Eddy Stone and the Epic Holiday Mash-Up Read online

  “Don’t listen to them,” said the Emperor.

  “I’m not listening to you,” said the Beast.

  “Come on, just bite the heads,” said the Emperor. “Lovely crunchy munchy squidgy heads. You know they’re your favourite bits.”

  “Shan’t.”

  “You can have ketchup.”

  “I want pizza.”

  “Stop being stupid and eat your dinner!”

  “No! I hate fish and I hate you!”

  “For the last time – they are not fish!!!” the Emperor screamed at the top of his voice.

  “I’m going to tell my mum,” said the Beast.

  That stopped the Emperor in his tracks.

  “No don’t do that,” he said hastily. “We’ve only just finished rebuilding after the last time she got angry. You don’t have to eat them. Guards, take him away. Keeper, give him a pizza if it will keep him quiet.”

  “I want spicy sausage on it,” said the Beast, flopping back into his own cage, “but no olives. They’re almost as horrible as fish.”

  Eddy let the air out of his lungs in a great whoosh of relief. The palms of his hands were sticky with sweat, and his heart was still thumping as the guards dragged the Beast’s cage away.

  He was glad that his heart was still thumping. It meant that he was alive. Alive – but not free.

  The Emperor looked as if he might explode with fury at any moment.

  “I want these prisoners chained up in the dungeon while I think up a really horrible way for them to die, which I can’t do right now because I’m too upset. Bring me the Head Jailer!”

  “Tiny problem,” said Robin. “You sacked him for feeding the prisoners too much bread with their mould.”

  “Then get the Deputy Jailer,” said the Emperor.

  “Sacked,” said Robin.

  “The Guard Sergeant.”

  “Sacked and chained up in cell number three.”

  “Who is running the dungeon, for goodness’ sake?”

  “Old Ichabod,” said Robin, checking the details on his clipboard. “He’s the only one left down there.”

  “Old who?”

  “Ichabod. He’s in charge of prison catering. His job is to get today’s bread before it goes to the prisoners and lick off some of the mould. Then he licks it onto the stale bread that’s going to be tomorrow’s rations, so it will grow nice and furry by the time we feed it to them.”

  “You’d have to be a halfwit to do that.”

  “Oh, he is,” said Robin chirpily.

  “Very well,” said the Emperor, “bring him to me.”

  “Slight hitch,” said Robin. “He hasn’t been out of the dungeon for twenty-three years. He has grown terrified of daylight. Goodness knows what would happen if we dragged him up here.”

  “Why is everybody except me so useless?” said the Emperor. “I’ve a good mind to sack the entire population and get a new one.”

  “Well, you know what they say,” said Robin. “If the fool in the dungeon won’t come to the Emperor, the Emperor must go to the fool in the dungeon.”

  “If I hear them say that, they will find themselves chained to the wall next to the Guard Sergeant.”

  Eddy’s brain clicked into action. Maybe this was an opportunity to trick their way out of trouble.

  “There’s no need to put yourself to any bother, Your Magnificence,” he said. “We can make our own way to the dungeon.” Once they were out of sight, they would be able to slip away and try to escape. But would the Emperor fall for it?

  “I’m not going to fall for that, you cheeky little squirt,” said the Emperor. “Even if it means I have to take you to the dungeon myself. The sooner you are securely chained up, the sooner I can decide how to get rid of you for good.”

  The way to the dungeons was dark and damp. Led by the Emperor, and watched by a pair of armoured guards, the Codcakers trudged along passageways carved into the rock, climbed down stairs slimed with fungus, and breathed air stale with misery.

  As the steps descended, so did Eddy’s spirits. He wondered what horrible fate the Emperor was going to dream up for them. The same worry gnawed at the other Codcakers. None of them spoke a word.

  They turned a corner. Ahead of them a bulky iron door blocked their path. Next to it was a large sign surrounded by twinkling fairy lights, and painted with bright orange letters which read:

  Eddy stared at the smiley face in the “o” of “you”.

  “That was my idea,” said Robin. “The old sign was just boring old black. I think this really cheers the place up.”

  One of the guards stepped forward and hammered on the door with his mailed fist. It boomed like a drum that summoned the prisoners to their doom.

  CLUNK – a heavy bolt was drawn back.

  RATTLE – a chain was pulled aside.

  “Hang on a minute,” said a croaky voice on the other side of the door.

  CLUNK. RATTLE. CLUNK. CLUNK.

  RATTLE.

  Finally, they heard the scrape of a key being pushed into a lock, the squeal of rusty metal as it was turned, and another scrape as it was pulled out of the lock again.

  “Wrong key,” said the voice.

  SCRAPE. SQUEAl. SCRAPE.

  “I know it’s here somewhere,” said the voice.

  “Try the one with the label that says Dungeon,” Robin shouted.

  “All right,” said the voice. “But you’ll have to wait a bit.”

  “For goodness’ sake, how long?” yelled the Emperor.

  “Depends,” said the voice. “How long does it take to learn to read? Hang on, I’ve got a better idea. I’ll try this shiny one.”

  Another scrape, another squeal. The lock clicked and the door swung open with a grating groan.

  The dungeon beyond was even gloomier than the passage. As Eddy’s eyes adjusted to the murk, he made out a large pile of hair in the doorway.

  Two hands emerged, and parted the thick mane to reveal a grimy and wrinkled face. This must be Ichabod, Eddy realized, twenty-three years after his last haircut and shave. A toothless mouth said, “What is it?”

  “Prisoners,” said the Emperor.

  “No thanks. We’ve already got some,” said Ichabod, turning to go.

  “Do you know who I am?” shouted the Emperor.

  “Why? Can’t you remember?” asked Ichabod. “Poor you. It’s terrible when you lose your…um…remembery wotsit.”

  “Useless,” said the Emperor.

  “You can’t talk to me like that,” said Ichabod. “I’m in the service of the Emperor.”

  “And I am the Emperor.”

  “There you go. You’ve remembered who you are. That’s nice.” Ichabod smiled a gummy smile.

  “Listen very carefully, you numbskull,” the Emperor replied through gritted teeth. “Here are my orders. Number one – take the prisoners and chain them to the wall of the dungeon. Number two—”

  “You missed out number three,” Ichabod interrupted.

  “I’m doing number two,” snarled the Emperor.

  “Well, it’s very confusing.”

  “Why do I have to put up with this? I’m the Emperor. I should be up in my palace Empering. Instead I’m down here doing bad counting with a hairy halfwit.”

  The Emperor turned in a tantrum and kicked out at the nearest available object. His soft-slippered toe met the guard’s heavily armoured leg with a loud crunch.

  “Owwwwwww!” The Emperor hopped around on his good foot.

  “Sorry, Your Splenditudinousness,” the guard muttered anxiously.

  “Did that hurt?” enquired Ichabod, as the Emperor continued to howl.

  Eddy wondered if they could take advantage of the confusion and get away. But he was disappointed to see that the second guard was watching them intently, spear at the ready. He was even more disappointed when he spotted two small blobs skipping unnoticed past the guard and away up the steps. The raisins! So much for the Chevalier’s talk of comrades standing together bravel
y, he thought. They were running away and abandoning the Codcakers.

  The Emperor stopped hopping and howling. But he carried on being cross with Ichabod.

  “The only thing saving you from unimaginable misery and pain is the fact that there is no one else witless enough to want your job. Now repeat after me. One – chain the prisoners to the wall.”

  “One – chain the prisoners to the wall.”

  “Two – keep them chained to the wall.”

  “Two – keep them chained to the wall.”

  “Three – wait for orders.”

  “Three – wait for orders – and lick the bread.”

  “And remember this – they may have dangerous accomplices who will try to release them. Trust nobody. Above all, give the keys to nobody. Those are my orders,” said the Emperor. “Follow them to the letter.”

  “What letter? No one told me there was post,” said Ichabod. “But there’s no point giving me a letter on account of the not-reading thing.”

  “Oh, get me out of here,” said the Emperor. “Just remember. Chain, chain, wait. Trust nobody. Give the keys to nobody. A child of seven could do it.”

  “Not me,” said Ichabod. “I was a bit dim when I was little. Still, I got there in the end. Chain, chain, wait, nobody. See. I won’t let you down.”

  “I’m going now,” said the Emperor, “to order a nationwide hunt for another idiot who likes mould.” He stomped off.

  “Now that’s all sorted,” Robin said to the Codcakers, “I’ll just give you this customer satisfaction survey. If you would like to fill it in for me when you’ve got a minute that would be lovely. Don’t leave it too long, though, because – well, you haven’t got too long, have you? Still, it’s been fabulous working with you.”

  And he trotted after the Emperor.

  The two guards glared at the prisoners.

  “Now,” said Ichabod, “chain. I think that’s right. Yes. Chain. And let’s get a move on. Bread doesn’t lick itself.”

  As they were led away, the Captain whispered, “Don’t worry, me hearties, with this nitwit in charge, we’re sure to be able to escape. Mark my words – we’ll be out of here in five minutes, or my name isn’t Captain Jake McHake.”

  The good news was that the Crew had been smart enough to pack a lock-pick, a hacksaw and a large file in her red rucksack full of things that might just come in handy.

  The bad news was that the guards had been smart enough to put the red rucksack well out of reach before chaining the Codcakers up and marching back upstairs.

  “Rumpelstiltskin? Walter Wobblebottom? Crown Prince Percy of Pomerania?” shouted the Penguin. “Five minutes to get out of here, you said, or your name is not Captain Jake McHake. You’ve been tugging at those chains for at least two hours and here we are still padlocked to the wall. So come on, who are you? Arthur Mometer? Terry Dactyl? Alison Wonderland?”

  “Whatever happened to Mr Cheerful the pinwing hero?” asked the Captain.

  “He got sentenced to death and strung up in a dungeon,” the Penguin answered glumly. “I’m going to stick to expecting the worst from now on. It’s less disappointing.”

  “Let’s face it,” said Eddy. “The only way we’ll ever open these locks is with the keys.”

  KERCHING! Eddy suddenly had an idea.

  “So, let’s get the jailer to give them to us,” he said. “Jailer!”

  “He’s cracked,” said the Penguin.

  “Hush,” said Eddy. “Just keep quiet, all of you. Jailer!”

  The hairy haystack that was Ichabod shuffled into view.

  “Give me the keys so we can leave,” said Eddy.

  “Do you think I’m daft?” asked Ichabod.

  “We haven’t got time to discuss that,” said Eddy, “just hand them over.”

  “No,” said Ichabod.

  “Oh, dear,” said Eddy. “You are going to be in so much trouble. Remind me – who did the Emperor tell you to give the keys to?”

  “You can’t catch me out,” said Ichabod. “He told me to give the keys to nobody.”

  “Correct,” said Eddy. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Horatio Nobody. I am the Imperial Inspector of Prisons, and my colleagues and I are here on a surprise undercover visit. I’m pleased to say that we are more than satisfied with what we have seen. The dungeon is filthy, the chains are uncomfortable, and the whole experience is truly miserable – just what we want for our prisoners. So well done, inspection over, give me the keys and we’ll be on our way.”

  “But nobody is supposed to get the keys.” Ichabod sounded even more confused than normal.

  “Exactly. And here I am. Horatio Nobody.”

  “Prove it,” said Ichabod. “Show me your documents.”

  “I don’t carry documents when I am working undercover. But the other staff of the Prison Inspection Department can confirm my story. And look – here they are, hanging on the wall next to me.”

  “Oh, yeah, so they are. That’s a stroke of luck, isn’t it?” said Ichabod. “Now listen, you three. Is what he’s just said right?”

  “Oh, yes,” answered the Crew. “I can definitely say that Nobody is telling the truth.”

  “Me too,” said the Captain.

  “No question,” said the Penguin.

  The Codcakers could almost hear Ichabod’s brain cells grinding. Finally, he said, “Pleased to meet you, Mister Nobody,” as he passed the keys to Eddy.

  Most of the keys had no labels on them, but it took less than five minutes of trial and error to fumble through them and unlock the chains.

  “You won’t mention our little misunderstanding to the Emperor, will you?” asked Ichabod anxiously, as Eddy handed the keys back to him.

  “I can promise you that we won’t breathe a word,” said Eddy. “Our work is top secret. Speaking of which, we don’t want anyone to see us leaving. I don’t suppose there’s a back entrance to this place, is there?”

  “Only the tunnel under the moat that leads to the hidden gate in the forest,” said Ichabod. “Would that do?”

  “That,” said Eddy, “sounds perfect.”

  Ichabod led them down a side passage. After a few strides, they passed a heavy door. It was reinforced with bands of metal, and secured with a huge lock.

  “That’s the Treasure Room,” said Ichabod. “Emperor’s orders, nobody is allowed to go in.”

  “Well?” said Eddy.

  Ichabod reached for his keys. He picked out the biggest and heaviest.

  “It’s this one,” he said.

  Eddy felt the ruby ring nestling in his pocket. It was the only thing that the Codcakers had taken from the Emperor’s treasure store, because the Captain was worried that if they didn’t return to The Codcake with exactly what the map had ordered – no more, no less – then it might decide they had failed and the whole quest would be over.

  Ichabod led them down a long underground passage. After a few minutes, they reached a wooden door. It was thick with spiders’ webs and looked like it hadn’t been opened for years. A hammer from the Crew’s rucksack soon loosened the two rusty bolts that held it shut. Hands tugged at the handle, the hinges let out a complaining creak, and the door swung back.

  They all stood bathing in sunlight and fresh air. All that is, except Ichabod, who squinted into the brightness, let out a piercing shriek, and scuttled back underground.

  Eddy stepped forward into a forest glade. After the slime and grime of the dungeon, he was just thinking how good it would be to slip his shoes and socks off and feel the grass between his toes, when he heard a familiar voice. It was the Chevalier François Cabernet Lalandede-Pomerol.

  “I should have known you would escape, Captain. That you were only pretending to be helpless to trick them. Did the Emperor squeal like a startled piglet when you attacked?”

  “Not quite,” said the Captain. “What are you two doing here?”

  “We came to rescue you. How foolish to think you would need our help. Still it was nothin
g – a simple matter of climbing the hundred stairs back up to the castle, disguising ourselves as a pair of glacé cherries, persuading the Emperor’s loveliest kitchen maid to smuggle us out of the palace on two iced cupcakes, stealing a map of the forest from the Imperial gamekeeper, discovering the location of the secret back entrance to the dungeons, slipping past the many sharp-toothed creatures of the woods, and then hurling ourselves repeatedly at this door in a noble but painful attempt to break it down.”

  “You’ve got real pluck,” said the Captain. “All that to rescue us?”

  “Of course,” said the Chevalier. “You are our comrades.”

  “It was very brave,” said Eddy, realizing that the raisins had not run away and left them at all.

  “Better to risk everything than to crawl through life as a coward,” said the Chevalier. “Especially if there is a chance to annoy the Emperor – may a dog sneeze on his breakfast. And it was a great plan – bold, daring, inventive, romantic – all except the bit with the door, that really stinks.”

  “And now you must hurry back to your boat,” said Plonque. “The guards may discover that you are gone at any moment.”

  “It is this way,” said the Chevalier. “Take the left fork in the path out of the glade.”

  Eddy thought that he had never seen a sky quite so blue, felt sunshine quite so warm, or smelled blossom quite so blossomy. They had escaped the Emperor and the Beast and the dungeons and they were still alive. They had collected the fourth and last object that the map had sent them to find and they were still alive. They had proved they were worthy to win the treasure and they were still alive.

  I feel like skipping, he thought, but it would look a bit silly. Then he noticed that the Captain was already skipping, and joined in.

  The Codcakers would have felt a lot less happy if they had seen what was happening down the right fork in the path.

  A tattered cow costume lay tossed into a bush.

  Two men in pink underwear stood tied to two tree trunks.

  A hundred hairy sailors circled them, mooing and mocking.

  At their centre was Barracuda Bill.

  In his raised hand a pair of silver tweezers glinted in the sunlight.