High Rhulain

The big bird perched on the cage roof. “Kraagarr! I am the enemy of all cats. I have been watching ye trying to get out of this thing.”

The otter smiled ruefully. “Ain’t havin’ much luck, am I?”

The hawk shook its head. “I will help ye. Push upward on this middle bar, an’ I will pull. Ready!”

Leatho began pushing, grunting with exertion as he set his paws to the bar. The big bird wrapped its fearsome talons around the bar. Flapping its powerful wings, it strained upward, pulling as Leatho pushed.

Crack! The bar snapped straight through its centre. Releasing its hold on the broken bar, the hawk hovered in the air for a brief moment, its fierce unwinking eyes scanning the area. “Yeeaakkah! Pandion Piketalon must go before cats come with bows and slings!”

Leatho waved to his newfound friend. “My thanks to ye, Pandion. I am called Leatho Shellhound. I, too, am an enemy of the cats. Mayhaps we’ll meet again.”

The osprey circled overhead gracefully. “Hayaarr! We will make the cats weep blood, Leatho. I will bring the Rhulain and her warriors to help ye!”

Without waiting for a reply, Pandion soared off swiftly into the distance, leaving the outlaw with the name pounding through his brain: Rhulain! Rhulain! The High Queen of Green Isle was coming, just as Ould Zillo had prophesied. He repeated the word aloud like a magic spell. “Rhulain! Rhulain!”

A quick downward glance assured Leatho that all was still quiet below. There was neither sign nor presence of catguards watching. By grabbing one end of the broken roof bar and yanking it sharply downward, he managed to pull it loose. It was a jagged length of timber with an iron spike through the top—crude but nevertheless a fearsome weapon in the paws of the outlaw. Clambering out onto the roof of his former prison, Leatho shinned up the short length of rope and hauled himself over the windowsill. He went into a fighting crouch, wielding his improvised club, ready to face anybeast who stood in his way. But the room was empty, save for a table and a few benches. Leatho crept quietly to the door, holding his ear to it. The two catguards out on the stairhead were talking. Leatho eavesdropped on their conversation.

“Huh, we’ve been stuck here guardin’ this door all day. When’s Scaut goin’ to send us a relief, eh? When?”

The other guard replied gruffly, “I don’t know. Why don’t ye stop complainin’ t’me? Go an’ ask him. I dare ye!”

Leatho felt the speaker lean his back against the door as he continued taunting his companion.

“Go on, mate! You go down there an’ tell ole Felis you’ve stood guard long enough. Have ye heard wot ’appened to Yund? Hah, ye’d end up bein’ sliced to bits, just like him. Scaut might chop ye into smaller pieces, ’cos you ain’t even a scorecat. Yore only a . . . aaaaagh!”

The door swung inward, bringing the catguard stumbling backward with it. Leatho slew him with a single blow of his club. However, before he could get to the other, the catguard was already rushing downstairs, yelling, “Help! Escape! Shellhound’s on the loose! Escape!”

Leatho heard the rattle of spears and Scaut roaring like a madbeast, “Don’t let him escape! Get up there an’ capture him, quick!”

Footpaws thudded upon the stairs as catguards began racing upward. The outlaw seized a jug of water, together with a platter of bread and half a fish, which the two guards had been sharing. He retreated swiftly back into the chamber. Dragging the dead guard out of the way, he barred the door with the table and benches. Now nobeast could reach him, but it was a tricky situation. He was virtually being held prisoner again.

He retrieved the spear, which had fallen in with the guard, then stood swigging water and stuffing down bread and fish. The door began to shudder under blows from the guards’ weapons, but it was a solid oaken door and withstood their efforts well. The banging went on for a while, then suddenly ceased.

The next thing Leatho heard was Scaut calling to him, “Shellhound, I warn ye! Open this door, or it’ll go badly for ye!”

The outlaw otter laughed recklessly. “If’n ye want to see how badly things’ll go, then try openin’ the door an’ comin’ in here, ye lard barrel!”

When Riggu Felis received the news of his captive’s escape from the cage, he went into a fit of rage. Bounding out onto the pier with a score of catguards, he glared up at the empty cage hanging beneath the high window. The chain mail half-mask rattled against his fangs with each sharp intake of breath as he turned to the guards.

“Archers, fire arrows through that window!”

Leatho heard the command and threw himself flat against the window wall. Three shafts made it into the chamber; two stuck into the floor, while the third thudded into the door. Other arrows did not make it that far and stuck like feathered twigs into the wooden tower walls.

The outlaw presented himself at the open window space, grinning down at the warlord. “Is that the best ye can do, skinface? Try again!”