High Rhulain

Dawn breezes wafted the ship gently to the location. Pandion resumed his perch on the masthead, whilst Cuthbert ordered the subalterns to furl the sail and drop anchor. The Badger Lord took a long coil of rope with a chunk of rock attached to one end. Securing it to the prow, he dropped the weighted end into the sea. By this time, the sun was spreading its light over the waters.

Tiria watched the stone falling through the semitranslucent sea. It fell rapidly, bouncing off the sides of the underwater rock peak. When it had vanished into the depths, Mandoral instructed the ottermaid. “You must hold on to the rope at all times. Don’t let go of it, Tiria. When you want to come up, just give one normal tug and I’ll haul you up. Is that understood?”

Tiria winked at him confidently. “Don’t worry about me, sir, I’ll be fine. Otters know their way about underwater.”

She winced as the big badger gripped her paw, his voice becoming stern. “I know you’re an otter, but you listen to me, young ’un. It’s not the same as Abbey pools or forest streams, being down under the deep seas. Nobeast really knows what dangers may lurk down there, so you hold on to that rope tight. If you get into any real danger, then give it two sharp jerks, and I’ll have you out of there.”

Tiria took a firm grip on the lifeline. “I understand, sir, and thank you for all your help.”

She slid over the prow into the cold sea, with the crew’s best wishes.

“Haharr, Tilly me gel, you keep yore eyes peeled down there!”

“Aye, miz, best of jolly good luck an’ all that, wot!”

“Toodle pip, old thing, hope it ain’t too flippin’ cold down there. Rather you than me, I say.”

Then she submerged completely into cold, eerie silence.

BOOK THREE

Across the Western Sea

24

Leatho Shellhound regained consciousness painfully, discovering that he could only see through one eye. The captive outlaw found he could not move his paws; they were bound, outspread, to the bars of a wooden cage. He tried to wriggle free, but the whole structure wobbled and shook. Leatho gave up struggling and waited until his senses were fully restored before taking stock of his situation. The cage was suspended by a thick rope, high on the fortress tower. It hung beneath the windowsill of Riggu Felis’s personal chamber.

The top of Leatho’s head ached abominably from the blow of the wildcat’s axehaft. He tasted dried blood on his lips and guessed that his eyelid was sealed shut by some of that same blood, which had flowed from his headwound. Wrenching his face to one side, he rubbed the affected eye against his shoulder, blinking until it was cleared and he could see properly once more.

Below him, the pier was crowded with otterslaves, hemmed in by armed catguards. Gazing down on the sea of upturned faces, the outlaw’s defiant spirit rose as he roared at the catguards, “Heeee aye eeee! I am the Shellhound! Loose me, cowards, an’ I’ll fight ye all with my bare paws!”

A bucket of water drenched Leatho, causing him to gasp with shock. Riggu Felis leaned over the windowsill, still holding the bucket, his chain mail mask tinkling as it hung down from his ruined face.

“Shout all you like, Shellhound, your fighting days are gone forever. I have plans for you, outlaw. Would you like to hear them?”

Leatho raised his dripping face, teeth bared in a snarl. “Let me out of here and I’ll fight you to the death, half-face. Even with my paws bound behind my back, I’ll slay ye!”

The warlord laughed. “Brave words, that’s all you have left, outlaw. Listen now whilst I speak some words of my own.”

Throwing the bucket away, the wildcat leaned out over the sill, his voice ringing out to those below. “Hear me, I am Riggu Felis, a true wildcat, and Warlord of Green Isle! No longer will my domain be troubled by runaways and rebels. See, I have captured their chief, the bold Leatho Shellhound. He will remain up here until his friends surrender. Either they can give themselves up or they may sneak back here in future days to look up at this cage. They will see the bones of Shellhound bleaching in the sun and rotting in the weather. Gulls and carrion birds will pick at his remains. That will be on their heads. If the rebels do not give themselves up, he starves to death! Nobeast defies Riggu Felis. This is a lesson every creature on Green Isle must learn!”

Below on the pier, Weilmark Scaut unfurled his whip and cracked it viciously over the slaves. “Back to work, idlebeasts! Gather the crops, forage for kindling wood, fish the lake. Tonight there will be a great feast in honour of Lord Felis’s triumph!”

The captives went back to their enforced chores, despair stamped on their faces, some openly shedding tears. The wildcat foe had finally won. Their leader, Leatho Shellhound, was a prisoner, strung up in a high cage to die. Now their last sweet dreams of freedom had truly deserted them.