Urchin and the Raven War (31 page)

Needle led Padra to the doors of the Gathering Chamber.

“Stand well back, Captain Padra,” she said. “The floor’s slippery.”

He drew his sword. Needle unbolted the door and opened it just a little, enough for him to catch a glimpse. The ravens had given up. They flapped, floundered, and struggled to rise, only to slither to the floor again. Here and there, a talon waved in the air.

“Caark,”
croaked a voice.

“What on all the island have you done?” said Padra.

Needle shut and bolted the door.

“We had to stop them somehow,” said Needle, laughter spilling out of her. “They were getting in wherever the nets were tearing, and it wasn’t enough to shut them in, because they’d tear through the woodwork eventually. But there wouldn’t be room for many of them to fly indoors—they’d have to land—so Crackle and I made it slippery. We used cooking oil on this bit, I think. Soapy water in the lower corridor; they were getting in there too.”

From behind the door came a slither, a bump, and a croak.

“Needle,” said Padra as something hit the door, “never laugh at—”

“Never laugh at what, Captain Padra?” asked Needle, as he seemed to be finding it difficult to speak.

“Never laugh at a defeated—”

Slither, bump. Croak.

Cedar had crawled through the Tangletwigs and crouched there, looking up at the skies, then down at Urchin. She had seen the ravens fly away in terror. Something had happened in the skies, but she had no idea what. The important thing was to get Urchin and Gleaner back to the tower. Gleaner was badly injured, but she would live. She wasn’t at all sure about Urchin.

Mendingmoss would have helped, but it had become scarce, and she had none in her healer’s satchel. All she could do was fold the satchel strap tightly around Urchin’s wrist and hold it in place, but already it was stained deep crimson. Blood was on his fur and on her own paws as she pressed the bandage.

She scanned the Tangletwigs, desperate for a sign of help. Nobody was near. At least there were no more ravens, though she had heard their raucous voices so long that they still rang in her head.

“Stay, Urchin,” she said. “Stay with me. Stay for Mistmantle. Stay for Crispin, for Juniper, for Needle, for all of us. Think of—”
Is he in love with anyone? Take a guess.
“Stay for Sepia. Stay for your friends. Stay for Oakleaf and Catkin, and Almondflower, stay, Urchin!”

She pressed harder on the wound to stop the bleeding. She was the only animal on Mistmantle who had known Urchin’s parents. She had seen his father’s body brought back to the Fortress at Whitewings; and his mother, Almond, had been her dearest friend and her heroine. She couldn’t do anything for them now, but she could give every ounce of her strength and skill to save their son. Blood had soaked the bracelet on his wrist, and the sight of it brought tears to her eyes.

“Stay, Urchin of the Riding Stars,” she said. “What would Apple do without you? I lost your mother and I’m not going to lose you. I should have insisted on staying with her. Well, I’m staying with you, so you stay with me, Urchin. Fight.” What could she talk about to keep him alive? “Do you remember, we saved Juniper’s life? He survived all that time in the sea, and you can survive this. What will Crispin say if I don’t bring you back safely?”

Urchin was drifting away on waves of dreaming. A voice reached him, but he had no idea whose it was.

“Heart keep him,” said Cedar. “Heart help him.” She raised a paw to dry her eyes. She had sent moles for help, but it might take too long. Had the bleeding slowed down? Or was he just slowly bleeding to death?

Above her was a wing beat.
And I could do without
you,
you filthy verminous ravens
—but even as she reached for her sword she heard the strong, steady beat and knew that these were not raven wings. They were swans.

“Here!” she shouted, raising her sword. “Here!”

At last, Juniper knew what it felt like to ride a swan and knew, too, why Urchin could never describe it. Joy and exhilaration poured through him. Then they were wheeling over the Tangletwigs and Crispin was calling out, “It’s Cedar! She’s there!” In a moment of terrifying joy the swans plunged to earth, then Juniper was tumbling from his swan and scrambling to Urchin’s side, reaching into his satchel for mendingmoss.

“Here, let me do it, Your Majesty,” he said. Deep dark blood was everywhere, on the ground, on Cedar’s paws, covering Urchin’s fur. It seeped steadily from the tear in his arm, so deep that Juniper, examining it, felt as if a claw tore through his own arm. He pressed the mendingmoss into place, wrapping it about with a bandage that grew red even before it was fastened.
Heart hold him, Heart give him strength. Can he have any more blood to lose?

“There’s Gleaner, too,” said Cedar. “She’s terribly injured, but she’ll live.”

There was a gasp from Crispin as he saw the big gray bird lying on its back, the blood drying from a wound in its throat. Its talons curled toward the sky. “That’s the Silver Prince!” he said. “He’s dead! Cedar, was that you? Urchin?”

“Neither of us,” she said. It hardly seemed important now. “Gleaner. Get them onto the swans. Can any of you carry two? Someone has to hold him and keep pressing on that wound. And,” she whispered, “we should send for Apple.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.
Almond, Candle, you who live beyond me in the Heart’s keeping, can you see your son? I will look after him. Help him, help him, help me. Heart help him. Hold on, Urchin, hold on.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ROTHER FIR SANK BACK
against the pillows. Hope washed the stickiness from his wrinkled paws.

“That,” said Fir contentedly, “was the most excellent kingsmantle cake I have ever tasted. My dear Crackle, you are a queen among pastry cooks. Corr, however did you find such seaweed?”

“It was a very long way out,” said Corr. “But I think can find it again, if you’d like me to look.”

But he knew that the offer was pointless, even as Fir said, “Thank you, Corr, but that would mean a long journey for you, and I would rather have your company.”

Corr wanted to tell Brother Fir that there was plenty of time to fetch seaweed, and talk, and eat cake, and talk some more. He wanted to tell him that they had all the time in the world. But it wouldn’t be true, and he couldn’t lie to Brother Fir.

Sepia slipped into the chamber. Her eyes looked very large, and her voice was unsteady.

“The victory is ours,” she said. “The Taloness and the Silver Prince are dead.”

“And yet you, little daughter,” said Fir, “are distressed.”

“What happened?” asked Corr.

“Urchin …” she said, and ran from the chamber.

As darkness gathered over the island, members of the Circle and guards strode with drawn swords to the nets of ravens. Their orders were to take prisoners and show mercy to the wounded, but the ravens had turned on each other so fiercely that few remained alive. Those who did survive were so badly injured that they died minutes after the Circle animals had cut them free and given them water.

In the night, the rushing of high winds over the island woke Corr at the Spring Gate and Catkin in the tower. Corr slipped into the stream to swim to the shore; Catkin pattered to the window. All through the tower, animals looked out. The wind caught up the smoke and reek of burning, carried it away, and swept it beyond the mists. In the morning, the island felt clean.

Animals emerged from hiding, blinking in the light, running into the sunlight, shaking soil from their ears and dashing away to find out if their friends were safe. Every tunnel, every burrow, and every hollow tree was inspected. Not a single raven remained on the island. The Mistmantle dead were laid to rest with tears and with honor.

Scrambling out of burrows, animals raged against the wrecked burrows and ruined nests, then set to work sweeping, scrubbing, and mending. It would take a long time. Crops must be salvaged as much as possible, and another planting put in.

As tower animals wound their way back, parents and children hugged each other. Mother Huggen placed baby animals back into the arms of their mothers, then dried her tears and set to tidying up the Mole Palace. Young animals who had been sheltered belowground raced over shores, tumbled in and out of trees, swam, splashed, danced, hugged, and laughed.