High Rhulain

He crumpled over from the savage kick Pitru aimed at his stomach. The young cat grabbed him roughly, hauling him upright. “Silence, fool, we’ll do this my way! Take what guards we have here, and make no noise. They’re in those bushes—it’s otters again. Get over there at the double, now! Go quietly, ambush them, wipe the scum out!”

As the weilmark bent to assist Riggu Felis, Pitru laid his scimitar edge across Scaut’s neck. “Leave him. I’m in command here. Obey me or die. Now go!”

Gathering the guards from the pier and those from the boats, Scaut led them swiftly toward the bushes. Still with reverberations echoing round his head, Riggu Felis staggered upright, regaining his bearings.

Pitru made no move to assist him, remarking with casual insolence, “It seems we’re under attack from the otters again, but don’t let it concern you. I’ve taken care of everything, see!”

He pointed to the catguards plunging into the bushes. Strangely, Riggu Felis nodded calmly. “So you have, and you’ve proved yourself a bigger fool than I thought you were. You don’t know what’s going on, do you?”

He shot Pitru a scathing glance as he marched off toward the rear of the fortress, where the barracks and slave pens were situated.

“You carry on playing your stupid games. I know exactly what those otters are up to—and what to do about it!”

Pitru sneered at his father’s retreating figure. “Doddering old idiot! Leave this to a real warrior.”

The slave pens were only sparsely guarded. Leatho dropped the only catguard in sight with a swinging blow from his loaded sling. Taking the guard’s spear, the outlaw used it as a vaulting pole to reach the top of the high timber fence which surrounded the pens. He bounced a few slingstones off the roof of one crude dwelling. An old otterslave emerged, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Leatho gained his attention with a low whistle.

“Ahoy, friend! ’Tis me, Shellhound. Go quietly now and bring Runka or Memsy to me.”

The oldster nodded, then hurried off. Leatho did not have long to wait until Runka and Memsy, the two young otters he had placed there as spies, arrived alongside the fence. Runka acted as spokesbeast for them both.

“Shellhound, we were wondering when we’d see you again. There ain’t much to report here. Things are no different, apart from the fact that there seems t’be some conflict twixt Felis an’ his son Pitru. For us it’s much the same as usual under the cat’s paw—short rations an’ hard labour. Have ye come to free us?”

Leatho shook his head. “Not tonight, mates, but soon. Let’s say about four nights from now. Can ye have the rest ready t’move at quick notice then?”

Runka nodded. “We’ve got to think o’ the old ’uns an’ the babes. Four nights, ye say? Hmm . . . me’n’Memsy’ll see that they’re ready an’ waitin’. Anythin’ else, Leatho?”

The outlaw replied, “Aye, it’ll be yore job to keep everybeast from gettin’ too excited. Tell ’em to stay calm and not do anythin’ that’d alert the cats. Right, I’ve got to go now. Remember, both of ye, four nights from now, at about this hour.”

Leatho dropped from the walltop, straight into the waiting paws of a dozen catguards who had stolen silently up. He was seized tight with a spearhaft forced across his throat.

Removing his helmet, Riggu Felis thrust his loathsome face close to the captive. “Hah, so you’re the outlaw they call Shellhound, eh?”

Leatho bared his teeth at the wildcat, replying defiantly, “Aye, an’ yore the cat with half a face. I heard a liddle sparrow did that to ye!”

The warlord brought the butt of his axe crashing down on the otter’s head. Then he strode off, calling to the guards who were holding up the unconscious figure, “Bring him round to the pier, but don’t harm him. I want this one alive!”

As the guards laid Leatho’s limp body upon the pier, the warlord snarled at his son, “I captured their leader, the Shellhound, while you were chasing shadows around the bushes.”

Still glaring at Pitru, the wildcat addressed Scaut ironically. “Make your report, weilmark. Did you obey Commander Pitru’s orders? What exactly took place?”

Keeping his eyes to the front, Scaut recounted the ambush. “Lord, we only sighted two otters, but they escaped. It was dark in those bushes. We wasn’t t’know it was Scorecat Fleng an’ eight guards, so we fired on ’em!”

Felis cut him short. “And?”

The weilmark swallowed hard. “An’ we slew Fleng an’ six others, Sire. But we was only carryin’ out orders. Commander Pitru said to ambush anythin’ that moved in the bushes.”

The warlord moved with astonishing speed. Striking the scimitar from Pitru’s grasp, he knocked the young cat flat. Stamping a footpaw down on his chest, Riggu Felis held his single-bladed axe to his son’s throat and spat in his face contemptuously.