The Rogue Crew

He was about to slash down at Sage with the broad curved blade when a long oarshaft swept across, breaking his skull. Ruggan Axehound, leaning over the ship’s side, swung the oar again, wiping out the life of a searat. Big Drander and Buff Redspore fought their way to the lancejack’s side. As Buff stanched the wound in Sage’s shoulder, Drander leaned over, shielding them both with his body. He winked at Sage.

“Steady on, old gel. We’ll soon have ye up’n’about, wot!”

The breath was knocked from both haremaids when Drander suddenly slumped on top of them, a spear embedded deep between his shoulders.

Lieutenant Scutram slew the spear thrower with a hefty sabre slash. The ferocity of Long Patrol hares and Guosim shrews was so swift and ruthless that the vermin fled willy-nilly.

The shrew Chieftain chased after a corsair stoat; he despatched his quarry and divested him of his footwear, chuckling grimly. “Hahah! So this is the villain who stole my clogs!” Donning them, he skipped back to the ship, clicking both heels and sending sparks about.

“Ahoy, Rake, lookit me! I’m Log a Log Dandy Clogs agin!”

The tall Captain smiled momentarily. “Och, an’ so ye are, bonny lad. Right, all aboard, buckoes!”

On the other side of the vessel, Skor Axehound and his warriors found themselves outnumbered and hard pressed. Razzid Wearat stood at the centre of his crew, urging them forward in a bid to wipe out the otters and gain entry to the Abbey building.

Skor battled stoically on, ignoring minor wounds, the red light of Bloodwrath blazing in his eyes. Being outnumbered had never bothered the Warchief of the High North Coast. From where he stood, Razzid could see Skor. He was not anxious to cross steel with the big sea otter, so he drove the vermin hard, feeling that they could soon overwhelm the defenders. By then the heroic chieftain, wielding his mighty battleaxe amidst the storm-rent night, would doubtless be wounded many times.

Razzid sneered as he imagined himself finishing Skor off slowly with the trident. However, the sight of his mortal enemy seemed to send Skor into a frenzy. He beckoned with his axe, bellowing, “Don’t hide there in the middle of yore crew, dribblesnout! Come an’ get yore ugly head chopped off. I’ll stick it on that ole pitchfork ye call a weapon. How’ll that do ye, eh?”

Bloodwrath kept welling up in Skor Axehound’s eyes. He hurled himself into the vermin ranks, regardless of the wounds he was taking in his attempts to reach Razzid. The sight brought fear to the Wearat; he started retreating through his crew. He was almost at the rear when Shekra appeared at his side, urgently tugging his cloak.

“Lord, look behind you!”

“Eulaliiiaaaaa!”

“Logalogalogalooooog!”

Long Patrol hares and Guosim swarmed down Greenshroud’s side, cutting off any escape. Razzid’s cunning now came to the fore. He scanned the gale-swept night, finding a way out. Grabbing a burly ferret corsair, he gave him his helmet and cloak. “Here, mate, put these on. Lead our crew forward. I’ve got a plan that’ll win this battle for us. I’ll reward ye special like when Redwall’s ours!”

Led by Rake and Dandy, the fighters fell upon the rear vermin ranks. Razzid tore himself loose from Shekra. Crouching down, he scuttled off toward the shelter of the orchard. The vixen stumbled and fell. Looking up, she found herself staring into the wrathful face of Trug Bawdsley.

Throwing away her blade, she pleaded, whining piteously, “Mercy, sire, mercy. Can’t ye see I’m unarmed?”

Trug swung his sword, gritting out the words. “Aye, I’ll show ye mercy, just as ye did to my young sister an’ her friends the night ye murdered them!”

The young hare’s words echoed in the Seer’s head. It was the last voice she ever heard.

Skor, Dandy and Rake were in a racing fight to reach the cloaked and helmeted figure who was now at the centre of the melee. The disguised corsair panicked at the sight of the battleaxe-wielding sea otter closing in on him. He turned, meeting Captain Rake, who was swinging his twin claymores like a drum major—it was a fatal mistake. The corsair dropped like a log under the whirling blades.

At the sight of the legendary Wearat going down, all fighting ceased for a brief instant. The iron-spiked war helmet rolled off onto the sodden grass as Log a Log Dandy bounded up to crouch over the fallen one.

“Blood’n’whiskers! This un ain’t no Wearat. We’ve been fooled!”

Mowlag took advantage of the lull. He grabbed Jiboree, not having heard what Dandy had said.

“Well, that saved us a job, mate. Quick now, we’ll split up an’ conquer the Abbey between us. Keep out the way o’ those madbeasts if’n ye can. Let’s scatter an’ regroup later.”

Vermin fled in all directions. The defenders gathered round the dead corsair.

Skor was whirling about in baffled rage. “Wot d’ye mean, not the Wearat? I saw Rake slay him!”

Dandy stood aside from the limp carcass. “Take a look for yoreself, bigbeast. That ain’t Razzid!”