A fierce gale was blowing around Salamandastron, mountain of the fire lizard and sentinel of the western sea. At the top of the mountain, a lone hare stood, shielding his eyes against the dust blown up by the gale. Squinting he tried to scan the horizon, but sand and grit stung his eyes, forcing him to close them again. A trapdoor swung open in the centre of the crater and another, older hair stepped out. "What you doin' still up here young Larkin?" The hare on sentry turned to greet the new arrival. "On watch sah, though I c'n hardly see the point in this storm?"
"Well of course there's no point. Lord Bluestripe suspended all watch until the storm's poassed. Didn't anybeast tell ye?"
"No, sah."
"Well, consider yourself told. Now come down and get some tucker."
Being a hare, the young sentry was happy to oblige any invitation to sup and relinquished his post instantly.

The two hares wandered down the stairs to the mess hall chatting amiably with each other about recent events. Entering the lower mess a chaotic scene greeted them. A group of about fifty hares were engaged in a full blown food fight, with scones, vegetables and other pieces of the simple Salamandastron fare flying back and forth between hares on opposite sides of the room, who paused only to stuff whatever lay close to paw into their mouths and to gather more ammunition. A young hare recruit, scarcely more than a season in the force, was struggling to throw one of the collosal damson puddings onto a tall, lanky hare not participating in the fight just yet, instead trying to eat in peace.

The older hare who had collected Larkin surveyed the scene, trying to stifle a grin. He cleared his throat prominently, but this had no effect over the din of hares engaged in their fight. He tried again, even louder this time. A slightly older hare named Woodbreeze bounded over to the door "Sounds like somebeast got a bit of tuck stuck in their throat, eh wo...Whoops, Captain Gorse! Steady on chaps, officer present." The hare stood bolt upright and threw a fine salute, apparently unaware that he still held a scone in his saluting paw.

The hare, covered in honey and cream, with lettuce leaves on his head and a scone in his paw, standing bolt upright at attention looked so comical that Gorse couldn't help himself. He burst into laughter almost collapsing onto the stone floor as he leant on Larkin for support. "Whoo ho ho ho, you should see yourself now, ho ho, all dripping honey, ha ha hee, with a scone in your paw, ha, trying to look serious. Ha ha ha hee!" The venerable old officer was staggering about laughing, and so Larkin decided to take matters into his own hands. "Right uhh, disgraceful, you lot should know better than this! What if lord Bluestripe came in and saw all this? He'd have your tails for supper and your whiskers for dessert! Now, you'd better have this cleared up before he does come down, or there'll be real trouble!"

Captain Gorse had regained some of his composure by then and stood back up. "Righto, and just to prove how serious this is, you can all miss out on supper tonight. It'll teach you not to waste good food, if nothin' else." He pointed to the lanky hare who had not been throwing. "You Drubb, and Larkin, come with me." The tall hare bounded up out of his seat and followed Larkin and Gorse out the door. As they left, Woodbreeze slumped out of attention and muttered. Bed and no scoff? He's a positive rotter, wot."
"What was that recruit?"
"I said, uh, I think I'll roast if it gets much hotter! Lord Bluestripe must be working the furnace double hot today."
The Captain grunted and walked out.

The three hares made for the kitchen, which adjoined the Officers mess, so that Larkin and Gorse could get some food. The head cook, an old female hare called Dockpaw. Was sitting on a stool eating a cheese and celery flan. "So, you've brought me a couple of the miscreants from the food fight, ey? Well they can jolly well go and get to work. There's a cauldron out there that needs scouring, and the floor could do with a scrub. That should be enough to start you off, wot?"
Gorse intervened on the young hare's behalf. "Steady on marm, These two are about the only ones who weren't throwin' food around. Any chance of a bite of tuck for the three of us? There's not a lot left out in the mess." The cook pointed to a table on the other side of the kitchen. There's a pastie and some fruit over there." The officer nodded his thanks and led the two young hares over to the food, while the cook went back to her flan, muttering about the wastefulness of young hares.

* * *

In his forge above, Bluestrip the Wild, Badger Lord of Slamandastron was hammering out a long sword. It came up at least to his waist, with a cross tied hilt and a simple crosspiece. The sword was almost complete, and an unusual shape. Instead of being long and straight sided, the blade became distinctly wider the nearer it got to the top, before narrowing back off to a sharp point. When it was completed it would be a heavy, dangerous weapon, worthy of a Badger Lord. His last sword had been snapped off near the hilt where a small flaw in the steel had weakened it. This time though, that would not happen. Striking a final blow, he removed the sword from the heat and threw it into a barrel of water. Steam hissed out and rose up to the roof with a loud hiss. A knock sounded at the door. "Enter" he said, his deep voice echoing slightly in the cavelike room. The oaken door swung open as Gorse entered. He stood to attention and saluted. "Today's report milord. The sentries were brought in as you commanded during the sandstorm, but reported seeing nothing. Food and water supplies are in tip top condition, just got a foraging party in today before the storm. Streampaw and Oak still haven't returned, I'm considering putting out a search party, thought I'd put it before you first. Otherwise, nothing to report."

The badger rubbed his two blue-black headstripes which gave him his distinctive name, as he always did when deep in thought. "Oak and Streampaw are three days overdue. This is not good. Especially not when..." He looked back over his shoulder to the doorway to the echo room. Sensing something was not as it should be, Gorse asked. "What is it, Lord? Something troubling you?" Bluestripe turned back to the captain. "Maybe. Can you read, Captain?"
"Commonscript I c'n read milord, though I don't do it too often. Too busy fighting and scoffin to bother with it wot?" His smiling joke did little to lift the badger's mood. "Come with me." He walked through an arched doorway and down a passage to a solid, nail studded door. "Remember to be quiet in here. This is the echo room." The captain nodded and entered.

Inside, the quick-eyed captain noticed that all was not as it should be. The secret door to the room of ancient badger script prophecies was open, despite Bluestripes aversion to leaving it thus. It was there that the badger lord was bound. He slipped inside and walked down the passage to the end of the room. Mystified, the hare captain followed. The badger pointed to some scratchings on the wall and spoke, whispering lest the echoes carried to the echo room. "Read that and tell me what it says." The hare obliged, also whispering.

"In the Spring of the Greengage Sky,
Evil comes to threaten here.
Black as night with fiery eye,
Allbeasts that see him do right to fear!"

"Well that's a bally riddle and a half milord. What does it all mean?"
"I don't know, but there is more here than meets the eye. Look around, what do you see?"
"Well, uhh, the walls sire, and the writing on them."
"Aye the writing. And can you read any of it?"
"No, tis all badgerscript." Light dawned in the captain's mind. "Well what's this doing being written in commonscript? Why isn't it badger?"
"Exactly! And another thing. When I came in here three days ago that door was tightly closed. I found this and realized that I had never seen it before! Nobeast in this mountain but me can open that door, and yet this writing appeared here. How?"
The captain thought hard but had no answer. "Are you sure tis new sire? I mean, there is a lot of writing here. Mayhap you just missed it before?"
"No, that is impossible. Often I have stared at this patch wondering why it was empty while the other writings were crowded around it. But three days ago, it was full. How could anybeast have written it here without my knowledge?"
"I couldn't say sire, but perhaps we should concern ourselves not with how the message got here, but rather what the bally thing means! When, for instance, is the autumn of the Greengage sky?"
"That is the most disturbing. A family of geese were in the deep south and they agreed to carry a message here from a badger who lives in a big mouse abbey down there, called 'Loamhedge'. I have it here." He reached down into the deep pockets of his leather forge apron and got out a sheet of parchment. He held it out in front of him and began to read.
"There is a lot of other information about happenings down there, but the part that is of the most interest is this passage 'We were treated to an amazing spectacle yesterday, the first day of spring. The sun rose in a most unusual fashion, somehow colouring the sky in the most unusual shade of green. Saramolin, the mouse healer says it had to do with hail in the mountains to the south, and Aboot Jurlo has decided to commemorate the event by naming the season 'The Spring of the Greengage Sky.'

The hare captain gave a downward whistle of surprise. "Well, if that is so, then we might need to start preparing for some action, wot? Whoever he is that 'allbeasts fear' is going to learn that the hares of Salamadastron don't fear a thing!"
Smiling grimly, the badger lord replied, "Aye, Gorse, and neither do the badgers!"

* * *

Many leagues up the coast, a vermin horde had set up camp. They had come, plundering from the northlands, scores and scores of ferrets, weasels, foxes, rats and stoats had been killing and raiding up and down the western coast. Corsair ships, peaceful fishing villages, other vermin bands, anything that might have a pawful of loot or a skerrick of food fell before the cruel blades of the vermin. They had never been defeated in battle, never lost a skirmish, never had to retreat. At the head of this cruel wave of evil was possibly the most feared beast in all the world -

Darkan!

The evil wolf, jet black from tip to tail, broken only by his blood red eyes. He was immensely strong, as large as a badger, sleek and totally evil. His horde followed and feared the cruel wolf, knowing that desertion was pointless and mutiny was tantamount to suicide. It was a commonly held opinion that, even if the entire horde were to attack him, Darkan would triumph. He had no blade or other weapons prefering to use his claws and teeth. However, he rarely had to use them. Nobeast dared cross the black wolf.

The horde captains were meeting in a large tent. Wine was served and they sat, drinking calmly, speaking with each other in quiet terms. Wergang, a large ferret, was talking to another captain, Dogtooth, a rat.
"What happened to those two hares, Doggie?"
"We were torturin' em. They wouldn't tell us where they were from, or nothi' else. Ha, they was tough nuts."
"Did they squeal?"
"Not too much. Just said that others would 'avenge' 'em. Ha! I'd like to see 'em try. Eventually we got bored and killed 'em. They'll be makin' a nice meal for any patrolin' sharks mate! Ha ha ha!"

The chatter was silenced as Darkan's second in command came into the room. He was a fox known as Dethbrush, and was almost as good a fighter as Darkan himself, but not so intelligent or big. He addressed the vermin captains. "As ye all know, those two rabbits we caught wouldn't give us the name of their hide out, but that don't really matter. Accordin' to the charts we pinched off of that corsair galley last week there aint no big place around here, 'ceptin some big mountain with a funny name. Sammerandason or summat. Anyway, a couple of the prisoners we took reckoned that the whole place was full of hares. That's where we're bound. We're gonna take the mountain, kill the hares and use it as our new base. Any questions?"
The vermin around him stared back, silently.
"Good. We're movin out tomorrow, so have your squads pack everything up. Lord Darkan don't wait for stragglers!"

The next day, the vermin horde began to move. Like a slow stain of black, they crept across the land, heading inexorably for Salamandastron.



Coming soon - The Bluestripe Sagas!