by Nancy Yi Fan
Miltin’s mother quickly helped him up. “I’m not dreaming, am I, my son? Let me take a closer look at you…” she murmured lovingly. “Goodness! Why are you wearing bandages? Are you wounded?”
His father, Reymarsh, helped him through the door. “Let’s go into the room first, Miltin. You must be tired.”
After they had settled comfortably on cushions, Miltin spoke. “Mother, Father, this is Aska, of Stone-Run Forest. She is here to ask if she can borrow our Leasorn gem.”
“What happened? That hawk again?” Reymarsh quickly asked with grave concern.
“The hawk Turnatt made me and the other captives slavebirds at his fortress in Stone-Run. He also attacked Aska’s tribe and other birds there. They need our help. Father, you must lead your troops to Stone-Run with the Leasorn tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, or it’ll be too late. Turnatt will attack Aska’s tribe.”
There was silence. “You need a good rest,” Reymarsh said in a low voice. “And you know the ritual didn’t work perfectly. Swordbird didn’t stay long enough, and we don’t know why.”
“Promise me you will go tomorrow…” Miltin begged.
Reymarsh nodded slowly. Miltin faintly smiled. He opened his beak as if to say something more but suddenly collapsed.
The room was in a turmoil. Miltin’s mother called his name again and again. The medicine bird quickly came. “Miltin is in danger, I’m afraid,” he reported gravely after an examination.
Miltin’s mother burst into tears. “How can you be in such a state, Miltin?” she wailed. “You were healthy and well before you were captured! How can you be so sick after just over a month?”
“Madame, you need to be calm. Let Miltin rest,” the medicine bird said.
After a few hours Miltin’s eyelids fluttered and opened a crack, revealing his dry and tired eyes. He did nothing but breathe raspingly for a long time. His head spun with dizziness and pain, and he could hardly see anything but numerous spots before his eyes. He felt as if his whole body were in a bonfire.
The flower sent by Swordbird had helped him, he realized. But it couldn’t heal him. All Swordbird had been able to do was to give him strength to reach home and complete his mission. “Thank you, Swordbird,” he whispered faintly.
“Miltin! Miltin!” He heard Aska calling his name. He was not sure where Aska was. She seemed to be far off…
A warm, unfamiliar feeling enveloped him. No. He could not just let it come. Miltin tried his hardest to speak, but his throat was too dry for him to utter a clear word. His first attempt ended in a round of terrible coughs and hacks. But soon he managed a small, weak whisper.
“A-Aska…” he croaked. “I cannot go on to bring my slavebird friends to freedom. Please complete the task for me. You are a powerful, determined blue jay, and I choose you to finish it. Soon I will die. I wish I would see Turnatt be destroyed and the slavebirds go free, through your eyes.” He paused just a little and attempted a smile. The strange feeling once again tried to swallow him. He turned to his parents. “Father! Please fly with Aska, to Stone-Run… Turnatt must be destroyed…” His voice grew barely audible. “I love you, Mother and Father…”
The strange feeling came a third time to take him away. This time Miltin did not struggle to keep it off. He let the warmness go through his whole body; he felt as if he were soaring. A burst of brilliant colors filled his vision. They soon merged into a shade of blood red. The red turned into black. Miltin felt as if he were flying through a dark tunnel. The tunnel seemed endless, full of twists and turns. He was not afraid; he ventured on.
He shot through the opening of the tunnel and into the sky. Miltin’s wings no longer hurt, his chest and back no longer ached, and he felt happy and free. Looking behind, he could see his body lying in the nest bed. Around it were his parents, Aska, and his tribe friends. They were crying. All the Waterthorn birds were crying. He hovered in the air for a minute, gazing at them, carving all of them into his memory. “Good-bye, Mother and Father. Good-bye, Aska. Farewell, Waterthorn,” he whispered, tears in his eyes. After a while he reluctantly turned and flew toward the skyline, till his tribe was no longer visible in the distance. He flew higher and did loops in the air. Higher and higher he went, until he was flying next to the sun.
“He’s gone, gone to Sky Land,” whispered Reymarsh, gazing sadly at the still form. He leaned on the hilt of his sword, trying to hold back his tears. “Turnatt, you’ll pay!”
Miltin’s mother sobbed. Aska, with tears streaming down her cheeks, steadied and comforted her.
Aska sorrowfully looked at the robin’s peaceful features. Miltin had a little smile on his face. The afternoon breeze ruffled his feathers. He seemed to be asleep, dreaming of wonderful things. He could live in his dreams forever.
Rest in peace, Miltin, Aska thought. I will fulfill your wish.
The wind blew softly over the maples, as if in mourning.
The next day Reymarsh and his tribesbirds held a funeral for Miltin and planted blue flowers on the grave. After that the robin leader readied his troops and took out the red Leasorn. They flew toward Stone-Run with Aska in the lead, chanting furiously, “Down with Turnatt! Set the slavebirds free!”
Preparedness may avert danger.
– FROM THE OLD SCRIPTURE
20 PREPARATIONS
Turnatt waited for Shadow’s return, eager to hear of the destructions of the cardinals’ camp.
Those little woodbirds killed a score of my best soldiers, he thought. I’ll see them destroyed! To pass the time, he idly turned the pages of the Book of Heresy, although he knew every paragraph by heart. “ Defiance spreads like a plague,” he murmured to himself, quoting his favorite passages. “Let no one oppose you, even for a second. Crush them before thoughts of rebellion can spread.”
But Shadow had been left with no archers or scouts, half a cape, some patches of bald skin, and wounds from arrows and darts-none serious but all painful. He was winging his way, not back toward Fortress Glooming, but deeper into the forest, away from the cardinals and the blue jays and away from the hawk lord as well. Shadow had no intention of returning to face Turnatt and confess his failure.
First there was that strange incident at the Waterthorn tribe, he mused as he flew. Then those cardinals and blue jays defeated Slime-beak, and now even I could not conquer them. Turnatt’s fortune is changing, the raven decided. He’s no longer a lord I wish to serve.
The deep shadows of the midnight forest swallowed the raven, and nobird could tell where he had gone.
Glenagh sat in the hall of the cardinals’ main tree, bandages wound around his head. In front of him was the Old Scripture of the cardinals.
In the margin of the last page of the Old Scripture, Glenagh noticed some words: “The first verse will make Swordbird appear; the second will make him stay long enough. The first verse is in this book; the second will be from your heart. Express your wishes there.”
Glenagh stared at the page, his heart thumping excitedly. Here was the key. At last he knew what was needed to bring Swordbird and make him stay. He dipped his quill pen in the inkwell and started to write quickly on a fresh piece of paper.
Aska, Reymarsh, and his tribe fighters pushed on with their journey to Stone-Run during the night. They passed the White Cap Mountains quite smoothly, avoiding the Sklarkills by traveling in darkness. In the morning they soon passed the border and entered Stone-Run.
“I’m in your embrace again, dear Stone-Run,” Aska murmured happily. She forgot all the hardships on the journey and sped up, flying faster and faster.
The shortest way of getting to the Bluewingle camp was to pass the cardinals’ home first. So Aska, Reymarsh, and his robins headed there. Before they drew near, some cardinals darted out. “You’re back, Aska!” they cried.
Aska introduced Reymarsh and the robins to them, and the birds talked while they flew.
“Where’s Miltin?” one of the cardinals asked.
; Everybird became sad and silent at the question, especially Reymarsh, whose face filled with grief. Aska said in a low voice, “He had been too seriously wounded at Fortress Glooming, and we were attacked in the mountains as well. He passed away not long after he reached home.”
The birds fell silent, mourning.
After a while Aska broke the silence. “How’s my tribe?”
“We have bad news, Aska,” a cardinal answered with his head bowed. “Your tribe trees were burned by Turnatt’s birds.”
Aska gasped in horror. “Have birds taken the flight to Sky Land?”
“Only a few, may Swordbird bless their souls. The rest are living with us now. Come and see them.”
Before the cardinal finished his sentence, they had already landed on the threshold of the Sunrise camp. Flame-back, Skylion, Glenagh, and others greeted them warmly, welcoming them inside.
Reymarsh took the red Leasorn gem out of his tunic. “Here’s the Leasorn that you urgently need,” he said, passing the gem to Flame-back. “With it, and the ‘Song of Swordbird,’ the great Swordbird can be called.”
Flame-back accepted the Leasorn and gingerly held it close to his eyes, examining it. The multifaceted gem was translucent and bright, and it seemed as though there were countless crystal windows inside. When Flame-back turned it slowly, it gave off gleaming red sparks. Everybird gathered around the gem in awe.
“Have you got the ‘Song of Swordbird’?” Reymarsh asked Flame-back and Skylion.
Skylion turned his head to Glenagh.
“Yes.” Glenagh nodded.
Reymarsh said, “Last time, when my tribe called for Swordbird, Swordbird didn’t stay long enough after he appeared. We don’t know what we did wrong. I only hope things will be different for your tribe.”
“I believe so,” Glenagh began with enthusiasm. “I found the instructions for the second verse of the ‘Song of Swordbird’ in the most unexpected place.” He held up a piece of paper.
“A second verse!” Reymarsh cried. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“You’re right,” Glenagh explained. “If we make the second verse ourselves, and it comes from our hearts, then Swordbird will not just appear but stay. I’ve finished the second verse. Here.”
Reymarsh read it eagerly. “Great. It’s well written. Let’s make some more copies for everybird.”
“Don’t forget us!” a loud voice sang out. Lorpil, standing nearby, had been listening. “If there is music involved, the Willowleaf Theater must play and sing. We have our professional pride, you know.”
Skylion laughed and promised to get copies of the music to the theater birds. “But where should we put the gem during the ritual, Reymarsh?”
“Well, when we did it, we first put the gem on a platform. But realizing the danger of its getting snatched away by the enemy birds, we let a tribesbird carry it in his beak. It’s dangerous work,” Reymarsh said. “That bird could easily become a target for the enemy.”
“Let me hold the Leasorn during the ritual. I’m not afraid,” Aska said quietly.
Glenagh patted her back. “You’ve done a lot for Stone-Run, young lass. You should rest a bit.”
“I need to fulfill Miltin’s last wishes.” Aska dipped her head. Everybird became silent when they heard this.
As Aska left the meeting room, she saw a blue jay standing in front of her. He held a red rose held in his claw, the first rose blossom of the year.
“It’s you, Cody. What a surprise!” Aska exclaimed.
“This flower is for you, our heroine,” Cody said sincerely, and handed the rose to Aska.
When Turnatt realized that Shadow was not going to return, he was so angry that he slammed the Book of Heresy shut. He shook his wings and screeched his rage so loud that it made everybird’s ears in Fortress Glooming ring for several seconds.
He would no longer send his captain and soldiers to do this job, Turnatt decided. He would lead an attack against the woodbirds himself.
They stared through the splendor of the lights,
through the clouds of faint colors that veiled
the sky, for they knew behind them,
he was here, finally here.
– FROM A STORY IN THE OLD SCRIPTURE
21 SWORDBIRD!
The afternoon sun lazily shone on the cardinals’ camp. Everything seemed to be calm, but the birds were still wary. They knew Turnatt would not leave them alone for long.
A young cardinal on watch poked his head out of a tree but suddenly drew back in terror. “Turnatt’s coming! He’s got an army of crows and ravens to attack us!”
Surprise and alarm spread among the woodbirds in the blink of an eye. Everybird pushed aside leaves to get a better view. There they were, in the southern sky, a dark speck leading a flow of smaller specks, coming closer and closer.
“Get our troops ready!”
“Where’s the Leasorn gem? Give it to me!”
“I’ll pass the song sheets!”
Reymarsh boomed in his deep voice, “Everybird, prepare for battle! Quick!” Soon about 80 woodbirds prepared to greet Turnatt’s 130 or more crows and ravens. The cardinals, blue jays, and robins pulled out their weapons. They formed a circle around the cardinals’ camp with their backs to the tribe trees. Some were stationed in the air; others were on the ground. The woodbirds raised their weapons as the leaders of the red, the blue, and the robins roared their war cries simultaneously.
“Power of the sun! Sunrise, charge!” the cardinals shouted.
“Attack! Bluewingles forever!” the blue jays yelled.
The robins did not miss a beat. “Death to the enemies! Waterthorn, fight!”
The war cries enraged Turnatt. “Go on and yell for all you’re worth,” he growled. He ordered his captain to send out attack signals. Turnatt’s soldiers rushed at the defending birds, who braced themselves to hold their line and keep the attackers off. Arrows flew. Birds screamed in pain. They battled in the air, wings and swords flashing. But the defenders were outnumbered. They could not hold out forever.
Aska, Glenagh, Cody, and the theater members flew as quickly as they could to the top of the main camp tree. Aska held the Leasorn gem in her beak, and the theater birds brought their instruments to play the song. Dilby played the harmonica, Kastin the flute, and Mayflower the clarinet. Alexandra plucked the harp, Parrale tapped a small drum, and Lorpil shook the maracas. Cody, leading the song, turned his face to the blue sky:
There’s a place we know that holds peace.
There’s a time we know that treasures peace.
There’s a reason we know why we want peace.
There’s a bird we know who can create peace.
Swordbird, Swordbird!
Oh, let us have peace.
Oh, let us have freedom once more.
Let the evil be driven away.
Let the forest be filled with sunshine.
Make the land a peaceful place once more.
May peace and freedom be with birds forever.
The others followed his example, and soon they were all singing their hearts out. The song was so touching that the air trembled at it; the song was so magical that the trees swayed with it.
The theater members played with so much emotion that they were lost in the music. Never before had they played so well. The red Leasorn in Aska’s beak shone brighter and brighter, more and more beautiful with every note. From the gem, countless beams of red light streaked out to the sky, as if awaiting the arrival of Swordbird. Aska raised her head high. The blinding light was unbearable, but she remained motionless with her eyes closed. Swordbird! Come to Stone-Run, Swordbird! she thought over and over.
The song increased in volume at every note, and it seemed as if the whole forest could hear it. It encouraged the woodbirds and frightened the crows and ravens. The words about peace and freedom made the woodbirds stronger and more courageous. The crows and ravens began to falter.
Turnatt was a little troubled by the singing, but he
told himself again and again, “Don’t listen to that rubbish song!”
The hawk lord turned to his captain, Slime-beak. “Get those soldiers back to fighting!” he bellowed. “Pay no attention to that song!”
The captain hurried away. To calm his uneasiness, the hawk joined the fighting. Whomever he met, he killed, but each woodbird was braver than the last.
As soon as the final note of the first verse faded into the air, the sky grew darkish gray. It became grayer, and grayer…and flash! There was never so bright a light, so intense that all the birds couldn’t help closing their eyes. It seemed for a second that everything in the forest was as white as new snow. Nothing happened to the woodbirds and the theater birds, but some of the soldiers of Fortress Glooming screamed as their visions became dark forever.
A small whirlwind appeared in the center of the sky. The wind sucked in clouds and soon developed into a spiral of bright colors-glowing rose red, soft golden yellow, lush spring green, vivid peacock blue, and elegant violet. The colors seemed alive, moving, mixing, and changing. Sparkles glistened from the whirlwind as it picked up speed, like small stars dancing in the dark. The winds grew stronger and stronger, strong enough to blow the crows and ravens right off the ground. They struggled, flapped, and yelled. But they were sucked into the whirlpool of colors and never seen again.
Strangely, the wind did nothing to the woodbirds or the theater members. They stood still, watching the wonder unfold before their eyes.
But Turnatt didn’t get the title of tyrant for nothing. He was a sly hawk. Seeing the wind grow stronger, he sneaked away from the battleground and into a cave. He didn’t realize that in this cave huddled the red and the blue. Fortunately for the woodbirds in the cave, the hawk didn’t venture very far inside. He stayed in the entrance, observing the sky and the cardinals’ camp.
Suddenly a streak of forked lightning lit up the whole forest. An earsplitting roll of thunder followed, a sound that vibrated along the grounds and made the tall trees shake. When the lightning faded away into the misty air, there hovered an enormous white bird holding a gleaming sword. Swordbird!
