Child of the Cloud

by Cameron Stelzer

  ‘Because you don’t have a long enough rope,’ Horace said.

  ‘Yes, that did cross my mind,’ Whisker admitted. ‘But then I remembered Chatterbeak’s cliff top rescue in Oakbridge and I realised that I didn’t need a rope if I had a set of wings.’

  ‘Wing’s don’t necessarily guarantee success,’ Horace argued. ‘I mean, ostriches have wings, but they’d still end up as pancakes if they plunged off a precipice.’

  ‘True,’ Whisker conceded, ‘but ostrich wings aren’t designed for flight. Ghost Wings are.’

  Horace looked doubtful. ‘I’m no aeronautical engineer, Whisker, so I can’t comment on your father’s plans, but the name Ghost Wings hardly conjures up images of a safe landing.’

  Whisker shook his head in frustration. ‘I chose the name Ghost Wings in honour of your ghost story, Horace. The wings, coloured grey with charcoal, will be almost invisible – like a ghost – against the granite cliffs of the mountain. I’ll be a ghost, without being a ghost, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Not really,’ Horace confessed. ‘But then again, there’s no denying it’s a superb name.’

  Ruby rolled her eye and pointed to the centre of the map. ‘Let’s get back to the plan before Horace’s head expands to the size of a hot air balloon. Whisker, I take it you intend to launch your Ghost Wings from a high vantage point, such as the buttress, and then swoop across to the cage while the birds are distracted.’

  ‘Err … something like that,’ Whisker said evasively.

  ‘Something like what?’ Ruby asked suspiciously.

  ‘For a start, the buttress is too far south,’ Whisker explained. ‘And the prevailing easterlies could easily blow me in the wrong direction.’

  ‘So what location do you have in mind?’ Ruby asked, leaning closer to study the map.

  ‘Well,’ Whisker replied slowly, aware that his answer might raise a few eyebrows, ‘the quickest and simplest way to approach the cage is from directly above it.’ He ran his finger in a near-vertical line above Eagle’s Cliffs.

  It took a moment for the realisation to sink in.

  ‘Shiver me reckless rodents!’ Horace exclaimed. ‘You’re not suggesting the summit of Cloud Mountain?’

  ‘Madness, madness,’ Chatterbeak clucked, hiding his head under his wing. ‘Utter madness.’

  Ruby shook her head in disbelief. ‘Few creatures brave the deadly weather of the upper mountain to even set foot on the summit, Whisker. And here you are, wanting to throw yourself off it.’

  ‘I’ll essentially be parachuting down,’ Whisker reasoned.

  ‘Using three recycled rucksacks and a pair of flimsy crutches?’ Horace said, dismissively. ‘Puh-leeze!’

  Rapidly losing his confidence, Whisker flipped the map over and pointed emphatically at the sketch of his flying machine.

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about, really,’ he gabbled. ‘Take a look. I can steer with my tail and the adjustable wing span will enhance the manoeuvrability of the design, enabling me to change speed and direction in an instant.’

  ‘Rotten pies to technical jargon,’ Horace muttered. ‘I want to see this thing in action before you go leaping to your death off the highest summit in Aladrya.’

  ‘Alright,’ Whisker agreed. ‘I’ll take it for a test flight first thing in the morning. If it doesn’t soar like a swallow, I’ll abandon the idea and we can burn down the door and storm the eagles instead.’

  Chatterbeak jerked his head out from under his wing. ‘Caw, caw, when you put it that way, a gentle glide off the mountain seems a far safer option than a one-sided fire fight with the eagles.’

  Ruby nodded in agreement. ‘Chatterbeak’s right. As dangerous as it sounds, Whisker’s flying machine is our best hope of reaching the prisoners alive. We’re snowbound for the time being anyway, so we may as well work out the logistics of the plan – starting with the route up the mountain.’

  Whisker returned the crumpled paper to its map-side-up position. ‘The safest option is to follow the glacier to the narrow cleft of rock known as the chimney,’ he said, tracing the route with his finger. ‘From there it’s a straightforward climb up the rocks and a steady march across the upper slopes to reach the summit.’

  ‘You make it sound so easy,’ Horace murmured, circling the chimney with his hook. ‘You’d have to be a master climber to get up those rocks.’

  ‘I’ve climbed a cliff or two in my time,’ Whisker said defensively.

  Horace looked at him sceptically. ‘With a set of wings strapped to your back?’

  ‘Well, no,’ Whisker conceded. ‘But the Ghost Wings will be folded up and fastened securely to prevent them catching the wind.’

  ‘I see …’ Horace murmured, still not convinced.

  ‘Shush, you,’ Ruby snapped. ‘If you insist on debating every point we’ll never get anywhere. Now, Whisker, when do you propose to drop in on these prisoners?’

  ‘Sunset tomorrow,’ Whisker replied, relieved to have at least one companion on his side. ‘The cliffs will be in shadow and the eagles will be out of their nests, busily preparing for the feast. The arrival of the other flocks should also mask my movements.’

  ‘Aren’t you leaving it a bit late?’ Horace asked, a slight frown creasing his brow. ‘I mean, we don’t even know when the feast will officially start.’

  ‘Coo, coo, there won’t be any feasting until the full moon rises,’ Chatterbeak prattled. ‘I’ve heard the stories. The birds of Cloud Mountain are superstitious creatures. They won’t act before the moon is fully visible above the horizon.’

  ‘What if it’s a cloudy night?’ Horace persisted. ‘Will they cancel the entire feast?’

  Chatterbeak shook his tail feathers. ‘No, no. The glow of the moon will still be visible through the clouds. Hawks and eagles have excellent vision, remember?’

  ‘How could I forget,’ Horace muttered.

  ‘The full moon will rise around eight o’clock,’ Whisker explained. ‘If things go according to plan, we’ll have a couple of hours after sunset before the birds realise their prisoners have escaped. By then, we’ll be safe inside the passage and the door will be barred from the inside, should any of the smaller birds choose to pursue us.’

  ‘And then what?’ Horace asked. ‘We still need to get off the mountain.’

  ‘If the dome map is correct, the passage should lead us directly to Lake Azure,’ Whisker said.

  ‘How do we know there’s not a second barred door at the entrance to the lake?’ Horace asked.

  ‘We don’t,’ Whisker said, growing tired of Horace’s countless objections. ‘But we’ll be alive, and so will the prisoners. We can deal with blocked doors when we come to them.’

  ‘On that note,’ Ruby said, ‘I’m presuming you want us to arrange some kind of distraction while you open the cage.’

  ‘A rather colourful distraction, to be precise,’ Whisker said, glancing in Chatterbeak’s direction. ‘A loud-mouthed parrot on a joy flight should be enough to draw a few sets of eyes from the cliff face.’

  Chatterbeak tipped his head to one side, contemplating the idea.

  ‘If you keep your distance and approach from the south, you’ll have sufficient time to retreat to the Erratic Blocks, should the birds attempt to pursue you,’ Whisker added.

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ Chatterbeak chirped confidently. ‘I’ve out-flown a raven or two in my time and, with a decent head start, I’m sure to give the eagles a run for their money.’

  Whisker smiled in gratitude. ‘That takes care of the distraction. Now for the rescue team.’ Hesitantly he turned to the uptight figure of Horace. ‘I’ll need someone small and nimble waiting inside the door to haul the prisoners to safety. Are you up for the job?’

  Horace relaxed instantly.

  ‘Of course I am,’ he said, saluting Whisker with his hook. ‘Just because your plan is ludicrous, doesn’t mean I won’t be part of it.’

  Whisker touched one finger to his forehead in a casua
l salute then hurriedly returned his attention to the map, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Ruby. He was well aware that she was not going to like what he had in store for her.

  Ruby cleared her throat loudly. ‘Ahem. I think you’re forgetting someone.’

  ‘Err, well …’ Whisker began, without looking up. ‘I was thinking the rest of the team could wait here until the prisoners arrived.’

  He heard a violent CLOMP patter CLOMP as Ruby hobbled over to him, her fingers turning white on the shaft of the longbow.

  ‘Is that so?’ she snapped. ‘You want me to sit around with my feet up, twiddling my thumbs while the rest of you daredevils face almost certain death on the cliffs.’

  ‘N-n-no,’ he stammered. ‘That’s not what I had in mind.’

  ‘Then what did you have in mind?’ she fired back.

  ‘I-I don’t know,’ he mumbled feebly in response. ‘I just thought that considering you were injured, it would be safer if you held the fort until we all returned.’

  ‘Well you thought wrong!’ she hissed. ‘I’m not an invalid and I don’t need your pity.’ She turned her back on him and stormed off, almost tripping over a block of firewood.

  ‘Arrr!’ she hissed, battering it aside with her longbow.

  She took another step and then swung back to face Whisker.

  ‘By the way, apprentice,’ she said defiantly, ‘I’ve got half a mind to disobey your orders and fly with Chatterbeak. A cripple with a longbow might not fit into your master plan, but she can still save your neck when you run into trouble.’

  Swivelling on the tip of her bow, she resumed her loud departure, CLOMP patter CLOMP, leaving Whisker staring open-mouthed after her.

  ‘She does have a point, you know,’ Horace whispered to his dejected companion. ‘It would take more than a sprained ankle to keep her out of a fight, and we could use her skills with that bow. She might not have the legs for running, but there’s nothing stopping her from flying.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Whisker said, berating himself. ‘I should have thought of that from the start.’

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ Horace said sympathetically. ‘You were only trying to protect her.’

  Whisker shrugged. ‘A fat lot of good that did me.’

  ‘Look,’ Horace continued, ‘being the leader is a tough job, and you won’t always make the right decisions. If it’s any consolation, Ruby is probably more frustrated with her ankle than she is with you right now.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Whisker said, watching Ruby muttering angrily to herself on the opposite side of the fire.

  ‘Believe me,’ Horace said confidently, ‘I’ve been around her long enough to know how she operates. When she feels helpless, she goes on the attack. Give her something useful to do and she’ll calm down in no time.’

  ‘Something useful,’ Whisker considered, staring at the pair of crutches at his feet. ‘Like making arrows.’

  ‘Now those are the words of a smart leader,’ Horace said with a grin. ‘Come on, I’ll help you pull the crutches apart.’

  Rucksacks and Reeds

  Clutching a dozen long reeds in his paws, Whisker approached the frowning figure of Ruby on the far side of the fire.

  ‘Peace offering,’ he said, extending the reeds towards her.

  She looked at the reeds suspiciously then raised her eye to meet his gaze.

  ‘And?’ she prompted, without relinquishing her frown.

  ‘And you have permission to fly with Chatterbeak during the rescue mission,’ he said.

  ‘And?’ she said again, clearly expecting an apology.

  ‘And I’m sorry for being a donkey of a leader,’ he confessed. ‘I should have asked for your input before making a decision.’

  ‘And?’ she said a third time, maintaining her solemn expression.

  Whisker looked at her blankly.

  ‘And what?’ he shrugged. ‘Have I done something else wrong?’

  ‘Hmm,’ Ruby considered, a cheeky grin spreading across her face. ‘There’s nothing I recall specifically. But why stop when we’re on a roll?’

  Whisker shook his head in bemusement. ‘And here I was thinking you were actually mad with me.’

  ‘I was,’ Ruby said, deadpan. ‘Well, for a few minutes, anyway. And then my blasted ankle started throbbing and I forgot all about it.’ She pointed down at her left boot. ‘I’ve been thinking, I should really stay off this foot for a while to give it a chance to heal.’

  Whisker felt like blurting out, You don’t say! But he kept his mouth shut, realising that Ruby, in her own special way, was trying to say sorry.

  ‘I’d better get back to the Ghost Wings,’ he said, passing her the reeds.

  ‘How are they coming along?’ she asked with sudden interest.

  ‘Slowly,’ Whisker said, pointing to the framework lying on the floor. ‘I still need to connect the reeds with string and nails before attaching the fabric. Then it’s the messy task of dusting the whole thing with ash and charcoal.’

  Ruby shook her head in admiration. ‘Have I ever told you you’re a genius, Whisker?’

  ‘Err, no,’ he admitted, turning to go. ‘But you have told me I’m a lousy leader.’

  ‘Spare me the guilt trip,’ she said, rolling her eye. ‘I’m trying to give you a compliment.’

  ‘Yeah, okay,’ Whisker said awkwardly. ‘But, like I said, the wings are my father’s design, not mine. I can’t even take credit for the name.’

  ‘You’re the one building it,’ Ruby pointed out. ‘Surely that counts for something?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Whisker admitted. ‘But I’d save your praise for the test flight. If this thing sinks like a stone, you may need a few insults up your sleeve.’

  ‘In that case, you’d better get to work,’ Ruby said, shooing him off with a wave of her paw. ‘We both know my insults come thick and fast.’

  She lowered her head and began examining the reeds. Whisker took his cue and hurried back to his flying machine.

  He reached the frame to hear Ruby call out in her sweetest voice, ‘Oh, Chatterbeak, dear, when you’re finished unplaiting that rope, could you kindly bring a few tail feathers over to me?’

  Aghast, Chatterbeak looked up from his rope.

  ‘And you’d better bring Horace’s fishing nets with you,’ Ruby added. ‘Not just the sinkers – the entire nets. I’m in the mood for some inventing of my own …’

  Hours later, to the sounds of Horace’s snoring, Whisker crouched over his completed set of Ghost Wings, rechecking the knots and nails for the umpteenth time. He knew the joins were secure and yet he couldn’t bring himself to abandon his endless safety checks. Even the smallest flaw could spell disaster and he wasn’t prepared to take that chance.

  Satisfied that he had finished his painstaking work, Whisker raised his head and straightened his stiff back. Through his blurry eyes he could see Chatterbeak perched silently on a pile of firewood near the rear wall. Ruby was lying nearby, examining a small quiver she had made from the remains of a rucksack.

  ‘Not tired?’ she asked, glancing up at him.

  Whisker yawned. ‘My body is exhausted. It’s my mind that refuses to switch off.’

  ‘It must be all that thinking you do,’ she said. ‘Planning, hoping, holding on to memories …’

  Whisker nodded wearily.

  Ruby continued to stare at him, as if wanting to say more. Making up her mind, she lowered her quiver and crawled over to sit next to him by the fire.

  ‘Memories,’ she said, continuing her train of thought. ‘They’re funny things, aren’t they? I mean, without them, we’d have no connection to our past …’

  ‘I guess,’ Whisker said, uncertain of where she was heading.

  ‘I’m lucky in a way,’ Ruby reflected, staring into the flames. ‘I was just a baby when my family died in the plague. I sometimes miss not having a family but I never had to deal with missing my parents and siblings themselves. I can’t picture them. I can�
�t hear them. All I’ve got is a couple of stories from Granny Rat and the Captain to tell me what they were like. I know it sounds callous, but without memories, they’re simply names to me.’

  Whisker studied her carefully, sensing there was more to the subject than she was letting on.

  ‘Surely some part of you wishes you had the chance to know them,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe,’ Ruby considered, ‘if life turned out differently.’ She shrugged. ‘The way it stands now, I think it would only have made me angrier …’

  Her words trailed off and she fidgeted uneasily with her swords. Whisker waited patiently for her to continue.

  ‘I mean, why get attached to something when you know you’re only going to lose it?’ she finally blurted out.

  ‘Are you talking about something or someone?’ Whisker asked, reading between the lines.

  Ruby frowned. ‘Someone, I guess.’ She let out a long sigh. ‘Look, Whisker, I took it for granted that you were going to stick around after your apprenticeship. The Captain sees you as a son and it’s no secret that Horace and Fred already consider you a full member of the crew.’

  ‘And you?’ Whisker asked.

  ‘Well,’ she said awkwardly, ‘despite my sometimes less-than-friendly demeanour, I kind of like having you around.’

  Whisker opened his mouth to speak, but Ruby raised a paw to silence him.

  ‘Let me finish,’ she said. ‘If I don’t say this now, I may never say it at all. The closer we are to reaching your sister, the more I realise that this whole Pie Rat thing was never your choice. You were literally dragged from the ocean and dumped on our deck. I know how much effort you’ve made to fit in, but I keep wondering what will happen when you’re finally reunited with your sister. Will it be goodbye for us?’

  Whisker didn’t know how to respond. He’d been so intent on finding his family that he hadn’t seriously considered what life would be like once he found them. It was true he hadn’t chosen to become a Pie Rat, but it didn’t negate the fact that he was one – with his very own ‘wanted’ poster to prove it. And then there was the question of the circus. The big top had been torn to shreds in the cyclone and Whisker hadn’t seen or heard from any of the performers since.