Ferahgo seized the spear Klitch had dropped and advanced on his opponent. Kicking free of mace and chain, the badger Lord came up off the sand, holding his battle spear crossways like a stave. They clashed, and Ferahgo yelled in dismay as his spear was snapped in two like a brittle straw.

“Klitch, help me, son. Help me!”

All the fight had been knocked out of the young weasel. His blue eyes flooded with tears as he nursed his aching chest. Dragging himself up on the rocks, he spat at the ambush party. “Stop hiding there like a pack of halfwits. Kill the badger!”

Ferahgo had drawn two of his knives. Throwing himself flat, he rolled under Urthstripe’s paws, out of the way of the big spear, stabbing at the badger’s footpaws viciously until Urthstripe leapt back and dealt him a tremendous kick. The weasel’s body left the ground in a somersault as the ambushers came flooding over the rocks, spears ready and bowstrings taut.

Spitting blood from a mouthwound caused by the breaking spear, Urthstripe snarled, “You treacherous scum, come and get me!”

Ferahgo struggled up, gasping hoarsely, “Don’t shoot any arrows until I’m out the way!”

“So you don’t want to be slain by murderers, eh?” Urthstripe roared with laughter as he went after the Assassin.

The ranks of spears and blades closed in, cutting Ferahgo off from his enemy, but Urthstripe saw nothing in front of him but the terrible joy of battle. Spear flailing, he bulled in among them, yelling as the lust to slay foebeasts took hold of him.

“Eulaliaaaaaaaa!”

Ferrets, stoats, foxes, weasels and rats flew everywhere, stabbed by the giant spearblade, hooked with the crosstrees and hammered senseless by the battering spearbutt. Ferahgo and Klitch danced and leapt on the outskirts of the melee, shouting:

“Get him! Slay the badger!”

“Go on! Get at him! Don’t stop!”

Spears, pikes and swords battered at armour and fur as Urthstripe went down beneath the howling mob. There was an immense roar as the badger surged up, throwing bodies into the air, punching, kicking and biting. The helm ripped from his head and his spear lying on the ground, the badger Lord fought insanely against the overwhelming odds. Down he went again. Blades flashed in the sunlight on the churning sands, barely visible beneath the pack of yelling, screeching ambushers. Again they shot in all directions as, scored by countless wounds, Urthstripe rose like a mighty geyser bursting from the ground with a fox between his teeth and a rat in each paw, hurling the lifeless carcasses into the mob, and went at them again, laughing like a beast gone mad.

Like a pack of wild animals they clung to him, bearing him down to the sand once more. Limbs thrashing and teeth slashing, Urthstripe battled on, the armor torn from him, battered and dented into uselessness. Ferahgo and Klitch hugged each other in delight, anticipating the inevitable outcome.