Beasts of New York: A children's book for grown-ups

by Jon Evans

  "Big cat?" Karmerruk asked suspiciously. "Does this have anything to do with the Queen of All Cats?"

  "No," Patch answered truthfully.

  "Hmm." Karmerruk looked around as if seeking some excuse. "It's a long way to the Hidden Kingdom."

  "That's why we need to leave as soon as possible."

  The hawk considered for some time. Then he sighed, long and loudly, tilted his head towards the sky, and said as if musing about the weather, "I cannot help but to think, Patch son of Silver, in retrospect, my life would have been considerably simpler if I had just eaten you on first acquaintance."

  Patch said nothing.

  "All right. Let us fly."

  "Stay here," Patch said to White and Silver. "He can't carry more than one of us. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  "You still haven't explained what you're doing!" Silver exclaimed. "Where are you going?"

  "I have an idea," Patch said vaguely. He didn't want to explain what he was doing. He had a notion that any such explanation might sound completely insane. "Don't worry. I won't be in any danger. I won't be long - oh!"

  This last expostulation was one of pain and surprise, as Karmerruk's talons dug into his flesh and lifted him away from the ground. Patch winced with pain as he watched White and Silver dwindle from squirrels with alarmed expressions into pale blurs and dots, until finally they were invisible, all he could see were the trees of the Endless Empire like a field of grass beneath them, and the mountains and great waters to the south, and the clouds and setting sun in the sky around them. In his paws Patch carried the glass ball he had found half-buried in the dirt path above the Croton Road.

  Daffa and Toro flew beside and behind Karmerruk. The strange and improvised flock of three birds and a squirrel made their way first above the human buildings, and then, as they grew from houses into mountains, between them. The journey was no more comfortable than the last time Patch had travelled by hawk, but in a strange way, the talons digging into his bleeding back made him feel safe; they were so sharp, and Karmerruk so strong, that he knew he ran no risk of falling. Patch watched the approaching Island of the Center Kingdom spread out below him as if it was no more than a single little patch of earth, lit by the rays of the falling sun. He committed the sight to memory. He wondered if perhaps he was the only squirrel ever to have seen the world like this more than once.

  The rhythm of Karmerruk's wingbeats began to grow ragged, his movements more spasmodic and less smooth.

  "You're too heavy," the hawk gasped. "I can't take you all the way to the Hidden Kingdom. I'll have to leave you in the Center Kingdom overnight, while I rest."

  Patch winced. That wasn't part of his plan - but there seemed no choice. "All right." He thought a moment. "Can you take me to the middle of the western frontier?"

  "Yes."

  "Toro, can you meet me at my drey tomorrow? And bring Daffa. Keep an eye on him. He forgets things."

  "It's true," Daffa admitted, ashamed. "In fact I've completely forgotten what I'm doing with the three of you. Have I gone mad?"

  "Of course not," Patch assured him. "Just stay with Toro here and you'll be fine."

  Daffa looked unconvinced, but didn't argue, as Toro led him south towards the bluejay's nest, and Karmerruk swooped down towards what had once been the territory of the Treetops tribe, when such a tribe had existed. The trees of the North were so covered with crows they seemed to have been infected by some awful blackening disease, but to Patch's relief, the trees near his drey seemed empty of crows - and of all other living things.

  "Be careful," Karmerruk warned, as he deposited Patch on a particular oak tree. "The crows roost mostly in the North, but by night, when the King Beneath emerges, they fly all over the kingdom. They can see in the dark, not like owls, but well enough. I'll be back here at dawn. Good luck."

  And the hawk flew away, leaving Patch on his home tree. He had not stood on it since the day he had first ventured into the mountains. So many things had changed since then that this sturdy oak now felt alien to Patch, so strange and foreign that he half-thought it was the wrong tree: but no, his drey was still there, in the hollowed-out stump of a big branch, just as he had left it. As the sun set behind the mountains he curled up in his own home. He felt safe: surely no crow could find and attack him here.

  It occurred to Patch as he fell asleep that for a long time he had never expected to see his drey again, and despite his desperate mission, he smiled.

  He did not sleep long. When darkness fell, the King Beneath rose, and the crows began to fly.

  5. A Desperate Night

  Patch shivered to hear the cawing of thousands of crows in the night. Crows, like squirrels, were normally active by day and roosted in trees by night. He hoped the owls were feasting on the black birds. He stiffened as the caws grew louder, and he heard sudden flapping sounds followed by silence, very near. Crows had landed on his tree.

  He breathed as silently as he could. He could easily defend himself in this drey, no more than one crow at a time could squeeze through its narrow entry, but if they learned of his presence they might wait to ambush him in the morning -

  Suddenly all the crows on his tree took off, cawing as if to summon the end of the world. There were so many that the oak tree actually shuddered as if with a great wind. Patch heard pawsteps of something - somethings - racing across the ground. He hoped it wasn't squirrels; but it sounded like it was, yes, he heard squirrels crying with rage and pain, barely audible over a cacophony of harsh caws. There was a battle going on outside, and the squirrels were losing. Worse: from their gurgling screams it sounded like they were dying.

  Patch wanted to go and help, but he knew that if he emerged from his drey all he would do was die with the others. He heard the sounds of claws on bark, almost drowned out by cawing sounds, and as both grew louder his mind drew a picture of a squirrel climbing the oak tree, covered by a murderous knot of pecking crows -

  Something forced itself into the entry of Patch's drey. Patch leaped to his feet, ready to defend himself; but it was a squirrel, a huge squirrel covered with wounds. In the moonlight Patch saw that one of its eyes had been pierced by a beak and was now only a half-empty sac dripping pale fluid onto the squirrel's cheek. Patch could hardly smell the other squirrel under the stench of fresh blood. But this squirrel he would have known anywhere.

  "Twitch!" Patch gasped, horror in his voice.

  "Patch?" Twitch asked with dull amazement as he shoved himself all the way into the drey. It was barely big enough for both of them and their bodies were pressed together. Twitch's flank was wet with his blood, and his breath was ragged. He was facing away from the entrance, and there was no room to turn around. A crow tried to follow him in, pecked at Twitch's tail. Patch lunged forward, enraged, and tore a tuft of feathers from the crow's neck before it pulled itself free and fluttered unevenly into the night. Other crows settled watchfully around the drey's entrance.

  "Is that really you, Patch?" Twitch asked. His voice was rasping and thick with pain. "Am I dreaming? Is this the afterlife? It hurts so much. I thought it wouldn't hurt any more in the afterlife. Is it always like this? Does it get better?"

  "This isn't the afterlife, Twitch," Patch said grimly, watching the entrance. "This is really me. You're not dead. You're not going to die."

  "I killed a lot of them, Patch. A whole lot."

  "I bet you did."

  "I'm hungry."

  Patch winced. There was no food in his drey.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  "We were going south. The south was safer, it has to be, the King Beneath is in the Northern Sea. We heard the humans were spraying trees with something to keep the crows away. I guess we didn't get far enough. I think they killed Stardancer. It was hard to see, there's not much moon, but I saw him for a moment, it looked like he stopped fighting and they were eating him. I don't know who's King now. The King Beneath took Sharpclaw. I saw him. Isn't that strange? I actually saw the King Beneath. I'm hun
gry. The crows almost killed me too. If I hadn't remembered your drey was here. I never thought you'd be in it. My right eye, I can't see out of it at all. Maybe, maybe it will get better. I'll get better, Patch. I always get better."

  By the time Twitch finished his voice was so weak he was almost whispering. Patch said nothing.

  "You were looking for Silver," Twitch said, barely audible. "Did you find her?"

  "Yes," Patch said, glad to have some good news for his friend. "Yes, she's fine, she's far away, she's safe."

  "Oh, good. Maybe she's the new King. I'm tired, Patch. I'll see you in the morning."

  Twitch shuddered twice and then lay silent. For a moment Patch feared the worst - but he could feel his friend's strong heart still beating within his torn body, faint and fast, but regularly; could feel his battered body swell with ragged breaths.

  Patch hardly slept that night. It seemed that every time his eyes closed, another crow tried to enter his drey, and he had to fight it off. He suffered a half-dozen pecks to the snout that night. Eventually, exasperated, he shouted at one attacking crow, "Why are you doing this?"

  The crow leaped back to the threshold of the drey, surprised that Patch spoke Bird. It was so dark that motionless it looked less like a thing and more like an absence in the night.

  Eventually it said, gruffly, "I don't know, groundling. I'm just a crow. It's what the flock-lord commands. I don't even know why we came here in the first place, much less why now we have to kill you ourselves. All I know is the King of Crows made some kind of bargain."

  "What bargain?"

  "I'm just a crow," the bird repeated. "I don't like it either. I don't like the night, we can hardly see. Hundreds of us have died. The owls are terrible. But we can't go home until you're dead. I'm sorry."

  Then the crow retreated, disappearing into darkness. It did not return; and for the rest of the night no more crows tried to force their way into Patch's drey.

  Patch must have eventually fallen asleep; he was woken by the dawn. Twitch lay beside him, unconscious. Patch wormed his way forward and poked his head gingerly outside the entrance of his drey. There were crows still outside, roosting on the branches of his oak tree, covering them like leaves: dozens of them, hundreds. Patch hesitated, not sure what to do.

  Then a mighty avian cry came from above, as if the sky itself was screaming, and the crows on his tree all came to life at once and fled panicked into the western sky, as Karmerruk came soaring down. One crow was too slow; Karmerruk caught it, tore it in two, landed on the branch that included Patch's drey, and began to feast.

  "Ready, squirrel?" he asked between bites, as Toro and Daffa fluttered to landings on branches a safe and respectful distance away from the hawk.

  "Just a moment," Patch said.

  He dashed to the ground and filled his mouth with tulip bulbs from across the nearest concrete path. He returned to his drey, opened his mouth, and left the bulbs there for Twitch. Then he took the glass ball back into his paws.

  "I have to go, Twitch," he said to his friend's unconscious form. "I'm sorry. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  Patch emerged from the drey to the branch. He groaned with pain as once again Karmerruk's talons dug into his back, and the hawk beat his enormous wings, and once again they rose into the sky. They followed Daffa and Toro eastwards.

  As they passed out of the Center Kingdom, into the eastern mountains, Patch craned his neck to look behind him, at his home. To his alarm he saw a black cloud of crows rising into the sky and soaring after them.

  "Behind us!" he cried out. "Crows! They're chasing us!"

  Daffa and Toro accelerated forward and away from the pursuing mob. Karmerruk strained to do the same; but he was so slowed by Patch's weight that he could not match their pace. The hundred black birds in howling pursuit were bound to catch them before they reached their destination.

  6. River East

  "You're too heavy," Karmerruk gasped. "I'm going to put you down."

  "They'll kill me!"

  "Stay in the metal cave. You'll be safe there."

  "The what? No, not the water!" Patch exclaimed as they reached the wide, churning river that divided the island of the Center Kingdom from the Hidden Kingdom. He knew this water was cold and violent, and he could easily envision crows perching on his back and pecking his eyes out as he tried to swim…

  "Not the water," Karmerruk agreed. The fastest crows were almost upon them.

  The hawk stooped into a southward dive, heading towards one of the huge bridges that spanned the river. For a moment Patch thought he would be dropped like a rock on the bridge's metal arch. Then he saw, parallel to just north of the bridge, a metal-and-glass cage the size of a large automobile, suspended from a massive wire by what looked like two giant metal feet. This cage was actually somehow crawling through the sky. Karmerruk pulled up just above it, and in the instant of least motion, his talons released, and Patch fell with a gentle thump to the cage's metal roof.

  By the time he rolled back to his feet and took stock of his surroundings the crows were almost upon them. He dashed beneath the metal feet that held up the cage. This space was like a low and narrow cave of metal, as Karmerruk had said. Any crows who followed him would be easy to kill, unable to fly, unable to gang up on Patch.

  But this safety was a moot point. For when Karmerruk had slowed to release Patch safely, he had made himself vulnerable. All the crows hurled themselves at the hawk; for a moment the Prince of the Air was invisible, somewhere inside a whirling, tearing knot of crows; then the knot began to plummet downwards, towards the cold river. Patch stared aghast, thinking that Karmerruk had sacrificed himself to save him.

  Then the cloud of crows exploded outwards, and a gray streak erupted from it, leaving a shower of black and gray feathers in its wake, and two lifeless crows who kept falling until they hit water. Karmerruk dived faster than his pursuers could follow, pulled up at the last moment, skidded a hair's-breadth over the water, and then began to climb steadily into the sky. The crows strained to follow him, but they could not match his power. Patch thought the hawk had escaped.

  But escape was not his intention. Karmerruk suddenly turned in a dizzyingly tight circle and dived back down, straight into the pursuing crows. There was a frenzy of slashing as he passed through them. Three more crows toppled from the sky and splashed into the river; two more tried to fly to safety, but their wings were torn, and they scudded in ragged descending spirals until they too fell into the water and disappeared beneath its waves. Karmerruk was already climbing again. When he reached the apogee of his flight, he screamed, a noise so terrible that the mob of crows wavered; and then he dived through them again, rending and tearing with beak and claws, and six more of his enemies fell into the water and died.

  The cloud of crows dissipated and fled singly back towards the Center Kingdom. Patch stared in awe at the Prince of the Air as he landed neatly atop the still-moving cage. His feathers were ragged in patches, and the side of his head was bleeding, but Karmerruk seemed not to notice. The hawk's eyes were alight with triumph and delight.

  "They dared think they could match me in the open sky," he said, and his laugh made Patch shudder. "Let all of them come, here where there are no trees to hide in. Let every crow in the world come and I'll kill every one of them, I'll turn them into a sea of blood and feathers, I'll stop this river with their bodies. Oh, that was good hunting, little squirrel, the finest I've had in years. I'm glad you brought me here. It's such joy to have prey who don't run away right away. I only wish they had stayed longer."

  Patch didn't dare meet Karmerruk's gaze. He looked up and saw Toro and Daffa, circling high above. They did not seem inclined to come any lower. Patch couldn't blame them. He had grown so accustomed to the hawk's presence, he had almost forgotten how deadly a killer he was; and he had never known until now the joy and exultation that Karmerruk took in killing.

  "You can come out," Karmerruk said, amused. "It's safe."

  Patch
made himself waddle out into the open air. The hawk snatched him up and carried him east, following Daffa and Toro up a smaller, perpendicular river, to a metal bridge, and then to one of a series of low, enormous buildings. Karmerruk deposited Patch on the roof, then settled down himself.

  "I'd best return, lest they follow me here," he said. "But I must confess to a certain curiosity. What exactly is your plan?"

  "You wouldn't believe me," Patch said honestly.

  Karmerruk nodded, unoffended. "Perhaps later I will see for myself. Good luck, Patch son of Silver. I salute you. You have the heart of a hawk."

  He flew off. Toro and Daffa breathed mutual sighs of relief and hopped over to stand close to Patch.

  "What is your idea?" Toro asked. "What's here?"

  Patch said, smiling grimly, "You better come inside with me. You won't believe me until you see him for yourself."

  7. Burning Bright

  "Sun and moon and stars," Toro breathed, awed.

  Patch could hardly hear the bluejay over the homicidal howling of dogs. They had flown and climbed through a broken window into this vast and empty space covered with bloodstains. On one side of this enormous chamber, scores of small animals lay trapped in stacked metal cages that Patch knew all too well. On the other, a dozen huge dogs snarled murderously and clawed frantically at the insides of their cages, trying to get to Patch; and at the end of the line of dogs, in the largest cage in the room, a cage with bars as thick as branches, sealed by three mysterious devices, stood Siva the tiger.

  "Kill you and eat you!" the dogs roared, but Patch and the birds ignored them.

  "I dared to hope," Siva said softly to Patch. "I dared, and my hope has flowered. You have come to me, little squirrel. Do you bring my human brother? Has he come to free me from this terror?"

  "Not yet," Patch admitted. "That's next. Daffa! Toro! Come here."

  The pigeon and bluejay flapped over to stand next to him.