It was then that he heard a thunderous rumbling. It began as a low-pitched pounding and then became a rampant drumming. It was the beating of many heavy hooves on the forest floor. Suddenly, the sound was all around him. Then, on either side of the brush, out burst bucks, one after another. They came in a far greater number than he remembered from the grove. Some were larger with thickly branched antlers; others were smaller with short spikes jutting from their heads.
The deer raced into the field and upon the fray of battle. Instinctively, some of the foxes ran. But Ysil saw that they did not run far. The lead deer was Illanis, and he plowed headlong into a group of coyotes. With his tremendous antlered head, he hoisted the lot of them into the air with ease, impaling one of their number. Most of them flew to the ground and ran. The impaled coyote he shook off and began to maul with his hooves.
Now there were the scurrying forms of squirrels racing into the field. They were into the battle immediately, biting the weasels and minks with their formidable teeth. The weasels were vicious, however, and fought back with wrath. Harlequin pressed tightly to Ysil as one of the weasels ripped a squirrel’s neck open with its tiny, ferocious fangs.
There was a beating of wings overhead, and Ysil saw the shape of a giant black bird settle in the tree above. Ysil looked around the field and saw that when the crows had flown into battle, the vultures had taken their places in the surrounding trees. They were gathered in anticipation for a feast, one that was quickly being laid out below them.
ASMOD MADE HIS killings count. Those he attacked were the largest and most challenging of their kind. He had used this tact, when on the hunt, to keep a herd of deer always without a strong, aged leader. Now was the same. This had never been the way of the pack, which would take the weakest, the young or the old. But when hunting alone, it had to be this way. Take out the leader and send the rest into chaos.
He saw the two princes fighting viciously, and noted Sintus tearing the eye from the other’s head. Prone on the ground was the crow he took to be the General of the army. Tortrix slithered off the poisoned corpse. This is going exceptionally well, he thought.
Then he heard the pounding of the hooves. He noted the alpha deer immediately, and as the antlered males tore through the coyotes, sending them sprawling and running, he moved to the great buck’s rear. Close at his side were the two foxes he had just allowed to join his army. Up to this point in the battle, the two had stayed near him, forcing off attacks from his rear. Now they joined him without command as he approached the deer.
The deer jumped quickly, seeing the movement approaching from behind, and swung his huge head toward Asmod.
“Curse you, wolf!” cried the deer. “I will send you to hunt with the packs in hell!” And with that he lowered his antlers and charged Asmod.
The wolf jumped quickly but was not fast enough. The deer bore down on him with great speed and plowed into him broadside. The wolf was too large to hoist above the deer’s head, but Illanis pushed him hard and fast. Asmod was impaled through the shoulder by one lengthy tine and wrestled furiously to free himself. With great pain he howled in rage. Then the foxes were on Illanis’s head, tearing and thrashing at his eyes, ears, and neck. The deer snorted and huffed, struggling to get free. The tine within Asmod’s shoulder pulled out, and the wolf took his chance. He rushed with open mouth to the deer’s neck, clasping his sharp teeth in deep. The deer snorted and bellowed in hysterical frenzy. Another deer charged in to his aid, this one a large doe. She pounded her feet down in a maul of sharp hooves upon the wolf’s head. The wolf turned and set his teeth free from the buck and jumped at the doe, biting her and tasting fresh blood, dragging her to the ground.
And then the buck was at his side again, goring him with his antlers. Asmod turned back to the deer and fought. Then with a rush of dark brown and a great roar, a fell creature pounced upon the buck. The thing bellowed in fury and ripped out one of the deer’s eyes with its long and horrible claws while at the same time sinking its fangs into the buck’s neck. From the bush, Ysil saw the creature attack, and though he had never seen one, he knew what it must be. It was a monster of nightmare to him: the wolverine. The deer bellowed in agony. Now he was bleeding profusely and weakening fast. Asmod looked around and saw a good many deer still fighting or standing their ground, but many turned and ran when they heard the lead buck’s dying screams. There were many dead crows, squirrels, and a few young deer all about the field. The sky began to fill with fleeing crows, already admitting defeat.
As the buck grew still, Asmod smiled into the eyes of the wolverine, but the creature only glared blindly back, seeming to look past the wolf to some undetermined point beyond. When the wolverine sensed the buck was dead, it did not stay. The thing took off in a scurrying run from the continuing battle and disappeared into the forest.
A crimson river flowed freely from Asmod’s shoulder and brow. Still he lusted on the rage of battle, and he fed off the pain. The blood he drank replaced that which he shed.
THROUGH THE FOGGY vision of his single eye, Nascus looked up at his brother and knew he was going to die. Sintus raised his head and readied to strike. Then there came a whoosh, and in a great rush of gray and white wings, Sintus was gone, hoisted away in a flush.
Nascus looked up to see his brother being dragged away by a great horned owl. Two crows were immediately at the owl’s neck and face, pecking and scratching. The owl let loose his catch, and Sintus came tumbling down to the ground. Then the great owl was gone as fast as he had come, his gray and white form disappearing into the clouded sky.
Then Nascus made his choice. He looked one more time to his General and saw that he lay in a lifeless heap, the copperhead slithering away from his body.
When the deer came, he had felt a brief rise of hope, but now Illanis, the leader of the deer, lay dead with the wolf still tearing at his neck. He saw the doe Oda running for the forest now, the flash of a tiny yellow bird at her side. All the deer were fleeing, as were the squirrels that were still alive. Some of the crows who were there to protect the field were milling about, now taking the side of the victor with no other choice but to fly.
And with that Nascus took wing, struggling to rise, fast. He flew in the direction of the rising sun and the cold wind with one last hope rising around his heart like thorns binding a locust tree.
YSIL SAW A black bird take wing from the Murder’s Tree. It flew with force and purpose straight to Sintus. It was Ophrei the rook, the sage.
The bird landed screaming.
“You are not the chosen King!” he bellowed. “You will never receive the true crown! Never from me nor the wind!”
“And who are you to say who is worthy of the true crown?” It was the copperhead that asked this. From his hiding place Ysil struggled to hear its small and bilious voice. “I am no friend to the wind, and I would say that the new King Crow will receive his crown under the authority of my lord, the earth.”
“A crow of the earth?” said Ophrei. “This is unheard of!”
“And who are you, may I ask?” This came from the wolf, still covered in the gore of battle, his side bleeding. He moved in on the rook, closer now.
“I am the rook, Ophrei, adviser to the King and interpreter of the wind.”
“We pay the wind no heed. We care not what it may say.”
The rook opened his great beak to protest, but the wolf did not give him the time to do so. Though Asmod was injured, this made him only more furious. He pounced on the rook, and with one bite, took off his head. Ophrei’s dead form fell with an audible thud and after one convulsion was still.
It was then that a great gust of wind took over the field. It blew with force over the body of the sage listener. It was as if the body were only a pile of black feathers, and they all lifted up onto the wind, leaving no bones, flesh, or beak behind. And from where Ysil, Cormo, and Harlequin hid, they could see the feathers drifting high and into the sky.
The wind died and the wolf sat staunchly up
on his haunches. He reared back his blood-drenched head and howled, and the coyotes and the foxes joined him. The victor crows cawed along with the beasts, gathering around Sintus and bowing low before him. And so it was the one not chosen who claimed the kingship.
And within the brush, the quail huddled in fear. All around the field mice, moles, voles, and rabbits trembled in terror, for they were too slow to flee and too small to fight.
And even as the howl of the wolf echoed through the fall wind, the vultures fell upon the field and moved among bird and predator alike. And neither beast nor crow spoke to them nor looked them in the eye as they set to their grisly task.
Chapter Eighteen
Lupus Rex
AND SO SINTUS, the King Crow, and his General, Darus, set to collecting willow boughs and branches of the slippery elm tree to build upon the nest. They gathered within the nest the skulls of the past Kings in one place. When the nest was made, Sintus took to it and sat upon high, overlooking the field.
To him came all the crows, and all confessed their allegiance, though some did not look him in the eye. Sintus was proud and knew that in time they would accept his reign. High in his nest he felt strong. He looked below and saw a young coyote nip at the tail of a crow. The bird jumped to the tree above and called down to the coyote, cursing. Hot anger welled up within his belly and moved with a rush to the crown of his head. It was clear that the field was not his at all. Though the nest was unchallenged, safe in the heights of the tree, it came on him in a rush of realization that the field now belonged only to the wolf. He had thought of the two ruling side by side, both with control of the field. Now he feared this would not be so. He shuffled in his new nest and counted the skulls of his grandfathers beneath him. His father’s was still covered with black feathers, the dull eyes glazed and ivory within the sockets.
HARLEQUIN SAW HER first. The mother vulture was moving through the ranks of her kind as they tore at the bodies of the animals lying dead.
“Look, Ysil!” whispered Harlequin, fidgeting excitedly. “That’s the mother vulture, the one they call Ekbeth.”
Immediately the vulture glared directly at their hiding place, as if she had heard them speaking. But she was too far away to hear them. How could she know they were there? Her eyes darted briefly to the Murder’s Tree and to the wolf that was licking his wounds in its shadow. Then she moved slowly in their direction.
“She’s coming this way!” whispered Ysil. “Should we run? Could she mean us harm?”
“Surely no harm,” said Cormo, who had been quite close to the vulture just days before. “She is somewhat kind, actually.” With that, Ysil eyed him with mild shock. “Well—in her own way, that is . . .”
Ekbeth wobbled and plodded uneasily through the field, mindfully picking at the bloody grass for scraps. Before long she was at the field’s edge, her wing within reach of their hiding spot.
She extended her long neck into the thicket, her yellow eyes opening wide. “Hello, little ones,” she said to the quail. “And so, alas, it is up to you to make the next move, for neither crows nor deer are capable of fighting a battle at this time. They may come soon, but they may not. Of course, we vultures are not really on any side at all, as we are most certainly grateful for this feast.” She stank with the oily smell of fresh blood, but beneath that was a rich, darker stench, one of old things and forgotten places.
“Next move?” asked Ysil, from within the bush. “What move could we hope to make that could influence anything at all? We are even fearful to flee, as if we do, surely the predators will know we are here.” Ysil looked down at the dried, dead leaves below him and remembered his grandfather’s words: I will always be with you. . . Could he really do something to weaken the wolf? To defeat the unworthy new King Crow?
“My dear little bird, I am afraid the wolf and his kind know very well that you are here, as I and my kind do likewise.” She smiled in her own unique way. “We can smell you.” She once again bounced her bald head in the direction of the Murder’s Tree then quickly bounced it back and moved in a bit closer. “You are small, yes, but sometimes size is not that important. This action I suggest for you to take now will bring into play those who are even smaller than you. Size is not important if your numbers are in the thousands. I have a suggestion for you, that is all. And if truth be told, the dead are the dead to us, and we would just as soon pick the bones of the wolf as of the deer—or quail.” Ysil shivered but kept looking the vulture straight in the eye. “We could always eat more. And though the plan I have for you may not bring about the death of the wolf, it will at least aggravate his wretched soul.” She shuddered and an issuing of dried blood rained from her feathers. “But should you not succeed in your mission, you likely will not live to tell me of your failing.”
And so Ekbeth told them of her plan, one both dangerous and possible. The quail listened and feared but found some hope. And when she had finished, she silently moved back into the field.
The three looked at one another with expectation.
“Could it really work?” asked Cormo.
“Perhaps,” said Ysil. “But it is hugely treacherous!”
“Ysil,” said Harlequin, “we should do this thing. We owe it to Gomor and Cotur Ada and the others who have died at least to try.”
Ysil and Cormo stared back at her for a moment, then at each other.
“Yes,” said Ysil. “We must try, at least.”
They crept away from their hiding place until they felt at a safe distance. Then they took to the air, flying with all the force their wings could muster, over the golden and red treetops, past the man’s house, and on to a sizable stand of pine beyond. They flew to the tallest of the pines, gnarled and old, and landed upon its upper branches. With undeniable danger hanging just below them, they looked at the immense, pasty nest and considered their next move.
TORTRIX LAY AT his King’s side, his only King. From beneath him came a tremble, as if far, far below a great beast rolled over within the fiery center of the world. The snake laid his head to one side and listened intently for some time. Then he smelled the air with his tongue.
“I have returned to the land of my birth and taken it as my own. I will never leave again, not alive,” said the wolf. Asmod was hurt, but he had stopped bleeding.
“I am with you, my King,” said the copperhead. “I have a word from the earth for you.”
“A word from the earth?” asked Asmod, uncertain.
“Yesss. As the rook hears the words of the wind, I likewise hear the speakings of the earth. The earth is in agreement with you. It sssayss you are to be the only king here. It sssayss that the crows are not itss own and should not consider the field theirs likewise.”
“Yes, this I know to be true. I have felt it also.” Asmod rose. “You are to be the sage of the field, Tortrix,” said the wolf. “You are the interpreter of the earth and closest to it of all.”
“And sssurely you are the only King—”
“Treachery!” came a scream from the branches above. “You speak treachery!” It was Darus, the General of all the murder, that screamed now; he had been spying on their whisperings.
Then Sintus was there, at Darus’s side.
“What is this treachery you speak of, Darus?”
The wolf and snake glared up. Around them were Drac and Puk, and moving in were three coyotes and another fox. Many weasels and lizards were killed in battle, but still there were some left, and they also moved closer to the wolf.
“He speaks of the fact that I am the only true King here,” asserted the wolf.
The crows above began to gather in the branches with Sintus. They all looked to their leader for some action or command, though their reaction to such would be less than enthusiastic. Sintus stared at the wolf in shock.
“You may have your tree and your new nest, but as you can see,” said the wolf, looking around at his followers, “we hold the field.”
“Traitor!” screamed Sintus. “We were to
rule both the field and the Murder’s Tree together.”
“Well, perhaps you will descend and we can come to a conclusion on that down here.” Asmod looked at Tortrix. “Down to earth, we might say, eh, Tortrix?”
And with that the wolf began to laugh, and his laugh turned into the challenge of a bitter howl.
Sintus cawed in rueful fury and flew back to his nest. Darus and all of his army gathered close to consider what to do about the wolf and its band below. About the nest, the skulls of his grandfathers and father stared at him with vacant, disdainful eyes. And below the nest, posted unnoticed upon the tip of a dead branch, the tiny skull of Cotur Ada viewed the beasts below, his gaze equally void.
Asmod walked from underneath the tree and out into the field. “My followers! We are victorious!” A rousing hurray came in response. “But alas, we are yet to dispose of our final enemy! I speak of the crows in the tree above!”
Howls and yelps of agreement came back.
“And to each of you, snakes and lizards alike. When you sleep in the winter’s cold, the crows will surely rout your nests and tear you up!”
To this there were sounds of agreement, a chorus of hisses. And as the hisses settled, before the wolf could go on, there came a steady and growing buzz. Asmod stopped and looked toward the sound.
Out of the tree line burst a small quail, flying with hasty speed straight at the wolf and his army. The wolf laughed. “What is this? Has this quail decided to fight me? Perhaps a brave little suicide?” Around him the other animals laughed as the quail grew closer.
Then the source of the buzz came into sight in the form of a great yellow cloud, churning and enraged. The cloud was moving in a swift, roiling motion across the field.
Lupus Rex Page 17