Chapter 11- Don’t Look Down
“How much further?” whined Bryony, following the rats through yet another dingy drainage tunnel. “This is taking ages.”
“We’d have made better progress if it wasn’t for you,” said Pipsqueak. “You’re slowing us down.”
“I’m wearing flip flops,” muttered Bryony, wincing as she felt another blister forming on her left foot. “They’re not designed for pot holing.”
Pipsqueak halted, and wheeled round to point at Bryony. “Don’t forget there are two Guardians. We have the boy back at the lair, which makes you expendable.”
“But I’m the Principle Guardian,” lied Bryony. “The boy is my junior. He doesn’t know how to use the Key.”
“If you’re such an expert, then how come you lost the Key in the first place?” It was Slinker who asked this question, his single eye boring into Bryony as he spoke.
“That was Edwin’s fault. He tried to take the Key from me, and made it overload.” Satisfied with her explanation, Bryony turned her nose up at the weasel.
“Principle Guardian or not,” shrieked Pipsqueak, “we ain’t got room for passengers. So keep up with the pace, or I’ll call the whole deal off.”
Bryony shrugged. “Then you’ll never get to use the magic. You’ll be trapped on this island forever.”
“And so will you,” pointed out Pipsqueak. “And don’t expect the Ratello Mob to make your stay a happy one.”
Bryony bit her lip. Whilst she doubted if the Ratello Mob would turn down a chance to use the Key’s magic, she couldn’t run the risk of antagonising them. They were vicious criminals, after all.
Pipsqueak and the rats set off again down the tunnel. Bryony followed, cursing her blistered feet and wondering if she’d made the right choice throwing her lot in with the rats. She’d had the idea as soon as they were captured, but daren’t make the offer until there was no other option. She didn’t like the idea of doing a deal with a gang of rodent crooks, but what choice did she have? It was the only way she was going to find the Key, the only way she could ever hope to see Mr Cuddles again. And, of course, rescue Dad, Jane and Edwin.
“He’s not as tough as he seems,” whispered a voice in her ear.
Bryony looked round and saw Slinker sidling close to her. “Who?” she asked, avoiding eye contact with the weasel.
“That Pipsqueak,” hissed Slinker. “He ain’t cut out to lead the gang, and he knows it. That’s why he over compensates with all that tough guy rubbish.”
“So how did he become leader?” wondered Bryony. “What happened to the old boss?”
Slinker dipped his head even closer to Bryony, so close that his whiskers brushed her cheek. “Boss Ratbags went off on his own one night, and was never seen again. Next morning a letter was found in his private living burrow. It was an anonymous invitation to a rendezvous in the lower drains, promising him a way of escaping the island and restoring the Ratello Mob to its former glory. Most reckon it was a trap by the Sisterhood, but I ain’t so sure of that.”
“So who do you think did it?” At last Bryony turned to look Slinker in the eye.
“Not for me to say,” replied Slinker. “The fact is the Ratello Mob lost their great leader, and that’s when Pipsqueak took over. As the old Boss’s son, he was automatic choice, and there were no rival candidates. Dagger Tooth was second in command, but he’s no leader. The sharpest thing about that old rodent is his name. I volunteered for the job, but as a weasel they said I didn’t qualify.”
Bryony had been wondering about that. “Have you always been part of the Ratello Mob?”
“Naw. I was a solo operator in the outside world. Was only after being sent here I decided to join the rats. It hasn’t been easy. Rodents are not trusting by nature, and it’s taken me a while to fit in.”
Bryony had noticed how the rats seemed wary of Slinker. Originally he wasn’t supposed to be coming with them on this mission. Pipsqueak had assembled a troop of his twenty finest sewer scouts (including Slim Jim and Baby Face Bob, plus Dagger Tooth and himself), but Slinker had tagged along, and whilst Pipsqueak obviously didn’t welcome the weasel’s presence, he hadn’t sent Slinker away; especially after Slinker had volunteered to carry the provisions.
“Rats are scavengers,” explained Slinker, adjusting the large sack strapped to his slender body. “I’m a hunter, with an inbuilt instinct for survival. The rats know that, which is why they keep me in the gang.”
“Must be nice to be appreciated,” observed Bryony, unable to keep a twang of sarcasm from her voice.
“It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement,” said Slinker, with a glint in his single eye. “Figure it’s my best chance of survival. Got to look after number one. But I reckon you don’t need lessons from me on that, Your Ladyship.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Bryony.
“Quick to do a deal with the mob, weren’t you? Didn’t mind leaving your little brother back in the lair, neither.”
“He’s not my real brother,” explained Bryony. “And anyway, he’s safer there. I’m only thinking of him.” That wasn’t entirely true, of course. And from the look in his eye, it was obvious Slinker knew as such.
“I don’t blame you,” said the weasel. “But I didn’t know there was such a thing as a Principle Guardian. I thought Guardians were supposed to share the magic power.”
Bryony frowned. “What do you know about Guardians? Back in the lair you said we didn’t even exist.”
“Halt!” Dagger Tooth’s command echoed down the tunnel, and the column of marching rats obeyed.
“Are we there?” Bryony broke away from Slinker, and weaved her way through the line of rats to where Dagger Tooth and Pipsqueak stood. The two rats were talking, but the sound of their voices was masked by another noise: a booming roar that echoed from somewhere below.
“Are we there?” repeated Bryony, louder this time.
“Not yet,” shouted Dagger Tooth, pointing forwards. “First we have to cross the ravine.”
Bryony looked where the rat pointed, and noticed the tunnel stopped a short distance ahead. She stepped forwards and peered down, and her stomach lurched at what she saw…
There was a sheer drop below. In real terms Bryony guessed it was probably no more than a couple of metres, but in her current size it seemed a hundred times that height. At the bottom was the river, a raging torrent that crashed and splashed angrily against the rocky slopes of the ravine before disappearing into a swirling whirlpool.
“This part of the drainage channel collapsed years ago,” said Slinker, dragging Bryony back from the edge of the ravine. “Careful now. Don’t want to fall down there. The current will carry you off in seconds.”
“Where does it go?” wondered Bryony.
“No one knows,” said Dagger Tooth. “Some reckon it feeds an underground lake further down. Others say it goes straight to hell.”
Slinker nodded. “The tip is, no paddling.”
“So how do we get across?” Bryony noted the other side of the ravine was some distance away, too far to jump.
“We use the bridge,” said Slinker.
Bryony didn’t see a bridge. But she did see a feeble looking bit of twine stretched across the ravine. And then she realised that was the bridge.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“It’s easy to cross,” said Slinker. “Allow me to demonstrate.”
There was a blur of reddish-brown movement, and suddenly Slinker was on the other side of the ravine.
“See,” called Slinker, displaying his pointed teeth in a triumphant grin. “Simple as falling off a tightrope. Although that probably ain’t the best metaphor to have used in this situation.”
“Let’s get going,” ordered Pipsqueak. “You at the front, hurry it up there.”
It took a couple of seconds before Bryony realised she was the one at the front. “I’m not going first,” she protested, retreating from the edge of the ravine. “What if the twine snaps?”
“Are you saying you’re fat?” asked Dagger Tooth.
“Of course not.” Bryony glared at the rat. “It’s just… er… I’ll slow everyone up.”
“We’ll have to wait for you whatever,” said Pipsqueak. “So you may as well go first. That’s unless you’re thinking of backing out of the deal, in which case my lads will take great delight in throwing you into the ravine themselves. The choice is yours.”
Bryony didn’t think that represented much of a choice, yet she knew there was no way out of it. She shuffled slowly to the edge of the ravine, trying to hide her fear as she inspected the length of twine. There was no way she could balance on it like Slinker had done, so she would have to somehow crawl her way across.
There was a narrow ledge just below the twine, onto which Bryony gingerly lowered herself. The twine was tied to a wooden peg wedged into the rock, with another peg on the other side of the ravine. Bryony grabbed the twine with both hands, and pulled hard to make sure the twine, and the pegs, would take her weight.
“In your own time,” said Dagger Tooth, in a manner suggesting he meant totally the opposite.
Realising all eyes were upon her, Bryony hoisted herself up and wrapped her legs around the twine so that she was hanging lengthways beneath it. Then she edged forwards, pulling herself along the twine with her hands and feeding it through her clenched knees.
“That’s it,” called Slinker, watching from the other side of the ravine. “Keep moving. And don’t look down.”
Don’t look down.
Even as she heard those words, Bryony felt one of her flip-flops slipping off her foot. She dared not let go of the twine, so had no choice but to let the flip-flop fall into the ravine. Her gaze followed it down, her black eyes widening as she saw the flip-flop swallowed by the foaming waters below. The whirlpool gushed and gurgled, its swirling currents holding her gaze with an almost hypnotic power. For a second she forgot where she was; her arms and legs relaxed, and she lost her grip on the twine…
Snapping out of her reverie, Bryony managed to regain a hold on the twine just in time to stop herself falling.
“I told you not to look down,” shouted Slinker. “Just keep moving.”
Bryony lifted her head, took several deep breaths, and then hauled herself across the twine. She managed to get into a rhythm of pull, slide, pull, slide, and within a few more seconds she was half way across.
“Now the rest of you,” ordered Slinker, beckoning to the rats.
“We’d better wait till she’s crossed,” said Dagger Tooth, but Pipsqueak overruled his second in command, and ordered his rats onto the twine.
Bryony felt the twine go taut in her grip, and glanced back to see Slim Jim’s rotund form clinging to the twine, with a line of rats behind him.
“Hurry up,” squealed Pipsqueak, bringing up the rear behind Dagger Tooth.
Bryony tried to oblige, but her arms felt suddenly tired. Then she heard a creaking noise, and noticed the wooden peg on the far side of the ravine was moving.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” said Slinker, in response to Bryony’s anxious look. “Just a bit loose, but it’ll hold.”
“Looks more than a bit loose to me,” shrieked Pipsqueak.
“It’ll hold.” Slinker reached out to Bryony. “Quickly now. To me.”
A grimacing Bryony dragged herself along the twine. The creaking noise got louder, and the wooden peg twitched more threateningly with every pull of her arms.
“Nearly there,” crooned Slinker, still reaching out to Bryony. “Just a couple more strokes.”
Pull, slide. Pull, slide.
Bryony’s right hand found Slinker’s paw, just as the wooden peg sprang free from the rock.
She heard a chorus of startled squeaks from behind, and looked back to see Pipsqueak, Dagger Tooth, and a line of twenty rats tumbling into the ravine.
“I got you.” Slinker hoisted Bryony onto the ledge.
“What about them?” she asked, pointing into the ravine. The rats clung desperately to the twine as the raging waters swirled around them.
Slinker shrugged. “Nothing we can do.”
“But I made a deal with them.” Bryony couldn’t understand Slinker’s indifference. “And what happened to honour amongst thieves?”
“There ain’t no honour amongst thieves,” laughed Slinker. “It’s every vermin for himself. I used the Ratello Mob to protect me on this island, just as you used them to find a way to the Key. You didn’t really plan to honour your side of the bargain, did you?”
“Well, I…” Actually, Bryony hadn’t even thought that far ahead at the time. “But…”
A shrill squeal cut through Bryony’s reply. Pipsqueak clung to the twine, barely able to keep his head above the water. “This is your doing,” he shrieked at Slinker and Bryony. “You planned this! But I’ll get even with you. No one crosses the Ratello Mob and lives to tell the…”
There was a loud snap, and Bryony saw the peg on the other side of the ravine had broken. All she could do was watch as the Ratello Mob and their Boss went spiralling into the whirlpool. There was a greedy gurgling noise, and in seconds all the rats had disappeared.
Bryony stared at the churning waters, too stunned to move or speak.
“There was nothing we could have done,” said Slinker, his voice devoid of pity. “Just consider yourself lucky you didn’t go down with them. And that I volunteered to carry the supplies.”
Bryony knew Slinker was probably right. But somehow she couldn’t share his hard-hearted view. “I made a deal with them. I said I’d help them.”
“Maybe you still can,” mused Slinker. “Rats are strong swimmers. If they keep alive long enough, there’s a chance you might be able to save them. But only if we find that Key of yours.”
Before Bryony could reply, Slinker grabbed her arm and dragged her down the tunnel. “In any case, it’s better this way. The rats were cramping my style. I prefer to operate on a more personal level.” Again there was that glint in his single eye. “It’s just you and me now, Your Ladyship.”
Wychetts and the Key to Magic Page 12