Urchin and the Rage Tide (23 page)

Crown came to stand beside him. “This boat is in one piece,” he said. “We can get her to Mistmantle, but we’ll have to be quick.”

“We can’t get her through the mists,” said Corr. “You can’t fly her over like that.”

“We’ll find a way,” said Crown. “Don’t argue. Just move the boat.”

Together, with muscles already aching, they heaved the boat to the shore.

“Give her water,” said Crown, “the water we brought with us. We know it’s safe.”

Corr trickled a few drops of water into Sepia’s mouth. It would be good to find a stream here and top up the water, but Sepia seemed so ill that time might be vital. Besides, Crown was right. They knew the water they had brought would be safe.

With the boat out of the cave and in the sunlight, Corr could see even more clearly how ill Sepia was. Her frailty scared him. Her whole body was thinner than he remembered, and her wrist felt as light as a twig. He dripped more water into her mouth, and this time he stroked her throat, because she seemed too weak to swallow it without help.

“There’s a drink you can make with mendingmoss,” said Crown. “It will do her good.”

“Then we’ll have to make it on the way,” said Corr. “We can’t waste time here.”

The thought of rowing all the way back to Mistmantle was crushing, and Corr couldn’t help thinking that it wasn’t fair—why did it all have to depend on him, one bruised and aching otter who’d already rowed the length and breadth of seas and been shipwrecked? But in the next moment, he felt proud of those bruises and that shipwreck. Urchin would be proud of him, too. Perhaps all adventurers got tired and dispirited sometimes. And whose idea had it been in the first place? His.

It wasn’t the way he’d imagined it. He’d pictured himself wrapping Sepia warmly in the cloak he had brought from Mistmantle, but it had been drenched in the storm. With help from Crown, he fastened it to the mast to use as a sail until the wind had blown it dry. The jar of honey from Queen Larch was intact, and when he opened it, the scent of warmth, sweetness, and herbs was so powerful, so full of summer, that he thought even the smell of it would do Sepia good. He dipped his claw into it, and stroked it onto her tongue. At last, as if the effort were almost too great, she swallowed.

“It will make you well, Sepia,” he said. “Home now.”

They traveled on, day and night, Crown and Corr taking turns to stay awake. Crown refused to use the precious mendingmoss on his injured foot, preferring to swim from time to time to let the salt water heal it. The sight of the broken wing trailing in the water troubled Corr, but there was nothing to do except to wait for it to heal itself.

Making the mendingmoss drink for Sepia was difficult. Crown had only a vague idea of how much to use and how long to infuse it, and they had no means of heating the water. But they did the best they could, and three times a day they poured a few drops of the infusion into Sepia’s mouth. As the nights grew cool, Crown would spread his good wing over her to keep her warm.

The yellow cloak, once dried—and when they didn’t need a sail—was wrapped around her. Corr thanked the Heart for that cloak, warm and lined. He hoped he hadn’t deprived anyone of it, but by keeping her warm and dry it could be saving her life.

Every time he gave her food or water, she was a little more responsive. She began to swallow more easily and sometimes her eyelids flickered open, but she had fits of shivering so violent that Corr was afraid. Often, she cried out as if in pain or distress. Every time he put an arm around her shoulders to raise her head for a drink, he could feel the sharpness of her shoulder blades just beneath the skin. The idea that a heart could still beat in this drained little body amazed him. He crushed the hazelnuts he had brought from Mistmantle, mixed them with honey and water, and used a nutshell as a cup to slip the mixture into her mouth. Corr narrowed his eyes and gazed at the horizon, but they were still not in sight of the mists.

“We should talk to her,” said Crown. “She might be able to hear us, and it could help her to hold on.”

Crown talked to her about the welcome waiting for her on Mistmantle, about the rage tide and the war against the ravens, and about his own island with its swans and squirrels. As night fell and Crown slept, Corr tucked the cloak around her and sang the Mistmantle lullaby.

Waves of the seas,

Wind in the trees,

Spring-scented breeze

For your sleeping, sleeping…

“You’ll sing again, Sepia,” he said. “Stay with us. Stay with us. You’ll be well. There’s only one thing in the world that I want, Sepia, and that’s to take you back to Urchin. How can I look him in the face if I go back without you?”

She blinked. For the first time, her eyes opened fully, dark eyes that looked too big for the pinched face. Then she winced, and her eyes closed again. He gave her mendingmoss water, and wrapped the cloak around her.

“Heart help us,” he said. “Heart, keep her alive.”

Another morning came. Corr sat up, scanning the horizon with bright eyes, and his heart leaped.

“The mists, Sepia!” he said. “I can see the mists!”

Every stroke of the oars and every breeze brought them nearer to Mistmantle. But Sepia was still very weak, and Prince Crown’s wing would be slow to mend. Corr had seen him try to fly, only to flounder onto the sea after a few yards. He couldn’t possibly fly himself over the mists, let alone Sepia.

Around Mistmantle the sea lay calm and still, sparkling in the sunlight, but crops were destroyed, trees bent, and homes flooded. Mud and silt sprawled where flowers had grown, and, like so many of the animals, Juniper felt wretchedly tired. He knelt on a hillside near the tower.
Sorrow before joy.
He repeated the phrase to himself. Hadn’t they had enough sorrow? Wasn’t it time, surely, for joy? But still there was a sense that things were not complete, that the greatest thing was yet to happen, and he thought of King Crispin, and held him before the Heart. When he rose from his knees he was aware of Urchin waiting for him.

“The moles and otters have reported back,” Urchin said. “It’s all over now. No more rage tides.”

“At last!” said Juniper.

Fingal was lolloping up the hill toward them. “Isn’t it wonderful!” he said. “Look at that sea! It’s trying to look innocent, after all it’s done to us! Have either of you seen the king? I was worried about him. He’s working harder than ever, and he’s not himself. And there’s Twirl, coming this way. What a small squirrel for such a steep hill!”

“And what on the island has she got there?” wondered Urchin. Her paws were full of something soft and white.

“Half a nest, I think,” said Fingal. A feather drifted away on the breeze. “Yes, feathers!” He offered a paw to help Twirl up a particularly steep slope, but she was clutching all the feathers she could, and wouldn’t let go.

“Hello, Twirl!” said Urchin. “Are you all right now?”

“Yes, thank you, and I found these,” she said, holding out the feathers to Urchin. “The wave swished them up, so I chose the very nicest ones for you, to say thank you for helping me last night. Please, Urchin, sir, will Sepia come back?”

Urchin knelt down, and took the feathers from her. Fingal caught the stray ones that were blowing away.

“Thank you, Twirl,” said Urchin. “That’s really sweet of you. They’re beautiful. And I don’t know about Sepia, but we can all hope and pray.”

She nodded, rushed to Juniper, hugged him tightly as he raised a paw in blessing, and ran away.

“Take care, Twirl!” Juniper called after her.

“I think she really wanted to give them to Sepia, but I’m the next best thing,” said Urchin.

“Poor little thing,” said Fingal. “What are you going to do with those?”

Urchin turned the feathers over in his paws. They were the small, downy feathers that are softest and lightest, best for pillows.

“Do you know where there are more like this?” he asked.

“They’ll be all over the shore, I should think,” said Fingal. He put one paw on Urchin’s shoulder and pointed with the other. “You see that little bay, there? That’s always been a good place to find feathers, but they must have been washed up higher in the rage tide. What a mess!”

As they walked down to the bay, Urchin saw how right Fingal had been about the mess. Trees had fallen, some onto burrows, leaving scattered nests. Broken plates and bottles lay where the storm had thrown them. Hedgehogs were clambering up and down the rocks, gathering up furniture to be repaired and clearing away debris. Tide, Swanfeather, and other otters were swimming to the shore with pots and pans, cloaks and crockery, rescued from the sea. Fionn sat in a rock pool, happily playing with her pet frog. Servants scuttled up and down the main stair of the tower with mops and buckets. Faces appeared at windows. Hope’s eager face looked out from Juniper’s turret, and he sniffed at the window boxes.

“He won’t fall out, will he?” asked Urchin.

“No, he’s perfectly safe,” said Juniper. “He knows what he’s doing. I should go and help him.”

“And I should be helping to get the tower back together,” said Urchin. “I don’t suppose the Spring Gate’s dried out yet, but I should go and see what the damage is.”

“And I should get out there with the otters,” said Fingal. “Race you down—what’s that? Urchin, look!”

“Where am I supposed to be looking?” asked Urchin.

“Out to sea!” said Fingal. “Right out against the mists!”

They watched. The bobbing head of an otter drew gradually nearer. They began to make guesses and tried not to, because it probably wasn’t—

“It is!” cried Urchin. “It’s Corr! Tell the king!” And he ran as he had never run in his life.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

INGAL PUSHED OUT HIS BOAT
and rowed out to collect Corr—
And tell him to keep his head down in the boat
, Crispin had ordered.
We don’t want all the island thronging around him. Bring him in quietly, by the Spring Gate.

By the time Fingal’s boat came ashore, a small number of animals had been summoned discreetly to the Throne Room. King Crispin was there, Queen Cedar, Princess Catkin, Docken, Arran and Padra, Juniper, Urchin, and Needle. They waited nervously, nobody saying much, until otter steps were heard in the corridor and Padra opened the door for Fingal and Corr.