Mattimeo Part 37

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, sn.i.g.g.e.ring noise.

"Matthias of Redwall who fears n.o.beast, this is your challenger. Wearet, the slavemaster!"

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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 comer 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 buUt her nest on a piece of branch sticking out 375.

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 sizr! 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 another reason also. That raven is no fool, and sooner or later he'll be a bit quicker than us and he'll catch you. There's too much risk involved, you'll have to give it up."

Cornflower became indignant. "But Father Abbot, when I get dressed up as the ghost I know it upsets Ironbeak, and thaf s why I must continue. It has also started to demoralize his rooks. They're scared, and the crow - wotsisname, Mangiz - he's frightened of me too, I can tell. That crow is a very superst.i.tious bird and the others take notice of him. Let me do it just one more time tonight. Please!"

Mordalfus polished his gla.s.ses. "Cornflower, you're a bigger mischief-maker than your son and a fighter as brave as your husband. Make tonight the last time that you haunt our Abbey."

Baby Rollo had dozed off, and Cornflower placed the sleeping infant in the Abbot's lap.

"I will, thank you. Father Abbot. Sister May, come on, we have work to do if the ghost is to walk again tonight. Come on, Constance, we need you for the voice of Martin."

376.

The Abbot stroked Rollo's head. "And I'm left holding the baby, as usual!"

Ironbeak sat at the broken dormitory window and related his troubles to Mangiz.

"Warrior mouse ghosts, big red birds; what next, my seer? The earthcrawlers are down in that Cavern place where we cannot get at them. I have conquered nearly all this great redstone house from the roof down and I cannot let it slip away from me. If I were forced to leave here, we would have to go back to the northlands. They are cold and hard, Mangiz, and it is all fight and no food. We are getting older and could not face many more winters in the north. Tell me, Mangiz, have your visions come back? Are you seeing anything in the eye of your mind again?"

"My General, you were right," Mangiz said readih/, glad that he was back in favor. "I see the ghost mouse was only a trick of the earthcrawlers to frighten us from here. As for the great rustybird, kachah! It was only the imagination of scared rooks. The heatwaves shimmer and dance in this country, and you could see more strange things than on a dark night in the northlands."

Ironbeak was heartened. "Well spoken, Mangiz, my strong right wing. What else do you see? Are the omens good for your General?"

"The omens are good. It all becomes clear as water now. Ironbeak, you and I will live a good and easy life in this redstone house, the food will be plenty and the seasons good, winter's cold will not harm us in this place surrounded by tall woodland. When the earthcrawlers get tired of playing their silly little games, we will catch them all out in the open, and that day they will be slain. Then there will be none left to oppose us. This I see truly, my General."

Ironbeak stood and stretched his wings, and Mangiz ducked to avoid being knocked out of the window.

"Kachakka! This is good, Mangiz. I feel good in my 377.

feathers too. I think I will fly up and perch awhile on the roof of my big redstone house. Tell the rooks to rest well, and sleep yourself. You look tired and hot."

Ironbeak launched himself from the sill and spiralled up to the Abbey roof.

Mangiz blew a great sigh of relief and settled down to nap in the hot sun. It was the first time he had lied to Ironbeak about his visions. They were still clouded by the warrior mouse, but the crow was not going to tell Ironbeak that. What the General did not knew for the moment would not harm him, and compliments were better received than kicks.

When night fell over Redwall and the Mossflower country. Cornflower began buckling on her armour. However, Sister May had a better idea, so Cornflower unbuckled it and listened. Constance covered her mouth and shook with suppressed laughter when the ruse was outlined to her.

"Oh yes, lefs do it. I wouldn't miss this for a midsummer feast!"

The rooks perched in the dormitory, half dozing, half awake, none fully asleep since the General had issued the order for them to have the rest of the day off. Most of them had slept all afternoon, and they found it difficult trying to sleep in the night also. It was hot and airless for birds who had lived their lives in the cold northlands. A full moon beamed down through the dormitory window, bathing the entire room in pale bluish white light.

"Leeeeave ooooour Abbeeeeeeeeey!"

"Yaak! What was thatr "Death is neeeeear!"

The rooks froze on their perches.

"Death waits outside this rooooooom!"

A black shadow cast itself across the beds and the floor. There was something at the window.

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The rook Ragwing turned his head slowly and fearfully until he could see the window.

Framed by the broken pane, with cold moonlight surrounding it, was the head of the Warrior, the helmet with no face; pale grey mist hovered in place of the Warrior's features. Ragwing and his companions were in a state of panic bordering on hysteria, and the words of the bodiless phantom were like some dread puzzle: "Leave our Abbey." How could they leave the Abbey, knowing that the ghost had said "Death waits outside this room"! There was only the window, and the horrible head was floating about there. Even the bravest rook would not venture out that way. It was more than the terrified birds could stand, so they scrabbled underneath the beds, afraid to look or move.

As they stole back to Cavern Hole, Constance shook the window pole that had supported the ghostly head at Sister May.

"One more giggle out of you, Sister, and I'll have you put on cooking duties with Ambrose Spike!" she said menacingly.

Cornflower held a kerchief to her face, pretending to blow her nose. She was, in fact, biting the material to stop herself roaring with laughter.

Constance waited until they were out of earshot in the tunnel, then she laughed.

"Heeheehee! I took a quick peek through the window, and the rooks were underneath the beds trying to make themselves invisible."

Sister May shook her head in mock sympathy. "If s no wonder. You didn't give them much choice: leave the Abbey, but don't leave the room. Really, Constance, what made you think that one up?"

"I don't know. I suppose I just lost my head. Hahaha!"

Cornflower wiped tears from her eyes, realising that the fun had turned to sorrow and longing for her family.

"My Matthias and Mattimeo would have appreciated a 379.

joke like that. Dear me, I can't get them out of my mind night or day. Oh Matthias will be able to take care of himself, no matter where he is, but what about my little Mattimeo, I wonder what he's doing right now, I hope he's safe and well fed. I'm sorry my friends, I'm an old wet rag these days, moping about like I don't know what"

Sister May began weeping herself. "There there, we understand, don't you worry, your young one will be all right"

Constance sniffed loudly.

"Of course he will."

38o A silence had fallen upon the ledge. Friend and foe alike were hushed as Matthias and the Wearet circled about. The warrior mouse, straight backed, moved lightly on his paws, the great sword of Martin held double-pawed against his right cheek. The Wearet crouched low, spear held pointing at his opponent, the loaded net making swift dragging noises as he cast it in small circles continuously. The eyes of the two fighters were locked as each tried to read the other's thoughts, hoping one false move of a paw would give him the advantage.

Matthias attempted to keep his back to the entrance, where Orlando and his friends waited, but the cunning skill of the Wearet forced him round until he could feel the rat horde at his back. The Wearet snarled viciously and shuffled forwards, jabbing at his foe. Matthias was concentrating on the spearpoint and the swirling net; not until too late did he feel the spear b.u.t.t of a black-robed rat hit him in the back of his legs. The warrior mouse tell backwards. The Wearet hurled himself forward, spear first, but Matthias twisted to one side, caught the end of the net and gave a sharp tug, adding impetus to his enemy's charge.

There was a bubbling scream as the Wearet stumbled in his lunge, and the rat who had tripped Matthias with 381.

the spear b.u.t.t staggered forward, impaled upon the Wearet's stabbing spear. Matthias goaded his foe sharply across his hindquarters with the needlelike swordpoint. The Wearet foamed and screeched as he shook the fallen rat from his spearpoint, casting the weighted net back over his shoulder. The weights struck Matthias on top of his head. Blackness interspersed with colored stars exploded behind his eyes, and he felt rather than saw the spear jab at his throat as the Wearet attacked on the turn. There was a ringing clang as the Warrior's swordpoint countered the spear blade.

His head clearing, Matthias leapt nimbly forward, clipping the Wearef s s...o...b..ring jaw and slicing across his spear paw. Despite the ferocity of the attack, the Wearet kicked Matthias in the stomach and whipped away at his body with the folded net. He drove his opponent back until he was practically at the rock wall of the ledge. Matthias whirled the sword and came forwards, propelling himself forcefully off the rocks.

"Redwaaaaall!"

The fury of the onslaught drove the Wearet back. He took two sharp slashes upon his flanks before clouting Matthias in the face with the flat of his spear blade and throwing the net over the mouse warrior. Matthias knew he was snared. He could not use his sword, and the net weighed heavily upon him as the Wearet stooped to gather the ends and fully entrap him. Seeing a slim chance, Matthias trod on the grounded blade of the spear, causing the Wearet to try to pull the spear free.

It was all the chance Matthias needed. He bulled forward, battering into the Wearet. Shoving hard with head and paws, he sent his foe hurtling back into the ranks of the rats. Matthias dropped his sword and fell flat, keeping his paws tight to his sides. The Wearet stumbled and struggled amid the rats. Holding only one edge of the net, he dragged at it. The net slid from Matthias, who s.n.a.t.c.hed his sword and jumped up, 382.

charging straight in among the rats, hacking this way and that in an attempt to get at the Wearet.

"Get out of there, watch your back, Matthias!" Orlando roared from the cave mouth.

Matthias dimly heard Orlando. With the spirit of Martin coursing through his veins, he whirled in a tight warrior's circle. Up, down and at middle height, the great sword was everywhere at once in a glittering circle of steel. Rats fought to get out of its way.

Wearet cut through the rats to Matthias's opposite side and regained the open s.p.a.ce. As the warrior mouse came spinning out of the horde, he saw the Wearet and carried on his deadly course. Still spinning, his sword sheared into the net, shredding it to a useless ma.s.s of cordage as it was swept from his foebeasfs paw. The Wearet s.n.a.t.c.hed a fallen stabbing spear, arming himself doubly. Prodding and thrusting, he locked blades with Matthias. The ring of sword upon spears echoed around the ledge as the pair fought madly, backwards and forwards, hacking and slicing, parrying and striking in a hideous ritual of death.

Mattimeo and his friends had lain miserably in the darkened cell until they lost track of night or day. Several attempts had been made to force the door, each one more futile than the last. Auma's body ached from the number of times she had thrown herself at the heavy unyielding door, and Sam's teeth were numb through trying to gnaw at the timbers. Mattimeo, Tim, Tess, Jube and even Cynthia had tried in one way or another, all resulting in bleeding and splinter-stuck paws. They sat miserably in the darkness. Cynthia began weeping.

"There, there, hush now. We'll get out of here, you'll see," Tess comforted her.

Auma placed her aching back against the wall. "I'd like to think we'll get out of here too, but where would we go?"

"Anywhere!" Mattimeo's voice trembled. "I wouldn't 383.

mind getting out of here just to die fighting those robed rats instead of perishing down here like some insect under the ground. At least it would be better than a life under the whip of a slavekeeper."

"Ssshhhh!"

"Who said that?"

Sam crawled close to Mattimeo. "I did. Listen, can you hear anything?"

"No, can you?"

"I'm not sure, but it sounds like a drum pou.ading far away and the sound of voices."

Cynthia Bankvole sobbed aloud. "I knew it. They're having some sort of feast, and we're going to be dragged out of here and eaten. I'm sure of it!"

"Oh, stop being silly, Cynthia!" Tess snapped at her impatiently. "What a foolish idea. Where are all these drums and voices coming from, Sam? I can't hear a thing."

Auma stood up. "I can. Sam's right, it sounds like pounding and chanting and shouting. Whatever it is, you can wager it's not going to be any party for us. Maybe Cynthia's right."

Tim's voice came out of the gloom. "Really, Auma, not you too. Voices, drums, chanting. I thought you had a bit more sense than frightening others."

"Huh, I can't hear anything, but I agree with Auma. Sometimes if s best to expect the worst. That way you're never disappointed," Jube said philosophically.

"Thanks for cheering us all up, hedgehog," Tess scoffed. "Here we are, locked in a cell below ground and manacled without a hope or a weapon between us, and you're chattering on about us being the dinner at some sort of evil ceremony-"

"Hush," Sam interrupted, "I can hear paws coming this way and a dragging sound too!"

Cynthia gave a little scream.

Mattimeo stood up, resolute. "Well, let them come, and we'll make an end of it one way or another. Lef s try 384.

and do what our parents or Martin the Warrior would do in a comer like this: sell our lives dearly. We have manacles, and they can be turned into weapons. Let whoever beast it is come and try to do their worst."

Supported by Flugg and two other shrews, Log-a-Log made his way painfully up the tortuous winding pa.s.sages towards the surface. The shrew leader groaned and lowered himself slowly down, resting his back against a door.

"Log-a-Log, are you all right?" Flugg asked anxiously.

He nodded wearily. "I must sit here awhile. It's all uphill to the copse. Let me rest and catch my breath."

The shrews sat with him.

"When we get above ground you must leave me," he said, turning to Flugg. "Go back and help our friends. Flugg, you have been my good comrade and brother for many seasons. Listen now. Once you leave me and I am no longer with you, the Guosim must have a new leader. That one is you, Flugg. Forget your name; now you are Log-a-Log of all the Guosim."

Flugg banged the door angrily with his sword hilt. "No! Do not talk like that. You must live!"

Log-a-Log held a paw to his throat wound. "You cannot disobey me. The law and rules of the Guosim 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! Mossflowenr!"

Log-a-Log struggled to his paws. "I'd know that voice anywhere. If s just tike his father's. If s Matthias's young one. Get that door open, Guosim!"

385.

There was a heavy padlock and hasp on the door, but one of the shrews named Gum produced a small dagger.