by Joe Corcoran
they were not able to drive the creatures away. Finally, they managed to drag the farmer inside the palace walls, where they sounded the alarm. Protected by the walls, they thought that they were safe, until another squawk from above made them look up. Two of the birds had flown over the wall and now hovered above the frightened group. The soldiers readied themselves for an attack, moving in to protect the farmer, who was clearly terrified. This time the birds did not dive down, they held their position by the top of the wall and began to fire bronze feathers, like a rain of arrows, onto their victims. Fortunately the soldiers were well equipped with large shields and were able to shelter themselves and the farmer. Now, however, they were trapped, and what made it worse was that they were trapped inside their own walls, where they were meant to be safe. It was lucky that they had remembered to sound the alarm, ringing the loud bronze bell that hung just inside the gate, and already their call had been answered.
Running around the top of the wall came Hercules, carrying his club, while down from the inside of the palace came Iolaus. Always thinking ahead, he had searched as he ran for anything that might be of use in the coming action. Unfortunately, the only item he had seen on his way was a wide, shallow wicker basket – the type used in the palace for carrying fruit. Now he looked quite out of place, advancing on a scene of battle carrying a basket with the clear intention of rescuing the well-armed, well trained soldiers of the palace guard. The birds sensed this too. They turned to face Iolaus, thinking that he would make an easier victim. This was a mistake, because they turned their backs on Hercules. Having run to the top of the gatehouse, Hercules now took a huge leap towards the ground, swinging his club as he fell. With a thud, he landed by the soldiers, the weight of his impact pushing the cobble stones under his feet deeper into the ground. With a clatter, the body of one of the birds landed next to him, crushed by the blow it had received. Shrieking, the remaining bird voiced its anger, and intent on revenge, it dived straight towards Iolaus. The bird had tucked in its wings, extended its neck and held its beak straight out, so that it flew like an arrow towards its target. Iolaus was caught in the open, with no protection, and it looked like this living missile would pierce the young man right through the heart. In desperation, he used the only thing he had to hand, holding the wicker basket in front of him like a shield. Just before the bird hit, he closed his eyes tight, concentrating on the strength of his arms, waiting for the impact. When it came, Iolaus was sent staggering backwards, and he opened his eyes to see the beak of the bird snapping open and closed, still trying to reach him. Except the bird could not reach him. Its head had gone right through the basket, but its body was too big, and so it was now stuck halfway through. Hercules now arrived and, grasping the bird’s head and body, went to wring its neck.
“Wait”, shouted Iolaus, making Hercules pause and shoot a puzzled look at his friend. The young man took a few breaths to regain his calm, before continuing, “We should take this to Pittheus, so that it can be studied. We need to know more about these things.”
Hercules nodded, and released the bird, handing it and the basket to the soldiers.
“Take this and the farmer to the king, he will know what to do,” said Hercules, “I will stay and guard the gate until reinforcements arrive.”
While the odd looking group departed for the throne room, Iolaus and Hercules went to inspect the body of the bird crushed by Hercules’ club. A shout from one of the soldiers stopped them halfway.
“There was a third,” came the shout carrying through the air, “be on your guard.”
Now Iolaus became very nervous, scanning the skies for any sign of danger, until the body on the ground gained all his attention. The bird had been crushed by the club’s blow, and it had also cracked open when it hit the hard cobbles. From the broken body there now flowed a small amount of vile, black liquid that stank most terribly, and scattered about on the street were all sorts of little cogs, gears and springs. Hercules gave the bird a little nudge with his foot and more tiny metal parts spilled out. The two friends looked at each other, neither really understanding what they saw. Finally, Iolaus took off his cloak and began gathering the bits together, being careful not to get the black liquid on his skin. There was more here that Pittheus should see.
“The third has gone,” said Hercules, making Iolaus jump.
“I wonder where?” he asked.
Hercules looked up, as a contingent of the palace guard arrived to take over at the gate.
“Maybe it’s gone to get reinforcements as well,” he suggested, making Iolaus shudder. Suddenly he was keen to be indoors.
By nightfall no more birds had arrived, and the palace was a buzz of activity. After the farmer had calmed down a little, he was able to tell his story. He and his family owned a farm on the borders of the kingdom, a long way from other people, close to the mountains and swamps where evil creatures were said to live. The land was not very fertile, and sometimes in the nights they heard animals, or something, prowling around the house, but they were tough and determined folk, and they worked hard to make the place their home. Ten years they had worked that land, and they no longer believed the stories people told of monsters in the area … until a week ago a bird had arrived.
It had sat in a tree, watching the farmer and his animals. The farmer hadn’t liked the look of it and had driven it off by throwing stones, but not before he had been wounded in the arm by one of its brazen feathers. So two days later, when he saw a whole flock of the birds approaching, he spared no time in getting his family and animals indoors. At first they thought that they could just stay inside until the birds went away. Then they realised that the birds were not going anywhere, and that they were running out of food and water. The farmer knew that he must go for help, and kissing his family goodbye, he took their only horse and left the farm at a gallop. By some miracle they broke through a flurry of feathers and beaks, and the trusty farm horse showed a speed that was incredible for its age and size. When they were only a few miles from Troezen, however, the beast could go no further, and the farmer had continued on foot. This was when he realised he had been followed, and he’d had to run like a sprinter to get to the gates before the birds tore him to pieces. He begged the king to help him rescue his family before they starved, trapped inside their own house.
The wise men, Pittheus’ friends, had also been busy, and when a council of war was held, they were asked to report on what they had found. A thorough examination had been made of both the live bird and the crushed one. The news was not encouraging.
“It seems that these birds are indeed made of metal, and they appear to be entirely mechanical,” began one old man in a cracked and hesitant voice, “we waited to see if they would run out of power, but I’m afraid to say that they seem to be sustained by some kind of sorcery that is beyond our understanding. They might stay active forever.” He hesitated and looked around the room. His eyes fixed on the captain of the guard as he continued, “Their metal bodies are difficult to cut, so swords and spears are not very effective weapons against them. An arrow, if fired with enough strength, would pierce their armour, and as we’ve seen, they can be crushed or their necks can be broken … if you can catch them.”
At this point, Iolaus quietly left the room. Hercules caught him on the way out.
“Where are you going?” he asked, “Your quick thinking and good sense might be needed here.”
“I have a plan,” Iolaus replied in a whisper, “I must start at once. Find me in the marketplace when you are ready to leave.” And with that the young man was gone. Hercules stayed in the council, hearing how the black liquid that the birds excreted was poisonous to plants and how their feathers were as deadly as an arrow. Eventually, he had had enough.
“Have you nothing useful to tell us,” he said, interrupting the old man. Some in the room were shocked by his rudeness, but Pittheus understood what Hercules was saying. Time was important here, the farmer’s family was trapped and needed their help. The king shot a
questioning glance at the wise men, who shuffled around until one of their number found the courage to speak.
“These machines are perfect copies of real birds,” he began, “maybe too perfect.” Hercules looked at him, not understanding, and so he continued, “They behave exactly as birds behave, except that they seem to be more aggressive. Maybe this is something we can use against them.” Hercules seemed unimpressed and was about to cut in when Pittheus spoke.
“It is clear that we must rescue the family, and then we must rid this land of these cursed birds. Hercules, you have your next challenge. Captain,” the captain of the guard saluted smartly as he was addressed by the king, “you will provide every assistance. Leave only enough men to guard the city, the rest are to be put at Hercules’ command. You will leave in the morning.”
As the sun rose over the city walls, Hercules and the palace guard were indeed ready to depart. They had also found Iolaus, exactly where he had said he would be. When Hercules and the captain of the guard arrived at the marketplace, they were amazed to find it as busy as on a festival. Everywhere they looked there were people who were weaving baskets,
