With Matthias and Orlando in the vanguard and Basil Stag Hare acting as scout, the depleted shrew army padded silently down the steps to the Kingdom of Malkariss. At first it was quite dark, with the morning brightness filtering down only a short way, but gradually the steps opened out on to a broad torchlit corridor.

They halted while Basil scouted the lie of the land. As they waited, Matthias took in his surroundings. The well-finished stone now coated with moss had once been an upper-story passage. Tree roots forced their way between the masonry, causing some of the wall to buckle and bend outwards and water dripped from the roof, forming small pools on the well-worn floor.

Basil was back shortly with some information.

“The blinkin’ place is worse than a great rabbit warren, with corridors, caves, passages an’ tunnels, all slopin’ downward too. As for the enemy, well, it’s rats again, old lad. They wear a black robe with a hood and their weapon appears to be a short kind o’ spear; not the throwin’ kind, you understand, more your good old stabber. They don’t seem to carry any other type of weapon. In a place this size there must be a lot of the blighters, I’d guess.”

Matthias tried to form a plan in his head as he discussed the information with his friends.

“We’d best stay together. No sense in splitting the force. Jess, you, Cheek and Jabez guard the rear and watch our backs. Orlando and Log-a-Log, stay in front with me. Guosim, have your javelins, slings and bows ready. If we run into a small bunch, pick them off right away. Don’t let them get back to their main force and report that we’re down here, or we’ll lose the element of surprise. Basil, was there no sign of our young ones?”

“No, ’fraid not. They must be further down this bally maze somewhere. I’ll keep my eyes open. Which way d’you suggest, right or left along this passage?”

Orlando placed his axe on the floor and spun it. “Right is as good as any way. Trust to luck.”

They stole off, right down the broad torchlit corridor.

*   *   *

Nadaz brought Slagar before the idol on the ledge. The masked fox stood tensely, awaiting the decision of Malkariss. From the depths below, the sounds of young slaves toiling drifted upwards. The Sly One watched the statue of the huge white polecat, wondering what sort of creature lived within it. Was it a polecat, or a fox like himself? Slagar liked to think it was a fox. He considered foxes to be the cleverest of animals. The voice issuing from the monolith interrupted his thoughts:

“Nadaz, you will tell the masked one that I have made my decision. He is to be given fourscore rats and left to carry out my commands in the territory above my kingdom. Tell him that he will be watched closely. I have many more blackrobes waiting to carry out my word, more than leaves on an autumn wind. If the fox plays me false, he will be slain, both him and his fourscore fighters. If, on the other paw, he remains loyal to my bidding, by the time the snow falls I will increase his command by ten times and set my slaves to build him a stone fortress above ground, where he can rule all the territory from the cliffs to the south hinterlands. Malkariss has spoken. Go!”

Slagar quivered with excitement. He had heard every word. His silken mask fluttered in and out as he swelled his narrow chest, revelling in the new-found power he had been given.

At a signal from Nadaz’s bone sceptre the fourscore rats emerged from the winding causeway and took up their place behind the new commander. Many thoughts ran through Slagar’s fertile mind as he marched at their head alongside Nadaz, up the winding passages of old Loamhedge toward the lands that awaited him in the morning sunlight: his territory. Malkariss was no fool, he thought. The fourscore die with me if I prove false, so he was providing himself with extra insurance. The rats in my command will be watching me closely, and no doubt Malkariss has issued them with secret orders to slay me if I try to cross him. I will show him who the Sly One really is. After I am commander of a great horde with my own fortress, I will make Malkariss wish he had never met Slagar. I will trap him down inside his own underground kingdom, and within a season he will either be dead or eating from my paw. As for this one, Nadaz, he is only a servant to the statue. Slagar serves no statue; the Sly One serves only his own ideas.

Slagar’s plans had made no provision for what came next. Rounding the bend in a passage, he found himself face to face with Orlando!

The warrior badger gave a roar and swung his axe, but nobeast was quicker than the masked fox in an emergency. He ducked swiftly back into the ranks of his rats, pushing the nearest two in the path of the swirling axehead. Matthias deflected a spear with his sword. Crouching low, he fought his way into the ranks, sword flashing as he went after his enemy. Log-a-Log yelled and the Guosim hurled a rain of stones and arrows at the rats. Nadaz fell flat, then crawled back against the side of the wall. Springing up, he grabbed a torch from its sconce and flung it among the attackers as he yelled, “Retreat! Back to the ledge!”

Amid the milling confusion, the clang of Orlando’s axe rang against the stone walls as he scythed madly at the rats who were trying to turn and run. Matthias had fought his way among the rats but lost sight of Slagar. Turning, he faced the rats who were trying to push past him. Blocking, sweeping and hacking, he battled away until he met Orlando coming from the opposite direction. Log-a-Log passed them both at the head of the Guosim.

“After them!”

They stumbled over the bodies of fallen foes. The passage was dark because Nadaz was taking the torches from their holders as he went. Stumbling and banging against the walls, the woodlanders dashed wildly through the inky blackness, guided by the sounds of the retreating rats ahead of them. Light showed from the back of the column and they made way for Cheek, who had thoughtfully retrieved the torch thrown by Nadaz and swung it back into blazing life. Now that they could see where they were going, the attackers ran pell-mell downwards, through winding passages and deserted halls, heedlessly past a heavily locked timber door.

*   *   *

Mattimeo sat up in the darkness. “Listen, what’s that? Something’s going on out there!” he said excitedly.

They crowded round the door, banging and shouting.

“In here, in here! Help us, we’re Redwallers!”

But they were shouting to an empty corridor. The sounds of the chase died away into the distance.

*   *   *

The hunted rats broke out on to the ledge, with Slagar and Nadaz in the lead. Ignoring ceremony, the purple-robed rat shouted towards the idol, “Enemies – a badger and a mouse with a band of woodlanders. They are right behind us!”

The voice from the idol rang out:

“This is your doing, fox. You were followed here. I will deal with you later. Nadaz, tell your fighters to surround this statue. Sound the alarm, throw the whole weight of my host against these impudent intruders!”

The rats formed themselves in a cordon around the idol, spears pointing outwards. Nadaz dashed to the far side of the ledge and began pounding on a deep circular drum to sound the alarm. Slagar did not wait for the attackers to arrive, he slunk off quickly down the winding causeway stairs, pointing to the black-robed rats who charged past him on their way up.

“Hurry to the ledge, everybeast. Malkariss wants you!” he told them.

“Redwall! Mossflower! Logalogalogalog!”

The woodlanders came roaring out of the passage on to the ledge. Log-a-Log and the Guosim charged the rats defending the statue, but they were quickly repulsed by the fanatical dedication of the fighters with their stabbing spears.

More rats were already on the platform of the ledge. Matthias gasped with shock. A countless horde was pounding its way up the stairs of the causeway. He had not realized the numbers were so vast. Like seething black ants, they swarmed up from the misty green depths. Without thinking, he threw himself at the foremost group. Orlando and Jess ran to help him, the squirrel armed with a short shrew sword.

“Drive them back, we’ve got to stop them getting onto this ledge!” Matthias shouted.

A spear thrust nipped Orlando’s muzzle and blood sprang to his nosetip.

“Eeeeeuuulaliaaaaa!”

The maddened badger went in like a battering ram. Rats who tried to back out of his way were driven over the edge of the ledge and plunged screaming into the green misted depths. Matthias was filled with battle rage. He tried hard to keep a level head, using all the time-honored skills of the true warrior swordsmouse. Sweep, slice, cleave, thrust; he worked like a machine, relentlessly battling great odds. Jess was different, she leapt and bounded, stabbing left and right, blood flowing from her tail like a scarlet ribbon. Though the stabbing spears were unwieldy at any great range, they were proving effective at close quarters. None of the blackrobes spoke or shouted. They formed flying wedges, charging individual attackers, often breaking to surround them in a stabbing ring of spearpoints.

Log-a-Log had been driven back twice. At the second attempt he fell, wounded in the throat by a spear. Basil Stag Hare leapt into the breach.

“Righto, Guosim lads. Form three ranks over here. Front and center now, look lively! Slings and bows only, fire, drop down an’ reload. Keep advancin’, that’s the style. Fire, drop down, reload, but keep movin’ to your front. Sharpish now. Good show!”

The rats were forced to break their circle and came round to defend the front of the statue from Basil’s strategy. The hare was a veteran at manoeuvres. He gathered a small force of shrews carrying javelins.

“I say, young Cheek, here’s your first chance at a command. Take these fellahs to the back of the ledge, work your way round that dirty great statue thing and come up behind those rodents facin’ us. Give ’em plenty of the old one-two, and don’t forget, m’lad, duck an’ weave!”

Cheek saluted smartly, his fear diminished with the heat of battle. “Righto, Baz old sport!”

Basil watched him go, shaking his head and smiling. Hardnosed young blighter, bit like m’self when I was a nipper, he thought. “Fire! Now drop down an’ reload, shrews. That’s the stuff t’ give the troops!”

*   *   *

The battle raged back and forth as Nadaz pounded the war alarm. The booming drumbeats echoed around the rocks as arrows flew, slingers hurled and spears stabbed. Matthias looked wildly about amid the melee. His forces were vastly outnumbered and still rats were waiting on the causeway steps in droves. Breaking clear of the fray, the warrior mouse yelled aloud, “Retreat! Retreat! Take your wounded and get back to the passage we came in by!”

The Guosim carried Log-a-Log as they hacked their way back to the mouth of the passage. Orlando, Jess and Jabez stood side by side with Cheek as Basil fought a fierce rearguard action. Matthias, weaving in and out of them, helped with the wounded.

Finally they gained the passage, the drum stopped pounding and the rats fell back halfway across the ledge, protecting the causeway steps as their comrades swarmed up, spreading across the length and breadth of the rocky plateau. In the midst of it all, Nadaz stood rattling the mouse skull at the top of his sceptre, pointing at the woodlanders as if trying to cast some sort of spell over them.

*   *   *

Orlando cleaned his axe and set about sharpening it against the rock wall.

“Well, we gave them a good fight, even though we were outnumbered,” he said consolingly.

The warrior mouse sat with his back to the wall breathing heavily. “Aye, if we had the young ones now we could back up and go above ground. Trouble is, I haven’t seen them anywhere.”

The badger licked a wounded paw. “Nor have I, or the fox, for that matter. I’m not leaving here while he still lives, then if I can’t find my Auma at least I’ll know he won’t enslave any more young ones.”

Cheek stood at the mouth of the passage, pulling faces at the ranks of blackrobes gathered a short distance away.

“Yah, tatty ratty! Your silly old statue isn’t worth a crushed acorn. It takes a horde of you to face real fighters, doesn’t it!” he taunted them.

Basil and Jess were trying to bandage the awful wound in Log-a-Log’s neck, which was deep and serious. Basil shook his head.

“Will y’ listen to that young rip? Shortly we’ll all be slaughtered, and there he is calling names like a volemaid at a tea party. Haha, the little bucko, good for him! I say, old Log-a-thing, stay still. You’ll only make that scratch worse, y’know.”

The shrew leader pawed at the wet bandage around his neck. He was panting hard.

“It’s a bad one, mate, I’m out of it,” he said, rasping harshly.

Basil waggled his ears encouragingly. “Poppycock, old lad. We’ll have you as good as new shortly.”

Log-a-Log pushed himself into a standing position and turned to Matthias. “Where’s Flugg? I must see him. Matthias, I’ve got to go up into the daylight. I don’t want to die down here in this dark place.”

Matthias grasped his friend firmly by the paw. “I understand, Log-a-Log. You go up top and rest. You’ll be all right. Flugg, will you and some of the others take Log-a-Log up into the daylight? Easy now, mind his neck.”

“Matthias, look!” Orlando was standing on a protruding wall rock, craning his neck. “They’ve let a sort of a rope over the side of the ledge and there’s a large basket on the end of it. Looks to me as if they’re lowering something down. I wonder what it is.”

Matthias shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Listen, Orlando, pretty soon now they’re going to attack. I can feel it. We might hold out for a bit, but we’ll end up being overwhelmed. I have an idea that might buy a bit of time for us, then if all fails at least our creatures might make a run for it and escape.”

Standing out from the cave entrance, Matthias pointed his sword at Nadaz.

“You there, rat, I challenge you to single combat!” he shouted.

Nadaz continued chanting and shaking his grisly sceptre. The warrior mouse tried again.

“You’re afraid! It’s all right when you have your horde with you, but on your own, ha! You’re nothing but a coward. Send anybeast out, then. I am Matthias of Redwall, I am a warrior who does not know fear. Are there any among you like me, or are you all spineless scum?”

The black-robed rats turned to look at Nadaz.

“You’re not saving my acorns, Warrior,” Orlando whispered fiercely. “I stay down here with you until the end. I’ll fight their champion!”

Matthias smiled, shaking his head. “Orlando, you are the bravest creature I have ever known. No, my friend, they know you could beat any one of them; that’s why I offered to fight. There must be quite a few of them who’d fancy their chances against a warrior my size. But if you must stay, then so be it. When I fall, you can guard the passage and buy our friends a bit of extra time to escape.”

Orlando placed a heavy paw upon Matthias.

“Champion of Redwall, you may be a mouse but your heart is far bigger than mine. Look out, something’s happening over there.”

Nadaz was now pointing his sceptre at the causeway. The rats on the steps made way, and they seemed to shrink back against the rock walls in fear. Matthias gripped his sword hilt tighter and his breath caught in his chest.

It was a huge rodent, somewhere between a ferret and a stoat. The beast looked like a primeval throwback; it had no ears and practically no neck. The hulking head perched squat upon its heavy shoulders leered evilly through curved and stained teeth. Sinew and muscle stood out like great cords all over its body, and heavy spiked iron bands ringed its paws and waist. It carried a stabbing spear of fearsome size and a weighted net.

Nadaz made an evil, sniggering noise.

“Matthias of Redwall who fears nobeast, this is your challenger. Wearet, the slavemaster!”