“Looks like a stalemate, Amber.”

Lady Amber thwacked off an arrow at the closed door. “Cowards! They’re very brave attacking defenceless woodlanders and killing unarmed creatures, but they can’t face real warriors when it comes to a battle.”

Skipper looked up at the clear blue sky. “Ah well, second day of summer and all’s well, me old branchjumper. Come on. Let’s withdraw and get back to Brockhall.”

A mischievous smile spread across the squirrel’s face. “Right you are, Skip. But not before I’ve left them with a small token of our regard.”

Tsarmina sat eating woodpigeon with Bane in an inner room with no windows. There was a tap on the door.

“Come in!” she called.

It was Ratflank.

“Milady, Brogg says to tell you that the woodlanders are setting fire to us.”

“What?”

“Er, yes, Milady. Fire arrows. They’re shooting them into the doors and window shutters. Brogg says it’ll be all right, though, ’cos it’s a stone building and they’ll only burn the woodwork.”

Tsarmina sprang up knocking the table sideways. “My chamber! Bane, see if you can do something quickly. Organize a bucket chain. Put those fires out. If they’ve touched my room I’ll, I’ll. . . oooooohhh!”

She dashed from the room, taking the stairs two at a time.

The wall hangings were smoldering ruins and the door still blazed merrily—Amber’s archers had given it special attention.

“Get those buckets up here. Bring water!” Tsarmina howled down the stairwell.

“But we’re trying to put out the fire at the front door, Milady,” a dithering voice called up from below.

“I don’t care what you’re trying to put out! Get that water up here on the double.”

“What about the door, Milady?”

“Spit on it, for all I care. This is my room—the Queen’s own chamber is on fire. Hurry up, idiot.”

“Idiot yourself!”

“Who said that?” she demanded.

“Place your paw flat upon the blade, grip the handle tight, hold the sword flat above your head.” Thwang!

Martin countered Lupin’s blade as Boar roared out instructions.

“That’s how to block the downward chop. Now let go of the blade. Sweep it down and under. Two paws on the haft, straight up and slice. Quickly, turn in and slice again at head height.”

It took Lupin all her skill to duck Martin’s blade. She backed off, panting as she leaned on her sword.

“Whew. Golly, there’s not a lot you can teach this warrior.”

“Can’t I, though.” Boar smiled. “Watch this!”

The badger picked up a fire iron from the forge. Thrusting one paw into his blacksmith’s apron, he adopted a ready stance.

“On guard, Martin,” he called. “Go for a direct thrust.”

Martin came on guard. Moving in swiftly to take the badger by surprise, he lunged and stabbed forward.

Boar hardly seemed to move. With a flick of his fire iron he disarmed Martin, sending the sword spinning and pinning Martin against the wall in the same movement, the fire iron hovering a fraction away from the warrior mouse’s right eye.