‘Slagar will win in the end. Am I not the Lord of light and darkness? I never needed Malkariss or Nadaz, or anybeast. If the blackrobes win then I will rule them. If Nadaz lives I will slay him and say it was he who betrayed Malkariss. If the woodlanders are victorious then I will slay Matthias and take the sword. I know now, the sword of Redwall is magic, and whoever holds it is the leader.’
The defeated woodlanders were huddled against the walls of Cavern Hole. Ironbeak stared at them and wondered how a ragtailed little bunch of earthcrawlers managed to cause him so much trouble.
Under the fierce eye of the raven General, Cornflower drew baby Rollo close and hugged him.
Mangiz strutted up and down, his voice harsh with power. ‘Krakkah! Now, earthcrawlers, you will pay for your defiance. I am the voice of the great General Ironbeak, mightiest fighter in all the northlands. He does not wish to speak with scum like you. Think of all the silly little tricks you have played. You could not fight like real warriors. Filthy grease and dirt, drugging our magpies, stupid mouse ghosts. Who did you think you were dealing with?’
‘A bunch of puffed-up feather bags!’ Ambrose Spike said boldly.
The hedgehog was forced to curl up defensively as he was set upon by vicious rook beaks. Winifred managed to fend them off. She helped Ambrose up, and he shook himself defiantly.
‘They couldn’t hurt one of the Spikes. I’m all right,’ he told the otter.
‘Where is your great stripedog now?’ Mangiz sneered. ‘She has run away in fright.’
Brother Rufus shook his curled up paw at the crow. ‘What have you done to our Constance, you villain?’
‘Silence, mouse! Worry about your own fate. The great stripedog will meet hers in good time, but you, all of you, this day will be your last. You will die in this place!’
Abbot Mordalfus shuffled forward. ‘Let them go. It was none of their doing. I am Abbot here, and I alone am responsible for defying your leader. Take me.’
Ironbeak dashed forward and knocked the Abbot down. ‘Yagga! I am Ironbeak. I say who lives or dies, earthcrawler!’
Before anybeast could stop her, Sister May leapt at the raven leader. She kicked and bit, tearing plumage from the raven’s puffed-out breast.
‘You big bully. You leave our Abbot alone!’ she shouted.
His dignity lost for a moment, Ironbeak hopped about wildly until he had shaken the mouse sister off. As Sister May lay defenceless on the floor, the enraged raven began attacking her.
‘Kraah! Stupid little earthcrawler, you will be the first to die!’
Cornflower and several other creatures were about to run in and help Sister May, when the thunderbolt struck.
A giant red bird came soaring through from the wine cellar into Cavern Hole and struck Ironbeak like a battering ram.
‘Kreeeeeeegh! I am Stryk Redkite. You hurt Sissimay, I kill. Kill!’
Feared fighter as he was, Ironbeak did not stand a chance against the ferocity of the mountain bird. There was a massive flurry of red and black feathers upon the floor of Cavern Hole. Over and over they rolled, with Stryk always coming out uppermost, her great powerful talons and beak tearing and rending.
‘Yaak! Help me!’ Ironbeak managed to scream out to his fighters.
The barricade fell with an earsplitting crash, and Constance was in the middle of the rooks like a striped whirlwind.
Cornflower and Mrs Churchmouse managed to grab Rollo and the few little ones, and hurried them into the kitchens. Settling the infants under the kitchen table, they ran to peer round the archway into Cavern Hole and witnessed the liberation of Redwall Abbey.
Stryk Redkite fought Ironbeak across the shattered barricade and up the seven steps into Cavern Hole, where the two birds took to the air.
The raven had no way of escape. He flopped about, bouncing from the walls and windows, relentlessly pursued beak and claw by the red kite. She drove at him with her beak, raked and clawed him with her talons. Ironbeak tried every trick he knew, plunging and dipping. Whichever way he went, the kite was unshakably on top of him, around columns, over galleries, under roofbeams, glorying savagely in her regained gift of flight.
Ironbeak tried one last desperate attempt at escape. He winged straight up to the trapdoor leading to the place in the eaves, and he had actually set his claws into the ring of the wooden door when the kite struck full force.
Stryk Redkite circled the ceiling of Great Hall as the lifeless carcass of General Ironbeak plummeted down to hit the stone floor below in a ragged heap of raven feathers.
‘Kreeeeeegh! Stryk Redkite flies!’
Mangiz tried to flee. He took wing and left the ground, flying for the stairs and the ruined barricade.
Constance was waiting. She stood with one paw swinging strongly upward. As the crow drew level with her, she batted out hard. The seer crow hit the far wall of Cavern Hole like a ripe fruit. Then he slid to the floor, never to rise again.
The remaining sparrows of Queen Warbeak’s command took care of a rook and a magpie between them. Winifred flattened two rooks with a big frying pan, and Brother Rufus and Sister May accounted for a rook between them.
Immediately, the fight went out of the remaining rooks and the two surviving magpies. Without their leader and Mangiz the seer, they lost heart. Constance pointed a blunt paw.
‘Into that wine cellar, all of you. One squawk or false move while you’re down there and we’ll do to you exactly what you planned for us. Now get out of my sight double quick, before I change my mind and let the big red bird loose on all of you!’
Shepherded by Winifred and Ambrose, the birds fled hurriedly through the kitchens to the wine cellar.
Ambrose, armed with a soup ladle, threatened them, ‘Move along there! If one o’ you rotten eggspawn so much as looks at my barrels of wine and ale, I’ll chop off your tails and pickle the lot of you in a barrel of sourapple vinegar!’
Constance set the big table back in its former place. ‘No real damage done, except to your gatehouse cottage door, Cornflower. I’ll help you repair it. There! The old place looks nearly as good as new. Father Abbot, Redwall is yours once again. We await your word.’
The Abbot glanced up into Great Hall. ‘Our first problem is how to stop Stryk flying about. She’s making me dizzy, soaring and wheeling around the Abbey. John, you can make an addendum to the books on birds, concerning the remarkable healing powers of a great red kite’s wing. By the fur, that bird looks as if she wants to spend the rest of her life in the air.’
John Churchmouse, not renowned for his humour, smiled.
‘When I was a young un I could never make a kite that flew properly. Funny how you learn as you get older,’ he joked.
From the wine cellar, the tiny gruff voice of baby Rollo sang raucously:
‘Chop up a rook’n make a soup,
Send him to bed wivout any bread,
Dip his tail in ‘tober ale,
An’ good ol’ magpie pie!’
The sound of happy laughter rang through Redwall Abbey from the wine cellar to the very roofbeams of Great Hall, where the big red bird soared gracefully.
51
MATTHIAS STOOD WITH his paw upon Mattimeo’s shoulder and gazed around the hushed ledge. Orlando and Auma were with him, Jess Squirrel and her son Sam, Jabez Stump and his son Jubilation, and Basil and Cheek with Tim, Tess and Cynthia. Log-a-Log Flugg and his remaining shrews stood behind Matthias, while before him there was gathered a motley horde of young woodland creatures.
The surviving blackrobe rats had fled down the causeway steps, back to the green misted caves and tunnels that had been the Kingdom of Malkariss. All along the ledge, down the steps of the causeway and across the floor of the bottom workings, lay the ranks of the slain. In the flickering torchlight, eerie shadows danced around the silent rockface.
Mattimeo took the great sword of Redwall from his father as Matthias stood on a rocky knoll with his paws outstretched.
‘You are free!’ Matthias procla
imed.
A roaring cheer echoed through the underground.
The warrior mouse nodded approvingly. ‘All of you who suffered under the cruelty of Malkariss, you who were stolen from your homes to lose many seasons of your young lives chained in dark places, let me tell you something. The world outside is dressed in the colours of summer. Grass, flowers, trees and rivers, they are yours. If you cannot remember where you came from, if you have nowhere to go, come with me and my friends to Redwall Abbey in Mossflower country and live in peace there. For two days we have had to fight the powers of evil. Many were slain in the great battle, and you must never forget them, the good creatures who gave their lives to buy freedom for you.’
Heads were bowed, and tears were shed, for lost youth and lost friends. Matthias stepped down and nodded to Orlando, who took his place on the knoll. The warrior of the western plain raised his battleaxe as his thunderous voice boomed out:
‘Let us go up into the sunlight! But first we will destroy the symbol of wickedness that has plagued this place!’
Orlando and Matthias took their weapons to the base of the great white statue which reared from the ledge to the roof of the immense cavern. Orlando spat upon his paws and grasped the axe handle firmly as he swung it back.
‘The purple-robed rat, Nadaz, he’s in there!’ Tim Churchmouse cried out.
A hissing voice came from between the crystal teeth of the monolith:
‘Fools, you cannot destroy the Kingdom of Malkariss. Now I am not only the Voice, I am King of the void.’
Matthias walked round the statue until he found the secret door. It was a tight-blocked entrance, cunningly carved so that it appeared as a mere hairline crack on the smooth limestone.
Matthias struck it with the flat of his blade.
‘Come out, Nadaz, it is over!’ he cried.
‘Over?’ The Voice of the Host laughed scornfully. ‘No, it is just beginning. Malkariss was old and weak. I am Nadaz, I am strong. You cannot get me. The entrance has a secret seal that only I can unlock from the inside. When you are gone I will get more blackrobes, more slavers, and I will follow you and hunt you down like insects.’
Orlando swung the axe, hacking a chunk from the limestone. ‘Then go to your kingdom, evil one. Eeeeulaliaaaaaa!’
Woodlanders scattered and began running for the tunnels as pieces of limestone hurtled and flew, shattering against the rocks. Matthias hewed at one side of the statue with his war blade. Orlando pounded at the other side with his battleaxe.
Nadaz screeched and raged inside the head of the great white idol. Steel rang against stone as chunks, splinters, powder and lumps of limestone whizzed in all directions.
The muscles stood out like knotted cords upon the back of Orlando of the Axe as he slashed and hacked.
Coated in white dust, Matthias swung the double-edged blade, biting deep into the base of the statue.
Grunting and sweating, the two warriors battered away at the likeness of Malkariss until the limestone began shuddering under the impact. Cracks started to show, running the length of the limestone column which joined the floor of the ledge to the ceiling of the cave. The warriors continued their onslaught, but now doggedness had replaced their former reckless spirit. Still they swung with deadly purpose, ignoring the chips and lumps of stone that flew about them like missiles, directing all the force of their blades against the idol, while Nadaz ranted and screamed.
‘You cannot escape. I will hound you across the woodlands, through the seasons, by night and day!’
The rat’s tirade was blotted out by a deep rumbling that emanated from base to apex of the statue, and the whole ledge began to tremble. Matthias shouldered his sword. Then realization of what was happening took over, and he jerked at the fur of the badger’s back.
Oblivious to everything except the destruction of the evil symbol, Orlando the Axe flung his whole frame against each crashing blow as his weapon bit deeper and deeper into the groaning, splitting stone. Matthias ducked as the double-headed blade swung past him.
‘Orlando, stop!’ he roared at his companion. ‘The whole place is collapsing! We must get out!’
With an explosion like a thunderclap, the statue of Malkariss broke off at its base. Matthias and Orlando ran for the tunnel entrance, hearts pounding, ears ringing, as they raced across the quaking ledge. They had caused the earth to dance, just as Jabez Stump’s forebears had witnessed long ago.
The untold weight of the idol dropped, tearing a colossal piece of the cave ceiling with it. A widening rift split the entire ledge into two sections as the statue plunged into the depths, and the rock walls shattered. The two warriors dashed up the tunnel with the entire underground collapsing behind them.
Mattimeo sat in the copse, watching the last of the woodland horde climbing out into the sunlight. Creatures danced and laughed, rolling in the grass, embracing the trees and waving at the great golden eye of the sun above.
Basil winked at him. ‘By jingo! That’s something worth waitin’ to see, wot?’
Tess flung herself down at the young mouse’s side.
‘Fresh air and freedom, Matti. It tastes better than strawberry wine and new bread!’
The ground beneath their paws started to tremble. They froze, hugging the earth as the whole copse began to shake.
Jube grasped his father’s spikes. ‘What is it, Pa?’ he asked worriedly.
Jabez hugged his young one to him. ‘The earth is dancing, just as the cliffs once did!’
Jess and Sam dashed to the flight of steps that ran down to the underworld.
‘Matthias, Orlando. Get out of there!’ they called.
The steps shuddered violently. Jess peered into the gloom. ‘There’s somebeast coming. Make way, Sam!’
Little Vitch the rat scampered out as if demons were biting his tail. ‘Yaagh! My whole cell began moving and the door fell off. Help me!’
Mattimeo grabbed him by the neck. ‘My father and Orlando, did you see them?’
‘No, no, I just ran. It’s falling in down there. Can’t you hear it!’
Basil Stag Hare flung himself upon Auma and dragged her back as she tried to get to the steps.
‘Father, my father’s in there!’ she protested.
A deep rumbling boom exploded from the bowels of the cavern. Trees started to sway crazily and the earth bucked like a tablecloth being shaken free of crumbs.
Mattimeo took hold of Auma’s paw, and they lay flat on the ground. ‘We don’t leave here until our fathers are out!’ the mouse declared.
Basil buried his face against the trembling ground. ‘Well spoken, young un. I second that proposal.’
There followed a terrific bang.
The entire copse fell, creating a huge valley. From the hole in the ground where the steps started, a whooshing gust of air, white with limestone dust, flew high into the sky like a geyser.
Two round objects shot out like balls from the mouth of a cannon. Matthias landed high in the branches of an elm. Orlando hit the top of a rowan and came crashing to earth in a cloud of twigs and leaves. The axe and the sword stood quivering in the bole of a young beech.
Then the earth stood still.
Basil got slowly to his paws and guffawed. ‘Haw, haw, haw! Mattimeo, there’s a flyin’ white mouse up a tree over there. Looks a bit like your dad’s ghost, wot?’
Mattimeo could hardly believe his eyes.
Jabez Stump tapped Auma. ‘Your old pa looks like a lump of white dough ready for the oven, I reckon, missie. Hu-huh-huh!’
Jube patted his spikes to make sure they were all there. ‘Whew! That big hatchet nearly scalped me!’
Orlando rose, dusting himself off in a dignified manner. ‘Be careful how you talk of that weapon, young un. It’s a battleaxe, not a hatchet.’
Jess Squirrel and Sam went haring up the beech trunk.
‘Stay where you are, Warrior. We’ll get you down, but only if you promise to do no more bird imitations.’
Matthias smi
led at Sam’s impudent remark.
‘I promise. Just get me down.’
That same joyous day, the remnants of General Ironbeak’s force were led out on rope leads to the top of the north battlements.
Ambrose Spike and baby Rollo followed them up the north wall steps to the ramparts, the infant bankvole waddling along comically in a passable impression of the bird’s gait.
A light, warm breeze stirred the Abbot’s robe as he and Constance lined the prisoners up. The inhabitants of Redwall stood about on the broad wall top, glaring at the subdued line of rooks and the two magpies, who blinked in the strong sunlight, huddling nervously together at the sight of Stryk Redkite as she watched them from the wall threshold above the gatehouse.
‘Is that all of them, Ambrose?’
‘Aye, ’tis, Father Abbot.’
‘Good. Mrs Churchmouse, Cornflower, would you put the collars on them, please?’
The two mice emptied iron collars from a sack. Ambrose Spike had made the collars from iron barrel hoops. They were circular and left open in the middle, and slipped easily around the birds’ necks.
Ragwing the rook dipped his head cheekily, and the iron collar slipped off and clanged upon the wallstones.
Winifred replaced the collar and whacked the rook with her rudderlike tail.
Mattimeo (Redwall) Page 37