say this is the way it must be. If there were a river or a stream here now, I would ride a log on my last
journey. Then you would have no choice. Hear me, I have spoken. What was that?”
Some creature was banging on the door from the other side.
Flugg banged in reply. Placing his mouth near the jamb, he called, “Logalogalogalog!”
There was more thumping in reply, followed by a voice calling, “Redwaaaall! Mossflowerrr!”
Log-a-Log struggled to his paws. “I’d know that voice anywhere. It’s just like his father’s. It’s Matthias’s
young one. Get that door open, Guosim!”
There was a heavy padlock and hasp on the door, but one of the shrews named Gurn produced a small
dagger.
“Stand aside. Let me try with this,” Gurn told the others.
Luckily it was a lock of simple and ancient design. Gurn’s dagger jiggled and twisted a few times, then
there was a click, and he pulled the padlock curve from the hasp ring.
Inside the cell Auma had her ear to the door. She listened carefully.
“Keep quiet. We’ve given them our challenge, now let’s see what they do.”
“Are they shouting flogaloggle or whatever it is?” Jube piped up. “Daft sort of war cry, if you ask me.”
“We never asked you, Jube. Be quiet,” Mattimeo commanded curtly. “What’s happening out there,
Auma?”
“I think they’re unlocking the door, Mattimeo.”
“Right, this is it. Get your manacles ready and give the best fight you can manage. If we don’t meet
again, my friends, goodbye.”
Auma’s voice was hoarse and urgent.
“They’ve unlocked the door, wait, it must open outwards….”
Mattimeo felt for his companion’s paws in the darkness.
“Why wait? Let’s rush them.”
“Chaaaaarge!”
They hit the door. It flew open wide. Mattimeo flung himself upon the first creature in his path. Tim
and Sam leapt on another. Even the dim passage light dazzled their eyes, which were accustomed to
nothing but complete darkness. Grappling on the floor, the young mouse heard his name called by a deep
gruff voice:
“Mattimeo, it’s me, Log-a-Log!”
Mattimeo had Flugg by the throat. His paws dropped with a clank of manacles as he yelled out. “Stop,
they’re friends!”
Immediately, the fight halted. Mattimeo and his companions stood in the torchlit passage, rubbing their
eyes. Gurn shook his head admiringly.
“What a bunch of young warriors. Don’t rub your eyes too hard. Let me open those manacles with my
dagger.”
Cynthia began sobbing again, but this time it was with happiness.
The friends were smiling at each other. Gradually it was dawning on them that they were no longer the
prisoners of Malkariss, Slagar, Nadaz or any other evil creature.
Mattimeo’s laughter boomed around the passage walls.
“Hahahaha, free. We’re free. It’s my father’s friends, the Guosim!”
“It’s certainly your lucky day, young ’uns, most of your parents are here. There’s Matthias, Orlando,
Jabez, Jess, even old Basil Stag Hare. We joined forces with them to search for you. They’re down on the big
ledge fighting the hordes of Malkariss.”
Mattimeo could hardly believe his ears. His father, the Champion of Redwall … here!
Auma let out a great whoop, Sam leapt high into the air, Jube wrinkled his nose knowingly.
“Told you so, I said we wouldn’t get far without my old dad catching us up. Do you remem—”
He was seized by Tim and Tess and whirled around, then Cynthia joined in.
“Good old Basil, the Redwallers are here! Hurray!”
Flugg was knocked flat by the whirling dancers, but Mattimeo helped him to his paws. Dusting himself
off, the shrew grinned broadly.
“By the fur and the claw, and the law, I’m glad we found you lot, though you’ve got our Log-a-Log to
thank for that. If he hadn’t decided to rest here awhile we’d have gone right past you and you’d have rotted
in there.”
Laughing happily, Mattimeo knelt to shake Log-a-Log by the paw.
“I knew you’d find us. Oh, I just knew it would happen someday. Thank you, Log-a-Log. Oh, thank y
—”
The Log-a-Log of all the Guosim was smiling, even though his eyes had closed for the last time. He had
lived long enough to keep his promise to his friends. He had found their young ones.
Matthias was growing tired. The Wearet seemed to have hidden stores of insane energy. The strange beast
was wounded in a dozen different places, but his size and mad ferocity seemed to buoy him up. The
warrior mouse went into the sword fighter’s stance, blade held ready to cut, sweep and thrust, gaining a
small respite for breath as the Wearet circled him, looking for an opening. Matthias turned slowly as the
Wearet tried to get behind his back.
In the mouth of the tunnel, Orlando stood alongside Basil, watching the gruelling conflict.
“That creature can’t get the better of our Warrior, but I think Matthias is looking very tired now. Is that
a very deep gash on his brow, d’you think, Basil?”
“Tchah! A mere scratch, old lad. I’ve done more damage to a salad with a spoon. Don’t let the
Champion of Redwall fool you, Orlando, oh dear no. In a moment or two he’ll decide it’s time for lunch
and he’ll settle old thingummybob’s hash, you mark my words!”
Basil was proved right. The moment Matthias saw he had the Wearet with his back to the wall, he came
in like a hungry wolf. Sparks flew from the rocks as Matthias smashed home a devastating attack. He
seemed to be everywhere at once, roaring, slashing and milling. The confident sneer faded from the
Wearet’s face as he found himself battling for dear life. The mouse warrior fought with the strength of two
and the skill of many seasons. The Wearet pushed himself from the rocks with a gigantic effort and lunged
savagely forward with both spears. Matthias darted to one side, and his blade crashed down like summer
lightning, shearing through both spear handles in one heroic sweep. The warrior mouse turned a half-circle
with the momentum, but the Wearet was swifter than a shadow. He leaped at Matthias’s unprotected back.
Passing his paws over Matthias’s head, he began strangling the warrior mouse with the broken handles of
the spears which he had held on to.
Choking for breath, Matthias slammed his swordpoint down into the Wearet’s footpaw. Grasping the
spearhafts with both paws, he crouched deep, leaning forward. The Wearet screamed and shot over
Matthias’s head, landing with a thud at the end of the ledge. Matthias leapt up and hurled himself onto the
Wearet. His foe was waiting. The Wearet thrust all paws straight into the air and Matthias felt himself rise.
He struck the very brink of the ledge and rolled over into the void with a shout of dismay.
General Ironbeak fluttered about in the sunwarmed shallows of the Abbey pond. He took a deep drink,
throwing his head back as the bright droplets sparkled from his fine dark plumage. Mangiz stood to one
side, taking in the scene with disdain. He had often drunk water, but bathing in it was out of the question.
The raven General shook himself and swaggered briskly about at the water’s edge. Today was a day for
great plans. The omens were good and he felt energetic.
“Chakka! That was good. Now, my Mangiz, are your visions favoring us? Does your mind’s eye see
clear still?”
“Kayah! All is still well, my General, though my visions say that haste would be unseemly.”
“Kaah! Unseemly, what kind of old farmhen’s talk is that? Listen to me, my strong right wing, you just
keep your visions happy and Ironbeak will do the planning.”