Rocco's Wings (19 page)

He would do the thing Basalt would have done had he been alive. He would fight for the white robes and their right to live – unafraid, and as perfect as the day they fledged.

He flopped around in his nest trying to get comfortable. Death didn’t seem so close; maybe he’d scared it off with all his brave talk.

A night bird began to sing.

‘Can you hear it?’ asked Vesta.

‘Yes. It’s lovely.’

‘Birds aren’t afraid of the woods,’ said Vesta. ‘I guess it just takes some getting used to.’

Soon the wolves began to howl.

Snow-capped mountain

The sun was a ball of grey.

‘What’s happening?’ Vesta called.

‘You and Iggy better come down,’ said Rocco. The ground was shaking under his feet. Everything was full of ash: the air, the trees, every blade of grass beneath the chestnut. Even his flying belt which he’d hung up on the side of the trunk.

There were lots of sandstorms in Lower Terrakesh, but nothing like this. The ash was much finer than sand – so fine it kept getting into his eyes and nose.

‘What is it? Why is everything shaking?’ asked Vesta.

‘I don’t know but we need to get out of here. The ground is rocking, and – and all the animals are running away.’

Hooves thumped through the underbrush. Branches and leaves rustled as all the small creatures fled.

Removing a piece of his torn leggings out of his flying belt, Rocco pulled the tubular fabric over his head and up over his mouth and nose. A makeshift kaffy, but it would do.

Iggy sneezed. A stick fell out of Vesta’s night nest, clacking as it hit the ground and sending up a pouf of ash.

Vesta’s wings flapped. ‘Come on Iggy! Over the edge!’

Down they came, along with much of their nest. Vesta ducked a falling limb. Coming to rest on the ground, she gave Rocco a curious stare. He didn’t even have to explain. Vesta opened her flying belt, pulled out a bit of cloth and tied it around her nose and mouth. She told Iggy to do the same.

‘There’s some kind of current, the ground is buzzing,’ said Rocco, straightening his sheath. ‘Can you feel it?’ Vibrations were passing up through his feet and legs, and into his torso. The tips of his wings were trembling.

Everything was so clogged with ash, it was impossible to see more than a few metres. Clouds wafted up from the ground, stirred by the fleeing animals. Other clouds drifted down, silently covering the flora in a grey blanket.

‘We’re going to be covered in ash! Let’s go!’ said Vesta, hurriedly packing up her things.

‘What’s this! What’s this!’ A high-pitched voice floated down.

Rocco’s heart gave a flutter.

‘You’re a sight for sore eyes,’ said the voice.

Rocco squinted up into the swirling ash.

Could it be?

‘Cirrus?’

‘Yes, yes, it’s me.’

‘What’s happening? What’s going on? Why are all the animals running away?’

‘The snow-clad mountain is spewing ash. She’s a volcano, about to erupt. Good thing you can fly. You’d better follow me!’

‘Wow, are we ever glad to see you!’ said Rocco. She looked like any ordinary black raven, but he knew the voice.

Cirrus swooped down, nodded at Rocco, and they flew up again. Rocco flew in behind her.

‘We can’t even see!’ Vesta touched Rocco’s foot. She was right behind him. Iggy was flapping at the back.

‘The forest is full of Air Marshals, so think of all this ash as a blessing,’ said Cirrus. ‘Without it, they’d have found you hours ago.’

‘An ambush? We didn’t even hear them.’ In between wing flaps, Rocco tried not to breathe. So much ash, his eyes stung.

‘A rebellion has started in Krakatoan and Harpia holds you responsible,’ said Cirrus. ‘She wants to make an example of you now more than ever. She’s hoping that one of your heads on a stake will quash the uprising.’

‘Did you hear that, Vesta?’

‘I heard.’

‘She offers a great reward.’ Cirrus had disappeared into the grey again, but her voice was there. ‘Fifty pieces of silver, a title and a post in the palace to anyone who returns with one of your heads. The feathered parts of you are no longer the prize.’

‘We’re on our way to Shale. It’s just – we’ve been delayed. So much bad luck we’ve been having,’ said Rocco, panting, and squinting at the fluttering black dot. Cirrus was so small, barely even there, and yet she’d been such a tremendous help, flying in at exactly the right time and giving him critical bits of information.

‘I’ve brought a legion of birds with me. They’re all anxious to help again. You’re a hero, Rocco. These are the birds you freed. If you hadn’t come when you did, some of them wouldn’t have made it. The rest, well, their fate was a dinner platter.’

They’d arrived at the top of the trees. The sky above was full of ash, but mottled with large black clouds interrupted by a lighter grey.

‘We’re to have a battle, here in the midst of all this?’ asked Rocco, looking around.

‘No. No. This is not the time or place for a war,’ said Cirrus. ‘We’re here to take you to Belarica. The birds will provide a covering.’

Cawing loudly in her mother tongue, Cirrus swooped up. Vesta and Iggy, noses and mouths covered with kaffies, had reached Rocco. Together they followed.

‘Not now!’ said Cirrus. ‘Wait until I give the signal!’

Rocco dropped back. Through the branches he could see hundreds, if not thousands, of Air Marshals flying in and out of the ashen clouds. They were wearing weird masks that sealed their faces in. Giant circles of glass covered their eyes. They looked like giant bugs, their swords extended like stingers.

‘They’re hoping the dust will flush us out.’ Rocco turned to Vesta and Iggy who were hovering beside him.

‘Look.’ Vesta pulled a branch down.

On the distant horizon a mass of black birds was flying toward them. The size of the flock was so vast it looked as though a thundercloud had overtaken the entire landscape.

The cloud of birds grew larger.

‘Now? Should we go, now?’ asked Vesta.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ said Cirrus, darting above. ‘I’ll tell you when. We have to wait until the congress is directly over your heads.’

Air Marshals had landed at the foot of the chestnut tree. Almost directly below, they began to shout. They’d just found the night nests.

Rocco put a finger to his lips. The blood in his neck began to throb.

Flock after flock of birds passed overhead.

Half a dozen Air Marshals passed over the treetops, not more than a few wing lengths away. Had they been looking down, they could have easily seen them.

‘Now!’ Cirrus’ call was decisive.

With a great upward thrust, Rocco flexed his wings. Vesta and Iggy were right behind him. An enormous cloud of black birds swept in, covering them, and drawing them away. The world was black and moving. The rapidly flapping wings were deafening.

They were safe.

Vesta was flying off his right and Iggy off his left. Every urvogel wing stride caused the black birds – ravens, crows, rooks and starlings – to bob in the gusts. Closing ranks again, the birds pushed on in a current of their own making.

The mob climbed higher and higher. Through an occasional crack Rocco could see that the ash was clearing a bit.

A squabble erupted at the back. The flock of birds was still so dense, and their wings so noisy, that it was impossible to know what was going on. Rocco craned his neck.

An Air Marshal’s sword flashed briefly.

‘They’re here! They’re here! I’m sure of it!’ came a shout.

Angry caws and flapping wings were cut by an Air Marshal’s sudden shriek as a portion of birds broke off. The main flock leapt forward.

Concealed inside the giant bird bubble, they flew on, leaving behind the Air Marshal voices. Rocco kept his eyes fixed on the birds beneath him. Periodically the flock parted slightly, permitting him a glimpse of the changing terrain below.

The snow-clad mountain appeared beneath them, its sheets of white spoiled with grey. Waves of glowing sparks shot up from the mountain’s mouth. The tree-filled slopes were black with roiling dust.

They travelled on. The sky cleared, but the birds remained fast, holding their fortress of feathers around Rocco, Vesta and Iggy. By midday the mountains were less jagged, the trees thinner. When darkness fell, the birds swarmed down to a deserted moorland. Rocco’s wings felt like lead as he fell against the cold, hard earth.

At dawn they continued on, flying all day. By evening they crossed, at last, the escarpment that separated Upper and Lower Terrakesh. A warm current carried them into the updraughts. They were over the shepherd’s hook, thought Rocco, looking down.

That night they made a bed at the bottom of the cliffs, tucked in under a rocky outcrop. Thousands of ravens and other birds perched all over the rock piles and in the surrounding fields.

Cirrus found them again. ‘You three holding up?’

‘Yeah,’ said Rocco. His throat was parched. Vesta and Iggy were lying beside him, their faces worn.

‘The forest behind Krakatoan is my home, and that of many other raven clans. We can no more leave it than the urvogels can leave their city,’ said Cirrus.

‘We’ll do everything we can.’ Sitting up properly so he could address the bird, Rocco continued. ‘Thank you, my friend. I – we owe you an enormous debt. That’s twice now you’ve rescued us just in the nick of time.’

‘We’d have been dead already if it weren’t for you. Consider it even.’

Late that night the skies opened and rain began to fall. Finally Snaggletooth’s barge would get unstuck, thought Rocco, feeling the first raindrops on his cheek. He opened his waterskin and set it out in the rain, propped up so the water would enter.

By morning, the sky water had stopped. About two cups had settled in his waterskin. He drank a mouthful and offered the rest to Vesta and Iggy.

They lifted off in a light mist and dense fog. Perhaps they didn’t need the mantle of birds anymore, but it felt rather nice flying in the middle of a huge flock.

As they had on the previous day, they continued along the cusp of the cliffs. Anything resembling a forest had long since disappeared. Instead the landscape was full of rocks and occasional low-lying patches of green.

Late in the day, and without warning, the birds swooped down and landed in a meadow. Rocco couldn’t even feel his limbs, they were so numb and heavy. He lay down on the fragrant grass.

When he stirred again, Vesta and Iggy were sleeping beside him. Monkeys, the first he’d seen in Upper Terrakesh, were watching them closely, mere metres away. How long had he been sleeping? Sitting up, Rocco held out his hand. The monkeys scampered off.

The birds were gone. Typically, Cirrus had left again without saying good-bye.

Across the meadow, set off from the edge of the cliffs, stood a city with smooth red clay walls. A palace dome marked the centre. Not white, not glaringly smooth like Krakatoan, but every building rugged and earthy.

‘Look, Vesta, we’re here.’

Vesta sat up and rubbed her eyes. ‘We’ve been here the whole time?’ She poked Iggy. Iggy hadn’t said a word, not for the entire journey, not since he’d seen Magma hugging his wings. His eyes were more or less alert, but he clung to Vesta, moving when she did and not letting her out of his sight.

They gathered up their belongings. Flying low, and not taking their eyes off the city wall ahead, they passed over the meadow. The clang of swords rang out.

‘I can tell by the rhythm, they’re not fighting for real,’ said Vesta. ‘It’s some sort of practice.’

They flew up and landed on the top of the wall. Rocco gasped. It was beautiful, so beautiful. His heart began to swell, he was so drawn in. Hundreds of urvogels were fighting across a vast courtyard, practising, as Vesta had said.

Their wings were every colour imaginable: yellow, rose, many shades of blue and purple, orange, silver, and shimmering gold. Some were brightly coloured, others subtle. Some wings were stippled or speckled, while others were double-breasted, like a dragonfly’s.

Rocco’s eyes darted from one wing to another, searching out the blue wings and trying to find a hue the exact match of his. He’d been living in the Ebo River Valley and hating his wings, not all the time, only on days when someone said something mean. And the whole time these urvogels had been here, beating their multi-coloured wings as if it were the most normal thing in all of Terrakesh.

It didn’t seem possible.

Vesta laughed. Grabbing Iggy’s hand, they glided down. Rocco pointed at the large water fountain in the middle of the courtyard. They touched down. Rocco was about to thrust his head into the basin when he saw that Vesta was taking out her cup. She dipped it in the water, so proper.