Ironbeak was not sleeping, nor was Mangiz, or any of the rooks.
They were gathered at the edge of the Abbey pond, listening as the raven General outlined his strategy, the final plan to conquer Redwall Abbey. Ironbeak paced up and down in front of his command.
‘Yaggah! Listen well, my fighters. I will not say there is no ghost mouse, what I say is that it is a trick, some silly thing the earthcrawlers have thought up. When we conquer them I will make them tell us how they did it, then we will throw their ghost from the very top of this redstone house. Kaah! See if it comes back to haunt us then. In the past I was like you. One time in the northlands when I was standing nightwatch, I was sleepy, my wings drooped and my eyes began to close. Yarrak! I saw a great green eagle, a fearsome bird. Instead of running away I flew to attack it. Kaah! It was only an odd-shaped green bush. Do you see what I mean? Tired eyes, darkness, even sun shadows when you are dozing, can cause your mind to see strange sights. So let me hear no more of these things. They are like the first sight of lightning to an eggchick.’
The rooks were unconvinced, but dared not speak.
‘Tonight we will make ready for our final battle,’ the General continued. ‘Mangiz sees that the omens are good. I know you are loyal fighters. You have fought under me in the northlands. Now you shall have your reward in this warm country, for we will live together in the redstone house with lots of food, sun and easy times. Here is how we do it. I have not posted guards or sentries for two days now. The weather is hot and the earthcrawlers are resting easy. They have plenty of food and think themselves safe in the Cavern Hole place. Kayah! This is good. Let them go on thinking we have forgotten them, then they will relax. They have posted no guards at their barricade for two nights now. I have seen this. In the hour before the sun rises at dawn, Quickbill and his brothers will go down the stairs. If all is quiet, they will signal to us. Kraa! Silence is the key to my plan. Without the big stripedog we will have them at our mercy.’
50
THE BATTLE BENEATH the ground raged back and forth. Mattimeo and his friends had joined forces with Orlando and the woodlanders. Heaving masses of rats pressed in from all sides, the double circle continued its deadly function, reinforced by the willing young ones. Jess Squirrel stood alongside her son Sam, but there was little time for happy reunions in the midst of a battle. Orlando and Auma lifted the door bodily between them, using it as a large flattener on the black-robed rats. Nadaz kept up his chant, wailing and screaming as he sent in wave after wave of blackrobes. Shaking his eerie bone sceptre, rattling the mouse skull, he pointed to the woodlanders.
‘Die, die, you will all die here. Your bones will rot in the kingdom of Malkariss. The Voice of the Host has spoken!’
Basil Stag Hare and Cheek lifted a rat between them. The wildly struggling creature screeched as he was hefted above the heads of the hare and the otter.
‘We’re goin’ to chuck you over to your boss,’ Basil informed him. ‘Tell him t’ keep the howlin’ an’ yellin’ down. Bad form, y’know. Right, me old Cheek. One, two and away he goes!’
The rat flew through the air. Falling short of Nadaz, he landed on the spearpoints of the horde.
Basil tut-tutted. ‘Oh bad shot, sir, what’ve I told you about holdin’ your end up, Cheek? Never mind. Try, try again, that’s the spirit. Grab hold of that smelly chap to your left.’
Now Nadaz was standing on the big drum. He pounded it with both paws in a mad dance, and the noise rolled and boomed, encouraging the rats on the causeway steps to press forward on to the ledge.
Jube Hedgehog and Jabez his father were unassailable. They rolled into one tight ball, hurtling madly about, spiking rats over the brink of the ledge, deflecting spearthrusts with their needled armour casing.
But the rats still came forward.
Tess and Tim Churchmouse formed a trio of flailing chains with Mattimeo, and managed to gasp snatches of conversation as they pounded the rats with the swinging slave-chain manacles.
‘Watch your back, Matti!’
‘Got him, thanks, Tess. Look out!’
‘Good shot, Tim. Are you all right?’
‘Phew, my paws are getting tired!’
‘Aye, there’s no end to them. Look down those steps. They’re pouring up four abreast!’
Matthias ran farther up the underground workings, dealing with any guards that were left and freeing slaves as he went. Climbing over piles of rubble and dashing through half-finished chambers, the mouse warrior swung his sword like an avenging pendulum, striking the chains of slavery to smithereens and dealing death to the oppressors. With both paws aching, he stopped and took stock of his surroundings: a long passage with a blank wall at one end. Through the semidarkness he glimpsed a vast carving on the rock wall. It was a frieze of woodland creatures chained together, dominated by a prominent relief of the statue on the ledge, surrounded by robed rats. Relaxing his guard, he laid aside the sword and studied the carvings. Obviously it marked the boundary of Malkariss’s evil kingdom.
Slagar stepped out from behind the mouse warrior. The Cruel One dealt Matthias a swinging blow with the metal weights of his three-thonged weapon, and the mouse warrior pitched forward, overwhelmed by the striking bolas. Grinning behind the silken mask, Slagar turned his victim over.
‘You did well, mouse. I am saved the trouble of slaying Malkariss. When the horde has overcome your woodlanders, I will rule here. But first I must fulfil my oath of vengeance.’
Grabbing Matthias by the throat, the fox reached for the great sword.
‘Yaahaa! It’s the fox! Kill Slagar!’
Like a hunting pack, the slaves came through the rubble at the masked fox. He looked wildly about for an escape route, and his eye fell upon the carved mural a few paces away. The silken hood sucked back and forth wildly as he snatched up his bolas and leapt over the fallen Warrior. Gripping the outstretched left paw of the polecat image, Slagar twisted and pushed in the same way that Nadaz had done the previous day.
The stone polecat swung inwards. Slagar stepped through into the bottom of a deep well shaft with sunlight pouring in from above. He slammed the exit door back into place and mounted the pawholds to the surface, reciting an old woodland verse in a crazy singsong as he climbed:
‘A fox who fights and runs away,
Lives to fight another day.
It is not over yet, Matthias of Redwall. I will live to take your sword, your son, and your life!’
Willing paws helped Matthias up. He shook his head groggily as the slave army packed in about him.
‘Where’s Slagar? He was here wasn’t he?’ Matthias asked uncertainly.
Elmtail gave the Warrior back his sword. ‘You’ll never believe this. The fox vanished completely into that carved rock wall. We were never allowed up this end of the workings, so the rats must have made that carving themselves. Anyhow, he’s gone. What are your orders? Where to next, Matthias?’
The warrior mouse shook off his dizziness. Waving the sword, he began running back up the tunnel.
‘To the ledge. Let us finish this thing. Follow me and shout our battle cry so that my friends will know we are coming!’
Like a tidal wave beginning to build out upon the sea, the army grew. Creatures poured out of caves, passages and corridors, running with Matthias towards the causeway steps. They heard his war shout and echoed the wild cry until the caverns of Malkariss’s Kingdom rang with their voices.
‘Redwaaaaaaaalllll!’
Nobody had really missed Constance. As always, the creatures of Redwall were free to go or come as they pleased, and it was not uncommon for the badger to seek solitude and a place where she could be alone with her thoughts for a day or two. The Abbot was not exactly happy with the situation, for in times of trouble his great badger friend seldom left the Abbey. Mordalfus yawned, settling himself on a makeshift pallet by the tunnel entrance in Cavern Hole. Who could tell what was in a badger’s mind? He would probably awake the next morning to find Constance bus
y cooking breakfast for them all, he thought. He checked that the Redwallers were bedded down safely. Baby Rollo was squeaking in his sleep as he snuggled between Cornflower and Mrs Churchmouse, and a night-light burned dimly in its wall sconce. The old mouse folded his spectacles away into his wide habit sleeve. Closing his eyes gratefully, he composed himself for a restful night’s sleep.
The fighting birds of General Ironbeak also slumbered peacefully on their dormitory perches through the warm summer night. Mangiz and the raven leader catnapped on the windowsill, awaiting the hour before dawn.
Inside the gatehouse, Constance had slept fitfully during the early evening. Now she was up and roaming restlessly about. Every aperture she had tried was checked and rechecked. The badger had reached the conclusion she had been locked in by a bird, and that the raven had some plan which he would put into operation quite soon. Picking up a fire iron from the hearth, Constance began working on the hinges of the heavily bracketed door.
As if summoned into wakefulness by some inner alarm, Ironbeak’s eyes snapped open wide and he surveyed the sky and the top of the outer ramparts.
It was the hour before dawn.
Rousing Mangiz, he hopped down into the dormitory and began waking his fighters, talking to them in a low voice.
‘Kurrah! Now is the time. Brightback, take two rooks and your brothers. Mangiz will show you what must be done. Bring the wood. Akahh! Careful now, do not drop it. The rest of you, follow me.’
A medium-sized plank of pine wrapped in sheets was picked up by Mangiz and his helpers. They slid it silently along the floor, taking great care not to let it bump against anything. They moved it slowly down the stairs and out into Great Hall. At a signal from the crow, they latched their claws into the sheets. It was hard work, but after a bit of wingspreading and flapping, the plank rose a short way from the floor. With Mangiz holding it steady at the front, they flew low towards the steps of Cavern Hole.
Brightback and Diptail settled the rear end of the cloth-covered wood securely on the third step down, and Mangiz and two rooks placed the front end on top of the barricade at the foot of the stairs, so that it formed a straight walk from the third step to the top of the table that formed the mainstay of the barrier. The crow tested it. Walking the length of the plank quietly, he ducked his head under the arch of Cavern Hole entrance. Ironbeak had worked it out well. A bird could pass into Cavern Hole easily this way.
Mangiz flapped one wing three times from the top of the stairs, and Ironbeak and his rooks materialized out of the shadows to join them. The General’s quick bright eye sized up the muffled plank on the third stair.
‘Karrah! You have done well. We will pass inside as softly as a feather on the wind. Keep behind me and wait for my signal.’
The Redwallers slept on, oblivious to the feathered head which poked itself into their refuge.
The night-light guttered low as Ironbeak crept in, positioning himself on the inside of the barricade where he could assist his birds. One by one the rooks came through the opening, bobbing their heads as they passed the space between the plank end and the curved entrance arch. Ironbeak silently beckoned them to take up specific places he indicated; the tunnel entrance, the two steps at the far side which led to the kitchens with the larders and wine cellar beyond, and the edges of the barricade to prevent it being moved outwards as an avenue of escape.
Next came the magpies. He stationed them at the top of the barricade to stop any earthcrawler climbing out. Mangiz was last to come through. Together he and Ironbeak slowly climbed down until they stood firmly inside the final bastion of Redwall.
Mangiz could not help but admire his General. Truly Ironbeak was a conqueror. Despite false prophecies and fighters scared near witless, he had stayed in command and fulfilled his own visions. The redstone house would fall to his beak and talon.
Constance worked furiously with the bent and battered fire iron. Her hackles stood erect with an unmentionable dread, and some sixth sense drove her to greater efforts as she battered and bludgeoned at the unyielding hinges. Timber splintered and groaned as she struck the door; sparks flew as metal clashed against metal. The stouthearted creature crashed the fire iron into the door again and again, her paws numbed by the stinging vibrations. She had to break the door down, she had to get back to the Abbey with all speed to save her friends from the unknown danger which threatened.
A heavy talon raked the sleeping Abbot’s back. He arched into wakefulness with a grunt of pain.
‘Yaggah! Wake up, my little earthcrawlers, this is the day I make you do the dance of death. Ironbeak has captured this great redstone house. Karragaaaah!’
Cavern Hole echoed to the triumphant harshness of the raven General and his fighters, mingled with the confused and terrified cries of shocked creatures.
Tim Churchmouse was wounded in the side by a rat spear. He fell as two of the blackrobes hurled themselves on him. Mattimeo battled his way through with Cynthia Bankvole screaming shrill war cries alongside him, and together they beat off the rats that beset Tim and hauled him upright.
‘Tim, you’re hurt?’ Cynthia asked anxiously.
‘Yes. I mean, no. I’m all right. Give me that spear!’
Orlando and Auma stormed through, the big badger practically holding the door as a shield with one paw as he flayed his battleaxe left and right, while Auma was creating havoc with a billet of ashwood she was using as a club.
‘Get Tim behind my father. Quick, take that, you robed vermin!’ Auma shouted.
Orlando glanced anxiously at the causeway steps. ‘Here comes another wave. There’s more pressing up from below. Listen, they’re chanting something!’
Sam Squirrel vaulted across like an acrobat. He leapt to the top of the door as Orlando held it upright.
‘It’s “Redwall”! They’re shouting “Redwall”! Mattimeo, it’s your father with an army of slaves!’
Orlando passed his axe to Auma. Grabbing Mattimeo, he lifted him high above his head.
‘Tell me, young ’un, is that your father?’
Mattimeo was weeping and laughing aloud as he roared at the top of his lungs:
‘Yes! Yes! Redwalllll! No warrior can swing the sword of Martin like him. Father! It’s meeeeeee!’
Down below on the causeway stairs, Matthias heard the voice of his son rise clear over the pounding drumbeats and the noise of war. A great wave of shuddering joy swept over him, and he began fighting like a berserker. Rats dissolved in front of him as he battered his way madly up the steps. Nothing could stand in front of the Redwall Champion and his army.
Basil Stag Hare whooped with happiness as he struck out powerfully with his long limbs.
‘Hoorah, Cheek old lad. Let’s show these rotters what a fight looks like. Right, you wicked bounders, look out. Here comes the hare for the job!’
Tess Churchmouse and Sam Squirrel flung themselves in like twin windmills of spinning chain.
‘This is for the beating and the marching and the lashing and the starving.’
Thwack! Swish! Crack! Swoosh!
The woodlanders fought with renewed heart and hope. Blackrobed rats went hurling over the ledge, they fell back down the steps, and for the first time they tried to escape by the tunnel entrance. Orlando hurried through and blocked their exit. He stood with his back against the door, wielding his axe.
‘Come to me, come to me, rats. Eeeulaliaaaaa!’
The shrews fought like little demons under the leadership of Flugg, their new Log-a-Log. Leaping and stabbing, twisting and hacking, they were everywhere at once, shouting the Guosim war cry:
‘Logalogalogalog!’
Nadaz saw the battle had gone against the creatures of Malkariss. All was lost. The purple-robed rat slipped quietly off the drum. Abandoning his bone sceptre, he weaved between the blackrobes until he was behind the statue of the white polecat. Only Tim Churchmouse saw him enter the statue. He remembered what he had just seen before leaping back into the fray.
Now
Matthias and his slave army were near the top of the causeway steps. Behind them they left a trail of slain blackrobes. Others had leapt from the stairs into the void rather than face the creatures they had treated so cruelly, or the hot-eyed warlord who led them.
Basil and Mattimeo fought their way down the causeway until they met Matthias on the stairs. The old hare twirled his ears in the most curious manner.
‘What ho, Warrior. I see you’ve taken steps to help us, wot?’
The light of battle left Matthias’s eyes as he gazed upon his long-lost young one. He threw his paws round Mattimeo, hugging him fiercely. Tears sprang to the Warrior’s eyes as he pressed his face against his son’s ragged habit.
‘Matti, you’re here, you’re alive, by the stones of Redwall!’
Mattimeo dung tightly to his father, sobbing and laughing at the same time.
‘I knew you’d find me someday! I knew it!
Basil nodded back towards the ledge. ‘Come on, chaps. There’s still a battle t’ be finished. Those blighters don’t want to give up. Gang of bally fanatics, if you ask me.’
Outside, the small wooded copse lay peaceful. Butterflies fluttered about the business of summer, grasshoppers chirruped and small insects slept on mossy stones, oblivious to the carnage that raged in the charnel house beneath them.
A short distance from the copse, Slagar lay behind a rocky outcrop, the deadly bolas grasped firmly in his paws. Warm rays of golden sun beat down upon his torn and stained cloak, making the silken harlequin pattern tawdry against the emerald green of the grass. The hood fluttered and moved spasmodically as the Cruel One muttered to himself, his dreams of power shattered by the very creatures he had sworn vengeance upon. But Slagar would never admit defeat after all he had been through. His breath rasped harshly as he made insane promises to himself.
Mattimeo (Redwall) Page 36