Urchin and the Raven War (27 page)
T DAWN, THE MOST TERRIBLE
sound woke the island. Harsh enough to shake the nerves, discordant enough to make claws curl and fur prickle, the crashing of raven voices ripped through Mistmantle. On shores and in tunnels under the woods, animals leaped to their paws and reached for their weapons. In the Chamber of Candles, hidden underground, they heard nothing, but Brother Fir stirred in his sleep and moaned, and Juniper suddenly shuddered and hobbled from the chamber. Urchin woke in time to see him run back in.
“They’re gathering!” said Juniper. “Everyone wake up! Sepia, Hope, stay with Brother Fir. You too, Myrtle.”
“To Fir’s turret, the rest of us,” said Crispin, fastening on his sword. “It gives the best view of the island, and last I knew it was still intact. As far as possible we’ll go by the back stairs, but look out for ravens, all the same. If Urchin’s got them fighting among themselves, we have a chance.”
Crispin, Cedar, and Padra led the way from the chamber, with Urchin and Juniper following and Needle hurrying behind all the way up to Fir’s turret. The fireplace was tidy, the windows were unbroken, and the cups and plates had been stacked neatly by the hearth.
“We can still do more to fortify the defenses,” said Crispin. “Now that we have a reasonable chance, I can bring in help without throwing animals’ lives away. Send a mole for Russet and Docken. Stockpile this turret with bows, arrows, and swords. The windows are small, that’s an advantage. They can’t attack more than one to a window. Padra, did you bring those nets? We’ll put them out when I give the signal. Urchin, Needle! Is there any glue left in the tower?”
Urchin and Needle hurried down to the workrooms. It was like the days when they had first come to the tower, running up and down the stairs on errands. They even laughed as they struggled up the stairs heaving two heavy pots of glue, but it was different when they reached the turret room and looked out.
The island was edged with black, as if it wore mourning—rows of great black birds lined the treetops, the battlements, the shores, the jetty, the masts of the little boats. Urchin thought it was a good thing Fingal couldn’t see his boat now, with ravens perched on the mast and clawing the paintwork.
The sight of the ravens was not the worst thing. The worst thing was the noise. They were all chanting in unison now, a rasp like the sharpening of a thousand knives on stone, so loud that it was painful—
Kill and devour! Kill and devour!
Alone on the battlements, her head held high, one claw raised, talons flexed, her escorts around her, stood the Taloness.
“Your Majesty,” called Juniper, shouting over the noise, “she’s not joining in. Neither are her guards.”
Crispin leaned cautiously from the narrow window. “You’re right,” he said. “Come and look, everyone! They’re chanting at each other!”
“And mostly at the Taloness,” said Padra.
Needle gasped and pointed. “What’s that?”
Something was flying into sight. It could have been a flag. If the children had been out playing, Needle would have taken it for a kite.
“It’s him!” said Urchin.
The Silver Prince had prepared for battle. A cloak, bloodred, streamed behind him, and above his beak rose a mask, silver and red, flashing in the morning light.
“Show-off,” said Padra. “Looks ridiculous.”
The Silver Prince, too, settled on the battlements, his escorts beside him. It was the escorts, not the Silver Prince, who croaked out the challenge.
“The Taloness seeks power for herself! The Taloness seeks to give orders to the Silver Prince! The Silver Prince is the Raven of Destiny and the Son of the Archraven! He orders death to the Taloness! Kill and devour!”
“The net, please,” said Crispin, and opened the window. Struggling with the weight of the net, Padra and Cedar hooked the edge over the brackets that held Fir’s window boxes and shook it out to hang over the wall, covering the windows of the chamber beneath. Needle carefully tipped glue down it as the sky above them blackened with ravens.
The cacophony grew louder: high, screaming, and discordant, tearing at Urchin’s ears, still louder, higher, and harsher, until every animal in the turret pressed paws over ears. Ravens rose into the air, their cries shrill and cruel, their talons stretched out. Screeching, they flew down on the Taloness and her defenders. Where she fled they followed her, flying into the claws of her escorts or into the nets hanging from tree to tree.
Urchin wanted to look away. It seemed indecent, like gloating, to watch the island’s enemies destroy each other; but it was impossible not to watch. Bodies dropped from the sky, feathers rained. Ravens pursuing each other flew into the nets. Flapping to escape, they bit, tore, and struggled, and became more completely trapped. The Taloness flew toward the tower, saw just in time the net in which ravens were already struggling, and wheeled around to fly inland. Three, then four and five other ravens fell on her in the air.
“They’re killing the Taloness!” cried Needle.
“They’re all killing each other,” said Crispin. Fighting to be free from the nets, angry and terrified, the ravens were turning on each other. Needle turned her face away as they pecked and clawed. Urchin didn’t want to look either, as the nets reddened. He tried to focus his attention in his heart, as Brother Fir had taught him, because it helped to take his mind from the rising in his stomach. He must not be sick.
“You don’t have to watch this, Urchin,” said Crispin.
Urchin didn’t answer. As long as Crispin stood steadily at that window, seeing the worst that the ravens could do to each other, he would watch, too. He knew that Crispin had to because he was the king, and would not turn his face away from what happened on the island. He himself had to watch because he was responsible for this. He had set the ravens against each other, and he must face what he had done. The Taloness lay dead on the battlements.
Crispin looked into the sky. “They’re flying higher,” he said. “They’re learning to avoid the nets.”
Padra joined him at the window. “That’s good,” he said. “They have to come down sooner or later. They might have the sense to fly back over the mists to their ships, and go.”
“We’re not safe yet,” said Crispin. “We don’t know whether there are still reinforcements on the ships.”
“Surely not!” said Cedar. “There are so many here already, and so many killed!”
“They must have some birds still there, even just the crews,” said Crispin. “Sooner or later, they’re sure to fly in; and look at the numbers that escaped from the ship Corr sank. This is only a breathing space. Now that they’ve finished off the Taloness, they can concentrate on the island again.”
“Let them try,” said Padra. “We’ll trap the lot of them. The whole island was making nets last night, so we must have plenty.”
“We’ll need them,” said Crispin. “That fight among themselves has swung everything in our favor, but we haven’t won yet. We have to be ready for the next wave, unless the Silver Prince calls it off.”
“We can try to warn the island to be ready, Your Majesty,” Urchin suggested. “Make sure they stay on their guard. We may not have a lot of time, but I’m not much use with a sword or a bow today, so I could do that. Please?”
“He could round up some help from Fingal and whoever else is in that cavern,” said Padra. “They can send messages by water.”
“Then go, Urchin. Don’t be seen and don’t take unnecessary risks,” said Crispin.
“Shall I go too?” offered Cedar.
Crispin hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “Go with him. If …”
He leaned from the window, his sword in his paw. Urchin stepped to his side and looked out as Padra took his place at the next window and turned his face away in disgust.
“Plague and fire!” he said softly. “They’re eating their own dead.”
“Do you see what the Silver Prince is doing?” asked Crispin.
Urchin leaned out, shading his eyes against the sun. The Prince, still in his cloak and mask, stood far away in a tree with a cluster of ravens about him.
“He’s giving orders,” he said.
They watched. The Silver Prince tipped his head, raising a claw.
“He’s seen where we are,” said Crispin. “They can attack if they want to. They can’t do much about these little ones. Leave two of them open, one for you, Padra, one for me. Needle, do we still have any nets to sticky up the other windows? No point in waiting until the Silver Prince works out what he wants to do next.” He leaned sideways to get a good view of the Silver Prince. “He’s pointing at the mists now.”
With a cry of “Kill and devour!” the ravens rose into the air. Two flew to the open windows of the tower and were struck down by Padra and Crispin, but the rest, cawing out their battle cry, flew for the mists.
“Some are staying, some are going,” said Padra. “And the Heart alone knows what’s coming over the mists next. Plague and fire!”
“Go then, Urchin,” said Crispin. “Get the word around the island to be ready for another attack. Get help to the tower, if it can be spared. Take a sword; you can use your left paw if you have to. Heart keep you.” His eyes met Cedar’s. “Heart keep you.”
“Heart keep you,” she replied, and smiled, as if it were any ordinary day. She picked up a bow and a quiver of arrows. “Ready, Urchin? We’ll go by way of the kitchens and see if there’s anything to eat on the way. I’m starving.”
“Queen Cedar!” called Needle as they were nearly out the door. “Please, please, Your Majesty, please take care. Stay safe. And you too, Urchin.”
“We’ll be all right,” said Urchin, and ran down the stairs after the queen.
“Needle,” said Crispin, “get some more of that sticky stuff, will you, please?” He waited until they had all gone, and turned to Padra and Juniper.
“It’ll take a while for the wretched birds to get there,” he said, “and for the next wave to come. Hopefully we can get enough nets out to trap every one of them. Juniper, do what you do best. Pray. Padra, I wondered why there were no more ravens in the tower. I believe it’s because they went to take sides with either the Taloness or the Silver Prince. If they try to get back through the windows, they’ll be netted. Are the Spring Gate and the tunnels safe?”
“Nothing the size of a raven could get through,” said Padra. “We narrowed the entrances.”
“Then we stay here,” said Crispin, “where we have the best viewpoint of the island. It will take them a while to get to the boats and back. We’ll renew the nets at the windows. And if all fails, and they do get in …”
“We keep fighting,” said Padra. “But not on empty stomachs. Breakfast?”
ORR HAD WOVEN NETS
, smeared them with sap gathered from trees when the ravens hadn’t been looking, and spread them over every cave entrance he could find. He had been sure he could find the way back to Fingal’s cavern. But the way there wasn’t as simple as he remembered. One turning in a tunnel looked much like another. Entrances that had been made too small for ravens were, in some cases, too small for otters, and sticky nets blocked the entrances he might have used. If he kept swimming, he’d be sure to come to the lake. Surely? Or the sea? He reminded himself yet again that he was playing an important part in the campaign to save Mistmantle. He had helped to rescue Princess Catkin, and he was looking forward to telling them at home about that; but it was better not to think about home. He mustn’t think too much about being lost, either, and having been lost for a long time, and whether he’d ever find his way back. Sooner or later he’d meet an animal who could tell him where he was. But not here. He’d just reached another dead end. Go back and try again.