Part 35 (1/2)

Mattimeo Brian Jacques 62410K 2022-07-22

One wing tucked neatly across her back, the other hanging limply at her side, she made a flapping run and gained the air. The red bird flew with a painful rolling motion, the injured wing flopping lower than the good one. Flight was becoming too difficult to sustain, so she came to earth again, this time in a rolling heap of feathers as she struck the plain floor, scattering b.u.t.tercup petals in all directions.

The great bird rested momentarily, her huge curved beak gaping open, tongue hanging to one side. Doggedly struggling to her legs, she walked for a while, the injured wing trailing limply in the dust, her eyes fixed upon the building in the distance at the woodland edge. It was not so open there. Her beloved mountains were too far away, so she would try to make the building before sunset. There would be places where she could lie and rest, nooks and crannies where she could not be caught out. The open plains made her feel vulnerable; in flight she was a redoubtable hunter and fighter, but crippled like this she could only keep low and hope there were no flocks of other birds abroad that would relish the chance to attack an injured bird on the ground.

Flapping and hopping, scrambling and crawling, the great red bird made her way east towards the b.'Uding which offered refuge.

On the far flung south reaches of the plateau lands, dawn broke placidly over the copse. Matthias rose and picked up his sword.

”A good day to settle business, Orlando.” The badger shouldered his axe. ”We travelled a long way to see this dawn, my friend. A good day.” All around, shrews were girding themselves up for war; bows, arrows, slings, lances, even dubs were got ready. As Basil lugged the five weasel prisoners along on a makes.h.i.+ft lead, they wailed pitifully: ”No, no, please, don't make us go down there!”

”We'll be killed, we won't stand a chance!”

”We have no weapons, we'll be slain!”

Basil tugged the lead sharply. ”C'mon, step lively there, you wingeing weasels. You've lived like cowards; try to die like heroes. Hmph! Fat chance o' that, eh, laddie buck? Stop snivellin' and wipe your nose, you villainous vermin.”

They broke away from Basil's grasp and flung themselves in front of Matthias, grovelling shamelessly.

”Spare us please, sir, spare us!”

Sir Harry flapped down from an alder.

”There's nothing affects a craven Like the thought of sudden death. The idea he might not see the night Or draw another breath.”

Orlando kicked a weasel in the rump as he stepped over the prostrate creatures.

”You know, Matthias, these sc.u.m aren't going to be a bit of good down there. They'll probably give the game away with all their sobbing and bawling. Shuttup, you snivelling snotnoses, or I'll finish you here and now!”

The weasels fell silent. Matthias leaned on his sword, stroking his whiskers.

”You've got a good point there, Orlando, but what do we do with them if we don't send them ahead of us on the stairs?”

Orlando hefted his battleaxe. ”Let me finish 'em off now, and save a lot of trouble.”

The weasels began moaning afresh. ”Stop that crying. CXyou hear me, stoppit!” Matthias snorted impatiently. ”Right, here's what we'll do, Orlando. I couldn't let you kill them in cold blood, that isn't our way. We'll set them going southward. Sir Harry, would you accompany them on their way to make sure they keep going? Sorry about this, but there probably won't be a lot of s.p.a.ce down there for you to fly about, and you'd get into trouble under the ground.”

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Sir Harry shrugged.

”As you wish, as you wish, Matthias. We each have a role to be filled. I'll take these weasels south for a bit. But the first one to cry gets killed!”

The owl picked the lead rope up in his beak and flapped off, with the five weasels stumbling and hurrying behind him.

Basil watched them go. ”Pity about old Harry. He looked a bit peeved to me. D'you think he's gone off in a huff, Matthias?”

The warrior mouse nodded. ”I've no doubt he has. Don't worry, he'll be back. Meanwhile, I'd like a last word with everybeast. Gather round and listen to what I have to say to you.”

The small army squatted in the copse, while Matthias stood on the top stair of old Loamhedge and addressed them.

”First, I want to thank you all for your help and for coming this far with me. You have left your homes and territories far behind. Orlando, -Jess, Jabez and myself have good reason to live or die today. You see, we have young ones to rescue. The rest of you, I cannot ask you to sacrifice your lives for our cause; they are not your young ones down there.”

Basil Stag Hare stood up. ”Beg pardon, old lad, but young Tim and Tess are down there. Whaf d my old chum John Churchmouse and his good lady wife say if I came back empty-pawed without their young uns? Coming with you? I'll say I am, bucko. You try and stop B. S. Hare esquire!”

Cheek stood by the hare. ”I'm with Basil. He's a grumpy ol' frump and I like him, so there!”

Basil and Cheek went to stand with Matthias. Log-a-Log drew his short sword.

”Shrews and Guosim are friends of Redwall. I never started a job that I didn't finish. I go with you.”

The whole of the Guosim moved as one with Log-a-Log to stand at Matthias's side.

Orlando raised his huge axe. His voice was tight with eagerness as he called: ”Come on, Warrior, what are we waiting for?”

Mattimeo and the slaves had been taken from their darkened cell. Nadaz and several black-robed rats led them to the edge of the ledge where the statue stood. They were permitted to look over into the depths.

Through the greenish mist, Mattimeo could make out the thin bedraggled forms of scores of young creatures: squirrels, otters, hedgehogs, mice. They were hauling huge blocks of stone on towropes, and rats stood guard over them with whips and cudgels, urging them with heavy blows to greater efforts. Other young ones were lifting the stone blocks into position with pulleys and tackles, while yet other young woodlanders laid mortar and limestone cement in the gaps that were to receive the stones. Sometimes a young creature would cry out and fall over exhausted, only to be beaten by the rats until he or she got up, or lay permanently still.

Numbed by the horror of it, the new slaves were led before the statue and forced to bow their heads whilst Nadaz spoke to Malkariss.

”I am Nadaz, Voice of the Host. O Ruler of all below earth, these are your new servants. What do you require me to do with them?”

The hairs rose on Mattimeo's neck at the sound of the voice emanating from the crystal-toothed statue's mouth.

”They have looked upon my kingdom. Soon they will have the honour of building it for me,” it proclaimed.

From his bowed position, Mattimeo glanced along the line. He saw Vitch chained and held by two rats. The young mouse nudged Tess.

”Look who's there, our little slave-driver being rewarded for his services. I hope they chain me next to him for a while down there.”

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less stamped her paw hard against the ledge, her eyes blazing. ”They can chain me next to who they like, but I'm not building any filthy underground kingdom for a talking statue!”

The young churchmouse's angry tones echoed around the rocky cavern. There was a brief silence, then Malkariss spoke again.

”Take them back and lock them away without light, food or water. They are not ready to serve me yet.”

As they were led up the gloomy winding pa.s.sages, Tess began to weep. ”Oh, I'm sorry I spoke out. I've caused you all to be locked in the dark and starved again.”

”No, you haven't,” Cynthia Bankvole said bravely. ”I'd rather starve than be beaten to death like those poor creatures.”

Auma seconded her, ”Aye, don't worry, Tess. If you hadn't spoken out, I would have.”

”Thafs it friends, we stick together. Redwallll!” Mattimeo's voice rang out like the Abbey bells.

He was knocked fiat with the b.u.t.t of a spear before they were flung back into their darkened prison.