The King's Key (24 page)

‘The key's gone,' Horace cried.

Whisker slid his paw down his leg and touched his pocket. It was empty.

‘Backpack …' he croaked.

The Captain came into view, holding the tattered remains of Whisker's backpack and an empty map canister.

‘They have the map, too,' he said soberly, ‘and your silver plates.'

‘Who?' Whisker spluttered, trying to sit up.

‘The Cat Fish,' Horace gasped. ‘Prowler and Cleopatra. We came looking for you and found them.'

Whisker felt sick.

‘You're lucky to be alive,' Mr Tribble said. ‘If Horace hadn't scared them off with his dynamite, you … well, we don't think about that.'

‘B-but how did they find us?' Whisker stammered.

‘Rat Bait, I'm guessing,' the Captain replied through clenched teeth. ‘If the scoundrel sold his secret to the Cat Fish or had the truth tortured out of him, they'd know our every move.'

Whisker laboured to his feet. The map was still his responsibility.

‘We can chase – them down –' he gasped. ‘We can get –' His head spun. He felt himself swaying and collapsed into Horace.

‘You're not going anywhere,' the Captain said firmly. A cheese-knife-blow to the head requires rest and recuperation.'

Whisker looked at Ruby for support.

‘The important thing is that you're alive,' she said, giving him a hard stare. ‘The key and the map are long g …'

‘Don't give me that rubbish,' Whisker shouted. ‘We haven't come this far just to give up.' He pushed Horace aside and drew his sword. ‘Tell me which way they went.'

Expressionless, Ruby pointed down the mountain.

The Captain took a deep breath and sighed. ‘What have you been teaching him, Ruby?'

‘Stubbornness, for a start,' Horace muttered.

‘That's not stubbornness,' Ruby said with a hint of admiration, ‘that's determination.'

Without a response, Whisker staggered into the trees. He knew it was more than determination – it was desperation.

He found Eaton sitting on the top step, staring silently at the ground. Whisker felt a sudden rush of pity for the young mouse.

Poor little fellow
, he thought.
He's just a kid
.
How many school boys face chameleons, death drops and Cat Fish all in one day?

Eaton looked up.

‘D-don't go,' he pleaded. ‘T-they'll kill you.'

‘I have to,' Whisker answered. ‘… I just have to.'

‘But why?' Eaton asked.

Whisker had never revealed his true reason for wanting the map. He knew it was nothing more than a childish hope. But Eaton was a child and he deserved an answer.Whisker knelt down beside him.

‘You have a sister, Eaton,' he said. ‘And I know you want to see her again.'

Eaton nodded.

‘I have a sister too,' Whisker explained. ‘Her name is Anna. She's only little, but she loves books nearly as much as you do, though she only looks at the pictures. I used to read her stories about gallant heroes on dangerous adventures. Her favourite story was
The Brave Little Mouse and the Twelve Tigers.
'

‘I know that one,' Eaton said.

‘Then you'll know what the mouse did to save his family from the tigers,' Whisker said. ‘Twelve tigers are six times worse than a couple of Cat Fish.'

Eaton managed a reserved smile.

‘Without the map,' Whisker continued, ‘I may never see my sister again. What kind of ending would that be?'

‘A miserable one,' Eaton answered, rising to his feet. ‘You'd better hurry if you want to catch them. Cats are nearly as quick as tigers.'

Whisker half leapt, half fell down the rough stone steps with Eaton scampering behind him.

What a brave little mouse
, Whisker thought to himself.

‘Wait for us!' Horace cried, bursting from the jungle with the rest of the crew. ‘We're coming too … one thousand two hundred and sixty three … one thousand two hundred and sixty two …'

The Pie Rats reached the bottom of the stairs and continued along the main track, only stopping to catch their breaths once they heard the roar of Silver Falls.

The Captain pointed to fresh paw prints in the mud.

‘The Cat Fish took the river track,' he panted. ‘I suspect the
Silver Sardine
is anchored in the estuary. We have two options – follow their trail, or take the shortcut back to the
Apple Pie
and hope Fred has baked enough pies for an improvised sea assault.'

‘Shortcut?' Ruby muttered. ‘I'd hardly call marmosets, mudskippers and sinking sand a time saver.'

Seven heads nodded their agreement and the Pie Rats raced towards the river. Whisker's head still ached. He was hungry, tired and thirsty, but the adrenalin pumping through his body kept his legs moving. Deep down inside he knew they would never catch their enemies on foot unless Prowler and Cleopatra stopped for a catnap – rats and mice simply didn't have the speed.

The overgrown track continued along the muddy bank of the river. Drawing level with a patch of waterweed, Whisker stopped and stared into the rushing water. The rapids were smaller than at the foot of the falls, but the current still moved at a tremendous pace.

He picked up a stick and hurled it into the river. In moments, it had been swept away.

‘Wait!' he shouted.

The Pie Rats skidded to a halt.

‘What have you seen?' the Captain cried, drawing his sword.

‘Speed,' Whisker replied.

‘Huh?' Horace said, puzzled.

‘The river,' Whisker exclaimed. ‘Look how fast it's moving. And there are logs and vines all over the ground.'

‘Everything we need to build a raft,' the Captain applauded.

‘Everything except life vests,' Mr Tribble added under his breath.

‘Lighten up, Tribble,' Horace said, grabbing the closest log. ‘We won't let you drown – not when you're carrying a backpack of silver.'

Mr Tribble didn't look impressed.

‘Here, make yourself useful,' Ruby said, throwing him the ball of string. ‘A tight knot is a safe knot.'

The rats rolled half-a-dozen small logs over to the riverbank while the mice tied them together with Ruby's string. Smudge pointed his tiny arms this way and that, trying to direct traffic, but generally got in everyone's way.

When the sixth log was secured, the raft was pushed into the shallows and the crew clambered aboard. The Captain stood at the back of the raft with a long stick in his paws and a loop of string tied around his waist. The rest of the crew crouched on their knees and held onto small cords of string.

‘Keep an eye on the river, Smudge,' the Captain ordered as he pushed off from the bank, ‘and tell us if you see any white water rapids.'

Mr Tribble gulped and gripped tighter on the string. Horace tapped a log with his hook and grinned. ‘Safe as a mouse's house.'

The raft bobbed and bumped its way into the centre of the river, gathering speed. Once the river took control there was nothing the Captain could do. The vessel travelled four times faster than the Pie Rats could ever run, making up ground with every splash.

Small rapids approached. The front of the raft dipped under the water, splashing cool water in the faces of the Pie Rats. The raft creaked, the string strained and the logs scraped over shallow rocks, but the vessel held together.

Whisker felt invigorated and full of hope. His tail dangled over the side of the raft, soaking up the energy of the river. Wide-eyed, he scanned the riverbank for any signs of the Cat Fish.

We're getting closer
, he thought.
I can feel it.

The small vessel turned a sharp bend in the river where the water was deep and wide. Smudge flew frantically above the crew, looping-the-loop to grab the Captain's attention.

‘What is it?' the Captain asked, peering into the jungle.

Smudge pointed to the river. The water moved swiftly, but there were no signs of raging rapids, whirlpools or protruding logs.

Whisker felt a sudden stabbing pain at the end of his tail. Instinctively, he whipped it out of the water and yelped. Looking down, he saw a circle of tiny teeth marks in his skin.

Horrified, the rest of the Pie Rats grabbed their own tails and shuffled closer to the centre of the raft. Grey and red shapes appeared in the water beside them, circling the vessel. Fins beat the surface of the river, tails splashed wildly about. Peering overboard, Whisker caught glimpses of silvery, red-flecked eyes.

‘Red-bellied piranhas!' Mr Tribble exclaimed. ‘They're in a feeding frenzy. One taste of flesh and they're hooked.'

Whisker's tail froze in fear.

‘Keep low,' the Captain ordered. ‘The raft is our protection.'

The splashes grew louder as more piranhas joined the school of attacking fish. Amid the chaos, a strange, scratching noise echoed through the logs. Whisker felt his left leg creeping away from his body.

‘THE LOG!' Horace shouted. ‘It's moving.'

Startled, Whisker looked down to see water between his legs. The piranhas had chewed through the string and one of the logs was drifting away from the raft – the log Whisker and Horace were kneeling on.

Ruby grabbed a candy cane from her backpack and hooked it around the wood, attempting to drag the log closer. Whisker glimpsed the snapping teeth of piranhas beneath him and tried desperately to keep his balance. Horace howled in terror as his legs ran out of stretch.

Steadying himself, Whisker grabbed Horace by the scruff of his neck and leapt from the log onto the centre of the raft. The candy cane slipped and Ruby toppled backwards into Eaton, still clutching the stump of the cane in her paws – its end gnawed clean off.

The raft began to wobble.

‘They're eating through the rest of the string,' Mr Tribble gasped.

‘Hold on!' the Captain roared. ‘I'll try to steer us to shore.'

He stood up and thrust his stick into the water. It shuddered violently. Gasping, he pulled it out again, half the length it had been.

‘Ratbeard be kind!' he exclaimed. ‘They'll eat anything.'

The Pie Rats struggled to hold the raft together as, one by one, the logs began separating. Smudge tried to grab the crew's attention, but the Captain brushed him aside with his paw.

The raft reached another bend in the river and white water rapids approached.

‘We're done for,' Mr Tribble shouted.

Whisker looked ahead. The rapids extended a short way and then suddenly disappeared – the whole river seemed to disappear into the distant horizon.

It's not possible,
Whisker thought.

Smudge dive-bombed the raft and suddenly it clicked.

Of course
, Whisker thought.
The river isn't disappearing. It's a …

‘WATERFALL!' Ruby shouted.

The Pie Rats braced themselves for the impact as the pile of logs that had once resembled a raft plummeted over the edge of the falls.

Whisker let go of the string and leapt for his life. Beneath him, the waterfall cascaded into a wide, sandy pool. He dived towards the sparkling water with outstretched arms, hoping the pool was as deep as it was wide.

Slicing through the water like a pin, he descended to the icy depths with no sunken logs or submerged rocks in his path. Aware of the danger he still faced, he spun his body around and kicked his way to the surface.

Gasping for air, he burst from the pool and waited for the piranhas to attack. Nothing happened. No vicious bites. No painful nibbles. He tasted the water. It wasn't sweet like the mountain river – it was salty, like the sea.

The river estuary
, he thought.

He looked around. In the centre of the pool, Eaton hung off a log, while Ruby straightened her crimson eye patch. The Captain swam after his hat and Horace splashed in the shallows, laughing at his good fortune. Whisker couldn't relax – there were still two Cat Fish to catch.

He paddled over to the shore and staggered onto the sand. Bathed in the afternoon sunlight, the fine grains felt warm beneath his toes. Barely a breeze blew from the ocean.

Nearby, Mr Tribble stood like a statue, staring out to sea. Whisker followed his gaze, over the pool, beyond the estuary and past the breaking waves of the shoreline to a single silver ship.

His heart sank. The
Silver Sardine
was right in front of him, but it was already sailing away. Helplessly, Whisker watched as the ship rounded an island to the north and disappeared from sight. He was too late. The key and the map were gone.

The rest of the crew dragged themselves from the pool, silently gathering around Whisker. Talk seemed pointless – even for Horace.

‘Smudge is sending word to the
Apple Pie,
' the Captain said, finally breaking the silence. ‘It's too dangerous for us to cross the mudflat again. We'll meet the ship on the southern shore of the estuary. I suggest we get moving.'