The Golden Anchor

by Cameron Stelzer

  What caught Whisker’s eye, however, was not the mighty furnace itself, but the medieval-looking structure above it. Halfway up the lava pillar, a line of logs had been lashed together to form a circular wall. Resembling the battlement of a castle or a stockade, the wall ran around the entire circumference of the pillar. Every third or fourth log had been sawn short to create archery slits for defenders to fire through. It was clearly the meerkats’ last line of defence against any intruders who survived the deadly perils of the lava caves.

  The stronghold of the meerkats, Whisker thought as the twang of bowstrings echoed from the battlement. And they’re prepared for a siege.

  Whisker pulled his head behind the rock as a volley of crossbow bolts hurtled overhead, burying themselves in the wooden door.

  ‘Rotten pies to wayward crossbow shots!’ Horace exclaimed. ‘If the crocs don’t break that door down, the meerkats will splinter it to pieces.’

  ‘Would you prefer them to shoot straight and hit one of us?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘No,’ Horace muttered. ‘I’d prefer them to stop shooting altogether.’

  Ruby lowered her bow and gestured for Whisker to join them. ‘Come on. Make a dash for it while they’re reloading.’

  Whisker looked hesitantly at the open space between his small rock and the larger mound sheltering his companions.

  ‘Move!’ Ruby hissed.

  Not giving it another thought, Whisker darted out from behind the rock and scrambled on all fours towards the mound. He saw a flash of movement from the battlement, but by the time the defenders had fired, he had reached Benny’s outstretched hand and was being pulled to safety.

  ‘Thanks,’ he panted as the speeding bolt skimmed harmlessly across the ground.

  A moment later, Smudge appeared from the opposite end of the mound.

  ‘So, what are we up against?’ Ruby asked. ‘Is it the meerkats?’

  Smudge nodded and raised four arms in the air.

  ‘Four of dem,’ Benny interpreted. ‘Dat’s a fair fight.’

  Smudge thought for a moment and then pointed at Horace with one arm.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Horace said, scratching his head with his hook.

  Smudge tucked another two arms together and pretended he was rocking a baby. With a fourth limb, he pointed to the battlement.

  ‘Oh, I know, mon,’ Benny said, raising a ringed finger. ‘Da meerkats have a baby dat looks like Horace.’

  Smudge shook his head in exasperation and pointed a fifth limb at his chest.

  ‘It’s not the baby you’re referring to,’ Whisker said. ‘It’s the person holding the baby – the parent.’

  ‘Papa Niko!’ Horace burst out. ‘Papa Niko is in the battlement.’

  Smudge buzzed his wings in acknowledgement.

  ‘Is he being held captive?’ Ruby asked.

  Smudge wrapped six arms around his body and thrashed his head from side to side.

  ‘Tied up and not very happy about it,’ Ruby interpreted.

  ‘Are there any other prisoners with him?’ Whisker asked, his thoughts suddenly turning to his parents.

  Smudge shook his head.

  Whisker couldn’t help a small sigh of disappointment. He hadn’t seriously expected to find his parents in the mine, but that didn’t stop him from hoping.

  ‘Are we going to rescue my Papa?’ Horace asked, glancing nervously at Ruby’s near-empty quiver. ‘We’re hardly equipped for siege warfare.’

  Ruby slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Of course we’re going to rescue him, you big baby. We didn’t come all this way just to sit around and play fly charades.’

  The Siege

  Lying flat on his stomach, Whisker peered cautiously around the far side of the mound. The crocodiles had finally stopped their barrage and the cave was filled with an eerie silence. From his partially-concealed position, he could see the lower sections of the lava pillar rising from the floor of the cave, the rock rough and uneven.

  ‘Do you think you can climb it?’ Ruby whispered quietly behind him.

  ‘I think so,’ he said, examining the pillar. ‘The real challenge will be reaching the top of the battlement without being hit by a crossbow bolt.’

  ‘What about that steep section to the right of the furnace?’ Ruby asked, clambering over the top of him for a better view. ‘It should hide you from the meerkats’ sight.’

  Whisker felt Ruby’s elbow digging into his back and stifled a yelp of pain.

  ‘I’ll give it a shot,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Marvellous,’ Ruby said, adjusting her position and prodding him with her other elbow. ‘Benny and Horace can create a distraction while you make a run for it.’

  ‘It’s a long way to run,’ Whisker winced, staring across the vast expanse of the cave.

  ‘Move in stages if you have to,’ Ruby whispered. ‘Wait until the meerkats have fired a round and then make a dash for the rolling mill. Smudge can give you the sign when it’s all clear. You’ll have maybe ten seconds before the meerkats have reloaded and are ready to shoot again. I’ll send an arrow their way to ensure they stay down while they’re reloading. That way they shouldn’t see you coming until you’re leaping over the battlement itself.’

  ‘And Smudge is certain they don’t have any other weapons besides the crossbows?’ Whisker queried.

  ‘That’s how I read it,’ Ruby said. ‘At close quarters, you’ll have the advantage with your scissor sword. The battlement is too narrow for them to fight you two abreast and, if you can get within striking distance before they get a shot away, you’ll have no trouble disarming them.’

  ‘Sounds like a piece of cake,’ Whisker said before muttering, ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t turn into a slice of rotten pie.’

  ‘It’s not too late to swap places,’ Ruby offered. ‘I know you’re a great climber, but crossbows aren’t everyone’s mug of Apple Fizz.’

  Whisker shook his head. ‘No. I’ll be fine. Your skills are needed behind that bow.’

  ‘Alright,’ she agreed, beginning to move backwards, her elbows once again digging into the apprentice’s back. ‘I’ll save an arrow, just in case you need my help.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Whisker grimaced.

  ‘And I won’t charge you for the massage,’ Ruby said, climbing off him.

  She rushed over to the other end of the mound, where the others were waiting. Horace had removed his hooded tunic and was standing in a pair of tattered leggings looking like a miniature cave man. The round handle of his blue scissor sword filled the hood of the tunic to create a makeshift scarecrow. Several crossbow bolts collected from the floor had been hurriedly attached using Benny’s chains to form arm pieces.

  Horace was clutching the shaft of the sword, preparing to raise the scarecrow. Benny crouched next to him, a boomerang in his hand.

  ‘All set?’ Ruby asked, nocking an arrow to her bowstring.

  Her companions nodded.

  ‘Then let’s give them something worth shooting at,’ she announced.

  Horace raised his scarecrow over the side of the mound at the same time as Benny hurled his boomerang in a sweeping arc around the perimeter of the cave.

  Whisker heard four twangs in rapid succession, as the meerkats opened fire at the moving targets. One bolt went hurtling through the air towards the spinning boomerang. The other three slammed into the head and torso of the scarecrow, passing harmlessly out the other side.

  Horace made a pained dying sound, ‘ERRAAARGH,’ and pulled the scarecrow out of sight. Ruby was up in an instant, raising her bow above the mound and firing in the direction of the battlement.

  In unison, the meerkats disappeared behind their wooden barricade to reload their crossbows.

  Whisker saw a flash of light from high in the air as Smudge signalled him with a scrap of gold leaf.

  Head lowered, Whisker darted out from behind his end of the mound. The sounds of his footsteps were masked by Horace’s dying wails and the whizz of B
enny’s boomerang returning to its owner.

  Whisker sprinted over the uneven floor, counting the seconds as he ran … 7 … 8 … 9 …

  Reaching a collection of minting equipment, he threw himself behind the rolling mill, its two large metal rollers blocking him from sight.

  Panting for breath, he waited.

  Looking back, he could see the scarecrow rising above the middle section of the mound.

  Twang. Twang. It received another two crossbow bolts to its empty head.

  The whizz of the boomerang resumed as Benny threw his weapon a second time. But this time the boomerang wasn’t destined to return. It crashed into the pile of spades with a CLANG, RATTLE, TING, prompting the remaining two meerkats to hastily fire their crossbows.

  Ruby rose from her hiding position and sent a second arrow hurtling towards the battlement. On cue, the meerkats dropped from sight. On the far side of the furnace, Whisker waited for Smudge’s signal and then hurried towards the lava pillar.

  1 … 2 … 3 … seconds ticked by.

  It was darker in the centre of the cave and Whisker didn’t see the small obstacle until it was already too late. He felt a jarring sensation as his toe clipped a protruding rock and he plummeted forwards, his sword clanking noisily against the ground.

  4 … 5 … 6 … he was losing valuable time.

  Picking himself up and regathering his weapon, he resumed his desperate dash, praying the meerkats had confused the sound of his sword with a falling spade.

  7 … 8 … 9 …

  The foot of the pillar was still several metres away and the battlement loomed large above him. Caught in the open, he braced himself for the crossbow fire.

  10 … 11 … 12 …

  Whisker threw himself flat against the lava pillar, gasping for breath. Above him, the battlement was deathly silent.

  Are the meerkats waiting for me? he thought in confusion. Or have my movements gone unnoticed?

  There was no time for guessing games. Like a spider, he began to scale the sloping wall of rock, never looking down. There were holds everywhere and he moved swiftly upwards, climbing past the open mouth of the furnace and continuing higher towards the wooden logs of the battlement. Not willing to risk being seen through the archery slits, he made his way up the side of the logs, using protruding nails to aid his ascent. Nearing the top of the battlement, he paused to draw his sword, wrapping his tail around its green handle.

  He pressed his ear against the wood, but there was still no sound from within.

  What’s going on in there? he pondered.

  He looked up at the roof of the cave, hoping that Smudge would give him a sign, but the blowfly was nowhere in sight.

  He was on his own.

  You can do this, he told himself, battling against self-doubt. Leap and strike …

  Repeating the words in his head, he pulled himself to the top of the battlement and hurled his body over. By the time his feet had landed on the wooden planks, he was clutching his sword in both paws, preparing to strike the nearest crossbow-wielding meerkat.

  But the only crossbow he saw lay abandoned at his feet. The meerkats had gone.

  He looked both ways. The curve of the pillar obscured most of the battlement, but he spied a figure sitting in the darkness a short distance to his right.

  Whisker rushed over to him. Drawing closer, he realised it was Papa Niko, bound and gagged.

  Whisker wrenched the gag out of Papa Niko’s mouth.

  ‘Zeus’s underpants!’ the startled rat exclaimed. ‘Is that you, Whisker?’

  ‘I’m here to rescue you, sir,’ Whisker said, already slicing through the ropes with his sword.

  ‘Forget about me,’ Papa Niko spluttered. ‘You have to stop the meerkats. They’re about to blow up the cave!’

  Whisker jerked his head upwards to see Smudge flying towards him from the rear of the lava pillar, his six limbs gesturing frantically for the apprentice to follow.

  ‘Go!’ Papa Niko shouted.

  Leaving the bound captive to finish untying himself, Whisker darted after Smudge, almost tripping over several more crossbows scattered across the battlement floor.

  He raced around the narrow, curving path between the lava pillar and the high wall of logs until he reached the rear section of the battlement.

  Smudge hovered next to a rope ladder which disappeared over the battlement wall.

  Returning his sword to his belt, Whisker stepped over a loaded crossbow, threw his right paw onto the first rung, and began hauling himself to the top of the wooden wall. It was only then that he noticed the loud hissing sound from high above him. He spun around to see Smudge trying to grab his attention while pointing desperately to the top of the lava pillar.

  Whisker looked up – and almost fell off the ladder.

  Strapped to the lava pillar, at the point where the rock joined the cave ceiling, were dozens upon dozens of gunpowder barrels. Obscured from sight by the lava pillar, Whisker hadn’t noticed them until now. Beneath the barrels, and snaking its way up the pillar, was a lit fuse. It was burning fast – extremely fast.

  ‘Dastardly dynamite!’ Whisker gasped in horror, realising how much space separated him from the sparking end of the fuse. ‘I’ll never climb up there in time.’

  He leaned over the side of the battlement to see a meerkat in blue mining overalls reaching the bottom of the rope ladder. His three companions were already skulking across the cave floor.

  Whisker knew it would be impossible to escape with Papa Niko before the gunpowder exploded and the ceiling collapsed on their heads.

  Stopping that fuse is our only option, he thought in desperation. He saw further movement from beneath him and glimpsed his friends creeping into view past the pile of spades. Horace led the procession, holding up the hole-ridden scarecrow like a ceremonial totem pole. Benny followed closely behind him, a boomerang raised above his right shoulder.

  ‘Get out of here!’ Whisker shouted over the barricade. ‘Get out of here now!’

  At the sound of Whisker’s voice, the four meerkats abandoned their quiet escape and dashed towards the back of the cave.

  Horace wasted no time in dropping the scarecrow and charging hook-first after the escaping meerkats. Benny was right behind him, his boomerang spinning out of his hand.

  Whisker didn’t wait to see where Ruby was. He was already jumping back into the battlement and picking up the closest crossbow. It was a heavy, cumbersome weapon, but it was loaded and ready to fire – and it was Whisker’s only hope of stopping the fuse.

  Clutching the foregrip with his left paw, he rested the stock against his shoulder and aimed the crossbow in the direction of the fuse string. As the spark drew closer to the first barrel of gunpowder, Whisker closed his left eye, then lined up his target.

  Point and shoot, was how a crossbow had once been described to him. He hoped it was that simple.

  Wrapping his fingers around the trigger, he steadied his breathing, readjusted his aim …

  And fired.

  He felt the crossbow recoil backwards in his arms as the lock released and the bowstring propelled the bolt upwards.

  He watched as the bolt sped towards the end of the fuse and then slammed into the side of the barrel.

  It was only a few centimetres wide of the mark, but it couldn’t have been a worse shot. As the fuse continued to burn steadily upwards, a slow stream of grey gunpowder began pouring out of the barrel, perilously close to the line of sparks.

  ‘Ratbeard save us,’ Whisker gasped, lowering the crossbow in defeat. ‘That was not the beginner’s luck I was hoping for.’

  Answers or Chances

  As the sparks and the gunpowder continued on their collision course, Whisker heard a soft twang from somewhere beneath him. It was the sound of another bowstring – the sound of a second chance.

  He kept his eyes fixed on the pillar as Ruby’s final arrow raced past him. It climbed higher and higher, its path dead straight, before striking the top of
the fuse and slicing the string in two. The hissing coil slid down the wall like a dying snake, landing on the planks at Whisker’s feet.

  He quickly stamped out the sparks before any further damage could be done, then stuck his nose through an archery slit, eager to see what was happening below.

  The meerkats lay in a tangled heap of limbs and boomerangs. Benny and Horace stood guard over them, each wielding one of Ruby’s scissor swords. Ruby was standing a short distance away, clutching her longbow. Her hood was pulled back to reveal a particularly smug grin.

  ‘I said I’d save an arrow for you, apprentice,’ she shouted up to Whisker. ‘Perhaps I should have thrown in a free crossbow lesson.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he called back. ‘I think I’ll stick to my scissor sword in future. It’s a little less life-threatening in crisis situations.’

  ‘And did you find Papa?’ Horace called, peering anxiously up at the battlement.

  ‘I’m here, Son,’ Papa Niko said, poking his nose through a second archery slit. ‘Alive and well, though a little shocked to see you three rapscallion rats on Freeforia. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the rescue, but if anyone were to know you were on the island –’

  ‘It’s fine, Papa,’ Horace broke in, ‘we arrived incognito.’

  ‘Even so,’ Papa Niko said, still untangling himself from his binds, ‘we’re not out of danger yet. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the ladder. It looks like you could use these ropes for those meerkats.’

  Several minutes later, when Papa Niko and Whisker were on the ground and the meerkats’ limbs were being bound securely, Horace asked the question on everyone’s lips.

  ‘So, Papa, how in Ratbeard’s name did you end up in here?’

  Papa Niko finished tying the meerkats’ bootlaces together and looked up at his son.

  ‘That’s a long story, Horace,’ he replied. ‘Mind you, it isn’t as long as those Greek sagas I told you as a child, and it doesn’t feature a three-headed hydra or a maze with a minotaur. Although some of the tunnels could well resemble –’