Mattimeo
Chapters (64)
CAPTURED!
A long running chain was brought out, and the prisoners were made to stand as it was run through their manacled front paws and locked at either end. Mattimeo found himself standing between Auma and Tess; Tim and Sam were behind them. Slagar paced the line, checking links and shoving the captives into place. Satisfied that everything was in order, he pulled forth a strange-looking weapon and began twirling it about. It was a short wooden handle, from which ran three braided leather thongs, and at the end of each thong hung a round metal ball. They whirled and clacked sharply as he manoeuvred them expertly.
“I am Slagar the Cruel. You are my slaves now.” The silk mask sucked against his face as he spoke. “When I say walk, you walk. If I say run, you run. If I decide you may live, then you will live. If I take it into my head that you may not live, then I will see to it that you die. If ever you should get the chance to escape or make a run for it, my little toy here will bring you back.”
The fox swung the weapon and hurled it. . . .
Other Books
THE REDWALL BOOKS
Redwall
Mossflower
Mattimeo
Mariel of Redwall
Salamandastron
Martin the Warrior
The Bellmaker
Outcast of Redwall
The Pearls of Lutra
The Long Patrol
Marlfox
The Legend of Luke
Lord Brocktree
Taggerung
Triss
Loamhedge
Rakkety Tam
High Rhulain
Eulalia!
Doomwyte
The Sable Quean
The Great Redwall Feast (picture book)
A Redwall Winter’s Tale (picture book)
OTHER BOOKS
Seven Strange and Ghostly Tales
Castaways of the Flying Dutchman
The Angel’s Command
The Tale of Urso Brunov (picture book)
The Ribbajack and Other Curious Yarns
Voyage of Slaves
Urso Brunov and the White Emperor (picture book)
Title Page
Map
Introduction
High noontide sun beat down on Orlando the Axe. The mighty badger strode the far reaches of the western plains, blind to the beauty of the flower-carpeted grassland which had turned green to gold.
Orlando the Axe was following the fox.
The badger wiped a huge dusty paw across his eyes. Sun glinted off the massive double-headed battleaxe slung over his shoulder. His home lay plundered behind him; there was nothing left there except desolation and loneliness.
Orlando the Axe was following the fox.
Two sunrises ago he had passed the strange fox and his band. They had given him a wide berth as he trudged to the foothills of the mountains, seeking food and the small rock plants which his little daughter Auma loved so much. Orlando feared no living creature. He had passed by the fox, not thinking that he had left a clear trail back to his den. The following morning he had returned home, laden with food and rock flowers. Auma was gone, his home was smashed and broken.
Orlando the Axe was following the fox.