Seven for a Secret

by Clive Woodall

  It was a difficult concept to grasp, when the sun still shone and the wind still blew. Externally, there was no sign of impending doom. Man’s nets had been a part of normal life for some time now, and birds had adapted in order to survive, as they always did. And the threat of retribution from the insects, which Tomar feared so greatly, had not materialised. Although he was sure that it was only a matter of time before the insects rose as a single organism and crushed the life out of Birddom, how could he be so certain that he was right?

  ‘Because Septimus has confirmed my fears,’ he said aloud. ‘He has given us the date. We must leave Birddom for ever on the anniversary of the Great Battle, when the eye of the moon is at its largest. There is so little time, and so much that we still do not know. Hurry, my friends. I have never been in such need of counsel.’

  Tomar shook his head, as if to rid himself of his uncertainty. He must get his mind back upon the problem. If he had not known at the outset, when he sent Olivia and Merion on their mission to consult with Septimus, Tomar knew now that Avia was real and unreal, at the same time. It was a different reality, that was all. But it did not exist in the way that his beloved crooked fir existed. It had no physical reality in the world that Birddom occupied. But then, he supposed that, in Avia, Birddom was a dream also. He had not expressed this concept to his friends. They had a difficult enough task to perform without clouding their minds with doubts. To them, Avia was as real a place as Wingland. The robins’ mother had journeyed there, and had confirmed its existence, whereas before only the word of migrant birds had provided information about the land across the sea. But no migrant had ever come from Avia, and Tomar knew that, when they travelled there, no one would return to Birddom to report back that it was real.

  Engar faced his six fellow Council members with a great deal more confidence and self-assurance than when they had confronted him with their doubts about the corvids. For surely they could hold no such fears now? The latest gesture from Traska re-enforced the authority and the esteem in which the owls on the Council were so obviously held. The magpies had asked for their help in reassuring the local community in the vicinity of Cra Wyd that corvids were allies and not enemies.

  ‘They place their trust in us completely, and we should reward their faith in us by staunch support. We must move the Council for the next meeting. We will hold it in Cra Wyd, so sending out a signal to the birds in that area, and indeed to the whole of Birddom, that the days when owl and corvid faced each other in conflict are long over.’

  Six heads nodded at his words, whilst the four magpies kept a respectful silence. Only Retch, the jay chosen by Engar to replace Faron on the Council, voiced his noisy acclaim for the Great Owl.

  ‘What wisdom you show in this decision, Engar! What leadership, to demonstrate the courage of your convictions in such a way! I will fly at once, northwards to Cra Wyd, and inform them of your decision, for I am sure that they will want to prepare a suitable welcome!’

  At this point, Traska intervened. ‘Do not be too hasty, my young friend. I am sure that you have only the very best of intentions, but you exceed your authority at this Council. Such decisions must be left to the Great Owl. You will take your leave only at Engar’s bidding.’

  The barn owl puffed out his chest feathers at this show of obsequiousness towards him, and pride radiated in his voice as he responded to Traska’s words.

  ‘My friend, we are all equals here. And Retch, although our newest member, has a voice on this Council. His idea is a good one. We will make this a momentous occasion. When the Council meet at Cra Wyd, let it be a new beginning. A signal to every bird that we are not remote from Birddom’s needs and wants, worries and fears. Let us return from there, proud of our achievements and stronger in the knowledge that our future, and the future of Birddom itself, is assured!’

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘“Don’t fear the tunnel, black as night, for darkness comes before the light.”’

  Pagen repeated the lines over and over as he flew. They frightened him more than he cared to admit. He was a big bird, and never happier than when in flight, stretching out his wings to soar and dip. Flying was a skill over which he had supreme mastery. But he was terrified of being confined. The very thought of a tunnel made him quake uncontrollably. He had even been unable to visit his own father because of this, sending others in his stead to feed and clean the older bird. In his mind, a seagull had no place underground. Flight was useless there, and Pagen felt that he would be a lesser bird in such restricted places. The idea of blackness brought fear bubbling up from his guts, too. Kraken, his father, knew only blackness, but Pagen had never experienced it, and did not relish the prospect. On the coast at night there was always some light, whether provided by Nature, in the form of stars, or by Man, with his twinkling ships’ lights and the far-seeing beam of the lighthouse. No, the gull had never known true night.

  But it seemed that he would be asked, required rather, to face his fear of the dark in order to gain entry into Avia. If only he could just have stayed where he was, safe and sure on his webbed feet, his future as solid as the rocks beneath his nest. But it was all a delusion, he realised that now. Birddom was no longer built on a solid foundation. The rocks were crumbling into the water, and would soon disappear entirely beneath the waves.

  Merion heard his companion muttering to himself, and recognised the part of the rhyme that Pagen was repeating.

  ‘I’ve been into that tunnel. It is a beautiful place,’ he called across to the seagull.

  Pagen faltered in flight, and turned his head sharply to stare at the robin in astonishment. ‘How?’ was all that he could manage to utter.

  ‘Oh, in a dream,’ Merion replied. ‘It was when Septimus told me that part of the rhyme. I dreamt that I was in a dark tunnel, but I wasn’t frightened. It felt warm and comforting. It felt right, as if it was the place where I was meant to be. And I knew the way. Even before I could see it, I had no doubts that I would find the light.’

  ‘But didn’t it frighten you – going underground?’ Pagen was amazed at the robin’s apparent calm.

  ‘It was only a dream. But no, I didn’t feel frightened, and in many ways I am looking forward to the real experience. Anyway, it is difficult to explain but it wasn’t like entering a solid place at all. It didn’t feel confined, yet, at the same time, it felt like being inside a living, breathing being, not cold rock and earth. I’m probably not making a lot of sense, am I? But I know that I will not be afraid when the time comes.’

  Cra Wyd was heaving with black bodies. Every branch was laden with rooks and crows. Magpies proliferated. Jackdaws sat around in huge groups. Even the usually-reticent ravens had left the fastness of their mountain homes and joined the throng. It seemed that every coven, across the length and breadth of Birddom, had sent a delegation, and that some had emptied themselves completely in an exodus to witness the arrival of the owls. A huge clamour of raucous cheering greeted their flight into Cra Wyd, and each owl felt a deep inner glow of pride at this spectacular reception, which allayed any doubts about coming to this corvidae heartland.

  Alighting in a ring of trees, especially chosen to represent the Council ring itself, Engar and his fellow Council members looked about them, nodding and smiling, acknowledging their welcome. The noise went on for several minutes before finally dying down. Engar’s gaze once more swept the ring and beyond, and he could see nothing but black heads and beaks, as far as the eye could see. They were perched in concentric rings, and the depth of their ranks gave him just the slightest feeling of trepidation.

  ‘Thank the Creator that they are on our side!’ he breathed to himself. Then he began to address the vast crowd.

  ‘My friends. We are overwhelmed by your welcome. Thank you for the invitation to come to this beautiful part of the world. Cra Wyd was well-chosen as the stronghold for the corvidae. It is a magnificent place, and populated,
may I say, by magnificent birds. As I look around me now, at your multitude, I see the future for this land of ours reflected in your eager eyes. A future of co-operation and co-existence between all birds. A bright future, where the wise heads of your leaders will contribute to the decisions made by this Council for many years to come. Indeed, five of your own kind are already very much an integral part of this Council, and play a full role in deciding the destiny of Birddom. I speak, of course, of Traska, Drag, Smew, Chak and Retch.’

  Each name was greeted by deafening caws of approval, and Engar smiled patronisingly at the named birds perched in the ring around him.

  ‘All of them have earned the right to sit on the Council, and I am sure that they will all serve Birddom with distinction. They form one wing of our new leadership, and I would like to introduce you now to the fine birds who make up the other wing. As we go round the ring you can see Pellar, Creer, Steele, Janvar, Wensus and Cerca. I think that I can safely say that you will not find six finer owls anywhere in the land. And I am Engar.’

  He paused at this point, and was slightly put out by the muted adulation that emanated from the crowd. But he brushed it from his mind, like dust from his wing-tips, and continued, ‘I have the honour to be your Great Owl, and leader, by right, of this Council. We are your servants as well as your leaders, and it is our role to guide Birddom in the right way. We shall not be found wanting, you can be sure of that. We relish any challenge, and will rise up to meet it. But we do not look for your thanks. It is sufficient to serve and, in so doing, to build, with you and for you, a stronger, better Birddom.’

  Engar was well into his rhetoric now, delighted with his own performance, and oblivious to the subtle change of mood in the gathering. Feathers ruffled and rustled as the watching birds hopped from foot to foot on their perches. Engar went on with his speech, mistaking their impatience for eagerness to hear his words.

  ‘We come to your fine home, at your invitation, to help our brothers and partners. Traska has made us aware of the local hostility towards you, and I can see, from this meeting here today, that it surely stems from misunderstanding. The small-bird population obviously has nothing to fear from your strength, and everything to gain from your friendship. I can promise you all that, when we leave here, we will go among the local birds, and reassure them that Cra Wyd is a place of honour. A neighbour that can be nothing but beneficial. They will learn, from our beaks, that this corner of Birddom is safe in your wings, my friends!’

  *

  ‘There’s one part that I simply can’t get my head around,’ Darreal groaned, as they went over the rhyme once more. ‘Septimus told the robins that, “The path where you would choose to go is one that only a wolf might know.” Well, I can understand that. Septimus himself knows the way into Avia, and he is a wolf. But Avia is for birds, isn’t it? Tomar believes Avia to be a paradise for birds alone, doesn’t he? A place free from predators, where every bird can live in peace and ever-lasting happiness. Well, I am not sure that I could spend the rest of my days in a state of bliss with great big wolves roaming around the place. There is very little that frightens a bird of my size, but I retain a healthy respect for wolves, and would choose to keep them at a reasonable distance.’

  Meldra laughed. She felt at ease in the red kite’s company, and his positivity had energised her, allaying her doubts about the wisdom of Tomar’s plan. Of course he was right to seek the aid of such fine birds. And if Storne and Kraken were anything like a match for Darreal, their contributions would be invaluable.

  She and Darreal had spent hours pouring over the lines of the rhyme, and had retained an enthusiasm for the task that had lifted her spirits, even if they could not make head nor tail of much of it. Success was surely only a matter of time. Once they got back to Tanglewood, and put their great heads together, there was nothing that they could not achieve.

  ‘You really are a bit of a windbag!’ Traska exclaimed, raising a massive laugh from the corvid audience around the ring.

  Engar blinked in utter disbelief at this unexpected attack from his friend. ‘But, but...’ he spluttered.

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ the magpie snapped. ‘You are far too fond of the sound of your own voice. But, fortunately for the rest of us, we won’t have to put up with it for very much longer. None of us came here to listen to you droning on and on about honour and friendship. Look around you, and ask yourself where your friends are.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Engar muttered, in a bewildered voice.

  ‘No, you don’t, do you? But they do. Each of your fellow owls has more brain in a single talon than you hold in your great empty head. But I fooled them too, didn’t I? They are too trusting to deserve to be our leaders, and their trust in you was misplaced. That is becoming clear to them now. You thought that you and I were partners. Equals in a venture to take Birddom into a glorious future. But you have no future, for one very simple reason – your presumptuousness at considering yourself my equal. For that, you must pay the ultimate price, and your friends also, I’m afraid.

  ‘We no longer need you anyway. Yours is a redundant species. We corvids can rule Birddom more effectively than you ever could. Because we are not soft-hearted like them, or soft-headed like you, Engar. We will make the tough choices, and we will do so without regard for the feelings of lesser birds. Slyekin was right about that, at least. His dream of a Birddom ruled by magpie and crow, raven and rook is rekindled here today. He betrayed that dream in pursuit of personal glory. But I will not. The corvidae will rule the world, and nothing will stop us. Once we have disposed of the seven of you, no one will dare to stand against us.

  ‘And, speaking of Slyekin reminds me that there is unfinished business to be dealt with. His plans for the Great Feast included a splendid mass-execution of owls. Unfortunately, he did not live to see this dream become a reality. But what was denied us then will be re-enacted before us here today, with my humble self as Master of Ceremonies. Don’t look so shocked, Engar, my friend. You have always loved being the centre of attention, haven’t you? All eyes will be upon you, I can assure you of that. I am going to save you until last, so that you can witness the full extent of your folly!’

  Tears of self-pity welled up in Engar’s eyes, and Traska looked at the barn owl with a sneer of total contempt.

  ‘Pull yourself together, and take what is coming to you like an owl. You have enjoyed the suffering of others. Now permit others to enjoy your suffering, my friend. I promise you that it will be exquisite for us – and excruciating for you. Surprise me, and face death with something approaching dignity. I watched Lostri die. And Claudia, too. They met their end as owls should. But will you be brave, Engar, or will you squeal and plead for your life? I think I know the answer to that question.’

  Engar’s body slumped against the bough of the tree in which he sat, as deflated as a popped balloon. He had no words with which to answer Traska’s cruelty. He could not even find it in himself to speak to the owls whom he had led into peril. No apology passed his beak. No words of comfort for his frightened colleagues. The bag of wind was finally empty, and Traska turned his back on him dismissively.

  ‘My friends and fellow corvidae, we are approaching the anniversary of the Great Feast. This is something to celebrate. And, of course, it will be the anniversary of the Great Battle too, which is not. But it is something to avenge, and we have it in our power to do so. We will not wait. The moon is but a sliver in the sky, and pleasures such as this should not be delayed. Her silver eye does not look fully upon us, but casts instead a sly and knowing glance in our direction. Let the deed be done tonight.’

  He rounded on Engar and the other owls once again. ‘Prepare yourselves,’ he warned. ‘This is going to hurt you a great deal more than it will hurt us! But pain doesn’t last, unfortunately. Soon you won’t be able to feel a thing – ever again!’

  *

  There had been a
great deal of meeting and greeting. Pagen and Merion had arrived at Tanglewood first, and the robin introduced his companion to Tomar with formality and respect. ‘Tomar, this is Pagen, son of Kraken and leader of the Great Flock.’

  ‘Welcome, Pagen,’ Tomar responded, allowing himself a small smile at Merion’s overt show of courtesy. ‘Thank you for coming to our aid. I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you decided to help us.’

  ‘I come in my father’s stead, because he is no longer able to make such a journey. Blindness has robbed him of his majesty, and so you will have to make do with a poor substitute.’

  ‘Not so,’ said the owl. ‘I know your father very well. We have had adventures together, and I am sure that none of his majesty has been lost. Kraken was always a formidable bird, and may yet have a part to play. I can see so much of him reflected in your eyes, Pagen. You are no substitute, so far as I am concerned. You will bring fresh ideas, and a younger mind to our rather ancient council.’

  Merion closed his beak hard on a retort. He was far from ancient! Instead, he proceeded to acquaint Tomar with the discussions that he and Pagen had had, concerning Septimus’ riddle.

  The seagull joined in, eagerly. ‘So much of what Septimus has told us is not as it seems. His rhymes are like tiny fish. Just when you think that you have hold of them, they slip away again. It is very frustrating.’

  Tomar nodded his head, in agreement. ‘Yes, I have been wracking my brain on their meaning ever since Merion and his sister returned home, and told me the rhyme. At times I think that I understand, but then the significance of a line eludes me, and I begin to doubt that I really grasp any of it. But you must forgive my manners. You must both be tired and hungry after your long journey. Merion, what can we offer our esteemed friend from our meagre larder here in Tanglewood?’