Chapter One Hundred and Nine
Snoga ran until his chest burned and his legs threatened to buckle under him, but he did not slack his pace until he and his band had safely gained the cover of the forest east of Doublegate. Only then did he allow himself the luxury of collapsing onto the damp earth, his breath coming in ragged, heaving gasps. His companions fell all around him, likewise winded from their hasty retreat. The four shrews bearing the remaining stormpowder casks brought up the rear, slowed by their burdens.
Why did so much of his life this past season seem to entail running from his enemies? It was not a position, Snoga was coming to learn, that he particularly favored.
Kellom checked the clearing behind them once every member of their company had reached the woods. "Don't look like anybeast's followin' us, Boss. Whadda we do now?"
"Well, things coulda gone better, but they coulda gone worse, too. Lots worse ... " Snoga patted one of the stormpowder kegs. "We didn't get all we came fer, but we got enuff - an' we're leavin' our enemies with a lot less'n they had! If this don't drive Urthblood's shrews outta our woods, at least it'll leave 'em a lot weaker than they were! We showed 'em who's boss tonight!"
Cheers and hurrahs of encouragement greeted these sentiments. Snoga's followers here might still be confused over what had gone on with the attempted hijacking of the searat sub, or who exactly Kothar was, but one thing they all understood was kicking Urthblood's shrews out of Mossflower, and on that issue they were very much united.
"Still an' all," he went on, "I dunno if we c'n trust them shrews not t' come spillin' outta there an' givin' chase, so I don't wanna pull back all our defenses at once. Kellom, make yer way around to th' main group on th' north side o' the fort, an' tell 'em t' hold their positions there fer awhile longer. That'll give us time t' get these casks back to th' boats an' make ready fer sailin'."
"Ain't we gonna fight 'em anymore t'night, Boss?"
Before Snoga could answer, two more thunderous explosions tore apart the relative calm of the predawn night, announcing a new round of violent bombardment from Kothar's catapult forces. From where they stood, the True Guosim shrews could see that this latest fusillade had targeted the main fort building itself, whose roof now bore two large, smoking holes. It seemed Kothar's heavy siege weapons had no trouble shooting clear over the stockade walls, even from across the river.
"Naw, we won't hafta, Kellom," Snoga said with a vicious grin. "Them rats'll do all th' fightin' for us!"
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Hanchett almost turned in his tracks at the resumption of the bombardment, tempted to race back to the catapults and disrupt their operation any way he could. While he held no great fondness in his heart for Captain Tardo's uncouth shrews, they were still goodbeasts, after a fashion, which was more than could be said for the searats attacking them. For all their bad manners and crudeness, most certainly they did not deserve the kind of horror they were being subjected to now.
And then there was the question of Lorr. That bankvole was as much a Redwaller as Hanchett himself, a friend to the Abbey and to their Guosim allies. It was Lorr, along with the few Toor otters stationed at Doublegate, who'd made Hanchett's brief stays at the shrew fort even marginally tolerable, and now those fine creatures were under the searats' batterment every bit as much as Urthblood's shrews. Hanchett fervently hoped they were all still okay, and would weather this storm through to its end, whatever that might be.
As another pair of concussions behind him lit up the night and filled the woods of lower Mossflower with their rat-wrought thunder, Hanchett began to doubt whether this battle would have a happy outcome for anybeast within Doublegate.
"That was jolly smart o' me, chuckin' away my only flippin' weapon, wot?" Hanchett chastised himself as he ran through the forest along the river's edge. "Even if it did scatter 'em enough t' let me make my bally getaway, it doesn't help me much now, does it? No question o' me goin' back there an' takin' on a whole regiment of searats - archers, bladebeasts an' all - with just my bare paws. Looks like our friends across the river'll hafta jolly well fend for themselves, sad t' say ... "
Hanchett's plan, such as it was, had been to go to ground at the first sign of pursuit, pick off one of the searats to get the villain's weapons (that, he could do barepawed), and then see what havoc he could raise among them. And if they decided not to chase after him, well then he would just keep running, and see where he ended up.
He hadn't counted on Kothar resuming the bombardment with such ferocity. Hanchett knew the catapult gunners had only fired off a fraction of their ammunition so far, but it had seemed that they'd inflicted as much damage on the Northlanders' stronghold that they could; what was the point of further demolishing walls that had already been rendered all but useless? Unless they meant to target the inner fortress itself, but the only purpose in that would be wanton destruction. Then again, that would fit right in with everything Hanchett knew about searats.
The young scout hare certainly did not pretend to understand all he had witnessed this night. That the underwater searat vessel had been destroyed, Hanchett had no doubt ... except that Kothar had given him the distinct impression that he meant to recapture the craft back from Urthblood. Hanchett could see the outlaw shrew trying to claim it for his own, given Snoga's history, but destroying it outright? That simply made no sense.
Had Hanchett been more mechanically inclined or shown greater curiosity about the searat submarine when last he'd been inside it with Lorr, he might have surmised that the vehicle was not currently operable, and that Snoga had destroyed it out of pure spite upon discovering this fact. As it was, this possibility didn't occur to the hare.
Pure spite, however, was a trait Hanchett had no trouble associating with the renegade shrew leader. And while he didn't know the precise logistics of tonight's attack, he knew Snoga had played a big part in it - most likely, that first wave of explosions that had brought down most of the outer wall had been the shrew's work. That meant Snoga was over there somewhere on the north side of the broadstream ... and that Hanchett's hunt of the treacherous outlaw could resume once more.
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Captain Tardo felt his world was coming apart all around him ... and, in a very real sense, it was.
As the fifth and sixth stormpowder kegs smashed into the main barracks house, obliterating a chunk of the structure's southwest corner on the top floor and demolishing yet another patch of roof, it had become apparent that the purpose of this latest onslaught was nothing less than the total destruction of Doublegate itself. Already flames were beginning to catch in several places on the main lodge, with no plausible possibility of extinguishing those fires. If the clouds overhead continued to withhold further rain, then it seemed certain that the barracks would burn unchecked until morning, and perhaps well beyond.
But that didn't mean all was lost. As long as the inner wall remained intact, the Northland shrews still stood a good chance of holding off their enemy, at least until daylight enabled them to venture out onto the field of battle and take on their foe in a fair fight. Even now, dozens of Tardo's shrews labored frantically to remove weapons, food and drink, clothes and bedding, medical supplies, and anything else they might need from the barracks house before the fires engulfed the entire structure. They'd all lived without a roof over their heads before and knew they could do so again, but only if they had all the other essentials that a woodland army required. They were ready to concede the loss of their primary residence, but not to concede the fight itself.
To that end, Tardo still strove to quell the flames that threatened to burn through the west wall. Let the barracks burn, but their last line of defense must be saved at all costs.
Several rope lines had been tied around the battlement timbers and uncoiled over the side of the southwest wall, as close to the river as the shattered south ramparts would allow. If they could expect no help from the shrews outside who'd fled as soon as the searat ship was destroyed, then Tardo would put his own shrews beyond the wall to fetch water from the broadstream. Over a score of Urthblood's soldierbeasts slipped down the ropes and formed a bucket brigade from the banks to the foot of the the wall, putting into use every pail and pot that could be found on such short notice in the confusion of battle. The three Toor otters presently stationed at Doublegate took charge of hauling the loaded buckets up to the ramparts, where waiting shrew paws relayed them to quench the blazes. For an operation that had been slapped together so quickly under such unfavorable circumstances, it ran more smoothly than anybeast had any reason to expect.
Circumstances were about to grow even more unfavorable, however. While Tardo looked on in approval, daring to hope that they might after all stand some chance at beating back the fires threatening their last layer of fortifications, other eyes did not like what they were seeing ... and steps were being taken to put Urthblood's shrews on the defensive once more.
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"Now what do those shrews think they're doing?" Kothar mused in a dangerous tone, studying the new activity outside the southwest wall. "I do believe they mean to put out all our lovely little fires that we've gone to such trouble to start." Snapping his head over his shoulder, the spyrat spat out orders in a staccato clip. "Archers! Pull back from your perimeter and establish a shooting line here on the banks! I want those shrews stopped!"
"But, what about that hare ... ?"
"I don't give a seagull's arse about that hare! If he was gonna come back, he woulda by now! Besides, we took all his weapons, an' he threw Capric's dagger right back at us! He'd be a fool to harass us unarmed, an' right now I need you archers over here. So, get over here!"
Hearing the imperative edge in the intelligence officer's voice and realizing the peril in questioning his orders further, all six of the archers hurried to the water's edge alongside Kothar - even the one who'd taken Hanchett's thrown dagger in the thigh, which might produce a lingering limp but did little to impede his shooting ability - and lined up abreast of one another, taking the measure of the shrew bucket brigade across the river. Testing the wind, each plucked a shaft from his quiver, notched it to his bowstring, raised his weapon, pulled back, and released. Their six arrows took flight as one.
One shrew fell dead, while a second suffered only a minor wound.
Kothar snorted. "And I thought you archers were supposed to be good ... "
"It's th' wind, sir," one hastened to explain, even as they all readied their second shots. "It's always trickier over water, 'specially water that's flowin' like this is. Plus it's a long way t' shoot, an' th' dark ain't helpin' neither ... "
"I want to see dead shrews, not hear excuses."
"Um, right, sir!"
Six more sharp twangs slapped against the night. This time three of the shafts found targets, and a second shrew was killed.
"Better, if only by a bit," Kothar appraised. "Keep it up. Don't stop shooting at them until I tell you otherwise, or until you run out of arrows."
The archers kept up the fusillade as ordered, even as the catapult crews continued their incendiary bombardment of the fortress itself. The shrews by the river showed no inclination to abandon their efforts, even after several more of their number were slain, and soon a macabre dynamic was established; for every shrew who fell to searat arrows, at least one more shinnied down the ropes from the ramparts to take its place. Clearly there was no shortage of willing volunteers, and soon the bucket brigade had more members than it had started with in spite of all the slain and injured defenders who lay off to the sides.
"What should we do?" the lead archer asked Kothar after at least a dozen shrews had been killed. "They ain't quittin'!"
"Mayhaps not," the spyrat said, "but we're slowin' 'em down. They got th' numbers t' spare, that's for sure, an' they seem quite willing to sacrifice as many of themselves as they must to get the job done. All I can say is, I'm mighty glad there's a river 'tween us, 'cos if this is how they fight fires, I can only imagine how they'd fight other beasts!"
"So, keep, shootin', sir?"
"Aye," Kothar decided with a nod. "If we can hamper their efforts just enough for those fires to really dig in an' get so their bucket line can't contain 'em, then the battle's ours."
One of the artillery rats leaned over to Kothar. "Y' want we should lob a keg or two their way? That big buildin's catchin' fire all over, an' I don't see how much more damage we can do that th' fires won't do all by themselves, given time. We'd surely disrupt their firefightin' efforts!"
Kothar glanced from the heavy wheeled weapons to the shrews across the broadstream. "Wouldn't you hafta reposition one catapult to line up a shot on' 'em?"
"We'd hafta do that anyway, sir, if y' wants us t' go after other parts o' that wall, off to th' sides ... "
"You think you can target accurately enough to hit 'em right in their midst?"
"Won't know 'til I try, sir."
"Then give it your best shot, an' do your worst!"
And so, as the hails of arrows continued to harry the shrew bucket brigade and the right catapult continued to hurl its destructive payloads at the rapidly-combusting-and-disintegrating main fort, the siege engine on the left was muscled and wrestled into a new position with a great creaking of wood beams and rope lashings, its tenders realigning it to target beasts who would least be expecting its destructive attentions.
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In many battles, a particular moment arrives when the tide turns decisively for one side and against the other, and the outcome is almost assured, even if some of the specific dramas within the overall tumult have yet to play out.
Captain Tardo knew something had changed when the explosions ravaging the barracks, which had been coming in dependable pairs, suddenly slacked off to isolated single blasts. He didn't know whether this boded ill or well. He could hope this signified that one of the enemy's siege engines had suffered some manner of malfunction, but the way things had gone for his side so far tonight, he wasn't counting on fortune's favor anytime soon.
He certainly had enough other things to occupy his attention. The searat archers across the river were exacting a heavy toll among the bucket brigade shrews, and Tardo was beginning to wonder whether the effort was worth the price in his troops' blood; it looked as if their attempts were barely holding the flames at bay. Elsewhere along the ramparts, several more shrews had lost their lives to flying slivers from the barracks explosions, sharp and deadly missiles created by the score with each new strike at the main building's roof and sides.
All around him, shrews were dying. Not in numbers they couldn't handle, or at a rate anywhere near what the destructive furies being unleashed against them would suggest, but just enough to rankle Tardo no end.
The turning point in this battle came with a miscalculation by the Northland shrews' enemies, and a rather serious one at that. Upon the south banks of the broadstream, the crew of the realigned catapult let fly their first shot aimed at disrupting Tardo's firefighting endeavor, but they had targeted too high, and the sparking cask sailed over the heads of the bucket-bearing shrews, causing not a single casualty among the Northlanders gathered near the river.
The damage it did cause was far worse than even the searats had intended.
The keg smashed into the walltop directly amidst the firefighting efforts. Two of the Toor otters were killed instantly while the third was seriously injured, robbing Tardo of his main muscle for hauling the water buckets up to the ramparts. The ropes themselves, singed and frayed, fell to the ground outside the wall, leaving no way for the newly-filled pails to be pulled up where they were needed, or for replacement shrews to descend to relieve the bucket brigade, which was still losing members to searat arrows. Worst of all, the blast's aftermath left tongues of yellow flame licking at the edges of this new hole in the battlements - flames that would spread, just as they were spreading all throughout Doublegate, with no practical way to extinguish them.
The shrew captain turned to regard the barracks house across the parade grounds from his position on the west walltop. The roof of the structure blazed in numerous places, and those fires inexorably crept downward to the lower floors. Soon the entire building would resemble the greatest bonfire Mossflower had ever seen ... and the way things were going, the stockade walls would not be far behind.
"Why couldn't we've built our fort of stone instead o' wood?" Tardo sighed with defeated exasperation, shoulders slumped in resignation.
A shrew hurried across the courtyard, giving the nascent inferno that was their former residence a wide berth, and yelled up at Tardo, "Cap'n, th' east wall's startin' t' catch too! We need some water over there!"
"Well, y' ain't gonna get it!" the commander yelled back. "That last burst just shut down our water-fetchin' operation! By th' time it'd take t' get it up 'n' runnin' again, it wouldn't do any good!"
"So, what should we do? Just let it burn?"
"Aye," Tardo bit off after a long and painful pause. "Let 'er burn. Lissen up, shrews! We're abandonin' Doublegate! This place's no good to us anymore, an' if we stay here tryin' t' hold out 'til th' last it'll only become our grave! Let's take this battle out to th' villains who did this to us, while there's still enuff o' us to make it a real fight!"
In spite of Tardo's rallying tone, no warrior's cheers met his pronouncement. This battle might not be over yet, but they'd lost the searat submarine and now Doublegate itself, and that alone was more of a defeat than any of them had ever dreamed they would suffer.
The battle had indeed turned, and most decisively. But the worst was yet to come.