The Trophy of Champions

The Trophy of Champions

Titles available in the Pie Rats series

(in reading order):

The Forgotten Map

The King's Key

The Island of Destiny

The Trophy of Champions

For my sister, Lauren,

the little champion.

Thank you to Tyson, Rachael, Sarah

and Jenny for their input into this story. C.S.

First published by Daydream Press, Brisbane, Australia, 2015

This electronic version published 2015

Text and illustrations copyright © Dr Cameron Stelzer 2015

Illustrations are watercolour and pen on paper

No part of this book may be reproduced electronically, verbally or in print without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry

Creator: Stelzer, Cameron, 1977 – author, illustrator.

Title: The Trophy of Champions / by Cameron Stelzer

ISBN: 978-0-9942486-3-3 (eBook)

Series: Stelzer, Cameron, 1977 – Pie Rats; bk. 4.

Target audience: For primary school age.

Subjects: Rats – Juvenile fiction. Pirates – Juvenile fiction.

Dewey number: A823.4

Digital edition distributed by

Port Campbell Press

www.portcampbellpress.com.au

Conversion by
Winking Billy

When victory appears unattainable,

true champions rise to the challenge.

The Book of Knowledge

A Dark Descent

The small, hooded creature moved swiftly through the shadowy undergrowth of the forest. Rust-coloured strips of bark, dry and flaking, lay strewn across his path. To his left and right, the slender trunks of grey gums rose majestically into the air, their uppermost branches swaying rhythmically in the overhead wind. Each falling leaf sparkled like gold in the flickering rays of the dying summer sun.

With urgency and purpose, he leapt over crumbling logs and bounded through patches of sprawling lantana, his tiny feet barely touching the ground. His cloak caught on prickly burrs and his fur snagged on sharp twigs, but he tore himself free, never slowing his frantic pace.

Reaching the edge of a small gully, he suddenly halted and threw back his hood. The heavy aroma of eucalyptus oil filled his nostrils. It masked any scents of lurking predators, but the awkward twitch in his tail told him he wasn't alone.

Cautiously, he began creeping past blackened stumps and withered shrubs, towards a dry riverbed at the foot of the gully. He knew if he could reach the riverbed unseen, he still had a chance.

Rivers lead to the sea,
he told himself.
And the sea is where I'll find them …

The sun vanished from sight as he moved deeper into the gully. Fine webs of silk hung motionless between dead branches. Oily red sap oozed from the sides of pale trunks. The entire place sent a shiver down his tail.

Something's here,
he trembled.
I know it …

In trepidation, he moved forward, barely daring to breathe. He was quiet – but not silent.

The first blast echoed over his left shoulder, shattering the stillness. He threw himself headfirst into a pile of leaves as a huge shape crashed into a tree above him.

Rolling clear of the avalanche of falling debris, he heard a second ear-splitting
BOOM!
The riverbank in front of him exploded, sending pebbles and bark ricocheting in all directions. He ducked to his right to evade a flying stone, somersaulted over a gnarled tree root and took off through the undergrowth.

With the roar of cannons in his ears, he clawed his way through the dense vegetation lining the riverbank. Dark shapes hurtled overhead, crashing into the furrowed trunks of ironbark trees, sending jagged splinters raining down around him.

There was no thought of stopping.

The river turned south-west and the rough slopes of the gully transformed into sandstone cliffs. Avoiding the easy route through the open riverbed, he began scaling a rocky cliff to higher ground. He moved stealthily over the rocks, his agile tail aiding his ascent, his dusty, grey cloak camouflaging his body.

Reaching the top of the cliff, with no sign of his pursuers, he began his descent past young saplings and spindly paperbarks. Behind him, a dusty amber glow lingered in the western sky. The first evening stars twinkled high overhead. Peering through the gaps in the foliage, he saw the riverbed snaking east to the shoreline.

I can be there before darkness sets in
, he thought.
If I hurry.

With blue eyes fixed on the river mouth, he took a step forward – and stopped. Cocking his head to one side, he squinted into the distance to where a shadowy black shape moved across the waves.

There was a mighty gust of wind and the swaying branches blocked his vision. When the leaves had stopped quivering, the black shape was gone.

Puzzled, he pushed his way through the trees to a rocky outcrop, hoping for a clearer view. From the edge of the plateau, he could see the entire eastern ocean spreading out in front of him, empty and still. As he reached down for a small spyglass tucked in his drawstring bag, he felt something brush past his whiskers.

He had just enough time to glimpse a long, straight shaft whizzing through the air before it disappeared into the undergrowth.

‘Arrows!' he hissed, throwing himself to the ground.
They've found me … and they're close.

Flattening his body against the rock, he scanned the ridge for an escape route. The quickest way down was directly in front of him: a steep, gravelly slope, descending almost all the way to the ocean. With a cliff on one side and sparse vegetation to the other, the slope was even more exposed than the riverbed.

One clean shot and I'm done,
he told himself.

He glanced to his right, searching for another option. Nearby, the trunk of an enormous grey gum rose from the plateau. Where its bark had fallen away, huge orange sections covered its trunk. Thick strips of reddish-tinged bark lay in a pile at its base. As the bark had dried, it had curved inwards to form long canoe-like shapes.

A canoe needs water,
he thought hopelessly …
or does it?

With the sound of approaching footsteps, he knew he must act fast. Slithering across the ground like a snake, he moved towards the foot of the tree, searching for the perfect piece of bark: medium length, flat bottom, curved sides, raised front …

He found it just in time.

There was a loud
STOMP
directly behind him. Grabbing the edges of the bark with both paws, he raised it like a shield and ran towards the slope.

He felt a sudden jolt as an arrow grazed the side of the bark, throwing him off balance. He half-leapt, half-fell over the edge, throwing the makeshift sled beneath him. The bark hit the slope at speed and his chest slammed down on top of it. Head lowered and body rigid, he held on for dear life.

He'd only travelled a few metres when he heard the faint twang of a bow string and knew a second arrow was already on its way.

Taking evasive action, he threw his entire body to the left, catapulting the right edge of the sled into the air. The arrow bounced harmlessly off the high bark wall, but the craft veered dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

Panic-stricken, he hurled his body to the opposite side of the sled to counteract the momentum. For a moment he was skidding precariously along the very edge of the cliff. Then, with the pull of his weight, the sled began to right its course.

With a breath of relief, he lifted his head and scanned the sky for further arrows. The air was clear, but the slope ahead revealed something far worse: an entire line of egg-shaped rocks.