Eagle Warrior

by Roger Mortimer

  Conal followed Gideon into the room. The others crowded in the doorway; but Dabo, overcome by curiosity, pushed his way inside.

  ‘Surrender, General Cambray!’ said Gideon. ‘Your mice are beaten and you are finished, but I promise you fair and just treatment.’

  Some of the madness faded from Cambray’s eyes. ‘Surrender? Don’t push your luck, Gideon! I’ve beaten your eagles once and I’ll beat them again! Forgotten Barrowdown already, have you? Well, perhaps this’ll remind you!’

  He swung his sword at Gideon’s head. Gideon parried and lunged for the heart, but Cambray recovered instantly, sweeping Gideon’s rapier aside.

  In the dawn light, sword and rapier glittered and flashed. It was an equal match, thought Dabo, as he crouched against the wall. Cambray had ferocious strength but Gideon was lighter on his feet and – ouch! – that was close! Cambray’s sword slipped under his opponent’s guard and Gideon had to side-step swiftly, but he was still in the fight. Dabo hardly dared to watch.

  Suddenly, Gideon’s rapier slashed down on Cambray’s sword-arm, and the blood began to drip. Cambray snarled at the sudden pain, but his swordplay was as skilled as ever and both mice fought doggedly on.

  Then Gideon slipped on a smear of Cambray’s blood. The General whirled up his sword for the death-stroke. Conal raised his pistol – but before he could fire, a mouse hurled himself at Cambray, gripping his wrist and halting the sword in mid-air.

  Cambray wrenched his attacker away and struck him on the head with his sword-hilt. Dabo dropped to the floor and lay still, the blood flowing from his wound.

  With a furious snarl, Gideon threw himself at Cambray but the General had darted across the room and reached under a pile of blankets. And there was the Crown, glittering in his paws.

  ‘You cannot kill me, Gideon! I have the Crown!’

  Flinging down his sword, he crammed the shimmering Crown on to his head.

  Bella and her mother knelt beside Dabo, dabbing at the fur on his head and weeping helplessly. No one else moved. Though Dabo still breathed, the soldiers in the room knew that he would never survive that savage blow. All eyes were now on General Cambray – and the Crown.

  Suddenly, Armand stepped forward. ‘Take off that Crown, you tyrant! It belongs to my father.’

  Cambray did not seem to hear. But at Armand’s words, the Crown began to glow. Snakes of light wove an intricate pattern, the silver clusters shone like the sun on a mirror, and the diamonds radiated dazzling bars of scarlet and gold.

  ‘I said, take it off!’ cried Armand.

  The Crown exploded with light and the great ruby glowed brighter ... and brighter...

  Suddenly, Cambray clapped his paws to his head and screamed. It was the agony of the nightmare all over again. But he was awake now and he must take off the Crown! He tugged and tugged but it was no use. The Crown was stuck fast and the pain was becoming unbearable.

  His fur stood on end and his tail thrashed wildly. As he stared through bulging eyes, the mice in the room seemed to dissolve and it was suddenly dark. Cambray screamed again because surrounding him now, and bathed in blood-red light, were the mice of his vision, those dead victims of his greed and cruelty, and they were coming for him! Suddenly, the Crown shot needles into his brain, which exploded into a million glittering shards.

  Slowly, he toppled forward and crashed to the floor. As if relieved to be away from him, the Crown rolled across the room and came to rest at Armand’s feet.

  The spell was broken. Conal ran to Cambray’s hulking body and felt his neck. ‘Dead,’ he announced, but no one spoke a word.

  Gideon gently drew Mrs Quincy and Bella away from Dabo and felt for the heartbeat. There was none. As he knelt by Dabo’s body, Gideon’s terrible grief and anger threatened to overwhelm him completely. Then suddenly, he knew what he must do. He sprang to his feet. As if in answer to the terrible resolution that had burst upon him, he heard from the top of the tower Galliard’s piercing cry.

  ‘Conal – take command. You have Armand, you have the Crown, you have the eagles. First, send an Eagle Warrior to the Janus. He must tell them what has happened and order them, in my name, to sail the ship to Aramon. Then fly the Squadron to the town and seize the Great Fortress.’

  Conal’s kindly face was stricken with grief. ‘But what will you do?’

  ‘The only thing left. Galliard and I will take Dabo to the Island of Peace: the Place of the Dead and of the Lord of Light. There, I will beg for Dabo’s life.’

  Conal stared at him in dismay. ‘But – you don’t know where it is,’ he faltered. ‘No one knows!’

  Again, from above, came that piercing, commanding cry.

  Gideon looked at his friend. ‘Galliard knows.’

  Gently, he carried Dabo out of the room, up the stairs, through the open trap door and on to the roof where Galliard was waiting.

  22. The Lord of Light

  Above the High Collada Mountains, the air was so cold that the tears froze on Gideon’s face. On and on they flew until, far below, Gideon saw the Great Northern Ocean, cold and grey, stretching to the distant horizon.

  Somewhere out there lay the Island of Peace, the eternal resting-place for the souls of the dead. But no living mouse would ever dream of trying to reach it.

  Galliard knew the way. Gideon did not question this. He just knew that this eagle, whose spirit was so in tune with his own, would find the island, no matter what terrors lay in their path.

  Gideon had no idea how long they’d been flying. But, as the light faded he saw, far away, a tall pillar of cloud which grew taller and wider until it eclipsed both sea and sky. As they drew nearer, Gideon felt suddenly afraid, for within the cloud, strange shapes were moving, and warning voices spoke inside his head: ‘Go back, Eagle Warrior! You have no place here!’

  Galliard gave a loud cry and flew straight into the mountain of cloud. Shapes, so hideous as to be unrecognizable as any creature Gideon had ever seen or imagined, coiled around him. Skinny arms reached out, and he flinched and shut his eyes. But still he saw the shadows, and they grew into fantastic beasts with huge, bloated bodies, horned heads, silver tails and gaping jaws that dripped with blood. And all the time the voices were crying: ‘Go back! Go back while you still have life!’

  Gideon opened his eyes. Mammoth snakes with bared fangs snarled at him, and huge winged creatures flew towards him. He saw to his horror that their bodies were transparent, and that black blood flowed through their veins. Each creature had three heads and two long, forked tails, and they rushed at Gideon, shrieking with hatred.

  Again, he shut his eyes as Galliard veered aside in terror, but now a tower of flame erupted out of nowhere, piercing the gloomy cloud with a lurid, threatening glare.

  Gideon clutched little Dabo closely and almost flattened himself along the eagle’s back as Galliard desperately twisted and turned to avoid the flames. Glancing behind, Gideon saw the hideous monsters in pursuit, screaming and wailing, the fiery tower reflecting on their relentlessly beating wings.

  But as they passed the giant flame, he felt no heat: only the chilly dampness of the cloud. ‘Go on, Galliard! It’s not real! It can’t hurt us! Go on!’

  Suddenly, the cloud was gone and they were flying through darkness. No stars lit their way but far below, gleaming like a pearl, Gideon saw an island.

  As Galliard spiralled down, Gideon searched for signs of life. But all he could see was a wide, empty surface. For the first time, he wondered what they would find there and he felt afraid. But Galliard showed no sign of fear as she glided in for a perfect landing.

  Gideon looked down at Dabo. His eyes were closed and his face seemed peaceful. Gideon eased the little mouse away from him and laid him gently across the eagle’s broad back, where the limp little body seemed to nestle among the soft feathers.

  Gideon raised his eyes – and gasped in wonder. In an instant, warm sunshine had banished the darkness. Soft grass stretched away to a grove of graceful trees, which lifte
d silver branches tipped with golden leaves to the light; and in their shade bloomed delicate white flowers.

  He had gently lifted Dabo down from Galliard’s back, and was laying him on the grass when a slight movement in amongst the trees caught his eye. A mouse emerged from the shadows. He wore a plain, brown shirt and a pair of rather shabby breeches. He reached up and patted Galliard, fished in his pockets and produced an apple. Galliard politely accepted it. He looked at Gideon, his dark eyes sparkling with pleasure.

  ‘Lord Gideon, you are welcome. I’m afraid you’ve had a most unpleasant journey. Now, leave your little friend here and come with me. You must be hungry.’

  Gideon was. But... ‘I have come to see the Lord of Light,’ he said. ‘There is something I must ask him.’

  But the mouse simply smiled. ‘All in good time. Please follow me.’

  He led the way through the trees until they reached a small clearing where the sun shone on a cosy, thatched cottage. Nearby stood a small hut with a short, stubby chimney at one end. Gideon recognized it as an old-fashioned bread-oven.

  The mouse ducked inside and opened an iron hatch just below the chimney. At once, the delicious smell of newly-baked bread poured over Gideon and set his whiskers quivering. The mouse took out a wide, flat loaf which he carried outside and placed on the grass. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, and vanished into the cottage, to emerge after a moment carrying a brown, earthenware jug.

  ‘Sit down, Lord Gideon,’ he said, and passed over a generous chunk of bread.

  It tasted so sweet that it must have been baked with honey. Gideon was extremely hungry, and chewed with such obvious relish that his host smiled and passed the jug.

  The wine seemed to explode with a glorious riot of summer flavours. Never had Gideon tasted anything so delicious.

  ‘That’s marvellous wine! And the bread is wonderful, too. Did you make them both yourself?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ replied the mouse, his eyes twinkling. ‘The wine, of course, is the symbol of brotherhood. And the bread ...’ He looked closely at Gideon, in whose eyes a great understanding had suddenly dawned, ‘is the bread of life.’

  The mouse rose to his feet. Broad beams of light, of an unearthly brilliance, radiated from him. Gideon flinched and shut his eyes. When he dared to open them again, the homely clothes had been transformed into a dazzling robe of purest light, and a Great Star streamed in splendour above the head of the god.

  ‘So, Lord Gideon. Why have you come?’

  Gideon knelt. ‘I have come to ask for the life of my friend, Dabo, whose body lies beyond the trees. He died to save my life.’

  But the Lord of Light answered sternly: ‘What you ask is impossible. The life and death of all creatures is governed by the Laws of Nature. I cannot alter them. Nor would I, even if I could.’

  Gideon stared, aghast. ‘But – but why? If any mouse deserves to live, it is Dabo!’

  ‘And what of the mice who died following you and your eagles? Do they not deserve to live? And the mice who believed Cardinal Rumont’s lies, and died in the War – would you not have them restored to life also? No, Gideon, I must live by the Laws of Nature. They are a higher power than I, and they may not change; for if they do, they destroy themselves.’

  Gideon rose to his feet and looked into the great, dark eyes. ‘Very well. A life for a life! Take mine, and let Dabo live.’

  The Lord of Light stared in astonishment, and the Great Star blazed more brightly. ‘Through all the ages, mice have prayed to me in times of trouble, but never have I heard a mouse make such an offer. You are a noble creature, Gideon, and you must love your friend very dearly. But I cannot grant your request.’

  Gideon sank to his knees and buried his face in his paws. He felt as if his heart would break.

  ‘Lord Gideon,’ said the Lord of Light. Gideon looked up. The god’s eyes were smiling. ‘You say that Dabo is dead. But if that were so, then his spirit would be here. There are, of course, a great many but I know each one. And the spirit of Dabo is not among them.’

  In a daze, Gideon followed the god back through the trees. Dabo lay where he had left him, Galliard crouching protectively over him.

  The god knelt and laid his paw on Dabo’s head. At once, a shudder ran through the little body. Gideon gasped and held his breath.

  ‘It is as I thought. Dabo is alive, though he lies very close to death. The blow to his head has put him into a deep sleep. But he will recover in time.’

  Gideon breathed out in sudden, overwhelming relief. Galliard fluffed up her feathers, her eyes shining.

  ‘How long will it take?’

  The god did not answer. But once again, he laid his paw on Dabo’s head and closed his eyes. The Great Star blazed and Gideon’s fur tingled at the mighty surge of power flowing into Dabo.

  At last, the god removed his paw and rose to his feet. ‘Dabo will recover soon and you can take him home. He will feel tired and will sleep on the journey. Don’t worry about that,’ he added, seeing Gideon’s sudden look of alarm. ‘The illusions only operate on the inward journey. But tell no mouse what has happened here. By offering your life for that of your friend, you did the bravest thing possible; but that, too, must remain forever untold.’

  The eyes softened. ‘You have done well, Gideon. Now I must return to my cottage and resume my disguise. Newcomers to the Island find it... comforting. And there is another on his way who may not return and I must bake bread for him. Take care of Armand. He will make a good King...’

  As Gideon looked at him in sudden under­standing, the god raised a paw in blessing. ‘Fare­well, Gideon. We shall meet again. One day.’

  The Star’s rays streamed out, encircling Gideon with a light so brilliant that he flinched and shut his eyes. When he dared to open them, the god had vanished. Gideon sighed and looked down at Dabo and saw that the tip of his tail was slowly twitching from side to side.

  ‘Dabo!’ Reaching out his paw, he gently stroked the mouse’s head. Dabo was breathing, and, as Gideon watched, his eyes flickered open.

  ‘Gideon,’ he whispered, and smiled.

  ‘How do you feel, Dabo?’

  ‘All right, thanks. Bit of a headache. Ever so tired.’

  ‘Rest here for a while. Then we’re going home. Do you feel up to a ride on Galliard?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ smiled Dabo. ‘But I do feel ever so sleepy. Perhaps I could have a rest first?’

  Gideon and Galliard watched over him as he slept, their hearts full of gratitude and wonder. Gideon looked up at the grove of trees, beyond which lay the cosy little cottage. From the bread-oven, a thin column of smoke was rising into the summer sky.

  23. The Dying King

  Tom and Bella clung to their eagle’s feathers as the Squadron soared to maximum height. Keeping the sun behind them, they swept into a spearhead formation, Conal in the lead, ready for the attack. Aramon was in sight and on the hill beyond it was their target: the Great Fortress.

  Conal’s rapier was waving in glittering arcs; then it pointed downwards, and at once the Squadron dived. Tom and Bella felt their stomachs leaping to their throats as they swooped over the rooftops. Then the massive battlements filled their vision, terrified sentries were scuttling for the stairs, and they were down.

  ‘Come on!’ Conal knew they had the advantage of surprise but the garrison would soon be alerted. They must attack – quickly!

  Bella and Tom drew their pistols and followed the Eagle Warriors in a headlong dash down the stairs. Last in the line came Armand, clutching the Crown. He was chafing at not being up with the leaders but Conal was taking no chances and had placed the Prince under the care of Corporal Fallow.

  As they poured into the Great Hall, a company of soldiers raised their rifles. ‘Down!’ yelled Conal as the Hall exploded with smoke and flame and a flight of bullets whistled overhead. Then Conal charged into their midst, lunging with his rapier, carving a passage for his warriors. Tom Quincy followed while Bella picked off two soldiers with her pistols
.

  Swords clashed as the battle swayed back and forth, the soldiers stubbornly holding their ground as the Eagle Warriors pressed forward against a wall of steel. But it was only when Armand charged into the midst of the battle and fired both his pistols into the air that the soldiers lowered their swords and a great hush descended; for Armand was holding the Crown.

  ‘Cambray is dead!’ he cried. ‘Swear loyalty to the Crown, and I promise you peace, forgiveness and an end to tyranny!’

  For a moment the soldiers could not believe their eyes. But the great ruby flooded the Hall with light and the awestruck mice fell to their knees.

  ‘We swear!’

  The battle was over. The war was won.

  With a sigh of relief, Conal sheathed his rapier. ‘Take their weapons,’ he ordered, ‘and look to the wounded. Then let them go. They’ll not break that oath in a hurry.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Armand. ‘Where is the Jailer?’

  A mouse in greasy overalls shuffled forward. A bunch of keys clanked at his belt. ‘Take me to my father,’ said the Prince.

  Accompanied by Bella and Tom, Armand followed the mouse down to the dungeons where flickering torchlight cast gloomy shadows on cold, damp walls. The Jailer unlocked a door, then hurried away, ashamed. Asking his friends to wait outside, Armand entered the cell.

  He knelt by the huddled shape on the filthy straw. ‘Father! Can you hear me? It’s me, Armand! Oh, Father!’

  Armand had not seen his father since the Battle of Barrowdown, and at the sight of that poor, wasted body, he wept.

  King Auriol opened his eyes. Through the shadows in his mind he recognized Armand and saw the Crown. With the last of his strength, he raised his paw and gently touched his son’s forehead. Armand understood. His father was silently transferring the Crown to him.

  Auriol’s paw dropped to his side. The final effort had exhausted him. But there was something he had to say.

  ‘Armand,’ he whispered. ‘Listen to me. In a moment of weakness, I sent the Crown away and the battle was lost. I have caused you, and many of my subjects, needless suffering. I’m sorry. Oh, Armand, swear that you will keep the Crown always with you! It is a sacred trust from the Lord of Light.’