Martin was wakened by a shake from Grumm. Darkness surrounded the camp, but light threatened to break out soon over the horizon.

     “Hurry oop, zurr, oi rekons it’s toime we were offen to ‘ee battle!”

     Grumm left with Pallum and Rose, circling to the northwest side of Marshank where they met with Boldred and the Warden. Queen Amballa and her pigmy shrews grouped with the Gawtrybe squirrels, intended to attack from the rear of Marshank. Starwort and his otters left with Trung and Gulba’s hegehog tribe, and positioned themselves facing the southeast wall of Marshank, leaving Martin with the remainder of the fighters and the Rambling Rosehip Players.

     “Toodle pip, old girl,” Ballaw sighed as he patted the cart with fondness.

     Rowanoak grunted with exertion as she prepared to heft the heavy cart. All eyes were on Martin, awaiting his signal. He lifted a lighted torch and held it over the canvas covering the frame. It began to burn quickly, and he lit other areas of the cart, making sure it would be an effective way of getting through the main entrance.

     Rowanoak gave a grunt and pushed the cart with as much force as she could draw from her massive body. It rumbled omniously as it clattered towards Marshank, and Martin raised his rapier above his head, then lowered it suddenly, and all of the creatures shouted their warcrys as they ran full throttle for Marshank, passionate to free slaves and kill the vermin who stood for hate, evil and destruction.

     The cart hit the main entrance with an enormous bang. Half the cart smashed through the door, and the flames licked hungrily at the wooden beams and began to burn the remainder of the sturdy door down. Within minutes it would be easy for any creature on the outside of the fortress to get in by pushing aside any debris left from the fire.

     Not far behind the cart was Martin, leading the small army behind him into battle.

     “Death to Badrang and slavery!”

     Badrang heard the war crys and the crash of the cart as he shot upright in his bed. He felt panick, but quickly assured himself. How could anyone defeat the mighty Lord of the Northeastern Coast? He ran into the main part of the fortress and discovered the large gate burning down and his forces wearily stumbling to put on clothes and grab their weapons.

     “Attack! Get up you idle morons! The door is burning down! Quickly, some of you put the fire out. Scumtail, you take a score and arm yourselves with spears. Let no beats set paw in Marshank! The rest of you, come with me. Archers, get ready to fire, sling throwers, fire after the archers. I won’t let them take my fortress!”

     Badrang quickly climbed the wallsteps, and his disheveled soldiers followed in his wake. He saw the small force nearing the main gate and laughed. How could such a small force hope to defeat his horde?

     “They’re round the back!” a stoat shouted.

     “And the sides!” contributed a fox, “We’re surrounded!”

     Badrang turned and felt a pang of fear, but ignored it and urged his fighters on, “Split up equally, I want each wall covered!”

     Already the Warden and Bolred had flown over the walls and deposited fishing nets on the battlements, allowing access to the walls. Already flooding over them were hedgehogs, pigmy shrews, otters and squirrels. Boldred and the Warden patrolled the walltops. Any vermin who dared to venture forward or were pushed by the jostling of their companions were immediately struck down by their flashing beaks and sharp talons. This allowed ample time for the attackers to reach the walltops and advance.

     “Get them! Don’t just stand there? Do you want to die? Then rush them!” Badrang screamed at the top of his voice.

     Martin and his party had managed to break through the smoking remains of the cart and door, and his rapier cut the air in a slice of death. Any vermin in his way were slain by his lightning thrusts. Badrang took one look at him and ran, leaving his horde to fight alone, leaping down the stairs and taking refuge in his private quarters. He needed to think, buy time to allow for his escape.

     The vermin fought vicously, knowing their lives depended on it. Gawtrybe squirrels leapt on the vermin and stabbed with short swords. Hedgehogs swung maces and clubs, instantly knocking down and vermin in their path. The shrews used their rapiers to slice and cut before quickly swiping down on their opponents. The Warden stabbed everywhere with his long beak and beat his huge wings. Boldred used her sharp talons and often lifted rats over the wall and let them fall to their deaths. Battle spilled out onto the main courtyard, the sounds of war blocked out in Martin’s head by only one thought.

     ‘Death to Badrang.’

     He surveyed the scene while casually whirling his small blade around him. Ah- there was Badrang, trying to hide inside the longhouse. He charged forward, with one thought in mind. To kill his tormentor. The one who had his father’s sword. The one who stole his childhood. The one who captured him. He was the hunter now. Death was Badrang’s destiny now.

     Badrang’s forces were being weakened. As those remaining looked around them they realased there was one outcome. Defeat. They laid their weapons down. They had been at a disadvantage from the beginning, as they had been armed with long distance weapons and few close range weapons close to paw.

     Badrang saw the fire in the mouse that came towards him. He ran towards the prison pit, hoping to find an escape route. But the mouse was too quick. He sobbed and tears filled his eyes. He stopped suddenly, banging into something. He fell to his knees, and wiped his eyes. It was Clogg.

     “Harrharr, wish you ‘ad’t left your ole matey Clogg now, don’t yer, Badrang? You allus was a bad ‘un.”

     Clogg lifted his paw as if he was going to help Badrang up, then retreated. Martin came running towards them.

     “Bye, matey!” Clogg laughed as he pushed Badrang towards Martin. Badrang threw Martin’s sword towards him.

     “Leave me, you’ve got what you want!” he sobbed and ran for the pit.

     Grumm ran in front of him and blocked his path. Badrang used the reserves of his feral strength to hurl him against the ground. Crimson blood seeped onto the ground gently as Grumm’s eyes became frozen.

     Martin followed Badrang, throwing him the rapier. Badrang lifted it, and laughed. He had snapped. The fear had taken control of his body. What was there to lose? That stupid mole was no match for him, and neither was the mouse.

     He lunged with the desperation and what strength there was left in his body. Martin lifted his sword and pressed it into the black heart of his enemy.

     Rose ran over to Martin as he removed his sword from Badrang’s body. It fell to the ground, making no sound.

     She hugged him and cried. It was over.

     “Grumm is… he’s dead,” Rose gasped.

     Martin hesitated, staring it the limp form of the mole. “Ah well. You can’t win them all,” he reasoned.

     “I suppose. At least it wasn’t one of us,” Rose laughed.

     “Like that would ever happen,” Martin joked. They stood paw in paw and the group left Marshank, leaving Clogg on his own.

     “Hold up, mateys. I likes you. There’s me mate Tibbar! I thought you ‘ated me, matey. Now I sees it was fer me own good all along!”
     And so it was. Slavery was abolished, Marshank deserted, Badrang and Grumm slain. Nobody cared much.