Sword Quest (5 page)

Maldeor did not look up at all. After his wing had been chopped off, his face had developed a permanent grimace. “I’m waiting to die. Let me die. I’m not going to live in the agony and shame of a one-winged bird.”

“You would die and let your enemy, Hungrias, triumph? I can give you a wing. It’s not a normal wing, but it shall fit you even better than the one you lost.” In the shadows, Yin Soul raised his wing and hacked swiftly down. His turned face shielded his expression of pain as
one hind wing came off of his ghostly body.
It is worth it,
he thought, gritting his teeth. He hunched over and hopped forward into the light again. His manteau was long and wide enough to hide his missing wing.

“Here,” he said, choking, and raised a bony wing almost like a bat’s, with shimmering hairs growing out of pale scales that stretched over it. “Something neither sword nor arrow can destroy. It will let you fly once more. You can truly be a bird again.”

Maldeor longed for it. To fly again, to have power over those who’d done this to him…but something was wrong with this offer. He knew it. He batted the wing off to one side.

Yin Soul paused. He stepped forward and slowly drew a claw out from his tattered sleeve. He tenderly laid it on Maldeor’s blood-splattered head and turned it upward. As he gazed into Maldeor’s glazed eyes, two shining tears rolled slowly down Yin Soul’s thin cheeks. A flame hissed in the background.

“Look what they have done to you.” His voice rippled. “Look what they have done to the world, these evil birds with nothing but their own power and pleasure in their hearts. Don’t you want to stop them? Won’t you let me help you?”

He looked as if he grieved for Maldeor’s pain, for all the pain in the world. As if he knew what the archaeopteryx was suffering. As if he truly cared.

“Please.” Maldeor believed that Yin Soul was sincere. His suspicions melted away and he broke down at last. “Please save me. Help me.”

How was he to know that Yin Soul truly cared for nobird but himself?

“As I am tied here, I cannot interfere directly in the affairs of mortals,” Yin Soul told Maldeor. “But I know
much. The wing will help you fly again. See if you like it. But it is only a spirit wing, not made of mortal flesh. Every month, on the night of the new moon, you must return here, and I will give you a potion. You must drink it to give the wing strength. And, I will have something better for you later on. To shape the world into that of our vision, you will need the sword, the one the Great Spirit commanded Pepheroh to make. It’s hidden on the island of Kauria. I can give you one clue: Hero’s Day is on the day of the fifth full moon in a year and a half. However, there is a strange white bird called 013-Unidentified, who I feel poses a threat to your goals. Find and kill him. Then search for the gemstones, Leasorn gems, as some call them. They will give you the rest of the clues you need.” Yin Soul raised two wings upward. “That sword is waiting for a hero to wield it. It has the power to do anything…everything.”

If you kill a thousand birds, you win a forest, yet if you kill an emperor, you own an empire.

—FROM THE
B
OOK OF
H
ERESY

W
hen Maldeor awoke, he jumped from the snow and tried to beat the air. The wing Yin Soul had given him worked. A malicious, gleeful cry tore from his throat.

Having traveled along in Hungrias’s court during the winters when he had been a knight, he knew Hungrias was south in the Marshes Battalion. He took off in that direction, feeling his excitement rise with the temperature.

Hours later, he was in a discussion with Kawaka.

“I can’t believe it! You are still alive, and flying!” Kawaka said gladly. Hungrias had threatened to demote him because the unidentified slave had escaped. Now here was Maldeor, the great knight who had also been wronged by the emperor.

“Follow me and overthrow Hungrias, Kawaka. When I am emperor I shall make you head knight.”

“My soldiers and I shall serve you with all our hearts,” Kawaka vowed. “I remember the day when Hungrias ordered us to hack off your wing. We all knew that the loss of the prince wasn’t your fault. Soon, he will pay for the injustice.”

For Wind-voice, the days in the marshland birds’ camp were the best he’d ever known. His wounds healed, and Fisher taught him how to wield the sword that had once belonged to the heron. Wind-voice learned quickly and found courage in the quick slashing movements, in the brightness of the steel as it sliced through the air.

It was not only the training that gave him happiness but also his newfound friendships. When he was not playing his harp, Winger flitted around the field where Wind-voice practiced with Fisher, calling out encouragement. Stormac often came and practiced handling his
staff alongside his friends.

But the time couldn’t last, and Wind-voice knew it. “I can’t stay here. What if the archaeopteryxes started looking for me? I don’t want to draw trouble onto your heads, especially after all your kindness to me.”

Winger had been writing in a diary, and now he looked up. “Wherever you go, I will go.”

“I will come, too,” Stormac said.

“You are welcome to stay with us,” Fisher told them. But when they insisted on leaving, Fisher sketched a map
in the mud at his feet with one of his long toes. “The frontier territories beyond are safer. The archaeopteryxes are less numerous there. Near the Amali River you might find Fleydur, the eagle. There are other rebel groups across the river. He can take you to one or the other, if you wish to continue the fight against the archaeopteryx empire. But you don’t have to do so. You can strike out on your own if you choose. Find a peaceful place, if you can, where you can live out your lives. Nobird would blame you. This fight is a hard one, and we may never win it by ourselves.”

Stormac scowled. Winger turned away, a look of longing on his face. But Wind-voice faced Fisher in surprise.

“Do you truly think that?” he asked. “That we cannot win?”

Fisher sighed. His long beak drooped. “I would not say this to many. There are great deeds to be done, young ones, but quite frankly, we alone cannot do them. We have no power or strength, though we take action in our dreams and hearts. The path ahead is too treacherous.” He stared into the sky. “But there is a hero who will succeed. He is coming…he is coming, and when he comes, he will release us from the claw of tyranny.”

“Who is he?” Wind-voice’s words were shaky.

“I don’t know his name, and his face is unclear. But he
is coming, I know. When he comes, he will rescue the thousands of birds who are forced to live in hiding in barren lands. He will find good land for those birds to plant and harvest, and fill shriveled bellies. All birds will live side by side in peace.”

Ewingerale looked up and listened as well, his eyes hungering.

“If we had our gemstone, I would know more.” Fisher sighed. “That was a great loss. They say that gems like our Leasorn are supposed to hold clues to where a sword can be found, a sword that the hero will need.”

“A sword? How can a weapon bring about peace?” asked Winger.

“It seems like a paradox,” agreed the heron. “But it is not a war sword. Its hidden power will shake the evil. In the claws of the hero, it will bring happiness to us.”

Wind-voice looked up wistfully and asked, “When is this hero coming?”

The silence was cruel. “Soon, Wind-voice,” the heron said. “Soon.”

Maldeor perched in the midst of Kawaka’ s soldiers, gazing quietly at the gate of the archaeopteryx emperor’s winter castle. A hood was pulled low over his eyes and a cloak hid everything but his scrawny
claws. Snow fell, but he was still.

Kawaka called out. Inside the gatehouse, an archer guard opened a small peephole. “What do you want in the middle of the night?” he demanded. “If you have a message to leave, be quick.”

“I have a special message,” Kawaka said. “It is only for the Ancient Wing’s ears.” The guard surveyed the group. He was about to let them in when he saw Maldeor.
Who is he?
he wondered. Before he could ask, Maldeor raised his left wing slightly. The cloak he was wearing rippled away and left the wing bare.

The guard swallowed. By the light of the moon, he saw moist gray skin. Beneath it, masses of blood vessels throbbed in and out of sight, as if challenging him. Though the rest of the creature’s body was still, the shiny black claws on the foot coming off the arc of his wing twitched.

Whoever he is, he’s with Kawaka, so it must be safe to let him in,
thought the guard with a shiver. After a series of clicks, slowly the door opened a crack.

Maldeor walked briskly in with Kawaka by his side and headed down the long green tunnel, past the lighted torches and trophies, past the soldiers on night duty and the servant birds. The scrawny head scholar he had bribed gave him a slight nod. Nobird attempted to stop
him or question him. Maldeor turned before he came to the audience hall hung with jasmine, where Hungrias had received his tribute not long before. Down the left hall, up three branches, left again in the corridor, then right. There was no doubt or hesitation as he came to the final grand door, opened it, and slipped in.

The emperor of Archaeopteryxes stood alone by his window, yawning, moonlight catching on the ring that hung from his beak. His body was swathed in a robe of red velvet, silk, and gold trim, and he still held a slice of crab pinched between two talons.

“I’m back, Ancient Wing,” Maldeor said.

The olive green feathers on the emperor’s neck stood on end. Beak ring jangling, he spun around and met a sight that made the crab tumble from his claw.

“You—” Emperor Hungrias gasped, eyes bulging.

“Yes, me.”

“You’re still alive…” the emperor stammered. “Your w-w-wi—”

Maldeor unclasped his damp cloak, the faintest of smiles flickering across his face. The cloth, maroon with a silver lining, fell in a glossy heap at his feet. He shook off the remaining snow. Maldeor raised his left wing. The Ancient Wing stared.

“By my teeth, how could—” Again the emperor broke
off his sentence, and again Maldeor smiled.

“Why are you here?” gasped Hungrias at last, the green feathers on his fat cheeks trembling.

“Don’t we both know?” his gray companion sneered. His sharp white teeth glittered like crystals.

The emperor clutched the windowsill. It seemed best to vault out and flap away into the snowy darkness,
but—no. “You murderer. And liar!” He propelled his fat body forward. “You killed my son. You lost the gemstone. You lied to me. Do you think that I am so foolish as to believe your crazy story of some four-winged dinosaur? Ha! Disappearing in flames…How dare you come back here!”

“I did not lie! I told the truth. You destroyed me,” Maldeor said, and for a moment his stiff calm evaporated. “I did nothing but serve you. All the knights of the court pleaded for me when I came back. You know they would have fought against you if you beheaded me, so you cut off my wing instead. You expected me to die. I didn’t. It was hate and vengefulness that somehow dragged me up from death. Do you know how I suffered, my stump constantly bleeding? I had been your best and most loyal knight. Who knows what other cruelties you have committed? Or what you will inflict on others in the future?
I
shall show you what an emperor should be.”

“Guards!” the emperor cried furiously. “Take him away!”

Maldeor laughed. “Didn’t your servants tell you that they had a message from Sir Kawaka? He has agreed to serve me now. His birds have overpowered your guards. Your court wishes for a new emperor to follow.”

There came a tapping on the door. Maldeor quickly
put on his heavy cloak again before opening it. Instead of the emperor’s guards, Kawaka walked in. Beside him was the chief scholar of the court. Other knights and scholars flanked them. Armed birds from Kawaka’s battalion pressed in close behind.

With an angry stare, Hungrias tore out his beak ring and tossed it at Maldeor’s claws. “Take it! Take it!”

Calmly Maldeor bent and scooped it up with one claw. He held it up. It was pure gold, finely crafted, with a single dark onyx sphere caught in a web of gold twine. Along one edge were inscribed the words
RULER OF THE TOOTH-BEAKED
.

“Thank you, Ancient Wing,” said Maldeor, pocketing it. “I accept this responsibility. I will command your battalions. I will bring peace and order to the world. Everything will be under my control. There will be no more evil. There will be an end to birds like you.”

“I can’t believe…you rascal, you criminal…” Hungrias huffed.

Maldeor ignored him.

Maldeor smiled serenely at the knights and scholars. He raised a claw and jingled the beak ring once.

“Ancient Wing,” shouted the scholars, the knights, and the soldiers. Each thumped his left foot on his chest feathers in the archaeopteryx gesture of loyalty. That was
all that was needed for a new emperor to rise.

The soldiers behind them echoed the gesture. “Ancient Wi—”

With a crash, Hungrias leaped forward with spider-like venom, a hidden sword drawn out and pressed against Kawaka’s throat. “Traitor…”

Hungrias never finished his sentence. There was a metallic blur behind him, and he toppled, his sequined doublet now shining dully.

“That old spider had tricks, always,” Maldeor said, sheathing his own sword. He had used his specialty, the Deadly Fate move, which seldom failed. He ruffled his feathers, then continued. “Send out word to every battalion that they have a new emperor now,” Maldeor ordered. “I have plans for them all. First, we will leave this place as soon as possible and return to Castlewood. This winter palace is for weaklings. Enduring the cold winter will strengthen us.” He glanced scornfully at the body of Hungrias.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The head scholar walked up, holding a piece of paper in his claws. “But before we go, Your Majesty, do you wish us to circulate the new list of wanted birds that Hungrias issued?”

Maldeor was about to snap “No!” but changed his mind. “Read off the names.” He listened intently.
Suddenly the words “013-Unidentified” made him jump.
Yin Soul, my mentor, spoke of this bird!
he thought. “Yes, 013-Unidentified, I want him!” Maldeor barked. “Double the reward of acorns and pine seeds. Make sure you put a sketch of his face on the posters. What crime did he commit?”

“He yelled openly at Hungrias and escaped against Hungrias’s wishes.”

Maldeor nodded and stored this information in his head.
One thing at a time,
he thought.
Next, Kauria.
He spun around, turning to the chief of the scholars. “All right then, what do you know about Kauria?”

The old archaeopteryx blinked in surprise. “Kauria? It is a legend, my lord, a mythical island where snow never falls and the flowers never fade, ruled by a phoenix, Pepheroh. But it is a just a story. Nobird with any learning thinks it truly exists.” He faltered a little under Maldeor’s stern glare.

“It exists,” Maldeor said fiercely. “And I will find the way there. Search your books and scrolls. Tell me anything you find. All of you!” His gaze traveled across the group of birds.

“Your Majesty, here is a yellow Leasorn gem, which Kawaka had brought.” The head scholar raised the gemstone that had been stolen from the kingfishers.