by Alex Milway
“That’s the spirit,” said Algernon. “Like they set a trap for you at Giant Island, we shall have them at Norgammon!”
The Halfung Hunting Mouse
A PROUD MOUSE, BRED FOR AGILITY AND POWER, THE HALFUNG HAS BEEN used in royal hunts for centuries. A native of Midena, it has become the most sought-after mouse amongst the landed gentry. Most usually kept in pairs, this mouse has an amazing sense of smell and is particularly noted for its obedience. Often seen in court paintings, sitting either side of the kings and queens of Midena, the Halfung Hunting Mouse is truly of blue-blooded descent.
MOUSING NOTES
This mouse requires much attention, in both grooming and play. Not an easy mouse to care for, it needs a diet rich in red meat—and a lot of it—so it can prove to be an expensive undertaking. However, what you put into this mouse will be rewarded in spades: it is a truly loyal creature.
The Great Pyramid
EMILINE WAS DRAGGED ALONG THE STONE PLAZA AND discarded at the base of a large cage. It was as tall as her and twice as long, and inside lay a mouse that almost filled it. A short chain was secured around its neck, stopping it from moving too far, but its weighty paws pushed hard against the iron bars, and its claws hooked out, scraping into the metal.
A soldier moved forward and unlocked the cage door, which he then lifted up, and with a firm shove forced Emiline inside. The mouse twisted to face her and hissed loudly, flattening its ears and lashing its tail about uncontrollably.
“There,” he said laughing, “you’ve got a nice new friend to play with.”
The soldier locked the cage and walked off at a pace. Emiline had barely enough room to sit down, and the mouse’s tail continued to lash out at her. Each time it whipped her she clenched her teeth to suppress the pain. Seeing that she was now alone, she lifted the lid of her mousebox and was immediately berated by Portly, who squeaked and tried to rush up her arm. The mouse beside her burst back into life, opened its eyes, and started snapping its jaws, and Emiline quickly forced Portly back inside.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, as Portly squeaked inconsolably. “I’m sorry! It’s for your own good!”
“There she is, sir!” shouted a soldier, and Emiline heard the scuffing of marching boots. She looked around to see Lord Battersby, who walked closer and laughed at her.
“You chose the wrong side, girl,” he said, raising his sheathed sword and prodding the mouse that lay beside her. It squeaked and snarled and kicked out with its back claws, which cut across Emiline’s leg like a series of razor blades. She screwed up her nose and bit her lip as she saw thin lines of blood appear on her leg.
“I did what was right,” she said defiantly.
“Ha! What would a girl like you know about right and wrong?” he said.
Emiline looked into his eyes and caught hold of them. She wasn’t going to be belittled by him.
“Your greed makes me sick,” she said. “What are you going to do with all these mice? Do you know how important they are?”
“We know very well how important they are….”
Battersby’s face became stern and he turned away.
“But you’re just scum like every other pirate,” he said, and he swung around, hitting his sword against the side of Emiline’s cage. She jumped backward, shielding her face, and landed on the side of the mouse. It squealed horrendously and whipped its tail against Emiline’s arm, making her cry out loud.
Battersby laughed again.
“So who are you here with?” he asked firmly.
“I came by myself….”
“Oh now, we all know that’s not true. Was it Drewshank? Did he follow me?”
Emiline kept her mouth shut.
“Or was it Mousebeard himself?”
Emiline still didn’t say a word, and Lord Battersby’s temper was about to boil over.
“You know you’re only making this worse….”
He slammed his sword once more into the cage, and the mouse kicked, hitting Emiline in the stomach. She cried out and saw that its claws had sliced through her jacket, almost reaching her skin.
“Unless you want me to undo the chain around the mouse’s neck so that it can feast on you,” said Battersby, his voice determined, “I think you’d best tell me how you got here.”
Emiline’s thoughts descended on the Silver Shark and her friends. She pictured Mousebeard and remembered his rage.
“You realize Mousebeard will kill you,” she said. “There’s no way he’ll let you get away with this.”
“Ah… so it is Mousebeard,” he said. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it through the cage at Emiline. “You realize that pirates, and anyone who disagrees with the might of Old Town, only ever end up dead.”
“Not Mousebeard—he’s far too clever for you!”
“Ah, I see,” said Battersby, pushing the point of his sword gently under Emiline’s chin. “As clever as that butler, eh? He didn’t last long when a knife was run through him.”
Emiline choked.
“It’s amazing just how clever you all really are,” he said evilly. “And yes, even the Old Town Guard has the ability to send long-distance Messenger Mice.”
Battersby withdrew his sword from the cage and walked off.
“I’m going to leave you to stew a while,” he said. “Think about what you’ve done….”
“You won’t get away with this!” shouted Emiline angrily.
“Of course I will,” he said, scowling.
Scratcher threw himself into the ruin where they’d spent the night and collapsed against the tree that filled its inside. He didn’t feel as though he had anything left to give.
“Thought you’d do a bit of spying on your own, eh?” said Drewshank, taking the boy by surprise. His face wore a stern and terrifying look, and Scratcher had never been so scared of him. “But where’s Emiline?”
“They’ve got her,” he said, struggling to speak. “She was caught in a metal trap….”
Drewshank shook his head.
“Do you see what you’ve done?”
Scratcher was so upset with himself that he wanted to cry. But that would achieve nothing other than making him look even more stupid and useless.
“Where’s Indigo?” he asked.
Drewshank’s expression didn’t alter.
“I had to make the decision between helping you or waiting for him,” he said. “I hope I made the right choice….”
Scratcher looked thoroughly depressed.
“But the Guard has been here already,” said Drewshank, his tone lightening. “They would have known we were around anyway.”
“I promise I’ll make up for it,” said Scratcher. “I really will.”
“Impulse actions are strange things,” he replied. “But it’s often the case that they end up messy.”
“Do you think Emiline’s all right?” said Scratcher.
“I’m sure she is.”
“But that Miserley…”
“Miserley?” said Drewshank. “Is she here?”
“She was with the soldiers.”
Drewshank stopped talking at the sound of twigs snapping. The hunting mice were almost upon them—he could hear their snorting nearby.
“Do we run,” said Scratcher fearfully, “or…”
Before he could finish his sentence, a bullet hit the wall next to him. He dropped to the ground and covered his head as another bullet left a pockmark in the wall.
“What the…,” spat Drewshank, who also toppled to the ground. He took out his sword and held it tightly. “Looks like we might have a fight on our hands….”
Scratcher withdrew his dagger and noticed his hand was shaking. They both pressed themselves against the walls and tried to see where the soldiers were. There was no sign of them, but the Trapper Mice were closing in fast, judging by their growls.
“What do we do?” pleaded Scratcher, desperate for a way out of their situation.
“Have you ever been attacked by a mouse befo
re?” asked Drewshank.
“Only little ones…”
“If they jump at you—and in this regard, I’m talking solely about the ones with big claws and teeth—punch them on the nose.”
“On the nose?”
“Yes, or kick them.”
“What’s that going to do?” asked Scratcher.
“Not sure,” said Drewshank, his eyes growing wide, “but I’m about to find out!”
A frenzied Trapper Mouse leapt into the ruin and landed straight on top of Drewshank. Its snarling jaws clamped onto his right arm, and he yelled as its teeth dug deeper. Scratcher jumped over and hit it hard on the nose before attacking it with his dagger. The animal didn’t release its grip, and even when Scratcher stabbed it again, it continued to bite hard.
Suddenly a second Trapper Mouse jumped into the confined space of the ruin and ran for Scratcher. Just as he was about to attack it, one of the Old Town Guard appeared with his rifle aimed squarely at the boy.
“Don’t move,” he shouted.
Scratcher froze, as did the second mouse, which skidded to a halt, snarled, and paced back and forth around its prisoner.
“We’ve got two more of them,” said the soldier, as Miserley walked up to the ruin’s entrance with the third Trapper Mouse leashed to her side. The mouse biting into Drewshank’s arm was losing a lot of blood and, quite noticeably, so was Drewshank. Miserley harnessed both of the mice and pulled them to heel, but the injured mouse faltered and slumped to the ground almost immediately. Within a few seconds its breathing had stopped.
Miserley looked tense and angry.
“Devlin Drewshank,” she said, as he lay clutching his arm. “What a terrible surprise—just like a wart that you can’t get rid of.”
“Whatever made you so delightful?” he replied through gritted teeth.
“Your arm hurt?” she asked.
“Maybe you should learn to control your mice in the future.”
“Oooh, you do scare me. And you, mousekeeper…”
She walked up to Scratcher and raised one of her daggers to his face.
“You’ll soon be in much the same way. Tie them up!”
Two more soldiers arrived and tied the prisoners’ wrists together. They took their weapons and lifted Drewshank to his feet. He was in a lot of pain and wished he could keep squeezing the bite on his arm to stem the flow of blood; it was bleeding profusely to the point that blood was running down to his fingertips and dripping in thick globules to the ground.
Miserley looked at her prisoners while stroking the dead Trapper Mouse.
“You two will pay for this,” she said grimly.
“So this is the marvelous Great Pyramid,” said Lord Battersby.
He walked up the final few steps and entered the stone chamber. Lamps were dotted around, lighting up magnificent carved murals of giant mice with humans riding their backs in carriages. Battersby faced the doorway where his soldiers had blown a hole, and saw a tunnel lit by flaming torches descend into the bowels of the pyramid.
“Please go in, sir,” said Smedley. “You won’t believe your eyes.”
Battersby marched down the sloping tunnel, followed by Lieutenant Smedley, and was immediately struck by the brightly illustrated walls and the airlessness. The farther he walked, the more glorious the pictures adorning the sides became, and more than once he had to stop and look in wonder at the depictions of ancient mice and people. The tunnel gradually grew steeper and narrower, and, at the point where it became an almost sheer drop, steps had been cut into the rock, making it possible to proceed. The staircase started to twist to the left and, as Battersby found himself stooping in order to carry on, he walked out into a high-vaulted tomb with three smaller anterooms joined to its sides.
Seated squarely in the middle was a stone coffin, its lid encrusted with jade mice and inlaid gold details, and Battersby walked closer. He ran his hand along its surface and stroked the jade mice as if they were real.
“It’s beautiful,” he said.
“And the ceiling, sir?”
Battersby looked up and saw that the vaulted roof was shimmering like a starlit night.
“Diamonds, sir,” said Smedley. “Worth a fortune alone.”
“So this coffin and tomb are the prize of Norgammon,” said Battersby. “Can we remove either of them?”
“The stone coffin’s far too heavy, sir. But we may be able to remove the plaster on the ceiling that’s host to the diamonds. We could recreate it in a museum setting, I’m sure….”
“Wonderful, and these other rooms?”
Battersby strode around the room and entered the anterooms. They were much plainer, but they also contained small stone coffins with jade decoration.
“We think it must be the tomb of a royal family, sir,” said Smedley. “With the smaller coffins being for children, or something like that.”
“That would make sense, especially with all these jewels sparkling above their heads….”
“And there is one more room through here…”
Smedley led Battersby into one of the anterooms, and at the farthest end there was a low passageway that led to another small chamber. Its thick stone door had been forcibly lifted by soldiers and was propped open by sturdy wooden poles.
“We think this room was maybe for another family member but ultimately never used,” said Smedley. “It’s next to empty, but for these pillars and a few decorated stone slabs.”
Battersby looked through the doorway and nodded. It wasn’t half as interesting as the main tomb, so he returned and looked back at the diamond sky.
“I still cannot believe that we’ve made such a discovery,” said Battersby, standing with his hands behind his back as he looked upward. “This place is truly remarkable.”
Suddenly, Locarno came running down the steps into the tomb.
“Lord Battersby!” he said breathlessly. “Two more prisoners have been caught. One of them is Devlin Drewshank!”
“Are you sure?” said Battersby, his eyes glowing.
“Yes, sir. We are holding them outside!”
“Then I must come and see my old enemy with my own eyes!”
“Oh, here he comes,” said Drewshank aloud, as Battersby marched up to him with such pomposity that his head might have exploded.
Emiline was no longer trapped in a cage but was instead sitting alongside Drewshank and Scratcher. They all looked miserable as their arms were tied behind their backs, and they were about as happy as the caged mice held at the edge of the plaza. Miserley strolled behind the prisoners, kicking Emiline as she passed.
“What are we going to do with them?” she asked gleefully.
Battersby knelt down and smiled at Drewshank.
“Look at the mighty fugitive,” he said. “I don’t think I can be bothered returning them to Old Town. Mousebeard maybe—but not these three ruffians. I don’t think anyone would miss them if they disappeared….”
“That sounds promising,” said Miserley cruelly.
“Would you shut your mouth!” snapped Drewshank to Battersby. “You’re making my ears ache!”
“You know,” said Battersby, “you could have been something once. Beatrice was yours for the taking… she was beautiful, and maybe even loved you, but you just weren’t good enough. And of course, I was a lord of the realm.”
“Which is why she spends all her time with smelly mice these days,” quipped Drewshank. “Far preferable to listening to your sanctimonious garbage.”
“Ever the smooth fast-talker, Drewshank!”
“Better than the slow, witless wonder, Battersby!”
“Ha!” cheered Lord Battersby. “Even now you think you’re clever. We know perfectly well where your ship is, and we’re just waiting for the right opportunity to attack.”
“Don’t lie,” said Drewshank.
“Lies? Oh you’d know full well if I was lying. You have no way of escaping this island now.”
Drewshank felt his arm stinging below his
shirt. The mouse bite was hurting badly, and he did all he could to push the pain from his mind.
“And the problem of what to do with you three,” said Battersby. “Well, I think I might have just the perfect solution.”
Battersby turned away and caught the attention of Smedley, who was discussing the matter of the Great Pyramid with Locarno.
“Lieutenant,” he called. “That tomb with nothing in it, would you mind me giving it a purpose?”
Smedley walked closer and looked at the prisoners. Smedley wasn’t a bad man and didn’t particularly agree with Lord Battersby’s general views of the world, but he also wasn’t a man strong enough to stand up to him.
“How do you mean, sir?” he said.
“I was thinking that I’d quite like to be rid of these three once and for all. How would you feel if we trapped them in that tomb—made it their final resting place?”
Emiline felt suddenly cold. Her fingers started to shake behind her back.
“It took ten men and a complicated winch to open that door,” said Smedley. “It’s as good a prison as any!”
“That sounds like a done deal to me, then! Take them into the pyramid and remove anything that might be of use to them. Then, when you’re satisfied, close the door and seal them inside forever.”
Scratcher’s heart was beating loudly, and he shifted sideways as he began to feel trapped.
“You are a worm,” said Drewshank flatly. “You may remove us from your list of enemies, but there are plenty who will take our place. You won’t leave this island alive.”
“Oh, won’t I?” said Battersby. “It’s a shame you’ll never know! Take them away.”
Miserley dragged Emiline up onto her feet, and once she was standing, Drewshank and Scratcher were hurried to theirs.
“This way,” said Smedley. He pushed them up the staircase into the pyramid and guided them through the tunnel. Miserley followed them, and when they finally reached the large tomb with the diamond-studded roof, they were allowed a moment to look around.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said Smedley, as much in awe of it as his prisoners, who were seeing it for the first time. “I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but orders are orders, aren’t they.”