“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 that 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 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
Redwall. 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, Phweek! 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.
“That’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!”
Chapter 46
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, it’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 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 carry 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