Wychetts and the Key to Magic

by William Holley

Chapter 18- What if Something Nasty Comes Along?

  At the very last moment, Slinker sprang from the raft, hoisting Stubby and Bryony with him. Bryony saw the raft disintegrate as it smashed into the grille, and then she was lifted out of the tunnel and dumped onto dry land.

  Dry land! Bryony lay still, gasping for breath and savouring the feeling of solidity beneath her.

  “Remind me never to go on holiday with you again,” murmured Stubby, dropping to the ground beside her. “Next year I’ll play it safe and book a week’s accommodation in an industrial food blender.”

  Bryony laughed, but the laugh became a cough as her mouth expelled several gulps of river water. Then, when her throat was clear, she looked up to see where she was.

  It was, surprise surprise, another underground passage.

  “We must be near the Pit,” said Slinker, who seemed none the worse for their watery ordeal. Bryony was going to ask how he knew, when she inhaled and caught that scent of compost heap and fish. The smell was much stronger now.

  Energised by a renewed sense of hope, Bryony sprang to her feet. “It must be this way,” she guessed, pointing down the passage. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  “Wait.” Stubby raised a paw and pointed to the passage wall. “Look over there. Is that writing?”

  Bryony didn’t see any writing, but she could make out some weird swirly lines scratched into the rock.

  “It’s Mouse,” said Stubby, examining the marks on the wall. “An old script. Third Era, I’d say. Which makes it over six hundred years old.”

  Bryony stared at the swirls. Then her mouse senses kicked in, and the swirls became letters.

  “I can read it,” she gasped. But her elation at learning a new language quickly vanished when she recited the words aloud. “Let all who enter the Pit be warned that only death awaits them.”

  “There’s more writing down there.” Slinker pointed to another group of swirls nearer the ground.

  Bryony leaned over and read. “Please wipe your feet.”

  “That’s a cheery little greeting,” pondered Slinker. “Only death awaits.” He slipped the sack of supplies from his back and handed it to Bryony. “Take this. I’ll go ahead to do some scouting. You two stay here till I get back.”

  Bryony wasn’t keen on that idea; whilst she still didn’t entirely trust Slinker, she knew they’d be safer with him at their side.

  “But what if something nasty comes along?” she asked, taking the sack.

  “Scream,” instructed Slinker.

  “And then you’ll come back?”

  “Naw.” Slinker grinned. “Then I’ll know there ain’t no point coming back. See ya.”

  Bryony had mixed feelings as she watched Slinker scamper off down the passage. Whilst she was anxious about him deserting them, she was also grateful for a rest and a bite to eat. Despite her earlier reluctance, she had developed quite a liking for mouldy crumbs, although she would still give anything for a chew on a nice piece of cardboard.

  She opened the sack and dipped her fingers inside, but then yelped and withdrew her hand. The sack was full of cold water, and the supplies had turned to soggy mulch.

  A deflated Bryony dumped the sack and sat down, resting her back against the passage wall. She had thought it would be easy retrieving the Key on her own, but instead it had turned into a nightmare. She was cold, wet, hungry and exhausted. And, she suddenly noticed, she’d lost her remaining flip-flop.

  But at least she was alive.

  Her thoughts turned to Edwin. She hoped she wasn’t too late to save him. And Jane, too. And of course Dad, wherever he was right now.

  Bryony stifled a sob. Stubby glanced up at her, his black button eyes wide and enquiring. “We’ll be fine,” said the mouse, with uncharacteristic warmth. “And I’m sure the boy is fine as well.”

  Bryony detected a hint of doubt in Stubby’s voice. And something else, too.

  “It’s Moll,” he whispered, in answer to Bryony’s questioning look. “She risked her life to help us, and paid the ultimate price. She was innocent, stranded here by accident. The one creature worth saving on this miserable island, and I let her die.”

  “Do you think it was the Sisterhood?” Bryony didn’t want to dwell on the subject, but she was curious all the same.

  “I can’t be sure,” admitted Stubby. “It came so fast I didn’t see anything. Except a pair of red eyes.”

  Bryony gasped. “Could it be the Terrible Fang? Slinker thinks the monster is alive and roaming the tunnels. He thinks it might have taken the old rat Boss.”

  Stubby snorted. “Don’t listen to what that weasel says. He can’t be trusted about anything.”

  “He saved our lives just now.”

  “Only because he had to,” maintained Stubby. “Don’t be under any illusions about Slinker. He’d sell your head in a heartbeat if he needed some loose change.”

  “My head’s worth more than loose change,” muttered Bryony, pulling her knees up under her chin.

  “Only as a novelty paperweight,” said Stubby. “Anyway, I’m still not sure what attacked me. I did pick up a strong scent, though. Like the one I’m getting now.”

  “Dead fish and compost?”

  Stubby nodded. “But that doesn’t mean…” His voice trailed off, and his nostrils twitched. “Hold on. I can smell something else, too. Oh no.” Stubby’s black button eyes widened. “Not them!”

  Bryony inhaled. There was still that stink of dead fish and compost, but now there was another aroma mixed in with it. This second smell came from up the passage, the opposite direction to the compost stench.

  She breathed in, wrinkling her nose as she tried to decipher the scent.

  Musty. Like old garden sheds. Kitchen cupboards. And dead insects.

  And then she heard a noise. Faint at first, but getting steadily louder. A strange, scratchy-scuttling sound…