them to leave. At last report, he and his company were seen fleeing over the high mountain pass for Redwall, hoping to reunite with my brother and all of you. They should be at the Abbey by now."
Traveller stared up at the badger warrior with wide eyes of amazement. "You mean, they're all still alive?"
Urthblood nodded. "No creature had lost its life in this affair until my brother charged into my front lines and started killing my troops."
This was too much for Traveller. The old scout sank down to his haunches, face buried in his paws, and wept. Many of the other hares now let their tears flow freely at last. Urthblood merely stood and watched, saying nothing.
A call came to them from higher up the mountainside, growing louder. "Redwall! Redwalllll!"
All the hares glanced up to see Winokur racing down toward the scene of this battle's final confrontation. Traveller arose, wiping his eyes clear. He'd never seen an otter in a habit before, and drew the obvious conclusion. "You must be that mediator fellow the Abbess told us 'bout."
"That I am," Winokur confirmed, stepping well around the carnage of Urthfist and Machus, brow furrowed in distaste. "I came here to stop a war, and I failed miserably. My own father lies slain up in the tunnel. But the battle's over now, and I see beasts from both sides still standing. My job now is to make sure not one more creature loses its life this day." He turned to Urthblood. "What say you, My Lord?"
"I have told these hares they must either give me their surrender, or else swear me their fealty. As long as they do one or the other, no more of them will die."
Winokur looked to Traveller, but the old runner shook his head. "We'll agree to a truce. No more fightin'. But we won't surrender, an' we sure as fur ain't gonna give this butcherer our allegiance. That's th' best I can do."
Winokur turned back to the badger. "My Lord, I have heard this hare offer you an honest truce. I strongly urge you to accept it ... if friendship with Redwall truly means anything to you at all. In the name of the Abbey, I forbid you to harm any more of these fine beasts, as long as they offer you no further opposition."
Urthblood considered this alternative. "As long as they lay down their arms, I will honor any truce they care to make," he said at last. "They will not be harmed. But if they enter Salamandastron without first giving me their oath of fealty, they will be placed under guard and considered prisoners of war. This I must insist upon."
"Well?" Winokur prompted of Traveller. The hare gazed up at his home, knowing that agreement meant exile. But at least they would have their lives. He owed that to Clewiston, who at this very moment was chasing across the lands after a battle that was already over. Now that Urthfist was dead, Traveller had to keep any more of them from dying, if he possibly could.
He locked gazes with Urthblood. "How do we know we can trust you?"
"That's what I'm here for," Winokur assured the senior hare, "to keep everybeast honest. And I'm not the only Redwaller here. If you both agree to these terms, we'll be looking over everybeast's shoulder. You can count on that!"
Traveller regarded Winokur anew. This otter presented himself with an authority that belied his obvious youth. There was no doubt that he spoke with the authority of Redwall behind him.
"Okay," he nodded, sticking his spear into a crack in the rocks. "A truce it is."
"Then shake paws!" Winokur ordered. Without hesitating, Urthblood extended his left paw, the only one he still had. Traveller did hesitate at exchanging such pleasantries with the beast who had been their mortal enemy until a few moments ago. But, after a moment, he too stuck out his left paw. It was almost lost in the immensity of the badger's massive grip. He felt like an infant shaking paws with an adult.
"It's done, then!" Winokur proclaimed. "We have a truce. No more killing!"
Urthblood withdrew his paw. "There has been too much of that already," he agreed.
Traveller knelt down alongside Urthfist. How was he supposed to grieve, out here in the open, with so many enemies looking on? He'd expected death or victory, but never a defeat like this.
"Today I have killed my brother," Urthblood intoned. "If there has ever been a more evil day in the history of Salamandastron, I cannot think what it would have been."
Traveller glanced up at Urthblood, surprised to hear such a statement from the enemy badger. "If ye're really that broken up over wot's happened, you'll see that Lord Urthfist gets th' decent 'n' honorable burial he deserves."
"All in good time, Traveller," Urthblood said. "My brother is not the only slain beast out here. Captain Mattoon!"
The weasel captain stepped forward from his group. "Yes, M'Lord?"
"Go into Salamandastron with all haste, and fetch Foremole's Tunnel and Trencher Corps. There are many graves to be dug."
Mattoon saluted and ran upslope toward the tunnel entrance.
Urthblood turned then to Andrus. The swordfox had finished binding the temporary bandage over the badger's bleeding wrist stump. "Andrus, gather all your fellow foxes and search through the casualties for injured beasts lying amongst the slain. Now that this battle is over, let us see if we might be able to save some lives."
00000000000
As the sun sank into the sea, the layered tiers of high cloud had their underbellies lit with a crimson glow as if in memorial to the bloody day just ended.
On the sandy coastal plain that bordered the northern foot of Salamandastron, an otter crew of four approached the limply sprawled and battered form of Captain Halpryn. A long javelin protruded from her breast, and she appeared quite dead. The otters had come to retrieve the kite's body so Halpryn could be given a proper officer's burial.
As they drew near, the large bird gave a sudden jerk, and a strangled murmur seemed to come from it. The otters started.
"By me rudder!" the crew leader, Tulia, exclaimed. "This featherbag ain't dead!"
Another otter, Tallbank, cautiously crept forward and placed a paw upon Halpryn's twisted neck. Kites could be of a vicious temperament, and if Halpryn was bady injured, she could lash out dangerously at friend and foe alike. But she did not stir again, and her open eye was misty and sightless. Tallbank glanced back at Tulia. "Must've been a reflex, that spasm. There's no life left in this bird."
As if to refute his pronouncement, Halpryn's splayed bulk gave another abrupt shift. Once again, a muffled voice seemed to emanate from the kite, although her beak did not move.
Tulia's wide brown eyes suddenly lit with understanding. "Blimy, I think there's somebeast under her! All t'gether, mateys, an' let's roll this dead weight off it - but gently!"
Working together, the otter quartet carefully shifted Halpryn's lifeless and yielding body over onto its back. Revealed on the packed sand underneath, still partly covered by one disjointed wing, was one rather startled hare. The disheveled creature sat staring up at them, one eye normal and the other red and puffy, its left paw hanging loosely at a painful angle. Its breathing seemed labored, coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Not ... the bally ... rescue party ... I expected," the hare wheezed.
"Well, whaddya know?" Tulia said to the other otters. "This bobtail must've been standin' right under Halpryn when she fell outta th' sky! Now, what're the chances o' that, I ask yers?"
The hare shook his head, with some effort. "Got it ... backwards, friend. I'm th' one ... who landed on her. Saved my life ... cushioned my bally fall ... tho', she is a bit bony in places." His good paw pointed to his injured one, then to his ribs, then finally to his inflamed eye. "Not much good fer fightin' just at th' moment, so if you waterdogs came all th' way down fer a tussle ... 'fraid I'm gonna hafta disappoint'cha."
"Not lookin' fer any more scrappin' t'day," Tulia told the hare. "The battle's over."
The injured beast stared up at Tulia in disbelief. "Over?"
Tulia nodded solemnly. "Sorry t' be th' one t' tell you, but yer Lord's dead. Urthblood slew him."
A shadow of grief crossed the hare's face, but that emotion quickly gave way to anger. "Ye're lyin'!" he accused.
Tulia scowled. "Don't call me a fibber, flopears, an' use yer noggin. If th' battle was still goin' on, we'd still be up guardin' the entrances, not down here gabbin' with you. Remember, we didn't even know you were out here. We came fer Cap'n Halpryn. Now I ask ye, if yer Lord had won th' battle, do you really think we'd be goin' 'round collectin' our dead?"
"Runnin' fer th' hills would be more like it!" Tallbank snorted.
The hare's expression fell into one of despair as he realized the otters were telling him the truth. He collapsed onto his back. "Then lay that bally bird back on top o' me, an' leave me here to die."
"We ain't leavin' one o' our captains out here fer th' dratted seagulls t' pick over ... an' we ain't leavin' you here, neither."
"Ain't gonna be no prisoner," the hare said stubbornly.
"Then you'll be our patient," Tulia insisted. "There's a truce on, 'tween us an' you hares who've survived. Still gettin' th' details all hammered out. Right now, it's gonna be all we can do t' get the dead buried in good fashion, an' take proper care o' the wounded. You need a healer's help ... an' ye're gonna get it, like it or not!"
The hare sighed and closed his eyes.
Tulia said, "Tallbank, go back inside an' fetch us a litter, or what we'll need t' make one. This fella has cracked ribs, an' mebbe worse. Can't risk movin' him any other way. Gotta have a stretcher." Looking at the stricken hare, she added, "If this beast really did survive a fall outta th' sky, that's a miracle in my book, an' we shore ain't gonna let a miracle go by th' wayside!"
