by Scott Nash
“What was that?” From his vantage point, Henry was relieved to see it was only the fish jumping in Echo Lake. But then, out of nowhere came a soft, erratic flap of wings. Tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tac-tic!
Crows! Henry thought, and his heart pounded.
Tic-tac-tac-tic!
But they were not crows. These creatures swooped down sharply, nearly glancing off the water, then veered upward again at the last moment. The air filled with tinny screams. “Tseee! Tseee! Tseee!”
Henry started as one of the creatures suddenly landed at the entrance to the forge, a short distance from where he was hiding. Small and brown, it lurched like a crippled insect between wings that seemed to be hinged in too many places. Its face was both sweet and hideous, with a nose that folded back in on itself, beady black eyes, and large triangular ears. Bats! thought Henry. The bat shrieked again, using the sound and its echo to “see,” to create an image of its surroundings.
Henry held his breath, but the creature would find him, of that he was certain.
Thinking fast, and in a voice that he hoped sounded crowlike, Henry demanded, “Who goes there? Identify yourself immediately before I cut you to bits.”
“Tsee! Tseee!” answered the bat in a thin voice. “You know what I am just as well as I know what you are, little bird. Tsee! Tsee! Little . . . sparrow!”
The bat’s mocking tone made Henry furious, and he rushed at the bat with both swords clanging, hoping the noise would shoo him away and also serve as a warning to his mates in the forge. The bat screamed at the sound and flew straight toward Henry.
“Get out, I tell you,” roared Henry, “or else!” The bat darted and weaved just out of reach of Henry’s swords.
“Who else is in there with you? Tsee! Tsee!” teased the bat. “I can hear more breathing and other heartbeats. Little, fast heartbeats, like yours. What are little birds like you doing underground? What are the little birds doing in the crows’ forge?”
“Not that it’s any of your business!” Henry said, but then tried to come up with an answer to protect the others. “We tend the forge at night; we are slaves to the crows.”
“Tsee! Tsee! While three of your crow masters sleep s-s-s-s-o silently around you? Tsee! Tsee! So silent,” said the bat. “This crow sleeps while standing. Curiousss! Tsee! Tsee!”
Then Henry heard crows cawing in the distance and, from the sound of it, many crows. He turned his back on the bat and flew into the forge to warn his mates.
“Tsee! Tsee! There’s no place to run!” screeched the bat after him. “Tsee! Tsee! Tsee! Tsee! You are all dead! Dead! Dead! Dead!”
Henry’s heart filled with terror and rage, and he clanged his swords together noisily once more to warn his friends. The sound of the crows grew louder as they flew closer.
“CAW! CAW! CAW!”
Henry found Jay waiting for him, perched on the rocks above the tunnel. “Stop that racket and get in here!” said Jay. “Quick, Henry,” Jay said. “Sweep up your footprints there with your wings! Make haste!”
“CAW! CAW! CAW!”
Henry swept away his tracks and hopped into Jay’s hiding place behind a pile of rocks just before the crows entered the cave. Behind the rocks were Hillary, Chuck, and Thrasher, who clapped him on the shoulder in approval and whispered, “Well done, Henry!”
“CAW! CAW! CAW!”
“Hillary, close the tunnel now!” hissed Jay.
The mole set to his task with amazing speed and strength, rolling the stone back in place and attacking the dirt with his great claws, muffling the angry cries of the crows, who had just discovered that three of their companions were dead and their arsenal had been robbed. Hillary insisted on collapsing a great length of the tunnel to guarantee the crows would not discover his secret home. When he was finished, the pirates retrieved their lanterns and inspected their plunder.
Henry gasped at the spectacular assortment of weapons. There were short, sturdy dirks and daggers, elegant multi-bladed switches decorated with intricate swirling patterns, and cutlasses with blades designed to look like feathers, complete with quills and vanes. Each was beautifully crafted, exceedingly light. These weapons were a far cry from the primitive wooden knives and quarterstaves used by impoverished sparrows.
“Here, Henry, this is yours,” said Jay, handing the young sparrow a cutlass. “See what it feels like to wield a quality sword.”
Henry stared at the sword with awe and trepidation. The Thrushian government had ruled the possession of steel weapons by sparrows to be a high crime punishable by death.
Nevertheless, Henry shuddered with excitement as he held the sword out and swung it in the air in front of him. The cutlass already felt like a part of his wing — weightless, precise, and powerful.
“This one’s for Gabriel,” said Jay, lifting one end of a giant broadsword, fifteen talons long — half again as long as an adult crow. It was perhaps the most magnificent prize of all. “What do you think, eh, Henry, my young freebooter?”
“I think that our world has just changed,” Henry said. “I think that we are also in very serious trouble. That bat knew I was a sparrow, which means the crows now know that I am a sparrow.”
“Wot do ye mean?” asked Chuck.
“I mean,” said Henry, “I believe that my village is in terrible danger. We must get back to Briarloch immediately!”
Earlier that evening, Teach entered the dining hall at Black Point, sat down heavily, and stared at the tip of his beak. He was clearly in an ugly mood. Avery ordered more food, thinking that a full gullet might lighten his boss’s spirits.
But the heaping bowls that were offered only worsened Teach’s mood. “Aw! Naw! Not sparra food! Dratted seeds make me sick! Avery, I swear I’m done with mast. I need meat.”
“Aye, sir, I could stand to have some meat myself, but there is none in our stores, not a strip of jerky even. I’ll send a scavenger crew out first thing in the morning.”
Teach glowered at the pile of seeds in front of him. “You bunch of lazy roosters!” he shouted at his crew. “All ya do is steal from little songbirds!” With a sweep of his wing, he knocked the seeds and nuts off the table and onto the floor. “Not tomarra, Avery! I want my meat now! Tonight, I say!”
“I’ve got some dried worms here.” Bellamy offered his brother a bowl.
Teach pushed the bowl away. “Naw, Bellamy!” he raged. “I want fresh meat! Assemble a hunting crew immediately and find me some!”
Avery looked out at the crew, who looked back at him in stunned disbelief. It was dusk. Soon night would fall and the forest floor would be full of silent, invisible predators with particular appetites for birds. It wasn’t wolves or foxes that worried the crows. These were dangerous to be sure, but they were noisy and smelly mammals who were easy to evade. No, it was owls that terrified the crows. Silent, unearthly beings that could snatch a bird right out of the sky, never to be seen again. With muffled wings and razor-sharp talons, they could pierce a victim’s skin and carry them away, as silent as a breeze, as invisible as a ghost.
But the crows were saved from just such a dangerous excursion by three bats who came whirling into the hall screaming, “Tsee! Tsee! Tsee!”
The crows scattered, turning over tables and drawing swords.
The bats wove past the crows and hovered in front of Teach.
“What is it now?” Teach demanded of the bats.
“We have grave news . . . grave news! Tsee! Tsee!”
“Out with it, then!” said Teach, leaning into them.
“The forge has been breached. Tsee! Crows have died! Died! Tsee!”
The hall filled with the crows’ agitated murmurs.
“Silence!” Teach commanded.
The room went quiet, and Teach’s eyes narrowed. “Breached by whom?”
“Tsee, we cannot say for sure, but there was a sparrow at the entrance. And perhaps more behind.”
“Sparras?” said Teach incredulously. “Sparras underground? Is this some sort o
f joke?”
“Tsee, we speak the truth. This we know, tsee. Three crows at the forge are dead . . . killed. Dead! We have asked our brothers and sisters to watch the entrance to see that no one escapes. Tsee! They are trapped. Tsee! Tsee! Tsee!”
At the news, Teach flew into a rage. “Awww! Get them, all of you! We will have meat tonight — sparra meat! Everyone! Ah say, everyone to the forge!”
The crows stumbled over one another in a hurry both to get to the forge and to get out of Teach’s way.
When the crows arrived at the forge, a storm of black wings filled the cavern. There were no sparrows to be seen, just three dead crows, a depleted armory, and a few bats, who reported that no one had come out of the forge in the time that they had stood guard.
“All right, mates,” said Teach. “I want you to search every inch of the cave, but don’t touch the floor. I want to take a look at any footprints.”
Teach saw plenty of footprints in the dirt, but they were all crow footprints, made earlier that day by the forge workers. Teach flew up to the ceiling to inspect the floor from above. From that vantage point, he noticed something odd. “Look there, Avery!” he called. “Notice the footprints by the north wall?”
“There aren’t any footprints there, sir. Swept away, perhaps?”
“Exactly!” said Teach. “Have the boys search the north wall. I suspect we might find a passageway hidden there.” The crows found nothing. Hillary had done a superb job of filling the opening. Still, Teach had his biggest crows push at the spot but with no success. “Sparras didn’t dig their way in here. Ah think it’s a stinkin’ mole that did this!”
“Whaddaya mean, a mole?” asked Bellamy.
“Bellamy, you cackle fruit!” Teach railed. “Must I do all the thinking here? Look, there!” he said, pointing to one of the rocks in the north wall. “Notice that all of the stones are clean with the exception of this one?” Teach brushed his wing across the brown dirt clinging to the face of the stone to reveal gray underneath. “This stone was recently moved, then replaced. It still has dirt from the tunnel on it to prove it!”
“You’re right, Teach!” Bellamy said, attempting to retrieve his dignity. “Must be a dirty, thievin’ mole! Don’t worry, brother. We’ll dig him out and present his pelt to ya within the hour!” Bellamy turned to the rest of the crows. “DON’T JUST STAND THERE! START DIGGIN’!” he ordered, and a number of crows grabbed tools and began to scrape away at the dirt between the stones.
“Avery, a word!” said Teach, taking his adviser aside. “My brother’s an idiot! They’re all idiots! But not you, you’re clever. Can you tell me something — anything — about moles?”
“Yes, of course,” said Avery, matter-of-factly. “They are mammals, they dig extensive tunnels that run for miles, they eat bugs and roots, they’re nearly blind and are usually loners.”
“Ah, Avery, thank you! We have, at least, a second brain here!” said Teach with a bow. “Now, what do we think are the chances of finding a mole on the other side of that rock?”
“No chance at all,” said Avery. “It’s moved on. It’s far away from here, I’d say.”
“Right. And what do our two brains together figure is the likelihood that this mole worked alone here?”
“I would say the mole definitely had help. The bats said as much.”
“And who do we think may have conspired with this mole?” asked Teach.
“Perhaps sparrows. That’s what the bats told us,” said Avery.
“I’ll tell you what I think!” Teach scowled. “I think that Blue Jay had somethin’ ta do with this. Sparras wouldn’t dare steal from us. It’s Blue Jay. He’s hiding out somewhere around here with my shiny steel. Now, where do you think he’s hidin’, eh, Avery?”
Avery removed his glasses and cleaned them on his jacket. “The first question should be whom is he hiding with?” said Avery. “Or who’s hiding him.”
“Sparras!” said Teach.
“Sparrows,” said Avery.
Teach ordered the digging stopped and immediately called for a raid on every sparrow village in the area that very night. He gave his mob permission to “Beat, bleed, or break the bones of as many sparras as it takes to find the whereabouts of Jay and his crew. Don’t kill ’em. Just break ’em,” said Teach. “I want information first. We’ll save the killin’ for later.”
“I’d rather die than leave Briarloch to them thieving crows!” said Poppa Fox. “They’ll not set foot in me pub or me home. Mark me words, I’ll fight them to the death! Me mind’s made up. I’m stayin’ right here to fight for what’s ours!”
Jay and his band of “forgers” had arrived back at the village of Briarloch and warned of a possible full-scale attack by Teach’s crows. A hasty plan was devised in which the sparrows would evacuate Briarloch and hide in Hillary’s tunnels to wait out the blitz. If the crows invaded, the villagers would be afforded time to organize and launch an attack of their own. Hillary thought this to be a “capital idea.” Since Hillary was a stranger to the crows, he would be able to keep the sparrows and pirates safe while giving them time to plan their next move.
Most of the sparrows embraced the idea of hiding but balked at the idea of going underground. However, when faced with the alternative — fleeing into a forest full of owls, weasels, and fishers — hiding in the mole’s tunnels for a short time seemed to be the better choice. So, with the pirates’ guidance, the villagers headed underground. Not all the sparrows agreed with Jay’s plan. There were a few stalwarts conflicted about leaving, most of them veterans of the Colonial War ready to stand and fight in defense of their village. The most notable of these was Poppa Fox. “I did not give up me leg in the war to let crows steal away what is ours! I helped build this village, and I will not abandon it!” he said. “No, I’m stayin’ and fightin’ for what’s ours.”
Jay placed a wing over his heart. “We will fight the crows!” he vowed. “I promised you two nights ago, and I renew my promise now. We will fight the crows, and we will beat them. With their own weapons, no less! But we can beat them only with a plan.”
“Aye, it’s yor recklessness that got us into this mess!” said Poppa Fox, feathers puffed.
“It’s true. I’m responsible for this mess,” said Jay. “But we’ll be far worse off if we attempt to defend the village now, with crude weapons and no plan. We’ll die as martyrs. It certainly would make for a great yarn for others to tell, but, honestly, I’d rather have them tell a tale of how we defeated the crows, wouldn’t you?”
Poppa Fox shifted his weight off his wooden leg. “But this is our home!” he said.
“Please, Poppa, come with us.” It was Henry, who had just returned from the tunnel. He walked out of the darkness and up to the innkeeper and took him by the elbow. “We can’t beat them tonight. But we’ll have our chance soon enough.”
Poppa patted Henry’s wing and shook his head sadly. “I am an old bird —”
Just then they were interrupted by the arrival of Junco. “The crows are coming!” she cried. “Our scouts say that they are leaving the forge. If we are going to succeed, we need to get to the tunnels immediately!”
“Poppa?” urged Henry.
“All right, I’ll go,” grumbled the innkeeper.
Finally, Poppa Fox and all the rest gathered at the entrance of Hillary’s tunnel. Gabriel stood guard with Snipe and Chuck. The pirate clothing was gone from the goose, and he looked regal in his natural state. The downy gray and yellow feathers of his brief childhood had turned into sleek black, white, and gray feathers. Gabriel was no longer a clumsy gosling. He stood before them a noble goose.
“What’s he going to do?” asked Poppa Fox. “That poor fella’s head won’t fit into the tunnel, let alone the rest of ’im!”
“He and I are going to hide out somewhere at the far side of the pond,” said Junco. “We’ll keep an eye on things from there until we figure out our next move.”
“Won’t the crows be suspicious of a giga
ntic goose floating around in Briarloch Pond?”
“No crow would ever suspect that a goose-god would have anything to do with the likes of Blue Jay and his pirates,” said Snipe, “let alone a village of sparrows. Gabriel had fallen overboard before we wrecked, and, besides that, I doubt Teach and his gang would dare attack a Branta goose. All he needs to do is keep calm and look uninterested, and the crows will assuredly give him a wide berth.”
“And what about Junco?” asked Poppa Fox.
“Junco has gotten good at hiding out with a goose over the past few weeks,” said Henry, with a nod to Junco. “We needn’t worry about her. She’ll take care of herself. Now, come along, Poppa. We need to get you underground.”
Poppa moved toward the tunnel warily, then stopped abruptly and pulled away from Henry. “I’m staying with the goose!” he said.
“Caw! Caw!” The crows were even closer than before.
“But Poppa!” cried Henry.
“Caaaw! Caaaw!”
Hillary poked his head out of the tunnel. “Are you coming or aren’t you? I’ve got to seal up the tunnel now!”
Gabriel reached down and nudged Poppa Fox with his beak. “It’s dangerous here,” he said. “You need to go. I’m sorry.” Poppa Fox wheeled around and tried to push Gabriel away, but the goose grabbed him by the jacket, lifted him gently, and deposited him in the tunnel. Jay and Henry rushed in after him. “Good luck!” Hillary called over his shoulder to Gabriel and Junco, and then the entrance disappeared in a shower of dirt.
“CAW! CAW! CAW!”
Gabriel packed down the dirt in front of the tunnel with his wings. Junco began to help, sweeping the telltale footprints from the shore, but Gabriel urged her to hide. “If the crows catch you here,” he said, “we’re all goners. I’ll finish that. Like Snipe said, the crows won’t think to bother with me. I’ll be safe.”
“Meet me on the other side as soon as you can,” said Junco. “I’ll be watching out for you.”