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Chapters (50)
  1. TRAPPED
  2. Title Page
  3. Map
  4. BOOK ONE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. BOOK TWO
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. BOOK THREE
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44

One of the stoats screeched as he went down with a javelin sticking out of him like a flagpole. Bart Thistledown, Moonpaw and Urthstripe came bounding out of the main entrance. Bart unslung his bow and fitted an arrow as he ran. Loosing off the shaft, he sent another stoat limping off with an arrowhead lodged in his paw. The remaining stoat turned tail and ran off, as Urthstripe grabbed Pennybright and swung her up over his shoulder.

Klitch and Dragtail had stopped running; their quarry had escaped. The young weasel hurled a stone at Urthstripe’s back as the badger Lord turned to go inside the mountain. It missed and bounced harmlessly off the rocks. He stood paws on hips shouting, “Be sure to watch the shore tomorrow, Urthstripe. See what I’m going to do with your pet bunnies. Hahahaha!”

Urthstripe put his shoulder against the boulder and heaved it back into place. Bart Thistledown poured a small beaker of water from their meager supply and made Pennybright drink it slowly.

“Don’t fret, Penny old gel. Losin’ a battle doesn’t mean we’ve lost the war.”

*   *   *

Ferahgo watched as Klitch directed his soldiers to drive stakes deep into the sand. Keeping his voice casual, the Assassin addressed his son.

“Forgrin and Raptail are both dead. Your little plan failed.”

Klitch picked up a mallet and gave one of the stakes a knock. “Oh yes? And what plan was that, old one?”

Ferahgo seized Klitch’s paw, holding the mallet still. “The plan to kill me. I killed Forgrin and Raptail.”

“Very clever, I’m sure.” Klitch wrenched his paw away and went on hammering at the stake. “But I know nothing of any plan to kill you. My plan was to take hostages, and I’ve done that. If I’d planned to kill you I wouldn’t have failed at that either. Out of my way, old weasel!”

*   *   *

Big Oxeye peered through the net holes at Klitch and his soldiers driving stakes into the sand. “What I wouldn’t give for two minutes alone with that evil little brat!”

“We fell fer that one, Ox.” Sapwood rubbed his head ruefully. “Hi wonder what they’re a-cookin’ up for us?”

A ferret jabbed a spearbutt at him, laughing nastily. “Wouldn’t yer like to know! Well, you ’ave a nice sleep an’ you’ll find out tomorrer!”

33

The Joseph Bell tolled out mournfully across a quiet summer morning. Mrs. Faith Spinney sat on the west wallsteps, sobbing gently into her flowered apron. Her husband Tudd sat beside her, resting his chin on his walking stick as he stared across the Abbey grounds through tear-dewed eyes.

“Pore old Burrley. I can’t believe he’s dead. Not Burrley me best cellarmate. Who’ll ’elp me to brew October ale an’ roll those liddle casks o’ berry wine about?”