The night that fell over the three companions on the streambank also lowered its shades over Salamandastron and the western shores. Silently, with furled sails, ships drifted in on the flood tide. Out of the thinning mists they slid, headed for the shore on the quiet swell. Ships upon ships upon ships . . . craft of every description from single- to four-masted, flat-bottomed, deep-keeled, bulky and sleek, large and small. Any creature could have walked the length of the sea, a league from north to south, by stepping from ship to ship without once wetting a paw.

Then came the Blue Hordes of Ungatt Trunn from north and south, marching along the shores, the sounds of their footpaws muffled in the soft sands, in columns fifty deep and fifty long, following their commanders. No war drums were seen, nor trumpets, nor any other instrument, flute, cymbal or horn, to aid the marching. Starlight glinted dully off armor, speartip, blade and arrowhead as they came, closing in on Salamandastron like the jaws of a giant pincer. Inscrutable masses, perfectly drilled, the ultimate machine of destruction.

Flanked by twoscore soldiers, Ungatt Trunn strode up to the rocky fortress, his only illumination a torch held in the paws of Groddil. The wildcat’s keen eyes flicked up to the long open rectangle of Stonepaw’s room. There stood the Badger Lord of Salamandastron, clad in war armor, holding an enormous javelin.

“So, you are still here, stripedog?” Ungatt Trunn called up in his savage guttural growl.

The reply was immediate. “Aye, to the death, stripecat!”

The wildcat’s fangs showed in a sneer of derision. “So be it. ’Twill be your death, not mine!”

“Big words,” Stonepaw retorted mockingly. “I’ve already heard big words from the bad-mannered scum you sent here earlier today. They mean nought to me, the ravings of fools and idiots. Your messenger said you would make the stars fall from the sky. Look up, braggart. They are still there and always will be!”

The badger’s words stung the wildcat. His voice quivered with rage as he detected the laughter of hares all around. “I have no more words for you, stripedog. Tell them, Fragorl!”

Like a ghost, the hooded figure materialized out of the night. “These are the days of Ungatt Trunn the Fearsome Beast. Know you that he always speaks truth. If he says the stars will fall from the sky, then even they must obey. Look!”

Groddil flung a pawful of powder on his palely burning torch. With a whoosh it shot up a bolt of brilliant blue flame. This was the signal. Every beast of the horde onshore and every creature crowding the decks of the hovering ships immediately lighted, each one, a torch they carried specially for the purpose. In the awesome scene that was revealed, land and sea, as far as the eye could gaze, was ablaze. Stiffener Medick peered up at the sky. Because of the intensity of light below, not a single star could be seen, just a wide black void. Any creature on the reaches of Salamandastron’s heights could look out and see countless myriad lights ranging out to the horizon.

At another signal from Groddil, the twoscore guards nearest the mountain roared out aloud: “Mighty Ungatt Trunn has made the stars fall from the sky!”

Every hare on the mountain was stunned with shock. The seas and the whole shore were ablaze with light; it was like having day below and night above, the stars made invisible in the sky due to the powerful lights radiating upward.

Groddil held a whispered conference with Ungatt, and the wildcat nodded before speaking out. His voice echoed off the mountain in the awestruck silence.

“I see you have no scornful comments to make, stripedog. You have witnessed the power of Ungatt Trunn. My Blue Hordes will camp here on your doorstep. When dawn comes you will feel the earth shake. You have left it too late to retreat from the mountain as I commanded you to do. Now you must reap the penalty.” Then, turning his back on Lord Stonepaw, the wildcat marched off, back to his ship.

The Badger Lord watched as the torches turned into campfires. Bramwil, the oldest hare on the mountain, came shakily forward to clutch the badger’s paw, his voice trembling like a reed in the wind.

“Lord, I would not have believed it, had I not seen it with these old eyes. What can we do against one who is truly magic?”

Stonepaw patted Bramwil’s stooped back gently. “That was no magic, my friend, ’twas only a very clever trick, an illusion. But the reality of all those lights is a fearful thing, for it shows the extent of Trunn’s army. Trobee, your eyes are still useful. Could you have counted the number of torches out there?”

Trobee shook his head vigorously. “You must be jestin’, sah. Nobeast alive could do that!”

Stiffener’s comment confirmed Stonepaw’s worst fears. “Aye, an’ every one o’ those torches was held by a vermin soldier. ’Tis hard to imagine such an army!”

Stonepaw stared out at the campfires burning holes into the night, both near and far. “No doubt you all heard what the wildcat had to say—we’ve left it too late to retreat.”

Silently the hares pondered the enormity of what their lord had said, but the feeling of doom was broken when Stiffener Medick spoke out boldly. “So what do we do? Stand around here waitin’ t’be conquered an’ slain? Not this hare, no sah! Chin in, chest out, stiffen the ole lip an’ stand firm! Mebbe that scum can make stars fall an’ earth tremble. But let’s see him crack a mountain with us to defend it!”

Lord Stonepaw’s eyes lit up with the flame of battle. “Stiffener, gather my hares at every ledge and window. Let’s show the vermin what we think of them!”

Ungatt Trunn came hurrying from his stateroom cabin as defiant roaring from Salamandastron ripped through the night stillness.

“Eulaliaaa! Eulaliaaa! Eulaliaaaaaaaa!”

Groddil hobbled behind his master, and spat contemptuously into the sea. “Fools! Do they think they can scare us with their battle cries?”

Ungatt Trunn did not even deign to look at the shrunken fox. “No, they don’t mean to scare us, but they’re letting us know that they aren’t scared either. That’s called courage, Groddil, but you wouldn’t understand it. If those hares were enough in number to match us one to one, then I’d be scared.”

*

Dawn arrived pale-washed, though in less than an hour it had blossomed into a beautiful late-spring day, showing the promise of a good summer. Lord Stonepaw had witnessed the day’s arrival; he had scarcely slept throughout the night. Now, sitting on the edge of his bed in a warm shaft of sunlight, he fell into a doze.

Blench the cook shook him gently. “Wake up, sire, those villains are waiting t’see you outside on the shore. I brought ye a bite o’ brekkist.”

Stonepaw opened his eyes slowly and winced. “Ooh! Don’t ever fall asleep wearing armor, Blench, it feels like waking up in a cooking pot. I suppose that wildcat villain is showing off his army at our gates?”

Blench placed the tray of food at his side. “Aye, there’s all manner o’ blue-dyed vermin paradin’ up an’ down on the beach, in full fig, too. Mercy me, they’re a strange lot. D’ye think they’re about to start the war?”

The Badger Lord chose a warm damson muffin and poured himself a beaker of dandelion and rosehip tea. “More than likely, Blench, more than likely. Hmm, I feel peckish this morning. Let them wait until I’ve broken my fast. Did you bring any honey?”

“Right there under yore muzzle, lord.”

Stonepaw spread honey on his muffin. “You run along now, marm, an’ see that my hares get fed.”

As she withdrew, Blench chuckled. “Fat chance of any Salamandastron hare a-goin’ into battle on an empty belly. Did y’ever hear of such a thing?”

*

Ungatt Trunn stood on a rock, Groddil and his Grand Fragorl alongside him, and looked around the western shores. Nodding his satisfaction, he turned to the fox and the ferret.

“Can you see the sand?”

Fragorl shook her hooded head. “No, Mightiness, only the Blue Hordes. They are in such great numbers that nobeast could see the sand they stand upon. They are even shoulder to shoulder in the shallows.”

Ungatt fixed his stern eye upon the shrunken fox. “Another trick you’ve missed, eh, Groddil?”

The magician cringed as he shook his head in bewilderment. “Sire?”

Ungatt Trunn’s paw swept across, indicating the scene. “Not only can I make the stars fall, but I can also cause the land to disappear. Use your head, stupid!”

Thinking to divert his master’s wrath, Groddil pointed to the mountain. “But the stripedog shows his insolence by not bothering to appear and witness your power, O Exalted One.”

“That is a mere ploy which the commanders of armies use upon one another,” Ungatt Trunn replied scornfully. “He thinks to fray my temper by keeping me waiting. Have you no brains at all? I should have slain you with the rest of your family, eh, Groddil?”

Lowering his head, the fox mumbled humbly, “I thank you for sparing my life every day since, sire!”

Ungatt smiled dispassionately at the fox’s bowed head. “I think I must have damaged your brain when I crippled your back. Hah! There’s the stripedog at his window.” Turning his attention to the mountain, the wildcat did not see the hate-laden glance which Groddil shot at him.

*

Lord Stonepaw and a dozen archers looked down from the window, showing no surprise at the masses of vermin crowding the shores.

“A fine day to die, eh, stripedog?” Ungatt Trunn called.

The badger smiled down in a patronizing way. “So soon, cat? I thought you were going to make the earth tremble. Could you not spare us long enough to see your next trick?”

At a nod from Ungatt, the Fragorl held a red banner high and announced aloud: “Let the enemies of Ungatt Trunn feel the earth tremble!”

The entire army began to jump up and down in perfect unison, chanting as they did, “Ungatt Trunn! Ungatt Trunn! Ungatt Trunn!”

As Fragorl waved her banner they increased their speed, jumping in the air and landing hard on the sand, their chant becoming a roar, the noise of countless footpaws stamping down becoming greater. Water splashed high on the tideline and clouds of sand began rising as they continued their relentless pounding.

Though he could scarcely be heard above the din, the hare named Bungworthy funneled both paws around his mouth and shouted at Stonepaw, “Look, lord! The earth is shaking! See! Great ripples are spreading seaward! The shore is shaking where they jump! Great seasons, the earth is shaking. It’s shaking!”

As suddenly as it had started the demonstration stopped. Ungatt Trunn stood smiling grimly up at Stonepaw as the sand clouds settled and the ripples receded.

“Well, stripedog, did you feel the earth shake? Did I not speak truly? Throw down your arms and come out!” Ungatt climbed down from his rock perch and stood at the head of his army, confident he had made his point.

Lord Stonepaw merely grunted. “Hah! You might have felt the earth tremble, cat, but Salamandastron remained rock-firm—we didn’t feel a thing. Now let me show you something!”

Stonepaw hurled his big war javelin right at his foe. The ranks closed around the wildcat. A rat, transfixed, fell dead, another behind him sorely wounded. No matter how fearsome the foe, or how great their numbers, when it came to fighting, Badger Lords were renowned. Old as he was, the present ruler was no exception. Lord Stonepaw of Salamandastron had begun the war.

*

Fleetscut was close to total exhaustion. The old hare had not stopped since he left the mountain. Ranging east to begin with, then sweeping back west in a great arc, he searched hills, flatlands, valleys and clifftops, finally arriving back on the shores, somewhere north of Salamandastron. Slumping down on the beach, he waited until his breathing calmed a bit before unslinging a small pack and drinking some cold mint tea.

Like an angry wasp, a barbed arrow buzzed by the hare, nicking his ear and burying itself in the sand. A small patrol, ten rats, from the great Blue Hordes emerged from the dunes behind Fleetscut.

“Stop there. Move an’ you die!” their officer shouted.

With blood trickling from his ear onto his jaw, Fleetscut took off as only a hare can, galvanized back to his former self as he sought to lose his pursuers. But the rats were hard on his paws as he led them on a twisting course around the shore and back into the dunes. With his footpaws sinking deep into the soft sandhills, Fleetscut panted raggedly, strong sunlight beating down on him as he breasted one dune and rolled down it to face another. He wished with all his heart that he were many seasons younger—he could have drawn circles around the rat patrol when he was a leveret. Every so often arrows zipped into the sand alongside him; once a spear almost pierced his footpaw. Fleetscut kept going. He knew that a moving target was the hardest to hit. Now, as he turned inland, the dunes gave way to hummocks and hillocks, coated with sharp, long-bladed grass. He tripped over a blackberry creeper, leaping up as best he could, ignoring the scratches the thorns had inflicted on him. But he could hear the labored breathing of the ten rats getting closer.

“Fan out an’ circle him. Lame him if y’can!” their leader rasped out.

Straining as though his lungs would burst, Fleetscut managed an extra turn of speed, dashing headlong to outdistance the flanking maneuver. A small grove of pines appeared up ahead, seeming to offer a hiding place. But one rat, faster than the rest, detached himself from the flankers and went directly after the hare. No matter how hard he ran, Fleetscut could not prevent the rat closing up on him. Now he was not more than ten paces behind. Chancing a backward glance, Fleetscut saw the rat preparing his spear for a throw. Then his footpaws hit thick beds of pine needles as he dived headlong into the grove, the spear thudding into a pine trunk a fraction to his side. Next moment there was the sound of a meaty thud. The rat fell poleaxed, his scream cut short by a slingshot.

“Up with thy paws, old ’un, quick!”

Without thinking Fleetscut rolled over and threw up his paws. A thick woven net enveloped him, and he grabbed tight as he was swung off his back into the branches above.

A big, rough-looking female squirrel, with a loaded sling dangling from one paw, winked at him. “Don’t thee say a word now, longears, be still!” Sighting the rats entering the fir grove, she glared fiercely about her at forty-odd squirrels, similarly armed, concealed in the upper branches. “Take no prisoners. T’the Dark Forest with ’em all!”

Whock! Thwack! Thock! Thud!

In less time than it took to draw breath the rat column was slain to a beast, strewn about the bottom of the pines, some of them with their eyes still wide open in surprise. Leaving Fleetscut still caught up in the net, the squirrel and her band leapt down onto the corpses, stripping every scrap of armor and every weapon from them. Squabbles broke out over the ownership of possessions, and there was much tooth-baring.

“I sighted yon sword first. Give it ’ere!”

“Nah, ’tis mine, not thine. I slew the longtail!”

The big female squirrel was among them like a whirlwind, sending argumentative ones winded to the earth as she clubbed their stomachs savagely with her loaded sling.

“I say who gets what! Up on thy paws, Beddle, or I’ll give ye more’n just a love tap next time!”

One young male muttered something, and she laid him flat with a tremendous smack. “Thee’ve been told about usin’ language like that, Grood! Can ye not see we’ve got company? Behave now, all a’ ye!”

Fleetscut strove to disentangle himself from the net. “Stap me, any bloomin’ chance o’ gettin’ out o’ this, you chaps? Lend a paw here!” he called down.

The female squirrel and two equally big males bounded up and lowered the net expertly to the earth, where the others soon had Fleetscut free. Somersaulting neatly out of the tree, the big female landed lightly on her footpaws.

Fleetscut bowed gravely to her. “’Thanks for savin’ my life, marm.”

She examined a dead rat’s bow and arrows. “’Twasn’t to save thy life we dropped ’em. Weapons an’ plunder, that’s why we slew the longtails. I’m called Jukka the Sling, and these are my tribe. Be you from the mountain south o’ here?”

The hare nodded. “Aye. My name’s Fleetscut.”

Jukka sat, her tailbrush against a pine trunk. “Ye’ve got big trouble o’er there, Fleetscut. We been watchin’ blue vermin marchin’ downcoast for days, all headed for thy mountain.”

Fleetscut crouched down, facing her. “That’s only a third o’ them, Jukka marm. There’s as many must’ve come up from the south an’ another horde from the sea, great fleet o’ the blighters.”

Jukka watched her band dragging the rats off for burial. “Old badger’ll have his paws full. They’ll massacre him. Hares on yon mount be as old as thee—thy young ’uns are long gone from there.”

Fleetscut was mildly surprised at Jukka’s intelligence. “You seem t’know rather a lot about Salamandastron?”

The squirrel wound her sling around her tailtip. “’Tis my business to know what goes on hither an’ yon. Only a fool would live a lifetime in these parts an’ know nought of them. Did ye escape the mountain, Fleetscut?”

The old hare shook his head sadly. “No, I was sent out by Lord Stonepaw to scout up reinforcements, but there ain’t a bally hare ’round here anymore. Don’t suppose you’d fancy helpin’ us out, marm?”

Jukka tossed a slingstone deftly from one paw to the other. “Nay, not I, nor my tribe, e’en though I pity thy plight, friend. Other creatures’ troubles are their own, not ours. But that doesn’t mean we don’t show hospitality to guests. Thee must be weary and hungered, too. Come rest awhile an’ sup with us. Thou art too tired to go further, friend.”

Fleetscut heaved a sigh as he rose stiffly. “Sorry, marm, but I have to travel on, wot. Can’t let the jolly old side down by takin’ time off.”

He accepted Jukka’s paw, and she smiled wryly at him. “Fare thee well, old ’un. Fortune attend thy search.”

“Aye, an’ good luck to you, Jukka the Sling. Let me know if you change your mind. You’ve got a perilous tribe there, good warriors all!”

Jukka watched Fleetscut lope off through the pine grove. “Huh, brave an’ foolish, like all hares. What say you, Grood?” The young squirrel muttered half to himself, half to Jukka. She whacked him soundly across both ears. “Thee’ve been told about that language. I’ll scrub thy mouth out with sand an’ ramsons if there be any more of it!”