Chapter Seventeen
Merion was the first to reach his destination, his being the shortest journey of the three. He had exercised extreme caution, following Tomar’s warning, and had needed to hide on several occasions while roving bands of crow and rook took to the skies, as if parading their new status to the rest of Birddom. However, he avoided any altercation with the corvids, and flew on. He eventually crossed over the same estuary that had caught the eye of his mother, Portia, with nearly disastrous consequences, when she and Kirrick had travelled this same path several years earlier. But Merion knew the story of Portia’s folly only too well, and he had learnt, almost from hatching, to distinguish between fresh and salt water.
He sought out Kraken, the great black-backed gull, on the rocky promontory overlooking the shimmering sea. The day was fine and gloriously hot, and the seagull flock basked lazily in the afternoon sunshine. Every ledge on the sheer cliff was occupied by black, white and grey bodies, and the clamour of their conversations and arguments were deafening to the little robin.
Merion flew to the highest spot on the cliff, a place of honour which held the best vantage point for watching over the colony. Kraken should have been there, but instead a young but still very impressive seagull lounged in his place.
‘Excuse me,’ Merion ventured, timidly. ‘I am looking for Kraken, the leader of your flock.’
The gull stared at him with an imperious eye. ‘You are not from around here, are you?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Merion replied. ‘I have travelled a long way on urgent business with Kraken.’
The gull ignored Merion’s insistent tone. ‘If you were from around here, you would know full-well who is the leader of the flock.’
‘You mean that Kraken has been deposed? Is he dead?’
‘No, little one. Kraken is not dead. And neither was he deposed as our leader. Illness overtook him late last year; an ague that he shook off fairly quickly, for Kraken is a strong bird. But his eyesight was affected by the disease, and Kraken is now blind. Even with only one eye there was never a gull to match him, but the total loss of his sight has left him almost helpless and utterly dependant upon his family. We care for him, of course. How could we ever do otherwise? He was our leader for generations, and he is a great bird still. I am his son. My name is Pagen.’
‘I am Merion, son of Kirrick, and I have been sent here by Tomar, formerly Great Owl of Birddom.’
‘You call forth impressive names,’ Pagen replied, nodding. ‘Your father is a legend to the flock, and Tomar is still revered for his great wisdom. Is he well?’
‘The years have taken their toll upon his body, and he is undoubtedly frail and old. But his mind is as lucid as ever, and works tirelessly for the good of Birddom. He asked me to come and seek your father’s aid.’
‘Alas, you came too late for that, unless the aid is something that can be given from the confines of his own nest.’
Merion looked pityingly at the massive gull, who obviously still dearly loved his father. ‘At least yours is still alive,’ he thought, sorrowfully, ‘and you have known him every day while you have grown. I only know my father through the tales of others. How I envy you!’
*
Darreal was still very much in charge of the falcons of the west. Meldra did not have the robins’ disadvantage in terms of size, when coming face-to-face with the object of her visit, but the owl felt a sense of awe, nevertheless. The red kite was a magnificent specimen, and the years since the Great Battle sat well on him. He bridled at her news about her journey, for Meldra had not been as successful as Merion in avoiding a confrontation with the corvids. Part-way through her journey, she had chanced upon a dozen powerful magpies, who, bolstered by their numbers, had surrounded her in a most menacing fashion. The owl had shown the quickness of mind to inform them in a frosty tone that she was a member of the Council, and was travelling on important business with the full permission of all of its members. This bluff was sufficient to make the magpies back off and allow her to go on her way. But the encounter had shaken her badly, and the red kite tried to take her mind off of the unpleasant experience by asking about Tomar, Portia and the others. Darreal was eager for news of his friends, and listened attentively while Meldra told him as much as she knew about the events in recent years. He never once tried to mask his feelings, which were all too plain upon his face. Sorrow at the death of Portia, sympathy for the current plight of Tomar and burning anger at the unholy resurrection of Traska. Here was a bird who clearly wore his heart upon his wing-tip. Meldra had no doubt that she would be able to persuade him to come to their aid.
‘Tell me once again about Septimus’ rhyme and Tomar’s ideas about Avia,’ the falcon requested, eagerly.
‘Well, the rhyme remains something of a puzzle, even to that wisest of owls. I am sure that Tomar understands parts of it, but he cannot grasp the whole. It seems that we will only be able to gain entry into Avia on the anniversary of the very hour that your falcons, and the eagles under Storne’s command, began to do battle with Slyekin’s corvids. And Septimus’ warning is clear. There will not be a second chance. So, every bird must be made ready, but ready for what? I fear that we are little further forward in answering that question. And, until we know how to get into Avia, there seems little point in knowing when!’
‘Trust in Tomar,’ Darreal replied, soothingly. ‘I have never known of a problem that he could not surmount, with that astonishing mind of his. Yet I fear that I will be of no help at all, when it comes to solving Septimus’ riddle. I cannot compete with my old friend in brain-power, that is for sure.’
‘You underestimate yourself,’ Meldra said. ‘Tomar certainly believes that you can help him. Trust in Tomar.’
‘Touché,’ replied Darreal, smiling. ‘Yes, Meldra. I will come with you, and will do the best I can.’
It took every ounce of patience that Olivia possessed not to turn around and fly home. He might be the leader of the eagles, and the most impressive bird still alive in Birddom, but the robin could not help feeling frustrated by Storne’s seeming childishness. In the short time that she had taken to tell her tale, the golden eagle had gone from guilty sheepishness to seething anger. And now he was busy in a show of pompous self-righteousness as he sought, somehow, for a way to undo what could not be undone.
‘If only he was my brother’s size,’ Olivia thought. ‘I’d give him such a slapping!’ But, to Storne, she said, guardedly, ‘Tomar is looking to you to use your brain, and to help him find a way to save us all. You cannot right all the wrongs of the world, and no one is asking you to. You are not responsible for the death of my mother, any more than I am. Nor for those of the Council members whom Engar has betrayed into the clutches of Traska.’
Storne’s eyes glittered dangerously at the mention of those two names, but Olivia persisted.
‘You are not the first and will not be the last to have been fooled by our traitorous Great Owl, though I can hardly bring myself to call him that. He managed to turn the whole Council against Tomar, didn’t he? He is very persuasive, but his vanity is his great weakness. He believes that he is infallible and, as such, can’t see the danger that he is in.’
‘Well, I wish it visited upon him in the fullest measure,’ snapped Storne, through gritted beak. ‘But if Engar is in danger, I want to be the one who delivers it to his nest!’
‘Tomar does not need you as an instrument of vengeance. But if your thirst for revenge is based upon guilt for not coming to our aid before, then make amends now. Come with me back to Tanglewood. Tomar needs your help, and Birddom needs your strength.’
‘Pagen,’ Merion said. ‘Will you help us in your father’s stead?’
‘My place is with the flock,’ he replied, matter-of-factly. ‘I have not long been chief gull, and it has taken a considerable effort to establish myself. There are always subordinates looking for the ma
in chance, who would jump at the opportunity of replacing me. Were I to go with you, I cannot be sure that I would still be chief gull on my return.’
Merion stamped his claws angrily on the rocks. ‘What is the point in being chief gull if the flock no longer exists? If what Tomar believes is true, then Birddom is finished, and that includes these waters and these rocks that you deem so precious. Finding a way into Avia is our only chance, and, as leader of the seagulls, it is your duty to do all that you can to save your flock!’
‘I do not need to be reminded of my duty,’ Pagen said, stone-faced. ‘I did not want this responsibility but, now that I have it, I understand well enough what it means. My place is here. I am sorry that you have had a wasted journey, Merion.’
The robin was on the point of continuing the argument, in the forlorn hope that he might yet persuade the seagull to change his mind. But wisdom prevailed. The very set of Pagen’s beak told him that he would only be forcing the gull into a more entrenched position. So Merion took his leave, and flew off to find a place to shelter for the remainder of the day. He was emotionally drained, as well as exhausted from the long flight to the coast, and decided that he would delay his return journey until the morning.
The robin sat slumped on the bough of the copper beech, his spirits at a very low ebb. How could he go back to Tomar and report yet another failure? His sister, he was sure, would succeed in persuading Storne, and surely Darreal would not reject the call for help. It was different with Pagen. He was not one of the triumvirate. He had no specific loyalty towards Tomar, and no interest, it seemed, in the wider world that existed beyond the spray-soaked rocks that were his home. Merion cheeped loudly in frustration, ‘Oh, why is it that some birds just can’t see beyond the end of their beaks?’
It had taken several hours for all the owls to pluck up the necessary courage to confront their leader. Though their voices had remained silent at the Council meeting, muted largely by the sudden desertion by their friend, Faron, there was a great deal of unease among them. Pellar, Cerca and Steele had met first to discuss the implications of the events at the Council meeting, and each felt that things were happening that could easily escalate out of their control. These three sought out Creer, Wensus and Janvar, and, finding them of a like mind, decided that they would all raise their fears to Engar.
Standing aloof before their verbal onslaught, Engar was certainly taken aback by their vehemence. His face remained a mask of unconcern, betraying none of his surprise. But his mind was racing, as he pretended to listen sympathetically to their worries. When each owl had had their say, Engar thanked them for bringing the issue to his attention.
‘My friends,’ he said. ‘You have acted in the highest traditions of the Council, according to your own interpretation of the perceived threat that you say the corvidae pose. But I must ask you a question. How long is it since they were our mortal enemies? Do any of you here even remember the Great Battle?’
He paused, and smiled in satisfaction at their uncertainty. ‘We are a new generation, as the corvidae who now join us are a new generation.’
He held up his wing to silence Pellar’s incipient protest. ‘Yes, I am well aware that Traska doesn’t come into that category. But you all heard him speak. You all witnessed his mercy and charity towards Faron. Having done so, can you doubt his sincere intentions to undo the wrongs of the past? Must a bird be persecuted with unjust suspicion for misdeeds committed so long ago, and so evidently regretted? Traska is a bird reborn, and an example to us all. For, in taking a place among us on the Council, he has shown that he is prepared to forgive and forget.
‘But let us address your concerns about the new structure of the Council. We have been bold, I cannot argue with that. But we have not acted foolishly, or without caution. We still hold the majority on the Council. We are seven, while the corvids will have only five members. So long as we retain our unity and friendship, Birddom will always be wisely led. You are good owls, one and all, the finest in the land. We are the law-makers, and will steer a true course for our beloved Birddom while we have the strength of body and mind to continue to do so. And when we move on, other owls will replace us, and will carry on our legacy with honour and distinction. They will work primary in primary with our corvid brothers and, who knows, maybe with birds of every shape and size. Perhaps the Council will grow. Perhaps it will change. But that can only be a healthy thing, as we are proving by our current courageous choices for the future. Now, go back to your nest-holes, and exercise your minds more positively. Forget your fears, and trust that your Great Owl would never lead you astray.’
The eagle and the robin made an unusual and somewhat comic picture as they flew side by side. Storne’s mighty wings flapped in leisurely fashion, as slowly as he dared for continued flight. By contrast, Olivia’s beat at an exhausting tempo, in order to keep up with her companion. The golden eagle had to resort to periods of gliding so as not to tire his friend on their journey. Their conversation while they flew was necessarily staccato and broken, with the eagle doing most of the talking, while Olivia saved her breath for flying. Storne told the robin of Engar’s visit, how the barn owl had allayed his fears and convinced him that there was no danger or threat to Tomar. The regret was evident in the great eagle’s voice, and Olivia answered him kindly.
‘Even my brother was taken in by Engar for a while, and then only the incontrovertible evidence of his own ears and eyes convinced him of his error. Don’t be too hard on yourself, Storne. Your eyes are open now, and that is all that matters.’
‘The eyes of an eagle see very far, when they are not blinded by delusion. And now, I promise, I will put them to good use. If I can see into the future, maybe I can help to solve this puzzle of yours. Tell me those lines from the rhyme again, Olivia.’
‘“Avia is a state of mind, which few if any bird can find,”’ she dutifully replied.
‘Well, I know one thing. If Tomar is going to so much trouble, sending you all this way to fetch me, then he must believe that Avia is a real place. So, how is it that it can be real, and also only “a state of mind”? Perhaps the reality of Avia can only be reached by adopting a certain state of mind. That would fit, wouldn’t it?’
Olivia’s eyes flashed with excitement, and she suggested that they should immediately alight and continue the discussion. Coming to rest on the sturdy bough of a horse-chestnut tree, the eagle and robin eagerly pursued Storne’s train of thought.
‘What state of mind could Septimus mean?’ Olivia asked. ‘We can be positive or we can be confused. At the moment, my mind feels more like the latter. But, if a positive frame of mind is required for us to enter Avia, what do we need to be positive about?’
‘Being positive is being determined,’ the eagle answered. ‘We must be determined that we will succeed.’
‘But what use is determination when we don’t have the key? How can we be positive when we don’t know the way?’
‘We must have faith,’ Storne replied. ‘We must trust that the way will be revealed to us.’
‘But that implies doing nothing, and waiting for the answer to be handed to us, without any effort on our part. What sort of state of mind is that?’
‘It is acceptance,’ Storne said, simply. ‘Acceptance that we do not always control our destiny, and that sometimes we must have faith in a higher power. A power that knows, far better than we do, the way that is right for Birddom, and for every bird in it.’
‘Merion, wake up!’
The robin started at the loud screech near his ear, and swivelled round to see who was making such a racket. He had slept for several hours, and the gloom announced the onset of evening. In spite of the rest, he felt heavy-headed and disorientated.
‘I’m sorry,’ Pagen said. ‘You look as if you still need your sleep, but I had to talk to you.’
‘It’s all right,’ Merion replied, still groggy with tiredness.
‘How can I help you, Pagen?’
‘I’ve been thinking over what you said to me earlier. I was very rude to you, I’m afraid, but the truth is that I was frightened by what you told me. The very idea that Birddom could come to an end...’
Merion understood only too well the emotions that Pagen had been going through.
‘We’re all frightened, my friend. Even Tomar. But there is always hope. If we can find the key, then Avia awaits us. And it will be paradise, Pagen – for all birds!’
‘I know it will, Merion, and I know that my duty, as you pointed out so strongly, is to get my flock there by any means that I can.’
‘I apologise if I spoke so vehemently, but I wanted you to see...’
This time it was Pagen’s turn to interrupt. ‘I do see, my friend, but it comes to something when I am scolded by a bird no bigger than my claw!’
‘What changed your mind?’ Merion asked, to hide his relief.
‘It took a long while, wrestling with my own conscience like that. I knew that you wouldn’t have come if the situation wasn’t extremely grave, but I didn’t want to face the truth that I wasn’t ready for another challenge, so soon after taking over the leadership of the flock. However, in the end, it all came down to one thing – what would Kraken have done? Once I asked that question I knew that I had no other choice. I will go with you, Merion, as soon as I have made arrangements for the care of my father. Will Avia come soon enough for him, I wonder?’
‘Maybe in that final hour,’ Merion answered softly, ‘Kraken will see the way more clearly than any of us.’
From the east and from the west they flew; disparate pairs journeying together with a common goal: to come to the aid of their friend, Tomar. And the old owl awaited their arrival, like the thought of sunshine after a long, dark winter. He had tried to focus his mind solely on the problem of solving Septimus’ riddle but, all too often, his thoughts had strayed to his friends. Would they be successful in persuading his old allies once again to leave the comfort of their nests and journey so far? After all, he no longer had any authority in Birddom. And Storne had not responded to Portia and Olivia when they had asked for his help the last time. Could Meldra convince Darreal that Birddom really was finished?
Seven for a Secret Page 18