Before Sabre could respond, Whisker swung his arm over his shoulder and hurled the key across the cavern. Sabre watched in horror as the key sped through the air, bounced over the stone floor and skidded to a halt in the centre of the archway. It took Sabre a moment to realise the key hadn’t gone over the precipice.
Whisker flashed Sabre an exaggerated look of disappointment – just to be sure. Sabre gave Whisker a vicious smile and leapt after the key.
‘Lucky me,’ he purred.
Without a word, Whisker turned and fled in the opposite direction.
He was only halfway to the door when he heard a deafening roar behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Sabre scooping up the key as the mighty bear burst through the archway.
The bear battered Sabre aside like a rag doll, sending the key flying out of his paws. The key ricocheted off the archway and disappeared over the edge of the precipice. Sabre hissed in anger. The bear roared in fury and charged after Whisker.
Fuelled by fear, Whisker ran like the wind. Driven by rage, the bear ran like the wind on windy, windy island and reached Whisker in seconds.
With the door right in front of him, Whisker skidded to a halt and threw himself to the ground. Unable to stop, the bear bounded over him, and collided with the stone door with a hard THUD!
Reeling in anger, it staggered back and slammed the door with its paw.
THUD!
‘Two taps,’ Whisker gasped.
He leapt to his feet and pushed his way through the matted jungle of brown fur above him. The bear looked down in rage and took a wild swipe at the tiny creature.
Whisker felt the powerful palm of the bear strike his torso, knocking the wind out of his lungs. His body flew backwards and crashed into the centre of the door.
THUD!
Whisker slid down the stone and dropped to the ground in a crumpled heap. He peered up through bleary eyes to see the bear standing over him and hoped Sabre had been telling the truth about one thing – three knocks and the door opens.
The bear opened its jaws and let out a savage ROAR! At the same moment, the door began to move. Bright light streamed through the widening gap, dazzling the startled bear.
Whisker rolled free from the path of the door as four bound bodies tumbled through. He felt a wave of relief pass through him – Ruby and the mice were alive.
The twins, tied back-to-back, struggled to stay upright and crashed to the ground. Mr Tribble, arms tightly bound behind him, tripped over the mice and nose-planted into the belly of the bear. His glasses spun off his nose and landed against the wall.
The bear lumbered forward, regaining its senses, and flung Mr Tribble backwards into Ruby. Ruby, in the process of wriggling one arm free, managed to stay on her feet and staggered out of the bear’s path.
The great brute stared through the open doorway at the terrified faces of Prowler and Furious Fur, unsure of who or what to attack next.
The door began to close and the bear stepped forward.
Prowler grabbed Eaton’s lantern from a rock and shone it directly into the bear’s face. It covered its eyes with its paws and blindly stumbled backwards.
Seizing his opportunity, Whisker darted across the cavern to help the twins. Before he could reach them, an orange and black body barged him out of the way. Whisker raised his arms in defence, but a wayward kick sent him tumbling to the ground. Helplessly, he watched as Captain Sabre hurdled over the mice and leapt through the door.
The light disappeared and with a THUD … D … D … the door slammed shut, leaving Whisker and his companions trapped with the bear.
The manic beast reached down and scooped up the terrified twins in its arms. The mice squealed in terror. Without a weapon, Whisker did the only thing he could think of and leapt onto the foot of the bear, sinking his front teeth into its toes.
The bear howled in pain, dropping the mice onto the rocky floor of the cavern. With a sharp flick of its foot, it dislodged Whisker from its toes and took a follow-up swing at him with its right paw.
Whisker ducked out of the way, but the bear’s claw caught a strand of rope dangling from Ruby’s arm. She was flung off her feet and soared towards the precipice.
With one arm free, she managed to grab a rock as she bounced over the edge. Her body swung like a pendulum. Whisker saw her fingers slipping.
Ignoring the bear, he took a running step forward and flung himself towards the edge. His right paw caught Ruby’s arm as her fingers released their grip. She was secure, but Whisker’s body kept moving.
With a sudden feeling of déjà vu, he whipped his tail behind him, coiling it around a rock. As his tail took the strain, he threw his left paw over his shoulder and gripped the edge of the cliff.
Everything stopped moving. Whisker hung twisted at the top of the precipice, with Ruby clinging to his arm.
‘Hold on,’ he gasped. ‘Just hold on.’
He wished desperately it was that simple.
He looked down at Ruby, struggling to maintain her grip on his paw, and felt the bear’s breath on the back of his neck.
Ruby stared back at him with a terrified expression on her face and whispered, ‘Let go. Save yourself.’
In that instant, a dozen emotions raced through Whisker’s mind: fear, despair, love … regret – He knew he had no choice. There was only one decision he could live – or die – with.
Tightening his grip on Ruby’s arm, he waited for the end.
Angels
A bright light appeared from the roof above Whisker, illuminating everything in its path. It wasn’t lantern light – it was heavenly light, pure and clear. Whisker stared in wonder as the girl on the end of his arm transformed into a scarlet angel, her face a radiant vision of warmth and beauty.
Am I dead? he thought. Is this rat heaven?
His ears suddenly filled with the sound of falling rocks and the startled squeaks of the mice. The next moment, a huge hairy shadow passed over his head, disappearing into the darkness. A splash echoed from far below, followed by the defeated cries of the bear.
The sounds slowly faded. The stream gurgled softly, washing all of Whisker’s fears away. Wearily, he pulled himself onto the cliff top, hauling Ruby with him. It was exhausting work. His arms ached. His scarlet angel had no wings.
He crouched on the edge of the precipice, his muscles burning, his lungs gasping for air. He wasn’t in heaven, but the dazzling light around him told him heaven was close enough to touch.
As Whisker’s eyes adjusted to the heavenly aura, Ruby freed her second arm from the rope and gave him a look that was anything but angelic.
‘You’re as foolish as you are reckless, Whisker,’ she snapped, unable to hide her trembling voice. ‘You had one chance of survival. Why didn’t you take it?’
Whisker interpreted Ruby’s gruff address as her way of saying thanks for saving me.
‘I guess there’s more to life than survival,’ he said sheepishly. ‘It’s something the Hermit taught me.’ He paused and added, ‘And some rats are really hard to let go.’
Ruby’s face softened. She looked at Whisker and smiled. It wasn’t an angelic smile, it was something much better: it was a rare Ruby smile.
‘You’re lucky your one chance of survival turned into two,’ she said. ‘We’re both lucky.’
Whisker knew it was more than luck. He looked across at the pile of rocks in the centre of the floor. Lying unconscious on the top of the heap and gently snoring in the sunlight was the real angel of the mountain – Rat Bait.
‘I guess he found a way out,’ Whisker said.
‘Or a way in,’ Ruby added, pointing to the ceiling. ‘There’s a tunnel right above us that appears to lead straight out of the mountain.’
‘It’s a pity we didn’t know that from the start,’ Mr Tribble muttered, sitting up. ‘It would have saved us a great deal of bother.’ He sniffed the air. ‘I take it the bear has gone? I can’t see a thing without my glasses.’
‘I think
he went swimming,’ Whisker murmured.
‘Is that why I can smell fish?’ Mr Tribble asked.
‘Err, no … that would be me,’ Whisker sighed.
‘You’re glowing, too,’ Mr Tribble exclaimed. ‘Has the treasure transformed you into a deep-sea phosphorescent fish?’
Ruby rolled her eye and began untying the twins. Whisker picked up Mr Tribble’s spectacles from the floor and positioned them on his nose.
‘Now I see,’ Mr Tribble said. ‘It’s an Arachnocampa fungus gnat.’
The glow worm dulled slightly.
‘I think he prefers glow worm,’ Whisker said. ‘And no, I didn’t get a chance to open the chest. I was too busy …’
SCRRRRRR … The door began to open.
‘Here we go again,’ Whisker muttered.
‘A second bear would be handy right about now,’ Ruby scowled, grabbing Rat Bait’s sword and moving towards the entrance.
Whisker picked up a shard of stone and stood by her side as light streamed through the open doorway, heralding an onslaught of armed attackers. They flooded in with a SQUEAK and a BUZZ.
‘AVAST YE SCURVY SARDINES!’ cried an over-excited voice.
‘Put up your paws!’ roared another.
‘Onions ahoy!’ cheered a third.
‘I’ll flatten you like a fritter!’ boomed a fourth.
‘I can’t see any bears, Captain,’ sniffled a fifth.
The excitement quickly fizzled out.
Whisker dropped his stone, Ruby lowered her sword and their beloved Captain Black Rat gave them a formal salute.
‘Crew at ease,’ he said, jovially. ‘It appears everyone is alive and well.’
‘Only just,’ Mr Tribble muttered.
‘Cheer up, Tribble,’ Horace laughed. ‘The gallant heroes have arrived to rescue you.’
‘Rescue us from what?’ Ruby scoffed. ‘A glow worm? You’re a bit late for the real battle.’
Horace pointed a hot chilli sauce bottle at her. ‘Rotten pies to you, too, Ruby. We’ve just fought an entire crew of Cat Fish to get here. And we retrieved your swords from a flooded tunnel. A little gratitude wouldn’t go astray.’
‘Technically, we only fought two Cat Fish,’ Pete muttered. ‘Furious Fur was asleep on a rock and the others ran in the opposite direction yelling Bear! Bear!’
‘Well, they might come back,’ Horace said defensively. ‘And then you’ll need us.’
‘I doubt they’ll return,’ Whisker said, as Fred handed him a slightly bent green scissor sword, ‘not without a key.’
‘W-what happened to the key?’ Horace gasped.
‘The bear knocked it out of Sabre’s paw,’ Whisker explained.
‘So where is it now?’ Horace asked, staring around the cavern.
Whisker pointed over the edge of the precipice.
‘Oh dear,’ Fred groaned. ‘Oh double dear.’
‘Rotten pies to King’s Keys,’ Horace moped. ‘If only I had my skeleton key.’
‘Well you don’t,’ Pete snorted. ‘So stop your whining. It’s your fault you’re as clumsy as Whisker and lost your stupid skeleton key on Prison Island.’
‘But Madam Pearl promised to buy me a new one,’ Horace grumbled.
‘Well she can’t buy it now, can she?’ Pete snapped. ‘She’s stuck in the next room with a paw on a button and I haven’t seen a single locksmith, keysmith or burglar supply shop on this entire stinking island –’
‘Ahem,’ Whisker interrupted, his face breaking into a sly grin.
Pete and Horace stopped arguing and turned to look at him. Whisker reached into his right pocket and pulled something out. The Hermit’s eyes lit up.
‘Ratbeard’s reward!’ the Captain exclaimed.
‘Hey!’ Horace cried. ‘Isn’t that …?’
‘Yep,’ Whisker said, giving the Hermit a grateful smile. ‘The one and only.’
‘Pays to have a copy,’ the Hermit chuckled. ‘Just in case.’
Whisker handed him the King’s Key – not the rusty metal copy from the Hermit’s bag that vanished over the edge – but the real King’s Key.
‘You started this quest,’ he said. ‘You deserve the honour of finishing it.’
The Hermit took the key and bowed. ‘Honour belongs to Hermit, yes, yes, but treasure belongs to everyone.’
‘Oh, one last thing,’ Whisker said. ‘There’s a small rock stuck in the keyhole. We might need something sharp like –’
‘– a hook to get it out!’ Horace cried, rushing over to the chest. ‘Better than any skeleton key.’
While Horace fiddled with the keyhole, Ruby and Pete untied the mice and Fred wedged his fighting fork in the door to stop it closing. Madam Pearl joined the others around the chest. The moment had finally come.
With all the fleeing and fighting and searching and surviving, Whisker hadn’t had time to prepare himself for what he was about to discover. His hopes were high and his tail tingled as the Hermit inserted the key.
Click. One simple turn and the lid unlocked.
The Pie Rats positioned themselves around the huge metal lid and collectively heaved. It took all their strength to raise it off the rock. A waft of stale air drifted through the gap and with it came a familiar smell – the smell of Pete’s cabin.
The lid swung back against the wall and the Pie Rats peered inside. At the bottom of a shallow pit lay a single dust-covered book. The Hermit carefully lifted the book and handed it to Whisker.
‘Our treasure,’ he whispered.
Whisker took the book in his paws and studied it closely. It was extremely thick and felt even heavier than it looked. Its embossed cover was bound in a finely woven fabric and coated in a dense resin. The edges of its pages were whiter than any book Whisker had ever seen and he wondered if it had ever seen the light of day.
Despite its mysterious grandeur, the book was still a book, and Whisker had hoped for something more: a crystal ball … a magic staff … an item of great power? He’d tried to convince himself that such magical items could exist. He wanted to believe in miracles, that anything was possible. But staring down at the cover of the book, all he felt was bitter disappointment. He was like a birthday boy unwrapping a gift he wished was something else.
Still, he told himself, a book is better than nothing at all.
He put on a brave face and clung to a faint hope that the book contained the answer he’d been waiting for – where is my family?
With the rest of the crew watching him closely, Whisker brushed a layer of dust off the cover, revealing several lines of flaked gold writing.
‘More blasted riddles,’ Pete mumbled, pointing to the words. ‘I’m all for books, don’t get me wrong, but a ton of diamonds wouldn’t go astray.’
Without a response, Whisker placed his finger on the corner of the cover and flipped the book open.
The first page was blank.
Whisker turned to the second page. It was blank, too.
The third page – blank.
The fourth – blank.
He flicked through the pages with his thumb. Blank, blank, blank, blank, blank, blank, blank … Every page was the same: blank.
In stunned silence, Whisker closed the cover and reread the golden riddle … knowledge shines bright in the pages concealed.
He opened the book one last time. The pages were as white as sun shining on snow, but there was no knowledge, no wisdom, no power – no answers. The book was a blank journal, a sketchbook, whatever he wanted it to be.
Whisker wanted it gone.
He felt rage boiling up inside of him. He gritted his teeth. ‘All of this for a blank book?’
‘It’s ironic really …’ Pete began.
‘IT’S NOT IRONIC!’ Whisker exploded, hurling the book at the pile of rocks. ‘It’s a sick joke.’
The book hit the ground, bursting open. Whisker shook his fist at the open book like it was a living creature.
‘I believed in you!’ he yelled. ‘I trusted you. I
did what you asked. I solved your riddles. I defeated your guardians … and-and you gave me – nothing!’
He slumped to his knees and covered his face with his paws. The crew watched, bewildered.
‘You were supposed to find them,’ he sobbed. ‘You were supposed to bring them back. You were supposed to fix everything …’ His voice trailed off.
No one spoke. The glow worm dimmed. Through the pained silence, Whisker felt the eyes of the entire crew staring at him, judging him, seeing him for what he really was: nothing more than a pathetic dreamer. He drew a deep breath and exhaled, releasing what anger he had left.
‘I’m such an idiot,’ he muttered. ‘It was a stupid hope, I know.’
‘It wasn’t stupid,’ Horace said quietly, placing his paw on Whisker’s shoulder. ‘Believe me, I should know. I’m the king of stupid.’
Pete snorted.
Horace waved his hook in Pete’s general direction and continued, ‘Most rats would have given up hope of finding their family the day of the cyclone, but not you, Whisker. You’re more than a survivor. You’re an inspiration.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Fred concurred.
Whisker slowly looked up. Fred’s giant face grew even wider with a beaming smile. The Captain nodded in admiration and Ruby, tough as nails Ruby, pretended she had something in her teary eye.
‘You don’t need a magical treasure to find your family,’ Horace went on, ‘you’ve got everything it takes: courage, determination, ingenuity, not to mention boatloads of luck – and that’s just a start. I could go on and on all day, but that would be rambling, so I’ll leave it at that before Pete calls us both nasty names –’
Horace shut his mouth and Whisker felt slightly less stupid. Pete stamped his pencil leg in annoyance.
‘Why am I always the bad guy?’ he snapped. ‘I had no intention of calling our fragile young apprentice stupid, dim-witted or a cry baby. He’s clearly worked up about the book. I’m worked up about the book. We’re broke, half-dead, fishy-smelling, and all we have to show for it is a choose-your-own adventure book with no beginning, no middle and no end!’
The Island of Destiny Page 16