and Jabez headed a wild charge into the rat horde. Nadaz stamped and screeched like a mad thing, rattling
his sceptre as he chanted death threats against the invaders.
Matthias felt the rope go slack, and he plunged like a falling stone into the green curtain of mist. Racing
through his mind were the faces of Cornflower and Mattimeo, certain he would never see them again.
Whump!
The warrior mouse landed on something soft and yielding. It was a large woven grass basket, thickly
padded inside with moss and purple cloth. The force of the fall stunned him temporarily. He lay on the
ground beside the basket, trying to galvanize himself into movement and collect his thoughts, amazed at
the fact that he had lived through such a fall.
The lid of the smashed basket moved.
There was a slobbering, snarling noise from within the basket, then it fell to one side as something
rolled out.
But the creature on the floor beside the basket bore little resemblance to the high statue on the ledge.
This Malkariss was gross! The great white mound of scabrous fur, now broken by the weight that had
dropped on it from above, was something out of a bad dream. Short floppy paws with long mottled nails
which hung limply reached up to wipe the crusting bleariness from eyes dimmed and half shut with age.
The mouth sagged open, revealing blackened stumps of teeth.
Matthias sat up groggily. His senses swam, and he began to doubt whether he was still alive when he
saw the broken vision of evil crawling towards him. Surely such a thing never lived above or below
ground. When Malkariss spoke, his voice was thin and reedy. Not being projected by the chamber within
the statue or echoing around the rock ledge spaces, it was almost a piteous whine.
“You have looked upon Malkariss. You must die.”
Matthias shuddered. The horrible thing had its paw upon his sword, which had fallen close to the
basket. As he was about to lever himself upright, a chunk of rock struck Malkariss upon the back and he
arched in pain. Another rock hit the white polecat, striking him on the paw. He released the sword with a
whimper. More rocks pelted in.
Matthias scrambled away, retrieving his sword as he went. Thin, ravaged creatures, fur welted with
lash-marks, their paws manacled, were advancing on Malkariss like a grim army. They hurled rocks at the
cringing figure. Dragging slowly forward, pulling slave chains along the ground, they chanted:
“Die, evil one, die!”
“We will bury you with pieces of your own Kingdom!”
Gaunt young hedgehogs, squirrels, mice, moles and otters were picking up big rocks from a pile of
debris with both paws. They gathered around the fallen tyrant, heaving the stones onto him with all the
force they could muster. Matthias watched in horror as Malkariss was buried beneath a growing mound of
rocks. Malkariss could no longer be seen, but still the slaves continued hurling rocks onto the pile.
The Redwall Warrior grabbed a half-starved otter and pulled him to one side.
“Here, hold your chains tight across that rocky slab. Do not be afraid. I am your friend.”
The otter did as he was told, hope shining in his dust-flecked eyes.
“Strike hard, friend!” he cried to Matthias.
The Warrior’s sword whistled downward through the air. With a sharp snap it sheared the links of
chain like a billhook chopping grass. Nothing could withstand the great sword of Redwall, whose metal
had come from a falling star.
Once he had severed the lead dragchain, Matthias set about cleaving the manacles from slaves. Young
creatures wept openly, and some cheered and began to dance, with broken chains dangling from their
paws. The mouse warrior was freeing them two at a time as quickly as he could, for sounds of battle raging
above had reached his ears. A black-robed rat ran up, brandishing a whip, but before he could reach
Matthias, a squirrel felled him with a whirling length of chain.
“Well struck, squirrel,” the mouse warrior called out. “I am Matthias of Redwall. What do they call
you?”
Despite his scrawny appearance, the squirrel laughed and swung the chain until it whirred around his
head.
“Elmtail. I am called Elmtail. I will buy my freedom with this chain that bound me as a slave!”
“That’s the way, Elmtail. When I have freed your friends we will do it together, mate!”
The slaves began cheering, and those already liberated swung their chains aloft.
The battle on the ledge was in full flood. Side by side the woodlanders stood in a tight circle within a circle.
The outer ring of shrews, with Jess and Jabez, was stabbing and thrusting with swords and javelins, all the
time moving in a clockwise direction. The inner circle fired over their heads. Urged on by Basil and Cheek,
they pelted stones and arrows into the tight-packed horde of rats that surrounded the woodlanders on all
sides.
Commanded by Nadaz, the rats fought back with fanatical vigor, and many a good shrew fell to the
stabs of their short spears.
Orlando would stand at the center of the circle until he regained his breath, then with a mad roar he
would charge out to wreak slaughter upon the rat horde, only coming back into the circle to wipe the gore
from his axe and lick wounds.
Whenever Basil saw a particularly vicious attack, he too would go vaulting over into the thick of it, his
long flailing limbs laying rats senseless, to be trampled under the masses of their own horde.
“Yahooooo! Take that, you blighter! Here, old lad, have some of this harespaw pie and lie down for a
bit.”
Thud!
Another rat would stretch his length on the rocky ledge.
More blackrobes pressing up the winding causeway steps piled in to fight, fired on by Nadaz.
“Kill! Kill! Slay the invaders who dare come to the land of Malkariss.”
Jess Squirrel angrily turned a rat’s own spear upon him. “Wait’ll I get my paws on that one in the
purple robe. I’ll make him sing a different tune!”
Cheek flexed his throwing paw and spoke his mind to a nearby shrew archer.
“There’s just too many of ’em. If we lose a creature we’re one short, but you can knock ten vermin out
and twenty spring up in their place.”
The shrew sighted and shot his arrow, nodding with satisfaction at the result.
“Right ’twixt the eyes. They never come back for more after that. What’s that you say, otter? Oh aye,
there’s no stoppin’ ’em, is there? Still, we’ve signed for the trip, so we might as well make the best of it,
eh!”
Above the din of the battle, Jess caught a ripple over on the far side of the ledge at the tunnel mouth.
She fought her way to Basil.
“Over there, look. It seems we’ve got some kind of reinforcements.”
Basil did an extra-high leap, taking great care to kick a rat flat on the head as he went.
“Yahaha! Well, blow me old whiskers, Jess, it’s the young uns! Mattimeo! Over here you, young
scallawag. Redwallll!”
The cry was taken up in answer across the melee:
“Hooray, we’re saved! Basil, you old grubweller, we’re coming! Redwallllll!
Mattimeo and the former captives were battling their way through the throng. Using flailing manacles and
spears from fallen rats, they drove across the platform with their cell door in front of them as a shield.
Pushing, shoving, thrusting and whipping out left and right with everything available, the young creatures
fought their way to be reunited with their friends. Nadaz danced and screamed louder, urging his rat horde
to greater efforts. The inevitable victory he had foreseen began to waver as the tide of battle flowed in favor