Brian Jacques - [Redwall 03] - Mattimeo

Orlando came rushing forward. “Bones are bones, shrew. Nobeast is turning back. They can’t bite you,

see.”

The badger whirled his axe and crashed it with stunning force deep into a tree trunk. The reverberation

of the mighty blow caused bones to come clattering down to earth. Orlando tugged his warblade free.

“Dead bones never harmed anybeast. Now get marching.”

Suddenly a series of ear-splitting screams pierced the stillness and the trees about them began shaking

as if moved by a mighty wind. Several shrews fell, cut down by sharp wooden lances. Matthias dodged to

one side as a lance buried itself in the ground by him.

“Help! Heeeeelp!” Cheek gave a strangled cry and began rising swiftly into the trees, hauled up on a

thin braided noose looped expertly around his body.

Log-a-Log acted swiftly. He fitted a stone to his sling. Whirling it, he loosed it among the lower

branches. A small thin creature painted all over with green and black vegetable dyes fell senseless to the

earth. The trees were alive with hundreds of other creatures, chattering and screaming, swinging nooses

and jabbing downward with sharp wooden lances. Basil plucked up a fallen spear and hurled it back.

Matthias crouched, drawing his sword, as Jess Squirrel bounded up. “Jess, they’re some kind of

treeclimbers. Can’t you do anything?”

“The little savages, they don’t seem to have any language, just screaming and growling. There’s

hundreds of ’em, Matthias, and they mean to kill us.”

The warrior mouse swung his blade at one of the painted ones who had ventured too low.

“Worst thing we could do is to make a run for it. Besides, they’ve got Cheek. The shrews are holding

them off with slingstones, but that won’t last.”

Orlando thundered past them, roaring. He struck trees left and right with his axe, jarring the savage

beasts out of the branches. Shrew daggers made short work of them, but for every painted one that fell it

seemed there were ten to take its place. The air rang with the snapping of branches and the screams of the

painted horde. Above it all, Cheek could be heard sobbing loudly, “Help! Save me, Basil. Don’t leave me.

Heeeelp!”

The old hare was leaping and kicking out with his long dangerous limbs. Anybeast that got too close

was knocked out instantly.

“Chin up, Cheek old lad, I’m doin’ me best!” he called encouragingly.

Amid the rain of javelins that hissed down and the stones that whizzed up into the pines, Jess Squirrel’s

teeth began to chatter madly. Her eyes grew red with battle light and she was far bigger than any of the

strange attackers.

“Savages! Cannibals, tree freaks!” she shouted. “Here, Matthias, there’s only one way to settle this. I

think I’ve spotted their leader, that little brute over there. Look at him screaming and dancing away like a

mad thing. He’s sending another lot in against us. I’m sure, that’s the chief. Lend me your sword; there’s

only one thing this crazy tribe will understand.”

Grabbing the sword, Jess swung skilfully aloft. She was like a dusty red streak of lightning. Any

foebeast standing in her way was hacked aside. The painted leader saw her coming. He screamed at the

others and pointed to Jess, but she bulled her way through, scattering the painted attackers like ninepins.

The leader hesitated a second to see if she had been brought down. That second’s wait cost him dear.

As he launched himself off the bough, Jess landed next to him. She seized him by the tail and hauled

him roughly back. Grasping him by the ears, Jess gave a strong heave and held him kicking and dangling.

Then she swung the sword in a glittering arc, shouting, “Redwall! Redwall!”

The savage chief, held fast by the ears with the great sword flashing in front of his eyes, gave one loud

piercing squeal.

Immediately all activity halted.

The small green and black painted beasts crowded the branches and packed the boughs, uncertain of

what to do. One or two of the bolder ones began edging forward, until Jess swung the sword as if to strike.

The captive leader gave a series of angry screams, so they fell back and remained still.

Basil paced up and down, using a broken lance as a swagger stick. “Quick thinkin’, Jess. That stopped

the little devils. Y’deserve a mention in despatches for that, wot?”

Jess glared about her fiercely. “It wouldn’t do any good mentioning anything to this horde of hooligans.

They don’t have any recognizable language; screams and squeals are their only way of communication.

How do we get out of this? It’s like having a serpent by the tail.”

Basil turned to Matthias. “She’s right, y’know. We’re caught in a bloomin’ old standoff. The moment she

lets that chap go we’ll have the whole silly tribe down on our heads.”

Matthias had been thinking furiously. He whispered to Log-a-Log before shouting up to Jess, “See if

you can make them understand that we want to trade their leader for Cheek. Leave the rest to me. I’ve got

an idea and with a bit of luck it might work.”

Jess went into a series of mimes. She pointed at Cheek, then pointed to the ground. Holding the leader

at paw’s length, she let the sword hang loose by her side. The performance was repeated several times

before the leader realized what she meant. Screeching and growling, he pointed at Cheek, then to himself.

“When they’re both free, what then?” Orlando whispered to Matthias. “We’ve broken the standoff but

they won’t let us walk unharmed through their territory.”

There was a clicking, scratching sound from the shrews surrounding Log-a-Log. Matthias watched

anxiously until Log-a-Log winked at him. All was ready. Matthias took a deep breath.

“Stay close together when we have to move. Try not to turn your backs on the painted tribe. Right, Jess,

let their chief free. They’re releasing Cheek.”

The young otter scrambled free of the rope and made a hasty descent. Bumping and tripping, he half

fell, half climbed, out of the tree.

Jess gave the leader a slight push and vaulted neatly down, returning the sword to Matthias.

There was a pause as the maddened creatures bunched to attack.

“Logalogalogalog!”

The shrew leader leapt forward with a blazing pine-wood torch in either paw, grinning and showing

his teeth. He made as if to touch the heavy pines that oozed resin all round him.

For the first time, the painted ones showed fear. They chattered and screeched wildly, bounding high

into the trees at the sight of fire. Log-a-Log shook the torches in their direction.

“Haha! Desperate measures call for desperate remedies, my friends,” he called. “You’re frightened of

the flames, aren’t you? One move, and I’ll burn your forest and you with it.”

Matthias, Orlando and Basil started the column marching south.

“Come on, Log-a-Log,” Matthias urged. “I think they understand what we mean. Jabez, Cheek, get

those extra torches from the Guosim and stay close to Log-a-Log. Don’t let the fire go out.”

Backing and shuffling, they made their way southeast through the dark pinewoods, grateful for the light of

the torches. Progress was slow. Matthias could not see the painted ones, but he knew they were in the trees

above, following every step of the way.

Night had fallen by the time they had made their way out of the pines, to the shores of a great river.

There was plenty of wood about at the forest edge, so Log-a-Log and his shrews made a huge bonfire,