Two black-robed rats appeared out of the shadows. They seized Vitch and chained him, dragging him off as he screamed at Slagar, "Save me! Don't let them do this to me! I was loyal to you, I served you well. Help me, Slagar!"

The masked fox did not even turn to look at Vitch. He stared at Nadaz and shrugged.

"I thought he might have been useful, being a rat like yourself."

The voice cut short further conversation between Slagar and Nadaz: "Keep the new slaves in darkness without food until I decide they are fit to work. Hunger and lack of light is a sound lesson for creatures that have known freedom in the woodlands. Ask the fox what he wants of me."

336

Nadaz conferred with Slagar again.

"Malkariss, All-powerful One. Slagar says to remind you of your promise when he brought you the last slave workers: that you give all the land above ground to him, from the gorge to the south boundaries of your realm. He says he will serve your interests faithfully and be your voice above ground."

'Tell the masked one to be patient awhile. Take him down below and show him the work that is being done to complete my underworld kingdom. I will watch him for a time, and when I have made up my mind that his voice above ground would serve me as well as yours does beneath the earth, then I will send for him."

Slagar could hardly wait for Nadaz to walk back to him. He had heard the voice of Malkariss clearly.

"Listen, rat, tell your master that I've kept my side of the bargain. He promised me that land; now you go and tell him I have a right to the territory!"

Nadaz rattled the skull on his sceptre. The masked fox was suddenly surrounded by the black-robed rats with their short stabbing spears held ready. The Voice of the Host confronted Slagar.

"You don't tell me anything, fox. You have no rights here, and never dare to make demands upon Malkariss. Your audience is over. Come with me now. If the Lord of the abyss wants to reward you he will do it in due time. Until then, keep a rein on your tongue."

Feeling far from satisfied, the masked fox was led away down the curving causeway steps by Nadaz and his servants.

The diamond-patterned skullmask moved this way and that as Slagar descended into the green depths. The steps wound down into the earth until they reached the cave bottom, where the green light came from whatever fuel burned in the torches and braziers that dotted the vast and intricate workings. The Sly One was impressed. Dwellings had been

337

hewn into the rock, streets and avenues stretched before him, some of them looked as if they were part of another building from another time. Groups of young wood-landers, painfully thin and covered in rockdust, worked beneath the whips of their cruel taskmasters, dragging boulders and cutting and dressing stones into square and oblong blocks. Slagar caught a glimpse of some huge unearthly-looking creature that he could not identify.

Nadaz urged him past a band of slaves mixing mortar and cement. Strangely shaped amphitheatres and high arched caverns gave way to a halflit passage, then the party halted in front of a wall. Carved upon it in relief was a weird and curious mural with the figure of Malkariss at its center.

Nadaz turned to him. "This is the limit of our workings. Go now, my blackrobes will take you to your chamber, and there you must wait until Lord Malkariss gives his decision. You are fortunate, fox. Apart from the creatures I command, you are the only one who has set eyes upon the underground world."

As the black-robed rats led Slagar away, he watched Nadaz from the corner of his slitted hood. The purple-robed rat touched the left paw of the carved polecat and the figure swung inwards. As Nadaz went through, Slagar managed to see a shaft of light on the other side before the carving was pushed back into place.

The Sly One made a mental note that this was a secret exit, then in silence he allowed himself to be led back up the causeway steps. Slagar neither liked nor trusted Malkariss and Nadaz, but he was confident that he could outthink them both. One day he would rule all of this land, above and below ground; at present he was content to wait. The delivery of the slaves had gained him entrance to this strange world. Malkariss would probably think he was an efficient servant, and promotion would follow. Slagar would bide his time, he was nobeasfs servant; only one position interested the masked fox. Complete and utter ruler.

338

The afternoon had begun fading away in pink-tinged sunlight when Matthias and his friends arrived at the tree. It was a giant pine, standing alone.

Orlando stood and stretched to his full height against it. "By the stripes! If s so big it makes me feel like a pebble against a mountain. I'll bet it'd take a lot of otters tail to tip to go round a trunk this size, eh, Cheek?"

The young otter patted the immense girth of the bole. "I'll say it would. Have you ever seen one like this before, Jess?"

The squirrel shook her tail in admiration. "Never. If s a wonderful sight. Pity it stands alone, because you can only climb up it or down, you couldn't leap to another tree. The nearest ones are over there. See? Where Matthias is heading. Hey, Warrior, where are you off to? I thought you wanted to see this tree."

Matthias walked in a straight line with a measured pace, keeping his eyes to the ground.

"If s not the tree I wanted to see, only its shadow."

Basil caught up with him. "What d'you want with a bally shadow, old lad?"

Matthias kept walking deliberately. "Remember the rhyme, 'face the lord who points the way, after noon on summer's day.' Right, the tree is the lord who points the way, and if s gone noon, nearly evening. The shadows are at their longest now. Look at our shadows, they're much longer than we are. So, if the tree is the biggest thing around, it has the longest shadow. I have an idea that where this shadow ends we'll find what we're looking for."

The rest of the searchers rushed to join him. Like creatures in some solemn procession, they walked along with heads bowed, following the path of the giant pine's shadow.

It ended upon a humped rock sticking from the heath a short way from a copse. They gathered around the rock.

"So, here it is."

"Well, what now?"

339

Matthias banged upon it with his sword hilt. It sounded quite solid, Log-a-Log scratched it, Jess jumped upon it, Orlando tried to push it. In various ways they all tried to make the rock yield up its secret, to no avail. Basil lay flat on his back on top of it, staring up at the rapidly fading day.

"Don't think much of your idea, old chap. Bit of a damp squib, wot? A rock's a rock and thaf s all this one is."

Matthias stubbed his paw against the stone. "Ouch! Listen, I'm convinced that this is it; this is where the poem says that death will open up its grave."

"Just as well we never found it," Cheek gulped.

Basil leapt from the rock. "Aha, but we might yet. I've remembered something too: our old eating game from the border scouts and foot fighters regiment. You see, we used to put out a great plate of food each, all heaped up as high as they'd go. Now, the one that threw the longest shadow won it all. Never took part meself, food's far too serious to gamble with. But on summer's day, that was different. I knew I'd win then, because you get the longest shadows of all on summer's day."

Matthias was becoming impatient. "Summer's day -what summer's day, Basil? Summer is full of days."

"So 'tis," Jabez Stump interrupted, "but to us old woodlanders there's only one summer's day: right in the middle."

Orlando nodded wisely. "Aye, thaf s midsummer's day. My dad told me that."

"Thank you!" Matthias sighed. "But where does all that get us? We don't know how far the shadow would fall on midsummer's day."

"No, we don't," Jess agreed. "However, we could make an educated guess. At least we can see the direction the shadow of the tree is going."

They spread out in a straight line from the end of the pine shadow.

"Of course, the tree might have been even taller at the time the poem was written," Jess called out. "It's very old.

and it could have lost a bit off the top in a storm or something. I wonder where the shadow would have ended?"

It was in the copse! One of Log-a-Log's shrews was first to find it. He held up his paw. "Over here, look!" he shouted excitedly.

A carved stone step screened by bushes was what they had searched for. A tew sweeps of Orlando's axe cleared die surrounding bush, revealing similar steps, a whole flight of them ran out of sight down into the ground. Matthias traced the less worn edge of the first step carefully with his paw. He looked up at them with a stunned expression on his face.

"I know what this place is!"

Orlando peered at the lettering. "Loamhed. What does it mean?"

Matthias sat upon the step, his paw at the spot where the word ended.

"The rest of it has been worn away. This was Loam-hedge. The mice who founded Redwall with Martin the Warrior came from Loamhedge Abbey. They left because of the great sickness that brought death to many creatures. I can remember when I was a little mouse at my history lessons, Great Abbot Mortimer told me of the founders. Abbess Germaine brought the Brothers and Sisters from a place called Loamhedge Abbey, but where exactly it lay nobeast knew. Now we have found it."

Matthias pushed away the overgrown grass from the side of the step, exposing a standing line of carved mice. The middle one was missing. He drew from his belt the talisman that the old rabbit had given him. It fitted neatly into the center space.

"See, here's the missing one. That fuddled old rabbit knew where old Loamhedge once was, and he gave me this because it was the only thing of value he possessed. Maybe he too was a slave one time and managed to escape from here, who knows. Great Abbot Mortimer used to say that Loamhedge was a building that was nearly as large as Redwall Abbey."

Orlando tapped the step with his axe handle. "What's it doing down there? Are they the cellar steps?"

Jabez Stump looked about the copse. "No, they couldn't be. If this Loamhedge place had been destroyed, the land would have been covered in debris and great buildin' stones. This must have happened at the dancin' of the cliffs."

Orlando scratched his stripes. "I'm completely baffled now. An Abbey called Loamhedge that was here but isn't now, and dancing of the diffs. What's it all about?"

"We Stumps lived in South Mossflower by the cliffs longer than anybeast," Jabez explained. "My old grandpa used to tell me about the days of Josh Stump, his great-great-great-grandpa. They say one day long ago our family lived atop of that cliff, but it started a-shakin' an' tremblin' as if the whole cliffs were dancin'. When it stopped, old Josh Stump he said, 'I won't live atop of no dancin' cliffs no more,' and he took the family to live down in Mossflower Woods. Never a Stump went up 'em again, until I did to search for young Jube."

Recognition dawned upon Matthias. "Of course, it must have been an earthquake long ago. That was what caused the great gorge we crossed. Yes, and those gardens we passed through. No creature ever had gardens and orchards on such bumpy land. The earth had shifted! You see what happened? Loamhedge Abbey must have been swallowed up when the ground moved. These steps would be dormitory stairs or attic steps, and the whole building must have just dropped straight down into its own cellars. Maybe even further, with the great weight of it all."

Ironbeak was determined to confront the ghost. He gave the sentries a night off. Taking Mangiz with him, he stood at the sentry post in the galleries as the last crimson sunburst hit the windows of Redwall Abbey, bathing the floor in a glorious deep rose-colored light. Mangiz watched it through swollen eyelids.

"Mayhap the mouse in armour will not walk until the middle of the night, my General/' he said wearily.

"Yarrak! Mayhap it does not walk at all, fool. Mayhap it does not exist. That is what I have brought you here to prove. Tired eyes of dozy rooks will see frogs fly or atones lay eggs. I am Ironbeak, I know better than to believe such things. So should you."

Mangiz held his counsel, deciding discretion was the better part of valor.

The sparrow who had been watching them from a slit window made his report to Cornflower and Constance.

"Bird say you no come, black crow worm no so sure. Both wait above Great Hallplace, now."

Baby Rollo was having imaginary adventures dressed in the helmet of the Warrior. He waved the sword frantically, singing aloud:

"Kill a bird wivout a word,

Hit a black rook wiv a heavy book.

Bang a crow an' make him go. . . ."

Cornflower relieved him of the wooden sword. "Stop waving that thing about, Rollo. You'll put somebeasf s eye out with it. So, the General is waiting for the ghost to walk again. Let him wait. When it gets dark enough he won't be disappointed. The spirit of Martin the Warrior will roam abroad."

Constance gently polished the burnished breastplate. "You must be careful. He won't be as easy to fool as those two last night. 1 think we need a more intricate plan this time."

Cornflower laughed. "Good, then lef s sit here a good kmg while and think up a clever scheme. Don't forget, it was our turn on supper duty tonight, but we'll be excused because we're working for the Abbey war effort. John Churchmouse and Ambrose Spike will have to cook the supper."

Constance stifled a giggle. "Oh no! John and Ambrose, there'll be war in the kitchen when those two meet over the cooking pots. Right, down to business. Let's get our thinking caps on."

The rooks of General Ironbeak were perched in the dormitory. They listened in awed silence as Grubclaw and Ragwing related their encounter with the Abbey ghost, especially as the two rooks were not above adding bits to make it a good story now that Ironbeak and Mangiz were not there.

"Hakka! It was dark out there last night. I could feel in my feathers that something was going to happen," Ragdaw began.

"Kraak! Me too. It was darker and gloomier than the bottom of a northland well. So Ragwing and I stood sentry with beaks and daws at the ready for any funny business, didn't we, bird?" Grubdaw added.

"Aye, we did that. Then suddenly Grubdaw says to me, 'Ragwing, can you see that shadow down there?'"

"How could you see a shadow if it was pitch-black?" a rook interrupted.

"Well, er, er. It was the moonlight coming in through the windows. Yes, thafs right it was the moonlight, anyhow"

The rook butted in again. "Kaah! What a load of old eggshells. It was dark as a northland well, but with moonlight shining through the windows."

Grubclaw ruffled his feathers airily. "Kragga! Who is telling this, you or us? We know what we saw. But we can keep it to ourselves if you start making fun of us."

TTie other rooks silenced the interrupter.

"We saw a shadow in the moonlight," Ragwing continued. "Well, at first we thought it was a shadow, but when we looked closer it was an earthcrawler."

Grubclaw nodded solemnly. "A ghost mouse, all in armour. It seemed to appear from nowhere. Crook! It was carrying a long sword and it had no face. It moved like a

feather in the breeze. I think it was floating, don't you, Ragwing?"

"Yes, it definitely floated. And another thing, it carried the long sword as if it weighed nothing. It must have had great spirit strength. The cold lights burned from its eyes like fire in ice"

"I thought you said it had no face. How could it have burning eyes?"

"Yaggah! Will you shut your beak and listen? It was, it was, er, the white moonlight shining on it, yes, it made the face that this ghost didn't have look like two burning eyes. Haak! We saw it, I swear on my egg and nest. Isn't that right, mate?"

"True, true. It seemed to know we were watching it, because it turned to face us. We perched there, ready to attack if the ghost mouse tried anything."

"And did it? Try anything, I mean?"

"Krakkah! Did it! Well, it pointed with this great sharp sword and said; T)eath to all who stay in the redhouse!'"

"Aye, that's the very words it said. But the voice! Kaah! It was like thunder over mountains, I wonder you lot didn't hear it."

"We were sleeping. So, what did you do?"

"Haak! I'll tell you what we did, we shook our daws at it and said; 'You come any closer, ghost, and you'U have us to deal with. Stop there while we go and bring General Ironbeak our Chief,'" Grubwing embroidered.

"Aye, we backed off, ready to give a good fight if it came floating up to the galleries. Ironbeak and Mangiz came out, Mangiz was shaking like a fledgling whose mother has left it," Ragwing added.

"What did Ironbeak do?"

"Kaah, him! He flew about a bit and could not find the ghost, so he said he didn't believe us and flew off to get some sleep."

"So where did the ghost mouse go to?"

"Yakkah! I don't know. To the place where other ghost mice go, I suppose."

"You mean, there might be others?"

"Kagg! I'm not saying anything, but I wouldn't be surprised at all. The big door was open wide, Ironbeak couldn't deny that."

The conversation carried on, getting more horrific with each imagined detail until some of Ironbeak's fighters decided that conquering the redstone house was not such a good idea.

"Did you see Mangiz today? He was badly knocked about."

"Yagg! Do you think the ghosts had something to do with it?"

Ambrose Spike threw a careless pawful of hotroot into the simmering watershrimp soup.

John Churchmouse glared at the hedgehog over the top of-his steamed-up glasses. "Ambrose, the recipe says half a spoon of hotroot. Why didn't you measure it?"

The old hedgehog bustled John to one side. "Don't tell me how to make shrimp and hotroot soup. I learned my recipe from otters. A pawful, thaf s what you need. Lef s see if mat roseleaf and cowslip custard is ready."

"Don't you dare touch my custard, you rough-pawed cellar keeper. If 11 be ruined if you open that oven too soon. Come away."

Ambrose could not get past John to open the oven. He snorted and began furiously kneading nuts into a batch of honeysuckle scones. John rugged his whiskers in despair.

"Honeysuckle scones have a delicate flavour all of their own. Sister Agnes's recipe calls for beechnuts, but you've put acorns and hazelnuts in. Where did those beechnuts I shelled go to?"

Ambrose wrinkled his snout and kneaded faster. "Oh, those. I ate 'em. There was only a few. I'm very partial to a beechnut now and again."

John clapped a paw to his brow. "You didn't wash your paws. The whole batch will taste of hotroot!"

Ambrose grinned wickedly. "So what? Ginger 'em up a bit. Give them more blackberry wine to drink and they 'won't notice the difference. Come on, quill-pusher, get those onions peeled."

John flung down his oven cloth. "Peel them yourself, barrel-minder!"

Late that night a breeze sprang up. Clouds scudded across the moon, sending shifting patterns over the Abbey floor beneath Ironbeak and Mangiz. The Methuselah and Matthias bells rang briefly, stopping abruptly to leave an eerie silence in their wake.

"How can the bells toll when we have the earth-crawlers trapped in that room below?" Mangiz murmured to Ironbeak.

"Kagga! Hold your beak," Ironbeak silenced him. "I don't know how they rang the bells and I don't care. It might be a diversion to stop us watching here. Keep your eyes on the floor below, over by the big door."

They waited and watched.

So did the rooks from the dormitory, who had sneaked out on to the far corner of the galleries. Curiosity had overcome their General's command to stay in the dormitory. They had to see for themselves.

The main Abbey door creaked on its hinges, slowly opening.

The raven and the crow held their breath as they watched it. A few dried leaves drifted in on the sighing breeze, pale moon patterns swayed on the worn stone floor, and the darkness in shadowy corners seemed to grow deeper.

The tomblike silence was broken by a voice like rolling thunder:

"Death waits in this place for those who stay!"

Mangiz felt the feathers on his back rise as if a cold paw had touched them.

The ghostly phantom appeared. It came in slowly by

347

the doorway, halted, looked up at Ironbeak and pointed with the sword.

"See, General, there it is, the armoured mouse!" Mangiz exclaimed.

Ironbeak buffeted the crow savagely. "Shuttup, idiot. I'm going to deal with this once and for all!"

The raven went into a short run. He hurled himself over the galleries and sped towards the floor of Great Hall.

The apparition took one pace backward and vanished completely!

There was a cry of horror from the rooks. General Ironbeak skidded to a halt. Landing clumsily in his haste, he bowled over in a bundle of feathers. Swiftly regaining his balance, he dashed outside. It was mere seconds since the ghost had disappeared, but the grounds in front of the Abbey were completely deserted.

Ironbeak whirled about, baffled. He tore at the grass with his talons before rushing back inside. Hither and thither he darted about on the floorstones. Finally he halted, his powerful frame heaving with exertion. Looking upward, he sought something to vent his rage upon. The rooks in the corner of the gallery! They cackled as they dashed to get back to the dormitory, but Ironbeak was swiftly among them, lashing out left and right, tearing with his claws, slamming with strong wings and hitting out with his vicious beak.

"Yaggah, krakkah! Why did you not fly down and catch the thing? You were closer than I was. Get back to your perches, you swamp flies. Go on, out of my sight, you soft-beaked craven! You will forget what you saw here. It was only a trick of the moonlight. If I hear one bird speak of it I will break his wings!"

The rooks fled the scene, with Ironbeak chasing them. Mangiz slipped away quietly from the other end of the galleries, not wanting to face his General's rage. Great Hall lay quiet and still once more.

Behind the half-open door, Constance and Foremole folded the black doth which they had used to make Cornflower vanish. The three Redwallers slid silently from the Great Hall, out into the tunnel and back to Cavern Hole, where supper was set out ready for them.

The Abbot took the sword from Cornflower as she unbuckled the armour. "Well, how did it go?" he asked anxiously.

"Perfect, Father Abbot. I appeared, the birds were terrified, the raven flew at me. It was perfect."

"Ironbeak flew at you? How did you escape?"

"Easily. Constance and Foremole tossed the black doth over me, I dodged round the door and we all hid behind it. Ironbeak searched outside and inside, but he didn't look behind the door."

Foremole wrinkled his nose. "Yurr, these scones tastes loik 'otroot. Burr, gimme watter. There be enuff 'otroot in yon soops to set afire to you'm!"

Ambrose gave him a look of injured dignity. "Try some of the roseleaf and cowslip custard."

The Abbot prodded it gingerly. "Oh, is that what it is? I thought it was a collapsed bird's nest."

Ambrose sniffed and went off to the wine cellar with his snout in the air. "Well, I enjoyed it. You lot don't deserve a good cook!"

Night had fallen over the copse. Matthias and Orlando sat upon the step, putting an edge to axe and sword against the stone. Shrews filled their sting pouches, Basil ate his fill, and Cheek and jess fashioned javelins, hardening their points over the campfire. Daggers, swords and knives were tested, bows made from strong green boughs, arrows tipped and hardened in the fire. It was but a few hours to dawn when all the preparations were completed. They lay down to take a brief rest.

Before they slept Matthias, Jess, Orlando and Jabez stood above the stone step. They held paws foursquare and swore a solemn oath.

"At dawn we will go down those steps. We will not come back up without our young ones, nor will we come up if the fox still lives."

Orlando turned to the five shivering weasel captives and pointed his axe at them.

"Get yourselves ready, because you'll be going down first."

350

44

The fighting rooks of General Ironbeak were badly frightened. At first it had been exciting to perch and talk of the ghost, when none of them really believed there was one. But now they had seen it with their own eyes, a terrifying phantom that uttered dire warnings. Ironbeak himself could not harm it; the tiling had vanished completely in a trice.

All through the night the sentry posts had been deserted while the rooks huddled together in the darkened dormitory, whispering of the awesome event. Grubclaw and Ragwing had been right, so had the wise Mangjz; the great redstone house was a bad place to be. The advent of a golden sunlit morning did little to change their minds.

That task was left to General Ironbeak, and he set about it with gusto. Sunrays flooded through the broken dormitory window, turning the raven leader's black wings an iridescent green, flecked with tinges of blue. He paced up and down with an aggressive rolling gait as he confronted his command.

"Yaggah! You cuckoo-brained bunch, can you not see it is all a trick the earthcrawlers are playing on us?"

The rooks shifted uneasily, inspecting their feathers or staring down at their daws. Some of them looked to

35!

Mangjz, but the crow had distanced himself from the whole thing by perching upon a cupboard with his eyes dosed.

Ironbeak carried on ranting. "Kaah! I flew down to attack this so-called ghost, and did it strike me dead, did it attack me, did it even stay to defend its Abbey? No, it hid away by some silly little trick. It fooled you all, but it did not fool Ironbeak, nor did it scare him. I am the greatest fighter in all the northlands. An earthcrawler mouse with bits of metal does not scare me. I will face it right now, or in the middle of a dark night. Mangiz, is what I say true?"

The seer crow opened one eye. He knew better than to argue with the raven leader.

"The mighty Ironbeak fears no living thing. He speaks true."

Baby Rollo was taking cooking lessons. Brother Dan and Gaffer were teaching him to make breakfast pancakes of chestnut flour and greensap milk, studded with dried damson pieces preserved in honey sugar. The infant bankvole was far more concerned with the tossing of the pancakes than the mixing of them. Brother Dan was up to his paws in the sticky mixture, and blobs of it dung to his ears and nosetip. Gaffer discovered he had a sweet tooth for preserved damson pieces. The mole sorted through the supply for the choicest bits and promptly ate them.

Winifred the Otter caught all three of them like guilty young ones as she entered the kitchen. ~~

'What's the hold-up out here? There's a lot of hungry creatures waiting for breakfast out in the Well, swish my tail! What in the good name of bulrushes is going on? Rollo, stop sticking those pancakes to the ceiling, this instant!"

Rollo was in the act of throwing a pancake from the pan at the ceiling. He stopped, and the pancake flopped neatly over his head, covering him to the neck. Another

pancake slowly detached itself from the ceiling and began to fall. Winifred grabbed a plate and ran to catch it.

"Brother Dan, stop playing round with that batter like a hedgehog in mud and help me."

Winifred caught the falling pancake as Brother Dan took a plate in his sticky paws and went after another potential dropper. Gaffer began trying to remove the pancake from baby Rollo's head. The infant had eaten a hole in it to give himself some breathing space. Sensibly, Gaffer began eating from between Rollo's ears.

"Hurr, bain't gonna pull this'n offa you'm, Rollyo. Best scoff away both'n uz 'til it be gone. Hurr hurr!"

Cornflower appeared in the kitchen doorway. She tried to look very forbidding, while at the same time doing her best to stifle the laughter that was bubbling through at the comical scene.

"Shame on all four of you, hahaha, er, hmph! What on earth are you doing, heeheehee, ahem! Gaffer, will you stop trying to eat that infant's head and remove the pancake with some flou-flou-hahahahaoheehee! Flour!"

As she spoke, a pancake dropped from the ceiling squarely onto her nose and hung there like a tabledoth.

The five of them sat down upon the kitchen floor, laughing uproariously, holding their aching sides as tears rolled unchecked down their cheeks.

"Waaaahahahahohohoheeheehee! If s a good job we hadn't ordered porridge for breakfast."

"Hoohoohurrhurrhurr! Nor soo - soo - hurr, hurr, soup, missus!"

The happy laughter rang spontaneously out. It was a great relief to have a pause of merriment after so much siege and sorrow.

Far out upon the western plain, a great dark red bird crashed to earth among the dandelions and kingcups and lay among the yellow flowers like a red sandstone rock. The great bird's sides heaved and her neck pulsed as she greedily sucked in air. Her eyes dilated and

352

353

contracted, fearsome orbs of tawny umber, flecked with turquoise and centered with gleaming black, as she scanned the blue sky above for predators.

One wing tucked neatly across her back, the other hanging limply at her side, she made a flapping run and gained the air. The red bird flew with a painful rolling motion, the injured wing flopping lower than the good one. Flight was becoming too difficult to sustain, so she came to earth again, this time in a rolling heap of feathers as she struck the plain floor, scattering buttercup petals in all directions.

The great bird rested momentarily, her huge curved beak gaping open, tongue hanging to one side. Doggedly struggling to her legs, she walked for a while, the injured wing trailing limply in the dust, her eyes fixed upon the building in the distance at the woodland edge. It was not so open there. Her beloved mountains were too far away, so she would try to make the building before sunset. There would be places where she could lie and rest, nooks and crannies where she could not be caught out. The open plains made her feel vulnerable; in flight she was a redoubtable hunter and fighter, but crippled like this she could only keep low and hope there were no flocks of other birds abroad that would relish the chance to attack an injured bird on the ground.

Flapping and hopping, scrambling and crawling, the great red bird made her way east towards the b.'Uding which offered refuge.

On the far flung south reaches of the plateau lands, dawn

broke placidly over the copse. Matthias rose and picked

up his sword.

"A good day to settle business, Orlando." The badger shouldered his axe. "We travelled a long

way to see this dawn, my friend. A good day." All around, shrews were girding themselves up for

war; bows, arrows, slings, lances, even dubs were got

ready. As Basil lugged the five weasel prisoners along on

a makeshift lead, they wailed pitifully:

"No, no, please, don't make us go down there!"

"We'll be killed, we won't stand a chance!"

"We have no weapons, we'll be slain!"

Basil tugged the lead sharply. "C'mon, step lively there, you wingeing weasels. You've lived like cowards; try to die like heroes. Hmph! Fat chance o' that, eh, laddie buck? Stop snivellin' and wipe your nose, you villainous vermin."

They broke away from Basil's grasp and flung themselves in front of Matthias, grovelling shamelessly.

"Spare us please, sir, spare us!"

Sir Harry flapped down from an alder.

"There's nothing affects a craven Like the thought of sudden death. The idea he might not see the night Or draw another breath."

Orlando kicked a weasel in the rump as he stepped over the prostrate creatures.

"You know, Matthias, these scum aren't going to be a bit of good down there. They'll probably give the game away with all their sobbing and bawling. Shuttup, you snivelling snotnoses, or I'll finish you here and now!"

The weasels fell silent. Matthias leaned on his sword, stroking his whiskers.

"You've got a good point there, Orlando, but what do we do with them if we don't send them ahead of us on the stairs?"

Orlando hefted his battleaxe. "Let me finish 'em off now, and save a lot of trouble."

The weasels began moaning afresh. "Stop that crying. CXyou hear me, stoppit!" Matthias snorted impatiently. "Right, here's what we'll do, Orlando. I couldn't let you kill them in cold blood, that isn't our way. We'll set them going southward. Sir Harry, would you accompany them on their way to make sure they keep going? Sorry about this, but there probably won't be a lot of space down there for you to fly about, and you'd get into trouble under the ground."

354

355

Sir Harry shrugged.

"As you wish, as you wish, Matthias. We each have a role to be filled. I'll take these weasels south for a bit. But the first one to cry gets killed!"

The owl picked the lead rope up in his beak and flapped off, with the five weasels stumbling and hurrying behind him.

Basil watched them go. "Pity about old Harry. He looked a bit peeved to me. D'you think he's gone off in a huff, Matthias?"

The warrior mouse nodded. "I've no doubt he has. Don't worry, he'll be back. Meanwhile, I'd like a last word with everybeast. Gather round and listen to what I have to say to you."

The small army squatted in the copse, while Matthias stood on the top stair of old Loamhedge and addressed them.

"First, I want to thank you all for your help and for coming this far with me. You have left your homes and territories far behind. Orlando, -Jess, Jabez and myself have good reason to live or die today. You see, we have young ones to rescue. The rest of you, I cannot ask you to sacrifice your lives for our cause; they are not your young ones down there."

Basil Stag Hare stood up. "Beg pardon, old lad, but young Tim and Tess are down there. Whaf d my old chum John Churchmouse and his good lady wife say if I came back empty-pawed without their young uns? Coming with you? I'll say I am, bucko. You try and stop B. S. Hare esquire!"

Cheek stood by the hare. "I'm with Basil. He's a grumpy ol' frump and I like him, so there!"

Basil and Cheek went to stand with Matthias. Log-a-Log drew his short sword.

"Shrews and Guosim are friends of Redwall. I never started a job that I didn't finish. I go with you."

The whole of the Guosim moved as one with Log-a-Log to stand at Matthias's side.

Orlando raised his huge axe. His voice was tight with eagerness as he called: "Come on, Warrior, what are we waiting for?"

Mattimeo and the slaves had been taken from their darkened cell. Nadaz and several black-robed rats led them to the edge of the ledge where the statue stood. They were permitted to look over into the depths.

Through the greenish mist, Mattimeo could make out the thin bedraggled forms of scores of young creatures: squirrels, otters, hedgehogs, mice. They were hauling huge blocks of stone on towropes, and rats stood guard over them with whips and cudgels, urging them with heavy blows to greater efforts. Other young ones were lifting the stone blocks into position with pulleys and tackles, while yet other young woodlanders laid mortar and limestone cement in the gaps that were to receive the stones. Sometimes a young creature would cry out and fall over exhausted, only to be beaten by the rats until he or she got up, or lay permanently still.

Numbed by the horror of it, the new slaves were led before the statue and forced to bow their heads whilst Nadaz spoke to Malkariss.

"I am Nadaz, Voice of the Host. O Ruler of all below earth, these are your new servants. What do you require me to do with them?"

The hairs rose on Mattimeo's neck at the sound of the voice emanating from the crystal-toothed statue's mouth.

"They have looked upon my kingdom. Soon they will have the honour of building it for me," it proclaimed.

From his bowed position, Mattimeo glanced along the line. He saw Vitch chained and held by two rats. The young mouse nudged Tess.

"Look who's there, our little slave-driver being rewarded for his services. I hope they chain me next to him for a while down there."

356

357

less stamped her paw hard against the ledge, her eyes blazing. "They can chain me next to who they like, but I'm not building any filthy underground kingdom for a talking statue!"

The young churchmouse's angry tones echoed around the rocky cavern. There was a brief silence, then Malkariss spoke again.

"Take them back and lock them away without light, food or water. They are not ready to serve me yet."

As they were led up the gloomy winding passages, Tess began to weep. "Oh, I'm sorry I spoke out. I've caused you all to be locked in the dark and starved again."

"No, you haven't," Cynthia Bankvole said bravely. "I'd rather starve than be beaten to death like those poor creatures."

Auma seconded her, "Aye, don't worry, Tess. If you hadn't spoken out, I would have."

"Thafs it friends, we stick together. Redwallll!" Mattimeo's voice rang out like the Abbey bells.

He was knocked fiat with the butt of a spear before they were flung back into their darkened prison.

45

It was midafternoon, and Redwall lay quiet under the heat haze. Hardly a leaf stirred in the vasmess of Mossflower beyond the north and east walls, and the plains shimmered and danced, making the horizon indistinguishable.

Down below in Cavern Hole depression had set in. It had started when little Rollo and a baby fieldmouse wanted to go out to play. Naturally the Abbot had to forbid any such idea with the birds about, so Ambrose Spike took them to play down in his wine cellar. Cornflower fanned herself with a dockleaf. The heat seemed to have penetrated the stones, even down to Cavern Hole, where it was usually cool.

"Poor Rollo, he did so want to go out to play on the grass. I remember Mattimeo, Tim and Tess used to go out in the orchard. Sam Squirrel would teach them to climb the apple and pear trees, and that sweet chestnut over by the gooseberry patch."

Abbot Mordalfus mopped his brow with his habit sleeve. "Ah yes, he was a scamp, that Sam Squirrel. Mind you, so was I at their age. I used to get sent off to bed for dashing around the top of the outer wall when I was a young one. Ha ha, old Sister Fem used to say it gave her dizzy spells just watching me. Phew! I don't know about

358

359

Rollo, but I could certainly do with a stroll outside in the grounds. If s hot in here."

Mrs. Churdunouse dosed her eyes dreamily. "Mmmm, I'd love to be sitting dabbling my paws in the pond on an afternoon like this."

Foremole tugged his snout obligingly. "Burr, ifn you'm laydeez ud loik to wet you'm paws, oi'll take you'm thro' yon tunnel to pond."

Winifred the Otter sprang up. "What a good idea! Oh, would you please let us go. Father Abbot? We'll be careful, I promise we will. The first sign of a rook and we'll pop into that hole like moles, pardon the expression."

Abbot Mordalfus took his spectacles off. Smiling indulgently, he settled back in his chair.

"Well, if s pretty certain I won't get any rest with you chattering creatures about. Of course you may go, but don't stay out too long and be very careful. I'll stop here and take a nap."

Foremole was first into the tunnel. "Age afore booty. Foller me, gennelbeasts."

The Abbot settled back in his chair with a sigh. A ray of sunlight crossing Great Hall penetrated down the stairs across the barricade top and shone in his eyes. He watched the small golden dust flecks dancing in it, his eyes gradually dosing as he drifted into h;s noontide nap.

Cornflower came wriggling back down the tunnel, followed by her companions. She scurried from the entrance and, not bothering to dust herself down, began shaking the sleepy Abbot by the paw.

"Wake up, wake up, Father Abbot, quickly! They're attacking it, the poor thing. Oh, ifll be killed if we don't do something."

The Abbot blinked and jumped up. "Eh, what? Attacking what poor thing, where?"

Winifred grabbed his other paw. "A big rusty-colored

ft

f bird, much bigger than Ironbeak's lot. If s over by the

pond and the rooks are attacking it. Oh, I'm sure it isn't

an invader. We've got to help it." The Abbot leapt into action.

"Find Constance quickly. Get any available moles and v bring them here."

; A moment later, Constance rushed in from the I kitchens, covered in flour with a bunch of scallions in her f paw. She dimbed into the tunnel, shouting orders: '", "Everybeast stay here except the moles. Send them

after me. I'll deal with this!"

V In front of the pond the great red bird lay. With one final

effort she had flown over the outer Abbey wall, landing I with a thud on the soft gatehouse garden soil. Seeing the ~ water glint in the afternoon sun, she hauled herself ;; painfully over to drink at the pond. The throat of the ^ great red bird was dry, her tongue parched, spots ; danced before her eyes. Crazily she staggered and I wobbled towards the water. Next instant she was \ harried by three rooks who descended upon her. They pecked and dragged at the great red bird, lashing out ' with their clawing talons. Half unconscious and defenceless, she lay at their mercy. ; Foremole was awaiting Constance's arrival up the

tunnel.

r "O'er thurr, stroipmarm," he said, pointing to the 5 scene of the attack. "They'm akillen yon burd, they gurt \ bullies!"

Constance hurtled from the tunnel and was upon the

;, rooks before they knew what was happening.

' She bulled the first one straight into the pond and

cuffed the next one high into the air with a quick hefty

, paw. The third rook took oft, leaving most of his

tailfeathers between the badger's teeth. The attackers

flew squawking through the broken dormitory window,

terrified to look back lest the big badger was coming after ; them.

360

361

Swiftly Constance began dragging the great red bird to the tunnel. It raised its head feebly and tried to attack the badger. Constance narrowly avoided the fierce curved beak but took several scratches from the powerful talons before she stunned the already half-unconscious bird with a smart tap of her paw between its eyes.

"Sorry, but if s for your own good, you silly great thing. Here, Foremole, which end do you want?"

Foremole scrambled from the tunnel, leaving three of his crew ready to receive the burden.

"You'm leave et f me, marm. Yurr, Jarge, oi'm asendin' burd in 'ead hirst, save reverse feather draggen. Chuck yon rope round they daws. Oi'll tie beak. Gaffer, be you'm ready wi' grease case'n et be too woid in beam."

Ironbeak and Mangiz flew through the dormitory window with several rooks. They landed where the attack had taken place. The General looked particularly bad-tempered after being disturbed at his noontide roost.

"Yakkah! First it is ghost mice, now we have a great disappearing red bird. Where is it, fools?

"It was right there. General. We pecked it and scratched it "

"Yes, yes. And what happened then?"

"The big earthcrawler, the stripedog, it tried to slay us."

"So you turned tail and flew off," Ironbeak said scornfully.

"Chief, there was nothing else we could do. That stripedog is a wild beast!"

"How long ago did this take place?"

"Only a moment back, Ironbeak. We were at the dormitory window when we saw this big rusty-looking bird come over the wall. It must have been ill because it flapped and flopped about like a new eggchick."

"So you attacked it?"

"Oh yes. Chief. We gave it a good clawing and beaking"

362

"And you killed it!"

, "Yes, er, no. I mean, we were going to, when the earthcrawler came."

"Where did the stripedog come from?"

"Search me!"

Ironbeak buffeted the insolent rook flat. He ground his talons against its beak and pecked it hard upon its leg.

"Kaah! Out of my sight, nettlehead, I think the sun in this warm land has addled your brains. First you see a great bird, then you are attacked by the stripedog, and mat was only the flick of a feather ago. Now there is no sign of the earthcrawler and the big bird has vanished too. Maybe they are both hiding underwater in that pool. Shall I throw you in so that you can search them out?"

"The stripedog has already done that, by the look of Grubclaw," Mangiz interrupted.

Ironbeak shook his head sadly. "Gaah! You too. You make me sick, all of you. Watch this."

The raven spread his wings and hopped about near the pond cawing aloud, "Earthcrawler! Rustybird! Come out and fight me. It is I, General Ironbeak, terror of the

northlands!" There was no response. The raven turned to Mangiz

and the rooks.

"See? It is the same as the ghost mouse. Get out of my sight, the useless lot of you!"

From the hidden tunnel entrance in the shrubbery by the rushes. Brother Sedge chuckled quietly. "Oh dear, oh dear, whatever next?"

The great red bird was taken into Ambrose Spike's wine cellar. It was cool and spacious there.

John Churchmouse walked around it awestruck. "Whew! That is a large bird. I've never seen one like it before. What sort of bird do you think it is, Mordalfus?"

The Abbot looked up from the deep scratch he was attending to, "I don't know, John. This is a very strange

363

bird. It is not a woodlander, nor does it live on the plain, or we would have seen it from the Abbey walls. I wonder what brought it here."

Sister May worked at the other side of the bird. She laid herbs and dabbed lotions on wounds, bandaging wherever possible.

"Poor thing, she's taken quite a savage beating."

The bird kicked and tried to raise its head. Sister May leapt up.

"Oh dear. Look out, she's coming round!" she warned.

The huge flecked eyes with their dark irises snapped open.

Constance beckoned the onlookers away. "Sister May, Abbot, would you carry on with your healing? The rest of you go back to Cavern Hole. I don't want this creature to feel surrounded. Cornflower, pass me those scissors, please."

She snipped at the beak and leg fastenings. "We mean you no harm. You are among friends. Lie still," she said gently. "You have been hurt."

The bird groaned and lay back. "Werra diss?" it asked, in a strange accent.

The Abbot recognized the tongue. "She speaks like the mountain hawks and eagles. I'm sure she understands us, though. Hello, I am called Abbot, she is Sister May and she is Constance. This place is Red wall. We will make your hurts better. Who are you?"

Sister May worked on a deep gash in the bird's leg. "This will take a stitch. Be still, please. I want to help you."

The bird lay patiently watching her. It spoke again: "I be still please. Diss bird called Stryk Redkite, comin' from allrock allrock."

The Abbot wiped grease from a neckfeather. "Ah, a great red kite, a mountain bird. I've read of them in our old records, but I've never seen one until now. Most impressive. Well, Stryk Redkite, lie quiet while we try and heal you."

"Stryk need waterdrinks."

"Oh, right. Constance, would you ask Cornflower to bring water for our guest. Tell me, Stryk, is your wing broken?"

Slowly, painfully, the big bird stood. She looked indignantly at the frail old Abbot. "Stryk Redkite mighty flyer!"

Sister May wagged an admonishing paw at the bird. "Stryk Redkite mighty fibber. Look at that wing. It's totally useless, and I'll wager you've been making it worse by trying to fly with it."

The red kite limped sulkily off into a corner and huddled down.

"Rockslip, nestfall, Phweekl Who needs fly? Stay now, here with friends, with Habbot, with Sissismay."

Sister May took the water from Cornflower and held it up to the huge hunting bird.

"Thaf s all very well, but you'd better be on your best behaviour. And my name is Sister May. Say it, Sister. . .

May!" "Sissismay, goodan' very fierce!"

364

365

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

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

Basil was back shortly with some information.

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

Matthias tried to form a plan in his head as he

366

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

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

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

They stole off, right down the broad torchlit corridor.

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

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

367

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

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

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

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

368

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

"After them!"

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

Mattimeo sat up in the darkness. "Listen, whafs that?

Something's going on out there!" he said excitedly. They crowded round the door, banging and shouting. "In here, in here! Help us, we're Redwallers!" But they were shouting to an empty corridor. The

sounds of the chase died away into the distance.

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

The voice from the idol rang out:

"This is your doing, fox. You were followed here. I will deal with you later. Nadaz, tell your fighters to surround

369

this statue. Sound the alarm, throw the whole weight of my host against these impudent intruders!"

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

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

"Redwall! Mossflower! Logalogalogalog!"

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

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

"Drive them back, we've got to stop them getting onto this ledge!" Matthias shouted.

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

"Eeeeeuuulaliaaaaa!"

The maddened badger went in like a battering ram. Rats who tried to back out of his way were driven over the edge of the ledge and plunged screaming into the green misted depths. Matthias was filled with battle rage. He tried hard to keep a level head, using all the time-honored skills of the true warrior swordsmouse. Sweep, slice, deave, thrust; he worked like a machine, relentlessly battling great odds. Jess was different, she

370

leapt and bounded, stabbing left and right, blood flowing from her tail like a scarlet ribbon. Though the stabbing spears were unwieldy at any great range, they were proving effective at dose quarters. None of the blackrobes spoke or shouted. They formed flying wedges, charging individual attackers, often breaking to surround them in a stabbing ring of spearpoints.

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

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

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

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

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

Basil watched him go, shaking his head and smiling. Hardnosed young blighter, bit like m'self when I was a nipper, he thought. 'Tire! Now drop down an' reload, shrews. That's the stuff f give the troops!"

The battle raged back and forth as Nadaz pounded the war alarm. The booming drumbeats echoed around the rocks as arrows flew, stingers hurled and spears stabbed. Matthias looked wildly about amid the melee. His forces were vastly outnumbered and still rats were waiting on the causeway steps in droves. Breaking dear of the fray,

the warrior mouse yelled aloud, "Retreat! Retreat! Take your wounded and get back to the passage we came in by!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

372

"Will / listen to that young rip? Shortly we'll all be slaughtered, and there he is calling names like a vole-maid at a tea party. Haha, the little bucko, good for him! I say, old Log-a-tfung, stay still. You'll only make that scratch worse, /know."

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

"If s a bad one, mate, I'm out of it," he said, rasping harshly.

Basil waggled his ears encouragingly. "Poppycock, old lad. We'll have you as good as new shortly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're afraid! It's all right when you have your horde

373

with you, but on your own, ha! You're nothing but a coward. Send anybeast out, then. I am Matthias of Redwall, I am a warrior who does not know fear. Are there any among you like me, or are you all spineless scum?"

The black-robed rats turned to look at Nadaz.

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

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

Orlando placed a heavy paw upon Matthias.

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

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

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

Nadaz made an evil, sniggering noise.

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

374

47

Sister May and Cornflower had tried to feed Stryk with Abbey fare, but the red kite was no vegetarian, so they finally compromised by giving the great hunting bird a net of watershrimp. Stryk had taken to the comer of the wine cellar, and she settled down to sleep on a pile of moss and sacking.

"Stay out of Mr. Spike's wine cellar, little one," Sister May warned baby Rollo. "Never go down there alone. We can't take chances with a bird like that one."

"Huh, hope it doesn't get a taste for October ale or elderberry wine, great hulkin' thing like that'd empty my cellar," Ambrose Spike grumbled into an apple and blackberry pie wedge.

The Abbot looked over the top of his spectacles. "No quicker than the average cellar-keeper could empty a larder. You're right, Sister May, Stryk is a fine big bird, but she is not used to our ways. Pity about her wing. She's very proud. Did you see the way she got huffy when I remarked that it was broken? I'd like to take a look at it sometime."

Cornflower stopped Rollo roaming in the direction of the wine cellar and sat the mischievous infant on her lap.

"Poor thing," Sister May said sympathetically. "Apparently she buUt her nest on a piece of branch sticking out

375

from the mountain. Then one night the branch rotted and the nest fell. She struck her wing awkwardly on a jagged rock and broke it. Stryk said that she lay in the ruined nest for many days, unable to move. She had no mate to defend her and she was attacked by other birds. Finally she forced herself to fly. Bit by bit she made her way across the western plain, looking for somewhere to shelter, and that was when she saw our Abbey."

Constance came in mopping her brow. "Still hot out there. Where's the big bird? Asleep? What a sizr! I'll bet she could almost lift me. D*you think she'll ever fly again, Abbot?"

"I don't know, Constance. Maybe if we could look at her wing we'd be able to tell. However, big red kites aren't our present worry, it's ravens, crows and rooks I'm concerned with. Cornflower, you must stop this masquerade as Martin the Warrior. I know it annoys Ironbeak, but it isn't getting us anywhere. There's another reason also. That raven is no fool, and sooner or later he'll be a bit quicker than us and he'll catch you. There's too much risk involved, you'll have to give it up."

Cornflower became indignant. "But Father Abbot, when I get dressed up as the ghost I know it upsets Ironbeak, and thaf s why I must continue. It has also started to demoralize his rooks. They're scared, and the crow - wotsisname, Mangiz - he's frightened of me too, I can tell. That crow is a very superstitious bird and the others take notice of him. Let me do it just one more time tonight. Please!"

Mordalfus polished his glasses. "Cornflower, you're a bigger mischief-maker than your son and a fighter as brave as your husband. Make tonight the last time that you haunt our Abbey."

Baby Rollo had dozed off, and Cornflower placed the sleeping infant in the Abbot's lap.

"I will, thank you. Father Abbot. Sister May, come on, we have work to do if the ghost is to walk again tonight. Come on, Constance, we need you for the voice of Martin."

376

The Abbot stroked Rollo's head. "And I'm left holding the baby, as usual!"

Ironbeak sat at the broken dormitory window and related his troubles to Mangiz.

"Warrior mouse ghosts, big red birds; what next, my seer? The earthcrawlers are down in that Cavern place where we cannot get at them. I have conquered nearly all this great redstone house from the roof down and I cannot let it slip away from me. If I were forced to leave here, we would have to go back to the northlands. They are cold and hard, Mangiz, and it is all fight and no food. We are getting older and could not face many more winters in the north. Tell me, Mangiz, have your visions come back? Are you seeing anything in the eye of your mind again?"

"My General, you were right," Mangiz said readih/, glad that he was back in favor. "I see the ghost mouse was only a trick of the earthcrawlers to frighten us from here. As for the great rustybird, kachah! It was only the imagination of scared rooks. The heatwaves shimmer and dance in this country, and you could see more strange things than on a dark night in the northlands."

Ironbeak was heartened. "Well spoken, Mangiz, my strong right wing. What else do you see? Are the omens good for your General?"

"The omens are good. It all becomes clear as water now. Ironbeak, you and I will live a good and easy life in this redstone house, the food will be plenty and the seasons good, winter's cold will not harm us in this place surrounded by tall woodland. When the earthcrawlers get tired of playing their silly little games, we will catch them all out in the open, and that day they will be slain. Then there will be none left to oppose us. This I see truly, my General."

Ironbeak stood and stretched his wings, and Mangiz ducked to avoid being knocked out of the window.

"Kachakka! This is good, Mangiz. I feel good in my

377

feathers too. I think I will fly up and perch awhile on the roof of my big redstone house. Tell the rooks to rest well, and sleep yourself. You look tired and hot."

Ironbeak launched himself from the sill and spiralled up to the Abbey roof.

Mangiz blew a great sigh of relief and settled down to nap in the hot sun. It was the first time he had lied to Ironbeak about his visions. They were still clouded by the warrior mouse, but the crow was not going to tell Ironbeak that. What the General did not knew for the moment would not harm him, and compliments were better received than kicks.

When night fell over Redwall and the Mossflower country. Cornflower began buckling on her armour. However, Sister May had a better idea, so Cornflower unbuckled it and listened. Constance covered her mouth and shook with suppressed laughter when the ruse was outlined to her.

"Oh yes, lefs do it. I wouldn't miss this for a midsummer feast!"

The rooks perched in the dormitory, half dozing, half awake, none fully asleep since the General had issued the order for them to have the rest of the day off. Most of them had slept all afternoon, and they found it difficult trying to sleep in the night also. It was hot and airless for birds who had lived their lives in the cold northlands. A full moon beamed down through the dormitory window, bathing the entire room in pale bluish white light.

"Leeeeave ooooour Abbeeeeeeeeey!"

"Yaak! What was thatr

"Death is neeeeear!"

The rooks froze on their perches.

"Death waits outside this rooooooom!"

A black shadow cast itself across the beds and the floor. There was something at the window.

378

The rook Ragwing turned his head slowly and fearfully until he could see the window.

Framed by the broken pane, with cold moonlight surrounding it, was the head of the Warrior, the helmet with no face; pale grey mist hovered in place of the Warrior's features. Ragwing and his companions were in a state of panic bordering on hysteria, and the words of the bodiless phantom were like some dread puzzle: "Leave our Abbey." How could they leave the Abbey, knowing that the ghost had said "Death waits outside this room"! There was only the window, and the horrible head was floating about there. Even the bravest rook would not venture out that way. It was more than the terrified birds could stand, so they scrabbled underneath the beds, afraid to look or move.

As they stole back to Cavern Hole, Constance shook the window pole that had supported the ghostly head at Sister May.

"One more giggle out of you, Sister, and I'll have you put on cooking duties with Ambrose Spike!" she said menacingly.

Cornflower held a kerchief to her face, pretending to blow her nose. She was, in fact, biting the material to stop herself roaring with laughter.

Constance waited until they were out of earshot in the tunnel, then she laughed.

"Heeheehee! I took a quick peek through the window, and the rooks were underneath the beds trying to make themselves invisible."

Sister May shook her head in mock sympathy. "If s no wonder. You didn't give them much choice: leave the Abbey, but don't leave the room. Really, Constance, what made you think that one up?"

"I don't know. I suppose I just lost my head. Hahaha!"

Cornflower wiped tears from her eyes, realising that the fun had turned to sorrow and longing for her family.

"My Matthias and Mattimeo would have appreciated a

379

joke like that. Dear me, I can't get them out of my mind night or day. Oh Matthias will be able to take care of himself, no matter where he is, but what about my little Mattimeo, I wonder what he's doing right now, I hope he's safe and well fed. I'm sorry my friends, I'm an old wet rag these days, moping about like I don't know what"

Sister May began weeping herself. "There there, we understand, don't you worry, your young one will be all right"

Constance sniffed loudly.

"Of course he will."

38o

A silence had fallen upon the ledge. Friend and foe alike were hushed as Matthias and the Wearet circled about. The warrior mouse, straight backed, moved lightly on his paws, the great sword of Martin held double-pawed against his right cheek. The Wearet crouched low, spear held pointing at his opponent, the loaded net making swift dragging noises as he cast it in small circles continuously. The eyes of the two fighters were locked as each tried to read the other's thoughts, hoping one false move of a paw would give him the advantage.

Matthias attempted to keep his back to the entrance, where Orlando and his friends waited, but the cunning skill of the Wearet forced him round until he could feel the rat horde at his back. The Wearet snarled viciously and shuffled forwards, jabbing at his foe. Matthias was concentrating on the spearpoint and the swirling net; not until too late did he feel the spear butt of a black-robed rat hit him in the back of his legs. The warrior mouse tell backwards. The Wearet hurled himself forward, spear first, but Matthias twisted to one side, caught the end of the net and gave a sharp tug, adding impetus to his enemy's charge.

There was a bubbling scream as the Wearet stumbled in his lunge, and the rat who had tripped Matthias with

381

the spear butt staggered forward, impaled upon the Wearet's stabbing spear. Matthias goaded his foe sharply across his hindquarters with the needlelike swordpoint. The Wearet foamed and screeched as he shook the fallen rat from his spearpoint, casting the weighted net back over his shoulder. The weights struck Matthias on top of his head. Blackness interspersed with colored stars exploded behind his eyes, and he felt rather than saw the spear jab at his throat as the Wearet attacked on the turn. There was a ringing clang as the Warrior's swordpoint countered the spear blade.

His head clearing, Matthias leapt nimbly forward, clipping the Wearef s slobbering jaw and slicing across his spear paw. Despite the ferocity of the attack, the Wearet kicked Matthias in the stomach and whipped away at his body with the folded net. He drove his opponent back until he was practically at the rock wall of the ledge. Matthias whirled the sword and came forwards, propelling himself forcefully off the rocks.

"Redwaaaaall!"

The fury of the onslaught drove the Wearet back. He took two sharp slashes upon his flanks before clouting Matthias in the face with the flat of his spear blade and throwing the net over the mouse warrior. Matthias knew he was snared. He could not use his sword, and the net weighed heavily upon him as the Wearet stooped to gather the ends and fully entrap him. Seeing a slim chance, Matthias trod on the grounded blade of the spear, causing the Wearet to try to pull the spear free.

It was all the chance Matthias needed. He bulled forward, battering into the Wearet. Shoving hard with head and paws, he sent his foe hurtling back into the ranks of the rats. Matthias dropped his sword and fell flat, keeping his paws tight to his sides. The Wearet stumbled and struggled amid the rats. Holding only one edge of the net, he dragged at it. The net slid from Matthias, who snatched his sword and jumped up,

382

charging straight in among the rats, hacking this way and that in an attempt to get at the Wearet.

"Get out of there, watch your back, Matthias!" Orlando roared from the cave mouth.

Matthias dimly heard Orlando. With the spirit of Martin coursing through his veins, he whirled in a tight warrior's circle. Up, down and at middle height, the great sword was everywhere at once in a glittering circle of steel. Rats fought to get out of its way.

Wearet cut through the rats to Matthias's opposite side and regained the open space. As the warrior mouse came spinning out of the horde, he saw the Wearet and carried on his deadly course. Still spinning, his sword sheared into the net, shredding it to a useless mass of cordage as it was swept from his foebeasfs paw. The Wearet snatched a fallen stabbing spear, arming himself doubly. Prodding and thrusting, he locked blades with Matthias. The ring of sword upon spears echoed around the ledge as the pair fought madly, backwards and forwards, hacking and slicing, parrying and striking in a hideous ritual of death.

Mattimeo and his friends had lain miserably in the darkened cell until they lost track of night or day. Several attempts had been made to force the door, each one more futile than the last. Auma's body ached from the number of times she had thrown herself at the heavy unyielding door, and Sam's teeth were numb through trying to gnaw at the timbers. Mattimeo, Tim, Tess, Jube and even Cynthia had tried in one way or another, all resulting in bleeding and splinter-stuck paws. They sat miserably in the darkness. Cynthia began weeping.

"There, there, hush now. We'll get out of here, you'll see," Tess comforted her.

Auma placed her aching back against the wall. "I'd like to think we'll get out of here too, but where would we go?"

"Anywhere!" Mattimeo's voice trembled. "I wouldn't

383

mind getting out of here just to die fighting those robed rats instead of perishing down here like some insect under the ground. At least it would be better than a life under the whip of a slavekeeper."

"Ssshhhh!"

"Who said that?"

Sam crawled close to Mattimeo. "I did. Listen, can you hear anything?"

"No, can you?"

"I'm not sure, but it sounds like a drum pou.ading far away and the sound of voices."

Cynthia Bankvole sobbed aloud. "I knew it. They're having some sort of feast, and we're going to be dragged out of here and eaten. I'm sure of it!"

"Oh, stop being silly, Cynthia!" Tess snapped at her impatiently. "What a foolish idea. Where are all these drums and voices coming from, Sam? I can't hear a thing."

Auma stood up. "I can. Sam's right, it sounds like pounding and chanting and shouting. Whatever it is, you can wager it's not going to be any party for us. Maybe Cynthia's right."

Tim's voice came out of the gloom. "Really, Auma, not you too. Voices, drums, chanting. I thought you had a bit more sense than frightening others."

"Huh, I can't hear anything, but I agree with Auma. Sometimes if s best to expect the worst. That way you're never disappointed," Jube said philosophically.

"Thanks for cheering us all up, hedgehog," Tess scoffed. "Here we are, locked in a cell below ground and manacled without a hope or a weapon between us, and you're chattering on about us being the dinner at some sort of evil ceremony"

"Hush," Sam interrupted, "I can hear paws coming this way and a dragging sound too!"

Cynthia gave a little scream.

Mattimeo stood up, resolute. "Well, let them come, and we'll make an end of it one way or another. Lef s try

384

and do what our parents or Martin the Warrior would do in a comer like this: sell our lives dearly. We have manacles, and they can be turned into weapons. Let whoever beast it is come and try to do their worst."

Supported by Flugg and two other shrews, Log-a-Log made his way painfully up the tortuous winding passages towards the surface. The shrew leader groaned and lowered himself slowly down, resting his back against a door.

"Log-a-Log, are you all right?" Flugg asked anxiously.

He nodded wearily. "I must sit here awhile. It's all uphill to the copse. Let me rest and catch my breath."

The shrews sat with him.

"When we get above ground you must leave me," he said, turning to Flugg. "Go back and help our friends. Flugg, you have been my good comrade and brother for many seasons. Listen now. Once you leave me and I am no longer with you, the Guosim must have a new leader. That one is you, Flugg. Forget your name; now you are Log-a-Log of all the Guosim."

Flugg banged the door angrily with his sword hilt. "No! Do not talk like that. You must live!"

Log-a-Log held a paw to his throat wound. "You cannot disobey me. The law and rules of the Guosim say this is the way it must be. If there were a river or a stream here now, I would ride a log on my last journey. Then you would have no choice. Hear me, I have spoken. What was that?"

Some creature was banging on the door from the other side.

Flugg banged in reply. Placing his mouth near the jamb, he called, "Logalogalogalog!"

There was more thumping in reply, followed by a voice calling, "Redwaaaall! Mossflowenr!"

Log-a-Log struggled to his paws. "I'd know that voice anywhere. If s just tike his father's. If s Matthias's young one. Get that door open, Guosim!"

385

There was a heavy padlock and hasp on the door, but one of the shrews named Gum produced a small dagger.

"Stand aside. Let me try with this," Gurn told the others.

Luckily it was a lock of simple and ancient design. Gurn's dagger jiggled and twisted a few times, then there was a dick, and he pulled the padlock curve from the hasp ring.

Inside the cell Auma had her ear to the door. She listened carefully.

"Keep quiet. We've given them our challenge, now lef s see what they do."

"Are they shouting flogaloggle or whatever it is?" Jube piped up. "Daft sort of war cry, if you ask me."

"We never asked you, Jube. Be quiet," Mattimeo commanded curtly. "What's happening out there, Auma?"

"1 think they're unlocking the door, Mattimeo."

"Right, this is it. Get your manacles ready and give the best fight you can manage. If we don't meet again, my friends, goodbye."

Auma's voice was hoarse and urgent.

"They've unlocked the door, wait, it must open outwards. ..."

Mattimeo felt for his companion's paws in the darkness.

"Why wait? Lef s rush them."

"Chaaaaarge!"

They hit the door. It flew open wide. Mattimeo flung himself upon the first creature in his path. Tim and Sam leapt on another. Even the dim passage light dazzled their eyes, which were accustomed to nothing but complete darkness. Grappling on the floor, the young mouse heard his name called by a deep gruff voice:

"Mattimeo, ifs me, Log-a-Log!"

Mattimeo had Flugg by the throat. His paws dropped with a clank of manacles as he yelled out. "Stop, they're friends!"

Immediately, the fight halted. Mattimeo and his companions stood in the torchlit passage, rubbing their eyes. Gum shook his head admiringly.

"What a bunch of young warriors. Don't rub your eyes too hard. Let me open those manacles with my dagger."

Cynthia began sobbing again, but this time it was with happiness.

The friends were smiling at each other. Gradually it was dawning on them that they were no longer the prisoners of Malkariss, Slagar, Nadaz or any other evil creature.

Mattimeo's laughter boomed around the passage walls.

"Hahahaha, free. We're free. Ifs my father's friends, the Guosim!"

'Ifs certainly your lucky day, young 'uns, most of your parents are here. There's Matthias, Orlando, Jabez, Jess, even old Basil Stag Hare. We joined forces with them to search for you. They're down on the big ledge fighting the hordes of Malkariss."

Mattimeo could hardly believe his ears. His father, the Champion of Redwall. . . here!

Auma let out a great whoop, Sam leapt high into the air, Jube wrinkled his nose knowingly.

'Told you so, I said we wouldn't get far without my old dad catching us up. Do you remem"

He was seized by Tim and Tess and whirled around, then Cynthia joined in.

"Good old Basil, the Redwallers are here! Hurray!"

Flugg was knocked flat by the whirling dancers, but Mattimeo helped him to his paws. Dusting himself off, the shrew grinned broadly.

"By the fur and the claw, and the law, I'm glad we found you lot, though you've got our Log-a-Log to thank for that. If he hadn't decided to rest here awhile we'd have gone right past you and you'd have rotted in there."

Laughing happily, Mattimeo knelt to shake Log-a-Log by the paw.

386

387

"I knew you'd find us. Oh, I just knew it would happen someday. Thank you, Log-a-Log. Oh, thank y"

The Log-a-Log of all the Guosim was smiling, even though his eyes had dosed for the last time. He had lived long enough to keep his promise to his friends. He had found their young ones.

Matthias was growing tired. The Wearet seemed to have hidden stores of insane energy. The strange beast was wounded in a dozen different places, but his size and mad ferocity seemed to buoy him up. The warrior mouse went into the sword fighter's stance, blade held ready to cut, sweep and thrust, gaining a small respite for breath as the Wearet circled him, looking for an opening. Matthias turned slowly as the Wearet tried to get behind his back.

In the mouth of the tunnel, Orlando stood alongside Basil, watching the gruelling conflict.

"That creature can't get the better of our Warrior, but I think Matthias is looking very tired now. Is that a very deep gash on his brow, d'you mink, Basil?"

"Tchah! A mere scratch, old lad. I've done more damage to a salad with a spoon. Don't let the Champion of Redwall fool you, Orlando, oh dear no. In a moment or two he'll decide ifs time for lunch and he'll settle old thingummybob's hash, you mark my words!"

Basil was proved right. The moment Matthias saw he had the Wearet with his back to the wall, he came in like a hungry wolf. Sparks flew from the rocks as Matthias smashed home a devastating attack. He seemed to be everywhere at once, roaring, slashing and milting. The confident sneer faded from the Wearef s face as he found himself battling for dear life. The mouse warrior fought with the strength of two and the skill of many seasons. The Wearet pushed himself from the rocks with a gigantic effort and lunged savagely forward with both spears. Matthias darted to one side, and his blade crashed down like summer lightning, shearing through

388

|i/both spear handles in one heroic sweep. The warrior $ mouse turned a half-circle with the momentum, but the lt;- Wearet was swifter than a shadow. He leaped at : Matthias's unprotected back. Passing his paws over ; Matthias's head, he began strangling the warrior mouse ;; with the broken handles of the spears which he had held i onto.

* Choking for breath, Matthias slammed his swordpoint C down into the Wearef s footpaw. Grasping the spear-hafts with both paws, he crouched deep, leaning i forward. The Wearet screamed and shot over Matthias's ; head, landing with a thud at the end of the ledge, ^i Matthias leapt up and hurled himself onto the Wearet. His foe was waiting. The Wearet thrust all paws straight into the air and Matthias felt himself rise. He struck the very brink of the ledge and rolled over into the void with a shout of dismay.

General Ironbeak fluttered about in the sunwarmed shallows of the Abbey pond. He took a deep drink, throwing his head back as the bright droplets sparkled

*i, from his fine dark plumage. Mangiz stood to one side, taking in the scene with disdain. He had often drunk |; water, but bathing in it was out of the question. The t/raven General shook himself and swaggered briskly j about at the water's edge. Today was a day for great I plans. The omens were good and he felt energetic. ffH "Oufcfa/ That was good. Now, my Mangiz, are your

* visions favoring us? Does your mind's eye see clear

* still?"

gt; "Kayah! All is still well, my General, though my visions

; say that haste would be unseemly,"

"Kaah! Unseemly, what kind of old farmhen's talk is ' that? Listen to me, my strong right wing, you just keep

*: your visions happy and Ironbeak will do the planning." "But, General, I told you yesterday, the visions said ^ that" J "Silence. Kraggafc/1 have heard enough. Go and bring

I 389

my magpies to me and all my fighting rooks. I have a plan to put paid to all the nonsense that surrounds this redstone house. A good plan, straightforward, with no trickery or sneaking about like thrushes in a hedgerow. From now on we will fight as we did in the northlands; no creeping around the back, good direct attacking, straight wing-to-beak fighting with no prisoners taken. Now go!"

Mangiz was beset by a dreadful feeling of foreboding, though he knew there was no talking to Iron! eak when he was in conquering mood. The crow withdrew, bowing respectfully.

"General, your wish is my command, I will bring all our birds to you."

Little Sister May looked a simple soul, but that was because deep down she was a very wise schemer. During the night she had laced Stryk Redkite's drinking water with a huge dose of the drug she had concocted for the magpies in the orchard. Stryk was a thirsty bird, and she had drunk deep. Now the great red kite lay soundly under the influence of Sister May's sleeping potion.

Abbot Mordalfus, John Churchmouse, Brother Rufus and Sister May gathered round the unconscious bird, each of them versed in the art of healing as passed down through generations of Redwall Brothers and Sisters.

John Churchmouse donned his spectacles and dusted off a slim volume. "Hmm. Old Methuselah's Index of Bird Ailments and Remedies. What d'you think. Father Abbot?"

The Abbot looked up from a tome he was studying.

"Aye, thafs a good one, John, though there's much to recommend this fine book, Sister Heartwood's Compleat Category. It contains nearly five chapters on birds."

Brother Rufus helped Sister May as she raised Stryk's broken wing. Then she wiped her paws busily upon a clean white apron.

"Oh dear, that is a nasty-looking break. Mr. Spike,

would you roll one of those small firkins over here so we can keep this wing irr the right position?"

Ambrose grumpily complied with the request. "It don't do much for the clearness of beetroot portwine to be messin' an' rollin' it about. Here, I 'ope you're not goin' to feed that great feathered lump on my best beetroot portwine."

"I should say not, Ambrose," John Churchmouse chuckled. "Though we may need a drop or two of it ourselves before we're finished here."

"Then I may's well stay here an' help you," the hedgehog cellar-keeper grunted.

The broken wing was propped up on the barrel top and weighted securely with books. Abbot Mordalfus inspected the wingtip.

"Look, there's a pinion feather missing. Sister May, win you check the bird's tailfeathers and see if there's one the same size as the final outward pinion on the other wing? Ambrose, would you have a look in the kitchen for any good strong fishbones. Oh, and we'll need fine greased twine and some dried onionskins, and have a scout round for that jar of rivermud compound we use on burns. I have great faith in the heating powers of that stuff."

They called their requests after Ambrose as he trundled off:

'Tetch the finest sewing needle that Cornflower has got."

"And don't forget the witch hazel."

"Some almond oil, too."

"Then nip into Cavern Hole and pick up my herbal bag, please."

Ambrose shrugged his spikes moodily. "I don't suppose you'd like me to fetch your lunch, dinner, tea'n'supper too. Huh!"

"Oh, and Ambrose, would you ask Winifred to fetch our lunch, dinner, tea and supper out here? This is going to be a long job!"

390