The Island of Whispers

by Brendan Gisby

  As the searchlights went out one by one and the large silver moon re-appeared still hanging in the black sky, the narration resumed:

  ‘And here she is today, on her one hundredth birthday, still reigning supreme, as majestic as ever.’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘And now ladies, gentlemen and children,’ the voice rang out, louder than before, ‘to celebrate that birthday, the moment that we’ve all been waiting for ...’

  Each time a beam had swept over that part of the bridge, it had exposed the twelve small bodies clinging to the top of the arch, their black fur erect, almost rigid, with cold and fright. Each time, too, twelve pairs of fear-filled eyes glinted and blinked in the glare of the beam. They had stayed as still as stones. Then the intervals between the beams had grown longer, until the lights disappeared altogether, and they could breathe again.

  Twisted Foot was the first to move. He climbed up to the parapet, through its crisscross spars and onto the wooden floor of the walkway behind it. The others scrambled up to join him. In seconds, they were all on the walkway, huddled together again, nuzzling into each other. Even although they were now inside the belly of the giant, they felt safe for the first time in a long time.

  That feeling was not to last, however. The walkway stretched away into the distance ahead of them. No sooner had they set off along it, the youngsters twittering excitedly, when they heard the first of a series of loud whooshing noises below them. They looked down through the parapet to see that the creature on the top of the island was enveloped in smoke and spitting fire in all directions. Bolts of fire from it were shooting high into the sky, where they were exploding in bursts of brilliant light and deafening noise. Soon the bursts filled the whole sky. The light and the noise from them were far more intense and prolonged than from the couple of detonations that they had heard earlier.

  Unlike the crowds of sightseers gathered round the shores of the estuary, the fugitives had no desire to gape in wonder at the magic and colour of the pyrotechnic wizardry. Instead, terrified, acting on reflex, they scurried down from the walkway and retreated into the centre of the bridge. There, on the narrow, gravel-covered aisle between the two railway tracks, they cowered down, trembling, their eyes shut tight against this latest assault on their senses.

  Twisted Foot tried to shout above the racket.

  ‘We’ll be safe here,’ he was saying. But he was wrong again.

  They could feel the creature before they heard it or saw it; the whole of the giant seemed to be shaking under the weight of it. It was coming from behind them, rushing towards them. Like the creature on the island, it was spitting bolts of fire.

  ‘Oh, no!’ squealed Small Face in utter despair.

  The second battle of the underworld was just as ferocious and as noisy as the first one, but this time it was the Scavengers who were under attack. While the majority of them were trapped in their own lair, unable to pass the wall of Hunters at its entrance, several hundred had been in the Common lair when the charge came. A few had sought refuge in the abandoned lairs of the Hunters and Watchers, where they were systematically hunted down and slain. Others had decided to fight back from where they squatted on the floor of the Common lair, but they, too, had perished. The rest had chosen the lair’s platform from which to defend themselves.

  Standing on his hindquarters in the centre of the platform among the half-eaten corpses of the Rulers, Slasher rallied the latter defenders. After the disappearance of Slayer during the last battle, Slasher had claimed the throne. The whole of the lair recognised him as their fiercest fighter. He was their undisputed King-rat now. He was determined to maintain control of the underworld. He was determined to lead his warriors to victory again.

  Long Snout towered over the melee. Slave-blood was dripping from his muzzle. Keeping his eyes fixed on Slasher, he leapt up to the platform and moved in for the kill. He recognised those signs of leadership and determination in the new slave-King; they had sealed the little Scavenger’s fate.

  – o –

  – Chapter Thirty-Six –

  When the creature sped past them, the blast of air caused by its passage was so violent that it almost lifted them up and sent them careering across the giant. But they clung desperately to the gravel beneath them until it had gone by. Then they saw the creature coming to a halt away in the distance. It looked much smaller over there. It was still spitting; the bolts of fire shooting from it were erupting in huge balls of light all around the giant. Now it was growing bigger. It was making the giant shake again. Its whining roar was becoming louder. It was rushing straight at them!

  It wasn’t Small Face who squealed out this time. It was one of the youngsters, the son of Narrow Back and Timid One. His nerve having gone completely, he sprang away from the group and leapt onto the adjacent railway track in an attempt to get back to the walkway. In his panic, he didn’t see the gap between the track and the walkway. Having inherited his father’s skinny frame, as well as his nervous disposition, the youngster’s small, thin body simply fell through the narrow gap to plunge into black space. The splash made by the body when it hit the water far below went unheard amidst the combined din of the spouting creature on the island and the whining, spitting monster inside the giant.

  The rest of the group held fast and braced themselves for the next blast from the creature. The creature whizzed past them again. They held their breath and hoped upon hope that it had gone from the giant this time. Then they heard it returning behind them, and they braced themselves once more. After it roared past them for a third time, it stopped up ahead for a while, but only to prolong the fugitives’ torment by beginning yet another charge. Just as it did so, the bursts of light in the sky above the island suddenly grew faster and larger and brighter.

  The fireworks train had been the card up the sleeve of the organisers. They had never been totally convinced that the display from Inchgarvie would actually work. There had been the ferocious storm the day before, of course, and the scare about the rats before that, but it was the reliability of the electronic gadgetry that had worried them most. They had needed a backup. So they had come up with the idea of kitting out the old locomotive to fire rockets in all directions as it paraded back and forth across the bridge. In the event, the locomotive was being used to supplement, rather than to replace, the island display. Judging by the delighted reaction from the crowds on the esplanade and elsewhere, however, it was a resounding success.

  With the cheers and claps of the crowds echoing around the estuary, the locomotive completed its last run and headed south to exit the bridge. As soon as it disappeared from view, there was a final and particularly deafening burst of fireworks from the display on the island. That was the trigger for the series of simultaneous events that would constitute the climax of the night’s celebrations: the button to inaugurate the floodlighting of the bridge was pressed; a string of bonfires along both shores of the Forth were lit; and the multitude of horns on the flotilla huddled in the lee of the bridge sounded in one huge, discordant clamour.

  Amidst much oohing and aahing from the crowds, the bridge started to light up. Bathed in an initial soft orange blush, she appeared ghostly at first, but soon her whole structure was glowing with a pink-hued brilliance. She looked magnificent, more radiant and more majestic than ever, in her shining, new birthday dress.

  When the bonfires had burned down and the sound of the boat horns had petered out, the flotilla began to disperse. The crowds lingered for a little while longer, drinking in the sight of the floodlit bridge and its shimmering mirror image in the inky water, before they also embarked on the great exodus. The night was now bitterly cold. Everyone wanted to return to the warmth of their homes as quickly as possible. Very soon, quiet returned to the shores of the Forth. The Big Day was over.

  – o –

  – Chapter Thirty-Seven –

  It wasn’t just the brightness of the lights inside the giant that they were trying to get used to; it was th
e silence as well. Still crouched together on the aisle between the two railway tracks, they were peering in all directions, blinking furiously, waiting for the next explosion to come crashing out of the sky or the next Two-Legs monster to come thundering at them. But there were no sounds, no movements; only the light. The place seemed vast and eerie now. The silence itself was frightening.

  They were still shaking, still trembling from the trauma of their experiences on the giant. Could it be? they wondered. Was it possible? Were they really safe after all this time? Could they dare to hope? They began to stir, moving away from each other, taking a few faltering steps on the gravel surface, keeping their eyes open for new dangers.

  Like the others, Twisted Foot was looking around him, staring at the army of lights. The lights seemed to be everywhere – above him, below him, to his left and right. So this is what Narrow Back had been so excited about, he said to himself. ‘The giant is awake!’ he remembered Narrow Back shouting. He remembered, too, the stir that Narrow Back’s revelation had caused in the underworld. Well, he thought, after everything that we’ve been through since leaving the island, the glowing giant doesn’t appear to be much of a threat after all.

  The thought of Narrow Back and his agonising death, and of Timid One and her unfortunate youngster, both drowned, suddenly made Twisted Foot wince. All gone, he shook his muzzle sadly. And Fat One as well. It was such a waste, such a loss. He sincerely hoped that this ... this venture that they had embarked on would prove to be worth their loss. He shook his muzzle again, this time more forcibly. He needed to rouse himself from this depression, to get on. It was time to resume their journey. They were all cold and hungry and thirsty; but, most of all, they were exhausted. The sooner they left the giant and found land, the sooner they would be able to rest.

  He led the group back across the railway track and up to the walkway. All of them studiously leapt clear of the gap between the two, gathering at the very point which they had reached when they were startled by the explosions from the creature on the island. They set off northwards along the walkway again, scurrying as quickly as they could through the dazzling, cavernous belly of the giant.

  ‘Up ahead and down to our right,’ Twisted Foot said to the group behind him.

  Up ahead and down to our right, he repeated to himself. That was where it was: the land that he and Long Ears had spoken about ... how long ago now? It was only days, he knew. It seemed much, much longer. He thought that it was just a dream back then, but the dream had almost become reality.

  It wasn’t long before they emerged from the belly. In front of them was a long stretch of walkway that would take them to the end of the giant. Below them was the first in a series of gigantic stone legs which held up the giant. When Twisted Foot looked down through the parapet bordering the walkway, he could see that the leg was planted not in water, but in rock. They had reached land!

  The group had come to a halt. Twisted Foot was still peering down at the giant’s leg. If we continue, he reasoned with himself, the way ahead is bound to lead us straight to the Two-Legs. He could sense it. But if we descend here, we’ll be on land more quickly. Besides, it’s darker down there, safer.

  ‘Down here,’ he announced at last. ‘We’ll go down here.’

  Small Face looked terrified.

  ‘B-but it’s straight down,’ he wailed. ‘W-we’ll never make it.’

  Slayer pushed through the group, crawled through the parapet and climbed onto the top of the leg.

  ‘Watch me,’ he said.

  Accustomed to negotiating the near-perpendicular walls around the Scavengers’ lair, Slayer clambered easily down the huge leg. He was almost halfway to the ground when Twisted Foot began to follow him.

  ‘If I can do it with only three working feet,’ he called to the others, ‘then you can all do it.’

  The rest followed him in turn. Even Small Face, after some hesitation, commenced a slow, nervous descent. Once again, Long Ears took up the rear.

  As he had done on countless occasions before, Long Snout, ancient Chamberlain of the Secret World, stood erect in the centre of the platform in the Common lair and emitted a long, loud, piercing screech. His calls on those past occasions were intended to command the attention of the Assembly, to bring those assembled to order. His call this time had a different purpose. He was announcing to the underworld that the revolt was over, that he was back in control.

  He looked around the platform at the brave warriors who had helped him to victory and at the many corpses piled around them. At his own feet lay Slasher’s mangled body; the new slave-King had fought well, but his reign had been short-lived. He and the rest of them – all the slaves who had been foolish enough to linger outside of the Scavengers’ lair – were all dead now.

  Long Snout emitted another bloodcurdling screech and then leapt from the platform. He would forge a new society out of this massacre, this devastation. A society that was stronger and more vigilant and more loyal than before. He needed time to plan this new society, to work out the details. But first there was a long outstanding task to care of. And then he needed to rest; he hadn’t slept for a long, long time.

  ‘Come with me, Chief Protector!’ he roared.

  As he moved quickly to his nest in the sanctum of the Inner Circle, with Broken Tail limping behind him, he suddenly remembered the explosions on the outside world before the battle began. All of the warriors had been required for the assault on the slaves, so none had kept watch above, none would be able to relate the cause of the explosions. It’s of no consequence, he decided.

  – o –

  – Chapter Thirty-Eight –

  They had all descended safely from the giant’s leg. They were huddled together below the giant now, gazing around them, feeling small and lost in this strange land, but happy to be squatting on hard ground again. Directly across from them was a steep hillside, which was covered with grass and bushes and a few trees. Only Twisted Foot, Long Ears and Small Face, as he-rats from the Watchers’ lair, had seen those things before, and, even then, only at a distance.

  If we are to get away from the lights on the giant and reach our new land, Twisted Foot reasoned to himself, the hillside is the right way to go. He started to lead the group in that direction, but he found that Long Ears was ahead of him.

  ‘There’s water over here,’ Long Ears was shouting.

  Before he had seen it or sensed it, Long Ears had heard the water bubbling in the tiny burn that ran along the foot of the hill.

  ‘And it tastes good,’ he added, raising his wet muzzle.

  Soon, they were all lapping greedily at the edge of the burn, their backs to the giant. Long Ears had been correct: the water tasted good. In fact, it was the best water that they had ever lapped: cold and clear, and devoid of the muddy taste of the pool in the underworld.

  Their thirsts slaked, they leapt over the burn and began their ascent of the hill. The soft ground below their feet felt odd at first, the long grass tickled their bodies, and the dark shapes of the bushes and trees seemed menacing, but the climb itself was easy. It was only when they had almost reached the top of the slope that some of them noticed Slayer’s absence.

  Twisted Foot looked back down the hill. Like a good Watcher, he systematically scanned the slope, the area around the burn and the ground below the giant’s leg. There was no movement and no sign of the little Scavenger.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said at length, ��he’ll catch up.’

  Then he turned round and continued to climb.

  At the top of the slope, there was a strip of flat ground several feet wide, which curved away to their left and right. They crouched in the middle of the ground and looked about. On one side, they had a clear view of the giant, still glowing brilliantly; the ever-restless waters below the giant; and the familiar shape of the land from which they had escaped. On the other side, the ground gave way abruptly to a sheer rock face, at the foot of which was more water. The water this time was flat and still
, and they could see the reflection of the moon in it. Its shape reminded them of the pool in the Common lair, only this pool was much, much bigger and deeper; like everything else on this new land, it was giant-sized.

  It was while they were peering down at the pool that they were startled by the sounds of scraping behind them. The noise was coming from the slope below. They cringed back as it grew louder. Then Slayer suddenly appeared at the top of the slope. A large grey bird was clamped by the neck between his powerful jaws. The bird was almost as big as him. He dropped its limp body in front of them.

  ‘Food, Master,’ was all that he said.

  There was no hesitation. They were all ravenous. He-rats and she-rats and youngsters alike tore noisily into Slayer’s gift.

  Twisted Foot remembered seeing these plump grey birds before. They frequently roosted high up on the giant, occasionally flying down to the rocks for a brief visit. He had often dreamed of tasting their succulent flesh. Now his dream had come true. Clear water and now bird flesh, he said to himself. He was liking this place already.

  After the feast, they felt more tired than ever. They had no energy left to go any further, even to search for a proper shelter. In spite of the cold, they simply curled up together where they were on the soft, grassy ground. One of the youngsters, unused to the rich food, burped loudly, and everyone laughed. None of them noticed the lights on the giant dimming and then dying out completely; they were all fast asleep by then.

  Broken Tail watched as they made their way through the waters towards the giant’s foot. They were both strong swimmers. They would reach the foot in no time. Then they would climb up into the giant’s belly, just as he had shown them. The traitors had gone from their perch on the foot, so they would have to go up after them. It was dark and quiet up there. Their passage should go unhindered.