The High-Skies Adventures of Blue Jay the Pirate

by Scott Nash

  Crookie chuckled, which kindled an even fiercer resolve in Gabriel. With a look of determination, he untangled himself from the brush, got back into the water, and turned toward Briarloch for another go. He reared back his head, extended his wings, and . . . he felt something tickling his foot underwater. Without thinking, he kicked it away, then he remembered: Hillary! Gabriel aborted his takeoff and pretended to be adjusting and preening his feathers, then tucked his head under his wing and waited for the mole to emerge. Sure enough, Hillary bobbed up from below, sputtering mad.

  “PTTTTT! PTTTT!! What on earth are you doing! PTTT! PTTT!! That’s twice you’ve kicked me in the face now!”

  “Ooh, I’m sorry, Hillary,” said Gabriel. “I’m not used to the feel of your . . . your . . . nose, er, finger things on my leg!”

  “Harrumph!” said Hillary, rubbing his nose. “I’m not used to your webbed footlike thing in my face. Anyway, I’m here to give you a message. We’re going to make a stand against the crows at Echo Lake tomorrow morning, and Jay wants to know if you can find your way there overland today. We will be traveling underground and will meet you there. Can you do that?”

  “Where is Echo Lake?”

  Their talk was interrupted by Crookie. “Did ya break something, Gabriel?”

  Hillary dove underwater. Crookie landed on Gabriel’s back. “Sorry I laughed back there. It surely was a spectacular landing. Are ya hurt?”

  “No, I was just unruffling my feathers before I gave it another try.”

  “That’s the spirit! You almost took off that time, ya know! All ya need to do is start earlier — flap and swim at the same time. Here, eat some of this.” The crow reached into a pocket under her wing and produced what looked to be a long, dried rodent’s tail and offered it to Gabriel. “Eat up!”

  Gabriel drew back in alarm. “No. No, thanks. I only eat plants, thanks!”

  “This is a plant, silly goose! It’s gingin root. It’s food. It will give ya the energy to fly, I promise.”

  Reluctantly, Gabriel took the root, closed his eyes, and took a nibble. He was surprised to find it had a strong but pleasant bittersweet flavor that he found appealing. He ate the rest and felt a warm energy fill him.

  “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” said Crookie. “And here’s more for later.” She produced another root, attached it to a string, and tied it around Gabriel’s neck. “This one’s for your long journey home.”

  The crow launched herself from Gabriel’s back and flew a few circles around him. “Now, then, you will fly this time. And when ya do, fly as far away from here as ya can until you find your flock. And then, fly with them. Fly south, young goose!” The crow winked at Gabriel. “And then next year, when ya pass through, promise that you’ll visit ol’ Crookie, won’t ya?”

  “I promise,” said Gabriel. “Thank you, Crookie.”

  “No thanks necessary. Just promise you’ll come see me. Now, let’s see ya fly!” said the crow.

  Once again Gabriel turned his face toward Briarloch and surged forward. Foomph! Foomph! Foomph! His wings drummed the air — three powerful beats and his chest lifted out of the water.

  Foomph! Foomph! Foomph! His feet left the water.

  Foomph! Foomph! Foomph! His heart surged as he took off to fly over Briarloch. He circled the pond, climbing higher still.

  Crookie put on an outrageous show, cheering and diving at Gabriel before she bade him a warm farewell and headed back into the forest.

  Gabriel felt a joy unlike any he had felt before. Below him he could see the whole of Briarloch, the Grosbeak, Black Point, and what must be Echo Lake — the place where Hillary, Junco, and Blue Jay would be waiting for him.

  They had disappeared! It was as though Blue Jay, his pirates, and the sparrows of Briarloch had vanished into thin air. Teach’s mob scoured the forest floor for any sign of the renegades. They searched every den and every nest in every village surrounding Briarloch and interrogated and bullied every bird they met along the way. Word of the crows’ rampage must have preceded them, for most of the sparrows had flown into hiding by the time Teach reached their villages. The crows would inevitably find evidence of hasty escapes, half-made meals, abandoned tools and projects. In anger and frustration, the crows plundered what was valuable and destroyed the rest.

  Only one settlement the crows visited was still populated by a small flock of what appeared to be a kind of sooty-gray sparrow with brown wings. The crows descended on them, weapons drawn. The frightened birds cowered and pleaded for their lives in a language that none of the crows understood. The sparrows wore plain, drab clothing and straw hats and carried no weapons.

  “They’re immigrants!” Bellamy whispered to Avery with obvious distaste. “Let’s kill ’em all and be done with it.”

  “Just a moment,” said Avery. He strode up to one of the sparrows and held the point of his sword at the poor bird’s throat. The rest of the flock began to weep and wail for their companion’s life.

  “Shut up, ye turds!” yelled Bellamy, but the sparrows only wailed more loudly.

  Very slowly, Avery said, “Tell me where Jay is or my crows will quarter each and every one of you!”

  “par ni Mi petegi vin!” the sparrow pleaded softly.

  Avery pressed the blade harder. “One last chance: Where. Is. Jay?”

  “Mi petegi vin,” the bird repeated, eyes wide.

  Avery lowered his blade and turned his back on the bird. “Ignorant savages!” he mumbled. Then, “Move out!” he ordered his mob. When the crows hesitated, he yelled, “You heard me! Move out!” and the crows flew off, leaving the sparrows stunned and relieved.

  Bellamy swooped up next to Avery. “Why didn’t we kill ’em?” he asked.

  Avery shook his head. “I told that bird we were going to butcher his flock, and he didn’t even blink. They didn’t understand a word I was saying. Killing them would have been nothing but an enjoyable diversion, one that we can ill afford at this time.”

  “But they’re sparras!” said Bellamy.

  “They don’t know anything,” Avery replied blandly. “Besides, it’s getting dark . . . time to report back to Teach.”

  At Black Point, Bellamy reported having seen no sign of Blue Jay, the sparrows, or the mole.

  “They’ve had thar blasted wings clipped!” growled Teach. “How far could they have gone?”

  “We have searched everywhere,” said Avery coolly. “There is no sign of them. They have either been saved by a passing ship and are far away or they are still deep underground, perhaps with the mole who broke into the forge.”

  “If they had hopped a ship, we would have seen them,” said Teach. “We would have seen the ship. Naw, they’ve gone underground, Avery, and that’s where they’ll die! Tonight we’ll bury them where they lie. I want every hole in the ground flooded or filled with weasels, then sealed and guarded so none can escape.”

  “Tonight?” said Avery.

  “Yeah, tonight. This moment would not be soon enough!”

  The gang bristled noticeably at this suggestion. Teach scowled and surveyed the exhausted crows around him. “All right. Tomarra, then!” he said. “We start before daybreak and won’t stop till the job is done proper, ya hear?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Avery and Bellamy.

  In the predawn darkness of the following morning, the crows were roused by Bellamy’s regular mobbing call. “CAW! CAW! CAW! AW! AW! CAW!”

  Once the crows had assembled, Teach addressed the mob, outlining his strategy. “We have reason to believe that Blue Jay and his miserable crew have gone underground, as disgusting and unlikely as that might seem. Ah want each of you ta spread out on the ground and search for holes! Ah want every hole found and every hole sabotaged . . .” Teach’s word trailed off when a distant but familiar voice drifted through the forest. “JAY! JAY! JAY!”

  Avery and Bellamy sprang from their perches. “It’s him!” they said. “It’s him!”

  “Yes, it’s him, you i
diots!” said Teach. “So let’s go find him!”

  “JAY! JAY! JAY!” came the voice again.

  “Get him!” cried Teach. “Get him and get his crew and get them sparras, and this time spare no one! Kill them. Kill them all!”

  The crows followed the voice through the forest, past Briarloch, and to the shore of Echo Lake, not far from where they had encountered the immigrant birds the day before. There stood Jay, his crew, and the goose from the pond at Briarloch!

  “I knew there was something up with that goose!” growled Bellamy.

  The crows circled overhead, a large swirling cloud of black against a bright blue sky.

  The pirates may have been dirty and bedraggled, but they were armed with pikes from Briarloch and with the weapons taken from the forge. The glint in their eyes and the shine of new steel gave them a fearsome look. All at once, they started up their mobbing calls. The noise grew until it was a cacophony of whistles, croaks, clicks, and shrill screeches: a challenge to the crows, a crazy, polyphonic battle cry.

  In his right wing, Blue Jay held a large, elegantly designed switch. Teach, who had flown up and lit on the branch of a scraggly pine, recognized the switch as being from his own forge.

  Gabriel was wielding a long broadsword that had been commissioned by the governor of Thrushia and was created to be displayed in the royal court as a symbol of the colony’s power. The blade was four times the length of a normal sword, intricately etched with Thrushian depictions of heaven and hell: on one side, birds flying toward a sun with the face of a stern owl, and the hilt sculpted in the shape of a thrush, wings extending toward the sword point. On the other side, buglike demons dragging faithless birds underground, and the hilt shaped like a skeleton.

  Towering over all other birds, Gabriel was a menacing, threatening figure. That he possessed this blade, which the strongest crow among them could barely lift, and was holding it against them disturbed the crows profoundly.

  “You’re all holding my property, Jay,” called Teach, “and I intend to take it back.”

  “This is yours?” said Jay, holding out the switch. “Really? This looks Thrushian to me.” Jay raised the switch, then plunged it, point down, into the sand. “This is definitely a Thrushian sword. I thought for sure you were a corvid, like me. Are you telling me you’re Thrushian, Teach?”

  Teach bridled at Jay’s insult. “A thrush, ya say?” he yelled. “That is an insult that will not go unanswered!” Teach removed his tall black hat and threw off his long coat. He drew his sword and pointed it at Jay. “I’m neither a thrush nor cousin to you. Why, you’re nothin’ but a petty thief, a pickpocket, an urchin! Let’s say we have it out, once and for all. A duel, ya blue dandy! I challenge ya to a duel!”

  “Crayeee!” said Jay, pulling the switch from the sand. “I accept! Clear us some room, boys! Teach and I have a giant score to settle.”

  In romantic descriptions of sword fighting, duels are a sort of dance involving verbal sparring as much as swordplay. In these tales, the combatants leap from gunwales to rigging to yardarms, crossing swords, trading witticisms, and exchanging barbs with each other. Whether these depictions of sword fights are accurate or not is irrelevant. They are written to create great action sequences. In truth, however, actual sword fights end rather quickly. The duelists face off, exchange formalities, meet in the middle with swords, and hack at each other. He who hacks first often wins.

  When it came to hacking, Teach had a certain advantage, being larger, stronger, and taller than Jay. Nevertheless, Avery flew up close to his boss and asked, “Why bother with a duel? Let us kill him and be done with it.”

  “Yeah,” chimed Bellamy. “Finish him off right now.”

  “I have no intention of dueling. This is a diversion,” Teach whispered out the side of his beak. “As soon as I hit the sand, call the attack. Go for the goose first.” Then, without warning, Teach left his perch in the trees and plummeted toward the pirate captain, hoping to catch him off-guard. “Good-bye, Jay!” he muttered.

  What Blue Jay lacked in size and strength he made up for in wits and agility. He had anticipated just such a deception and was at the ready. As soon as the crow had folded back his wings and dropped into a dive, Jay’s reflexes said Hawk! and he instinctively rolled into a defensive position for a hawk attack — on his back and holding the switch straight up.

  Teach realized his mistake too late and was unable to pull out of his dive. He screamed as Jay’s blade plunged deep into his leg.

  As Teach fell, Jay scooted deftly to the side so as not to take the crow’s full weight. He let go of the switch and then slashed at Teach with his cutlass, cutting the crow’s left wing off just below the elbow.

  Teach fell away heavily, cursing, screaming, and holding his mangled wing. “Ya cut me, ya blue devil! Ya cut me!”

  Jay moved closer, and Teach took a mighty swing at his head. Jay barely dodged Teach’s sword as it came crashing down on his own, splitting it in two and leaving Jay defenseless. Before Teach could strike again, Jay was accidentally broadsided by an errant swing of Gabriel’s sword and was thrown clear across the shore.

  Blackcap flew to him. “Sir! Are you all right?” he cried.

  “Never better! That goose just saved my skin!” said Jay, taking the sword that Blackcap offered him. “Now, let’s get back to it!” But when he stood up, he had lost sight of Teach.

  By then a full-scale battle had erupted. The crows descended on the flightless pirates. Gabriel swung his magnificent long sword clumsily, as if he were clearing a field with a scythe. Even so, more than a few crows fell around him.

  Teach’s gang were veteran fighters, experienced in battle and bearing the scars to prove it. They were cocky and confident, boasting and cawing loudly as they fought. They attacked Gabriel from all sides. This enraged Junco, who flew to the defense of her protégé. “To your left!” she warned. “Behind you! Hold your blade at more of an angle. That’s it!”

  Jay came charging back to where he had left Teach, eager to knock him off, but two hulking crows blocked his path.

  “Kill him!” Teach screamed from a hidden place. “Kill Blue Jay!”

  The two crows lunged at Jay. “Cripes!” Jay ducked swiftly under the form of Gabriel. Gabriel made short work of the crows this time with the lethal edge of his sword, separating their heads and tails, which toppled on the beach.

  “Well done, lad!” called Jay proudly.

  But when he saw what he had done, Gabriel groaned in disgust.

  Jay looked up at Gabriel. He knew from the expression on the goose’s face that it was time for Gabriel to fly. “Go ahead, Gabriel!” Jay shouted. “Drop your sword and fly!”

  Without hesitating, Gabriel plunged his sword deep into the sand, spread his wings, and took to the air, knocking another crow to the ground with the downward force of his wing beat.

  Flying over the lake, Gabriel was no longer the clumsy gosling that tripped over his own feet. He was a magnificent inspiration, a sleek bird with feathers of black, white, and gray. With each stroke of his wings, he felt his heart surge up, up, up, with a force stronger than gravity. The urge to fly was so great that he knew it would be a struggle to fly back to the shore, but struggle he would, if only to bring his mates with him on the journey.

  He’s fledged! Jay cheered to himself, then laughed aloud. Gabriel was now a force to be reckoned with, something as close to a god as you probably get. Jay leaped as high as his mangled wings allowed, then let out a piercing “Screeeee! Screeeee!” He sounded so much like a red-tailed hawk that the birds on the battlefield cowered.

  “Screeeee! Screeeee!” Jay called again.

  Bellamy was among those fooled by Jay’s call. He sheltered his head with his wing and peered through it to the sky for the terrible hawk that never came. When he realized that he had been duped, his blood began to boil. Bellamy could not stand being made the fool, not again. He flew toward Blue Jay in a full rage, sword slicing the air. “Yer dead, Jay!”r />
  Bellamy’s and Jay’s blades clashed, and the force of Bellamy’s blow knocked Jay violently to the ground and sent his sword flying. Jay heard a bone in his wing snap, and he reeled on the beach in pain.

  Bellamy’s sword came down again but missed Jay, driving deep into the ground beside Jay’s head, so close that he could hear the crunch of the blade entering the earth and the ringing of steel as it was drawn back out.

  Jay rolled onto his back in time to see Bellamy lift the sword high over his head. Just then the forest by the shore rustled with a wild gust of hundreds of wings rising from the ground and through the trees.

  Bellamy’s eyes shot toward the sound.

  “Hear that, Bellamy?” said Jay. “That is the sound of your demise!”

  A great swarm of sparrows hit Bellamy from behind and nearly knocked the sword out of his grasp. These were the cousins of the sparrows of Briarloch — sparrows from neighboring hamlets and beyond, and the sparrow immigrants from the settlement that the crows had attacked the previous day. They were little brown and gray birds, and nobody saw them coming. They were led by none other than Henry, who proudly carried a crow’s steel sword. They had been hiding in the mole’s tunnels that led to the shore. Henry and the sparrows filled the tunnels waiting for Jay’s signal. They did not cower at the scream of the hawk but rushed forward, pouring out of the tunnels and shouting their battle cries.

  The sparrows flew at the crows’ bony backs and beat them with nothing more than sticks and other makeshift weapons. Bellamy tried to fight off the birds, but the crow could barely see or keep his wits about him in the mad confusion. He tried to escape by flying over the lake, but the flock followed him like a swarm of angry hornets. Finally, it was Henry who delivered the fatal blow and buried the blade of his sword deep into Bellamy’s chest. “That’s for Billy!” he cried.