Child of the Cloud Page 10

  ‘That seems odd,’ Ruby said. ‘Anso was a brilliant sailor. He must have known exactly where each constellation was located.’

  ‘True,’ Whisker said, scanning the dome. ‘But it appears only a select number of constellations have been included and one constellation, Eridanus has been repeated three times.’

  ‘Is that significant?’ Horace asked.

  ‘Maybe,’ Whisker said. ‘According to ancient astronomers, Eridanus represents a river. The three depictions of Eridanus in this painting revolve around Aquarius, the water bearer.’

  ‘Three rivers and a bearer of water!’ Ruby exclaimed. ‘Is anyone thinking what I’m thinking?’

  Horace shrugged. ‘How would I know what you’re thinking? I’m a humble pageboy, not a mind reader.’

  Ruby rolled her eye. ‘I thought it was obvious. The bearer of water is Lake Azure and the three rivers are the Hawk River, the Peregrine River and the River Raven.’

  ‘Oh,’ Horace said, his eyes lighting up. ‘So the dome is some kind of map.’

  ‘Not just any old map,’ Whisker said, pointing to the painted moon. ‘Knowing Anso, the constellations have something to do with the full moon feast.’

  ‘And you can figure that out by staring at some golden stars?’ Horace said sceptically.

  ‘Not by staring,’ Whisker said leaping to his feet. ‘By drawing.’

  He scampered over to the fireplace and plucked a blackened stick of charcoal from the coals. One end was still smoking, but the other was cool enough to touch.

  Holding the stick like a pencil, he raced back to the centre of the room and began scribbling the outlines of constellations on the smooth floor beneath the dome. His companions watched with interest, pointing out the occasional missed star or a poorly positioned line.

  Whisker had never claimed to be an artist, but as he stood back and surveyed his completed work, he knew his great-grandfather Anso would have been proud. Sketched on the flat slab of stone were a dozen neatly-drawn constellations. Each constellation had a meaning and, when combined together, the meanings gave Whisker his answer.

  ‘Nice work, Rat Vinci,’ Horace said, staring down at the drawing. ‘Now, if you could explain your masterpiece, I would be eternally grateful. I only paid attention to half of Pete’s astronomy lesson.’

  ‘With pleasure,’ Whisker said.

  Using the charcoal as a pointer, he began to describe the constellations and their meanings.

  ‘Starting on the left is the small constellation of Pyxis, which represents a mariner’s compass. It most likely tells us the correct direction of the map – north being up. Below the compass are the three mountain rivers flowing from Lake Azure. I took the liberty of depicting the Aquarius constellation as a beaver pouring water.’

  ‘Which beaver?’ Horace cut in. ‘Viola or Gertrude?’

  ‘Err, well, I guess I was thinking of Viola at the time,’ Whisker confessed. ‘Though it really doesn’t matter.’

  Horace opened his mouth to debate the point, but Whisker was already continuing, ‘Next to the beaver, is the peregrine falcon, representing Falcon Island. I might add that all four species of birds are represented in the map, and positioned to match their nesting territories. Falcons and hawks don’t feature in astronomy, which might explain why they were painted in the dome, while the remaining birds – Corvus the raven, and Aquila the eagle – are revealed as constellations.’ He paused. ‘Have I lost anyone?’

  ‘Not me,’ Horace said confidently. ‘Water and birds I understand. It’s constellations like that mystic triangle I don’t get.’ He pointed to the top of the drawing with his hook.

  ‘Triangulum Australe,’ Whisker said, looking at the three highest stars. ‘If you consider its shape and position on the map, it almost certainly represents the summit of Cloud Mountain.’

  ‘Of course,’ Ruby said, sweeping a crutch over the drawing. ‘Eagle’s Cliffs lie to the south-east of the summit, as depicted by the eagle constellation.’

  ‘And that brings us to our most significant constellations,’ Whisker said in growing excitement. ‘Andromeda the chained maiden, and Ara the altar.’

  ‘Don’t forget the full moon,’ Horace interrupted. ‘I know it’s not technically a constellation, but it’s still a whopping big clue!’

  ‘Yes, Horace,’ Whisker said, not wanting to dampen his friend’s enthusiasm. ‘I could hardly forget the moon.’ He walked to the right side of the map and continued his explanation. ‘Taking Horace’s whopping big moon into consideration, I believe the constellation of Andromeda represents the captives of the full moon feast. My sister Anna, is most likely being held on a ledge somewhere on Eagle’s Cliffs. The altar, an ancient symbol of sacrifice, appears to be the location of the feast itself.’

  ‘Shiver me pastries!’ Horace exclaimed, thrusting his hook aloft. ‘You’ve got it all figured out.’

  ‘Well, almost all,’ Whisker said, glancing back at the centre of the map.

  ‘What do you mean, almost?’ Horace said. ‘You know where your sister is, so let’s go get her.’

  ‘What Whisker means to say is that you should never count your eagle chicks before they’ve hatched,’ Ruby said, frowning. ‘There are still two constellations to decode: Hydra and Crater. We’ve seen enough of Anso’s cryptic maps to know that every clue is important.’

  ‘Alright,’ Horace conceded. ‘So what do we know about these elusive constellations?’

  ‘Very little,’ Whisker admitted. ‘In astronomy, Hydra represents a mythical water serpent – not exactly an alpine dwelling animal, and Crater stands for a cup. Again, not the kind of thing you’d expect to find lying around a mountainside. For what it’s worth, the two constellations appear together in the night sky, but in the star dome, Crater has been flipped upside down.’

  ‘Okay, so we need to find something that resembles an upside down cup.’ Horace said.

  ‘I guess,’ Whisker said with a slight shrug. He unrolled Mr Tribble’s map of Cloud Mountain and placed it next to his drawing.

  ‘The buttress roughly matches the location of the cup,’ he said, thinking aloud, ‘but it’s triangular in shape. The horn could also be a possibility but it’s too far to the south.’

  ‘How about this?’ Ruby said, hobbling to the edge of the artwork. ‘We all know that cups are associated with water. And when water is frozen it turns to ice. Cloud Mountain has an ice glacier which runs into a glacial stream. If the cup represents the glacier, the water serpent could signify the stream.’ She tapped the drawing with a crutch. ‘The tail of the water serpent even connects with the beaver in the same way as the glacial stream runs into Lake Azure.’

  Horace looked at her blankly. ‘You lost me on the ice bit.’

  Ruby frowned. ‘Why am I not surprised?’

  ‘If it helps, your explanation does make logical sense,’ Whisker said, encouragingly, ‘but I’m afraid you overlooked one small detail …’

  ‘Which is?’ she said sharply.

  Whisker pointed to the drawing. ‘The body of the water serpent doesn’t stop at the cup, it continues all the way to the chained captive on Eagle’s Cliffs. If the serpent was a stream, it would have to pass through the Erratic Blocks – roughly where we are now. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t see any streams outside.’

  Ruby let out a puff of exasperation. ‘Oh, forget it!’

  ‘Hang on,’ Horace said. ‘I didn’t see a stream, but I definitely heard one when we were passing through the boulders.’

  ‘I thought that was the wind,’ Ruby said sceptically.

  ‘No, no,’ Horace argued. ‘Now that I think about it, it was definitely a stream.’

  ‘And where, might I ask, is this invisible stream of yours?’ Ruby queried.

  ‘It’s, well, um …’ Horace began, pointing in random directions with his hook. ‘Bother!’

  ‘As I thought,’ Ruby snorted. ‘No evidence. No stream.’

  ‘Coo, coo,’ Chatterbeak chirrup
ed. ‘Back to the drawing stone.’

  Whisker looked down at his picture and then up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what he had missed. Filled with glittering stars, the heavenly dome curved above him, smooth and round.

  And then it struck him. The shape of the dome was a perfect half sphere, just like the inside of a bowl or a cup – an upside-down cup.

  ‘Cosmic Crater!’ he gasped. ‘We’re standing in it!’

  ‘Standing in what?’ Horace yelped, leaping into the air. ‘Bird droppings?’

  ‘The cup, the cup, you fool!’ Chatterbeak squawked, clipping him around the ears with his wing. ‘Don’t you see? The dome is the cup!’

  ‘Putrid pastries it is!’ Horace squeaked. ‘If this is the cup, then where is my blasted stream?’

  Whisker stamped his boot against the limestone floor. ‘Right underneath us!’

  The Serpent’s Path

  Seven wide eyes stared at the floor.

  ‘Shiver me subterranean streams!’ Horace exclaimed, thrusting his hook at his feet. ‘Are you telling me there’s a secret river beneath our toes?’

  Whisker dropped to his knees and pressed his ear against the cold slab of stone. In the silence of the cavern, he heard a soft gurgling sound reverberating from below.

  ‘It definitely sounds like water,’ he replied.

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ Ruby said. ‘Inside this mountain is an underground stream which runs all the way from Eagle’s Cliffs to Lake Azure.’

  ‘That would be my guess,’ Whisker said, rising to his feet. ‘And scientifically speaking, it is possible. The rock of the lower mountain is limestone – a perfect material for the formation of caves. Limestone easily dissolves in acidic water, leaving hollow chambers and underground water systems.’

  ‘Scientifically speaking …’ Horace said, impersonating Whisker. ‘Is there anything your mother hasn’t taught you?’

  ‘Sword fighting,’ Whisker admitted. ‘That was Ruby’s handiwork.’

  Ruby gave him an appreciative smile. ‘It’s good to hear someone appreciates my talents.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Horace muttered. ‘Talents are one thing, but can they get us into that stream?’

  ‘I can break a hole in the floor, if that’s what you’re asking,’ Ruby said, drawing both scissor swords.

  ‘That might not be necessary,’ Whisker said, glancing around the small cavern. He walked towards the far corner of the room and pointed to a small square of limestone set into the floor. It was identical in colour and texture to the rest of the limestone, making it virtually invisible. A thin crack ran around its four edges, separating it from the surrounding stone.

  ‘I noticed this when we came in,’ he explained. ‘The entire floor is a continuous slab of rock, except for this one section. At first I thought the rock was here to fill in a low spot, but I’m beginning to think it has a far more important purpose.’

  ‘Like a hidden trapdoor,’ Horace suggested. ‘Do you think we can open it?’

  Whisker lowered himself onto his knees, studying the limestone carefully. Running his fingers along the thin crack surrounding the rock, he felt a small hole in the centre of the edge closest to the wall. It was circular in appearance, too precise to be a natural fault in the rock.

  ‘Take a look at this,’ Whisker said, gesturing for his friends to step closer.

  Aided by Chatterbeak, Ruby hobbled towards the square rock, a scissor sword in each paw. Horace retrieved a lantern from the opposite side of the room and placed it beside Whisker, bathing the small section of floor in a flickering yellow light.

  ‘It looks like a lever shaft,’ Whisker said, peering down at the hole.

  ‘Just the right size for a scissor sword,’ Ruby grinned, wedging one of her sharp blades into the gap.

  With Whisker’s help, Ruby heaved the handle of her sword downwards and the edge of the stone began to rise off the floor. It was much thinner and lighter than they had anticipated and a thin gap soon appeared beneath it. Through the opening came the unmistakable sound of running water. Ruby thrust her second sword into the gap to stop the stone from slipping and the three rats positioned themselves along its edge.

  To Chatterbeak’s squawks of ‘Heave ho, don’t be slow,’ they dragged the stone to one side, revealing a square hole and a steep flight of stairs.

  Horace wasted no time in snatching up the lantern and descending into the inky blackness. It didn’t take long before he was shouting up to his companions, ‘Good news. I’ve found the stream. There’s a narrow path running beside it. Do you want me to see where it leads?’

  ‘No,’ Whisker called down to him. ‘You’d better come back up. We’ll gather some supplies and return together.’

  ‘Aye, aye, Capt’n,’ Horace hooted in response.

  ‘Do you have a plan in mind, Whisker?’ Ruby asked as they waited for Horace to return.

  ‘Nothing beyond following the stream to Eagle’s Cliffs,’ Whisker replied honestly. ‘It seems a far safer option than flying.’

  ‘No, no,’ Chatterbeak prattled, shaking his tail feathers in objection. ‘If the eagles know about the secret path, we could be walking into a trap.’

  ‘They don’t appear to know about it,’ Horace said, emerging at the top of the steps. ‘There’s not a splotch of bird poo or a feather in sight down there.’

  ‘Caw, caw. That doesn’t tell us anything!’ the stubborn parrot squawked. ‘Eagles aren’t bats. They don’t hang around in caves. For all we know, they’re waiting on a cliff top, ready to peck out our gizzards the moment we step into the sunshine.’

  ‘That’s repulsive!’ Horace gagged.

  ‘As disgusting as it sounds, Chatterbeak does have a point,’ Ruby admitted. ‘It might also explain why the birds chose the cliffs as the location for their feast. If the stream was once used as a major path through the mountain, the eagles would have a plentiful supply of unsuspecting animals popping out on their doorstep.’

  ‘I didn’t see any signs of furry folk down by the stream,’ Horace clarified. ‘No muddy footprints, no lingering scents.’

  ‘So we have to presume the path is currently disused,’ Ruby said. ‘Perhaps the roof collapsed, blocking the passage.’

  ‘The water is still flowing,’ Whisker argued. ‘That alone would suggest there is still a way in and a way out.’

  ‘I saw water seeping in from everywhere,’ Horace recalled, ‘but I doubt we could squeeze through a drip hole in the ceiling.’

  Whisker let out a frustrated sigh.

  ‘Blocked passages and gizzard-guzzling birds are gambles I’m prepared to take,’ he said firmly. ‘I don’t expect any of you to join me, but I won’t waste any more time standing around arguing. In case you’ve forgotten, my sister’s life is at stake.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re not about to desert you,’ Horace said, reassuringly. ‘Ruby and I pledged to see this through and Scaredy-beak is simply suffering from a mild case of cave-a-phobia.’

  ‘Alright,’ Whisker said, receiving nods from all three of his companions. ‘Carry only essential items: swords, ropes, lanterns and matches.’

  ‘What about my fishing nets?’ Horace asked, walking towards a rucksack.

  ‘If they can trap a bird, then bring them,’ Ruby hissed. She reluctantly removed her longbow and placed it on the floor. ‘What I wouldn’t give for a quiver of arrows right now.’

  Within minutes, the four companions were ready to depart. Whisker took one last look at the starry dome as Horace snuffed out the fire, and then plunged into the heart of the mountain.

  The stream was larger than it had sounded from above, a swift current of melting snow flowing through the centre of a long, narrow cave. The ground rose steeply to the north-east and fell away to the west, carrying water from one side of the mountain to the other. The roar of waterfalls echoed in both directions.

  Led by Whisker, the companions began their winding journey uphill, walking in single file. The path was slippery an
d muddy and the walls of the cave were constantly wet. Small fissures and cracks in the limestone acted as veins, carrying water from the surface of the mountain to the serpent-like river within. Rough paw-holds were chiselled into the rock to form primitive ladders when the path became too steep to walk.

  Despite her ankle injury, Ruby hauled herself up the slimy rungs without complaining once.

  She’s one tough rat, Whisker thought in admiration.

  Passing two gushing waterfalls, the companions reached a large cave where fallen rocks diverted a section of the stream over the path. Wearing waterproof boots, the three rats easily waded through the shallow water, while their barefooted parrot friend screeched in icy discomfort.

  As the passage continued higher up the mountain, the temperature dropped. Thin sheets of ice formed on the walls and ceiling, glistening like mirrors in the light of the lanterns. Whisker guessed the entire stream would freeze over during the coldest days of winter.

  ‘Up, up and up,’ Horace complained as the gradient grew steeper. ‘Will this passage never end?’

  Whisker simply shrugged. Without the sun as his guide, he’d lost all sense of time and direction. The increasing stiffness in his legs was the only clue as to how long he’d been walking.

  It feels like hours, he reflected, rubbing his aching thighs.

  At the sound of Ruby’s crutches clunking clumsily against the stones, Whisker finally resolved to give his fatigued companions a much-needed rest stop before setting off again.

  With less and less water making its way into the passage, the stream began to dry up. The walls slowly closed in, forcing the rats onto their paws and knees. The diminishing size of the passage proved to be a major challenge for Chatterbeak, and he awkwardly wiggled along like a blue and yellow worm. When the first glimpse of light finally appeared ahead, the passage was nothing more than a rocky drainpipe, carrying a tiny trickle of water.

  ‘Brittle birdseed! I knew this was a bad idea,’ the parrot squawked, finally becoming wedged in the narrow space. ‘You pipsqueaks will have to go on without me.’