“Mr. Ages? How do you know?” asked Timothy. Justin spoke quickly. He looked shaken.
“He was found earlier in the night by the Home Guard scouts, barely conscious. Bracken helped to bring him in. He’s asking to speak to you and your family. Please come quickly, there... there may not be much time.”
Timothy did not know what to say. He was glad that Mr. Ages had been found, but Justin’s words and manner chilled him. Although the old mouse had helped to save his life, Timothy had never properly met with Mr. Ages. He had been too young or too sick and he could think of nothing Mr. Ages would want to say to him, either specifically or together with his brothers and sisters. Maybe it was something concerning his mother. Or his father!
Clutching the Stone tight to his chest, Timothy slid from the seat and hurried out into the library. Justin led the way quickly moving out through the gloomy tunnels. As usual for night time fewer lamps were lit, and Timothy wondered for how long he had slept.
Nothing was said as the two wove through the corridors. There was nothing to say. As Timothy was led along his mind wandered back to his dream. It was likely that he had immersed himself so much in his father’s writings that his sleep had been disturbed, but were the images he had seen been a product of his imagination or...? He looked down at the amulet he held in his paw. The Stone reflected his face back at him, nothing more.
They met no other rats or guards in the tunnels and soon reached the infirmary. Justin pushed open the inner door, letting Timothy in first. The rest of his family were there, Cynthia looking tearful, his mother holding her. Cynthia and Martin stood apart looking grim. Bracken and a female rat of the Home Guard waited nearby. The surgeon, Clerval, was bent over one of the benches and on this bench was... Mr. Ages? Timothy could barely believe the sodden, filthy lump of fur and rags was the mouse scientist from the farm. The shape trembled with shallow, ragged breathing. Beneath the grime Mr. Ages’ face was held tense, as if in constant pain. Aside from those gathered around the bench the ward was empty. All except Clerval turned to look at the new arrivals.
“Timothy!” said Mrs. Brisby. Timothy ran forward and embraced her, though was careful not to disturb the bandages round her waist. Clerval half turned and said in a low voice, “He just keeps asking to see Mrs. Brisby and her children.” The doctor concentrated once again on his patient, speaking softly near to old mouse’s ear. “They’re here now, Mr. Ages. You can speak with them.”
Mr. Ages shook his head very gently, as if even a small movement such as that cost him dearly. He gave no indication of having understood what had been said to him.
Clerval straightened and addressed the others.
“I’ve cleaned and dressed his wounds as best I can, bound his arm and set his leg. Again. There’s not much else I can do, not until he is stronger. He’s been through a lot and is totally exhausted. What he really needs rest, but refuses to sleep until he’s spoken with all of you.”
Timothy and his family stared uncomprehending at Clerval and then at Mr. Ages. Timothy, still hugging his mother, felt her tremble.
“Thank you, Clerval,” said Justin, placing his hand on the other rat’s shoulder. “You’ve done all you can. Get some sleep. If there’s a problem, we’ll call you at once. I’ll watch over Mr. Ages until morning. There’s no need to wake anyone else.”
Clerval nodded and then left, closing the door behind him. Timothy waited, not knowing what to do. Even his mother was uncertain, arm around himself and Cynthia, looking in silence and the injured mouse. They watched as Justin leant over Mr. Ages and whispered, “Everyone is hear now, Mr. Ages. Mrs. Brisby and her children.”
Mr. Ages stirred again but did not open his eyes. He took a deep, strained breath and spoke,
“Are we... alone?” His voice was raw, and he grimaced as he spoke.
“There’s no one else in the infirmary, no other patients,” Justin explained.
“What about... the guards?” croaked Mr. Ages. Justin nodded and turned to Bracken and his companion who were hovering nearby.
“Wait outside, please. I’ll call you soon.”
Bracken nodded as did the young rat with him, the captain muttering, “At your command, Justin.”
As the other rats were leaving, Justin spoke soflty to Mr. Ages again.
“Shall I go as well?”
Mr. Ages spoke in small fragments, pausing for breath often.
“No... stay... This concerns you... too, now that Nicodemus is... gone.”
“What happened, Mr. Ages?” asked Mrs, Brisby reaching out hesitantly to lay a hand on the old mouse’s arm. Timothy also heard a quaver in his mother’s voice, though she hid it well.
“The Mice...” he grated. “The Mice of NIMH are back...” His speech was breaking up badly with the effort. He was certainly suffering.
“We know,” said Justin. “They are staying here, but under guard!”
Timothy heard Mr. Ages groan deep in his throat.
“I feared... as much. They are... evil, Justin. Their leader... Fraus... is mad! He wants revenge... for being abandoned in NIMH... He wants to kill... you... Murder you all...”
Mr. Ages stopped to take huge gulps of air. It was terrible to see him like this. Because of his dream, Timothy felt as if he had seen Mr. Ages only recently. His stomach tightened.
While Mr. Ages recovered Justin looked to the other mice and then went to the door. Timothy saw him beckon to the guardsrats, and was able to make out what was being said.
“Bracken, take Katherine and go to the Mice of NIMH’s quarters and hold them there,” said the Leader of the Rats. Katherine looked puzzled at the command, but Bracken listened intently as Justin continued, “make sure none of them get out. You should find Richard on sentry duty there, he’ll help you. Be subtle. I don’t want violence, but clearly stand guard on that door! None of them are to get out. I will talk with them myself soon.”
“As you wish, Justin,” replied Bracken. “Come on, Katherine.” The two rats set off into the colony at a sprint and Justin closed the door again.
“Justin!” Mrs. Brisby cried, making Timothy jerk his attention back to the bench. Mr. Ages was panting heavily, a shaking hand feebly tugging at the collar of his shirt. Mrs. Brisby helped loosen the garment hopefully helping him to breath. Justin knelt beside the bench watching in dismay.
“Oh no...” he said softly. “I’ll get Clerval!”
Mr Ages hand shot out and held the rat by the wrist. The grip was by no means strong enough to hold the rat, but Justin stopped and turned back. Mr Ages’ eyes were open wide now and staring.
“No. You must stay. Beware the mice... but it is also important...” he turned his head slowly to face Mrs. Brisby and her family. Timothy found, disconcertingly he was staring straight at Cynthia and himself, who were huddled at the fore of the group.
“You must... know... Your father... used the Stone...” Mr. Ages eyes widened, again as he choked on the words. “Find your father’s book! He tries to... explain everything... His legacy... what he did... The links to the old ways...”
Mr. Ages grip on Justin’s arm loosened and his hand slumped back onto the bed. His eyes were unfocussed now as his last words trailed off.
“You mustn’t... blame him... She was so small... so small.” Slowly his eyes closed. Timothy shuddered, not able to take his eyes from Mr. Ages’ face, his own eyes began to warm with tears. Around him his family stood in silence for a moment, looking at the old mouse as he lay still. Then, behind him, Timothy felt Mrs. Brisby’s whole body begin to shake with sorrow.
“Halt!” the voice came in a whisper from the shadow of the tunnel. Bracken stopped, putting out his arm in front of the young guardsrat who was following him, and peered into the gloom of the tunnel.
“Richard?” he asked
“Aye... Is that you Bracken?” asked the first voice, its owner stepping into the dim light.
“And Katherine,” explained Bracken, nodding in acknowledgement. We are here to put the Mice of NIMH under arrest.” He said this with the merest hint of uncertainty. It was more evident in Richard’s reply.
“Arrest?”
“Mr. Ages is alive,” explained Bracken. “We bought him into the valley just after sundown.” He nodded towards the door. “They tortured him by the looks of it.”
Richard looked simultaneously horrified and disbelieving.
“Tortured...? I don’t believe it!” he said, looking down the corridor in the direction of the Mice of NIMH’s quarters.
“Justin will be down here soon,” Bracken continued. “We just have to keep them here until he arrives.”
Richard nodded, though still seemed ill at ease. The three guards walked carefully to the nearby door. Beyond they heard rustling.
“I think we’ve disturbed them,” stated Katherine in quiet tones, her whiskers twitching. She sprang back as the door swung outwards. Fraus and Spiro stood before them, Spiro’s head jerked back and forth to each of the rats’ faces, Fraus glared at them levelly.
“Is there something wrong?” asked Fraus.
“You’re being placed under arrest,” said Bracken who found himself at the fore of the group. He tried to keep civil tone, but he wasn’t overly concerned when it didn’t work. “Justin will be here in moments. Please stay in your quarters.”
“Why? Whatever is the meaning of this?” asked Fraus, incredulous.
As Bracken was about to reply he saw another mouse creep by in the room beyond. She glanced at the guards and then ducked into a hole in the wall. It immediately became clear to him. These two were stalling!
“Hey!” shouted Bracken, pushing forward, Fraus and Spiro making way for him. He arrived in time to see a tail disappear through the small cavity, big enough for a mouse, not nearly enough so for him. Thrusting his arm into the hole he only clutched at thin air. As he did so he saw Fraus and Spiro exchanged a glance and the Captain’s eyes widened as he realised he would be a powerless spectator to what happened next.
“No...” he breathed.
Fraus ducked low, dodging between the two remaining guards. Spiro leapt forward as well, though he held a knife in each hand, retrieved with a practiced swiftness from the folds of his cloak. As he surged forward he drove each blade into the two remaining rats and, with one flowing movement, he withdrew the weapons and was into the corridor. The guardsrats cried out, Richard staggering forward and toppling onto the floor, Katherine, clutching at her wound, turned to try and grab the mouse who had attacked them. As she did so she saw the rest of the mice had gathered just outside the door. Spiro stepped forward and slammed the pommel of his blade into the wound at her side. Katherine doubled over and received another vicious blow just below her eye, sending her toppling over backwards. With all three rats in the room, the mice slammed the door, Foxglove twisting the lock into place. Malachi, Deakon, Stave and Spiro brought forward a short wooden beam taken from the construction project further down the hall. Working together with tremendous efficiency and speed the mice managed to wedge it between the door and the wall of the corridor just as the rats began pounding on the other side. It would be quite impossible to open from the inside now. Not unless they destroyed the entire door.
“You were quite correct Spiro,” said Fraus and then to the entire group, “Well done. This is first step towards our goal. The end of our journey, the culmination of our plans, is near! I have faith that you all know what it is that must be done. Our actions will soon be the stuff of legend in these woods! However before we begin our great work... there is a loose end that must be tied.”
Without another word Fraus whirled about, his eyes glittering even in the dim light. The other six mice, all carrying weapons, followed him as Fraus led them off down the corridor, his cape billowing with every energetic stride.
“Is he...?” Mrs. Brisby could not finish the sentence. Timothy squeezed her hand. He and his family could only look at Mr. Ages’ ravaged face as Justin leaned over the bench.
“No.” Justin was looking closely at the mouse. His chest was rising and falling, though barely. The rat checked for a pulse. “He’s passed out. He’s so weak I’d worry about disturbing him in any way. I would let him rest.”
“What happened to him?” asked Teresa.
“Two guards, Rebecca and Ian, were sent to the farm to find him. They didn’t reach it. They picked up tracks in the woods and found Mr. Ages in this state. Rebecca stayed with him as Ian came back for Bracken. You didn’t meet those two,” said Justin in response to the quizzical looks he was receiving. “They needed rest themselves, so I ordered them to return to their chambers. However they did give a report before they retired. Apparently magpies were attacking Mr. Ages. That’s where he received these fresh injuries. The others, the older wounds... we have to assume were given to him by the Mice.”
“You mean they...” began Martin, swallowing the rest of his words. Justin didn’t answer. He was staring into the middle distance, his lips tight, eyes unfocussed yet burning. Timothy felt his mother’s hand, which had rested on his shoulder, tighten briefly.
“Why? Why would they do this?” asked Mrs. Brisby shaking her head, actually drawing back, away from Mr. Ages.
“To find Thorn Valley? To find you? Sheer cruelty?” With each word Justin seemed to be becoming more furious, though he kept it under control. Barely. Timothy heard the knuckles of the rats paw crack as he clenched a fist.
“What was he saying? At the end?” asked Martin, “something about our father.”
“I don’t know...” said Justin abruptly, still staring.
“He mentioned the Stone,” said Timothy as he retrieved the medallion and held it in front of him. There was no light in the miraculous gem now. It didn’t even seem to catch the light.
“Any idea what he meant, Timothy? Anything in Dad’s notes?” asked Teresa.
“Well... Yes!” Timothy began. “There’s something I need to show you all!” Again he wasn’t sure what he could be certain he had read, and what was possibly just his imagination. “It’s... complicated, but I think it’s what Mr. Ages meant. I’ll have to check.” Timothy didn’t want to raise any hopes, but despite the situation, he felt a little excitement that certain pieces were falling into place. He wanted to get back to the book, show his family what he had found, finish reading his father’s words. Together maybe they could make sense of some of it.
“What happens now?” asked Martin, turning back to Justin.
“Ages said we must keep an eye on the Mice...” said Justin. There was now a cold fury in his eyes as he looked upon the ravaged old mouse. “So I will do that. If they did this to him...” the rat straightened and went to the inner door. Opening it he turned back to face them. “Stay here, I’ll send Clerval back with guards. They don’t know you’re here, but there’s no point in taking any risks. Right now I have some questions for the Mice of NIMH.”
“Then why don’t you ask us?”
Justin turned towards the door in time to receive a blow to his jaw. Caught totally by surprise he reeled and collapsed against a medical cabinet. Deakon, who had struck Justin with the butt of his spear, now darted forward to hold the point very close to Justin’s nose. Spiro leapt up onto the rat’s chest and held the dual pronged blade up to Justin’s face, each point a hair’s breadth away from his eyes. Spiro cocked his head to look along the length of the weapon with his good eye.
Timothy and Cynthia sprang behind Mr. Ages’ bed, Teresa following them, forcing them lower and further behind the bench, leaning over to shield the younger children. Mrs. Brisby made a desperate grasp at Martin, trying to stop him as he himself leapt forward, but she was not fast enough. Martin charged, his fists balled, aiming straight for Fraus. The dark haired mouse grinned as Martin’s hand, a hair’s breath from his face, was intercepted by Spiro. Leaping away from Justin the mouse grabbed and held Martin’s arm tight, twisting it, forcing it up between the Brisby child’s shoulder blades. Martin yelped and gritted his teeth; Mrs. Brisby bared hers, though she stayed where she was between the Mice and the rest of her children. The rest of the NIMH-born had crowded in. She and her family were truly trapped.
Timothy realised he was still clutching the Stone. He was not sure what compelled him to do it, but he forced the amulet into Teresa’s paw. She took it without fully noticing. She had torn her attention away from Martin to look at Warren. Her gaze was almost pleading, though the other mouse would not meet her eye, keeping his head turned away. Warren made sure Teresa could not see the swollen and bruised cut just below his left eye.
Concentration had to be switched to the other Mice. While Stave inexpertly held a thin sword towards Justin, Deakon bound the still dazed rat. Malachi and Foxglove advanced on Mrs. Brisby and her family. Fraus stood and observed, shutting the door behind the last of his lackeys.
“No screaming, no struggling, or I’ll take the children apart...” Fraus said, gesturing to the captive Martin. “That goes for you too, Mr. Ages,” he finished with an indulgent chuckle. He was grinning from ear to ear, standing, as always, with arms tucked into the small of his back, cape billowing, the paragon of gloating arrogance.
“Tie them up and gag them. We’ll come back for them,” he ordered.
Timothy backed further behind Teresa at Foxglove’s approach, but stopped when he heard Cynthia screech as Malachi made to grab her. Mrs. Brisby snarled, placing herself between the dark grey mouse and her children.
“Don’t touch her. Don’t touch any of them!”
Malachi hesitated, turning sorrowful eyes on Fraus. There was an animal ferocity in Mrs. Brisby’s glare that appeared only when a mother was protecting her children. Fraus’ eyes however glinted with a malevolent delight. He inclined his head towards Spiro, who still held Martin, but did not take his eyes from Mrs. Brisby.
“Spiro, when I say so, cut the maggot’s ear off.”
There was a swish of metal hurtling through air and Spiro held a knife with a wide, triangular blade and placed it next to Martin’s head. Had Mr. Ages been conscious he would have recognised the weapon as a human’s battered scalpel blade. Martin himself looked terrified.
“If you hurt him...” began Mrs. Brisby, almost hissing the words.
“What could you possibly do to us?” scoffed Fraus. “If we had wanted to hurt your children, they would already be scattered across the room by now in ragged, wet strips.”
A low, muffled laugh was briefly heard from Spiro before silence settled on the room. Timothy held his breath as the moment of hesitation stretched on. He could feel his sisters do the same. Fraus’, his patience obviously exhausted, gave a small nod and, with a deft movement, Spiro nicked Martin’s ear with the blade. Mrs. Brisby’s eyes shone with tears at the yelp of pain from her son.
“Stop it!” she cried.
“Understand this is for your own safety. You can’t stop us, now don’t do anything foolish,” explained Fraus. The two mice locked eyes for a moment before Mrs. Brisby sagged, defeated.
Timothy couldn’t draw his gaze away from Fraus. The mouse was grinning again as Timothy and his captive family were pushed, dragged or led towards the pillars that supported the medical bay. There was no resistance now, each fearful for the safety of the others, as they were all bound with lengths of strong cord. Timothy craned his neck to look at his family. Cynthia sobbed all the while; Mrs. Brisby’s eyes welled with tears of frustration; Teresa and Martin looked upon their tormentors with disdain and fear. Only Justin found a voice...
“You vermin! They’re just children! Why are you doing this?” he snarled. A rope was looped around his neck and tightened, strangling the last words. Being a rat, the Mice were affording him extra restraints.
“Revenge!” Fraus stated simply and watched as all the creatures were bound together, totally helpless. Once completed Fraus approached Justin, leaning close to his face as Spiro and Deakon bound him tightly...
“Your kin will escape the very personal punishment that I intend to inflict on you. It seems to me to be a great injustice that they’ll all die in their beds, surrounded by family and loved ones. I would relish every hour spent in the process of visiting upon each and every one of them the pain I myself have felt since you abandoned us.”
“What are you rambling about?” hissed Justin. There was contempt in his eyes and voice, though this was only a meagre substitute for the rage he wanted to vent. However there was fear as well. A cold dread about what Fraus had planned for the colony. The mouse continued as if Justin had said nothing.
“If only Nicodemus was alive. I don’t think he suffered enough. But you... I’m going to take my time with you! And I will need this...”
Reaching out he retrieved a key from Justin’s belt. It was Justin’s master key, and the mouse grinned at it.
“Now I have work to do. I shall return and fetch you all when I am ready.”
Fraus started towards the door but stopped as the Birsby children caught his eyes. He cocked his head and smiled as he looked upon the helpless, young mice.
“Ah yes. Jonathan’s legacy to the world. That reminds me...” He approached Timothy, the youngest Brisby child glaring back defiantly trying to hide the terror he felt.
“Search that one!” said Fraus.
“What for?” asked Malachi.
“The Stone! It should be on a chain around his neck.”
Timothy felt another stab of extreme anxiety.
“Why do you want it? It’s just a...”
“There’s no use pretending,” Fraus interrupted. “That sycophantic fool Augustus told me all about it and Spiro saw what you used it for in the library... Now I want it!”
Malachi checked Timothy’s neck and yanked free what he found. It was a simple string cord with a small dull, green pebble threaded onto it.
“What is that?” asked Fraus, glaring disdainfully at the trinket.
“It’s all he has,” replied Malachi, discarding the item.
“Where is the Stone?” Fraus flew into a sudden rage. He seethed for a moment before calming and leaning in close to Timothy. “You were the one always seen with the amulet... What have you done with it?” His voice was infinitely patient... and terrifying.
Timothy hesitated as he thought how to answer. The delay was not lost on Fraus.
“Lie to me boy and I’ll hurt your mother and then each of your siblings very badly!”
Fear twisted in Timothy’s gut at the cold hearted simplicity of Fraus’ threat, he made his decision. Anything to get Fraus and the others away from here.
“It’s in the library. I left it there.”
“You seemed always to carry it with you,” said Fraus, his stare penetrating. Timothy fought a strong urge to look in a different direction.
“I was in a hurry,” he stared Fraus in the eye, nearly shouting, “just take it and leave my family alone.”
A grin spread slowly over Fraus’ face and he turned to Malachi.
“Untie him. We’ll take the boy with us. He can show us where the Stone is!” Fraus fixed Timothy with bright little eyes. “And he’ll be close by in case he’s been lying to me.”
Malachi began to untie Timothy, and Mrs. Brisby began to struggle again in response. Foxglove actually had to tighten the cords binding her.
“Leave him alone!”
“Silence feral!” growled Fraus, striking Mrs. Brisby with the back of his right hand. “The boy will not be hurt if he gives us the Stone! Your other children will not be hurt if you hold your tongue.”
“Mrs Brisby and the children were not at NIMH,” Justin began, trying intentionally to draw all attention his way. Unseen, whilst Timothy’s hands were being unbound, the young mouse shook his head fractionally as Teresa caught her brother’s eye.
“They have done you no wrong. Release them,” finished Justin.
“You are in no position to command me!” Fraus strode over to the rat, incredulous mirth evident in his voice. “And they will not be released... yet. She,” he indicated Mrs. Brisby with a sweep of his right hand, “is not one of us. She is a lesser creature and of no more importance to us than your miserable hide! But her children are NIMH-born, as are we! We cannot allow this... feral vermin to poison them any further. They will come back with us to our settlement in lieu of Jonathan Brisby himself along with Mr. Ages. The late Jonathan will be no great loss...” Fraus looked at Martin out of the corner of his eye as he spoke now. “He never struck me as any more than a dreamer and a fool anyway...”
Martin’s control broke and his temper flared to life at Fraus’ words.
“You can’t talk about my parents like that!” he all but shouted, straining against the bonds.
“Martin no...” said Mrs. Brisby, worried of Fraus’ sadistic wrath, but her son continued unabated. “They are smart and brave, and better than you!”
“If that were true... why is he dead and she unable to save you now?” snarled Fraus. His eyes moved upwards and Martin followed the gaze. Spiro was playing with his knife very close to Cynthia’s head. Martin could do nothing but hate Fraus with every fibre of his being, and lie still. However patience was wearing thin elsewhere.
“You’re mad!” spat Justin, still struggling. He was no longer trying to keep his anger in check. “How can you talk of the children like that? You are nothing but a monster!”
“Enough!” cried Fraus, eyes wild. He whirled around and jabbed a finger at Justin as he began to rant. There was an obvious change in the mouse’s face. His expression was no longer gloating, but one of barely suppressed fury. His voice was cracking. Justin could now see Fraus was barely in control. He was mad, totally insane. The mouse’s voice was higher now; he was ranting.
“I am what you made me! You left us to die in those shafts. Everything after is a product of your callousness.”
“Fraus, we tried to find you,” Justin was trying to reason with the mouse, anything to try and dissuade him, delay him... “If we had known that you were still alive we would have come to help you...”
“NO! No, those are all lies. More lies! You didn’t want us as a burden, so you let us die. I heard what was said to Jonathan in NIMH! ‘They’ll slow us down’, ‘You’re on your own’. You never intended to help us at all. You were only too happy to draw us in, keep those of us you might find useful, discard the others into the shafts! It was probably planned all along. Now I have plans! You’ll understand. You know nothing of what was taken from me that night and what was lost in the aftermath. Everything that was dear to me... My love, my joy... and also my paw!”
Timothy and the others looked on as, for the first time in their memory, Fraus withdrew his left arm from behind his back. Over his arm was wrapped a length of cloth. It extended a lot further than his hand normally would.
“The embodiment of vengeance!” Fraus muttered, certainly not speaking to anyone present in the infirmary.
He took up the end of the cloth and tugged it. As the material fell to the floor, those in the room could see exactly what Fraus embodied his vengeance as.
His arm ended above the wrist. His shirt hung loosely about a metal cap that covered the stump of his limb. From this extended a brutal, crooked blade. There was a second prong that twisted into a barbed hook, and both inner and outer surfaces were sharpened, glinting in the lantern light. Fraus brought the hook up, examining its surface. Then he fixed Justin with his intense, little eyes.
“My loss, my pain; I’ll make it yours! You took everything from me! Everything!” He glanced at the children. “Now, I intend to take everything you have. Adults... Children...” he was now speaking through gritted teeth. “I’m going to kill them all, every living thing in the valley if I have to, until I feel satisfied! And then, once you have witnessed their destruction, I will take you apart!”
His chest heaved as he took ferocious breaths. Justin took a moment to rally his thoughts. He couldn’t believe what Fraus had just said. He almost gabbled the words when he spoke.
“Fraus... If you must destroy something... someone, take me... I was at NIMH, I was the one unable to find you. I personally failed to go far enough into the shafts. Take out all your rage on me. The creatures here, most never even saw NIMH. They are innocent.”
Fraus seemed to hesitate for a moment, his eyes focussing on something unseen in the distance. But it was fleeting. He raised his head and held his shoulders back, his eyes showing he was once again in control. When he spoke it was in his composed tones and his mouth was twisted into an unpleasant little grin.
“No one is innocent,” he said quietly, and then louder, “Your prattling is becoming tiresome, I suggest you desist before I remove your tongue! Consider their destruction,” he waved his hook in a sweeping gesture towards the door, “as part of your atonement. Now we shall go.”
Fraus swept away, the others following, Malachi dragging Timothy along. Justin tried one last time, hoping at least that his cries would be heard as the doors were opened.
“Fraus! Fraus, WAIT!” Justin’s cry was cut short as Fraus closed the door. All his mice, his NIMH-born, were gathered and waiting. Malachi held Timothy by the scruff of his neck as Fraus leant in so they faced each other.
“You understand you have to be very quiet now or I’m going to go back and hurt your family, don’t you?” said Fraus in a very hushed voice. Timothy nodded quickly. Grinning, Fraus straightened and at a gesture the party set off. Stave bustled along quickly to speak into Fraus’ ear without Timothy overhearing.
“We should have killed the mother. She’s going to be trouble.”
Fraus waved his hand dismissively and answered in a whisper.
“We’ll need her if the children are going to be forced to cooperate.”
“What was that about taking the children, Fraus?” asked Warren.
“Keep you’re voice down, Warren! Unless you want me to go back there and fetch that Brisby girl you’ll be silent!”
He lengthened his stride making Warren hurry after him.
“It wasn’t part of the plan, Fraus,” Warren said in a whisper. “Are you... are you taking them back for him? As trophies?”
Fraus did not look at Warren as he answered.
“They are Children of the Nine, and will come with us. It is their right as NIMH-born. They will learn to appreciate our ways. You have your orders, Warren. Now is not the time for questions.”
“But...”
Fraus whirled, bring the point of his hook to Warren’s nose. The words came in a mad rush, Fraus’ eyes blazing.
“It is not your place to answer back. You will carry out your orders, Warren, or the consequences will be dire. Far more than another mere beating from Deakon. Do you understand?”
Warren’s resolve melted away, leaving only the accustomed sting of fear in his gut; fear of the mouse before him.
“Yes, Fraus,” came the discontented reply, Warren lowering his gaze.
Fraus started off again, the other NIMH-born followed. Deakon barged past the still dazed Warren with a derisive snort, nudging him against the wall. Regaining his wits Warren hurried to catch his companions. At the back of the group Timothy had observed all this but not overheard any of what was said before the outburst. Even so he felt a terrible sense of foreboding weigh down upon him as he was led into the gloom of the colony.
The Valley slept. The nights were peaceful and there was rarely any cause for concern. Those guarding the entrance had to remain on watch, but they were relieved regularly. The sentries within the settlement plodded about their designated routes, usually in and around the entranceway. There was little to harm them from within the colony, most of the danger was believed to be in the valley below. There was no particular cause for alarm this evening. Hugo was still locked in his cell and those that knew of the Mice of NIMH, knew of their actions on the farm, also believed them to be under very close watch. No one save the rats who had seen him knew of Mr. Ages’ arrival and so there was little other activity. The days contained enough for everyone to do and so the nights were a restful respite. No one wanted to be out and about, save for one or two individuals. So it was that there was no one who might hear the rat shouting himself hoarse in one of the rooms deep within the colony or the other voices calling for help from the infirmary. The walls of Thorn Valley are thick and no body would hear their pleas.
There was still some work being done elsewhere. In the machine house a rat was teasing a delicate spring mechanism into place. She applied a little more pressure, but instead of snapping into place the tightly wound spring buckled and shot outwards hitting Chloe on the forehead.
“Ow!” she whispered, rubbing the graze. “A bump of knowledge I suppose,” she said to herself, sighing. “Time to call it a night I think.
Gathering up her tools and the pieces she had been working on and placing them into the correct piles, she readied herself to leave. Once rested, she would make time to finish it tomorrow. Blowing out the lantern by which she had been working Chloe waited in darkness for a moment before heading towards the door. She began to walk softly around the landing when movement in the main chamber below made her stop. It was rare for guards, or anyone else for that matter, to come into the machine house at night. Only a guardsrat named James would frequently check on the machine house. She grinned to herself. If he knew she was here, that is. She crept to the edge of the landing and peered down. Her chest tightened. It wasn’t James, or any of the guards. They weren’t even rats. A group of mice had entered, moving amongst the items on the floor of the main chamber, illuminated by the soft glow of the ever burning furnaces. There was a determination in the movements that Chloe found most curious. Ducking low she began to creep along the edge of the landing. If she could get closer she may be able to hear what they were talking about, what they were doing here. At the moment she could only hear the slow grind of the water wheels on the far side of the chamber. With great care she edged around the raised landing, trying to get closer to the mice. She saw they were now working on one of the doors in the chamber wall. She was close enough now. Lying on the platform she listened, and as she did, her heart sank.
The door to the fuel storage swung outwards, the lock jangling softly. Stave had appropriated a lantern and held it up, allowing them all to see what was inside. Fraus grinned at the stacks of casks.
“Perfect.” He turned to the others. “Right, start getting those barrels out! I’ll watch the whelp.”
Fraus put his barbed hook very close to Timothy’s face. “Don’t try anything foolish boy.”
Timothy did not reply. With difficulty he took his eyes from the gleaming point beside him and watched the other mice. They started to remove the casks of fuel from the storage room with great care. It took two to carry the larger barrels, through the smaller ones could be moved by a single individual. Slowly they were being stacked around the intricate scaffold that supported the water wheel mechanism. The mice, using ramps, ladders and even the pulleys, began to raise the barrels to the top of the structure, near to the water gates. Fraus watched with quiet intensity, though spoke when Stave approached.
“You’re sure the smaller barrels will be enough for the main entrance?”
“Quiet sure, Fraus. Even the small samples I stole from the lanterns proved surprisingly effective. The larger casks have to be used here to break through that wall and destroy the barriers that hold back the water, but the smaller ones are quite sufficient for tunnel supports.” The mouse sneered unpleasantly.
Timothy listened and slowly understanding dawned.
“You’re going to destroy the valley!” he cried, his voice shrill. “You’re going to try and drown them! Start the water flowing and then block them in!”
“You’re a smart boy,” grinned Fraus, though the blade was unmoving. “There is a certain justice is turning the Rats’ own technology against them, especially when they flaunt its design with such arrogance. Stave has been very busy in the library where the rats kept all the plans for this water wheel mechanism and the chamber! There are some alarming vulnerabilities in the structure all noted down perfectly in their books.”
“You are mad!” cried Timothy.
“Completely,” agreed Fraus with a manic smile, his gaze fixed on the water gates and wheels high above.
Conversation stopped when there was a metallic clatter from nearby, just audible of the hiss of water. As one the mice stopped and looked up at one of the landings. Searching for what had made the noise.
“Bother!” cursed Chloe beneath her breath, though it was too late now. As she had tried to sneak away and alert the Home Guard, she had knocked into a laden equipment rack, spilling the tools onto the floor. There was nothing for it now. She’d have to go straight through. She leapt from the landing onto the floor and began to sprint across the room.
“A rat!”
“What’s she doing here?”
“Stop her! She must not get away!” roared Fraus, brandishing his brutal hook high, its polished edge glinted in the light from the furnaces. He pushed Timothy aside, towards the others, and advanced on the intruder.
Chloe did not stop to look. She headed straight for the exit, which meant several of the mice were directly between it and her. They were smaller though, and she only had to be quick to get passed them. The others on the water wheel scaffold began to clamber down, except one who began to take aim with a bow. From her left a mouse leapt from a workbench wielding two blades. She dodged out of the way, ducking low. There was the sensation of metal biting into her haunch, but she carried on, now limping slightly. A bloodied arrow clattered to the floor in her wake. She could hear the mouse coming after her, jumping from table to table, scattering equipment. Seeing a newly finished door brace lying nearby she picked it up and whirled around, flinging the metal at the advancing mouse, making him dart sideways. She turned back towards the exit again and surged on, though when she he faced front she saw another mouse in her path. Too late to change direction, she charged.
Fraus’ tensed as he felt the hook sink into flesh, Chloe’s features twisting with pain. Her eyes widened and her legs buckled, both she and the mouse where carried onward by momentum. She was sent spinning away to crash into a workbench. Items spilled onto the floor as she threw her arms across the surface, trying too support herself, but slowly she slipped to the ground and there she lay still.
Fraus looked at the blood on his blade from where he had come to rest. Slowly a smile split his face and he surged to his feet.
“You see?” he mumbled, and then louder, “you see! It’s not that hard! They are flesh and blood! They bleed; they die!” He looked about wildly. “Where’s the boy?” he growled.
Stave and Deakon stood and looked this way and that. Behind them Spiro slowly shook his head. No one had been watching Timothy, instead focussing on the intruder’s attempted flight.
“Useless!” screeched Fraus, balling a fist. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get back to work!”
“Fraus,” began Stave.
“Keep going! Don’t worry about the child,” Fraus was calming down slowly, though Stave still feared about approaching his leader,
“He might get alert the Home Guard! He might rescue the others. Spoil everything...”
Fraus favoured Stave with a leer.
“Timmy to the rescue?” he snorted in contempt. “Pah! What rubbish... Spiro!”
The ragged mouse turned his head slowly to face Fraus.
“Find him,” Fraus ordered. “Take him to the infirmary. Make sure he and his family regret his rash decision. I will join you there!”
Spiro was gone in an instant, bounding up stairs and disappearing through the access tunnel.
Stave hunched slightly as he addressed the other mouse cautiously.
“Fraus. As we are underway here, and the others know what to do, maybe we should be making our way to the infirmary now?”
“Hmmm,” Fraus nodded and looked up at the water wheel gantry. “Malachi!” he barked. “Can you handle things here?”
“As per your plan,” the other mouse shouted down. Fraus nodded and faced Stave.
“Let’s go.”
Fraus turned and headed for the access tunnel; Stave in tow. Behind them, the remaining mice continued to pile the kegs of fuel around the water wheels.
Timmy was running; running blindly through tunnels. He had to get away. On seeing his chance he had taken it. He just hoped that the other rat had made good on her escape as well. The mice had not noticed as he left the machine house floor, but he would be missed soon. That is why he was now running for his life. They woudn’t let him just slip away. He had to find some of the Home Guard and tell them what was happening.
Behind him, further down the tunnel, though gaining all the time, Spiro was bounding along almost without noise.
Warren set down his burden placing it upon the gantry floor. Foxglove immediately began to apply some cloth tapers to the small barrel as Warren caught his breath. Deakon rested his own encumbrance, but did not need rest. He flexed his chest; his back cracking loudly. He grinned, but stopped when he realised no one had heard it. Nearby Malachi was piling the smaller kegs strategically. He had been told these would act as detonators for the larger barrels. In a way, he was quite looking forward to the product of this effort, if only for its technical brilliance.
Warren found himself desperately trying not to think of the destructive power of the fuel he had just helped put into position. He closed his eyes, his mind racing.
Deakon watched the other mouse with an unpleasant grin. He hefted his spear and then swung it lazily, striking Warren across the stomach with the shaft. Without time to brace himself Warren yelped and wheezed.
“What’s wrong with you, Warren? You look ill,” jeered Deakon.
“Stop it,” said Foxglove distractedly, but did nothing more. Warren fell to his knees, winded while Deakon laughing oafishly.
“Perhaps we should just leave him, Foxglove. It looks like Warren’s lost his bottle!”
“Get on with it, Deakon,” she replied without interest.
Deakon bared his teeth at the back of Foxglove’s head. Turning back to Warren he began to vent his frustration at being reprimanded. Taking Warren by the collar Deakon dragged him to the edge of the gantry, letting his head hang out over the void. Warren closed his eyes, resigned to his tormentor’s whim. Deakon snarled the words at his victim.
“The only thing Warren is interested in is the Brisby girl! Tell me I’m wrong! Try!
“Fraus was right. You’re pathetic! Well not pulling your weight now isn’t going to save her, Warren. When we get back Fraus is going to hand the all the children over to Jericho, including that scrawny girl who’s been following you around. You may get what’s left of her once he’s finished with it, but you probably wouldn’t want it! And unless you want to end up in those cages with her I suggest you get up of your tail and get to work! Quickly!”
Deakon lifted Warren and threw him roughly down onto the wooden floor. Despite the pain Warren’s eyes flicked open. Absorbing what Deakon had just said. Without knowing it, and maybe for the first time in his life, Deakon had said something almost profound. Warren had to do something. He had to stop the Brisby children being taken back to the colony and he had to stop this scheme. A plan formed in Warren’s mind, a little grin appearing as he began picking himself up. Deakon was now intently watching Foxglove and did not notice the smile, for normally it wound have warranted another application of his spear shaft.
“Stow it, Deakon!” Foxglove was saying. “Get on with moving those barrels. Warren, can you walk?”
“Yes, Foxglove,” he said, standing.
Had Deakon not been re-encumbering himself with another barrel, he would have taken in Warren’s odd demeanour. As it was, it went unchallenged.
“Come on then,” Foxglove ordered and set off back towards the storage room.
Warren followed the other three down the scaffold, though at the bottom, making sure the other mice were preoccupied, he turned and slipped away through the access tunnel.
Stave and Fraus were walking quickly through the valley’s tunnels. They had taken note of the patrol routes of the guards and were well aware that here they would be quite safe. Stave looked at Fraus as the grey mouse glowered into the distance. Stave felt he had to voice his concerns and this may be the last chance he got before they became moot. Cautiously he whispered,
“Fraus, are you actually taking the Brisby children back?
“Of course,” the other replied simply, seeming distracted.
“What about their mother? Surely she cannot go back.”
“They will come more quietly if we promise that we will not hurt their mother should they comply! For the all intents and purposes, the entire Brisby family will be returning with us.”
Stave slowed his pace, taking up a position a little behind Fraus. He was running through certain key points. Back at their own colony he would have followed any command Fraus gave, but had balked when his leader had put forward his plan in its entirety. Despite that it now seemed to be possible that this might work. There had been close calls along the way. Mrs. Brisby escaping, Mr. Ages showing up in Thorn Valley. How had he escaped? thought Stave. It didn’t really matter now. The problem was contained and it had actually turned out to be beneficial. Even though Fraus had been becoming increasing erratic recently, with Justin captured, awaiting Fraus’ personal attention, Fraus had become supremely focussed. The fact that Jonathan Brisby’s children were also under lock and key was an added bonus. Stave had not relished the thought of having to take the children from their beds. That oldest child would not be led away easily. Stave had been wondering how Fraus would react if one or two of the children were lost in the process. Thankfully that didn’t seem to matter any longer. However there were still nagging doubts in Stave’s mind. Most of these doubts were about Fraus’ control over his own emotions.
They were cutting through the library now. It was the quickest route away from any potential rat patrols. Fraus had been exacting about staying well away from any of the guards until the latest possible moment. Only Spiro would relish combat with a rat. Stave was looking distractedly about the room when something caught his eye and made him stop in his tracks. It was a small room with the lantern burning low in its holder.
“Fraus, wait!”
Fraus stopped and turned, glaring from beneath a knitted brow as Stave pointed.
“That’s where the Brisby boy kept going to work. Every time I have been in here that door has been locked.”
“So?” asked Fraus staring indifferently at the doorway.
“He said he left the amulet in the library. Maybe that is where the Stone is!” exclaimed Stave.
“I doubt it’s here,” replied Fraus. “I feel he will have been lying through his teeth. As soon as we get to the infirmary I’ll find out what he’s really done with it! Fear, Stave. I’ve always impressed its importance on you.”
Stave nodded but still looked longingly at the little room.
“We should still surely check!”
Fraus seemed annoyed at the hold up, but followed Stave nevertheless to the small chamber. Inside were piles of items mostly rubbish by the looks of it, though in the corner was the Augur that they had heard about. Fraus approached this, inspecting the item while Stave was preoccupied with something else. To one side, where the lanterns burned, was a small desk. On the desk were piles of books and papers. Creeping forwards, Stave read some of what was written.
“Energy transmission,” he mumbled, turning the pages. As he did a pair of tinted glasses slipped from where they had been discarded upon the page. He saw something strange about the text beneath the lenses. Picking up the tinted spectacles, they split into two separate pairs in his hands. He held the tinted pair up to his own glasses, placing the other pair aside, and gasped as he looked at the text again. He turned the pages, checking with and without the tinted lenses, but there was no mistake. There were two texts in the book. As he read from an early page his heart leaped.
“Fraus... This book contains a hidden text! It’s...”
He breathed the words silently as he read them, his mouth moving as he scanned the pages. The mystery of the Stone! It was here, laid bare so casually. Ever since the Stone had first come to their attention at the dinner Stave had been intrigued. Augustus had been only too happy to tell the mice about the rats move to Thorn Valley, about how they came to know the Brisby widow. The tale had seemed ludicrous, yet the rat had sworn to its authenticity, piquing Fraus and Stave’s interest; doubly so when records in the library said nothing on the subject, yet Spiro reported actually seeing it. But now, flicking through these pages, maybe it was all true. He faced Fraus, saying,
“Fraus, it’s here! The secret of the Stone...!”
Fraus wasn’t listening. He was standing over a large book mounted on a lectern, reading intensely. He was also smiling his evil little smile.
“Stave! A quill, if you please,” he said quietly.
Stave handed Fraus a quill from the desk, wondering what his leader had found. As he read over Fraus’ shoulder he saw it was a type of journal, though obviously unfinished for there were many pages left blank. Amongst the last entries there was one about... Jonathan Brisby! Interesting though Stave. Below the last words Fraus was writing a message.
‘Beneath cold earth and dark water, forever buried are the traitors of NIMH. Victims of a final and eternal justice...’
Fraus signed it and then whirled, his cape billowing.
“Come on, Stave.”
Stave followed, though his mind raced about what he had found and how he could use the information. He clutched the mysterious double book to his chest, the tinted glasses in his pocket. He was sure it would prove most useful in the future.
“What’s going to happen, mummy?” Cynthia sniffed. She, like the others, was bound hand and foot to one of the pillars in the infirmary.
“Everything will be fine,” said Mrs. Brisby without real feeling.
“What are they going to do with Timothy?” asked Teresa.
“What was that about taking us?” asked Cynthia with a sniff.
Mrs. Brisby’s stomach lurched. Her daughter looked so frightened and she was unable to comfort her. She had to stop this somehow. Struggling seemed useless, the cord was burning Mrs. Brisby where she was straining against it, but what else could she do?
There was a sound from the door and slowly it opened. All eyes turned as Warren entered the infirmary. He seemed quite on edge, though Martin did not notice or care.
“What is it now?” he snarled. “Has Fraus sent you to keep an eye on us?”
Martin quickly stopped as Warren drew a sword from his belt. Then to the surprise of everyone Warren went to Justin and cut the ropes that held him. In response to Justin’s puzzled expression Warren spoke, and as he did so he went to Teresa.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t do anything while Fraus was here. You’ve got to stop him.”
“It’s another trick,” cried Martin. “This is how they are going to get us to come with them!”
Teresa stood as Warren helped her shrug off the severed rope, Justin helping Mrs. Brisby.
“No! Fraus must be stopped! Trust me... I can help.”
As Warren cut the last of the cord away from Martin’s wrists the mouse lunged, wrapping hands around Warren’s throat.
“Filthy NIMH-born vermin!”
“Martin, no!” cried Teresa, running over.
“We won’t listen to your lies!” Martin was speaking through gritted teeth, trying to wring Warren’s neck. It took Justin to separate the mice. Warren sagged, rubbing throat; Martin fumed under Justin’s watchful eye.
“Can’t you see?” Martin was saying. “It’s just another trick!”
“Use your brain Martin!” Teresa pleaded. “Warren has freed us!”
“Stop this!” shouted Mrs. Brisby. She went up to Warren and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Warren, where have they taken Timothy?”
“The machine house... But he got away.” He hesitated. “Spiro is after him.”
Mrs. Brisby’s jaw trembled in terror at those words as Warren continued. “You must go! Fraus is planning to flood the colony! Get to the machine house. Quickly!” Warren’s voice was raspy. Martin’s grip had been very tight.
“By the Valley!” breathed Justin. “Come on!” he strode to Mr. Ages and delicately began to pick the old mouse up
“What...?” began Martin, pointing at Mr. Ages.
“I’m not leaving him here,” explained Justin. “Fraus said he’d be back and when he is he won’t be happy to find that we didn’t wait for him. We can’t leave Mr. Ages.”
As Mr. Ages was lifted from the bed, something fell from his torn clothes. As it landed it spun and, with a red glint, lay still.
“The Stone?” said Justin.
“But... how?” Mrs. Brisby asked.
Teresa bent and picked the amulet up.
“I slipped it into Mr. Ages’ apron,” she explained. “When the mice broke in Timothy gave it to me. I was going to tell them but Timothy... He stopped me. I didn’t know what to do...”
“Right,” said Justin. “We must hurry. We’ll find the guards who are on duty and stop this. Don’t worry Mrs. Brisby. We’ll get Timothy back. Come on! Warren, explain on the way. We’ll head to the entranceway.”
As they left Warren hung back to speak to Teresa.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply.
She looked at him in the dim light and properly noticed for the first time the welt upon his eye. She reached out as if to touch it, but stopped herself. Teresa nodded and smiled weakly.
“Thank you.”
Timothy rounded another corner and slowed to a fast walk. His lungs burned, but he tried to force himself onwards. From further up the corridor came a sound. Peering around a bend in the tunnel Timothy saw a rat, armed with a spear, plodding along.
“Leander!” he called.
“Timothy!” the guard had started to smile, but that quickly vanished when he saw how distraught the young mouse was. “What’s wrong?”
Timothy ran up to Leander, tugging on the rat’s sleeve.
“Spiro! Spiro’s after me.”
“What?” was the disbelieving reply.
In confirmation Spiro rounded the corner and hesitated when he saw the rat. Timothy backed around behind Leander, the rat gripping his spear tightly in both hands. Spiro himself dropped into a battle stance, blade in hand, eye rolling and glaring in its socket.
“Go!” said Leander to Timothy, pushing the mouse away. The little mouse didn’t need telling twice. He turned and ran, deeper into the colony. Spiro made to follow but was stopped.
“Oh no you don’t!”
Leander stepped into Spiro’s path levelling his spear. The mouse seemed resolved to stand and fight, making some experimental jabs with a knife. He tapped the shaft of Leander’s spear which the rat had held in defence. Then Leander made an attack, thrusting the spear towards the smaller rodent. Spiro dodged and crouched, swinging his blade very low, Leander having to drop to one knee to counter it. The attack was a feint, Spiro immediately leaping upwards. He rose over the rat, reaching the low ceiling of the tunnel. Twisting in midair, Spiro pushed off from the roof trying to impel himself over guardsrat. However Leander was quick to realise Spiro was still trying to follow Timothy. He spun around, rising from his crouch as he did so, whirling the spear around. With a crunch Spiro was wrapped around the shaft of the weapon. He hurtled backwards, his blade skittering away. The mouse hit a wall and bounced, crumpling into a heap upon the floor, where he lay still. Leander approached slowly, his spear levelled at the creature’s head.
“Sorry. I’m not falling for that one,” he said, grinning.
In reply Spiro opened an eye to fix the rat with a cold stare.
“Don’t move,” cautioned Leander. The spear point was very close to the mouse now and Leander would have no qualms about using it. He doubted Spiro was one for showing mercy. In response the mouse began to raise himself from the floor and Leander thrust downward with the weapon. It hit the floor as Spiro rolled away from the cutting edge, but reaching out, the mouse seized the shaft of Leander’s spear.
“Hah! No chance!” cried the rat, and heaved on the spear, meaning to tug it from Spiro’s grasp. But Spiro maintained his grip and was lifted from the ground, towards Leander, bourn closer by the rat’s own strength. Leander was thrown by this manoeuvre, unable to act as Spiro scrabbled up level his head and raked brutal claws down his face. Leander cried out and staggered, clutching at his bleeding face, trying to clear his eyes. Spiro dropped to the ground and, pulling another long thin knife from his belt, lunged. Leander’s breath left him as he looked down. Spiro’s fist was against his midriff, the knife buried up to the hilt. Spiro twisted the blade and then pulled it free, watching as Leander groaned and collapsed, his spear clattering to the floor. With a casual grace Spiro scooped up his two pronged weapon from where it had fallen earlier. He then stood over the fallen Leander.
“Go on!” spat Leander, looking up into mismatched eyes. Spiro’s cheeks lifted but then his head jerked sideways and a moment later was gone. Leander quickly realised why as another rat rounded the corner.
“Leander!” the guard cried, kneeling by his wounded comrade.
“It was Spiro. He went that way,” said Leander between gritted teeth, nodding as best he could in the appropriate direction. The wounds on his face were bleeding into his eyes and he couldn’t see who he was talking to.
“But you’re hurt,” said the guard, looking at Leander’s ravaged face. “We must...”
“It looks worse than it is. Follow him!” interrupted Leander, aware that every second would make Spiro harder to find. “He’s too dangerous. He’s after the Brisby kid!”
“But,” the guard began again. Leander couldn’t even begin to focus on the rat’s face as he spoke.
“No buts. Go!” Leander tried to raise himself. The other hesitated, watching Leander obviously suffer because of the movement. “Go!” Leander shouted again.
With a final glance the guard started out in pursuit of Spiro. Making sure he was definitely gone Leander slumped back down to the ground. He winced with pain and clutched at his stomach.
“It’s too deep,” he groaned, checking his hands. He couldn’t see clearly, but he knew that they were covered in dark, warm fluid. He could feel it soaking into his fur. He tried to curl himself into a ball.
“Too deep...”
The door swung open and Fraus peered into the now empty infirmary. Even Ages was gone. The cords that had held his prisoners lay on the floor.
Standing nearby Stave could see the fire in Fraus’ eyes. If the captives were loose then Fraus’ revenge was in serious jeopardy. It might already be too late. They couldn’t fight the entire colony. Even one guard could potentially be too much to handle. Fraus seemed to understand this and reached the same decision. With a roar, he turned and dashed off, nearly raking his blade across Stave’s chest. Fraus was bellowing as he went, no pretence at stealth anymore.
“Not now! We’re not leaving till they’re all dead! You hear me? DEAD!”
The other mouse stared after his leader, then at the book that he still held. Stave and the others owed Fraus a lot, but now he would be putting them all at risk. If he followed down that corridor he doubted it would be Fraus leading the way. Not the same Fraus that led them from the ventilation shafts in NIMH. Stave hadn’t escaped those tunnels to die in these. He made his decision, and set off in the other direction heading towards the main exit hoping he could slip passed the guard.
Brutus leant his halberd against a wall of the central staircase in the entranceway and rubbed his face. It was time for the three other guards on duty to report. Shaun, James and Leander. The guard on the main entrance didn’t report, he had to maintain his position until relieved. It should have been more, but with injuries, two guards off to find Ages and another watching over the mice, they were now short of numbers. Extra rats were ready in the guard house, resting only lightly in case they were needed, but Brutus had an uneasy feeling. There was something in the air tonight.
Brutus peered over the balcony, resting heavily on the hand rail. The other guards were late. Granted there wouldn’t be that much to report. He had looked in on Hugo, but the rat was sleeping. No one had heard a peep out of him all day. He doubted there would be anything else. With a grunt he stepped away from the railings, but turned at the sounds of running. He was taken aback to see Justin running towards him. He had others with him. The Brisby family and... one of the Mice of NIMH!
“What’s going on? Is that Mr. Ages?” Brutus asked in surprise as the others neared. Their expression did little to lessen Brutus’ anxiety.
Justin halted before the big rat. “The mice are trying to destroy the valley! They took Timothy. I met James on the way here. He’s gathering as many guards as he can find.”
Brutus assimilated this information and was about to reply when something interrupted him. Another rat was running up to the group, a little grey mouse in tow.
“Timothy!” said Cynthia, hugging her brother as he arrived.
“Are you all right?” asked Mrs. Brisby, kneeling next to her son.
“Fine,” said Timothy. “Do you have the Stone?”
“Right here!” said Teresa, handing the red jewel back to Timothy.
Timothy looked at it gratefully, glad to have the Stone back in his possession.
“Are you okay holding onto that, Timothy?” asked Justin. Timothy nodded and then, glancing up, he did a double take when he noticed Warren for the first time.
“What’s...” he began.
“He freed us, Timothy,” explained Cynthia. “He’s on our side.”
Martin seemed riled at this, but said nothing. His attention was elsewhere. The rats weren’t listening. Justin was speaking to the one who had brought Timothy.
“Where did you find him, Shaun?”
“Making his way to the infirmary. There wasn’t anyone there, so we came up here. He says the Mice of NIMH are trying to kill everyone one. Justin, along the way I found Leander. He’s hurt. Badly.”
Justin ground his teeth, thinking for moment.
“We need more rats! Brutus, take the Brisby family to my quarters. Keep the door locked and stay with them. If you see any other guards, tell them to get up here now. Shaun, go to the Mice of NIMH’s quarters. There may be some rats in trouble there.”
“There are...” said Warren and everyone turned to him. The mouse continued nervously. “The rats you sent to our quarters. Fraus was ready for them. Two of them are hurt and they’re trapped. I can help them...” he added as he saw Brutus’ expression.
Justin looked at the mouse.
“You’re a healer?” he asked.
Warren nodded.
“Then go with Shaun. Shaun, stay with him, if some of the other guards see a strange mouse hovering over wounded guards they may take exception to it. Show him to Leander and any other rats that need assistance. You’ll find Bracken down there, send him up here immediately.”
“Aye, Justin,” said Shaun.
Four more rats entered the entranceway. Three showed all the evidence of having dressed in a hurry. The Brisby children recognised the new arrivals. They were Kate, and Raymond from the barracks, and Clerval the medic. The fourth was obviously James.
“Alan’s on his way now, Justin,” explained Kate. “He’s bringing more guards and medics.”
“Right. James, with me! Kate, you too! Raymond. Go to the guards on the entrances to the colony. Let them know the situation!” Then to all, “If you see any guards, tell them to get the machine house as quickly as possible. Clerval, you’re with Shaun. Off you go!”
The rats sped off; Justin, Kate and James hurried to the machine house access tunnels. Brutus led the Brisby family away.
As Timothy left the entranceway, a thought struck him that shook him to his core. He had left Dad’s book in his study. At that moment it seemed the only thing of any importance and he had to get it!
“I need to go to the library,” he said turning back to the entranceway.
“Timothy?” said Brutus.
“Timothy! Wait!” Martin started after his brother, but Timothy had bolted off with amazing speed.
“No, come back!” cried Mrs. Brisby, distraught.
Timothy did not listen. He had to make sure his father’s book was safe. To him, it was now a higher priority than being safe. It was his father’s legacy and must be secure. He was so preoccupied with these thoughts and so relieved that the rats were now aware of what was going on that he had even forgotten about Spiro still being loose in the colony.
“Where is he?”
Malachi was storming up and down a gantry. His voice was low, yet his expression was like always and unless you knew him you would not realise he was seething with anger.
“I’m more worried about Warren,” said Foxglove. All work had stopped as the three mice saw their leader’s scheme fraying. Barrels had only been piled against around half of the water wheel flues. “He’s not following the plan. You know how he felt about it. I think we’ve lost him.”
Deakon chuckled at this, Foxglove throwing him a disdainful glare.
“Maybe I should go and look,” Deakon put in awkwardly.
“No...” said Malachi, ceasing in his pacing. “Something has happened. Spiro hasn’t returned either. Nor has Stave for that matter. We must have been discovered. Let us start the deconstruction now!”
Foxglove balked at this suggestion, her calm leaving her momentarily.
“We can’t abandon the others! We have to wait!”
“Don’t pretend to be overcome with a daughter’s love now, Foxglove,” Malachi still retained his emotionless composure. “We know how you feel about your father. It’s amazing you followed Fraus here at all.”
Foxglove had not in fact been talking about Fraus. Her thoughts had in fact been with another mouse... What if he had been captured...? What if he were already dead? She shivered trying to cast all such thoughts from her mind. She was brought out of her introspection by a series of loud clicks from overhead. Malachi was now winding in the water gates, turning all the water wheel chutes onto full.
“Malachi!” she cried. “Wait!”
“Don’t move!”
The shout had come from the access tunnels. Three rats stood there, weapons at the ready.
“I knew it!” cried Malachi over the roar of running water. Foxglove’s stomach sank as she saw the rats. The others were lost. She only hoped that if they were still alive they would make their way back to the rally point. One thought brought her some comfort her. If any of them could make it out of the valley now, it would be Spiro.
The rats darted forward towards the gantry. Malachi acted too. With the water wheels behind him turning rapidly the whole scaffold was beginning to tremble. He grabbed a lantern from the wall and started work on the fuel barrel tapers.
“Leave them, Malachi! Come on!” shouted Foxglove, jumping down the scaffold. She descended quickly using the supports to control her fall. The rats were climbing nearer and would be on them in a matter of moments. Seeing this Deakon threw down his spear and joined Foxglove in climbing hurriedly down the scaffold to the machine house floor. One of the rats tried to intercept them as he sprinted up the ramps, but another cried out.
“Leave them! The other one is lighting the fuel casks!”
Foxglove and Deakon reached the floor, sparing a swift glance up the scaffold to see the rats ascending towards Malachi. There was nothing they could do for him now. The two mice headed for the timber storage at the far end of the chamber. They knew about the lift that would take them to the surface. Deakon called forward to Foxglove as they made their way through the machine house.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Malachi? In case he escapes.” asked Deakon.
“He was foolish enough to try and see my father’s plan through; he can deal with the consequences. Besides...” Foxglove glancing back over her shoulder at the stacked up fuel barrels, “I’m not going back for anything, now.”
Atop the water wheel scaffold
Malachi had lit all the tapers. In the dim light he could see them all
glowing, little flames in the dark. The smell of burning made his whiskers
twitch. He could also hear the rats approach, swivelling his ears towards the
sound to try and pick out the subtle noises over the rushing water. Opening
the lantern he was holding Malachi flung it in amongst the barrels. Its remaining
fuel scattered burned amongst wooden supports and barrels alike. Turning back
to the sound of approaching guards he drew his sword, waiting for the right
moment amongst the rising flames. The first rat appeared on the gantry stairs,
halberd in hand, obviously ready for combat. Malachi obliged, he leapt, but
was caught in midair with the butt of a halberd. He hit the ground, winded.
Struggling up he received another blow across the face. Malachi lay
unconscious as the rat stood over him.
“Murdering scum!” snarled James. He had seen Chloe’s body on the machine
house floor far below. He was about to run the mouse through, but Kate,
stopped him by grabbing his shoulder roughly.
“No! Not like that!” she said. James sneered at the fallen mouse. Behind them a third rat appeared on the ramp.
“Get him out of here!” cried Justin over the din, indicating the mouse. He began trying to direct some of the water that was pouring from the chutes onto the flames. He was only successful in singing his clothes and fur. “Both of you get off the scaffold. Get out!”
“Come on Justin, you can’t stop it,” called Kate. The fire had taken hold and she could not even get near to the barrels. There were so many! James gripped Malachi by the collar of his jerkin, dragging him down the ramps. In the distance he caught the other mice climb into the timber lift out of the corner of his eye.
Justin using whatever wood he could lay his hands on was trying to create a makeshift flue for the water. It trickled onto one barrel, diluting the fluid. The flames sputtered and dimmed, but it wasn’t enough! In desperation he grabbed one of the smaller barrels, ignoring the burning pain in his hands, and flung it into the stream of water. The flames were extinguished and the little barrel tumbled down, clattering off the water wheel and into the funnel below that.
“Justin!” Kate nearly screamed from a lower platform. The leader of the rats, looking down at his scarred hands, knew there was nothing he could do now. He darted away, jumping from the water wheel gantry onto one of the pulleys that dangled form the roof. Shifting his weight he swung around towards the wall and a nearby landing. Not bothering with the stairs he swung over the railings and jumped down, towards the middle levels, using the wooden supports to guide his fall. The others were now away from the scaffold, having made it onto the landings at the side of the tall chamber themslevs, about halfway down. It was then that the first of the barrels blew up.
The sound shook the entire floor and all the platforms vibrated. The first explosion was quickly joined by a succession of others, each lending their destructive power to demolishing the water wheels. Rope and timber were showered out into the machine house with the blinding light as the top of the water wheel gantry and many of the upper landings disintegrated.
Justin had been in mid leap when the explosion had occurred. He tumbled in midair, falling towards the floor beneath when something grabbed his outstretched hand. His fall turned into a swing and he bumped against a wooden railing with a grunt. There he hung, Kate grinning down at him. With their combined effort Justin was brought safely onto the platform.
Behind him one of the water wheels, torn from its mountings by the force of the explosion, flew across the chamber. It rolled as it hit the floor destroying workbenches and equipment as it ploughed into the fuel fermenting cauldron. In a shower of debris both shattered with the force of the impact. Then came the water. It flew forth from the ruptured wall, crashing into the floor with a tremendous splash, brining parts of the ruined scaffold with it. The furnaces hissed as the water flooded into the burning pits, steam shooting up briefly here and there. Within moments the floor of the machine house had become a roiling, foamy morass.
The rats looked at the ruins of the machine house. Parts of the scaffold still burned, wherever the water didn’t touch, but an incredible amount of liquid was pouring into the chamber. The various items on the floor of room already floated on the water’s surface. With a terrible inevitability, the water was slowly rising up the walls. By now it was already shooting down the lower access tunnel into the colony itself. Justin hung his head.
“Oh no!”
