12 REMAINS OF VICTORY

At the Appleby Hills it was pitch black, but all the red and the blue could see was brightness. They had won the fight with only a little loss.

“Well,” grumbled Parrale, assessing the damage in the green and white hot-air balloon, “even a tiny hole in our balloon might delay us for days, let alone these holes. This won’t fly for at least a week.”

Near the food table Lorpil sniffled and blew his beak in a handkerchief. “Oh, all the beautiful, tasty food, gone!”

Farther away, sitting on a bench side by side, were the two leaders, Flame-back and Skylion.

“You know what, my friend?” Flame-back said.

“What?”

“This won’t be the last fight we have. Those crows and ravens will be back. We need to work together if we want to defend Stone-Run.”

The blue jay leader patted the cardinal’s shoulder gently. “We do,” he said simply. “And we will.”

Across the battlefield a few blood-covered bodies of the crows and ravens littered the ground. Among them, some brave fighters of the red and the blue had gone to Sky Land and left their bodies behind. Of course, there was also bean soup spattered over the grass, pie fillings of all kinds glued onto trees and chairs, along with nuts here and there in the most unexpected places.

A few groups of cardinals and blue jays were out in the field, carrying stretchers. Lanterns were always nearby, like stars guiding the rescue groups back through the darkness.

Except for small fragments of quiet conversations, the whole place-the tallest mound on the Appleby Hills-was filled with the chirping of the crickets hidden all over the battlefield. There wasn’t any fancy music to celebrate the victory. Only the crickets sang, but that was enough.

Glenagh entered his study, stifling a yawn as he closed the branch door. What had happened that night was on his mind: not the attack but something else.

The birds in the play called Swordbird, and he came, the old blue jay mused. Those crows and ravens will be back; my bones tell me so. And next time we may not be so lucky. How can we find the right way to call Swordbird, too?

He reached up for a book on one of his shelves: the Old Scripture, Volume 2. The pages crackled as he turned to the beginning, Ewingerale’s diary.

LATE WINTER, “THE DAY OF SNOWFLAKES”

On the day when snowflakes started to swirl all around, we began our quest.

I am Ewingerale the woodpecker, the son of Antoine Verne and Primrose. Since most birds call me Winger, it is not odd that I stick to the nickname and think of it as my only name. It fits me well because of my love for flight. Everybird I meet says that I am an undersized and bony woodpecker but have unusually large wings. I guess they are right. I always felt that my large wings were born to have a big use, so when I heard of Wind-voice’s great quest, I joined it without hesitation.

EARLY SPRING, “THE DAY OF WINTER JASMINES”

Wind-voice says that on every quest, there is a bud, a flower, and a fruit. Our quest so far has gone well, so Wind-voice says that the flower has bloomed, a wonderful flower.

Our quest is to try to find and enliven all seven Leasorn gems across the world and to find a sword with the eighth Leasorn on its hilt. Wind-voice, the leader of our little group, seeks the sword because his mother told him to do so. Although Wind-voice has never seen the bird who sired him, his mother told him that his father was always watching over him. So we started off, three in all, to find the sword.

EARLY SPRING, “THE DAY OF HEROES”

What makes a hero? Bravery, strength, ability, and a heart for justice.

Wind-voice says that he wants to protect innocent birds from evil, to be a hero. In fact he isn’t boasting; he indeed looks like a hero: powerful and lean, with sparkling eyes. He looks like a dove, yet he’s stronger and mightier than any dove who has ever flown. He has the skills to be a hero too. He is not only good at swordplay but also smart, quick to learn new things, and thoughtful of others. Crows cringe when they see him; even the intensity of the rain seems to lessen in his presence. And that’s the very thing that has made me realize: If Wind-voice is able to find the Leasorn sword, there will be more happiness, more peace in all the forests.

Being tired, I cannot write more. Wind-voice, our hero, may you succeed!

Glenagh was reluctant to close the book. His interest was deeply aroused because the diary’s author was Ewingerale, the companion of Wind-voice. Seasons later Wind-voice became a true hero-Swordbird.

Swordbird… the word rang in the head of the old blue jay. Something in his mind stirred, and Glenagh remembered what Skylion had told him: Swordbird could solve this conflict.

The old blue jay thought about it as he buried his head in the feathers of his left wing. Somewhere in the Old Scripture there must be the song to summon Swordbird. He would find it. Then, if they could ever find a Leasorn gem, they could call for help. And Swordbird would surely come.

13 ESCAPE

Midnight came quickly. The first-shift compound guard had gone back to his bed; the second-shift guard was now dead with darts in his throat. “Good shot!” Miltin congratulated Glipper. The slavebirds stepped over the body and left the compound. Tilosses used the knife to work their legs free.

Glipper came to the front of the line of birds to lead them. As he looked at the sky, he noticed that it had become cloudy. Yes, that’s good. The moon is bright enough for us to travel, yet not so bright that guards can take notice. He looked back and saw Miltin give him a wing tip-up. That meant the robin had placed the bird dummies, and all was well at the back of the slavebird group. He returned the signal and started to crawl faster. The slavebirds uttered no sound in spite of the painful jagged rocks.

Glipper soon reached the hut. He and Miltin first helped the old and weak birds fly up to the hut roof. After everybird was safe, they made sure that no signs were left on the ground. The flycatcher and the robin were the last to fly up.

“It’s time,” Glipper said in a hushed tone to Tilosses. He, along with Miltin and the vireo brothers, crept to the edge of the roof and jumped noiselessly to the ground. They tipclawed nearer, nearer to the gate. There were two guards. One of them was half dozing; the other had covered his eyes with his cap.

Miltin gestured left and right with his claw. “Glipper, attack Crooked-shoulder with me. You two can get Large-cap. Remember, silent as shadows, and stifle them with the rags!”

The other three nodded and vanished to their places, waiting for the right moment.