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:
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!
The bird had flashing eyes and a light-built frame. He seemed like a gigantic dove at first sight, with dark orbs, a red bill, and scarlet feet. Yet he was different from a dove. He had the gentleness and grace of a swan, the nobility and speed of an eagle, though he was three times larger than the two added together. His wingspan resembled a pale spread of clouds, fanning above the forest.
Swordbird’s dazzling sword looked like a sleek silver dragon, and the Leasorn embedded on the hilt was the dragon’s eye. The “dragon” sparkled with a myriad of rich, colorful ripples that intertwined with the red rays from the gem in Aska’s beak.
Through the glare of the Leasorn light, Aska could see the guardian of peace, Swordbird. Her heart swelled with joy. Swordbird, she thought, you’re really here. Swordbird smiled at her, and she beamed back.
Glenagh’s beak fell open in awe. He quickly adjusted his spectacles in order to have an even clearer look at the white bird. That lean, muscular figure, that magnificent sword, and those feathers of shimmering whiteness. Precisely like the descriptions in the Old Scripture, thought Glenagh, amazed.
Skylion, Flame-back, and the rest of the woodbirds and the theater birds thought of all the Swordbird stories Glenagh had told them before. It was hard to believe that Swordbird-the wonderful, holy Swordbird from those tales-was truly here.
After playing the interlude, Cody and the singers began the second verse of the song.