Neversink

by Barry Wolverton

  Rozbell just stared at him. Astra looked at the king, curious as to how he would wriggle free. The king had never stopped asserting that he believed the Sickness was a real threat.

  “To borrow a phrase,” said the Great Auk, “do you want your birds to starve?”

  Rozbell spun his head around the owlery and saw that everyone, from the house sparrows to his servant owl to Astra and Feathertop, was waiting for him to respond.

  “This is a trick!” he blurted. “Everyone knows the old ones are tricksters. Feathertop!” The martial eagle swept down next to his master. “I need to hunt and then rest. But I want you to stand here licking your chops in front of the fish-eaters until I return. Take a good look, Great Auk. Because come next dusk-fall, I’m going to have Feathertop carve your little puffin friend up piece by piece, as painfully as possible, while you watch. It will be sort of symbolic of what you’re doing to your whole colony by your selfishness. I love symbolism, don’t you?”

  “You mean like how your tiny stature symbolizes all your shortcomings as a leader?” the Great Auk asked.

  Rozbell inflated with rage, looking as if he was going to explode into a shower of tawny feathers. Lockley thought for sure Rozbell would have Feathertop kill them both right away. Instead Rozbell shut his eyes tight for a moment, perhaps to prevent a spasm of blinking, before opening them wide again and saying, “This isn’t Neversink—the sun will set on you!”

  A late morning breeze through the Midland Woods sent the Great Auk’s and Lockley’s cages swaying gently back and forth, turning them into pendulums counting down the minutes until their own demise.

  Neither bird attempted to talk as long as the menacing Feathertop sat there, staring at them with his reptilian eyes. After a time, though, Feathertop looked around, surveying the trees, and then took off.

  “Rozbell must be a heavy sleeper,” croaked the Great Auk, “or Feathertop wouldn’t risk getting caught leaving us unguarded.”

  Lockley couldn’t help notice how weak the Great Auk sounded, and how weary he looked. “With all due respect, you don’t look as if you could manage much even if he left our cages open.”

  “The eagle wasn’t gentle with me, to be sure. And I’m not strong anymore. I need the spray of the sea in my nostrils.”

  “I have to confess something,” said Lockley. “I didn’t intend to anger Sedna. But when I realized what had happened, I was almost…glad. Glad to deprive Rozbell of what he wanted. Maybe even a little glad to make the rest of the colony suffer as much as Lucy had. Apparently I grossly underestimated Rozbell’s obsession with smidgens.”

  “It’s not just that,” said the Great Auk. “His grudge against the colony runs deep. The same is true of many Owls With Hats. For some, ancestors were lost during the Cod Wars. Others were merely raised to hate auks. It’s a sickness in its own right.”

  “I guess my appreciation of history isn’t quite as advanced as you thought,” Lockley admitted. “And now I’ve caused all this misery.”

  “No,” the Great Auk replied firmly. “Rozbell caused all this misery, and he did so deliberately. You must remember that. Your mixed feelings were understandable. But your plan was to help the colony, ultimately. And I must say, it was a courageous thing to try.”

  “Foolish is more like it,” said Lockley. “But despite Rozbell’s unwillingness to take your deal, we have no proof that the Sickness isn’t a real threat. Maybe Rozbell’s intentions—at least originally—were good.”

  “I admire your empathy, Lockley. A wonderful quality in any creature, but especially a leader.”

  Lockley snorted, but the Great Auk ignored him. “It really doesn’t matter where the fish went, or why. Sedna can bring them back. She must be appealed to.”

  “Ah yes,” said Lockley timidly. “I was actually on my way to your nest to discuss it with you when we were captured. I confess, I needed your help remembering the story.”

  “‘The Tricking of Sedna.’”

  “Tricking!” Lockley exclaimed. “That’s it!”

  The Great Auk said nothing, until Lockley pressed him. “If we do have only one afternoon to live, I’d love to hear another story.”

  Despite his weakened state and the small dimensions of his cage, the Great Auk raised himself up before he began to speak.

  “We all know to give thanks to Sedna for keeping our waters rich with fish. The youngest auks learn to memorize the thanksgivings from their parents. But what many forget is that Sedna is anything but a benevolent goddess. The birds should fear her. In a way, it was only because of the seabirds that Sedna became a goddess. But it all came about because of trickery, and thus the birds never fully had her trust. She is easily angered by us and quick to punish.

  “It all goes back to the petrel, the sky roamer and sea glider that nests at the very top of the sea cliffs. None have been welcome on Neversink for a very long time, in part to appease Sedna. For Sedna, you see, was made by the gods. They sent her to live on an island in the north, but without companionship, and she was lonely. She wasn’t immortal, like her creators, nor was she like the other animals. She had bare skin and long, slender limbs. She walked on her two legs, and was earthbound. The birds simply described her as ‘one made in the gods’ own image.’ She was a divine experiment. And one day a petrel spied her, sitting on the shore of her isolated home, staring out to sea.

  “Petrels are proud birds, but this one was especially proud. He was a storm petrel, and could summon great winds and roil the waters with his wings. Sedna’s smooth brown skin and flowing dark hair captivated him, and he decided then and there he had found a mate worthy of him. But because she was not a bird, he came to her in disguise. He made a mask of carved ivory to hide his beak and a cloak of sealskin to cover his feathers, and he approached her from the sea in a canoe made of bark. When she saw him, he sang to her:

  Come to me,

  Come into the land of the birds,

  Where there is never hunger,

  Where my tent is made of beautiful skins.

  You will have a necklace of ivory

  And sleep on the skins of bears.

  Your lamps will always be filled with oil,

  And your pot with meat.

  “She was drawn to him, and so enchanted she couldn’t see that there was no tent, nor were there skins of bears, but only an open nest at the top of the sea cliffs. Until one morning, when, thinking she was asleep, the petrel removed his disguise to fly out to sea. But Sedna saw him, and the scales fell from her eyes. She saw her new home for what it was and felt the lash of the wind.

  “While the petrel was gone, Sedna tried to escape. She climbed down from the sea cliffs and found the small boat. She rowed out to sea, toward Ocean’s End, thinking the petrel would not pursue her into the coldest lands. But when he returned and discovered what had happened, he was consumed by anger. His spy birds told him where she was, and he followed her toward Ocean’s End.

  “Once he saw her, he began beating his wings, summoning great crests of waves that swamped the little boat. Sedna sank into the freezing waters, but tried to save herself. Each time, however, that she reached the surface and grabbed the edge of the boat, the tips of her frozen fingers would snap off like icicles, until finally she had nothing left with which to grab. She sank to the bottom, her raven hair fanning out like squid ink, her severed fingers and thumbs swimming off with the currents.

  “The gods took pity on their creation. Her broken digits became the seals, whales, and walruses. Sedna was given dominion over them and the fish of the northern seas, but she cursed her fate and became a vindictive sea goddess. If angered, she withholds the bounty of the sea. The seabirds have ever been mindful of this.”

  Speaking for so long had drained the Great Auk, and he rested for several minutes. He was about to continue when Feathertop came crashing through the branches and landed in the glade with a small deer in his talons. Lockley watched with horror as the eagle ripped huge strips of flesh from the deer with
his terrible beak. The Great Auk noticed, too.

  “I wouldn’t want your suffering on my conscience,” he said.

  Lockley swallowed hard before answering. “No. You shouldn’t give in to Rozbell.”

  Feathertop quickly put an end to their conversation by flying at Lockley’s cage and savagely biting one of the bars, staining it with deer blood. Lockley crouched in terror and said nothing more until the sun began to set and Rozbell returned.

  “Ah, dusk-fall,” sang Rozbell, perched like a pinecone on the tip of a branch. “My favorite time of day. The owls come awake, and the miserable groundlings start running for their lives. How can you stand to live in a place with no shadows? No grayness? Everything on Neversink is so…black-and-white.” Rozbell pretended to shiver with disgust. “Of course, one does tire of the same old thing. I, for one, am tired of eating food with fur on it: moles, voles, bats, rats, mice, shrews…to say nothing of songbirds, lizards, and bugs!”

  Lockley had to admit, that did sound distasteful. Still, he certainly wasn’t tired of eating fish. Rozbell hopped onto a branch closer to the Great Auk. “That’s why I’m going to give you another day to think about giving me what I want. Surely we can learn to compromise?”

  “Can you?” said the Great Auk. Feathertop flew toward his cage and swatted it with his massive wing. The cage spun wildly, and the Great Auk collapsed to the floor.

  “That wasn’t a very nice thing to say to someone who just spared your life,” said Rozbell. “For now.” And off he went, leaving Lockley and the Great Auk to wonder what the devious pygmy owl was up to.

  MISSING

  “How could Lockley not tell us where he was going?” said Egbert.

  “We didn’t tell anyone where we were going,” Ruby reminded him.

  “That’s entirely different,” said Egbert. “It would be hard to lose track of the only walrus in a colony of birds.”

  “That’s true,” Ruby agreed. “Believe me, they’ve tried.”

  Egbert was down on his forefins, rocking through the sand along the shore while Ruby glided next to him. They were searching the beach and rocks where Lockley had last crashed into them. He had been gone almost two days and Lucy had told them she was worried.

  “The fool bird has probably broken his neck trying to soar again,” said Egbert, his gruff tone unable to hide his concern.

  “I don’t see him anywhere,” said Ruby, who was zigzagging off in all directions for quick looks.

  Suddenly Egbert pulled up and sat back on his ample tail section.

  “What’s the matter?” said Ruby. “Do you smell food?”

  “No. It’s just…come with me….” And Egbert led them to the other end of the colony and to the Great Auk’s nest, where he knew Lockley sometimes went when he needed counsel. Something Egbert found strange, since he was forever offering counsel on any number of matters on a regular basis.

  When they arrived, they found the nest in disarray, littered with black-and-white feathers, loose tea leaves, and broken dishes. More alarming still, they found white feathers that were unmistakably those of a snowy owl, as well as large brown feathers they assumed to be those of an eagle. “Oh dear,” said Egbert.

  It took Lucy a long time to come to the door when Egbert and Ruby reported back to her. Both were stunned by how much weaker she looked, and Egbert hoped she would soon lay her egg for fear that if she got any frailer, the strain would do her in.

  “We need to show you something,” and he handed her the black-and-white feathers that he had collected from the Great Auk’s nest. Birds have an uncanny ability to recognize their mate’s plumage. Lucy took the handful of feathers and began sorting them. Most belonged to the Great Auk, but there were two she pulled aside and held close to her bill. “These are Lockley’s,” she said.

  Egbert sighed deeply, but then put on a brave face. “Don’t you worry, my dear. At least we know what happened to them. Which means we can figure out what needs to be done. And they must be okay. Rozbell wouldn’t have dragged them across the ocean just to, you know…”

  “Off them,” said Ruby.

  “Why don’t you learn some tact?” said Egbert.

  “Why don’t you learn to get to the point?” said Ruby.

  Their brief bickering actually made Lucy smile. It was, well, normal. But then they heard a commotion from somewhere else in the colony. Not normal auk commotion—something was definitely wrong. Once they made their way to the scene of the disturbance, what they saw took them by surprise. It was Astra, surrounded by a crew of burrowing owls. The snowy owl appeared to be arguing with the crew leader, a cross burrowing owl with his black hat cocked to one side.

  The first thing Egbert, Ruby, and Lucy heard was the owl with the cocked hat telling Astra, “Rozbell didn’t send me to be your messenger. I’m in charge of my crew.” Astra ground her beak but maintained her composure. The crew leader, named Edmund, turned to the gathering crowd of auks. “One of those old owls who knows everything told Rozbell that Arctic creatures often store up food for the winter. Would be just like an auk to squirrel away food like…well, like a squirrel.” Edmund motioned to the burrowing owls—tiny, long-legged owls with a knack for digging. “Search every burrow, nest, nook, and cranny for fish,” he commanded. “Fresh fish, dried fish, pickled fish, or fish parts. We know these greedy fish-eaters are keeping fish from His Majesty!”

  The burrowing owls dispersed and invaded, their chucking and chattering mixing with the hissing and growling of angry auks into one shrill chorus. Flitting from nest to nest up and down the sea cliffs, they used their stiltlike legs to dig through the auks’ possessions with reckless abandon. This was bad enough for the guillemots and puffins; you can imagine how angry it made the higher-living auks, the razorbills and murres, to see their personal possessions tossed onto the rocks below.

  “We don’t store fish!” protested one. “We catch what we eat every day!” Which was true, especially now that the fish were dwindling. The meager amounts that any auk had been able to catch in the past two days had been consumed immediately.

  The fact that the burrowing owls were not finding any fish began to frustrate Edmund. Prancing among the mess, looking at various auk items, Edmund held up a sealskin with crude drawings of auks and owls on it. “What’s this?” he wondered aloud.

  “It’s a tapestry, depicting the Cod Wars,” said a razorbill. “It’s mine.”

  Edmund looked at it with scorn. “Hmm. Revisionist history, I’m sure,” but instead of giving it back to the razorbill, he tossed it onto a pile with other items he had picked out, like a warm goose-down blanket yanked from a nest and a set of small, milky-white figurines carved from walrus tusk. “Much too nice for an auk,” he muttered several times, putting things he liked to one side.

  And then, above the din came the wail of a guillemot. A mournful, solitary wail, unmistakably that of a mother. She was among those who had already laid their eggs, and one of the burrowing owls had carelessly kicked her egg out of its nest and sent it rolling through the door. Fortunately, guillemots, like puffins, are ground dwellers, so instead of plunging down the cliff face, the egg rolled along a grassy patch and against a rock, unharmed. But the mother’s distress had arrested everyone’s attention, including Egbert’s. He turned to Lucy and said, “Get back in your burrow, my dear.”

  “What’s the matter, Egbert?” But instead of explaining, Egbert gently urged her inside with one of his fins.

  “What’s up, E?” said Ruby.

  “Just scram,” he said, and as the owls came closer, Egbert sprawled in front of Lucy’s door along the rocks, blocking all evidence of a burrow. “Just taking the air,” he said lightly as the small owls scampered by. Some even used him as a landing pad as they hopped out of nests from the cliff face above. Once they had gone by, Ruby returned.

  “Nice use of your flab,” she said.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” he said. “One or two snowy owls hanging around is one thing. Now a s
mall army of burrowing owls? Did you see how reckless they were with that poor guillemot’s egg? I think the less Rozbell knows about Lucy, including where she lives, whether she’s breeding, or even that she’s Lockley’s mate, the better. Of course, there’s no telling what that snowy owl has told him.” He looked at Astra, who seemed almost as annoyed as the auks to have burrowing owls underfoot.

  Once the owls had finished their search, Edmund collected some things he thought Rozbell would like into a nice pile, then turned to Astra. “Guard this,” he said. “I’ll send a pelican back for it.” Edmund flew off with his crew, leaving behind a colony still buzzing with agitation and fear. If they had been slow to appreciate Lockley’s warnings about the danger Rozbell posed to their way of life, they were beginning to now.

  “Ruby, we’ve got to do something,” said Egbert, after the two had retreated to Egbert’s shelter. “Lucy needs protection, and the colony needs a leader.”

  “I’m one step ahead of you,” said Ruby. “A rescue mission to spring Lockley and the Great Auk!”

  “Or how about this,” said Egbert. “I could assume leadership of the colony, and you could protect Lucy.”

  Ruby tweaked him on the snout.

  “Ow!”

  “I thought you wanted to help the colony,” she said.

  “Fine, then. How do you propose we rescue them?”

  “We?” said Ruby. “For one thing, I don’t propose that we have a blubbery walrus go slogging through the woods of Tytonia. We may as well send a note ahead of time announcing our arrival.”

  Egbert’s face was as red as a bee sting. “I assume you have a plan?”

  Ruby shrugged. “I’ll think of something on the way.”

  “Think of something on the way? You call that a plan?”