Silence is Golden

22. Revolting Rebels

We ran straight on into the jungle, the sounds of pursuit on our heels, until we reached a little stream winding between the trees. Then, Mr Ambrose had us turn and follow the stream southwest, concealing our tracks. As soon as we reached a rocky patch of shore where our footprints wouldn't remain frozen in mud, we left the stream and changed direction again, heading northwest this time.

'That will throw them off our scent for now.' Mr Ambrose breathed, supporting himself against a nearby tree. We had been running so hard, even he looked a little less than perfectly cool and composed right now.

'For now?' Slumping onto a big rock, I glanced the way we had come. 'Why should they bother to follow us at all? Surely they have more important things to do. There's a war on, after all.'

'Yes. And do you know what both sides in a war always need, desperately?'

'A decent general? Provisions other than dead rats and rotten cabbage?'

'That, too. But most of all, Mr Linton, they need gold. More and more gold with every second of the war that passes. War is a monster that devours gold and shits death at the other end.'

'How poetic, Sir. So what does that have to do with us?'

Mr Ambrose directed his dark, sea-coloured gaze at me.

'When we picked up our luggage, didn't you notice anything strange about it?'

'No. Why?'

'Because it had been tampered with. The drawstring on your knapsack was loose, and the manuscript wasn't where we stashed it last.'

'Blast! You mean they–'

'Yes. They took a good look at it. Maybe good enough to figure out what it is. I don't think they believed it was genuine. But that might well change once they learn in what direction we're going – the same direction in which the manuscript says a great treasure lies waiting.'

I took a deep breath, trying to slow my still-hammering heart. I hadn't run that hard in years, not since I was nine and Uncle Bufford had caught me painting a smiley face on the bottom of his freshly washed trousers. Right now, in the gloomy jungle, with the birds overhead calling out ominous warnings, I almost wished myself back there.

Then I remembered the glorious adventure ahead, and my bottom remembered the spanking I had received for the smiley incident. Swiftly, I changed my opinion.

'So, what should we do now?'

'Continue on, of course!' Righting himself, Mr Ambrose got a firm hold on the reins of his packhorse. 'What else can we do?'

'Well,' said a strange voice from behind me, 'for a start, you can surrender.'

'What the he–'

That was all I managed to get out before something very hard and painful hit me in the head, and I felt my knees give way.

Bloody hell! was my last thought before I plummeted into oblivion. Not again! This is getting embarrassing!

*~*~**~*~*

When I woke up, I was tied to a chair in a smelly underground dungeon. Huzzah! It's always so cheering and comforting to find yourself in familiar circumstances, don't you think?

Similarities notwithstanding, however, this was not the same dungeon as the one I had been in before. The mould on the floor was in a different pattern. There were a lot more spiderwebs in the corners, and instead of being infested with rats, this little underground Eden was home to a clan of cockroaches.