The Lengthening Shadow

It was near midday when Samuel and his companions stopped to rest. They had traveled at a moderate pace half the day, and paused by the banks of a river. Morgan had unpacked the group’s haversacks and taken out two canteens of pear cordial and a celery flan, and had staunched his hunger by eating half of it and draining a whole canteen is one swallow. Swoop was currently lapping water from the river, and Samuel was sharpening his rapier blade on one of the nearby rocks. Interrupting this scene of peace, a fully grown anaconda broke through the shrubbery. Immediately Samuel was on his feet, shouting the war cry of all Fernwooders.

“Vi’lleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

Hacking and stabbing with his rapier, the young mouse drove the constrictor back into the bushes, finally clobbering it with the butt of his rapier hilt, knocking the animal senseless. He sat down, panting heavily. “What was that thing? Do you have any idea, Swoop?” The barn owl shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I don’t, but it was a snake, I know that much. Speaking of snakes, when I was on my flying patrol this morning, I saw a great number of snakes, though I have no idea why there were that many around here. These western woodlands are a very queer place, unsettling too. I’ve barely heard a thing, except for that snake you walloped, Sam.” Samuel scratched his head. “You’re right, my friend, we seem to be the only beasts here. Any input, Morgan?”

The young otter shook his head. “Nary a thing, though I could swear I heard hissing a moment ago.......” He was abruptly cut off. The snake Samuel had knocked out rose and let out an eerie, high-pitched hissing sound. Immediately the clearing was alive with snakes: Adders, slow worms, grass snakes, rattlesnakes, and constrictors. The anaconda slithered up at the head of the group, obviously the leader. “I think that one you clonked, ’e’s their leader, Sam,” Morgan whispered, “I think they want some kind of retribution for that.” Samuel slowly drew his rapier, glancing around the snakes that were hemming them in. “We should deal with the adders and rattlesnakes here and now, they’re the dangerous ones. We can get rid of the rest later. Good plan, eh, Mor?” The otter drew his sword and waved it in an arc of glittering steel. “Aye, mate. Let’s go. Vi’lleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

The two friends charged at the writhing mass of snakes. In a few seconds, they had dealt with three adders, two grass snakes, two rattlesnakes, and a slow worm. The remaining poisonteeth slunk to the back of the clearing, realizing that the pair of warriors was targeting their kind. Samuel dashed into a group of constrictors next, laying them low with quick, flashing sweeps of his sword. Morgan joined him, and they fought back to back, sending snake carcasses left and right. Swoop, meanwhile, was grasping the slithering foebeasts in his talons, and hurling them into the nearby river. The hissing villains were swept away by the current, leaving no trace that they had ever existed. The anaconda leader (Whose name, by the way, was Fisskin) urged his ranks onward, meanwhile confronting the cowering poisonteeth. “What are you doing back here, cowardssssss? Get back there and fight thosssssse two warriorsssssss!” When the snakes did not move, Fisskin started lashing out with his thick, scaly tail, scoring hits on many of his minions. The poisonous reptiles fled into the thick undergrowth, several leaving blood trails from their wounds. As he looked after his retreating soldiers, Fisskin heard a slight whooshing noise behind him. He turned, saw what was coming and tried to dodge, but it was too late. Samuel’s thin, double-edged rapier took Fisskin’s villianous head off with a single swipe. Seeing their leader dead, the remaining snakes ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction, away from the three grim-faced warriors. Swoop rummaged through the slain snakes. “I wonder why they attacked us. We weren’t doing anythi... A-hah!” Samuel rushed over to the owl’s side. “What is it, Swoop?” Swoop proudly showed him a small piece of barkcloth scroll. “Take a look at this!” It was evidently an order of some kind.

Fisskin and the Snake Band,

I have a new order. The “Stop all Travelers” order still stands, but with a difference. If any are going in the direction of Cape Bucktooth, SLAY THEM IMMEDIATELY! If they enter the Dunelands, tell Skardle that there are intruders in his territory. None shall reach the focus of my mission.

Signed:

Master K

Samuel looked questioningly from Morgan to Swoop. “What’s going on here? Who’s ‘Master K’? What’s Cape Bucktooth? Why is it so important?” Morgan held up his sword bravely. “Well, if that Cape Bucktooth place is where helpless creatures are being oppressed, then I’ll help them, or my name isn’t Morganofess Platstraggle Waterwalloper, which it is.” Not to be outdone, Swoop added his contribution. “I’ll stop any more villains if it means a good fight, or my name isn’t Lieutenant Swoopophsis Nygolyre Galewing of Nortpoint, which it is.” Morgan’s face was the very picture of indignation. “Hey, you’re copying me!” Swoop looked triumphantly at the otter. “My name is longer than yours.” “Oh yeah?” retorted Morgan, “That wasn’t your name, that was your title.” Samuel broke the two up. “Let me settle this. I’ll save those creatures, if there are any, or my name isn’t Sir Samuel Flatbarrow Groundpaw Lackwelt Redbud Brinkling Rootgreen Longvine Opponert Feerloin Vunghink Weaselslayer...” Swoop and Morgan covered their ears as the list went on and on. Finally, after a few hours, their companion finished. “...Deerrunner Highjump Dringle Lenolin, Esquire, of Fernwood Castle in Greenbloom Forest, which it is. Top that!” Swoop smiled ruefully. “No, I guess that we can’t top that. I couldn’t, even if I was using my title.”

Later, the travelers encountered a barren wasteland, sand, rock, and sparse shrubbery as far as the eye could see. Buzzards swooped low over the ground, and sand lizards fought each other viciously over a few drops of water. As the companions strode through the desert, Morgan remarked on this fact. “By the wand of Vi’lle! Water must be pretty scarce here if those lizard chappies fight over a few drops of good old water!” Samuel shook the canteen he was holding and it made a sloshing noise as the precious liquid splashed about inside. “We’re lucky we still have this. It still has a bunch of water in it, enough to last us through this desert.”

A few hours later, the friends were still walking through the wasteland. So far, they had gotten past swooping buzzards, sand lizards driven mad from thirst, and a few dust storms. The sand lizards proved to be the most challenging obstacle. They banded together to raid travelers of their water, and were armed with sharpened bulrush javelins. One particularly infamous group, led by one Skardle, had been harassing them, ducking and weaving, making lightning-fast strikes. The lizards had gained nothing each time, but Skardle was persistent. He knew that Samuel and his friends would tire at one time or another, so he kept up the guerrilla tactics. Several sand lizards had been slain in the attempts, but the gang kept coming. They kept at it for several days, until both parties were sore and tired. Finally, when Skardle judged the travelers weary enough, he ordered all of his forces to gather behind some sand dunes near Samuel’s camp one evening. When they were settled, he issued orders to some of his captains.

“Zzzzzzzz! Thiz iz good, we have them right where we want them. Do not attack until I give you the zignal, then get in and zlay them all. It iz for revenge, remember that! Zader, take your forzez and get behind that zand dune over there. Plorten, take two and prepare to grab the water and flee if all goez wrong. Trutery, that rocky outcrop. You zee it?” Trutery shielded his eyes with his bulrush spear as he peered at the stony ledge. “Yez, I zee it, Zire.” Skardle smiled evilly. “Good! Gather a hundred picked fighterz and hide behind there. When I whiztle through mine spear, you charge down. Ya? Greddez, zee to it that all mine fighterz have bulrush zpearz. We muzt all be armed to win thiz battle.” As the sand lizard officers dashed off to attend to their various tasks, Skardle allowed himself a sly chuckle. The those three Unscaled Ones must not be allowed to survive; Sacrifices had to be made if he and his army were to live. Greddez checked that all the reptiles were armed, Plorten had the two snatchers and was in position, Trutery was leading his hundred soldiers to the outcrop, and Zader was taking his assigned warriors to the dune. After everything was in order, another sand lizard reported back to Skardle. This lizard was Kretch, his second in command. “Mazter, everything is ready. Thoze Unzcaled onez will not ztand a chance againzt uz. Zand lizardz alwayz conquer the enemy, ezpecially uz.” Skardle picked sand from a gap in his teeth. “Good, you did good, Kretch. Remember, az zoon az the zun zets, we will ztrike. I want no mezzups. Underztand?” Kretch nodded and grinned widely, then strode off to attend to his duties.

Skardle blinked dust out of his single eye. His tribe had always been the strongest one in the Dunelands, as the desert was called. They had been the most successful at raiding, they had the most water; and the best supplies. He was just a young lizard when he had formed the Sandraiders out of a failing group that had stumbled upon his den. They had added more recruits over the years, and soon they were feared throughout the Dunelands. His first Sandraider captains were Greddez and Plorten, twin brothers, followed by Kretch, Trutery, and Zader. Unlike other bands, who killed to survive, the Sandraiders were actually evil. They slew creatures for the fun of it. The Sandraiders numbered about a thousand at that moment, twenty score in the raiding party, and thirty score back at the lizards’ camp. The four hundred he had brought should be enough to secure the water and slay the three travelers.

Trutery and his two lieutenants, Jorteng and Dartzed, were perched behind the outcrop with ninety-eight other lizards all armed with sharpened dried bulrush spears. Jorteng was an experienced fighter who walked with a limp, often using his spear as a cane. Dartzed was young and hot-headed, but an unstoppable slayer, and fearless in battle.

“When doez the battle ztart, Captain?”, asked Dartzed, “I can’t wait! Let me at them now... Unnkhh!” Jorteng clobbered him with a hefty right fist. “Shut up, fool! Do you want them to hear uz? Wait until Mazter Zkardle givez the zignal!” The elder reptile limped off, leaving Dartzed massaging an aching jaw and shaking his spear angrily. Zader and twoscore lizards crouched behind a sand dune to the right of Samuel and Co. Zader also had two lieutenants, a pair of lithe, wiry sand lizards named Gither and Hiftez. Gither was a female Sandraider, and the mate of Hiftez. The latter was tall and lean, with half of his tail chopped off. “Hif” was Sandraider for “Half”, and “Tez” meant “Tail”. Combined, his name meant “Half Tail”. Their son Dartzed also served as a lieutenant, which made Gither and Hiftez very proud. All in all, there were eight lieutenants, two serving under each captain. Zader had Hiftez and Gither, Trutery had Jorteng and Dartzed, Greddez had Kifflet and Darghin, and Plorten had Lodinc and Miffsar. Along with Kretch, those thirteen lizards formed the Sand Command, the officers of the Sandraiders. Greddez was the highest ranking captain, his squad the very best. Skardle did not assign them many deadly tasks, so Greddez stayed alive to rise even further. The ambitious officer was waiting with bated breath for a new promotion.

That night, the action started when Skardle blew through the hollow shaft of his spear. Trutery and his squad started creeping out from behind the ledge. Dartzed was so excited, he accidentally trod on a small thistle.

At the sound of the lieutenant’s yelp, Samuel, Morgan, and Swoop all woke. The mouse saw a sand lizard bearing down on him, so he called to his companions. “Attaaaack!” Then he drew his rapier and took out a Sandraider who was sneaking up on Swoop. The owl slew four with powerful thrusts of his talons, and Morgan flattened a lizard with a sweep of his powerful rudderlike tail, killing another with a swing of his sword and stunning yet another with the backlash. While his friends were defending themselves, Samuel had accounted for another seven Sandraiders and was in the process of getting rid of another when he saw Trutery giving orders to a lizard while pointing at Samuel. Knowing instinctively that Trutery was the leader, he hurled his light sword. The point pierced the captain’s throat, and he fell dead on the rocks. The fight went out of the remaining Sandraiders, and they dropped their weapons, putting their hands high in the air as a sign of surrender. Morgan turned to a random lizard. “Who are your leaders? Shove them forward!” The sand lizards, wanting to live, shoved Jorteng and Dartzed forward. The Sandraider Lieutenants groveled shamelessly at Morgan’s footpaws.

“Zpare uz, kind zir! We never did nothing, it waz Trutery!”

“Don’t kill uz, otter! We were juzt carrying out our orderz!”

The otter knight glared at them. “Who is this ‘Trutery’ you speak of?” Jorteng pointed at Trutery’s carcass. “Him, Zire! He’z our leader, we’re juzt lieutenantz!” Now it was Samuel’s turn to be the interrogator. “Is this all there is of you? You there, Dartzed, I think your name was, is this all of you ‘Sandraiders’?” Unexpectedly, Dartzed’s face broke into a wide, evil grin. “No, watch!” He blew through his spear, making a high-pitched whistling noise. Immediately the dunes were alive with hissing, leering Sandraiders. Captain Zader was leading them. “You’re zurrounded, travelerz! There is twozcore and a half with me, pluz the zeventy here. Prepare to die!”

The clearing was soon a scene of complete mayhem. Morgan, Samuel, and Swoop were slaying Sandraiders by the dozen, but the evil lizards kept on coming. Zader hung back with his lieutenants, Hiftez and Gither, along with their son Dartzed and his pal Jorteng, the lieutenants of Captain Trutery. Zader outlined his plan to them. “You zee, Mazter Zkardle azzigned the tazk of water-znatching to Greddez and gave Plorten the command of two hundred and fifty soldierz. He is waiting behind that dune over their,” he indicated the spot with his tail, “With hiz forzez. Lodinc and Miffzar will be reporting to uz zoon. They will tell uz of Plorten’z pozition, and when to give the spear-wiztleing zignal. Then we will ztrike!” He slammed his hand down hard on the sand. Nearly four hundred Zandraiderz should get rid of them. A minute later, Kretch joined them. “How’z it going, Zader? When will we zlay them? Zoon, I hope.”

The battle was closer than Kretch expected. Samuel had found a bow and arrows in one of the food haversacks. Good old Bernie, he thought, He always wants to help us. Wherever you are, Bernie, you have my thanks. He put an ash shaft to the twine bowstring, aimed at a random sand dune and fired. Kretch was outlining another scheme when the arrow hit him straight betwixt the eyes. He fell dead in front of an astonished Zader, creating a small dust cloud as he hit the sand. The Sandraider Captain took no time in figuring out what to do. “Hiftez, quick, go tell Zkardle that Kretch has been zlain! Hurry!” The half-tailed lizard scrambled off into the night, bringing the message to Skardle. When the Sandraider Chieftain heard the news, he too had a plan. “Greddez, you are now promoted to my ztrong right claw! Darghin, you will replaze Greddez. You there,” he pointed at a distinguished member of Greddez’s squad, “Kajdin. You are now a lieutenant under Captain Darghin.” Greddez swelled his scaly chest with pride. He was now the second in command, the dream he had always pursued.

Zader had waited until Lodinc had reported, then blew the signal. Two hundred and fifty more Sandraiders joined the fray, led by Captain Plorten. Samuel and his friends were fighting bravely, even though the numbers were against them. Skardle decided to finish them using this advantage. “Captain Darghin, go to the Zandraider cave and tell all zigz hundred to come and attack. You will lead them. Finish thoze travelerz off. Ya?” Darghin saluted and scurried off. The Sandraider cave was a strange sight. Built inside a large sand dune, the ceiling was supported by a mixture of hardened mud and clay interwoven with tree limbs. Thirty score of Sandraiders were inside; the ones who had not been chosen to battle. Darghin entered through a small, muddy hallway disguised with a flap of canvas plastered with the mud-and-clay compound.

“Up on your clawz, you all are coming to battle! Three travelerz, with talonz, two light rapierz, and a bow and arrowz. We will overwhelm them with the full forze of the Zandraiderz! Come on!” Six hundred lizards dashed through the narrow hallway into the still night, where a silver crescent moon hung in a black night sky scattered with stars. Darghin was confident that victory was his. No trio of lone wanderers could stand against six hundred Sandraiders. They band crept silently through the sand dunes and blowing dust, towards the sounds of battle. No one was more surprised then Samuel as another thirty score lizards leapt over the ridge. He felled five with speeding arrows, then slew another ten with his rapier. Morganofess Platstraggle Waterwalloper, to give him his full name, was in the process of braining a Sandraider with his hefty rudder. Swoop had his talons around another lizard’s neck, and he took out another with a hard peck. Plorten was amazed at the fighting skills of the three friends. They had slain at least fivescore lizards, maybe up to tenscore. And where was his brother Greddez? Plorten’s twin brother was in the back with Skardle. “Zire, we have lozt zo many already. Should we zurrender? I for one think we should azk them what they are doing in Zandraider territory. Thiz attack iz unjuztified...” Skardle smacked him across the face, glaring savagely. “Fool! Zoft-zcaled radical! Idiot! Dolt! We are here to zlay and take, not azk them what they are doing! Perhapz you would alzo like to invite them inzide for tea!” Greddez smiled weakly under his bruises. “Yez, that would be nize, Mazter...Ooooooof!” Skardle knocked the wind from him with a tailsweep. “I waz not azking you, addlebrain! Shut your dithering gob, weakling!” Greddez scuttled away to find a poultice for his injured jaw while Skardle glared after him, not knowing he had made an enemy of his strong right claw.

Plorten, Darghin, and Zader sat with their lieutenants behind a mass of rocks and shrubbery, discussing the Sandraiders’ position. Miffsar ventured a suggestion. “What if we zurrounded them?” His partner Lodinc clapped a hand to his forehead in exasperation. “Ztop blathering on about zurrounding them. We have already done that!” Lieutenants Kajdin and Kifflet were drawing something in the sand. Plorten came over to check it out. “What are you two drawing?” Kajdin answered. “It’z a battle plan that Greddez taught uz two. Watch! Twozcore zoldierz go over that way az a decoy. Then, when they give the zpear-whiztling zignal, a hundred Zandraiderz go over that way to defend the decoyz. The travelerz will undoubtedly go that way to ztrike. Then, twenty zcore will zurround the zides. The rezt of uz will hit their back, zo they are boxed in. The zircle will cloze tighter, zo that the defenderz will be zquashed like bugz. Zee, Captain?” Plorten nodded, then called to the attackers. “Fall back! Retreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeat!”

The Sandraiders exited the clearing, leaving behind thin trails of blood from wounds. When they were grouped together, out of hearing range, Plorten explained the plan to them. Samuel was not at all surprised to see forty lizards entering the camp again. He charged them, but was driven back by another hundred Sandraiders who had appeared behind the decoy group. Two hundred sand lizards boxed them in on either side, and four hundred were blocking the back. The circle closed tighter, leaving Samuel and his friends fighting for breathing room. Suddenly, Swoop saw the one flaw they had made: they forgot to block the top. He took off into the air, and out of the circle. The owl was in his element. He was swinging low to pick up lizards, taking them higher, then letting go. Several dents had been made from falling Sandraiders, and the remaining lizards had to dodge every time a reptile fell, because some had been slain by the falling soldiers. Zader and Darghin were in the background, urging their Sandraiders forward.

“Kill them, there iz only three! Come on, get in there!”

“Zlay! Zlay! Take no prizoners! Kill them!”

Many a lizard fell that night in the Dunelands. Morgan and Samuel fought on valiantly, heedless of injuries. Tanback, an aspiring Sandraider, led twoscore away from the main body of the fighting to give them special orders. “Take the mouze’s bow and arrowz. Shoot down the owl! Then rejoin the fighting. Ya?” The forty scurried off back into the fray, their target being Samuel’s bow and quiver. When they returned to Tanback, he took the bow, notched an arrow to the bowstring, and whipped it back. Swoop saw the arrow coming and dodged out of the way, dropping another lizard as he did. The failed archer threw the bow down and stomped on it; this was followed by a string of very colorful cursing, the last words he ever said. A moment later, Tanback was silenced for good by a swing of Morgan’s rapier.

“My my, didn’t your mother teach you not to swear? Naughty lizard!”

Plorten was leading another two hundred Sandraiders against Samuel. The lizard was confident that the mouse would tire soon. Spurred on by this thought, Plorten urged his command on. “Come on, whoever zlayz the mouze iz a rich Zandraider! You have mazter Zkardle’z word on that!” Samuel kept hacking away at the foebeasts, grinning with triumph as lizards fell dead around him.

“Come on, scaly scum! Meet Samuel of Fernwood! Vi’lleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

As he was watching the battle from a high sand dune, Greddez was unsure about the outcome. The three foebeasts were valiant fighters, and they had slain so many Sandraiders already. Wouldn’t it be best to try and talk terms? Maybe they could work things out. He sidled up to Skardle and tried a different tack. “Perhapz they are not enemiez, Mazter. Maybe we can talk termz.” Skardle brandished his spear menacingly. “No! Fizzkin haz reported that they are enemiez of Mazter Karakzzazz, zo we muzt kill them. You zee?” Greddez stalked miserably off. “If you zay zo, Mazter, but it could zave many livez.” Skardle grabbed him by the neckscruff and hauled him up so he was eye to eye with the Sandraider Chieftain. “No, we will not zurrender, retreat, talk termz or any of that yellow-bellied nonzenze! You will shut up and let me do the work, which iz whatever I want. No questionz!” He hurled Greddez from him and stalked off towards the battle.

“I’ll deal with thoze ‘warriorz’ myzelf!”

The battle in question was not going well for the sand lizards. It was midmorning and the attacks had slackened off. Both sides had to stop to eat and dress their wounds. The lizards had decided to go back to the Sandraider cave to get new supplies, and Samuel had Morgan and Swoop create a small barricade of sand around the clearing. The mouse had found some iron and feathers in his pack, along with a bundle of small, straight kindling sticks, just the right components for some new arrows. While the leader was crafting ammunition, the otter and owl were piling sand and dirt up into hard walls and shoring it with last night’s firewood.

The Sandraiders set up a temporary camp outside the walls of the makeshift stronghold. Their stratagem was to hurl spears over the walls until they had slain Swoopophsis, Morganofess, and Samueltisa Flatbarrow Groundpaw Redbud Brinkling Rootgreen Longvine Oppenert Feerloin Vunghink Weaselslayer Deerrunner Highjump Dringle Esquire of Fernwood Castle in Greenbloom Forest, to give Samuel his not quite full title. Plorten and Zader were in charge of the operation, with their lieutenants and Darghin as high-ranking pawns. Jorteng had taken out a foraging patrol, the lizards not having half the food that the travelers had. Hiftez and his headstrong son Dartzed had gone into the swamplands surrounding the desert in search of bulrushes to make spears out of.

Skardle was back in the den reading a small message that he found very interesting.

Skardle,

How would you like to defeat those three Unscaled Ones? I can send you armor, weapons, food, and supplies. All you have to do is sign your name anywhere on this parchment and send it back to me with Garak, the raven who delivered this. Think it over.

Signed,

Hydrocaus

The Sandraider leader smiled from scaled, almost nonexistent ear to scaled, almost nonexistent ear. Finally, a chance to win the war. Later in the afternoon, Samuel could sense that something was wrong. The feeling started when five arrows zipped past his ear, leaving small furrows. Another fact was when he saw metal spearpoints among the well-armored ranks of Sandraiders, who also carried swords and axes. An arrow from the sand fort bounced off Kifflet’s chestplate, leaving no mark. Samuel called his friends over. “See that? They have armor and decent weapons. We’re doomed!” Morgan looked puzzled. “How did they get that stuff? It’s not fair! You’re right, Samuel, we’re going to die!”

Plorten brushed dust from his greaves and wiped a claw across his sweating forehead. Earlier that day, Skardle had called all of the Sandraiders into the den. He had them all outfitted with new iron armor and better weapons made of metal, quite a change from the primitive bulrush spears that were their former armament. Jorteng’s command were assigned to be archers, then given bows and full quivers. Captain Darghin was given command of fivescore spearbearers, Zader got two hundred swordsbeasts that were told to slay all the travelers the moment that they left the sand barricade. And he, Captain Plorten, got all the rest.

Hiftez and a score of Sandraiders were out looking for something to use as a battering ram. Dartzed, Gither, and Miffsar had been scouting out the fort’s weaknesses while Lodinc and Kifflet made battle plans with Kajdin. Greddez had been given a task far more important than any of the other members of the Sand Command. He was out scouting for new recruits. So far he had talked a small band named the Duneleapers, who numbered around tenscore, and a pair of alligators who lived in the nearby stream. Add the remnants of the Snake Band, and there were about twelvescore new recruits. Skardle was very pleased with the results of Greddez’s foray. “Very good, Greddez. We shall now zlay thoze Unzcaled Onez.” The second in command of the Sandraiders was not so frightened of his leader now; he was back in favor.

Croglaw and Gaitert were two peace-loving alligators. The landcrawler reptile had pressed them into service under pain of death, but he had assured them that he was just the messenger, and that it was Skardle who would slay them. Croglaw, the leader of the two, had seen a fellow peace-lover in Greddez, and had readily agreed to join up. He hoped that someday soon, Greddez would leave the Sandraiders to live in peace by the stream. For now, they sat in the sun and awaited orders from a lieutenant or captain. Those orders came when Miffsar ambled up to their spot, blocking the sunbeam that was shining down on them. “Get up, alligatorz! Time for the attack!”

Croglaw stirred and mumbled sleepily. “Give us some sleep, Lieutenant. We haven’t had a decent rest in a long while.”

Miffsar kicked him savagely. “I waz not azking you! That waz a direct order! Get up and follow me.” He led them behind a sand dune a good walk away. “Zee theze two lizardz? These are Jalray and Dregg, your new caretakerz. They will zee that you have no funny buzinezz, ya?”

He walked away, leaving behind two miserable alligators and two watchful Sandraiders. Jalray and Dregg were strong and competent lizards. They had been with Skardle since the early days, when the Sandraiders were just starting out. Jalray was the smarter and older of the two, and a close friend of Jorteng. Dregg was slow and dull-witted, never a very respected reptile; even so, he was a hardened fighter, born to killing, a valuable asset. The pair had been partners for as long as anybeast could remember, it had always been “Jalray and Dregg”. Gaitert had no idea what was happening. Croglaw had dragged his slumbering form all the way to the dune and he had just woken up.

“Huh, whuzzat, what’s goin’ on?”

Miffsar kicked him in the side. “Wake up, fool! Meet your new, um, er, ‘caretakerz’.” Croglaw shook Gaitert into complete wakefulness. “These two are our new gaurds. They don’t leave our sides until either we’re dead or they are.” Gaitert nodded in acknowledgment of the situation, then went back to sleep. Miffsar slapped a claw to his forehead in exasperation. “Doez he ever do anything but zleep? Thiz iz giving me a headache. Goodbye.” He stalked off, leaving behind a miserable Croglaw and a snoozing Gaitert. Kajdin had been informing the former Duneleapers of their new assignment.

“You are now Zandraiderz, and you zerve Mazter Zkardle. You zee that Zandraider over there? He iz Darghin, your new captain. You obey him, and join hiz zquad. Who is your Chieftain?”

A small, fat, youngish lizard shuffled forwards. “I am, Lieutenant Kajdin. My name is Jikky.” Kajdin looked him up and down appraisingly. “Hmmm, Jikky. Well, young Jikky, doez this lot follow you?” Jikky nodded. “Yes, they obey me. I’m their leader.” Kajdin raised his eyebrows at the voice. “Jikky, why do you not zpeak correctly? You do not zay ‘yes’,” he struggled to say “yes” without a Z, “You zhould zpeak with a Z, like thiz.” he put emphasis on the Z.

The remaining members of the Snake Band were about thirty-eight all told. A rattlesnake by the name of Stritter had promoted himself to temporary leader. When Greddez had told him of Skardle’s cause, the snake had agreed without hesitation. He was even more excited when he saw the targets: the creatures who had murdered Fisskin; Stritter was determined to slay them in retribution. Another stroke of good luck was that the mysterious supplier, “Hydrocaus”, had even sent armor for snakes. The reasons listed, as well as the fact that Skardle had promised them half the Dunelands if he won, had swayed all the snakes into allying with him. When they first met, Stritter had been critical of Greddez. He thought that the lizard was too weak, too soft. When we win, he promised himself, I will have a reckoning with that one. Half the Dunelands will not be all of my reward. He also was skeptical of Jikky and Croglaw, for the same reasons. In his mind, he was the only true warrior out of the recruited leaders. Around another campfire, a second ambitious creature was plotting.

The young lieutenant Dartzed was totally dissatisfied with his lot. He craved promotion, and would stop at nothing to get it. His plans involved nobeast but himself. First, he would slay all of the Sand Command, then win over the forces with his eloquent tongue. Stritter would make a good right claw, but Jikky and Croglaw? Too soft, he decided. They would be slain along with the rest. As for Skardle, that old fool was too elderly to properly command the Sandraiders anymore. He was young and strong, with long seasons ahead of him. Greddez was too peace-loving to be a good commander. The captains regarded him as inexperienced, and Skardle had said that he would have to be less hot-headed if he ever wanted to rise up through the ranks. The vengeful young lizard was a born rebel, a revolutionist to the core. He would have his desire in one swift stroke, if he played his cards right. He had a plan.

Samuel and his friends had been sleeping around a campfire, full of good food, but still aware of the Sandraiders camped outside their sand fort. Swoop was on night watch, making sure no sand lizards would surprise them while they were sleeping. Samuel slumbered with his rapier in his paw, and Morgan was sleeping with one eye open. Samuel had noticed that the lizards had not made a move yet; he assumed that they were biding their time for a major attack. He was right. Skardle and Greddez’s plan was to lull them into a false sense of security, then crush them in one hard strike; it was an old army tactic. The Sandraider Chieftain had assigned Jorteng and Kajdin twoscore Sandraiders as a backup force, if the attack went wrong. Gither and Hiftez had another twoscore to reinforce the initial strike force. Darghin and his troops were waiting at another position, ready to rush in and surround the travelers. As Jorteng surveyed the number of Sandraiders they were using for the attack, he realized that Skardle had meant this as a finishing battle, a final showdown. He meant for the companions to not leave the Dunelands alive.

Morgan was half awake when the sounds of creeping reptiles reached his ears. He jumped up, grabbed his sword, and felled two slow worms. Swoop accounted for three lizards with his fearsome talons, and Samuel took out a two rattlesnakes and a Duneleaper. Three more were slain before Darghin’s squadron rushed in. Gither led a score to the left, while her mate Hiftez took his twenty and charged to the right. He was felled by Samuel before he could give orders. Gither, seeing her husband’s demise, ran screaming at Samuel. Morgan jumped in the way, killing her with a sweep of his rapier. Dartzed stood on a high dune, watching his parents go down with cold indifference. Lodinc and Plorten stood next to him, surveying the carnage.

“Well, they are brave fighterz, but we will overwhelm them with our numberz zoon. It zeemz zuch a wazte of potential, zlaying three great warriorz.”

Dartzed smacked Lodinc in the face. “They are enemiez of Mazter Zkardle. All brave warriorz muzt fight them.”

Plorten sneered. “Well, znottytail, I don’t notize you going to avenge your parentz’ deathz, brave warrior.” Lodinc had to restrain Dartzed from tearing the captain’s throat out. The lizard officer continued with his taunt. “I heard you talking to yourzelf lazt night. Zlay uz all, would you?”

There was a scream as captain and lieutenant finished off the ambitious plotter. As it reached the ears of Greddez, something inside him clicked.

Zandraiderz can zlay each other.

He got up and went off to find Skardle.

Samuel and his friends were battling hard. They had slain countless foebeast, but the waves of reptiles just kept on coming. Swoop was their greatest asset. He had learned how to shoot a bow, so he flew up over the ranks and peppered them with arrows. Many had fallen to his mostly accurate shots. Samuel and Morgan were back to back, their blades spinning in a whirlwind of death, moonlight glinting dully off the cold steel. Zader and Darghin were in the midst of the fray, shouting encouragement to their troops and pushing them onwards. Twenty-five Sandraiders formed Skardle’s guard, for he had personally joined the battle. The chieftain stood in the middle of his escort, swinging his scimitar. He was a fearsome sight, clad in a chainmail tunic and greaves, coupled with a broad, brass-buckled belt. His spun and slashed, his crimson cape fluttering in the night breeze. Samuel rushed to confront him, calling to Morgan.

“Stay back! Let me deal with this!”

Steel clashed against steel as the small mouse and hulking lizard engaged each other in mortal combat. Skardle gritted his teeth in pain, for Samuel’s sword had struck him in his scaly side. The young knight pressed his advantage, kicking Skardle away from him and slaying two of his guard. Another went down as the circle was broken by Morgan. The otter helped by taking out the rest of the guards in a matter of minutes. Samuel turned his attention back to Skardle. The sand lizard had risen up from the dust, rubbing the area in which the mouse’s boot had kicked him. He lashed out with his scimitar, only to have Samuel dodge and the blade to slay Kifflet instead.

He cursed and swung again, cutting his opponent’s leg. Samuel winced, but continued to fight. One lucky slash of the rapier, and Skardle’s left hand fell off, still clutching his blade. He growled, picked the sword up with his right hand, and battled on. However, he occasionally had to staunch the flow of blood from his severed hand. When he did this, Samuel’s blade pierced his stomach, and he fell dead. The remaining officers: Zader, Plorten, Darghin, Kajdin, and Jorteng, all stopped what they were doing. The entire Sandraider army seemed to freeze. Greddez walked up to Samuel and offered his claw in an unmistakable sign of friendship.

“I am Greddez. We are with you, Zir Zamuel, until the death!”

Samuel looked at the offered hand for a moment, then shook it heartily. “Thank you, Greddez! Now, on to Cape Bucktooth!”