Urchin and the Raven War (30 page)

Two fell with Cedar’s arrows in them. Tipp and Todd darted from a tunnel to finish off another as it landed, and Urchin, keeping as low as he could, crawled under the scratching thornbushes. His left paw was not as strong as his right, nor so accurate, but he’d just have to try harder than ever to make every stroke count. Two ravens were on top of Gleaner now.

Slash
against the legs of the raven holding her, and
slash
again with the back of the same stroke. He stabbed up at the beak of the raven gripping Gleaner’s neck, and ducked as another beak darted at his ear. A hot pain stung his arm, but he had hardly seen the raven clawing him before it fell back with Cedar’s arrow in its heart, and he was able to drag Gleaner, bleeding and barely conscious, deep into the thorny cover of the Tangletwigs.

“Gleaner?” he said. Her eyes opened a little and closed again, and she curled up her knees as if wrapping herself around the silver bracelet. Above them, the ravens cried out, but it was not their usual war cry. They were croaking a lament.

From a deep wound in her neck, blood stained Gleaner’s fur. One leg was twisted and swollen, and the other badly gashed. He looked for something to stem the bleeding, but the leaves here were too small, so he pressed the cold flat of his sword-hilt against her neck as he peered out through the undergrowth.

The body of the Silver Prince lay sprawled on the ground. Ravens gathered around it, wailing in despair.

“You killed him, Gleaner,” Urchin said. “You killed the Silver Prince!” There was no response.

Urchin knew that there was only one person Gleaner really cared about. He knew, too, better than she did, the terrible things Lady Aspen had done and tried to do. But Gleaner had adored her.

“You saved Lady Aspen’s bracelet. Can you hear me, Gleaner? You saved Lady Aspen’s bracelet.”
Lady Aspen, who had wanted me dead when I was only a young tower page.
“She would have been very pleased with you.”

Weakly, Gleaner smiled.

“You’ll be all right, Gleaner,” he said, and licked away blood as it trickled from a wound on his left arm. He wore his mother’s bracelet on that side, and it mustn’t get stained. He felt nauseous and suddenly sleepy. As he rubbed his eyes, he wondered where all that blood was coming from—but he was so sleepy.

“What are they doing?” said Crispin. With his sword still in his paw, he leaned from the window. “They seem to have lost all sense of strategy. They’re just swooping about.”

“They seem to be gathering at the Tangletwigs, sir,” observed Russet. “It’s quieter than it was.”

“There are voices from inside the tower, Your Majesty,” said Juniper.

“They’re all under control, Your Majesty,” said Needle. “Don’t worry about them; I’ve sorted them out.”

“Are there any more coming over the mists?” asked Padra, and leaned from the window to answer his own question. There were still ravens flying in, but not so many.

“And some of those ravens from the Tangletwigs seem to be flying away,” said Crispin. “Are they retreating or just regrouping?”

He stepped from one window to the next, taking his time. The last arrows had been fired. As far as he could see, the island was dotted with crawling black nets. For a long time, he looked out at the mists, narrowing his eyes.

“Padra,” he said at last, very softly, “come and see this. I may be imagining it.”

Padra came to his side and looked.

“What do you think?” asked Crispin. “Is it—”

“Yes,” said Padra. “Yes, it is.” He put a paw on the king’s shoulder and swallowed hard, turning his face away. It wouldn’t do for a captain to cry, even for joy.

Pitter felt she had never really lived before this moment, leaning forward on the back of Prince Crown as he carried her through the sky. The sparkling mesh was folded tightly in her paw. She wanted to laugh, she wanted to dance, she wanted to catch this moment in a shaft of sunlight and keep it forever! Swans flew ahead of her, their wings white and powerful, their long necks outstretched, squirrels on their backs with the meshes in their paws. More flew around them. Pitter pressed her paws into Prince Crown’s soft, gleaming feathers. There was nothing so beautiful as a swan.

Pitter looked ahead at Queen Larch, the small, slender hedgehog riding at the front of the flock, and then at Scatter, who was flying alongside her. Their long, dangerous escape from Mistmantle to Whitewings seemed far away now, in a different world. She was so absorbed with the joy of all this that she only just noticed the steep climb, and held on tightly as Crown rose higher, following the swan in front. Queen Larch’s swan soared over the mists. Small in the distance, but coming closer with every wing beat, the island of Mistmantle was in sight.

“Swans!” said Crispin.

“And squirrels!” said Padra. “Doing what you did!”

“And”—Crispin shaded his eyes—“they’re carrying something.”

“Your Majesty!” cried Russet. “What are the ravens doing now?”

As disorganized, panicking ravens flew back to their ships, the reinforcements had flown over the mists. Meeting in the air, getting in each other’s way, confused and panicked, they pecked, clawed, and fought in the sky. Mistmantle defenders aboveground peered up, shaded their eyes with their paws, and began to believe that it might be coming to an end.

“On to the battlements!” ordered Crispin. “We need to see this properly! No ravens close, are there?”

For the squirrels, it was a matter of a spring from the window to the gutter and two more leaps to the battlements. Padra and Docken, muttering something about rodents, followed by running down the stairs, along a passageway, and through a door to stand beside them and watch the sweep of silver meshes across the skies. Needle hastily said something about looking in on her prisoners, and ran down the stairs.

Pitter watched Queen Larch. The timing must be perfect, and they had not expected to find ravens fighting among themselves—but some, the last from the boats, flew around and above the fights, still trying to reach Mistmantle. Only seconds now, and Queen Larch would give the signal to throw the mesh they had brought from Whitewings.

Pitter was shaking so much she was afraid she would fall off the swan. She pressed her knees against his feathers and held on as Queen Larch lifted her right paw high in the air. The swans rose higher. Pitter glanced across at Scatter and caught a smile of joy as they cast the mesh forward.

It floated down, a delicate shimmering thing, so light that surely it couldn’t be of any use at all against strong beaks and sharp, hard talons—but as it settled over the ravens, Pitter saw what it could do. Though beaks struck and struck again, wings flapped and talons grabbed, the ravens could do nothing about the mesh that held and trapped them.

But I’m glad they won’t drown, thought Pitter. Even though they’re ravens. The next flight of swans skimmed behind, catching the net and towing it to land between them, ignoring the screeching and cawing of the ravens.

Needle ran up to the turret, found it empty, and caught the flash of silver from the battlements. She rushed to the king’s side and saw the astonished joy on the defenders’ faces that kept them from cheering. Speechless, breathless, exhausted, every animal raised its sword high to salute the swans and their riders.

The leading swan, carrying a small female hedgehog, swerved toward the battlements.

“Who’s that?” wondered Crispin.

“I remember her,” said Juniper. “Queen Larch of Whitewings. And there—Your Majesty—there’s Scatter! She went to fetch help from Whitewings!”

“And little Pitter!” said Crispin. “And Prince Crown! Heart forgive me, I thought he’d deserted us!”

The leading swan settled on the battlements. The hedgehog stepped down as the king and the defenders bowed, and Juniper offered his paw.

“Your Majesties,” he said. “Queen Larch of Whitewings, King Crispin of Mistmantle.”

Queen Larch wobbled a little as she took Crispin’s paw. “So sorry,” she said. “I’m not used to flying. We got here as quickly as we could, though I regret it wasn’t sooner.”

“Your Majesty,” said Crispin. “You come at exactly the right time, and Mistmantle will honor and thank you forever.” He looked up and stepped back to make room for Prince Crown to land. “Prince Crown! Noblest of swans! You flew to Whitewings for help!”

“It was Scatter’s idea,” said Prince Crown, his eyes bright with joy, “and Pitter came too. We took rides on boats when we could. The rearguard swans are carrying nets, Your Majesty, in case there are any more ravens out there beyond the mists. And we’ll sink their boats, sir.”

Crispin realized that sweat had soaked through his fur. This was no way to meet a queen. But there was still work to do, and he turned to the animals behind him.

“May I introduce Padra the otter, the senior captain of Mistmantle; Docken the hedgehog, captain of Mistmantle; Russet and Heath of the Circle; Needle of the Threadings. Needle, Juniper, did you find any ravens in the tower?”

Needle and Juniper looked at each other. “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Needle, struggling hard not to laugh. A Circle hedgehog shouldn’t giggle, especially at a time like this.

“Padra,” Crispin said, “go with Needle and see what she’s found. Russet, Heath, send messengers out. Where’s Longpaw? Our creatures can come out of hiding. Mistmantle”—he swallowed hard, and fought the catch in his voice—“Mistmantle is free and at peace. May the Heart be thanked. Juniper, is there wine in this turret? Our rescuers need refreshment. Prince Crown, you have flown far—can you fly a little farther, a very little?”

“I’ll be glad to!” said Prince Crown. “My wings have scarcely stretched!”

“Then,” said Crispin, “will you take me over the Tangletwigs? Something there has disturbed the ravens, and I need to know what.”

Juniper suddenly realized that a long held-dream could just about come true. It might happen. He could almost taste it.

“Perhaps I should come with you, Your Majesty,” he said. “You may need a priest. I still have a scrap of mendingmoss, though it’s not much, and you might need a healer. And”—it seemed childish to say it, but he had to be honest—“I’ve always wanted—”

“To ride on a swan,” said Crispin. “I know. Madam, excuse us. The Circle animals will look after you. Our priest and I have a little more work to do.”