Wychetts and the Key to Magic

by William Holley

Chapter 13- Minus a Flip Flop

  A wary Bryony followed Slinker through the tunnels. She tried to keep as much distance as possible between herself and the weasel, but at the same time didn’t want to run the risk of being left behind and getting lost. As much as she felt uncomfortable in the presence of Slinker, she knew he was her only chance of finding the Key.

  But then what?

  Even though the rats were criminals, Bryony had felt sure she could do a deal with them. But Slinker was a different proposition. Bryony now realised that events at the ravine were no accident, and that Slinker had intended to take the Key for himself all along.

  “You’re quiet,” hissed Slinker, halting as they reached a bend in the tunnel. “Anything the matter?” There was a look in that single weasel eye that focussed on Bryony, but it wasn’t a look of concern.

  “My feet are killing me,” said Bryony, drawing level with Slinker. That wasn’t a total lie; although it wasn’t easy walking minus a flip-flop, both her feet were already so sore and blistered that it hadn’t made that much of a difference.

  “And I’m hungry,” she added. “I could murder a piece of cardboard.”

  “Help yourself.” Slinker stooped, allowing Bryony to rummage through the sack on his back. The supplies were disappointing, just a few seed husks and assorted crumbs, no cardboard in sight. Slinker explained that cardboard was a luxury these days, and that as food was scarce on the island, the rats had to live on any scraps they could find. The rats blamed the Sisterhood for taking all the food, but Slinker said he had another idea.

  “So what’s your idea?” asked Bryony, deciding she wasn’t so hungry after all.

  Slinker’s nose twitched, and then he lifted his head and inhaled. “I can smell it,” he whispered. “There’s something down here. Something that’s been here a long time, waiting for us.”

  Bryony sniffed, her mouse senses picking up a hint of a scent. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, reminding her of rotting cabbage and, what was that, fish?

  “No one has ever returned from the Pit,” said Slinker, his voice still a whisper. “There are legends about the place. Some say it was where the Wise Ones imprisoned the Terrible Fang all those years ago. And that the Fang is still down there, waiting for the day when it can break free from its bonds and take revenge on the world.”

  Bryony remembered Stubby talking about the Terrible Fang. “So you think this monster took all the food? And killed the old rat boss, too?”

  “Maybe.” Slinker shrugged. “Maybe not. But if that monster is down there, getting that Key of yours won’t be as simple as you thought.”

  So far, mused Bryony, none of this had been anywhere near as simple as she’d thought. “Perhaps we should head back to the lair. Explain to the other rats what happened.”

  “We can’t go back,” said Slinker. “There’s no way of crossing that ravine now. And even if we could, why would we want to?”

  “They’ve got Edwin and Stubby. We can’t leave them at the mercy of the rats.”

  “They’d have done the same to you. And I wouldn’t have blamed them. On the Isle of Lost Souls, it’s every vermin for himself.”

  “I’m not vermin,” said Bryony, folding her arms.

  Slinker laughed. “You’re kidding me.”

  Bryony’s gaze dropped to her blistered feet. Slinker was probably right: she’d behaved like a common criminal, leaving Edwin and Stubby back at the lair, only thinking of getting the Key for herself.

  “I can’t leave them,” she whispered.

  Slinker’s demeanour darkened. “Listen, Your Ladyship. You’ve got to wise up if you want to get out of this madhouse. So you either stick with me and find that Key of yours, or I can leave you on your own to wander these tunnels until you fall prey to whatever might be lurking down here. The choice is yours.”

  Bryony considered Slinker’s ultimatum, her stomach churning in the process. This was all her own making. If she hadn’t done a deal with the Ratello Mob, she never would have ended up in such a predicament. She should have stuck with Edwin and Stubby. Together they might have found a way of reaching the Key. But on her own, she was vulnerable. And afraid.

  “Well?” Slinker’s eye narrowed to a beady slit.

  Bryony lifted her head to meet the weasel’s gaze. “I…”

  Suddenly Slinker lunged at her. Bryony screamed, but the sound became a whimper as a weasel paw clamped across her mouth.

  She struggled, but Slinker was too strong for her. “Sshh,” he hissed, pressing her against the wall of the tunnel. “Unless you want to be eaten.”

  Bryony had no intention of being eaten, and struggled even harder until she realised what Slinker meant.

  “There’s something coming,” he whispered. “Straight for us.”

  Bryony listened, and heard a sound filtering up the tunnel. It was a strange noise, a combination of heavy breathing and laboured scuffling. She couldn’t see what was causing the noise because there was a bend in the tunnel, but she guessed it was unlikely to be something very pleasant.

  Slinker peeled his paw from Bryony’s mouth and motioned for her to keep quiet. Then he moved away, his sinewy body twisting as he edged down the tunnel and took up a position just behind the bend.

  The breathing, scuffling noise got louder. Bryony glimpsed a shadow on the tunnel wall, a horribly distorted shape of something foul and evil. And then the monster itself came into view…