Читать книгу Sword Quest - Nancy Fan Yi - Страница 10

A righteous heart can beam a light in the darkest place.

FROM THE OLD SCRIPTURE

3 CHOICE

Gradually 013-Unidentified became aware that a raven was clacking his beak loudly. “Come,” the raven rasped, beckoning. “Come, you don’t want to be late.”

“No!” 013-Unidentified whispered. For some reason, he didn’t want to go anywhere with this stranger.

“Come,” the bird insisted. “I’ve been ordered to bring you, and bring you I must. But if you ask, I must bring you back again. Those are the laws I obey.”

Out sprang a claw that clasped around the white bird’s neck. He gasped. His conscious soul was being lifted out of his body! The raven flew out of the kitchen. Nobird seemed to notice. 013-Unidentified turned back to look, and saw his body still on the fire.

“Where are we going?” he asked the raven, choking.

“To Yin Soul.”

They flew over an endless stretch of grey, an angry ocean beneath them. It seemed only minutes before the raven dropped 013-Unidentified. He landed before he could open his wings.

He was in a small red room, the walls lined with looming bookshelves. On the far side was the red frame of a fireplace, surrounded with red incense and sputtering red candles. The sharp cinnamon perfume they gave off stung his eyes.

“Hello, dear 013-Unidentified.” The youngster jumped at the sudden words; they were whispery and thin. A scaly creature in a broad red manteau nodded slightly as he scuttled from behind a pile of books. He looked a lot like an archaeopteryx, except he was larger and had four wings. “I am Yin Soul. Come here, young one, and perch beside me.”

013-Unidentified obeyed in a dreamlike trance. The carpet underfoot, woven with a design like red and yellow flames, felt so plush.

“I do feel very sorry for you.” The creature’s eyes softened with what looked like a fatherly fondness. “You were going to die. They wanted to cook and eat you; how cruel! But now you’re here. You want to live, surely? Everybird wants to live!” Yin studied 013-Unidentified. He began again, quietly. “I like your spirit. Facing the reality bravely. But don’t you want to fight your enemies? Don’t you want to steer the flight of your life? I can save you from that fire. You’d be free.”

013-Unidentified gaped. “Free! I—”

Yin Soul’s eyes bore into 013-Unidentified’s. “But being free is not enough. You know that your enemies deserve to be punished. They deserve to be punished for causing you pain, for every injustice, for every feather they tore loose. Some even deserve death! I know a way for that. Hero’s Day is the day of the fifth full moon in a year and a half. You know the legends about a magical sword that can be found at Kauria, the Island of Paradise. If you find the sword on that particular day, you will have power over all your enemies. Then you can do what your heart tells you to do! All you must do is agree to swallow my essence.”

After a silence, Yin glanced into the distance and sighed. “I am like you. I know how it feels. Truly.” He smiled sadly at 013-Unidentified.

“Why do you want me to swallow your essence?” the white bird asked at last.

Yin Soul closed his eyes. “Then I would be able to guide you from inside your body.”

013-Unidentified peered at Yin Soul, confused. Suppose, just suppose it was real. Then his troubles would probably end here and now, but…was his conscience telling him no? Was it the same thing that had made him say his long-ago name, Wind-voice, instead of 013-Unidentified when he spoke to the woodpecker captive, Ewingerale?

You are Wind-voice, not 013-Unidentified, a voice deep inside him said. Think like Wind-voice.

For a split second, everything in the room changed. Red blurred to grey. The flames went out; the candles were pools of wax. The cinnamon scents of incense soured into those of spoiled fish.

The old, kind bird was transformed. The eyelids were gone, and Wind-voice could see his eyeballs, dark yellow as rotten plums. The gentle chuckles of Yin Soul changed to a dreadful sound, as if somebird was vomiting. This was what Yin Soul was truly like. The feathers on Wind-voice’s nape rose and he gulped. He was chilled with fear. It was suddenly very cold.

The next second everything returned to the way it had been.

“013-Unidentified, will you agree?”

Wind-voice didn’t dare to look into Yin Soul’s face, but he knew what he wanted to say. “No. Take me back! I want to go back.” He rose and looked around. He saw the raven who had brought him here lurking behind a bookcase and stepped towards him. “Take me back to the archaeopteryxes.”

“You cannot,” Yin Soul taunted. With a whirl of his wings, the shadows of ghostly birds, screeching unearthly sounds, appeared out of nowhere and moved swiftly towards Wind-voice. “You cannot. It is against your instincts to go willingly to your death. Come to me!”

But Wind-voice knew – he had seen, in that brief moment of true sight – that Yin Soul’s apparent kindness could not be trusted. Whatever he offered, whatever he planned, Wind-voice knew he wanted no part of it – even if the other choice was death.

Wind-voice faced the raven. “No! I want to go back! You said you must take me back!”

“I don’t think so. Stay.” Yin Soul rose as well and reached out a rootlike, quivering claw.

Wind-voice flung a red blanket at Yin Soul. Then he grabbed hold of the raven’s feet and shouted, “Fly!” The raven cawed in surprise. The mangy bird dragged Windvoice into the air as Yin Soul yelled below them, “Soon you’ll wish you had listened to me!” The ghost birds wailed along with their master. Wind-voice didn’t see Yin Soul shaking his balled claws, didn’t hear him whisper, “At least there is the other one.”

Wind-voice closed his eyes tightly and could hear only the beat of the raven’s wings, which soon turned into the crackling of wood.

To his horror, he could smell salt and pepper on his body. Had it all been a dream? Coughing, he opened his eyes. His smothered skin was flushed to a reddish pink, and his lungs felt as if they had collapsed. He was still over the fire. Tears burst into his eyes as sparks leaped up and scorched him. But the tears quickly evaporated in the heat.

Wind-voice realised that there wasn’t much smoke around him. But the smoke had to go out somewhere. Craning his neck, he squinted at the ceiling above. Cold air blew through a jagged hole. He looked around. No archaeopteryxes cared to be near the heat of the fire. The fire tenders were all away on errands for the cook at the moment. He peered down into the flames. There was only one way, and that was the fool’s way. He opened his beak, sucked in a deep breath, and blew with all his might at the fire. Shutting his eyes tightly, he waited for the flames to flare back at him. He felt his ropes starting to char. But his feathers were burning as well.

One rope fell. He fluttered the freed wing awkwardly and leaned forward to peck at the ropes around his other wing. The ropes dropped into the flames and withered to ashes.

Summoning his ebbing strength, Wind-voice beat his wings and flitted towards the hole in the ceiling.

It was a tight fit, but he struggled madly. There was a rip. He was in the air, in the night air! The bitter wind welcomed him.

“It escaped!” cried an archaeopteryx below.

Wind-voice’s body was blazing as he flew. The long sweeps of the flailing wings were sweeps of flame. He looked like a firebird.

The archaeopteryxes shot a volley of arrows at him, but they fell short.

He knew he could not last long in the air. His past was burning away. He could be what he wanted to be.

013-Unidentified is truly dead, he thought as his scorched body faltered and plummeted down. Windvoice is reborn.