The Urchin of the Riding Stars (29 page)

They had known Husk wouldn’t go without a fight. That was why the hedgehogs had been ready for action. But there were so many rallying to Husk’s side from every direction, and so well-armed! Steel flashed and rang; teeth and claws were bared; there were snarls and squeals, roars and cries; sand and dust billowed into the air as animals fell. There was no sign of Husk on the dais, but Padra and Arran held their ground, fighting back to back as Padra’s and Granite’s swords clashed together. And where was the king?

Lugg and the hedgehogs fought furiously, but the tide of armed moles came on. An otter who looked a bit like Padra was hurling stones toward them, but he had to stop as they mingled with Padra’s supporters. Soon the moles would be on the dais, and all those sharp blades would rush at Padra. Desperately, Needle looked up. The spectacular awnings and Threadings around the dais were rocking with the surge of battle. She could use those. She looked wildly about her. Crackle and Sepia were pressed together in terror with their paws wrapped tightly round each other. A few small choir squirrels and the teams of acrobats watched, too, huddling together.

“Crackle! Sepia!” called Needle. “I need you here!
Faster!”
She stamped her paw as they crept nervously to her. “Look! We need to gnaw this scaffolding. Then we can bring everything crashing down on the moles as soon as they get on the dais!”

“But what about Captain Padra?” said Sepia.

“We get him off first! Come on!”

“I’ll help!” said a small choir squirrel, and another, and another. Crackle tried to tell them they were too young, but the acrobats were already racing up the scaffolding. A large hat with roses on it seemed to be swimming through the fray, and presently Apple was on the scene, hurling pebbles at the attackers. When she ran out of ammunition, she joined in the gnawing at the scaffolding. Other young animals, seeing them, struggled through the battle to help.

Padra and Arran had been pushed to the edge of the dais. Twice Granite had tried to force Padra over it, and Padra had pushed him back. Needle saw Granite heave his sword in both paws, ready to crash into Padra’s skull; but Padra struck out with all his strength to parry the blow, staggering back a pace before finding his balance again. A mole leaped at him, but with a swish of his tail he hurled it flying from the dais. The Threadings would fall soon, but it might not be soon enough.

“Somebody help Captain Padra!” yelled Needle, but in the rage of battle she couldn’t tell if anyone heard her. “Why is it always up to
me
?” Gritting her teeth, she struggled to climb onto the dais.

“What you doing?” called Apple.

“Give me a shove!” said Needle, and with a heave from Apple, she was on the dais, brandishing her spines at any mole that came near her as she darted forward, grabbed Granite’s ankle in both paws, and bit with all her might. There was a howl and a kick from Granite, and as she rolled backward, she saw a squirrel leap from a Threading to sink its teeth into his shoulder. Armed moles were on the dais, then more of them.

But the awnings were ready to fall. Needle leaped down.

“Shake the scaffolding!” she gasped.

“Shake the scaffolding!” shouted Apple.

“Padra, Arran, Lugg, jump!” she yelled.

“Padra, Arran, Lugg, jump!” bellowed Apple as the scaffolding rocked.

With a cry of “Mistmantle, jump!” Padra and Arran hurled themselves from the dais. At the other side, Lugg and the rest of their supporters sprang and scrambled to safety as the scaffolding creaked and folded. Awnings and Threadings swung, swayed, and collapsed, lurching like a wild sea, as underneath them the trapped animals kicked and hacked.

Padra was already on his paws. “The king!” he shouted.

“The tower!” panted a hedgehog. “We tried to fight our way through to His Majesty, but Husk had him surrounded by guards and dragged him into the tower. Don’t know where all his troops came from, sir.”

“I think I do,” said Padra, getting his breath back. “Who’s in the tower?”

“The king, Husk, Lady Aspen,” said the hedgehog. “Brother Fir, I think, but I’m not sure. Some of the servants and Husks’s guards.”

Padra looked up at the tower. Against the late afternoon sky, it stood as beautiful as sunset and as hard as diamond.

“They’ll have every tunnel and entrance well guarded,” he said. “But we should be able to take it by storm.”

There were cries and curses from behind him. Swords were hacking through the fallen Threadings.

“Have that lot trussed up and put in—oh, hang it, we don’t have the use of a dungeon,” Padra went on. “A cave, then, well guarded. Or a burrow. Arran, Lugg, take some reliable creatures to see to it.”

There was still some fighting going on below the dais, but it seemed that most of Husk’s supporters were either trapped on the dais or back in the tower. The wrecked Threadings rose and fell as the moles trying to escape became more and more tangled.

“Well done, everyone,” said Padra. He grinned down at the swarm of young animals gathered around him. “The collapse of that scaffolding has just saved the whole island. It certainly saved me. Whose idea was it?”

“It were 'er, sir,” said Apple with a jerk of her head at Needle.

“They all helped,” said Needle.

“Needle,” said Padra, “you are one of the heroes of Mistmantle, and we will honor you forever. You will be in the Threadings.”

“We’ll need new Threadings,” remarked Apple.

Needle’s eyes filled with tears. She tried biting her lip; she tried pulling her face straight; but she couldn’t help it: the tears would not be held back, and she sobbed wretchedly.

“I know, I know,” said Padra sympathetically, and held her paws. “You’ve never been in a battle before. It’s all too much. Cry all you like, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It’s not that,” snapped Needle through her tears. “It’s the Threadings! We worked so hard—we were proud of them!”

Padra drew himself up and rubbed his sore shoulder. It had been badly jarred in the fight with Granite and felt injured, and his right hind paw had been gashed by a mole’s sword.

“Time for the tower, then,” he said. He climbed onto a rock and clanged his sword against a fallen helmet for attention.

“Animals of Mistmantle,” he called, “loyal and true, faithful hedgehogs, bright-hearted squirrels, brave moles, valiant otters—will you rescue your king? Are you with me? At my word of command, otters to the Spring Gate! Hedgehogs and squirrels to the main stairs! Moles to the tunnels! Are you ready? For Mistmantle! For the king! For your families! Storm the tower!”

“And me with my best hat on!” muttered Apple.

Needle put Scufflen into Apple’s arms. “Please take him to my mum,” she said. “I’m going with Padra.”

The charge Padra led was wholehearted and furious, but every tunnel and window was guarded. Rocks were hurled, and arrows sleeted down from the battlements.

“Fall back!” called Padra, not wanting to risk lives for a struggle he couldn’t win. “Fall back!” But as he called out and ran backward across the rocks, a window opened.

“Captain Padra!” Aspen was calling down from a window, her paws on the sill, her head high. “Go to the windows of the Gathering Chamber. Captain Husk seeks to parley with you.”

“It’s a trap, sir,” said Needle.

“You shouldn’t be here,” said Padra. “You’re too young for this.”

“I’m a hero of Mistmantle, sir,” Needle said, “and she’s setting a trap.”

“That’s a chance I have to take,” said Padra. “If Husk really does want to parley, it’s a sign that he knows he’s losing. Don’t worry, I’ve got an army at my back.”

Determined not to limp, he made his way to the rocks under the Gathering Chamber windows. Armed animals followed him.

“Husk!” shouted Padra, because he would no longer call him captain. “Come to the window!”

Another window opened, and animals gasped in terror. Husk’s face was fierce with wild, dangerous delight, as if he treasured this hour. He looked as if he couldn’t wait to kill. He certainly didn’t look sane.

“Padra the otter,” he said, and laughed. “Padra the Plodder. Plodder the Otter, Otter the Plodder. Have you come to beg for mercy?”

Padra rested a paw on his sword hilt. “I come,” he said, “to demand that you hand over King Brushen and Brother Fir to my safekeeping, and surrender the tower.”

“And if I don’t?” sneered Husk. “Will you go back to your baby-minding?”

“If you don’t,” said Padra clearly, “you may choose to call yourself King of Mistmantle, if you want. But whose king? Your supporters are dead or prisoners. Not one of us will ever call you king. All we can call you is murderer and traitor, and every one of us would die to defend this island from you. Only we don’t intend to die. We will live on a free island, under our true king.”

“Your true king?” smiled Husk, and it was a terrible smile. “Do you want to see your true king?”

He disappeared from the window. Needle tried telling herself that everything would be all right, but it didn’t feel all right. And when Husk came back, she wanted to cry.

The king wore no crown and no robe. His paws were tied to his sides; his fur was roughened; and his eyes were bloodshot. Husk and a guard heaved him harshly to the open window, and for a sickening moment Needle thought they would throw him down.

There was a rasp as Husk drew his sword, and a shriek of dismay from the animals. If Padra had not held out a paw to hold them back, they might have surged at the tower at once and been ruthlessly cut down. But they stayed still, their breathing taut and shallow, as Husk put the blade to the king’s throat.

“Come any nearer,” he said, “and the king is dead. And then I shall be king by right of law. Who can challenge me? And it’s no good trying to sneak in through a tunnel. They’re all guarded. The slightest stirring of any intruder, and the king dies. And then we’ll let Brother Fir out of his lonely tower so he can crown me.”

“Is Brother Fir held prisoner?” asked Padra.

“No, not at all,” said Husk over the king’s shoulder. “He loves his turret room. And he can come out as soon as he agrees to crown me. I won’t surrender, so you’ll have to. Poor Padra, you can have until dawn to proclaim me king. I know it takes you a long time to think and understand. Till dawn, Padra. I can hardly wait. It will be a long night.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

ADRA SURVEYED THE BATTLEFIELD
. There were prisoners to be guarded, the dead to be buried, wounded and grieving animals to be cared for, and guards to be posted. Needle, wanting to be useful, took him a flask of water.

She found him by the remnants of the dais with the young otter she had seen in the battle. Whoever he was, he was battered, bruised, and grinning.

“No more heroics, Fingal,” Padra was saying. “I know you’ve been brave, but you could have been killed. Go and get your wounds washed. Never mind that I’m your brother, I’m your captain—so do as you’re told.”

Needle gave Padra the water, which he offered to Fingal first. A few squirrels were still chewing the scaffolding because, they said, it tasted nice. Some of the young ones were making nests from it, and the work of her own paws was being shredded by a baby mole. A hedgehog was eating the fringe. Needle tried not to look anymore.

“Please, sir,” she said as Padra drank, “where did all those moles come from?”

“Mercenaries,” said Padra, and offered her the water. “We don’t have that many moles. Husk must have arranged all this long ago. He knew he couldn’t count on enough support from Mistmantle animals, so he’s been smuggling in moles on trading ships and bribing them with jewels. It all makes sense. That’s why we’ve been trading so much, and he’s been storing up treasure. And that’s why he wanted to ration the food, so he could keep his secret army well supplied. They were all ready in tunnels, waiting for a signal. Did you notice, he beat his paw on the floor? That was the signal. One to be ready, two to attack. It’s all very clear now.”

“Like knowing the answer to a riddle,” said Needle. “Once you know it, you think it’s obvious, but it isn’t really.”

“Crispin would have worked it all out weeks ago,” said Padra. “I always knew I had seaweed where my brain should be. But Husk wasn’t ready for Mistmantle to fight back so fiercely.” He smiled down at her, making her glow with pride. “He certainly wasn’t ready for
you
, and he didn’t expect a siege. There’s still hope.” He stood up and grimaced as he put his weight on his wounded paw. “Here’s Moth!”