Hopper's Destiny

by Lisa Fiedler

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  HOPPER STRODE THROUGH THE gates of Atlantia feeling bigger and braver than he ever had in his life. He knew that the tunnels would never be completely without their dangers, or entirely free of challenge . . . but then, neither would life. And that was the adventure of it. From this day forward nature’s justice—not Felina’s fury—would prevail, and that was all any mouse could ask for.

  The rodent warriors who’d made up the other three battalions had returned from the march and exchanged their weapons for tools. They were already back at work, repairing the city. Hopper was glad to see it; there was still much to do (as La Rocha had once told Hopper in a note), and although Pup’s threat still lingered in the back of his mind, the Chosen One found himself looking forward to all that lay ahead.

  The elders were waiting to welcome Hopper, the conquering hero, on the steps of the palace. They congratulated him and explained that the basketball rats had brought Zucker to his bedchamber, where his wounds had been cleansed and treated.

  Hopper was eager to check on the prince. He was about to head into the palace when Valky appeared and laid his key sword on the top step. He turned to Ace.

  “The Nets are playing the Knicks tonight,” the chipmunk said. “Think we can manage to avoid that traitor with the broom and grab ourselves a couple of seats?”

  Ace laughed. “Sure. I’m counting on Brooklyn to beat the spread. Capone’s a New York fan, so there’s a sausage-and-pepper grinder riding on this game.”

  “Wait,” said Hopper, his head swiveling from Ace to Valky, then back to Ace. “You’re going back?” He felt tears stinging his eyes. “You’re not staying?”

  “We can’t stay, Hopper,” said Ace, swishing his tail to pull Hopper in for a friendly squeeze. “I’ve got a job to do, remember? There are lots of rodents who still need to be relocated, and Valky has to be there to show them how to survive in the grasslands. Especially now, with all that snow on the ground.”

  Hopper knew Ace was right, but he hated the thought of saying good-bye.

  “Julius, Kidd, and Dawkins are going to stick around for a while,” Valky told Hopper, “long enough to build a basketball court in the playground for the little ones.”

  “That’ll be nice,” croaked Hopper, biting back tears.

  “Hey,” said Ace. “You know you can come up and visit us anytime.”

  “I know,” said Hopper, dabbing his eyes. “And I will. I promise.” He took a deep breath. “Good-bye, Ace. And thanks. For everything.”

  “I knew you were something special the minute I saw you dangling from that bridge,” whispered Ace, leaning down to brush his silky face against Hopper’s back.

  “You’re special too,” Hopper said. “Say hi to Capone for me. And send Carroll my . . .” He almost said “love,” but since the thought of that made him blush, he said “my best” instead.

  Valky snapped Hopper a little salute, then turned and trotted down the steps. Ace followed. When they reached the bottom, Ace looked back and gave Hopper a wink. “You’re going to accomplish great things down here, Hopper,” he called. “I can feel it.”

  Then he was gone.

  With a stab in his heart Hopper entered the palace.

  Hopper was touched to see that the flag he had sewn with his own two paws, the banner that had acted as a blanket for the prince on his journey home, now lay folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

  Zucker had been fed a hearty meal. His wounds were cleansed and bandaged. He told Hopper and Firren all about his captivity under Felina’s watchful glare, about how she’d deprived him of sleep and nourishment, tossing and bouncing him around the lair whenever the mood had struck her. The only thing that had kept her from eating him alive, he told them, was that she thought he would make a better hostage than a meal.

  Hopper decided to give the prince and the rebel warrior their privacy. He knew Firren had a great many things to say to Zucker, and he suspected, from the way that Zucker smiled a big, dopey smile every time his eyes met Firren’s, that he had a few things to say to her, too. When he took his leave, Firren was sitting vigil beside the prince’s bed, not because she worried his condition might take a negative turn, but because every few minutes the prince attempted to throw off the covers and get out of bed, announcing that he wanted to oversee the activity in and around the palace.

  “Must I remind you,” Firren was saying as Hopper tiptoed through the door, “that I’m holding a very big sword?”

  In the entry hall Hopper was met by a servant, who handed him a note addressed to the Chosen One. According to the servant, it had arrived just after they’d set out for battle, hand delivered by a mouse bedecked in full military regalia.

  “What color was it?”

  “The mouse?”

  “The uniform.”

  The servant frowned. “Oddly enough, it was pink.”

  Hopper laughed and tore open the note:

  DEAR HOPPER,

  I AM SURE YOU KNOW BY NOW THAT PUP HAS GONE OFF ON HIS OWN IN A MISGUIDED ATTEMPT TO PROVE THAT HE IS A CAPABLE WARRIOR. I AM GUESSING YOU RECEIVED THIS INFORMATION FROM THAT SNEAKY RAT-REBEL FRIEND OF YOURS, FIRREN, WHO MANAGED TO ESCAPE ME.

  ALTHOUGH I AM NOT ORDINARILY THE SORT TO EXTEND AN OLIVE BRANCH, I HAVE DECIDED THAT FOR PUP’S SAKE YOU AND I MUST NOW CONSIDER FORMING AN ALLIANCE. IF WE DON’T, THE LITTLE FOOL WILL MOST LIKELY GET HIMSELF KILLED.

  MY GRAND PLAN, IF YOU’RE INTERESTED, IS TO CONTINUE MY EFFORTS TO LEAD THE MŪS. THEY ARE OUR FAMILY, AND THEY ARE GOOD AND WISE. THEY CAN BE FIERCE, TOO, AND YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LIKE THAT. BUT I’VE RECENTLY HAD IT POINTED OUT TO ME, BY SOMEONE FOR WHOM I HAVE A RELUCTANT RESPECT, THAT AS A LEADER I HAVE CERTAIN, SHALL WE SAY, FAULTS. AND SO, BASED ON THE ADVICE OF THIS RESPECTABLE SOMEONE, I HAVE VOWED TO TRY LEADING WITH FAIRNESS AND JUSTICE, JUST AS OUR FATHER, DODGER, WOULD HAVE DONE. I DOUBT IT WILL BE AS MUCH FUN, BUT I WILL DO MY BEST.

  TO REITERATE, I INTEND TO MAKE MYSELF AVAILABLE TO JOIN FORCES WITH YOU ON A MISSION TO SAVE PUP. IF YOU WANT TO GET TOGETHER TO DISCUSS THIS, AND TO DETERMINE WHETHER TOGETHER WE MIGHT SOMEHOW POUND SOME SENSE BACK INTO OUR CRAZY LITTLE BROTHER, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

  SINCERELY,

  YOUR SISTER, PINKIE

  P.S. HEY, HOPPER, REMEMBER THAT MORNING IN THE PET SHOP WHEN THE BOY CAME IN WITH THE SNAKE? EVEN THOUGH I TRIED NOT TO ACT LIKE IT, I WAS PRETTY SCARED. JUST THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW.

  P.P.S. I’M SORRY I BIT YOUR EAR.

  P.P.P.S. YOU’D BETTER BE SORRY YOU BIT MINE!

  Hopper folded up the note and slipped it into his pocket. He would reply with a similar missive, telling her all that had transpired in that old wing-tip loafer. He would explain that although Pup had not gone to his death in a one-on-one battle with Felina, he was still MIA and in need of their prompt intervention. To that end Hopper would graciously accept her offer of an alliance.

  He would also extend to her an invitation.

  An invitation to a wedding.

  The whole of Atlantia, as well as the entire Mūs tribe, turned out for the celebration of Zucker’s royal wedding to the rebel leader, Firren.

  The ceremony was to be held on the steps of the palace. A very enthusiastic crowd had gathered at the base of the sweeping staircase, spilling into the streets of Atlantia as far as the town square. The young, newly crowned emperor wore his customary purple tunic, adorned with the gold-and-blue jeweled chain that had once belonged to his mother. Hopper, of course, was Zucker’s best mouse, and Ranger Leetch had been awarded the honor of walking Firren down the aisle. Lilting strains of beautiful music came from an orchestra of crickets.

  As Hopper took his place on the top step beside a very nervous Zucker, a blue-robed figure emerged from the palace.

  “I wish to preside over the ceremony,” came the stranger’s voice from deep inside the cover of his hood.

  “Sure, fine . . . works for me.” Zucker barely glanced at the stranger; he was too busy watching Firren make her way gracefully up the
stairs.

  “Who is that?” Hopper whispered to the prince-turned-emperor.

  “No idea, kid. As long as he’s official, I don’t care who it is.”

  Hopper frowned and eyed the robed figure with interest. There was something strangely familiar about the blue fabric of his cloak.

  When Firren reached the pinnacle of the staircase, Leetch placed the bride’s dainty paw in Zucker’s. Hopper tore his eyes away from the stranger in the blue robe to survey the happy crowd. When he spotted Pinkie in her golden robe, he noticed she had an odd little smile on her face, as if she were in possession of some terrific secret—as if she knew something Hopper didn’t.

  Now Leetch stepped away, and Zucker and Firren were looking into each other’s eyes while the stranger in the blue robe raised his arms in a mystical blessing.

  “Dearly beloved . . . ,” he began.

  The cloaked stranger was an eloquent speaker. He spoke of love and loyalty, of partnership and promise, and when he invoked La Rocha’s name, Zucker didn’t even roll his eyes.

  Hopper thought Firren was positively glowing. He was especially relieved that the groom managed to remain standing through the entire service, despite the fact that his royal knees never stopped shaking.

  When the ritual was complete, the stranger nodded inside his hood. “And so it shall be,” he proclaimed. “The rebel Firren and the newly named emperor Zucker are united in an endless bond. Together they will guide and protect the good citizens of Atlantia with patience and wisdom, integrity and kindness.”

  When Zucker leaned forward to place a shy kiss on his bride’s cheek, Hopper led the crowd in a round of rousing applause.

  As the guests headed into the palace for the reception, Hopper caught a glimpse of Bartel and Pritchard, and it dawned on him that he hadn’t seen their sister, Marcy, since the night before the battle with Felina. Odd that she hadn’t attended Zucker’s wedding. He was sure she had her reasons, although he couldn’t imagine what they might be.

  “Thank you for that beautiful ceremony,” Firren was telling the robed stranger.

  “Yeah,” said Zucker. “That was some top-notch officiating you did there.” He reached out his paw to shake the stranger’s hand. “Thanks.”

  The stranger removed his hood and smiled broadly at the groom. “You are most humbly welcome . . . Zuck-meister,” he said.

  Firren gasped.

  Zucker stared.

  And Hopper—the Chosen One, the son of Dodger—blinked once . . . twice . . . then collapsed in a faint, right there on the steps of the palace.

  Hopper heard voices.

  He was aware of Zucker saying, “We’ve missed you like crazy, pal,” and Firren saying, “Thank goodness you’re all right,” and then Zucker saying, “Where in the heck have you been hiding all this time?”

  But as Hopper awoke, what he reveled in more than the sound of these familiar voices was the feeling of warmth that surrounded him, the strong, steady heartbeat thrumming against his fur. Slowly he opened his eyes to look up at a white circle of fur, into the eyes of his father.

  His father.

  As the daze lifted, Hopper realized that he was in Zucker’s bed with the banner of scraps tucked around him. Dodger . . . his father . . . was perched on the edge of the bed, close beside him. Just like he’d been so long ago in the nest of aspen curls. His heartbeat lulled Hopper now as it had then. But this time, Hopper knew, it wasn’t going to disappear.

  Hopper sat up and looked around at his friends and family. “Sorry I fainted.”

  “Can’t say I blame you, kid.” Zucker chuckled. “Nearly passed out myself when I saw the late, great Dodger standing there . . . alive . . . on the steps of my palace.”

  “We were so worried about you,” said Firren, gently stroking the fur on Hopper’s forehead.

  “Personally, I thought you were never going to wake up,” came Pinkie’s voice from across the room. She was seated at Zucker’s desk with her arms folded and her eyes narrowed. “You are such an attention hog, Hopper.”

  Hopper decided to ignore the barb; after all, she was there, waiting to see that he awoke safely. That had to count for something.

  Now Hopper turned to Dodger with an expression of disbelief. “I don’t understand, Father. We all thought you were—”

  “It was all just a ruse,” Dodger explained. “So I could continue to work in secret toward our goal of liberating the camps.”

  “Wish you would have let us in on it,” joked Zucker. “Spent an awful lot of time mourning your loss.”

  Dodger looked sheepish. “I’m sorry about that, my friend. I thought it was for the best to let everyone believe that Cassius had done what he set out to do.”

  “So Firren’s theory was right all along,” Hopper said. “Cassius only injured you and you went upland, and now you’re back.”

  “Wanna hear something nuts?” said Zucker. “There were a few moments there right after you disappeared when I thought . . . well, when I found myself wondering if maybe . . .”

  “Maybe what?” asked Dodger.

  Zucker shrugged. “Well, I had this gut feeling, this strong hunch, that maybe . . . possibly . . .” He scratched the fur on the back of his neck and sighed.

  “Just say it,” urged Hopper. “You thought . . . what?”

  “That Dodger had become La Rocha,” the emperor blurted out.

  For a moment no one said a word, their eyes moving curiously to Dodger, who sat beside Hopper with a blank expression on his face.

  Then Pinkie let out a loud snort, and everyone started laughing at once.

  “See?” Zucker frowned. “I told you it was crazy.”

  “Not as crazy as you might think,” said Dodger, giving the Zuck-meister a chummy clap on the back. “But I assure you, old friend, as certain as I’m standing here before you right now . . . I am not La Rocha.”

  Here Dodger paused to slide a quick glance at Pinkie, and Hopper could have sworn he saw his father wink.

  “I’m just Dodger,” he continued, “an ordinary Mūs, a mortal being. But La Rocha will live forever in these tunnels.”

  Hopper smiled. He liked that La Rocha brought faith to the underdwellers, because he knew that everything that really mattered began with hope.

  “In fact,” said Dodger, “I can guarantee that La Rocha is somewhere out there right this very minute, spreading his . . . or her . . . goodness and wisdom, and giving all of us something to believe in.”

  The gathering took a moment to let this sink in. Even Zucker looked convinced.

  Then the emperor and empress took their leave, so the newly reunited family could have some time alone in one another’s company. Hopper’s heart ached for the absence of Pup. How his brother would have loved knowing that their father was alive. At least, the old, innocent Pup would have loved it. This new, frightening Pup was an entirely different story.

  Hopper took a minute to fill Dodger in on the episode in the wing-tip loafer and Pup’s second disappearance.

  “Your brother, it seems, is experiencing some growing pains.”

  “Yeah,” grumbled Pinkie. “He’s growing, and we’re the ones feeling the pain.”

  Dodger smiled at her ready wit, but his face soon turned serious again. “We will do everything we can to find him,” he promised. “We’ll work together and we’ll bring Pup back.”

  “My Mūs army is at your disposal,” Pinkie offered magnanimously.

  “And I’m sure Zucker and Atlantia will do whatever is necessary to locate Pup,” added Hopper.

  Dodger nodded. “It is nice to see you two agreeing on something,” he said with a grin. “I know we are all afraid for Pup, but at least he’s in far less danger now that Felina is gone.”

  “Heard she made quite a nasty splat,” said Pinkie, her lip curling up in a wicked smile.

  “That’s disgusting,” said Hopper.

  Pinkie rolled her eyes, and Hopper quickly changed the subject.

  “Father,” h
e began, suddenly nervous. “I was just wondering . . . where are you planning to live now? I’d love it if you decided to stay here in the palace.”

  “Hey!” Pinkie scowled. “I’m sure he’d rather come back to the Mūs village with me. After all, that was his home.”

  Dodger stroked the white fur around his eye thoughtfully. “I was hoping there might be room for me in both places. Zucker has already asked me to sign on as one of his advisors, so naturally, I’ll spend a significant amount of time here in Atlantia. But I would also like to see about expanding the Mūs Tribunal into a quartet. I have great respect for Sage and Temperance and Christoph, and I would like to be a part of our ancestral community.” He smiled at his two Chosen children. “What do you think about that arrangement?”

  Pinkie let out a huff. “I suppose I can live with that,” she said.

  Hopper was slightly less enthusiastic. Now that his father was back in his life, he hated the idea of losing him . . . even if only on a part-time basis. For a moment he considered swallowing his pride and asking Pinkie if he could join them both behind the gray wall.

  But then his mind spiraled back to the day on the palace steps when they’d led Titus out in chains, and he heard the echo of Zucker’s words:

  Becoming a guiding force in the future of Atlantia is pretty much your destiny.

  Hopper knew in the marrow of his bones that this was the truth. As much as he loved and respected his Mūs brethren, Atlantia was his home. Even during his time in the daylight world with Ace he’d yearned for it. He’d worried for it. He’d tried to push it from his mind and his heart, but he couldn’t do it. When he first arrived in the tunnels, he’d been frightened and without hope, but with Zucker’s help he’d looked deep into his mouse soul and discovered courage there, courage he’d used to help the city rise above its own evil past to begin a new and magical journey.

  Atlantia needed Hopper because Hopper was Atlantia’s destiny . . . and now more than ever Atlantia was his.

  Feeling safe and content, he settled back into his pillows. Dodger motioned to Pinkie to join them on the bed, and to Hopper’s surprise, she did, tucking herself in at his feet. They sat together quietly for some time. When at last Pinkie spoke, her voice was so gentle Hopper almost couldn’t believe it was hers.