Eagles' Revenge

by Roger Mortimer

  A flight of shadows swooped through the mist: the Red Kites. And, invisible on the flanks of the army, the ravens were searching for Rufus.

  ‘They’re going to attack Aramon,’ whispered Elana, as the sound of tramping feet faded into the mist. ‘Zagora must be dead. You were right, Rufus. Karabas was wearing a crown. Was it the Crown of Carminel?’

  ‘No. That is either at the castle, or Saraband has it with him. Come on, the sooner we find the other Treasures the better. Let’s make the most of this mist. Once it lifts, we must hide somewhere until dark. It won’t be safe to travel in daylight; you can bet Saraband’s got his filthy ravens looking for us.’

  Rufus had no idea of their direction, but Elana seemed to know her way by instinct. Rufus was thankful that she had joined him on the quest. Elana had a sharp tongue but she would make a useful companion. For a while they walked in silence. Then Rufus asked, ‘Why does a cardinal rule in Aramon? Isn’t there a King?’

  ‘No. When the last King was old, the rats invaded. The King’s only son was killed in the Battle of Collada River, so the royal line died out. Since then, Carminel has been ruled by cardinals of the Lord of Light. The one in charge now is called Odo.’

  ‘And when the rats attack, will he fight?’

  Elana grinned. ‘Not all priests are gentle like my father. I’ve heard that Odo keeps a wooden club to fight with.’

  ‘Why not a sword or pistol?’

  ‘Well, being a cardinal, he’s not supposed to shed blood, so he has his club instead, to bash rats!’

  Suddenly, Rufus realized that the mist was lifting. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘We must find somewhere to hide – look!’ Far to the south, dark specks were flying towards them. They were too far to be certain, but Rufus felt sure that they were Saraband’s ravens.

  Amren had told them to seek the Chalice first. ‘When the Lord of Light lived in Carminel, many ages ago, he dwelt in a cave, and mice would travel from far and near to hear his message of peace. He baked his own bread, which he called the bread of life; and when he passed round the Chalice, filled with his own blackberry wine, it never ran dry, no matter how many mice wanted to drink from it. He called the wine the symbol of brotherhood. According to Rufus’s poem, the Chalice is still in the cave. If you follow the old Pilgrims’ Way, you should find it.’

  First though, they had to find the Pilgrims’ Way. They journeyed by night, sleeping by day in dry ditches or deep in the woods. When their food ran out, Elana introduced Rufus to blackberries, elderberries – and sloes, which the country-mice called wild plums.

  As they journeyed further from Saraband’s line of march, they judged it safe to travel by day. The country-mice were bringing in the last of the harvest. They shared their bread, cheese and rough cider with Rufus and Elana, and at night welcomed them to their farmsteads. Clouds of black smoke on the southern horizon told a grim tale of farms and fields set on fire, so the country-mice lived in terror of the invaders. Rufus longed to cheer them by telling of their quest for the Treasures, but he dared not, lest Saraband should hear of it.

  At last, one morning, Rufus and Elana left the rich farmlands and descended to a densely wooded valley. By Elana’s reckoning, they were not very far from where the Chalice of the Lord of Light was hidden. ‘This must be the old Pilgrims’ Way,’ she said, as they set off along a narrow track. ‘According to my father’s directions, we should be getting near to the cave.’

  For several hours, Rufus and Elana struggled to follow the path. Just when they thought it lost, it would reappear, leading them deeper and deeper into the forest. At midday they stopped. While Elana foraged for hazelnuts and hawthorn berries, Rufus rested, watching the pattern of dappled sunlight beneath the trees.

  Suddenly, a shadow rippled across the path. Rufus glanced up. A raven was flying above the wood. As it dipped below the tree-tops, Rufus darted across the path and dived under a holly bush. ‘Elana!’ he called. There was no reply.

  But Elana had spotted the raven. As it swooped overhead, she unslung her bow, fitted an arrow and waited. When the raven, flying lower this time, made a second circuit of the woods and was directly above her, she raised her bow, took a split-second aim, and shot.

  Rufus emerged from his hiding place to see Elana grimly pulling her arrow from the dead bird. ‘We must bury it quickly,’ she said, ‘and then get moving. Luckily, this spy was alone. I don’t think I could have dealt with more than one.’

  Elana was wrong. The raven’s partner, Kei, flying towards the wood, had veered sharply at the sight of his friend’s death, and flown back to the army.

  ‘You never said this mouse had a bow an’ arrows,’ Kei said accusingly.

  ‘How was I to know?’ retorted Saraband. ‘And stop whining. You’re paid well for your scouting and you know the risks. Your friend should have been more careful. Nym! Skillet! Mount up! Find that slave! He’s probably going for the Chalice. Find out where it’s hidden, then kill him and whoever’s with him. Kei will guide you – oh, yes you will!’ he snarled, as the disgruntled raven began sidling away. ‘If you don’t want to end up as Kite fodder.’

  7. Mould-Warp

  ‘They’re not just behind us,’ whispered Rufus. ‘They’re all around!’

  ‘There’s someone behind, and someone approaching from in front,’ murmured Elana. Her bow was ready, arrowhead gleaming in the darkness. ‘And there are others, keeping pace with us on either side. You’re right, we’re surrounded.’

  Rufus gripped his dagger. At least this fight would be against living enemies, not Dark Angels who still came at night and haunted his dreams.

  ‘Rufus!’

  Nym and Skillet suddenly appeared. Elana drew her bow and shot at Skillet. Rufus snarled and flung himself at Nym. The rat was strong, but Rufus gripped Nym’s throat with his right paw, kicked his feet from under him, and hurled him to the ground. Sitting astride, he gripped Nym’s neck with both paws, but Nym’s feet came up and threw Rufus off. He landed on his feet and, as Nym struggled to get up, Rufus launched himself in a vicious head-butt. As Nym fell, Rufus drew his dagger . . . And froze.

  Elana’s arrow had missed. Skillet had seized her and stuffed a filthy rag into her mouth. His pistol was pointing at her head. Nym staggered up, rubbing his aching neck. He helped himself to Rufus’s dagger. ‘Saraband wants to know where this Chalice is,’ he panted. ‘So tell us.’

  How did Saraband know? ‘I’ll tell you,’ Rufus replied. ‘But first let her go.’

  ‘Just tell us,’ said Skillet. ‘Then we’ll see. Who knows? We might let both of you go.’

  ‘Don’t lie. You’ve been sent to kill me. But you’ve no reason to kill her.’

  ‘Oh, no?’ sneered Skillet. ‘Who shot that poxy raven, then? You’re right, we are going to kill you, you snivelling wretch, but tell us where this Chalice-thing is, and we might let her go.’

  Elana’s eyes held a clear command: say nothing! But Rufus ignored her. So long as there was a chance of saving her, he would tell these rats all he knew.

  ‘The Chalice – ’

  ‘NO!’ A roar sounded from the woods and huge shadows rose from the ground on either side of the path.

  ‘RATS! Throw your guns to the ground!’

  Nym and Skillet glanced at one another, hurled the mice aside, raised their pistols, and –‘AAAAAARRRGGGHHH!’

  Two axes had flickered out of the shadows, the pistols skittered into the bushes and the rats were hopping about the path, clutching their paws where the axes had bitten deeply.

  ‘Now go!’ ordered the voice. ‘We shall not kill you this time. But if you or any of your kind venture here again, you will not leave this wood alive. Return to your Red Kites. You will be watched every step of the way, although you will not see who watches you. Now GO!’

  The rats fled. Elana tore the gag from her mouth, grabbing her water flask to rinse away the vile taste. Rufus watched warily as the shadows approached.

  The strangers stood taller than t
he mice and were armed with axes, knives, pistols and ancient flintlocks. But their best weapons, Rufus noticed, were their huge forepaws, one of which their leader now raised solemnly in greeting.

  ‘I am Rothgar. We are the Mould-Warp,’ he announced in a deep rumble. ‘In our ancient language, it means earth-turners. But you may know of us as Moles.’

  ‘I have heard of you,’ said Elana, ‘and I have heard that you are friends of the Mouse-Kind. Thank you for – ’

  ‘We are nothing of the sort!’ exclaimed another mole. ‘To my way of thinking, you are not much better than the rats. All we ask is to be left alone. If I were Lord Rothgar, I’d have killed those other vermin and you too.’

  ‘But you are not me, Oslaf,’ replied the first mole. ‘And as long as I lead the war-band, you will obey my orders.’

  He turned to the mice. ‘I am indeed a friend of the Mouse-Kind, and would allow you to continue your journey. But our Queen, Morganna, wishes to see you. No harm will befall you,’ he added, with a warning glance at Oslaf. ‘Please come with me. Now.’

  Rufus resented being ordered about. ‘What if we refuse?’

  ‘I am under orders,’ replied Rothgar quietly. ‘Please do not make me use force. And do not give Oslaf an excuse to kill you.’

  Rufus wanted to go on with the quest. Every day, the rats were drawing nearer to Aramon. Rothgar, he sensed, was honourable, but Oslaf was a dangerous enemy.

  ‘Oh, let’s go with the moles,’ said Elana. ‘Just for one night. At least we’ll have somewhere to sleep. I’m tired.’

  Perhaps Elana was right. Tomorrow they would be on their way again.

  ‘All right,’ said Rufus.

  As they followed Rothgar deeper into the woods, dark clouds rolled across the sky, lightning flickered above the treetops and thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance.

  8. Rhiannon

  The huge underground chamber was dimly lit with rushlights. At the far end sat a small mole. An embroidered robe hung from her shoulders, a circle of gold gleamed on her head, and a pair of spectacles was perched on her snout. She was flanked by the solemn-looking members of the Royal Council.

  Queen Morganna seemed a curiously lonely figure, Elana thought. Her brow was furrowed with care and her eyes, though kindly, looked clouded, as if she were deeply troubled. But she listened politely as Rothgar introduced the mice and explained their presence in the wood.

  ‘So, you are after Treasure. How exciting. What did Rothgar say it was?’

  ‘A Chalice, your Majesty,’ said Rufus, ‘which the Mouse-Kind need in order to defeat the rats, who are even now marching on Aramon.’

  ‘Do you know where to look?’ asked the Queen.

  ‘Well. . . yes.’

  The Queen smiled. ‘You don’t sound very certain. Rest here tonight as our guests. In the morning, Lord Rothgar and some of his warriors will escort you through the woods, and help you in your quest.’

  ‘And when you have found the Chalice, bring it back so that we can all admire it!’ A beautiful young mole, wearing a silver coronet, had swept into the chamber. She took her seat next to the Queen, and stared haughtily at the mice.

  ‘I see no reason for that,’ said Morganna coldly. ‘I doubt whether this Treasure will be of any interest to us; and these young mice have a war to fight.’

  Oslaf said, ‘If the Princess Rhiannon wishes to see the Treasure, surely she should be allowed to? I should like to see it too!’

  Several of the Councillors were muttering agreement. The Queen frowned. ‘Oh, very well. If my sister is so eager to see it. Lord Rothgar, will you escort our guests back from their quest and satisfy the Princess Rhiannon’s curiosity?’

  Rothgar bowed, but shot a venomous look at Oslaf and Rhiannon. Rufus caught the greedy glint in the Princess’s eyes. If she once got her paws on the Chalice, she might be most unwilling to let it go! Still, the old Queen seemed friendly enough.

  ‘She’s a bit vague, though,’ said Elana, as they lay uncomfortably on the earthen floor of their sleeping-chamber. ‘Rothgar seems all right. But did you see the way Oslaf and Rhiannon were smiling at each other? And the way some of those Councillors pricked up their ears at the mention of Treasure? Can we give them the slip?’

  ‘Not tonight. We’d never find our way out of this maze of tunnels. As for tomorrow, I’ve heard that in daylight moles are practically blind.’

  ‘But they can hear and smell much better than we can. And we’ve seen how quickly they react to danger.’

  ‘I’m sure we can move faster and escape,’ said Rufus.

  But next morning, back on the Pilgrims’ Way, the mice found themselves neatly boxed in by six well-armed warriors, with Rothgar in the lead. ‘Just tell me when to stop,’ he called over his shoulder as they set off. The other moles said nothing. Their eyes were almost invisible, their faces blank.

  Rufus felt angry. What sort of treatment was this? Did the moles want the Chalice?

  After a while, the path began to climb between a tumble of boulders, and there were fewer trees. Suddenly Rothgar stopped. ‘I can hear running water. Didn’t you say you were looking for a fountain?’

  ‘Yes!’ exclaimed Rufus. ‘But I can’t see one.’

  Rothgar hastened up the track, his quivering ears picking up sounds inaudible to the mice. He led them off the path to a little grove of trees, where a spring was bubbling between boulders. Behind it, the grassy rock-strewn slope rose steeply to a tree-lined ridge. The air was very still. The light was almost dazzling.

  ‘Here is your water,’ said Rothgar. ‘But I do not sense a cave.’

  ‘The poem said we had to release a rainbow,’ said Elana. ‘But I don’t see how.’

  ‘It also mentioned a fountain,’ said Rufus, ‘not a pathetic little trickle. Let’s have a closer look.’

  One of the warriors made to stop him but at Rothgar’s stern command, he let him go. Rufus climbed the slope to where the water was seeping rapidly from a pile of small boulders. He guessed there was plenty of pressure there, and wondered what would happen if he cleared away some rocks. He did so and the spring bubbled higher. Delving into the spring, Rufus removed another rock, and another. Now the water was leaping higher than his head. He reached down and, with an effort, lifted out one more rock, feeling the power of the spring surge beneath his paws. As the rock came out, Rufus was thrown on to his back. A mighty jet of water shot as high as the treetops, before cascading in a sparkling curtain that glowed with colour.

  Elana clapped her paws, squeaking with delight. Rothgar smiled. ‘Is that your rainbow? But listen! Surely you can hear it?’

  At first the mice heard nothing but the splash of water. Then, gradually, soft music of an unearthly beauty stole upon them from the heart of the rainbow. Mice and moles listened, spellbound. As the music faded, they saw that a deep shadow had appeared in the hillside.

  Rufus gasped. ‘Elana! It must be the opening of the cave!’

  ‘You’d better go and see.’

  Rufus took her paw, but she gently pulled away. ‘No, Rufus. This is your quest. You must go alone.’

  9. The Chalice

  The cave was cold and dark. Rufus was wet through after his struggle with the spring, and shivered as he groped along the rock wall. At last, he sensed a vast emptiness. He glanced back, but the cave was pitch dark. He hated enclosed spaces, and breathed deeply in an effort to stem the rising tide of panic. ‘Lord of Light! Show me the way!’

  A faint glow, that seemed to come from the very heart of the darkness, gradually intensified. In the dim light, a mouse appeared. He was holding a plain wooden bowl. Soft light streamed from a star above his head. Gradually, shadowy figures of mice loomed out of the darkness, all bathed in the star’s gentle radiance. As Rufus watched, the mouse at the centre of the cavern raised the bowl and drank. Then he gave it to the mouse nearest to him. As the bowl was passed round, Rufus heard a strong, clear voice: ‘Drink, all of you! This wine is the symbol of brotherhood.’

/>   Rufus stifled a gasp. It was the same voice he had heard on the night of his escape from the Rats’ Castle.

  At last, the bowl came to Rufus. But, as he reached for it, another mouse took it, drank from it, and passed it on. Rufus realized that he was watching a scene from the past. He kept his eyes on the Chalice, which at last returned to the mouse who had first drunk from it: the Lord of Light himself.

  The mouse drank once more, then held out the bowl for all to see. It was empty. He turned, and placed it on a ledge at the far end of the cavern. As he did so, the starlight faded, and Rufus was alone in the dark.

  He walked towards the invisible ledge, reached up, and his paw closed on the Chalice. Immediately he felt a tingling, as if the Chalice were filled with pent-up energy. Suddenly the cavern walls were sparkling with tiny pinpoints of light. At the far end, a glittering arch marked his way out. Clutching the precious Chalice, Rufus crossed the cavern but, as he reached the arch, he turned and looked back to where the Lord of Light had stood.

  ‘I will keep this Chalice safe,’ he promised, ‘and use it to free Carminel from its enemies.’

  Gradually the lights faded, until only one remained, high in the roof. The familiar voice spoke again.

  ‘The Chalice is yours, but the quest is not over.

  Seek for the Treasures still to be found.

  And when you have won them,

  Summon the eagles.

  But keep up your courage, for perils abound!’

  Triumphantly, Rufus ran out of the cave . . . And stopped abruptly. Elana was bound and gagged and held fast by two moles. Six others were barring his way. Cold fury swept over him. He and Elana had been betrayed after all! He was outnumbered, but at least he had the advantage of the downward slope. Setting down the Chalice, he drew his dagger and charged.

  The moles had not expected this. Rufus crashed into them, lunging with his dagger, kicking viciously. A space opened up, but the other moles were moving to cut him off. He feinted left, then swung right, crashing against a mole who staggered and fell. Now only two were in front of him, and the moles holding Elana were watching him nervously. As the two advanced against him, Rufus charged them, hurling them to the ground. Elana was just in front of him, he had only her two guards to deal with but two others had closed in behind him, and they fell upon him, forcing the breath from his body. He gasped in pain as they hauled him upright, but still he struggled, lashing out with his foot. The moles squealed, but held on.