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Back Mattimeo
Chapters (64)
  1. CAPTURED!
  2. Other Books
  3. Title Page
  4. Map
  5. Introduction
  6. BOOK ONE
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. BOOK TWO
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. BOOK THREE
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 41
  50. 42
  51. 43
  52. 44
  53. 45
  54. 46
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. What’s next onyour reading list?

The Wearet turned to look up. The last thing his eyes beheld was the huge male badger swinging a double-headed axe in his direction. Orlando gave a great howl of rage. Rage against himself for letting Matthias accept such a challenge. Rage at everything in this evil place that had taken his young one from him, and rage fuelling his great fighting spirit so that he wanted to do battle against anybeast that stood in his way.

“I am Orlando of the Axe. Eeeeeulaliaaaaa!”

The woodlanders’ war cries rang about the underground Kingdom of Malkariss as Basil, Cheek, Jess and Jabez headed a wild charge into the rat horde. Nadaz stamped and screeched like a mad thing, rattling his sceptre as he chanted death threats against the invaders.

*   *   *

Matthias felt the rope go slack, and he plunged like a falling stone into the green curtain of mist. Racing through his mind were the faces of Cornflower and Mattimeo, certain he would never see them again.

Whump!

The warrior mouse landed on something soft and yielding. It was a large woven grass basket, thickly padded inside with moss and purple cloth. The force of the fall stunned him temporarily. He lay on the ground beside the basket, trying to galvanize himself into movement and collect his thoughts, amazed at the fact that he had lived through such a fall.

The lid of the smashed basket moved.

There was a slobbering, snarling noise from within the basket, then it fell to one side as something rolled out.

But the creature on the floor beside the basket bore little resemblance to the high statue on the ledge. This Malkariss was gross! The great white mound of scabrous fur, now broken by the weight that had dropped on it from above, was something out of a bad dream. Short floppy paws with long mottled nails which hung limply reached up to wipe the crusting bleariness from eyes dimmed and half shut with age. The mouth sagged open, revealing blackened stumps of teeth.

Matthias sat up groggily. His senses swam, and he began to doubt whether he was still alive when he saw the broken vision of evil crawling towards him. Surely such a thing never lived above or below ground. When Malkariss spoke, his voice was thin and reedy. Not being projected by the chamber within the statue or echoing around the rock ledge spaces, it was almost a piteous whine.

“You have looked upon Malkariss. You must die.”

Matthias shuddered. The horrible thing had its paw upon his sword, which had fallen close to the basket. As he was about to lever himself upright, a chunk of rock struck Malkariss upon the back and he arched in pain. Another rock hit the white polecat, striking him on the paw. He released the sword with a whimper. More rocks pelted in.