Dethbrush picked up the sword, admiring its cold lethal beauty. “Honour? Don’t talk to me of honour, Dingeye. Me and my trackers have wasted nearly a full season searching for you and your mucker. Nobeast escapes Ferahgo the Assassin. You should know that by now. Guess what he told me to do when I caught up with you?”

Dingeye gulped. His throat had gone dry and he could scarce get the words out. “Prob’ly said to f-fetch me back . . .”

The fox smiled mirthlessly at his trembling victim. “Wrong, Dingeye. He said to fetch your head back on a spearpoint.”

The sword swung once, its blade flashing in the sunlight.

Dethbrush wiped the blade on Dingeye’s carcass.

“Leave him; one head’s no good without the other. I think Lord Ferahgo will be happy to receive this sword as a gift from an old departed friend. Come on, it’s a long and hard trek back to the Assassin’s camp.”

*   *   *

The battle for Salamandastron was under way. Massed behind sand barriers and rocks, the hordes of Ferahgo sent flaming arrows up at the mountain. Vegetation and crops that had been cultivated on the crevices and ledges of the fortress were soon blackened stubble, burned to the bare rock by hundreds upon hundreds of blazing shafts.

Ferahgo stood in plain view, well out of range, Klitch at his side.

*   *   *

From one of the high slitted rock windows Bart Thistledown brushed drifting black ash from his face as he notched a shaft to his bowstring, murmuring to himself. “Move, you rotten blighter. Come on, just ten paces closer and I’ll put one right between your bonny blue eyes, wot!”

Starbob fixed an arrow to his bow and sighted on a ferret who was standing up to take a shot. “Wastin’ your time, Barty old lad. Take the nearest available target, like our friend down there, for instance . . .”

Straining the bow taut, Starbob let fly. The arrow zipped down and took the ferret in his chest. He fell backwards, releasing his fire arrow straight up. Starbob gave a grunt of satisfaction.

“Good oh! I say, look, the scoundrel’s arrow came straight down and wounded that rat next to him. Two for the price of one. Not bad, eh?”

Barty twanged off his arrow and turned away, ignoring the death cry of the stoat below that he had hit. “Not too fussy on this snipin’ game. Open warfare’s much better, more team spirit in it, doncha know.”

“Move aside there, hares!”

They both shifted from the position as Urthstripe stood at the opening. He strung a massive bow and placed a quiver of arrows within handy reach, each one as long and thick as a short spear. The badger Lord spat on his paws and rubbed them together. “Right, let’s open this party up properly!”

*   *   *