Читать книгу The Golden Anchor - Cameron Stelzer - Страница 19

Catch Me if You Can

The three rats scampered into the dense trees, swords raised, hearts beating rapidly. Whisker led the charge, desperate not to let the slippery little gerbil slip through his fingers. Horace kept pace, his short legs working overtime to match Whisker’s smooth strides. Rat Bait trailed a few paces behind the younger rats, puffing and panting, but refusing to stop.

With their ears locked on the soft jingle of coins, they ran for several minutes until the ground began to slope upwards. The forest suddenly became silent and they halted to look for tracks. The thick layer of pine needles covering the ground made it impossible to tell which direction Eddie had gone.

Horace pointed to the closest pine trunk with his hook. ‘Maybe he’s climbed a tree?’

Rat Bait raised his nose and sniffed the air.

‘Nope,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘He’s not up a tree, but he did pass by here. I can smell his filthy stench a mile away. I doubt he’s taken a bath in months.’

Horace inhaled deeply through his nose.

‘Good garlic!’ he spluttered, screwing up his entire face. ‘And I thought Fred’s mouldy pies smelt bad. Eddie’s au naturale body odour is positively revolting!’

‘So which way did he go?’ Whisker asked, his eyes focused on the slope ahead.

Rat Bait sniffed the air again and pointed into the trees.

‘North-west,’ he whispered, ‘to the right o’ that slope.’

‘The same direction as Hawk’s View,’ Whisker said with a worried look. ‘If he reaches the town we won’t have a hope of catching him. There are too many barns, basements and back alleys to hide in.’

‘And too many eagles hunting for us,’ Horace added.

‘We still have a chance to capture him in the forest if we’re smart about it,’ Rat Bait said calmly. ‘He can’t be travellin’ fast carryin’ that much gold an’ not makin’ a sound.’

He cleared the ground with his foot and drew an X in the dirt with the tip of Ruby’s sword.

‘This be Eddie,’ he said, pointing to the X. ‘An’ this be us.’ He proceeded to draw a short, straight arrow beneath the X and two longer, curved arrows around it.

He tapped the shorter arrow with his sword blade. ‘I’ll continue followin’ Eddie directly while ye two speedsters overtake him from the flanks. Once y’er in line with the top o’ that slope, head back in to cut him off.’

‘Alright,’ Whisker said, already on the move. ‘You take the high road, Horace. You’ll be the least visible on that slope if Eddie is looking for us. I’ll take the low road.’

Horace saluted his companions with his hook and began scaling the slope. Rat Bait simply nodded and continued along the level ground. Whisker drew his sword and descended a shallow gully to the north of the slope.

In seconds, he had lost all sight of his companions in the sprawling maze of pine trunks, fallen branches and rotten logs that littered the gully floor. Patches of snow clung to the sides of grey granite rocks and Whisker felt like he was back in the Erratic Blocks of Cloud Mountain.

In the gloomy half-light of the gully, Whisker began to doubt that he was heading in the right direction. He reached down for his compass, hoping to take a bearing, but realised he hadn’t reattached his brown drawstring bag.

Cursing himself for rushing off without being fully prepared, he raised his eyes to the sky, hoping to navigate using the sun. He searched the gaps between branches, trying to locate the exact position of the sun but, with his eyes accustomed to the darkness, every patch of sky appeared to be the same bright white as the next.

Abandoning his futile efforts, he chose to trust his instinct and continued forward, the winding path of the gully his only guide. He travelled for some time, scrambling under branches and leaping over small rocks until he came to a large log blocking his path. He stopped and sniffed the air, hoping to catch a trace of Rat Bait’s cheap cologne to tell him he hadn’t strayed too far off course.

The scent that met his nostrils, however, was as unexpected as it was foul. It was a strange mix of mouldy gruel, unwashed fur and rotten eggs, with the slightest hint of earwax.

Whisker’s entire body froze. He stood rooted to the spot, hoping his footsteps hadn’t already given him away. Only his eyes remained active, searching the gully for the source of the smell.

The trees were still. The air was silent. He was alone.

And yet …

Whisker’s eyes focused on the long object lying in front of him. He sniffed the air a second time and felt the tip of his nose tingle. The foul smell was coming directly from the log.

A faint tinkle of coins was all Whisker needed to confirm his suspicions. Eddie the Ear wasn’t heading for the town. He was hiding three paces away in the centre of an enormous hollow log.

The chance discovery set Whisker’s mind racing. From where he stood, side-on to the log, the decaying wood appeared to be hollow at both ends, giving Eddie two possible exit routes. As soon as Whisker crawled in one end, Eddie would hightail it out the other, disappearing into the dark gully before the larger rodent was even halfway through the log.

If only Horace or Rat Bait were here … Whisker thought.

He considered calling out for backup, but decided his words would scare off Eddie quicker than it took to say, ‘Over here! I’ve caught the little blighter.’

He resigned himself to waiting patiently for any signs of his companions, while keeping one eye fixed on the log. As he stared at the patches of pale green lichen and bracket fungi covering the bark, he saw a tiny flicker of movement from the centre of the log. Honing his eyes on a crumbling section of wood, he spotted a small round hole. Staring out at him through the hole was a beady black eye.

The eye blinked once and then vanished with a loud tinkle of coins.

‘Rotten pies to rotten logs!’ Whisker hissed.

In desperation, Whisker hurled his scissor sword at the closest end of the log and it hit the bark with a clanging THUD, sending fragments of wood flying everywhere. At the same time, he sprinted towards the opposite end, hoping the gerbil would flee in the ‘safer’ of the two directions.

Rounding the end of the log, he dove into the tight space, his arms extended to tackle the gerbil – only to see Eddie squirming through a large hole in the centre of the log’s rear side.

‘Putrid pastries to third exits!’ Whisker exclaimed, stealing yet another line from Horace.

He tried to raise himself onto all fours to crawl after Eddie, but slammed his head on the low roof and collapsed back down again.

Eddie was gone and with him the bag of gold and any hope of breaking into the prison. In frustration, Whisker began to wiggle out backwards. His torso had just exited the end of the log when he heard a CRACK of splintering wood, followed by the sound of coins spilling over the ground.

Baffled, he hauled himself to his feet and rushed behind the log, just in time to glimpse Rat Bait lowering a rotten piece of wood. Eddie was lying unconscious in front of him, covered in splinters and gold coins. Horace stood spectating from the top of the ridge.

‘Nice shot, Gramps,’ he shouted out.

‘The bligh’er never saw me comin’,’ Rat Bait chuckled, running his paw down his green velvet suit for dramatic effect. ‘Ran clean into me club, he did. Must ‘ave thought I was part o’ the scenery.’ He glanced down at his unsuspecting victim. ‘It’s fortunate for him I wasn’t brandishin’ Miss Ruby’s scissor sword, or poor Eddie would be missin’ more than just his ear.’

Whisker rubbed his neck and gulped. ‘Let’s just hope all those blows to his head don’t erase his memories. He won’t be much of a prison guide if he forgets the escape route.’

‘I hear ye,’ Rat Bait said, throwing his club aside. He pulled out a silk handkerchief from one of his pockets. ‘Best we tie up his legs to stop him runnin’ off again. Three blows to the head an’ he might forget he was a prisoner in the first place.’

Sometime later, three rats and their limp captive arrived back at the spider’s web to find Ruby sitting on the stump, clutching her remaining scissor sword in both paws. She was busy demonstrating a complicated sword fighting move to Anna and Balthazar, while Chatterbeak continued to sleep peacefully on his perch.

Anna picked up Rat Bait’s fairy floss sword as the companions approached and moved to stand in their way.

‘Grrr,’ she said, swishing the sword through the air. ‘Anna grisly guard!’ She bared her teeth and took several bear-like steps towards them.

‘Grisly indeed,’ Whisker said, ruffling her messy fringe with his paw. ‘Enemies beware when you’re on watch.’

Balthazar let out a loud ‘HONK!’

‘And who could forget your trusty dragon,’ Horace chimed in, patting the bird on the neck. ‘You two are enough to scare away any forest nasties.’

‘Speaking of forest nasties,’ Ruby said, spotting the lump over Rat Bait’s shoulder, ‘I see you’ve been doing some hunting of your own.’

‘Aye,’ Rat Bait said, dropping Eddie at the base of the stump. ‘We have returned yer footstool, Miss Ruby, along with yer sword.’ He drew Ruby’s scissor sword from his belt and passed it back to her.

‘Much obliged,’ he said tipping his hat.

‘Don’t mention it,’ she said, studying the blade for scratches. Seeing nothing that required her immediate attention, she glanced down at Eddie and frowned. ‘Am I imagining things, or did Eddie just move?’

Receiving shrugs from Whisker and Rat Bait, Ruby raised her sword and gave the gerbil a firm jab in the backside. He instantly let out a high-pitched squeal of alarm, ‘Awooo!’

‘Thought so,’ Ruby said smugly. ‘Unconscious, my fractured foot. He’s probably been awake the whole time.’

Whisker looked down to see Eddie staring up at him through one bloodshot eye. His nose and second eye were squashed into the ground and his mouth was filled with pine needles.

‘Err, Whisker,’ Horace murmured, ‘you don’t think he overheard something important we said? I mean, we did discuss the plan a couple of times on the way back.’

‘Of course I overheard you, blabbermouth,’ Eddie spluttered, spitting out pine needles as he spoke. ‘And I’ll tell you right now, there’s no way I’m going back inside that weevil-infested prison. I’m out and I’m staying out!’ He attempted to draw himself off the ground but the tips of Ruby’s swords forced him back down again.

Ruby turned to Whisker, fury in her eye. ‘Permission to chop off his eavesdropping ear?’

‘Permission denied,’ Whisker said, stepping closer. ‘I want to hear what he has to say first.’

‘Why?’ Ruby snapped.

‘Because he knows something we don’t,’ Whisker said. ‘Isn’t that right, Mr Ear?’

‘I, err, um, I might know a thing or two,’ Eddie replied cagily.

‘So start speaking,’ Ruby hissed. ‘My patience is short and my swords are sharp.’

Eddie let out a condescending snort. ‘Spare me the drama, Missy. Pretty girls don’t scare me with their hollow threats.’

‘Hollow threats?’ she fumed. ‘Your ear is really going to cop it!’

‘Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss Ruby,’ Rat Bait said, moving beside her. ‘But might I have a word to me ol’ friend Eddie the Ear?’

‘Be my guest,’ Ruby scowled, not lowering her swords. ‘But if he doesn’t talk, he’ll be Eddie No Ears.’

Rat Bait knelt beside the gerbil, a calm look in his eyes.

‘Eddie,’ he began casually, ‘when this be over I’d wager ye’d want to return to Sea Shanty Island to continue yer glamourous life as a pickpocket.’

‘So what if I did?’ Eddie grunted.

‘The thing be, I have a dear acquaintance on the island,’ Rat Bait continued, ‘a fine fellow by the name o’ Baron Gustave.’

Eddie snorted. ‘That pompous white rabbit who runs the Gunpowder Galleria? What’s it to me?’

‘Well,’ Rat Bait said, maintaining his level tone, ‘Gustave is what ye’d call a fam’ly rabbit, the proud father o’ twelve sons.’

‘Big deal,’ Eddie spat. ‘He could have a hundred fluffy bunnies for all I care.’

‘An’ that be the problem,’ Rat Bait said, his voice deepening. ‘Ye just don’t care. Ye don’t care ‘bout anyone but yer snivellin’ li’l self.’

‘And what makes you so different, Capt’n Rat Bait?’ Eddie said defiantly. ‘Yeah, I’ve heard the rumours. You’d sell your own mother for a bag o’ lousy copper coins.’

‘Well, the rumours be wrong,’ Rat Bait growled. ‘Like Gustave, I be a fam’ly rat now, an’ I don’t take kindly to low-life street urchins threatenin’ the lives o’ me own two grandchildren.’

Eddie shot Rat Bait a look of concern. ‘Y-you’re related to these little crims?’

‘They’re not criminals!’ Rat Bait fumed, waving a paw behind him. ‘Me grandson, Whisker, be the Pirate Cup champion.’

‘Oh,’ Eddie gulped.

‘That’s right,’ Rat Bait said, his nose only millimetres from Eddie’s face. ‘Ye know who organised them Centenary Games, don’t ye? Mr Fam’ly himself, Baron Gustave. He’s grown rather fond o’ our young Whisker, an’ I don’t think he’d take kindly to news o’ yer actions. If I were to breathe a single word ‘bout what happened in that web, Gustave an’ his twelve sons would be on ye in an instant – an’ they’d never leave ye alone.

‘Ye’d wake up every mornin’ with firecrackers in yer pyjamas. Ye’d be plastered with purple paint pellets the moment ye stepped out o’ yer front door. An’ the frostin’ on yer birthday cake for the rest o’ yer sorry life would be Gustave’s very own Gourmet Gunpowder – a potent purple powder ready to frizzle every hair on yer miserable head the moment yer cockroach-eatin’ friends yell blow out the candles an’ make a wish!’

Eddie’s bruised, battered and squashed face turned a sickly shade of green.

‘I-I might be ready to talk now,’ he squeaked.

‘I should hope so,’ Rat Bait said, stepping aside for Ruby. He winked at Horace who was shaking his head in admiration. ‘Nothin’ like a bit o’ friendly conversation to get things movin’.’

‘Alright, Eddie,’ Ruby said. ‘Spill the beans and your ear just might live to hear another day.’

Eddie looked up at her, his confidence crushed. ‘W-w-well, for a start, I wouldn’t advise breaking into that prison.’

‘Why not?’ Ruby snapped. ‘You found a way out. Surely you can get us back in.’

‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘But what would be the point?’

‘The point,’ Ruby hissed, tightening the grip on her swords, ‘is that we intend to rescue a very important prisoner, and you are going to help us.’

Eddie tried to shake his head, but ended up with more pine needles in his mouth.

‘It’s impossible,’ he spluttered.

‘Nothing is impossible,’ Ruby shot back.

‘This is,’ Eddie insisted.

‘And why is that?’ she asked, moving both scissor swords to the base of his ear.

Eddie closed his eyes and waited for the snip. ‘Because the prisoners have already escaped.’