The senior scientist cleared his throat. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is an historic moment for our great country. The national sacrifice must be honoured and justified by our actions. We must not shirk from our duty. Killing is no pleasure for any of us, but we are being as merciful as we can possibly be. Remember why we are doing this: for the betterment of life for all of our people. Man has always battled with Nature, from prehistoric times, when he marked his achievements with daily survival in the face of terrifying predators, to the time when Man reached into space, defying gravity in his thirst for exploration and knowledge.
‘It is in that spirit that today we join those great pioneers of human achievement. It is my particular honour, and privilege, to begin the countdown by pressing this switch. A countdown to an unforgettable moment in Man’s history.’
Tomar found that the entrance to the tunnel was scarcely large enough to allow him passage, but he turned and thanked the tiny mouse, who smiled briefly and then scuttled off into the safety of the undergrowth.
‘How on earth did they ever get Kraken down here?’ he mused, then, shrugging his wings, entered the hole head-first and plunged into its gloom, noticing the coolness inside the tunnel, after the warmth of the mid-morning sun on his back. He was also immediately assailed by the smell. Acrid and fishy, it reeked of seagull, and nearly made the old owl retch. He persevered, however, and soon heard a plaintive whimpering coming from the darkness ahead. Kraken was calling out, but in a broken voice, dispirited and forlorn: ‘Where is everybody? Help me. I need some food. I must stretch my wings. Is anybody there?’
Tomar called back, telling the great gull that he was coming, and that everything would be all right. Kraken’s response was almost pathetic in its gratitude, and Tomar winced at how far the leader of the Great Flock had fallen. Turning a bend in the tunnel, Tomar could make out a light, presumably coming from the other entrance, and could see a large central chamber where Kraken slumped in a debris of fish-heads and faecal sacks. Tomar gulped, then forced a smile for the benefit of his old friend – realising the foolishness of this a second later.
‘He can’t see you, you fool,’ he scolded himself softly, before calling out once more to the seagull. ‘Kraken, my friend. It is Tomar. Do you remember me?’
‘I’m blind, not senile!’ Kraken snapped back immediately, before continuing apologetically. ‘I am sorry, Tomar. Of course I remember my Great Owl. It has been many years, my friend. How have you been?’
‘The years have not been kind to either of us, Kraken,’ Tomar replied. ‘But we are still here. Old and cranky we may be, but still very much alive. Now, let’s get you out of here.’
Kraken’s horrified reaction surprised Tomar. But then he realised that the events of the last couple of days must have given the seagull a severe fright. It would have been bad enough for any bird incarcerated in what was virtually a cell, but for one that was blind? Tomar could not begin to imagine what his friend must have felt. He knew that he would not be able to rush Kraken. He would need to take it slowly, and help his old friend rebuild his courage.
He sat quietly next to the seagull and, ignoring the noxious smell as best he could, chatted to him about old times and former glories. He could feel Kraken gradually relaxing, but it took a long time before he dared broach the subject of departure again. A look of concern flickered across the seagull’s face, and he smiled bravely but nervously. Tomar reached forward, and touched the seagull’s outstretched primaries with his own wing-tips.
‘Don’t let go!’ Kraken’s voice was a mixture of hope and despair.
‘I haven’t made this journey purely for the exercise, my friend. I will not let go. Now, can you stand?’
‘Barely. The chamber gives me enough room but the tunnel is very narrow. I will try, though, but please keep talking. I can follow the sound of your voice if I lose contact with you.’
Tomar realised, with some shock, that Kraken was terrified of his solitude, but did as the great black-backed gull asked. ‘It is much more difficult to get an owl to stop talking. Especially one who is so fond of his own voice. Oh, by the way, I met your son the other day. Pagen is a fine bird. You must be very proud of him.’
‘Yes, I am,’ Kraken answered, following his friend slowly up the long underground run. ‘He has taken over the leadership of the flock in a most satisfactory manner.’
At this point, Kraken’s voice betrayed his bitterness at the wing that Fate had dealt to him, and Tomar intervened swiftly.
‘There were some other birds there that you might well remember: Storne and Darreal.’
Kraken’s mood brightened at the mention of these names. ‘A pair of scoundrels if ever any flew in Birddom!’ he said, laughing deep in his craw.
‘They send their greetings – to the biggest scoundrel of them all!’ Tomar replied, matching the seagull’s improved mood.
Their upward progress was slowed by the narrowness of the tunnel, and Tomar’s awkwardness in trying to walk backwards, while keeping hold of one of Kraken’s wings. Eventually, however, the old owl could feel the first stirrings of a breeze on his tail, and the air pushing past him became welcomingly fresh after the stench of the chamber. Wriggling free of the ground, Tomar backed out of the tunnel entrance, and, turning, came face to face with Traska.
‘Look what the earth just spat out!’ the magpie sneered, derisively. ‘Not that I am surprised. I can’t stomach you myself!’
Chapter Twenty Two
A low hum that resonated throughout the whole of Birddom commenced at first light. It was a natural sound, part of everyday life, but pitched at an unnatural intensity. It spoke of injustice and deep, deep anger. Billions of insects were communicating, gaining strength from the unity of their rage.
‘Kill!’ some said. ‘Kill every bird in the land!’
‘It will be done, but we must have patience for a few short hours more,’ others replied, and their cautiousness prevailed. ‘We have waited so long for our revenge, and have planned it so carefully. With the full height of the sun, we will be at our most active. Its warmth will give us the power to kill. We must wait until noon.’
‘We will wait, because it will be worth waiting for. Not a single bird will sing for their supper tonight. Instead they will provide a great feast for all of us. We will dine on bird-flesh, my friends.’
This message buzzed through the enclaves, heightening the excitement of the billions that waited, and intensifying still further the wall of sound that echoed across the land. Every bird heard it and trembled, without knowing the cause. Not a single insect could be seen, but the noise confirmed that they had not chosen Man’s path in abandoning the land. They could not be seen, but they could be heard.
The gathering of heroes in the Council ring could hear the hum of the insects, and it caused them great disquiet. They had stood together, some hours earlier, facing the rising sun at dawn with a mutual feeling of exhilaration. The day had finally come. Today they would enter into Avia. But what had this eerie sound to do with the mystery? Did the insects somehow have a part to play? No. It was inconceivable that they were bound up in every bird’s destiny. The sound was altogether wrong. There was immense anger in its music, which jarred with their notion of the joyous experience to come.
The six companions all started talking at once, as if, by so occupying themselves, they could stifle their individual fears, for each was clearly unnerved by the sounds that they heard.
‘Will everywhere in Avia be as beautiful as this?’ Merion asked, to no one in particular.
‘More beautiful,’ his sister replied. ‘Birddom is a wonderful place, but Avia will be magical. Remember, it is a place where Man has never been, and so it will bear no trace of his blight, as Birddom does.’
‘The water will be clean and pure,’ Darreal promised.
‘And don’t forget, teeming with fish!’ Page
n added.
‘More than even you can eat!’ said Storne. ‘And there will be no disease. No bird will ever be sick again, and no predator will take advantage of one weakened by illness.’
‘There will be no predators,’ Meldra assured them. ‘You cannot have a paradise with such enemies within its bounds, can you?’
‘No,’ Olivia replied. ‘If Avia is as perfect a place as Tomar says it is, we will finally be free from all danger, and will live out our lives in perfect peace and contentment.’
‘The perfect peace part would do for me right now,’ Storne said, reluctantly acknowledging the continual hum of noise that pervaded even this quietest of places. And, as he spoke the words, each of the heroes’ minds was refocused on that dreadful sound. What could the insects be doing? And would it interfere in any way with their journey into Avia?
*
Tomar’s body blocked Traska’s view of the entrance into Kraken’s tunnel, and, alerted by the tensing of the owl’s wing muscles when Tomar had registered the presence of the evil magpie, the seagull sat silently inside the tunnel and listened, with horror, to the voice of his old enemy.
‘You have led me a merry dance, that is for sure. But look at you, you ragged old fool. You’re covered in dust and cobwebs. What have you been up to? And you smell to high heaven. Have you been scavenging for rubbish like your friends, the gulls? Is that what you are forced to resort to now? What a long and wasted journey you must have had, and you supposed to be so clever. Any fool could have worked out that the seagulls would have been long gone, with Man trampling all over this place. I mean, just look at it. Whatever possessed you to come all this way in the first place?’
‘What are you doing here?’ Tomar asked, in an attempt to distract the magpie from his train of thought.
‘Oh, that’s simple. I followed you, my oldest and dearest friend, because I have decided that the time has come for me to end your life. You have plagued me for far too long, and enough is enough. I am going to kill you, Tomar, ex-Great Owl of Birddom. Oh, by the way, I am king now. Had you heard?’
‘I have no time for the prattle of idiots,’ the owl replied.
Anger flared in his opponent’s eyes. ‘I won’t be looking so idiotic to you in a minute!’ Traska screeched indignantly, and made as if to lunge forward at his adversary. Tomar forestalled him by taking several steps sideways, drawing the magpie’s attention away from the entrance-hole.
‘Have you the courage?’ the owl taunted. ‘You talk a great deal, but, if my memory serves, you have always found others to do your dirty work for you.’
‘Don’t forget Kirrick!’ Traska snarled.
‘No. I will never forget my friend. But that was an uneven contest and a sneak attack. You have never had the guts for a fair fight.’
‘Well, here I am now, and ours will be a fair fight, right enough.’
As he spoke, the magpie hopped a little to his right, forcing Tomar to emerge from the shade of a rock into the bright sunlight. The sun was almost overhead, and there were few shadows to offer protection from its glare – a factor which would count against the usually-nocturnal owl. Tomar realised the evil magpie’s intentions, and yet saw at once how they might be used to his own advantage. He continued to circle around the magpie, until Traska now stood where he had a minute before.
Inside the mouth of the tunnel, Kraken seethed with anger. He had unfinished business with this bird. This cruel and wicked magpie, who had stolen the life of his daughter all those years ago. Robbed of his sight, the seagull’s other senses had sharpened remarkably. Now that the fresh air had cleared the stench out of his nostrils, Kraken could smell his adversary. And his keen hearing could pinpoint the magpie’s position. So long as Tomar could keep Traska talking...
The stored energy in the vast array of magnets that totally encircled Birddom was reaching its maximum. Each huge metal structure vibrated with a deep musical hum, which acted as a bass counterpoint to the buzz of the insects. The latter rose and intensified as the excitement level increased. Acting now as one massive organism, the insect nation prepared itself for battle. Barely able to contain the mounting thrill of anger within its ranks, the beast screamed out its warning to the world: ‘Soon. Very soon!’
The sun was a mere degree or two away from its zenith, but Nature’s own clock was not sufficiently precise for Man’s needs. His countdown was ordered by the latest technology, and the very finest of precision instrumentation. On the other hand, short of an event that would signal the end of the universe, the sun had no parts that could break down. The electronic timer did, however. At exactly five minutes before noon, the clock stopped.
This went unnoticed for thirty seconds only, before a junior technician on the oil-rig spotted the problem. After jumping several feet in the air with shock, he reported the failure to his superior. A back-up system had been provided, of course, for such an eventuality, but, upon inspection, this was found to be lacking an ordinary cell battery. The irony of this, when so much stored energy had been pumped into the magnets onshore, was lost on the man in charge, who proceeded, with quiet anger, to unclip his wrist-watch ostentatiously from his left arm, and to order that control be switched to manual-override.
‘At what point did the countdown stop?’ he demanded.
‘Five minutes to go, sir,’ the young man answered, nervously.
‘Right then. We are at D minus five and counting from... now.’
The scientist ignored the questioning look in his subordinate’s eyes. So, they would be a couple of minutes late. What of it? What possible difference could a couple of minutes make?
Nothing seemed to be happening. The group of heroes stared at each other, uncomprehending. Oh, nothing had ever been said about the precise timing of any possible event that would lead to the gateway being revealed, but every bird there had assumed that noon was a logical point in the day for such a revelation. But, now that it had all but been reached, they were at a loss as to what to do next. Should they simply continue to wait? After all, the day still had twelve hours to go. Or had they somehow got it horribly wrong? Had they misunderstood Septimus’ urgent message about the timing? Had Tomar jumped to conclusions and, if so, how could they know when the gateway to Avia would appear?
Nothing was happening, except for the constant and menacing hum that filled their heads and drove them to distraction. A sound that rose with each passing minute, becoming more strident and more urgent. But what did it mean? All they had were questions, and the heroes, large and small, felt their failure keenly.
‘We have made fools of ourselves,’ thought Storne. ‘Everyone in Birddom will laugh at us when this day is over.’
‘We’ve made a mistake,’ Olivia told herself. ‘It doesn’t seem possible that there can be any other explanation. Tomar must have been wrong, after all. Perhaps he really is too old?’
Darreal’s thoughts took him on a more resentful track. ‘Waste of bloody time!’ he grumbled, and then checked himself at the change of sound. The insect hum had altered pitch and timbre, as if a trap-door had been opened, and the tight expression of rage had finally been given its freedom. Was this the signal? Did the insects hold the key to Avia after all?
Merion noticed the new sound before the others. Initially it was very low and soft, almost entirely drowned out by the buzz of the approaching insects. But it grew louder, like a rushing wind. A mournful sound, that built and built until they could hear nothing else.
All across Birddom, birds gathered together in their thousands. Each massive crowd was an exotic mix of species, and every bird there drew strength from the multitude – reassuring themselves and quelling their doubts. Each looked at their neighbour and thought, ‘Well, he believes in Tomar’s Avia, or he wouldn’t be here. It must be true. We will be saved!’
The need for reassurance was great indeed. For Birddom seemed suddenly full of
menace. Tomar’s messengers had warned that their land, as they knew it, was finished, and now the dreadful sounds all around seemed to confirm this. The terrible and ever-increasing noise of the stirring insects, that had begun shortly after dawn, had been compounded in the last hour by an ominous unnatural hum, which unnerved all in the gathering and made them huddle closer together for comfort.
Was this the sound of the apocalypse? And would their salvation come in time? They had been promised a gateway into a better world, but their fear of the present peril ate away at their faith in that glorious future. They had been told of the need to find a state of mind – a tranquil acceptance – that would help them to face the trials to come. But, now, as their ears registered a new sound and their eyes told them what they could scarcely believe, the collective state of mind was one of pure terror.
‘Come on then, get it over with.’
Tomar faced his enemy without fear. He had lived long enough in this world, and had tried to serve it as best he could. If he was now to die, so be it. He would have liked to have seen Avia before he died, but maybe that was not the Creator’s will.
‘A pleasure like this should not be rushed,’ the magpie answered, and his taunting comment gave the old owl an idea. Screaming suddenly, more for Kraken’s benefit than for himself, Tomar launched himself at the evil magpie, forcing Traska to retreat a few steps to avoid the thrust. It was enough. Kraken’s heightened senses served him well. Judging, with pinpoint accuracy, the position of his enemy, the seagull flung himself forward out of the mouth of the tunnel, and wrapped his wings tightly around Traska. To the magpie’s utter astonishment, he was now pinned to the ground by an adversary who had taken him completely by surprise. Squirming desperately to free himself, and, at the same time, to avoid the seagull’s deadly beak, Traska fought for his life.
Tomar was mesmerised by the effectiveness of his friend’s attack, and paused for a vital second before rushing to Kraken’s aid. But, at that moment, all three birds froze, stricken by the sound that assailed their ears. It couldn’t be happening! Such a thing was not possible! Not in Birddom. But there could be no mistaking that sound. A baying, throaty roar that swept towards them at astonishing speed: the howling of wolves.
Seven for a Secret Page 24