Rocco's Wings (11 page)

‘Twenty-eight days to be exact,’ said Feldspar.

‘Of course, we’re going to do everything in our power to bring Belarica back. Once we leave, we won’t be allowed back in, not without Belarica.’

‘Maybe you’ll forget about us,’ said the white robe with gold earrings.

‘We won’t forget,’ said Basalt. ‘How could we?’

Jumping up, Feldspar embraced Basalt.

‘Thanks,’ said Feldspar, embracing Vesta, then Rocco.

Rocco examined Feldspar’s face. He’d been doing the same with Basalt, Vesta, Magma and Iggy, looking for any glimmer of cruelty. Since they’d been standing in the hallway last night, their faces had seemed softer, more human.

An array of feelings – affection, hope, despair – surfaced in Feldspar’s eyes. Basalt’s face was also a constantly shifting sea of emotion. He lifted his brow now, nodding at Feldspar and Rocco.

* * *

The half hour bell had just rung when Rocco slipped from bed. He tapped Iggy’s feet on his way to the door. Iggy failed to stir. He was awake though, so were the others.

The city lay still, except for the distant flashing from Air Marshals on the walkway above the wall. Kneeling by the front steps outside Roosting Hall, Rocco quickly covered his wings.

Crows, ravens and rooks

Flying over the darkened buildings, Rocco glided down to the loose shrubs at the foot of the northeast corner tower. Above his head, far up in the tower, Air Marshals were talking.

‘Lift the latch,’ Cirrus whispered, flying out of the shrubs.

‘I thought you said it was a knob.’

‘That comes later!’

The northwest tower looked identical to the other one, where they’d entered on the night of the clatch. Pushing through the foliage, Rocco reached out and found the hard metal handle. With a heave, he opened the door. Cirrus followed him in.

‘Wipe the dust off your wing tip. Even I can’t see in the pitch black,’ said Cirrus.

Rocco did as she bid.

‘We’re leaving tonight, all five of us,’ he said.

‘Together?’

‘Yep.’

‘Good. I didn’t find out much,’ said Cirrus as they proceeded down. ‘There’s lots of avian species in Silver Woods, but I wasn’t able to turn up any intelligence on whether any of the night birds are also spies. Some pockets of the forest don’t tolerate snitches. Maybe that’s one of them.’

‘We’re going out through Wildergarten anyway. New plan.’

‘Your idea?’

‘No, Basalt’s. Says it’s closer to the mountain, which it is.’

‘Makes sense.’

They arrived at the bottom. Passing under an arch, they entered a broad corridor. Moonlight streamed in from a row of windows high on the wall. Flying up, Rocco stared out at the Endless Plains. The pale grass rippled like waves in the night breeze. In the middle of the plain stood the lonely tree.

The sight of it sent a stabbing ache into his chest. Just a few days ago, everything had been different. He had knocked the thorns off a branch. He had laid his head to rest on the bough. His mother and Jafari had both been alive then.

‘Over here. It’s a nasty piece of a knob!’ Cirrus was fluttering up and down by a door on the other side of the corridor. ‘It’s made deliberately, I’d say, so it can’t be released with a beak!’

Rocco tried the latch. It wasn’t one he’d encountered elsewhere in Krakatoan. The handle was round; its mechanism required a twist, not a push of the thumb.

‘Nasty, nasty knob!’ squawked Cirrus.

‘Be quiet! Someone’s going to hear us!’ They were quite far underground, but Cirrus’ voice was shrill.

The door swung open. Dust, bird scat, and other damp and icky smells blew out, along with a scurrying sound of feet or wings. Rocco squinted in at a wire fence behind which sat a wall of cages, filled with birds. A few beat their wings, but most were sitting listlessly on the bottom of their cages.

Rocco plugged his nose.

‘We need to do this quickly,’ exclaimed Cirrus. ‘You open the fence and the cages and I’ll come behind and tell everyone what we’re doing.’

The fence was locked, but after retrieving a key off the wall, Rocco unlocked the fence and began opening the doors to the cages. Cirrus jabbered away in her mother tongue.

One by one, the birds hopped out, some covered in droppings and all with broken feathers. Didn’t anyone care that they lived in squalor? They were stunned, flying down to the floor where they sat for a period before flying off. Brief squabbles broke out. Soon the cages were empty except for a raven with a grey beak.

‘I want to thank you, young urvogel,’ it said, bowing low.

‘You’re welcome,’ said Rocco. Bending over, he shook the bird’s wing.

Ever so regally, Grey Beak lifted off, disappearing into the corridor. Through some miracle the bird had managed to keep its dignity.

‘Do only some of them speak?’

Cirrus snorted. ‘They all speak, mudrock. Can’t you hear them?’

Outside, the bird calls had risen to a din.

Rocco locked the fence gate again. Returning to the corridor he flew up and tossed the key out the window. Whoever had locked the birds up wasn’t going to be able to use the cages again, not without a lot of trouble.

Opening the door to the second room, he stared in at more cages, this time full of crows. The third room held magpies and rooks; the last, starlings and red-winged black birds.

By the time all the birds were free, the cawing and screeching had risen to a deafening pitch. Rocco hurriedly threw the last key out the window. The sky was black with birds.

‘I have to get out of here.’ Rocco ran toward the stairwell.

‘Go. Go, and thank you.’

The sound of beating wings and calling birds was even more powerful outside. The air trembled with vibrations. He dusted his wing tip in a patch of sand. Keeping low to the trees, he zoomed across the city. Air Marshals filled the air, rising from the windows of their Roosting Halls and out of the palace doors.

A large dark drove of birds was congregating on top of the palace dome.

* * *

‘Hello?’ Rocco heard the echo of his own voice.

They’d agreed to meet in the Bathhouse, but where were they?

Basalt, Vesta, Magma and Iggy, faces drawn and pale, stepped out from the shadows. Their wings, already covered in soil, hung stiffly at their sides. They were loaded with so much gear, how would they ever fly?

‘Here,’ said Vesta, slinging an empty waterskin and flying belt stuffed with food over Rocco’s shoulder. Magma handed him the silver sword with the green stone in the hilt inside its sheath. He put it on.

‘Look,’ said Basalt following Rocco to the door. ‘There’s no way to explain all this gear, so if anyone tries to stop us, just get to Wildergarten as fast as you can.’

They hurried into the path. Basalt strode out in front. Rocco took up the back, right behind Iggy. Flying would have been faster, but they’d all agreed it would attract more attention.

Rocco’s sword kept bumping against his leg. Mid-stride he adjusted the belt. It was awkward, all this stuff, but it was all they had to get by with for the next few days.

They entered the field of green. Their tunics shone, starkly white in the light of the moon.

Two white dots appeared in the sky. A pair of urvogels on their way back from Singhurvogel Hall?

Basalt, Vesta and Magma broke into a run.

‘Come on, Iggy!’ Rocco tugged the small urvogel’s sleeve. As they reached the midway point in the field the two dots, still some distance away, passed overhead. They weren’t regular urvogels, but Air Marshals.

Rocco’s feet hit the ground, stride after stride. Iggy’s feet were faster; they had to be, his legs were shorter. Still two hundred metres to go. Iggy’s waterskin broke free. Without missing a beat Rocco scooped it up.

‘Here you go,’ he said, tossing it to Iggy. For a fleeting moment, he glanced back. The Air Marshals had landed on the edge of the field.

‘Faster!’ Rocco yelled.

A sharp whistle cut the air.

Basalt, Magma and Vesta flew up.

‘They’ve seen us!’ cried Iggy, lifting off.

The Air Marshals were signalling, calling to other Air Marshals. They were all out looking for the culprit who had freed the birds.

Wildergarten loomed near, so dark and thick it looked as if there was no way in. Rocco stared ahead, watching as Basalt, Vesta and Magma were, by turns, swallowed up in the foliage.

Glancing back one more time, Rocco’s heart pounded in his chest. The Air Marshals were halfway across the field. Behind them the dotted lights of other Air Marshals were amassing.

Rocco entered the trees. Spotting a thick branch overhead, Rocco flew up and seized it with both hands. Yanking it back, he motioned to Vesta who immediately zoomed into the space.

They waited. Finally, after several long moments, the two Air Marshals entered the woods.

‘You’re it!’ called Vesta.

‘Stop! In the name of the Great Urvogel, I command you!’ The Air Marshal flying out in front craned his neck. The whites of his eyes gleamed as he shot ahead, sword aimed at Vesta.

With a quick and nimble tuck, Vesta closed her wings. She dropped like an arrow. In the same moment, Rocco released the branch. It snapped into place with a
thwack
that hit the Air Marshal squarely in the chest. Reeling back, he hit his partner.

Both Air Marshals careened down, flapping hard as they tried to recover their wings. Rocco followed the sound of cracking branches and ripped leaves.

A thud sounded below.

‘Got one!’ Magma yelled up.

Halfway to the forest floor, Rocco flew up. Vesta and Basalt had begun to fight the second Air Marshal. Unlike the first who’d taken the brunt of the whipping branch, he’d managed to stay airborne. The clash of swords rang loudly.

‘You’ll never get away with this, Vespa, or whatever your name is. And you, Basalt, you’re responsible for the white robes’ disgrace. They’re all going to lose their wings because of you.’

Rocco dived into the fray. He swung left and right.

‘You’ve run away with a dog, I see,’ said the Air Marshal.

It was only bait, thought Rocco, looking through a crack in the leaves. Much bigger problems were upon them. A white circle appeared; was the moon rolling across the field? Blinking rapidly, Rocco stared out. Not the moon, but a great company of urvogels, was hurtling toward them. Their wings, glowing and white, beat against the black earth.

A stone hit the bottom of his stomach – not a real stone, but the feeling was there, something heavy and lodged out of place.

‘More Air Marshals! Look! Look!’ Magma’s voice rose in a shriek.

‘I can see,’ said Rocco, slashing forcefully at the Air Marshal as he swung by in his battle with Vesta and Basalt. The Air Marshal was larger and more experienced than any of them, but his glowing wings made him an easy mark.

‘Dog.’ The Air Marshal snarled. With a backhand lash, Rocco swung again. This time he cut the Air Marshal’s wing. A spray of white feathers twirled off. The Air Marshal, spinning wildly, plummeted down.

Basalt and Vesta dived after him.

‘Let him go! We have to clear out of here!’ Rocco called. The Air Marshal wasn’t going anywhere, not with a clipped wing.

Rocco peered ahead. Twenty or more Air Marshals, mere metres away, were almost on them. Their wings beat stridently. A war shield began to throb.

‘Come on!’ Rocco veered down. Basalt and Vesta pushed up through the trees.

‘They’re done. Both of them,’ said Vesta.

Magma and Iggy popped into sight.

‘Come on!’ Rocco darted deeper into the trees. His sword was out, a longer arm to move the leaves and otherwise protect himself from anything approaching head-on. How deep was Wildergarten, anyway, and would the Air Marshals follow them up the mountain? Of course they would.

His neck and the back of his head was dripping with sweat. Even the wind, swirling around him, couldn’t manage to dry it off. Overhead, branches began to crack. Had a second contingent of Air Marshals come around the other way, to block them off?

The muscles in his arm tensed as he got ready to strike. Any moment now he was going to feel the ugly snap of a sky-tether on his wing.

More flapping, but as he listened through the throb going on in his ears, the beats weren’t slow and hard like urvogel wings. The flaps were short, flicking with a snap against the leaves. A black mass was moving through the upper reaches of the trees.

A small dark wing whizzed over his head.

‘Thank you, blue wing,’ said a voice.

Birds?

The small wings of black birds darted everywhere around him. He flapped to stay on course as the birds hurtled past. The birds dipped down, or flew up, all taking care not to hit him and his friends.

‘What’s going on?’ Iggy sounded scared.

They weren’t just any birds – they were black birds, the ones Rocco had freed. They were angry, screeching and cawing so nosily the sound filled the air. The cavalry of birds was heading straight for the Air Marshals.

More and more birds swept past.

The war shield stopped beating. A single shout rang out in the field, followed by a flood of shrieks.

‘Get off! Get off!’ the Air Marshals cried.

The mass of birds had become so dense that Rocco could no longer fly. Basalt, Magma, Vesta and Iggy flew astride. They all gaped at the passing stream of ravens, rooks, crows and starlings.

‘They’re here – helping us?’ said Basalt.

As if in answer, another bird flew past. ‘Thank you, Rocco. Thank you.’

With the Air Marshals on one side, and a never-ending swarm of birds on the other, Rocco shot up. He stuck his head through the top of the tree canopy. A moment later Basalt, Magma, Iggy and Vesta pushed through beside him.

Out in the field, the Air Marshals were under attack by the mob of birds. They beat their arms and wings, ducking as the birds dive-bombed their heads. Some lashed hopelessly with their swords. A volley of bird cries and urvogel shrieks rang out.

The army of birds was much larger than the birds Rocco had freed from the cages. Ten or a hundred times as many, way too many to count.

A handful of Air Marshals broke away from the melee. Four – no, five were fleeing back toward the city. Breaking off, a hoard of birds gave chase.

‘Let’s go,’ shouted Rocco.

Dipping down into the trees, they pressed on through Wildergarten. The corner tower appeared, so thickly covered in vines that the stones were hardly visible. Not a single Air Marshal appeared. Perhaps they were inside, or out in the fight on the field. It mattered not as they swept over the wall and began a steep ascent up Mount Zetna.