The King's Key Page 14

  ‘That’s never a problem for you,’ Ruby spluttered, trying not to choke on a mouthful of water.

  ‘My size is my salvation,’ Horace replied. ‘I’ll demonstrate for you.’ He picked up Ruby’s stick. ‘Stand in front of me with your legs apart, Whisker.’

  Whisker put down the flask and positioned himself in front of Horace. Horace took a few steps backwards and charged at Whisker with his stick raised.

  Whisker waited until Horace was within range and swung down with a Crooked Strike. The stick passed through thin air. Horace had vanished.

  Whisker looked down to see Horace sliding feet-first between his legs. With a cheeky grin, Horace gave Whisker’s left foot a WHACK with his stick as he passed through. Whisker hopped on one foot, struggling not to fall over as Horace leapt to his feet and collided with the Captain.

  The Captain wrenched the stick from Horace’s paws and gave him a firm WALLOP on the backside.

  ‘The Horace Shuffle,’ he laughed, ‘It’s not much good if there’s someone waiting on the other side.’

  ‘It’s still a stellar move,’ Horace yelped. ‘I got poor Whisker a good one. He thought I’d disappeared like a ghost – which reminds me, there’s a great story about a white …’

  ‘Campfire stories are over for the night,’ the Captain growled. ‘We’ve finished drying and grinding the herbs, so it’s time to get a few hours sleep before dawn.’

  ‘Have you added the herbs to the pie yet?’ Whisker asked, clutching his foot.

  ‘Why? Do you want some?’ the Captain asked, mildly amused.

  ‘No. I’ll recover,’ Whisker moaned. ‘I just wanted to make sure you put enough in.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Mr Tribble said, stepping into the room. ‘We added eight spoonfuls of the powdered herbs – four of each. That should be more than enough for a nice long nap. I’ll take the remainder of the powder back to Pete.’

  Eaton came into view carrying the red berry pie. The top crust had been removed to reveal a syrupy mix of raspberries, strawberries and cherries.

  Horace’s eyes lit up. Whisker’s stomach rumbled.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ the Captain murmured. ‘And no, you can’t have the top crust for supper.’

  ‘Lucky chameleon,’ Horace groaned.

  ‘Speaking of the chameleon,’ Whisker said, ‘were there any signs of the elusive creature in the courtyard?’

  ‘N-n-no,’ Eaton squeaked in his usual timid voice. ‘The courtyard appeared to be empty …’

  The Guardian

  Whisker slept restlessly that night. The image of the chameleon filled his dreams, stalking him through the jungle. He saw it in every leaf, in every stone. He couldn’t escape.

  He was running … tripping … falling … The chameleon stood over him, its yellow eyes fixed on his chest. Whisker reached for his sword – it was gone.

  In desperation, he raised his paws in defence. They were red, stained with the juice of berries. His body felt numb. He couldn’t move.

  The creature crept closer, purposefully. It wanted something. It wanted his pendant.

  Whisker couldn’t speak. He couldn’t scream …

  The rain woke Whisker from his nightmare. It poured through the open roof of the tower, drenching him where he lay. The flames crackled and hissed. Steam filled the throne room. Thunder rumbled overhead.

  The rain grew heavier and the Pie Rats scrambled for cover in the small waiting room. Six soggy rodents and a half-drowned blowfly watched the deluge bucketing down. In minutes the fire was no more than a smouldering pile of ash in the dim morning light.

  ‘What’s a rainforest without rain?’ Mr Tribble yawned.

  ‘More comfortable,’ Ruby muttered, drying her swords on her vest.

  Horace shook himself like a wet dog.

  ‘It’s lucky we left the pie in this room,’ he said. ‘The berries would have washed away.’

  ‘If you hadn’t eaten them first,’ the Captain mused, wringing out his saturated hat.

  Whisker said nothing. He was still shaken by his nightmare. He sat dripping in a corner, clutching his anchor pendant. Ruby wandered over to him and sat down. Whisker didn’t move.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ Ruby asked, giving him a nudge. ‘You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Whisker said, pulling himself together. ‘But I wouldn’t mention the G word with Horace around.’

  ‘Good point,’ Ruby acknowledged. ‘Look – I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night but you did … well, a pretty good job … you know, with the training.’

  ‘Th-thanks,’ Whisker stammered, unsure how to respond. ‘You were pretty yourself – pretty good I-I mean … a-as my instructor. You were pretty good as my instructor …’

  Whisker could feel the steam rising from his cheeks. He was pretty sure Ruby could see it. Luckily, Horace came bumbling to his aid.

  ‘Come on, you two,’ he said pulling them to their feet. ‘We’ve got a chameleon to capture.’

  The Pie Rats fastened their backpacks and clambered through the hole in the floor of the waiting room. With the light of Eaton’s lantern and Horace’s torch, they wound their way through the passages until they reached the underground bridge and followed the stairs to the well.

  It was raining steadily outside. The pastry lid of the pie was placed over the berry filling and the Captain carefully slid the pie into Mr Tribble’s backpack. It was fortunate the bags were lined with a thick waterproof coating.

  The climb up the well was slippery and slow. By the time the Pie Rats had reached the top, they were once again sopping wet from nose to tail.

  ‘It’s now or never,’ the Captain whispered. ‘The chameleon feeds first thing in the morning. If we don’t lay the bait soon, we may miss our opportunity.’

  ‘Very well,’ Mr Tribble murmured, removing the pie from his backpack. ‘But we’ll have to leave the lid on the pie to protect the filling.’

  ‘Are you ready for your big performance, Horace?’ the Captain asked.

  ‘I’m always ready to perform,’ Horace answered, grabbing the pie. He took a deep breath and began yelling at the top of his lungs, ‘WHAT A SCRUMPTIOUS BERRY PIE THIS IS. IT’S MOUTH-WATERINGLY MAGNIFICENT! IT’S BERRY-LICIOUSLY BRILLIANT! IT’S DIGESTIVELY DIVINE! I COULD EAT IT ALL MYSELF.’

  ‘HEY!’ Whisker shouted. ‘What about the rest of us? We love berries too.’

  ‘YES,’ Ruby cheered. ‘BERRIES ARE THE BEST!’

  ‘GOOD GRACIOUS,’ the Captain bellowed. ‘We’re going to need more berries than this to feed everyone. Gather ‘round, crew, and see what you can find.’

  Horace put the pie on the ground and began combing the nearest bush for berries. The others joined in. The bushes, as predicted, were empty.

  ‘You gluttonous glutton, Horace,’ Ruby exclaimed. ‘You ate all the berries yesterday.’

  ‘DID NOT,’ Horace shouted, shaking his hook at her.

  ‘Forget the berry bushes,’ the Captain cried. ‘There are strawberry guavas this way.’ He scampered down the northern wall. ‘HURRY!’

  The Pie Rats dashed after the Captain, leaving the berry pie sitting under a bush. Smudge doubled back to the well to take up his position as lookout while the rest of the crew climbed through the hole in the wall to the courtyard.

  Whisker pointed to a small building nearby.

  ‘We can hide in there,’ he whispered. ‘It’s still got half its roof on.’

  The Pie Rats clambered into the small outhouse and found a dry spot to wait.

  ‘Not a word,’ the Captain hissed, glaring at Horace.

  Horace plonked himself on the ground and began drawing in the dirt. The others leant against the wall, listening to the sound of falling rain and awaiting the return of Smudge. Time passed, the rain eased, but there was no sign of Smudge. Lightning flashed, the rain grew heavy – still no sign of Smudge.

  Whisker pictured the pie turning into a pile of soggy pastry sludge an
d its precious syrup oozing out. He recalled the words of the Pie Rat code – No pie shall be wasted.

  It’s more than a waste, he thought to himself. It’s an absolute disaster.

  He was too busy dwelling on his disastrous vision to notice the rain slowing to a drizzle. Nor did he hear the faint buzz of wings until Smudge was inside the building.

  ‘What news?’ Horace cried, jumping to his feet.

  Smudge tipped his head to one side and closed his eyes like he was sleeping. Mr Tribble clapped his paws together. ‘It worked!’

  ‘So far …’ the Captain said warily. ‘How long has the chameleon been asleep, Smudge?’

  Smudge raised one arm in the air, lowered it and then raised another five.

  ‘Fifteen minutes,’ Horace gasped. ‘What took you?’

  Smudge pointed to a dark cloud outside as if to say, you try flying in a thunderstorm.

  ‘Never mind,’ the Captain said resolutely. ‘Let’s get moving. Every minute counts.’

  The Captain led the procession of berry-lovers back through the courtyard. The drizzling had stopped completely by the time they reached the outer wall, and the jungle grew silent.

  The Pie Rats crept closer to the bushes and drew their swords. The long green shape of the chameleon lay motionless on the ground. Its yellow eyes were closed, its scaly mouth was covered with red syrup and its horns protruded into the half-eaten pie. Whisker’s nightmare flashed before his eyes.

  It can’t hurt you, he told himself, gripping his sword.

  The Captain cautiously approached the creature and gave it a prod with his foot. It didn’t stir. Mr Tribble bent down and wiped the drizzle from his glasses.

  ‘This looks like our key,’ he said, pointing to an object at the end of a chain. ‘I can’t make out the detail with all the mud, but the shape appears to be an exact match. Do you have the map, Whisker?’

  ‘Yes,’ Whisker replied, still keeping his distance. ‘It’s rolled up in my backpack.’

  ‘There’s no time to check,’ the Captain said gruffly. ‘Our mission is to get the key and get out of here.’

  Horace and Ruby grabbed hold of the chain and tried to pull it over the chameleon’s head. The chain caught in the folds of the skin beneath the creature’s chin.

  ‘It seems our guard has grown attached to his necklace,’ Mr Tribble observed. ‘You’ll never get it off that way.’

  ‘Try breaking the chain,’ Whisker suggested.

  Horace wedged his hook through one of the links and attempted to wrench it apart. His efforts were in vain.

  ‘It’s stronger than it looks,’ he groaned. ‘I doubt Fred could break these links apart.’

  Whisker looked down at the sleeping chameleon and knew he must face his fears. He put his sword in his belt, picked up a heavy rock and lugged it towards the chameleon’s head.

  It won’t feel a thing he said to himself. It won’t wake up.

  ‘W-what are you doing?’ Horace asked in horror. ‘You’re not going to …?’

  THUD!

  Whisker dropped the rock to the ground. As the others watched, he slid the rock closer to the chameleon.

  ‘Just like an executioner’s stone,’ he muttered, draping the chain over the rock. ‘Without the severed heads of course. Now, who’s our executioner?’

  Ruby moved into position with her sword.

  ‘Hold the key steady, Whisker,’ she said. ‘And someone grab the other end of the chain. I want it taut and secure.’

  Whisker clasped the muddy key in both paws. Horace held the chain in place with his hook. A large metal fastening ring passed through the centre of the key, attaching it to the chain.

  ‘Aim for the ring,’ Whisker said, ‘It looks weaker than the chain.’

  ‘It’s awfully close to your paws,’ Horace gasped. ‘What if …’

  ‘Relax,’ Ruby said. ‘Whisker won’t be joining your one-pawed club.’ She raised her sword and looked down at Whisker. ‘After three. Ready? One … two … three …’

  WHOOSH – CHING!

  Whisker felt a jolting vibration as Ruby’s sword hit the ring. He looked down to see a large chink in the metal, but the ring held fast.

  ‘Try again,’ he said. ‘Same spot.’

  As Ruby prepared to swing, Whisker saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and jumped backwards in fright. Staring straight at him was the open eye of the chameleon.

  ‘Putrid pastries,’ Horace gasped, pulling his hook from the chain. ‘It’s awake.’

  Ruby held her ground.

  ‘Get the crew out of here, Uncle,’ she hissed. ‘Whisker and I will meet you at the ravine.’

  No one moved.

  ‘GO!’ Ruby yelled.

  The Captain grabbed the two terrified mice and pulled them away from the chameleon. Horace staggered backwards after them, not lifting his gaze from the awakening creature.

  ‘Keep the chain steady, Whisker,’ Ruby instructed, raising her sword.

  Trying to ignore the eye staring at him, Whisker grabbed the key and pulled the chain over the rock. Ruby swung her sword down in a powerful arc.

  CHING!

  The gash in the metal widened but the ring remained intact. The chameleon began to stir. Its tail quivered, its legs flexed and its head swivelled to face Whisker.

  ‘Hurry!’ Whisker shouted as the chameleon tried to prod him with its horns.

  ‘One more shot,’ Ruby hissed, arching her sword above her head.

  She swung her sword through the air and the blade rocketed down with pinpoint accuracy. At the last moment, the chameleon flinched and the key slipped from Whisker’s paws.

  CHING!

  The sword made contact with the ring. Nothing happened – Ruby had missed her mark. The chameleon rose unsteadily to its feet and Whisker made a frantic grab for the key. He saw two deep grooves marking the side of the ring and knew it hung by a thread. Gripping the jagged teeth of the key, he tried pulling it free. The chain dug further into the chameleon’s skin but failed to release.

  Ruby stashed her sword and rushed to Whisker’s aid as the chameleon took a wobbly step forward. She clutched the chain in both paws and swung herself onto the chameleon’s back. Whisker heaved the key from below while Ruby tugged from above. The chameleon’s front legs collapsed beneath it and it sprawled into the mud. Whisker rolled clear but refused to let go.

  ‘Keep pulling!’ Ruby shouted. ‘I can feel it breaking.’

  Whisker pulled harder – Ruby pulled harder still. With a mighty surge of energy, the chameleon found its strength. Its emerald skin turned black as it exploded into action. Like a panther pouncing on its prey, it hurtled head first into the bushes, dragging two unwelcome passengers with it.

  The Jungle Express

  The chameleon thrashed its head from side to side as it charged through the undergrowth. Whisker, still clutching the key, struggled to hold on as he was scraped through the mud. Ruby, battered by branches, flattened herself against the chameleon’s back and clung on for dear life.

  The chameleon leapt over a log and the chain swung upwards, pulling Whisker’s body into the air. The chameleon descended, landing on a pile of stones, and Whisker plummeted down.

  Ruby released one of her paws and made a frantic grab for Whisker’s arm. She caught the back of his shirt and dragged him onto the chameleon’s back. Together, the master swords-rat and the apprentice looped their fingers through the ring and held on tight. If they were going down, the key was coming with them.

  The wild reptile continued to barge and crash its way through the dense vegetation of the jungle. Leaves and sticks smacked Whisker’s face. Water sprayed in his eyes. Trees sped past him in a green blur. He wondered if the chameleon would ever run out of energy.

  Ruby slid to one side as the chameleon ploughed through a patch of ferns. Whisker twisted his tail around her leg to stop her falling. Seconds later, the chameleon veered to its right to avoid a lichen-covered rock and Ruby bounced into the ai
r, crashing down on top of Whisker.

  He let out a pained howl as the sharp tip of her sword pierced his leg.

  ‘You’ll live!’ she shouted. ‘Now hold on, cowboy, we’re headed for the ravine.’

  The chameleon increased its pace, scrambling down a steep bank of the mountain. Through gaps in the foliage, Whisker could see the sunlit cliffs of the ravine ahead.

  ‘T-t-tell me it’s not going to …’ he stammered in panic.

  Ruby didn’t answer. She grabbed the ring with her second paw and began to twist.

  ‘Help me!’ she shouted,

  Following Ruby’s lead, Whisker twisted the ring in the opposite direction. With their efforts combined, the metal began to bend.

  ‘We’re nearly there,’ Ruby exclaimed.

  Whisker looked up. They were nearly there – the green canopy of the jungle had vanished and the rocky plateau of the cliff top stretched in front of them. The tight rope of the Pie Rats hung to their right, spanning the ravine from cliff to cliff.

  Eight metres to the edge, he calculated.

  To Whisker’s horror, he realised the chameleon wasn’t headed for the rope: it was headed for the bridge – the bridge that wasn’t there.

  Six metres.

  ‘We’ve got time,’ Ruby shouted. ‘Keep trying.’

  Whisker strained harder, his muscles cramping, his fingers turning white. The metal bent further; but not enough.

  Four metres.

  ‘Come on,’ Ruby cried, refusing to give in.

  Whisker twisted, heaved and tugged with every ounce of his strength, but it still wasn’t enough.

  Two metres.

  ‘JUMP!’ he screamed.

  The chameleon skidded to a halt. Whisker and Ruby kept moving. There was a sharp SNAP as their bodies hurtled over the head of the chameleon.

  Whisker saw three terrifying things at once: the edge of the cliff rising towards him, Ruby somersaulting downwards and the key spinning out of control through the air.

  For a split second, time slowed down, and in that moment, a strange thought flashed through Whisker’s mind: Never touch a crooked fool’s scalp.