by Alex Milway
He gestured to his mice, and they scampered down the steep path, their claws raised. They were much faster than him, and he let them rush ahead while he went at his own pace. The path zigzagged closer to the action, and at a point where its level dipped, Indigo dropped to the floor and hid himself from view, only lifting his head every few moments to check on the direction of his mice. He’d decided to let them do the hard work for him.
“Draw blood for Illyria…,” he said.
Locarno rested his rifle in his arms and surveyed the Silver Shark. He’d made good progress and was now standing at the break in the path with his troops behind him. The Silver Shark was but a few minutes’ walk away, but he chose to wait. He’d seen the Trapper Mice suffer at the hands of the pirate, and he required Battersby’s advice.
“Wait here, men,” he said, ordering his soldiers to form a line and aim their weapons toward the Silver Shark and the ruins.
He returned to Battersby, who was standing a short distance up the causeway.
“They’ve blown a hole in the path, although it’s not such a distance as to be impassable, merely a pain. What do you suggest we do, sir?”
Battersby seemed intrigued by the news.
“So they’ve cut themselves off from the mainland by their own actions? That’s interesting…,” he said.
The Stonebreaker fired its cannons once more, hitting the ruins full on. He heard the cries of Mousebeard’s sailors as the outcrop shed a flurry of rocks into the sea.
“There’s only so long they can maintain their position,” he added. “Keep your men as they are. Block their passage and make sure they can’t escape.”
“Yes, sir!” said Locarno. He saluted and made his way back to his troops.
Battersby puffed out his chest and teased his mustache.
“I believe we have won this,” he boasted.
“Sir!” said a soldier. “There are two mice running toward us!”
Battersby looked up the path and took a few steps forward.
“They look like a familiar species,” he muttered.
The mice reached the first few soldiers standing unaware on the path, and they attacked. They launched into the air, swinging their paws back, and with swift cuts of their claws destroyed the soldiers’ weapons and then went in for the kill. Trained assassins as they were, the mice dispatched two of the soldiers and jumped at another, but before they could reach him he’d leapt off the path in terror.
“Sharpclaws!” shouted the onlooking soldiers.
The mice attacked again, causing panic to spread along the lines. The causeway was too narrow for any such behavior, and Battersby called for calm. He readied his pistol.
“Clear the way!” he barked, storming forward to meet the mice. He was never afraid—particularly not of animals.
“Haven’t you ever heard of shooting things?”
He spotted the first Sharpclaw and aimed right at its head. Without a second thought he’d pulled the trigger and killed it outright. Battersby stretched across to take a rifle from one of the soldiers and aimed it at the next. The Sharpclaw reared back as if to jump, raising its claws into the air, but he didn’t take any notice. As it leapt at him, Battersby swung the weapon around in his hands and smashed the surprised mouse with the rifle butt. It went flying from the path and plunged into the sea.
Battersby laughed triumphantly.
“The mice are gone now. You can rest easy….”
Having seen what Battersby did to his mice, Indigo jumped up. He wore a deathly expression, and he ran at full speed toward Battersby with his sword high in the air.
“And just who is this?” said Battersby, pushing the rifle butt into his shoulder and targeting the boy.
Indigo gained ground, his feet pounding under him as he pushed hard. His black hair trailed behind him, lashing against his back with every step. Battersby waited for him to draw closer, and then, when Indigo was just ten meters away, he pulled the trigger.
After withstanding repeated assaults by the Stonebreaker, the outcrop and the ruins on top were suffering badly. Successive blasts had weakened the remaining walls, and most of the stonework was now lying in the sea. The cannons and gunners were now fully open to the Stonebreaker’s onslaught, and it wasn’t just cannon fire: the ship was sailing ever closer and snipers were picking off sailors at every opportunity.
Mousebeard watched the situation grow ever worse. The Silver Shark had taken too many hits to its armor and the seams of the metal hull were breaking apart.
“Fenwick! Bring everyone back on board!” he ordered.
“About time! We’re sitting ducks up here!” he replied.
The remaining sailors ran through a torrent of cannon fire before they jumped down onto the path and made it to the relative safety of the ship. Mousebeard hurried them all onto the deck.
“What about the ropes?” cried Fenwick, dragging a wounded sailor up onto the deck. “I won’t be able to cut them all….”
“No need,” said Mousebeard. “This ship’s not going anywhere….”
The sound of gunfire from the opposite direction caught their attention, and Mousebeard lifted his telescope to the causeway. He saw Indigo, about halfway up the path.
“It’s Indigo!” he muttered. “He’s running at Battersby….”
Fenwick gazed up at the causeway and the cluster of soldiers, but he couldn’t make out anyone in particular. It was just too far away.
“Is Drewshank there? And Emiline? Scratcher?”
Another gunshot echoed through the air.
“What is it?” said Fenwick. “What’s happening?”
Mousebeard watched Indigo fall backward through the air and land on his back. He didn’t move.
“Indigo’s been shot… !”
Fenwick’s eyes opened wide.
Mousebeard twisted the telescope a little and focused in on the boy. Battersby approached him and leaned over. Suddenly, Indigo’s sword rose and he thrust it into Battersby’s leg. The pirate saw the boy attempt to stand. His hand was clutching at his bloody chest, and with one look over the side of the towering stone causeway, he jumped. Mousebeard held his breath. He tried to follow Indigo’s passage into the sea, but his movement wasn’t fast enough.
“He’s jumped into the sea!” said Mousebeard. “He jumped…”
Fenwick jumped back onto land to find more injured sailors.
“And where’s Algernon when we need him?” he shouted angrily. “Where is he?”
When Algernon’s eyes opened, he could see the blue sky above him. There was a repeated clanking noise emanating from his head, which he initially thought was a headache, but when he moved his body, he realized it was his suit washing against some rocks with the swell of the sea. The suit was floating with the aid of four small airbags that had inflated around its midriff, and he tried to level it so that he was upright. It wasn’t an easy task, and he ended up using one of the robotic claws to attach it to a rock. Once he’d done this he found that he did, in fact, have a blinding headache.
Algernon released a small valve, and the helmet loosened, allowing him to twist it off before casting it aside into the sea. He realized that he was at the base of the outcrop when a small rockfall brought him to his senses. Boulders splashed on either side of him, and he suddenly saw the Stonebreaker sailing past in his peripheral vision. He squeezed through his suit and immediately felt the icy water chill every inch of him as he began swimming.
It was hard work pushing through the water, fighting the waves and the force of the current, but Algernon soon reached the Silver Shark, and with a few more strokes he had swum past. He navigated around its hull and came to the slope of the outcrop as it led up to the causeway. It was the easiest way up onto dry land, but before he’d made his first step up, he saw blood all over his hand. He wiped it clean and patted his body, on the lookout for wounds, but there were none. And then he saw the body floating next to the rocks.
It was lying faceup, and a blossoming c
loud of blood was spilling from its chest. Only when he saw the dark hair splayed out around its head did he realize it was Indigo.
“Oh no! No! No! No!” he muttered, and gripped one of the smaller rocks in order to reach out and grab him. His fingers caught hold of Indigo’s shirt and reeled him in, oblivious to the weight. Algernon felt a pulse and found there was still a faint heartbeat.
“If we get you through this, my boy,” said Algernon, “then I will be a true genius.”
Battersby clenched his leg. The sword had thrust right through, leaving a clean wound, and he sat patiently while a soldier bandaged it tight.
“Locarno, get your men to jump that gap,” he ordered. “I want Mousebeard and I don’t care what it takes!”
The soldier sent out the order, and within a few seconds the troops were leaping across the severed path.
“They’re coming for us!” shouted Fenwick. “Hurry up!”
The last of the remaining sailors rushed aboard ship, and just as Fenwick set about sealing the armored gangplanks, he heard Algernon’s voice.
“Fenwick! Anyone!” he shouted, as he stumbled onto the causeway.
“Is that Algernon?” said Mousebeard.
“And he’s got Indigo!” cried Fenwick. He ran onto the ground and rushed to the bow of the ship.
Algernon had never looked so happy.
“Take him,” he said, “or else I just might die.”
Fenwick pulled Indigo onto his shoulder. He could see the Guard running at them, and gunshots fired from behind him.
“Get in here!” shouted Mousebeard from the edge of the ship, pistols smoking from both his hands. “What are you waiting for?”
They ran around and leapt onto the deck as the Old Town Guard continued firing at them. Bullets chimed against the Silver Shark’s hull, but nothing could penetrate it once the armored sides had been sealed.
The Bearded Mouse
A WIDE-EYED MOUSE THAT IS POPULAR WITH COLLECTORS, THE BEARDED Mouse has a tufty growth of hair under its chin that gives it the appearance of having a beard. In the wild, this creature lives in small groups (or communes, as collectors fondly call them), and the alpha mouse is always the one with the longest beard. Only the males of the species have this extra growth of hair, so it is easy to discern between sexes for breeding.
MOUSING NOTES
These mice must be kept in groups, but their cheerful and relaxed disposition makes them a pleasure to own. Their diet consists solely of vegetables and seeds, so they are an inexpensive addition to any collection.
The Curse
THE SILVER SHARK WAS UNDER SIEGE. THE STONEBREAKER had destroyed any defenses that the outcrop had given to Mousebeard, and its guns were now focusing solely on his ship. Water had breached the hull once more and was seeping through the rivets, its flow growing stronger by the second. Sailors did their best to clog up any of the ship’s open wounds, but they were fighting a losing battle.
On the gun deck a table had been dragged into the open space between the cannons, and Indigo was hauled onto its surface. He was in a bad way; the wound on his chest was bleeding profusely and his shirt was now totally red.
“Do what you can for him, Algernon,” said Mousebeard, overlooking the guns. They were running low on cannonballs, and any piece of metal—cutlery, chains, jewelry, anything they could find—had been piled up for use.
“I don’t expect him to see the night through,” said Algernon, “but I’ll try my best.”
He took hold of the boy’s shirt and tore it open to get a better look at the wound. Algernon’s face paled. The wound was dark and messy and scattered with shot, but that was the least of his worries. Winding fully around Indigo’s arm, etched in the finest detail, was a black tattoo consisting of spirals and circles. Algernon immediately recognized it.
“Jonathan…,” he said quietly.
“Not now…”
Algernon insisted. He grabbed Mousebeard’s arm as he attempted to walk by.
“Jonathan, you have to see this….”
Mousebeard was taken aback by Algernon’s actions. He looked across in disgust, but then his disgust changed to horror. The tattoo on Indigo’s arm was a sign of the boy’s allegiance—it was a sign of his homeland.
“He’s Illyrian…,” said Mousebeard.
“A member of their royalty, no less. They are the only ones who get to wear the crest around their arm.”
“Blast him!” said Mousebeard. “You think he was spying on us?”
“I think his intentions may have been bad, yes.”
“But I saw him attack Battersby! I don’t get it!”
Algernon placed his hands at either side of Indigo’s chest. He stared at the wound, as if wishing it to heal itself.
“Perhaps he knew that we weren’t his enemy—the Illyrians, after all, are not aggressive types by nature.”
“I read that the Illyrians had unleashed Death Squads—we were being hunted down whether we knew it or not.”
“Surely not!” exclaimed Algernon. He looked at Indigo and wished that the boy’s life didn’t rest in his hands.
“Do what you can to save him, Algernon. Do it… !”
Mousebeard walked away, fuming.
“We’ll only find out the truth if he stays alive,” he said, before climbing up to the top deck.
Algernon was left to decide Indigo’s fate. It wasn’t a position he liked. He brushed the hair from the boy’s face and remembered that, above all, everyone deserved the benefit of the doubt. He picked up his tools and began removing the gunshot that littered the weeping wound.
Mousebeard slunk around the top deck. He could hear the Old Town Guard on the causeway, readying themselves for something, and he clenched his pistols as tightly as his hands were able.
“I hate this,” said Fenwick. “Where’s Mr. Drewshank? I know he’d never have let them attack us. Something must have happened….”
“We’ve got enough to worry about as it is,” said Mousebeard. “Let’s line our deck with cannons—our best defense is attack. We can’t avoid it now, so let’s give it to them.”
Fenwick enjoyed the defiance in the pirate’s voice. He recognized something of Drewshank in him. He called all the soldiers that weren’t on the gun deck to join him and help prepare the ship for their last stand.
“So then, Battersby,” shouted Mousebeard. “What are you threatening me with this time?”
The shadow that had spread over the Silver Shark deepened. Dusk was approaching. On the causeway, the Old Town Guard had formed an unbreakable line of rifles; all were aimed at the armored gangplanks that rose above their heads, giving them no view of those on deck.
“I’m not threatening you with anything,” Battersby replied, pacing back and forth behind his artillery. “As you can tell, I’ve called off the Stonebreaker’s attack. Now all I ask is for you to capitulate—you know, wave the white flag, surrender…”
“You want me to do all the hard work for you?” boomed Mousebeard. “If you want me, you’ll have to come and get me.”
“Break down the defenses,” Battersby ordered his troops.
The soldiers threw grappling hooks over the ship’s side and started to pull. The metal sheeting over the hull creaked and clunked as it was pulled apart.
“It’s only a matter of time,” said Fenwick to the pirate beside him.
The cannons were lined up in wait, with the sailors behind.
“Hold up your weapons, men,” said Mousebeard through gritted teeth. “Once the sides fall, we strike.”
Emiline crawled through the square tunnel on her hands and knees. All around her was the glow of Methuselah Mice, and no longer were there just the few who’d entered the tomb. Hundreds of mice had emerged from holes in the walls of earth as they’d progressed, and each one was following them.
“These robes make life hard, don’t they!” said Drewshank, who was finding the cramped conditions the most bothersome. “Not only do they not match my shoes, but th
ey weigh a ton!”
“If it stops them from attacking us, we shouldn’t complain,” said Scratcher.
“Hmmm, maybe,” he grumbled in reply. “They smell horrible too….”
When Emiline had taken a Mouse Warrior’s suit for herself, she realized that there was a metal grille on the side of the mask that could be opened. Once they’d all slid them across, it became much easier to hear one another.
“Wait a second!” said Emiline, surprising Drewshank and Scratcher by standing up a little way in front. “It’s the exit… or was….”
She found herself in a brick-lined chamber, its roof a mess of tree roots. She lifted her hands and used the long claws of the Warrior suit to cut through some of them. Great clumps of earth crumbled and dropped from above as she poked around, and suddenly a pile of thick stone slabs careered to the ground. She ducked and threw her hands over her head, and without warning the bright blue glow of the mice became stronger. Once the subsidence had slowed to a trickle of dirt, the glow died down once more.
“It’s as though we have guardian angels,” she said, looking above her. She was so happy to see the sky.
Scratcher crawled into the chamber and saw the natural light above them, and a terrific sense of relief washed over him.
“It really is the way out…,” he said.
“Come on, then!” exclaimed Drewshank, pushing himself into the space around his fellow Mouse Warriors—gnarled roots were touching the spines rising from the top of his mask. “Let’s get out of here!”
They clambered out one after another, trying to avoid the hundreds of Methuselah Mice that were following their every step. As they emerged they all realized they were in the ruins where they’d spent the night. It looked to be in an even worse state now that half of the remaining floor had fallen in, but the best news was that they were so near the gate—and so close to their friends on the Silver Shark.
