Читать книгу The Golden Anchor - Cameron Stelzer - Страница 12

The Getaway

Chatterbeak did as he was instructed. Nearing the apex of the theatre’s curved roof, he manoeuvred to his right and began skimming low over the tiles in the direction of the clock tower.

Whisker looked down to see the entire township spreading out beneath him. Curious eyes peered out through closed windows, but the laneways and pavements were deserted. He felt uneasy. It was as if the townsfolk had anticipated their arrival.

‘Gertrude,’ he muttered to himself. ‘That betraying beaver must have arrived before us and raised the alarm.’

No, he reasoned. Surely she’s still on the lake …

The triangular spire of the clock tower rose in front of him and his attention turned to the white clock face, hovering in the shadows like an enormous full moon.

It engulfed his entire vision, and for a moment he was back on Cloud Mountain with his sister lying captive on the stone altar and the full moon rising above her.

And then he was falling, holding on for dear life as Chatterbeak plummeted from the sky.

Hidden from sight behind the high tower, the freefalling parrot rocketed down the side of the building, gathering speed with every metre he dropped. The icy air blasted Whisker’s eyes and his snow hood was wrenched from his head. Eyes blurring, fingers slipping, he struggled to maintain his grip on his sister.

Hold on, he urged himself. You’ve got to hold on.

Chatterbeak continued his manic descent with no sign of slowing. Anna let out a startled gasp as rose bushes and topiary trees raced up to meet them.

The moment before impact, the speeding parrot pulled up short, swooping low over a box hedge and then ploughing through an arched rose arbour. Thorn-riddled branches scratched at him like claws and his passengers flattened their bodies against his feathers, desperate to avoid being snagged on a rose thorn and wrenched from their seats.

Horace copped the brunt of the battering and he yelped in pain as sharp, spiky branches lashed out at him from all directions.

The rose arch widened and Chatterbeak emerged from the other side, shaking thorns and twigs from his feathers.

Horace continued to yelp and moan, ‘Rotten pies to second class seats.’

‘You’ll live, Horace,’ Ruby hissed, untangling several branches from the end of her longbow.

‘Yeah, as a pin cushion,’ Horace muttered, as the parrot swept low over the snowy lawn.

Whisker looked back, his heart pounding, his paws trembling. Brushing the unruly fringe out of his eyes, he fixed his gaze on the town hall. The cries of the eagles still echoed across the sky, but the tiled roofs of the buildings obscured them from his sight. Uncertain if his plan had actually worked, he swivelled forward, urging Chatterbeak on.

The ground raced beneath them, close enough to touch, much to the dismay of Horace who was soon coated in a layer of snow. By the time Chatterbeak reached two riverside cottages on the outskirts of town, Horace resembled a miniature snowman.

The parrot cleared a final picket fence and, with no sign of pursuit, plunged into the soupy fog of the river.

The fog rolled around them like a protective cacoon and Whisker allowed himself a small sigh of relief.

He glanced down to see how his sister was faring.

‘How are you holding out, Anna?’ he asked.

Anna Winterbottom peered up at Whisker with her large brown eyes. She plucked a rose thorn from her oversized cloak and gave him a cautious nod.

‘We’ll be off this river soon,’ Whisker reassured her. ‘And then we’ll find Mum and Dad, I promise.’

Anna raised a tiny, quivering finger and pointed into the fog.

‘Fox,’ she squeaked.

‘That’s right,’ Whisker said. ‘The fox knows where to find them.’

‘Chains,’ Anna said with a shudder.

Whisker looked down at her, puzzled. It was the first time she had mentioned the word to him.

‘Anna,’ he said softly, trying not to scare her. ‘Have you remembered something? Are Mum and Dad being held prisoner? Is that what you mean by chains?’

There was a pained look on Anna’s face as she searched her memories for an answer. Whisker guessed they were memories she’d rather forget.

After a long pause, Anna nodded.

‘Do you know where they are?’ Whisker asked cautiously.

Anna’s face went blank.

‘Chains,’ was all she could say.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, wrapping his arms around her. ‘We’ll rescue them – wherever they are.’He tried to sound confident, but deep down inside he felt as anxious as his sister. Staring into the fog, he imagined what lay ahead – beyond the river, through the dark pine wood. Hawk’s View Prison and its newest inmate …

His thoughts were interrupted by Horace’s loud attempt at a whisper. ‘Err, Whisker, I’m not sure if you’ve considered this, but what if your parents are chained up in the prison with the fox?’

Anna’s expression darkened.

‘Don’t spook the poor girl, you insensitive worm,’ Ruby hissed, reaching down to clobber Horace with her scissor sword and sending a plume of snow powder bursting into the air. ‘Hawk’s View Prison is filled with pirates and pickpockets, not cyclone-surviving circus rats.’

‘Ouch!’ Horace squeaked. ‘That was hardly called for. I was just trying to be prepared. After all, have you seen the security in that place? Fifty-foot walls, snow monkeys with crossbows … not to mention the elkhounds and hawks. I doubt a simple escape-through-the-cell-window-with-a-bedsheet kind of plan will cut it.’

Ruby straightened her crimson eyepatch and continued in a softer tone. ‘I’m sure Whisker will find a way to free the fox. He’s the master of jailbreaks.’

‘And the king of cunning plans,’ Chatterbeak chimed in.

Anna looked up at her brother with expectant eyes.

‘I’ll … I’ll think of something,’ he sighed. ‘Just give me some time.’

A hush fell over the companions and Whisker felt the enormity of the task at hand. It seemed almost impossible that four rats and a parrot could penetrate a mighty fortress and defeat an army of prison guards. And yet, somehow, Whisker knew he must find a way. The fox was his greatest hope – his only hope. Without him, Whisker doubted he would ever see his parents again.

His thoughts were still focused on that grim realisation when a faint sound alerted him to a new danger. The sharp cries of the eagles still echoed in the distance, but there was something closer – something much closer.

Vroomp, vroomp, vroomp.

It was the steady beat of wings approaching from the river mouth.

‘Listen,’ he whispered. ‘Can you hear that?’

‘Aye,’ Ruby said, throwing back her hood to hear more clearly. ‘Something is following us.’

‘What kind of something?’ Horace asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Ruby said. ‘But whatever it is, it sounds big.’

‘Like a dragon,’ Horace gulped.

Ruby rolled her eye. ‘This isn’t one of your fairy tales, Horace.’

‘Well, dragon or not, I don’t want to be stuck out here when that thing arrives,’ Horace argued.

‘Alright,’ Ruby said, peering around the fog. ‘We need a place to hide.’

‘There’s a pine forest between the town and the prison,’ Whisker suggested.

‘A cosy tree sounds good to me,’ Chatterbeak squawked, veering sharply towards the western riverbank.

‘Wait!’ Whisker hissed tugging the parrot’s feathers. ‘We can’t just go bumbling into the forest. Our pursuer will hear us change course and follow us in an instant.’

Chatterbeak straightened abruptly and the rats lurched in their seats.

‘Make up your mind,’ Ruby hissed, trying to regain her balance.

‘Sorry,’ Whisker said, ‘but we need to be smart about this.’ He pointed a finger into the fog ahead. ‘White-water rapids run all the way down this river. If we enter the trees at the first group of rapids, the roar of the water should mask our escape. With any luck, our pursuer will continue following the river while we find a safe place to hide.’

‘Just like our clock tower stunt,’ Chatterbeak cooed. ‘We fly one way and hope our pursuer goes the other.’

Whisker nodded. ‘Something like that.’

‘Okay, it’s worth a shot,’ Ruby said, glancing warily around her. ‘But you’d better hope we reach the rapids soon. The fog won’t last forever and I can hear that creature gaining on us.’

The companions fell silent, waiting for the first sign of the rapids and hoping the fog would hold out. The occasional muttered word about dragons escaped Horace’s lips but no one else dared to speak.

The thrumming wingbeat of their pursuer grew louder. VROOMP, VROOMP, VROOMP.

Growing weary, Chatterbeak’s strokes began to falter.

Keep going, Whisker silently encouraged.

And then he heard it – softly at first but then growing louder, the unmistakeable gurgle of rushing water.

Chatterbeak found a new strength and the race to reach the rapids was on. He moved low through the fog, oblivious to the loud flapping of his own wings.

Smooth-topped rocks appeared beneath him, protruding from the surface of the river. Foaming bursts of water sprayed into the air.

The gurgle transformed into a roar as fast-flowing streams cascaded over rocks, splashing into pools at their bases. Whisker waited until the roar of the rapids had drowned out every other sound and then reached out and touched Chatterbeak on the neck.

Instantly, the parrot swerved to his right, cutting across the rapids. Rushing water and swirling fog concealed his escape. He swept up the grassy slope of the riverbank and disappeared into the murky shadows of the pine forest.

The trees were black and silent, rising high into the air like enormous mountains of coal, their dense branches blocking out the sky. Low patches of mist drifted across the forest floor, wrapping their wispy tendrils around the mighty trunks.

Whisker looked back as they passed through the outer line of trees, but there was no sign of their pursuer.

The air grew colder as the companions continued deeper into the heart of the black forest. Soon the roar of the rapids was nothing more than a faint echo in the distance. Thin rays of sunlight shone through gaps in the foliage, slicing through the mist like long golden knives.

Chatterbeak rounded a trunk and Whisker glimpsed an enormous threadlike structure glistening in front of him. He opened his mouth to cry out in warning, but it was already too late.

With a sudden, jarring impact, Chatterbeak’s body lurched to a halt in mid-air, catapulting Whisker forward. He had barely left the parrot’s back when he felt himself colliding with something sticky and springy. It flexed under the impact and then bounced back, taking Whisker’s body with it.

Thin, silky strands gripped his arms and legs like glue as he vibrated back and forth. Limbs splayed wide and with his face pressed flat against the web of silk, he was powerless to escape.