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Prologue

Slagar the fox awoke slowly, and hell's teeth; the first thing he became aware of was the pain. There was a stabbing, pressing feeling in the middle of his chest and ribcage, almost as though someone had hacked at him with a hot knife. Tentatively, the disfigured fox laid a paw against his stinging ribs, and the bones felt strangely malleable and tender beneath the fur; and there was a strange crackling, rattling sound from somewhere within. Broken, undoubtedly.

If and when he could somehow escape this subterranean hellhole, the fox silently vowed to hide out in the forests beyond; where he could live incognito. Far, far away from those damned Redwallers who had been the cause of his consistent ill fortune.

Rising on shaking footpaws, Slagar gritted his teeth as a knifing, agonizing pain coursed through his wounded ribs- Typically a sign of at least one collapsed lung, he recalled; along with the crackling sound. Great. Just fucking wonderful.

Most of it had been the Abbeydwellers' fault, yes, but some of it had been Slagar's own stupidity- not that the cunning one would ever willingly admit it. Nonetheless, it was infuriating enough to be trapped here, in a collapsed cavern, with a supply of oxygen that was undoubtedly limited; and could suffer further cave-ins at any moment. In all likelihood, his chances of escaping to the surface would be unlikely at best.

But that didn't mean Slagar wasn't against trying, even if part of him knew there was simply no use.

Staggering a few steps forward like an unsteady drunk, the fox surveyed the scenery, quite depressed by what he saw: piles of carcasses of the dark-cloaked Blackrobes littered all over the cave floor, as well as those of some of the scrawny-chested and malnourished slaves who had been killed in the scuffle.

Prying a spear from the stiffened, curling claws of one of the corpses, Slagar used it like a makeshift cane and was able to right himself. Better. As he strolled slowly through the various chambers and corridors of Malkariss' underground lair, however, the fox soon became aware of a strange, lightheaded feeling of dizziness that accompanied his continued pain.

His vision was becoming blurred and smeared-looking, as though Slagar had cried and forgotten to blink the tears away. Nonetheless, he persevered and wandered on in his vain but ceaseless attempts to find an exit. He was plagued all the while, however, by the most overpowering feeling of drowsiness..... Slagar's limbs inexplicably felt numbed and leaden, as though his circulation had abruptly been cut off; and there was the familiar tingling prick of gooseflesh rising along his legs.

In addition, the fox's eyes felt heavy and weighted, and he found himself having to blink rapidly and repeatedly to make sure they wouldn't droop to a close. As he continued walking, Slagar was well aware of just how attractive an idea it would be to simply lay down on the rough and uncomfortable cave floor and sleep. Just a little nap.

As appealing as this notion was, however, the fox forced himself to continue walking on; even as his left leg dragged behind him, twisted and useless. And yet, the limb did not pain him at all. It was numb and unfeeling, just like his other leg. Slagar's broken, useless limb further delaying his possible escape from Malkariss' kingdom; the disfigured fox tried to put on a little more speed, breaking into a pathetic, shuffling half-limp.

His faster gait sending a welcome stab of pain up his undoubtedly-broken leg, Slagar gritted his teeth and tried to resume his trek through the seemingly innumerable corridors and antechambers in Malkariss' derelict domain. In the distance, the fox thought he could hear a faint mewling, little whimpering sound that echoed unnervingly from wherever it had come from.

It was high-pitched and utterly pathetic, undoubtedly the cries of an infant or small child; perhaps forgotten in the mass liberation of most of the slaves of the depths. Unable to keep from shivering at this eerie and unsettling sound, Slagar kept walking for several more intervals- despite rapid, stinging jolts of pain in his left leg telling him otherwise- until he at last was face to face with a set of wooden rungs, rotted and desiccated by time and insects; carefully inserted into the cave wall.

Promisingly, achingly, faint glimmers of something bright- The first pale and tantalizing shafts of sunlight- were visible from the top of this crude ladder. At last, an exit! It was still possible to reach the world outside!

These first glimpses of fresh air and sunshine being all the motivation he needed, Slagar put one footpaw- his good one- on the first rung of the ladder, followed by the second. Clenching his teeth all the while, the cunning fox hauled himself up the ladder as quickly as he was able, doing his best to ignore the lingering sting in his broken leg.

After what seemed a century of climbing, the fox finally reached the top of the ladder and emerged into the gentle, always-verdant scenery of the south of Mossflower. The sun shone gently, but not too harshly on his fur and clothing; feeling like little more than a soft and welcoming glow. The grass was a bright, vibrant shade of green that seemed to shine translucent in the summer sun, and the sky was a deep teal and filled with clouds that seemed to represent all manner of fantastical creatures and beings.

Lying down on his back on the surprisingly, pleasantly soft meadow grass, the son of Sela let his eyes flicker to a close as sun and morning shadow shone down on him from the shelter of the trees. If Slagar was going to die from his injuries and be cast down to Hellgates with all the rest of his like; at least he would do so among warmth and sunlight and serene stillness.