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.
Aska sorrowfully looked at the robin’s peaceful features. Miltin had a little smile on his face. The afternoon breeze ruffled his feathers. He seemed to be asleep, dreaming of wonderful things. He could live in his dreams forever.
Rest in peace, Miltin, Aska thought. I will fulfill your wish.
The wind blew softly over the maples, as if in mourning.
The next day Reymarsh and his tribesbirds held a funeral for Miltin and planted blue flowers on the grave. After that the robin leader readied his troops and took out the red Leasorn. They flew toward Stone-Run with Aska in the lead, chanting furiously, “Down with Turnatt! Set the slavebirds free!”
Preparedness may avert danger.
– FROM THE OLD SCRIPTURE
20 PREPARATIONS
Turnatt waited for Shadow’s return, eager to hear of the destructions of the cardinals’ camp.
Those little woodbirds killed a score of my best soldiers, he thought. I’ll see them destroyed! To pass the time, he idly turned the pages of the Book of Heresy, although he knew every paragraph by heart. “ Defiance spreads like a plague,” he murmured to himself, quoting his favorite passages. “Let no one oppose you, even for a second. Crush them before thoughts of rebellion can spread.”
But Shadow had been left with no archers or scouts, half a cape, some patches of bald skin, and wounds from arrows and darts-none serious but all painful. He was winging his way, not back toward Fortress Glooming, but deeper into the forest, away from the cardinals and the blue jays and away from the hawk lord as well. Shadow had no intention of returning to face Turnatt and confess his failure.
First there was that strange incident at the Waterthorn tribe, he mused as he flew. Then those cardinals and blue jays defeated Slime-beak, and now even I could not conquer them. Turnatt’s fortune is changing, the raven decided. He’s no longer a lord I wish to serve.
The deep shadows of the midnight forest swallowed the raven, and nobird could tell where he had gone.
Glenagh sat in the hall of the cardinals’ main tree, bandages wound around his head. In front of him was the Old Scripture of the cardinals.
In the margin of the last page of the Old Scripture, Glenagh noticed some words: “The first verse will make Swordbird appear; the second will make him stay long enough. The first verse is in this book; the second will be from your heart. Express your wishes there.”