"Because I've just climbed up this badger rock a way and had a look around. The one thing that stands out like a landmark is a tree. If s sort of directly in line with the path between these two rocks, but we can't see it from where we stand down here."

Jess Squirrel raced up the rock face of the badger peak like an arrow from a bow.

'If s there, Matthias," she called down. "I can see it. The biggest fir tree in the world. What a sight! If s colossal!"

The early noonday sun beat down on the summit of badger rock. Matthias, Jess and Cheek stood atop the tall edifice, looking down at the tree in the distance. The warrior mouse grasped the rope Jess had rigged. "Come on, lef s get down from here and get moving. I 332.

want to arrive at that tree before the sun goes down. I know exactly what to do and what to look out for now!"

333.

43.

Mattimeo's eyes opened slowly. He felt sick and groggy, but above all frightened. Lifting his manacled paws, he rubbed his eyes. The last thing he remembered was being held whilst a hooded figure pressed something against his face. The overpowering sweet sickness of it still hung upon his breath. He had lost count of time. Though it was dark he felt he was in some sort of chamber, and outside it might be night or day; he had no way of knowing.

The creatures around him were groaning, moving restlessly as the effects of the soporific wore off. Then the familiar heavy paw of Auma touched his.

"Mattimeo, is that you? What happened? Where are we?" the badger asked worriedly.

"I don't know. If s too dark in here. Feels like a kind of stone room, like Ambrose Spike's wine cellar at Redwall."

"I don't like it. If s cold, too. Are the rest of us all here?"

The others had awakened, and they dragged themselves over to the sound of Auma's voice. Though their presence was of small comfort, the young mouse could not shake off the dread aura surrounding him. A shrew whimpered in the darkness, then the ja igle of keys outside warned them that some creature was about to enter.

A torch flared and they covered their eyes against the brightness of the light. Shadows danced about the stone walls as the torch-bearer entered. It was a rat in a long purple robe. His eyes glinted dully in the flames from the torch, and when he spoke his voice was flat in tone, but menacing and imperious.

"I am Nadaz, Voice of the Host," he said. "Do not move or dare to talk with me, or you will regret it. Nadaz commands the breath that comes from your mouth. I am the power of life and death over all of you. There is no light in here, nor is there food and water. You will be left -in this place until I decide that you are fit to use your eyes again, to eat and to drink. Malkariss has spoken!"

The light was extinguished with the slam of the door and the turn of the key.

"Who is Malkariss?" Cynthia asked. Her voice sounded hollow and scared.

Tess grasped her paw in the darkness. "I'm certain we'll find that out soon enough."

Slagar followed Nadaz. They pa.s.sed through tunnels and rooms, with Vitch trailing nervously behind.

Some of the chambers and corridors they walked along had obviously been built a long time ago by master craftsbeasts; other were crude, hacked and gouged from the earth, with boulders, hard-packed soil and severed tree roots showing in the light of the torches which burnt in wall brackets throughout the strange place.

A long winding pa.s.sage gave way to a broad rock ledge, and Vitch gazed around in awe. Crystal and mica deposits in the rocks reflected the torchlights of a huge wheel-shaped chandelier, and on the brink of the ledge stood a colossal statue hewn from white limestone. It was the standing figure of a monstrous white polecat, with teeth of crystal and glittering eyes of black jet. Beyond it the ledge dropped away to the depths of the earth. Around the walls winding down to the deeps was a narrow carved stairway which started from the left side of the ledge, losing itself in the misty green light below.

Nadaz beckoned Slagar and Vitch to stand on a groove in the rock some distance away from the statue. The purple-robed rat moved slowly with bended head until he stood close to the figure.

"Who comes near Malkariss?" a sibilant voice echoed from between the crystal teeth.

Nadaz answered, keeping his head bowed, "It is Nadaz, Voice of the Host, O King of the deep, Lord of the abyss, Defier of the sun! The fox Slagar has returned, bringing many creatures young and strong to work in your realm beneath the earth."

There was a pause, then the voice from the statue spoke again.

"Who is the other one?"

Nadaz went to Slagar, and a whispered conversation took place.

The purple-robed rat returned to his former position. "He is a young rat named Vitch. The fox says that if it pleases you he is a gift, to serve in the ranks of the Host."

"He is not born to the Host, our ways are not known to him." The voke was curt and dismissing. "A rat that comes from the place of woodlands is of no use to us. Chain him with the slaves!"

Two black-robed rats appeared out of the shadows. They seized Vitch and chained him, dragging him off as he screamed at Slagar, "Save me! Don't let them do this to me! I was loyal to you, I served you well. Help me, Slagar!"

The masked fox did not even turn to look at Vitch. He stared at Nadaz and shrugged.

"I thought he might have been useful, being a rat like yourself."

The voice cut short further conversation between Slagar and Nadaz: "Keep the new slaves in darkness without food until I decide they are fit to work. Hunger and lack of light is a sound lesson for creatures that have known freedom in the woodlands. Ask the fox what he wants of me."

336.

Nadaz conferred with Slagar again.

"Malkariss, All-powerful One. Slagar says to remind you of your promise when he brought you the last slave workers: that you give all the land above ground to him, from the gorge to the south boundaries of your realm. He says he will serve your interests faithfully and be your voice above ground."

'Tell the masked one to be patient awhile. Take him down below and show him the work that is being done to complete my underworld kingdom. I will watch him for a time, and when I have made up my mind that his voice above ground would serve me as well as yours does beneath the earth, then I will send for him."

Slagar could hardly wait for Nadaz to walk back to him. He had heard the voice of Malkariss clearly.

"Listen, rat, tell your master that I've kept my side of the bargain. He promised me that land; now you go and tell him I have a right to the territory!"

Nadaz rattled the skull on his sceptre. The masked fox was suddenly surrounded by the black-robed rats with their short stabbing spears held ready. The Voice of the Host confronted Slagar.

"You don't tell me anything, fox. You have no rights here, and never dare to make demands upon Malkariss. Your audience is over. Come with me now. If the Lord of the abyss wants to reward you he will do it in due time. Until then, keep a rein on your tongue."

Feeling far from satisfied, the masked fox was led away down the curving causeway steps by Nadaz and his servants.

The diamond-patterned skullmask moved this way and that as Slagar descended into the green depths. The steps wound down into the earth until they reached the cave bottom, where the green light came from whatever fuel burned in the torches and braziers that dotted the vast and intricate workings. The Sly One was impressed. Dwellings had been 337.

hewn into the rock, streets and avenues stretched before him, some of them looked as if they were part of another building from another time. Groups of young wood-landers, painfully thin and covered in rockdust, worked beneath the whips of their cruel taskmasters, dragging boulders and cutting and dressing stones into square and oblong blocks. Slagar caught a glimpse of some huge unearthly-looking creature that he could not identify.

Nadaz urged him past a band of slaves mixing mortar and cement. Strangely shaped amphitheatres and high arched caverns gave way to a halflit pa.s.sage, then the party halted in front of a wall. Carved upon it in relief was a weird and curious mural with the figure of Malkariss at its center.

Nadaz turned to him. "This is the limit of our workings. Go now, my blackrobes will take you to your chamber, and there you must wait until Lord Malkariss gives his decision. You are fortunate, fox. Apart from the creatures I command, you are the only one who has set eyes upon the underground world."

As the black-robed rats led Slagar away, he watched Nadaz from the corner of his slitted hood. The purple-robed rat touched the left paw of the carved polecat and the figure swung inwards. As Nadaz went through, Slagar managed to see a shaft of light on the other side before the carving was pushed back into place.

The Sly One made a mental note that this was a secret exit, then in silence he allowed himself to be led back up the causeway steps. Slagar neither liked nor trusted Malkariss and Nadaz, but he was confident that he could outthink them both. One day he would rule all of this land, above and below ground; at present he was content to wait. The delivery of the slaves had gained him entrance to this strange world. Malkariss would probably think he was an efficient servant, and promotion would follow. Slagar would bide his time, he was n.o.beasfs servant; only one position interested the masked fox. Complete and utter ruler.

338.

The afternoon had begun fading away in pink-tinged sunlight when Matthias and his friends arrived at the tree. It was a giant pine, standing alone.

Orlando stood and stretched to his full height against it. "By the stripes! If s so big it makes me feel like a pebble against a mountain. I'll bet it'd take a lot of otters tail to tip to go round a trunk this size, eh, Cheek?"

The young otter patted the immense girth of the bole. "I'll say it would. Have you ever seen one like this before, Jess?"

The squirrel shook her tail in admiration. "Never. If s a wonderful sight. Pity it stands alone, because you can only climb up it or down, you couldn't leap to another tree. The nearest ones are over there. See? Where Matthias is heading. Hey, Warrior, where are you off to? I thought you wanted to see this tree."

Matthias walked in a straight line with a measured pace, keeping his eyes to the ground.

"If s not the tree I wanted to see, only its shadow."

Basil caught up with him. "What d'you want with a bally shadow, old lad?"

Matthias kept walking deliberately. "Remember the rhyme, 'face the lord who points the way, after noon on summer's day.' Right, the tree is the lord who points the way, and if s gone noon, nearly evening. The shadows are at their longest now. Look at our shadows, they're much longer than we are. So, if the tree is the biggest thing around, it has the longest shadow. I have an idea that where this shadow ends we'll find what we're looking for."

The rest of the searchers rushed to join him. Like creatures in some solemn procession, they walked along with heads bowed, following the path of the giant pine's shadow.

It ended upon a humped rock sticking from the heath a short way from a copse. They gathered around the rock.

"So, here it is."

"Well, what now?"

339.

Matthias banged upon it with his sword hilt. It sounded quite solid, Log-a-Log scratched it, Jess jumped upon it, Orlando tried to push it. In various ways they all tried to make the rock yield up its secret, to no avail. Basil lay flat on his back on top of it, staring up at the rapidly fading day.

"Don't think much of your idea, old chap. Bit of a damp squib, wot? A rock's a rock and thaf s all this one is."

Matthias stubbed his paw against the stone. "Ouch! Listen, I'm convinced that this is it; this is where the poem says that death will open up its grave."

"Just as well we never found it," Cheek gulped.

Basil leapt from the rock. "Aha, but we might yet. I've remembered something too: our old eating game from the border scouts and foot fighters regiment. You see, we used to put out a great plate of food each, all heaped up as high as they'd go. Now, the one that threw the longest shadow won it all. Never took part meself, food's far too serious to gamble with. But on summer's day, that was different. I knew I'd win then, because you get the longest shadows of all on summer's day."

Matthias was becoming impatient. "Summer's day -what summer's day, Basil? Summer is full of days."

"So 'tis," Jabez Stump interrupted, "but to us old woodlanders there's only one summer's day: right in the middle."

Orlando nodded wisely. "Aye, thaf s midsummer's day. My dad told me that."

"Thank you!" Matthias sighed. "But where does all that get us? We don't know how far the shadow would fall on midsummer's day."

"No, we don't," Jess agreed. "However, we could make an educated guess. At least we can see the direction the shadow of the tree is going."

They spread out in a straight line from the end of the pine shadow.

"Of course, the tree might have been even taller at the time the poem was written," Jess called out. "It's very old.

and it could have lost a bit off the top in a storm or something. I wonder where the shadow would have ended?"

It was in the copse! One of Log-a-Log's shrews was first to find it. He held up his paw. "Over here, look!" he shouted excitedly.

A carved stone step screened by bushes was what they had searched for. A tew sweeps of Orlando's axe cleared die surrounding bush, revealing similar steps, a whole flight of them ran out of sight down into the ground. Matthias traced the less worn edge of the first step carefully with his paw. He looked up at them with a stunned expression on his face.

"I know what this place is!"

Orlando peered at the lettering. "Loamhed. What does it mean?"

Matthias sat upon the step, his paw at the spot where the word ended.

"The rest of it has been worn away. This was Loam-hedge. The mice who founded Redwall with Martin the Warrior came from Loamhedge Abbey. They left because of the great sickness that brought death to many creatures. I can remember when I was a little mouse at my history lessons, Great Abbot Mortimer told me of the founders. Abbess Germaine brought the Brothers and Sisters from a place called Loamhedge Abbey, but where exactly it lay n.o.beast knew. Now we have found it."

Matthias pushed away the overgrown gra.s.s from the side of the step, exposing a standing line of carved mice. The middle one was missing. He drew from his belt the talisman that the old rabbit had given him. It fitted neatly into the center s.p.a.ce.

"See, here's the missing one. That fuddled old rabbit knew where old Loamhedge once was, and he gave me this because it was the only thing of value he possessed. Maybe he too was a slave one time and managed to escape from here, who knows. Great Abbot Mortimer used to say that Loamhedge was a building that was nearly as large as Redwall Abbey."

Orlando tapped the step with his axe handle. "What's it doing down there? Are they the cellar steps?"

Jabez Stump looked about the copse. "No, they couldn't be. If this Loamhedge place had been destroyed, the land would have been covered in debris and great buildin' stones. This must have happened at the dancin' of the cliffs."

Orlando scratched his stripes. "I'm completely baffled now. An Abbey called Loamhedge that was here but isn't now, and dancing of the diffs. What's it all about?"

"We Stumps lived in South Mossflower by the cliffs longer than anybeast," Jabez explained. "My old grandpa used to tell me about the days of Josh Stump, his great-great-great-grandpa. They say one day long ago our family lived atop of that cliff, but it started a-shakin' an' tremblin' as if the whole cliffs were dancin'. When it stopped, old Josh Stump he said, 'I won't live atop of no dancin' cliffs no more,' and he took the family to live down in Mossflower Woods. Never a Stump went up 'em again, until I did to search for young Jube."

Recognition dawned upon Matthias. "Of course, it must have been an earthquake long ago. That was what caused the great gorge we crossed. Yes, and those gardens we pa.s.sed through. No creature ever had gardens and orchards on such b.u.mpy land. The earth had shifted! You see what happened? Loamhedge Abbey must have been swallowed up when the ground moved. These steps would be dormitory stairs or attic steps, and the whole building must have just dropped straight down into its own cellars. Maybe even further, with the great weight of it all."

Ironbeak was determined to confront the ghost. He gave the sentries a night off. Taking Mangiz with him, he stood at the sentry post in the galleries as the last crimson sunburst hit the windows of Redwall Abbey, bathing the floor in a glorious deep rose-colored light. Mangiz watched it through swollen eyelids.

"Mayhap the mouse in armour will not walk until the middle of the night, my General/' he said wearily.

"Yarrak! Mayhap it does not walk at all, fool. Mayhap it does not exist. That is what I have brought you here to prove. Tired eyes of dozy rooks will see frogs fly or atones lay eggs. I am Ironbeak, I know better than to believe such things. So should you."

Mangiz held his counsel, deciding discretion was the better part of valor.

The sparrow who had been watching them from a slit window made his report to Cornflower and Constance.

"Bird say you no come, black crow worm no so sure. Both wait above Great Hallplace, now."

Baby Rollo was having imaginary adventures dressed in the helmet of the Warrior. He waved the sword frantically, singing aloud: "Kill a bird wivout a word, Hit a black rook wiv a heavy book.

Bang a crow an' make him go. . . ."

Cornflower relieved him of the wooden sword. "Stop waving that thing about, Rollo. You'll put somebeasf s eye out with it. So, the General is waiting for the ghost to walk again. Let him wait. When it gets dark enough he won't be disappointed. The spirit of Martin the Warrior will roam abroad."

Constance gently polished the burnished breastplate. "You must be careful. He won't be as easy to fool as those two last night. 1 think we need a more intricate plan this time."

Cornflower laughed. "Good, then lef s sit here a good kmg while and think up a clever scheme. Don't forget, it was our turn on supper duty tonight, but we'll be excused because we're working for the Abbey war effort. John Churchmouse and Ambrose Spike will have to cook the supper."

Constance stifled a giggle. "Oh no! John and Ambrose, there'll be war in the kitchen when those two meet over the cooking pots. Right, down to business. Let's get our thinking caps on."