At first, Rufus had felt nervous about meeting the cardinal, fearing that Odo would resent giving up his power. But, as they walked with Elana in the meadow below the castle, the cardinal soon reassured him. ‘My dear Rufus, I always believed that one day the king would return, and I am overjoyed that I have lived to see you! Now, when would you like to be crowned?’
‘When we have beaten Saraband, your Eminence. Not before.’
The cardinal was astonished. But Elana understood. Rufus was determined to prove himself and earn his crown in battle.
During those anxious days, Rufus seemed to be everywhere at once: organizing, praising, encouraging his mice. In case of a siege, he ordered the castle-mice to bring in all the food they could carry from the nearby farms. The country-mice gave it willingly, many coming themselves to join the army, and to give their families the protection of the castle.
Seth was delighted that the long wait was over; his secret store of weapons would soon be put to good use. He organized gangs of mice to fetch it, and the courtyard rang to the sound of his swiftly turning grinding-wheel, and sparks flew as the swords were sharpened to the keenest possible edge.
Days passed. Still no sign of the enemy . . . Until one bright morning, a shadow darkened the courtyard, and Juno almost fell out of the sky. Mice dashed to her side, as Bradwen tumbled to the ground, his tunic dark with blood.
‘The rats! They’ve been marching by night and hiding by day! That’s why we never saw them. I spotted them an hour or so ago. They were almost up to the river, where it flows narrow at the foot of a slope, west of here. They’re about a day’s march away!’
‘Are you hurt?’ asked Rufus.
‘Just a few scratches. Juno took a bullet. I’ll get Caval to see to her. We were flying low when Red Kites attacked us. I shot two of their rats, and Juno downed one of the Kites. The others chased us, but Juno outflew them. It looks as if the waiting’s over!’
After tending to Juno’s wound, Caval wanted to send out another patrol. But Rufus forbade it. ‘We nearly lost Juno and Bradwen. We’ll need all your eagles and their riders for the coming battle. Burglar, tell Snout and his gang to keep out of sight and watch the rats. Let me know when they reach the river.’
All that day the mice stood to arms. The tension was almost unbearable. Then, as the shadows lengthened, a cry of alarm rang from the battlements, feet pounded over the drawbridge, and Snout and his gang tumbled into the castle. ‘The rats! They’re here!’
30. Council of War
The tension snapped. Mice talked excitedly while they cleaned their swords. Rufus summoned his captains to a Council of War. They listened attentively to Snout’s report.
‘Looks like they’ve stopped for the night, just out of sight of here. Look…’
Snatching paper and a stub of charcoal, Snout sketched a long ridge above a narrow river. ‘They’re up there, see, on that ridge. On the right, there’s this wood, and on the left, the ground slopes away real steep. In front of this ridge, there’s a long slope down to a river. Dunno what it’s called. . .’
‘The Collada River,’ said Amren quietly.
Elana caught her breath. ‘The same river – ’
‘The same river where the rats defeated our armies long ago. And the same spot.’
The mice glanced fearfully at one another. Must they fight at such an ill-omened place? Rufus sensed their fear. ‘I’m glad Saraband’s chosen the Collada River. It gives us a chance to avenge that defeat. We shall wipe out its shame for ever! Snout, how many rats are there?’
‘Hundreds! And their priests are there too, leaping about and casting spells on us! You should’ve heard them.’
‘That won’t harm us!’ exclaimed Odo stoutly. ‘The Lord of Light is our protector!’
‘You’ve done well, Snout,’ said Rufus. ‘See that your section has something to eat, then get some rest. I may need you again later.’
For a long time, the mice pored over the map. ‘Are they intending to stay there?’ asked Odo. ‘Or will they advance and attack the castle?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Caval. ‘But if we are to have any hope of beating them, we should attack them where they are. The castle walls aren’t strong enough to withstand a really determined assault.’
‘Where would we make our stand?’ asked Odo.
None of the mice doubted that they would have to fight but, despite Rufus’s brave words, the odds were fearful and every mouse knew it.
Caval pointed to the map. ‘See where the ground slopes gently to the river? We’d have to take up a position just this side of it. Might give us some protection.’
‘Sure, and if we do that,’ said Finn, ‘the scum-bags will simply pick us off with their rifles – and us not able to fire a shot in return! Thanks to Seth, we all have swords, but only Caval’s Squadron have pistols.’
‘We have the eagles!’ exclaimed Amren.
‘And the Treasures,’ said the Cardinal, with a smile at Rufus.
Caval shook his head. ‘I know we have the Treasures, but none of us knows exactly what they will do. We have fifty eagles, and as many riders, who might drive some of the rats away. But the Red Kites could be a problem.’ He looked bleakly round the table. ‘Many mice would die.’
All eyes turned to Rufus. ‘Well, Lord King?’ asked Odo.
Rufus left the table and stood by the window, gazing down at the courtyard. Peace-loving mice, now turned into soldiers, sat talking quietly, while their children played in the evening sunshine. Old mice puffed their pipes and wondered if peace would ever return to Carminel. These are my mice, thought Rufus. Their lives hang on what I decide, and if I get it wrong . . . He suddenly felt very lonely.
Elana came and stood beside him. Her smile made Rufus realize that he was not alone. He felt his confidence returning. Suddenly, a plan took shape. He turned away from the window and saw the others watching him, waiting patiently for his decision.
‘I think Saraband wants us to attack. So we will . . . Tonight! We’ll leave the castle after midnight, take up a position by the river, and cross it before dawn. I know these rats: they fight fiercely, but they like their sleep. And they’ll be overconfident. If we attack while it’s still dark, the rats won’t realize how few we really are, and Caval’s eagles will be twice as frightening by night.’
So it was decided. But Caval’s words, ‘Many mice would die’, still echoed in Rufus’s head. So, while Finn set about organizing the mice into groups, Rufus went to the kitchens, where he found Snout and his gang.
‘How fast can you run?’
‘We’s champion sprinters, sir!’
Rufus smiled at the eager little mice. ‘This won’t be a sprint, more of a cross-country run. Now listen carefully. This is what I want you to do …’
31. The Reaper’s Blade
Only the old and the very young stayed behind. Amren stood at the castle gateway and blessed the mice as they marched boldly into the darkness to face an enemy many times their number.
The Eagle Squadron had already flown to the hills behind the enemy’s line. There, they would wait for the mice to attack before making their own deadly charge.
Finn and Rufus were leading the way, with Seth to guide them through the marsh. The mice marched in silence. All weapons were muffled in cloaks or sacking, but the tramp of so many feet sounded horribly loud. At last, after hours of weary marching, a long, dark line loomed on the horizon: the ridge, where the unsuspecting rats lay fast asleep.
Every mouse knew where to go. Rufus, with Seth, commanded the left wing; Burglar, Dead Eye and Silence led the centre. Finn and Odo led their group to the right, from where they could see the dark smudge of woodland that marked the extreme left of the rats’ line. Elana, clutching the Chalice, went with them; so did McCrumb, who was sure that everything would go wrong, but had insisted on coming just the same.
Crawling on their stomachs, the mice inched forward until they were lying among the tall reeds that fringed the stream.
‘If only the night were not so clear,’ whispered the cardinal. ‘To advance, even in the dark, will be risky.’
‘Och, the whole thing’s risky!’ hissed McCrumb. ‘Strategically unsound! Now, what we really ought to be doing is – ’
‘Look!’ Elana was staring at the Chalice, from which a thin tendril of mist was slowly trickling. As the mice watched, the mist curled along the stream. Gradually it thickened, until the whole army was shrouded in a milky vapour that stretched a hundred paces or more behind them. ‘You were saying, McCrumb?’ grinned the cardinal. But for once, McCrumb was lost for words.
As the mist rolled over him, Rufus took out the Crown. Silver light gleamed from the ruby, making the mist seem denser than ever.
From the distant woods, a bird chirped. A gentle breeze sprang up. Slowly, the mist began to roll forwards, up the slope, until it smothered the long ridge from end to end. But the way up the slope was clear.
A faint light was glimmering in the eastern sky. ‘Pass the word,’ whispered Rufus. ‘Advance!’
As the message flashed along the line, mice touched their swords for luck, murmured a prayer to the Lord of Light, and crept forward. They waded the icy stream. Hardly daring to breathe, they climbed the slope.
They halted at the crest. The rats were invisible, but their stench was strong. Rufus raised the crown. Waves of blood-red light flowed out. From the far end of the line, silver light from the Chalice gleamed in reply. All eyes were on Rufus. He drew his sword.
‘Follow me!’
His mice charged after him, checked as they stumbled over the sleeping rats, then swept on. Woken by the sudden clash of arms and the cries of the wounded, the rats groped desperately for weapons. But the line of mice was like the reaper’s blade.
Saraband erupted from his tent and saw the ghostly shapes of fleeing rats pelting towards him through the mist. ‘Get back!’ he screamed. ‘Fight, you miserable cowards!’ The rats hesitated but, as Saraband hurtled towards them, snarling curses, they swung round and followed him, crashing into the advancing mice. Red Kites circled the battle, squawking loudly, but unable to see a thing.
And now came the eagles! While Bradwen, with half the Squadron, swooped on the Red Kites, Caval drew Gideon’s Sword, brandished it, and raised it high. His eagles swung into arrowhead-formation and a dart of light flashed from the Sword, spreading across the sky until the fading stars looked pale.
Caval swept the Sword down. Instantly its light pierced the mist, and the rats hid their eyes, crying in terror as the Eagle Squadron wheeled into the charge. Rapiers flickering, talons gleaming, they swooped on the rats. The Squadron soared into the sky, circled the battle, then down they swept once more.
Bradwen’s eagles were hunting the Red Kites. Seeing the rats falling back in disarray, the birds tried to escape. But one by one the Red Kites were hunted down and destroyed.
From behind Saraband’s tent, Kei the raven poked out his head. He stared in terror at the battle. Gunsmoke, mingling with the mist, dried his throat and made his eyes water. Above the warriors’ heads, he could see the brilliant beams of light from Crown and Chalice flickering across the field. Kei shrank back in alarm. There was no escape. The eagles were sweeping the field in charge after charge.
The raven glanced round at his little squad. ‘Come on, lads,’ he croaked. ‘It ain’t safe here. Let’s go for them woods.’
Keeping well clear of the battle, the ravens scuttled for the woods on the far left of the rats’ line. They sheltered among the branches, quaking at the dreadful din of battle and the triumphant yells of those terrible mice.
As the mist dispersed and the sun rose, the rats began to realize just how small an army was attacking them. Taking heart, the warriors began to push the mice back towards the crest. In the centre of the field, Saraband was yelling excitedly. He had picked out the leaders, Dead-Eye, Silence and Burglar. He was hacking his way through so that he could have the pleasure of killing them, when a cloak of darkness fell across the battlefield.
Saraband glanced at the sun. A silver star was passing in front of it. Gradually, the sunlight faded until only the star’s light remained.
32. Duel of the Gods
The sounds of battle died away. Everyone stared in awe at the star. Strangely, although its rays were streaming across the sky, the battlefield remained shrouded in darkness. Suddenly, Saraband remembered the prophecy of Morvan, the High Priest.
‘You will rule in the Mouse-Lord’s Hall,
Until by daylight stars shall fall;
And darkness hide the morning skies,
And from the west the sun shall rise.’
Daylight had indeed turned to darkness! ‘Back!’ cried Saraband. But even as the rats turned to follow him, a star-beam shot to earth. Saraband screamed in terror. He saw another sun, its rippling rays rising from the ground and a long line of shadowy figures, stretching right across the battlefield, cutting off the rats’ retreat. The Mould-Warp had come!
In the centre stood Rothgar, with Wiglaff beside him. Summoned by Snout and his gang, they had marched all night. Rothgar raised his axe. The moles advanced. Above them waved Rothgar’s personal banner, showing the sun in splendour.
A rat was running past. Saraband grabbed him. ‘What direction is that?’
‘Left,’ said Nym.
‘No, you blithering idiot! Is it north, east or what?’
‘West, I think. Can I go now? Skills is dead,’ he added miserably. ‘I don’t reckon the Sable Lord wants us to win this battle. He’s deserted us. Look at them ruddy earth-shovellers and their fancy flag! We’ll never get past them!’
The moles were closing in. Desperately, Saraband fought his rising panic. ‘No falling stars yet!’ he screamed.
‘Oh, no?’ asked Nym. ‘What’s that, then?’
Distant flickers of silver were falling from the sky. They were Bradwen’s eagles, only their wing-tips visible in the gloom as they returned to the battle – but it was enough for Saraband. All Morvan’s prophecies had come true.
Rufus scented victory. As he held the Crown high, golden light flowed from the ruby and mingled with the silver beams from the star. ‘Come on! Follow me!’
The mice cheered and surged forward. Caval’s Sword was a beacon of light as again his eagles swooped from the sky, driving the terrified rats right on to the advancing moles. Swords and axes rose and fell, gleaming as the star’s light grew ever stronger.
Gobtooth, fighting savagely, was yelling to the Sable Lord. Other warriors took up the cry, ‘Reveal yourself, O, Sable Lord!’
‘Saraband! Get away while you can!’ cried Morvan, but Saraband gripped him by the throat and shook him until his teeth rattled.
‘You and your prophecies! No, I will not run away! The Sable Lord will not let me die! I’m going to kill that accursed slave and get the Crown!’
‘Let - me - go!’ squawked Morvan. He pointed a claw at the sky. A dark cloud was swirling overhead.
Thunder roared, savage streaks of lightning stabbed the earth. Saraband stared in wonder at the thing that was taking shape above the battle.
Reptilian scales shimmered from the top of its dragon head to the tips of its forked tail. Red eyes gleamed, and huge, spikey wings slowly beat the air.
Rufus watched in fascinated horror as the Sable Lord slowly circled the battlefield: then, it spotted the Crown, and dived. Forcing down his terror, Rufus raised the Crown like a shield, his paws trembling as dart after dart of blood-red light shot from the ruby. The Sable Lord screamed, but still its eyes blazed at Rufus, and it swooped towards the mouse until its great body filled the sky.
Star-beams lanced down. Gaping, sizzling holes appeared in the Sable Lord’s wings. The Dark God screamed in agony, swerved aside, and soared towards the star.
The battle on the ground was forgotten. All eyes were fixed on the duel of the gods. Angry red beams flickered from the Sable Lord’s eyes and shot from its spikey wing-tips, but they were instantly quenched in t
he constant silver streams flooding from the star.
Still the Dark God fought on, streaking across the sky, raking the star with its piercing darts. It seemed that nothing could kill it. As Rufus watched, some instinct sounded a warning. He swung round. Saraband was striding towards him.
‘So, little slave! Our god is fighting for us! You and your miserable mice are going to die! And I’m going to take that Crown you stole. It’s mine!’
Once, Rufus might have been afraid of Saraband. But not now. He turned to Seth, who had remained close to him throughout the battle.
‘Seth! Take the Crown while I deal with this vermin. Don’t be afraid. Its power will guard us both. Now, Saraband,’ he snarled, ‘in your pride and ambition, you ignored the ancient prophecy that when Carminel is in peril, the eagles will fly and a king will arise! The Crown is mine! I am King of Carminel and you are finished!’
Saraband was thunderstruck. ‘You – the King? I don’t believe it! You were born a slave, and you’ll die one!’
Seth had given Rufus his best sword. But Rufus nearly lost it as Saraband’s savage cut hacked down on the blade. The rat was incredibly strong, cutting and lunging with bewildering speed. Rufus parried as best he could. But step by step, Saraband was driving him back. With a sudden turn of his wrist, Saraband sent Rufus’s sword skimming across the grass, and the rat’s sword-point was at his throat.
Suddenly, Saraband vanished under a pile of mice as Snout and his gang hurled him into the mud. They tried to grab his sword, but Saraband was too strong for them. He flung them aside. But high above the battle, Caval had seen what was happening. Like a bolt of lightning, Tarquin dived, until he was hovering over Rufus, and above the wild beating of the eagle’s wings, Caval yelled, ‘Rufus! Catch!’
Rufus reached out. Gideon’s Sword fell into his paw. Saraband flinched as light flashed from the blade, but he returned to the attack, hacking and cursing. But now a voice – Gideon’s voice – was speaking sharply in Rufus’s head: ‘This is my Sword, so use it well! Parry right – now left – good! He’s raising his sword – lunge – go on! Lunge now!’
Eagles' Revenge Page 12