Mattimeo Part 38

"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 d.i.c.k, 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 lef 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?"

"1 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 hoa.r.s.e and urgent.

"They've unlocked the door, wait, it must open outwards. ..."

Mattimeo felt for his companion's paws in the darkness.

"Why wait? Lef 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 pa.s.sage 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, ifs 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 pa.s.sage, rubbing their eyes. Gum 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 pa.s.sage walls.

"Hahahaha, free. We're free. Ifs my father's friends, the Guosim!"

'Ifs 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.

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"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 dosed 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 mink, 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 ifs 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 milting. The confident sneer faded from the Wearef 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 388.

i/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.="" pa.s.sing="" his="" paws="" over="" ;="" matthias's="" head,="" he="" began="" strangling="" the="" warrior="" mouse="" ;;="" with="" the="" broken="" handles="" of="" the="" spears="" which="" he="" had="" held="" i="">

* Choking for breath, Matthias slammed his swordpoint C down into the Wearef s footpaw. Grasping the spear-hafts with both paws, he crouched deep, leaning i forward. The Wearet screamed and shot over Matthias's ; head, landing with a thud at the end of the ledge, ^i 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 *i, 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 t/raven General shook himself and swaggered briskly j about at the water's edge. Today was a day for great I plans. The omens were good and he felt energetic. ffH "Oufcfa/ 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." "But, General, I told you yesterday, the visions said ^ that-" J "Silence. Kraggafc/1 have heard enough. Go and bring I 389.

my magpies to me and all my fighting rooks. I have a plan to put paid to all the nonsense that surrounds this redstone house. A good plan, straightforward, with no trickery or sneaking about like thrushes in a hedgerow. From now on we will fight as we did in the northlands; no creeping around the back, good direct attacking, straight wing-to-beak fighting with no prisoners taken. Now go!"

Mangiz was beset by a dreadful feeling of foreboding, though he knew there was no talking to Iron! eak when he was in conquering mood. The crow withdrew, bowing respectfully.

"General, your wish is my command, I will bring all our birds to you."

Little Sister May looked a simple soul, but that was because deep down she was a very wise schemer. During the night she had laced Stryk Redkite's drinking water with a huge dose of the drug she had concocted for the magpies in the orchard. Stryk was a thirsty bird, and she had drunk deep. Now the great red kite lay soundly under the influence of Sister May's sleeping potion.

Abbot Mordalfus, John Churchmouse, Brother Rufus and Sister May gathered round the unconscious bird, each of them versed in the art of healing as pa.s.sed down through generations of Redwall Brothers and Sisters.

John Churchmouse donned his spectacles and dusted off a slim volume. "Hmm. Old Methuselah's Index of Bird Ailments and Remedies. What d'you think. Father Abbot?"

The Abbot looked up from a tome he was studying.

"Aye, thafs a good one, John, though there's much to recommend this fine book, Sister Heartwood's Compleat Category. It contains nearly five chapters on birds."

Brother Rufus helped Sister May as she raised Stryk's broken wing. Then she wiped her paws busily upon a clean white ap.r.o.n.

"Oh dear, that is a nasty-looking break. Mr. Spike, would you roll one of those small firkins over here so we can keep this wing irr the right position?"

Ambrose grumpily complied with the request. "It don't do much for the clearness of beetroot portwine to be messin' an' rollin' it about. Here, I 'ope you're not goin' to feed that great feathered lump on my best beetroot portwine."

"I should say not, Ambrose," John Churchmouse chuckled. "Though we may need a drop or two of it ourselves before we're finished here."

"Then I may's well stay here an' help you," the hedgehog cellar-keeper grunted.

The broken wing was propped up on the barrel top and weighted securely with books. Abbot Mordalfus inspected the wingtip.

"Look, there's a pinion feather missing. Sister May, win you check the bird's tailfeathers and see if there's one the same size as the final outward pinion on the other wing? Ambrose, would you have a look in the kitchen for any good strong fishbones. Oh, and we'll need fine greased twine and some dried onionskins, and have a scout round for that jar of rivermud compound we use on burns. I have great faith in the heating powers of that stuff."

They called their requests after Ambrose as he trundled off: 'Tetch the finest sewing needle that Cornflower has got."

"And don't forget the witch hazel."

"Some almond oil, too."

"Then nip into Cavern Hole and pick up my herbal bag, please."

Ambrose shrugged his spikes moodily. "I don't suppose you'd like me to fetch your lunch, dinner, tea'n'supper too. Huh!"

"Oh, and Ambrose, would you ask Winifred to fetch our lunch, dinner, tea and supper out here? This is going to be a long job!"

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Ironbeak left off tugging a worm from the lawn as Mangiz approached. He saw the crow was alone and glared severely at him.

"Yakk! Well?"

"My General, what has happened is none of my doing. If you peck me and claw me you will be doing me a great wrong."

Ironbeak's bright eyes shifted back and forth between the Abbey and the crow.

"1 will peck the tongue from your foolish beal if you do not stop babbling and tell me what is happening."

"Kaah! It is the rooks and the magpie brothers, my General. They have barred themselves within the dormitory room and will not come out."

"Now what has got into those duckbrained idiots?" Ironbeak snorted.

"They say that the head of the ghost mouse appeared to them last night, and it warned them to stay in the dormitory room."

The raven leader struck his powerful beak sideways against a stone. The noise it made surprised Mangiz.

"Kaahagga! Then I must go and talk to them!"

Mangiz followed the General at a respectable distance. He did not tike the way Ironbeak had said the word "talk."

The raven perched in the broken window s.p.a.ce of the dormitory room; his seer crow sat upon the gra.s.s, listening intently.

"Kaah! So, my fighters, you have been listening to the ghost mouse again. What did it have to say this time?"

Apart from a few m.u.f.fled caws, there was no dear reply. Ironbeak dug his claws into the woodwork of the window frame.

"Kraal You do not choose to speak to your leader. Then I will come in and speak to you."

He hopped down and vanished inside the dormitory. Mangiz hunched up, closing his eyes as he listened to the awful sounds of birds screeching and beds being upset.

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He couldn't see the feathers which flew out of the dormitory window.

"Yaggah! Who gives the orders, a mouse's head or Ironbeak? I am in command here. Get out! Out, you worthless rabble!"

Rooks and magpies poured out of the window, struggling against each other to get through the enclosed s.p.a.ce. Mangiz winced at the savage sounds of his General dealing out fierce punishment. Not for nothing was he known as the most feared fighter in the north-lands.

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The great sword of Redwall disappeared into the green mists of the abyss. Matthias scrabbled furiously as he rolled over the brink of the ledge, his paws grabbing automatically for anything that would check his headlong plunge. It was the rope which the basket had been lowered down on that saved him. He seized it wildly but was unable to grasp it firmly and he began sliding downwards, the rock face of the chasm pa.s.sing him in a blur. The Wearet leapt up and began immediately hacking at the rope.

Bellowing aloud, Orlando charged at the head of the woodlanders. Rats went down before the great battleaxe like corn to the scythe. With Basil and the others facing outwards, guarding his sides and the rear, the Warrior of the Western Plain fought his way through. Too late. The last strands of the rope twisted and shredded, to snap under the blade of the spear. Matthias was gone.

The Wearet turned to look up. The last thing his eyes beheld was the huge male badger swinging a double-headed axe in his direction. Orlando gave a great howl of rage. Rage against himself for letting Matthias accept such a challenge. Rage at everything in this evil place that had taken his young one from him, and rage fuelling his great fighting spirit so that he wanted to do battle 394.

against anybeast that stood in his way. "I am Orlando of the Axe. Eeeeeulaliaaaaa!" The woodlanders' war cries rang about the underground Kingdom of Malkariss as Basil, Cheek, Jess 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 gra.s.s 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 s...o...b..ring, 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 395.