The King's Key (14 page)

‘Or a hook,' Horace said, looping his hook around the thick rope. ‘Wish me luck.'

He stepped forward. Wooden planks creaked under his weight as he tiptoed across the bridge. Gentle vibrations pulsed through the ropes, sending loose planks plummeting to the river below.

‘I'm okay!' he exclaimed with every falling plank.

The crossing seemed to take forever, but after a few tense minutes, Horace reached the opposite side of the ravine.

‘NOTHING TO IT
…
TO IT …
TO IT …
' his voice echoed back.

‘Splendid,' the Captain said. ‘So who's next – with a backpack this time?'

The mice looked hesitant and Ruby appeared to be in two minds about the whole thing.

‘I'll go,' Whisker volunteered. ‘It's no worse than the high ropes at the circus.'

‘Follow Horace's exact path,' Mr Tribble stressed.

‘And remember to use your tail,' Ruby added. ‘It always gets you out of trouble.'

‘When it's not getting me into trouble,' Whisker said under his breath. ‘I'll see you on the other side.'

Whisker stepped, ever so lightly, onto the bridge. The small figure of Horace waved enthusiastically down to him and Whisker realised just how high Horace was. The far side of the ravine followed the slope of the mountain and the bridge rose up and up and up.

Every step led Whisker further from the safety of the cliff and closer to the danger zone in the centre of the bridge. He stuck to the right side of the planks, gripping the handrail with his paw. His tail slid over the rope behind him, stabilising his movements.

The gully wind arrived with a howling gust as Whisker reached four missing planks in the middle of the bridge. He carefully stepped onto the footrope and shimmied along. His upper body swayed back and forth under the weight of the backpack, but the handrail kept him from falling.

He reached a solid plank and waited for the vibrations to ease. Through the roar of the wind, Whisker made out a faint
twang
. He looked down in terror to see the strands of the footrope fraying and breaking away. With a second
twang,
the footrope tore apart.

Whisker shifted his weight to the handrail, but it was too late. With a loud
SNAP …
SNAP …
SNAP …
the entire bridge split in two.

At the End of the Rope

For one heart-stopping moment, Whisker hung suspended in thin air. Then, as the bridge collapsed beneath him, his terrified tail twisted around the handrail and his entire body plummeted down in a wide arc.

Planks of wood splintered off in all directions, crashing to the rocks below. Startled cries echoed from both sides of the ravine.

Petrified, Whisker held on for dear life as the upside-down rope swing hurtled back towards the massive ravine wall. The blurry shapes of shrubs and bushes raced towards him, filling his vision. Unable to slow his electrifying pace, he turned his back to the wall and braced himself for the impact.

CRUNCH!

Even with a padded backpack, Whisker felt like he'd been stampeded by a herd of obese elephants. Winded and woozy, he pulled himself closer to the cliff, as an avalanche of wood and rocks rattled past him. He waited for the crashing echoes to stop, and scrambled onto a small ledge halfway up the cliff.

‘HE'S ALIVE
…
ALIVE …
ALIVE …
' Horace cried from the opposite side of the ravine.

Whisker heard a cheer from his own side and looked up to see Smudge hovering next to him.

‘Hi Smudge,' Whisker croaked. ‘Have you got a spare set of wings … or perhaps a rescue rope?'

Smudge waved his arms in acknowledgement and zoomed up the cliff for a rope. Whisker was left to ponder his predicament.

‘Now you ask for a rescue rope,' he mumbled to himself. ‘You should have sent a rope across with Horace the first time.'

Within moments, the sturdy rope of the Pie Rats had dropped beside him and Whisker was clambering up. The onlookers at the top of the ravine shared Whisker's frustration.

‘That's what we get for putting our faith in a century-old bridge,' the Captain muttered, pulling Whisker onto the plateau.

‘I may have overestimated its strength,' Mr Tribble said, downcast. ‘Silver plates are extremely heavy.'

Ruby gave Whisker a friendly nudge.

‘At least I was right about Whisker's tail,' she grinned.

‘Yes, yes,' the Captain agreed. ‘We're all extremely relieved our young apprentice is still with us, especially after I pledged to keep him alive. But the fact remains that even Whisker's tail cannot get us across the ravine.'

‘We could use the rescue rope,' Whisker said, holding up the end of it. ‘It's long enough, and we know it's got the strength.'

‘You fail to consider distance,' Mr Tribble pointed out. ‘The opposite cliff top is well beyond our throwing range.'

‘What about this?' Ruby said, removing a ball of string from her backpack. ‘It's extra strong, easy to throw, and Horace can use it to pull the rope across.'

‘Give it a shot, Ruby,' Whisker encouraged. ‘You've got a good Death Ball arm.'

Ruby unravelled the string and tied it to a small stone.

‘CATCH THIS,' she shouted to Horace.

Horace crouched in a catching position as Ruby took a run up and hurled the stone into the air. It soared halfway across the ravine and dropped out of sight.

‘Humph!' Ruby snorted, winding in the string.

She tried several more times, with no success. The rest of the crew fared no better. Smudge even tried flying across the ravine with the string in his arms, but the weight dragged him down. Horace grew restless, waiting for a catch that never came.

‘GO AND FIND SOME FOOD,' the Captain shouted. ‘THIS MIGHT TAKE A WHILE. I'LL SEND SMUDGE OVER TO KEEP YOU COMPANY.'

‘YOU NEED A CANNON
…
CANNON …
CANNON …
'
Horace replied.

‘Everything's warfare with Horace,' the Captain sighed.

‘Warfare?' Whisker repeated. ‘I think he's on to something.'

‘Like what?' the Captain said puzzled.

Whisker was about to mention the hidden stash of dynamite when Eaton clapped his paws excitedly.

‘What is it, Eaton,' Mr Tribble asked.

‘At school,' Eaton said. ‘You once told us about ancient inventions that shot stones at castles …'

‘A catapult!' Mr Tribble exclaimed. ‘Of course. Why didn't I think of it sooner?'

‘Genius idea, Eaton,' the Captain encouraged. ‘But how do we make one?'

‘It's quite simple really,' Mr Tribble stated. ‘My history students made a cherry-shooting catapult for last year's school fete. All that's required is thick rope, a bendy branch and a few large rocks.'

He took out his notebook and began sketching a design on a blank page. The others busied themselves dragging up lengths of rope from the collapsed bridge.

The Captain selected several large coils of un-frayed rope and laid them at Mr Tribble's feet. Mr Tribble nodded his approval and held up his design.

‘This is a simple tree catapult,' he explained. ‘A sturdy branch is secured between two rocks near the edge of the cliff. A rope is attached to the top of the branch and is pulled through a wedge in a tree trunk to tension the branch.'

‘What's the second rope for?' the Captain asked.

‘The tether rope is to ensure the branch stops before it reaches the vertical point,' Mr Tribble said. ‘Otherwise the branch will continue in a downward arc, sending our projectile into the ravine, not over it.'

‘A splendid design,' the Captain applauded. ‘Now all we need is a large branch.'

‘Or a small rubber tree,' Whisker said, pointing to a nearby sapling.

Ruby and the Captain helped Whisker chop down the rubber tree with their swords, while Mr Tribble and Eaton prepared the ropes. Horace lost interest watching from afar and wandered off with Smudge in search of jungle food.

Under Mr Tribble's guidance, the Pie Rats assembled their makeshift catapult. A round rock was attached to Ruby's string and positioned at the top of the sapling. The Captain handed Eaton his black scissor sword.

‘Do you think you can handle one of these?' he asked politely.

Eaton looked hesitant.

‘For Ratbeard's sake,' the Captain groaned, ‘You're fighting a piece of rope. One hard chop is all you need.'

Eaton reluctantly took the sword and the Pie Rats positioned themselves along the rope.

‘Where's that good-for-nothing Horace?' Ruby asked, peering across the ravine.

Horace stepped out of the trees with an armful of strawberry guavas.

‘HERE I AM …
AM …
AM …
' he echoed. ‘I'VE GOT DINNER …
DINNER …
DINNER …
'

‘I'll give you dinner!' Ruby snapped. ‘Now pay attention.'

While Horace watched attentively, Whisker, Ruby, Mr Tribble and the Captain began hauling the rope through the groove in the tree, bending the sapling backwards.

‘Keep going,' Mr Tribble panted. ‘We need more tension.'

The tug-of-war team pulled harder and the sapling creaked and shuddered to a standstill.

‘It won't go any further,' the Captain said, gritting his teeth. ‘Not without Fred's assistance.'

‘Cut her free, Eaton!' Mr Tribble cried.

Eaton raised the sword above his tiny head and swung it down with all his might.

With a
SNAP
–
THWANG
–
VROOSH
the catapult fired. Whisker watched in awe as the rock raced over the ravine, leaving a trail of brown string in its wake.

CRACKLE – RUSTLE – THUD!
The rock plunged into the forest high above Horace's head.

‘SHIVER ME SPLINTERS …
SPLINTERS …
SPLINTERS …
'
Horace exclaimed. ‘DID YOU SEE THAT …
THAT …
THAT …
'

‘Of course we saw it,' Ruby yelled. ‘Now go and fetch my rock.'

Horace stuck a piece of strawberry guava in his mouth and scurried off with Smudge. Ruby tied her end of the string to the rescue rope and waited, tapping her feet impatiently. Mr Tribble held up several short loops of rope.

‘I took the liberty to prepare six safety harnesses, Captain,' he said. ‘– just in case.'

The Captain nodded. ‘Smart thinking, Mr Tribble. I'll attach them to the rescue rope and tie the end to a tree.'

While Whisker helped the Captain secure the harnesses, Horace reappeared with the rock and the string.

‘Start pulling, Horace,' Ruby shouted. ‘As soon as you have the rope, tie it to the thickest tree you can find – and Horace, triple check your knots.'

‘YES, YOUR ROYAL RUBYNESS …
RUBYNESS …
RUBYNESS …
'