The Wishbird

by Gabrielle Wang

  Then she saw it, that lush expanse of green and, in the centre, towering majestically above the Forest, the ancient Banyan tree.

  Oh, happy is my heart to see my home again, she thought. The colours of green, the song of the birds, the cool shadows and sweet-smelling air.

  She landed on a branch of the old tree. It swayed gently beneath her. Oriole stepped into her nest and looked down. There lay a single gold feather from the crown on Mellow’s head. She looked across at Fern Pond and a chill grew in her heart. Am I too late? Has Mellow already . . . She dared not say the word.

  A darkness fell over her and her hearing dimmed. There was no more hope – the King, the City of Solace, the people, all finished.

  There was a soft fluttering of wings and a chirping.

  Oriole opened her eyes.

  Redbill sat on a nearby branch. Then Purplewing appeared and Yellowspot and Droplet. And finally the Peewee birds.

  ‘Oriole has returned!’ they cried.

  ‘I have failed,’ she said. ‘I could not save our Mellow . . .’

  ‘No, Oriole, there is still hope,’ Redbill said. ‘Hurry. He has been calling for you.’

  ‘Mellow is still alive?’ Oriole sprang to her feet and her wings fluttered around her.

  The birds stared and stared. ‘What has happened to you? Why, you have become a beautiful bird,’ they said.

  ‘I do not have time to explain, dear ones,’ said Oriole. ‘I must take Mellow to the City of Solace to be with his King. Where is he?’

  ‘We moved him to Fire Rock where it is warm,’ said Redbill.

  Oriole beat her great wings in the air and flew away, leaving the birds staring after her in disbelief.

  Mellow was lying on a soft bed of moss, his eyes half closed. He stirred when Oriole knelt down beside him.

  ‘Dear, dear Mellow,’ Oriole said, softly.

  Mellow opened his eyes and saw a glorious bird girl with turquoise wings bending over him.

  ‘Nightingale?’ he whispered.

  ‘No, it is Oriole,’ she said. ‘I have come to take you to your King.’

  He smiled weakly and closed his eyes again.

  ‘Droplet, Redbill, fetch my pouch from the Banyan tree so that I may carry Mellow safely inside it,’ Oriole said.

  Never before had the birds felt such reverence. Oriole had returned and she had changed. And it was not only her wings and feathers that were different. She had the aura of a Princess.

  ‘Shall we come with you?’ the birds asked when they returned with the pouch.

  ‘Not this time,’ Oriole replied as she gently placed Mellow inside it. She knew the way would be dangerous if the Barbarian Army was close. And after what had happened in the Domed Room . . .

  ‘Goodbye, dear ones,’ she said as she spread her wings.

  ‘Safe journey, Princess,’ they all cried.

  The Wind was Oriole’s friend. Sometimes it carried her on its back so that all she had to do was keep her wings outstretched. At other times it blew from behind so that she travelled at twice the speed. She knew the landmarks now and she knew when she was close. Mellow slept most of the way, warm inside the pouch.

  As she drew close to the city walls, Oriole watched for the rock in the shape of an eagle. But she saw something else that made her tremble with fear.

  A seething mass of soldiers surrounded the city.

  Oriole found the opening to the tunnel covered with a metal grate. She pulled on the bars but they were held fast. She was trapped . . . on the outside. She thought of flying over the walls. That would be faster, and simpler . . . but also deadly, she realised. Even if the Barbarian soldiers did not shoot her down with their arrows, the guards on the walls would call out an alarm and she would be arrested as soon as she landed in the city. No, she had to use the tunnel.

  The dagger! She suddenly remembered Lord Taku saying it was carved from jade so rare it could cut through metal.

  She glanced at Mellow, lying still but safe in the pouch beside her, and set to work on one of the bars. It snapped in her hand, rusty with age. It did not take long to cut through all the bars, and soon there was an opening large enough for Oriole to squeeze through with Mellow.

  Inside the tunnel she found a basket of torches. She picked one up and lit it with a fire stick from a box nearby. The torch sizzled then burned brightly, lighting up a pathway under the city walls.

  It seemed to take forever to reach a door, and when she saw it she rushed towards it eagerly. Carefully, she pushed it open, just a crack.

  ‘We are almost there, Mellow,’ she whispered, cradling him in the crook of her arm. Mellow had not stirred throughout the entire journey but now she felt him move. She looked down. ‘Mellow?’

  ‘My King is close. I feel him,’ Mellow said. His eyes brightened.

  ‘Oh, Mellow. You are growing well again.’ Oriole kissed his golden crown and brought his soft cheek close to hers.

  The opening to the Throne Room was covered by a large tapestry. She was about to draw it aside when she heard voices. She recognised the voice of Lord Chancellor Mzia.

  ‘I have word that Big Mo Ding will attack at first light,’ the Lord Chancellor said. ‘Order your soldiers to lay down their weapons, General. If we surrender, no one will be harmed.’

  ‘It is my duty to protect the King and this city,’ the General replied.

  ‘The Kingdom of Pafir has already been conquered,’ the Lord Chancellor scoffed. ‘This city is the last stronghold. The King is close to death. We should surrender now.’

  ‘What are you saying, Lord Chancellor?’

  ‘That a new Kingdom will rise from the ashes, General, as will a new ruler. If you are willing to follow this ruler, he will make you his Lord Chancellor, I can promise you that.’

  ‘I will die before serving that barbarian, Big Mo Ding.’

  ‘It is not Big Mo Ding who will be ruler.’

  There was a pause, then a shuffling of feet. ‘You?’ the General laughed. ‘You want to be King?’

  ‘Let us just say I know where our strengths lie and they cannot be served well under the present King,’ Mzia said coolly.

  ‘You are a traitor, Mzia!’ the General shouted.

  A moment later there was a mighty clash of steel. Oriole covered her ears with her hands, the sound was too terrifying. But she could still hear the grunts and groans, the cries of pain.

  When at last there was silence, Mellow spoke. ‘Oriole, it is over. Take me to the King, quickly.’

  Oriole’s heart beat wildly as she peered around the edge of the tapestry. Then she let out a small cry. There on the floor lay the General. His eyes stared lifelessly up at the ceiling.

  ‘The General is dead. The Lord Chancellor has killed him,’ she said with a shudder.

  ‘Look away, child,’ said Mellow. ‘Take me to the King’s chamber. It is across the Courtyard of Four Gingkoes. Hurry, now. But be careful. Mzia is more dangerous than ever now that blood is on his sword.’

  Oriole ran down the hall and out into the courtyard.

  ‘There,’ Mellow said. ‘It is the one with the gold carving on the door.’

  The King lay on a large carved bed with a red silk canopy. A breeze lifted the cloth that hung down, making it billow like the sails of a ship.

  The King stirred as Oriole approached. ‘Who is there?’ he asked weakly.

  Oriole did not reply but set Mellow down on the yellow covers and stepped back into the shadows.

  The King lifted his head from the pillow and stared blindly. ‘Who is it? I cannot see you?’

  Mellow walked across the bedcovers towards him. ‘It is I, your Wishbird, my King,’ he said. ‘I have returned.’

  The King reached out a hand to touch Mellow’s golden crown. Then he stroked the Wishbird’s chest with his finger, the way he used to do when he was a young boy. ‘Mellow . . . It is you . . . I thought I was dreaming.’ He pushed himself up in his bed and leaned towards Mellow, smiling tenderly. He lifted the
Wishbird onto his lap. Mellow ruffled his feathers and let them fall back into place under the King’s touch.

  Oriole clasped her hands together as waves of joy came over her. A healthy pink flush was coming back to the King’s face and Mellow’s feathers were growing ever-brighter as she watched.

  ‘My King,’ Mellow said. ‘There is someone I would like you to meet.’ He flew to sit on Oriole’s shoulder. ‘This is your granddaughter, daughter of the Prince and his beloved, Nightingale.’

  The King stared as Oriole stepped from the shadows. ‘She is the girl . . . the one with the singing tongue . . .’

  ‘Yes, my King, and her name is Oriole.’

  The King rubbed his temples. ‘I do not understand, Mellow.’

  ‘Oriole has lived with me in the Forest of Birds since she was a baby. It was the request of your son and Nightingale, Oriole’s mother, that I take her and protect her and raise her. And that is what I have done these past twelve years since I fled the Palace. Then I became ill and I knew something was wrong in the City of Solace. Oriole made this dangerous journey in order to make me – make us – well again.’

  ‘I murdered my own son, Mellow,’ the King said, sinking back into his pillows.

  ‘No. They were murdered by Lord Chancellor Mzia,’ said Oriole. ‘And he has killed the General. He wants to take over your throne.’

  The King looked at Oriole and then at Mellow.

  ‘Is this true, Mellow?’

  ‘I am afraid it is, my King. And now Big Mo Ding’s army is poised to take the city at dawn.’

  The King’s eyes were wet with tears as he looked at Oriole. His chest heaved. Oriole went to the bed and sat down beside her grandfather. She placed her small hand in his.

  ‘You are my flesh and blood, my son’s own child,’ he said gently, looking into her green eyes.

  ‘Yes, Grandfather,’ Oriole replied. ‘And we must make this city live again.’

  Big Mo Ding did not wait for morning before attacking. It was as if a monster had been unleashed, ripping with its tremendous claws at the city walls. The four gates of the city were being rammed.

  Boom Boom Boooom.

  The noise shook the ground. Troops of archers scrambled up onto the parapets and fired down at the enemy soldiers.

  Frightened people ran onto the streets, their faces pale with terror. Some had packed their belongings in two bundles that they carried on each end of a bamboo pole across their shoulders. Others called their children inside and quickly shut their doors and windows. But there was nowhere to hide and nowhere to flee to.

  Inside the Palace, Oriole sat with Boy. Lord Taku and Lady Butterfly were talking with the King. They spoke bravely, but there was a feeling of hopelessness in the air. Only Oriole seemed strong and sure.

  ‘Why don’t you flee, Oriole,’ Boy said. ‘Take Mellow and leave the city. Go back to your Forest.’

  ‘Have you forgotten the prophecy that a person of royal blood will save the city?’ Oriole said.

  ‘We are surrounded, Oriole. Everyone will die when they break down the gates.’

  As darkness fell, the Barbarian Army withdrew and camped outside the city. Tomorrow they would attack again and tomorrow they would take the City of Soulless.

  Buildings were burning from the fireballs catapulted over the wall. The wounded were taken inside. Women and children cried and exhausted men sat dazed among the debris of the ruined city.

  After the noise of battle the silence was eerie.

  Oriole and Boy sat looking out of the Palace window at the smoke-filled sky. Mellow sat beside them, his head tucked under his wing.

  ‘Life in the Forest of Birds is so simple,’ Oriole sighed. ‘The sun rises, the birds sing, the Wind sighs and the leaves dance. And in the centre of everything lives the ancient Banyan tree, master of all.’

  It was at that very moment, when she was thinking about her beloved Banyan tree, that a seedling thought sprouted in her mind. Oriole sat very still for a moment. Then she jumped up and said, ‘Thank you, thank you!’

  ‘What is the matter, child?’ Mellow said.

  ‘The ancient Banyan tree sent me a dream,’ Oriole replied.

  Mellow sat back to listen.

  ‘Music has the power to change the hearts of humans, is that not so?’ began Oriole.

  ‘Yes, and you can see what has happened here. Without music the city has died,’ replied Mellow.

  Oriole sat down, then stood up again. The dream had excited her. ‘Well, the soldiers on the other side of the wall are humans, too. They have hearts just like you and me so they must cry and love and long for things. And it is at night when all is quiet that they must think about home. I will sing to them, Mellow. I will sing the most beautiful song they have ever heard.’

  Mellow nodded and the feathery crown on the top of his head waved as if in slow motion. ‘It is worth a try,’ he said. ‘It is certainly worth a try.’

  Boy didn’t know how music could change the hearts of men who had been trained to kill. But he didn’t say so to Oriole.

  It was just after midnight and the moon hid behind streaky grey clouds as if it were too scared to look down upon the scene below.

  Outside the city walls all was quiet. The enemy soldiers huddled around their campfires. Tomorrow they would fight and conquer.

  Oriole stood at the top of the old watchtower. She looked out at the spots of flickering flames that could just as easily have been orange butterflies on a warm summer’s night instead of men with weapons ready to kill. For a brief second she wondered if her plan could really work. Had she been naive in thinking that music could change the hearts of men?

  She shook her doubts aside. Mellow had told her that music came from the soul of the earth and that is why it spoke to everyone. She had to believe this was true.

  The best songs came to Oriole on the wings of dreams – the tune and the words appearing in her head as if sent down from the stars. But the air felt too tight and smelled too much of metal, fire and pitch. Around the top of the tower were four large windows. Oriole stood at the one facing west, facing towards her home in the Forest of Birds. She looked up at the stars and took a deep breath in.

  But there were no words on her lips, no music in her head. It was as if a weight, a darkness, pressed down on the lightness of song within her.

  Oriole turned at the sound of a creak on the staircase.

  ‘Who is there,’ she called, thinking it might be Boy even though she had told him to stay in the Palace. She needed to be alone for this, the most important moment of her life.

  When there was no answer she tiptoed to the railing and peered over the edge. The staircase spiralled downwards into blackness and Oriole felt a warning chill.

  Unsheathing the jade dagger at her belt, she stepped back into the shadows and waited.

  A rat came up the steps and scurried across the floorboards. She turned to watch it and breathed out in relief. ‘You frightened me, little friend. Next time –’

  An arm came around Oriole’s neck.

  ‘I should have killed you when I first saw you,’ Lord Chancellor Mzia said in her ear. Oriole smelt blood and death. ‘But now, little bird, it is time to fly.’

  Oriole tried turning and stabbing wildly behind her, but her blows did not make contact.

  Mzia twisted her arm painfully and the dagger clattered to the floor. Then he began dragging Oriole towards the window. His arm was so tight about her throat that ghostly shapes danced before her eyes and she fought to stay conscious. I must sing, she willed. But Mzia’s arm was cutting off her voice. And then her air.

  The last thing Oriole saw was the City of Solace burning.

  Suddenly Mzia cried out in pain and loosened his grip on Oriole’s throat. The light returned to her eyes. She took in big gulps of air. Mzia was turning his head, grabbing at something on his back, whirling around like a mad man. He fell against the wall and slid to the floor.

  It was then that Oriole saw Boy with the dag
ger in his hand. He had stabbed Mzia in his side.

  Oriole let out a great sigh of relief that turned into a yelp of terror as Mzia rose from the floor and lunged at them. ‘Boy, behind you!’ she cried.

  Boy turned and slashed with the dagger, but Mzia grabbed Boy’s hand and lifted him off the ground, preparing to fling him out of the window. Boy kicked and fought but he was helpless.

  In desperation, Oriole opened her mouth and began to sing. The music poured from her and coiled around Mzia like a rope of metal spikes. It tore through him, twisting and wrapping and squeezing his black heart. He let go of Boy and staggered backwards trying to rid himself of the pain. A scream echoed around the tower as he fell through the window.

  Oriole and Boy crawled over to the edge of the tower, shaking. Far below them lay the Lord Chancellor’s crumpled body.

  With Boy’s support, Oriole staggered to the western corner of the tower and looked out.

  It was time to save the City of Solace.

  The song that Oriole could not summon before came in a wave, surging up from the earth and shimmering down from the stars.

  The King, who was sitting in the Throne Room, lifted his head. His mouth opened slightly and his breathing calmed. Never before had he heard anything more sublime. The haunting notes spoke to him, reminding him of the pain he had caused his people and his son. He reached out his hand as if Oriole was standing before him. How he loved this strange and beautiful child.

  Mellow flew to the King’s side. His eyes shone and his feathers once more gleamed.

  ‘She will save the Kingdom, my King.’

  ‘I think she will, Mellow,’ the King replied.