The Trophy of Champions (22 page)

‘Ye could always try the forge,' Rat Bait said, running his finger across the map to a building in the middle of the apple grove. ‘If me memory serves me correctly, there's a large pottery kiln in the back corner.'

‘You sound like you've been there before,' Whisker said.

‘Aye, that I have,' Rat Bait chuckled. ‘Many years ago, mind ye. A secluded farm be the perfect hideout for a mischievous rat. There be plen'y o' food plus a well for fresh water – not to mention how close it be to the Fish ‘n Ships Inn.'

So close,
Whisker thought, staring at the map.
And the fox is right there waiting for me.

As he studied the detailed layout of the farm, he felt the rising realisation that his chances of winning the trophy were further away than ever. His beloved and familiar eucalypt forest was gone, and in its place stood a pumpkin patch, an apple grove and a rose maze – hardly the wild terrain on which he'd practiced.

Whisker continued to study the map as the
Golden Anchor
sailed into the dark cove and then made its way towards the wide river mouth. The driving rain provided the perfect cover for the fleet of pirate ships, and Whisker could barely see the lights of the town scattered up the hillside.

‘What can you tell me about the maze?' he whispered to Rat Bait as they passed the deserted fishing jetty. ‘It seems like an odd thing to have on a farm.'

‘The Maze o' Roses,' Rat Bait said dreamily. ‘The bushes once produced the finest white roses in the whole of Aladrya. For many years it was known as the
Lover's Labyrinth
.'

‘I thought red roses were the symbol of love, not white roses,' Whisker said, searching his memory. ‘My mother used to sell them on her fruit and vegetable stall.'

‘Aye,' Rat Bait replied. ‘There be a single scarlet-red rose bush in the centre o' the maze. Lovers would come from miles around every summer to take part in a special race
.
The first couple out o' the maze with a red rose in their grasp would be crowned the
Soul Mates of Summer …'
He sighed longingly.

Whisker studied the old rogue's face. ‘You won the race?'

Rat Bait nodded listlessly.

‘But what happened to your –?' Whisker began.

‘Summer ended,' Rat Bait replied gruffly. ‘That's all ye need to know.' He hurriedly stuffed the map into his pocket and pointed to the approaching cargo wharf. ‘Steer her in, Son.'

Pushing Rat Bait's story from his mind, Whisker coiled his tail around the rudder and the small boat turned to its port side. Beyond the wharf, Whisker could just make out a rough set of stairs, carved into the cliff face. Water trickled down the steps to a thick patch of bulrushes. The tall reeds partly obscured several other pirate vessels already docked. Even through the pouring rain, Whisker could easily recognise the metallic hull of the Cat Fish's armoured ship,
the Silver Sardine
.

Silver versus gold
, Whisker shivered, running his paw over the slippery rail of the
Golden Anchor.
This time there's much more at stake than treasure …

It was nearly dawn when the soggy Pie Rats assembled on a steep bank of earth overlooking the new sporting arena. Horace's family had taken refuge in the old forge with Fred and the Hermit, and were busy baking Trojan Pasties and beautifying Frankie cut-outs, while the rest of the rats surveyed the Death Ball grand final site. In its current state, the ‘dry' dam looked more like a swamp than a professional playing field. Crater-like puddles of rainwater dotted the grassy ground, shimmering in the pale moonlight.

‘At least it's stopped raining,' Horace said, swishing the end of his hook through a muddy puddle. ‘Head-high grass and a killer opposition is enough to contend with.'

‘Phooey to that,' Pete grumbled, glancing up at the clearing sky. ‘A flooded oval would have been perfect. Cats hate water nearly as much as we hate cats.'

‘What about the crowd support?' the Captain asked, studying the sloping bank of the dam. ‘Can we count on any out-of-bounds balls heading our way?'

Rat Bait shook his head. ‘The numbers be stacked against us. The cats be the competition favourites and the safe bet for any gamblin' types.' He stroked his chin thoughtfully, ‘What we need is a good ol' fashioned rent-a-crowd to boost our numbers.'

‘At this late notice?' Pete huffed. ‘Forget it.'

Whisker, who until this point had remained a silent bystander on the outskirts of the gathering, decided to voice his opinion.

‘How far is it to the town of Oakbridge?' he called out.

‘A few hours' walk by road,' Rat Bait said. ‘Give or take an hour or two – it's all uphill.'

‘And what about by air?' Whisker continued.

Smudge raised one arm upwards while extending a second arm to his side like the hands of a clock.

‘You can be there by seven o'clock,' Whisker interpreted.

Smudge nodded.

‘What's in Oakbridge?' Granny Rat asked suspiciously.

‘Let me guess,' Pete muttered. ‘Trembling Tribble, our timid teacher friend.'

‘Not just Mr Tribble,' Whisker said, ‘but Eaton and Emmie and an entire primary school of enthusiastic children. The perfect rent-a-crowd.'

There was a soft muttering of voices from the crew.

‘It does have potential,' the Captain said, considering the idea. ‘The school term has just resumed and we could pass it off as a farm excursion …'

‘Make it happen,' Granny Rat snapped. ‘There's plenty of time to mobilise the little nippers. The game won't commence until after lunch.'

‘Says who?' Horace exclaimed. ‘Gustave hasn't announced today's schedule yet.'

‘Says me, you insolent iguana!' Granny Rat snapped. ‘I've been right with my predictions thus far, haven't I? The Sea Race is always held on the last day of competition, which means the other two events will be jammed into today's program – starting with the least gruesome event, the Treasure Hunt.'

‘Alright, Coach,' Horace grizzled. ‘But we still don't have an on-field strategy to defeat the cats. They're stronger, nastier and will tear us to shreds the moment we touch the ball.'

‘They'll have to catch you first,' Granny Rat retorted, waving a wrinkly finger over the field. ‘Look at those clumps of grass – you've got more cover than a chameleon in a bramble bush.'

‘Yeah, but chameleons can change colour,' Horace pointed out, ‘and our bright red uniforms are hardly standard issue camouflage apparel.'

‘Then find an alternate uniform,' Granny Rat snapped, quickly losing patience. ‘I'm sure there's a loophole in the rules that you can exploit.' She turned to Pete. ‘Well? You're the know-it-all.'

Pete screwed up his nose.

‘There is
one
clothing-related rule I recall reading,' he said dryly.
‘Rule 37a: Teams are entitled to wear a contrasting uniform in the instance their opponents are dressed in similar colours.'

‘I think that qualifies us,' the Captain said, pointing to his soggy red shirt. ‘The orange jerseys of the Cat Fish are arguably similar to our red and gold uniforms.'

‘So where do you propose we get these alternate uniforms?' Ruby asked, frowning.

‘No idea,' Pete sniffled. ‘Why don't you ask Whisker? He runs the costume department.'

Whisker thought for a moment and then gestured towards the small campsite on the top of the ridge.

‘Perhaps Mama Kolina could rustle up a few outfits from our tattered tents,' he suggested. ‘They're the perfect colours – khaki green with a few dirty-brown sauce stains.'

‘Tent tracksuits it is,' Granny Rat said, without waiting for a debate. ‘Rat Bait, get every scrap of canvas you can find and report to Mama Kolina pronto. Smudge, I want you back here with our rent-a-school-crowd by midday sharp, understood?'

Smudge and Rat Bait both saluted and hurried off into the misty darkness.

‘First I lose my sleeping bag and now I've lost my tent,' Horace mumbled, giving Whisker an accusing look. ‘How am I supposed to get any sleep?'

‘Sleep is the last of your priorities,' Granny Rat said gruffly. ‘You've got a treasure hunt ambush to organise. I want you and Pete to find an appropriate spot on the farm and set up your cannons. When the hunters run past, blast them off their feet with whatever half-baked projectiles you can get your paws on.' She gave Horace a hard stare. ‘And this time, you'd better hit your targets.'

‘Aye, Coach,' Horace and Pete droned in unison.

‘But what about me, Gran?' Ruby burst out. ‘I've been practicing my archery for weeks. Surely I should be a part of the ambush team.'

‘I'm sorry, sweetheart,' Granny said firmly, ‘but I can't waste your speed behind a bow. You'll be running with Wafer as our second hunter.'

‘With him!' Ruby exploded, yanking a pawful of grass from the dam and throwing it in Whisker's direction. ‘No way! I need a teammate I can trust.'

Whisker felt like he'd just been hit by a wave of arrowheads.

‘This is not negotiable,' Granny Rat said, turning her back on Ruby. ‘As for you, Wafer, I expect you to start acting like a member of this team and not a two-faced toad – no hiding under jetties and no skulking off without telling anyone. Got it? You have until Gustave's announcement to be ready.'

She took the Captain by the arm and hobbled off towards the camp, leaving Ruby fuming with rage and Whisker trying to control the violent spasms in his tail.

Riddles and Roses

TONK, TONK, CLANG.

The small cowbell broke the stillness of the sleepy farm. Rain-covered clover glistened in the dawn light. Misty patches of cloud rolled down the side of the steep hill like cottonwool tumbleweeds, thinning as the autumn sun warmed the crisp air. It was a splendid day for a treasure hunt.

Two members of each of the remaining four pirate teams gathered in the greenhouse at the top of the farm in anticipation of the event. Word had spread that Whisker was the player to beat, and the other teams made it perfectly clear that ‘the dirty rat was going down.'

Cleopatra and Prowler stood snarling and hissing from the shadows of a leafy banana tree. Prince Marcabio and Princess Mayenya plotted his demise from behind a tomato trellis, and the two penguins gave him dirty looks and directed a barrage of rude flipper gestures in his direction. Even Ruby acted like he was a hated opponent.

‘Got someone special to impress?' she asked snidely as he waited in earnest for Gustave to arrive. ‘You weren't taking the competition this seriously two days ago.'

‘I-I-I …' Whisker spluttered. ‘It's …'

‘Forget it,' Ruby snapped, ‘I don't want to hear another one of your lame excuses.' She lowered her voice as Gustave entered through a concealed doorway. ‘But know this, apprentice: I'm running for the team, not for you.'

‘Don't worry,' Whisker sighed. ‘I know exactly where you stand …'

Baron Gustave's announcement turned out to be more of an
on-your-marks-get-set-go
than a rundown of the morning's events. From the outset, it was immediately clear that the Treasure Hunt was going to be much more than a simple duck-and-dodge obstacle course.

‘Zere are clues hidden all over zis farm,' Gustave explained. ‘Each clue vill lead you to your next location. Your first clue is concealed in an object zat represents your team. You vill find it somewhere in zis greenhouse. Votch out for ambushes – and happy hunting.'

The competitors took one look at each other and leapt into action. The low sun filtered through the hazy glass panes of the greenhouse, illuminating an overgrown jungle of tropical plants and flowering shrubs. Creepers criss-crossed the metal framework high overhead to form a huge, green arbour. Tall weeds and patches of moss covered the slippery paths. The air was heavy and damp.