Brian Jacques - [Redwall 03] - Mattimeo

The muscles stood out like knotted cords upon the back of Orlando the Axe as he slashed and hacked.

Coated in white dust, Matthias swung the double-edged blade, biting deep into the base of the statue.

Grunting and sweating, the two warriors battered away at the likeness of Malkariss until the limestone

began shuddering under the impact. Cracks started to show, running the length of the limestone column

which joined the floor of the ledge to the ceiling of the cave. The warriors continued their onslaught, but

now doggedness had replaced their former reckless spirit. Still they swung with deadly purpose, ignoring

the chips and lumps of stone that flew about them like missiles, directing all the force of their blades

against the idol, while Nadaz ranted and screamed.

“You cannot escape. I will hound you across the woodlands, through the seasons, by night and day!”

The rat’s tirade was blotted out by a deep rumbling that emanated from base to apex of the statue, and the

whole ledge began to tremble. Matthias shouldered his sword. Then realization of what was happening

took over, and he jerked at the fur of the badger’s back.

Oblivious to everything except the destruction of the evil symbol, Orlando the Axe flung his whole

frame against each crashing blow as his weapon bit deeper and deeper into the groaning, splitting stone.

Matthias ducked as the double-headed blade swung past him.

“Orlando, stop!” he roared at his companion. “The whole place is collapsing! We must get out!”

With an explosion like a thunderclap, the statue of Malkariss broke off at its base. Matthias and

Orlando ran for the tunnel entrance, hearts pounding, ears ringing, as they raced across the quaking ledge.

They had caused the earth to dance, just as Jabez Stump’s forebears had witnessed long ago.

The untold weight of the idol dropped, tearing a colossal piece of the cave ceiling with it. A widening

rift split the entire ledge into two sections as the statue plunged into the depths, and the rock walls

shattered. The two warriors dashed up the tunnel with the entire underground collapsing behind them.

Mattimeo sat in the copse, watching the last of the woodland horde climbing out into the sunlight.

Creatures danced and laughed, rolling in the grass, embracing the trees and waving at the great golden eye

of the sun above.

Basil winked at him. “By jingo! That’s something worth waitin’ to see, wot?”

Tess flung herself down at the young mouse’s side.

“Fresh air and freedom, Matti. It tastes better than strawberry wine and new bread!”

The ground beneath their paws started to tremble. They froze, hugging the earth as the whole copse

began to shake.

Jube grasped his father’s spikes. “What is it, Pa?” he asked worriedly.

Jabez hugged his young one to him. “The earth is dancing, just as the cliffs once did!”

Jess and Sam dashed to the flight of steps that ran down to the underworld.

“Matthias, Orlando. Get out of there!” they called.

The steps shuddered violently. Jess peered into the gloom. “There’s somebeast coming. Make way,

Sam!”

Little Vitch the rat scampered out as if demons were biting his tail. “Yaagh! My whole cell began

moving and the door fell off. Help me!”

Mattimeo grabbed him by the neck. “My father and Orlando, did you see them?”

“No, no, I just ran. It’s falling in down there. Can’t you hear it!”

Basil Stag Hare flung himself upon Auma and dragged her back as she tried to get to the steps.

“Father, my father’s in there!” she protested.

A deep rumbling boom exploded from the bowels of the cavern. Trees started to sway crazily and the

earth bucked like a tablecloth being shaken free of crumbs.

Mattimeo took hold of Auma’s paw, and they lay flat on the ground. “We don’t leave here until our

fathers are out!” the mouse declared.

Basil buried his face against the trembling ground. “Well spoken, young un. I second that proposal.”

There followed a terrific bang.

The entire copse fell, creating a huge valley. From the hole in the ground where the steps started, a

whooshing gust of air, white with limestone dust, flew high into the sky like a geyser.

Two round objects shot out like balls from the mouth of a cannon. Matthias landed high in the branches

of an elm. Orlando hit the top of a rowan and came crashing to earth in a cloud of twigs and leaves. The axe

and the sword stood quivering in the bole of a young beech.

Then the earth stood still.

Basil got slowly to his paws and guffawed. “Haw, haw, haw! Mattimeo, there’s a flyin’ white mouse up

a tree over there. Looks a bit like your dad’s ghost, wot?”

Mattimeo could hardly believe his eyes.

Jabez Stump tapped Auma. “Your old pa looks like a lump of white dough ready for the oven, I reckon,

missie. Hu-huh-huh!”

Jube patted his spikes to make sure they were all there. “Whew! That big hatchet nearly scalped me!”

Orlando rose, dusting himself off in a dignified manner. “Be careful how you talk of that weapon,

young un. It’s a battleaxe, not a hatchet.”

Jess Squirrel and Sam went haring up the beech trunk.

“Stay where you are, Warrior. We’ll get you down, but only if you promise to do no more bird

imitations.”

Matthias smiled at Sam’s impudent remark.

“I promise. Just get me down.”

That same joyous day, the remnants of General Ironbeak’s force were led out on rope leads to the top of the

north battlements.

Ambrose Spike and baby Rollo followed them up the north wall steps to the ramparts, the infant

bankvole waddling along comically in a passable impression of the bird’s gait.

A light, warm breeze stirred the Abbot’s robe as he and Constance lined the prisoners up. The

inhabitants of Redwall stood about on the broad wall top, glaring at the subdued line of rooks and the two

magpies, who blinked in the strong sunlight, huddling nervously together at the sight of Stryk Redkite as

she watched them from the wall threshold above the gatehouse.

“Is that all of them, Ambrose?”

“Aye, ’tis, Father Abbot.”

“Good. Mrs. Churchmouse, Cornflower, would you put the collars on them, please?”

The two mice emptied iron collars from a sack. Ambrose Spike had made the collars from iron barrel

hoops. They were circular and left open in the middle, and slipped easily around the birds’ necks.

Ragwing the rook dipped his head cheekily, and the iron collar slipped off and clanged upon the

wallstones.

Winifred replaced the collar and whacked the rook with her rudderlike tail.

“Do as you’re told, featherbag, or I’ll give you something you won’t forget in a hurry,” the otter

warned.

The Abbot folded his paws into his habit sleeves.

“You birds, listen to me! We have not slain you or treated you badly, but this does not mean we are

soft. Your leader and his crow are dead; the siege of Redwall is over. I have granted you the gift of life. You

will be spared, but you must go back to your northlands and never return here again. This is my decision. I

will not slay or enslave you, as your General would have done to us. However, you will take with you a

token to remind you of your visit to our Abbey. The collars will allow you to fly, not too high, though. They

will also prove an encumbrance. Forget your warlike ways; from now on, survival will be your main

object.”

The Abbot nodded to Constance.

The mighty female badger took the collar of the first rook between her paws. With a small grunt of