The King's Key (10 page)

Whisker dashed to his right to protect the goals. Out of nowhere, furry arms grabbed his legs. He struggled to free himself as his body rose into the air. Helplessly, he toppled face-first into a goal post, rebounding backwards into the path of the speeding ball.

WHACK!
The ball hit Whisker square in the nose, ricocheting over the crossbar. Dazed and disoriented, he collapsed on the ground with the ring of bells in his ears.

‘Sensational save!' Horace shouted.

‘Illegal tackle,' Ruby hissed. ‘Whisker didn't have the ball.'

‘Yes he did!' roared the crowd. ‘He was carrying it with his nose.'

A whistle rang out and the crowd lowered their voices to a dull murmur. Whisker looked up with watering eyes to see the referee standing over him. The referee pulled a yellow card from his armpit and bent down.

‘Due-Esda is a sacred game,' he said in a stern voice. ‘There are consequences for breaking rules. Yellow card offences attract a penalty shot at goal.'

Whisker felt his watering eyes turn to rivers of misery.

‘I'm – I'm sorry,' he gasped, more to his teammates than to the referee.

‘Sorry for what?' the referee grunted. ‘Just tell me who tackled you and take your shot at goal.'

It took Whisker a few moments to register what he'd heard. It took him far less time to yell out Mimp's name and stagger to his feet.

The disgraced jester was booed from the field. The Queen tipped the rest of her tea over his head and, with a small hiccup, returned to the action. Sir Mecks took his position in the goal box and Whisker wasted no time in lining up his penalty shot.

‘Give nothing away,' Ruby whispered in his ear. ‘Pick a direction but look straight ahead.'

Whisker nodded and took three steps back.

Upper left corner
, he told himself, staring at the centre of the goal.

The crowed went silent, awaiting the outcome. Whisker took his run up. Three steps and his foot made contact with a rubbery
THUD
.

The ball lifted off the ground, spinning to the left. Sir Mecks leapt high into the air. The nimble knight stretched out his paws to make the vital save but the ball brushed past his fingers, gliding through the upper left corner of the goal.

Whisker let out a sigh of relief. The crowd groaned.

‘One-all,' the ref declared.

Horace gave Whisker a subtle hooks-up, but there was no post-goal celebration from the Pie Rats. One-all was hardly a winning score.

As Whisker made his way back for the bounce-up, he noticed the referee scratching a line in the dirt.

‘I'm extending the sundial for extra-time,' the referee said with a sly grin, ‘on the off chance we end in a draw … it's in the rules.'

Whisker looked down in horror. The extra-time section was four times larger than the two halves. The Pie Rats would never survive. They would be annihilated on the field and then hung and beheaded and …

Whisker felt his vision blur as his mind drifted into his memories. He needed a plan, and he needed it now …

The crowd of monkeys vanished and a laughing circus audience took their place. Two puppies stood in the centre of the ring, performing a comedic clown routine. Both puppies wore large baggy trousers. One had no belt. Whenever the first puppy tried to pull up his pants, the second puppy would tickle him until he dropped his trousers in a fit of hysterical laughter …

Whisker's vision cleared. He looked at the bench. There were no playful puppies, only a tea-soaked jester, a beaten-up teacher and an irate blowfly.

‘Substitute!' he cried. ‘Last minute change.'

‘What?' the Captain gasped. ‘We can't use Mr Tribble. He's three-quarters concussed.'

‘Not Mr Tribble,' Whisker said, ‘Smudge.'

‘But …'

‘There's no time, Captain. If I'm wrong, you can cut off my head and dangle me from a rope.'

‘Very well,' the Captain muttered. ‘But it's not just your head that's on the line.'

Eaton hurried from the field and Whisker whistled to Smudge. The excited blowfly entered the arena to the roar of laughter from the crowd, landing lightly on Whisker's shoulder.

‘Listen, Smudge,' Whisker said in a low voice. ‘The joke's on them. Remember what you did to Horace?'

Smudge punched his little fists together.

‘Good,' Whisker said. ‘Now I want you to do exactly the same thing to any monkey carrying the ball. But only if they're carrying the ball. Understand?'

Smudge didn't reply. He was already flying towards the centre bounce with a nasty gleam in his eye.

The panpipe shrilled and the game was on.

Princess Mayenya outjumped Ruby for the ball, but unlike the previous three bounces, Mayenya didn't get a quick pass away. Her feet had barely touched the ground when she started giggling uncontrollably and flapping her arms.

The ball slipped from her paws. Prince Marcabio picked it up and dashed from the centre circle. He tried to goose-step Horace, but broke out in a chorus of chuckles, dropping the ball.

Surprised at his good fortune, Horace pounced on the ball and looked for an unmarked player.

‘This way,' the Captain shouted, scampering down the left wing.

Horace tried to hook-pass the ball but was sandwiched by the King and Queen. The ball popped free and bounced into the Queen's arms. She'd only taken a few steps when her usual giggles turned to howls of laughter.

‘Oh my! Oh dear! It's wonderful. It's terrible. Stop tickling! No – keep going …'

In hysterics, she threw her paws in the air and the ball soared over her head. The King made a hasty grab for it but tripped over Horace and landed on his crown.

With lightning speed, Ruby raced through the centre of the pack, taking the ball with her. She managed to raise her arm and slam the ball in the direction of the goal as Mayenya and Marcabio ploughed into her.

It wasn't a great shot and the ball skidded right, lurching towards the sideline. The Captain and Sir Mecks sprinted from opposite corners of the field, attempting to reach the ball first.

It was moving too fast for either of them and looked destined to bounce into the screaming crowd when, without warning, it hit something small and green in mid-flight.

The ball teetered in the air, spun to its left and shaved the inside of the goal post. Gobsmacked, the entire crowd stared in disbelief – Smudge had scored.

‘Two-one,' the ref muttered with a disbelieving shake of his head.

The rats cheered. The royal family hissed. Smudge twitched uncontrollably on the ground.

‘Medic!' Horace cried, rushing over to him.

Mr Tribble carried the stunned body of Smudge to the bench while the others looked on.

‘He'll live,' the Captain said to his concerned crew. ‘And so will we if we can hold them out for another thirty seconds.'

Whisker nodded and positioned himself in the goal box. Eaton replaced Smudge on the wing and Jester Mimp took Mayenya's place opposite Ruby, eager for a quick bounce-up. The entire marmoset team stood shoulder to shoulder behind him.

The referee raised the panpipe to his lips and blew. The ball bounced. Ruby jumped – Mimp waited.

With unopposed ease, Ruby plucked the ball from the air and landed delicately on her feet. With the power of a polar bear, Mimp crash-tackled her to the ground and the ball bounced free.

The monkeys took their cue and shoulder-charged the opposition. The Pie Rats tumbled over like they were nothing more than papier-mâché mannequins on a windy cliff top. Their trampled bodies were left sprawled across the field as the monkeys advanced. King Marvownion scooped up the ball and prepared to level the score. Only one rat stood in his way.

Whisker crouched in the centre of the goal square, his eyes fixed on the King.

Which way will you go?
he thought.

The King held his line, moving into striking range. Whisker held his ground, waiting for a sign.

The ball dropped from the King's arm as he prepared to kick. His eyes flashed to the left and Whisker knew he had him.

Gotcha!

With expert precision, the King's foot made contact with the ball, launching it into the air. At the same moment, Whisker leapt to his left, raising his paws for the catch. As the ball rose higher towards the goal posts, Whisker realised he'd been cunningly out-played. The ball wasn't headed left, it was headed right.

In a final desperate effort to save the goal, he flicked his tail behind him, lassoing the ball. Like a cowboy restraining a stampeding bull, Whisker held on. He felt a stinging, tearing pain in his tail as it stretched to breaking point.

In agony, he crashed to the turf. The ball slipped from his grasp, bounced twice and stopped – only millimetres from the goal line.

With a
HISS
and a
HOWL
, the furious King made a desperate dash for the ball. Whisker mustered the last of his strength and pulled the ball towards him. He wrapped his arms and legs around the precious object and waited for the collision.

‘
TOOT TOOT TOOOOT
.' A high pitched whistle filled the air.

Whisker lay still, listening to the sounds of running footsteps. A body landed on top of him. Something hard dug into his back.

‘We did it!' Horace cried, shaking Whisker with his hook. ‘We knocked their royal socks off.'

Before Whisker could respond, he felt another hard thud as Ruby joined the pile.

‘You're brilliant, Whisker!' she exclaimed. ‘You and your deranged tail.'

For once, Whisker didn't blush. With his face squashed into the dirt, and two rats on top of him, all he could manage was a relieved sigh. One by one, the entire team threw themselves onto the winner's stack.

The crowd booed and hissed as the outcome of the match sunk in.

King Marvownion raised his arms to settle them.

‘Marvellous monkeys of Marmosettia,' he shouted. ‘Do not be dismayed …'

‘I don't like the sounds of this,' Horace muttered from the middle of the pile.

‘Off with their heads!' chanted the crowd. ‘Give us an execution!'

‘Great ghouls in the gallows!' the King gasped. ‘I can't execute them now, even if they are filthy rodents. There are rules to follow.'

‘Who cares about the rules?' mumbled Mandy or Mindy or one of the others. ‘You're the King.'

‘What, what?' King Marvownion spluttered. ‘Who's the King?'

Queen Marmalade giggled.

‘Oh, yes,' he said. ‘Golly gosh, that would be me. Right. Well, as the King, I can offer you something far more exciting than a dreary old execution …'

‘A rematch,' cheered the crowd. ‘A rematch to the death!'

‘Giant genies in jam jars!' the King exclaimed. ‘Enough of the death talk. We're going to have a rip-roaring, nose-snorting victory celebration instead.'

‘Victory!' cheered the crowd. ‘Victory is ours!'

‘Err, excuse me, King Marvellous Onion,' Horace squeaked, ‘technically, it was our victory, not yours.'

‘Don't be such a pretentious peacock,' the King growled. There's plenty of victory for everyone.'

‘But …' Horace began.

The Captain elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Take as much victory as you want, Your Majesty. We're content with our… bruises, aren't we, crew.'

‘Oh yes,' cried the Pie Rats. ‘… extremely content. Lovely bruises … best we've ever had.'

‘Smashingly splendid!' the King declared. ‘And seeing as you're all practically family now, I insist you stay for our little party. Bring out the jungle drums.'

With a
BOM BOM BOM
and a
BOMPER DEE BOM
, the drumming began. The royal family danced around the clearing in a conga line as the Pie Rats staggered to their feet.

‘They're mad,' Horace muttered, twirling his hook around his ear. ‘Totally, utterly bonkers.'

Golden Bananas

Mad monkeys were much easier to handle than execution-crazed monkeys. Whisker quickly forgot the whole death ordeal when the endless stream of exotic fruits and jungle delights rolled into the clearing. As his mother once told him,
Bruises feel better with a banana in your belly
.

Horace was soon dancing on a tree stump with Jester Mimp and Princess Mayenya, while Eaton and Mr Tribble played a game of
throw the banana peel over the sundial
with Prince Marcabio and Sir Mecks. King Marvownion and the Captain sat at a table and talked about Death Ball like they were best buddies from way back when.

‘I hear that disastrously dangerous Pirate Cup is on again,' the King remarked, biting a banana without bothering to peel it. ‘Are you entering?'

The Captain glanced at Ruby.

‘We do have an opportunity to enter,' he said cautiously, ‘but there are more pressing matters at hand …'

‘Grand goblets of goblins!' the King blurted out. ‘Do you think they'd let me enter? I know I'm not technically a pirate, but golly gosh, I've strung up more innocent victims than the Sea Dogs and Penguin Pirates put together.'