Chapter Twenty-Five: Night Falls
At early evening, Ghan reported that the Rapscallions were approaching the hill. Adaracor soon had the whole army hiding in the long grass along the crest of the hill. Beechtail found himself near the center, next to Adaracor. Colonel Lupshaw was on the badger's other side. For over an hour they watched the Rapscallions drawing closer and closer. The sun set completely, but the moon provided plenty of light to see by.
When the Rapscallions were only a couple hundred yards away, Adaracor whispered to Lupshaw, "Well, what do you think? Should we charge now?"
The old hare smiled grimly, "Why not? Best to get it over with."
The badger grabbed his giant flail, and jumped up. All along the hill, hares and woodlanders did the same. The shouts of the Mossflower army were as varied as the army itself.
"Redwaaaalll"
"Logalogalogalog"
"Mossflooowwer"
"Liiiiimbrunner"
But drowning out all others, the battle cry of fighting hares and badger lords, was the mighty war shout of Salamandastron; "Eulaliiiiaaaaaaaa".
Even Nettleclaw shuddered at the sound, but he recovered quickly. As the army of Mossflower thundered down the slope towards them, he made some quick decisions. "Mudeye, concentrate the attack on their center; their lines are thin there. Rapscallions, attack."
The horde ran to meet the woodlanders, shouting their own war cry.
"Nettleclaaaaw"
Beechtail drew both his swords in one swift motion. The shouts all seemed to die away, and he was aware of nothing, except the distance between him, and the Rapscallions.
Fifty paces.
There were so many of the vermin.
Thirty paces.
The one coming towards him was a weasel, with a spear and shield, like all the rest of the horde.
Twenty-five paces.
There was no going back now.
Ten paces, five paces, three, two-
The two sides me with a resounding crash. Beechtail stabbed with the Sword of Martin. The keen blade pierced the shield and its bearer. He swung the Rapscallion sword, and slew a rat in the next rank. Tugging Martin's sword free, he charged the vermin; slashing, thrusting, parrying, and slaying with both swords at the same time. Beechtail thought to himself, now this is the way to fight!
Adaracor swung his flail, sweeping away all that was directly in front of him. At every blow, several vermin were slain by the swinging chains, or heavy spiked balls. He could feel the Bloodwrath, madness of battle, trying to take control. But he could not let it. I must hold the line, he thought, hold the line.
Aspen nodded, his group of squirrels let another volley of arrows tear into the Rapscallions' ranks. There were so many of them, that they didn't need to be too accurate. The Rapscallion archers, on the other hand, were having great difficulty hitting any of the spread out woodlanders. He nocked an arrow, and seconds later, another Rapscallion hit the ground, never to rise again.
Nettleclaw smiled, his superior numbers were beginning to show. His army was taking heavy casualties, but the woodlanders were too outnumbered to survive. They had shown good strategic planning, but a pitched battle against a horde his size was a mistake; they had no chance.