to Log-a-Log before shouting up to Jess, "See if you can make them understand that we want to trade their leader for Cheek. Leave the rest to me. I've got an idea and with a bit of luck it might work."

Jess went into a series of mimes. She pointed at Cheek, then pointed to the ground. Holding the leader at paw's length, she let the sword hang loose by her side. The performance was repeated several times before the leader realized what she meant. Screeching and growling, he pointed at Cheek, then to himself.

"When they're both free, what then?" Orlando whispered to Matthias. "We've broken the standoff but they won't let us walk unharmed through their territory."

There was a clicking, scratching sound from the shrews surrounding Log-a-Log. Matthias watched anxiously until Log-a-Log winked at him. All was ready. Matthias took a deep breath.

"Stay dose together when we have to move. Try not to turn your backs on the painted tribe. Right, Jess, let their chief free. They're releasing Cheek."

The young otter scrambled free of the rope and made a hasty decent. Bumping and tripping, he half tell, half climbed, out of the tree.

Jess gave the leader a slight push and vaulted neatly down, returning the sword to Matthias.

There was a pause as the maddened creatures bunched to attack.

"Logalogalogalog!"

The shrew leader leapt forward with a blazing pine-wood torch in either paw, grinning and showing his teeth. He made as if to touch the heavy pines that oozed resin all round him.

For the first time, the painted ones showed fear. They chattered and screeched wildly, bounding high into the trees at the sight of fire. Log-a-Log shook the torches in their direction.

"Haha! Desperate measures call for desperate

remedies, my friends," he called. "You're frightened of the flames, aren't you? One move, and I'll burn your forest and you with it."

Matthias, Orlando and Basil started the column marching south.

"Come on, Log-a-Log," Matthias urged. "I think they understand what we mean. Jabez, Cheek, get those extra torches from the Guosim and stay close to Log-a-Log. Don't let the fire go out."

Backing and shuffling, they made their way southeast through the dark pinewoods, grateful for the light of the torches. Progress was slow. Matthias could not see the painted ones, but he knew they were in the trees above, following every step of the way.

Night had fallen by the time they had made their way out of the pines, to the shores of a great river. There was plenty of wood about at the forest edge, so Log-a-Log and his shrews made a huge bonfire, laying in a good supply of wood to last until dawn. The strange tribe of painted ones had retreated back into their pine forest, but Matthias took no chances. Sentries were posted. A meal was prepared, then they sat about on the bank, discussing the day's events, while deciding how to cross the river the next day.

Further south down the river, Mattimeo and his friends sat at the center of a huge log raft surrounded by slavers. Two thick ropes connected the ferry to the far shore.

Slagar watched them rise and dip in the waters. "Your rats pull strong and well, Stonefleck. We will soon be across."

The deadpan expression did not leave Stonefleck's face.

"I have more fighters at my command than leaves on

the trees, fox. Look behind you, on the shore over there.

" Your pursuers have made it through the pinewoods.

They must be brave and resourceful. We will see just

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how brave on the morrow. My army could do with a bit of fun."

Slagar gazed into the darkened waters. "That's if they make it across the river!"

The confines of Cavern Hole became oppressive to John Churchmouse, although his wife actually enjoyed the close community, chatting with Cornflower and looking after baby Rollo, preparing breakfast with the Brothers and Sisters. John slipped out quietly, his recording books and pens in a satchel over his shoulder. He slid past Constance, who was sleeping on the stairs, crossed Great Hall and installed himself on a corner window ledge. It was a peaceful little niche where he often sat to write and morning sunlight flooded in, warming his face.

John opened his recording book as he gazed out at a corner of the orchard, watching three magpies flap off heavily until they were out of his vision.

By the fur! Those cheeky birds had a nerve. Occupying the Abbey roofspaces, and now filching supplies from the very orchard that the Redwallers tended so lovingly.

The mood for writing left John. He dosed the book and climbed down from the sill. Help would be needed in the kitchens.

There was a disturbance at the top of the stairs between Great Hall and Cavern Hole. John broke into a run, the satchel bumping at his side. The crow they called Mangjz bowled him flat as he flapped off into the air towards the upper galleries.

Constance blundered into John and tripped. She sat up, shaking her paw at the bird.

"Scum, kidnapper, you filthy brute!" she shouted.

John stood up, dusting his habit off. "What's happened, Constance? What is the matter?"

"Bad news, I'm afraid, John. You'd better come down into Cavern Hole. This concerns you."

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The Churchmouse followed the badger anxiously.

The creatures who were up and about gathered round Constance as she flung three scraps of material down upon the table.

"Look at this!"

The Abbot picked them up. "Scraps of material. What are they?"

Constance ground her teeth together angrily. "Pieces of Cornflower and Mrs. Churchmouse's aprons and a fragment of baby Rollo's little habit. They've been captured by the birds."

Abbot Mordalfus shook his head in disbelief. "Impossible. Surely they were here last night, weren't they? Did anybeast see them?"

Foremole shrugged. "Ma/ap, but maybe not. Oi niver thought of a-looken for 'em."

John Churchmouse dashed his satchel to the floor. "My wife, captured by those filthy birds. Where have they got her?"

He made a dash for the stairs and was stopped by Winifred and Ambrose. The Churchmouse struggled furiously.

"Let me go, there's no telling what those murdering savages will do to her!"

"John Churchmouse, be still!" ordered Mordalfus. "Come and sit by this table, sir. Come on, do as I say. You aren't doing anybeast a bit of good behaving like mis. Let us hear what Constance has to say."

John looked up in suprise. It was seldom that the Abbot spoke harshly to any creature. The fight went out of him and he allowed Ambrose to lead him to a chair.

Mordalfus turned to the badger. "Constance, tell us all you know of this incident, please."

"Father Abbot, there's not a lot to tell, I'm afraid. Yesterday Cornflower and Mrs. Churchmouse were in the bell tower. Rollo must have joined them later. Well, when I called all the creatures in and shut the Abbey door

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I musfve locked them out. They probably didn't hear me calling. There's no entrance to the Abbey from the bell tower, so they must have tried later to cross the grounds. Those birds caught them in the open. The crow said that they took them to the roofspaces. General Ironbeak wants to see us outside at noon."

Sitting in a corner of the dimly lit roofspace. Cornflower and Mrs. Churchmouse tried to make themselves as unobtrusive as possible, keeping baby Rollo quiet and still. General Ironbeak and his birds had returned from their dust bath on the path outside RedwalL It had done little good, and in the end they had resorted to wallowing in the brackish ditchwater to rid themselves of the sludge which dung to their feathers. It was not a great improvement; the stench still dung to them.

Ironbeak glared ferociously at his captives. "Yaggah! You and your friends will pay dearly for this insult."

Cornflower covered baby Rollo with her torn apron. "You great bully/ you deserve all you got!"

Mangiz had not been caught by the trap on the stairway, and he stayed slightly apart from his General, turning his beak to avoid the unpleasant odor.

"Kraah! Silence, mouse! At noon you will get all you deserve. You should be pleading with the mighty Ironbeak to spare your miserable lives."

Mrs. Churchmouse eyed the crow with distaste. "We would never grovel to ruffians like you. Slay us if you want, but you wiD never conquer Redwall Abbey."

"Brave words are like empty eggshells. You will beg when the time comes," Mangiz predicted.

Rollo peered out from under the apron.

"Gen'ral Pongo!" he said, making a face.

"Silence! Keep that small one quiet or we will kill him now."

"Oh, shut your beak, you coward!" Cornflower called out indignantly. "Killing infants is probably about all you scavengers are good for."

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Mangiz was about to reply when Ironbeak silenced him.

"Mangiz, enough. We do not argue with mousewives."

Mrs. Churchmouse rummaged in her apron pocket and found some dried fruit she had been using in the kitchens. She gave it to baby Rollo and sat with her paw about him.

"I wish your Matthias were back, he'd know what to do," she whispered.

"He certainly would, but don't worry, your John and Constance and the Abbot will see we come to no harm. It's Rollo I'm concerned about. They can do what they like with me, as long as they don't harm a hair on that baby's head."

Mrs. Churchmouse stroked Rollo's tiny ears. "Yes, Mess him. CXyou remember when your Mattimeo was this size? My Tim and Tess weren't much older, and they were a trio of rascals, I can tell you."

Cornflower smiled. "Aye, but we had happy times with them. I hope, wherever they are now, that they're safe and well."

"They'll all come marching back up that road one fine day, I know it. Then the enemies of our Abbey will rue the day they were born."

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Stonefleck's army was indeed a large one. Mattimeo had never seen so many rats. They swarmed through the bushes, trees and hillocks of the far shore, efficient and silent. Every rat carried a bow and arrows, and they gathered in groups, each under a leader who took his orders from Stonefleck the commander. The captives were secured among the trees, but Mattimeo could still see the river. He sat with Tim and Auma, listening to Stonefleck and Slagar conversing.

"Let us see if your pursuers can make it across the river, Slagar. They are a determined band, but they have not met my longtail army yet. All they have had to contend with is a few slavers."

"I have a slave line to worry about," the Cruel One sniffed. "Open warfare is not my business. Besides, you have a mighty army."

"Aye, and every one of them an expert archer. I could deal with those woodlanders using only a quarter of my force."

"Huh, then why don't you?" Slagar challenged him.

"Because I never leave anything to chance. Are you going to stay and watch, just to make sure your enemies get slain?"

"No, I will carry on south. If your army is as good as

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you boast, I should have no need to worry about being followed. Threedaws! Form them up into line, we've got a full day's march ahead."

Mattimeo and his companions were jostled and prodded by Vitch. "Say goodbye to your father and his friends, Mattimeo, they will be dead creatures before this day is through," the rat taunted him.

The young mouse did not allow himself to be baited by Vitch, even though his heart sank at the thought of his father and the rest being caught out on the open water by tiie huge rat army that lay in wait on the shore of the river. He took a deep breath and smiled carelessly at the undersized rat.

"Your master Slagar could not kill my father, neither will Stonefleck and his vermin. The Warrior of Redwall has proved himself before now against rat armies, and he will live to free us. When that day comes, you and I have a score to settle. I'll be looking for you, Vitch."

As they were herded away through the trees, Mattimeo allowed himself one last backward glance at the far shore beyond the river shimmering in the morning sunlight. Though he could not see his father, he murmured under his breath, "Martin keep him safe!"

The sounds of axe and sword had been ringing through tile pine fringe since dawn. Many of the trees at the edge had not been able to take proper root in the loose sandy soil of the banks, and some were only half grown. Orlando swung his mighty axe with long, powerful strokes, often felling a tree so that it took one of its weaker neighbors down with it. Matthias had cast his habit aside. He slashed and hacked at the branches of each felled tree, trimming it so that Cheek, Basil, Jess and Jabez could roll it down to where Log-a-Log was in charge of raft construction.

"Flugg, bring those ropes over here/' Log-a-Log ordered. "Gurn, soak that moss well and mix it with soil;

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I want good caulking that won't leak. Garr, I need that trunk over here. You others, help him."

There was little the Guosim leader did not know about watercraft. Log-a-Log was a ferry shrew, the son of ferry shrews. He watched the flow of the river, pointing out his course to Basil.

"We'll take a wide sweep upriver, then I'll bring about in midwater and land us on the other shore somewhere about there, see? That way we'll be going due south again."

Basil dipped one ear. "Aye, aye, Cap'n, as you say. Bear in mind, old feller, that I wasn't cut out for a nautical career. I'll have to have a substantial meal first. No use bein' watersick on an empty tummy, wot?"

It was early noontide before the raft lay completed in the shallows. Log-a-Log folded his paws 'and shook his head.

"Bit rough, Matthias. Best I could do at short notice."

Matthias passed him apples and shrewcake. "She's a stout raft, Log-a-Log. I couldn't ask for better. I know you'll use all your skills to get us safely across. What are you so worried about, young Cheek?"

The otter stroked his dry nose. "If s er, well, er, d'you see. . . . Well, if s the water, Matthias. I've always been a bit frightened of it. Oh, the odd stream and woodland pool aren't too bad, but look at the size of that old river. I never saw anything so big and fast-flowing in Moss-flower."

Basil flung an apple core into the river. "Haw haw! Well I've heard everythin' now, a bally otter who's frightened of rivers. Curl my whiskers, thaf s a good un."

"Now, now, Basil," Jess chided the scoffing hare, "you're not too fond of the water yourself. If s bad form to make fun of another creature who feels the same."

Basil relented and flung a paw around Cheek. "Righto, point taken, Jess. Here, young otter m'lad, what say you and I stay together in the middle of the raft? We can hang

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on to each other and get into a fine old blue funk together, eh?"

Jabez Stump trundled aboard the raft. "Ah well, we can't hang about here all day. There's a river to cross. You comin' aboard. Warrior?"

Matthias sheathed his sword and leapt onto the floating logs. "Keep your heads down when we reach the other side. No telling whaf s waiting over there," he warned.

Log-a-Log grasped the forked branch which served as a tiller. "All aboard! Cast off on shore, poles ready riverward, bring her round. Steady as she goes, we're under way!"

The raft bobbed and swayed out into the current. Blue waters reflecting the skies above rushed and danced to white foamy peaks spraying into the breeze.

The eyes of Stonefleck's rat army watched eagerly from the far bank as the little craft started its journey towards them.

General Ironbeak landed skilfully on the path in front of the main Abbey door. He tucked his wings away neatly, parading up and down with a swaggering gait.

The door swung open, and Constance and the Abbot stepped outside, followed by John Churchmouse. The Abbot nodded civilly.

"Good afternoon. Do you wish to go inside?"

Ironbeak cocked his head on one side, eyeing them boldly. "Yflggar.' What I have to say can be said out here, earthcrawlers. I hold the upper claw today. Maybe if you had killed my fighters and me on the stairs yesterday, instead of playing your silly little games, you would have been the victors. It is too late now; we meet on my terms."

Mordalfus tucked his paws into the wide habit sleeves. "Then speak. What is it you want of us?"

"Complete surrender, old mouse!"

"I am sorry, but that is impossible," the Abbot replied.

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"Nothing is impossible if you hold dear the lives of your creatures."

"We have lost Brothers and Sisters before now."

"Aye, but that would have been without choice," the General pointed out. "Step forward a bit and look up to the rooftop of this redstone house."

The three friends walked out onto the path. Shading their eyes, they looked up.

Ironbeak gave a harsh cry and waved one wing.

The three captives were forced to the roof e4ge, where they could be seen. John Churchmouse groaned aloud. Constance stood dose to him and whispered, "Courage, John. We'll get them back for you. Trust your Abbot, let him do the talking."

The tiny figures high above swayed in the breeze, skirts billowing out as they kept hold of baby Rollo, who was waving cheerily.

"Karra! High, isn't it." General Ironbeak preened his wing feathers as he spoke. "Oh, not to a bird, but to an earthcrawler it is as if your head were bumping the clouds. If s a long way down too, if you don't hit the sides or bounce off a few gutters. Who knows, you might even smash through one of those low roofs. Imagine all that happening to a baby mouse. There wouldn't be much left to tell the tale when he hit the ground."

John Churchmouse bit his lip until the blood trickled to his chin.

The Abbot disguised his true feelings and shrugged carelessly. "Then as far as I am concerned you have our surrender, but not completely. Unfortunately, I am only the voice of one, and this Abbey belongs to us all, not just me. We must have a little time to consider your offer, then a vote will have to be taken."

Ironbeak raked the path fiercely with his talons. "I will have your complete surrender. Now!"

The Abbot sat upon the path. Plucking a blade of grass, he sucked it, shaking his head.

"I am very sorry, but it is not my decision. Throw the

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captives from the roof if you must. All our creatures are not present, and it is not possible to give you a firm decision right now. We need time to discuss this and take a ballot."

Ironbeak kicked gravel left and right, realizing that if the captives were slain his bargaining power was lost.

"You say you need time. How much time, earth-crawler?" he demanded.

"Oh, at least three sunsets."

"That is too long. How do I know you are not planning something?"

The Abbot looked old and frail, and he smiled dis-armingly. "General, you give us too much credit. What could we do against you in the space of three sunsets? We are not warriors, we cannot fly like you birds, we are only earthcrawlers. Besides, you hold the captives. What better insurance of our good behaviour?"

The raven signalled Mangiz to have the captives taken into the roofspaces.

"Two sunsets, not three." He clacked his beak decisively. 'Two sunsets and no longer!"

Mordalfus stood up and bowed gravely. "Thank you, Ironbeak. You shall have our answer two sunsets from now."

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The raft was proving successful. Though the water hammered it hard in midcurrent, it held together admirably. Log-a-Log was in his element, manoeuvring the tiller as he shouted out orders above the rush of the waters. The long poles they had used for punting were now useless as a means of propelling the craft, and they relied upon the steering skills of the shrew leader.

Matthias stood at the forward end scanning the other shore, Basil and Cheek hung on to each other for dear life, with Jess, Jabez and Orlando near to paw, surrounded by shrews who packed the floating deck to its edges. They were past the midriver point when Matthias made his way across to Log-a-Log.

"How is she handling?"

"Oh, fine, Matthias, fine," Log-a-Log said airily. "As you can see, we've sprung a small leak or two, but nothing to worry about. I'll make for that spot over there. If s a curving inlet and the water looks almost still, so it must be by-passed by the main center current. Are you all right, not worried about anything?"

"Not exactly worried, just keeping my eyes, ears and wits about me," Matthias admitted. "That shore looks a bit too peaceful for my liking."

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"Ha, anything that looks peaceful is exactly to my liking."

Stonefleck stood with his back to a rock on the open bank, completely disguised by his strange coat. In his paws he held a bow with an arrow notched on its string. Coolly he watched the raft looming larger, knowing that his formidable army was waiting, bows at the ready for its leader to fire the first arrow.

Basil relaxed his grip on Cheek. "Ha, we're not bad sailors after all, young Cheek. Can't you feel the water gettin' smoother, not so much of that infernal bobbin' up and down like a duck's bottom?"

"That's as may be Basil, but I won't feel easy until me young paws are on dry land again," the otter said nervously. "Lookit that Log-a-Log shrew, he's enjoyin' it all. I bet he'll be sorry to leave this raft."

"Stand ready with those poles," Log-a-Log called to the shrews seated at the outboard edges. "We'll be into still waters soon."

A hissing volley of arrows speeding like flighted death cut down the six shrews who stood grasping the poles. They toppled lifeless into the water.

Immediately, the shore was alive with innumerable rats unleashing arrows one after another into the unprotected creatures on the fiat raft deck.

Taken completely by surprise, there was only one course of action open to Matthias. Ducking and dodging flying shafts, he yelled, "Overboard! Everybeast overboard. Stay on the river side of the raft. Keep low!"

There was a mass scramble, making the raft tilt perilously. Matthias, Log-a-Log and Jess unfastened their slings. All around them the shrews leapt into the water, dinging to the side of the raft furthest from the shore. The three friends launched slingstones at the attackers, but they did little good. Arrows still poured back at them like spring rain.

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"Log-a-Log, Jess, get off the raft, hurry!" Matthias shouted urgently.

The squirrel and the shrew did not stop to argue, they abandoned the heeling raft and took to the water. Matthias went last.

Stonefleck looked at the sky. Twilight was arriving. He signalled a cease-fire.

"Wait, they're in the water now. Lefs watch the sport before we open up again. But pick off any loose ones that you sight."

The rat army packed to the water's edge, gazing at the bobbing raft an arrow's-length away.

Basil spat out a mouthful of river water as he clung to the side of the raft.

"Ambushed!" he said disgustedly. "Where in the name of fur and claw did that mob spring from? They're no slouches with those bows, Orlando."

"If I could reach them with my battleaxe, I'd show them I'm no slouch, the filthy assassins. Ouch, what was that?"

There were shouts and screams from the shrews.

"Ow! I've been bitten!"

"Ouch, ow! Me too!"

"Owooh! I'm bleeding!"

Matthias gritted his teeth. "Silence. Be still. It's probably just a shoal of small fish."

Jess changed places until she was by Matthias. "Owen! It's like sitting on a beehive," she complained. "Cheek's got more sense. Look, he's still on the raft."

A shrew who had been bitten tried hauling himself out of the water; he took an arrow between the eyes. Another shrew tried swimming away from the raft; two arrows sank him. The rats were sniping from the bank at anything that popped up or moved.

Cheek lay sprawled flat in the center of the raft, ignoring Matthias.

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"Come off that raft. Cheek, You'll be shot," Matthias said sharply.

"No fear. Lie low and ding tight, that's what I'm going to do. I'm not going into that river."

Basil sucked up water and spat it at the young otter.

"You tittle nuisance, come off that raft, sir. Off, I say!" he ordered.

Matthias felt tiny teeth bite his tail. He kicked out and was bitten again.

"Leave him, Basil. Lefs think of some way out of this. The raft is drifting towards those rats. Duck! They're firing again."

More volleys of arrows followed.

For the first time in a long while, Stonefleck allowed himself a tight smile of satisfaction. "We've got them. They're sailing towards us. Keep up the arrows! Those who aren't eaten will be shot. I want no captives. We're not slavers; leave that to Slagar."

Jabez Stump was being bitten on his unprotected paws.

"I can't stand much more of this," the hedgehog winced. "What's to be done?"

"Hold the raft tight," Log-a-Log called out. "Try backing water. We might just tow it off into the main current again and get washed away from this lot."

They tried as hard as they could, and the raft backed off slightly.

"If s heavy going. Cheek, will you get off that raft. We're towing your weight down here," Matthias said crossly.

Cheek lay flat, dinging tighter to the deck as arrows whizzed over him in flights.

"No! Go 'way, leave me alone."

Orlando lost his temper. He took the battleaxe by its head and made a mighty sweep at Cheek with the long handle.

Darkness had practically fallen, and the young otter

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did not see the axe handle craning. It struck him a blow and pushed him off into the water with a loud splash. "Yah gerroff, you great stripedo"

Splash!

Cheek could not deny his birthright; he was an otter through and through. As skillfully as any fish, he cut through the water surrounding the rah, appearing alongside Basil.

The hare looked at him suspiciously. "You're chewing, young Master Cheek. Where are you hidin' the food?"

Cheek smacked his lips, 'little fishes. The river's swarmin' with 'em, mere must be millions. Taste lovely, though. I'd have got into the water sooner if I'd known 1 wasn't eoin' to be afraid and all mis food was here."

With mat, he disappeared beneath the surface and began filling his stomach with the finny delicacies. Cheek was biting back.

On shore Stonefleck rapped out orders to one of his Captains. "Light some flaming arrows. Shoot at the raft. Hurry, or they'll paddle it out of our reach. Tell the others to get the ferry going. See if we can get doser. The rest of you, keep firing."

The rat Captain looked quesnoningly at Stonefleck. "But surely they'll be eaten by the fishes?"

Stonefleck fired off an arrow before replying, "If s the otter. I forgot about that one. He'll eat those fish like a pig at acorns."

"But there's far too many fish for him to eat. Chief. The water's alive with 'em/' the Captain argued.

"Fool! Once those fish sense there's an otter in the water, they'll stay away from that area. Then those creatures will be able to paddle the raft out into the mainstream current. I want to finish it here tonight, not in the morning a night's march down the bank. Now get about your business."

Matthias heaved a sigh of relief. "Whew! At least those fish aren't biting so much."

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Cheek popped up beside him. "Yum, yum. You've got me to thank for that!"

Orlando ducked him back under with a big blunt paw.

"Stop gabbing and keep scoffing. You to thank indeed! You mean you've got my axe handle to thank. And don't think you won't taste it if you don't keep those fishes away, young otter."

The night sky was cut by the light of a flaming arrow which shot through the dark to bury itself in the side of the raft.

Jess put it out by squirting a mouthful of water at it. "Fire arrows, Matthias/' she remarked. "Look, I can see by the light of their fire that they're launching a raft."

Matthias redoubled his efforts,

"Hurry, everybeast, kick out as hard as you can,"

Cheek gripped a trailing rope in his teeth and swam strongly with it. The raft doubled its speed. Arrows zinged all around them as the rats leant over the rails of their own ferry raft.

"Keep down, keep pulling, keep paddling," Orlando yelled. "They're coming after us."

As he shouted, a shrew next to him let go and floated away, transfixed by an arrow.

Stonefleck was on the ferry raft, firing arrow after arrow.

"Don't let them get away," he exhorted his army. "Get the poles. Come on, get pushing with those poles. Fire! Keep after them!"

With superior numbers and long poles, the rat ferry drew closer to the raft. Stonefleck waved to the shore.

"No more fire arrows," he ordered. "You might hit us. We've got them now!"

Log-a-Log spat into the water.

"Did you hear that, Guosim. Kick now. Kick for your lives!"

The woodlander's raft pulled away fractionally, but Stonefleck urged his rats to greater efforts with their long poles.

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The two vessels were separated only by a thin margin of river. Stonefleck and a few chosen rats stood outside the rails of the ferry, preparing to jump from one craft to the other. The light of victory gleamed in Stonefleck's normally impassive eyes.

Matthias pulled himself up and saw what was happening.

"It looks as if they're going to board us/' he said gloomily.

Orlando heaved himself from the water and stood dripping on the deck of the raft, waving his battleaxe.

"Come on, rats, lefs see what you've got inside your heads!" he taunted.

An arrow from the rat ferry struck Orlando in his paw. He pulled it out contemptuously. Snapping it easily, he flung it at Stonefleck.

"You'll have to do better than that to stop me, ratface!" he called.

Suddenly the raft sped off downriver on the rushing current. The rat ferry stopped stock-still, throwing Stonefleck and several others into the water.

Hurriedly, the rats dragged their leader and the others back aboard.

Stonefleck twanged his wet bowstring and spat water. "Why didn't somebeast untie the ferry towropes? Pull us back to shore. We'll have to follow along the bank."

A ragged cheer arose from the shrews' raft as the friends disappeared into the night on die rushing water.

That evening, a group sat around the table in Cavern

Hole discussing General Ironbeak's ultimatum. The

reaction was angry and indignant. "Who does he think he is? Redwall isn't conquered

mat easy."

"We beat them once, we can do it again." "Aye, but this time Ironbeak has the hostages." ''He'll kill them if we don't surrender." "Hurr, he'm a crafty owd burdbag, thafn."

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The Abbot rapped the table. "Silence, please. We have no time to sit about arguing. What I need is some sensible suggestions. Let us review the position. The raven has the hostages, and no matter how we try to buy time or debate, he'll kill them eventually, make no mistake about that. I tried to bluff him today, possibly I succeeded, but it won't last. Listen, even if it meant the loss of just one life, I would have to surrender the Abbey, We cannot have three deaths on our heads; it is against all our principles."

Winifred the Otter thumped the table with her tail. "Play the villain at his own game, then. Whaf s the name for it? Er, subterfuge, that*s it. We'll use subterfuge."

Every creature sat up bright and attentive. When there was no response to Winifred's suggestion, they slumped back.

"We'm gotter be a-thinken 'ard, rasslin' wi' uz brains," Foremole urged.

More silence followed.

"Surely somebody must have a glimmer of a plan?" Winifred said sadly.

"Here comes supper. Lefs think while we eat," the Abbot suggested.

"Good idea," Ambrose Spike agreed. "Sometimes I thinks the brainbox and the stomach bag is joined up some'ow. Hoho, I say, they done us proud, acorn salad and spiced apple'n'damson pie"

"Pie, that's it!"

They turned to stare at John Churchmouse.

"I was trying to remember the name of those black and white birds that are with Ironbeak. It's pie. Magpie!"

The Abbot put aside his platter. "Go on, John, think hard. Have you got an idea?"

John scratched his whiskers in frustration. "Oh, if only I could remember what it was. It's stuck right between the tips of my ears. Hmph! It's no good, I've forgotten now."

Ambrose supped October ale noisily from a beaker.

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"Pity, I thought you was goin' to come up with a plan to get your missus an' Cornflower an' that baby down off the roof."

"The roof, the magpies, thafs it!" John Churcnmouse banged his paw down on the table, squelching a wedge of pie by mistake. "Of course, I saw those three magpies only this morning, robbing our orchard and flying up to the eaves. Those birds are Ironbeak's supply line. He needs them to bring in food!"

"And if we could capture 'em, we could do a swap," Winifred said through a mouthful of salad. "Three magpies for three hostages. Good idea, John."

"Burr aye, vittles be of more use to burdbags than 'ostages. Otherwise they'd be a-starved from 'unger," Foremole added.

Constance rapped the table. "Right, lef s get a proper plan organized. What we propose is to capture the three magpies and exchange them for the hostages. No army can survive without supplies, and Ironbeak knows this. He wouldn't be able to keep his followers here if they were starving. This way we can save Redwall and get the hostages back. But how do we capture the magpies?"

The Abbot held up a paw. "1 used to be the Abbey fishermouse before I was Abbot. Could we not snare them with fishing nets? We've got lots of big nets."

"Well said. Abbot, but magpies are not fishes. How would you snare them into nets?" Constance asked.

Ambrose Spike poked his snout out of the ale beaker. "Find out where they get their food supplies and put down bait."

"I think they get their supplies from our orchard," John Churchmouse said, licking pie from his paw.

Little Sister May was highly indignant. "I'm certain they do. Father Abbot! Only today I saw them from the infirmary window, those three dreadful birds, stealing from our orchard. Anything that falls ripe from a bush or tree, they cany off. If s theft, that's what it is."

"Durty ol' burdbags, oi was a-wonderen whurr all they ripe strawb'rries was agoin'."

"Exactly, Mr. Foremole." Sister May wagged a reproving paw. "At one time it was only you and Mr. Stag Hare who used to steal them, but those three birds, gracious me! You'd think we were growing strawberries just for their benefit. I watched them guzzle down a great load before carrying off as much as they could with them. Disgraceful!"

Foremole covered his eyes with a huge digging paw. "Hurr hurr. Sister, Oi was only a-testin" they berries. It were mainly young Mattimeo an' that Tim'n'Tess wi' thurr squirrel pal as scoffed most o' them. Hurr hurr, young roguers!"

"You're right, Foremole," John Churchmouse sniffed. "I only wish they were still here to do it. I for one wouldn't grudge them the odd strawberry from the patch."

There were murmurs of agreement from all.

Little Sister May blew her nose loudly. "Well, talk like this isn't getting many dishes washed. I've got an idea. Suppose we gather the ripest strawberries and sprinkle mem with some sort of sleeping potion, then we could put them in one place in the orchard and lie in wait with the nets."

"Sister May, I'm shocked and surprised at you!" Abbot Mordalfus shook his head in amazement. "What a good idea. But I'm not sure we know enough about sleeping potions. Thafs the sort of thing the masked fox used on us. You can look to villains for that sort of thing, but we are only simple Abbey dwellers."

"Leave it to me. Father Abbot," little Sister May smiled sweetly. "I have enough herbs, berries and roots in my infirmary cupboard to lay a horse out flat. Oh, it will be exciting. I've always wanted to try my paw at sleeping potions."

Foremole tugged his snout in admiration. "You'm a proper liddle fiend an' no mistake, marm. Oi'll escort you up to 'firmary to pick up your potions an' suchloik."

Ambrose Spike crooked a paw at the Abbot. "Follow

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me, I've got your big nets stowed away in my cellars." Mobilized by fresh hope, the Abbey dwellers went about their tasks.

Up in the roofepaces Cornflower rocked the sleeping baby Rollo upon her lap as she and Mrs. Churchmouse conversed in hushed tones.

"Look, bless him, he's snoring away like my Mattimeo used to when he was a baby," she said, becoming sad. "I don't think there's a moment of one day since Matti-meo's been gone when I haven't thought of him. First I worry, then I tell myself if 11 be all right because Matthias will have probably found him, then ! go back to worrying, men I tell myself he may have escaped. Oh, Mrs. Churchmouse, if only they were all babies again like Rollo."

"Aye, those were the best times. My 11m and Tess were a right pair of little scallywags, I can tell you. Mr. Churchmouse and I never got a wink's steep that first season they were bom. All they wanted to do was play the whole night long. D'you suppose that the raven will really have us thrown from the roof?" asked Mrs. Churchmouse apprehensively.

"Hell do what he has to, Mrs. Churchmouse. I'm afraid of him, but I don't care what happens as long as that horrible bird doesn't get Redwall. That would be the end."

The Churchmouse stroked baby Rollo; he had stopped snoring and started sucking his paw.

"What hope is there for this poor little mite, no mummy and a prisoner too?" she wondered.

Cornflower sighed. The roofspace was dark and chilly with night draughts sweeping in under the eaves. All around them the black birds perched in the rafters, and it was difficult to tell whether they were awake or sleeping. She wondered where Matthias was and what he would be doing at this moment. Thinking of her husband, the Redwall Warrior, gave her courage again.

"Don't you fret, Mrs. Churchmouse. Our friends in the

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Abbey will have made plans to free us, you'll see. Lef s try and get a bit of sleep. Here, we'll share my old shawl."

Clouds scudded across the moon on their way across the night sky, while a million stars twinkled over the gently swaying forest.

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33

Mattimeo was awakened by the sound of the night guards. Bageye and Skinpaw were on duty, and they walked past the sleeping captives conversing in low earnest tones. The young mouse could not hear what was said, though he strained his ears to catch any hint as to their eventual destination.

"Marti, are you awake?"

"Only just, Tess. Keep your voice down, the rest are still asleep."

"Is anything the matter?" the churchmouse asked.

"Yes and no," he replied. "I was trying to hear what tihe guards were talking about. They've seemed very edgy since we left the forest and hills where Stonefleck and his rats live."

"Thaf s strange, I noticed the same thing last night, before we camped down here. They're all so silent and uneasy, even Slagar."

Mattimeo raised his head, taking in the scene around him. The earth was flat, dry and dusty; no trees grew and there was little sign of any grass, shrubs or greenery. It was a dusty brown desolation stretching out before them.

"I tell you, Tess, I don't like it myself. This far south Mossflower country is very odd. Listen, you can't even

hear a single bird singing. What sort of land is it where even the birds cannot live?"

Young Jube the hedgehog stirred in his sleep, he whimpered and turned restlessly. Tess passed her paw gently over his headspikes, and he settled down into a quiet slumber.

"Poor little Jube," she said sympathetically. "He used to be so confident that his father would rescue him, and treated the whole thing as if he were only along with us for part of the journey. I'm worried about him, he's so thin and sad-looking these days."

Mattimeo smiled at the churchmouse. "You sounded just like your mum then, Tess, always fussing and worrying over some young one. You're right, though, Jube isn't his old self anymore. In fact, none of us are, we're much thinner and older. I'm not surprised, after all we've been through since that night of the feast at Redwall."

Tess looked at her habit. It was torn, dusty and stained.

"It all seems so long ago. I think we've grown up a lot since then. Ah, well, the main thing is that we're still together. We've made friends, too. Look at Auma; I couldn't imagine life without her and Jube anymore."

Slavers and captives alike began wakening. Mattimeo winked at Tess and smiled as cheerfully as he could.

"We'll come through it all, you wait and see," he said comfortingly. "Ho hum! Another nice sunny day for a walk, eh, Tess? I wonder where old Slagar is taking us today. Nut-gathering? Bcknkking? What do you think?"

Tess stood up, looking a bit more like her old self. "Oh, I think we'd better just stay with the rest and have a nice ramble," she chuckled. "What about you? Would you like to play follow my leader - or should I say, follow my Slagar? Come on, mouse, pick up your daisy chain and lef s go."

Bageye checked their manacles, muttering in a sullen voice, "Huh, don't know what you two have got to laugh about."

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Orlando waded ashore towing the raft behind him. It had been a hard and dangerous night, fighting their way out of the main current back into the shallows. The crew had poled the raft into a small bay. Wet and weary, they stumbled onto dry land in the pale dawn light shivering after their nightlong ordeal on the swift choppy river. v

Basil slicked water from his long drooping ears. "Whaaw! Here's one old soldier who won't complain when the sun starts getting hot. No chance of a bite o' breakfast, I suppose?"

Matthias dried his sword carefully on a tussock of grass. "No chance at all, old soldier. Those rats will be dashing along the banks right now, hoping they'll catch up with us. We'd better move fast if we want to stay alive. Log-a-Log, you and Cheek tow the raft out a bit. The current will carry it away; no sense leaving it here as a marker where we came ashore. Jess/ Jabez, would you take the rear and try to cover our tracks from the bank? Leave them as few clues as possible; it may buy us a bit of time."

Jess Squirrel bounded up a nearby tree, took a quick look around and descended speedily.

"Matthias, we'd better hurry," she urged. "I could see movement in the bushes further up the bank. If we stay here much longer we're going to have company."

"Right, Jess. Come on, everybody. Keep me in sight. I'm going to take a curving sweep into these trees, then with a bit of luck we'll circle south and miss the rats. Hurry now, let's get out of he"

An arrow bedded in the ground. It stood quivering a fraction from Orlando, who kicked it into the river.

"Thaf s the trouble with being my size, you make a good target. Lef s run for it!"

The rat advance scout fired a whistling arrow upwards to alert the main body. Stonetleck turned in its direction.

"They're trying to head south through the trees. Follow me, we'll cut them off."

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He set off at a tangent, cutting into the woodland to outflank Matthias.

Morning sunlight slanted into the trees as swarms of rats ran silently, keeping abreast of their leader. Stone-fleck halted on a sloping hillside and listened carefully: they were coming. Nodding to his followers, he dropped down behind an oak. The rats spread themselves among the other trees, notching arrows onto bowstrings. He could not have timed it better. The woodlanders came hurrying through the forest below, looking back over their shoulders to see if they were being pursued.

Stonefleck let fly a shaft at the mouse in the lead, hoping to catch him in the side of his neck. The mottled rat gave a grunt of disappointment as the arrow pinged harmlessly oft the hilt of a big sword the mouse was carrying slung across his back and shoulders. A hail of arrows hit the main party below, shrews fell slain and wounded as the mouse in the lead shouted:

"Ambush! They're on our right flank. Follow me!"

They rushed for cover in the protection of the forest to their left, Stonefleck dashed down the hill after them.

"Charge!"

It was a lucky accident that Stonefleck tripped over a protruding tree root. The rats swarmed past him in a headlong attack, only to be met by Matthias and Orlando.

The two warriors had taken a temporary stand, allowing the rest of their party to get away. Armed only with bows and arrows, the rats could not fire in dose combat. Orlando took the first two with a cleaving sideways chop of the huge war axe, while Matthias stepped swiftly from behind a tree and slew a rat who was dashing past. Turning quickly, he took another on the point of his sword. Orlando thundered into a group of the front runners. Wielding his axe, he scattered them like chaff, roaring aloud his battlecry:

"Eulaliaaaaa!"

"Redwalffll!"

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Matthias was at his side, the scything, whirling blade cutting a deadly pattern of cold steel amid the rats.

Stunned by the shock of the wild attack, the rat horde fell back. Stonefleck ran up, urging them forward.

"Rush them, there's only two. Come on!"

They regrouped and dashed in, yelling wildly, but the two warriors were gone!

Matthias and Orlando ran panting into the main party a short distance ahead. The warrior mouse was angry.

"Why didn't you keep running? We would have caught up with you."

Basil shook his head. "We couldn't, not after we heard all the screams and shouts from back there. We were about to go back and help you."

"You should have kept going," Matthias repeated. "No time to argue now, here they come again."

Log-a-Log broke into a run, pointing ahead. "Look, there's a clearing over that way. Lef s get to the other side of it and hold them off with our slings."

Stonefleck and his horde were hot on the trail. They had covered half the clearing when a deep shrew voice called out:

"Sling!"

A rain of hard river pebbles struck the rats, felling several and driving the rest back. Stonefleck grouped his force at the other side of the clearing. They stood among the trees and returned fire with arrows. Screams and cries rang out as the battle raged back and forth, shafts going one way, stones flying the other. Basil took charge of the slingers, forming them into three ranks.

"First rank, sling and reload! Second rank, sling and reload! Third rank, sling and reload!" he ordered.

Matthias and his friends did as best as they could, dodging from tree to tree, picking off the odd rat with their slings.

Jess took a brief respite and dropped down by Matthias.

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"I'm out of stones. Have you got many left?" she asked the warrior mouse.

"Hardly any. They're no match for arrows, Jess. Look, there's more rats arriving by the moment; we're outnumbered by at least ten to one."

"At least. They only have to follow us and pick us off one by one, and we can't make a run for it now, their firepower is too heavy. I'd hate to die this far from Redwall, Matthias."

"Me too, Jess, but they've got us pinned down now. It was a mistake to try and make a stand, but they'd have caught us if we'd kept running. I'll have to rack my brains and see if I can't come up with Whafs that?"

"Sparra kill! Kill! Kill! Eccecccceoc!"

Queen Warbeak and her Sparra fighters hurtled into the rats like a winged shower of small beaks and talons.

Jess leapt forward. "Matthias, if s Warbeak and her Sparra folk. What are they doing here?"

"I don't know, but they'll be massacred if we don't help them. Basil, Log-a-Log! Come on. Chaaaaarge!"

Quickbill and his two brothers Brightback and Diptail had found an easy source of supply for Ironbeak's fighters. Why forage in the woods when mere was a beautiful orchard right in the grounds of the big redstone house?

With the Redwall inhabitants forced to stay indoors, the three magpies had grown bold. Now they did not even bother foraging by night. Each day they would fly down to the orchard and eat their fill before loading up with supplies to take to the roofspace. Quickbill was amazed at so much different fruit growing in one place; he had never encountered an orchard before.

"Hakka! The northlands were never like this, brothers; apples, pears, plums and look, look at those juicy red berries!"

The trio stood around the strawberries on the ground, unhurried, each seeking out a bigger strawberry than the one his brother was eating. They were behaving like naughty young ones raiding the orchard.

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"Chakka! Look at this one, it is like two stuck together."

"Yaah, but this berry is more red and shiny, see."

"Kacha! I will eat them all as long as they are fat and juicy."

The magpies' long tails dipped and jerked as they gobbled the strawberries with swift bobbing head movements. They carried on, comparing berries as they greedily ravaged the well-tended strawberry patch. Suddenly Brightback belched, then he staggered and fell awkwardly.

His two brothers cackled aloud at the sight.

"Chahaha! The red berries are making you too fat to stand, brother. We will load our bags and fly back up."

Diptail pecked at a berry and missed. His beak struck the soil. Smiling foolishly, he flapped his wings and fell flat.

"Yakko! The red berries are magic. I cannot fly," he giggled.

Quickbill yawned. He lay in the soil, flapping his wings against it with a silly grin on his face.

"Coohoo! Look at me, I'm flying."

Led by Constance, a group of Redwallers crept out from behind a buttress at the east corner of the Abbey. They were carrying nets.

"Easy now, lef s bag all three at once."

Quickbill was the strongest of the three. He saw the shadow of the net spreading over him, but he felt unable to do anything about it. Diptail was in a deep drugged sleep. Brightback tried to keep his eyes open, but they snapped shut. The net fell on them, trapping the three birds squarely at its center. They lay stunned amid the remains of the knockout strawberries.

Little Sister May came out from behind the raspberry canes, wagging a paw at the sleeping thieves. "It serves you right. I hope you wake with dreadful headaches!"

Constance and Winifred rolled the magpies tightly in the nets. "They can't hear you, Sister," Constance told her. "Let's get them inside before we're spotted."

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Pushing and tugging, they lugged their feathered hostages inside.

The Abbot dusted off his paws. "Well done, my friends. What do we do now, wait until the appointed time or open negotiations right away?"

Constance gave a huge grin. She was beginning to enjoy herself.

"Allow me. Father Abbot. Leave it to Ambrose and me. We'll go and inform Ironbeak that we have three chickens in the bag. The rest of you, take up your posts at the windows, and make sure there are plenty of arrows and spears showing."

Constance and Ambrose strolled out in leisurely fashion. The badger threw her head back and called up to the roof, "Hey, you up there! Irontrousers, or whatever you call yourself. Get down here, I want a word with you."

Ambrose sniggered into his paws. "I wish Basil Stag Hare was here, he'd think of some good names to caU that bird."

There was a short silence, then Mangiz appeared at the eaves. The crow flapped down to a lower roof level.

"Are you ready to surrender so early, stripedog?" he asked.

"Go and boil your beak, featherbag!"

"Silence, earthcrawler. My General sent me to speak with you."

Ambrose wrinkled his snout at Mangiz. "Listen, maggorbrain, you just flap back to your Chief and tell him that we want to speak to the big fish and not the little worm. Hurry up now, don't stand there gawpin'!"

The seer crow was outraged. "Mangiz does not forget an insult, hedgepig."

Ambrose smiled cheekily. "Good, then here's a few more for you to remember, you pot-bellied, cross-eyed, feather-bottomed excuse for a duck. Now be off with you before I really get goin'!"

When the crow had gone, Ambrose turned to Con-

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stance. "What d'you think, stripedog, was I a bit too hard on him?"

Constance thought for a moment. "No, no, on the whole I thought you did quite well, hedgepig."

Ironbeak flew out with Mangiz and several of the rooks. They came down to the lowest roof. Constance did not mince her words.

"Hello there, Ironbum, or is it Tinbeak? I can never remember. Anyhow, about the three hostages you're holding, don't you think if s high time you let them go?"

Ironbeak suspected by the badger's tone that something was amiss, but he kept up a bold imperious front.

"If you have not come to surrender, they will die, earthcrawler."

Ambrose wriggled his spikes. "I knew you'd do no good talking politely to that bird."

Constance stopped her teasing. Now that she had drawn the raven out, her tone became harsh and serious.

"Listen to me, Ironbeak. We are holding your three magpies prisoner. If you harm a single hair of those hostages, I will personally drown those birds in our Abbey pond. Is that clear?"

The birds on the roof cawed and cackled in consternation. Ironbeak silenced them with a wave of his wing.

"You have captured Quickbill and his brothers? I do not believe it."

Constance moved to the Abbey door. "Then I will show you the proof. We have cut your supply line; you will starve without the magpies."

Constance went indoors. A moment later, she was dragging out the net with the three magpies inside.

"They say that seeing is believing, what do you say to that?" she called.

Ironbeak peered over the guttering. "I say that it was very clever of you, stripedog. But it wUl do you no good, I will send others out to forage."

"Oh, as I understand it, warriors are warriors, not

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scavengers. Your fighters could not do the job, that's why you had magpies."

"Kaahl Then we will become scavengers, we will take the food from that place you call orchard."

Ambrose pointed to the windows. "No you won't, we've got archers, sling-throwers and javelins stationed at the windows facing the orchard. It is not as far to shoot from there as it is from the ground to the rooftop. Send a few of those birds into the orchard now and you'll see what we mean."

Whilst Ironbeak stood on the roof digesting this information, Ambrose pointed at the remains of the strawberries lying in the patch.

"Shoot!"

There was a twang and hiss from the windows. Four arrows and two javelins stood quivering among the strawberries.

Ironbeak swallowed hard. "What do you want?"

Constance kept a heavy paw upon the net. "You know what we want, an exchange of hostages."

"What you ask is not possible."

"Then your army will starve in the roofspaces," she warned.

"We will kill your mice if you do not surrender," Ironbeak countered.

"And we will kill your magpies. This net is weighted with stones. They will drown in the pond."

"You are peaceful creatures. I know your ways, you could not do such a thing."

Constance seized the net in her paws and then began dragging it to the Abbey pond.

"Your mistake," she snarled savagely. "They may be peaceable creatures; badgers are not. It will be a pleasure to rid Mossflower of this scum. I am done with talking!"

The big badger tumbled the net into the shallows.

Revived by the water, the three magpie brothers awoke, spluttering.

"Yflggfl.' Save us, Ironbeak, save us. Help, we will drown trapped in this net, Ironbeak, General, save us!"

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The birds on the roof danced anxiously around their leader, cawing and flapping. Mangiz whispered something to him. The raven General cocked his head towards the crow, his bright eye roving across the scene at the pond.

When Mangiz had finished, Ironbeak spoke in a level voice:

"Stop! Do not drown my magpie brethren. They have served me well. I will talk terms with you."

A great cheer arose from the defenders at the window slits.

Constance gave a silent sigh of relief. "Then you agree to our request, three in exchange for three?"

Ironbeak spread his wings. "So be it! The exchange will take place here, in front of this redstone house when the evening bells toll at sunset."

Ambrose exchanged glances with Constance.

"Let the hostages be freed here and now!" she proposed.

Ironbeak folded his wings and closed his eyes with finality. "Do not stretch your luck, earthcrawlers. You have gained a victory. The exchange will take place as I say. Agreed?"

Constance hauled the net from the shallows. "Agreed!"

When the birds had flown, Ambrose shook his head at Constance. "If s some sort of trap, I can feel it in me spikes. That bird has somethin' in mind for us. Didn't you see him whispering with the crow? They were hatching a plan."

The Abbot came out to greet them.

"I agree with Ambrose," he said. "They are obviously working out a trap. You did well. It was a good bluff, Constance."

The big badger looked grim. "It was no bluff. Father Abbot. I would drown a dozen like these in the net if our Abbey or our creatures were threatened. We will wait and see what they have planned for sunset."

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34

Queen Warbeak and her sparrows stood little chance against the rats. Many of them were shot in the air. But the Queen and her Sparra warriors were brave and reckless fighters, and they plunged in regardless of danger. Matthias and Orlando headed the charge across the clearings; the shrews drew their short swords and followed. Cheek, Jess and Jabez whirled slings loaded with stones as clubs, and Basil hurtled in with both long back legs kicking dangerously. "Redwaaaall! Mossfloweeeer! Guosim! Logalogalog!" The speed of the attack, combined with the sparrow assault, took the rats off guard. They fought tooth and claw, using arrows to stab with, but they were no match for the force that came at them, despite their superior numbers.

The shrews were fearsome warriors at close quarters, with their short swords. They fought in groups facing outwards. Circling and milling, they created a carousel of slaughter. Rats fell screaming and kicking everywhere. Cheek and Jabez stood back to back, thwacking away with their loaded slings. Sparra warriors fastened their claws into rats' heads and pecked madly at their faces. The rats were unused to being attacked in their own territory and they fought mainly a defensive action.

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Many brought down shrews and sparrows. However, they were no match for Matthias and Orlando; the axe and the sword swathed into them at every turn. And rats flew high in the air from Basil's awesome kicks.

The battle raged back and forth. The woodlanders were still greatly outnumbered, though their weapons and fighting skills were superior. It might have gone one way or the other, when Log-a-Log turned the tide. He spied Stonefleck slinking away into the trees, and using his sword as a spear, he launched it at the rat Chieftain. His aim was true. Stonefleck fell, slain by the sword Log-a-Log had thrown.

When the rats saw their leader fall, the fight went out of them. Screaming and wailing, they scurried off into the trees.

Matthias stood leaning on his sword, breathing heavily. Ignoring the cuts and bites he had taken, the warrior mouse extended his paw to the shrew leader.

"Well thrown, Log-a-Log!"

The shrews gave a loud cheer for their leader.

Matthias looked around. The slain littered the edge of the clearing like leaves in autumn.

''Where is my friend Queen Warbeak?" he asked.

His heart sank within him. A small group of Sparra warriors who had survived the battle were grouped about their fallen Queen. Matthias, jess and Basil knelt by her side, tears streaming openly down their faces for the Sparra Queen lying there. Warbeak's eyes were dimmed in death, the breeze moved her feathers gently.

A sparrow passed Matthias a small scroll. "We come alia way from Redwall," he told the warrior mouse. "Abbot say give you this. Queen see you in trouble with ratworms. She say help um friend Matthias."

Jess lifted Warbeak lightly, and carried her up into a sycamore tree. Laying her on a broad bough, she covered the Sparra Queen with leaves in the time-honored Sparra fashion.

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Matthias sat at the foot of the sycamore, his head in both paws, grieving for Warbeak.

Basil came over and patted Matthias. "There, there, old lad. I know if s a pity she had to die so far from Redwall, but she saved us by her courage."

Matthias plucked at a blade of grass. "Yes, the Queen loved Redwall. That was the bravest thing I've ever seen any creature do, Basil. She threw herself and her warriors at those rats, knowing she and her sparras stood no chance. They flew in against arrows and attacked with only beak and claw."

Orlando wiped his axe blade on the grass. "I never knew your sparrow friend, Matthias, but she saved all our lives by her brave action. I've seen creatures ten times her size without a quarter of her boldness. What a warrior!"

jess Squirrel looked up to the leafy shroud on the tree bough. "Good old Warbeak, eh? Totally mad, of course. She'd rather die than miss a good fight. I'll bet wherever she is now that she's chuckling at us standing round blubbering like a load of Abbey babes who have to go to bed early, instead of getting on with our search for the fox,"

Matthias rose dry-eyed. He stuck his swordpoint into the ground.

"Aye, Jess, you're right. We've got some burying to do here, then we will leave this place. I never want to set eyes on it again. We must carry on south."

Later that day they halted in a quiet place, an ash grove, far from the clearing where the battle had taken place. Matthias took stock of the situation. The surviving sparrows would fly back to Redwall, taking with them the news that the warrior mouse and his friends were alive and well, still on the trail of the young captives. Log-a-Log and the remainder of the now depleted Guostm voted firmly to stay with the friends and see the mission through. They settled down to study the map and writings that had been sent from RedwaU.

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Matthias scanned the parchments carefully. "By the fur, I wish we had met up with Warbeak before we did. Listen to this:

Those who wish to challenge fate, To a jumbled shout walk straight. Sunset fires in dexteree, Find where Loamhedge used to be. At the high place near the skies, Look for other watchful eyes. Sleep not 'neath the darkpine trees, ' Be on guard, take not your ease, Voyage when the daylight dims. Danger in the water swims. Make no noise with spear or sword, Lest you wake the longtail horde. Shades of creatures who have died, Bones of warriors who once tried. Shrink not from the barren land, Look below from where you stand, This is where a stone may fall and make no sound at all. Those who cross and live to tell, See the badger and the bell, Face the lord who points the way After noon on summer's day. Death will open up its grave. Who goes there . . . ? None but the brave/

"Look at this map, we've come through all these places. There are the cliffs, here is the pine forest, here the water with the bows of the rats on the far shore. This place here, hummocks and trees, this is where we are now. What do you think, Basil?"

"You're right, of course, old warrior. Hmm, sound advice too. It warns of the dangers in the woods, even gives the little fishes a mention. Ha, 'voyage when the daylight dints'; maybe we would have stood a chance of giving those rats the slip if we'd crossed by night. Well,

well, a jolly old bit of prophecy here. Creatures certainly did die, and we've left the bones of warriors back there. But whaf s all this about shrinking from barren lands, eh? The only thing I ever shrunk from was lack of food, wot?"

Orlando checked the map. "Jess, do you think you could climb a high tree and look over to the south?''

To an expert climber like Jess this was but the work of a moment. She was up a hornbeam in the twinkling of an eye.

"We're nearly out of the woodlands," she called down from the topmost branches. "I can see some sort of plain beyond. It looks very bare and dusty."

Matthias nodded approval. "Well, at least we're on the right track, but we've no way of telling how far south we've travelled. I suppose we'll have to try and cross the barren land and look for some place where we can look below to where a stone may fall and make no sound at all. Does that make any sense to you, Orlando?"

The badger shook his head. "If s all a mystery to me, but if it will help us to get our young ones back, I'm game to try. I know nothing of badgers' heads and bells and lords who point the way and death and graves, though."

Matthias stood. "Nor do I, friend, but I intend to find out. Log-a-Log, will your Guosim be ready to inarch at daybreak?"

"Ready as ever. Warrior. We'll soon see what other little surprises this strange southland has in store for us."

35

The Abbey bells tolled their eventide watch over Redwall as the sun sank below the western plain.

Constance had taken no chances with the three magpies. They huddled miserably in a corner of Cavern Hole, each with its pinion feathers bound, legs hobbled and beak shut tightly with twine. Constance and the Abbot sat together in the opposite corner, listening earnestly to Ambrose Spike's report.

"There ain't been a move out of anybird, we watched the eaves all afternoon/ Brother Trugg, Foremole and meself. Not a feather or a beak stirred."

The Abbot scratched his chin. "Strange, I was sure that Ironbeak would try to lay some sort of trap, either him or that sly crow. Odd, very odd."

"Odd or not," Constance shrugged, "the sun's going down. We'd best get these three outside and exchange them for three decent creatures. Winifred, will you and Foremole see that archers and javelins 611 the main doorways behind us? Keep them facing Ironbeak and his company in case of trouble."

Foremole saluted dutifully. "Doant ee wurry, marm, us'Il give'm billyo if n they moves a claw."

General Ironbeak's hostages had been carefully flown

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down a short time after sunset. The two mousemothers kept their eyes shut tight as they were borne through the air by six rooks. Baby Rollo, however, enjoyed the flight immensely, whooping and giggling as he tugged at the three birds that were carrying him. They landed safely in front of the Abbey pond, then surprisingly the carrier birds flew off, leaving the hostages guarded only by Ironbeak and Mangiz. To forestall any thoughts of escape, the two birds kept their fearsome beaks dose to Rollo's head, knowing that neither Cornflower nor Mrs. Churchmouse would attempt anything whilst the infant was threatened. Slowly they walked across to the main Abbey door.

Constance and Ambrose awaited them, standing to one side of the three magpies. The open Abbey doors were crowded with determined Redwallers armed to the teeth.

Ironbeak halted short of the door.

"Why are all your creatures armed and menacing us like this. I understood this was to be a friendly exchange?" His voice was harsh and commanding.

Foremole waved a large spear at the raven. "Harr, doant make oi larff, you'm the vurmints wot been a-doin' all the tricksterin' an' attacken. Thus yurr's wot us calls porteckshun 'gainst crafty ol' burdbags."

Mangiz pointed with his wing. "Why are these birds bound like this? We have not tethered your creatures."

Ambrose winked at the crow. "Prob'ly 'cos mice don't have beaks and wings, puddenhead."

"I will not stand here to be insulted by you, hedgepig," Mangiz fumed.

"Then stand somewhere else and I'll insult you there, featherbag!!"

"Ambrose, do not provoke them," Constance interrupted. "We are here to make a peaceful exchange of hostages, one for one. Cornflower, are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you, Constance. As well as can be expected under the circumstances."

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Constance bowed stiffly to Ironbeak. "Thank you, raven. As you can see, the magpies are unharmed, apart from being restrained, otherwise they have been well treated."

Ironbeak cast his bright eyes on the doorway. "You must think me a fool! I make no exchanges while we are faced with weapons. Tell your creatures to put down their arms."

"Aha! I thought so," Ambrose whispered to Constance. "This is where the raven shows 'is feathers. The moment we drop our weapons, 'e'll spring 'is trap, whatever it is."

Constance watched Ironbeak as she murmured back, "I know what you mean, Ambrose, but what can we do? He has kept his word, even coming unarmed to meet us. We cannot face him with an army geared up to the teeth."

"Hmm, I suppose you're right. Leave it to me."

He turned to the Redwall contingent. "Lay those weapons down and listen to me. If the raven or his pal try one false move, then grab the armoury up fast and make the pair of 'em into pincushions."

Ironbeak had heard what went on and nodded. "Do as you will. We have come here only to trade hostages, no tricks."

Constance banged her paw down upon the path. "Then lef s get to it and stop fussing about or we'll be here to see dawn break."

Ironbeak nodded to Mangiz, and the crow started the exchange.

"We release them at the same time, one for one. First the infant for Quickbill. Agreed?"

Constance untied the first magpie.

"Agreed!"

Rollo was aware of the gravity of the situation. He strode slowly across to Constance, crossing paths with Quickbill. On reaching his friends the little bankvole began singing:

"Kick a magpie in the eye.

Shoot a crow wiv a great big bow. . . ."

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Winifred swept him up and hurried indoors.

"Now the one called Cornflower for Brightback."

"Agreed!"

The mouse and the magpie passed each other in silence. Tension mounted in the air now that there were only two left. As Cornflower embraced Constance, the harsh voice of Mangiz sounded:

"Last, the churchmouse for Diptail."

"Agreed!"

The exchange took place without a hitch.

Both sides stood watching each other.

At a wave from Ironbeak, the magpie brothers and Mangiz flew off, then the raven General fixed his eyes on Constance.

"I will continue to attack you. It is my destiny that I should rule in the great redstone house."

The badger gave him back stare for stare.

"Others have tried to conquer Redwall, warriors greater than you. We are still here. Right is on our side, Justice too. One day our warriors will return home, then you will be driven off or slain."

Ironbeak was unmoved. "HaJtJta/ We shall see. You are not as clever as you imagine, none of you. Did it not occur to you that my fighters were not with me to see the exchange take place?"

"Oh nuts'n'acorns," Ambrose groaned. "I knew the villain had somethin' hidden up 'is feathery sleeve."

"While I was drawing out this business for as long as possible," Ironbeak continued, "my birds were in your orchards loading up many supplies. I kept you talking long enough for them to make several trips. Your sentries who should have been guarding the windows feeing the orchard were watching me and Mangiz in case we tried something. Anyway, black birds cannot be seen flying by night. Also, I must tell you that we have moved down to your infirmary and dormitories. I am conquering this place from the top downwards. Now you are left only with the place called Cavern Hole. If you try

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to cross the floor of Great Hall after dawn tomorrow, we will be watching from the galleries, ready to attack you. We have all the supplies needed, and you will be held to a state of siege below the floor of this place. You and your friends might think yourselves clever, but you are not wise enough to outsmart General Ironbeak." The raven shot off into the night sky like a dark arrow.

Constance shook her head wearily. "He wouldn't have outsmarted Matthias."

Cornflower patted Constance. "You were wonderfully brave to get us free. We're not beaten yet, as long as we're alive and Redwall stands, there is hope," she said reassuringly. "We must defend the Abbey and keep it safe, especially for the day when Matthias returns with Mattimeo. Strange, isn't it, I keep thinking of my little Matti, even at the oddest times."

Constance smiled fondly. "Thaf s because he's your son and you're his mother. Whenever I look at you, I can tell you are thinking of him. Any creature would be glad of a mum Hke you, Cornflower. Here, whaf s this, tears?"

Cornflower sniffed and wiped her eyes. "No. I'm just a little tired, I suppose. I hope Mattimeo is getting his proper sleep, wherever he is."

The trek across the great barren country started at daybreak. Canteens had been filled at the last woodland pool. Supplies were very low but the shrew cooks had done them proud. Log-a-Log and his scouts had foraged the woodland fringe, and fennel, cloudberry and dandelion, together with some hall-ripened hazelnuts, had been thrown into a large communal salad, with the addition of some dried fruit and the last of the cheese. Then a good meal had been eaten facing the flat expanse of sun-scorched earth.

Basil sniffed the dry air.

"Useless trying to scent anything around here. Still, die tracks are clear enough. I can see them from here.

runnin' off in a straight line. They're a day and a night ahead of us, I reckon."

' He stood, stretching his long limbs, gazing out at the already shimmering horizon as it wavered and rippled with the fierce heat.

"Right, lads, quick's the word an' sharp's the action, eh? Form up here and follow me. No lagging and sitting down on the bally old job. By the left... wait for it, Cheek . . . quick march!!"

The little column trekked off into the unknown expanses of the desert ahead of them, leaving behind the final fringes of Mossflower.

Slagar had driven both captives and slavers hard. Marching by night and resting by day, they had crossed the wasteland. Footsore and weary, Mattimeo and his companions helped each other along. Their mouths were dry and parched from lack of water, the manacles rubbed and chafed. Tess caught Cynthia Bankvole as she stumbled for the umpteenth time.

"Up now. Stay on your paws, Cynthia. If s daylight, so they'll let us rest soon."

The volemaid licked dusty lips with a dry tongue. "I hope so, Tess. I can't stand much more of it, though I don't know which I'd prefer right now, a drink or a sleep."

Auma lent her size and strength, supporting them both with a paw at their backs. "Keep going. I can see something ahead, though I don't exactly know what it is. Can you see it, Sam?" (

The young squirrel strained his eyes, "Looks like some sort of a black shadow with bushes and trees on the other side of it. Whatever it is, it has to be better than this wasteland. I think they're planning to let us rest when we reach there. Keep going, it shouldn't be too long now."

Distances in the drylands were deceptive. It was gone

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midmorning when the slave line halted at the place which Auma and Sam had sighted. Cynthia Bank vole drew in a sharp breath and clapped a paw over her eyes, then sat down, dizzy with fright.

They had arrived at the brink of an abyss!

A huge rift in the earth opened before them. It was as if the world were splitting through its middle. Impenetrably black and endlessly deep, it stretched away in either direction as far as the eye could see. Though they were standing at its narrowest point, the distance across yawned many times the length of a tall beech tree. The captives stood wide-eyed in astonished silence at the awesome sight.

Across the gorge a swaying construction of rope and wood stretched. It was secured at either side by thick stakes driven deep into the earth, but the center of the rough bridge dipped perilously into the chasm.

Jube buried his face against the dusty ground. "Ooooh! I'd as soon die as try to cross that!"

A moan arose from the slave lines. Others felt the same as Jube, and even the stoats, weasels and ferrets who had come this far with Slagar began muttering among themselves.

The masked fox stood leaning against the stakes, watching them. He had come across this problem before and was ready for it.

"Frightened, eh? Legs turned to jelly, have they?" he taunted them.

"We never bargained for anything like this, Chief!" Threedaws gulped.

Slagar strolled to where two weasels, Drynose and Damper, stood guard over the expedition's food and water. Pushing them to one side, he took the three large water canteens and carried them to the head of the bridge.

"What d'you mean 'bargained'? You're not here to bargain, you are here to obey orders. You, Skinpaw, show them how if s done. A weasel like you isn't afraid of crossing a bridge."

Skinpaw shook his head vigorously. "Ask me to do anything, Slagar, anything. March, fight, climb mountains, cross rivers . . . but not that!"

The silken masked fluttered. The Cruel One seemed to be smiling beneath it. He turned to his slavers one by one.

"You, Halftail, or you, Viteh? How about you. Scringe? Or Bageye there? No?"

They remained silent, while Slagar spoke as if he were cajoling nervous young ones.

"Oh, come on now, it's only a little bridge across a gorge. Besides, do you see the bushes and trees on the other side? There's a lovely little pool there, full of nice cold water. Just think, you can drink all you like."

Skinpaw eyed the canteens that Slagar held.

"We've got water, Chief," he pointed out.

The fox swung the canteens out wide, letting go of them. He leaned over, watching them disappear into the abyss.

"Where? I don't see any water. Now, you spineless toads, listen to me. You have a choice: either you cross this bridge and drink water, or you stay on this side and die of thirst!"

Threeclaws was the first to go. He stepped gingerly out onto the swaying bridge, gripping the rope sides tightly. Carefully he tested each wooden slat before putting his weight on it.

When he was a short way out Slagar called, "Fleaback, Scringe, pick that line up and start the prisoners going. Halftail, you go with them. The rest of you follow after they've crossed."

Encouraged by Threeclaws' slow but sure passage, Fleaback and Scringe stepped onto the bridge, tugging the leadrope.

"Come on, you lot. Step lively, and no hanging back or stumbling," Scringe chivvied them.

Mattimeo could not shut his ears to the sobbing of

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Cynthia and Jube, who were in a state of frozen shock. He tore a strip from the hem of his habit and bit it into two pieces.

"Here, Tess, put these around their eyes. Cynthia, Jube, listen. Hold on to Tess and Auma, and keep going. You'll be all right."

The trick worked. Groping awkwardly, the blindfolded creatures held tight to Tess and Auma, who, though they were both frightened of the swaying, sagging bridge, found that a lot of the fear was taken out of the crossing by attending to Cynthia and Jube.

Only Sam Squirrel was totally fearless about the bridge. At one point Tim had to remonstrate him for making the structure wobble with his jaunty walk.

"Hey, go easy, Sam," he called nervously. "There's others on this bridge not as clever as you at crossing gorges."

"Oops! Sorry, Tim. Never mind, we're nearly over now."

Ma ttimeo tried not to glance down into the bottomless depths. He dearly wished he had his paws on firm ground again.

The crossing was made without incident. Safely on the other side, everybeast breathed a huge sigh of relief. Slagar led them a short way into the bushes.

"There's the pool. Drink as much as you like. Three-claws, see they're fed and watered, then secure the line. HalftaU, come with me."

Slagar walked back to the edge of the gorge. While HalftaU watched, he crossed back over the bridge. Then the masked fox got out flint and steel. It did not take long to get the dust-dry ropes burning. As soon as they were alight he bounded onto the bridge and crossed back with surprising speed and agility. Chuckling to himself, he watched the ropes burn through. The bridge swayed and collapsed with a clatter of wooden slats as it struck the wall of the chasm beneath them. Slagar took Halftail's

dagger and sawed through the taut ropes which held the weight of the bridge. He leapt back as the whole structure slipped away with a creaking, groaning snap. They waited awhile, but there was complete silence from the depths of the abyss.

Slagar smiled. "See, completely bottomless. Nobeast can follow us now!"

A full-scale council was in progress at Cavern Hole. Winifred the Otter winced as Sister May applied poultices and herbs to her deeply scratched back.

"Aaahh! Go easy. Sister, that's the only back I've got. Ouch!"

Sister May went about her task, ignoring the protests. "Hold still, you silly otter! You were told not to cross Great Hall, but you would not listen. Stop wriggling while I attend to this scratch on your ear."

"Ow! What are you trying to do, pull me lug off? That ear's got to last me the rest of my life, you know!"

Constance pointed to Winifred. "As you can all see, she was injured merely trying to cross Great Hall. You must stay down here. Ironbeak and his birds are waiting in the galleries, and if one of us so much as shows a whisker outside Cavern Hole he or she will be slain. Winifred was lucky, she was swift enough to get away. Under no circumstances must you try to leave here. Besides, where would you go?"

"Well, I for one would go to my little gatehouse cottage," Cornflower answered. "Or I might gather fresh fruit and vegetables and water. It seems to me we're letting this Ironbeak have it all his own way."

There were shouts of agreement.

The Abbot called for order. "Please! Our first concern is the safety of every creature here. We must stay where it is safe. There are plenty of stores. The cupboards and larders are well stocked, there is ample food in the kitchens and we have the entire stock of the wine cellar available. I have spoken to Brother Trugg and the only shortage will be fresh water. It must be used only for drinking. Bathing, washing and other uses are forbidden."

There was a lusty cheer from Rollo and some other young ones camped beneath the table.

"I'm glad someone approves," Constance smiled. "Well, if that's all we'll just have to put up with the situation for a while."

"Put up with the situation indeed!" John Church-mouse snorted indignantly.

Cornflower laughed aloud. "Oh, John, you sounded just like my Matthias then."

At the mention of the Warrior's name a silence fell.

"I do hope our young ones are safe," Mrs. Church-mouse fretted. "When I think of my Tim and Tess and Sam Squirrel and Mattimeo and Cynthia, where they may be now, or what those villains may do to them. . . . Oh, I do hope Matthias brings them back safe to us."

She broke down in tears.

"There, there, m'dear," John said, patting her gently. "Don't you cry, they'll be all right."

Baby Rollo began patting her skirt from underneath the table, ducking in an imitation of John Churchmouse. "There, there, me dear. Don't oo cry, be all right."

Every creature laughed, and even Mrs. Churchmouse managed a smile through her tears.

Ambrose Spike lifted Rollo up onto the table. "Thaf s the stuff, old Rollo. You get all these wet blankets cheerful again. Right, whaf s next, you little ruffian, eh?"

The tiny bankvole wrinkled his nose, uttering a single word: "Plans!"

The hedgehog shook his head in admiration. "There

y'are, out of the mouths of baby beasts an' innocent creatures. Flans! Thaf s what Matthias would have said if he were here, stiffen me spikes. He wouldn't want us mopin' an' cryin'."

Cornflower stamped her paw down hard. "You're right, Ambrose. Let's get our thinking caps on. Thaf s if we ever want to walk freely around our own Abbey and pick our own fruit from our own orchard, or even just sit on the walls in peace and watch the sunrise over Redwall. I say, lef s not be beaten by a flock of birds!"

Constance touched a paw to her snout. "Ssshh! Let's do it quietly. You never know who may be listening."

While the badger was speaking, Winifred the Otter crept to the foot of the stairs that separated Cavern Hole from Great Hall, picking up a small turnip that baby Rollo had been playing with. Tip-pawing halfway up the stairs, she paused a moment then flung the turnip as hard'as she could.

Bonk!

There was a hollow noise of turnip striking beak, followed by a loud squawking caw.

Winifred nodded with satisfaction. "Good shot! Let him go and tell old Irontrousers about that!"

"If we are making plans, has any creature got a suggestion?" the Abbot asked, keeping his voice low.

"Hourr, oi'ave. If n you can't cross Gurt'all or goo out Abbey, whoi doant me'n moi moles runnel out?"

There was no doubting Foremole's logic, as Constance was first to agree.

"Splendid idea. There's no telling what we could do if we could tunnel out without Ironbeak knowing. However, I was thinking of what he said last night. If he means to conquer Redwall, he must attack us down here sooner or later. It will become fairly obvious to him that we have lots of food to keep us going, so in the event of not being able to starve us out, he'll attack Cavern Hole. I think we should barricade the stairs to keep them out."

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There was unanimous agreement for the tunnel and the barricade, and the busy Redwallers set about their tasks with a will.

Out on the sunbaked wastelands, Matthias and his followers were slowed down from a brisk march to a shambling gait. Basil Stag Hare crossed his ears loosely over his head in an attempt to provide himself with some shade.

"Whew! CPyou know, I'll never look a hot scone in the face again, knowin' if s come out of a jolly old oven as hot as mis place."

Cheek tenderly pawed his dry nose. "Huh, quick march and follow me, lads. We should have travelled by night instead of listenin' to you, flopears."

Basil brushed at his drooping whiskers. "I'd give you a swift kick if I had the energy, young feller." .

A broad black shadow fell across Matthias, but he carried on, enjoying the shade without thinking where it had come from.

"Get down!"

The warrior mouse was thrown flat as Jess tackled him from behind. As he hit the dust, Matthias felt a rushing breeze pass over him. He turned over and looked up.

Two great buzzards circled overhead, wheeling and soaring as they waited for a chance to catch any creature off guard.

Log-a-Log fitted a stone to his sling as he sighed wearily, "Heat, thirst, desert, big birds. What next?"

The slings had little effect on the buzzards, as the great dark birds would see the stone coming and fly out of range with ease.

Oriando called a halt to the slinging. "Stop, stop! You're only wasting energy. Lef s ignore mem. Well, not exactly ignore them, if you know what I mean, but keep an eye on them. Matthias, you take the front of the column, I'll take the rear. If they get too close we might get the chance of a sword or axe strike, and thaf 11 put paid to them."

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As if sensing what was going on below, the two buzzards grouped and attacked the center of the band. They dived so speedily no creature had a chance to do anything. There was a scream, and the two great hunting birds rose into the air with a wriggling shrew pinioned between them. From out of the-blue they were joined by a third big bird, who soared down with wings outstretched.

"Look, there's three of them now." "Thaf s no buzzard, ifs attacking them!" Butting into the buzzards like a battering ram, the strange bird drove them downwards, causing them to drop the shrew, who bumped to earth in a cloud of dust. Clawing and biting, the other bird, who was stockier and shorter than the buzzards, battered away with wing and talon, screeching loudly until it drove them off. Circling to make sure it had driven the predators away, the bird dived and landed next to Orlando. It was Sir Harry the Muse.

"Pray accept my apologies, sir, My conscience was bothering me, So I had to take to the air. And now I am back, as you see."

Matthias ran to greet the poetic owl. "Well timed, Sir Harry. Thank you for your help!" The owl blinked at the sun.

"I'd sooner fly 'neath the moon.

I dread the hot afternoon,

The heaf s infernal and owls are nocturnal.

I hope the sun sets soon."

The shrew who had been caught by the buzzards was not badly injured. He opened his pouch and offered the owl half a shrewcake which he had been saving. Sir Harry accepted it gravely, bowed politely, then devoured it in a most undignified manner.

"Mmmff, 'sgood, scrumff, 'slovely!"

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The poetic owl waddled along beside Matthias as the warrior mouse explained their position. ' "I'm afraid we're very low on supplies. We could only manage to feed you with the same amount as we are rationed to. Don't tell me you really suffered from conscience pangs, Sir Harry. You must have another reason for flying all this way to be with us."

"I'd call that a very smart guess. In fact, you've called my bluff. My reason, I must confess, Is not for food and stuff. I get tired of being alone, Can I come along with you? I've heard you talk of your home. Could I live at Redwall too?"

"Humph! Pesky bird would scoff us out of the blinkin' Abbey!" Basil snorted huffily.

Matthias glared reprovingly at the hare. "Basil! Courtesy and good manners cost us nothing."

The old hare blinked grumpily and unfolded his ears. "Oh well, in for an acorn, in for an oak. I s'pose it'd be all right for him to live at our Redwall. Huh, save me gettin' all the jolly blame any time a mouthful of food goes missin', wot?"

Sir Harry did a hop and a skip.

"I knew you'd see things my way. If s settled then, it's done. And if food goes missing I'll say, 'Blame me, sir, I'm the one.'"

"Don't worry, I will, old chap," Basil muttered under his breath.

Orlando reared up, shading his eyes with a big paw.

"I see a black shadow. Maybe that is the black line on the map. We should make it sometime about sunset."

Matthias pulled the map out. "Hmm yes, a sort of broad black band. I wonder what it is."

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Basil was stil! muttering to himself, "Huh, soon find out, I s'pose. If if s anyttun' to eat, I'll bet that owl gets there first. Hmph, poetry indeed!"

Orlando's estimate was correct. It was just as the sun began dipping beyond the western horizon that they stood on the edge of the great gorge. They gazed awestruck at the massive fissure splitting the land asunder. Orlando and Matthias peered over the edge. "By the fur and claw! Look at that!" "How are we going to cross a gap that wide?" Sir Harry sat back on his tail feathers.

"Tho' I'm the most poetic of birds. Right now I'm lost for words!"

Log-a-Log whirled his sling and shot a stone down into the abyss. There was neither sound nor echo came back.

Orlando quoted the lines of the poem from memory:

"Shrink not from the barren land

Look below from where you stand,

This is where a stone may fall and make no sound at all."

Jabez shook his head in wonderment. "So this is what a broad black band on a map looks like."

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37

Half-eaten fruit, some of it rotten, lay scattered between the upturned beds, torn sheets and stained walls of the once neat dormitory, and a window had been broken so that the magpies and rooks could fly in and out at will. The fighters of General Ironbeak had smashed the small wooden lockers and tables. They lay about in the wreckage, some sleeping, others eating. Ironbeak had taken the infirmary and sickbay as his headquarters. Mangjz explored the cupboards, poking his beak into Sister May's collection of herbal remedies.

"Yagga! Why do these stupid earthcrawlers keep dead leaves and grasses? They are not good to eat, so what use are they?"

Ironbeak perched on Sister May's wooden stool. "Who knows, Mangiz. That is nothing to do with our problem. I am certain that the earthcrawlers have plenty to eat and drink down in that place called Cavern Hole. The time is coming when we will have to think about an attack. We will go in there and drag them out."

Mangiz stood on the medicine cupboard, shaking his head. "That would be like using a boulder to crush an ant, my General. I am sure there must be a better answer to your problem."

"Then tell me, Mangiz. You are my seer. Are the

pictures becoming clear in your mind again?"

"My vision is still clouded by the mouse that wears armour, but I am not relying on dreams and visions; soon now I will think of an idea."

"Kacha! Then think quickly, Mangiz/ or the summer will be gone. When the brown leaves blow and the wind becomes cold, I want those earthcrawlers to be only a memory as I rule in my great redstone house."

Foremole had wasted no time. He and his crew had

tunnelled through from Cavern Hole to the grounds.

They emerged by the west wall, poking their snouts out

into the sunlight. "Hurr hurr, you'm may's well try an' keep waiter in a

sieve as stop'n uz moles agoen whurr we do please." "Aye, Jarge, whyrr to naow?" "Oi'm a-thinken us'd best tunnel to pool." "Burr, then to Miz Cornfl'er's liddle 'ouse by yon gate." "Doant ee forget a noice deep'n to orchard." Soon a veritable network of tunnels was under

construction.

Rollo was not too pleased. They had taken the big table for the barricade and now he had nowhere to camp. He soon cheered up when Ambrose Spike allowed him to help with the hammering and nailing of the barrier. Chairs and benches, cupboards and shelves, together with the large banqueting table, were placed across the bottom step of Cavern Hole. Ambrose and Winifred had given it a lot of thought. There were spaces to fire arrows through, slits for javelins and spears, plus a form that the defenders could stand upon to sling stones over the top at the enemy.

The Abbot and Sister May had done a thorough stocktaking of all food in the larders and drink in the wine cellar, and there was little danger of provision shortage.

Constance checked the weaponry. Besides the stand-

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ard arms, there were lots of kitchen utensils that could double as fearsome implements of war. The badger brandished a copper-bottomed saucepan thoughtfully.

"What d'you think. Cornflower?"

"It would make quite a fetching war helmet for you, Constance."

Brother Sedge snatched it from the badger. "D'you want Mossflower vegetable stew with dumplings or not?" he asked crossly.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were planning to use that saucepan."

"Here, take this rolling pin. If 11 make a useful club. And put that frying pan down, please. I'm cooking redcurrant pancakes with apple slices," Brother Sedge told the badger indignantly.

"Oh, er, right! Is this pan all right to borrow?"

"Perfectly. Then I won't have to make any hazelnut cream sauce to pour over my pancakes."

Constance put the pan down quickly. "No hazelnut cream sauce, unthinkable! Brother Sedge, I've just had a splendid idea. Why don't you invite the birds down to lunch and feed them to death. Hahaha!"

Brother Sedge picked up a ladle aggressively. "Are you insulting my cooking, badger?"

Cornflower shook with mirth. "Oh dear, no. I'm sure she meant the remark as a compliment. Come on. Constance, lef s see if any of the gardening tools can be of use to us."

They retreated chuckling as Brother Sedge sliced apples savagely.

Foremole reappeared through the tunnel entrance into

Cavern Hole, He waved to the Abbot. "Looldt yurr, 'dalfus zurr, fresh watter aplenty!" Motes climbed out, bearing buckets of water on poles

between them - proof that the tunnel to the pond had

been completed. The Abbot was well pleased. "Thank you, Foremole.

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Now we have all we need. Look, Mrs. Churchmouse, fresh water, as much as we need."

Mrs. Churchmouse rolled her sleeves up busily. "Wonderful! I think if s high time for somebeast to get a bath."

Rollo gave a yelp of dismay and tried to crawl into the tunnel, but he met Gaffer, who was climbing out.

"Urr you'm be, marm. You scrub that liddle feller noice an' clean naow."

Baby Rollo was carried off protesting loudly, "I wanna be a mole. Moles don't get baffed!"

Mangiz had been thinking very hard. "My General, last time I was in the galleries of Great Hall I saw the mouse in armour. He was not a real live mouse, but a picture on a great doth that is fastened to the wall. The earthcrawlers must value him highly."

"What if they do, Mangiz? A piece of cloth is a piece of cloth. How can this help us?"

"Maybe they value him highly enough to defend him."

"What is going on in your head, my Mangiz? Tell me."

"I am thinking that we will not have to attack the

earthcrawlers. If they saw us trying to take the big doth

with the picture of the mouse on, they would come out

and attack us to save it."

Ironbeak clacked his beak together sharply. "Chakka! We would catch them out in the open. This is a good plan. Mangiz, you are my strong right wing."

The sun slanted through the windows of Redwall Abbey. It shone on the large tapestry in the peace and quiet of Great Hall.

BOOK THREE

Malkariss

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The arrival of a cool summer morning did not make the gorge look any less wide.

Jabez Spike shook his head despairingly. " 'Twould be simpler to float a stone across a river than to get all these creatures across that great dark pit."

Breakfast was frugal and the water ration had run low. They ate and drank in silence. Basil Stag Hare looked longingly at the bushes and vegetation on the opposite side.

"I'll wager there's tender young plants and lots of water over there, wot?" he said wistfully.

Cheek gulped his water ration in a single swig. "Wish you'd stop goin' on about food'n'water, Basil. Otters need water more than some old dried up twig of a hare, /know,"

Orlando strolled moodily round the blackened stakes that had held the bridge. "That fox! He really thought of everything, didn't he?"

Jess had a faraway look in her eyes. She stroked her tail thoughtfully before peering over the edge of the gorge.

"Hmm, chopped the bridge off completely at both sides, did he? Hmm. Matthias, do you think our owl friend could fly down into the ravine and cast his eye about for the remains of the bridge? I've got an idea."

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Matthias looked inquiringly at Sir Harry. The owl stretched his impressive wings.

"The work of a moment, dear sir, To a useful fellow like me. I'll chance a flight down there. We'll see what we shall see."

The sunlight shone through his outspread wings as he executed a graceful soaring motion. Diving swiftly, he was soon lost to view within the dark abyss.

Jess instructed Orlando on the next part of her plan.

"Lend me your battleaxe, big fellow. Oof! On second thought, you hold it. Now do as I tell you. Stand it upright against those stakes which held the bridge. Good! Log-a-Log, could you bring some rope?"

The shrew leader rummaged about until he found a small coil. "Here's your rope, but there isn't enough to get us a fraction of the way across that gap."

Jess uncoiled the rope. "I have no intention of trying to cross with this piece, Orlando. Hold the axe still while I lash it to the stakes."

Sir Hany reappeared over the edge.

"This is your lucky day.

I'll tell you what I found

As I was winging my way

Far below the ground.

The bridge cast over the edge,

Complete with slats and all,

Hangs from a rocky shelf

Which juts from the canyon wall."

Jess secured the axe bolt upright. "Well done! I knew a long wiggly thing like a rope bridge couldn't fall far without getting caught on something. I don't want the slats; they're not part of my plan. Can you bring me one of the long ropes? Do you need a knife?"

Sir Harry blinked indignantly.

"What need of a blade have I? No sword or knife do I seek. I am monarch of the sky, With fearsome talon and beak!"

With a hoot and a whoosh he shot back into the depths.

Jess shrugged apologetically. "Hope I haven't offended him."

Slagar glanced around nervously. They were passing through pleasant brush country, mainly bushes and shrubs, with the odd tree dotted here and there. The whole area gave Mattimeo the impression that once long ago it had been gardened, cared for and cultivated. He walked in line with his friends, along what appeared to have been the path of a terrace. Flowers still grew in dumps, and rocks ran in a straight line, probably bedded there by some industrious creatures in the dim past.

Tess spoke into his ear from behind, the sudden sound causing Mattimeo to jump slightly.

"Why are there no birds singing?" she asked.

The young mouse was mystified. "You're right, Tess. I couldn't say what made me uneasy about this place at first, but you've put your paw slap on it! There's no sound, no noise of grasshoppers, birds, the things you'd normally expect to hear on a bright summer's day. Even Slagar doesn't look too happy with this place."

Tess clinked her chain manacles gently. The sound hung on the still air.

"It is beautiful though. I'd like to stop and sit here awhile. Do you know, it reminds me somehow of our Abbey. Look, there are ripe berry bushes over there, and daisies and roses too."

Sam, who was in the front, stared ahead into the distance. "I can see two tall rocks shaped like a badger's head and a big bell."

"Silence back there, or you won't live to see nightfall. Pick those paws up and march faster!"

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Vitch obeyed unconsciously, speeding up until he overtook his leader.

Slagar cuffed him bad-temperedly. "Where d'you think you're running to? Get back and watch those prisoners, and keep from under my paws, rat."

Orlando looked doubtfully at the contraption Jess had set up. High over his head the thick bridge rope was fastened to his axe top. The rope ran out across the abyss, taking a steep downward slope until it reached the stakes on the far side, where Sir Harry had secured it close to ground level. The big badger scratched his muzzle.

"How's it supposed to work, Jess?" he asked dubiously.

"Quite simply. Matthias, would you go first and show him?"

The warrior mouse shinnied swiftly up the stakes. Removing his belt, he swung it over the rope with one paw, catching the other end as it came down. He stood with his paws twined in the belt that hung either side of the bridge rope.

"Ready, Jess," he called.

The squirrel climbed up and gave him a good push.

Whizzing across the gorge from the rope lashed around the axehead, Matthias sped on a straight downward course, lifting his tail clear as he hit the other side in a cloud of dust. He jumped to his paws, waving triumphantly. Log-a-Log and his shrews cheered aloud.

Jess turned to Orlando with a smile. "Thafs how!"

"I'm not sure, Jess. I might be too big arid heavy."

"Then you can go next to last/' the squirrel said decisively.

"Who's going last?"

"Me, of course. You want your axe back, don't you? Right then. I'll untie the rope, lash your axe to my back and swing across. Don't worry, I'm a good treeflyer. I'll go straight down into the gorge on the end of the rope, stop myself against the opposite wall and climb up."

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Orlando wiped a dusty paw across his brow. "I'm glad if s you and not me trying that. By the way, please take care not to lose my battleaxe down there."

"Oh, stop fussing, you great lump, and help that shrew up on to the rope."

Jess's plan worked well and the operation went smoothly, though with one or two minor hitches. Sir Harry was kept busy flying to and fro to borrow belts for those who had none. When Orlando's turn came he persevered bravely. However, his size and weight caused the axe handle to bend and the rope to belly. The badger was stuck in the middle, hanging perilously over the abyss. He was moved by Matthias and his friends throwing their weight on and off the rope until it began to twang and vibrate, and Orlando moved slowly along it. At the edge, he had to be hauled over the brink by Basil, Cheek and several shrews. When it was her turn to go, last of all, Jess the champion squirrel of Redwall did the crossing in swashbuckling style. Untying the rope, she bound Orlando's axe to her back and leapt straight into the gorge, grasping the end of the bridge rope. Down she sped, suddenly snapping to a halt, then with practised skill she swung across and bounded up the rope, paw over paw.

"Here, Orlando," she panted, ''hurry and get this dumping great hatchet off my back. I can't stand straight with the weight of it."

"I'll leave you tied to it if you call it a hatchet again, squirrel."

The pool among the bushes was like a cool oasis. They washed the dust off, bathing and splashing in the clear water. All save Jabez Stump, who sat munching cow parsley.

" 'Tain't natural, bathin', otherwise we'd have all been born fishes," the hedgehog objected.

The foragers found plenty of berries, fruit and plants.

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even a crabapple tree laden with tiny golden crabapples. The friends lounged about, eating and dozing, almost reluctant to leave this haven of plenty.

Log-a-Log nibbled wild celery as he made his report to Matthias.

"The scouts have picked up the trail, going south as usual. If s easy to follow."

Matthias nodded, studying the map and the poem. "Aye, it looks like plain travelling. There's no obstacle ahead, unless you count these two rocks, the badger and the bell!"

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39

"Constance, Abbot! Birds are trying to steal our tapestry!"

Brother Trugg tripped over his habit and fell as he dashed from the barricade where he had been standing sentry duty.

"Get slings, arrows and javelins. Pull the table aside quickly!"

The defenders rushed up the stairs into Great Hall.

Three magpies were struggling with the wall fastenings of the heavy tapestry. They ignored the charging animals, remaining intent on what they were about.

Before the Redwallers had a chance to marshal their forces and open fire, they were beset by birds. Rooks hurtled down from the galleries, pecking and clawing. General Ironbeak and Mangiz, leading a small force, dropped down behind them. Amid the confusion. Constance saw what was happening: Ironbeak was trying to cut off their path back to Cavern Hole. She whirled, dealing a rook a heavy blow that sent it spinning as it buried its claws into her neckfur.

"Back, back. Return to Cavern Hole, everybeast. Hurry!" she ordered.

Two rooks were trying to drag Sister May off by the back of her habit, but John Churchmou&e thwacked them soundly with a javelin.

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"Gaahh, scat! Come on. Sister, follow me!" he cried.

Calmly the little Sister shot off an arrow. "Got him! Ha, he won't sit down for a season. Take that, you horrible bird! Oh, right. Come on, Mr. Churchmouse, I'll protect you."

Ambrose Spike took a run at a group of birds who were attacking Cornflower. Curling himself tight, he went spinning into them like a flying ball of needles, and they rose to the air, squawking.

Constance lashed about with a frying pan, the weapon making a loud bong every time she scored a hit.

"Get out of our Abbey, you scavengers!"

Bong!

"Look out behind you, Abbot!"

Bong/

Constance hurtled at Ironbeak and Mangiz. The sight of the large badger with teeth bared made them jump to one side. She growled and snarled like a wild beast, charging them recklessly so that they had to take to the air. The other birds followed their leaders' example.

Winifred the Otter saw the way clear to Cavern Hole.

"This way, everybeast!" she called.

They clattered down the stairs and slammed the table back into position and not a moment too soon. Ironbeak saw his trap had been foiled and he chased several birds down the stairs.

"After them! They must not escape!"

Winifred and Constance were waiting.

"Now!"

Two javelins shot from the arrow slits in the barricade. One rook fell slain. Another took the javelin in his leg. Hopping and cawing, he followed his fellow fighters up the stairs in a hasty retreat, the javelin clattering and dragging from the limb it had pierced.

Ambrose Spike pushed a form up to the defences. "Stand on this, you archers. See if you can fire across at those magpies."

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Several of the Brothers and Sisters took their place and began loosing shafts at the thieves. The arrows fell miserably short, though they did have the effect of deterring other attackers from coming down the stairs.

Constance slammed a heavy paw against the wall. "The thieving, pilfering barbarians, how dare they steal our Warrior's tapestry!"

Foremole tugged at her fur. " 'scusin' oi, marm. Whoi doant ee use our tunnels?"

"Tunnels? But how? What good would that do?"

"Hurr, you'm could come at um throo main door. They baint be aspecten that."

"Of course. What a great idea!" Constance exclaimed. "Half of you stay here with the Abbot, I'll take the rest through the runnel to the nearest exit outside. If we're sharp enough we can launch a surprise attack on those magpies, seize the tapestry, and go out of the Abbey and straight down the tunnel back to here. Come on, Winifred, Ambrose, Cornflower; and, Foremole, would you come too with some of your moles?"

"Surpintly, marm. Uz'll give um boi okey, hurr that uz will!"

"I come, I come. Me too!"

"Nay, young maister Rollyo, you'n stay boi yurr an' shoot arrers."

Quickbill and his brothers were loosening the final fastenings, General Ironbeak and his fighters were on the floor of Great Hall, and they hid each side of the wall at the top of the stairs, waiting for another foray from Cavern Hole.

"Chakka! Block these stairs well next time, and we will have them out in the open. You, Grubclaw, and you, Ragwing, stay by me. Try to get the big stripedog in the eyes."

Diptafl and Brightback undid the last loop from its hook on the wall. The large tapestry slid down to the floor.

"Yaggah! We have it, brothers!"

3lt;gt;5

"Redwaaaaall!"

Constance came thundering down upon them from the open doorway. Diptail lost his proud tail feathers with one sweep of a blunt paw. Brightback and Quickbill shot into the air like startled flies. Cornflower, Ambrose and Winifred hurriedly rolled up the tapestry while Foremole and his crew stood whirling slings.

Mangiz spotted them. "Kragga! The earthcrawlers are over there, Ironbeak!"

The raven General sprang forward, followed by his rooks. Unwittingly they exposed their backs to the stairs, A hail of arrows and slingstones from the barricade behind them caught the birds unawares. Ironbeak dodged out of the line of fire, his eye smarting from a pebblestone.

"After them! This way, you wormheads, away from the stairs!"

They were halfway across Great Hall when the main door slammed and the tapestry rescue party were gone.

The fuming Ironbeak laid about with his hard yellow beak.

"Useless, stupid blunderers! Worthless, dumping idiots! Where are those chicken-hearted magpies? Quickbill, take those blockhead brothers of yours outside and see where the earthcrawlers have got to."

The Abbot smiled with pleasure and relief as the long roll of tapestry was fed out of the hole by the moles. . "You acted courageously, my friends. Martin is certainly back among us."

Cornflower turned to Foremole. "Is there a tunnel through to my gatehouse cottage?"

Foremole tugged his snout. "Aye, missus. Oi dug it meself."

"Splendid. Sister May, would you come with me tonight? We may as well make use of the tunnels. I have an idea. It may not defeat Ironbeak, but it will certainly give him and those birds something to think about."

Baby Rollo rolled himself in the tapestry and giggled as Gaffer mole tickled him. John Churchmouse looked 'severely over the top of his glasses.

"Come out of there this instant, Rollo. What would Martin think?"

Mrs. Churchmouse chuckled. "He'd probably think it quite nice to have some company after hanging alone on the wall all that time."

General Ironbeak was in a fine fit of rage as he stalked up and down the sickbay and the infirmary. Mangiz and the three magpie brothers stood stock-still, waiting for his wrath to unleash itself upon them. They had failed to find any trace of the exits and entrances to the cunningly dug mole tunnels.

"Kacha! You slugbrained dolts, do you mean to tell me that you could not find a few creatures carrying the big cloth?"

Quickbill looked down at his claws. "We searched, we looked everywhere, Ironbeak. There was not a sign of any creature."

"Not a sign? You speak foolishness. They are earth-crawlers, not birds. They could not fly off into the blue. Where did they go?"

"The big stripedog charged us. General. We could not fight it. By the time you sent us outside, we could not find any trace of them. We did not expect them to come through the doorway like that. You were supposed to have them penned up in that place by the stairs."

Ironbeak moved like lightning. He pulled Quickbill up against the wall and felled him with a sharp blow from his heavy beak.

"Yaggah! Don't tell me what I was supposed to be doing. You forget yourself, magpie. I am the leader. Mangiz, do your visions see anything? Does your mind's eye tell you where the earthcrawlers went?"

The crow shifted nervously. "My visions are still clouded, Lord."

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The raven eyed him scornfully. "Yaeh! Not the mouse warrior again?"

"Ironbeak, I see what I see. The mouse wearing armour blocks my visions and hovers in my thoughts. I cannot explain it."

"Ha&tt! Is this the Mangiz who served me in the northlands? I think this redstone house is making you like an old thrush. The mouse is only a picture upon a piece of cloth. We have seen this, we know it is true. I have not seen a mouse in armour striding around here, nor have you, yet you stand there dithering and flapping. 'Lord, my visions are clouded. A mouse wearing armour hovers in my thoughts.' Kachal Get out of my sight. I will do my own thinking. You have foiled me, Mangiz."

As Mangiz turned to go, there was a scratching and chirping in the doorway. Ironbeak leapt forward.

"Sparrows! Get them!"

The five sparrows who had been listening at the door flew off. Ironbeak and Mangiz were in hot pursuit of them as they rounded the stairwell and flew down towards Great Hall.

"Sparrows! Get them!" Mangiz echoed his leader's cry to the patrols in the galleries.

The sparrows fluttered and veered, not certain of where to go next. One of them was taken by the beaks and claws of three rooks. It stood no chance.

"Sparra, Sparra, down here!" the voice of Constance boomed up from Cavern Hole.

Like four arrows straight and true, the Sparra warriors shot down the stairs and over the top of the barricade, to land safely among their Redwall friends. A lively volley of slingstones discouraged any pursuit by Ironbeak's fighters.

All the Abbey creatures gathered in Cavern Hole to hear the report of the four survivors who were all that was left

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of Queen Warbeak's brave little army. They told of the long days searching fruitlessly down false trails through 'the thicknesses of Mossflower country in the far south, of hawk attacks and uneasy nights spent in strange trees, of all their adventures, right to the time they found Matthias and his friends in dire peril. There followed a harrowing tale of the hard-won battle, culminating in the death of Queen Warbeak and nearly all her command. Many Redwallers wept unashamedly, for Warbeak and her warriors were great friends and true Redwallers.

There was heartfelt relief and the sadness gave way to cheers at the news that Matthias, Basil and Jess, together with old shrew comrades and some new companions, were alive and well, still hot on the trail of the evil one and his band who had kidnapped the young ones from the Abbey.

The Abbot ordered food to be brought for the weary sparrows, who had flown night and day to be back at Redwall, then he informed them of developments since they had left: the arrival of General Ironbeak and the slaying of the old Sparra folk and the nestlings by the ruthless invaders.

One of the sparrows related what they had heard outside the infirmary door.

Cornflower dapped her paws together. "I knew it. I was right! Martin the Warrior is watching over us. Oh, I'm so glad I thought up a little plan earlier on. This makes it so much better, knowing that those villainous birds are uneasy about the warrior's spirit protecting our Abbey. Now I think my scheme will really work!"

"I think you should tell us what this plan is before you decide to go off doing things by yourself, young mouse," the Abbot said firmly.

Cornflower explained.

Mangiz perched in the galleries with Ironbeak. Both birds were watching the floor of Great Hall below.

"General, do you think those sparrows heard us talking?" Mangiz wondered.

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Who cares about a few sparrows? You see, Mangiz, you are worrying about stupid things. It is as I said, you are becoming wary of your own wingshadow now. Leave me alone, since it is I who now has to do all the thinking. You must not bother me with talk of sparrows and armoured mice."

"So be it, Lord."

Mangiz flapped off to the dormitories in a sulk.

Ambrose Spike and Brother Dan selected a long barrel stave and set about carving it with their woodworking tools. As he worked, the hedgehog muttered, "A sword, like the great sword of Martin that Matthias carries. Wish I had it here as a model. Still, I can remember fairly well what it looks like."

"I can recall the exact details of our Warrior's sword, fortunately," Brother Dan sniffed.

Ambrose sniffed back at him. "See that barrel of October ale yonder? I've got to remember to tap it before autumn. See those barrels of cider, I've got to remember to add honey to them in a day or so, or they'll go bitter. Now that big barrel of strawberry cordial, well, I've got to remember to strain it off into jugs for the evenin' meal tonight so that if 11 be cold and clear. So you carry on recallin' what you like about the Warrior's sword, Dan. I've got enough to remejpber, thank you."

Evening was falling with a glorious red sunset as Cornflower and Sister May, accompanied by several moles, slipped from the tunnel exit into the gatehouse cottage. Barring the door, Foremole checked at the windows to make sure they had not been seen. "Nary a sign o' burdbags, missus. We'm be safe enuff." Cornflower went into the bedroom and opened the chest where Matthias kept his warrior's garb.

"See, if s all here. Sister May, the armour and everything. All my Matthias took was his sword. He likes to travel light."

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Sister May helped Cornflower to unpack the helmet and greaves. Laying the burnished breastplate upon the bed, she eyed it doubtfully.

"Dearie me, if s all very heavy. Are you sure you'll manage to walk with it on?"

Cornflower shrugged, "I won't know until I try, but I'm fairly strong. Give me a paw with this shoulderplate, will you."

Shortly afterwards, she clanked out into the living room, fully armoured.

Foremole shook his head admiringly. "Burr, you'm lookenasoighta'right, missus. Oi never see'd ought loik that. Strewth, but for your face oi'd say 'twas Marthen a-cummed back agin."

Sister May emerged, carrying a piece of filmy gauze. "Not to worry, Mr. Foremole. I'll make a face mask, and in the dark she'll seem quite pale and ghostly. I must say, Cornflower, all that bulky armour makes you look quite large and impressive."

Cornflower clanked about, gazing down at the gleaming metal.

"Lef s hope it fools the birds tonight."

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Basil dodged about in the rays of the setting sun.

"I say, look you chaps, this must have been a herb garden. Aha, mint. Yumyum, I'm rather partial to a bit of fresh mint. Achoo! Bless me, there's thyme around here somewhere. It always makes me sneeze. Achoo! Ah, here 'tis, hmm, very tasty too. Achoo!"

The trackers were camped in the old cultivated garden land, shrew fires burned red against the twilight, and a delicious aroma permeated the air. Cheek took a taste from the end of a ladle. "Gaw, marvellous. What is it?"

Log-a-Log chopped wild chicory with his sword and threw it in the pot. "Thaf s special. There's so much still growing round here that we have a wide choice. I'm calling it hunters' hotpot. There's only water to drink, but I'm making apple fritters in honey to follow."

Jess Squirrel looked over towards the twin black silhouettes of the badger and bell rocks in the distance.

"What an amazing sight, Matthias. You'd think for all the world that those shapes were real."

Matthias was busy with Jabez Stump and Sir Harry. They were studying the map and poem again.

"Well, thaf s the badger and the bell, but this next part sounds pretty desperate:

'Face the Lord who points the way

After noon on summer's day.

Death will open up its grave.

Who goes there. . .? None but the brave,'"

They sat in silence around the fire, weighing the ominous words.

Sir Harry waddled across to sniff the aromas of the cooking pot, and returned heartened.

"Dread words do not alarm me When food is on its way. No parchment threat can harm me. Lead on, lead on, I say."

Basil gobbled a lettuce leaf. "Well spoken, me old featherface, I feel exactly the same. I can face death after dinner any time; only thing bothers me is that I might miss tea and supper, wot?"

Robbed of his noble moment, the owl glared at Basil and stalked off.

Matthias tapped the map. "This thing here bothers me. It's like two lines, one at an angle to the other, with sort of little splinters sticking off all along it."

Log-a-Log banged the side of the pot with the ladle. "Come on, come on, never mind death and doom and mysteries, this hotpof s ready. Form a line. No shoving in ahead, Basil. Get to the back, go on!"

Amid much jollity and laughter the shrews lined up with Matthias and his friends to be served. Basil was eagerly holding his bowl out for a portion of the hunters' hotpot when an eerie voice rang out:

"Doom! Dooooooooommmm!"

Log-a-Log paused, the ladle deep in the pot. "What was that?"

Basil waggled his bowl. "Don't know, old chap. Fill the bowl, please, there's a good fellah."

Matthias and Orlando grabbed their weapons, but a call from Cheek reassured them:

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"It's all right. An old rabbit's showed up over here."

The newcomer was an ancient rabbit. He even had a wispy white beard. He staggered into the firelight, waving his paws and shouting in a wavery voice:

"Doom, death, destruction and darkness. Doom, I say. Doooom!"

Basil waggled his ears at the ancient one. "I say, old chap, push off and let a bloke have his hotpot, will you."

They gathered around the rabbit. Matthias bowed to him.

"I am Matthias the Warrior of Redwall and these are my friends. We mean you no harm. What is your name, sir, and what is this place called?"

The rabbit stared straight ahead. "Doom. All about me is doom!"

"Oh, give your whiskers a rest, you old fogey," Basil called out as he nudged Log-a-Log to use his ladle, "or I'll never get served. Doom, doom, death'n'destruction! Can't you say anything that doesn't begin with a D?"

The old rabbit slumped down, his limbs trembling with age. Matthias placed his bowl of food in front of the rabbit and draped a sack about his shaking form. The creature ignored the food and continued his mutterings of death and doom. Cheek peered closely at the old rabbit.

"He's fuddled. Got a headful of black dust," he remarked.

Basil gave the otter a stern glance. "Mind your manners in front of your elders."

Matthias turned the same stem glance upon Basil. "Listen to the pot calling the kettle black. You don't seem to be setting Cheek much of an example."

The warrior mouse squatted down in front of the old one, pointing to the tall rocks. 'Tell me, sir, what lies beyond those rocks?"

For the first time the rabbit appeared to hear the question. He looked towards the badger and the bell, shaking his head.

"Death and darkness, terror and evil!" he intoned, then fell silent and would say no more.

Orlando leaned upon his axe. "It's no use, Matthias, the poor old fellow is frightened out of his wits. Leave him there with that sack and the food. Perhaps he might come round later and talk to us."

)ess Squirrel shook her tail. "I wonder what caused him to be like this. It must be something pretty awful to make a creature behave so. Look, Matthias, he's getting up."

The old rabbit rose slowly. Walking towards Matthias, he stroked the sack that was draped about him as if it was some kind of comforting robe. Halting in front of the warrior mouse, the ancient one untied a woven grass binder from his paw. A piece of stone dangled from it. Without a word he pressed the object into Matthias's paws and wandered off into the night, clutching the sack about him like a cloak. Log-a-Log and Jabez intercepted him, but Matthias motioned them away.

"Let him go, poor creature. He seems to be very fond of that sack. Maybe he gave me this in exchange for it."

Basil inspected the stone hanging from its grass bracelet. "Funny-lookin' doodah. What d'you suppose it is?"

"I've no idea. It looks like the model of a small stone mouse. Probably some kind of ornament that he wished to give us in exchange for our hospitality."

The warrior mouse looped it about his sword belt and sat down to finish the evening meal with his friends.

The half-moon gleamed fitfully down on the scene at the foot of the tall rocks. The summer night was warm, but eerie and silent. Jube whimpered in his sleep, and Tess stroked his head until he fell silent. Auma stared up at the strange gloomy rocks rising like twin sentinels in the darkness.

"I don't like it here," she said, shuddering. "All my life I lived by the mountains of the Western Plains. They were sunny and friendly; these are not."

Tim reached out and touched the rock wall, which was still warm from the sun.

"They're only rocks like any others. If s just that nature shaped diem differently/' he reassured her.

"Quiet there! Get those eyes shut and sleep, or you'll feel my cane."

Threedaws strolled by swinging his willow withe. He checked that they were still and silent before moving on to join Slagar.

The Sly One stood between the rocks, his silken mask making a splash of colour against their dark surface. He turned at Threedaws' approach.

"All still?"

"Aye, they're quiet enough, Chief."

"Good. We'll soon be rid of them."

"Where is this place you're taking them, Slagar?"

"Are you questioning me, Threedaws?" the fox asked sharply.

"No, Chief. I just can't help wondering when all this marching's going to stop and when it does, where we will be."

"Don't worry, Threeclaws, I'll take care of you and the rest. I'm telling you this because I know I can trust you. Listen, mate, you've been the one I could always rely on. Some of those others, especially Halftail and that little Vitch, need watching. Pretty soon now I'll be gone for a day or two. I want you to do something for me: keep an eye on them. I'll leave you in charge."

Threedaws felt proud and pleased with himself. He had never heard the masked fox call anybeast "mate." He felt privileged, standing and talking to the leader as if they were both equals.

"Leave it to me, Chief. I'll watch them when you're away. Huh, Halftail and Vitch, a stoat and a rat, who'd trust them? You need a good loyal weasel like me."

Slagar patted Threedaws on the back.

"You took the words right out of my mouth, Three-claws," he chuckled. "You're the weasel for me. Listen,

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when all this is over I'll need a good fellow at my right

paw to share a lot of power and riches. Is it a bargain?" The weasel shook Slagar heartily by the paw. "A

bargain. Chief. Rely on me!" "I do. Now go and keep a watch on that lot." Threedaws saluted smartly and marched off with his

head high. "Fool!" Slagar sneered beneath the silken hood as he

watched the weasel go.

Halftail was slumbering against the bell rock when Slagar stirred him.

The stoat tried to give the impression that he was alert. "Is that you. Chief? I was just lying quiet here, watching the captives," he pretended.

"Good, good. I've often noticed that you're the one who stays awake and keeps a check on things, Halftail."

"You have? Oh, er, yes, well. Somebeast has to do it, I suppose."

"I know I can depend on you. I often say to myself, if 11 be all right for me to take a nap, Halftail's looking after things. Listen to me, my good friend. I'll have to take a short trip soon. I'll leave you in charge here, but don't say anything. I want you to watch Threedaws carefully. He's been getting a bit big for his fur lately. I don't trust him,"

Halftail nodded wisely. "Don't think I haven't noticed it too, Chief. Those weasels are all the same, I've never trusted them."

"Thaf s because you're like me, Halftail. You've got sense and you're a natural leader. You stick with me, friend, and I'll see that you're well rewarded. I'll take care of you."

Halftail opened his eyes wide. "You mean it, Slagar?"

"Of course I do. Faithful service should always be well rewarded. By the way, have you seen Vitch about?"

"Yes, he's over there by those bushes."

"Right, I'll go and have a word with him. I may need to

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take him with me for a day or two. Remember now, mouth shut, eyes open. I'm counting on you, Halftail." "You can trust me, Slagar."

The Sly One sat down by Vitch beneath the bushes. The young rat drew back slightly, afraid of Slagar.

"Listen carefully, Vitch, I have something to tell you."

"But Slagar, I haven't done anything wrong, I've been wa"

"Quiet, Vitch. Keep your voice down. I know you've done nothing wrong, in fact you've been very good lately."

"I have? Oh, I have. I've been keeping those Red-wallers on their paws, and the others too. I make them march as fast as they can go."

"Yes, I know you do," the masked fox said silkily. "That's why I've got a surprise for you. Now very shortly I'll be leaving here and taking the slave line with me, but I must leave the others to wait here until I return. This is where you come in, Vitch. I want you to come with me to help with our captives. Meanwhile, tell Scringe and the rest to keep an eye on Threeclaws and Halftail. I think those two are plotting behind our backs, Vitch. They're not to be trusted."

The little rat dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Threeclaws and Halftail, those two bullies, they're always pickin' on me. I thought they were up to something. You leave it to me, I'll tell Scringe and Skinpaw and the others to mark them well."

"You do that. We don't want them stirring up trouble while we're away, now do we?"

"Right! The dirty traitors. Er, where are we going. Chief?"

"I can't say too much right now, Vitch, but I'll tell you this much. I need a good assistant to give orders for me. It's a job for somebeast like yourself, the chance to prove you can handle power."

Vitch could not help rubbing his paws together with

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excitement. "I'm the one for the job, Slagar. I'll prove it to you." "I know you will, Vitch. That* s why I picked you."

Slagar crept away to resume his watch between the rocks, satisfied that he had laid his plans well. From the moonlit terraces below the badger and the bell, other eyes watched him through the warm summer night.

Slagar stood quite still, not daring to move a muscle. From out of the surrounding darkness grey rats had come silently. He was now surrounded by them. There was a vast army of the creatures, each one robed in black and carrying a short stabbing spear with a broad leaf-shaped blade. There was not a single sound from any of them. As well as he could, the Cruel One took stock of the situation.

The rats encircled the camp. Eyes glimmered in the bushes, spearblades shone everywhere, around both the tall rocks and in the narrow defile between. They far outnumbered Stonefleck's horde, which guarded the riverbanks. The masked fox had encountered them before when he had passed this way. He remained unmoving, awaiting a sign.

The creatures in front of him parted as a purple-robed rat came towards Slagar. This one did not carry a spear; in his paw he held a white bone sceptre surmounted by a mouse skull.

The rat spoke no word.

"You have come for the slaves. I was waiting for you, Nadaz," Slagar said, his voice sounding hollow in the silence.

The rat called Nadaz shook his sceptre. The skull rattled against its bone handle, and Slagar fell silent.

Nadaz pointed the sceptre at the fox then swept around to point it at the sleeping captives. Turning again, he pointed between the twin rocks, indicating the direction they would be taking.

Slagar nodded his understanding.

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Dark forms surrounded Mattimeo and those chained to the slave lines. The young mouse came half awake as he heard less give a muffled groan. Silent paws held his head still, and a pad of leaves holding the ashes of burned grass and herbs was pushed up against his mouth and nostrils. Mattimeo struggled, but the overpowering scent of the compress was too strong to fight against. Dark mists roiled in front of his eyes as his body slumped limply against the folds of a black robe.

The senseless forms of the captives were placed on large oblong shields. Eight rats bore each shield. Vitch was awakened by a shake from Slagar, "Ssshh, don't make a sound. Follow me and keep quiet. We're on our way," the fox warned.

As Vitch rose, he accidentally stood on Damper's paw. The weasel awoke with a whimper. Seeing the captives being carried away, he jumped up. "Slagar! Where are they . . . aargh!" At a sign from Nadaz, one of the rats slew Damper with a swift thrust of his stabbing spear.

Vitch shook with terror as a bag was placed over his head. Slagar whispered to him as his own head and mask was enveloped, "Don't panic, they won't kill us. Just go where they direct you."

The silent army moved off south between the twin rocks with their unconscious captives and the two slavers.

The pale moon shone down on the body of Damper. He lay still in death, with his sleeping companions nearby unaware of what had taken place in the soft summer night.

The same moon mat shone over Mossflower sent silver grey shafts of light through the windows of Great Hall. Two rooks perched in the upper galleries on sentry duty. Half awake and half dozing, they stared down at the scene below. Dark shadows softened the corners of the stones, with lighter areas where the moonlight shone in.

One rook shifted his claws uncomfortably. "Graah! It is better in the day when the sun shines warm and bright."

His companion shook a wing to keep awake. "You are right. Rag wing. I do not like this place in the darkness."

"The earmcrawlers are all asleep down in that Cavern Hole place. Why do we have to stand about here all night? Nothing ever happens."

"Do not let the General hear you say that. If he says stay here all night, then we obey."

"Aye, you are right. When the darkness comes again two others will have to stay guard and we will sleep upon the soft beds of the earthcrawlers."

"Krakkah! They are good beds. There was nothing like them in the northlands."

"What is that, Grubdaw? Did you see something move down there?"

"Graah! It is only shadows."

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"No, over there. Look, the big door is open. See, something moves!"

Slowly emerging from a patch of deep shadow, a ghostly figure glided into a shaft of moonlight.

The two rook sentries stood thunderstruck.

It was a mouse in gleaming armour, the mouse from the big cloth!

The spectre turned to face them, but it had no face! There was just a grey misty area where the face should have been. Raising a fearsome-looking sword, it pointed directly at the fearbound birds and intoned in a deep booming voice:

"Death comes if you stay in Redwalllll!"

Before the echoes had finished rebounding around Great Hall, the panic-stricken birds had fled in terror, tumbling and bumping into each other in their haste to get away from the ghastly sight.

Ironbeak was shocked into wakefulness by Grubclaw and Ragwing. The infirmary door banged open wide as they hurtled through, feathers flying in all directions.

"General, Yaggah! Whoocaw! A ghost, a ghost!"

"Death, it said. Death! Kraggak! Save us!"

Ironbeak struck out with both wings, belaboring the rooks. "Silence, you thickheads! Mangiz, come with me. You two, quickly, show us where you saw this thing."

The four birds hurried through to the sentry post in the galleries.

Ragwing pointed a quivering claw. He was shaking uncontrollably. "Th-there-th-there-th-theretherethere!"

Ironbeak pushed him aside roughly. "Fool, I see nothing."

"We were here and all of a sudden there it was. Right there!" Grubclaw tried to explain.

Ironbeak stared down at the spot they were both pointing to. "Kraak! There isn't anything there! Right. You, Ragwing, tell me exactly what you saw, or I'll make you more frightened of me than any ghost you've ever

seen. Now stop yammering and stammering and talk slowly!"

"Well, Chief, me and Grubclaw were standing right here on sentry. We weren't sleeping, oh no, we were wide awake. Then I says to him "What's that moving down there?' and he says to me, 'It's only shadows.' Kraakh! When we looked again, there was a mouse, just like the warrior mouse on the big cloth, except this one had no face. It waved a sword at us, a big long sword, and it said, 'Death comes to you if you stay in Redwall.' That ghost spoke in a voice like no mouse. It was like thunder over the northland mountains, it was like, like"

Ironbeak waved his wing threateningly. "Enough! I have heard enough. A ghost of a mouse, eh?"

Grubclaw could not help himself calling out, "A m-mouse all in armour. Chief. With a big sword!"

Ironbeak zoomed over the galleries. Winging downwards, he landed on the floor.

"And this is where it stood. Well, do you see any ghost now, do you?" he asked, his voice echoing around Great Hall.

The two sentries shook their heads numbly.

Ironbeak called out, "Kraggah! Ghost! I am General Ironbeak, greatest fighter in all the northlands. Come, ghost, see if you can scare me!"

The raven stood boldly in the shaft of moonlight on the floor of Great Hall. Nothing happened.

"General, the big door is still open," Mangiz called down to him.

Ironbeak stalked outside. He looked around, then came in again. Slamming the door after him, he flew up to the galleries.

"You see, nothing inside, nothing outside. No mouse in armour, ghost, call it what you will. Nothing!"

He turned upon the two sentries, waggling his murderous beak under their eyes, his voice heavy with menace. "So, tell me again. What did you see?"

"Nothing," they said in fearful unison.

"Then who opened the big door?" Mangiz asked.

Ironbeak's eyes glittered with rage, as he nodded to the sentries. "Carry on guarding this place. Mangiz, we will go back to the room."

As the crow entered the infirmary, Ironbeak gave him a kick which sent him sprawling. Mangiz looked up in surprise. The General had struck other birds before, but never his seer. Ironbeak stood over him.

"This is all your doing, crow," he said, his voice thick with anger. "You and your clouded visions. Kacha! A ghost mouse wearing armour. Those rooks were scared witless. Then when I go and prove to them there is no ghost, what does my strong right wing have to say?"

Ironbeak imitated Mangjz's voice mockingly: " Then who opened the big door?"'

The crow cringed, trembling as the General continued:

"So, I show them there is no ghost and you start convincing diem there is one. I am no ghost, Mangiz, and what I say is final. I will teach you not to open your beak at the wrong time."

The crow screeched in anguish as the big raven's talons came down.

Ambrose Spike placed a bowl of hot celery and cream soup before Cornflower as Sister May removed her helmet.

"Try some of this. It'll help keep your spirits up. Hohohoho!"

Constance held her sides, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Ohaha, oh dear! I must say you looked hauntingly beautiful in your armour tonight, Cornflower. Oh haha hee hee hee!"

Not intending a pun. Sister May remarked as she folded the gauze facemask, "I'm glad it worked. It goes to show you what can happen from the ghost of an idea - oh dear!"

They fell about laughing.

"Did you see their faces when you pointed the sword at them?"

"Hahaha. They kept bumping into each other when they tried to fly off together."

"That was thanks to Constance's ghost voice. It's enough to scare anybeast. Hohoho! Go on, Constance, do it again."

The big badger cupped her paws around her mouth and called in a sepulchral voice: "Leeeeaaave some of mat sooooooup for meeeee!"

Outside on the gallery sentry post, Ragwing shuddered

on his perch.

"What was that? Did you hear it, Grubdaw?" The other rook pecked his companion hard upon the

bottom. "Yak! Don't you start that again, you've got us into

enough trouble for one night. Now go to sleep. That way

you won't be able to see anything worth reporting with

your dim imagination."

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There was dissension and mutiny in the camp of Slagar. The slavers woke to find the slaves and their leader gone. Worse followed when Drynose the weasel found the lifeless body of his comrade Damper.

"The filthy murdering fox, he's stabbed my mate Damper," he cried out.

Hafftail attempted to pacify him. "Rubbish! Slagar wouldn't kill one of his own."

"Hah! Well, what about Hairbelly and Wedgeback? He done 'em both in."

"Drynose is right. You keep out of it, Threeclaws. I'll bet you that lousy masked murderer has even killed little Vitch. Look around. Can you see Vitch?"

"Vitch isn't dead/' Scringe butted in. "Slagar's taken him along somewhere."

Halftail brandished a dagger at Scringe. "Somewhere? What d'you mean, somewhere? You've been spying and Ustenin' to things that don't concern you, Scringe. I think you're a dirty traitor."

"Dirty traitor, eh? Listen who's talkin'. You're the turncoat, bucko. Slagar told me to keep my eye on you. And don't you start waving that dagger at me, snot-whiskers. I've got a sword twice as big as that. Look!"

Halftail rushed Scringe as he tried to draw his sword.

Taken unawares, the ferret was easy prey to the stoaf s dagger. He fell mortally wounded. Halftail turned upon the rest.

"Thaf s what spies and traitors get. Anybeast want some? Come on!"

Threeclaws pulled out a vicious-looking hook. "Hey, Halftail. You've got a lot to say for yourself. Who do you think you are, the Chief?"

"I am, as far as you're concerned, weasel; Slagar left me in charge when he told me he'd be gone for a while."

Threeclaws brandished the hook, nodding to Fleaback and Drynose, and all three advanced slowly upon Halftail. Threeclaws grinned wickedly.

"Slagar left you in charge? Whose paw do you think you're trying to pull? He would have left one of us weasels in charge, wouldn't he, mates?"

Halftail snatched the sword from the dead Scringe. He swished it at them and jabbed with his dagger.

"Get back, weasels, leave me alone or there'll be real trouble when Slagar returns."

Threeclaws circled slowly, swinging the hook. "You must have bread for brains if you think the fox is coming back, you idiot. Why do you think he took the slaves with him? He's got no intentions of coming back. Ha! No wonder they call him the Sly One."

Drynose made a rush at Halftail. The stoat leapt to one side and spitted the weasel with his sword. He shouted an appeal to Bageye, the only other stoat in the group:

"Come on, Bageye. Slagar left me in charge, help me out, mate."

Before Bageye could rise to his paws, Wartdaw and Snakespur, two other weasels, jumped on him. Their iron hooks flashed once. "We've got this one. Three-daws, go on, finish Halftail!"

Halftail fought like a mad creature, he wounded Skinpaw and was about to finish him when Snakespur struck him from behind with his hook. Halftail was dead before he hit the ground.

The survivors of the mutiny sat about licking their wounds and eating any provisions they could find. Out of the crew that had taken the young ones from Mossflower there were only five weasels remaining, Skinpaw, Fleaback, Threeclaws, Wartclaw and Snake-spur. Undecided, they lounged about the camp. Three-claws fancied himself as leader, but after the slaughter that had taken place he decided to stay in the background lest one of the others challenge him for supremacy. Besides, who knew? Slagar might come back, and then there would really be trouble.

As if reading Threeclaws' thoughts, Snakespur grumbled aloud, "Deserted, thafs what we've been mates, deserted. That scurvy fox has left us in the lurch and gone off to get the reward for the captives himself. What makes me so mad is that we've followed him like a pack of fools all this time. 'Yes, Chief/ 'No, Chief.' Huh! Now where are we? Half a season's journey into the middle of nowhere, with empty paws and empty bellies too, by the look of those slack ration bags."

"But what about little Vitch," Fleaback interrupted. "I wonder whaf s happened to him?"

Snakespur slashed at the grass with his iron hook. "Dead as a pickled frog, for all I care. What's one rat or more got to do with us? We're weasels, mate. Oho, I tell you, I'd like to have that fox's guts at the end of this hook right now,"

"Brave words from the scum of the earth!"

A large male badger had walked quietly into the camp. He stood testing the edge of a big double-headed battleaxe with his paw. The weasels leapt up, unsure of what to do against the huge warrior, without a leader to galvanize them into action.

Orlando gave a cold smile.

"Run or fight, eh, baby stealers?" His voice was deceptively calm. "I know you haven't the courage to fight. There's only five of you and not a gang. Ah well, if you're not going to fight then you must run like the

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cowards you are. But even then you won't get far, because you're surrounded."

Matthias and his friends stepped from the bushes and the rocks.

Wartclaw began trembling violently. "It was Slagar. It was his idea. We don't even count. Look at the way he's deserted us."

Matthias pointed at the bodies of the fallen. 'Tell me, weasel, what happened here?"

"It was the masked fox. He did it!"

"You lie! We lay hidden and watched it all. You murdered your own comrades. Listen to me. If you do not speak the truth then you will all join them. Is that dear?"

The weasels nodded vigorously.

Jess Squirrel faced Skinpaw. "Where has Slagar taken the captives?"

"I know you're not going to believe me," the weasel moaned in despair, "but when we woke this morning he was gone. The prisoners too, and a rat named Vitch."

Matthias drew his sword. The five weasels began pleading:

"If s true, if s true!"

"Please, sir, believe us!"

"See that dead weasel there? He's Damper. We found him slain when we woke. He must have tried to stop Slagar leaving."

Log-a-Log drew Matthias aside and whispered, "He's probably telling the truth. My scouts have discovered tracks. They've been well covered, but there were rats here. Matthias, I'm not just speaking about a group; this was a horde, a mighty army."

The warrior mouse nodded. He turned to the five weasels.

"I believe you. Now try to remember, did any of you wake last night and see who was here?"

"No, sir, no."

"We were asleep."

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"Slagar took the watch alone."

Basil picked up a rope and made five loops in it.

"Right, c'mere, you wicked weasel types. Put these nooses around your dirty necks. Stop blubberin', we ain't goin' to string you up. Though if s all you richly deserve, wot? Wretches! Now, we'll let you march up front. Isn't that good of us? That way you'll get the benefit of any bally old traps thaf ve been laid for us: poison arrows, swamps full of mad frogs, great eagles that rip your jolly old eyes out, an' suchlike. Cheer up, chaps, if 11 be fun!"

Cheek found Threeclaws' willow cane and gave it to Basil. "I say, a btinkin' fiogger. Is this what you keep the slaves goin' with, sort of give them the odd whack. Like this, and this, and this! Whack! Swish! Thwack!"

Matthias stopped Basil. There was a sound from the bushes, and the old rabbit tottered out, still wrapped in his sack. He walked round the captured weasels, staring at them with rheumy eyes.

"Death, death, is this all he left? Last time the masked one came this way none of his band lived. Dead, all slain!"

Matthias tried questioning him further, but he staggered off into the bushes, still moaning about death and doom.

Orlando watched the ancient one until he was lost to sight.

"Matthias, that one knows a lot more than we think. Did you hear him? He's seen Slagar passing through here once before. It must be an old game with the fox to pick out a band of vermin and promise them the sky, then when he gets near his destination he either dumps his helpers or slays 'em, one way or another. Then he's free to reap the rewards of his filthy trade all for himself."

"Yes," Matthias agreed, "but what does he get out of it? What is his reward?"

Orlando shrugged. "Maybe we'll find out when we catch up with him. One thing is dear; now that he's got

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rid of his band he must be near the end of the journey. Though where that is, your guess is as good as mine."

Matthias stood between the two tall rocks. He drew out the parchment. "I hope this will take some of the guesswork out of it, friend."

He indicated the space between the badger and bell rocks. 'This is where we are now. Let me see, the poem says:

'See the badger and the bell,

Face the lord who points the way

After noon on summer's day.

Death will open up its grave.

Who goes there . . . ? None but the brave.'

Jabez squatted beside the bell rock. "Not long to go till afternoon. We'll rest here. Where's this lord who's supposed to be pointing the way?"

They gazed out at the country. It was mainly grassy hills dotted with scrub and groves of trees. In the late summer morning there was no indication of mystery, death or doom. It all looked fairly plain and harmless.

Orlando shook his head. "Well, whoever the lord is, he's not come out to show us anything yet. I'd best give a shout. He may be taking a nap."

The badger cupped his paws to his mouth and roared until the valley echoed:

"Hi, there! Are you listening, Lord? This is Orlando of the Axe from the Western Plains. Come out and show us the way!"

The echoes died on the summer air.

"No, no, you're doin' it all the wrong way, old stripetop," Basil chaffed Orlando. "Here, let a chap with a touch of breedin' have a jolly try."

Basil stood beyond the rocks. Throwing his head back, he yodelled out in a wobbly tenor.

"Hullo, there! I say, Lord old fellah, it's Basil, one of the Mossflower Stag Hares, doncha know. Listen, why

don't you toddle out an' point the way to me and my pals? Super wheeze, wot?"

The only sound that could be heard in reply was Orlando sniggering.

Matthias offered Basil a shrewcake, and he wandered off eating and dumtering to himself, "Confounded bad form, you'd think the rotter'd have the manners to answer a chap!"

jess was also muttering to herself. "'Afternoon on summer's day.' What part of the afternoon: midday, high noon, middle of noon, late noon? How are we supposed to know. Silly rhyme, if you ask me. What d'you think. Matthias?"

"I think it means before the early evening, Jess. Look, the words are separate, it doesn't say 'afternoon,' it says 'after . . . noon'. Another thing, 'the lord ivho points the awy* doesn't have to be a living creature."

Jess looked puzzled. "How do you know that?"

"Easy. The badger and the bell are both rocks. We identified them by their shapes. So why can't the Lord who points the way be a rock?"

Cheek sidled up. "Or even a tree."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I've just climbed up this badger rock a way and had a look around. The one thing that stands out like a landmark is a tree. If s sort of directly in line with the path between these two rocks, but we can't see it from where we stand down here."

Jess Squirrel raced up the rock face of the badger peak like an arrow from a bow.

'If s there, Matthias," she called down. "I can see it. The biggest fir tree in the world. What a sight! If s colossal!"

The early noonday sun beat down on the summit of badger rock. Matthias, Jess and Cheek stood atop the tall edifice, looking down at the tree in the distance. The warrior mouse grasped the rope Jess had rigged. "Come on, lef s get down from here and get moving. I

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want to arrive at that tree before the sun goes down. I know exactly what to do and what to look out for now!"

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43

Mattimeo's eyes opened slowly. He felt sick and groggy, but above all frightened. Lifting his manacled paws, he rubbed his eyes. The last thing he remembered was being held whilst a hooded figure pressed something against his face. The overpowering sweet sickness of it still hung upon his breath. He had lost count of time. Though it was dark he felt he was in some sort of chamber, and outside it might be night or day; he had no way of knowing.

The creatures around him were groaning, moving restlessly as the effects of the soporific wore off. Then the familiar heavy paw of Auma touched his.

"Mattimeo, is that you? What happened? Where are we?" the badger asked worriedly.

"I don't know. If s too dark in here. Feels like a kind of stone room, like Ambrose Spike's wine cellar at Redwall."

"I don't like it. If s cold, too. Are the rest of us all here?"

The others had awakened, and they dragged themselves over to the sound of Auma's voice. Though their presence was of small comfort, the young mouse could not shake off the dread aura surrounding him. A shrew whimpered in the darkness, then the ja igle of keys outside warned them that some creature was about to enter.

A torch flared and they covered their eyes against the brightness of the light. Shadows danced about the stone walls as the torch-bearer entered. It was a rat in a long purple robe. His eyes glinted dully in the flames from the torch, and when he spoke his voice was flat in tone, but menacing and imperious.

"I am Nadaz, Voice of the Host," he said. "Do not move or dare to talk with me, or you will regret it. Nadaz commands the breath that comes from your mouth. I am the power of life and death over all of you. There is no light in here, nor is there food and water. You will be left -in this place until I decide that you are fit to use your eyes again, to eat and to drink. Malkariss has spoken!"

The light was extinguished with the slam of the door and the turn of the key.

"Who is Malkariss?" Cynthia asked. Her voice sounded hollow and scared.

Tess grasped her paw in the darkness. "I'm certain we'll find that out soon enough."

Slagar followed Nadaz. They passed through tunnels and rooms, with Vitch trailing nervously behind.

Some of the chambers and corridors they walked along had obviously been built a long time ago by master craftsbeasts; other were crude, hacked and gouged from the earth, with boulders, hard-packed soil and severed tree roots showing in the light of the torches which burnt in wall brackets throughout the strange place.

A long winding passage gave way to a broad rock ledge, and Vitch gazed around in awe. Crystal and mica deposits in the rocks reflected the torchlights of a huge wheel-shaped chandelier, and on the brink of the ledge stood a colossal statue hewn from white limestone. It was the standing figure of a monstrous white polecat, with teeth of crystal and glittering eyes of black jet. Beyond it the ledge dropped away to the depths of the earth. Around the walls winding down to the deeps was a narrow carved stairway which started from the left side

of the ledge, losing itself in the misty green light below.

Nadaz beckoned Slagar and Vitch to stand on a groove in the rock some distance away from the statue. The purple-robed rat moved slowly with bended head until he stood close to the figure.

"Who comes near Malkariss?" a sibilant voice echoed from between the crystal teeth.

Nadaz answered, keeping his head bowed, "It is Nadaz, Voice of the Host, O King of the deep, Lord of the abyss, Defier of the sun! The fox Slagar has returned, bringing many creatures young and strong to work in your realm beneath the earth."

There was a pause, then the voice from the statue spoke again.

"Who is the other one?"

Nadaz went to Slagar, and a whispered conversation took place.

The purple-robed rat returned to his former position. "He is a young rat named Vitch. The fox says that if it pleases you he is a gift, to serve in the ranks of the Host."

"He is not born to the Host, our ways are not known to him." The voke was curt and dismissing. "A rat that comes from the place of woodlands is of no use to us. Chain him with the slaves!"