Part 13 (1/2)

On the horizon, thousands of birds were arriving to witness the awesome arrival of the hero. Those who could not fly were riding on the backs of those who could or were arriving in hot-air balloons. Birds were swimming, too, and some even sailed there in boats. Hour after hour, more birds flooded Kauria.

At noon the ceremony began.

As Wind-voice stood on a balcony listening to Pepheroh's words carrying to the birds who'd come from far and wide, a thought that had buzzed persistently around his head like a bee bothered him again. Maldeor had said that birds fell into two categories: good and evil. For a time Wind-voice had wondered if that might be true...but...

No, the world was not split distinctly like two wings on a bird: white and black, good and evil. There was gray, plenty of it-like Dubto, caught between his compa.s.sion and his loyalty; like the eagles of Skythunder, who thought it was right to disown their own prince; like Stormac, brave and loyal, but fighting the weakness that had, in the end, taken him to his death. Perhaps even like Maldeor. Wind-voice felt calmer then, as if he had pa.s.sed a test.

Indeed, life is full of tests, he thought. he thought. You don't know what they are, so you must treat everything in life with the same care you would bring to a test on which your future rests. I realize that the most important test of all, You don't know what they are, so you must treat everything in life with the same care you would bring to a test on which your future rests. I realize that the most important test of all, Wind-coice marveled, Wind-coice marveled, in my quest, and in every bird's quest, is the test to be the master of fate. in my quest, and in every bird's quest, is the test to be the master of fate.

”Wind-voice.” Pepheroh called gently to him.

He turned to face the phoenix, bowed deeply, and knelt down. In his claws he held the sword, offering it to the king. The phoenix grasped the hilt. He held the sword solemnly before him, and the birds below were quiet. Wind-voice opened his left wing. King Pepheroh ran the flat of the blade slowly along it. The metal felt cool and heavy. ”May your heart be strong and true, forever pa.s.sing on the meaning of love and friends.h.i.+p,” the phoenix said.

Wind-voice spread his right wing. The blade stroked it as well. ”May your mind be brave and just, forever showing us the importance of peace and freedom. Now rise,” murmured the king, and then louder so that everybird could hear: ”Rise!” His old, fatherly face broke into a deep smile, and he held the sword out to Wind-voice. Wind-voice closed his claws slowly around the hilt. They turned to face the sea of silent birds, and Pepheroh firmly wrapped his own claws around Wind-voice's. They raised them high so that all could see the light glinting off the blade. Pepheroh called out, ”From now on, Wind-voice shall be also known as Swordbird!”

”Swordbird! Swordbird! Swordbird!” Wave after wave of deafening cheers rose.

Wind-voice stood there, dazed. A choking joy mingled with a deep grat.i.tude filled his whole being. Such an honor it was, to be given the responsibility of caring for birdkind.

”Thank you. There are heroes all among us. Without many birds, I might not have achieved this today. I want to thank my companions, Winger the woodp.e.c.k.e.r and Fleydur the eagle, for their support, poems, and songs. I want to thank Stormac the myna”-Wind-voice touched the berry charm around his neck-”who was like a brother to me. I want to thank Fisher, Rhea, Kari, Gwendeleine, and the birds of their tribe for their help and care, and I want to thank all of you here. I also want to thank my mother, Irene. I don't know who my father is, though-”

”Perhaps your father is the Great Spirit,” said Pepheroh, smiling.

”Then I want to thank the Great Spirit too.” Wind-voice gazed into the sky. He took a deep breath. He addressed everybird. ”We are all heroes. One hero isn't enough. We must all take care of one another.” A new wave of applause traveled from one end of the crowd to the other. Birds fluttered together in the sky, forming the words ”Peace,” ”Freedom,” ”Love,” and ”Justice.”

He had started this-this nightmare, this dream, the journey, this...quest-as a muddled youngster, weak, wanting only to escape violence and servitude. Yet instead he had unexpectedly found glowing treasures-Stormac's wooden berry, Winger's harp, Fleydur's songs. He had found his place. He had found himself.

Closing his eyes, he heard s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation from a long time ago: ”When is this hero coming?”

”Soon, soon.”

He opened his eyes, smiled, and saw thousands of birds cheering before him. The hero was ready now.

18.

EXCERPT F FROM E EWINGERALE'S D DIARY -EXCERPT FROM PAGE 341 341 OF OF ”E ”EWINGERALE'S D DIARY” IN THE O OLD S SCRIPTURE Early fall, Day of Remembrance Ever since Hero's Day, Swordbird has become world famous.

As I strum my claws across the strings of my harp, I seem to hear the world laughing with me. Would you believe that every day now, weapons are melted down to be formed into flutes, telescopes, pen nibs, and even bells? Ever since Swordbird, our hero, came two seasons ago, more birds have discarded their axes, swords, and spears to hold books instead.

”You know,” Kari the macaw said to me some time ago, ”the Avish words on our green gemstone shone brightly the moment Wind-voice held the true hero's sword. Then the words disappeared!” As I traveled about, other tribes confirmed this phenomenon. She told me that birds, singing the ”Song of Swordbird,” could now use the Leasorn gems as a link to call Swordbird to come.

What happened to the remaining archaeopteryx army and their battalions? Leaderless, they fought among themselves and, at last, in a huff, scattered into small bands. The same fate awaited their allies, the pirates and the outlaw crows, ravens, and mynas. Some retreated into remote haunts, some tried more devilry, but a few changed their ways and befriended us.

As for Wind-voice, I only saw him once in my dreams, after Hero's Day. He said to me, ”Winger, my mortal self did die when the pyramid crashed down. I understand now. I sacrificed myself so that I, as a spirit, can forever guard peace and freedom, and I'm glad.”

So am I. Even though my heart clenches when I think of Wind-voice, a calm, earnest joy enfolds me when I think of the brighter era awaiting birdkind.

”You've written so much of our quest in your diary,” Wind-voice said. ”I hope you will finish writing all of it.”

”I think I shall,” I replied.

As Wind-voice rescues and helps in the sky, we do our best on the earth. Fleydur, accepted back by his family, has many young budding musicians following him. Kari the macaw and her teacher, Rhea the shrike, travel together, teaching the art of healing. As for me-well, following Wind-voice's suggestion, I have been happily busy organizing the account in my diary of all that happened in the days I traveled with him. The good phoenix king, Pepheroh, printed it in a book called the Old Scripture Old Scripture. It also contains the ”Song of Swordbird,” which is used to call Swordbird. We will send out copies to everybird so that all birds may know what we have gone through, learn from our experience, and live peacefully.

Sometimes we companions gather on the islands of the seabirds to pay our respects to Stormac. A clear spring now gushes where he was buried, as if by magic. Even though it is so remote from the Marshes, somehow the water has the sweet taste of the cedar trees that grow in the myna's homeland. It is here that we recall the past.

We have agreed on one thing: With the powers of pen, song, and healing, we can help make the world a better place.

Swordbird bless us all!

-Winger

A hero's heart is as vast as the sky.-FROM THE O OLD S SCRIPTURE

EPILOGUE.

THE F FIRST B BRIGHT M MOON F FESTIVAL.