“Let’s go tomorrow!” A new voice pierced the air. Miltin had staggered into the room, shocking everyone into silence.

Aska sent a questioning look to Skylion.

There was a pause. “Yes, you can, Aska and Miltin. I give you that permission with pleasure,” Skylion said. “But not tomorrow. Miltin needs at least a day or two to recover his strength.”

Aska felt her heart soar in the sky. I can do it! she thought.

15 SURMOUNTING THE WHITE CAP MOUNTAINS

The top of the White Cap Mountains was a ghastly place. Trees were scattered across the misty landscape like ghosts. Aska and Miltin had been confident when they started to fly up the slopes in the morning, but now they were not so sure.

“Oh, you can hardly see anything from here.” Aska squinted at a shadow in the distance. “What is that? A tree, or a boulder maybe? Or something…else?”

Miltin shrugged. “Who knows? Let’s avoid it.” So the two birds veered around the shadow. They had never before seen such a thick fog; everything around them seemed to be covered by a milk-white veil.

The two soared in absolute silence. Miltin flew with steady, measured stokes, refusing to favor his aching wing, but his heart was beating furiously. Aska dared not talk; she focused on flying as fast and as deliberately as she could. A stretch of time followed, and though it was only minutes, it seemed to be hours until Miltin spoke.

“I-I think our minds played a trick on us. I don’t see anything anywhere.” His words were half true. Of course they hadn’t seen anything suspicious, but how could they see anything clearly in the fog?

Aska smiled nervously. “I hope you’re right, Miltin. I don’t like this place at all. Remember what Skylion told us? The Sklarkills could be sneaking right behind-”

“Stop! Stop! Let’s not make the situation harder than it already is.”

They fell silent again. Every so often a frightening shadow would appear in the distance, only to be revealed as a twisted dead tree or an uneven lump of rock deposited there by avalanches long ago.

No wind blew on the very top of the mountains, and no trees rustled their leaves. In truth there were no leaves to rustle, for the only trees were stiff conifers and dead ones as dry and old as the mountains themselves. No grass grew, only thick carpets of moss covering the rocky ground. The moist air caressed the land with its icy fingers, leaving drops of water behind. There were waterlogged depressions in the earth, some as small as a plate and some as large as a basin, which were like countless still mirrors reflecting the fog. No ripple ever came to their surface; nobird disturbed them.

Minutes went by, and Aska and Miltin soared over a ravine, a sight that was both horrifying and breathtaking. Though the mist did not allow them to see the entire chasm, the edges and the feeling of emptiness were enough.

Aska suddenly tensed. Miltin glanced quickly around. “What is it?”

“There’s…well, a rhythmic sound, coming closer…”

“What? I didn’t hear a thing. Maybe it’s just your imagination-”

Aska quickly cut the robin off. “No, stop beating your wings like a madbird. Fly slowly. Now can you hear it?” Aska’s face was strained with fear.

Miltin’s eyes grew bigger. “Yes, quite clearly. Why, they’re saying…”

There was chanting in the distance. It got louder and louder and soon surrounded the two travelers, echoing in the mist.

“Sklarkills! Sklarkills! Kill, kill, kill! Give us your treasures or you’ll die!”

Miltin beat his wings faster than ever. But there was no way out; the strange birds had encircled them thoroughly, unnoticed because of the fog. The bandits closed in on them.

“We don’t have any treasures,” Aska shouted.

“Sklarkills! Sklarkills! Kill, kill, kill! Give us whatever you have!” they yelled darkly. Now Aska could see that the Sklarkills were large jackdaws who had shimmering snakeskin vests with swirling green patterns on them. Some even wore headbands to match.

Miltin took a silent count. His eyes widened with worry. “Dozens of them at least. We’re hopelessly outnumbered, Aska! Our only way out is up.”

“But the air is thin up there! We could suffocate!”

“It’s all we can do.” Miltin’s face was grim. “Here. A saber to protect yourself with. I’ll be okay with a rapier. Don’t worry if we get separated. Just go!”

The two birds armed themselves and darted up through layers of fog. Sklarkill jackdaws followed, bellowing in anger, trying to block their way. They thrust long spears at the two travelers. One of the spears tore Miltin’s carrying pack. Supplies spilled out, and Miltin was thrown off-balance. Down he spun, into the mob of the eager jackdaws. The Sklarkills stabbed and pierced him with their spears, threatening to close in. Miltin whirled his rapier furiously, blocking as many spears as possible. Yet he couldn’t hold out for long. Aska knocked a Sklarkill jackdaw back with her saber and came thundering down. She slashed with all her might, roaring into her enemies’ faces, using her small size to duck the wild stabs of the spears. Then Miltin regained his balance, and they struggled to fly upward.

“Hold your breath and fly higher!” Miltin urged, wind whistling in his feathers. “Higher!” They flew up and up. The Sklarkills followed, still chanting their threatening song, “Kill, kill! Sklarkills, kill!” No matter how high they went, the Sklarkills always followed. When Aska gasped for breath, her lungs felt as though they were on fire.

“Down. Now!” Miltin whispered dryly. The two plunged down, waving their weapons as they dived. Aska was not seriously wounded; she had only a small slash on her back and tiny nicks and sores. Miltin, on the other wing, was bleeding all over. With the speed of their dive, the two managed to evade the mob. Yet it was only a temporary escape. The Sklarkills quickly followed them.

“Aska,” Miltin gasped, “follow me! Quick!”

“What? Why are we-”

“Don’t ask now. You’ll see later. Just follow!” The robin flew with a burst of speed back the way they had come. Aska zoomed closely behind, a little confused. Why were they heading back when they were almost on the other side of the mountains? The Sklarkill band was in hot pursuit.

Miltin glanced back. “Take this, jackdaws!” he hollered, and snatched a large bag of grain out of his torn pack. He threw it as far as he could.

Immediately, the jackdaws flew to the bag, fighting for it, yelling to one another in hoarse voices, “Mine! Mine!”

Miltin kept flying. Suddenly the ravine again opened up beneath the robin and the blue jay. Rapidly Miltin and Aska turned and plunged into it. They disappeared in the mist. “Keep to the cliffs and sides!” Miltin whispered. “Quick! The Sklarkills will catch up soon!”

Miltin’s eyes darted to and fro. He kept glancing at the jagged cliffs that were the borders of the ravine.

“Here!” Miltin whispered urgently. He flew headlong into a small cranny in the cliff. It was just big enough for him and Aska. Inside it was dry and dusty. Dark too.