Seven for a Secret

by Clive Woodall

  ‘Lostri, I would like to thank you for your diligence in this matter. Indeed, you have taken a great deal upon yourself, not having been investigating in any official capacity. But this does not diminish the importance of your findings. I am gravely troubled to hear of any acts of violence done to Birddom’s own family, however minor these infractions are in the overall scheme of things. It is sad that this should cast a cloud over our future relations with an almost-wholly contrite corvidae. But evil is evil, and must be eradicated from our land. I believe that it is even more important now that we hold talks with the leaders of the magpies and crows. I am sure that we will find that they, every bit as much as ourselves, do not wish for any ill-will between us.

  ‘I propose that you, Lostri, should join our delegation, and that the four of you should delay no longer. I think that time is of the essence, and, as there is no real danger, you should each make a journey – north, south, east and west – seeking out the corvid leaders and offering them our olive branch of reconciliation. What say you, Lostri? Will you accept our request, and serve the Council and Birddom, by travelling north as our emissary of peace?’

  ‘It is not much further,’ Hobo called out happily over his shoulder, as he dashed on ahead. Merion and Olivia found it hard to keep up with the bounding rabbit, flying as they were in strange terrain, where the chosen path twisted and turned, then disappeared into sudden fissures in the mountain-side. The pair of robins kept their eyes fixed upon Hobo’s bobbing white tail, and managed as best they could.

  When they suddenly emerged into a cool, silent vale, seemingly carved out of the gut of the mountain itself, Hobo hopped onto the summit of a pile of rocks and turned to address the breathless birds. ‘Here we are then. Isn’t my home a beautiful place?’

  The robins looked about them admiringly. It was very beautiful and tranquil, the last place that they would have associated with so active and vibrant a personality as Hobo. Even now, as they watched him, his feet tapped restlessly on the rock, as if eager to be off again on an adventure.

  ‘Your home is magnificent, Hobo,’ replied Olivia. ‘I feel a great sense of peace here.’

  ‘Yes. Well, even rabbits have to rest sometimes, and where better? Let me show you around.’

  Olivia’s sharp look stifled any protest from her brother, and the robins followed Hobo as he pointed out every one of his favourite places, regaling them, as he did so, with tales of deeds great and small that had happened at each spot.

  Finally, Merion could bear it no longer. ‘Does Septimus live here also?’ he enquired, impatiently. ‘We are both so eager to meet him.’

  Hobo’s countenance took on a sullen cast. ‘Well, I’m sorry if I’ve been boring you...’

  ‘Not at all, I assure you,’ Olivia answered hurriedly. ‘You have been so kind to show us around, and it has been fascinating, really it has. It is just that we have travelled such a long way to see him, that is all. But do forgive us for our discourtesy. We would both be devastated to lose your friendship, so newly won.’

  The severity on the rabbit’s face softened a little at Olivia’s unctuous words.

  ‘Yes. Well I suppose I do get a bit carried away. But I love this place so much, you see. It’s the best place in the entire world!’

  The rabbit’s returning grin was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, and he danced around and around as the irrepressible joy bubbled up through him once more. The pair of robins chuckled merrily and Hobo joined in, until the sides of the vale echoed with peals of laughter.

  ‘What is the meaning of all this noise?’

  The voice that spoke was soft, like a breath of wind, and old, as if the hills themselves had asked the question. Olivia and Merion looked all around them, but could see no one but the now rather chastened rabbit. It was he who answered.

  ‘I have brought some friends to see you, Septimus. They have travelled a long way.’

  ‘Then they will be in need of some rest. And I hope that they are more successful in it than I. All this racket and disturbance. Can’t an animal even get a good day’s sleep?’

  The mutterings receded as the owner of the voice seemed to move away from them, though neither robin had even caught a glimpse of the wolf throughout the exchange.

  ‘My, my. Someone got out of the wrong side of the den, that’s for certain,’ Hobo whispered, with unconvincing bravado. ‘It comes to something when a rabbit can’t enjoy himself with his friends.’

  ‘Was that him?’ Olivia asked eagerly. ‘Where was he? Why couldn’t we see him?’

  ‘Oh yes. That was Septimus, all right. Sour old so-and-so. He’s getting old, you see, and his bones ache so much more than they used to. He’s not usually rude to guests – not that we have many nowadays. But don’t worry. You’ll see him tomorrow, if he wants you to.’

  ‘But will he help us?’ Merion queried anxiously.

  ‘He will, sure enough. Septimus always does as I tell him.’

  The guards had sent an urgent message to Traska the moment that they had found Tomar stretched out on the ground at the base of the crooked fir tree. Without Portia’s help, he had not been able to find anything to eat since Traska’s visit. On that occasion it had taken all of his remaining strength to fly from his ignominious position on the ground back to his nest, where he had lain exhausted for almost two days and nights, unable to move a feather. Even when he had recovered sufficiently to venture out onto the branch adjacent to his nest-hole, he had found that his hunger had weakened him severely. Caught in a vicious circle, the old owl hadn’t had the strength to take off from his perch in order to forage for food. Finally, even the act of perching required too much effort from his emaciated body, and he had once again tumbled to earth in a pathetic heap, unable to move.

  Traska looked down from his vantage point in a nearby tree, and tutted. ‘This won’t do. This won’t do at all,’ he said, gleefully. ‘We can’t have the leader of Birddom – or should I say ex-leader – in such a sorry state. We must look after him, until he is strong enough and well enough to look after himself.’

  Traska called across to one of the guards, and gestured for the crow to join him at Tomar’s side on the ground. Both birds flew down, and hopped across to the stricken owl.

  ‘He’s as good as dead,’ remarked the guard, callously.

  Traska rounded upon him, seething with anger. ‘Well, I don’t want him dead. Do you understand? I am not ready for this old owl to die. When he does, I will choose the time and the place. And I will take it very badly if he is allowed to leave this life before I am good-and-ready!’

  The guard snapped to attention at the snarl in his boss’s voice, but showed little understanding of what was required of him.

  With an effort, Traska took hold of his impatience and, breathing with exaggerated slowness to calm himself, said, ‘I want you to feed this old owl. He cannot do it for himself, so you must help him. Listen carefully. He is only on the very edge of consciousness. Don’t go stuffing seeds and berries into his gullet. He’ll choke for sure, and that will be both of you dead. Do I make myself clear?’

  The guard nodded nervously, and Traska continued, ‘Feed him small pieces of freshly-caught insects. Their juices will give him the sustenance that he needs to survive. Chew them up for him, so that the food slips down easily. And, if he refuses to swallow, persuade him.’

  *

  Septimus’ fur was as grey as evening shadows, and his muzzle was white with age. Merion and Olivia had never seen so huge a creature. As they sat near his head and looked along the length of him, it seemed to the robins that they would have to fly to reach the tip of his tail. The old wolf’s eyes regarded them with deep serenity. It was as if all of Time was held within their deep black pools. Merion and Olivia were struck dumb with awe in the great creature’s presence, and it was Hobo who finally broke the silence.


  ‘Come on, my young friends. I am a busy rabbit. Get on with it. Isn’t this what you came here for?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you, Hobo. We are sorry. It is just that your friend exceeds our imagination.’

  The old wolf’s lips curled in a smile at the compliment, as Olivia continued.

  ‘Septimus, we are grateful that you have agreed to talk to us. We have been sent here on a mission by Tomar, erstwhile Great Owl in Birddom. He says that you alone know the way into Avia. He seeks to save all of bird-kind from the perils that beset our land. Birddom is no longer safe, and our friend foresees a time when we will have to leave. Avia is our only hope, and you are our only possible guide.’

  The wolf closed his eyes, and it seemed for a long time that he was asleep. But, gradually, a deep thrumming resonated in his chest and his eyes opened once more as he began, very slowly, to sing:

  ‘Avia’s neither far nor near,

  Not over there, but not quite here.

  The path where you would choose to go

  Is one that only a wolf might know.’

  The singing stopped, and the pair of robins looked at one another quizzically. But, before they could speak, it resumed again:

  ‘Avia is a state of mind

  Which few if any bird can find.

  Avia lies within your heart,

  You’ll find the end is but the start.

  But peril lies at Avia’s doors

  If you’re not true to Birddom’s cause.

  Choose any but the common good

  And ever you’ll be bathed in blood.’

  The pulsing beat of the wolf’s song mesmerised the two young robins, and they stood transfixed, staring deep into the great black eyes. Then Hobo coughed, and they turned to face him, startled by the interruption to their trance. When they turned back again, Septimus was nowhere in sight. But this did not seem to surprise the rabbit, who bustled on in business-like fashion.

  ‘Well. There you are then. You got what you came for. I am surprised that it was all so easy. Septimus must really have taken a shine to you.’

  ‘But what did it all mean?’ gasped the robins.

  ‘It couldn’t have been much simpler,’ Hobo replied, exasperated. ‘You wanted to know the way to Avia and the old fella told you, plain enough.’

  ‘But we didn’t understand. It sounded as though Avia was everywhere and nowhere.’

  ‘That’s it. Now you are getting the idea.’

  ‘What idea? Is Avia a real place, or isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, Avia’s a real place, right enough. Just like you and I are real. But then, maybe we’re just a dream in the mind of a great black cat sleeping in front of a roaring fire.’

  Hobo seemed particularly pleased by his own imagery, and bounded around for a while, calling out, ‘Wake up, you silly old cat!’ over and over again. But gradually he calmed down and rejoined the pair of robins once more.

  ‘Septimus can only help you to find the way to Avia. He can show you the gate, but he doesn’t hold the key.’

  Distress was plain on the robins’ faces as Olivia spoke out. ‘Who is it then that holds the key? Have we wasted our time here? Is there yet another journey to make?’

  ‘Ungrateful though you may be, I will answer your questions, though back to front, as I choose. You have two more journeys to make. The first will be back to Birddom. The second, if you have learned by then a little grace and humility, to Avia. As for whether or not you have wasted your time in coming here, well, that’s clear enough. You came seeking the way to Avia, and you got precisely what you came for. It is no one’s fault but your own if you cannot understand something that is as obvious as the whiskers on my nose. And, finally, as to who holds the key – well, that’s another simple answer: every bird does.’

  The pair of blackbirds watched in increasing fascination as the men busied themselves around the huge metal objects. There were four in all, strategically placed at the corners of the field. All four were identical, each resembling a massive metal paper-clip. These had been installed in their present positions over the last seven days. Initially the arrival of the men, and their noisy activity, had disturbed the local populace of birds and wild animals. Many had fled from what they perceived to be an attack, only to return gradually when no violence came.

  It seemed that the men were not intent on acts of aggression against the fauna, and so, emboldened by this news, the creatures watched as the men attached wires and ran cables back and forth between the four great machines. There was an air of purpose about their activities, and the wind was rank with the smell of human sweat as the men strove to complete the task before nightfall.

  It was dusk when they gathered together in the centre of the field before performing what seemed to be an extraordinary dance of celebration. The men all began to rotate slowly and in ragged unison, heads and bodies turning to face each of the four metal monstrosities in turn, staring at them intently as if checking for some minute but crucial detail. Some of the men stood sideways on, swinging their heads back and forth, first looking at one machine on the diagonal and then the other. After a minute or two of this bizarre behaviour there was a general nodding of heads, and much back-slapping and shaking of hands. Then, en masse, the men left the field, climbed into numerous vehicles and drove away.

  Animals and birds crept slowly into the now-empty field and, in the gathering gloom, stared in their turn at the giant machines. The male blackbird, bolder than the rest, flew up and landed on top of one of the metal structures. It felt cold and lifeless beneath his toes – its threat dormant. The blackbird began to sing defiantly, sparking a chorus of ‘goodnights’ from every bird on the ground and in the surrounding trees.

  ‘Look at me!’ he called to his mate. ‘I am the lord of all that I survey. Man has built this perch especially for me.’

  And the female looked on admiringly at her glossy black partner, yellow beak parted as he trilled into the darkness. Then, as if according the object acceptance as a part of his territory, the blackbird daubed its surface with a small faecal sack.

  ‘There is nothing to fear here,’ this gesture said. ‘This thing will not harm us.’

  Engar and Traska were huddled together in urgent consultation.

  ‘We must not delay. This is too good an opportunity to miss. Have you spoken to Lostri since the Council meeting?’

  Engar nodded, hooting with soft laughter. ‘It was so easy. There was no way that he could refuse – not for so honourable an owl! He is to set off at dusk tomorrow, and his journey north will take him inexorably to Cra Wyd.’

  ‘You did not mention that name to him?’ Traska enquired, suddenly anxious.

  ‘No. I am not a fool, and neither is Lostri. But it is inevitable. Any questions that he asks once in the north will lead him there for certain. Cra Wyd is already building a disquieting reputation. Lostri cannot fail to hear of it.’

  ‘He will be cautious though. I can’t see him going blundering into such an obvious place of danger.’

  ‘You are right, Traska,’ Engar demurred. ‘We will need to bait the trap. What do we have that will lure Lostri there?’

  ‘Not what, my friend. Who!’ The evil magpie’s eyes gleamed with vicious pleasure. ‘You are forgetting Calipha and her sister. It is time that we put them to good use. They have been our guests for far too long. Now they must earn their suppers!’

  The barn owl clapped his wings in delight. ‘I had forgotten all about them. What a delicious idea. But how will Lostri get to hear about them?’

  ‘They will be escorted north this afternoon by my band of hench-crows. They will ensure that the pair arrive safely and in time. I am sure that the local lads can find a secure place in which to hold them. I will give specific instructions to that effect. But you know these local birds. They can sometimes lack the necessary
discipline. Mistakes can be made, and guards can become lax. And, let us not forget, two owls are not easy prisoners. It is just possible that one of them, the younger sister perhaps, might escape from her captors, and carry word to any friendly owl who might be in the vicinity.’

  ‘You are unbelievable!’ exclaimed Engar. ‘You’ve thought this all out already, haven’t you?’

  ‘I never leave anything to chance,’ the magpie snapped back. ‘You don’t get to live as long as I have unless you plan for every eventuality. Don’t worry. Lostri will pay a visit to Cra Wyd. And we will make sure that he receives a warm welcome there!’

  Merion and Olivia had expected so much more from their journey. They had thought that Septimus would lead them to Avia, that they would see for themselves the wondrous place of which Tomar had spoken. But it seemed that a solitary meeting and a few cryptic rhymes would have to be sufficient. But how could the two young robins go back to Birddom, and to Tomar, with so meagre a message?

  However, this was the only option open to them. For, although the pair hung around for a couple of days, Septimus never reappeared to them. And Hobo, seemingly satisfied that he had done all that was required of him, ignored them altogether as he went about his daily business, full of bustle and bound and with little time, it seemed, for their continued company.

  ‘What are we going to do now?’ Olivia said. ‘We can’t simply stay here hoping for something to happen.’

  ‘No. You are right, sis. We will have to go back, and tell Tomar that we have failed, though it grieves me to admit it. And it will grieve Tomar also. He had pinned all of his hopes on us, and we have let him down.’