Chapter 9

When Kirrick was brought before the great golden eagle, he was immediately overawed by Storne’s sheer physical presence. The eagle was a magnificent example of his species. He measured a full three feet in length, from beak to tail. His plumage was a lustrous brown, with lighter golden colouring on the head and neck. His beak seemed particularly frightening to Kirrick: wickedly hooked and powerful. Yet his eyes shone with kindness and welcome, and he greeted Portia like an honoured guest.

Portia introduced Kirrick with pride and Storne settled down to listen. Kirrick told him about their journey, and their purpose in coming so far. Storne was impressed at Kirrick’s accomplishments and laughed out loud, squawking merrily, at the daring escapes from his magpie hunters. On learning that Traska had pursued them to the very gates of his own fortress stronghold, Storne mused as to how he could best welcome his other ‘guest’. But, listening to the council of the smaller bird, Storne accepted that his best course of action for now would be inaction. The time was not yet right for full-blown confrontation with this particular enemy and there would be ample opportunity for battle, if Tomar’s plan came to fruition.

Storne was cautious initially. He was lord of his domain, and supremely confident of his own dominance in his homeland. But he had never once ventured beyond the highlands, although his searches for food and patrolling of the skies in protection of the smaller birds had carried him over many square miles. But it was all familiar territory. Storne marvelled at Kirrick. This tiny little bird had already made journeys far beyond Storne’s own experience and the eagle envied this brave robin his adventurousness.

His fears were twofold. He did not like leaving his own home unguarded, and he felt a slight trepidation at travelling to a strange region, where he and his eagles would not be able to use the terrain to their own advantage. Storne experienced a queasy feeling in his craw. He was afraid of no other bird, and would match any in single combat. But the sheer malevolence of the creature who could plan such genocide – Storne could not call him a bird – was undoubtedly intimidating.

However, right was right, and Storne felt such a rage and hatred for the magpies, for their murderous activities on his own doorstep, that he could not help but feel it even more keenly, when told of the wider picture of Birddom-wide destruction and despair. He could not fault Tomar’s plan, and realised the crucial importance of the role that he and his legions would have to play. He resolved that he would not be found wanting. So, he forced his misgivings way down into the pit of his stomach and gave a positive and vibrant affirmation of support to the robin’s proposals.

Once again, Kirrick was overwhelmed with gratitude. Dame Fortune was favouring his mission. He had succeeded twice in gaining vital support for Tomar’s plan. If anything, the great eagle was even more enthusiastic than Darreal. Kirrick now had won over two formidable allies and, with one more great journey to undertake, he felt confident that he could deliver a triumvirate of overpowering proportions, to meet Tomar’s needs at the appointed time.

The eagle and the two robins talked through the long, hot day, comfortable in each other’s company. The great eagle was an autocrat. He would need no council to ratify his decision. The eagles would fly, when the time came.

Whilst Portia and Storne exchanged more local news, Kirrick reflected on his next course of action. Time was at a premium and he still had far to go. The third journey would be the longest, but at least he would have the companionship of his mate. Then a sudden doubt assailed him. Would Portia come with him?

Back in Tanglewood, Tomar was thinking about Kirrick. It had been such a long time with no news of the robin. Could one small bird survive, let alone achieve the tasks given him? With a shrug of his massive wings, he let it go. Tomar had other things to worry about. He had succeeded at the farm, and now he had the poison.

However, what had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, now presented intractable difficulties. Just how did an owl go about communicating with insects? Of course, birds and mammals shared a common language, as well as their own individual tongues. This was a necessity born of a common foe – Man. The ability to communicate, to warn of impending danger, was mutually beneficial to all creatures. But insects did not face the same threats from mankind, and there had been little need for interaction with them until now.

Tomar’s thoughts went back to the golden days, when the Council of the Owls had presided over the lore of Birddom. Each member of the council had been chosen for their special skills, contributing to the whole. The Great Owl, Cerival, leader of the Council, was the wisest of all. But another was chosen for her knowledge of other wildlife. Her name was Caitlin. She was a little owl, and her diminutive stature used to seem incongruous at the Council. However, it belied her value. As a communicator, she had spread the word of the Council to many of their animal neighbours, and her contacts had enabled her to receive much useful information. Tomar knew that Caitlin would be able to find a translator for him. Suddenly, the old owl’s enthusiasm evaporated.

“Face reality,” he told himself. “There’s no way of getting in touch with Caitlin.”

The little owl lived in woodland, high on the rolling downs, hundreds of miles to the south. Tomar cursed his advancing age and infirmity. His mind could encompass the whole of the world, but he was too old to travel beyond the confines of his own forest home.

Caitlin, whose help Tomar needed so badly, might just as well not have existed. The old owl would have to think of another way.

Weary once more, Tomar settled down to rest and sleep. Perhaps a new day would bring fresh hope, fresh ideas. So much depended upon the success of his plans.

Each of the six owls, in turn, were brought before Slyekin. The evil magpie had kept them isolated since their capture. They had been ill-treated by their jailers and were weak with hunger and abuse. Slyekin derided them, making fun of their predicament, and belittling the strength of the Council of the Owls. He called them fools, whose do-gooder activities had left them wide open to a genius like himself. What answer had they had to his brilliance? What protection had the lore of the Council been able to provide Birddom, when he had put his master-plan into action?

Each owl stood before him. Some abject, some defiant, all impotent in the face of such evil. It was this thought that tortured the owls, as much as any physical harm that was done to them. They had failed when they had been most needed. Indeed, they had, by their instruction of Slyekin, provided the tools to do the job.

So, in this way, the magpie weakened their spirit, whilst captivity weakened their bodies. Slyekin was content. His plans were working. Like clockwork. Not that he, for one moment, entertained a single doubt. He was infallible. A genius. A god!

When Kirrick and Portia took their leave of Storne, they stuck to their decision to go back through the rabbit tunnels. The robins were both eager to tell Oliver of the agreement made with Storne. When he had heard of the help given to the two robins, the great eagle had vowed that he would ensure that the rabbits would no longer be hunted by his kind. In future, they would search farther afield for their food. Kirrick and Portia were sure that the rabbits would be delighted with the news of their future safety from talons of the eagles, and were very pleased to be able to do a favour for Oliver, in return for his kindness towards them.

The rabbit had promised to return the following day, to guide the pair through the maze of warrens. Kirrick knew that Portia had been right to suggest this. The tunnels would provide their safest route away from Storne’s eyrie, and Oliver would easily be able to find them a suitable alternative exit, if Traska and his cohorts were persistent enough to still be searching the area where they had entered the warren. However, Kirrick viewed the prospect of another subterranean journey with some trepidation, and was thankful that they would not have to make the journey unguided. No sooner had Kirrick and Portia started into the tunnels, when Oliver appeared. Their cries of greeting died on their beaks, when they saw how distressed the rabbit seemed. And when he spoke, they could hear the anguish in his voice.

“The magpies are in the tunnels!”

The robins listened, aghast, as Oliver told of how the magpies had continued to search the area where Kirrick and Portia had disappeared so effectively. The rabbits had watched, with amusement, as scores of the black and white birds had joined in, combing the countryside for clues.

But then one magpie had arrived, and the stakes had suddenly been raised. Oliver had known, from Kirrick’s story, that this must be the one who had been pursuing the robin all over Birddom. Perhaps Traska had guessed how the robins had disappeared, or perhaps he had just been lucky. Whichever it was, he had turned the attention of his hordes upon the rabbits themselves. They had chased, harried, and isolated a young doe rabbit. Several of the large birds had gathered around her menacingly. Then, without warning, they had attacked. The other rabbits had tried to rush to her aid, but had been beaten back by the sheer numbers of the magpie hunters.

The young doe, badly wounded, had been in no state to resist when Traska began his interrogation. He had quickly learnt of the robins’ method of escape, also gaining confirmation that it was now a pair for which he was hunting. Traska had reacted swiftly. Reinforcing his commands with brutal severity at the slightest dissent, he had ordered his troops into the rabbit warrens. However, Oliver had also been quick-thinking. He had organised several of the younger, stronger bucks to fight a rearguard action, whilst a team of rabbits were sent to block up the tunnels that provided the most direct passage through the warren. Oliver had left his companions at this point, and had used all speed to come and warn Kirrick and Portia of the new menace awaiting them.

Kirrick and Portia returned at once to Storne’s eyrie. The great eagle listened with concern as the tale of the rabbits’ peril was unfolded.

“This cannot go unpunished. Besides, it will be a good rehearsal for what is to come.”

So, with these words, the eagle flew off, to gather a strike-force to more than match the power of the magpie coven. Kirrick knew that he really ought to take the opportunity to leave, with or without Portia, and begin his arduous flight south on the final journey that would, hopefully, bring Tomar’s plan to fruition. But, for now, both of the robins had to stay to see the outcome of the battle. Perhaps, in some small way, they could help. In any case, they could not leave the area with the magpies in such numbers. They took to the air in unison, and followed the flight of deadly predators, as they headed, straight as an arrow, for their battle ground.

The magpies had made little progress through the tunnels, and had turned to squabbling amongst each other in their frustration. Several of the rabbits had been killed, some savagely tortured. But they were on home territory, and the magpies were in an entirely alien world. Their fear of Traska decreased with time spent in the tunnels, and soon their forward advance ground to a halt.

“I’ve had enough of this,” voiced one disgruntled bird, “I’m gonna get back out in the fresh air where I belong!”

Most of the other magpies murmured their assent at this comment, and soon all the attackers were in retreat. However, Traska was waiting at the entrance to the tunnels, and fell upon the first couple of magpies who tried to leave. But the remainder of his force spilled out of the rabbits’ warrens, and took to the skies gratefully, enjoying their freedom after the constraints of their underground sojourn.

Thus it was that the magpies were in no position to repel the sudden, swift and merciless attack from the eagles who appeared out of nowhere, but who were now very much amongst them. Individually the magpies were no match for their superior foes. The ensuing battle fast became a rout, which soon turned into a massacre.

It was Traska’s cunning sense of self-preservation that saved him from the eagles’ attack. He could see the hunter quickly becoming the hunted, and had dodged into the rabbits’ tunnels to avoid the talons of a swooping attacker. Once inside, he had no option but to career at random through numerous passageways, terrified of pursuit, uncaring of his destination. He was no longer concerned about the robins. He was fleeing for his life.

Indeed, it was some time before he allowed himself to slow down, and take stock of his situation. He could hear no sound of pursuit, and he rested for a while, chest heaving with the exertions of his escape, and with the lack of air in the confines of the tunnels. Traska was hopelessly lost, but knew he had to continue on blindly, in the hope of finding another way out of this maze. He knew that he could not go back. That would be a fatal mistake.

Kirrick and Portia had seen Traska disappear into the very tunnels that had proved their escape route from the magpies. Storne disengaged from the battle, and took stance at the entrance, surveying his victory. The magpies were decimated and the few remaining survivors fled in desperation. At a signal from Storne, the eagles ceased their pursuit of the rabble, and the proud birds returned to their mountain home.

Storne, however, lingered for a while, reluctant in the aftermath of victory to experience the sadness of a parting. But Kirrick’s relief at the outcome of the battle was tempered by the resurgence of his fears about losing his precious love, Portia. So far, everything that she had said and done proved her love for him. But would she be prepared to leave her homeland and face unknown perils by his side?

Portia sensed that Kirrick was troubled, and intuitively knew the reason.

“I never want to be apart from you again, my love.”

Kirrick and Portia were anxious now to be on their way, and so took their leave for a second time. Kirrick was relieved that they could journey now in open flight, rather than travel below ground. Accompanied by Storne, the pair of robins flew down to say their farewells to Oliver. The rabbit hopped nervously from one foot to the other at the arrival of the massive eagle, but stopped just short of fleeing for the safety of his tunnels. Portia introduced Storne to the rabbit, and told Oliver of the agreement that the eagles had made, regarding the safety of his own folk. This Storne affirmed, with a nod of his mighty head, and then turned to Kirrick.

“Journey safely, my little friend, and don’t worry!” exclaimed Storne. “I’ll have a watch kept on both ends of the warren. And if that damned bird is foolish enough to venture out on my territory, he will find a warm reception awaiting him!”

“Goodbye then,” said Kirrick. “And thank you for all your help. Until we meet again!”

“We know the time and the place,” replied the great eagle. “We will be there, never fear!”

Kirrick and Portia turned then, and, gauging their heading by the position of the sun, set off on their long flight south.

Slyekin felt that he had waited long enough. Although the feast was still some weeks away, he was eager to bring the remainder of the Council of the Owls under his control. Only by the capture of the final six owls could he bring his plan to absolute fruition. But he wanted to increase the agony of the Great Owl, to maximise the hurt done to his pride and honour.

Slyekin had decided to capture the remaining owls one by one. In this way he sought to extinguish any flicker of hope in Cerival’s heart, but to do so with exquisite slowness. Slyekin sent for his henchmen, and gave instructions for a quintet of magpies to set off immediately. Theirs was the longest journey. They were being sent to capture the snowy owl, Isidris. To see him humbled would wound the Great Owl sorely. That would be fine, but Slyekin did not wish to delay his personal pleasure by waiting for their return from such a distance. So he decided that a second party should be sent out to capture one of the owls somewhere nearer.

Slyekin laughed as he realised how little force would be needed this time. He would only need to send three of his elite magpies to capture Caitlin. The little owl would provide scant resistance, but might give them a lot of amusement when they had her in their grasp. Slyekin grinned with cruel satisfaction. Each owl on the Council in some way represented some thing he could never do, could never be. His hatred for them all burned deeply inside him. But they would bow down before him, spreading their wings in self-abasement. Yes. He would make them grovel. And then he would kill them!