passage we came in by!”
The Guosim carried Log-a-Log as they hacked their way back to the mouth of the passage. Orlando,
Jess and Jabez stood side by side with Cheek as Basil fought a fierce rearguard action. Matthias, weaving in
and out of them, helped with the wounded.
Finally they gained the passage, the drum stopped pounding and the rats fell back halfway across the
ledge, protecting the causeway steps as their comrades swarmed up, spreading across the length and
breadth of the rocky plateau. In the midst of it all, Nadaz stood rattling the mouse skull at the top of his
sceptre, pointing at the woodlanders as if trying to cast some sort of spell over them.
Orlando cleaned his axe and set about sharpening it against the rock wall.
“Well, we gave them a good fight, even though we were outnumbered,” he said consolingly.
The warrior mouse sat with his back to the wall breathing heavily. “Aye, if we had the young ones now
we could back up and go above ground. Trouble is, I haven’t seen them anywhere.”
The badger licked a wounded paw. “Nor have I, or the fox, for that matter. I’m not leaving here while
he still lives, then if I can’t find my Auma at least I’ll know he won’t enslave any more young ones.”
Cheek stood at the mouth of the passage, pulling faces at the ranks of blackrobes gathered a short
distance away.
“Yah, tatty ratty! Your silly old statue isn’t worth a crushed acorn. It takes a horde of you to face real
fighters, doesn’t it!” he taunted them.
Basil and Jess were trying to bandage the awful wound in Log-a-Log’s neck, which was deep and
serious. Basil shook his head.
“Will y’ listen to that young rip? Shortly we’ll all be slaughtered, and there he is calling names like a
volemaid at a tea party. Haha, the little bucko, good for him! I say, old Log-a-thing, stay still. You’ll only
make that scratch worse, y’know.”
The shrew leader pawed at the wet bandage around his neck. He was panting hard.
“It’s a bad one, mate, I’m out of it,” he said, rasping harshly.
Basil waggled his ears encouragingly. “Poppycock, old lad. We’ll have you as good as new shortly.”
Log-a-Log pushed himself into a standing position and turned to Matthias. “Where’s Flugg? I must see
him. Matthias, I’ve got to go up into the daylight. I don’t want to die down here in this dark place.”
Matthias grasped his friend firmly by the paw. “I understand, Log-a-Log. You go up top and rest.
You’ll be all right. Flugg, will you and some of the others take Log-a-Log up into the daylight? Easy now,
mind his neck.”
“Matthias, look!” Orlando was standing on a protruding wall rock, craning his neck. “They’ve let a sort
of a rope over the side of the ledge and there’s a large basket on the end of it. Looks to me as if they’re
lowering something down. I wonder what it is.”
Matthias shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Listen, Orlando, pretty soon now they’re going to
attack. I can feel it. We might hold out for a bit, but we’ll end up being overwhelmed. I have an idea that
might buy a bit of time for us, then if all fails at least our creatures might make a run for it and escape.”
Standing out from the cave entrance, Matthias pointed his sword at Nadaz.
“You there, rat, I challenge you to single combat!” he shouted.
Nadaz continued chanting and shaking his grisly sceptre. The warrior mouse tried again.
“You’re afraid! It’s all right when you have your horde with you, but on your own, ha! You’re nothing
but a coward. Send anybeast out, then. I am Matthias of Redwall, I am a warrior who does not know fear.
Are there any among you like me, or are you all spineless scum?”
The black-robed rats turned to look at Nadaz.
“You’re not saving my acorns, Warrior,” Orlando whispered fiercely. “I stay down here with you until
the end. I’ll fight their champion!”
Matthias smiled, shaking his head. “Orlando, you are the bravest creature I have ever known. No, my
friend, they know you could beat any one of them; that’s why I offered to fight. There must be quite a few
of them who’d fancy their chances against a warrior my size. But if you must stay, then so be it. When I fall,
you can guard the passage and buy our friends a bit of extra time to escape.”
Orlando placed a heavy paw upon Matthias.
“Champion of Redwall, you may be a mouse but your heart is far bigger than mine. Look out,
something’s happening over there.”
Nadaz was now pointing his sceptre at the causeway. The rats on the steps made way, and they
seemed to shrink back against the rock walls in fear. Matthias gripped his sword hilt tighter and his breath
caught in his chest.
It was a huge rodent, somewhere between a ferret and a stoat. The beast looked like a primeval
throwback; it had no ears and practically no neck. The hulking head perched squat upon its heavy
shoulders leered evilly through curved and stained teeth. Sinew and muscle stood out like great cords all
over its body, and heavy spiked iron bands ringed its paws and waist. It carried a stabbing spear of
fearsome size and a weighted net.
Nadaz made an evil, sniggering noise.
“Matthias of Redwall who fears nobeast, this is your challenger. Wearet, the slavemaster!”
Chapter 47
Sister May and Cornflower had tried to feed Stryk with Abbey fare, but the red kite was no vegetarian, so
they finally compromised by giving the great hunting bird a net of watershrimp. Stryk had taken to the
corner of the wine cellar, and she settled down to sleep on a pile of moss and sacking.
“Stay out of Mr. Spike’s wine cellar, little one,” Sister May warned baby Rollo. “Never go down there
alone. We can’t take chances with a bird like that one.”
“Huh, hope it doesn’t get a taste for October ale or elderberry wine, great hulkin’ thing like that’d
empty my cellar,” Ambrose Spike grumbled into an apple and blackberry pie wedge.
The Abbot looked over the top of his spectacles. “No quicker than the average cellar-keeper could
empty a larder. You’re right, Sister May, Stryk is a fine big bird, but she is not used to our ways. Pity about
her wing. She’s very proud. Did you see the way she got huffy when I remarked that it was broken? I’d like
to take a look at it sometime.”
Cornflower stopped Rollo roaming in the direction of the wine cellar and sat the mischievous infant on
her lap.
“Poor thing,” Sister May said sympathetically. “Apparently she built her nest on a piece of branch
sticking out from the mountain. Then one night the branch rotted and the nest fell. She struck her wing
awkwardly on a jagged rock and broke it. Stryk said that she lay in the ruined nest for many days, unable
to move. She had no mate to defend her and she was attacked by other birds. Finally she forced herself to
fly. Bit by bit she made her way across the western plain, looking for somewhere to shelter, and that was
when she saw our Abbey.”
Constance came in mopping her brow. “Still hot out there. Where’s the big bird? Asleep? What a size!
I’ll bet she could almost lift me. D’you think she’ll ever fly again, Abbot?”
“I don’t know, Constance. Maybe if we could look at her wing we’d be able to tell. However, big red
kites aren’t our present worry, it’s ravens, crows and rooks I’m concerned with. Cornflower, you must stop
this masquerade as Martin the Warrior. I know it annoys Ironbeak, but it isn’t getting us anywhere. There’s