Slime-beak called out to his birds: “Soldiers! Fly to the other end and surround the slaves! Make sure no one escapes or I’ll peel your hides and send you all to Sky Land!”
The soldiers quickly obeyed, filling up the sky. In a flash, screams pierced the air as the slavebirds were caught.
Miltin felt a stab of pain in his shoulder and he crashed to the ground. He grimaced. An arrow shaft was sticking out. Through the shock of being wounded, the robin glimpsed a clump of dense, tall bushes by the dim light of the moon. He looked right and left. Nobird was paying attention to him. Silent as a shadow, he vanished behind the bushes and crouched there, waiting. He held a bloody claw over the wound, panting slightly. Behind him Miltin could hear the haunting screams and yells of other slavebirds. He closed his eyes momentarily, taking in big breaths. Though Miltin yearned to fight side by side with the other slavebirds, his instincts told him to stay put, for he knew he could only save them by finding Aska’s tribe. Gradually the screams and noises faded and died away; only then did Miltin open his eyes.
The night was noiseless now; the crickets sang no more. Only Miltin’s labored breathing broke the silence. He felt his bloody wound. I cannot stay here; it’s unsafe! Miltin clenched his claw around the arrow and pulled it out. He took a deep breath and tried to fly once more. But his wounded shoulder failed him and he dropped again. The pain worsened. He forced himself to get up and started to stagger north. Blood flowed down his side in thick streams, so he grabbed a dock leaf in his beak and pressed it to his shoulder.
He did not know how long he had been stumbling, and the pain grew worse with every step. Blood throbbed in his head, almost pounding his brain to bits. Thoughts whirled inside. Glipper and Tilosses…Aska and her tribe…Fortress Glooming…peace…freedom…
Suddenly Miltin tripped over a stone and fell facedown. He didn’t bother to get up, just lay in the dirt with his eyes closed. Oh, he was tired. Oh, his wounded shoulder hurt. Though his feet still kicked wildly as if running, his efforts were in vain. Blood had covered his right shoulder and a part of his right wing and had now dried in layers. Despite his tiredness, he struggled to rise once more. The pain was too intense; tears squeezed out of his eyes as he tried. Panting, he lifted his head a little. In the distance he could make out a camp of some sort. He was tired. So tired. Darkness began to take over Miltin’s mind. “Freedom!”-that was the last word he wanted to shout out, just before he fell unconscious.
Off we go to the mountaintop,
What lies ahead we do not fear.
No obstacle will make us stop,
Till we reach the land so dear.
May the wind under our wings
Be smooth and fair on this journey!
– FROM EWINGERALE’S DIARY IN THE OLD SCRIPTURE
14 THE LEASORN GEM
Miltin opened his eyes with a feeble moan. He heard a voice: “Miltin!”
He smiled weakly as he recognized a face. “Aska,” he managed to whisper. His questioning look prodded her to explain.
She gestured to a far-off place through the branches. “My tribe found you not far from the northwest shore of the Silver Creek, unconscious. We managed to get you here and call for a medicine bird. I expect him to arrive any minute now. Hmm…since you’ve escaped, no doubt there will be trouble from that hawk again.”
Miltin let the information sink into his brain. He immediately sat up, in spite of his wounded shoulder. “I must go at once!” he declared.
The medicine bird and Glenagh came in just at that moment. They looked strangely at the robin.
“Where do you need to go?” questioned Aska, thinking that Miltin had become slightly delirious.
Miltin blinked several times, rubbed his eyes, and sighed. “To my home, the Waterthorn, of course. I must! The red gem…”
“What gem? Why?”
Miltin slouched, but his eyes shone brighter than ever. They seemed to see nothing yet everything. “I must…my friends-the slavebirds-they need it…so does your tribe… I must! The red Leasorn! Let me take you to get the gem and call for Swordbird!” Miltin paused and panted with the effort of speaking. His voice faded to a whisper. “Call for him! Let Swordbird come!” With that, the robin collapsed back into his bed, exhausted.
Aska was silent for a moment and then turned to the elder, Glenagh, in confusion.
The old blue jay went into a spiritlike trance. His eyes grew bright as he murmured: “The Leasorn gem! The valuable gem of the Great Spirit!” He gazed up at the sky for a moment, his face illuminated with joy.
The medicine bird who had been examining Miltin’s wounds was surprised by the actions of the elder. “You scared me for a second, old Glen.” He took out a bandage from his bag. “What’s all this about the Leasorn gem and Swordbird?” Aska looked puzzled too.
“Oh, dear friend, don’t you see? To make Swordbird come we need to learn the song, and we also need a Leasorn gem. However, legends say that there are only seven gems on the earth and another on Swordbird’s sword!”
Aska gasped. “You mean, Miltin’s family, the Waterthorn tribe, has a Leasorn!”
The medicine bird paused as he looked up. He met Glenagh’s excited gaze. “The problem of Turnatt is solved!”
Glenagh smiled widely. “Not yet, my friend, but soon!” He put a wing tip to the robin’s shoulder. “Thank you, Miltin!” he whispered as he left the room. “How the birds at the meeting will rejoice at this information!”
The meeting was held not far from Miltin’s room, at a branch that curved into a perfect oval. Many important birds perched on it. Smaller twigs stretched off into the oval, covering the hole in the middle and making a suitable table after a tablecloth was draped on top.
The red and the blue were arguing and discussing when Glenagh made his appearance. “I have the solution, ladies and gentlebirds!” he declared, wings spreading out. The noisy talking ceased immediately. All eyes turned to Glenagh. “Our only chance to fight off the hawk and survive is to call for Swordbird.”
Flame-back, the cardinal leader, spoke with urgency. “Quite right. We have no other choice since most of us believe that Turnatt will launch a second attack. We must try to prevent him from doing further damage to our Stone-Run. In order to do so, we need to learn the song and find the Leasorn gem.”
“I’m translating the song,” Glenagh said.
“But the Leasorn!” The cardinal leader went on. “How in the name of Swordbird are we going to find such a rare gem?”
Glenagh’s smile became very wide. “Ah, that was what I was coming to. Our friend, Miltin, the robin, knows how.”
“How?” the meeting members asked in unison.
“His family, the Waterthorn tribe, who live beyond the White Cap Mountains, has a Leasorn.”
The red and the blue turned silent. Outside, leaves rustled as the wind grew stronger.
“We must pick a few who will fly on a mission to borrow the Leasorn,” Skylion proclaimed solemnly. “It won’t be easy. The mountains are high and desolate, and those robbers the Sklarkills haunt the passes. We must choose birds who can withstand all dangers to protect the Leasorn, birds who can be of good health even without food and water for days.”
“Aye, that’s for sure,” murmurs came from the meeting members.
“I’ll go.” Cody spoke earnestly. “I would like to do anything I can for Stone-Run.”