CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

"Stop now, or there will not be enough of you left alive to carry all your dead back to Redwall."

Threescore gulls surrounded the Abbey party of all sides, standing poised to strike at a word from their new commander while dozens more circled and wheeled overhead, shrieking their war cries.

That commander, the golden eagle Altidor, stood amongst the gulls, towering over them as he stared down the woodlanders. Well aware of Scarbatta's fate, the imposing raptor maintained a respectable distance between himself and Sodexo, and kept his wary gaze on the hulking creature to watch for any sudden moves on the badger's part.

Three more Guosim lay slain from the latest wave of attacks, while Clewiston and Pledger both bore additional flesh wounds and deep bone bruises from these further clashes. Worst of all for the would-be rescuers, the gulls had hit upon a very effective strategy to counter Alexander's tactics, plucking his loosed shafts from their fellow fallen avians before he could recover them. A dozen more gulls lay dead or disabled by his arrows, but the squirrel archer was now left with an empty quiver, his potent threat neutralized.

"I can carry many dead all on my own," Sodexo menacingly boasted. "I will not turn back."

"Yes, but can you carry those deaths on your conscience for seasons to come?" Altidor ran his gaze over his assembled adversaries, clustered into a shoulder-to-shoulder defensive group with Sodexo towering out of its center. "Listen to me, and listen well. Lord Urthblood has mustered all the gulls of the western shores, from the Northlands down to Southsward. If you press on, he will send another hundred to battle you, and another hundred after that if need be. The rat is ours. You cannot have her."

"I don't believe you!" Alex shouted. "Urthblood needs his gulls too badly to guard the coastlands. They're too important to waste them all on us."

"The rat is more important. Look at the carnage around you, if you doubt me, and judge for yourselves."

"I don't think 'ee's bluffin'," Log-a-Log assessed, nursing a heavily-scraped shoulder of his own. "I already lost too many shrews, an' lookin' at this gang here, I'll only lose more if we keep on goin' like we are - an' no guarantee we'll get any closer t' Lattie than we are now."

"An' it's down to just us two Patrollers," Clewiston added, "an' you're plum outta gullstickers, Alex chap. If we go on, it'll be all on Lord Sodexo to bull us through, an' he can't protect us all."

"You have seen our chains," Altidor warned. "We have other weapons too. Do not force us to use them."

Clewiston scowled a half-snarl the eagle's way. "Yah, we know all about your fiendish yellow poison vapors, an flamin' glass globes too. Although only a villain of the lowest, scummiest stripe would deploy such vile an' cowardly methods against honorable an' upright citizens of Mossflower."

"Look to your wounded you left behind in the Flitch-aye-aye valley. They have become our own weapons in this now as well. We have them surrounded and outnumbered. Return to them now, or they will be slain."

This statement stirred the questors to new heights of outrage, and Alex sought to call Altidor's bluff. "You wouldn't! No civilized creatures would threaten harm to helpless casualties behind enemy lines!"

Clewiston chuffed in disgust. "You're givin' these airborne blighters too much credit, Al ol' bean, calling 'em civilized."

"If this threat is what it takes to convince you to break off your futile pursuit, then we are quite serious. And if you persist, we will make it more than a mere threat."

"Why slay us at all?" the squirrel challenged. "We know you've already borne Latura further ahead of us than even the Gawtrybe, and you can do so again anytime you decide. We'd never catch up, and you wouldn't have to slay a single goodbeast to keep her from us."

"The rat, perhaps, but not the Gawtrybe. They were charged with her conduct to Salamandastron. You threatened their mission. You should not have done so."

Log-a-Log stepped over to Alexander. "I don't like it any better'n you do, but I'm about ready t' call this over. I believe these feathered battlers will carry out ev'rything they're threat'nin' an' more. All we'll get out of this if we keep goin' now's more dead shrews, an' mebbe two dead hares an' a dead squirrel along with us. We Guosim're one thing, but Redwall can't afford t' lose you, or th' Colonel. You gotta go back while you still can."

Alexander's tail thrashed in agitation. "Redwall has never given in on anything like this before."

"Never been a bloody beast like Urthblood before," said Clewiston. "First bally time for everything, wot? No shame in comin' up short, not against such overwhelmin' odds. We gave it our best, but it's clear now we'll only lose it all an' gain nothing if we keep on this way. No point fightin' to the last beast when that fight's still not going to win you wot you're fightin' for. An' if we can beat a strategic retreat without further losses, it behooves us to do so."

"It sticks in my craw as well to abandon this pursuit, good Alexander." Sodexo nodded toward Clewiston and Log-a-Log. "But I would say the majority have spoken, and not without due consideration and much good sense. I shall abide by their consensus."

Alex forced himself to accept what the others had said, his face grim and eyes hooded. "Very well. Let's return to the others and make sure they're all right. If nobeast is harmed further, I'm willing to call this off. But first ... "

He took three measured, deliberate paces toward Altidor - not enough to appear threatening, but more than enough to symbolically square off in defiance against the golden eagle. "I want you to take a message to Urthblood. We listened to you; now you listen to us, and mark us well. We consider this incident over Latura an attack on Redwall. We no longer consider your Lord an ally, and we no longer consider him any kind of friend to our Abbey. He has shown his true colors, and they are not any we care for. Henceforth, neither he nor any creature in his service will be welcome at Redwall. Tell him he has lost Mossflower."

Altidor glared down his beak at the squirrel. "You are not authorized to speak for all of Redwall, and most certainly not for all Mossflower. I will not deliver any such message to Lord Urthblood, for your words are empty bluff, and I would not waste his time with anything so meaningless."

Log-a-Log strode forward to stand at Alexander's side, balling his paws into angry fists. "Lissen up, featherface! You'll deliver my friend's message, 'cos he's one of Redwall's chief defenders, an' if he says Urthblood's no longer welcome at that Abbey, you can take it as true! An' ye'll deliver mine as well. Two summers ago, Urthblood helped save my son from searat slavery, an' ever since then I've carried that debt an' stood ready t' render any aid that badger asked of us. Today, that debt was repaid, in Guosim blood. We owe him nothing - an' I do speak for all th' Guosim in this. If he ever comes beggin' our help now, his reply'll be silence - an' if he presses th' matter, we'll let our steel an' our slings do th' talkin'!"

Now Sodexo too stepped forward. "Add my message to theirs. As Lord of the Southern Glades, I speak for goodbeasts beyond counting. I have seen enough of this Urthblood and his methods to know all about him that I need to. If he seeks to add these lands to his domain through force, or in any way threatens Redwall, I will see to it that all of Southern Mossflower rises against him."

Altidor, clearly flustered, ruffled his plumage from head to tail. "Begone, now! Join your wounded in life, if you do not wish to join your slain in death!"

Under the watchful gazes of the hostile seabirds and their eagle leader, the woodlanders solemnly turned and filed through an opening cleared by the encircling gulls. Stopping only to retrieve their slain shrews - Sodexo bore all three of them, stacked in his arms like firewood - the Redwall party commenced its sad retreat back to the point of the first engagement.

There they stopped again to perform burial duties, Log-a-Log wanting to inter all his fallen Guosim on the site of their valiant stand. While the surviving shrews, aided by a willing Pledger, set to work digging the graves, Sodexo, Alexander and Clewiston continued on, wanting to check on the wounded left behind in the valley basin to make sure the birds had kept their word, and no harm had befallen the stricken casualties.

To their relief, they found that none of their friends had succumbed to either their injuries or further action by their feathered foe. The convalescing beasts met their comrades' return with wide-eyed gazes of grateful salvation and anxious questioning; the absence of any shrews amongst the returning questors triggered consternation at first, as did the lifeless forms of Peppertail and Fawkwell that Sodexo bore, indicating that the entire company would now be Redwall bound ...

And with no sign of Latura in sight.

Leftwick met his commander in front of the rest, saluting with his good arm. "Wot's the word, Colonel sah? It's lookin' like we're givin' up this chase, unless my peepers deceive me."

"Grieves me t' say so, but that's exactly wot's goin' on, Lefty. Resistance was just too strong, losses too great, an' those winged terrors were threatening to throw hundreds more of their fellow fiends at us, if that's wot it took to stop us. We were never gonna catch up to those sodden Gawtrybe, much less Lattie herself. Discretion proved the much better part of valor this day, don'tcha know."

"Hmm. Me 'n' Lew were wond'rin' wot was goin' on when all those feathery frighters swooped down an' surrounded us here. Not like we were in any shape t' make any kind o' real fight of it, tho' I'da done my level best to take a few more of 'em with me if it had come to that, and Lew was up for the same. Really did worry they meant t' finish us off, but we were hardly in any position to make th' first blinkin' move. An' then they all flew away, leavin' us to ourselves again. Couldn't figure out wot was goin' on."

"Finishing you off was exactly wot they were threatenin' to do, an' I trust they'd've kept their word an' carried through with it if we'd not relented But don't pour dour all over yourself in th' bally blame game; we'd have turned back anyway, even without 'em holding you lot hostage. Just wasn't in the cards or the stars. We hadta break it off."

"The Colonel speaks true," Sodexo affirmed, reverently laying the two hare bodies down upon the mossy ground. "Had we all been badgers, we might have stood some small chance if we'd pressed on, but I could not have safeguarded the entire company. More would surely have been lost, and perhaps all."

Leftwick and Buckalew stared grimly at the lifeless forms of Fawkwell and the Sergeant. "Yah, I'd say we've lost quite enuff today as it is," Buckalew muttered.

Clewiston nodded toward the most grievously-wounded member of the surviving Long Patrols. "How's Pumphrey holdin' up?"

"He's in pretty bad shape, sah. Driftin' in and out. Was almost tempted t' start marchin' him to Redwall ahead of everybeast else, but then those fur-forsaken gulls came down an' encircled us. Nobeast was goin' anywhere, then." Buckalew looked to his commander. "I say, sah, your ears look to be in almost as sorry shape as Pumphrey's ... "

"Mostly just th' one, an' a few stitches will have it right as rain once I'm back at the Abbey." Clewiston turned to Sodexo. "Lord, might I ask a favor of you?"

The badger nodded. "If I may grant it, I will gladly do so."

"When time comes to move on, if I might impose upon you to carry Sergeant Peppertail an' Fawks the rest of the way back to Redwall, once all the Guosim've got their own heroes laid to rest? I know it'll be a bit of a bally burden, bearin' 'em all that way, but you're the only one of us fit for such a task."

"Naturally. And I had planned on doing exactly that, even before you asked. But, you make it sound as if you will not be accompanying us?"

"Actually, I was thinking of abidin' here for a bit after most of us leave. Something I need to look into."

"Oh? Anything to do with the fallen gulls?"

"Hardly. More to do with something right under our footpaws. Normally I might let it pass in light of everything that's happened out here, but I've a nagging feeling it might be too important to overlook."

Sodexo gave another nod. "As you see fit; you're the senior commander here. I will see to your request as best I can."

Palter, hanging on the fringes of the conversation all this time, looked to Clewiston with renewed hope. "Y' got sumpthin' else in mind t' get Lattie back? Some hare's trick or Long Patrol scheme?"

The Colonel had little sympathy to spare for the whiny rat. "Guess you weren't listenin' earlier. That chase's finished. We've lost too many already in this bloody effort, an' we'd only lose more if we kept on. Much as it grates my grumblin' gizzard t' say it, Urthblood's won this round."

"Oh." The disheartened rat seemed to accept this decree, and said nothing more for the moment, although a range of emotions played across his face as he withdrew from the others once more.

Some time later Pledger and the Guosim rejoined the party from their grim labors, and they all forced themselves to take a light late lunch to keep up their energy reserves; now that there weren't as many mouths to feed, their limited provisions would easily see them back to Redwall with food and drink to spare. As they sat resting, Clewiston laid out the logistics for the remainder of their homeward trek.

"Pledge, Lew, I'm countin' on you two t' get Pumphrey home for the healing he needs. Lefty, I trust that sling'll do you for the rest of this march, until that elbow of yours can be properly set. Lord Sodexo has graciously agreed to carry Fawks an' the Sergeant back to the Abbey for a decent regimental burial, an' I trust Log-a-Log's got enuff healthy shrews left t' see to gettin' all their own injured back all right."

Turning to his fellow leaders of their ill-fated expedition, he said, "Alex, Log-a-Thing, I'd like you two t' tarry behind with me for a bit, while we investigate wot went on here."

"What went on here?" the shrew echoed. "We got our tails handed to us, that's what happened!"

"Not what I meant, Thingummy." Clewiston gestured toward some of the dessicated weasel corpses strewn about the basin floor, grisly remains the rescuers had pointedly avoided camping near. "I mean them. May'aps you lot pounded your way through here in too big a hurry to pay 'em much heed, but the chaps an' I poked around a bit, an' weren't exactly enthralled by wot we saw. Think it bears further pokin', don'tcha know."

"Who are they?" Log-a-Log asked. "Why're they any concern of ours?"

"Who they are should be quite obvious, especially if you were payin' attention an' heard that big golden featherbag refer to this as the Flitch-aye-aye valley. These're none other than those selfsame cannibal wastrels who scoffed unwary passersby careless enough to fall into their trap - includin' one poor Redwall-bound mouse fellow who never made it to our fair Abbey, more's the pity. An' as for why their demise should concern us, it's quite clear they were subjected to a mass massacre here. Now who the blue spring moon do you suppose might've gone an' organized such a thing?"

"The Gawtrybe," Alex answered hollowly. "I recognized their shafts sticking from some of the bodies. But these deaths weren't recent."

"Jolly spot on the mark, Alex ol' bean. Some, but not all. Wotever happened here, it wasn't just our bushtailed friends doin' the slayin'. This's got Urthblood's stink all over it - an' I may mean that more ways than one."

"So what if Urthblood sent a party here t' wipe 'em out?" Log-a-Log argued. "That's one thing I'd not fault 'im for, even after all the events of today."

"I think the Colonel's right about this," Alex told the shrew. "No matter how bad the Flitch-aye-aye were, and no matter how richly they deserved such a bad end, an act of mass extermination carried out this close to Redwall needs to be investigated."

Log-a-Log sighed, then shrugged. "Reckern ye're right. Keen as I am at gettin' back to the Abbey an' away from these accursed Plains, I'll tarry with ye here just long 'nuff to get to th' bottom of this - but not a moment longer, unnerstood?"

"Understood," Clewiston agreed. "An' gettin' to the bally bottom is precisely wot I've got in mind - in th' literal sense of the word."

00000000000

When time came for the main part of their party to be off for Redwall, Clewiston found an unexpected fourth member of their company staying behind with him, Alexander and Log-a-Log.

The Colonel joined everybeast else in staring at the rat in disbelief. "Wot do you mean, you're not goin' back to the Abbey?"

Palter gulped, shuffling nervous footpaws. "I can't. Lattie, she said I hafta go t' sea. She prophersized it. So that's wot I gotta do."

"That's crazy," Log-a-Log scoffed. "Just 'cos that halfwit said it, ye're gonna throw away yer freedom, an' mebbe yer life too, an' follow 'er?"

"Mebbe followin' her's what I'm meant t' do. But none o' you's gonna keep on after her. She's all alone. She needs somebeast with 'er. An' if it ain't gonna be anybeast else, then it's gotta be me, don't it?"

Alex asked him, "You're willing to do this, even though you now know what 'going to sea' means? A life in chains, under the slavemaster's whip - and that's if you're lucky. We've heard from the liberated slaves how Tratton and his officers treat their slaves, and it's no existence I'd wish on my worst enemy."

"Right - an' that's where ye're sendin' Lattie. Why should she hafta face all that on 'er own?"

"If Vanessa's right, Latura won't even make it that far. She seemed convinced Urthblood intends to slay Lattie the moment she's brought before him, and it now looks like there's nothing we can do to stop that. Which means you'll be going to sea, walking straight into the maw of Tratton's slavery machine, without anybeast at your side. You won't be helping Latura at all, so why bother? If you go back to Redwall with us, we'll safeguard you on the return march, and make sure you can rejoin your friends there. There's no need to waste your life chasing after something you'll never be able to do anything about."

Palter shook off the squirrel's concern. "Don't matter. Gotta go t' sea. Lattie sez so."

"We'll not be able t' protect you," Log-a-Log reminded the forlorn rat. "Once ye're on yer own, ye'll be snatched up by th' first patrol of Urthblood's you run inta out on th' Plains, an' then they'll have you, an' there'll be no escapin'."

Palter shrugged. "Then I guess I get t' sea faster, don't I?"

Log-a-Log threw up his paws in exasperation. "Folly! Sheer brainless foolishness! Just glad we shrews have better sense 'n t' go berlievin' silly portents 'n' omens 'n' future riddles!"

Clewiston stroked his whiskers. "For wot I have in mind, we'll be here some little while yet after the injured're on their way back to Redwall. This ratface might just be of some use to us. If we finish up an' he still wants t' go chasin' off after his sea quest an' fulfillin' prophecies, we'll give 'im a sendoff with full best wishes. But 'ee's still got some time to decide, wot?"

"I won't change my mind," Palter insisted.

"Wotever. So, shall we get to it then?"

After seeing off the rest of the company on their slowly-plodding, downcast way up out of the valley and onward to Redwall, the Colonel led his quartet to the hidden hatchway he and his hares had unearthed during the outward leg of their pursuit. Wrinkling his snout as he shifted aside the old corpse partly blocking the egress, he lifted the moss-camouflaged lid to reveal the crude tunnel passage beneath, he asked, "Who wants to go first?"

"Down there?" Log-a-Log protested. "You gotta be jokin'!"

"No joke, Loggy chap, anymore'n all these dead weasels 'round here are a jolly kneeslapper. If we really want to sort out wot went on here, that means goin' down to where they lived."

"I think you're right," Alex said in support of the hare. "But what if some of them are still living down there?"

"If they didn't pop up to molest Buckalew an' Mister Ratface here when we left them behind during the battle, I'd say there're none left to pop up t'all."

"Not necessarily," the shrew chief argued. "They coulda heard all us armed beasts trampin' through here, an' been too intimerdated t' show their ugly, villainous snouts. Fur, just one Long Patrol fighter might've been enuff t' have 'em shakin' in their caves!"

"Hmm. Flattery will get you nowhere, Log-a-chum. Much as I'd like to imagine the reputation of us Long Patrol bein' enuff to stay a whole tribe's paw, don't see it in this case. If any of these rotters remained, wouldn't they've cleared away their dead? To keep their presence secret if nothing else? An' wot of their sleepy-fog? Not a trace of it anywhere, not even when we first came upon this place an' they couldn't've known we were coming. I'm taking that to mean there's no more of 'em here to pump that treacherous stuff out. Although ... "

"Altho', what?" queried Palter, in typical tremulous fashion.

"We can't be sure 'til we see it for our jolly selves. Which means whichever one of us is first down had best be armed, an' ready to use their weapons, just in case."

Alexander and Log-a-Log leaned forward, peering down the root-congested passage. "Looks like nobeast has used this in quite some time," Alex observed. "It'll be a tight squeeze, with lots of protruding obstructions grabbing at us. Squirrels' tails aren't meant for such clogged confines."

"Yah, an' how're we s'posed t' see once we get down there? Looks black as pitch. We'll need torches ... "

"Actually, my good Log, I don't think we will. Browder an' his slave companions told us there's a greenish glow down below, from th' rocks or somethin' that grows on 'em. Once our eyes adjust, we should be able to see our way around just fine, without any torches or lamps."

"Hrm. Y' really serious 'bout goin' through with this, Colonel?"

"Absoballylutely. This's about Urthblood, an' when it comes to ol' Bloodface, I don't joke around."

"Nay," Log-a-Log concurred, "after today, I don't reckern any of us will, ever again. Awright, I'll lead th' way. I'm smaller'n any of you, so I c'n get through this clutter easiest, an' I'll know what t' do with my blade if I get down there an' meet an unfriendly reception. Mebbe I'll even be able t' chop away some of th' side growth, clear a wider way fer th' rest of ye."

"That'd be appreciated." Clewiston flicked at his bandaged ear. "Alex an' his tail aren't the only bally extremities we've gotta worry about, don'tcha know."

"Am ... am I s'posed t' go down there too?" Palter asked, his tone clearly conveying that he found the notion entirely unappealing.

Clewiston regarded Palter, standing there in Latura's peach dress. "Not like that you're not. That outfit'll snag and catch worse than Alex's tail or my ears. Time for some alterations, wot?" Producing a small sharp blade, the hare grabbed the hem of the dress and pulled it out taut, then cut into the material in a sawing fashion. Working his way all the way around Palter from front to back and back again, he'd quickly shorn off all of the fabric below the waist, leaving the rat in what looked like a poofy, peach-colored tunic. "Not perfect, but far more suited to close-quarters adventuring than it was before, wouldn't you say?"

Palter still fidgeted nervously. "Twasn't th' dress I was worried 'bout. Not sure I'd be any help down there - mebbe more of a hindrance."

Log-a-Log sneered at the rat. "Unless you'd rather stay up 'ere an' fend fer yerself, if'n Urthblood's birds come back. Or mebbe ye'd like ta start yer march to th' sea right now?"

"Oh, um, erm ... guess I'd better stick with you then, fer now."

The shrew rolled his eyes. "Hope this lout don't end up gettin' us all kill't. Awright, down I go." He drew his rapier, brandishing it as both a root-clearing machete and a weapon if need be.

Alex drew his own much shorter blade. "I'll be right behind you, to back you up if you encounter trouble, and maybe even do a little more clearing myself, since I'm more the Colonel's size and can better judge how much clearance he'll need."

"Jolly good. An' ratface' an' I'll bring up th' bally rear."

"Palter. M' name's Palter."

"Hrm, wossit? Oh, right then, Paltry 'n' me'll cover your tails, an' be ready to beat a hasty retreat if we hafta claw our way back up t' sunlight again."

"We won't be able to turn around once we're fully inside the tunnel," Alex observed. "It's too narrow. If we're forced to retreat before we reach the bottom, we'll be doing it backward."

"Then we'll just hafta improvise, won't we? But we Redwallers're good at that, wot? Shrews first, don'tcha know." Clewiston motioned for Log-a-Log to proceed. The smaller creature, clutching his shortsword, got down on all fours and crawled into the tunnel, pausing here and there to hack at the vegetative obstructions. Once his tail disappeared into the darkness, Alex followed suit, clutching his own knife before him and leaving his empty quiver and bow behind to more easily pass through the restrictive space. When his bush too had been swallowed by the gloom, the Colonel gestured for Palter to go next. "After you, chap."

The rat hemmed and hawed, clasping his paws as he regarded the forbidding hole in the ground. "Ain't so sure 'bout this ... "

"Bit late t' go changin' your mind now, chum - 'specially after all the custom tailorin' I just provided you with. I'll give you to th' bloomin' count o' three to be on your bally way, or I'll go ahead an' leave you up here t' count the passing gulls ... "

Biting his lip, Palter sank to his knees and stuck his head into the passage, sniffing at it. "Smells ... kinda rank. Like death's driftin' up from there. Kinda sharp an' stingin' too ... "

"One ... two ... "

Faced with the choice between vengeful, rat-hunting gulls and dead cannibal weasels, Palter commenced his climb down the root-weeded incline. Waiting for the scrawny, skinless tail to advance several body-lengths ahead of him, Clewiston got to his paws and knees and brought up the rear, mindful of his bandaged ear.

When the three trailing beasts reached the end of the sloping tunnel and made the short drop to the cavern floor below, their eyes adjusting to the dim rockglow Clewiston had told them to expect, they found Log-a-Log standing looking stricken, casting his gaze about him. He seemed more attuned to something unseen than to the scattered corpses strewn about the cave, just as they were in the valley above.

"What is it, Log-a-Log?" Alex asked. "What's the matter?"

The shrew's snout wrinkled. "That smell ... I reckergnize it. Never will ferget it long as I live."

Clewiston regarded the dead Flitch-aye-aye. "Yah, stench o' death's never easy to take. But this isn't so bad. At least they're not fresh."

Log-a-Log shook his head. "Ain't talkin' 'bout that. I mean the other smell, that's unnerneath th' old decay. That stingin', bitin' essence. That's Urthblood's yellow death ... just like I smelled it on that isle on the Big Inland Lake summer last. These weasels weren't massacred by any honest warriors - they were poisoned t' death!"

The Colonel gave a nod. "I'd half-suspected it might be something like that when I sniffed a hint of something bitter up topside, an' saw a lot of the bodies didn't have Gawtrybe shafts stickin' out of 'em, or any other clear signs of battle wounds. But I needed to make sure, don'tcha know."

Palter glanced about nervously. "It ain't ... it ain't gonna hurt us, is it?"

"Hard t' say. Who can tell wot such devilish stuff from Hellgates is gonna do to a beast. But that's why I had Lew give me the Sergeant's canteen, so we'd have a little more water for such purposes." Withdrawing a kerchief from his tunic, Clewiston unstopped his spare canteen and moistened the cloth, then tied it around his snout in an improvised mask. "Those otters of Urthblood's who took over Salamandastron two summers ago wore something like this to protect themselves from their own sleep-makin' vapors, so if it works 'gainst one weapon His Bloodiness has got in his arsenal, maybe it'll work against another, wot? Nothing to be done about our eyes, sadly, except blink a lot if they get to stingin' too much."

Three more kerchiefs were produced and wetted, then fastened over the noses of the remaining companions. This delay gave their vision further time to acclimate to the dim green phosphorescence, and by the time they finished they could see about them with fair clarity, the stinging vestiges of the poisonous vapors notwithstanding.

"So, what now?" Log-a-Log huffed through his dampened mask, glancing askance at the small pile of Flitch-aye-aye corpses massed alongside the short fallen ladder; apparently many had sought to flee the burning, choking vapors via this egress, and in their blind panic had stampeded each other and knocked the ladder over in the confusion before being overcome by the creeping death dropped down on them from above. Whether any here had been trampled to death rather than succumbing to the toxic fog, or if they had merely been in too much frenzied agony to right the ladder once it toppled, was impossible to say.

"Now, we explore," the Colonel replied.

"Explore what? Ain't this place just one big deathtrap?"

"You saw how many bodies were up there. Throw in this sorry bunch here, and even more than that I'm wagerin' we'll find, and you're talking about an entire tribe, scores at th' bally least. You think they all huddled up in this one chamber when they were alive, for all their needs? There've gotta be sleeping chambers, maybe nurseries, p'raps a dining hall or mess, prob'ly a separate room or rooms where they whipped up that gas of theirs so as not t' put the whole lot of them to sleep, kitchens, and, um ... unpleasant as it is to dwell on, they were cannibals, by all accounts, so we'll prob'ly find where they slaughtered their victims an' kept the inedible parts."

Even in the wan green glow, Palter was seen to grow even greener around the gills at this statement - although, in all truth, Alex and Log-a-Log showed similar nauseous revulsion at this prospect. "An' we're lookin' fer all this ... why, again?" the shrew questioned.

"For starters, Log-a-Bean, wanna make sure none're still alive anywhere down here - an' if there are, we've got ourselves a witness who'll verify t'was Urthblood behind all this. Failin' that, we'll see just how many beasts His Bloodiness exterminated here, and thus know the full extent of his ruthless deed. An' there might be other clues an' evidence of note as well. We'll just hafta stay sharp for wotever presents itself, won't we?"

And so they set out on their subterranean explorations, deciding not to split up in case they did encounter trouble, and also to avoid the risk of anybeast getting lost. Clewiston addressed this latter concern with assurances that his seasons at Salamandastron left him acutely attuned to the twistings and turnings of such labyrinths, and that he'd have no problem leading them all back to their original entry point - not that he didn't expect to find additional ways up out of the Flitch-aye-aye lair during the course of their wanderings.

Sure enough, the senior hare's predictions proved prescient: The underground domain of the late Flitch-aye-aye indeed consisted of myriad passages and chambers, for a variety of uses. Bedchambers - and the term could be used only very loosely, since these weasels seemed to have slept only on mats of sparse moss, or in shallow dirt depressions - lay empty and abandoned, as did any number of community areas, including one kitchen where the sole appointments consisted of a series of open cookfire pits, one with a crude steel roasting spit still propped over it. Most disconcerting of all was the abattoir, where piles of clean-picked bones and skulls spoke to the overarching perfidy of the cannibal tribe, their victims numbering in the scores and including any number of species - even a few birds unwary enough to have succumbed to the narcotic vapors. No signs of clothing, tools, weapons or other personal belongings lay in evidence along with the skeletal jumble; the Flitch-aye-aye must have looted and ransacked all such possessions from their prey before subjecting them to the butcher's blade and searing flames.

In a way, it was almost enough to make the four investigators glad that, in the end, the Flitch-aye-aye had been turned from predator to prey themselves in so dramatic a fashion. Almost, but not quite.

Log-a-Log pawed at his eyes - and not for any sentimental reasons - voicing Palter's thoughts as well. "So, they're all dead, an' we've seen enuff t' know what we coulda figgered out on our own: They were abom'nable murderers who deserved the end they got. This residue's really stingin' my eyes. C'n we get outta here now?"

"In a bit, Loggy my Log. Just one or two other things I want to check on - one of which we passed just back this way, I think." Backtracking a few dozen paces, Clewiston halted at a small raised alcove in the rock wall, almost like a tiny open oven set at waist height. Reaching in, he withdrew a large clay pot and sniffed at the herbal ash remains within. "Yah, sure enuff - you might 'member Urthblood's poison gas, my good Log, but *I* remember the sleepy-stuff he used to knock us all out at Salamandastron ... as if t'were yesterday, in fact. An' this's that same stuff." Setting the pot aside on the floor, he stuck his head into the alcove, mindful of his lame ears, and peered upward, glimpsing daylight far above. "Ayup, just as I thought - one o' their infernal chimneys for wafting their sleep mist up into the valley. Remember passing several more like this - must be a dozen at least, maybe a score or more. Let's hope they'll never be used for such nefarious, bloodthirsty purposes again, wot?"

"Yah, let's," the shrew grumbled. "Can we get outta here now, or do you wanna go diggin' fer their ancient dead too?"

"Nah, doubt we'd find any, chap. Something tells me woodlanders weren't the only beasts on their bally dinner plate."

Alex, Palter and Log-a-Log all made queasy faces of disgust at this supposition - but none really doubted it.

A short time later they came to another shaft leading straight up to the surface, but this one had a different aspect than the previous one - newer, neater, and opening directly into the cavern ceiling rather than through a side wall indentation. At the bottom of the shaft on the cavern floor lay a strew of pottery shards. Clewiston picked one up and sniffed, then thrust it away again with his face screwed up in revulsion beneath his mask. He passed the shard to Log-a-Log for confirmation, and met with the same reaction from the shrew.

"Urthblood, huh?"

"Yah. Urthblood, a'right. Same smell as on Snoga's isle, an' here too, 'cept stronger."

"At least now we know how he delivered his gas for the attack here," said Alex. "These drop-shafts are too skillfully wrought to have been sunk by anybeasts but one. Must have had his moles excavate these shafts right down into their midst, and then lobbed the poisoned pots among them before the Flitch-aye-aye could do anything about it."

"Hmm. T'was a shaft like this that Lew fell down, and pierced his backside on some o' these shards. Never occurred to us they might be poisoned. Hope there wasn't enuff residue on 'em to cause Lew any serious trouble."

"He's on his way back to Redwall now," Alex replied. "If there's anyplace where he could have such issues addressed, it's in our Infirmary - especially if Vanessa's fully back in possession of all her healer's knowledge and skills."

"Hrrmph! An' speakin' o' gettin' back t' Redwall ... "

The Colonel took Log-a-Log's hint. "Right. I think this shows us all we need t' know about wot went on here. No need for tarryin' further, don'tcha know. Let's follow our pawsteps back to where we came in, an' see about seein' some bally sunlight again, wot?"

As they retraced their winding path, trusting to Clewiston's sense of underground direction, the hare looked about them in the phantasmagorical green glow. "Y' know," he remarked to nobeast in particular, "these actually wouldn't be such bad digs, for creatures of a mind t' dwell below ground. Clear out all the bodies, fully open up all th' shafts an' chimneys to air it out an' get rid of th' stink, an' it might almost be homey ... "

"Homey?" Log-a-Log snorted. "Even without knowin' what horrors went on here, I'd take sleepin' out in open fields or forest over this dark eternal gloom! Anybeast wants t' make a home of this place, they c'n have it!"