Sword Quest

Solemn expressions were pasted on to faces as a low drumroll issued from the royal orchestra. “His Majesty, Emperor Hungrias!” hailed a small archaeopteryx, followed by the tooting of a bugle.

A large archaeopteryx in silk ruffles and a velvet suit sewn with glittering jewels swept a curtain dramatically aside and landed on a high whalebone perch in front of Kawaka. A golden ring that dangled from a hole drilled through his beak glinted in the light. “So!” the Ancient Wing said throatily, his eyes sweeping across the tribute that Sir Kawaka had brought. “So!”

“I have things of great value this year.” Kawaka bowed down at the Ancient Wing’s feet, smiling. “Your Majesty, I have fans of egret feathers for you, and I have this slave, this unidentified bird, of no known species.” His claws rested on the wooden box, but he didn’t yet speak of the yellow gem, hoping to save the best for last.

013-Unidentified was prodded forward, and a chorus of oohs and aahs came from the scholars. “Really?” Hungrias studied the scrawny white bird doubtfully. “He is the only one of his kind?”

The chief scholar of the court fluttered forward, armed with rulers and little hammers, and did a lengthy examination. He flipped through a heavy tome labelled The Complete and Thorough Record of the Class Aves. At length, he declared, “Yes, Your Majesty! This bird is not listed in the book! He resembles a dove, but has certain traits of seabirds. His feet are rather too muscled for a passerine, yet his head and neck clearly mark him as a woodbird…”

The Ancient Wing’s tiny eyes shut in bliss. “My, my, this is even better than the two-headed rooster that I got last year! Very tasty he was too!”

013-Unidentified yelled in protest. He tried to leap towards the emperor. “You shan’t!” It was all he could think of to cry. His separation from his mother, Irene, his seasons of washing dirty dishes in the Marshes Battalion…had he suffered all that just so that this fat bird would have a content stomach? How many other birds had encountered the same fate?

Immediately two archaeopteryxes pushed him roughly to the ground. The Ancient Wing puffed up in anger. But then, a noise broke through the hallway.

Emperor Hungrias straightened as a spindly messenger burst from the hall. The bird’s long tail dragged behind him and the wet feathers on it were torn and broken. “Message, Your Majesty, from Sir Rattlebones,” he gasped. Hungrias looked keenly interested, forgetting about the outburst of 013-Unidentified. Kawaka jumped.

“Go on,” Hungrias ordered eagerly.

“He is on his way back from inspecting the lands across the Augoric Ocean. He sent me ahead. I am to inform you that Sir Rattle-bones has succeeded in obtaining one of the Leasorn gemstones. It is red!”

“A Leasorn gemstone!” Hungrias nearly toppled off his whalebone perch. Inside the ruff around his neck, the feathers of his head were standing on end with excitement. “From the lowly birds’ stories,” he mumbled to himself excitedly, “they say there are seven of them. Is he sure?” he demanded of the messenger.

“It’s definitely a Leasorn?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Hungrias had never recovered from the disappearance of his son two years before. He grieved and ordered a fitting punishment for Sir Maldeor, but his heart was not satisfied. He brooded on the gemstones and the lowly birds’ legends until an idea formed in his mind – if only he could find all the rest of the jewels, he felt, he would recover the young prince too. He ordered his remaining knights to locate the gems and they hastened to obey. Now finally a stone was on its way to him! Hungrias grunted with pleasure. “Yes, yes, my little son will be back soon!” He turned to Kawaka, whom he’d forgotten was still sitting there. “When is Rattle-bones coming? Is there an estimated time?”

“He shall arrive at Castlewood four weeks from now at the earliest, or two months at the latest.”

“Indeed! I must see to it that we depart my Winter Palace early this year, perhaps tonight.” The Ancient Wing waved a wing to dismiss the messenger.

“Your Majesty!” Kawaka said, agitated. “I must mention the most important of my gifts to you! Look at this.”

He opened the wooden chest that he had been holding. His hopes for making the last piece of tribute the best that the emperor owned had been dashed by the news from his brother, and it was all he could do to stop his teeth from gnashing.

“Oh!” all the scholars cried. The chief strode forward. “Is this what I think it is?”

Heads tipped forward at the glowing yellow stone nestled in the box. 013-Unidentified craned his neck to see as well.

“Your Majesty, the former knight Maldeor went miles out of the Plains territory to find a Leasorn gem that is orange, and now my dear brother Sir Rattle-bones has crossed an entire ocean to find the Leasorn gemstone that is red. But I” – Kawaka allowed himself a humble bow – “a mere regional knight, have searched in Your Majesty’s own blessed territory and have found this beautiful yellow Leasorn.”

As proof, Kawaka flipped the gemstone over gingerly, and a facet with carvings was revealed. The chief scholar placed a small piece of fine birch bark over the stone, took out a tiny stick of charcoal, and traced the strange script on it. 013-Unidentified could see the lines clearly as the scholar held the bark up to the light, but the odd marks meant nothing to him.

“Indeed, indeed, Your Majesty,” said the chief scholar. “I do not recognise this script at all. Very strange, very strange indeed. I must study this further.”

“Two Leasorn gems!” Hungrias fanned his wings happily. “What a year for tribute this has been! We must celebrate. Tell the cooks to prepare a special meal. Oh, yes” – he pointed a wing at 013-Unidentified – “we shall see what this one tastes like tonight! Be sure he is still alive when he is placed on the spit. It improves the flavour so much.”

Dozens of pairs of hungry eyes fastened upon him as 013-Unidentified was dragged off to the kitchen, where he was lashed to a metal pole over a fire. Slaves, turning their faces aside, slowly rotated the spit as flames crackled eagerly.

013-Unidentified fainted from the heat.

A righteous heart can beam a light in the darkest place.

FROM THE OLD SCRIPTURE

3 CHOICE (#ulink_0c7bea3a-2247-562e-936c-fa4027c8986d)

Gradually 013-Unidentified became aware that a raven was clacking his beak loudly. “Come,” the raven rasped, beckoning. “Come, you don’t want to be late.”

“No!” 013-Unidentified whispered. For some reason, he didn’t want to go anywhere with this stranger.

“Come,” the bird insisted. “I’ve been ordered to bring you, and bring you I must. But if you ask, I must bring you back again. Those are the laws I obey.”

Out sprang a claw that clasped around the white bird’s neck. He gasped. His conscious soul was being lifted out of his body! The raven flew out of the kitchen. Nobird seemed to notice. 013-Unidentified turned back to look, and saw his body still on the fire.

“Where are we going?” he asked the raven, choking.

“To Yin Soul.”

They flew over an endless stretch of grey, an angry ocean beneath them. It seemed only minutes before the raven dropped 013-Unidentified. He landed before he could open his wings.

He was in a small red room, the walls lined with looming bookshelves. On the far side was the red frame of a fireplace, surrounded with red incense and sputtering red candles. The sharp cinnamon perfume they gave off stung his eyes.

“Hello, dear 013-Unidentified.” The youngster jumped at the sudden words; they were whispery and thin. A scaly creature in a broad red manteau nodded slightly as he scuttled from behind a pile of books. He looked a lot like an archaeopteryx, except he was larger and had four wings. “I am Yin Soul. Come here, young one, and perch beside me.”

013-Unidentified obeyed in a dreamlike trance. The carpet underfoot, woven with a design like red and yellow flames, felt so plush.

“I do feel very sorry for you.” The creature’s eyes softened with what looked like a fatherly fondness. “You were going to die. They wanted to cook and eat you; how cruel! But now you’re here. You want to live, surely? Everybird wants to live!” Yin studied 013-Unidentified. He began again, quietly. “I like your spirit. Facing the reality bravely. But don’t you want to fight your enemies? Don’t you want to steer the flight of your life? I can save you from that fire. You’d be free.”

013-Unidentified gaped. “Free! I—”

Yin Soul’s eyes bore into 013-Unidentified’s. “But being free is not enough. You know that your enemies deserve to be punished. They deserve to be punished for causing you pain, for every injustice, for every feather they tore loose. Some even deserve death! I know a way for that. Hero’s Day is the day of the fifth full moon in a year and a half. You know the legends about a magical sword that can be found at Kauria, the Island of Paradise. If you find the sword on that particular day, you will have power over all your enemies. Then you can do what your heart tells you to do! All you must do is agree to swallow my essence.”

After a silence, Yin glanced into the distance and sighed. “I am like you. I know how it feels. Truly.” He smiled sadly at 013-Unidentified.

“Why do you want me to swallow your essence?” the white bird asked at last.

Yin Soul closed his eyes. “Then I would be able to guide you from inside your body.”

013-Unidentified peered at Yin Soul, confused. Suppose, just suppose it was real. Then his troubles would probably end here and now, but…was his conscience telling him no? Was it the same thing that had made him say his long-ago name, Wind-voice, instead of 013-Unidentified when he spoke to the woodpecker captive, Ewingerale?

You are Wind-voice, not 013-Unidentified, a voice deep inside him said. Think like Wind-voice.

For a split second, everything in the room changed. Red blurred to grey. The flames went out; the candles were pools of wax. The cinnamon scents of incense soured into those of spoiled fish.

The old, kind bird was transformed. The eyelids were gone, and Wind-voice could see his eyeballs, dark yellow as rotten plums. The gentle chuckles of Yin Soul changed to a dreadful sound, as if somebird was vomiting. This was what Yin Soul was truly like. The feathers on Wind-voice’s nape rose and he gulped. He was chilled with fear. It was suddenly very cold.