That pleased the spiders. Some of them started to take the web apart while others scuttled off to find a suitable throne for their new emperor.
News of Ravanola’s death spread quickly. Though few in the city had ever seen her, the empress was such an awesome presence that it seemed impossible that she could be dead. Suddenly, the carnival was over. Stoats slunk to their houses, rats crept to their dockside hovels or rowed to their ships in the harbour. No one noticed Roamer’s cutter, still moored to the quayside.
As Blacktail’s Ermines moved steadily downhill, searching every shop and tavern, the sea-mice who were waiting on the street corners realised that something had gone wrong. Their task had been to cover Roamer’s retreat to the cutter. But Roamer was nowhere to be seen, and to stay at their posts would be to risk capture. Quietly, groups of sea-mice slipped away, following the agreed route that would bring them to the far corner of the harbour where the cutter was waiting, hoping against hope that somehow Roamer would get away and join them.
In the derelict house where Rio and Cheesemite were hiding, Rio noticed the silence, sensed the changed atmosphere. ‘Time we go, Cheesemite. You walk, maybe?’
‘I’ll try.’ Despite Rio’s bandaging, Cheesemite’s leg was so painful that Rio had to support his friend out of the house and down the alley. ‘I’m sorry, Rio.’
‘Ees no problem! Wadda friends for?’
Suddenly, they heard a rhythmic thudding. ‘Ermines,’ muttered Rio. ‘Tramp, tramp, tramp! They let us know they coming. Mighty considerate! But we soon get to harbour.’
‘I hope they’ve not captured Captain Roamer.’
‘Huh! It take more than a lousy bunch of stoats in fancy cloaks to catch him!’
After climbing down from the palace roof, Roamer had led Ben and Tamina down the steep slope to the wood. They dared not run for fear of falling and making a noise; with every step, they expected to hear shouts of alarm behind them. But the spiders on guard had all vanished into the palace, and the three friends reached the trees in safety.
The glorious midnight lights had gone. The short summer night would soon be over. Above their heads, a bird chirruped. ‘Nearly dawn,’ said Roamer. ‘We must hurry.’
They trekked through the silent woods until at last they reached a low wall. On the other side was a narrow alley, leading downhill. They scrambled over the wall and crouched in its shadow. ‘Stay here,’ whispered Roamer. He crept down the alley and peered round the corner.
He saw a wide street. At the far end, fading starlight danced on the water. The harbour! They were almost there. But as he turned to signal to the others, a group of masked figures appeared, running towards him.
Roamer shrank back into the alley and drew his pistol. But as the figures hurried past, Roamer’s heart leapt. They wore red strips on their masks. They were his mice.
‘Avengers!’
‘Lord o’ Light! It’s the captain!’
‘Sir! Look out!’ Roamer spun round. A troop of Ermines was charging down the street. ‘Into those doorways!’ snapped Roamer. ‘Pistols ready!’
Tamina and Ben had joined him and they all ran for cover on either side of the street. When the Ermines were almost upon them, Roamer yelled: ‘Fire!’
Pistols snapped and three Ermines fell squealing. The others came on, but the sea-mice were armed with double-barrelled weapons and a second volley proved too much for the stoats. They skidded to a halt, turned and fled. But their leader remained.
‘If one of you is Roamer,’ said Malatesta quietly, ‘fight me if you dare.’
Roamer had never seen Malatesta. But he recognised the stoat lord by the famous spike where his left paw used to be. Helping himself to a fallen stoat’s sword, he said: ‘I am Roamer. Keep back, the rest of you. This is between Malatesta and me.’
15. The Poisoned Spike
Roamer knew he had to be quick. More guards might come along at any moment. He ran at Malatesta, swinging his sword in a cut for the head, but the stoat parried easily and lunged for Roamer’s heart. Roamer swept the sword aside and thrust for a kill. Again, the stoat parried, returned to the attack and Roamer leaped clear as the spike came flashing down. Tired after his night’s adventures, Roamer was finding it hard to concentrate on his enemy’s sword and spike at the same time. Suddenly, the stoat swung back his sword for a cut. Roamer lunged and Malatesta jumped clear, but Roamer’s sword had nicked his side and blood was trickling to the ground. The stoat snarled, attacked again, cutting and lunging until his sword and Roamer’s were locked together at the hilt. Roamer was at Malatesta’s mercy for the spike was raised for the kill, but Roamer slammed his fist into Malatesta’s jaw and the stoat collapsed.
‘Kill him!’ cried Tamina.
‘He’s helpless. Out cold. I can’t kill him.’
‘Huh! He’d kill you soon enough if you were helpless!’
‘He probably would. But I’m not him. Now let’s go.’
They ran to the end of the street, swung right and dashed along the quayside. Other mice were running for the cutter, several were already aboard and they cheered as they spotted Roamer and Tamina. But the shooting in the side street had alerted Captain Blacktail. Already he was leading his troop down the main street in a dash for the quayside.
‘Is everyone here?’ Roamer was peering at the crew, who were hoisting the sail and pulling out the oars.
‘Rio and Cheesemite ain’t here, Skipper!’
‘Captain! Ermines to starboard! At the far end of the dockside!’
‘Pistols ready, lads!’
‘Look, zur! Rio an’ Cheesemite!’
They had emerged from an alley, midway between the cutter and the Ermines. ‘Come on!’ yelled the crew. But Rio was almost exhausted with the effort of supporting Cheesemite. He was going as fast as he could but the Ermines had seen him and were gaining on him.
‘Starboard crew, stand by!’ roared Roamer. ‘Give them a broadside! Fire!’
A dozen pistols flamed. Some of the Ermines fell, but Blacktail urged the rest on. As Rio staggered up to the cutter, Cheesemite slipped from his grasp. He limped towards the charging soldiers, levelled his pistol and fired.
Blacktail fell, screaming, a bullet in his leg. As the Ermines stopped and clustered round their fallen leader, Cheesemite hobbled to the cutter and cheering mice hauled him aboard. With a single swipe of his cutlass, Ben sliced the mooring rope, the mice bent to the oars and the cutter surged away from the quayside.
‘Shoot them, you fools!’ yelled Blacktail, furious with rage and pain, and the mice ducked as a volley crashed out and bullets flew overhead. Suddenly, a heavy cannon boomed across the water. Avenger was sailing to the rescue.
The mice cheered. But Tamina was looking anxiously at Roamer. ‘What’s the matter?’
Roamer could not understand why he was feeling so ill. ‘I don’t know. Just tired, I expect.’ But it was worse than that. Through waves of dizziness, he noticed a rip in his sleeve and a faint trickle of blood.
When they reached the ship, Roamer managed to clamber up the rope ladder. But once on deck, he collapsed. While the anxious crew set sail and Lukas steered the ship out of the harbour, Rio, Ben and Tamina knelt beside the captain.
‘He didn’t take no wound,’ said Ben. But Tamina had heard about Malatesta’s poisoned spike and when she spotted the rip in Roamer’s sleeve, she said: ‘It must have happened when Malatesta fell. Get me a bucket of seawater. Quickly! Or he’ll die!’
As Rio ran for the water, Tamina ripped away Roamer’s sleeve. The wound had dried, so she gently touched her dagger to it until the blood flowed. Then, she sucked the poisoned blood, spat it over the side and rinsed her mouth with the seawater. Again and again she returned to the wound until at last the foul taste of the poison had gone. She bandaged the wound, cleaned her dagger and replaced it in her boot. ‘Now all we can do is wait.’
As the ship sped on, mice stood silent in the rigging or crouched tensely on the deck. All watched Roamer. ‘
His heart is scarcely beating,’ said Tamina. ‘But there’s nothing more we can do.’
Dawn was breaking and golden sunlight was flooding the ship when at last Roamer opened his eyes. ‘What happened? Did we get away? Tamina, why are you crying?’
‘You were hurt, but you’re better now. We all got away, thanks to you.’ She scuffed the tears away. ‘And I’m not crying!’
In the throne-room of the House of the Snake, a tall, brown-robed stoat was standing in a shaft of sunlight that beamed down from the skylight. The rest of the room was in darkness, especially around Malatesta’s new throne, where the shadows clustered thickly.
‘I have come to pledge my loyalty,’ said Gweir.
‘Huh! Where were you when I needed you?’ Malatesta’s head was throbbing painfully where Roamer had hit him, and he was furious at the buccaneers’ escape.
‘Praying to the Snake-god to spare the empress’s life.’
‘That was a waste of time!’ As Malatesta rose from the throne, Gweir felt his flesh creep. Deep shadows were following the new emperor, twisting and turning like snakes at his heels.
‘That accursed pirate’s got the ruby,’ hissed Malatesta. ‘But this morning, I sail for the port of Viperium. Soon I shall lead the fleet to Carminel. We shall no doubt overtake Roamer’s ship on the way and destroy it. You’d better come too. I might need some magic. Now get out of here.’
Gweir fled. Empress Ravanola had been cold-hearted and cruel; but Malatesta, Lord of Shadows, was pure evil. The mice of Carminel, thought Gweir, were surely doomed.
16. Raven
‘Deck, there!’ High in the crow’s-nest, Cheesemite was squeaking with excitement. ‘Strange sail ahead!’
Roamer sprang into the rigging and trained his telescope on the distant ship. Princess Tamina scowled. ‘I wish you’d stop leaping about. That wound hasn’t healed yet.’
But Roamer had never felt better, and after hearing from Rio and Cheesemite about the invasion fleet at Viperium, he was eager for action.
‘Cor!’ yelled Cheesemite. ‘It’s the Raven!’
‘The treasure-ship!’ cried Lukas. ‘But why would she be heading for Viperium?’
‘To join the invasion fleet,’ said Roamer, jumping back to the quarterdeck and ignoring Tamina’s cross face. ‘She’s a big ship, useful for carrying soldiers. Hoist top-gallants and royals! We’ll catch her, and if there’s treasure aboard we’ll help ourselves!’
Avenger still wore her disguise. If the Raven’s sea-rats spotted her, they would think she was another of Malatesta’s ships. All that afternoon, they followed the treasure-ship and were rapidly closing the distance when Cheesemite shouted: ‘Land ahead!’
The sea-mice craned over the side or scrambled into the rigging, gazing eagerly at the long, curving coastline of Salamex. Away to the right, burning plains ended in shingle beaches; to the left, a high hill crowned with a fort, jutted from the land. Between the hill and the beach lay the broad mouth of a river. The treasure-ship had anchored there, just below the fort.
‘Take in sail!’ snapped Roamer.
‘Why’s she anchored there?’ wondered Lukas.
‘The tide’s running strongly away from the coast,’ said Roamer. ‘Probably that river’s not deep enough for the Raven. She must wait until high tide before venturing in. The port of Viperium’s certainly well protected; a river that’s only safe at high tide and that hilltop fort! See its guns? Lukas, we must anchor; make the sea-rats think we’re waiting for the tide as well. Then, when it’s dark, we’ll give them a little surprise. First, let the crew have supper. I’m going to my cabin to make plans.’
While the mice supped on hot soup and chunks of bread, Roamer pondered the problem. To capture the Raven, he would have to capture the fort as well. For an hour he sat lost in thought, now and then absent-mindedly nibbling a nut. At last, he knew how it could be done. Calling to Lukas to wake him in an hour’s time, he stretched out on his bunk and fell asleep.
At nightfall, Avenger weighed anchor and slipped away up the coast, with the fort on its tall headland to starboard. The mice kept still and silent. Sound travels far at night and if the stoats in the fort heard them, their adventure would be over before it had begun.
‘Lukas, take her as close in as you dare,’ Roamer said quietly. ‘Then drop anchor. Ben, get ready to launch the cutter. You all know what to do. Good luck!’
There was no moon, and clouds covered the stars. Lukas, who was to remain behind with some of the crew, had anchored the ship opposite a small cove and the sea-mice rowed ashore with muffled oars. As the cutter grated on the sand, twelve of the mice jumped out and followed Roamer up the steep hillside towards the fort. The cutter returned to the Avenger, where Tamina’s group was waiting.
The hillside was thick with spiky bushes, so there was plenty of cover. As the fort loomed above them, the mice saw stoats staring seawards from the battlements, unaware that a force of buccaneers was creeping up the slope. As Roamer drew near to the summit, he changed direction and led his mice round the hill until they reached the rear of the fort. Now, they could see down to the river and the Raven.
‘No sentries here,’ whispered Roamer. ‘They’re all looking out to sea. Let’s get into position. Keep under cover. Move slowly. We’ve plenty of time.’
Tamina, meanwhile, was leading her mice round the base of the hill. They crept silently through the bushes until they saw the Raven, moored to a small landing-stage. ‘No guards,’ breathed Rio. ‘Them sea-rats got no brains at all!’
‘They think they’re safe under the fort’s guns,’ whispered Tamina. ‘But they’re in for a nasty shock.’
She gathered her mice around her. Their eyes were shining. Cheesemite was especially excited. His wound had healed and he was eager for adventure. Tamina whispered: ‘You see the path that runs from the landing-stage, uphill through the bushes to the fort? Take up your positions on either side of it. Then wait until I give the word.’
Captain Foultail of the Raven was snoring peacefully in his bunk. It had been a prosperous voyage. He and his sea-rats had plundered the Golden Isles to their hearts’ content; crates of gold and caskets of jewels lay snugly in the hold. Suddenly, Captain Foultail was rudely awakened by a burst of firing and a voice from the shore yelling: ‘Help! The fort’s being attacked!’
Foultail hurtled out of bed, dragged on his boots and groped for his sword and pistols. As the rest of the crew burst on deck, all armed to the teeth, they could see that the fort was surrounded with flashes of gunfire. ‘Help!’ yelled the voice again. ‘We’re being attacked! It’s that pirate, Roamer and his devil-mice!’
‘Roamer?’ roared Foultail. ‘You hear that, mates? Malatesta’s put a price of fifty thousand gold pieces on that mouse’s head, dead or alive! Let’s go and get him!’
Yelling wildly at the prospect of yet more riches, the rats flooded off the ship, thundered across the landing-stage and up the zigzag path. As they climbed the hill, the sound of firing grew louder and flashes along the fort’s wall showed where the stoats were firing back. ‘Come on!’ screamed Foultail and the rats charged after him, firing their pistols into the air and whooping with excitement.
Up on the battlements, Fangast, the stoat commander, peered nervously into the darkness. He was totally bewildered by the sudden outburst of firing, and had no idea who was attacking him. All he could see were flashes of gunfire from the bushes. Now, up the path came the sea-rats, firing their pistols and yelling like fury. Convinced that more enemies were attacking, Fangast yelled: ‘Aim for the path! Fire!’
As his rats began to scream and fall, the terrible truth dawned on Captain Foultail: Roamer’s mice must have taken the fort! But what an honour it would be, he thought, for his rats to recapture it! ‘Come on, you lousy scumbags!’ he bawled. ‘Up to the walls! Kill them mice! Aim for the flashes of gunfire!’
The battle raged on. Many stoats screamed and toppled from the ramparts. Many rats fell squealing. At last, the firi
ng from the bushes died away and a coarse voice cried: ‘Ahoy, there!’
‘Who is that?’ Fangast called nervously from the battlements.
‘Why, your friends from the Raven, of course!’ came the reply, followed by a gust of bloodcurdling laughter. ‘That pirate Roamer caught you stoats napping good and proper! But thanks to us, him and his mice are dead! Open the gate, friend, and let us in!’
‘Do as he says!’ cried Fangast in relief. ‘Lord Malatesta shall hear of this,’ he said, as his stoats flung open the gate, ‘specially if you’ve killed that accursed Roamer, though me and my stoats should have a share of the prize money... Hey! Just a minute! You ain’t sea-rats! Shut the gate!’
But it was too late. Roamer’s mice, pistols blazing, were charging into the courtyard. So furious and unexpected was this sudden attack that the stoats flung down their weapons and surrendered. Fangast found himself disarmed and his paws lashed behind his back. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded. ‘I thought you was sea-rats!’
‘That was what we wanted you to think,’ said Roamer with a cheerful smile. ‘There were sea-rats, a while ago, who came up the path to help you. Your stoats killed most of them, and here come the rest! Sorry-looking bunch, aren’t they?’
Escorted by Tamina’s mice, the few survivors of the Raven’s crew were dragging themselves miserably through the gateway. They looked as bewildered as the stoats.
Old Ben was wheezing with laughter. ‘That were the best fight I ever been in, by thunder if it weren’t! Stoats shootin’ rats, rats shootin’ stoats – and us, a-crawlin’ through the bushes, knockin’ them rats on the head and trussin’ them up, and every so often takin’ a pot shot at the Fort! Don’t know when I’ve enjoyed meself so much!’
‘Get the prisoners to the dungeons,’ said Roamer. ‘Give them food, water and bandages. They can look after themselves until Malatesta finds them and lets them out, though I’d not like to be in their shoes when he does.’
The Ruby of Carminel Page 7