Chapter Fourteen
Matowick made sure his forces were arrayed along the shore in plain sight of the searats. Their plan wouldn't work unless they could draw this second dreadnought away from the ruined camp and the injured woodlanders hiding there. It seemed unlikely that a ship full of fighting vermin would be content to let the creatures who'd inflicted so much damage upon their brethren escape down the coast in favor of investigating the scene of the battle. And for his part, the Gawtrybe captain actually half-hoped he could provoke this second ship into a shorebound landing and attack - with fourscore squirrel archers at his command, as well as dozens more shrews and otters, Matowick felt confident he could inflict massive losses on their searat foes.
The Sharktail had pulled up to the end of the ruined dock. It must have been clear from the wrecked state of the pier and the skewed masts of the Scorpiontail sticking up out of the water that there would be no safe harbor here. From the deck of the warship the rats could clearly see the Gawtrybe neatly formed into a marching column along the shore south of the burning camp. Between the squirrels and the rat ship floated the convoy of nearly four dozen shrew logboats, bobbing in the gentle swells just beyond the breakers, loaded with shrews and otters. It was a brash display, even if they were just beyond arrow range. Practically a challenge - which was just as Matowick wanted it.
He glanced over his shoulder, and his lieutenant Perricone guessed what he was thinking. "You reckon Browder and the slaves are safely away by now?" she asked.
"I suppose so, Perri. They've had enough of a head start, and they're headed in an oblique direction that wouldn't be easily tracked. If those rats are gonna come after anybeast, it'll be us - were a big, fat, tempting target, out in plain sight on the open coast. It's the ones we left behind in the camp I'm worried about. If the searat captain decides to land there in force ... "
"Nothing we can do about it now, sir," Perricone advised. "They knew the risks when they agreed to stay. And the wounded weren't going anywhere, whether they wanted to or not." She glanced out toward the Sharktail, which was way too close for her liking. "And now, Captain, I really do think we should be going ... "
"Right you are, Perri. Okay!" he shouted. "Banner up, and forward ... MARCH!"
The standard bearer lifted their battle flag high - a blood-red badger on a black background - and the column of Gawtrybe started south at a quick march, footpaws kicking up sand behind them. Out from shore, shrews and otters dug into the water with their paddles, setting their nautical caravan on a course to parallel their landbound comrades. The fighting slaves who'd decided to accompany the warriors marched among the squirrels, scavenged searat weapons clutched tightly in paw. If there was to be further fighting, they would not shy away from it.
They wound their way past the cave where Browder and Saybrook's squad had waited before the assault, and pushed on until the coast began to curve east into a small bay. Here the woodland warriors paused, looking back to see what the searats would do.
Some of sharper-eyed squirrels could, at this distance, just make out the landing craft that were putting ashore. "Captain, they're going into the camp after all!"
"Just a couple of small boatloads, Perri," Matowick replied, squinting to see for himself. "That's no occupation force. Scouts, more like. My guess is they're looking for survivors who can tell them what happened."
"Fat lotta good that'll do 'em!" the squirrel Arway snorted.
"Yeah," added Sergeant Grapentine, "if they wanna know what happened there, they'll hafta ask us ... and I'll be only too happy to let my arrows do the replying!" He pulled back on his empty bowstring, itching to use it.
"What if they do reoccupy the site?" Perricone worried.
"And ignore us?" Matowick shook his head. "They've seen us, no doubt of that, and they dare not let us escape. Tratton would have their heads."
"But, if they discover the ones hiding there, they could hold them as hostages ... "
"That's one risk of this plan," Matowick admitted, and glanced skyward. The lone winged form could be seen against the blue field, circling high above the shattered rat camp. "Altidor and Klystra are keeping a sharp eye on things from up there. If something goes very wrong, they'll let us know. In the meantime, we sit tight. Those rats aren't coming after us now, and I want to keep them where I can see them. If they give our wounded trouble, maybe we can lend a paw ... "
"I thought we'd decided against that," said Perricone. "If they find out we have friends there we'd fight to save, they could lure us into a trap ... "
"On the other paw, if we attack in force before they can get the majority of their soldiers ashore, we might be able to wipe them out." Matowick gazed toward the site. "Maybe this was a mistake ... maybe we should have held our ground, made our stand where we were ... "
"And risk being overwhelmed? We would've been tied down to one spot, sir, obligated to defend our wounded at all costs. This was the best chance for all of us. You made the right call, Captain."
"That remains to be seen, Perri," Matowick said dubiously, staring up the shore toward the searat activity. "That remains to be seen."
And so they waited and watched, fourscore squirrels and assorted slaves standing on the beach and a small fleet of logboats bobbing in the surf, poised between flight and attack.
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First Mate Bodor led the party ashore.
As awesome as the destruction had seemed from aboard the Sharktail, up close it was positively staggering. The landing boats skirted the dismembered pier, most of its planks now missing, and an audible gasp arose from the oarsrats as they glanced down and saw the submerged corpse of the Wavehauler lurking beneath them like a giant ghost in the sunlit waters.
Once ashore, things got even worse as they realized the large burning mass at the head of the shattered dock was a tangled mess of over a hundred dead searats, perhaps twice that number, ablaze in their final ignominious resting place. Some of the pirate scouts jumped back into the landing boats and wailed to return to the Sharktail at once, but Bodor and a few of the more hardened fighters lashed and kicked at them to press on. No rat would be returning to the dreadnought until they'd thoroughly scouted every corner of the camp for survivors, clues or enemy.
While the force fanned out to scour the burning and smoldering ruins, Bodor and a pair of burly soldier rats took up station at the center of the site by the foot of Ostrok's tower. This spot gave the first mate a clear view in all directions, and what he saw was disheartening in the extreme. Every other building in the camp had been torched; the mill factory was collapsing in sections even as he watched. All the other structures were down already, and some were little more than smoking piles of gray ash and charred timbers. The destruction was total.
And they had just missed it.
Bodor turned and looked up at the overseer's tower rearing up at their backs. "Looks like this 'ere's the only thing they couldn't set ablaze, an' they still did a job on it ... " His gaze took in the shattered picture windows of the third floor office, and the wisps of smoke drifting out through the jagged frames. "Sumpthin's burnin' up there, though. Mebbe furniture, or floorboards an' stairs. Still, if there's anyplace in this whole mess where some o' our mateys might've weathered th' storm, this'd be it."
Bodor and his troops pounded on the tower door, and were surprised to hear and feel a total solidity to the wood, with no give and no echo whatsoever.
"That ain't jus' barricaded, sir," one soldier remarked, "it's shored up solid. Th' beasts inside musta piled rocks or sand up 'gainst th' other side like a berm or dam ... "
"Which means they were tryin' t' keep somebeast out." Bodor drew his sword and rapped its flat against the door. "Ahoy in there!" he shouted, face to the wood. "This's First Mate Bodor of th' Sharktail! Any rat alive in there? We're 'ere t' rescue ya, so open up in th' name o' King Tratton!"
All within remained deathly silent.
"Should we try 'n' chop our way in, sir?"
Bodor nodded. "Yeah, see if y' can ... "
The two soldier rats, working with battle axe and heavy pike, set to work on the door. The wood splintered and shuddered under their blows, and when at last they forced open a crack a paw's width across, sand came spilling out all over their footclaws.
The senior rat looked to Bodor in dismay. "Like I figgered, sir. We'd hafta dig our way through that ... could take all day."
"Yeah, so I sees." Bodor stepped away from the wall and cupped his paws to his mouth. "Hello, up there in th' tower! Anybeast there? It's first mate o' th' Sharktail! If y' can hear me, give a shout!"
No reply came.
"You want we should climb up there an' take a look?"
Bodor gazed at the broken windows and the smoke issuing forth through them. "Naw. Pretty clear what musta happened 'ere. Some o' these rats, mebbe Manager Ostrok hisself, tried t' seal themselves up in this tower, knowin' the enemy couldn't burn it too easy. But we saw there's squirrels in th' enemy force, an' they musta climbed up th' outside an' smashed their way in from above an' killed everyrat inside. Wouldn't be burnin' up there if t'was anybeast still alive in this tower."
The two fighters nodded in agreement. It sounded perfectly logical to them.
The scouts began to report back from every part of the devastated mill site. No matter where or how hard they looked, there was no trace to be found of anybeast, living or dead. It seemed every slain rat must have been fed to the funeral pyre by the dock, and a large mound of freshly-turned sand near the tower suggested where the enemy had laid their own dead to rest; Bodor didn't want to take the time to find out for sure. This camp had been wiped clean of all life.
"Well, that's what Cap'n Rindosh wanted t' know," Bodor sighed. "Pity there's no survivors or prisoners, but we can't take back what ain't 'ere. Back to th' boats, me buckoes - we're returnin' to th' Sharktail!"
They needed no second bidding. Eager to be away from this place of death, the rat scouts piled into the landing boats and almost didn't wait for Bodor to climb aboard himself before shoving off and rowing back to their home dreadnought with purpose.
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The Gawtrybe archers, crouched down out of sight in the top of the tower, had heard almost everything Bodor said. Their biggest challenge had been stifling their coughs from the smoky fire they'd set in Ostrok's office to make the building look burned-out and abandoned. Even with the dampened kerchiefs tied over their noses, and the paneless windows allowing the smoke to escape almost as soon as it was created, there was enough in the room to tickle the nose, irritate the throat and make the eyes water.
Only when they heard the distant splashing of the rats' oars in the water did one of the squirrels risk a quick peek up over the windowsill to verify that the landing party was indeed heading back to the main ship. The Gawtrybe here still wore the camouflage ash in their fur, unlike their comrades down the coast who'd washed the gray soot out of their red fur to make themselves more visible to their would-be pursuers.
The lookout quickly ducked his head back down. "Yup," he whispered, "they're all gone. Should we let this fire die out now?"
Sergeant Custis shook his head, feeding another piece of wood to the bonfire in the middle of the floor. They'd hastily assembled a crude stone hearth of sorts so that the flames from their smoky decoy fire wouldn't accidentally spread to the floorboards beneath it. The last thing they needed was to burn down the wooden interior structure of the tower in which they were all barricaded.
"We'll wait a little longer," Custis replied, keeping his own voice low in case the rats had left a crew member or two ashore as spies. "Preferably, until after that big ship out there hoves out of view. It'd look pretty suspicious if the smoke stops coming out of these windows just as soon as the landing party leaves shore. Keep an eye on things here, fellas - I'm going down to take a look at the damage there for myself."
The first and second stories of Ostrok's tower were stone-walled and completely windowless; the mill manager had coveted his privacy, a luxury seldom afforded to searats, and could go up to his top floor whenever he wanted a view, and so had left the first two levels without windows. This design peculiarity greatly assisted the woodlanders in their charade. The investigating rats could neither peer in nor smash through windows that weren't there, and the healers could light lamps for themselves and their patients without fear of revealing their presence to the enemy.
Custis silently crept down through the second story to the first, passing the injured laid out on their mats and blankets, and the medics tending them in the subdued light of just a few lamps. Even down here the smoke odor was strong, and most of the patients kept knotted bits of cloth between their jaws to help muffle their occasional coughs. Such a precaution was probably no longer necessary, but Custis was taking no chances. If they tipped their paw to the rats, those seavermin could besiege them with a force of warriors ten deep on every side, and they'd be unlikely to survive such an onslaught.
Down on the ground level, Custis conferred with the Gawtrybe defenders there. "How're we doin', mates?"
"They gave us a bit of a start when they began chopping at the door," a squirrel named Vanacour reported, "but they never even got through the sand we had piled up. They took one look at it and didn't want anything to do with it, just like Captain Matowick predicted."
Custis nodded in the lamplight. "Kinda scary, how well our captain knows his vermin, but he's fought 'em enough to know his stuff, I suppose. His ruse here worked like a charm. I thought we might have a fight on our paws, but as long as they don't come back, we're in the clear. In a few more days, when the wounded can be safely moved, we'll head inland and get them as far from searat territory as we can."
The sergeant stepped up to the slope of sand piled against the inside of the door and gave it a reassuring pat. Reassuring to himself, at any rate. It had taken a lot of work, hauling in all the sand and setting up a crude retaining wall from scavenged lumber bits so that it would look to the rats as if there was a lot more sand in here than there really was. Daylight filtered through some of the upper cracks that the searats had caused, but most of the door was still hidden behind the sand. Still, this had been a near thing.
"Never thought we'd get this done, not even with every available pair of paws lending themselves to the task. Nothing like a job that needs doing to get a task done! And we did it without any moles, either!"
"Yeah," Vanacour added with a grin, "who needs moles when you've got good ol' squirrel power!"
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"Here they come!"
Matowick stood his ground for the moment, waiting to make sure Perricone was right before setting his troops in motion again. They'd all seen the two landing craft returning to the searat dreadnought, and those smaller boats had been hoisted aboard once more. Now, the giant attack vessel did indeed seem to be turning about to point its prow southward, its awe-inspiring sails of red, black and green fully deployed for maximum speed. Still, she could have been turning back to the open sea. The Gawtrybe captain wanted to be certain that they'd succeeded in luring the rats away from their hidden comrades.
Perricone looked to him, a question in her eyes. "What're we waiting for, sir?"
"They hafta come after us," he muttered. "This plan won't work unless they do."
"But, they're pulling up anchor and turning away from the mill site. What does it matter whether they follow us or sail off someplace else, as long as it gets them away from Sergeant Custis and his team?"
"For one thing," Matowick replied, "they could go running off to tell Tratton what's happened here. Sure, that king of seascum will find out eventually, but why not make him wait awhile? But more than that, Perri, if we let that ship out of our sight, we won't know where it is ... which means it COULD return to the mill, if they have second thoughts about what they saw or should have done there. No, I want to keep that vessel where I can see it, just for my own peace of mind. All the way back to Salamandastron, if I can get them to stick with us that far."
The female lieutenant glanced seaward. "Well, maybe you'd better share your strategy with our otter and shrew friends, 'cos it looks like they're about to take off without us!"
Out beyond the low breakers, the waterbeasts had their paddles dipped in anticipation and were looking anxiously to shore for a signal from the squirrel commander. They were clearly eager to get underway.
"Just ... wait ... a little ... while ... longer ... ah!" Matowick's gaze was caught by a movement above the mountains to the east. "Here comes something that might help us!"
Altidor the eagle swooped down from the midday sky and landed on the sandy ground a short distance away. Matowick rushed over to the bird to hear Altidor's report.
"No rats were left behind at the camp," the eagle told Matowick. "It appears the wounded and their defenders were not discovered."
Matowick breathed a sigh of relief. "So far, so good. Altidor, my friend, I'd like you to fly cover for us from now on, so that we can know every move that searat ship makes. It looks like she's coming after us, but I want to make sure she does just that. Don't worry about whether you're seen; I don't think there's much they can do with that information even if they do figure out you're working with us."
Altidor gave a nod. "Good, because they surely saw me fly down to you just now. But I deemed you would want my news."
"That I did. Now, I think we'd all better be going now, or else we're going to end up having our battle with those searats on the beach right here!"
There could be no mistaking it now: the pirate dreadnought was under full sail, and the long oars from the rowing galley sliced the water as well, adding to the craft's speed. Clearly they meant business.
Altidor took to the wing, flapping skyward to ride the thermals and ply the breezes in his role as aerial lookout. Matowick ran to the head of his column, whirling his arm in a windmill motion and uttering a cry to march that could be heard by beasts on land and sea alike. The shrews and otters bent to their paddles with vigor, launching the logboat flotilla southward again. Matowick barely slackened his own pace once he was in front of his squirrels, and the Gawtrybe had to go into a steady half-jog to keep up with their leader. Behind the fleeing woodlanders, much farther off shore than the logboats, the searat dreadnought Sharktail made an all-out effort to overtake them.
The chase was on.