The Island of Destiny Read Free

right of the rocks.
    Two clear passages , he pondered, and one sea creature.

    He explored the map for clues, reading and rereading the riddle, but found no mention of the creature or which direction to sail.
    Struggling for clarity, he thought back to the jungle citadel where the Pie Rats first discovered the key. He’d seen directional symbols carved on the palace doorways – Right passage up … left passage down … Whisker remembered two symbols in particular: the right paw of royalty and the left paw of despair.
    Right leads to riches, Whisker considered. Maybe we should take the right passage through the lagoon?
    He looked back at the Island of Destiny. The island had its own symbol – two arrows, representing the twin mountains of the island: Mt Mobziw and Mt Moochup.
    The left mountain holds the treasure, Whisker thought, so maybe left, not right, is the correct direction …? He let his head drop into his paws in frustration.
    â€˜There’s only one way to resolve this,’ he muttered.
    He rolled up the map and slid it into a canister, sealing the top with a cork. Wedging the canister into his belt next to his green scissor sword, he picked up the key.
    If the map can’t give me an answer, he thought , maybe the island can.

    Whisker had no idea how long he’d been in the navigation room. He staggered onto the windy deck to discover the world outside had changed. The rain had cleared and the sun poked through gaps in the separating clouds. The entire crew was gathered in the centre of the deck, witnessing the spectacle in front of them.
    Sharp rocks dotted the ocean ahead, marking the entrance to the Treacherous Sea. Steep cliffs of basalt rock rose to the north. Sprawling pine trees and crumbling boulders covered the rugged cliff tops. In the distance, twin mountains, black as the night, towered over the cliffs like silent sentinels. The peak of the eastern mountain eclipsed its western sibling by a mere boulder or two.
    The island was more terrifying than Whisker had ever imagined. Even from a distance, he could hear the wind howling through the trees, roaring and racing down the cliffs to the surging sea. Closing his eyes, he imagined he was listening to a graveyard of phantoms, endlessly wailing, eternally cursed.
    If the wind was the terrifying life force of the island, then the waves were its minions. They battered every rock, pounded every cliff face – savagely, relentlessly.
    Whisker shivered. ‘An island of destiny or an island of death?’
    â€˜Both,’ Pete muttered. ‘Every rat’s destiny is death.’
    Horace looked up from his net. ‘Don’t listen to him, Whisker. You can get us through. I know it.’
    Whisker wished he shared Horace’s confidence, but he couldn’t shake his feeling of dread. He turned his back on the island and climbed the stairs to the helm.
    â€˜Any luck?’ the Captain asked.
    Whisker ran his tongue over his teeth, avoiding an answer. The Captain gripped harder on the wheel, unable to hide his frustration.
    â€˜Is the net ready, Horace?’ he shouted.
    â€˜Nearly, Captain,’ Horace replied. ‘I just need to load it into a cannon.’
    â€˜I thought nets were for throwing?’ the Captain snapped.
    â€˜Err, some nets are,’ Horace said cautiously. ‘But I’d prefer we trapped the creature before it got within throwing range.’
    â€˜Very well,’ the Captain huffed. ‘But be quick about it. The entrance to the lagoon is just ahead.’
    Horace hurriedly stuffed the net into a cannon on the deck. Loose cords dangled out like the tentacles of an octopus.
    Whisker watched apprehensively as the Apple Pie skirted around a rock and entered the Treacherous Sea. Huge cliffs rose to either side, unscaleable walls of stone, curving in an arc around the lagoon. Directly ahead, the protruding rocks were as large as ships and twice as tall. Not a blade of grass