‘It is all going exactly as you planned!’ Engar exclaimed.
‘Did you doubt it?’ Traska asked, with a sardonic tone. ‘I have thought about this for a long time. Did you think that I would have left anything to chance?’
‘Not for a moment,’ said Engar, placatingly. ‘You are a genius, Traska. Evil and twisted. But a genius, nonetheless.’
Traska’s harsh laughter echoed around the clearing. ‘Thank you, my friend. Your compliments will undo me, if I am not careful.’
Engar clapped his friend on the back with his great wing. ‘One thing did surprise me, though. I had half-expected that meddlesome old fool Tomar to turn up at the Council meeting. I am amazed that he has given in so easily.’
‘Let us just say that he was unavoidably detained,’ replied the magpie.
Engar hooted with pleasure. ‘Oh, do tell. Please, Traska. Don’t keep me in suspense. What have you been up to?’
‘Come with me, and let me show you.’
With that, magpie and owl took to the air, and flew off in the direction of Tanglewood. They encountered the first crow when they were still a mile distant from Tomar’s home. The black sentry stiffened to attention at the sight of the pair.
‘Anything to report?’ Traska asked.
‘Nothing, sir,’ the crow replied. ‘I’ve been around the perimeter twice this morning. No sign of any activity from the prisoner. Mind you, from the sight of him, I don’t reckon he’d get past a ring of wrens. He’ll not be causing us any trouble.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Traska said. ‘But keep on your guard. I won’t look too kindly on any failure, especially now that you have reassured me that Tomar is a spent force.’
The crow nodded uneasily at the veiled threat, but blustered on. ‘He is too old and too frail to attempt anything, but, even if he did, he’d be no match for my lads. They’d finish him in a minute.’
‘I don’t want him finished,’ Traska cut in, sharply. ‘Not until I am good and ready.’ Then, turning to Engar, he continued, more calmly. ‘Shall we go and take a look? After all, we must do all that we can for the welfare of our old friend.’
Engar looked doubtful. ‘Is that altogether wise?’
‘What?’ snapped Traska.
‘I can see that he is being well guarded. Tomar is certainly not going anywhere. What is to be gained by showing ourselves to him at this stage? Don’t forget, he doesn’t know that you are even alive. It’s surely not worth the risk.’
‘I’ll decide what risks are or are not worth taking. And, anyway, we have shown ourselves to him. Where will he think that the guards have come from? He is no fool, Engar. Don’t ever forget that. Anyway, I want him to know. That is why I have showed our hand. I want Tomar to worry. I want him to fret. Let him lose sleep. I want his mind torn apart by the thought that I am back, ready to defeat him in the end.’
‘Let him think it, then. But don’t let him know it for sure. Leave the doubt there, to fester alongside the worry. Don’t show your face to Tomar.’
‘Are you giving me orders?’ Traska asked, in an unnervingly mild voice that made the feathers rise on the back of Engar’s neck.
‘No,’ he answered, hurriedly. ‘Of course not, Traska. I would never tell you what to do. We are partners, you and I. Equal partners in this enterprise.’
A smile spread across the evil magpie’s beak. ‘You think that, if it gives you comfort,’ he muttered, under his breath. ‘Until the time comes.’
When Tomar realised that he was being guarded, that he was a virtual prisoner in his own home, he was not surprised. The old owl was merely thankful that he had been able to set Merion and Olivia off on their journey before the net had closed. It made him fearful for Portia, but, at this stage, he had no way of knowing if the corvidae were in place to keep him in or others out. He hoped fervently that he would still be allowed to see his friend. But he knew, from bitter experience, that he could not rely on the generosity of his captors.
Tomar was well aware that Traska was behind all of this. He knew also that the act was designed to keep him isolated from those that he had formerly thought of as his friends on the Council of the Owls, to minimise any continuing influence that he might have. Traska and Engar could not know that he had any knowledge of their complicity. His life would be forfeit, in such circumstances. Of that he was certain. And that knowledge was power, after a fashion. It gave the old owl an advantage, and one which he was unlikely to squander. It was more important to the future of Birddom that he kept his powder dry for future use, if at all. The guards were not a great inconvenience. He was not going anywhere. He was old, infirm and had no need to travel. All he needed to do was think, and no amount of sentries could limit the compass of his mind. No, he would not provoke them. But he would focus every ounce of his remaining strength on defeating them.
Dawn was breaking over the gently-rolling hills, and promised fine and favourable weather as the pair of robins flew westward. They had made very good progress, although their journey had only just begun. Their hurried departure had left little time for the robins to begin to worry about any dangers that might lie ahead, and, now that they were on their way, their exuberance pushed any thoughts of foreboding to the back of their minds. They flew with ardent hearts and youthful vitality. And they flew with the joy of reunion. Olivia had missed her brother, and held no recriminations for his recent follies.
And for Merion, his errors of judgement were mistakes to be put behind him. He had been given the chance to start afresh, an opportunity for atonement. He would not fail. He would rather die than let down those who loved him.
Swooping closer, he called to Olivia. ‘Keep up, sis. We have a long journey ahead of us. I know that you are weaker than I, and I will try to accommodate your slower pace. But I fear that I will fall out of the sky if I have to fly this slowly!’
Olivia laughed. ‘Save your breath for your flying. You’ll need it to match my speed. I can fly rings around you, and well you know it. And the only reason that you’ll fall out of the sky is because you’re too fat!’
It was Merion’s turn to laugh now, as he chased his sister in a pretence of annoyance. ‘Let’s see your best then,’ he cried. ‘We’ve got two more hours of good flying before Man wakes to his mischief. Let’s see how much distance we can put behind us before we rest.’
So challenged, Olivia excelled herself in her exertions, and her brother matched her. They flew as if the very devil were pulling at their tail-feathers and, after some time, they alighted on a twisted hedge of blackberry, collapsing in an exhausted heap amongst the brambles. There the robins allowed themselves a couple of hours sleep. They woke, refreshed and famished. The blackberry was in full bloom, but some months away from bearing fruit, so they were forced to forage farther afield for a meal. Merion and Olivia flitted here and there, gleaning a few seeds from the nearby vegetation. Then they alighted side by side on a substantial bough, along which crawled a bright-green caterpillar.
Merion looked at his sister. ‘Do you remember, Olivia? When we were fledglings, and Tomar was teaching us about the world?’
‘I remember the tool that he used to teach you with. It was a painful lesson, as I recall.’
‘Yes. A clout from an owl’s wing is a powerful way of getting a message across. It’s a lesson that I’ve not forgotten.’
‘Haven’t you?’ asked Olivia, looking at her brother with reproach in her eyes.
‘No!’ he replied, earnestly. ‘It might have slipped my mind for a while, but I remember it well enough now.’
Merion turned away from his sister’s gaze, and bent his head towards the wriggling creature in front of him. ‘Off you go, my little friend. You’ll come to no harm today. Excuse us for not stopping and chatting, but we’ve got food to find.’
*
It seemed that finding food was an i
ssue that Tomar would no longer have to face. If he had thought that Engar and Traska had planned for him to starve, he was indeed mistaken. For he was provided daily with sufficient food to feed far more than just a solitary, ageing owl. But therein lay the cruelty. For the diet so solicitously provided for him was made entirely of insects. Bugs of every kind were brought to his nest-site by the crows who were guarding him. And those insects that were living soon made a hasty and thankful departure. Tomar would not eat them, living or dead.
It was only Portia’s ingenuity that ensured Tomar’s continued survival. Her initial attempts to see the old owl were thwarted by the guards, who had evidently been briefed about Tomar’s friendship with robins. So Portia decided to overcome her fastidiousness and ingrained habits of personal cleanliness. She bathed in mud and dust, concentrating on her tell-tale chest feathers. After much effort, she managed to conceal her red breast and, in doing so, became simply another dun-coloured little bird. The subterfuge worked splendidly, and her passage about Tanglewood was unhindered. Even Tomar had not recognised her immediately when she had arrived at the crooked fir bearing a beakful of sedge grass. And Portia’s reward at fooling her old friend was doubled by hearing his hearty laugh once the disguise was breached.
‘Truly, my dear Portia. You are magnificent. Kirrick would have been proud of you.’
‘Well, I would be a poor kind of robin if I failed in the one task that you set me. I will keep you alive, even if I am never able to wash again!’
Chapter Eleven
Olivia stared out over the vast expanse of water that barred their way. The sea was slate-grey in colour, with only the white caps of the rough, tumbling waves providing a relief from the uniform dullness. Crossing it was not an enticing prospect. But the pair of robins had two advantages over their mother, Portia, when she and Mickey, her bullfinch companion, had faced a similar journey some years earlier. For one, the distance of the crossing was considerably shorter, landfall on the Isle of Storms being less than twenty miles from where Merion and Olivia now sat. More importantly, the two robins knew the trick that Portia and Mickey had used to achieve their seemingly impossible task. It was merely a matter of plucking up the courage.
Their journey, thus far, had been uncomplicated and free from danger. It had taken them swiftly across the breadth of Birddom, without incident. They had not encountered any magpie bands, and had judiciously avoided any larger predators. The only delay during their travels had been the result of a squabble between brother and sister when they had reached the western mountain home of Darreal, the red kite.
Both robins remembered the awe that they had felt when they had first seen the magnificent leader of the falcons. He had been one of the honoured guests at the first Council of the Owls to be held after the Great Battle, which had seen the defeat of the corvidae. The pair, then young fledglings, had hidden behind their mother’s tail, peeking out at the red kite who, along with Storne, the golden eagle, and Kraken, the great black-backed gull, discussed weighty matters of state with the leaders of Birddom.
Of course, the years had lessened the awe, and it was not fear that made Merion argue against visiting Darreal in his mountain stronghold. He reasoned that time was of the essence, and that their hard work, in coming so far in so short a time, would be undone if they delayed now. Olivia understood that her brother’s argument was a sound one, but she longed to see the great falcon again, if only to reassure herself that, with such mighty birds on her side, nothing was impossible. Also, she felt a long way from home, and from the wisdom of their mentor, Tomar. But Merion’s logic prevailed. They could not afford to waste any time. Their journey was too crucial to the very future of Birddom, and of every bird that lived there. So, reluctantly, the two robins had by-passed Darreal’s home, and had continued on to the coast.
‘Come on then. What are we waiting for?’
Without waiting for a reply, Merion flew across the small gap of swirling water, and on to the rail of the ship. Olivia had little option but to follow her brother.
Unloading long over, the ferry was deserted for the moment, although, further along the jetty, an eager crowd waited noisily for the barrier to be removed and embarkation to begin. Two children spotted the robins, and tugged excitedly at their father’s sleeve but, by the time that they had attracted his attention and pointed, Merion and Olivia had disappeared. The robins had flown off swiftly in search of an isolated place to hide. They discounted the fore-deck, where seating promised a plethora of people. Aft, there were similar arrangements, for those who felt the need to wave farewell to their homeland. There was no convenient coil of rope, such as had served their mother so well during her sea crossings. There was rope everywhere, of course, but it was all too close to the areas of public access for the robins’ purposes.
It was Olivia who spotted the small tear in the canvas covering of the lifeboat, which hung suspended high above the walkway on the starboard side of the ship. The wind had caused the coarse material to flap, and the movement had caught her attention.
‘Look, Merion. What about in there?’
‘It’s worth a try,’ he replied, flitting swiftly through the gap in the cloth.
Inside the lifeboat it was dark and cool under its covering. There was plenty of space, and, at one end, a pile of blankets, which would provide a soft bed for the journey. Merion poked his head out through the hole, and called to his sister.
‘It’s perfect, Olivia. Much better than mother’s hiding place. And we won’t even get wet from the sea-spray. Well done, sis.’
Olivia smiled at the compliment and quickly joined Merion in their safe-haven. She was not a moment too soon. Seconds later, a large, bearded man came along the walkway and paused beneath the lifeboat, leaning over the rail and checking that all the ropes that held it aloft were securely fastened. The pair of robins peered cautiously out through the hole in the canvass, but the seaman did not look up, and after a few minutes, contented, strolled off along the deck.
‘He’s gone,’ Olivia cheeped, with relief.
‘Good. We may as well make ourselves comfortable, then. It shouldn’t be too long before we are on our way. We should make the Isle of Storms well before nightfall.’
Merion’s prediction proved unerring. The crossing was a rough one in the heavy seas, and the lifeboat rocked alarmingly in spite of the restraints holding it in place. But the journey was not prolonged by more than half an hour, and it was late afternoon when the ferry docked and began disgorging its human and mechanical cargo. Once again the robins were thankful for their chosen hiding place, as it offered some protection from the overpowering stench of petrol fumes, as a steady stream of cars rolled off the ferry and drove away. Merion and Olivia waited patiently for all noise and activity to abate, then they emerged from the small boat and flew gratefully onto dry land.
‘OK, sis. Where to now?’ Merion asked cheerily. But it was a serious question. Where were they to go? They knew that they had to find Septimus, but Tomar’s instructions had been very vague. A mountain ‘somewhere in the west’ was not a very precise location. Still, it was all that they had to go on. Simultaneously, they raised their eyes to the horizon. The sky was a clear blue and the late-afternoon sunshine bathed their faces.
‘The west it is, then,’ Olivia replied. ‘And don’t worry, brother. The Creator will help us to find the way.’
It was well into the next day before Merion and Olivia allowed themselves to stop and rest. Much of the coastal area was heavily populated by Man and, by choosing to follow the course of the river, whose mouth housed the ferry port, the robins had to fly inland for many miles before the houses petered out into scattered dwellings and then isolated farms.
Olivia was exhausted and fell swiftly into a deep sleep, almost before her feet touched the branch of the heavily-leafed beech in which they had chosen to rest. However, sleep came much less easily to her brother. His consc
ience over his months of folly pricked at him uncomfortably. What a fool he had been! How had he allowed himself to be so easily swayed, and won over, by such an evil bird? And yet Engar’s words seemed to make so much sense at the time. In a way, they still did. But it was not so much the words that were at fault, as it was the foul creature who spoke them. For they concealed a deeper truth: a lust for power, and a willingness to abandon all moral certitude for the sake of personal glory. Merion believed in a better Birddom for every bird. But Engar did not, and never had.
‘I will not fail in this,’ the robin promised himself. ‘If it only makes amends for a tenth of the wrongs that I have done, I will learn the way to Avia. Even if I am not worthy to go there myself.’
Merion looked over at his sister, sleeping soundly, and he smiled, with a protective fondness.
‘Sleep well, Olivia,’ he whispered, adding, to himself, ‘take her lead, you foolish bird, and get some sleep. You will need all of your strength in the days to come.’
Traska had a plan for his oldest adversary. One that even Engar was not privy to. Indeed, if the barn owl were to find out the nature of Traska’s strategy, it would shock him to the core. But the strength of the magpie’s plan was in its secrecy. No one else knew what he intended. He had made the mistake in the past of confiding in others. Never again. He had entrusted no part of it to any of his lieutenants. Even in his tours around the country he had spoken in generalities, raising the expectations of the corvidae by jingoistic rhetoric. None of them knew a single detail of how they would achieve what he consistently promised them.
But Traska knew every detail, every nuance, and, in his plan, it was essential to keep Tomar alive for the time-being. However, this had to be on his own terms. He wanted the ancient tawny owl to capitulate completely, robbing himself in the process of any moral high-ground.
Seven for a Secret Page 10