Argulor was awake.

Shifting on his high spruce perch, he glared down greedily through his old watery eyes at the red-cloaked figure crossing the parade ground of Kotir.

“At last, pine marten!”

*  *  *

Tsarmina pushed hard against the gates. “See, they’re rocking on their hinges,” she pointed out to Bane. “Those woodlanders have been meddling with them, I’m sure of it.”

Bane gave the gates a kick. “Do you think so? They seem solid enough to me. Huh, even fire arrows didn’t make much impression on these gates.”

Tsarmina unbolted the locks. Opening the gates cautiously, she peered around them at the woodlands. It was safe.

“All clear out here, but I don’t like it. I’m sure they’ve done something to these hinges from outside. Just think, if these gates blew down during the autumn, we’d be at their mercy.”

“Huh, I don’t know what you’re fussing about,” Bane said, swirling his new cloak impatiently. “The gates look all right to me.”

Tsarmina gnawed her lip. “Are you really sure, though?”

The fox sighed in exasperation. “Oh, I suppose I’ll have to go and take a look to keep you happy.”

He strode briskly outside.

Tsarmina dodged inside, slamming the gates and bolting them.

Bane was puzzled momentarily. “Hoi, what’s the matter with you, Tsarmina?”

There was no reply. Tsarmina was racing across the parade ground to watch from her high window.

Suddenly Bane sensed he had been tricked, but it was too late.

*  *  *

Argulor had already launched himself from his perch. He homed in on the red-cloaked figure like a bolt from the blue.

On the other side of Kotir, Bane’s mercenaries worked away on the scullery door, blissfully unaware of what was taking place outside.

Bane did not see the eagle swoop; he was trying to find pawholds as he clambered up the oaken gates.

Argulor struck him hard from behind, burying powerful talons and vicious hooked beak in the prey that had eluded him for so long. The fox was transfixed, frozen with cruel agony; but as the eagle started to carry him off, Bane’s fighting instincts took over. Freeing his curved sword, he struck upward at the feathered enemy.

The sword hit Argulor, once, twice!

Doggedly the great eagle sank talons and beak deeper into his prey. Beating the air with his massive wing-spread as he did, both hunter and quarry rose skyward.

Tsarmina at her window danced up and down in fiendish glee. Attracted by the screams, the occupants of Kotir looked up. Bane slashed wildly with his sword; Argulor stabbed madly with his beak. All the while the combatants rose higher, and soon they were above the treetops.

Chibb fluttered in circles some distance away. He watched the amazing sight as eagle and fox rose into the sky.

Far above Mossflower, Argulor won the battle. Bane gave a final shudder and went limp, the curved sword falling from his lifeless paws. The ancient eagle felt cheated; this was no pine marten, it was a fox. Argulor’s heart sank in his breast. It did not rise again. The rheumy eyes shut in the same instant as the great wings folded in death, and only the talons remained fixed deep into the dead fox.

Tsarmina watched as both creatures plunged earthward.

Two enemies defeated in a single brilliant stroke.

*  *  *

Ratflank dashed for the gate. Brogg shouted after him, “Where d’you think you’re off to?”

“Ha, to get that cloak, of course. That’s a good bit of velvet. It can be repaired, y’know.”

“Get back here, frogbrain. See what happened to the fox—he wore the cloak. D’you want the same thing happening to you?”

“Frogbrain yourself, dimwit. Can’t you see the eagle’s dead? Any creature can wear that cloak now.”

“Hoi! Don’t you call me dimwit, droopywhiskers.”

“I’ll call you what I like, dimwit. Nitears! Fatnose!”

*  *  *

Tsarmina smiled inwardly, a third victory today. Now that she heard Ratflank shouting she could identify the insolent voice that had often insulted her from the protection of the ranks or the bottom of a curved stairwell.

Later that day, she instructed Brogg.

“Take Ratflank, and find the bodies of the eagle and the fox.”

“Yes, Milady. Shall I bring them back here?”

“No, Brogg. Bury them.”

“As you say, Milady.”

“Oh, and Brogg . . .”

“Yes, Milady?”

“How do you feel about that insolent Ratflank these days?”

“Oh, him. He’s a cheekybeast, Milady. Called me lots of nasty names.”

“Yes. Me too. How would you like to bury him with the fox and the eagle?”

“Huh huhuhuh,” Brogg chortled. “Can I, Milady?”

“Yes, but not a word to any creature about it.”

“Can I have the red cloak too, Milady?”

“Yes, if you want it.”

“And Bane’s curved sword, Milady?” Brogg pressed her.

“If you can find it.”

“Where d’you think it fell, Milady?”

Tsarmina turned her eyes upward as if seeking patience. “Brogg, I wouldn’t know where the sword fell, or the eagle, or the fox. Just get out of my sight and don’t bother me with details.”

“But what about—Yes, Milady.”

*  *  *

Urthclaw was first to reach the underground foundations of Kotir. Tunneling steadily, he made his way along the underground wall until he met up with Billum. Together they continued until they linked up with Soilflyer, who was waiting for them.

“Burr, ’day to ’ee moles,” he greeted them. “Foremole an’ Owd Dinny be along wi’ tools soon, us’ns can brekk throo ’ee rock then.”

Lady Amber had sunk the floodgates at the other end of the tunnels, they were to be lifted by rope hoists attached to rock counterweights over high branches. Skipper and his crew had dug fresh tunnels from the river, sloping down to meet the floodgates which separated them from the main tunnels. All the workings had been shorn up with stone and timber. Foremole supervised the removal of rocks from the foundations of Kotir. The moles pried away the soft, damp stones with bars and chisels until they felt the cold fetid air on their snouts. “Burr, oo, durty owd place needen a gurt barth, hur hurr.”

Shortly before nightfall, the moles climbed out of the tunnel workings, back in Mossflower, where the woodlanders and Corim leaders had assembled. Bella rolled three large rocks over the holes from which the moles had emerged. Others moved in to pack the bung-rocks firmly in with wood and soil.

Now everything was ready.

Between the lower depths of Kotir and the distant river in Mossflower Woods, all that stood was three timber sluicegates.

Lady Amber laid her tail flat on the lower branches of a sycamore.

The woodlanders held their breath.

Skipper nodded to Foremole.

Foremole nodded to Bella.

Bella nodded to Amber.

The squirrel’s tail rose like a starter’s flag. There was a creaking of rope pulleys as squirrels launched the rocks from the high trees, riding down to earth on them, holding to the ropes. The counterweights traveled fast, humming across the heavily beeswaxed branches.

The wooden floodgates made a squelching sound as they were pulled free of the earth, then water began rippling through into the tunnels.

The flooding of Kotir had begun!