Urchin and the Raven War (12 page)

He dared not glance up. A great black-winged bird might be flying above him. He had once in his life seen a crow, and it had terrified him. Ravens, he had heard, were bigger and worse.

There were two choices now, and Corr wasn’t used to having choices. He had always been told what to do. He could swim out of the water, climb up onto the shore and find someone, or he could go on swimming until he rounded the bay and other animals were in sight. Knowing he was faster in water, he pressed on. Lapwing had told him exactly what the shore and the jetty were like.

But she was young, and a squirrel, not a sea animal. She could not have known how powerfully the current churned at the shoulder of the island at Whirl Point, at the turning of the tide. For an hour before and after low tide, sea animals left it alone.

In the turret, Juniper was leaning heavily on the sill with both paws. Hope, who had come in with clean sheets and towels, slipped to his side.

“Are you all right, Brother Juniper?” he asked.

“Yes, Hope,” said Juniper, but he was taking deep breaths and struggling to keep a clear head. A sense of menace was about, making him nauseated. But Hope was being very helpful, looking after Fir and keeping him company, and Juniper didn’t want to alarm him. He shouldn’t be looking down, which would only make it worse—but there was a young otter bobbing about in the water, alone. He’d watch to see if the otter needed help—but a cry from Brother Fir made him dash to the bed, where the old priest sat upright, staring in front of him.

“They will call him!” Fir cried out.

Juniper seized his paws and stared into Brother Fir’s eyes.

“The enemy will come upon us!” called Fir, and though he had grown thin and weak, his voice rang with authority. “The enemy will call for the Voyager, and the Voyager will come! He will bear the clothes of a king!”

The fur on the back of Juniper’s neck prickled. He waved a paw in front of Fir’s eyes, but the old priest did not blink.

“Brother Fir?” he said urgently. “Can you see me? Do you know what you said?”

Brother Fir remained sitting up. He said nothing more. Carefully, because it was most important to remember this word for word, Juniper repeated the prophecy.

“The enemy will come upon us.
The enemy will call for the Voyager,
And the Voyager will come!
He will bear the clothes of a king.
”

He said it once more, looking anxiously into Brother Fir’s face, holding his paws. Fir did not move.

“Hope,” said Juniper urgently, “repeat those words exactly as I said them. It’s most important that whoever was in this room remembers precisely what was said.”

Hope repeated it faultlessly, but before Juniper could say “well done,” Fir had slumped on to the pillows. Juniper felt his wrist as Hope padded around to put a paw close to Fir’s chest.

“His heart’s beating, Brother Juniper,” he said. “And he’s breathing. He’s all right, Brother Juniper.”

“I need to tell the king about this,” said Juniper. “Hope, stay and look after him, please. If there are any problems, shout for a page to fetch me.”

As he limped down the stairs to the Throne Room, he heard a step far below on the stairs. He had already worked out that it was a hedgehog, when Needle shuffled into sight.

“You need to see this!” she gasped.

Myrtle sat nervously, her paws on the workbench, her hind paws not touching the floor. She wasn’t sure what she’d done, but the king had called her a good girl as he looked at her work. Captain Padra was there too, and they were very interested in a detail on a window of the half-finished tower.

“That’s a sword,” said the king.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” whispered Myrtle. “I think it sewed itself. It isn’t new, Your Majesty. I put it in before you went to the war.”

“It’s pointing upward,” said Crispin. “Do you know what that means?”

“I do now, Your Majesty. Lady Thripple told me. It means Mistmantle won.”

“And when …” began Crispin, but stopped as Juniper ran in, followed by Needle.

“Your Majesty!” said Juniper. “Fir has just received a prophecy!”

“And so has Myrtle,” said Crispin quietly. “Danger, and from the sea. Throne Room, everyone.”

“The sea!” said Juniper, remembering. “I just saw a young otter swimming around the northwest corner of the island! He looked tired. I was watching in case he needed help; then Fir sat up and gave the prophecy.”

“Heading this way?” asked Padra.

“For Westree Bay, I think,” said Juniper. “Hard to tell; he was quite a way off.”

“Tide’s on the turn,” said Padra briskly. “Excuse me, Crispin!” As the other animals hurried down to the Throne Room, Padra dashed to a window, leaned out to bark orders, then rushed to the shore.

Though the current was dragging Corr from the island, he struggled against it with fury and desperation. He was losing the battle. The heartless power of the whirlpool dragged him under the water, held him down and spat him out, each time farther from the shore. From deep inside he screamed to the Heart to help him. Every heartbeat and every breath were needed—not to reach the shore, not any longer—just to stay alive. Each relentless pull lasted longer. Corr was good at swimming underwater and staying there, but this was too hard, too cruel, too much. His lungs ached, and all the thrashing of his paws and tail were useless against the bullying tyrants of current, tide, and whirlpool. With every drag and hurl he found something, some strength, some anger, to fight back—but his strength was failing, and the tide was not. He had to fight even to keep his eyes open. If he closed them, they would never open again.

Somebody was shouting, but they couldn’t be shouting to him because nobody here knew him, nobody knew anything about him. All his friends and family were far away, and with wretched longing he remembered his mother and father, his brothers, Great-aunt Kerrera….

Something splashed across the water beside him.

It was a rope. But it was too late now. He no longer had the strength to catch a rope. He was too cold, too weak, too battered, and too broken.

“Grab the rope!” It was a male otter’s voice, used to giving orders. “Can you hear me? Grab the rope!”

Hardly caring, Corr turned his head. Before the water dragged him down again, he saw a boat holding off a little way from the whirlpool, carrying two otters who still shouted to him to grab the rope. As the water swamped him again, he saw the gleam of a gold circlet.

A captain. An otter captain—Captain Padra! Corr found new strength. The captain had given him an order—
Grab the rope!
—and he had to obey it. When he rose to the surface again and the rope slapped onto the water beside him, he reached out to it with numb and feeble paws and, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold it, rolled over to wind it around himself. Before the whirlpool could swallow him again, the rope heaved him to the solid wooden safety of the boat—there were leaves painted around it—and strong paws were reaching out for him, pulling him into the boat, where he gasped and spluttered.

“All right now,” said a voice.

Corr raised his head. Captain Padra was wrapping a cloak around him and rubbing warmth into his chilled shoulders. He tried to thank the otters and apologize for being a nuisance, but his teeth were chattering.

“No problem, you’re welcome,” said the other otter airily. “Let’s get you home.”

Corr took a deep breath that left him wracked with coughing. Finally, struggling and gasping, he managed to say something about ravens in ships, but wasn’t sure if he was making any sense.

“I have to get back to the tower,” Captain Padra was saying. “Fingal, look after him.”

“Please,” gasped Corr hoarsely, “tell the king…they’re here!” A beating of wings above him made him twist to look up.

“It’s all right, young otter,” said Captain Padra. “That’s only a swan.”

CHAPTER NINE

UARDS AND PAGES STOOD OUTSIDE
the Throne Room door. King Crispin, Queen Cedar, Captain Arran, Urchin, and Juniper were there. Captain Docken had been sent for, and a squirrel messenger who arrived at the Throne Room door at the same moment as Crispin whispered something urgently to him before dashing away.

“An enemy, and danger from the sea,” said Crispin briskly as he sat down. “And Brindle has just sent a message about a ship full of ravens! Apparently a young otter swam underwater and saw the hull, but nobody on land has seen it.”

There was a knock at the door, and Burr the mole called, “Captain Padra!” But Padra was already through the door, breathless and with damp fur.

“Fingal’s on the shore with a half-drowned otter,” he said. “He’s nearly killed himself trying to warn us about a ship full of ravens.”

Something flew across the window, casting a shadow. Every animal took a step back with paw to sword.

“It’s all right, it’s Prince Crown,” said Crispin. “Open the window for him.”

“Your Majesty!” cried Crown as he settled on the sill. “The mists are surrounded! There are boats everywhere, thronged with ravens!”