Trubbs twitched his whiskers. “Don’t like this at all, chums. Not one little bit.”

“I’ll second that, laddie.”

“Thirds for me, old scout, wot?”

Gonff peered toward Bloodwake. “Maybe they’re still on board.”

Log-a-Log gripped his pike tighter. “No, mate. She’s riding too high in the water for that.”

“Log-a-Log’s right,” Martin whispered to Boar. “What do you think?”

“Oh, they’re here, somewhere,” Boar chuckled softly. “I can smell the stink of sea rat fouling up my territory. Trubbs, you take the left. Harebell, around the mountain to the right. See if you can spot anything.”

The hares slipped off like sand on the breeze. “Look, there’s a small band of ’em,” Boar exclaimed, pointing straight ahead. “Been lying low where the waves lap the sand. Ha, they don’t fool me. There’s some kind of ambush being rigged up around here, but don’t worry, we’ll be ready.”

Trubbs and Harebell arrived back at the same time. “Boar, they’re around the back of the mountain, hordes of them!”

“Harebell’s right. I saw ’em too, all skulking in the shadows.”

Boar remained calm. “Huh, Ripfang seems to be using his brains more and his mouth less these days. They must have dropped off further up the coast and come overland, circling to get behind us. I told you that band up ahead was only a blind.”

Dinny gave a hoarse shout. “Look out! Yurr they’m a-cummen!”

From both sides of the mountain they filtered out in a swift pincer movement. Trubb’s estimate was right: there were hordes of them. Martin watched in silence as they formed a semicircle. He had never seen so many sea rats.

Villainous faces, wreathed by black headbands and adorned with brass earrings, snarled at them. Strange sickle-shaped swords with small round target shields were brandished high. Daggers and whips bristled where there were no swords. Martin thanked the fates that there were no archers.

Boar stood forward smiling hugely, leaning idly on his battle blade. “Well, well. The gang’s all here. Where’s old snotwhiskers?”

The ranks parted, allowing two standard bearers carrying sea rat banners to come through. Standing between them was a rat, half as big again as any of the others, carrying a sickle sword and a long whiplash. A single fang grew overlong from the left side of his mouth, giving his face a grotesque sneer.

“Here I am, mountain Lord. We have you surrounded and ready to die.”

Boar did not give the courtesy of a reply. He whirled his giant war sword aloft and charged with a thunderous battlecry.

“Yoooohaaarrraallaayleeeeee!!!”

Both sides surged forward, meeting with a crash of steel upon the churning sands.

Martin felt the madness of combat searing through his veins. He leaped and struck, hacked and thrust, stabbed and slashed like a flash of hot summer lightning. Shields were shorn through by his flying blade, sea rats went down before him like corn to a reaper. They crushed inward, swinging their sickle swords. Dinny took a gash upon his shoulder. He was about to go down when Trubbs heaved a squealing rat high upon his pike, tossing him onto the blades that menaced Dinny. Gonff had lost his pike, but he went at them with a dagger in each paw, flailing like a windmill, up, down, across, over, his fear forgotten in the boiling melee of battle. Ffring was hemmed in on all sides, his bobtail shorn off; but Wother and Log-a-Log came vaulting over the sea rats’ heads on their pikes to save the beleaguered hare. Jabbing left and right, they were joined by Harebell. Foursquare back to back they fought, turning in a ferocious circle, spearing and ripping like a carousel of doom.