The travelers had completely lost track of time. Mattachin was too busy pondering his glorious retirement after the war to count days, hours, or whatever may have passed. Nyctllr was working quite admirably against her biological clock, but her concentrating on resting properly in dark and remaining awake in light was more important than the number of darks and lights. And Troyte, well, Troyte's utter lack of time sense was an example of from where the term came.
Suffice it to say that the force from Redwall went a good distance geographically, and took roughly a few days.
It was during the afternoon that they reached land which folded into hills and mountains—not the large ones of the actual range, of course, but after much traversing of relative flatness, the change was significant.
Particularly significant to Mattachin were two oddly rectangular formations sticking up from the foot of the mountains. What's that? the warrior mouse queried obliviously.
Nyc did not seem even remotely pleased by this appearance. You'll see, she muttered. We'll walk a little ways longer, and you'll definitely see.
So, as expected, they walked. Mattachin kept his eyes forward, awed and worried by the increasingly apparent heights before him.
The mouse marveled at the twin structures, incomprehension of mere size blocking the notion that this was the enemy's base, at least for the time being.
I guess they're nice-looking buildings, if you think of them only as buildings, Troyte observed with delicate optimism. Kind of a shame, really.
But they're not just buildings, so we can stop with that train of thought now. As bats live in caves, they generally have little appreciation for architecture. Nyc continued, The one with the thing sticking out the top of it, that's where all the prisoners are kept on the top floor. I know that ob Insame himself, the rat Kaliban, and the fox Roth are in there quite a bit, but they speak loudly of quarters in the other tower. The horde is primarily in that tower as well—they're easy to hear. I don't think that many of them, if any, are housed in the other tower—you could see them drilling from the window, and none went in to the other that I could see. My guess is that the primary barracks are in the that tower, and the brains of the operation, so to speak, in the other. The entire explanation was given with a very cold tone.
Mattachin squinted toward the distant lower levels. Are they well guarded?
No way to know for certain, Troyte mused. But he's got other birds up high that'll probably tell things on the threat of their lives.
Nyctllr nodded. I'm not sure about the bottom either. Might be, might not. Regardless, if the bottom's alerted, everyone from the top floor down can descend upon any attacker. It's all very sketchy.
We'll take our chances, Mattachin decided, perhaps too quickly for comfort. Because they sure got lucky in actually hitting Redwall. And we're better than those evil beasts would be if they were as good as they are evil, so we'll beat them! Most of you will go after the troops—we'll take ob Insame. Mattachin drew Martin's sword as if he was going to signal the charge that very instant.
Nyctllr interjected. They'll be drowsy and less aware. Predawn. In the dark.
Mattachin almost interrupted the bat with a rebuttal—you're nocturnal of course you'd say that—but then the utter importance of timing asserted itself in his head. Error could easily cost him the battle—and his reputation. Yes. Predawn. We go.