The duck looked skeptical. “You’ve had some adventures; that’s clear,” he said. “Well…it’s noontime, so why don’t you have lunch with me and tell me what’s been happening to you?”
“Oh, wonderful!” Miltin perked up. He felt as if he hadn’t eaten a meal for ages.
They went to the galley and ate plum puddings and spicy salmon stew. Over the meal Miltin told the skipper about Turnatt, his escape, and the need for a Leasorn gem.
As he spoke, a sudden shiver rippled through Miltin. He winced as the movement triggered pains all over his body. The aid from Swordbird’s magical flower was waning. He coughed and pretended to choke on the stew. It didn’t fool Aska. She shot him a look, but Miltin turned his head away.
After lunch Aska and Miltin went back outside to the deck. She peered closely at his bandages and gasped as she saw a new patch of red soaking through the white linen around the robin’s shoulder. “Miltin, are your wounds worse?” she demanded.
“No. I’m-I’m fine.”
“I don’t think you’re telling me the truth,” Aska said quietly.
Miltin gazed into the distance. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “I’m not. If I had let you know the truth, you’d have insisted on stopping to nurse me. But it won’t matter if I let you know now, since we’re so close to my home.”
He paused and sighed. “My wounds can’t be healed. All those days of being a slavebird have worn my body down.” His head shot up; his eyes filled with anger. “Aska, you can’t possibly imagine how I was tortured at Fortress Glooming, for you’ve never experienced the cruel whip lashings, the painful beatings.”
“I know, Miltin. I can’t imagine how it must have been,” Aska whispered.
Miltin lowered his gaze. “You see, Aska…whenever I think of saving Stone-Run and my fellow slavebirds, I forget all my pain.”
Just at that moment Quaykkel came over. “Ho, Miltin, I’ve dropped by to tell you we’re at the Waterthorn!” he called. Miltin’s face lit up when he turned his head and saw the familiar, beautiful woods not far ashore.
He and Aska thanked Quaykkel and bade him farewell. They headed toward Miltin’s home.
Miltin flew over the shore that he knew so well, his heart pounding. Mother! Father! Where are you? he called in his heart. Aska followed, trying to catch up. She thought it strange that Miltin was able to fly so fast all of a sudden. The joy of seeing his home must have given him new strength.
Miltin turned back to point out a place to Aska. “See that, Aska? It’s my home!” he called eagerly. Aska looked ahead. At the end of the meadow of red blossoms was a verdant grove of maples, flashing all shades of green. Silhouettes of birds were visible among the trees; songs could be heard faintly.
Just as they landed at the edge of the grove, a few robins hurried out. “Look, it’s Miltin! Miltin!” They clustered around him, chattering with excitement. Two of them dashed back to the trees to tell Miltin’s parents, all the while shouting to every other bird, “Miltin’s back! Miltin’s back!”
The whole Waterthorn tribe gathered around Miltin at his parents’ nest house. Before he got to the door, his parents were already there, greeting him with tears in their eyes.
Miltin dipped his head. “I’m back, Mother, Father,” he said.
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.