by Alex Milway
“And they got stuck in the mouse’s eyes?” said Indigo.
“Didn’t quite get that far,” he said. “The mouse breathed them in as it charged at me, and collapsed in a sneezing fit. Did the trick, though, and gave me enough time to escape.”
“Are you making this up?” asked Scratcher.
“I’d never dream of it,” said Drewshank, much offended.
“I suppose it was slightly better than Algernon’s joke,” he said, not wholly believing himself.
Everyone sat silently as they considered Drewshank’s story with bewilderment, and then Scratcher spoke up again.
“How about you, Indigo?” he said forcefully. “You haven’t said anything, and you must have billions of stories.”
Indigo was seated upright with his hands joined around his knees, and he looked at Scratcher resentfully.
“I’m useless at stories,” he said.
“Oh come on,” said Drewshank. “Tell us something about Hamlyn, or even where you learned to train those Sharpclaws—that’s pretty impressive….”
Indigo considered what he could say, and threw a twig into the fire and watched it shoot up in flames.
“I could tell you about my first Striped Sharpclaw…,” he said reluctantly.
“Good man!” said Algernon.
“Perfect!” said Emiline.
Indigo continued. “To own a Sharpclaw is a pretty major deal where I come from—and it’s something not everyone’s able to do.”
“Where are you from?” interrupted Drewshank.
“An island called Urla…”
“I’m still none the wiser,” said Drewshank. “Carry on!”
“So you have to be of a certain age, with certain abilities,” added Indigo. “It’s a rite of passage, I suppose. As soon as you reach eight years old, you’re sent on a hunting trip, along with two experienced mousehunters, and you have to capture your own Sharpclaw.”
“At eight years old?” said Fenwick. “That’s young to be doing that!”
“It’s just how it’s always been,” replied Indigo. “As the sun sets, you’re left alone in the forest with some water and a knife, and you do your best. It’s up to you to find the means of trapping the mouse, and also to catch one.”
“The Bilbab tree!” said Emiline.
“Finding that’s the easy part—you get a bit muddy digging for the roots, but that’s bearable. The hardest part is not being eaten by the Grime Mice that live in their branches. And so once that’s accomplished, you head for the outer edges of the forest and wait. Striped Sharpclaws, in their natural habitat, rise just before dawn, so that’s the best time to get them; they’re usually a bit sleepy first thing and take the bait quicker. You have to be careful to find a loner, though—they’re nasty if you get a few together.”
“What happens if you don’t catch one?” asked Drewshank.
“It’s not the end of the world. But in order to become a soldier, you need a Striped Sharpclaw at your side—it’s the rules—and to be in the army is considered the greatest accomplishment amongst my people.”
“Why aren’t you a soldier then?” asked Scratcher.
“I was a soldier,” he replied.
“You were a soldier?” said Emiline.
“It’s the only place to learn how to train Sharpclaws to a fighting standard. I thought it was a worthwhile thing to do.”
“I’ll say,” said Drewshank. “I quite fancy having a pair of those myself!”
“I could teach you someday,” said Indigo.
Drewshank thought about putting in the hours to learn another skill, and then realized he was fooling himself—he was good enough as he was.
“That’s incredibly interesting, Indigo,” said Algernon. “I should like to hear more about your land one day.”
Indigo shrugged and held out his hands to warm them in the flames of the fire.
“It’s really not that big a deal,” he said.
“I think it is,” said Emiline.
As Scratcher sighed and buttoned his jacket tighter, the group carried on talking about their greatest mousing achievements. They talked for hours, until the dead of night and the effect of long days at sea took their toll. As the night sky glittered with stars, and a quarter moon watched over them, they gradually all drifted to sleep—the kind brought about only by feeling safe and exhausted. The peace of Norgammon was enough to bring them contented dreams, but the tranquility wasn’t to last.
“Get up! Get up!” whispered Indigo, his hands shaking Emiline’s shoulders.
Her eyes opened, and she saw that everyone else was in a state of shock after being woken in the same way.
“There are soldiers in the forest! Get your stuff and don’t make a sound.”
Fenwick threw dirt over the embers of the fire, trying to conceal any evidence of their presence.
“Have your weapons ready,” he said. “I can see one!”
The group stood in the shadows of the ruined building, pressed hard against the crumbling walls as the first soldiers appeared through the trees in the far distance.
“There’s another lot over here!” shouted one of the soldiers, pointing into the trees.
At the sound of a gunshot, the forest floor started rumbling. Emiline looked to Algernon, who looked to Drewshank, who in turn looked to Indigo. A flock of flying mice took off into the sky, emitting a screech of concerned squeaks. Leaves scattered everywhere.
“Ready, Rufus!” shouted another soldier. “Here they come!”
Emiline peeked over the wall and saw Scratcher doing the same next to her. They watched the forest as the rumbling turned into heavy thuds that grew increasingly loud as something massive approached. A second gunshot fired out; nearby trees buckled forward, and as their roots twisted upward to face the sky, a giant red mouse came charging through the forest. It cast aside the trees with its terrifyingly huge paws, uprooting them with ease. Emiline ducked back into cover. The mouse galloped on, passing the ruined building and missing it by barely a few meters. It was so huge that it was taller than the forest: its red eyes reflected the fear in its mind, its claws tearing into the undergrowth without concern for what might be in its way.
As the mouse passed, and the soldiers chased after it, two more giant mice followed in its wake. One jumped straight over the building in a daredevil leap that revealed its lighter white underside that was almost the size of the Silver Shark’s hull. Fenwick crawled out of the ruin and scrambled along the floor, looking back through the path that the mice had cleared. He turned in the other direction and watched the soldiers hurl roped harpoons at the creatures. The last of the giant mice reared up on its haunches as the barbed points clung to its dense fur and fatty flesh, the ropes growing taut as the animal pulled. It wailed with pain; the ropes had been tied to numerous trees, and the combined strength of them had stopped it in its tracks.
“Keep it tight!” ordered a ginger-haired soldier, running to the mouse with a rifle aimed at its head.
The creature’s cries grew more intense. Its body swayed above the canopy, claws flailing around and chopping down into the trees. The soldiers surrounded it and hurled even more harpoons into its flanks.
“Hold it there!” shouted the soldier. “I think we have it!”
The mouse snapped down with its enormous teeth, sweeping its jaws lower along the forest floor. With each snarling cry, the mouse lost strength; and it eventually slumped down to the ground, pulling three heavy trees down with it. All the soldiers cheered, and the ginger-haired man, who appeared to be in charge, prodded its mouth with the end of his gun.
“Nice work, men! Tie up its legs and get it ready for carriage. Lord Battersby will be pleased with your efforts.”
“Battersby!” said Drewshank, diving forward and joining Fenwick. “So they’re already here….”
The Puff-tailed Mouse
ONE OF THE MORE DELICATE BREEDS OF MOUSE, THE PUFF-TAIL GETS ITS name from the white pompom-like growth of fur on the
end of its tail. Each Puff-tailed Mouse pays great attention to its coat (and tail in particular), regularly cleaning and licking itself to maintain the soft, silky sheen that it is so famous for. Because of this, it is popular with the upper classes and can often be found nestling around the necks of well-to-do folk out for their afternoon constitutional.
MOUSING NOTES
This mouse is a regular to mouse collections the world over, and many collectors pride themselves on securing the mouse with the largest puff on the end of its tail. The biggest puff ever recorded reached 14.3 centimeters across and was found on a mouse owned by Earnest Crumbly.
The Hunt
IN THE SHADOW OF A ROUNDED RUINED BUILDING, WHOSE walls were covered with fine carvings and worn reliefs, Lord Battersby stood with his foot resting on the chest of a large, dead mouse. The man leaned proudly over his kill, twisting his curled mustache with the tips of his fingers.
“That’ll be something to show them in the Old Town Gentlemen’s Club!” he said boorishly.
“It looks just like the extinct Saber-tooth Mouse,” said Lieutenant Smedley. “I wasn’t expecting anything of that sort out here. We’ve managed to capture a live specimen too. Only one man got injured—lost an arm actually—but he’ll have a great story to tell his family when he returns home!”
“That’s the spirit, Smedley! This whole adventure is one that will go down in the history books as the greatest expedition of all time. If only we had greater space in the Stonebreaker for more cages. We could fill it twice over with all the new species we’ve discovered!”
“Lord Battersby!” called a young soldier. He appeared from the forest with a rifle in his hand: his thick ginger hair was brushed sideways and emphasized the whiteness of his face. “We’ve captured a giant mouse.”
“That is good news,” said Battersby, stepping down off his kill and addressing the soldier directly. “Locarno, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ahh, Rufus Locarno—I fought with your father at the battle of Barnabus Ridge. He’ll be thrilled to hear of how well you’re doing.”
“Thank you, sir. I fear the mouse might die of its wounds, though. It proved to be a hard catch!”
“Ahh, but that can’t be helped, Rufus. Dead or alive, these creatures will still have the same impact in Old Town.”
“Sir,” said Lieutenant Smedley, “we should really try and return with live mice… sir. The Mousing Federation won’t look kindly on us if we kill too many.”
“Smedley, I hear what you’re saying, but when a life is at risk, the human must come first. Have you seen the paws on that creature? It could kill you with one swipe.”
“Yes, sir, I’ve seen them.”
“Just remember, Lieutenant, they’re only mice. No matter what Isiah Lovelock might say, I have no time in the Old Town Guard for soldiers who place the life of a furry animal over that of a human. You agree?”
“Oh yes, sir, absolutely!”
“And, Rufus, what are your views on the matter?”
Rufus was surprised at being included in the conversation.
“Me, sir?”
“Of course! You know a thing or two about mice,” said Battersby. “No matter how special or endangered these creatures are, we humans must come first, mustn’t we?”
“I agree, sir,” he replied.
“Good! You’d do well to listen to people like Rufus, Smedley. He’s got his head firmly screwed on!”
“Definitely, sir,” replied Smedley, his voice meek and distant.
“And while you’re here, Smedley, is there any news of the pyramids?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve entered the two smaller ones, but we’re still struggling with the Great Pyramid. It’s totally sealed shut—we might have to use explosives.”
“And what have you found?”
“There are plenty of wall paintings—murals of humans and mice seem to cover every wall. We’ve taken pictures and made extensive notes on their creation, texture, and so on. I must admit to being a little horrified by some of the mummified remains we’ve discovered, and there are also catacombs containing thousands of mouseskulls!”
“And, sir…,” said Locarno hesitantly. Smedley gave him a look of total disapproval for interrupting his moment.
“… The mousekeeper has made great progress on identifying those mice depicted around the base of the Great Pyramid. She’s proved to be quite talented in that area, and if all those mice are still alive and not extinct, she thinks we may have only half of those shown.”
“Truly?” said Battersby. “There could really be twice as many new species out here as we’ve trapped?”
“Yes, sir,” he said. “This place really is a lost world of mice. It’s better than we could ever have hoped!”
“Then that spurs me on! Smedley, let’s blast our way into the large pyramid, and we’ll see where it gets us.”
“I’ll set to it immediately, sir.”
Drewshank crawled back into the ruin and sat up against the tree trunk.
“So the Old Town Guard got here first,” he said.
“They’ll outnumber us ten to one,” said Fenwick. “And as much as Mousebeard wants us to look around, we can’t risk our lives here!”
Algernon took his leather hat from his pocket and strapped it securely around his head.
“We should return and warn Mousebeard. He’s a sitting duck out there—and also our only means of getting home.”
Drewshank realized their dilemma. He buttoned the collar of his jacket so that it covered his neck right up to his chin.
“Maybe we should…,” he said.
“But we can’t just run away!” said Emiline. “Not now. We’ve come so far.”
“I don’t know,” said Drewshank. “I just can’t risk it.”
“Why don’t I follow them,” suggested Indigo. “At least find out what they’re up to. As I’ve seen for myself, the Old Town Guard is always up to something.”
“I can’t let you go by yourself,” said Drewshank sternly.
“I have my mice,” he replied. “They’ll look after me.”
“I’ll go with you!” said Emiline.
“And I will,” announced Scratcher.
“Now this is silly,” said Algernon. “We might as well all go at this rate and be done with it.”
Drewshank made his authority known.
“I can’t send you young mousekeepers out there into the unknown,” he said. “Not after what happened last time.”
“But we’ve been through so much!” said Emiline. “We’re quite capable of dealing with things….”
“No, I insist you go back to the ship,” said Drewshank. “I shall go and find out what I can, and, Indigo, maybe if you’d join me?”
“I’d relish the chance,” said Indigo.
Emiline started to fume.
“That’s not fair,” she said.
“Emiline, that’s enough!” said Algernon.
“But… !”
“Emiline!” said Fenwick angrily. “Do as he says!”
After a few moments of awkward silence, the deal was done.
“If there’s any trouble,” said Drewshank, “if any of us get split up, then we meet back here! Agreed?”
Everyone agreed, and with a flurry of parting handshakes the two groups went their separate ways.
Lord Battersby walked across the stone plaza that sat in front of the three pyramids. He stopped in the center, at the base of a huge mouse sculpture. It glowered over the surrounding land from its perch of what looked like half a globe, its thick, broken tail wrapping loosely around its base. A soldier was attached to one of its ears by a rope, and he swung across its face, coming to a halt by its eyes. The eyes glistened in the daylight like miniature suns, their beauty accentuated by triangular lines etched into the rock around them, fanning outward from their centers.
“What have you found, soldier?” asked Battersby.
The soldier seemed a bit surprised, but he
stopped what he was doing and looked down.
“Diamonds!” he said, removing a crowbar from the bag on his back. “Two huge diamonds!”
The soldier dug the bar into the mouse’s head and levered the first massive stone from its setting.
“That’s quite a find,” said Battersby. “Bring them to me once you have the second stone out!”
The soldier conspicuously hid a snarl by turning away, and Battersby walked off to the Great Pyramid, where he saw his right-hand man.
“Lord Battersby,” said Smedley, saluting his commander. “We’re about to enter the Great Pyramid.”
“Good job,” he replied. “I’m amazed by all these things you’ve discovered!”
Battersby was standing next to a pile of treasures, ranging from silver pots and golden instruments to carvings and painted figurines of mice.
“Indeed, sir, we’ve found enough riches to bankroll an entire fleet of battleships!”
“This is marvelous news, Lieutenant, but I believe we have more than we can return with.”
“Regarding that very problem, sir, I’ve been considering getting the men to fortify this area. A scouting party has just returned from the hills, and they found fresh water and a bountiful supply of wild fruit and food. We could create an outpost here, to guard and claim Norgammon for our own.”
“That is a fine idea: we shall return with only the finest of the treasures, and focus on transporting the rare mice. They will stoke the fires of interest better for us, and increase the attention on Old Town until we can return with more.”
“I’ll set about preparing the mice for removal, then, sir.”
“Excellent! And also try and contact the Stonebreaker—it must almost be finished in its task of charting the nearby seas and islands by now.”
“Yes, sir!” said Smedley. “Once we’ve breached the Great Pyramid and have seen what is inside, then I shall make that my first concern.”
Battersby picked up one of the bejeweled pots lying at his feet and let the sunlight catch on its golden rim. He was about to lift it to his eye when another soldier appeared at his side with a mousekeeper in tow.