Flight of the Eagles

by Gilbert L. Morris

  There were seven songs in all, but Josh could make little sense out of any of them. The sound of his father’s voice on the tapes affected him strangely. Sometimes he felt sad and lonely when he heard the voice, but other times he felt comforted, almost as if his father were still with him.

  Josh also read much from his mother’s journal, and there, too, he was comforted. The journal was well-worn, underlined on every page and with many notes written in his mother’s hand.

  Something else Josh found in the brown case was a map. It showed very few details, but there were some numbers running along the top and the sides.

  On the third morning, he was studying the map when Mat walked by on an errand, carrying some food. “Mat, what are these numbers?” Josh asked.

  “Let me see.” Mat put his sack down and looked at the map. “This is an Oldtime map. Things aren’t this way anymore.”

  “But what are the numbers?”

  “Latitude and longitude, I suppose,” Mat said. “Where did this map come from?”

  “My father gave it to me.” This seemed to be true enough to Josh.

  Mat glanced at him shrewdly. “Do you think it’s a map showing where the other Sleepers are?”

  It was exactly what Josh had hoped, but he refused to admit it to Mat, who made fun of anything about the Sleepers. “I just wondered what the numbers meant,” he lamely answered.

  “It’s so out of date now that it wouldn’t do any good anyway,” Mat said. He picked up his sack and left.

  But Josh stared at the map for a long while. Then he played the tape for the twentieth time.

  This time, it was Tam who passed by. He stopped to listen to the song.

  “That’s my father,” Josh said, playing the second song on the tape:

  “Far from ocean tides—

  Yet the sleeper lies

  “Where even sunlight seems to fail

  In the belly of the whale.”

  “I don’t have any idea what it means,” Josh confessed.

  Tam looked around. “Don’t tell my brother,” he whispered, “but I like poetry. I would like to hear all of these songs, if you don’t mind.”

  Josh lowered his own voice, glad to share a secret with someone. “Here, Tam. I’ve copied them all out on this paper. Take them with you. If you think they mean anything, I wish you’d let me know.”

  “Well, I’m not much good at figuring poems out,” Tam confessed. “I sure do like to read them though. They sound so nice.”

  All morning Josh thought about the problem of how to find the Sleepers, but his mind was a blank. About noon, he set out to find Crusoe and ask him more questions. He searched all the rooms, but there was no one in the silo—not even Mat and Tam.

  Josh thought they might be outside, so he found his way to the stairs and climbed to the outer entrance. The door was fastened on the inside with a strong bar, but he was able to lift it and push the door ajar. Evidently, the door had not been touched for years, for it squealed loudly as Josh swung it open.

  My first sight of Nuworld, he thought nervously as he stepped outside. It was not as shocking as he had feared. Nothing was familiar, but he had expected that. There were a few trees, stunted and misshapen to be sure, and a line of rocks breaking through the earth.

  Josh left the building and walked toward the spot where the road had been. He quickly discovered that the highway was no longer there. In every direction, he could see only arid land broken by a few trees and outcroppings of rock.

  Josh continued to walk carefully to where the road had been, but for some reason he did not call out for Crusoe or for the Gemini. There was an ominous stillness, and he remembered what Mat had said about different (and dangerous) people. He had gone less than three hundred feet and had just turned to go back to the silo when it happened.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of movement to his right. Quickly he wheeled to face his stalker. Then he froze, his mouth open. Fear so gripped him that he could not speak.

  Not ten feet away, coming from behind a large rock straight at him, was a giant! It was a huge being, at least ten feet tall. Its face, Josh saw in horror, was blunt and stupid looking. It seemed the crudest face he had ever seen. There was a loud thump thump thump as the giant’s feet struck the earth.

  Josh turned to run, but before he had taken two steps, an enormous hand closed around his arm. Then another enclosed his chest. He felt himself lifted into the air and drawn close to the evil-smelling creature. Desperately he cried for help.

  “Help! Help, somebody! Help!” Then his entire face was swallowed by a monstrous hand, and he could neither call nor see.

  Smothered inside the huge hand, Josh could feel the movements of the giant’s lurching run. Then the giant seemed to stoop down for a moment, rise again, and stop. Through a crack between the creature’s fingers, Josh peered out. They were in a bleak cave!

  Josh could hear his own heart beating as he struggled to escape. He had read about cave trolls and other monsters, but his knowledge did him no service, for he felt totally hopeless.

  Then suddenly the hand was removed and Josh heard —Crusoe’s voice!

  “Josh! What are you doing here?”

  The giant lowered him to the floor.

  Josh quickly pulled himself away and ran to Crusoe.

  “Crusoe,” he cried out.“There’s a giant!”

  Then Crusoe laughed, and Josh felt himself becoming angry. Was the old man deaf? Was he blind? Didn’t he see the monster standing right there?

  Josh glanced at the giant. The giant was laughing too—at least that was what it looked like. His thick features were squinted into what seemed to be a smile, and the big mountain of shoulders shook.

  “What is this?” Josh asked Crusoe furiously. “If it’s a joke, it’s not very funny.”

  “No—” Crusoe laughed hoarsely “—I’m sorry but why did you leave the shelter? Didn’t you know it was dangerous?”

  Josh stood there, feeling foolish. The giant, although of a monstrous size and bulging with muscles, did not look very fierce. Though his body resembled a slab from the Grand Canyon, his face was more like that of a huge toy bear.

  “I hope I didn’t hurt you,” the big man apologized. “My name is Volka.” He stuck out his hand.

  “I was just startled at first,” Josh said. “I’m Josh.” He put out his hand to shake the massive paw Volka had pushed toward him. Josh’s hand was lost in the vast palm, but the giant’s shake was light as a feather.

  “You shouldn’t have gone outside alone, Joshua,” Crusoe said seriously. “It’s very dangerous.”

  “Yes,” Volka said. “You nearly met a priest. One from the Sanhedrin was coming right toward you.”

  “A priest?” Josh said in surprise. “Why, that wouldn’t be dangerous.”

  “This isn’t your world, Joshua,” Crusoe said sternly. “And now I think it’s time for your education to begin.”

  “I’m going to school?” Josh asked in surprise and distaste.

  “In a way.” Crusoe led them back toward the silo. “By the way, never use the front door again. We keep it locked at all times. I’ll show you the entrance we always use.”

  Crusoe led them into the silo and called to the Gemini to join them. Volka managed to squeeze through the door with a careful side step. Crusoe took them all into what seemed to be an old classroom. Then he spoke.

  “We have some decisions to make.”

  They were all looking at Josh strangely, and he wondered what he had done.

  “Has he decided?” Mat asked, waving a stubby hand toward Josh. “Because if he has, I want to go on record right now as being against it.”

  “You’re always against everything,” Tam said. “But I’m for it.”

  “Be quiet, you two,” Crusoe commanded. “Joshua doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Then he ignored the others and looked at the boy so intently that Joshua found it hard to meet his gaze.


  “Joshua, you must decide.”

  “Decide what?”

  “For years, I have heard of the Seven Sleepers. Now one of you has awakened. And you have heard a word of some kind that tells you that you must awaken the others. The Quest rests with you.”

  Josh felt small and helpless under Crusoe’s gaze. “But I can’t do anything. I couldn’t even make the football team.”

  “I think the choice is clear. I think you’ve been—chosen to do this.”

  “Chosen by whom?” Josh asked in surprise.

  “I don’t know—yet.” Crusoe paused and seemed to be listening to a voice far off.

  Then he returned his attention to Josh and smiled. “I can only offer you this small consolation. If you decide to go, I’ll go with you.”

  “And I’ll go too!” Tam cried. He would have turned a cartwheel, but his brother held him back.

  “I’ll go if you want me to,” Volka said.

  Everyone looked at Mat, as though expecting him to object. To Josh’s surprise he said, “I’ll go too.” He smiled sourly and added, “I’ll have to if meathead Tam goes along, won’t I?”

  “What will it be, Joshua?” Crusoe asked.

  Again the strange quiet surrounded Josh. He heard that faint echo of a voice whispering, “I’ll be near you.”

  Josh said, “I’ll go—but how will we find the way?”

  They looked silently at one another.

  Then Crusoe said firmly, “When the time comes, we’ll be directed. But until then, you’ve got a lot to learn, Joshua.”

  “Well, that’s the truth,” Mat grumbled. “He doesn’t even know the dialect.”

  Josh said in surprise, “Doesn’t everyone speak English?”

  “No,” Crusoe replied. “The land has been so divided, and communications are so bad, that many different dialects have sprung up. But the common language is based on English, so it won’t be too hard to learn.”

  “And you’ll have to learn to take care of yourself,” Volka said. “It’s dangerous out there.”

  “Oh, I know how to shoot a rifle,” Josh said eagerly.

  They all laughed, and Tam reached behind a counter. He pulled out a long bow and a sheaf of feathered arrows tipped with hunting points. “Can you hit anything with this?” he asked.

  “But why not a rifle?” Josh asked.

  “Because there are none,” Crusoe answered. “After the Terror, most modern weapons were destroyed. The new rulers made it illegal to have any modern weapons or to make any. I think they believe that rebellions are less likely if weapons are crude. So you’ll have to learn to use a bow—and this.”

  Crusoe walked to a cabinet and opened it. He drew out a beautifully balanced sword. “Mat will be your teacher. He may well be the best swordsman in Nuworld.”

  Josh’s heart sank at the gleam that suddenly appeared in Mat’s dark eyes.

  “How many other things do I have to learn?”

  “Oh, not much,” Tam said cheerfully. “How to ride a horse and take care of one, how to hunt, dress game, hitch a team, drive a wagon, how to pack an animal—”

  “—read a map” —Crusoe took up the list— “as well as learn history, social customs—”

  “—woodsmanship—,” Volka added, “and how to use a knife and a staff, how to stalk—”

  “And, of course, how to act a part,” Crusoe said.

  “Act!” Josh exclaimed in dismay. He had hated even the minor parts that he had played in school dramas. “Why do I have to be an actor?”

  Crusoe grew deadly serious. His small hand tapped Josh’s arm insistently.

  “Because the Sanhedrin must never know who you are! You will have to pretend at all times to be something other than what you are. You can be a student or a half-wit or anything except one of the Sleepers!”

  “What are the Sanhedrin?” Joshua asked.

  “The courts, the army, the law—you name it, and they are behind it,” Crusoe replied. A hard light appeared in his small bright eyes, and his lips tightened in anger. “And they know, so we hear, that the time is near for the Uprising, a move to unseat them and bring their evil ways to an end.”

  “It will be the rope or worse for us if they catch us!” Mat growled. He glared at Josh and added, “Better think twice about this, youngster. It’s not a game.”

  Josh looked at the strange group, but their very strangeness was beginning to grow familiar to him. He answered simply, “Well, when do we start?”

  Crusoe’s face broke into a twisted grin.

  “Right now,” he said triumphantly.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The next month was torture for Josh.

  Mat made the fencing lessons hellish. The lessons were so tough that Josh went to sleep dreading the next session. The sour-faced dwarf was a terror, driving the boy from one end of the large room to the other. He would scream, then easily slip past Josh’s clumsy guard and slap him cruelly with the flat blade.

  “Get that guard up!” Slap!

  “I thought you were anxious to learn!” Slap!

  “Pick up your clumsy feet!” Slap! Slap! Slap!

  During these sessions, Josh learned one lesson he would later treasure—to fight back with fiery determination, no matter how great the pain.

  When Josh could hardly lift his sword arm, Tam would take him to a grove for archery practice. Many times Josh’s fingers bled until the string was red, but he never complained. He began to be rewarded with the satisfying thump that sounded each time an arrow split the center of the target.

  Volka used up whatever was left of Josh’s strength, teaching him to saddle and unsaddle his horse. Josh’s horse was a rather ugly roan pony named Roland. At first, Josh hated the horse because he had trouble staying on the spirited animal. But soon he came to love and trust the sturdy little beast.

  One night, long after the others had gone to bed, Josh sat sleepily listening to Crusoe ramble on about the customs in Nuworld. Josh’s mind was on his life as it now was. Suddenly he had a thought that sat him bolt upright.

  “Say! Do you know what I am?” Then he laughed at Crusoe’s blank look. “I mean—think of all I’m doing right now—fencing, shooting the bow, riding, hunting. Why, I’m a squire!”

  Crusoe nodded seriously. “I think it’s good for you to see yourself like that.”

  Josh smiled shyly, then shared his deepest secret with the old man. “I always loved stories about knights. But I never expected to be one.”

  “You’re not one yet,” Crusoe declared emphatically.

  “And there’s more to being a knight than slaying dragons!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Knights did a lot of things, but they really had only one purpose. That was to destroy evil and find good. That sounds trite, I know, but Josh, that’s the Quest—the search for goodness that all true knights pursued. And that’s what you must pursue.”

  Josh looked down at his skinny frame with a shrug. “I don’t look much like a knight,” he said sadly.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Crusoe snapped almost angrily. “What is important is that you think like one and act like one.” Abruptly he got up and stalked away, leaving Josh to his own thoughts.

  Perhaps it was this talk that led Josh to new heights of concentration. In any case, the next day during the fencing match he surprised Mat by driving straight at him so furiously that the dwarf lost his sword.

  For one moment, the dwarf felt the point of Josh’s sword against his throat, and Mat fell speechless.

  Then Josh lowered his point and said quietly, “It’s time to begin.”

  Stung by Josh’s victory, Mat cried out loudly, “Just because you had a little luck—”

  “I know, Mat, I know—but we can’t wait forever! I’ll never be as good at everything as all of you are. I say it’s time.”

  “I think you’re right.” Josh turned and saw Crusoe standing in the doorway. “We’ll meet tonight in the council room and decide what to do.” He le
ft as abruptly as he had appeared.

  It was late that night by the time the work was done. For a while they sat silently in the flickering candlelight. When anyone spoke, it was usually to debate the next step in the plan.

  “We can’t just charge all over the country looking under rocks for the Sleepers,” Mat almost shouted.

  “Well, who said we would?” Tam grinned. “We’ll simply keep our eyes and ears open. With the good luck that’s due to us, we’ll find them.”

  “Takes more than luck,” said Volka slowly. “What do we have, really—to follow, I mean?”

  Josh let the silence run on. Then he said with some hesitation, “Well, we have the songs. I don’t understand them though.”

  “I found one thing in them,” Tam said suddenly. “There’s a certain combination of numbers in each one of them.”

  “What’s that?” Crusoe said sharply.

  “Look at them,” Tam urged. “They’re all in two parts, like this first one.

  ‘Full deep the silent sleeper lies.

  ‘Down below the burning heath,

  deep within the empty sheath.’

  “You see, there are 8 syllables in the first line and 14 in the last line.”

  “But what does it mean?” Josh asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tam admitted, “but every verse has something like it. See, the rest of them go like this—” he read off the list slowly “—10–15, 10–7, 18–15, 25–17, 16–8, 2–8.”

  “It might be a code, a secret message,” Josh whispered excitedly.

  They spent the next three hours trying to juggle the numbers around into something that made sense before finally giving up in despair.

  Strangely, it was Mat who figured out the code, even though he had taken a sneering view of the whole affair. They were sitting in silence almost ready to go to bed, when suddenly Mat sat up straight and said, “I’ve got it!”

  He jumped up and grinned so broadly that his sour face almost shattered. “I’ve got it,” he hollered again and again. “I’ve got it!” Then he stopped. He forced his habitual scowl back on his face and added grumpily, “And it’ll probably get us all killed.”