‘Do not mistake me. Many still revile us. We are hated for past deeds, although I feel aggrieved that we have been so misunderstood, and are tainted by association with that megalomaniac, Slyekin. We are a great race, a nation in waiting, although we must be patient, for the time is not yet right. But it is coming. And Engar here is the bird who will ultimately steer us home. For his time is come. He will soon be the leader of the high-and-mighty Council of the Owls. He will direct their thinking and alter their opinions of us. In time, we will be accepted once more not only as full citizens of Birddom but as influential and respected partners in power. We will rule the land, this I promise you. We will be the dominant force in Birddom, and we will rule for all eternity!’
The roar that greeted Traska’s words shook the leaves from the trees, and sent a stab of terror into the heart of the little chaffinch, who lay concealed barely five wing-spans away from the perch where Traska and Engar bathed in the corvidae’s approval. Kopa squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and prayed with all his might: ‘Creator. Keep me safe. I must live. I must not be discovered. Tomar has to be told of this treachery. He must be warned without delay – if I can ever get away from this dreadful place.’
Tomar had not believed it possible that things could get any worse. As he listened to the awful news, his heart ached for his beloved Birddom. Yet he knew that it must be true. His position, tenuous at present, was threatened still further. The news had come in from several sources, and each affirmation of the facts seemed to put another nail into the coffin of Tomar’s tenure as Great Owl. Man had stopped feeding the birds. A vital resource had been withdrawn across the whole of Birddom.
It was easy to understand why. It was another piece of the jigsaw in Man’s war with the insects, and the logic was irrefutable. If Man stopped feeding the birds, the birds would eat more insects. And, in doing so, would become unwitting allies to Man, solving some of his problems for him. But Man could not know of the pact that existed between the birds and the insects, a pact under threat from within Birddom, but now liable to collapse utterly with this outside intervention. Tomar shook his head in despair. This was playing into the wings of his opponents. Engar would surely get his way, once knowledge of Man’s actions became widespread.
But what of the insects? How would they react? Their world, improved immeasurably by the agreement with Birddom’s leaders, had turned sour when Man had responded violently to their increase in numbers. Under attack, and dying in their millions, what would be the consequence of a new threat? Would their awesome power be unleashed against the lesser of two enemies? And if so, would a single bird survive their vengeance?
That was a future too terrible to contemplate. And Tomar knew that Engar would not allow any prolonged discussion on that aspect of this latest news. But he would hoot from the rooftops about the need for Birddom to feed itself and avoid starvation. Man’s actions had helped Engar’s cause considerably, and Tomar had no doubts that the barn owl would take full advantage.
*
It took the sight of two robins to put the smile back on Tomar’s beak. ‘Welcome. Welcome, my dear friends. How good it is to see you both. It seems so long since you last visited. What have you been doing with yourselves?’
Portia chuckled, knowing the surprise that she would give her old friend. ‘Oh, we’ve been a busy pair of birds,’ she began. ‘We’ve done a bit of travelling, truth to tell.’
‘Travelling?’ Tomar asked, rising to the bait.
‘We took a little trip to see another friend of ours. And yours, Tomar.’ Portia was deliberately prolonging the suspense, and grinned at the look of curiosity and frustration on the old owl’s face.
‘And who might that be?’ queried Tomar, playing along.
Olivia took pity upon him. ‘We went to see Storne.’
‘That was a long and perilous journey to make,’ replied Tomar, gravely. ‘What prevailed upon you to put yourselves at such a risk?’
‘We were careful, Tomar. And it was a risk well worth taking. Storne needed to be told about your troubles. To know that the Great Owl was besieged by those who would usurp his position.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘Everything. We told him about Engar, and of his machinations to get the other owls to vote you off the Council. He was very concerned, and promised to help in any way that he could.’
Tomar gazed lovingly at the two robins before him. ‘I am not sure exactly what Storne can do. But I am grateful, more than I can say. Thank you, my friends. Your loyalty and support is of great comfort to me. And your actions do give me hope, where I thought that there was none. Maybe, with Storne alongside me at the next Council meeting, I can make the others see that I am right, and that Engar’s visions are against the interests of Birddom.’
*
Kopa had waited for several hours after the gathering had split up and crow and rook had returned to their nests. Every bone in his tiny body ached from the enforced confinement and inactivity. Finally, he deemed it safe to emerge from his hiding place. However, he had scarcely moved a muscle when he heard a sound that froze his blood. A cat was prowling around the base of the tree. Kopa could smell its rank odour, and hear its spitting, growling voice. Although he could not understand the words, Kopa felt that the cat was calling to him, taunting him: ‘You cannot hide from me,’ it was saying. ‘I will find you, and I will eat you.’
Kopa’s heart pounded in his breast, and he held himself deathly still, mortally afraid of the claw that would reach into the crevice where he lay, and drag him, screaming, to his death. He could hear the cat scrabbling at the trunk with its extended claws, ripping at the bark, as it sought to gain purchase and climb up to his hiding place. Kopa wished that he had chosen somewhere much higher and much less vulnerable. He wished he were high in the sky, flying free and away from this terrible danger.
A loud snarling announced the arrival of a second cat and, shortly after, a third. Still Kopa did not dare to look. For he knew that, once he set eyes on the dreadful creatures who were hunting him, he would swoon and fall right into their midst, to be torn to pieces and eaten at a gulp. The cats circled the tree relentlessly for more than an hour. Occasionally, one would leap, in futile frustration, seeking to defy gravity in order to reach him. It was only by the purest good fortune that Kopa had chosen to hide in a tree which bore no lower branches and had a trunk so smooth that climbing was well-nigh impossible, even for such agile and determined predators. But at that moment, Kopa didn’t believe in good fortune. He was certain that he was going to die.
Then a loud, deep-throated sound rent the air, and the cats shrieked in anger and fear, abandoning their attempts to reach their prey, and turning their attentions on their own attacker. A huge dog bounded towards them, barking and slathering as he ran, drool spraying from his savage jaws. The cats stood facing the charge, with hackles raised and spitting defiance. But, at the last moment, self-preservation prevailed, and they turned tail and fled. The dog chased them for a short distance, but soon gave up, and wandered aimlessly about the wood, growling softly.
Kopa’s relief was short-lived, as the dog returned to the base of his tree and began snuffling, round and round. Had one hunter simply been replaced by another? No difference between the jaws of a dog and a cat; both would mean death for the little chaffinch. The dog raised its nose from the leaf-mould, and sniffed the air. Then it yawned, turned sideways and cocked its leg up the side of the tree, relieving itself and marking its territory. The rank, acid smell nearly made Kopa choke, and he fought desperately not to give himself away. But the dog had lost interest in what might or might not be up the tree, and trotted off the way it had come.
Kopa waited for five more minutes before he felt that it was safe enough to take a look. Edging carefully out of his place of concealment until he stood on an open branch, the chaffinch surveyed the surrounding woodland for other signs
of danger. Then, fearing to delay any longer, and not wishing to linger in the lair of his enemies, he took to the air, and flew off in the direction of home. In spite of the cramps that assailed him, he flew as fast as a chaffinch can fly. He flew with the urgency of need. Tomar had to be told about Engar’s betrayal of Birddom, of his unholy alliance with the corvidae and, in particular, with the magpie called the Master. Kopa shuddered at the thought of that evil bird, whose very words had felt like poison dripping onto his wings. Unclean. Utterly wicked.
‘Tomar must be told,’ he repeated to himself, over and over again as he flew. Tomar would know what to do.
Tomar was at a complete loss as to what to do. He had set great store on Portia and Olivia’s visit to the great golden eagle. But Storne had not come. Many days had now passed since the robins’ return, and each day a little more of Tomar’s hope and courage had dwindled. He had told himself that Storne may have been delayed by the need to put his own nest in order prior to heading south. He had stilled his doubts by believing that some minor troubles might have needed sorting out, or that localised adverse weather conditions might have temporarily postponed the eagle’s journey. But there came a time when Tomar simply had to face the facts: his friends had made a wasted journey, and the bird he had thought his staunchest ally was not going to be flying to his aid. Or, if he did so, it would now be too late.
For Engar had returned, and had demanded a reconvening of the Council of the Owls at the earliest opportunity. Tomar had prevaricated, claiming that it would take a little time to gather all of the Council members together, and it seemed that Fate was on his side: Calipha was nowhere to be found. Tomar made extensive enquiries, but it seemed that neither she nor her sister had been seen for over a week. They must have had a good reason for setting off together on a journey, without a word to any of Calipha’s fellow Council members. It was almost without precedent. Communication of whereabouts was a requirement of the role and, under normal circumstances, Tomar would have been angered by such a breach. But in truth, he was thankful. He was not ready, physically or mentally, for another battle with Engar. He needed time to muster his wits, and to shake off the disappointment that he felt over Storne’s non-arrival.
However, if the old tawny owl wanted a respite, Engar was in no mood to oblige. He harried and badgered all of the other owls, claiming that a state of emergency now existed in Birddom. Man’s withdrawal of a vital food source was the last straw for a starving population. Birddom needed the Council to rescind Tomar’s suicidal law. Every bird had to be allowed to eat insects without delay. Lives depended upon it, and the duty of the Council was clear. So what if one member was absent? Surely eleven of the best minds in the land were enough to decide such a simple and clear-cut issue. The same strictures could still apply. Ten against one would be as unequivocal as the old rule. And as binding.
Engar would not be denied, not that there was much opposition from his fellow members. The Great Owl stood alone against him. Engar’s face wore an expression of extreme satisfaction when he came face to face with Tomar, and commanded his presence at the sacred meeting place at sunset on the morrow.
‘If it is the will of the Council,’ Tomar replied, with quiet dignity, ‘I will be there.’
Chapter Seven
Kopa’s tiny heart felt as if it would burst. One minute he had been flying, fast as an arrow. The next, he was going nowhere. Trapped in a fine mesh that tightened its grip with every struggle, he flapped and fretted uselessly in a vain effort to free himself, and cursed at his own misfortune. The little chaffinch had taken such care on his outward journey, for he, like every bird, knew of the dangers. But his haste, driven by the urgency of his message for Tomar, had made him forget his caution, and now he would seem to have paid the ultimate price. His headlong flight into the netting had torn through the gossamer-like mesh, but the inner core of plastic cross-wires held him fast. And the torn fabric wound itself around him as he panicked.
Try as he might, Kopa could not free his head or his legs from the deadly netting. With such limited movement he could only peck futilely at the harsh plastic strands nearest to his beak. But the mesh was unyielding and, after a while, the chaffinch made fewer and fewer attempts to escape from the trap. He was overwhelmed with a deep and abiding sadness. Not for his own fate. But for the fate of the land that he had embraced as his own. The knowledge that he alone held in his head was vital to the future of Birddom, but in his head it would remain, unless some miracle could free him from a slow and lingering death.
‘It is clear that we are getting nowhere with this old fool. I call for an immediate vote.’
The contempt in Engar’s voice made several of the fairer-minded owls wince, but none spoke up against him. Those not actively involved had realised the significance of Calipha’s timely disappearance. But, even when Tomar had raised the issue, in a direct accusation against Engar for corrupting the legitimacy of the Council for his personal gain, not one of the nine other Council members had offered a word of support for their leader. Tomar struggled to retain his composure.
He had been a fool, just as Engar had described him. A fool not to see that the barn owl had engineered Calipha’s disappearance in order to guarantee a victory at the Council meeting. And that victory was now certain. Tomar had no doubts about it. All that remained was the ritual humiliation of facing each member in turn, and hearing them vote against the law that had been the central plank of Birddom’s very existence since the war with the corvidae. It was a bitter pill to swallow. But it seemed that worse was to come. Emboldened by the absence of any support for the Great Owl, Engar spoke up once more.
‘I believe that there was some unfinished business from the last Council meeting,’ he began. ‘It is obvious that Tomar no longer holds the respect and trust of the overwhelming majority of all here today. The will of the Council is made stronger now, with the latest news. Birddom cannot survive, unless we break our pact with the insects and take them as food once more. We will vote that stupid law out of existence. And we will vote its originator off the Council. And Calipha, too, if she can’t be bothered to abide by the rules of the Council and wanders off without a word. We are better off without such a feckless owl holding a position of responsibility. Let the Council forthwith be ten. Ten are enough to make the decisions that will govern our future. Ten is a good number for the law-makers of our land. I call for a vote of no confidence in Tomar. He is no longer fit to lead us. We cannot permit the Great Owl to be so at odds with the wishes of the Council, and of Birddom as a whole!’
*
Kopa knew that he was dying. Severe thirst had parched his throat and almost gummed his beak together. Breathing was extremely painful, as he had wrenched many of his muscles in the struggle to free himself from the netting. His reserves of energy were very low. Without sustenance, he would not survive the night. Tears bled from his eyes and whetted his damask chest-feathers. Indeed, his weeping blurred his vision to such an extent that it took a moment for him to realise what he was seeing. Then he forced his beak apart, and cheeped out a warning: ‘Beware! Keep away. You will be trapped, too.’
The female chaffinch beat her wings strongly to maintain her hovering position, close to where Kopa hung limply in the grip of the net. ‘I will be all right,’ she answered. ‘I must help you to get free.’
‘No!’ Kopa screamed at her. ‘You cannot save me. But you can give some meaning to my death. I need you to take a message for me. A message to be delivered to the Great Owl, and only to him.’
‘But I can’t just let you die,’ she continued plaintively.
‘What is your name?’
The question took the young female by surprise. ‘Cian,’ she replied.
‘Well, Cian, I am Kopa. And there is nothing that you can do to save my life. But if you do what I say, you will help to save the lives of many other innocent birds like ourselves. Will you help me?’
‘You must listen to my story. And you must commit every word to memory. You must become my voice and, in that way, although my body may perish, I will live on in your words and actions. You will carry my hope with you. A hope that Birddom desperately needs in such evil times.’
So Cian listened while Kopa told his story. He spoke slowly and, at times, the pain in his throat made his voice harsh. But he spoke clearly, emphasising any point that was crucial to her overall understanding. He also made Cian repeat what he was saying, to be sure that she had the story fixed in her mind. It was a long and laborious process. Several times, Cian had to take a brief rest in a nearby tree. But always she returned, as soon as she possibly dared, and hovered near him once more while he spoke. At last, it was done. Everything that Kopa had seen and heard on his journeys and at Cra Wyd was passed on to this bright young female. Relief flooded through the trapped chaffinch’s weary body.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Go now, Cian. There is no time to lose, and you can do nothing more for me. I will never be able to repay you for your help. Your reward will be in the knowledge that you have played a part in saving this beloved land of ours. Delay no longer, my dear. Go. Go, I beg you. Fly as fast as you can, but take care. You must get my message to the Great Owl. Remember that – tell no one but the Great Owl!’
Tomar sat on his perch in the ring of oaks, silent and withdrawn. In the centre of the clearing, Engar strutted and preened in triumph.
Seven for a Secret Page 6