The Golden Flight (18 page)

‘Is that a right thing to do – to dominate another creature for your own benefit?’ Marguerite asked.

‘Not if it will harm that creature and the need is trifling. What I did yesterday saved you from cold-death and did not harm the swans. They are only passing time now until their next nesting season.’

‘Could
I
dominate them?’ Marguerite asked.

 ‘
If you think you can
… Try repeating what I say, slowly and positively. I will submerge my thoughts so that it is yours that reach them. Swans –

‘SWANS– repeated Marguerite and the three swans nearby raised their heads.

‘FETCH ME A PEBBLE –

ACTION NOW–

‘FETCH ME A PEBBLE –

ACTION NOW –

Each swan picked up a pebble, brought it to Marguerite, laid it at her feet and stepped back to wait for more instructions.

Chip and Sycamore, who had only heard part of the ‘conversation’, watched in amazement, Chip still clutching the golden coin.

‘Do you think the swans could carry us through the air, flying to Ourland or the Blue Pool?’ Marguerite asked.

‘For an Innocent, you do have imaginative ideas,’ Lundy replied.

Marguerite knew that ‘Innocent’ was the dolphin word for smaller-brained animals, and was not offended as she knew that literally it must be true.

‘Each swan could easily carry one of you,’ Lundy went on. ‘But it’s probably never been done before. Would you risk it?’

‘At one time,
everything
we do had never been done before,’ said Marguerite, thinking of all the stories of Acorn, the first squirrel in the world. ‘But I think I will practise instructing the swans first –.

‘THREE SWANS  –

SWIM ACROSS THE FLEET –

SWIM BACK TO ME –

ACTION NOW –

Within an hour, Marguerite was confident of success and was briefing her companions on her plans.

‘We will each climb on to a swan’s back and grip the feathers tightly. Hold as many feathers as you can with each paw but do not hurt the swans. I will give them instructions to take us to the Blue Pool where I have to talk to Wood Anemone. Then we will fly on to Ourland. After that I will give the swans directions to return. Chip, I think you will have to leave your metal disk here.’

Chip looked crestfallen. ‘I
would
like to take it. I think I could hold it under my body. If it slips out and falls I don’t have it any more – but then I don’t if I leave it here.’

‘Very well,’ Marguerite told him, sensing how important it must be to him. ‘But don’t risk falling yourself trying to catch it. It’s not like falling from a tree – we’ve all done that. We will be a lot higher – like we were in the Suns-child.’

Lundy had her head out of the water, watching with great interest as Marguerite instructed the swans.

‘THREE SWANS –

SOON YOU WILL EACH PICK UP ONE OF US SQUIRRELS –

YOU WILL PLACE YOUR SQUIRREL ON YOUR BACK AND WAIT WHILE IT

TAKES A FIRM HOLD –

IT WILL NOT HURT YOU –

YOU WILL WADE INTO DEEP WATER AND THEN YOU WILL FLY EASTWARDS –

ABOVE THE BEACH TO THE BRIDGE –

FROM THERE YOU WILL FLY ACROSS THE SEA TO THE COVE OF LULWORTH WHERE THE SEA IS HELD IN A RING OF CLIFFS –

FROM THERE YOU WILL FLY US TO A POOL WHERE THE WATER IS BRIGHT BLUE –

Do you know this place?’

The three heads bowed ‘Yes’.

‘YOU WILL LAND ON THE WATER THERE –

YOU WILL TAKE US TO THE SHORE –

YOU WILL THEN RECEIVE MORE INSTRUCTIONS –

By tonight you will be back here. Thank you for your co-operation.

ACTION NOW –

Lundy watched the swans pick up a squirrel each, as they had done the day before, lift it round on to their backs and, shortly afterwards wade out into the calm water.

Marguerite’s farewells blended with her own as, one behind the other, the swans ran across the water, their feet making less and less commotion as the great white wings swept the air away below them. Then there was no sound but the W-wow, W-wow, of the wing-beats. Two of the swans dropped back slightly to take advantage of the easier flying in the turbulence created by the leader’s flight, and the ‘V’ formation climbed higher and disappeared into the distance.

Lundy swam leisurely down the lagoon towards Portland Harbour, the open sea and reunion with her family.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

The wings of the three swans beat steadily. The formation had reached the height chosen by the leader and they flew above the beach until they passed over the Ferry-bridge, then turned slightly to fly across Portland harbour.

At first Marguerite had clung tightly to the swan’s back, her head buried in the feathers. As she gained confidence, she lifted her head and, moving one paw-hold at a time, edged forward until she could look down past the side of the bird’s neck. Far below she could see the curve of the pebble beach reaching out to the great rock of Portland, the waves seeming to wriggle along the shore like a grass snake swimming after frogs. How different it all looked from up here compared with the roaring and crashing they had suffered the day before.

The wings beat rhythmically, W-wow, W-wow, W-wow.

Below her the humans’ travelling boxes were crossing the bridge and then the swans were over the grey ships at anchor in the harbour. Flying seemed so effortless compared with the strain Lundy had suffered carrying them the day before.

Was that really only the day before?

She recognised the harbour breakwaters and, raising her head, she could see the white cliffs on the far side of Weymouth Bay. The great wings rose and fell, rose and fell, the air hissing through the pinion feathers, W-wow, W-wow, W-wow.

She turned to look at Chip and Sycamore. They grinned at her past their swan’s heads.

With the distinctive shape of Lulworth Cove below them, she felt the change of direction that would take them across the land to the Blue Pool. Her instructions were being followed exactly and it would not be long before she was with Wood Anemone, learning the secret of the mushrooms of the moon. It would be good to see her friend again.

Rowan and Bluebell were aiming the Woodstock at the top of the bank across the pool from the Eyeland. Bluebell had caught a glimpse of grey fur and had pointed out the position to her father.

He had calculated that a
 would be required to curl whiskers and incapacitate any Grey at that distance. He rehearsed the movement and stood alert, the Woodstock sighted on the top of the bank, Bluebell standing behind him.

‘Now,’ she shouted as a grey head showed, and Rowan scratched a
 on the bare wood. The head dropped back behind the bank at the very moment that the shape of three flying swans appeared over the horizon in the same direction.

The invisible, spiralling force, though weak at that extreme range, seriously affected the birds. Their wing beats faltered, they lost formation and, fluttering and flapping out of control, they tumbled through the air, then, seeming to recover somewhat, spread their wings and turned to make a long glide towards the open water of the pool.

Marguerite was enjoying the flight when the Woodstock power-wave struck. Reacting as quickly as she would when a gust of wind struck a branch on which she was sitting, she grasped the feathers tightly and hung on as the swans fell out of the sky. She fought to dominate their thoughts.  

‘SWANS –

FLY –

FLY –

ACTION NOW –

FLY –

ACTION NOW –

SPREAD YOUR WINGS –

HOLD THEM FIRM –

MAKE FOR THE WATER BELOW –

ACTION NOW –

ACTION NOW –

LAND ON THE WATER –

ACTION NOW –

The swans lowered their webbed feet, twisted their wings to resist the air and slid across the surface of the pool, then stopped, shaking their heads and hissing angrily.

‘SWANS –

YOU ARE SAFE NOW –

RELAX –

ACTION NOW –

In the silence that followed, the swans paddled gently along the pool, dipping their heads under the water as if to clear their brains, then lifting them and shaking off droplets of water.

‘What happened?’ Chip called across to Marguerite.‘My whiskers are hurting.’

‘So are mine,’ she said. ‘I feel like someone has used a Woodstock on me.’

‘Marguerite, Marguerite.’

Marguerite was sure that she could hear her brother’s voice calling her – but it was just not possible. Whatever force had brought the swans down out of the sky had clearly addled her brain.

‘Marguerite. We’re here. Here on the Eyeland.’

SWANS –

TAKE US TO THE ISLAND –

THAT WAY –

ACTION NOW –

The great white birds, each with a squirrel sitting upright on its back, paddled along the pool, past the pink and white water lilies and waded ashore on to the island near the pool’s end. As they did so, Chip, clutching the golden coin, lost his balance and the coin fell into the orangey-brown water near the Eyeland shore.

‘Marguerite!’

‘Rowan! Meadowsweet! Bluebell!’

Marguerite had an overwhelming feeling that this had all happened before, then realised that it had, in that summer when they had journeyed from the coast to win back the Blue Pool Demesne from the Silver Tide.

Now though, she also recognised the feeling of being in a battle-zone. She brushed whiskers briefly with her brother and his life-mate and with her handsome young niece, saw the Woodstock on the ground at Rowan’s side and then asked, ‘What’s going on here?’

‘We are surrounded by Greys, led by one of the Three Lords. There has been a change of leader at Woburn and we were trying to escape to join you on Ourland. Were you
really
flying on these swans?’

‘Yes. I’ll explain later. How many Greys are there?’

‘Lots’, said Rowan, and Marguerite regretted never having found the time to teach her brother to count above eight.

‘Lots, or Lots and Lots?’

‘Lots and Lots!’ Rowan replied and Marguerite noted the tiredness in his voice.

He led her up the mound to the top of the Eyeland, Bluebell and Meadowsweet dragging the Woodstock between them. A tree-trunk lay across the water from the Mainland, forming a bridge. It had not been there when she had last seen the Eyeland.

Clustered near the bridge were the two ex-zervantz and their daughters, all looking bright-eyed if rather tired and thin.

Most surprising of all, there was a Grey on that side of the bridge, amongst the Reds.

‘Wood Anemone-Friend, Spindle-Friend,’ she called and they turned to look up at her.

‘Marguerite-Ma’am,’ said Wood Anemone.

‘Marguerite-Friend, please.’

‘Marguerite-Friend. Where have you come from? Did you drop out of the sky?’

‘Something like that. Look out behind you!’ she shouted.

A phalanx of grey bodies was moving purposefully down towards the far end of the bridge.

‘Heads down,’ shouted Meadowsweet to the squirrels below, and as they turned their backs on her, she swung the Woodstock towards the Greys and scratched a 3 on the bare wood.

Some of the attackers turned and scrambled back up and over the bank while others rolled down on to the level ground at the far end of the bridge, pawing at their whiskers, before wriggling back up the slope and out of right. The Reds watched them go.

Rowan said, ‘We get a charge like that several times a day – they’re not giving up easily. I don’t know where they’re all coming from. The trouble is we don’t know how much power is left in the Woodstock – there can’t be much now.’

Marguerite glanced at the Grey, it seemed foolish to be giving away their weakness in front of one of the enemy.

Rowan saw her look. ‘Don’t worry about Hickory – he’s a Sun-squirrel. He’s with us.’

Marguerite looked across the water. There were no Greys in sight now and she went down to the bridge-end with Chip and Sycamore to make the formal introductions and greetings. She brushed whiskers with them all, even Hickory. Though she remembered him as one of the enemy leaders at the Battle of the Agglestone, he was obviously trusted and respected here.