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Dann caught Burble's paw. "Hold hard there, mate. What is it? There's somethin' yore not tellin' us."

The watervole sniffed the air, his nose pointing downstream. "I've been smellin' a watermeadow up ahead for a while now. Yiss yiss, I'd know that heavy scent anywhere. But there's somethin' else, Dann, somethin' not very nice. I don't like it!"

The young squirrel unshouldered his sword. "Well, you're not goin' alone, Burb. Whatever 'tis we'll face it together. Come on, stay together an' go quietly."

Late afternoon was slipping into evening when they sighted the watermeadow on their right. It was landlocked on the nearside, though a narrow gap at its far edge filtered out into a river some distance away. The scent of water lilies, crowfoot and bulrushes mixed with the smell of rotting vegetation was heavy on the air. Dippler's voice sounded unusually loud in the sinister stillness that hung over everything. "Yukk! So that's wot you could smell, eh, Burb?"

Burble glanced back at his friends as he pushed forward into a high fern thicket. "Ah no, 'twas somethin' far worse than that!"

They navigated a path through the ferns, the ground squelching under their footpaws as they skirted the watermeadow. Burble steeled himself and thrust forward from the sheltering ferns. "Smell's stronger now, somewhere around here ... Yaaaaagh!"

He had walked straight into the half-decayed carcass of a water rat dangling from the limb of a crack willow, its grinning skull seeming to mock at them through eyeless sockets.

Dann froze. "So that's what y'could smell..."

Phfffft sssssstck! Two sharpened bulrush spears came whizzing out of nowhere, one burying itself in the earth alongside Dippler, the other narrowly missing Dann's head. Drums began pounding, and more spears came hissing through the air. Burble glimpsed the horde of lizards, newts and toads thrashing their way through the watery margin toward them.

"Oh, great seasons o' slaughter, run fer it, mates!"

Foul-smelling ooze squirted underpaw as they fled, flattening ferns and leaping over rotting treetrunks. A fearsome high-pitched wail arose from the reptiles pursuing them, and the drums throbbed louder. Dann made sure that whenever possible he kept hold of Dippler and Burble's paws as they ran across the marshy ground. Behind them could be heard the slithering and keening of the cold-eyed hunters, growing closer by the moment. Burble stumbled and fell flat in damp brown sedge, spluttering and coughing. "Run f'yore lives. I can't go no further!"

Roughly Dippler dragged the watervole upright. "We're stickin' t'gether, mate. Move yoreself!"

Stumbling and gasping, they dragged Burble along with them. Two toads and a lizard, who had come from a different angle, leapt out in front of them, spears at the ready. Clasping paws, the three companions charged straight at them, tumbling them flat before they had a chance to use their weapons. Dann felt the toad's stomach underpaw, the breath whooshing out of the reptile as the young squirrel ran right over him. Into a grove of trees they pounded, dodging between the trunks, bulrush spears clattering off the branches around their heads. Dann knew they could not run much longer, but he staggered onward, looking wildly about for someplace to hide. There it was, a huge rotten elm trunk lying flat in a deep, leaf-carpeted depression, which had probably once been a stream.

"Down there, quick, under the fallen tree!"

They flung themselves under the dead woodland giant, quickly scooping out the thick sodden loam and building it around them. Dann pushed the other two farther under, drawing his sword and fighting his way in alongside them. Surrounded by the nauseating odor, regardless of woodlice and insects that crawled over them, they lay, scarcely daring to draw breath, their hearts pounding frantically, hoping fervently that the hunters would not discover them.

Moments seemed to stretch into hours, then Dann heard the rustle of dry leaves. The drums had ceased and the reptiles had stopped their wailing. Now there were slithering sounds. The pursuers were in the disused streambed, searching for them. The three friends gripped one another's paws tightly, knowing that twilight had fallen over the area, giving them a slight hope that they might be bypassed. The watermeadow dwellers communicated with each other in a series of sibilant hisses and soft clicking noises, no language that the three friends could distinguish. Then they could sense the reptiles on the log above them. A bulrush spear probed into the hiding place, scratched Dippler's back and raked Dann's paw, poked about in the wet underloam, scraped against the log's underside, then withdrew. Dann, Dippler and Burble lay motionless, knowing that the streambed was swarming with toads, lizards and newts. The foul air was stifling, black mud and a soggy compound of long seasons' dead leaves pressed in on them. They were trapped.

Chapter 29

Ascrod sat out on the flatlands in front of the Abbey. It was a warm moonless night, the land was still and calm. A shudder of delight shook the Marlfox. He had solved the problem. Redwall's main gate was only held shut by a long wooden bar set in open-topped holders, two on either side of the double doors. One good push upward by four strong creatures holding a spear through the central crack between the doors would knock the bar out ' of position. Ascrod had spent an hour at twilight, peering into the crack, even testing the theory by quietly shoving in his axblade and pressing upward. The bar had budged slightly. His plan would work! All that remained was for Predak to return with the army. The Marlfox listened to the warm toll of Redwall's muted twin bells, softly ringing out the midnight hour. With any luck Predak would arrive with Vannan, Raventail and the others in the dawn hour, when all was quiet and the Redwallers would still be abed, suspecting nothing. Blending with the landscape so that he was almost invisible, he lay flat and watched the night sentries idly patrolling the walltop. By dawn, if they were not relieved, those guards would be practically slumbering.

A single skylark began its lone song in the half-light as the vermin army arrived. Under Vannan's directions they filed along the ditch that ran along the west side of the path outside Redwall. Ascrod slid into the ditch, gesturing toward the still figures of the shrews who were acting as wall guards.

"See, just as I figured, they're dozing nicely. I'll wager that apart from a few cooks that whole Abbey is still sleeping."

Raventail pawed keenly at his cutlass. "Besure you right dissa time, magicfox, kye arr!"

Ascrod shot the ferret a withering glance. "Don't worry, my ragged friend, my plan will work. All you have to do is follow orders. Leave the thinking to Marlfoxes."

Raventail licked the stained blade of his cutlass. "Magicfox give order, me'n'mybeasts kill kill plenty!"

Predak gave a long narrow spear to four water rats she had personally selected, big, rough-looking beasts. "Right, let's get it done. You four, follow me and Ascrod. Vannan, wait here until you see our signal, one wave of the spear. Then come quick, no yelling war cries and shouting to let them know we're here. Clear?"

Vannan's pale eyes scanned the waiting horde of bandaged and poulticed vermin, making sure they had heard the order. "Just get the gates open, we'll come silently."

Old Friar Butty had passed a restless night in the gatehouse. It was close to dawn when he guessed the reason he had only slept half the night: he had dozed off and missed supper. The Recorder never slept well on an empty stomach. He decided to have a good early breakfast while helping in the kitchen. The ancient squirrel left the gatehouse and began walking across the lawn toward the Abbey, but he had scarce gone a score of paces when there was a dull thud and the gate bar hit the ground. Friar Butty turned and found himself peering through the half-light of dawn at six creatures, two Marlfoxes and four water rats, one of whom was waving a long spear. Dark shapes poured out of the ditch and into the open gateway. Butty ran as fast as his aged limbs would carry him toward the main building, shouting, "Attack! We're being invaded! Sound the alarm!"