by Jacob Grey
Caw looked up to see Mr Silk finally drag his leg free of the cloying earth and club Bootlace fiercely across the jaw. The worm feral fell to the ground with a grunt.
Shaking off the rats that were clawing up his body, Caw charged at the moth feral, reaching for the gun as Mr Silk brought it round again. They slammed into the wall together. Teeth gritted, Caw smashed the moth feral’s arms against the rock until he dropped the gun. Caw bent hastily to grab it. Oof! He felt a knee driven into his stomach and crumpled, gasping for breath, the gun out of his reach.
Shimmer had managed to scramble free of the moth swarm. She flew over to the gun, hooking her talons around the barrel and pushing herself off the ground, dropping the weapon well clear of the moth feral.
Mr Silk threw his weight over Caw’s body, hands searching in his pockets. Caw struggled, but the shock of the blow had made him weak. He knew as soon as the moth feral rolled off him that he had lost the Midnight Stone.
“I’ve got it, Pinkerton!” shouted Mr Silk.
The rat feral jumped down from her boulder. Caw wheezed, unable to move. He could see Selina hiding behind one of the tombs, but where was Lydia? Bootlace was groaning, trying to stand as rats clambered over him.
Mr Silk was transfixed by the stone glinting in his hand.
“Don’t seem much, does it?” he said. He pocketed the stone, then his face turned nasty. He kicked Caw in the gut again, throwing him on to his back.
Through the pain, Caw saw Lydia at last. She was moving towards the door, with a finger placed on her lips. What was she up to?
“Time to smash this crow’s brains in,” said Mr Silk. He knelt, picking up a rock the size of a football and hoisting it over his head. “Goodbye, crow talker.”
Caw heard the door thump open and Mr Silk’s eyes flicked sideways. A split second later he was overwhelmed by a black cloud of crows. Through the flapping wings, Caw saw his arms give way and the rock fall to the ground.
Caw rolled on to his front, gasping. He could hardly see, so alive was the air with insects and birds. Crows veered wildly as the moths assaulted them in swarms. Many of the birds flew straight into the walls, disorientated by the insect plague.
He spotted Bootlace crawling along the ground, dozens of rodents covering his body. The worm feral climbed unsteadily to his feet and advanced on Pinkerton.
“Caw, it’s time to fulfil your promise,” said Bootlace. “I think I’ll take this rat feral with me.”
For a moment Caw wasn’t sure what he meant, but then he remembered their deal.
He glanced around, but couldn’t see the Crow’s Beak.
“Here, Caw!” cried Selina, picking the blade up from the floor where it had fallen. Drawing back her arm, she sent it spinning across the cavern. Caw caught it by the hilt and lifted the point of the blade. The sword thrummed in his hand, as if charged with an electric current. As Caw brought it down in a vertical swipe, he felt the air resist softly, like water. The blade opened a rip of pure blinding light in front of him. The rift widened. Rats and crows shrieked as one, backing away. Pinkerton shielded her eyes.
Blinking, Caw saw Bootlace’s face, open-mouthed, his eyes filmed with tears. “It’s beautiful!” he cried.
The worm feral ran at Pinkerton, his gaze fixed on the doorway to the Land of the Dead. He wrapped his arms around the rat feral’s waist and dived headlong. Pinkerton screamed as he bundled her into the portal. Then the light swallowed them both, cutting off her cry midway. The rift shrank, its edges pulling together like a healing wound. As the last point of light vanished, a gust of wind swept across the cave, extinguishing most of the candles and leaving them in semi-darkness.
A silence settled through the cave as Caw stared at the Crow’s Beak in his hand. It felt cold and lifeless once more. The Land of the Dead had left a scattering of fine ash over the blade.
Selina was pale with shock. “Where are Bootlace and Pinkerton?”
“Dead,” said Caw.
“Just like that?” said Selina.
Caw nodded.
“More importantly though, where are Mr Silk and the Midnight Stone?” said Lydia.
Caw looked to where Mr Silk had been brought down by the crows, but his heart plummeted. He had gone. Crows landed on the ground beside their injured comrades, but there wasn’t a single living moth to be seen. The gun was missing too.
“Where did he go?” said Caw.
Lydia shook her head. “I was watching the portal,” she said.
Quickly Caw crossed the cavern to the spot where Mr Silk had fallen. There was a pool of blood, then a trail of thick drops. He followed them towards the door.
He must have slipped out, said Glum.
Caw was relieved at least to see the old crow unharmed apart from a few jutting feathers. Screech was limping beside him on his broken leg and Shimmer’s beak held a twitching moth. She tossed her head back and swallowed it.
“It’s over then,” said Selina. “We’ve lost it.”
Caw looked around at the devastation. The worm feral’s home suddenly seemed more like a crypt than ever. Silent, dark, a place of stillness. Strewn with corpses, the air thick with the essence of lives lost. And though he still stood, Caw knew he was on the vanquished side. For four hundred years, the crow line had protected the Midnight Stone and now he had let it go. Not only that, but the Mother of Flies now knew exactly what it could do and planned to use it for evil.
Caw fought the despair that threatened to cripple him. Hardening his heart, he sheathed the Crow’s Beak and strode towards the door. His crows fluttered behind him.
“We’ll have to hurry,” said Lydia. “If we don’t catch Mr Silk soon, he’ll give her the stone. She already has the convicts and the animals to create her own feral army.”
Caw nodded. The words of Black Corvus wouldn’t leave his head – the promise of the crow line. We will protect it to our dying breaths. “Well then,” he said. “We’d better get after him.”
hen Caw and his companions emerged, the clouds above the graveyard were thicker even than before – swollen a deep and ominous indigo against the night sky. His crows surged from the ground in an inky torrent, settling across the graveyard again, an army exhausted by battle. Many carried broken wings, or bled on to the pale stones. A few rats scurried out as well, aimless and confused now that their pure animal natures had returned. Caw wondered if there would ever be another feral to guide them and whether he or she would use them for good or for evil.
There was no sign of the moth feral. “Shimmer – take a few crows, get up there and look for Mr Silk,” said Caw. “He can’t have gone far.”
The wiry crow flapped away, followed by several others. They fanned out across the sky, heading in the direction of the city.
Caw heaved the tombstone back into place, sealing the worm feral’s home. Then, closing his eyes, he drew his crows to him. Those in the graveyard cracked their wings and launched from their perches, and more still came in waves from the sky. “Get ready to fly,” Caw told Selina and Lydia.
Lydia lifted her arms, and Selina followed suit. The crows took up their positions, clinging on to the girls’ clothing, their bodies jostling. Caw’s heart swelled with pride. Even against the odds they faced, and reeling from the battles already fought, the silent loyalty of the crows was absolute.
Glum and Screech gripped his own shoulders.
“Not you, Screech,” said Caw. “You need to rest that leg.”
It’s fine, said Screech, with a fierceness that brooked no argument. Let’s go get ’em!
Once more into the breach, said Glum.
As his feet left the ground, Caw felt the first drop of rain fall; a fat, warm splash on his skin. Shimmer came circling back. He’s in a white car! she said. Heading back towards the city.
“Lead the way,” said Caw.
With a rip of thunder, the sky released its deluge. Caw hardly noticed as the crows rose in jerks, over the graves, then up as high as the steeple. Wind mad
e Caw’s body sway in their grip, and Blackstone became an indistinct blur of smeared light and silhouetted buildings through the steel rods of rain. Caw looked at his companions, already sodden, and saw their faces set with determination.
Shimmer flew in front, and the three of them followed in the grip of the birds. It wasn’t long before Caw saw a pale car speeding along a winding road below. It had to be Mr Silk. It was some sort of old-fashioned vehicle, with a growling engine; completely white with huge chrome fenders. Its headlights shone golden streaks on the slick tarmac.
Caw didn’t know what to do. The car was moving too fast for him to drop down on the bonnet, as he had when he’d rescued Quaker.
Tunnel ahead! said Screech.
Caw looked up and saw they were heading for a dark mouth as the road entered a low hillside. The crows began to lift him higher, to carry him over the top of the tunnel entrance.
“No!” he said. “Keep on his tail!”
They dipped again, while those carrying Lydia and Selina continued to rise out of harm’s way, above the hill. The car shot inside. Caw willed a cluster of crows to follow with him. They swept him into the strobe-lit tunnel, his feet barely a metre above the road surface.
“Get in his path!” he shouted. “Distract him!”
The crows who weren’t carrying Caw accelerated past him, sweeping towards the car. Caw saw the reflection of Mr Silk’s face in the wing mirror watching him, and with a roar the vehicle speeded up.
But the crows were faster. Inch by inch they overtook the car, then closed formation in front of it, blotting out the moth feral’s view.
Caw heard the blare of a horn and his eyes filled with light. The crows jerked him sideways as another car whipped past in the opposite direction. His heart was thudding like a jackhammer.
Mr Silk tried to outmanoeuvre the crows, veering left and right in the tunnel to find clear road. Caw willed the birds to close in on the windscreen. The car’s front wheel locked with a sudden screech of brakes, streaming smoke. Its rear end slid out as if on ice and slammed into the central barrier, and a window pane exploded outwards on the driver’s side. Caw told his crows to bring him level as the car straightened and accelerated once more.
As he drew alongside, Caw saw Mr Silk gripping the wheel in both hands, peering over the top to try to see the road through the barrier of birds. He looked right and his eyes locked on to Caw. Then he reached down, bringing up his gun.
Bang! Bang!
Two shots cracked from the barrel and Caw twisted away. The crows lagged back, hauling him out of range.
They were reaching the end of the tunnel, where the road emerged again. Caw let the car go first, following through the downpour and out into the city. There were more cars here, and Lydia and Selina were waiting suspended beneath their crows.
“We’ve got to stop him!” Caw shouted.
The three of them swung through the sky as Mr Silk’s car threaded through the traffic at speed, mounting kerbs and throwing up spray. It bounced over a traffic island and a hubcap spun off one of the wheels. Horns blared up and down the street. Caw couldn’t stay hidden – he only hoped the weather would conceal him from the normal citizens of Blackstone.
Mr Silk reached a set of red lights and didn’t slow. Behind him several cars smashed into each others’ paths with sickening crunches. They were travelling alongside the river now. Across on the opposite bank rose the buildings of the financial district and the apartment where the Mother of Flies lurked with her army-in-waiting. If the moth feral reached it, the chase was over.
The car skidded around a corner and on to a bridge. There was only one thing for it. Caw swooped forward, positioning himself over the roof of the car. He was just about to drop when a single black shape darted down in front of him.
With perfect timing, Shimmer dived through the open car window, straight at the moth feral. Caw couldn’t see what was happening inside, but he heard Mr Silk’s cries. The vehicle jerked, first one way, then the other. The moth feral lost control completely and the back end spun a half-circle. It hit the crash barrier at the edge of the bridge, and bounced off. The wheels on the right side left the road.
Shimmer! cried Screech, as the car flipped over.
With a horrible squeal of grinding metal, the car slid along on its roof, showering sparks. Wheels spinning, it smashed into the barrier on the opposite side, buckling the metal railings there and sliding over the edge. Broken glass scattered into the river below as the car lodged, upside-down, half suspended over the water.
Caw’s crows swooped lower at his command and he dropped the last six feet to the ground, running to the stricken vehicle. It wobbled precariously over the drop. Oil was dripping from a puncture in the tank and the smell of burning rubber filled Caw’s nostrils.
From inside, he heard someone groaning.
Cars on the road were slowing down. Caw heard someone say, “Call the cops!”
Shimmer flapped out of the broken window and hopped across the underside of the car. He’s all yours, she said.
That was incredible! said Screech. You stopped him single-wingedly!
Caw edged closer to the broken crash railings. The door of the car swung open over the drop and a bloodied hand emerged. Caw saw Mr Silk’s face was bruised by the crash. Moths fluttered anxiously across his crumpled suit. He sagged forward, hanging out of the car, but his seatbelt held him firm. His eyes found Caw.
“Crow talker!” he growled.
“Give me the stone,” said Caw.
“I don’t think so,” said Mr Silk. He reached across his body, and Caw readied himself to duck in case it was a gun. But he heard only a click as the seat belt released. Mr Silk clambered to the edge of the door. And at the same moment, the car tipped.
The moth feral leapt for the edge of the bridge with a cry of terror as the car groaned and then slid out over the drop. He just managed to hold on to a piece of the crash barrier as the vehicle plummeted into the river with a tremendous splash. It floated a few metres in the current, then disappeared out of sight.
Caw heard car doors slamming as people exited their vehicles. Then Selina’s voice. “Stay back! It’s not safe!”
Mr Silk’s features writhed in fear as he hung over the water. He gritted his teeth and pulled, but his arms weren’t strong enough to heave himself over the edge to safety. “Don’t let me drown!” he said.
Caw knelt over him. “Give me the stone and I’ll help you up.”
Mr Silk clenched his eyes shut, as if trying not to think about the river swirling below.
“I promise I won’t let you fall,” said Caw, “but you have to give me the stone.”
He held out his arm.
Mr Silk opened his eyes again. “It’s in my pocket,” he said. “I can’t give it to you without letting go.”
Lydia had arrived at Caw’s side. “Don’t trust him,” she said.
“Please!” said Mr Silk. “I give you my word as a gentleman.”
His fingers were slipping.
Caw reached down and grabbed the moth feral’s left arm with both hands. “I’ve got you!” he said. He braced himself to take Mr Silk’s weight.
“Pull me up!”
“The stone first,” said Lydia. “Use your other hand.”
“Quickly!” said Caw. “I can’t hold you for long!”
Mr Silk’s right hand rooted in his pocket, and he took out the Midnight Stone. At the same moment, the moths lifted away from him like a shadow and flew away. He watched them go, face twitching in terror.
“Here!” he said. “Take it!”
As he reached up, a single black spot landed on his hand. Lydia was leaning over the edge to take the stone, but Mr Silk paused. “No …” he muttered. “Oh no!”
The air filled with buzzing, and more flies swarmed over his hand and arm.
“No, please!” he shouted, flailing. With each jerking movement, Caw’s grip loosened.
Flies spread across Mr Silk’s body, pilin
g on top of one another in a solid bulk. Then, before Caw’s eyes, they became Cynthia Davenport. She was hanging on to the moth feral’s back, wrapping her limbs around him. Caw’s arms screamed with the extra weight.
“Hello, Mr Silk,” she said, leaning close to his ear. “I believe you have something for me?”
She reached along his arm and prised his fingers from the Midnight Stone. He was cringing in fear, his eyes clenched tight.
“I didn’t mean to …” he said. “I was going to bring it to you, I promise.”
Caw couldn’t hold on any longer. His fingers slipped off Mr Silk’s sleeve, and at the same moment, the Mother of Flies transformed back into her insects. Her swarm seemed to hold the moth feral, suspended in the air.
“No, you weren’t,” whispered her voice. The cloud of flies turned its head towards Caw. “Act wisely, crow talker. Run from Blackstone while you have the chance.”
Her swarm exploded from Mr Silk’s body and his eyes opened wide. He fell with a scream, his body disappearing into the river, as the swarm of flies dissolved into the night.
aw’s blood coursed hot as they approached the financial district, despite the cold of the whipping gales and his saturated clothes. The crows shared his desperation and his anger – he could sense it, the power of their wings flowing through him as they cut through the wind and soared towards the tall tower where Cynthia Davenport lived.
“She’ll be waiting for us!” shouted Selina. She hung from the crows, her hair matted to her head.
“Who cares?” said Lydia, hood pulled up as she flew on the other side of Caw.
“I’m only saying,” Selina replied. “We can’t just storm in.”
“Easy for you to say,” snapped Lydia. “But my parents are in there.”
Caw tried to block out their bickering. The memories of the worm feral were still fresh. All those men and women in that fire-lit study had put their faith in Black Corvus, and for three hundred years the crow line had not let them down. That wasn’t going to change today. All that history meant nothing if he failed.