‘Are you all right, Tomar? What is the matter?’
‘Oh, nothing, my friend. I was just thinking. But those thoughts are of no consequence for the present. Now, tell me once more about old Septimus, and his infernally clever rhyme.’
Traska had pushed himself hard to reach Cra Wyd so quickly, and was proud of his efforts. ‘Not bad for an old magpie,’ he said to himself. ‘No, indeed. I’d like to see many of the fools around here do better. They’re a lazy bunch of scoundrels. Not one of them would have made it into my coven in the old days. But at least there are a lot of them. Now let’s see if they have managed to capture me a brace of owls!’
Traska sought out Scrant, the magpie he had personally chosen to be the nominal leader of the Cra Wyd coven, in spite of the pre-eminence of rooks in the colony. He could tell immediately, by the unbearably-smug look on the other magpie’s beak, that the plan had been successful. Traska rubbed his wing-tips together in anticipation. What pleasure he would take in watching his three enemies die.
‘Senseless murder! There’s nothing like it!’ he thought, smiling wickedly. Then, addressing the other magpie, he snapped out a command. ‘Take me to the prisoners at once.’
Scrant was not used to being spoken to so dismissively. After all, he was the leader here. He made a vain attempt to re-establish his authority and dignity. ‘The prisoners are perfectly safe. We will go and see them shortly. But, in the mean-time, rest and share some food with me. You must be exhausted and famished after your long journey. Come, let us feast. And do not worry your head, my lads are more than a match for a pair of owls.’
‘What do you mean ... a pair?’ Traska roared.
Scrant shrank back fearing that the other bird would strike him. ‘What’s the difference? Two owls or three? We had to kill the older female. She was trouble, and the boys were getting restless. Anyway, the trap worked just the same, didn’t it? And I made sure that no one disobeyed my orders a second time.’
‘No corvid under my command would have dared to disobey me even once,’ Traska sneered. ‘Until now, it seems. I gave explicit instructions that all three owls were to be kept alive until I got here.’
‘I am sorry, Traska,’ Scrant blustered. ‘I will bring the bird responsible to you for punishment.’
Traska nodded, in business-like fashion, all the while thinking, ‘There is only one bird whom I hold responsible. And I will decide if and when you are to be punished!’
*
‘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...’
Hearing Septimus’ words from Tomar’s throat, both robins found that they had tears in their eyes. For the resonance and power of Tomar’s delivery as he recited the poem, seemed to roll back the years for the old owl himself. He held his body straighter, and his eyes shone with a passion ignited by the hope contained within the rhyme that he spoke. Olivia and Merion waited eagerly for their friend to decipher the puzzle, and so unlock the gateway to Avia itself. But it seemed that there would be no easy answers. Indeed, once he had recited Septimus’ words, Tomar looked to the pair of robins for their thoughts and opinions.
‘Well, Merion, what do you make of it all? It’s quite mysterious, isn’t it?’
‘Olivia and I have done little else but ponder the rhyme since we left the Isle of Storms, but I don’t think that we really understand more than a fraction of Septimus’ meaning.’
‘Well, that’s a start at least, my friend. But you said that the rhyme was delivered in two parts?’
‘Yes. I do not know how the old wolf managed it, but he invaded my dreams in order to deliver a message to you. He stressed that most particularly. “Tell my friend, and wisest of owls, that the entrance to Avia is a gateway in time as much as space, and that to miss the opportunity would be irretrievable.” That was what he wanted me to tell you, but it just gives us yet another riddle to unravel. We don’t know where Avia is, or how to get there. And, moreover, we don’t know when Avia is – that is, when we can get there!’
Tomar’s reply was soothing, calming the robin’s agitation.
‘Oh yes, Merion, we do know. We just do not know that we know!’
Lostri had never come face to face with Traska before. But he knew immediately that the magpie who strutted and preened in front of him was the very villain who had blighted Birddom for so many years. He had a presence that the others lacked. It was an aura, Lostri realised with shock, of pure evil. Even if it hadn’t been evident to him, Claudia’s reaction would have told him. She gave a small, choking scream and blanched, her pupils contracting wildly with fear. She had had dealings with Traska before, of course, and her memories were dire indeed. Lostri decided to go straight onto the attack.
‘What right have you to hold us like this, against our will? I am Lostri, a member of the Council of the Owls, and I was sent here as an emissary to parlay with the corvidae of the northern territories. I came in peace, and this is how I am treated?’
‘Stop your blustering, you pompous fool. You are giving me a headache, and I can get quite nasty when I have a headache. You say that you came here as an emissary for Birddom. I say that you came here to spy upon us. Your two friends, one of whom is now sadly demised, have both admitted as much, and their lives are rightly forfeit.’
Lostri bridled at such arrogance, and responded curtly. ‘No bird has the power of life and death over another!’
‘Open your eyes, Lostri,’ Traska whispered with menace. ‘Look around you and then tell me again that I do not have the power to break you in two if I so choose.’
Of course, the vile magpie was right. Lostri saw that immediately. Indeed, in his present position, all that he could hope for was a quick despatch from this life. But he feared that Traska had other, more elaborate plans for him and his friend.
Engar waved his wings expansively to the assembled gathering. The remaining Council members were all there. Cerca, Pellar and Steele formed a tight knot close to their leader. Creer, Wensus and Janvar chatted amiably with two of the new-comers. Only Faron and Meldra had the grace to look shame-faced, and each stood alone and miserable, not speaking to anyone. The third new-comer had hopped over to Engar’s side, eager to speak to the Great Owl. But the barn owl delivered a hushed ‘later’ before calling the Council to order.
‘Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I believe that today is as momentous an occasion as has been seen in Birddom since ancient times. An historic day, which will pass into the folklore of our land, along with the names of all present. For today is the day when the democracy that was always my dream for Birddom becomes a reality. I was chosen as Great Owl – you yourselves chose me – for that vision of Birddom as a place where every bird lived as equal to any other. Today that vision becomes flesh. For we embrace those who in the past have been our enemies, but who we now call our friends. I welcome Drag, Smew and Chak into our fellowship. They are the chosen representatives of the corvidae, and they honour us with their presence.’
Engar paused, and looked around for vociferous approval, which was duly provided by six of the owls there. The barn owl noted the reticence of Meldra and Faron to join in the clamour of welcome. ‘Well,’ he mused. ‘So not everyone on the Council shares my vision for Birddom, eh? So be it. This is a democracy, after all!’
Meldra caught his eye at precisely this moment and looked away quickly, appalled by the evil in the Great Owl’s smile.
‘Oh Tomar, my old friend,’ she moaned softly. ‘You were right all along. What have we done?’
The two naked bodies huddled together, desperate for warmth in the cold night. They were a truly pathetic sight, and thankful that darkness hid them for now from the ridicule of the world. Lostri and Claudia had been plucked while still alive. T
raska had taken a great delight in removing those feathers where the pain was greatest, ripping them away from around the eyes, ears and breast. He would have liked to have torn away their tail-feathers too, but others were equally eager for such pleasure, and Traska had watched the owls’ agony with immense enjoyment. Each primary and pinion had been fought over as a prized trophy, and Traska had personally overseen the removal of even the smallest feather from their prison-site. He wanted to be sure to leave nothing. A pile of feathers might be used to provide a warmth of sorts for Lostri and Claudia, and Traska did not wish to be known for such generosity.
When day broke, the owls were torpid and near to death. They had been given nothing to eat or drink. Their body temperatures had dropped dangerously low, and only sleep had provided a respite from the horrors that had been done to them. But now a different, equally deadly threat emerged with the rising of the sun. For the sky was cloudless, and the day promised to be hot. And, even at his most optimistic, Lostri had not the slightest hope that his corvid captors would show any mercy. No. Having barely survived freezing to death, it seemed that the two owls’ fate was to be baked alive.
Merion could not help but feel alarmed. Both he and his sister had pinned their faith on Tomar’s intellect. Neither had doubted for a single moment that the old owl would be able to solve Septimus’ riddle. But Merion now realised, with dismay, that Tomar was having no more success than they had had. He had listened attentively to all of their theories as to the meaning of each stanza of the rhyme, but had not been able to come up with a single explanation of his own to help unlock the puzzle. Merion felt like crying. His dear old friend was obviously going senile. His faculties simply no longer had the capacity for such a task. ‘All is lost!’ he thought, with resignation.
Even Olivia was worried, although she had greater belief in Tomar’s mental powers. But why was the old tawny owl so quiet and unresponsive? He seemed content merely to nod at each one of their ideas, often smiling in encouragement. Occasionally he would mutter, ‘Yes, that might be it,’ or ‘That’s certainly one way of looking at it,’ but adding nothing constructive of his own.
Finally, the robins’ enthusiasm petered out, and they gave each other eloquent looks, which Tomar noticed immediately. ‘I apologise if I have been a little quiet. It is not easy to talk and listen at the same time.’ The robins looked suitably abashed as Tomar went on. ‘You have both done well, whether you know it or not. We have moved much closer to the solution than you realise, and it is thanks to your efforts that we have done so. Now, don’t worry about me. My body may be old and frail, but my mind isn’t quite ready for retirement just yet. You must leave me alone for a while, that’s all. I need to think. Septimus is a clever old devil, but, hopefully, so am I!’
Traska had never eaten owl before, and he had to admit that it was delicious. Underneath the blistered skin the flesh was still warm – almost hot – and the magpie gulped it down with relish. Blood dripped down onto his chest, and more spilled from his open beak as he saluted his companions.
‘Enjoying the feast?’ he asked, laughing. The crows and rooks nodded enthusiastically, too intent on their own food to utter a reply. Traska realised that he was being rather greedy, keeping all the best bits of the two owls for himself. But they looked happy enough, didn’t they? They had the scraps and, besides, there was more than sufficient meat on the body of Scrant to make up the meal, and satisfy a dozen hungry bellies for the moment.
The cruel magpie looked back with satisfaction upon a job well done. He had relished engineering the owls’ death, knowing that he had sent them to their final rest tormented with the knowledge of his plans for Birddom. Traska would never forget the look of absolute disbelief on Lostri’s face, as he had described, in detail, the future and the fate that awaited every owl on the Council.
‘Yes,’ he had repeated, spitting the words into Lostri’s shocked face. ‘Every owl!’
Chapter Sixteen
The date of the evacuation had been set for the first week in September. That was now only four weeks away, and it was a tribute to Man’s efficiency, once properly motivated, that so much had been achieved to the set time-scales. The coastline of the country was ringed with huge magnets, and, on careful consideration, many more had been placed at the highest points inland to avoid topographical interference with the pulse. Nothing was being left to chance. Weather was the only variable, but long-range forecasters were reassured by the prospect of a warm, dry and sunny start to autumn. Flat, calm seas would make the naval operation a great deal easier, and government sources were optimistic.
A massive push on the refrigeration conversion programme for farm buildings meant that planned slaughtering of livestock could be scaled up. This would reduce the workload involved after the great machines had done their deadly work. Cattle, sheep and pigs had been force-fed over the last few weeks to increase their body-weight well ahead of natural progress, and the carcasses of those animals already slaughtered weren’t far from their prime. This was a success story that was being trumpeted in the press, and the populace welcomed the idea of a plentiful supply of meat being available when they returned to their homeland.
However, only a government stranglehold on the media stifled a story that would have seen them greeted with derision and anger by that same public. An appalling lack of forethought meant that no proactive action had been taken by the government to procure a source of livestock, from the continent or elsewhere, to restock the countryside and maintain the nation’s farming industry. Now the country was being held to ransom by several of its nearest neighbours who simply added purchase of the necessary animal breeding stock as a codicil to their agreement to temporarily house the evacuees. The additional cost of this lack of planning would undoubtedly run into billions, and senior politicians were frantically seeking creative ways to hide their blunder.
But, to the public at large, the news being spun to them was all positive, and the clarion-call of public-spirited effort towards the common goal sounded loud and clear across the country. In two weeks the nets would come down, and the countdown towards the destruction of their enemy would begin.
Meldra realised that she was taking a great risk in coming, but the look of joy on Tomar’s face made the danger worthwhile. The old tawny owl was alone while his robin companions foraged for a meal, and his head was sunk low as he focused his great brain on Septimus’ strange message. Meldra had to hoot twice to attract his attention, and Tomar started at the sound. It was so long since he had heard any call from one of his own kind. Tears sprang up at the corners of his eyes, but he wiped them quickly away and cried out happily, ‘Meldra, my dear friend. How good it is to see you. How are you, and how are all my friends on the Council?’
‘I marvel at your tolerance in calling me your friend still,’ she replied, with genuine remorse. ‘And I am sad to say that you have precious few friends on the Council nowadays. Come to that, neither do I.’
‘Have things changed so quickly?’ Tomar asked.
‘They have changed beyond all recognition, and to the detriment of the Council and of Birddom,’ Meldra answered gravely.
Tomar gave an impatient nod. What was so bad that she had taken the risk of visiting him? And then he realised, with a great rush of love, that Meldra was reluctant only because she wished to protect him from ill-tidings. ‘It is all right, my dear,’ he said, with a rueful smile. ‘I am not as frail as I obviously seem to you. Whatever news you have brought, I am ready for it. Remember, it is not that long since I was Great Owl.’
‘Yes, Tomar, my friend. And Birddom would be a much better place if you were still our leader. I realise that now. You were right all along. Engar is a villain, and nothing that he does is for the good of our land. He talks of every bird, but thinks only of himself. He has ousted Lostri from the Council, declaring him to be a wastrel and unfit for such high duty. Engar sent him on a mission to communicate with the
leaders of the corvidae in the north, but Lostri is long overdue. I am very fearful that something dreadful has happened to him; something, moreover, engineered by Engar himself.’
Tomar shook his head, his eyes showing genuine concern for the fate of his friend. ‘These are ill-tidings indeed. What do the other members of the Council think about it?’
‘That is part of the problem. I cannot be sure that any of them care at all. They seem to have become mere mouthpieces for Engar. Oh, Faron seems to be less sheep-like than the rest. He appears to be having second thoughts about our great leader. But I am not sure that I can trust my instincts any longer, having failed to see Engar for what he truly is. However, that is not all. There is more bad news to tell, if you can bear it?’
Tomar nodded for his friend to continue.
‘The Council is back to its full complement of twelve members.’ Meldra quickly stilled Tomar’s question. ‘You want to ask me who has been chosen, and why. The names of our newest Council members are Smew, Drag and Chak. I see from your face that you do not recognise their names, but why should you? The reason that you do not know them is very simple: they are all magpies, my friend! Can you believe it? Magpies on the Council of the Owls!’
At that very moment, Merion and Olivia flew back to the fir tree, their beaks crammed with the bounty of the woodland. They were astonished to see two owls sat where they had left only one, but this reaction was superseded by distress when they saw the shock on their old friend’s face. They quickly alighted and, depositing their food store, ran to Tomar’s side.
‘What is the matter, Tomar?’ the robins cried in unison.
But no reply was forthcoming. The old owl was momentarily unable to speak. Merion and Olivia comforted him as best they could while he summoned his inner reserves. Finally, he gasped out a single word: ‘Magpies!’
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