The Curse of Mousebeard

by Alex Milway

  “It’s fine,” said Drewshank; “they’re just mice. We can rest easy.”

  Emiline realized what species they were almost right away.

  “They’re Methuselah Mice,” she said.

  “They are?”

  “Some of them are just like the one we found on Stormcloud Island! So that woman did come here….”

  The mice crawled onward, their opaque eyes focused on Emiline. There were at least thirty of them by now, and their number continued to grow. Their wrinkled, almost hairless skin twitched and shivered, and as they grew closer, they started to salivate and drip ooze from their mouths.

  “Don’t move!” whispered Drewshank. “They’re right next to you….”

  “I’m trying not to,” she said, as the Methuselah Mice crept over her feet. The feel of their small bony paws was enough to put her on edge.

  “Why are they here?” said Drewshank. “What on earth are these mice doing in here?”

  Emiline bent down to pick one up, and a blue glow erupted from the mouse and started to spread around the room. As if it was part of a chain reaction, the glow seemed to pass from mouse to mouse, until they were all bathed in blue light.

  “Right,” said Drewshank. “That’s not a good sign….”

  “I don’t think we wanted that to happen,” said Emiline.

  The blue light grew brighter until all the mice were fizzing like lightbulbs, and their eyes, no longer blank and dead, were as blue as the sky.

  “It’s heating up in here!” said Drewshank, a tingling, buzzing feeling growing in his cheeks, and sweat forming on his brow.

  Emiline took a step back and narrowly avoided three of the mice that were staring straight at her.

  “Oh no…,” she said, deadly serious. “We’ve got to get out of here. We’ve got to run! I know what this is!”

  “What?” said Drewshank. “What is it?”

  Emiline turned to run but froze on the spot. Directly behind her, standing at the doorway, was one of the Mouse Warriors. It was alive, and terrifying. She swallowed heavily and her lips trembled. Strong shadows cut across its head, highlighting its features and making them seem even more intense. It raised its nose and seemed to be sniffing her. With a jittery movement, the creature’s head twisted to the side, sending its thick ears and long whiplike cords swinging backward. The Mouse Warrior lifted its hand toward Drewshank and its four serrated claws glinted in the light.

  “Oh blazes…,” said Drewshank. His legs wouldn’t move. “What more’s going to come out of this blasted tomb!”

  The Mouse Warrior stepped farther into the room, and the bright blue light dulled until it was a faint glow. The mice crawled away from Emiline and Drewshank and headed straight to it.

  “Emememm!” it said.

  “Did you hear that?” whispered Drewshank. “It spoke!”

  With the Methuselah Mice arranged at its feet, and two sitting on each of its shoulders, the Mouse Warrior spoke again.

  “Dressshhn… sme… Sssscrrrrrrshr!”

  The Warrior lifted its claws and scratched its helmet.

  “Is that you, Scratcher?” said Emiline.

  “Ysss… corssse!”

  “It’s you!” cheered Drewshank, almost feeling he wanted to cry.

  Emiline walked up to Scratcher, but the mice clustered around him started to glow brighter. As she retreated the glow dimmed once more.

  “They think you’re a real warrior—I think they’re trying to protect you,” she said.

  “Yooo thnk?”

  “I do! Try walking away!”

  Scratcher made a few paces backward, the light robes flowing gracefully around his legs. The mice followed him as if they were loyal servants under the power of their leader.

  “That’s the ticket!” said Drewshank.

  “The Methuselah Mice,” said Emiline, “and that glow—it’s just as Mousebeard described.”

  “Of course!” said Drewshank. “The Methuselah Mouse on Stormcloud Island was defending her.”

  “That’s it!” said Emiline. “It was the mouse that cursed him and Isiah, not the woman—she was no witch!”

  “But that was just one mouse,” said Drewshank. “All these mice seem to be joining their powers….”

  The immensity of the situation dawned on Emiline.

  “Just imagine what harm they could do as one!” she said.

  “We have to tell Mousebeard!”

  “We have to get to him before Battersby and the Stonebreaker do! He could have the key to breaking his curse right within his beard!”

  Drewshank gripped his chin.

  “But we have no way out!” he said, as it dawned on him that they were still trapped.

  Emiline walked to the coffin and looked through the small holes at its base. She sniffed the air and found that it was fresh.

  “There’s a tunnel down there! Those mice must have come from somewhere! Help me lift off the lid.”

  Forgetting the fact that Scratcher was covered in Methuselah Mice for the moment, Drewshank and Emiline pushed against the stone coffin.

  “Did it move?” asked Drewshank, imagining things.

  “Scratcher, come give us a hand!” said Emiline.

  The Mouse Warrior walked forward, bringing his glowing friends with him. He stuck his claws into the gap between the lid and pushed upward. A powerful blue glow fizzed around his hands, and the stone lid moved across with ease.

  “I’ve got to get myself one of those outfits!” said Drewshank.

  Inside the coffin, resting across a metal grate, were the bones of a human. Whoever had been inside had long perished, but sections of the mouse armor remained, including a golden pendant of a spiraling mousetail.

  “And look below the bones,” said Emiline, pushing some aside to see through the grate.

  The glow of the Methuselah Mice lit up a wide tunnel that sank low into the ground and then disappeared from sight.

  “That’s our way out!” she said, laughing aloud. “We’ve done it!”

  Algernon landed on the seabed and looked all around for signs of the second submarine. The murky water had grown murkier since their battle. The beams of light issuing forth from his eyes gave him a general idea of what was in front of him, and he aligned himself with where he thought the Silver Shark was situated.

  “Do it!” he said, and before his nerve could give in, he flicked a switch that sent blasts of air out of the back of his suit. He went soaring through the water, passing over ruins and piles of stone. Suddenly, the black mass of the Silver Shark and the rocky outcrop behind it zoomed into view. He cut the power to his air jets and tried to steady himself.

  He’d been traveling at such a speed that his suit kept on sliding forward. His feet skidded into the sandy floor, and he teetered on one leg as the momentum took him closer to the hull of the ship. Once he’d stopped and his beating heart had slowed, he realized he was standing right below the damaged section of the ship. It had been patched up well and looked fairly watertight, although he could tell that it wouldn’t survive a journey at sea.

  “Where are you, then?” he said, turning around. “Show yourself!”

  As he searched the water, squinting to try and see farther, he caught sight of an explosion coming from the distant seabed. A faint flash of light carried to him, and he guessed that it had been his submarine.

  “No choice now, then,” he said to himself. “Got to keep this ship afloat!”

  When the second submarine returned to his line of sight as just a faint black blob in the distance, he realized that against those torpedoes, there was only one course of action. The submarine drew closer and closer, its headlights beaming brightly. Algernon pulled a lever, and the second robotic claw rotated to reveal the drill piece; he tugged another lever, and the other claw shot forward so that it was ready for use. He swallowed hard and twisted himself to the right so that he was in line with the submarine. The seconds passed, and then just as the submarine had reached shooting dis
tance, he switched on his air jets and went flying diagonally upward, directly into its path.

  Algernon switched on the drill, and with the jets pushing him at full speed into the bright headlights, he thrust it forward. The pilot became visible—his mouth wide open in disbelief. Algernon closed his eyes and with little thought for his own safety aimed straight for the glass windshield. With his drill whirling at top speed, he rammed it into the glass as his suit made contact. Sparks shot out like fireworks. The hit knocked Algernon hard, and his suit bounced like a rag doll over the submarine, spinning out of control. His head hit the side, the suit crumpled inward and squeezed into his leg, and the interior lights died out. He caught sight of the submarine careering into the seabed. The windshield had shattered. Algernon slammed hard at a small green button as darkness descended and clouded his thoughts.

  The Northern Musical Mouse

  THE NORTHERN MUSICAL MOUSE WAS DISCOVERED ON THE ISLAND OF Widdly Rock by Gregarious Garner, the famous Mousehunter. The mouse earned its name because of its unusual habit of knocking on pieces of dead wood to create a lively form of mouse “music.” This act coincides with the mating season, and it’s thought that a mouse will only deem a mate compatible if he or she is playing a similar tune.

  MOUSING NOTES:

  These mice like to be kept in small groups and must never be kept alone. They require very little special treatment, other than allowing for their necessity to make noise when the mating season arrives (and they do like to make a lot of noise). As an added aside, their wavy grey fur with hints of bronze can look terrific if lit properly, so a good lighting setup can be beneficial.

  The Battle for Norgammon

  FENWICK BOUNDED FROM ONE CANNON TO THE NEXT within the castle ruins, providing direction for his gunners. They were placed wherever there was a direct view out to sea, generally in spaces where the walls had long fallen: the ruins weren’t a perfect defense, but they were better than nothing. A group of Powder Mice were busy at work too, seemingly relishing the new conditions. They hurried along, providing gunpowder without any fear. Fenwick could see onto the deck of the Silver Shark, and he caught the eye of Mousebeard.

  “The Stonebreaker’s turning again!” he shouted.

  Mousebeard heard his call. He bellowed new orders to his sailors.

  “She’s coming back around! Get them cannons ready!”

  The Stonebreaker was a few hundred meters away, in full sail. Its cannons were aimed at the Silver Shark, and as it sailed past the outcrop into the ship’s eye line she unleashed her first broadside. Clouds of smoke erupted from her side, and Mousebeard threw himself to the ground as cannonballs flew his way with abandon, hitting not only the ship’s hull, but also the outcrop behind.

  The pirate regained his composure and returned to his feet. He pulled a pistol from his belt and shouted with all his might.

  “Take aim and FIRE!”

  Instantly, the cannons roared from the Silver Shark, their load smashing into the Stonebreaker. Most of the shots hit their target, with two flying straight through the sails. Splinters of wood flew into the air, and a loud cheer rose up from the gun deck.

  “Fire at will!” boomed Mousebeard. He ran to the helm to look out over the sea at the attacking vessel.

  “Captain!” called a sailor from the castle ruins. “There’s fighting at the gate!”

  The pirate glanced at the farthest point of the winding path and watched puffs of smoke rise with the firing of rifles. He removed the telescope from his belt to get a better look. His men at the gate were running down the path in retreat, and he watched each one fall as six large mice sprang into view and leapt at them. The men desperately tried to break free of their claws, but there was no way of escape.

  While the men struggled with the mice, a row of soldiers walked up to the sailors, raised their weapons, and shot at point-blank range. Mousebeard steeled himself as their bodies slumped to the floor before being kicked over into the sea.

  “This is going to be the end of one of us, Battersby,” he growled furiously. “Fenwick! We need to halt the soldiers’ path!”

  On hearing his words, Fenwick ran through the ruins, slid down the slope, and stopped at the side of the Silver Shark.

  “We what?” he said.

  Mousebeard stomped toward him.

  “The Guard is approaching. We need to blow up a section of the path to stop them from reaching us.”

  Fenwick saw the line of soldiers advancing along the causeway in the distance.

  “But Drewshank and the mousekeepers! How will they reach us?”

  “Mr. Fenwick, do as I say.”

  “I can’t,” he replied. “I ain’t leaving my friends stuck behind.”

  “We haven’t got time for this, man. Without this ship, we’re all lost!”

  Fenwick frowned and clenched his fist. He wanted so desperately to disagree with the pirate, but he knew he was right.

  A new round of cannon fire shot across the sea from the Stonebreaker and hit the starboard side of the Silver Shark, causing damage to the hull and gun deck. Cries of horror echoed through the ship and Mousebeard stumbled forward and cursed aloud.

  “Blast you, Fenwick! Do as I say!” barked the pirate.

  As his face paled, Fenwick knew what he had to do.

  Lord Battersby considered the Silver Shark’s position from the gate at the top of the path. A smile passed over his face as he watched the Stonebreaker unleash its arsenal.

  “There’s no way that the pirate will escape this,” he said, waving more troops forward to continue the attack.

  “They’re in control of the ruins as well,” said Locarno. “They have cannons and maybe a few muskets and pistols, sir.”

  “No worry,” said Battersby. “They don’t have the manpower to deal with an attack on two fronts. With the Stonebreaker forcing all their cannons to focus on her, we can take aim from the relative safety that distance will give us. Let the Trapper Mice run free to hunt them down.”

  “I’ll lead them myself, sir!” said Locarno.

  He stamped to attention, clutching the base of his rifle. Rufus Locarno was a determined and focused man, and he collected his troops and ordered them to follow him.

  “If you provide us with backup, should we need it, sir,” he said.

  “Of course!” said Battersby, his pistol at the ready. “I shall keep right behind you.”

  “The ship’s coming back round to our side!” shouted Fenwick to the men within the ruins. “Don’t wait to be told to fire!”

  He held a small barrel in his arms, and he watched the Old Town Guard close in—they were now only about ten minutes’ march away, and time was running out. He ordered a sailor to join him, and he breathed deeply before setting off again. He jumped from the outcrop and hit the path running. As the path started to rise, at a good distance from the Silver Shark, he kicked a few of its large cobblestones over into the sea and made a nest for the barrel.

  “Keep an eye on them troops and mice,” he said to the sailor. “If they get within shooting distance, fire!”

  The sailor raised his weapon to his shoulder and trained it on the approaching group. He could see the hunting mice bounding toward them, following the curving path like a racetrack.

  “The mice are getting closer, sir.”

  Fenwick drew out a short fuse.

  “How close?” he said.

  “Very…”

  Fenwick was about to light the fuse as the sailor fired. He hit one of the mice, and it wailed and flew backward.

  “Got it, sir,” he said, reloading as fast as he could.

  “Almost done…,” said Fenwick. “Right, when I say ‘now,’ run!”

  The sailor lifted the weapon once more and saw that the mice were just a hundred meters away. He fired again and hit another one.

  “Four more to go!”

  “Now!” shouted Fenwick.

  The two of them sprinted back down the path and threw themselves onto the Silver S
hark as the barrel of gunpowder exploded. Rocks flew into the air, raining dust and grit onto the deck beside Mousebeard. The pirate viewed the spot where the barrel had been and saw there was now a two-meter-wide break in the path, with nothing but the sea below.

  “Perfect,” he said triumphantly, “but it won’t hold them forever.”

  Fenwick looked back at his handiwork and saw the hunting mice launch themselves over the gap he’d made in the causeway.

  “Those blasted mice!” he said.

  Mousebeard pushed him to one side and held his pistol at full stretch before firing. He hit a mouse, and it fell into the path of two others. They all cascaded into the sea, their squeals piercing the air as they hit the jagged rocks below. The fourth one kept coming at them. Mousebeard threw down the pistol and pulled another from his belt. The mouse bounded ever closer, its back legs kicking the ground furiously, and before the pirate could take aim it jumped onto the ship. Mousebeard widened his stance and held the weapon aloft.

  The mouse’s claws scraped over the wooden deck as it veered past the pirate and leapt straight at Fenwick. He stood firm, with the full weight of the Trapper Mouse about to hit him in the chest. Mousebeard turned and aimed his weapon.

  Fenwick held his breath: seeing the barrel of a gun pointing straight at his head was enough to give him a heart attack. But luckily, Mousebeard was on target. Without a moment wasted, he fired again. Fenwick went flying backward and landed heavily on the deck. The mouse lay dead on top of him.

  Mousebeard pulled at the lifeless creature and threw it aside. Fenwick’s face was covered in blood, but all he felt was relief that Mousebeard was such a good shot.

  “It won’t bother us again,” said the pirate playfully.

  Indigo emerged into the light with his mice a short distance in front. What was left of the iron gates had been opened wide, and he crept around their rusted panels. The battalion of soldiers was about halfway between him and the ship, marching forward with intent. He could see the Silver Shark through a cloud of smoke, and ant-like sailors running to and fro amongst the ruins, their cannons blazing as the Stonebreaker coursed across the waves. The battle was fierce, and he realized it was time to act.