Farran the Poisoner knew that his mission had failed. All that he desired now was to leave the mountain. But try as he would, the black fox was frustrated at every turn. Salamandastron was virtually alive with determined hares. Fully armed and alert, they scoured every nook and cranny from the top of the crater downward. Farran found himself running before them, down, ever down. Whenever he turned and tried going upward he was cut off by two pairs of angry, determined hares coming from each side. Scurrying along one of the midlevel corridors, he practically bumped into Sapwood. Turning, he dashed off down a flight of stairs with the Sergeant’s voice ringing in his ears. “Run, you poisoner. We’re givin’ you more of a chance than you gave two pore ’ares. Go on, keep runnin’, vermin!”

In desperation Farran concealed himself in a dark corner until Sapwood had passed by, accompanied by Pennybright. The ghost of a smile flitted across Farran’s sombre face. Slipping out of his hiding place, he mounted the stairs, only to find himself facing the lance points of Bart Thistledown and Starbob.

Bart tapped his lancepoint on the steps. “Up y’come, laddie. Let’s see what you’re made of, wot?”

The black fox turned and fled, taking the opposite direction to Sapwood and Pennybright. Behind him he could hear Starbob and Bart. Suddenly the passage ahead of him was cut off by Seawood and a hare called Moonpaw. Drawing his deadly greenhart dagger he backed off, snarling. The two hares made no move to attack, merely covered the bottom of the staircase so that he could not go up. Hugging the opposite wall, Farran slid past them and sped off. As he descended another flight of steps, he could hear four sharp lance tips tapping behind him.

On the ground-level corridor Farran glanced left and right. Two more hares were coming from the left, both with arrows nocked on drawn bowstrings. He ran to the right. Narrowly avoiding two more advancing members of the Long Patrol, the Poisoner went helter-skelter down a long spiral stairway carved into the rock. Tripping and stumbling, he staggered into the final passage leading to the lower caves. Farther along the way hares flooded down silently from another stairway in front of him, while at his back another group came down the spirals he had recently descended.

The sour taste of fear rose in the black fox’s mouth. There was just one place left to go: the large cave in front of him.

It was a huge, rough-hewn place with torches placed plentifully in wall sconces. There was a pair of raised stone slabs at the far end.