by Scott Nash
The Thrushians spent more than half of their treasury (collected in taxes from their citizens) on weapons made by crows. What the Thrushians desperately wanted, however, was the ability to smelt and forge metal themselves, cutting the crows out of the exchange altogether. The crows had managed to keep their technology a safely guarded secret by moving their foundries often.
“I don’t suppose you have any idea where Teach has set up his forge, do you?” Jay asked Poppa.
“No, I don’t,” said Poppa Fox, “but I’d wager that the Thrushians want to know in the worst way. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Thrushian government offered a healthy reward to anyone who can provide information on the forge’s whereabouts. We’ve searched for it ourselves, but —”
“Pardon my interrupting.” It was Hillary, who till that moment had been so quiet that Jay and Poppa Fox had forgotten he was in the room. “I couldn’t help but hear what you have been discussing.”
“Yes, and . . . ?” prompted Jay.
“Well,” said Hillary, “I’m fairly certain that I know the current location of the crows’ forge.”
“How’s that?” asked Poppa Fox, thunderstruck.
“I said I’m reasonably certain that I know where the forge is.”
“Where?” said Jay and Poppa Fox at the same time.
“Well, actually, I believe it may be underground.”
“Cry-ee-aye, Hillary!” said Jay. “Come forth and tell us what you know!”
Jay cleared a space on the table in front of him. “And where is my quartermaster? Mr. Snipe?”
“Ah, well . . . I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” said Hillary.
“Of course you wouldn’t! Why would you?” said Jay with increasing enthusiasm. “Poppa, could you send someone to fetch me first mate and me quartermaster?”
“Shore, Captain,” said Poppa. “I’ll have Henry fetch them straightaway!”
“And Junco too!” called Jay. “I need my navigator!”
When the pirates had assembled, Jay addressed the group. “Hillary has some news of great import, don’t you, Mr. Hillary!”
“Yes, well, I . . .” the mole began tentatively.
Jay patted him on the back. “Now, go on, tell us what you know, my friend!”
Hillary talked for quite some time while Jay peppered him with questions. When he was finished, Jay turned to Poppa Fox. “With this information, we have been presented with an opportunity to fulfill our mutual goal . . .” Jay paused for a moment, as he hadn’t quite figured the next part out. “Freedom from tyranny, beginning with those blasted crows.”
Poppa Fox looked a bit puzzled. “Yes, well, if that means getting the crows to relocate, then . . . yes.”
“Exactly!” said Blue Jay. “I couldn’t have said it better! We’ll force Teach from Black Point . . . have ourselves a bit of an adventure, and become stinkin’ rich while we’re at it!” Jay held out his wing to Poppa Fox. “Whaddaya say? Are we partners?”
Poppa seemed baffled but pleased. “Shore. Why not?” he said, shaking Jay’s wing.
Junco, Crossbill, and Snipe looked puzzled about the exact nature of this partnership.
“Gents,” said Blue Jay, “I appreciate your reluctance to climb back into this hole after our last experience in the tunnel.” Jay was attempting to assemble a small party — including Hillary, Chuck, Thrasher, and himself — to venture into Hillary’s home and investigate the forge. “But I have assurance from a very reliable source that there’s a fine prize at the end of the tunnel.”
“Wot sort of ‘fine’ prize?” asked Thrasher.
“The finest swords, spears, and switches you’ll ever lay eyes on,” said Jay, “made of metal a hundred times stronger than any other, able to cut through an enemy’s sword like you were slicing up a block of suet!”
“Beg pardon, Captain, and no disrespect to you, Mr. Hillary,” said Chuck, “but how can he have seen any such forge? Seeing as he is blind and all.”
“Hillary,” said Jay, “tell them what you told me at the Sooty Fox last night.”
“Well, let’s see . . . ,” Hillary began hesitantly. “It was about a month ago that I was digging a tunnel that I hoped would lead to and connect with the north side of Echo Lake. I knew the direction but kept running into rock —”
“No! No!” said Jay impatiently. “Skip to the part about the forge!”
“Well, yes, then,” said Hillary. “As I kept digging hole after hole, trying to find a path clear around the boulders, I finally found a vein of soft earth. I dug away at this spot, thinking I was finally getting somewhere, when I broke through to another underground chamber.”
“Wot was it?” asked Chuck.
“Well, at first all I knew was that the chamber was full of hot, smelly air. I could also make out voices, then shouts and curses, and finally a high-pitched, ringing rhythmic hammering. Ping-ka! Ping-ka! Ping! The smell and the noise drove me back! I sealed the opening with rock, hoping to escape the fumes, but the odor lingered in my nose for quite some time. It was so strong, I could almost taste it. It tasted like metal.”
“But did ye see anything?” asked Chuck.
“I don’t see very much, really,” said Hillary. “But there were definitely birds down there . . . crows, judging by the croaking and cawing I heard over the din of hammers.”
“Who’d ever think a bunch of birds would spend that much time underground,” marveled Jay. “A brilliant move, putting the forge underground, don’t you think?”
Chuck and Thrasher nodded reluctantly; they were intrigued but still very skeptical.
“Crayee! So what do ye say, lads?” Jay pleaded. “Are you up for a little adventure?”
It was then that Henry ran up to the group, bursting with excitement for an adventure with pirates. “I’m ready to join you if you’ll have me, Captain Jay!” he said. The other birds barely recognized him, as he was dressed entirely in black from head to toe. His face and tail were painted black as well, and he carried with him a cloth sack and a pitchfork with four lanterns hanging from its tines.
Chuck and Thrasher could barely suppress their laughter.
Henry was not oblivious to his comical appearance and addressed the pirates directly. “I had to disguise myself. If by chance I am seen by crows,” he explained earnestly, “I will not be easily identified as a sparrow in this outfit. If the crows have the slightest inkling that sparrows know the location of the forge, they will surely seek revenge on our village of Briarloch.”
This truth impressed Jay and silenced Chuck and Thrasher, who now looked upon Henry with bemused admiration.
“Captain Jay,” Henry continued, “I have packed seedcakes for everybody, a good bit of water, a length of rope, and four bug lanterns, one for each bird.” He handed each of the pirates a small reed cage containing a single beetle.
“Thank you, Henry.” Jay looked dubiously at the lone beetle in the cage.
“Don’t worry, they’ll light up fine once we’re in the tunnel,” said Henry. He looked to Chuck and Thrasher. “Are we ready, then?”
The two big pirates, shamed and inspired by this little spitfire of a sparrow, nodded sheepishly and agreed.
“Great!” cried Jay. “Let’s be off.”
“Hillary, you lead the way. Chuck and Thrasher, you’re next. And Henry, you take up the rear.”
“Take care not to stick us with that devil’s fork ye got there,” said Chuck.
“Oh, no, sir!” Henry laughed. “This is to protect my back from anything that might attack us from behind.” And Henry slung the handle over his shoulder, tines pointed directly in back of him.
With that, the group marched out of the afternoon sun and into Hillary’s dark, gloomy home. As promised, the beetles in the lamps opened their wings and gave off a greenish light that illuminated the tunnel all around them quite well. The walls came to life with the twisting tendrils of roots and the frantic darting of bugs hoping to escape Hillary’s voracious, searching nose. The exp
erience was at once terrifying and fascinating to the birds.
The light of the lamps revealed that Hillary was much more than an excavator; he was also a masterful sculptor. Rooms feeding into a complex network of passageways were filled with furniture, pots, and utensils, all formed from clay and dirt. These were not crude objects, but beautifully designed and crafted pieces of art. Long, low cabinets embellished with sculpted leaves and scrolls undulated with the contours of the walls. Tabletops were shaped and etched to resemble a bed of leaves, the surface of a pond, or, in one spectacular example, a patch of grass.
Jay stopped and held up his lantern to inspect Hillary’s creations more closely. He was amazed to find one chamber full of fantastic sculptures, one of a beetle and the other of a cricket, both the size of a full-grown bird. Jay whistled softly and shook his head in admiration.
After a time, they reached a rough and crumbly passageway, where Hillary stopped, then whispered, “This is the tunnel that leads to the forge. We must be especially quiet from here on. We are very close.” Hillary resumed his lead. “Leave your lamps here and follow me.”
The mole and the four birds followed the tunnel as it curved around the smooth stone face of a boulder and led eventually to a dead end. Hillary stopped. “This is the place,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Ready,” said Jay.
“Stand by for a moment,” said Hillary. The birds waited in the dark, listening to the mole’s digging. Then, “Here goes,” Hillary said, and they heard the soft thud of a heavy stone falling away. Brown light, along with a blast of hot, putrid air, spilled into the tunnel. The sharp, loud sounds of hammers pounding metal clashed with the curses of the crows screaming at one another over the din.
Hillary beckoned the birds toward the small opening he’d made. They peered through the hole and could not believe their eyes!
Hillary had indeed stumbled upon Teach’s forge and armory, a large underground chamber full of crows, molten metal, and extremely valuable weapons. Disorderly workers cursed at one another as they hammered swords on the flat stone floor. Others shaped and sharpened blades using the wall of the cave as a sharpening stone. In another area a group of younger crows attached hilts and elaborately carved handles of black wood to knives, swords, spears, and axes. More than two dozen finished weapons lined the walls, tantalizingly close to Hillary’s tunnel, their polished metal blades reflecting the light from the forge, which produced blasts of fire.
Jay was smitten. “Cryee!” he whispered. “If that isn’t a sight! I wish you could see this, Hillary, because it’s beyond description.”
“Oh, I’ll be satisfied enough,” said the mole, “once I’m holding a crow’s sword in my paws.” Hillary was becoming more piratelike by the moment.
“Well, my good friend,” Jay whispered, “there are plenty of shining beauties sittin’ there, lookin’ for a home. I believe one of them is yours! All we have to do now is wait for just the right moment to adopt a few of them!”
The four birds and Hillary spent the next few hours crowded and uncomfortable in the sweltering tunnel, nibbling on seedcakes and watching the forge activities in utter fascination. The conditions of the forge were brutal and the crows were so horrible to one another, it was a wonder that they were able to produce anything at all. Their interactions seemed to be a steady stream of arguments, insults, and threats.
“AW! MOVE YER TAIL, YE DUMB WADDLER!”
“SHADDUP, YA BEETLE-HEAD, OR I’LL CRACK YER BEAK IN TWO!”
“JUS’ TRY IT AND WE’LL BE POURIN’ YE OUT WITH THAT MOLTEN METAL!”
Jay and his cohorts witnessed four fights, one that led to a stabbing from which the victim needed to be carried away.
Yet in the midst of all this conflict, eight crows managed to tend to a caldron that hung over a blazing fire and was filled with glowing-orange molten metal. A short distance away from the fire was a large circular tub made of stones. The tub surrounded a large flat stone on which stood four large crows who were rocking it back and forth while other crows filled the tub with bucket upon bucket of a dark liquid that turned out to be the source of much of the foul smell.
The crows hoisted the molten metal toward a shallow, flat depression in the stone floor. A giant crow with tattered feathers caught the bottom of the caldron with a long hook and slowly pulled back as molten metal poured onto the stone. In the form, the metal took the shape of a broadsword, at first glowing orange, then slowly cooling to a steely gray. The crows grumbled in approval, set down their tools, and fixed their gaze toward an opening above. They remained in this position for a few minutes, waiting. Finally, two burly, clumsy crows flew through the tunnel with a third who was smaller and quite thin. They perched near the forge, looking twitchy and uncomfortable. “Sorry! Sorry! Pardon!” they croaked in turn.
“AW-RIGHT, THEN, YE ROOKS,” called the lead crow. “THAT’S A DAY! LET’S GO GET US SOME GRUB!”
Chuck-Will’s-Widow recognized the crow. “That’s the crumb that splatter-dashed our mates and clipped me wings!” he muttered in a low rumble. “He’s gonna have to settle with me sooner rather than later!”
“’Tis him, all right,” said Jay. “That there’s Bellamy, Teach’s less gifted brother!”
“One at a time, y’idiots! Shaddup or you’ll attract attention!” Bellamy called, and the crows jostled and fought to be the first out of the cavern. Bellamy strode over to the young crows. “Where’ve you been?” yelled Bellamy. “Napping, no doubt!”
The crows muttered something unintelligible in response. They were apparently the night shift, assigned to guarding the forge and tending the fires till morning.
“I asked you a question!” said Bellamy. “Where have you been?”
The smallest of the three crows answered. “We had a run-in with them sparras down at Briarloch.”
“Briarloch! What were you doing in that mud hole?” asked Bellamy.
“We were flyin’ by and thought we’d have ourselves a look-see,” said the skinny crow. “They’ve been acting strange of late.”
“Whaddaya mean?” said Bellamy. “They’re always strange.”
“They’ve been testy since we . . . visited them last spring,” said the other.
Henry heard this and immediately tried to push his way past Chuck and Jay, who clamped his beak shut. “Quiet, Henry!” Jay whispered. “Be patient and you’ll have yours, I promise.”
The skinny crow continued, “The sparras have become more brazen since then, makin’ a tough show of it when we fly by. Tonight they did the same, so we decided to teach them a lesson.” And with that he made a chopping gesture with his switch.
Bellamy smiled at this. “Ye didn’t!” he said, patting his cohort on the shoulder.
“We did,” he replied. “Three of ’em!”
“Well done, then!” said Bellamy. “Get yourselves some rest between watches — you deserve it! Make sure you’re up early to prime the forge. I want that fire roaring by sunup, d’ye hear? No excuses!” said Bellamy, and then he took his leave.
With Bellamy gone, the three crows argued over who would take the first watch. Finally they drew straws from which the skinny crow received the short stick. So the skinny crow stood guard at the entrance, while the other two settled down to sleep.
“Time to make our move,” Jay said to his four companions. “I’ll take the skinny braggart at the entrance. Chuck and Thrasher, you take the other two. Sneak up and knock ’em senseless forever, if you know what I mean.” Chuck and Thrasher nodded vehemently.
Henry surged forward. “I’m going, too!” he said, but Jay held him back.
“Not yet, Henry,” said Jay kindly. “We’re not ready. Be patient, lad!”
“And what am I to do?” asked Hillary.
“Make room in your tunnel, Hillary,” Jay said, smiling. “You’re about to score a few dozen of the finest crows’ swords ever made.”
Jay squeezed through the narrow crack and into the forge cave. He then turned t
o Henry and said, “This may get a bit ugly. Are you certain you want to be doing this?”
“I’m here for Billy!” said Henry. “And I’m here for all of Briarloch. We’re tired of being bullied.”
“All right, then!” said Blue Jay to Henry. “Stay close by my side.”
With some effort, Chuck and Thrasher managed to squeeze through the tight opening and followed after Blue Jay and Henry, creeping quietly along in the shadows of the forge. Without making a sound, each of them grabbed a weapon.
Henry could barely make out the figure of Jay as he approached the sentry. In one swift flash and a silent blow, Jay brought the skinny crow to the ground.
The two remaining crows were dispatched by Chuck and Thrasher.
“Come on, Henry,” said Jay, beckoning. “We’ve got work to do!”
Henry positioned himself just behind the body of the skinny crow, which he and Jay propped up to serve as a decoy. It leaned awkwardly on the shaft of his switch, head listing to one side.
“I need you to watch the entrance, Henry,” Jay instructed. “If anyone approaches, caw like a crow to warn us. Can you do that?”
Henry hesitated. “Not really,” he confessed.
“All right,” said Jay, handing Henry another sword. “Clang these together instead, and we’ll take that as our signal to ready ourselves.”
“Yes, sir,” said Henry earnestly.
Down in the forge, Jay quickly selected the best weapons, then Chuck and Thrasher wrapped each in cloth from Henry’s sacks and in the pirates’ jackets, including Jay’s blue frock, in order to quiet the blades. Each was then passed silently into the tunnel, where they were received by Hillary’s strong arms and piled neatly along the walls of the tunnel.
The pirates worked quickly but not near quickly enough for Henry. As the minutes passed and the sky outside darkened, he grew more and more nervous. The natural sounds around him became suspicious and threatening. Plonk! Pli-plonk!