the south hinterlands. Malkariss has spoken. Go!”
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 marched
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 rats 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. Rounding 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 rats. 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!”
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, what’s 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 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
the 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, cleave, thrust; he worked like a machine, relentlessly battling great odds. Jess
was different, she 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 close
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 thing 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. “Fire! Now drop down an’ reload, shrews. That’s the stuff t’ 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, slingers 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
clear of the fray, the warrior mouse yelled aloud, “Retreat! Retreat! Take your wounded and get back to the