Ghost Wings

The companions arrived back at the dome, wet, cold and ravenously hungry. Outside, the mountain wind was blowing a gale and snow was falling heavily. A thick snowdrift already covered the upper steps leading to the Erratic Blocks, and there was no thought of venturing out in such inhospitable conditions. Instead, the Pie Rats remained in the shelter of the cavern, huddled around a small fire and munching on a meagre supper of dried fruit and nuts.

While Horace complained about the lack of hot pies in his diet, Whisker added the finishing touches to a sketch of his Ghost Wings on the rear of Mr Tribble’s map. The fingers on his right paw were black with charcoal and he wiped them clean on his coat before picking up a dried apricot.

With the intricacies of his plan finally figured out, he thought he should stop for a bite to eat before the tirade of questions started.

Whisker hadn’t even taken his first bite when Horace poked his head over his shoulder and asked nosily, ‘So, how do you plan on constructing these ghostly wings of yours? We’re not exactly flush with circus props.’

Whisker lowered the apricot, resigning himself to the fact that supper would have to wait. When the others had gathered around his drawing, he began to explain.

‘My intention is to fabricate the Ghost Wings using material from the rucksacks, short strands of cord from the climbing rope and –’ he hesitated and looked nervously at Ruby, ‘and a few of Ruby’s personal belongings.’

With a small nod of understanding, Ruby dropped both crutches at his feet. The light-weight water reeds made a hollow thrumping sound as they hit the stone floor.

‘I take it this is what you had in mind,’ she said, pointing to the crutches.

‘Thanks,’ Whisker said guiltily. ‘I didn’t want to ask, but there was nothing else light enough for the frame.’

‘It’s no hassle, really,’ Ruby said, hopping past the fire towards the pile of supplies. ‘I’ve still got my walking stick.’ She picked up the yew-wood bow. ‘Without a quiver of arrows, this old branch is serving no other purpose.’

‘Speaking of arrows,’ Whisker added quickly. ‘There’s sure to be some reeds left over if you want to use them for arrow shafts.’

Ruby looked across at Chatterbeak, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

‘I’ll need a few tail feathers for the fletchings,’ she said, thinking aloud. ‘And the small lead sinkers from Horace’s cast nets would make suitable arrowheads – albeit a little blunt.’

‘Skraaw, skraaw,’ Chatterbeak screeched, unwilling to hand over his tail feathers without a fight. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re yet to hear of Whisker’s intentions for this fandangled flying contraption.’

‘I’m coming to that,’ Whisker said, flipping over the paper to reveal Mr Tribble’s map of Cloud Mountain. He pointed to Eagle’s Cliffs where he had scribbled the location of the cage and the altar.

‘In an attempt to find a way to reach the cage undetected, I was inspired by Horace’s Ghost of Ingratitude story.’

‘Ghost of Incompetence, you mean,’ Ruby snorted.

Horace shook his hook at her. ‘Despite the disaster with the pie – which I might add was entirely Fred’s fault – my stealth operation was a total success.’

Ruby opened her mouth to protest but Whisker spoke before she could get a word in. ‘Bearing Horace’s stealth operation in mind, I asked myself, why couldn’t I do a similar thing to reach the cage?’

‘Because you don’t have a long enough rope,’ Horace said.

‘Yes, that did cross my mind,’ Whisker admitted. ‘But then I remembered Chatterbeak’s cliff top rescue in Oakbridge and I realised that I didn’t need a rope if I had a set of wings.’

‘Wing’s don’t necessarily guarantee success,’ Horace argued. ‘I mean, ostriches have wings, but they’d still end up as pancakes if they plunged off a precipice.’

‘True,’ Whisker conceded, ‘but ostrich wings aren’t designed for flight. Ghost Wings are.’

Horace looked doubtful. ‘I’m no aeronautical engineer, Whisker, so I can’t comment on your father’s plans, but the name Ghost Wings hardly conjures up images of a safe landing.’

Whisker shook his head in frustration. ‘I chose the name Ghost Wings in honour of your ghost story, Horace. The wings, coloured grey with charcoal, will be almost invisible – like a ghost – against the granite cliffs of the mountain. I’ll be a ghost, without being a ghost, if you know what I mean.’

‘Not really,’ Horace confessed. ‘But then again, there’s no denying it’s a superb name.’

Ruby rolled her eye and pointed to the centre of the map. ‘Let’s get back to the plan before Horace’s head expands to the size of a hot air balloon. Whisker, I take it you intend to launch your Ghost Wings from a high vantage point, such as the buttress, and then swoop across to the cage while the birds are distracted.’

‘Err … something like that,’ Whisker said evasively.

‘Something like what?’ Ruby asked suspiciously.

‘For a start, the buttress is too far south,’ Whisker explained. ‘And the prevailing easterlies could easily blow me in the wrong direction.’

‘So what location do you have in mind?’ Ruby asked, leaning closer to study the map.

‘Well,’ Whisker replied slowly, aware that his answer might raise a few eyebrows, ‘the quickest and simplest way to approach the cage is from directly above it.’ He ran his finger in a near-vertical line above Eagle’s Cliffs.

It took a moment for the realisation to sink in.

‘Shiver me reckless rodents!’ Horace exclaimed. ‘You’re not suggesting the summit of Cloud Mountain?’

‘Madness, madness,’ Chatterbeak clucked, hiding his head under his wing. ‘Utter madness.’

Ruby shook her head in disbelief. ‘Few creatures brave the deadly weather of the upper mountain to even set foot on the summit, Whisker. And here you are, wanting to throw yourself off it.’

‘I’ll essentially be parachuting down,’ Whisker reasoned.

‘Using three recycled rucksacks and a pair of flimsy crutches?’ Horace said, dismissively. ‘Puh-leeze!’

Rapidly losing his confidence, Whisker flipped the map over and pointed emphatically at the sketch of his flying machine.

‘There’s nothing to worry about, really,’ he gabbled. ‘Take a look. I can steer with my tail and the adjustable wing span will enhance the manoeuvrability of the design, enabling me to change speed and direction in an instant.’

‘Rotten pies to technical jargon,’ Horace muttered. ‘I want to see this thing in action before you go leaping to your death off the highest summit in Aladrya.’

‘Alright,’ Whisker agreed. ‘I’ll take it for a test flight first thing in the morning. If it doesn’t soar like a swallow, I’ll abandon the idea and we can burn down the door and storm the eagles instead.’

Chatterbeak jerked his head out from under his wing. ‘Caw, caw, when you put it that way, a gentle glide off the mountain seems a far safer option than a one-sided fire fight with the eagles.’

Ruby nodded in agreement. ‘Chatterbeak’s right. As dangerous as it sounds, Whisker’s flying machine is our best hope of reaching the prisoners alive. We’re snowbound for the time being anyway, so we may as well work out the logistics of the plan – starting with the route up the mountain.’

Whisker returned the crumpled paper to its map-side-up position. ‘The safest option is to follow the glacier to the narrow cleft of rock known as the chimney,’ he said, tracing the route with his finger. ‘From there it’s a straightforward climb up the rocks and a steady march across the upper slopes to reach the summit.’

‘You make it sound so easy,’ Horace murmured, circling the chimney with his hook. ‘You’d have to be a master climber to get up those rocks.’

‘I’ve climbed a cliff or two in my time,’ Whisker said defensively.

Horace looked at him sceptically. ‘With a set of wings strapped to your back?’

‘Well, no,’ Whisker conceded. ‘But the Ghost Wings will be folded up and fastened securely to prevent them catching the wind.’

‘I see …’ Horace murmured, still not convinced.

‘Shush, you,’ Ruby snapped. ‘If you insist on debating every point we’ll never get anywhere. Now, Whisker, when do you propose to drop in on these prisoners?’

‘Sunset tomorrow,’ Whisker replied, relieved to have at least one companion on his side. ‘The cliffs will be in shadow and the eagles will be out of their nests, busily preparing for the feast. The arrival of the other flocks should also mask my movements.’

‘Aren’t you leaving it a bit late?’ Horace asked, a slight frown creasing his brow. ‘I mean, we don’t even know when the feast will officially start.’

‘Coo, coo, there won’t be any feasting until the full moon rises,’ Chatterbeak prattled. ‘I’ve heard the stories. The birds of Cloud Mountain are superstitious creatures. They won’t act before the moon is fully visible above the horizon.’

‘What if it’s a cloudy night?’ Horace persisted. ‘Will they cancel the entire feast?’

Chatterbeak shook his tail feathers. ‘No, no. The glow of the moon will still be visible through the clouds. Hawks and eagles have excellent vision, remember?’

‘How could I forget,’ Horace muttered.

‘The full moon will rise around eight o’clock,’ Whisker explained. ‘If things go according to plan, we’ll have a couple of hours after sunset before the birds realise their prisoners have escaped. By then, we’ll be safe inside the passage and the door will be barred from the inside, should any of the smaller birds choose to pursue us.’

‘And then what?’ Horace asked. ‘We still need to get off the mountain.’

‘If the dome map is correct, the passage should lead us directly to Lake Azure,’ Whisker said.

‘How do we know there’s not a second barred door at the entrance to the lake?’ Horace asked.

‘We don’t,’ Whisker said, growing tired of Horace’s countless objections. ‘But we’ll be alive, and so will the prisoners. We can deal with blocked doors when we come to them.’

‘On that note,’ Ruby said, ‘I’m presuming you want us to arrange some kind of distraction while you open the cage.’

‘A rather colourful distraction, to be precise,’ Whisker said, glancing in Chatterbeak’s direction. ‘A loud-mouthed parrot on a joy flight should be enough to draw a few sets of eyes from the cliff face.’

Chatterbeak tipped his head to one side, contemplating the idea.

‘If you keep your distance and approach from the south, you’ll have sufficient time to retreat to the Erratic Blocks, should the birds attempt to pursue you,’ Whisker added.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Chatterbeak chirped confidently. ‘I’ve out-flown a raven or two in my time and, with a decent head start, I’m sure to give the eagles a run for their money.’

Whisker smiled in gratitude. ‘That takes care of the distraction. Now for the rescue team.’ Hesitantly he turned to the uptight figure of Horace. ‘I’ll need someone small and nimble waiting inside the door to haul the prisoners to safety. Are you up for the job?’

Horace relaxed instantly.

‘Of course I am,’ he said, saluting Whisker with his hook. ‘Just because your plan is ludicrous, doesn’t mean I won’t be part of it.’

Whisker touched one finger to his forehead in a casual salute then hurriedly returned his attention to the map, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Ruby. He was well aware that she was not going to like what he had in store for her.

Ruby cleared her throat loudly. ‘Ahem. I think you’re forgetting someone.’

‘Err, well …’ Whisker began, without looking up. ‘I was thinking the rest of the team could wait here until the prisoners arrived.’

He heard a violent CLOMP patter CLOMP as Ruby hobbled over to him, her fingers turning white on the shaft of the longbow.

‘Is that so?’ she snapped. ‘You want me to sit around with my feet up, twiddling my thumbs while the rest of you daredevils face almost certain death on the cliffs.’

‘N-n-no,’ he stammered. ‘That’s not what I had in mind.’

‘Then what did you have in mind?’ she fired back.

‘I-I don’t know,’ he mumbled feebly in response. ‘I just thought that considering you were injured, it would be safer if you held the fort until we all returned.’

‘Well you thought wrong!’ she hissed. ‘I’m not an invalid and I don’t need your pity.’ She turned her back on him and stormed off, almost tripping over a block of firewood.

‘Arrr!’ she hissed, battering it aside with her longbow.

She took another step and then swung back to face Whisker.

‘By the way, apprentice,’ she said defiantly, ‘I’ve got half a mind to disobey your orders and fly with Chatterbeak. A cripple with a longbow might not fit into your master plan, but she can still save your neck when you run into trouble.’

Swivelling on the tip of her bow, she resumed her loud departure, CLOMP patter CLOMP, leaving Whisker staring open-mouthed after her.

‘She does have a point, you know,’ Horace whispered to his dejected companion. ‘It would take more than a sprained ankle to keep her out of a fight, and we could use her skills with that bow. She might not have the legs for running, but there’s nothing stopping her from flying.’

‘I know, I know,’ Whisker said, berating himself. ‘I should have thought of that from the start.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ Horace said sympathetically. ‘You were only trying to protect her.’

Whisker shrugged. ‘A fat lot of good that did me.’

‘Look,’ Horace continued, ‘being the leader is a tough job, and you won’t always make the right decisions. If it’s any consolation, Ruby is probably more frustrated with her ankle than she is with you right now.’

‘I doubt it,’ Whisker said, watching Ruby muttering angrily to herself on the opposite side of the fire.

‘Believe me,’ Horace said confidently, ‘I’ve been around her long enough to know how she operates. When she feels helpless, she goes on the attack. Give her something useful to do and she’ll calm down in no time.’

‘Something useful,’ Whisker considered, staring at the pair of crutches at his feet. ‘Like making arrows.’

‘Now those are the words of a smart leader,’ Horace said with a grin. ‘Come on, I’ll help you pull the crutches apart.’