The Golden Anchor

by Cameron Stelzer

  If Whisker wasn’t gagged and hanging helplessly from a spider’s web, he would have cried out in disbelief.

  He had never officially met this grotesque little character, and yet he knew exactly who he was. He had first seen him on Sea Shanty Island, running from a battalion of soldier crabs. And he had seen him again, barely three days ago – this time as a prisoner.

  And in a blinding flash of clarity, Whisker understood the true significance of the bedsheet, the pillowcases and the rodent’s convict-like clothing.

  He was the gerbil with the missing ear and he had just escaped from Hawk’s View Prison.

  Eddie the Ear

  Transfixed, Whisker watched the gerbil lower his sack to the ground and began rifling through its contents. A myriad of questions raced through his mind.

  How did the gerbil sneak past the guards? Is there a secret escape route through the prison walls? Does he know where the fox is being held? What’s in that sack of his?

  The answer to the final question quickly became clear when the gerbil removed a strange curved item from his sack and held it in the air. He examined it for a moment, then shrugged and tossed it back into the sack.

  Horace’s golden hook attachment, Whisker thought, as his one-pawed companion let out a small whine.

  The gerbil, satisfied the four-and-a-half sets of eyes now staring at him posed no threat, proceeded to pull out Ruby’s golden spyglass, her gold hoop earring and the small ruby stone she wore around her neck.

  ‘Very nice,’ he said in a thin, gravelly voice, as he examined his prizes. He ran his dirty fingers over the ruby’s shiny surface, then held the necklace to his throat.

  ‘There,’ he said, admiring his reflection in the blade of Whisker’s scissor sword. ‘Eddie the Ear has never looked so sophisticated.’

  Ignoring Ruby’s howls of protest, he returned the items to his sack, then retrieved Whisker’s brown drawstring bag.

  ‘Now what have we here?’ he asked himself, loosening the two cords. He inserted his paw into the narrow opening of the bag and pulled out an old brass compass.

  ‘Worthless junk,’ he muttered, discarding it over his shoulder. ‘Eddie has no need for such a cumbersome item.’ He slid his wiry fingers back into the bag and removed Whisker’s golden spyglass.

  ‘Looky, looky, another miniature telescope,’ he marvelled. ‘What a pretty pair these two will make.’

  The last item he retrieved from Whisker’s small bag was a golden coin.

  ‘Hmm …?’ he pondered, weighing it in his paw. ‘A little too light for an Aladryan coin. But look.’ He peered closer at the face of the coin and let out a gasp of recognition. ‘Ah, Freeforian … how very interesting.’

  His eyes darted momentarily to Whisker, and the Pie Rat apprentice had the sick feeling that this strange little creature knew more than he was letting on.

  Whisker’s thoughts didn’t hover on the coin for long. In the blink of an eye, the gerbil had tossed the empty bag aside and was reaching into the sack for his next prize. He held up the broken ends of a thin, black cord. In the centre of the cord hung a small golden pendant.

  Whisker felt a stinging pain flash across his throat as he realised what he was looking at – his golden anchor. Eddie the Ear had ripped it clean off his neck.

  ‘Ugly anchor,’ Eddie muttered to himself, turning the pendant around to study the initials on the back. ‘No one wants something that’s already engraved.’ He paused and considered, ‘Still, a goldsmith could always melt it down as scrap.’

  Whisker felt his blood boiling. The anchor wasn’t some cheap trinket to be liquefied in a furnace. It had been a gift from his parents, a family heirloom passed down from his great-grandfather, the famous explorer Anso Winterbottom. No thieving little rodent was going to sell it as scrap.

  ‘ARRHH!’ Whisker cursed from beneath his gag, ‘ARRHH, ARRHH, ARRHH!’

  The gerbil considered him for several seconds, his single large ear swivelling in Whisker’s direction. Realising he was in no danger from the irate rat, he dropped the golden anchor in the sack and rubbed his grimy paws together.

  ‘And what did we find in their pockets?’ he asked himself, reaching down for the last remaining items. ‘Always things in pockets …’

  Whisker heard the crumple of paper and felt a knot in his stomach. Please, no, he thought. Don’t let him see that.

  The gerbil held up two folded documents and waved them in Whisker’s direction.

  ‘Recognise these?’ he asked, toying with the rat.

  Whisker tried to keep a blank face. He knew exactly what they were and he prayed the gerbil couldn’t read.

  In Eddie’s left paw was an ancient map of Cloud Mountain. In his right paw was something far more modern. It was a page from the local newspaper, The Cloud Chronicle, and it was dated today.

  Eddie tucked the folded square of newspaper into his pants and opened the map.

  Even if Eddie couldn’t read, Whisker knew that the image that confronted him would be instantly recognisable. There was no mistaking the snow-covered summit and rugged black cliffs of the highest mountain in Aladrya.

  ‘Cloud Mountain,’ Eddie sniggered, running his eyes over the surface of the map. ‘What an abominable place. I can’t understand why anyone would want to go there.’ He flashed Whisker a crooked smile and added, ‘Unless, of course, you were a bird lover.’

  Whisker gave the gerbil nothing in response. For the second time in as many minutes, he had the sick feeling that the devilish little rodent knew far more than he was prepared to reveal.

  Eddie carelessly let the map flutter to the ground and then pulled out the newspaper. He paused to check his captives were still secure, before unfolding the double page spread. Any hopes that the thieving pickpocket was illiterate evaporated the instant Eddie began to read.

  ‘Old news,’ Eddie snorted derisively. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ He shifted his attention to the second page and let out a cry of delight, ‘Ah ha! Now this is worth reporting.’

  Whisker watched in horror as the gerbil’s beady black eyes suddenly appeared over the rim of the newspaper. They peered up at him, menacingly, hungrily, like the eyes of a crocodile. Slowly, they began to move from one captive to the next, studying each face, before returning to the newspaper and then moving on to the next face.

  The knot in Whisker’s stomach tightened as he realised what the gerbil was doing. He was matching the companions’ identities with four wanted posters from the newspaper – the same four wanted posters Whisker had seen plastered to the boatshed wall.

  The gerbil’s eyes disappeared behind the page.

  ‘All four,’ he chuckled. ‘That will fetch a pretty penny.’

  Ruby let out a sharp grunt of anger.

  Callously, Eddie began to count, ‘One thousand … one thousand five hundred … two thousand … two thousand five hundred.’ He lowered the newspaper, a look of greedy triumph etched across his face. ‘Perhaps there’s a bonus for the whole gang.’

  Whisker wanted to shout, the only bonus you’ll receive will be a one-way ticket to your old cell, but through his gag it came out as a cry of ‘ARRRRRGH!’ instead.

  Eddie stuck a finger in his ear to block the sound. Ignoring the captives, he began pacing around the foot of the web, deep in thought and muttering to himself, ‘What to do? What to do?’ He looked down at his trousers and frowned. ‘These prison pyjamas will have to go, and as for my poor missing ear, well,’ he touched his beret, ‘perhaps a disguise is in order.’

  He scanned the web, eyeing the companions’ outfits with interest. His eyes came to rest on Anna’s baggy coat. ‘Yes, that should suffice.’

  ‘ERRRGH!’ Whisker gasped, throwing his body forward as if to say, don’t you dare touch her.

  The gerbil took a quick step backwards, his entire body stiffening. He locked eyes with Whisker and watched Anna’s protective older brother vibrating helplessly in the web.

  ‘You’re a feisty one,’
Eddie said coldly. ‘You and your band of ruffians. And that leaves me with a big dilemma. I can’t cut you down and risk you escaping and I don’t trust this web to keep you secure forever.’ He smiled humourlessly and read from the newspaper. ‘WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE. The gov’nor don’t care what state you’re in and, for two and a half thousand gold coins, neither do I.’ He picked up Whisker’s scissor sword. ‘I think we both know how this ends.’

  Whisker looked to his sister and then back to the gerbil, his pleading blue eyes conveying an unspoken question.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Eddie whistled, turning his back on Whisker. ‘I can’t have one of you revealing my identity. No witnesses. No loose ends.’ He plucked a pine needle from the closest branch and tested the sharpness of Whisker’s sword. With barely a touch of the razor-sharp blade, the pine needle split in two.

  Whisker felt a shiver run through his tail.

  ‘Excellent,’ Eddie said, spinning to face the helpless companions, a merciless expression stamped across his face. ‘Now, who’s first?’

  The Pie Rats were silent, every eye fixed on the sword.

  Then Whisker began to shout. He screamed and hollered and thrashed his entire body hysterically, hoping his companions would follow his lead. If this was the end, it would be a spectacular one and, with enough effort, they might even bring down the web.

  Ruby, never one to shy away from displays of aggression, quickly joined him. And then Horace, Anna and Chatterbeak started up a chorus of deep-throated wails and spasmodic body shakes.

  Ungagged, Chatterbeak was by far the loudest member of the death-row choir. He had freed his tongue from the tangle of silk threads and let out a shrieking chant of ‘Murda! Murda! Murda in da woods!’

  Eddie was momentarily stunned. He stopped in his tracks, peering nervously above him, uncertain which one of the moving targets to strike first.

  The chaos continued, a groaning, flailing, cacophony of bodies. But the golden orb-weaver web held strong.

  Confidence returning, Eddie stepped towards Horace, his sword raised, his teeth bared.

  Whisker watched in terror, straining with all his might in a final desperate attempt to shake the web from its supports.

  The gerbil’s eyes glinted in triumph and Whisker knew the web simply wasn’t going to break.

  And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, Eddie’s enormous ear twitched violently and the gerbil’s expression changed from triumph to fear. He spun around and stared into the dark forest, his ear twitching madly.

  The chaos in the web ceased in an instant, only to be replaced by a foreboding silence.

  Without a word, Eddie scooped up his sack and darted into the shadows, leaving four rats and a parrot staring after him in disbelief.

  Whisker turned to Anna, relief in his eyes.

  And then he heard it, a deep, thrumming sound penetrating the silence. Vroomp, vroomp, vroomp.

  It grew louder, drowning the sound of his own pounding heart.

  VROOMP, VROOMP, VROOMP.

  The sound was unmistakable, a rhythmic beating of wings. It was the same sound Whisker had heard on the river but, on that occasion, it had been through a protective layer of fog. Now, stuck in a web, with nowhere to hide, it brought a whole new kind of terror to Whisker’s ears.

  He searched the trees, frantically hoping for a glimpse of the mysterious winged creature. But the sound appeared to be coming from everywhere at once, echoing off the mighty pine trunks as if the trees themselves were alive.

  VROOMP, VROOMP, VROOMP.

  Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream rang out and the trees closest to the web began to shake.

  Clumps of snow tumbled to the ground. Anna let out a muffled squeal of alarm.

  Whisker’s blood chilled. His tail went limp as a monstrous shape appeared through the branches. Cloaked in shadows, it glided towards him like a nightmarish dragon, its enormous wings spread wide. In its strange webbed feet, it clutched the screaming body of Eddie, the contents of his sack raining down like Christmas presents.

  Eddie looked up and, seeing the web right in front of him, sank his teeth into the creature’s toes. It released its grip instantly and the gerbil dropped like a stone. Not even his empty sack could slow his descent and he hit the ground hard, bouncing off his ear and knocking himself unconscious.

  The huge, winged creature continued its approach, hurtling towards the very edge of the web.

  Whisker shut one eye and braced himself for the impact.

  There was a rush of air and the creature pulled up short, beating its wings rapidly to remain stationary in mid-air.

  Keeping one eye firmly shut, Whisker squinted at the animal hovering inches from his face. It wasn’t a dragon but it was still enormous. White all over with a yellow and black bill and small brown eyes, it was the largest bird Whisker had ever seen. A ray of sunlight illuminated a round disk hanging around its long swan-like neck.

  Whisker’s second eye sprang open in surprise.

  What in Ratbeard’s name …? he gasped.

  His eyes grew wider as he realised what he was looking at. The disk was a gold medal attached to a purple ribbon. Engraved into the face of the medal, above the image of a skull and two crossed torches, were the words 25th Pirate Cup Champion. Curving around the bottom of the medal was the name of its recipient.

  Whisker blinked several times as he read the name. He would have scratched his head in puzzlement if his paws weren’t stuck to the web.

  It seemed impossible, but there was no denying it. The name engraved on the medal was Whisker.

  While the bamboozled apprentice tried to comprehend how and why his Pirate Cup medal was hanging around the neck of a giant swan, the white-feathered animal lowered its bill and let out an ear-piercing HONK, blasting Whisker with chunks of half-chewed bird seed and swan slobber.

  Sticky, sopping and in need of a hot bath, Whisker simply stared into the swan’s eyes, wondering what bizarre event was going to happen next. He heard a hearty chuckle from the back of the bird and saw, for the first time, that the swan was carrying a passenger.

  ‘Don’t ye be concerned ‘bout ol’ Balthazar here,’ the passenger said light-heartedly. ‘Tis his way o’ sayin’ hello.’

  Whisker looked up to see a portly old rat wearing a green velvet suit, complete with a waist coat, top hat and a bow tie.

  At the sight of the old rat grinning down at him, Whisker’s eyes grew bigger than clock faces. The outfit was a mystery to him, but he recognised the face in an instant.

  ‘Good mornin’ to ye, li’l capt’n,’ the rat said, tipping his top hat in greeting. ‘It looks like ye could do with some rescuin’.’

  From somewhere near the bottom of the web, Whisker heard Horace let out a string of muffled cries, ‘Arherr erh raaherr! Erh arrher eerra arrhha!’

  Whisker didn’t understand a word Horace had said, but he was almost certain he knew what he was thinking, Shiver me surprises! It’s Rat Bait to the rescue!’

  Rat Bait to the Rescue

  Freeing the five companions from the web was an arduous, messy process. The sticky silk threads made it impossible to achieve a clean cut.

  When the web finally lay in tatters on the ground and the captives stood stretching their aching limbs, Rat Bait’s scissor sword resembled a stick of golden fairy floss.

  ‘Avast!’ he exclaimed, examining the silk-covered blade in the sunlight. ‘I’ll never get this filthy muck off.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Horace said, swaying awkwardly as he adjusted to being right-side up again. ‘A sticky spider sword is sure to come in handy for scaling prison walls.’

  ‘Scaling prison walls?’ Rat Bait repeated, raising his eyebrows and turning to Whisker. ‘Is that wee lad feelin’ alright?’

  Whisker shrugged. ‘I think he’s suffering from post-traumatic web disorder.’

  ‘Well, whatever he be sufferin’ from,’ Rat Bait said, ‘it looks likes ye’ve all had quite the adventure.’

  ‘Isn’t that the truth,�
� Horace muttered. ‘Birds, blizzards, rescuing sisters … it hasn’t stopped.’

  ‘Ah, yes, this must be young Anna,’ Rat Bait said, smiling at the small rat squirming behind Whisker. ‘I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.’

  ‘Come on, Anna,’ Whisker said, trying to coax her forward. ‘I want you to meet our daring rescuer, Rat Bait.’

  Rat Bait’s smile broadened. Anna remained rooted to the spot.

  ‘Sorry,’ Whisker apologised. ‘She’s not usually this shy.’

  Rat Bait let out a hearty roar of laughter. ‘She’s not shy, ye daft apprentice. Take a look. She’s stuck to yer bloomin’ leg!’

  ‘Oh,’ Whisker said, looking down to see Anna trying fervently to detach her sticky coat from his silk-covered trousers.

  After some gentle (and not so gentle) pulling from Whisker, she eventually managed to tear herself free and went bounding over to Rat Bait, throwing her arms wide open for a hug.

  The old rat took two steps backwards, waving his open paws in front of him. ‘Meanin’ ye no disrespect, Miss Anna, but perhaps a hug ain’t such a good idea. I doubt ye want to be stuck to an old rat’s belly for the rest o’ the day.’

  Anna stopped in her tracks and stared inquisitively at his rotund stomach.

  ‘Pillow,’ she squeaked.

  Horace made a bad attempt at stifling a laugh.

  Rat Bait glared at him, and then returned his attention to Anna, who was already skipping off to meet the giant swan.

  ‘Young’ens,’ he muttered in amusement. ‘So honest an’ so full o’ life.’

  ‘She’s certainly fortunate you arrived when you did,’ Whisker confessed. ‘We all are. That gerbil was within a whisker of finishing us off.’

  ‘I’d say yer hollerin’ had somethin’ to do with it,’ Rat Bait said. ‘I been flying blindly through the forest after losin’ ye on the river when I ‘ear a terrible screechin’ sound. That parrot o’ yers be even louder than me Balthazar.’