The Mousehunter (20 page)

After a few moments his breathing slowed, he sighed, and his shoulders dropped. Turning to look through the window, Mousebeard saw the huge far-off shape of Ogruk. His friend was peering out to sea over the side of the cliff, unperturbed by the raining droplets of fire. The giant swatted them off his clothes like gnats, making a mockery of the navy’s firepower.

“Oh, Ogruk,” he said quietly. “What is happening to my island?”

Mousebeard knew that Ogruk wouldn’t stay much longer. Even though they were friends, the giant hated human conflict and would do whatever he could to stay as far away from it as possible. The pirate feared his hand was going to be played too soon, and Scragneck would get his chance to strike.

The Golden Mouse

ONE OF THE MOST RECOGNIZED MICE IN THE WORLD, THE EXCEPTIONALLY
rare Golden Mouse has fur consisting of fine strands of pure gold. Found only in the forests of Illyria, this mouse is revered by the natives as an incarnation of their sun god. Its fur has been the subject of lengthy debate among governments, particularly over the terrible effect it would have on the price of the world’s natural gold if anyone were effectively to harvest it as a sustainable source.

MOUSING NOTES

The Golden Mouse is protected by international law and countless Mousing Regulations, and can never be traded, removed from Illyria, kept in captivity, or killed for its fur. To own or pursue ownership of a Golden Mouse is a crime punishable by death. The International Mousehunting Federation sets its strictest rules for this rodent, and defends its right to survival with every power at its disposal.

The Mutinous Crew

N
IGHT FELL ON GIANT ISLAND, HERALDING THE HOWLS
and whoops of nocturnal mice. The Dung Mouse pen was finally silent; the pirate crew of the
Silver Shark
were holed up on land, drinking the night away; and Mousebeard sat at his desk watching the Golden Mice. He was angry at finding himself in this position, and he was angry at not seeing to Scragneck while he had the chance. Mousebeard rarely slept more than a few hours a night. His mind was continually alive with thoughts and schemes, and he hated to waste time sleeping. Besides, as a pirate, it was always good to sleep with one eye open just in case someone took a dislike to you.

As well as the flaming missiles falling all around, mortars were exploding on the volcano’s rim. Lord Battersby’s warships were destroying the cliffs, rock by rock, with the clear intention that no mortars should fall into the volcano itself for fear of hurting anyone or anything.

On top of the noise of the bombardment, the loud footsteps of Ogruk could be heard pacing around the island. He was becoming restless, and eventually Mousebeard heard him approaching the lagoon. His footsteps stopped, and the pirate leaned back in his chair as the walls of his room began to shake. The flat ceiling shuddered and tilted upward, and with a loud crunching noise it was lifted off to show the giant standing high above and the night sky stretching beyond. Holding the roof between two fingers, Ogruk crouched down and pushed his other fist into the lagoon to steady himself.

Ogruk’s head, still a long way above the fortress, filled the open ceiling. Mousebeard could see warts and scars upon the giant’s leathery skin, and with each breath Ogruk made, it was as though a hurricane had been unleashed in his room.

“Mousebeard,” said the giant very loudly, his rounded teeth and enormous tongue visible in the dark, “it’s time I moved on. Those ships are destroying everything and, as you know, I choose not to fight.”

“When will you leave?” shouted Mousebeard, knowing that the giant found it hard to hear him.

“Tonight,” boomed Ogruk, his voice rattling the windows. “I’m fed up with all this.”

Mousebeard twisted his beard. It was the worst news he could have had.

“I understand,” he said. “Will you still take us out to sea?”

“Of course,” replied the giant with little emotion. “I hold no hatred for you. One day we shall meet again under better circumstances.”

“I’ll get everyone ready then,” said the pirate. “Thank you, Ogruk.”

With a slow nod that sent his tousled hair spilling down over his face, Ogruk placed the roof down gently and walked off to the edge of the island.

“I’m an idiot,” growled Mousebeard, looking around at his room and realizing he might never see it again. “All this is lost. . . . ”

He collected his blunderbuss, pistols, and cutlass, letting out growls as the will took him. He pulled on his thick woolen jacket, strapped his belt across his chest, and grabbed the mousebox containing the Golden Mice. When the time came to face the navy, and he knew it would happen sooner rather than later, then he’d do it fully armed.

Mousebeard left his room and stepped cautiously down the staircase. It was a long walk to the ground floor, passing numerous entrances to other rooms and halls, all of which seemed quiet and unoccupied. Eventually he reached the bottom, where a worn-out pirate stood on guard. His upright spear rose and dipped as each nod of his head sent him closer to sleep. Mousebeard made a gruff reprimand, and the guard jumped to attention to unbolt the massive door in the gateway.

The cool evening welcomed Mousebeard with the sound of peaceful lapping water. He stood quietly for a moment, noting the respite in the navy’s attack while watching the rippling lagoon through the cracks in the walkway. The gangplank onto the
Silver Shark
stretched out before him, and he made his way toward it. Mousebeard felt something creeping up behind him, like a shadow falling over his heart. He turned around and saw Scragneck, and immediately drew himself up.

“I don’t remember calling for you!” said Mousebeard angrily.

“So we’re leavin’, are we?” said Scragneck, tapping his sword menacingly in the palm of his hand. “He’s not terrible discreet that giant of yours — havin’ a mouth the size of a ship an’ all!”

“You got what you wanted,” replied Mousebeard, stepping toward Scragneck ominously, “so go and tell the men we’re sailing in the next hour. Sober them up with a cold shower too; this journey ahead of us could well be our last.”

“Ah, but cap’n, this journey ain’t goin’ to be our last . . . .”

Mousebeard heard shuffling behind him, and two pirates grabbed at his arms. He lashed out with anger as the Golden Mice were snatched from his grasp.

“You blasted fools,” he growled. He managed to free a hand and reached for his cutlass.

“It ain’t no good resisting, cap’n. I decided I didn’t want to swing wiv ya after all.” Scragneck’s sword shot out and rested under Mousebeard’s jaw.

The other pirates soon regained their nerve and raised their swords at his back and chest. Mousebeard could feel the sharp points pressing into him like the clutches of an iron maiden. He didn’t care, though — he sensed his battle with Scragneck was going to be the least of his worries now.

“You’ll send us to our death,” growled Mousebeard, dropping his weapons to the ground, smoke still lifting from the blunderbuss. “The Old Town Guard will never let you go free. You’re all walking into a trap the size of the Great Sea!”

“Ah, but, cap’n,” said the scheming Scragneck, “you’re forgetting that the
Shark
will be under my control!”

Mousebeard looked at the mutinous pirate, and cursed himself for ever keeping him in his crew. Scragneck’s mind was clouded by his lust for power. Mousebeard breathed heavily, pushing his chest out forcefully, making the pirates’ swords bend.

“Well, come on then . . . ,” he said, his dark eyes still angry. “What are you waiting for?”

Scragneck smiled.

“Get ’im, boys!” he snarled.

Because of the sheer size and power of Mousebeard, it took five pirates to tie him up. They took his bulging arms and bound them three times over for security. His huge palms clenched and unclenched as the bonds constricted the feeling in his hands. His beard bristled.

“Stick ’im in the brig and clap ’im in irons. I’m the captain now.” Scragneck turned. “Don’t try anythin’, Mousebeard!” he said, as the other pirates tried to jostle the big man up the gangplank with little success. Mousebeard was keen to walk as slowly and heavily as he could.

“Now’s not the time,” he replied caustically. “I’ll need my strength for when the
Silver Shark
is sinking!”

Once Mousebeard had been taken aboard ship, Miserley strolled out of the boat with her head held high.

“I’ve sent a message to the navy. That Battersby’s expecting us,” she said.

“Good. Let’s be prepared. Get as many guns as possible on top deck. And get that Drewshank on board; somethin’ makes me think he’ll be useful. Leave the others, particularly them kids, to rot in the mouse pen. That’ll teach ’em!”

Miserley set off into the dark.

“Cap’n of the
Silver Shark
!” said Scragneck quietly. “Who’d ’a’ thought?”

Emiline lay awake on a hard and uncomfortable bunk. The Dung Mice were snoring loudly, as was Fenwick, and she was finding it impossible to sleep.

She’d heard the gunshot, but being used to the explosions from the navy, she hadn’t thought anything of it. At least not until the door to the pen burst open.

There, on the threshold, was Miserley, standing confidently in her tight gray jacket with her hands on her hips. Her long hair swooped down over her eyes as she surveyed the bleary-eyed prisoners. Five pirates appeared from behind her and pulled Drewshank out into the jungle, scattering Dung Mice in the process. The prisoners jumped to their feet, and Emiline found herself charging through the door at Miserley. Emiline pushed her to the floor, but before Miserley had the chance to draw her daggers another pirate had kicked the prisoner back into the pen.

“Get away, girl,” he barked.

Miserley lifted herself off the floor and shook dirt from her hair. Drewshank laughed, as did all the prisoners, but they soon fell quiet as the door slammed shut and the key turned in the lock.

“That’s it for you lot,” shouted Miserley, banging the door. “There’s no way out now. We’re leaving the island and letting you rot here with these disgusting mice.”

Fenwick ran to the door and shoved it with his shoulder. “Captain!” he shouted through the bars.

Drewshank stumbled as his hands were grabbed and tied in front of him.

“Fenwick?” he shouted back bewildered. He looked back at the pen as he was pulled along. After the events of the past few weeks, he’d thought nothing could shock him anymore. But he was wrong.

“What’s going on?” he said, wearily.

“You’re being handed over to the navy. They want Mousebeard and the Golden Mice, and we thought we’d throw you in as well,” said Miserley, sniggering.

“You really are most despicable,” said Drewshank. “Don’t you realize they’ll either kill you or hang you high at Old Town?”

Miserley jabbed him in the ribs with her dagger handle.

“Lord Battersby has given us his word that we won’t be harmed.”

“Battersby!” exclaimed Drewshank. He suddenly stood still, causing the pirate in front to almost fall over. “Of course!”

“You know him?”

“Something like that . . . ,” said Drewshank. “What have you gotten us all into?”

Miserley’s temper exploded. “Shut up!” she shouted.

Drewshank fell silent, and resigned himself to whatever lay ahead. At least he now knew why he’d been chosen as bait for Mousebeard. There had never been any love lost between him and Battersby.

“Are you ready?” boomed Ogruk.

Scragneck stepped out onto deck and signaled his intentions. The giant looked down at the ship quizzically.

“Where’s Mousebeard?” he boomed.

“Sortin’ out a few things below deck!” replied the new captain. “He wanted you to carry us out of the volcano.”

Ogruk frowned and looked at the tiny, insignificant Scragneck. He was utterly weary of the humans and their worthless battles, but his promise to Mousebeard still stood. The giant sighed, sending low waves rippling across the lagoon. Then he bent down and plucked the
Silver Shark
from the water.

In just a few long steps, Ogruk reached the rim of the volcano, and clambered up its side. The giant surveyed the flickering white lights onboard the many ships bobbing up and down on the surrounding sea. The navy was ready and waiting.