Urchin and the Raven War (3 page)
Good. Urchin’s here. And Lord Arcneck’s finally coming to the point.
UR ISLAND,” SAID
L
ORD
A
RCNECK
, “has been peacefully governed by swans for years before years before years, since the trees were small and before the”—he hesitated—“the squirrels came.” (Urchin knew they were called “tree-rats” on Swan Isle.) “But long, long ago, the swans had to fight for the island against the tyrants who kept all creatures in slavery. These tyrants were ravens. My great ancestor Strikewing fought for many years in a war against them. They were unlike all other creatures—cruel, treacherous, and greedy. Destruction and devouring was all they understood
“When, at last, the ravens knew they had no hope of victory, they begged for merciful terms of surrender. They made a solemn and binding promise that they would forsake all claim to the island for themselves and their descendants forever, unless they had a Silver Prince to lead them. This was, of course, impossible. There were stories of silver-gray ravens in the past, but they were always female, and so rare nobody had ever seen one. Lord Strikewing agreed to this clause.
“Now ravens have returned. They claim that a Silver Prince was born to them, the son of their king the Archraven, and he has been raised to lead them.”
Lord Arcneck raised his head with a little shake. “They call him the Silver Prince,” he said. “He is gray, Your Majesty, simply that. A gray bird. What does a flash of sunlight on a wing matter? But they take him for their Silver Prince. He is only an excuse for the Archraven to attack our island, and there has never been such a bird as their Archraven, so proud, so strong, so terrible in battle! His sister, the Taloness, is always at his right claw. The Silver Prince is nothing, but he has the power of their protection. They came”—he raised his voice—“they came with their wings grazing the face of the sun and darkening the sky like thunder! The trees bend under their weight! They will destroy every living creature on the island, and seek more islands to devour! They feast on our squirrels and our cygnets, King Crispin! With every death and every tree destroyed, our island is dying!”
His cry rang in the air, followed by silence. Crispin let the stillness hang in the air.
Urchin understood. Long ago, the swans had carried Crispin and himself home to Mistmantle to fight against the tyrant Lord Husk. Now Lord Arcneck wanted Crispin to come to the help of his island, but he was too proud and honorable to ask for the return of a favor.
Crispin turned to the mole standing to the side of the throne. “Fetch me Mistress Tay and Master Whittle, please, Burr,” he said. Presently, two animals stood before him—Tay, a dark-whiskered female otter turning gray at the muzzle, and Whittle, who had a look of intense attention.
“Lord Arcneck,” said Crispin, “here are Mistress Tay, our senior lawyer and historian, and Master Whittle, her junior. We must hear their opinion.”
Crispin outlined Lord Arcneck’s story very briefly, and there was a quiet conference between Whittle and Tay, after which Whittle scurried forward to the swans, put some questions to Lord Arcneck, and hurried back to stretch up and whisper the answers to Mistress Tay. Finally Tay drew herself up.
“The ravens may have an ancient claim to the island,” she said. “That point is uncertain. There may also be some doubts as to whether the Silver Prince is, indeed, a Silver Prince at all. But…” She paused for effect, bestowed a solemn glare on Crispin, and glowered at Lord Arcneck. Then she spoke very slowly and precisely, as if they were not at all bright and needed to have things explained very simply.
“The ravens have no authority over the creatures who live there,” she said. “There is a faint possibility that they may have rights over the
island,
but not over the islanders. No right to rule over them, and certainly no right to harm them.”
Slowly and gracefully, Lord Arcneck inclined his head. He seemed most impressed with Mistress Tay.
“Thank you, Tay,” said Crispin. “Lord Arcneck, I had thought that ravens ate only food that is already dead—carrion eaters.”
Lord Arcneck inclined his head. “That is their custom,” he said, “but they are great in numbers and in size, and no amount of carrion will satisfy them. ‘Kill and devour’ is their call.”
“I see,” said Crispin gravely. “We will talk further of this. Now, Lord Arcneck, refreshments will be prepared for all of you, and you are welcome to fly over the island and choose where you wish to rest tonight. I shall be with you soon. Padra, Arran, Tay, Whittle, Urchin, please stay. Burr, have all the available Circle animals assembled here.” Before the swans could make a clumsy exit across the Gathering Chamber he added, “Perhaps you’d prefer to fly down to the shore. Fingal, Heath, will you attend our guests?”
Fingal and a tall, rather handsome squirrel stepped forward and bowed. Lord Arcneck inclined his head graciously, then stretched out to look over the heads of the crowd.
When Urchin realized that those cold, hard eyes were looking for him, he felt smaller than Princess Almondflower and less important than an earwig, just as he had when he had first met the swan lord. But many summers and winters had passed since then. Urchin was now as tall as Crispin, and his pale fur was brushed and gleaming. The red fur on his ears and tail tip had darkened as he grew, and were now deep auburn.
“I have met this squirrel before,” remarked Lord Arcneck. “The strange-colored servant who came to your aid? He was smaller then.”
“Yes, Lord Arcneck,” said Crispin. “He is now a trusted adviser and helper to me. Urchin of the Riding Stars.”
Lord Arcneck never looked surprised, but his eyes did seem to widen a little.
“I have heard that name before,” he remarked. “The same pale squirrel who set free the swans on Whitewings?”
“Yes, Lord Arcneck,” said Urchin. Slowly, elegantly, Lord Arcneck bowed to him.
“Then you are a friend to all swans,” he said solemnly, and his long neck stretched as he raised his wings. “Swans! To the shore!”
Wings beat with a wild swish that sent a draft through the chamber as the swans soared from the windows. Heath and Fingal hurried down the stairs to meet them. Crispin and Cedar left their thrones and sat down on the edge of the dais as the other animals gathered around them, and steadily, with hurrying paws, more Circle animals arrived to have the situation explained to them.
“If everything is as Lord Arcneck says,” began Crispin presently, “we must help him. It’s only a question of how to go about it.”
“That’s the thing, Your Majesties,” said Docken. Under a captain’s circlet, his prickles looked untidier than ever. “Last time another island asked for our help, we ended up with Urchin and Juniper carried off and a mole invasion.”
“And a queen,” said Crispin.
“And freedom for my home island,” added Cedar.
“Aye, well, I’m not saying we shouldn’t help,” said Docken. “I’m just saying we have to be wary, that’s all.”
“We have to know they’re telling the truth, Your Majesties,” said Mother Huggen the hedgehog, folding her paws neatly. “The last lot didn’t, begging your pardon, Queen Cedar.”
“That’s quite all right, Huggen,” said the queen.
“But, Your Majesties, these are swans,” Urchin pointed out. “They’re proud and bossy, but they believe in honor and they respect you, sir. I’m sure they’re telling the truth.”
“The truth as they see it,” said Docken. “If it’s just a skirmish between ravens and swans, they should be left to sort it out themselves.”
“I can’t see Lord Arcneck coming all this way for our help because of a bit of a skirmish,” said Crispin. “He’s too proud.”
“And they look terrible, sir,” said Urchin. “Worn out and in a mess. And thin.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought,” said Crispin. “They wouldn’t let us see them in that state if they weren’t desperate for help. He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t have to. Tay, you’re sure his cause is fair?”
Tay frowned so that her whiskers stood out in a thin, dark line. “As far as I can judge, yes,” she said. “A thorough examination of history as revealed in the most ancient of the Threadings would clarify the situation.”
Urchin caught the queen’s eye, smiled, and looked away quickly. Tay couldn’t just say, “I’ll see what the Threadings say,” could she?
“Then, assuming that a good look at the Threadings proves us right,” said Crispin, “we have to help Lord Arcneck, and not only for his sake. If the ravens are as bad as he says, they won’t be content with one island. When they’ve finished killing and feasting there, they’ll start on the next, and the next. Sooner or later it would be Whitewings, Mistmantle, and every other island in the sea. Battle plans, then. There are only two ways to travel—underground, or flying on swans. Swans such as Lord and Lady Arcneck don’t normally allow themselves to be ridden on, but they have been known to cooperate”—he smiled at Urchin—“and they certainly will, to save their own island. Are there any tunnels—Moth, do you know?”
Moth the mole was the daughter of Captain Lugg, who had taught his family a great deal about tunnels under the sea. She had spent much of her life looking after other animals’ babies before marrying Twigg the carpenter and having two little daughters of her own.
“We can’t get to Swan Isle that way, Your Majesty, at least not quickly,” she said. “Father said all the tunnels going that way were ancient, and a long time ago the swans stopped anyone using them, so they’ve collapsed. They’d need digging out again and putting new roof supports and everything in.”
“So we fly on swans!” said Crispin, and smiled brightly up at the Circle animals. Some gasped with excitement, while others looked worried or, like Tay, appalled. “But we can’t send much of a fighting force with only five swans, even if one can carry two of us. Tactics, anyone? Very
good
tactics?”
“They’ll have to be brilliant tactics,” said Captain Arran, Padra’s wife. Her gold circlet was half hidden by the rough, tufty fur around the top of her head. “A lot of vicious creatures who can fly against a handful who can’t.”
Silence followed as Urchin tried hard to think of an idea, and couldn’t. He could see that everyone else felt the same.
“No ideas?” said Crispin. “Then we all have something to exercise our brains with.” He stood up, and so did everyone else. “Tay, Whittle, kindly go now to check the Threadings. The rest of you,
think.
We need to move quickly, if anyone on Swan Isle is to be left alive. You may go, all of you, and Heart keep you.”
Urchin waited until the others had gone.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “however we get there, we should attack by night. Not many birds are at their best at night.”
“Well thought of,” said the king. “I’ll bear that in mind. And I need Catkin kept out of Lord Arcneck’s way before she force-marches him across the island.”
“She needs to be kept busy,” said Cedar. “If we don’t watch her, she’ll jump on his back and try to fly off to Swan Isle on her own. Urchin, could you give her a little fencing lesson or something?”
Urchin wanted to ask if that was a good idea, but didn’t feel he should question the queen where the princess was concerned. Crispin seemed to read his thoughts.
“She does have to learn to use a sword, Urchin, if only in self-defense,” he said. “So she needs to know how to use it correctly. And with my orders that she’s not to try it out on anyone.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Urchin. In the past he’d faced a mad king and an evil sorcerer, and nearly died in a landslide. Now he had to teach Princess Catkin to use a sword. He had taught sword skills and tower duties to the deft and the clumsy, the bright and the dim, but he wasn’t sure if he could teach Catkin anything.
