failed in another attempt. I think they’re doing the same as us, waiting it out. This weather’s too hot to do
anything. They’re probably idling about in the dormitory, eating and sleeping.”
Ironbeak was not sleeping, nor was Mangiz, or any of the rooks.
They were gathered at the edge of the Abbey pond, listening as the raven General outlined his strategy,
the final plan to conquer Redwall Abbey. Ironbeak paced up and down in front of his command.
“Yaggah! Listen well, my fighters. I will not say there is no ghost mouse; what I say is that it is a trick,
some silly thing the earthcrawlers have thought up. When we conquer them I will make them tell us how
they did it, then we will throw their ghost from the very top of this redstone house. Kaah! See if it comes
back to haunt us then. In the past I was like you. One time in the northlands when I was standing
nightwatch, I was sleepy, my wings drooped and my eyes began to close. Yarrak! I saw a great green eagle,
a fearsome bird. Instead of running away I flew to attack it. Kaah! It was only an odd-shaped green bush.
Do you see what I mean? Tired eyes, darkness, even sun shadows when you are dozing, can cause your
mind to see strange sights. So let me hear no more of these things. They are like the first sight of lightning
to an eggchick.”
The rooks were unconvinced, but dared not speak.
“Tonight we will make ready for our final battle,” the General continued. “Mangiz sees that the omens
are good. I know you are loyal fighters. You have fought under me in the northlands. Now you shall have
your reward in this warm country, for we will live together in the redstone house with lots of food, sun and
easy times. Here is how we do it. I have not posted guards or sentries for two days now. The weather is hot
and the earthcrawlers are resting easy. They have plenty of food and think themselves safe in the Cavern
Hole place. Kayah! This is good. Let them go on thinking we have forgotten them, then they will relax. They
have posted no guards at their barricade for two nights now. I have seen this. In the hour before the sun
rises at dawn, Quickbill and his brothers will go down the stairs. If all is quiet, they will signal to us. Kraa!
Silence is the key to my plan. Without the big stripedog we will have them at our mercy.”
Chapter 50
The battle beneath the ground raged back and forth. Mattimeo and his friends had joined forces with
Orlando and the woodlanders. Heaving masses of rats pressed in from all sides, the double circle continued
its deadly function, reinforced by the willing young ones. Jess Squirrel stood alongside her son Sam, but
there was little time for happy reunions in the midst of a battle. Orlando and Auma lifted the door bodily
between them, using it as a large flattener on the black-robed rats. Nadaz kept up his chant, wailing and
screaming as he sent in wave after wave of blackrobes. Shaking his eerie bone sceptre, rattling the mouse
skull, he pointed to the woodlanders.
“Die, die, you will all die here. Your bones will rot in the kingdom of Malkariss. The Voice of the Host
has spoken!”
Basil Stag Hare and Cheek lifted a rat between them. The wildly struggling creature screeched as he was
hefted above the heads of the hare and the otter.
“We’re goin’ to chuck you over to your boss,” Basil informed him. “Tell him t’ keep the howlin’ an’
yellin’ down. Bad form, y’know. Right, me old Cheek. One, two and away he goes!”
The rat flew through the air. Falling short of Nadaz, he landed on the spearpoints of the horde.
Basil tut-tutted. “Oh bad shot, sir, what’ve I told you about holdin’ your end up, Cheek? Never mind.
Try, try again, that’s the spirit. Grab hold of that smelly chap to your left.”
Now Nadaz was standing on the big drum. He pounded it with both paws in a mad dance, and the
noise rolled and boomed, encouraging the rats on the causeway steps to press forward onto the ledge.
Jube Hedgehog and Jabez his father were unassailable. They rolled into one tight ball, hurtling madly
about, spiking rats over the brink of the ledge, deflecting spearthrusts with their needled armour casing.
But the rats still came forward.
Tess and Tim Churchmouse formed a trio of flailing chains with Mattimeo, and managed to gasp
snatches of conversation as they pounded the rats with the swinging slave-chain manacles.
“Watch your back, Matti!”
“Got him, thanks, Tess. Look out!”
“Good shot, Tim. Are you all right?”
“Phew, my paws are getting tired!”
“Aye, there’s no end to them. Look down those steps. They’re pouring up four abreast!”
Matthias ran farther up the underground workings, dealing with any guards that were left and freeing
slaves as he went. Climbing over piles of rubble and dashing through half-finished chambers, the mouse
warrior swung his sword like an avenging pendulum, striking the chains of slavery to smithereens and
dealing death to the oppressors. With both paws aching, he stopped and took stock of his surroundings: a
long passage with a blank wall at one end. Through the semidarkness he glimpsed a vast carving on the
rock wall. It was a frieze of woodland creatures chained together, dominated by a prominent relief of the
statue on the ledge, surrounded by robed rats. Relaxing his guard, he laid aside the sword and studied the
carvings. Obviously it marked the boundary of Malkariss’s evil kingdom.
Slagar stepped out from behind the mouse warrior. The Cruel One dealt Matthias a swinging blow with
the metal weights of his three-thonged weapon, and the mouse warrior pitched forward, overwhelmed by
the striking bolas. Grinning behind the silken mask, Slagar turned his victim over.
“You did well, mouse. I am saved the trouble of slaying Malkariss. When the horde has overcome your
woodlanders, I will rule here. But first I must fulfill my oath of vengeance.”
Grabbing Matthias by the throat, the fox reached for the great sword.
“Yaahaa! It’s the fox! Kill Slagar!”
Like a hunting pack, the slaves came through the rubble at the masked fox. He looked wildly about for
an escape route, and his eye fell upon the carved mural a few paces away. The silken hood sucked back and
forth wildly as he snatched up his bolas and leapt over the fallen Warrior. Gripping the outstretched left
paw of the polecat image, Slagar twisted and pushed in the same way that Nadaz had done the previous
day.
The stone polecat swung inwards. Slagar stepped through into the bottom of a deep well shaft with
sunlight pouring in from above. He slammed the exit door back into place and mounted the pawholds to
the surface, reciting an old woodland verse in a crazy singsong as he climbed:
“A fox who fights and runs away,
Lives to fight another day.
It is not over yet, Matthias of Redwall, I will live to take your sword, your son, and your life!”
Willing paws helped Matthias up. He shook his head groggily as the slave army packed in about him.
“Where’s Slagar? He was here, wasn’t he?” Matthias asked uncertainly.
Elmtail gave the Warrior back his sword. “You’ll never believe this. The fox vanished completely into
that carved rock wall. We were never allowed up this end of the workings, so the rats must have made that
carving themselves. Anyhow, he’s gone. What are your orders? Where to next, Matthias?”