The Snowy Tower (18 page)

The nearly full moon hung high in the sky. A band of twenty-odd men and five children slipped through the forest, avoiding the pools of clear, white moonlight, searching for the shadows of trees and rocks.

Their leader was Fox himself, his red hair tied back in a ponytail, Mia crouching silently on his
shoulder. Fox wore his smuggler’s clothes – black shirt, breeches, boots and cloak – to make him nearly invisible in the shadows. By his side crept Saxon, Roana, Lily and Ethan, once again wearing their smuggler’s clothes, and Prince Caspar. Aisha loped along in the darkness, her ears cocked for danger and her nose snuffling the scents of the night.

Under Fox’s orders, the men carried their weapons and pitchforks wrapped in cloth to stop them jingling. The rebels were dressed in the uniforms of Sedah soldiers, the uniforms that had been confiscated from the prisoners in the forest. One of the rebels was George, the burly blacksmith from Kenley. He also carried a sack containing some of the tools of his trade. Several of the rebels carried small barrels, which they hefted on their backs.

The silent group crept south, past the eastern bridge to Tira, slinking through the forest to give them cover from the bright moonlight. At last they came to the clifftops above the River Bryn, close to where it crashed into the sea. They could hear the sound of the water thundering and rumbling many metres below, and smell the salt of the sea spray. The noise was comforting as it completely hid any sound they might be making.

With some difficulty in the flat light of the moon, the four children found the place where they had crossed the river eight weeks before, on their way into the hidden tunnels under Tira. The rope across the gorge was still in place, firmly tied to a tree trunk on the eastern side and knotted to a tree root on the western side. Ethan had based the flying slide on one their father Willem had built for them in the barn the year before. Ethan shivered as he thought of his father imprisoned in the dungeons below the palace. He mentally shook himself to bring him back to the task at hand, and tugged the rope firmly to check it was still secure.

Ethan took off his belt, tying a long, thin cord to it. He threw the belt over the thicker cable, buckling it to make a loop.

‘We crossed the river by sliding across the rope, using a belt,’ whispered Ethan, holding onto the looped belt. He ran a few paces, lifting his feet off the ground so he slithered a couple of metres along the cliff top to demonstrate. Fox nodded, grinning with appreciation. ‘The entrance to the tunnel is at the base of the cliffs on the other side,’ Ethan explained, waving his arm across the black gorge.

Fox hung a belt from the rope and lifted his feet off the ground, testing its weight. The rope sagged
and creaked but the knots still held. ‘Good,’ replied Fox. ‘It looks like it is still holding well, although I think for the adults it is safer if we use two belts for extra strength. I’ll cross first. I want you five children exactly in the middle of the party, so you are well protected on both sides of the gorge.’

They all nodded their agreement, knowing it was futile to argue with Fox. Ten rebel soldiers took their turns to slide across the chasm and gather on the other side, each time tugging the thin rope three times to signal that they were safely across and the belt could be hauled back. The process seemed to take forever. The rounded moon slid slowly across the sky as time escaped. The children jiggled with impatience, their eyes scanning the distant walls of Tira, hoping there were no observant Sedah soldiers spying from afar.

At last it was Roana’s turn, followed by Lily, Aisha in a horse blanket sling, then Ethan. Saxon had not crossed the chasm by rope slide last time. He had dropped down the cliff, dangling on the end of the rope, then swum across the swollen river to tie the rope securely on the opposite bank. When it was his turn, Saxon took a run-up, holding tightly to the looped belt, racing straight towards the cliff edge. For a split second he wanted to scrabble
backwards onto the safety of the solid cliff, but it was too late.

With a clatter of falling pebbles, Saxon was flying through the air, all his weight dangling from his arms. The wind whistled past his ears, the river thundered closer and then the pale, shingly beach was flying up to meet his feet. Saxon had to bite his lip to stop himself from whooping out loud for joy. He landed with a dull thud, his long legs cycling in wide circles to keep him upright. A huge grin spread across his face. He tugged on the thin rope three times, then turned to the others. ‘That sure beats swimming across,’ Saxon whispered. ‘It was fantastic.’

Ethan grinned in response. ‘Absolutely.’

Fox was the next to fly over, with Prince Caspar strapped to his back. There was another long, slow wait, while the remaining rebels crossed over with all the equipment. When the last man and barrel were safely on the western side, Fox took his dagger and sawed through the heavy rope, destroying the flying slide.

‘We don’t want any unwelcome visitors, like your friend Sniffer, following us over here,’ Fox explained. The children watched regretfully as the rope was caught by the river and swept away. ‘Now lead on and show me where this secret entrance is.’

Roana led Fox and the others to the small cave entrance that led into the secret tunnels below Tira. The entrance had been blocked by a rockfall and it had taken hours for the children to clear a way in, moving hundreds of rocks, one by one. Now the entrance was still open, although it was far too low for the adults to squeeze through. More time was wasted as the rebels set to work enlarging the hole.

Fox set others to work gathering branches and driftwood from the shaly beach, which would be used to cover the hole behind them when they went through. At last Fox was satisfied with the hole.

‘We’ll go first, so the children can show the way,’ decided Fox, indicating the four children and Aisha. ‘We’ll go in single file. I want Roana and Caspar right behind me.’

They followed Fox into the cave mouth, and everyone had to crawl for long agonising minutes. The rebels had made the opening slightly larger, but it was too difficult to move the rock fall that partially obstructed the rest of the tunnel. Aisha was the only one who could move unimpeded. At last they came out into the higher cave behind, which smelt strange and sharp and musky. Roana wrinkled her nose in distaste. She could not remember the smell from the last time they were here. Fox struck
his tinder box and lit the small lantern he carried. A cheery flame leapt into life, lighting the centre of the cave with a bobbing circle of warmth.

An ear-piercing shriek sounded loudly, echoing around the cave. A flapping mass of leathery black clawed and scrabbled towards them, brushing their faces, tangling in their hair, whooshing around their bodies. Caspar threw himself to the ground. Lily and Roana screamed involuntarily, dropping in a crouch and covering their heads. Ethan and Saxon jumped, clutching each other in panic, their hearts pounding. Aisha barked loudly, chasing the shadows with raised hackles and bared teeth, her tail clamped firmly between her legs. Mia chattered angrily, jumping up and down on Fox’s shoulder and pulling his ponytail hard.

‘Will everyone calm down?’ Fox whispered urgently. ‘It’s only a colony of bats we’ve disturbed. This noise is enough to wake every Sedah soldier between here and Bryn.’

The children looked a little shamefaced at being frightened by the bats. Lily and Ethan calmed Aisha down with a whispered command. Mia started combing her soft fur with her tiny fingers, muttering sulkily to herself. The bats swooped around the cave then swept towards the tunnel, but
they could not get out past the long line of rebels blocking the way out. At last the bats decided to settle back in the shadows, hanging upside down from their rocky roosts.

‘There were no bats here last time,’ explained Lily.

‘They must have found their way in through the entrance we so kindly opened for them,’ replied Ethan with a grin.

‘I wonder what else might have made its way in here?’ shuddered Roana. ‘It was bad enough last time with cockrokes and rats and that horrible hobgoblin.’

‘I think you mean cockroaches, your highness,’ teased Saxon. ‘I know you have had little to do with humble cockroaches in your palatial abode. Don’t worry, we are well prepared this time.’ Saxon patted his bulging pack.

‘Not to mention our heavily armed escort,’ added Ethan. ‘I think twenty soldiers should be sufficient to help us deal with a plague of cockroaches and rats.’

At last all of the rebels were inside the cave, and the entrance had been carefully hidden with branches. A number of lanterns were lit so everyone could see their way clearly.

They started to walk in single file, glad to be able
to stretch their legs, following Fox’s lantern as it gradually wound its way uphill.

‘Here is the fork in the tunnel,’ Roana called. The left tunnel leading to the palace cellars meandered downhill, while the tunnel to the right rose steeply straight ahead. ‘We need to go to the right,’ Roana directed. ‘That way leads to a vast cavern where the rubbish is thrown from Tira above. We think that is where the sword was thrown.’

Aisha snuffled the air wafting down from the tunnel. She could already smell what the children knew was ahead. The cavalcade set off for the cavern on the right. Soon they came to a flight of steep narrow steps that twisted and turned as they climbed.

‘There’s the smell!’ exclaimed Lily, wrinkling her nose in disgust. A wave of revolting stench wafted down the tunnel. ‘We’re nearly there.’

The smell grew stronger and stronger as they climbed. The children were prepared this time and quickly pulled scarves up over their noses and mouths to deaden the stench. Rivulets ran down the walls and steps, forming slimy puddles.

At last, the steps finished and the tunnel levelled out again. Lily took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. She wasn’t sure if it helped knowing
what was ahead, or if it made it harder.

Fox held up the lantern to illuminate the tunnel walls ahead. The walls seemed to ripple and shimmer in the lantern light. Even the floor and ceiling seemed to be moving. Roana tightened the scarf around her hair and mouth.

‘It’s best if we run here,’ Ethan suggested. ‘But be careful not to fall, the floor is slippery.’

The order was relayed back to the rebels behind. One by one, the children took a deep breath and ran, their feet crunching and slipping on the scuttling carpet beneath their feet. Aisha barked madly, snapping at the walls. Roana held Caspar’s hand to help him run.

Thousands of black and brown cockroaches hurtled up and down the walls, ceiling and floor of the tunnel, fleeing from the light. They ran up legs and dropped from the ceiling, but everyone was prepared with tight leggings and head coverings.

It only took a few moments until they reached their destination, bursting out of the tunnel into an enormous cave. The stench was much worse than in the tunnel, even with the scarves wound tightly around their noses and mouths. Ahead of them was the rubbish tip of Tira – a vast cavern filled with a gigantic mountain of putrid garbage. Worse than
the smell was the sight revealed by their lanterns – the mountain was covered in thousands of swarming, scavenging, scuttling rats.

Roana tried to think of sweet, friendly Percy the rat, which had saved their skins on Jake the Garbageman’s cart. It didn’t help. She still hated rats.

The rebels raced in behind them, taking positions. Somehow that did help, knowing that they were not alone, facing the mountain of rats. The rats stilled when they saw the bright glow of the lanterns. They turned to face the interlopers, their eyes glowing red in the reflected light. Like a river, the rats turned and flowed down the mountain, racing towards the humans, their little legs scrabbling, their whiskers twitching and their tails lashing.

Lily felt fear rise into her mouth as sharp as bile. She took a deep breath and steadied her shaking hands.

‘Ready,’ called Fox. The rebels and children took their positions, in pairs, preparing their weapons. ‘Aim.’ The rats swarmed closer, thousands of them rushing on relentlessly. ‘Fire.’

One of each pair held a burning torch. The other partner controlled a small wooden barrel, fitted
with a hand pump. Each barrel held strong alcohol. As it was pumped in a powerful spray, it ignited, shooting roaring flames several metres ahead. The cavern glowed in the red blaze of spurting fire, lighting the humans’ faces with a weird red light.

The dark-dwelling rats were blinded by the fire, and many sizzled in its flames. But rats still scuttled closer, whiskers twitching and teeth snapping. The rebel soldiers pumped feverishly, feeding the flames with more alcohol vapour. More rats blazed in the flames, while the flood of rats behind pushed hundreds of the rodents to their deaths. After a few moments the heat and smoke and fire were unbearable. At last the surviving rats realised they were beaten and scampered for the deepest shadows on the far side of the cavern.

Their exodus left the mountain of rubbish free. Scaring the rats away was the easy part. Now they had to search every square metre of the rubbish heap. It was a bit like searching the proverbial hayrick for a pin, although Lily thought perhaps that task would be a lot more pleasant than searching a rubbish mountain for a sword.

Fox divided everyone up into teams and ordered them to search the mountain in a grid pattern, methodically and scrupulously. The rebel soldiers
were ordered to ring the base of the mountain and slowly work their way towards the peaks. Roana, Lily, Saxon, and Ethan were ordered to work higher up the slopes, as they were lighter, and Fox felt it was safer in the centre, surrounded by troops. Fox co-ordinated the search, keeping Caspar close by his side. Red rat eyes could still be seen from the deepest corners of the cavern and occasionally a horde would surge forth to attack, only to be sizzled by Fox’s flame pumps.

The searchers scrabbled through cabbage leaves, smashed crockery, pumpkin peelings, rags, broken furniture, offal, broken bottles, discarded boots and smashed crates. They used pitchforks to turn over piles of debris. The work was tedious and extremely slow. The mountain at its peak was metres deep, and the sword could be hidden beneath this layer or the next.