The Ruby of Carminel

by Roger Mortimer

  For Luke and Bella

  Contents

  Prologue: The Black Widow Spider of Salamex

  Part One: The Ruby of Power

  1. Black Sails

  2. The Vulture

  3. Princess Tamina

  4. Night Attack

  5. Malatesta Strikes

  6. Tamina to the Rescue

  7. The Red Duke

  8. Princess in Peril

  9. Caladon Defiant

  10. Escape

  Part Two: The Lord Of Shadows

  11. Storm

  12. The Blind Spot

  13. Snakes

  14. The Race to the Sea

  15. The Poisoned Spike

  16. Raven

  17. Hellburner

  18. Vulture Attack

  19. The Cannon’s Roar

  Part Three: The Castle in the Clouds

  20. Marengo

  21. Eagles!

  22. The Sword

  23. Caladon Goes to War

  24. Flash Flood!

  25. The Graveyard

  26. The Fugitive of Aramon

  27. The Sword of Vygan

  28. Prepare to Die!

  Copyright

  About the author

  Prologue: The Black Widow Spider of Salamex

  ‘Bring me the Great Ruby of Power from Carminel!’ The spider’s voice rose scarcely above a whisper. But her great web trembled at her power and in the pit that lay beneath its golden threads, the sacred viper stirred uneasily. ‘Did you hear me, Malatesta?’

  ‘I heard you, Majesty.’ Malatesta was a stoat, commander of the elite Ermine Guard. So, he thought, it had come at last; Empress Ravanola, the great Black Widow Spider, ruler of the mighty empire of Salamex, was playing the opening move in her war against the Mouse Kingdom of Carminel. And in that war, there would be rich plunder for the stoats who fought in the empress’s army, for the sea-rats who sailed her warships and for the vultures who fought in the skies. But for the Ermine Guard, and for its commander, there would be the richest plunder of all!

  ‘The King of Carminel is only a child,’ murmured Ravanola. ‘But he is protected by the ruby’s magic powers. Others have tried to conquer the Mouse Kingdom and have failed. But once I have the ruby, Carminel will be at my mercy.’

  ‘It shall be done. How many ships may I take?’

  ‘Enough to scare those miserable mice to death! Leave most of our fleet behind, they will be needed for the invasion. Sail into the harbour of Aramon, the capital of Carminel, and do plenty of damage!’ The empress’s laugh set her web quivering again and the viper hissed softly. ‘But your attack will be merely a diversion. Under cover of the raid, you will lead your Ermine Guards ashore. Wait for darkness. Then sneak into the city and take the ruby. You will find it in the Great Cathedral, where these foolish mice have it on display for anyone to steal. When I have it, our vultures and our ships will attack Aramon, and all Carminel will be mine!’

  Malatesta bowed, and was about to leave the throne-room when Ravanola called him back. ‘Wait! I want you to take Gweir.’

  Malatesta curled his lip in disgust. ‘That stinking stoat?’

  ‘He is no ordinary stoat!’ Ravanola’s sudden roar of anger made even the spiders of her bodyguard tremble. ‘He is my magician, with power from the Snake-god who dwells far beneath my palace! Sneer at him at your peril, Lord Malatesta. He will be useful. Now go!’

  Malatesta was not afraid of the empress. But he was not such a fool as to argue with her when she was angry with him.

  Leaving the throne-room, Malatesta passed through three archways, each guarded by a spider of the empress’s bodyguard. As he entered the garden, the blistering summer sun struck him, and he hurried to the gatehouse, pausing a few minutes in its cool shadow. Then he crossed the drawbridge which spanned the deep, dry moat that surrounded Ravanola’s palace: the House of the Snake.

  Before him, the city of Kalamaris fell steeply away in a maze of narrow, twisting alleys, the over-crowded houses stinking in the burning heat. Malatesta hurried down to the harbour, where white-cloaked stoats of his elite Ermine Guard were waiting to row him out to his ship, the Night Crow. They had to help him into the boat, for one of Malatesta’s paws was missing, hacked off in a battle long ago. In its place was a gleaming spike. The stoats were careful not to touch it for it was smeared with venom from the sacred viper; the slightest scratch meant death.

  Once aboard, Malatesta summoned Captain Blacktail, his second in command. ‘Send a message to the Port of Viperium. Twelve warships of the fleet must be sailed here at once. And summon my special squad.’

  ‘You mean the Dirty Tricks bunch? Very good, my lord.’

  Giving orders that he must not be disturbed, Malatesta shut himself in the Night Crow’s great cabin and planned his attack on Aramon. Since the Empress insisted, he would have to make use of Gweir. But the tall magician with the piercing eyes had the ability to see into other creatures’ minds. Malatesta found that very uncomfortable.

  An hour later, his plan of action complete, Malatesta threw back his head and laughed. Carminel was doomed, for if all went well, the mice would not even know that their ruby was gone until it was too late.

  Part One: The Ruby of Power

  1. Black Sails

  ‘A plague on this infernal mist! I can hardly see my paw in front of my face.’ Lukas, Bosun of the Avenger, heaved his powerful bulk up the ladder to the quarter-deck. ‘Do you hear anything, skipper?’

  Captain Roamer stood motionless, one paw resting lightly on the ship’s wheel, his keen ears questing the mist. ‘Yes. Listen.’

  At first, Lukas could hear nothing. But suddenly, he caught the faint groaning of another ship’s timbers and the creaking of ropes. ‘Is it the Raven?’ he whispered.

  All day, the buccaneers had been chasing the great treasure-ship, homeward bound for Ravanola’s Empire. The Avenger had almost caught her when the Raven had vanished into one of the sea mists that sometimes came without warning in the great Southern Ocean. Roamer had followed and was now wishing he hadn’t.

  ‘It might be the Raven. But there’s more than one ship out there.’

  Though the Avenger’s sails hung motionless, the ship was moving. ‘We must be close to the island,’ Lukas said softly. ‘The tide’s carrying us towards it.’

  The island was the buccaneers’ hideaway, complete with fresh water and a golden, palm-fringed beach. Roamer was afraid that in the mist the Avenger might run aground; but until he knew what other ships were nearby, he dared not risk the noisy business of dropping the anchor.

  ‘They’re closer,’ he whispered. ‘Here they come!’

  On the main deck, the silent sea-mice crouched like statues. Suddenly, they heard the dreadful sound of crying and wailing and a ghostly ship with black sails loomed out of the mist. The mice caught only a glimpse before it vanished. But another ship came gliding by and it, too, had black sails.

  ‘Salamex pirates,’ whispered Roamer, ‘moving faster than we are. They must be closer inshore, and there may be others.’

  ‘But that terrible crying!’ hissed Lukas. ‘What did it mean?’

  ‘Don’t know. But there’s nothing we can do... yet.’

  For an hour, the Avenger crept silently through the mist. At last, a wind parted the white curtain and there lay the island, sunlit and inviting, half a mile to starboard. Cheesemite, the lookout, scampered up the rigging to the crow’s-nest, the lookout post near the top of the mainmast. But the black-sailed ships had vanished.

  ‘No sign of the Raven, either!’ called Cheesemite.

  ‘That’s a fortune gone west,’ muttered Lukas.

  Although the Empress Ravanola was now plotting against the Mouse Kingdom,
for many years there had been peace between her Empire and Carminel. But in the great Southern Ocean there was never-ending war, for there lay the Golden Islands, yielding gold, silver, spices and gems. The power-hungry Ravanola claimed these islands for herself. She barred merchants of Carminel from trading with the islanders, the peace-loving tamarins: small, nimble tree-dwellers, with golden fur and long tails. But the empress’s treasure-ships were in constant danger from Carminel buccaneers; and no ship was swifter or better armed than the Avenger and no captain more daring than Roamer.

  ‘Lukas, steer for Coriander Island. That crying we heard might have been tamarins. If the Black Widow’s sea-rats have been taking prisoners, Chief Tia-roa will know about it.’

  Leaving their island basking in the sunshine, the sea-mice sailed south for Coriander, one of the many islands where the tamarins lived. Buccaneers such as Roamer gave a fair price for their treasures: Ravanola’s sea-rats simply helped themselves.

  ‘Deck, there!’ cried Cheesemite. ‘Smoke on the southern horizon!’

  ‘Make more sail!’ snapped Roamer. Canvas thundered down, and as it caught the wind Avenger powered across the waves. As she drew near to the island, the scent of spices, carried on the wind, was almost swamped by the stench of burning.

  The last of the sun was painting the sails gold as the sea-mice dropped anchor in Coriander Bay. Of the tree-house settlement, nothing remained but smouldering heaps of ash and the little landing-stage had been hacked to pieces.

  ‘Lower the boats,’ said Roamer.

  Beneath its cloud of smoke, the darkening beach was deserted. But as the buccaneers crossed the sand towards the palm trees, Roamer caught a sudden movement in the undergrowth. ‘This is Captain Roamer of the Avenger! Come out!’

  The leaves parted and out crept a tamarin child. His golden fur was singed and his eyes were bright with tears. For a moment he stared at the tall buccaneer. Then, with a cry of relief, he ran towards him.

  From all around the beach, other tamarins crept from cover. Recognising Chief Tia-roa, Roamer asked: ‘Who has done this?’

  ‘Who else but sea-rats?’ said the chief bitterly. ‘They burnt our houses, destroyed our crops. We hadn’t enough gold to satisfy them, so they took twelve of our children to sell as slaves. Among them was my daughter.’

  ‘Princess Tamina? Don’t worry, old friend. We’ll get them back.’

  ‘There is more! These pirates were boasting that the Ermine Guard commander, Lord Malatesta, may his name be accursed, will soon sail for Carminel. He will do to Aramon what these vermin have done to us.’

  ‘We’d best sail home and warn King Caladon,’ said Lukas. ‘But first, we must rescue these young tamarins. Give the sea-rats a taste of their own medicine, eh skipper?’

  ‘Yes! Tia-roa, we saw two pirate ships. Which one carried the prisoners?’

  ‘The larger one. Her name is the Vulture.’ Roamer’s mice shuddered at the name. The vultures who lived on the burning plains of Salamex were renowned for their cruelty. Roamer knew that if Ravanola were planning an invasion of Carminel, the vultures would certainly be part of it. Sensing his crew’s fear, he smiled. ‘Do not be afraid. Avenger will clip this vulture’s wings! We’ll leave a dozen sea-mice here to defend the island in case of another raid and to help Tia-roa’s tamarins rebuild their homes. The rest, back to the ship! We sail at once!’

  2. The Vulture

  ‘Deck, there! Land ahead!’

  As Cheesemite’s excited voice pealed down from the crow’s-nest, Roamer swung himself into the foremast rigging and stared into the gathering darkness. On the horizon, twinkling lights marked the position of Kalamaris, capital of Ravanola’s Empire.

  ‘Heave to!’ Mice sprang to take in the sails, Lukas spun the wheel, the ship turned into the wind and wallowed to a standstill.

  In the great cabin, Roamer and Lukas studied the chart. ‘See those cliffs that guard the harbour?’ said Roamer. ‘We’ll wait until it’s completely dark, then we’ll steer for the eastern side; there’s a bay that should give us shelter from the wind and hide us from any passing ship or patrol boat. From there, you’ll take a landing party ashore. Find the Vulture. Come back and tell us where she is. Then we’ll launch the cutter and go in.’

  An hour later, Avenger crept towards the land. The sky was overcast; Roamer had only the harbour lights to guide him as he steered for the eastern bay. The wind was strengthening, whipping the waves into white-caps. But as the ship rounded the tall cliff, the wind died. Roamer dropped anchor in a small, sheltered bay and the landing-party slipped ashore.

  Two hours later, a grim-faced Lukas followed his sea-mice back aboard Avenger. ‘Chief Tia-roa was right about Malatesta’s plans. We counted twelve warships strung out across the harbour, taking on stores and weapons. The place is crawling with rowing-boats, going from one ship to another.’

  ‘Where’s the Vulture?’

  ‘Lying at anchor on the western side of the harbour. To reach her, our cutter will have to pass through the middle of Malatesta’s fleet! And now it’s raining,’ he added, glaring at the sky.

  ‘Just what we needed!’ said Roamer. He turned to his raiding party. ‘Lower the cutter. Leave the mast down. Four of you, take the oars. The rest, hide yourselves, the weapons and the barrel of gunpowder under the tarpaulin. I’ll take the tiller. We’ll disguise ourselves as one of these boats carrying stores – protecting our cargo from the rain under the tarpaulin. Give us an hour, Lukas, then take the ship to the harbour mouth and wait for us. Have the guns loaded and run out – just in case!’

  As the cutter left the shelter of the bay and rounded the headland, the mice had to bend their backs and row hard against the blustering wind. At the tiller, Roamer narrowed his eyes against the spray, seeing the great ships lying at anchor and the small boats clustering around them. As the cutter entered the harbour, the wind blew less violently and Roamer steered boldly for the ships. Somewhere beyond them lay the Vulture.

  Well disguised in capes and woollen caps, the sea-mice rowed through the middle of Malatesta’s fleet. All round them, sea-rats were rowing boats laden with cannonballs and barrels of gunpowder. Some boat crews waved to the buccaneers, calling out cheerily about the dirty weather, and a ship’s captain called to Roamer, demanding to know whether he had brought his ammunition. But Roamer shook his head and pointed to another warship and the rat returned to his cabin.

  At last, the cutter was clear of the fleet. ‘Lie down!’ hissed Roamer to the mice concealed beneath the tarpaulin. ‘Make it look as if we’ve delivered our cargo!’

  Suddenly, he tensed. The rain had stopped, the clouds had parted, and in the starlight Roamer saw two ships at anchor. Roamer steered the cutter towards the larger ship’s stern. Crossing it at a safe distance, he could just make out its name: Vulture.

  ‘Rest oars,’ he whispered. Gratefully, the tired crew obeyed, and Roamer let the cutter drift a little before pointing its bows towards the Vulture’s port side.

  ‘Out you come!’ The sea-mice heaved back the tarpaulin, gratefully gulping in the fresh air as they passed round the pistols and cutlasses. Four of the mice who had lain hidden took over the oars; the rest crouched low.

  ‘Ready, lads?’ Twelve faces grinned back at him in the darkness. ‘Then let’s go!’

  As the mice rowed steadily towards the Vulture, Roamer scanned the rigging of both pirate ships for lookouts. But he saw none and, as they drew closer, the shouting and laughter from both vessels reassured him.

  ‘They’re having parties in the stern cabins,’ he whispered. ‘With any luck, they’ll be drunk by now! We’re close enough. Ship oars!’ The mice stopped rowing and Roamer allowed the cutter to drift alongside the Vulture until it was level with her bows. ‘Now, Ben, up with the chain.’

  ‘Roight, zur!’ Old Ben spoke in the rich accent of the far west of Carminel. Bracing his feet on the deck, he spat on his paws, then swung the chain. The others held their breath. This was the trickiest part
of the expedition. But Ben had done this many times before and the chain caught on one of several mooring-hooks fastened to the Vulture’s bows. Roamer glanced anxiously towards the stern of the second ship. It was perilously close, its cabin windows ablaze with lights and the shouts of laughter louder than ever. Fortunately, none of the windows was open; all were well and truly misted up. But it only needed a sea-rat to feel like some fresh air...

  ‘Up you goes, zur!’ whispered Ben. Roamer clambered up the chain, hooked his paw across the bows and peeped over. A swift glance showed him that the beak-head, the narrow platform at the very front of the ship, was deserted. He swung himself aboard and reached out his paw to the next mouse in the line.

  Soon, eleven mice were gathered on the beak-head; one had been left behind to guard the cutter and to give the alarm in case the enemy should spot it. In front of them loomed the fore-castle, the cabin at the front of the ship. Gently, Roamer eased open the door. Though the cabin stank of sea-rat, it was empty, and the door at the other end, leading to the main deck, was closed. In the faint light, Roamer could just see a hatch-cover, outlined on the deck at his feet.

  ‘Open that.’

  ‘Oi got’n, zur,’ whispered Ben. He heaved up the hatch-cover, revealing a shadowy flight of steps, leading down into utter darkness.

  ‘Light the lantern,’ said Roamer. ‘Now, follow me!’

  3. Princess Tamina

  Following the lantern’s ghostly glimmer, the sea-mice crept between the lines of cannon. As they drew near to the stern, the din from the cabin above grew louder. At last, Roamer stopped before a stout, padlocked door. From behind it, the sea-mice could faintly hear the whimpering of the young tamarins. Passing the lantern to Ben, Roamer levered off the padlock with his knife and flung open the door. Several little tamarins stared at him, wide-eyed with terror. Suddenly, a tiny dagger flew over his head and stuck, quivering, in the beam behind him and a tawny figure hurled itself at his throat, kicking and tearing with its long claws.