The Deptford Mice 1: The Dark Portal Read Free

and the passage walls were confused – vague contacts that made him giddy.
    They had not spoken for a long time and Piccadilly wondered whether Albert had been replaced by some monster that was leading him to an unknown horror. This thought grew and turned into a panic. The panic seized him fully and became icy terror. He began to struggle from the paw which now seemed to be an iron claw dragging him to his doom.
    Then he was free of it and alone. All alone.
    The initial relief rapidly turned into fright as he felt the unknown engulf him, isolating him from all that was real. He could not contain his anxiety much longer. The panic was almost bursting him. He closed his eyes but found there the same darkness, as if it had seeped into his mind.
    ‘Piccadilly?’ Albert’s gentle voice floated out of nowhere and the fear fell away. ‘Where’s your paw? Come on lad, I think I see a point of light ahead.’
    It was a dim, grey, rough shape, where the passage came to an end and they made, for it gladly.
    ‘Trust in the Green Mouse; Dilly-O. I knew we’d be all right.’
    At the end of the passage they peered out, blinking. In front of them was a large chamber with numerous openings leading off into the darkness. Along a ledge nearby two candles burned. The mice remained in the tunnel until their eyes became accustomed to the light.
    Between the candles was a figure, crouching in an attitude of subservient grovelling. It was a rat.
    He was a large, ugly, piebald creature with a ring through his ear and a permanent sneer on his face. He had small, red, beady eyes that flicked from side to side all the time.
    The two mice pressed themselves further back inside the passage, their hearts pounding. The rat had a stump of a tail with a smelly old rag tied around the end. He swung it behind him with an ugly, unbalanced motion. It was Morgan – the Cornish rat, Jupiter’s lieutenant.
    Although Albert was dreadfully afraid, he strained to see what the rat was doing. It seemed as if Morgan was humbling himself before something. Looking beyond the orange tip of the candle flame Albert could see an arched portal in the brick, and there, blazing in the shadows, were two fiery red eyes, impossibly large and equally evil. Albert put his paw to his mouth as the awful reality dawned. He and Piccadilly had marched into the heart of the rat empire. They were within whispering distance of the altar of Jupiter.
    Albert hoped that no one would catch scent of Piccadilly and himself, yet he dared not move for fear of making a noise. He remembered the peeling procedure and shivered. Piccadilly did not need to question the identity of those burning eyes: the powerful evil force that beat out of them was enough to tell him that this was Jupiter.
    Morgan lifted his head and spoke into the shadows, his voice thin and cracked.
    Albert strained his ears to catch the words but it was difficult. Jupiter’s voice was soft and menacing; it both soothed and repelled.
    ‘And why has the digging been delayed?’ he asked from the dark.
    Morgan bowed again. ‘Lord!’ he whimpered. ‘You know what the lads are like, “What for we doin’ this?” they do say, an’ “Gimme a mouse”. Fact is – they’m bored, an’ right cheesed off. They want action – an’ now.’ The rat looked up and squinted in the glare of the fiery eyes. ‘One quickie like – grab‘n’dash – with a bit of skirmishin’ in the middle.’ He licked his long yellow teeth.
    ‘My people must do all I ask of them,’ Jupiter said flatly. Do they not love me?’
    ‘Oh in worshipful adoration Your Lovely Darkness, more than they love themselves.’
    ‘Nevertheless, I have asked for one simple task to be undertaken and all I hear is incessant whining. I fear they have little affection for me.’ The voice rose and a sour tinge crept into it.
    ‘Never, Your Magnificence! Why else would they bring you their tributes: the cheddar biscuits – nearly a whole half packet last week;