The Deptford Mice 3: The Final Reckoning (31 page)

Gwen managed a frail smile of thanks and nodded, ‘Yes,’ but she remembered the Starwife’s warning about what would happen the next time Jupiter used the Starglass. She covered her face as she realized that that would be this evening.

The wind tore round the deck and snatched at the rigging. Thomas strode out, sword in paw, and waited for the others to follow. Into the gale came Arthur, Mr Cockle, Algy Coltfoot, Master Oldnose and Jacob Chitter.

‘Right,’ Thomas shouted above the noise of the wind, ‘Nosey and Cockle, you go starboard, Algy and Mr Chitter, portside for you, Arthur get astern. Keep all your eyes peeled, as soon as you spot Jupiter’s scurvy wretches just holler.’

The mice scurried to their designated sentry posts and leaned over the deck rail to stare at the snow-covered ground. Thomas made his way to the prow of the ship and gazed steadily down. Nothing moved over the white expanse. The midshipmouse raised his eyes to the river; it was completely frozen now, a flat, wide sheet of grey, grim ice. A twinge of discomfort bit into his leg – the wound did not like the cold. He looked up at the sky. The sun was hidden behind the thick layers of blizzard-ridden cloud but Thomas knew the evening was drawing near.

A tremendous rumble shook the world and the Cutty Sark quivered on its struts.

The mice looked round, startled. ‘What was that?’ quavered Master Oldnose.

Thomas did not know, but something glimmered in the corner of his eye. He turned and looked at the mist-enshrouded power station in the distance. The tiny windows were ablaze with white fire and he could hear a deep purr echo from it. Jupiter was on the move. A bolt of jagged, blue lightning , streaked up from the chimney and sliced through the clouds. Thomas shuddered.

With a thundering roar the towering chimney split and great chunks of it crumbled away. The lightning crackled round it and the fissures widened. With a deafening groan the chimney toppled towards the Thames and crashed onto the ice. It shattered and huge spouts of water gushed up as the massive structure burst through and sank into the depths.

A smoking, ragged shaft was left jutting out of the roof from which an enormous stream of hissing vapour issued. Into the air rose Jupiter. His mountainous bulk soared and gathered god-like in the sky. Out of his fortress he stormed and as he left it the walls shook and swayed perilously. The last of his steaming form billowed from the power station and it collapsed beneath him, smashing and exploding into ruin.

A blizzard of hail and ice rained down from the Unbeest’s mouth as he roared amid the clouds, the lightning flashed about his head like a crown of cold fire and in his savage claws something small shone. It was the Starglass and he had one final task for it. Tonight the sun would set for the last time.

The mice on the deck of the Cutty Sark stared at the petrifying vision and felt the doom of every living creature loom near. Master Oldnose slumped to the deck in fright and all the colour bleached out of Mr Cockle’s face as he beheld the evil glory of winter’s monarch. Jacob Chitter wiped his appalled eyes and his knees became water. He fell with a bump on his tail and the breath caught in his throat. Arthur bit his lip fearfully and shrank against the deck rail in fear. Only two nights had passed since he had first witnessed Jupiter but in that short length of time the horrendous spirit had grown, bloated now beyond all belief. It did not seem possible that the power station had ever managed to contain him.

Jupiter hung over the land like a great dark cloud. He waited for all the vapour to leave the crumbled wreck of his cathedral of cold and drift up to swell his monstrous size. His raucous, trumpeting laughter travelled round the quaking Earth which would soon be his alone.

With a purr that vibrated through the air and set all teeth on edge he rumbled towards Greenwich, his baleful eyes scalding everything with frost. Thomas ducked behind the rail as the massive, nightmarish shape flew overhead and a dark shadow fell heavily over the ship, plunging it into night. The masts were touched by the outermost tips of Jupiter’s trailing, foggy majesty and immediately a mutilating ice rifled down them, causing the wood to creak in despair. Chunks of hail, large as cannon balls, dropped from the hideous cat spirit and mercilessly battered the deck.

Arthur clung to a rope as the Cutty Sark rocked violently and the steel struts tore vicious rents in her listing hull. He was flung against the rail and it cracked his skull. With a cry of pain Arthur held his head and averted his eyes from Jupiter. The blackness of the enormous shadow stole across the cratered deck as the purring Unbeest veered round and made for the observatory.

Arthur hung over the rail and stared woefully down, ‘Green spare us!’ he exclaimed.

Following beneath their evil master marched the spectral army. The phantoms flourished their ice spears and yammered eagerly for blood.

Arthur sprang back and shouted, ‘They’re here! They’re here!’

The others came rushing to him and looked over the edge. ‘Curse them,’ swore Thomas, ‘they’re surrounding the ship.’ Sure enough, the ghosts were spreading out and creeping all round the concrete trench that held the trapped clipper. They lifted their ghastly faces and let out shrieks of hate.

‘Cockle,’ shouted Thomas urgently, ‘go warn everyone. Tell ’em we’re besieged and they’ll have to brace themselves.’

Mr Cockle and Algy darted down the steps to the hold and Thomas gripped his sword with determination. ‘I’ll not go down without a fight,’ he told himself.

The cackling wraiths licked their lips and moved in. With slow menace they crept to the edge of the trough and with frenzied hoots flung themselves onto the long metal poles that impaled the vessel.

‘They’re climbing up,’ wailed Arthur.

‘Aye,’ bawled Thomas, ‘keeping us busy while Jupiter flies unhindered to yonder hill.’

The spectres crept along the struts, their wicked claws scratching the metal in their dreadful advance while the spears under their arms glinted, impatient for murder.

The steel poles that skewered the ship ended two thirds of the way up her hull, above that the timbers were smooth and looked impossible to climb. Arthur hoped this would be the case as the spectres reached the end of their creeping journey. He leaned out to peer down, but ghostly faces leered up at him and they reached out moaning for his blood.

‘I think they’re stuck Mr Triton,’ he said, greatly relieved, ‘they can’t clamber up any further.’

‘Don’t be so sure mate,’ Thomas answered gravely and he pointed down to where the foul soldiers were hammering their spears into the seasoned timbers, one after another like a ladder of icicles. Up they snaked, smelling the mice that awaited them in the ship.

‘Can’t we do something?’ wailed Master Oldnose gazing hopelessly at them.

Thomas tossed his head back and whisked his sword through the air. ‘We can die bravely,’ he bellowed heartily.

The ship shivered as the spears were driven into her sides. The fiendish army swarmed up furiously. A cruel claw appeared over the rim and gouged deeply into the varnished rail.

Thomas sprang forward with an angry cry and brought his sword crashing down, The blade sank into the splintering wood, passing clean through the phantom claw which slithered along and hauled its owner up. A snarling ogre of a spirit leapt over the side and landed with an empty chuckle on the deck beside the midshipmouse. It was the largest of all the infernal warriors and needed no ice spear for its claws were long and could rake the wind to ribbons.

Thomas tugged and pulled wildly at his sword which was still firmly wedged in the wooden rail.

‘Watch out!’ shouted Arthur in warning.

The sword would not budge. Panic-stricken Thomas uttered a sailor’s oath and the slavering phantom pounced at him.

* * *

Up in the grey sky a dark mass swept towards Deptford. It stretched into the veiled distance and the rumour of its coming was electrifying. Thousands upon thousands of shrill, high-pitched voices filled the fading evening. The bats had arrived at last.

Oswald clung on to Orfeo and Eldritch’s feet as they bore him unerringly through the snow storm. The albino’s face was set and grim. The last few days had taken their toll, he had not slept or eaten and dark circles ringed his pink eyes.

It had taken tremendous effort to drag the Book of Hrethel up through the foundations of the grand council building, and with Eldritch’s help he had taken it to the Elders who beat their wings angrily at their ancestor’s low cunning. What use was a blank book to anyone? They had cast it down from a great height with contempt and as it fell the spine tore. A plume of fluttering, aged pages soared out in the plummeting book’s wake. The bindings exploded into brown dust as they struck the floor and the hazy image of a wrinkled bat appeared for a brief moment in the blossoming cloud, sneering with derision and triumph.

Cries of doom and despair had reverberated around the dome as the bats consumed the bitterness dished out to them from centuries long gone. They hid their faces behind their wings in defeat and wept desolately. But Oswald was not so sure. All along he had felt the wary presence of Hrethel’s carefully planned revenge and a certain aspect of it did not seem right. The medieval tyrant had overlooked something – if only he could pinpoint exactly what it was.

He had asked Eldritch to fly him down to examine the remains of the book and then he knew. As he fingered the tingling parchments he realized in a flash of brilliance that magic is a force that cannot easily be erased. The Great Book had contained many powerful spells and countless magical signs and formulae for hundreds of years before Hrethel had wiped it clean. But he should have destroyed it utterly, for the nature of the writings and the strength of the incantations had soaked into the fibres like water in a sponge. Those blank pages had become charged with tremendous energy. The spells were still there but hidden in the very fabric of the book, a source of living, invisible power.

Oswald whooped with delight at his discovery and quickly told the council. They stared at him amazed. But how could this help them? The spells may indeed be there but how would they read them? It was a problem that troubled their hearts for days, but the solution had stirred in Oswald’s heart and he knew what had to be done.

‘Now the snow beat severely against his face, stinging and numbing it. In the shadow of the two bats’ wings the albino looked down at his fluttering coat and smiled solemnly. This was the answer he had found, and it was a truly hazardous venture. The only way to vanquish Jupiter was to use the power of the book against him, yet without being able to read the spells this was their only option they were taking the Great Book to him.

Remembering the costume worn by Master Oldnose at the Midsummer celebrations Oswald had made a tatting suit from the pages. He had ripped the magic parchment into shreds and sewn them into a loose tunic for himself.

‘You realize what you are doing?’ Ashmere had asked him fearfully.

‘Of course I do,’ Oswald had cried as he was surrounded by the countless, cheering bats in the dome. He had felt very brave and added, ‘Down with Jupiter!’ But now he felt afraid for the object of his errand drew near. He had volunteered, whilst wearing the magical tatting suit, to fly with Orfeo and Eldritch into the very heart of the Unbeest’s unbounded spirit. None of them expected to come, out alive.

The great multitude of bats flew with them at their head. Even the elders had flown out to witness the final assault. They sang uplifting songs of daring and courage so that the three heroes should not be dismayed and feel dread steal over them. Squadrons of respectful moon riders wheeled past them, saluting and calling their names proudly.

Oswald readied himself for the terrible time ahead. He could already see lightning flare in the fog on the observatory hill. He hoped they were in time. The tower blocks and estates rolled below them as they swept over Deptford.

‘Master Pink Eyes,’ Orfeo called down to him. ‘See there, something lies in the snow.’

The albino peered at the distant ground but could see nothing, the bat sight had left him days ago. ‘What is it?’ he asked, puzzled that his friend should think it so important. Audrey was close to death, the cold had entered the very marrow of her bones and a mantle of snow had formed over her. Her faltering thought wandered through twilight as one in a dream, but there would be no waking. Deeper into the shadowy realm she sank, until the black chasm of the midwinter death opened beneath her.

The light failed round her body as a gloom descended. From out of the snow-filled sky a bat flew. With outstretched wings the creature landed beside the near frozen mouse. He had been sent by Orfeo who high above had recognized Audrey. Quickly the bat put his ear to her breast. There was a faint murmuring beat.

‘Aha young maiden,’ the creature declared, ‘life still runs in your veins or Hathkin is no judge.’ He brushed the snow from her with his wings and shook her shoulders. ‘Awake!’ he cried. ‘Snow is not for slumber, awake little one.’

Audrey’s eyes opened blearily and she looked on the bat’s eager face drowsily. ‘Let me be,’ she whined.

‘Oh no Mistress,’ he chuckled, taking to the air and flitting above her head, ‘a job I have been sent to do and accomplish it I shall. Hathkin may not win the renown of Orfeo or Eldritch this day but he will do as he is bid.’ The bat hovered over her and gently took hold of her paws. With a swift flap of his wings he soared up taking Audrey with him.

The high, gusting winds grasped and tore at the dangling mouse. Audrey flapped beneath Hathkin as wildly as a strip of cloth. Spluttering protests she came to her senses, her mind left the blackness of the eternal gulf and returned with a jolt to her body.

Audrey looked down at the snow-covered roof tops that rapidly dropped away beneath her. She glanced up at the bat and gasped in surprise, ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded to know, ‘put me down at once!’

Hathkin laughed but shook his head, ‘Sorry Mistress but we must rejoin the others. Observe the host of our brotherhood.’