The Trophy of Champions. Cameron Stelzer

bodies, louder and larger than any circus audience he’d ever seen.

      Whisker knew that Papa Niko and the others were cheering him on from the stands, but it was impossible to make out their faces amidst the screaming mammals, birds and amphibians.

      Who else is hidden in that crowd? he asked himself.

      Mesmerised by the sights and sounds, he stumbled around the arena in a bewildered daze, almost running into a three-legged pug with a biscuit peg leg. Acting ignorant, Whisker gave the snarling dog a friendly wave and pretended to be listening to Baron Gustave’s next introduction.

      ‘… Ze fifth team of participants is ze always enthusiastic royal family from ze Island of Kings, ze Marvellous Marmosets.’

      A pompous parade of crown-wearing monkeys with white ear tufts and long, banded tails marched out of the closest tunnel. A cross-eyed marmoset in a jester’s hat led the procession, followed by a knight in a rusty metal helmet.

      ‘Rotten pies to show ponies,’ Horace groaned, trying to hide behind his hook. ‘Since when were they eligible to enter? I’d hardly call jungle kidnapping an act of piracy.’

      King Marvownion’s eyes lit up when he spotted Captain Black Rat in the centre of the arena.

      ‘Great goslings in gumtrees!’ he exclaimed, almost losing his oversized crown. ‘Isn’t this a remarkable coincidence? My old buddies the Pie Rats are here for a rematch.’

      The Captain tipped his hat and replied with a pained smile, ‘I’m sure we can squeeze another victory into our tight schedule, Marvownion.’

      King Marvownion opened his mouth to object, but Baron Gustave was already introducing the sixth team, his words echoing around the stadium.

      ‘Our final team is a last minute entry. I have no doubt zey vill bring much excitement to zis tournament.’

      There was a startled gasp from the crowd as the team came into view. Whisker’s heart skipped a beat.

      ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Gustave cried, ‘I give you ze dreaded Cat Fish!’

      The entire audience watched in fearful silence as Captain Sabre, the formidable orange and black Bengal, led the Cat Fish into the arena.

      Brimming with confidence, he pranced into the centre of the field, scanning the trembling faces of his opponents. At the sight of the young Pie Rat apprentice, standing rigid with his teammates, Sabre’s face suddenly turned sour.

      ‘Dirty little rat,’ he hissed, throwing his flag to the ground. ‘Crawled out of your dingy cave, did you?’

      Overcome with terror, Whisker took a stumbling step backwards. Sabre drew his cheese knife and prowled closer, with a look of pure contempt in his eyes.

      ‘That’s right,’ Sabre scowled, slashing his knife through the air. ‘Run away, little apprentice. You’re not so tough without your pet bear, are you?’

      Whisker bit his tongue and held his ground, hoping his trembling legs weren’t about to collapse beneath him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ruby edging closer, with her paws on the handles of her two scarlet scissor swords. Horace was right beside her.

      One by one, the Cat Fish gathered around Sabre, their razor-sharp cheese knives glistening in the torchlight.

      ‘Just like the good ol’ days,’ Horace gulped, putting on a brave face. ‘Outnumbered but never outdone …’

      Before the reunion could turn ugly, there was a flash of white and Baron Gustave threw himself between the two teams, waving an open scroll in his paw.

      Sabre took one look at the scroll and pulled away. Ruby slowly released the grip on her swords.

      ‘A reminder to all participants,’ Gustave said firmly, ‘according to ze code of ze games, zere is to be no fighting off ze sporting field. Any teams found breaking ze rules vill be expelled from ze tournament.’

      ‘Well, that’s a welcome piece of news,’ Horace said, letting out a sigh of relief. ‘Let’s just hope we don’t run into the Cat Fish on the field.’

      As Whisker struggled to calm his nerves, Gustave raised the scroll in front of him and boomed into the bullhorn.

      ‘Now zat ze teams have been introduced, I vill explain ze events for zis year’s cup. Seven events vill be held – one for each of ze seven seas. For reasons of secrecy and security, events vill only be announced on ze morning zey are held. In no particular order, ze events are: Plank Diving, Hand-to-Hand Combat, Treasure Hunt, Cannon Firing, Sea Race, Mystery Challenge, Death Ball.’

      The crowd roared with excitement.

      Gustave continued, ‘One point is avorded to ze vinner of each event. Zere are no points for second or third places. Death Ball is played in two pools of three teams. Ze top team from each pool plays in ze final. Only ze vinner of ze grand final receives a point for Death Ball –’

      He tapped the scroll with the end of his bullhorn. ‘However, ze rules state zat if two teams are tied on equal points at ze end of ze tournament, ze team vith ze most Death Ball victories vill be declared ze champions.’ There was a dull murmur of approval from the crowd. Gustave began rolling up the scroll. ‘And now, gallant competitors, I vill show you vot you are competing for.’

      A line of youthful white rabbits wearing matching purple coats marched out of a tunnel carrying three large open chests. Each chest overflowed with sparkling gold coins. As alluring as the treasure was, all eyes were fixed on the rabbit at the end of the line. In his paws he clutched an enormous two-handled cup. A line of precious jewels ran in a circle around its base. Etched into the side of the cup was an elaborate skull and two crossed torches. Cast from solid gold, the Trophy of Champions was truly magnificent.

      The athletes watched, spellbound, as the rabbit placed the glittering object on a velvet-covered pedestal. Without a word, another white rabbit hopped out of the tunnel, carrying a flaming torch. When he neared the trophy he took a single graceful leap into the air and thrust the end of the torch over the rim of the giant cup. With a hiss of bright violet flames, the trophy blazed to life.

      The arena erupted in spontaneous applause.

      ‘Zis sacred purple fire vill burn until ze Centenary Games have concluded,’ Gustave stated. ‘To celebrate one hundred years of athletic achievement, I have one final event to announce.’ He waited for total silence. ‘Zis trophy vill remain in public sight at all times. You may see it on ze island, or you may see it on my ship, ze Velvet Wave. Ze first team zat can touch zis trophy before ze end of ze last event vill receive one bonus point.’

      There was a murmur of curious interest from the athletes.

      ‘Piece of cake,’ croaked one of the toads. ‘That’s easier than catching a cane beetle stuck on its back.’ She gave her hind legs a mighty kick and launched herself high into the air.

      With lightening quick reflexes, the surrounding rabbits whipped out an arsenal of pea shooters and slingshots from their coats and peppered the unsuspecting toad with purple paint pellets. She crashed to the ground, dripping in sticky purple liquid.

      ‘The colour suits you, Sugar!’ barked one of the poodles.

      Gingerly, she picked herself up and limped back to her team, while the audience roared with laughter.

      ‘I failed to mention zat my twelve sons vill be keeping a close eye on ze trophy,’ Gustave chuckled. ‘A single spot of paint on any team member vill rule out ze entire team from ze bonus event.’ He frowned sympathetically at the paint-splattered toad. ‘I’m afraid to say, zat includes you, Miss Sugar.’

      Ignoring the croaking protests of the toads, Gustave gestured to a square-sided tower rising high above the trees. It was constructed from rough planks of timber and topped with a bark roof. A large bronze bell hung at the top, accessed