“You presume, SpikeFeather!” RavenCrest snapped, drawing himself to his full height and glaring at the birdman from under beetling black eyebrows.
But SpikeFeather was not daunted. “I presume nothing, sire,” he said. “I merely ask why you are so lax regarding the survival of the Icarii.”
Everyone within hearing distance froze and RavenCrest took a deep, astounded breath. “Crest-Leader,” he said, “I will see you in my apartments now\ As for your Wing, they may await your…or my…orders in the antechamber.”
SpikeFeather could not mistake the threat in RavenCrest’s voice, but still he did not back down. “Talon,” he said, “I am here on orders from the StarMan and the Enchantress. They believe, rightly, that Talon Spike is facing an imminent threat. I am under their orders to hasten the evacuation any way I can.”
If RavenCrest had any doubts concerning his place in the new order, then he was left in no doubt now. “I see, Crest-Leader,” he said softly. “But I would still request that we speak privately in my apartments.”
SpikeFeather inclined his head. “As you wish, Talon. But I have a great deal to do here and will not have time for an extended chat.”
RavenCrest stared at him, then turned on his heel and stalked towards the closest shaft, stepping into the void and spiralling down on wings stiff with affront.
“Sire,” SpikeFeather said when they were alone, “I did not mean to offend. But time is critical.”
“SpikeFeather,” RavenCrest sighed, “I do understand the danger. But evacuation has been fraught with so many difficulties.”
SpikeFeather shuffled in impatience, but RavenCrest ignored him. “I had to take advice from the Elders, and I had to call the Assembly.”
Oh, for the sake of the heavens! SpikeFeather thought, you called the Assembly on this? Couldn’t you take the initiative just this once?
RavenCrest shrugged. “We were undecided on the matter. Many do not want to go -”
“Then they will die,” SpikeFeather said, hoping to shake RavenCrest into some action.
“And I cannot blame them!” RavenCrest retorted, his violet eyes snapping. “We have lived here in safety for over a thousand years, and we do not know what awaits us in the south!”
“Life awaits you in the south, RavenCrest!” SpikeFeather shouted. “Damn you! What have the Strike Force fought for, died for, if not to win the Icarii back their southern lands? Cities are springing to life, sacred sites are once again open, the forest springs anew, that is what awaits you!” He took a huge breath, the tendons standing out on his neck. “Only death waits for you here. It could be minutes away, hours, perhaps weeks. No-one knows. But what gives you the right to gamble with the lives of our people, RavenCrest? What?”
“He carries many cares, Crest-Leader,” a gentle voice said behind SpikeFeather and he whirled about. BrightFeather, RavenCrest’s wife, had entered through a silent door and was walking towards him. “And has seen the world he has known disintegrate about him. RavenCrest and myself,” she walked to her husband’s side and took his hand, “are of the Elders now, and we find it hard to accept such sudden change.”
“Will you find it easier to accept sudden death?”
RavenCrest rubbed his hand across his eyes. “If I give the order, then where will our people go, SpikeFeather?”
SpikeFeather made a gesture of impatience. “To the southern cities in the Minaret Peaks. To the Avarinheim. To Sigholt, even Carlon, perhaps even the Island of Mist and Memory.”
“SpikeFeather, there are many tens of thousands of Icarii in Talon Spike. The emerging Minaret cities cannot yet hold them all, and our friends in the Avarinheim have scarcely enough to feed themselves let alone all of us as well. I cannot let my people fly into such an unknown.”
“We will find room for them -”
RavenCrest demurred.
“Then you are worse than WolfStar,” SpikeFeather said with icy deadliness, “for you will have the blood of tens of thousands, perhaps the extermination of an entire race, on your conscience. He has but the blood of two hundred children.”
RavenCrest and BrightFeather both stared at him, stricken. “You cannot mean what you have just said,” RavenCrest began.
“I meant every word of it.”
RavenCrest and his wife continued to stare at him. This was not the SpikeFeather TrueSong they remembered.
“Have the courage to lead your people to safety,” SpikeFeather said quietly. “Or I will do it for you.”
“But where will we go?” fluttered the birdwoman, her great green eyes anxious. “And what will we take? Oh, I think this decision to fly south is far too hasty. I think -”
“I have no time to listen to your qualms, madam,” SpikeFeather said. “If you will just follow the shaft to the flight balconies then you can be off. There is no time for baggage. I’m sure your life and the life of your son,” he bowed at the adolescent boy, “are far more important.” The boy, of a more adventuresome mind than his mother, winked at SpikeFeather and hurried his mother off.
RavenCrest had acquiesced. Once SpikeFeather had the Talon’s approval and, more importantly, his authority, he wasted no time. Every minute might mean a life wasted; every hour several hundred at least.
Many of the Icarii were willing to go; they had been eager to fly south anyway. In the five hours since SpikeFeather had left RavenCrest’s apartment at a flat-out run, over eight thousand Icarii had managed to leave; for the Avarinheim in the first instance, where all would mass, then for wherever there was room. SpikeFeather hoped the goodwill that Axis and Azhure had generated among the Acharites towards the return of the Icarii would stretch to a sudden invasion of tens of thousands of the birdpeople.
But if the younger generations were ready and eager to leave, the older Icarii exhibited a frustrating inability to make up their minds. There was too much at stake; too many uncertainties lay before them; what would happen to Talon Spike if they left it, and who had counted these Gryphon anyway?
To these queries SpikeFeather had no answer save that he believed the Enchantress when she said that she knew. For many of the Icarii, that was not enough. Eventually SpikeFeather resorted to threat and intimidation. He had no patience with those who demurred. He had seen Wing-mates slaughtered and had felt the grip of Gryphon talons himself. And when he shouted, the Icarii listened. SpikeFeather had been to the borders of death and back, and his experience gave him an aura that, when augmented with fury, quieted most objections and convinced most waverers.
Stars save them, SpikeFeather prayed as he stood on the lip of the flight balcony watching another group of Icarii lift off, if the Gryphon strike them in the air. The thermals to the south were black with wings, but, if anything, their numbers gave them some protection, and as soon as they were within reach of the Earth Tree’s Song over the northern Avarinheim they would be safe.
He stood back from the lip and strode into Talon Spike, standing aside briefly for another wave of evacuees to pass by him. The members of his Wing were accomplishing wonders in getting the Icarii out, and he hoped their names would live in Icarii legend for the service they were doing their fellows.
But there was one task SpikeFeather knew he would have to see to personally.
The children. Those who had not yet developed their wings,, or those whose wings and flight muscles were still so immature they would not be able to cope with the flight into the Avarinheim. Infants were carried strapped to their mothers’ breasts, but toddlers and older would have to walk – or float.
SpikeFeather had ordered that the children be grouped in one of the lower chambers of the Talon Spike complex, then he would take them down to the waterways himself, for he thought the request should be made by someone whom the Ferryman had met before.
And what price would he ask?
SpikeFeather shrugged. That was hours into the future, for he doubted the children would be able to negotiate the stairwell any faster than the adult Icarii. But he underestimated the enthusiasm and agility of the children.
SpikeFeather spiralled down into the chamber where the children had assembled under the guidance of two members of his Wing, and then he hovered, gape-mouthed in astonishment. He had assumed there might be a score of children, perhaps two score, but he had not expected to be confronted with almost six hundred bright and eager uplifted faces.
He slowly settled to the floor and turned to FairEye, one of the Wing members. She shrugged, understanding SpikeFeather’s astonishment. “I reacted the same way, Crest-Leader. I did not realise how many children there were.”
SpikeFeather turned back to the throng before him. “Stars save me,” he muttered, “what is the Ferryman going to say?”