Lostri was no fool. It had occurred to him immediately that a trap was being set. But he could not understand why. The news that Engar was a traitor, and, moreover, in cahoots with Traska, was shocking to the noble owl. And it was the newly-elected Great Owl who had specifically chosen him for this mission. But would Engar have sent him into danger deliberately?
No, he could not believe it. And yet the evidence that Claudia had set before him could not be denied. The birds with whom he had been sent to parlay were the very same birds holding Calipha captive, and brutalising her, to boot. Lostri knew that he had no choice. He had to help his old friend. But it obviously could not be done by force. The sheer numbers of the corvids at Cra Wyd precluded any attack. And, if Claudia was wrong, unprovoked aggression could have severe repercussions for the whole of Birddom. The tawny owl realised that he needed to think things through very carefully. Well, he had all night. Claudia was long-since asleep, and Lostri envied her the rest. But that was a luxury which he could not afford tonight. He must come up with a plan to save Calipha. It occurred to him that he had been sent empty-winged on this mission. He had been tasked with talking to the corvidae leadership, in Cra Wyd and elsewhere, but he had been given nothing positive to offer them as an incentive to co-operation.
What could he offer them? What would these birds want? What did they desire? Power, for one thing, if they were still true to their past. The magpies and crows, rooks and jays had not for nothing been Birddom’s deadliest enemy in times gone by. Their lust for power had allowed the rise of Slyekin and his terrible, destructive regime. And it had fostered the emergence of Traska, the very essence of evil in bird form, who was still alive and, if Claudia was to be believed, now part of a calamitous alliance with the Great Owl himself.
Lostri shook his head violently, forcing himself to concentrate on the task which he had been sent here to perform. If the corvidae wanted power, what could he dangle in front of them that would ensure the release of Calipha? He could pretend that he had come with more to offer than was actually the case, that there had been a real purpose to his being an emissary of the Council. What if he said that a place on that Council could be obtained by a gesture of good will to all birds? That, in releasing Calipha, there would, in return, be the reward of establishing a power-base within the legitimate leadership of Birddom? The corvidae would be recognised as valued participants in partnership, with a voice on the Council.
‘No, that is absurd!’ Lostri chided himself. ‘What are you thinking of? No honourable owl would agree to such a thing. And I will not be false with them. I will not betray the integrity of the Council, not even for Calipha’s life!’
Merion woke his sister with a violent shake. ‘Olivia! Olivia! You’ll never guess. I’ve had such a dream!’
‘You mean that you woke me in the middle of my own dreams to tell me about yours?’ she replied, angrily.
‘But my dream was important. Septimus came to me in my dream. And he spoke to me, giving me a message to take to Tomar.’
‘We already have his message.’
‘I know. I know. But Septimus told me more, not that it makes much more sense than his original rhyme.’ Quickly, before he could forget, Merion repeated the rhyme that he had heard in his dreams.
‘What can it mean, sis?’
Olivia blinked the remaining sleep out of her eyes, and pondered the mystery. ‘It seems to be telling Tomar that he needs to trust in himself. That he has triumphed over adversity in the past, and is equal to the needs of Birddom in helping every bird escape to Avia. Septimus might be telling him to have courage, and to give that courage to all in the land who wish to attempt “the gate”. What I simply don’t understand is the meaning of the last line – “the tunnel, black as night.” It seems to have no relevance to what has gone before. Septimus has never mentioned a tunnel before, has he?’
Merion almost leapt from his perch, clapping his forehead with his wing as he did so. ‘I was in a tunnel! In my dream, sis. I was walking down a long, black tunnel, and it led me to the light. It must have been the gateway into Avia. I have seen it, sis!’
‘What was it like?’ Olivia asked, awed.
‘It felt as if the very earth had swallowed me up. But it did not feel bad. Not frightening, I mean. It felt wonderful, actually. If that was Avia, then it is a beautiful place. But...’ Merion stopped in mid-sentence, and a frown furrowed above his beak. ‘I’m not sure that I know how to explain it, Olivia,’ he said, urgently. ‘It sounds crazy, even when I think it inside of my head. But when I came out of the tunnel and into the light, the light became Septimus. Avia was Septimus. Or he was Avia!’
‘Don’t be silly, Merion. Avia is a place. A paradise. Tomar told us so. It was a dream, that is all. And dreams can be confusing.’
‘I suppose so. But I didn’t get confused about Septimus’ message, did I?’
‘No, and Birddom may yet be thankful that you did not. This new rhyme seems to fit well with the rest. But we must not waste a single moment more, Merion. Let us fly like the wind, back to Tomar and Mother.’
*
The pair of young robins were distressed to find that Portia’s nest was cold and empty. There was an air of abandonment about the place, as if their mother had not been there for some time.
‘Where could she be?’ cried Olivia.
‘Perhaps she has gone to stay with Tomar. You know that she was looking after him. Maybe she found it more convenient to make a temporary nest in his tree, rather than travel back and forth all the time.’
Olivia’s countenance brightened considerably at this thought, and she clapped her brother lightly on the back. ‘Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!’
Merion followed his sister as she flew off towards the heart of Tanglewood. But what they found there left them open-beaked.
‘Tomar has gone, too!’ Olivia exclaimed, looking into the bole of the crooked fir. ‘His nest looks as abandoned as Mother’s.’
The robins looked around in bewilderment, and it took a few seconds before either registered the low, feeble call from the ground below. Seeing Tomar prostrate on the forest floor, they stared in disbelief before stirring themselves and flying down to the old owl’s side.
‘Oh, thank the Creator! I thought that my eyes were deceiving me. But it is you two. You are safe.’ The relief in Tomar’s frail voice was unmistakable.
‘Where is Mother?’ Olivia asked, then cried an anguished, ‘No!’ as Tomar’s eyes filled instantly with huge tears.
‘What has happened to her?’ Merion’s voice was icy, as he envisaged the worst. But even he could not help gasping aloud at Tomar’s grief-stricken reply.
‘Traska murdered her! Oh Portia, my poor, dear friend. I would have gladly given my own life in your stead.’
Merion instinctively hugged his sister while she wept, his own glacial anger keeping all other emotions at bay. ‘How, Tomar? How did she die?’
‘Your mother was the bravest robin who ever lived, and I include your father, Kirrick, in that assessment. For he relied on her utterly, and would not have achieved a fraction of his heroics without her courage. Portia was looking after me, risking all to keep these miserable old bones alive. She brought me food, and I suppose that Traska must have got wind of what she was doing. He trapped her, tortured her and then...’
The owl’s voice trailed away, unable to finish the words as a fresh stream of tears bled onto his chest-feathers.
Merion let go of his sister, and tried to comfort Tomar as best he could. ‘Let us make sure then that my mother’s death was not in vain. For you alone can give her sacrifice meaning, Tomar. You must become strong again, and lead us all. We have done as you asked and have brought back the words of the wolf, though much of their meaning eludes us. But you are the Great Owl. No, I do not recognise the right of the usurper. You are Great Owl still, and charge
d with the duty of saving Birddom from its doom.’
Olivia looked quite shocked at the severity of Merion’s tone in speaking to the frail old owl. But she realised that her brother was right, and fought back her own grief to give him support.
‘Yes, Tomar. Only you can unravel the mysteries of Septimus’ puzzles. And, in doing so, ensure the future of Birddom.’
Tomar responded bleakly. ‘Birddom’s days are numbered.’
‘Then our journey was folly, as was my mother’s death!’ Merion shot back, angrily.
Tomar’s eyes shone suddenly with compassion, as he pulled himself together. ‘Forgive me, my young friends. And thank you both for fighting so hard to make me realise once again who I am. I am no longer Great Owl, but I am charged nonetheless with a sacred duty. I will not fail you, not while a single breath remains in my body. But I need your help, my friends. Note that I call you young no longer. For you are fully grown in my eyes and equal to any task, as you have already proved. I need food. I have barely eaten in the last two days. My guards seem to have deserted me. But it is fortunate in one way. You yourselves would have been captured if they had kept up to their duty. Be careful, my dear robins. For I can achieve nothing without you. Find us all a meal, then we will sit and grieve for Portia. But tomorrow you will tell me all about your journey to the Isle of Storms, and together we will decipher Septimus’ coded words.’
Word had got back to Traska that everything was going according to plan. The younger of the two owls had been allowed to escape, as he had requested, and the corvid spies had followed her to her rendezvous with Lostri.
‘I must make my move while he dithers,’ Traska told himself. ‘I must set off without delay for Cra Wyd. It is a pity, for I was looking forward to another joust with that old fool, Tomar. I so enjoy seeing him grovel. And those stupid guards haven’t brought me that juicy young robin to play with, either. Still, no matter. I can’t spare the time. There will be ample entertainment awaiting me in the north. And more of a challenge too. Killing a robin is so easy. But to kill three owls, now that is something that will tax even my ingenuity!’
Smiling wickedly, the evil magpie hurled himself into the air and flew off, with relish, over the treetops, northwards. And, as he flew, he chuckled maliciously to himself, thinking, with satisfaction, of his achievements so far. Slyekin had been such an arrogant fool. Power wasn’t only to be won by battle, or by brutality. Oh, they were sometimes necessary, and often enjoyable. But, ultimately, power was won by stealth. By guile and cunning. By superior intellect. ‘I could almost be describing myself!’ Traska crowed, laughing once again with malevolent glee.
Chapter Fifteen
Lostri found that sleep did not come easily. His brain was too active, racing in desperate haste to solve the tortuous problem of how to rescue Calipha. He dismissed dozens of ideas as too fanciful or impractical. He had nothing to bargain with. He could not appeal to the honour of the corvidae, for they had none. And he could not try to take his friend from them by force. Two owls made for a paltry army, and it was an army that Lostri needed if he was to succeed in such a mission. So it went on, round and round inside his head, until the tawny owl was too exhausted to think any more and sank, at last, into a fitful slumber. He was woken almost immediately by Claudia, but his irritation was washed away by the look of anguish on her young face.
‘What are we waiting for?’ she cried, plaintively.
It was a good question. The delay had not improved the situation for Calipha one iota. They still had no plan for her rescue. And every hour that passed increased the likelihood that the magpies and crows would tire of their captive, and kill her rather than expending the effort of guarding her.
‘It is probably a hopeless thing that we do,’ Lostri replied, quite calmly now that his mind was made up. ‘But let’s get to it. Come along, my dear. Let’s go and save your sister.’
The pair of owls flew off on an easterly heading that would, at their present rate of flight, bring them to the boundary of Cra Wyd within the hour. They informed no bird of their destination. For what aid could they seek from the small bird population against such a foe? It was true that many a brave heart beat inside a tiny breast, but individually they would be no match against even the smallest of the corvids. Besides, most would be reluctant to risk any confrontation that might break the albeit uneasy truce that existed in the locality. No, it was better that they go alone, regardless of the danger.
Once they reached the first tree at the edge of the daunting woodland, Lostri let Claudia lead the way. There was no point in being heroic. His female companion knew the way, and speed and sure-footedness might give them an element of surprise which they could use to their advantage.
Certainly there were no indications that they were expected. Neither owl spotted so much as a jackdaw in their silent flight through the wood. It was almost too good to be true. Perhaps the corvidae had been called away. Many a local bird had spoken, in great fear, of their massive gatherings – many hundreds of corvidae collecting together for their own nefarious purposes. But these were usually held in the dead of night, and the sun had set less than two hours ago.
Lostri’s head turned fearfully this way and that as he flew. His huge eyes scanned the dense foliage of the deciduous trees, alert for the flash of a beak or the flutter of a wing. Suddenly, Claudia called to him with a soft hoot of warning.
‘Lostri. We are near the place where they held us. What should we do?’
‘We must go on,’ he replied, urgently. ‘We have no choice in any case, having come so far. But maybe the luck that has travelled with us thus far will hold awhile. Show me where your sister is being held.’
Dipping her wing, Claudia banked to the right and disappeared through a narrow gap between two great oak trees. Lostri followed, reckless now, as fear sent adrenaline coursing through his veins.
‘I can’t believe it!’ Claudia exclaimed. ‘The whole place is deserted.’
‘Calipha,’ Lostri called out into the gloom. ‘Where are you? Can you hear us?’
But, as he called the words, he knew the answer with a sinking heart. The stench of death was unmistakable, and a strangled sob from Claudia confirmed the identity of the corpse that the night had hidden from them initially. It was a kindness in a way. For full daylight would have borne harsh testimony to her torture and brutal slaying, whereas twilight shadows covered her like a cloak, or a shroud. Claudia wept openly, her anguished sobs echoing through the sleepy woodland. Then the moon peeped out from behind a bank of cloud, and its clear, silver light was reflected in a hundred pairs of eyes which formed an impenetrable ring around the unfortunate owls.
Lostri was the first to react, surging off the ground in a desperate flight for freedom. Claudia followed suit, but not before the trees erupted with noise as a huge phalanx of corvidae took to the air. It only took a matter of seconds before the owls were forced groundward once more, but it was time enough for sharp beaks and claws to do their potent work and inflict grievous injuries upon the pair. Lostri and Claudia landed in pools of their own blood, adding to the crimson with each second that passed.
The magpies, rooks and crows could easily have finished them off then and there, their numbers were overwhelming. But they refrained, their blood-lust held in abeyance by something far stronger, which was revealed when a frustrated young rook called out to the gathered assembly, ‘What are we waiting for? Why don’t we kill the pair of them? Look at them! They’re no match for the lot of us!’
His exhortations were cut off abruptly by another voice in the darkness. ‘Don’t be a bloody fool! You know our orders. We’ve done what we were supposed to do. Now we wait!’
Tomar looked considerably better after being well fed and rested. Something of his former sparkle returned to his old eyes, and his movements were less restricted and painful. ‘Thank you, my friends. What would I do without you?
’
‘So far as I am concerned, that question need never arise again,’ answered Merion, a shade of defiance in his voice. ‘For we will never leave your side again, Tomar. I, for one, have had enough of journeys and errands, however important.’
‘We all serve Birddom, and it is our duty to do everything that is asked of us in its service.’
‘Then I hope that what we have found out is sufficient for Birddom’s needs. Surely we have done enough? Given enough?’
Tomar wrapped a wing around his agitated friend. ‘You have indeed, and if every bird knew of your trials and sacrifices they would not ask for more. But I may yet call upon you one more time. There may still be another task for a reluctant robin. But for now, all that is required from you is your story, from beginning to end.’
Tomar and the two robins talked long into the night, and the old owl soon realised that Olivia was deeply wounded by her mother’s death. She was sombre and withdrawn, and it took all of his considerable skill to begin to draw her out of her depression. Tomar questioned and probed her about the details of the journey, trying to distract her from her thoughts of her loss, but, at the same time, seeking out the implication in everything that was told to him. He chuckled with amusement at her description of Hobo, the black and white rabbit, with his bright eyes, twitching nose and inexhaustible nervous energy.
‘I am sure that he would have worn me out, just watching him,’ Tomar said. ‘He certainly seems a strange companion for a wolf such as Septimus.’
‘Is a rabbit ever a likely friend to any wolf?’ Olivia asked, with some irony. ‘Unless it is as a friend to their stomachs!’
‘True. It is most unusual. Hobo’s colouring is odd, too, for a wild rabbit, though not unheard of. There may be more to that fellow than meets the eye. I wonder...’
Even as he spoke the words, the old tawny owl sank into reverie, and was silent until Merion broke into his thoughts.
Seven for a Secret Page 15