#21. EAGLE FINDS OUT WARLOCK’S IDENTITY; AND IS BOGGLE-EYED (A Bird’s Eye View Of The Mess We’re In)

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A few days later, EAGLE both felt, and looked, much refreshed; and CUCKOO felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“I may just go for a walk,” he said. “Fresh air and all that. A sort of constitutional.”

EAGLE looked at him sternly. “CUCKOO,” he said. “Don’t you know eagles never forget.”

“I thought that was elephants,” said CUCKOO. “Or are they heffalumps? Good creatures, though it’s never a good idea to offend them. Or sit behind them. Or have water-pistol fights with them. Not enough creatures know that.”

“I need to know everything there is to know about the creatures that are trying to kill me,” said EAGLE. “It’s hard enough learning eagleomics without thinking about about a bunch of psychotic vultures and snakes. It’s distracting me academically. Besides, it’s normally a very good idea to hit them before they hit you. I think Caesar said that, or if he didn’t, he should have. Otherwise it’s normally that Chinese fellow.”

“Is that really a good idea?” said CUCKOO. “Do you really want to get to know these things. Vultures are nasty thugs with foul habits; and as for those snakes: Who knows what they get up to down South. And I hear they do such-and-such, and so-and-so, and duel with banjos a lot. Dubious behavior.”

“I couldn’t give a flying canoodle?” said EAGLE. “We’re talking about Warlock. Spill the beans. You said he wasn’t a vulture, but you weren’t very clear after that. Talk; or I’ll put the EIS on you. And they won’t laugh at your jokes.”

The EIS, as the reader will know, is the infamously humorless – but effective - Eagle Investigation Service. They were particularly tough on crows. EAGLE had no idea at all about how they felt about cuckoos. Anyway, he was only bluffing. But he was serious about finding out about Warlock. The creature had put a contract out on him and he took that personally. It was, as CUCKOO liked to say every now and then: “A diabolical liberty.”

“Um,” said CUCKOO. “Isn’t this a little soon to hear such a big secret?”

“You’re the one who mentioned him,” said EAGLE in a relentless tone of voice.

CUCKOO hung upside down from his perch for a full minute. He had the notion that it cleared his mind; all the dross dropped out. Then he swiveled upright. “Let’s get comfortable,” he said.

EAGLE set out the brandy, and they gazed out at a very beautiful evening in companionable silence. A security patrol flew by, and the air commandos saluted by waggling their wings. They did it with some brio. Aviators are like that.

“Warlock,” said CUCKOO, “is a –”  he thought a pause for dramatic effect might be appropriate – “newt.”

The word sounded as if he had been merely clearing his throat. That would never do.

“You spell it: N – E – W – T. Nasty little word really.”

EAGLE’s head went back in absolute amazement, and his eyes widened. Moments passed, and then he burst out laughing. “You mean one of those disgusting tiny poisonous creatures you find wriggling in the swamps?” he said incredulously.

“I couldn’t have described him better myself,” said CUCKOO. “But this particular newt is mostly to be found in Washington DC. – still a swamp, as you know. And he is incredibly greedy and destructive. He also has the ability to morph into various forms, but he prefers that of a human. Well, a sort of human.”

EAGLE became serious. “Go on,” he said.

“Warlock can be killed,” said CUCKOO, “though it is not easy; but he is always reincarnated in some other form because evil never goes away. This time around, the Council of the Good – my people - tried very hard to prevent him re-appearing, but the best we could do was have him re-born as a newt. We thought that might cramp his style, but then he robbed some graves – a leg here, a skull there - threw some dinosaur bones into the pile of spare parts he ended up with; and used his evil powers to stitch together a human form, and became a politician. It was, when you think about it, the obvious occupation; and he was very good at it. More recently, I think he’s too busy making money to keep his political skills sharp. But, not so long ago, at one stage, he was third in line for the presidency of EAGLE-LAND. We stopped him, but it was a close run thing.”

EAGLE was goggle-eyed. He’d imaged Warlock as many things, but not this. This was a nightmare.

“Him,” he gasped. THAT Newt!”

“One and the same,” said CUCKOO. “The one who collects dinosaur bones. He uses them for black magic, and unspeakable sexual rites. And now he’s actually running for the presidency. And he’s not the only candidate from the Dark World. There are two witches in there as well – though fortunately both are nuts. One turns into a mosquito when not in human form, and buzzes around a lot putting her proboscis where it is not wanted. Clever disguise. Lot of mosquitos in Alaska.

“Not sure about the other one, but I hear she runs around muttering: ‘Bubble, bubble, boil and trouble;’ and complains that her cauldron gives her headaches. Personally, I think she drinks too much tea; probably with something in it.”

“THEM!” said EAGLE, his rising voice in pure unadulterated shock. “What’s this country coming to!”

“That’s rather why I’m here,” said CUCKOO. “Your friends are concerned. The state of the nation is –“ he thought for a moment – “deteriorating. Nasty, nasty, word. Pretty nasty condition.”

He topped  up their glasses again. “Drink up. This one’s medicinal.”

“Who or what was Warlock in his previous incarnation?” said EAGLE when he had recovered.

CUCKOO cocked his head to one side, and then closed his eyes. The he opened them. “Just checking the records,” he said. “Hope you’re up for this, EAGLE.”

“Who was he?” said EAGLE.

“Reichsmarschall Herman Goering,” said CUCKOO. “Fat Herman. And you have to admit there’s a certain resemblance. But it means the bugger can fly.

“Goering was a Nazi, a war monger, and a mass murderer, but he was an ace in WW I. Won ‘The Blue Max.’

“Commanded Jagdeschwader 1 after The Red Baron was killed. But then you’re an ace too; and, frankly, you look fitter.”

EAGLE was speechless. “I’m going to look for flying pigs,” he said and went for a leisurely glide.

A few minutes later a flight of pigs flew by. They all wagged their tails in salute as they passed EAGLE.

He returned the salute, and then flew back to face CUCKOO, who was perched there grinning.

“Couldn’t resist,” said CUCKOO. 

“Who are you really, CUCKOO?” said EAGLE.

CUCKOO vanished just like that. However, his brandy glass, now unsupported, stayed just where it had been when CUCKOO was holding it. It was empty.

EAGLE ran a talon above it, below it and around it. There were no invisible wires.

He shook his head. “I’m dreaming,” he said; and promptly fell asleep.

#.19 CUCKOO BEGINS TO EXPLAIN, AND EAGLE HEARS ABOUT WARLOCK (A Bird’s Eye View Of The Mess We’re In)

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CUCKOO felt vast relief when he knew EAGLE was safe. In truth, he had seen the whole flight from the time EAGLE had left his eyrie; though how he was ever going to explain that was an interesting question. But it was clear he was going to have to; and probably sooner rather than later.

He had been faced with a dilemma right from the beginning. His task was to prepare EAGLE for a very special mission, yet to do so in such a way, it all seemed a natural progression. But, the more EAGLE was prepared for his vital role, the better equipped he was to notice that CUCKOO wasn’t your average CUCKOO. And there lay the risk and the potential tragedy it all. The simple fact was that that there were some things that one couldn’t explain too quickly.

CUCKOO had learned that over a millennium and a half. There were good reasons why he was slow to confide. Many couldn’t take it unless they were properly prepared; and that took a great deal of time. Years as a minimum; decades for preference. It was scarcely surprising. What was required of them was, after all – though different in detail in every case - fairly extraordinary. The average creature, human, eagle, or otherwise, was really only equipped to deal with what he or she knew. To step beyond that was inconceivable; yet it had to be done. And it would be done. But it was demanding work; and it was stressful. Yet experience helped, and CUCKOO was nothing if not experienced.

When EAGLE returned, the first thing CUCKOO noticed was that he was covered in vulture blood. He laughed when CUCKOO pointed out this fact, and took off for the waterfall where he normally showered. He looked a great deal better when he returned. He cracked open a bottle of wine and perched across from CUCKOO.

He raised his glass. “CUCKOO,” he said. “I believe I owe you my life.”

CUCKOO made a dismissive gesture. “I’m just glad you survived.”

“I had the sense throughout the whole affair that someone – some force – was watching over us,” EAGLE said. “Something prompted me to circle back and see my attackers,” he declared. “Some force ensured that out communications were perfect, which has never been the case in the past. And some friendly soul overrode my orders and assembled my entire Air Commando to come to our rescue. They should have been scattered snake hunting but mysteriously received direct orders to assemble and high-tail it across to me. And conveniently they can’t remember who issued the orders – but they thought it was me. Which it wasn’t.”

“You are a remarkably fine aviator,” said CUCKOO with some feeling. His heart had been in his mouth while he had watched the fight. There were matters he could influence, and things he could not. EAGLE’S victories in the direct fight had been his alone.

“Yes I am,” said EAGLE, “but I know there was more at work today than my ability to get on an opponent’s tail in less than forty seconds. Don’t ask me how I know. I just know. And I know you, CUCKOO, are behind it.”

CUCKOO drank his wine. “Oh dear,” he said eventually.

“Thank you,” said EAGLE, “but if you don’t tell what’s going on, I am liable to get testy. And you never want to mess with a testy eagle.”

CUCKOO grinned. “I might surprise you,” he said. “I am of a certain age (something of an understatement) but I am not helpless.”

EAGLE laughed. “Dragon’s breath, it’s good to be alive. Nothing raises the spirits more than to be nearly killed. And now tell me who is trying to kill me – and why.”

So CUCKOO did.

EAGLE went as pale as an eagle can (which is not very). “So that’s why I’m learning eagleomics,” he said. “Good grief. This thing is huge.”

You don’t know the half of it, thought CUCKOO, or close; but he stayed silent. EAGLE had been through enough, and had learned enough, for one day. He was progressing extraordinarily well.

EAGLE was lost in thought. Up to know, all his combat had been physical. Now he was going to have to battle intellectually and psychologically as well. The cause was worthy, but was he up to it? He longed to be carefree, where winning the physical fight was really all that counted. Instead he was facing up to a vastly more complex world than he had ever had to deal with before. Was he up to the task? He truly did not know. Was he willing to give it his all? He rather thought he was. Eagles were nothing if not purposeful.

He was aware of CUCKOO looking at him intently with great concern, and more than a little compassion. Then a great feeling of peace and contentment swept over him; and soon he slept.

High in the sky, his bodyguards circled, maneuvered and watched. They changed altitude and direction and were as unpredictable as could be. This was for real. There would be another attack; and they would be ready.

Beside him, CUCKOO enjoyed his wine; and thought deep thoughts in a relaxed kind of way until he, too, was asleep.

Nearly three thousand miles away, the WARLOCK replayed the events of the day, and raged. Surely a miserable eagle could not be defying him? Or were there other factors at work?