by Alex Milway
“Lord Battersby!” said the soldier.
“We’re not alone in the forest,” said Miserley, butting in and resisting the need to play along with any formalities. Battersby had learned to trust her over the past year and had finally accepted her as a useful part of his team. She was now dressed in smarter clothes: those of a ranking Old Town Guard officer, rather than of a pirate’s mousekeeper, but her jacket was still buttoned tightly, and her long straight hair fell about her face freely.
“Our Sniffer Mice picked up the scent,” she added, “and we’ve discovered the remains of a fire, still warm.”
“Who could it be?” asked Battersby, slightly alarmed. “No one knows of this place but us. And we know Norgammon is uninhabited.”
“Maybe someone has followed us?” said Miserley.
“No one could have followed us here; that’s impossible!” said Battersby, angry at the mere thought.
“I don’t want to speak out of turn,” said Miserley confidently, “but you know full well who’s capable of following you.”
Lord Battersby looked aggrieved. It was clear that the very thought of Mousebeard having followed his ship was abhorrent to him.
“I cannot see how that blasted pirate would have heard about this!” he said.
“He’s got friends all over the place,” replied Miserley.
“One less than he did, now that we’ve seen to Lovelock’s butler. But even so, this has been kept top secret.”
Miserley brushed her hair out of her face and offered a suggestion.
“If they’ve followed us here, sir, then they’ll want to know what we’re up to. Why don’t we set a few traps for them? Find out for ourselves who it is.”
Battersby grew excited at the prospect of a manhunt, and he dragged a fingertip across his eyebrow.
“We have Sniffer Mice at our disposal, and Trapper Mice,” said Miserley. “I also have vast stores of Popo Explosives. If anyone treads on those, we’ll know about it….”
“Popo Explosives?” asked Battersby.
“The droppings of the Popo Mouse,” said Miserley. “They explode when they’re trodden on—just a short, sharp shock and a loud bang. As soon as we hear anything, the Trapper Mice can be set free to see what they find.”
“I like your style, Miserley,” said Battersby. “Those Trapper Mice have sharp teeth, don’t they?”
“It’ll take a chunk out of you or me in one swift snap of its jaws.”
Battersby started to laugh.
“I need to make use of these creatures much more than I do,” he said, thinking of all the nasty uses he could find for the mice. “Talk to Lieutenant Smedley here about what you need, and I’ll wait excitedly for the fruits of your labor!”
Scratcher and Emiline walked slowly, their legs heavy with the feeling of being left out. They trudged behind Fenwick and Algernon, who kept turning around to prod them along. Everything they said made them even more angry.
“Young mousekeeper…,” grumbled Scratcher. “I’m no young mousekeeper!”
“No, nor me!” said Emiline, incensed.
“I’m at least as good as Indigo,” said Scratcher ruefully.
Emiline gripped his arm and looked at him pointedly.
“Shall we go anyway?” she whispered.
“We can’t,” said Scratcher. “We’d be disobeying the captain!”
“This is different,” she said.
“It is?”
“Yes…”
Scratcher felt his nerves tingling. His instinct told him it was absolutely the wrong thing to do, but he was with Emiline and it had been such a long time since they’d done anything like this together. He gave a little, awkward smile and stopped walking. He could prove to her he was as cool as Indigo.
“What have we got to lose?” he said.
“They’ll be quite a way ahead of us now, but we’re quick! We’d have to run!”
“I don’t mind. It’d be better than going back to the ship.”
Emiline watched Algernon and Fenwick walk farther into the distance and pass behind a line of trees.
“Ready?” she said, throwing a glance at Scratcher. Scratcher took a final look toward Algernon and then ran as fast as he could.
Moments later, Fenwick turned to find that the mousekeepers had vanished. He ran to where he’d last seen them and hit a tree so hard he scraped the skin from his knuckles.
“Those stupid kids!” he said. “Where have they gone?”
Algernon joined him and chuckled.
“Mr. Fenwick,” he said, “those young mousekeepers remind me of a young Mousebeard.”
“They remind me of a big, fat pain in the butt!” Fenwick said, cursing. “Are we going to go get them?”
Algernon became more serious.
“I think they’ll be all right,” he said thoughtfully. “And I think of more importance is that we inform Mousebeard of Battersby’s presence.”
Fenwick clutched his throbbing hand and growled under his breath.
“Next time I see them I’m gonna give them what for!”
Drewshank struggled through the undergrowth with Indigo. They’d been pursuing the small band of soldiers for almost an hour when they finally reached their destination. The forest ended abruptly, and they found themselves at the edge of a large stone-floored plaza, the outskirts of which were rough and broken due to age and marauding tree roots.
Indigo lay down behind a crop of thick tree trunks that were tangled together like a well-tarred ship’s rope. He spied the open space before him and followed the two rows of carved towers that lined the sides as they led to the base of the golden pyramids.
The rest of the plaza was scattered with assorted tents in the form of a makeshift camp, and soldiers rushed back and forth, attending to one task or another. At the far side was a collection of hundreds of cages, some large and some small, but all filled with mice. Their unsettled and unhappy squeaking carried all the way into the forest. It was easy to see that most of the cages were far too small for their prisoners.
“They’ve caught so many rare mice,” said Indigo. “How are they going to transport them all?”
“It’s likely most of them won’t make it,” said Drewshank. “Back in the old days, I took on a few missions like this. I wouldn’t agree to it now, but we always caught twice as many mice as were needed—we knew a lot would perish on the journey home.”
He passed Indigo his telescope.
“Take a closer look at the pyramids,” he said. “Look what they’re up to….”
The golden stepped pyramids were in a ruinous state, but they remained magnificent structures, with the largest rising to a few hundred meters tall. A decorated staircase was situated on its front face, and as it neared the pinnacle of the pyramid, it leveled into a small platform at the entrance to a chamber. This platform was the focus of much attention, and soldiers kept disappearing into it carrying barrels and other equipment.
The two smaller pyramids were much simpler affairs, although they too had chambers on top. Their steps were covered with strange objects and artifacts that had clearly come from within, and soldiers could once again be seen marching up and down them, with many carrying armfuls of goods.
“They’re cleaning them out!” Indigo exclaimed.
“Have you seen the sculptures?” asked Drewshank.
Indigo peered closer at the base of the pyramids and saw sculptures of the purest gold and rarest turquoise glimmering in the bright sunlight.
“They must be priceless,” he said.
“It’s like the whole of the Mousing Museum at the Old Rodents’ Academy has been brought out into the street!” added Drewshank.
Suddenly the soldiers rushed out of the chamber at the top of the Great Pyramid and hurried down a few of its steps before stopping. Along with an explosion, a big puff of smoke billowed out of its doorway.
“They’ve just blown something up!” he said, and as Drewshank’s hand stretched out to his side, he pass
ed the telescope back.
“Good grief!” said Drewshank.
Indigo slid onto his knees.
“I’m going to scout around the back of the camp and get an idea of how many troops there are,” said Indigo.
“Good idea. If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’ll come and find you.”
Indigo saluted and ran off through the trees.
“Emiline! Look!” said Scratcher.
They’d arrived at the stone plaza and had slid behind two thick tree trunks for cover.
“The pyramids are amazing!” she replied.
“But look at all the soldiers! There are loads more than us. We’re sunk!”
“Can you see Drewshank anywhere?” she said.
Both mousekeepers searched the treeline with their eyes but could see nothing.
“They must be somewhere,” said Scratcher.
Emiline felt something brush past her leg, and she noticed a small line of mice rush past. Each mouse held on to the tail of the mouse in front with its mouth, and they wound through the undergrowth like a lumpy snake. As she moved her shoulder to look back at the plaza, she leaned on something small and hard, and a light explosion blasted beneath her. Her sleeve caught fire and she jumped away to try and smother it.
“Emiline!” cried Scratcher. He moved over to her, and his leg set off another explosion beneath him.
“What are they?!” said Scratcher, patting down his smoldering trouser leg.
“I don’t know!” screamed Emiline, as another blew up underneath her.
The blasts and sudden movements had caught the attention of soldiers by the pyramids. One by one they picked up their rifles and pointed to the forest.
“Now we’re in trouble!” she cried.
As the soldiers shouted to one another, another soldier came dashing into the plaza, followed by a girl. Three harnessed mice pulled him along, all champing at the bit to be released.
“They’ve got hunting mice!” yelled Emiline. “And that’s…”
Emiline felt her whole body seize up as she saw the girl more clearly—she knew her from before.
“Miserley…,” she said, snarling.
“We’ve got to run,” said Scratcher. He took hold of Emiline and pulled her along into the forest, their feet setting off numerous other little blasts as they darted through the trees.
“What on earth?” exclaimed Drewshank as he heard the cracks of explosions a few hundred meters from where he was hiding. As the soldiers charged to the treeline, he caught a glimpse of Emiline and Scratcher jumping into view and then running away.
“You can’t be serious?” he said, withdrawing his sword. “I’m going to feed those blasted mousekeepers to some Nibbler Mice if the soldiers don’t get to them first!”
He looked about for a sign of Indigo, but he was nowhere.
“Please, would someone finish me now…,” he said, exasperated.
He looked for a final time at the pyramids and then ran back into the forest without another thought. Drewshank was able to run surprisingly fast when his mind was on the case: he jumped, twisted, and shimmied his way through the trees with the agility of someone half his size and age.
After five minutes of running, Scratcher caught his breath and held on to the bark of a tree trunk to steady his weary legs.
“I can’t keep running,” he said, feeling as though he was choking.
Emiline was faring better, but she was struggling too.
“I can’t believe Miserley is here,” she said.
“Those hunting mice will be on to us in no time,” said Scratcher. “We should have listened to Drewshank!”
“What is it with you?” snapped Emiline. “We made the decision and we can’t change that now. Let’s keep on—try and get to that ruin.”
“All right,” he said.
Emiline leapt over a fallen tree, hit the floor at speed, and then screamed out before being twisted and thrown upside down into the air on the end of a rugged chain. Her foot was caught in a metal mousetrap, and it was growing tighter and tighter at her ankle as she swung from the branch overhead.
“Emiline!” cried Scratcher.
He reached up and took hold of her hand.
“It hurts,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.
Scratcher pulled at the chain and the trap, but everything was secure and unbreakable.
“I can’t budge it,” he said.
They heard the sound of whistles and twigs snapping nearby and knew their time was running out.
“Go!” she cried, with the trap tearing into her leg. “Go!”
“I’m not leaving you!” said Scratcher. “I’m not!”
“If you don’t go, I’ll hit you! Go on!”
Scratcher looked at her with desperation.
“I’ll be back for you,” he said. “I promise I’ll be back.”
He ran away as fast as he could, his emotions driving him on despite his lack of strength. Emiline started to feel dizzy, her head spinning from being held upside down for so long. She tried wriggling, and bending up to hold her leg, but the weight and the pain were becoming unbearable. The soldiers’ footsteps were getting closer, as were the snarls and grunts of the Trapper Mice.
Suddenly they appeared.
“You don’t look much like a mouse,” said Miserley, smiling grimly beneath her flowing black hair as she appeared through the trees. She let a Trapper Mouse bound up to Emiline and growl at her head. Emiline could smell its foul breath, and she saw its fangs and foaming, rabid mouth were but a short distance from her nose.
“So you followed us all the way here, Blonde,” she said. Her mouse, Weazle, scrambled onto her shoulder, its greasy fur and tatty ears reminding Emiline of how there was one mouse she hated more than anything.
“But where are your friends now, then? Are you here all by yourself? Surely not…”
“Shut up,” snapped Emiline, finding few other words within her.
“And where’s that useless Grey Mouse of yours? I know Weazle wants another bite of him….”
Miserley walked around Emiline, gently pushing her so that she swayed from left to right.
“Captain!” she shouted. “We’ve got a prisoner!”
Emiline saw two soldiers walk into view, each holding a snarling mouse on the end of a lead.
“Take her back to camp and stick her in a cage with one of the Black-eyed Mice—the larger the species, the better,” said Miserley. “That’ll keep her occupied. And you’d better tell Battersby—if she’s here, we can be sure there’ll be others nearby.”
Miserley took a final opportunity to push Emiline and inflict a little bit of pain as the trap tightened even further.
“Release the Trapper Mice,” said Miserley to the soldiers. “We’ve got a hunt on….”
“Captain Mousebeard!” shouted Fenwick. He stood beside the Silver Shark with sea spray washing over him as it flew off the rocks.
“Jonathan!” called Algernon, catching up with Fenwick. “We need to get defensive!”
After a few seconds, the gangplanks crashed down onto the causeway, and the pair walked onto the deck. Mousebeard’s concern was clearly evident.
“The Guard is already here,” said Fenwick.
“Battersby and all,” said Algernon. “They beat us to it.”
Mousebeard growled and teased his beard between his fingers.
“Where are the others?” he said.
“Drewshank and Indigo went to see what the Guard was up to. And best not to mention the mousekeepers….”
“Why? What have they done?” asked the pirate.
“They didn’t follow orders,” said Algernon, trying to suppress a smile. “Bring back any memories, Jonathan?”
“Maybe a few,” he replied, laughing.
Fenwick struggled to see the funny side.
“But it’s amazing in there,” said Algernon excitedly. “The mice! Oh, the mice we saw.”
“You must describe it all to me,” Mousebea
rd replied. “And any clues regarding the curse?”
“We didn’t see enough, Jonathan. I’m sorry…”
Algernon walked straight over to his little machine and switched it on. The now accepted buzz-and-hum routine soon died down, and he watched the screen for any sign of movement.
“But if the Guard is here, where are the ships?” said Mousebeard. “I’ve seen nothing out here!”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to find out,” said Algernon. “Ahh, I might have something here….”
Mousebeard knelt down next to his friend as Algernon pointed to the screen.
“That large yellow dot moving steadily around the island—that could be them!”
“Just the one ship?” said Mousebeard.
“If Lovelock wanted this kept secret, he may have felt that only Battersby could be trusted—it might be his big warship. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if it was!”
“Then we could take them in a straight fight,” said Mousebeard. “If luck is on our side! What are we waiting for; let’s set sail now!”
“I don’t think that would be wise,” countered Algernon. “A surprise attack might work, but I feel we’d be better off making use of our unique position.”
“We could take some cannons from the Shark and arm the ruins,” said Fenwick. “Cover us on both sides, and make this outcrop our own.”
“That way, however they come at us, they’ll have to face a broadside,” added Algernon. “And we can also block their path to Battersby—they would never leave without him. The walls of the castle—although there’s not much left of them—are still thick and sturdy….”
“Aye, sir. It’d be a good defense,” said Fenwick.
“By the mouse in the moon,” said Mousebeard, “that’s what we shall do. Get as many men as you can to help you. Take all the portside cannons and enough gunpowder and Powder Mice to see you through a fight. Send some men up to the gate too—if it’s the only exit, it’s the perfect place for an ambush.”