A Raven's Tale

50. THE SUMMONING

I cawed my approval and flew down to the feeders. Myrla followed me and smiled broadly. "Muradin's beard! I believe ye understood me!" she said.

Myrla proceeded to ladle out some more of the red coloured crud onto the tin plate atop the feeder. I looked at it, took a step back and cawed up at her.

"Oh! Fussy are ye?" She smiled. "Och, well, considering yer namesake, ah'll allow ye that. Now whit will ah..."

She looked towards some of the other containers she had painstakingly carried up the ladder to the flat roof. With a triumphant grunt, she picked one up and came back to the feeder.

It was a mixture of sweet and savoury pastries. I could not have asked for better; these were a particular favourite of mine – a bit of a guilty pleasure.

"Hush now boys and girls, ah'm no supposed to be givin' these tae ye, but if ye ask me, they'll jist gan tae waste. Brendan makes fer o'er mony o' these, every time."

An excitable mass of multi-coloured feathers bombarded the feeder. It seemed I wasn't the only one who liked the Golden Keg's pastries. 

I was hit from all directions as more of my hungry "cousins" arrived on the feeder; small birds, medium birds, big birds! But then the feeding frenzy truly began.

Beaks, bills, claws, talons, all started fighting for the tasty morsels. I was hungry, so I sure as hell wasn't going to miss out either. 

I started pecking at the crumbly delights, nudging my way forward, squeezing in between the others.

"Fur goodness sake!" Myrla shrieked. The flapping, screeching and squawking became an all-out riot, and Myrla had to ward off some of the swooping diners as they started attacking the container she held with the remaining pastries stored inside. 

My appetite dissipated rather quickly as my feathers started to prickle; the sensation of static rippling across my flesh made me shudder. It was similar to what I'd experienced in the Dalaran crater yet somehow more - personal.

I noted some of the pastry contenders were staring at me, obviously sensing whatever plight was affecting me. Some watched warily; a few others reacted differently.

I cawed in defence as a sharp jab to my wing came from my left. Others very quickly joined in the attack.

All of them managed to hit my recent injury. With wings and feathers beating wildly around me the assault intensified. Just over the din, I heard Myrla shouting she was leaving, because we were "all bad birds today".

My wound reopened, I could feel blood trickling over my chest and pain returning rapidly. Beaks penetrated the gash - now it was a fight for survival.

Through the countless jabs and scratches, the sizzle of static prevailed. I was in between being overpowered by my feathered kin or rendered immobilized by this phenomenon. I had to do something.

I struggled to focus, but even with my depleted strength, I finally mustered enough power to blast a bolt of frost through my avian attackers. 

The bright flash of blue, stippled with all shades of plumage jettisoned from me. For a few moments, utter silence dominated the scene as I lay, panting from my injuries.

Gradually, one or two disorientated squawks rose in the air. I struggled upright. 

My eyes, though bleary, managed to see the multitude of loose feathers around me on the feeder. In clumps, they shifted and swirled around the surface from the aftermath of my retaliation.

I noticed some globules of the red meaty mush had crystalized, giving them a slightly bluey-white hue.  

As I lifted my head, I felt a wave of guilt having harmed all those birds; Myrla's little friends.

I nervously peered over the edge of the feeder. The flat roof was littered with bodies lying on their sides or backs. 

To my immense relief, wings began flapping, and the birds righted themselves - thankfully they had only been stunned. My conscience gradually eased as I noted all were breathing.

The buzz of static under my feathers remained, however - like an itch one could not reach. It intensified, becoming a steady audible thrum. 

My surroundings wavered, pulsing in and out of view. 

Images and memories combined - one moment I was on the feeder looking at crumpled birds around me; next, onboard a zeppelin; underwater in a bubble; Lunk swam into view, as did Vernon and his little harem! My mind kept conjuring events, people and places - all the way back to the collapse of the Dark Portal. 

Suddenly, I settled back in the present. Afforded a moments' reprieve, I stood and shook myself down.

But, the images soon flitted back - almost spinning before me. I was losing all comprehension of where, who and what I was. 

I cawed out in protest, but in my mind, I sounded like a man. "What is happening here?"

My head involuntarily turned towards Cathedral Square. 

Something was summoning me.